#I’m bringing back this post from January because I feel like it was truly ahead of its time and I was about to post almost exactly the

[i-am-gusu]

On January 23rd. I already wrote about the morning. Wei Ying bringing me breakfast in bed. He told me since then that he barely slept at all that night. "It was more a case of being still awake rather than waking up early," he said. We stayed in bed for a long time after we were done eating, just talking. Well, mostly, it was Wei Ying talking about the birthday, and how Uncle really wanted me to be there, and how important family is and "I just don't want you to have any regrets." 

That should have been my cue to tell him… 

… No, not today. I can do this. 

I can do this. I want to do this.

I want to do this. 

Wei Ying had to pull me out of bed, since I was very much intent on not leaving the soft cocoon of our blankets. I did make it harder for him, playing dead weight, and his laughter breaking in my room only made me pretend more. I shouldn't have been surprised when, after five minutes of pulling on my arms to get me closer to the edge of the bed, he lifted me with an arm under my knees and the other on my back and carried me to the bathroom for me to shower. He has done so many times since, often coming with me *in* the shower, which he didn’t do then but… it was close. I know I had to force myself to push him out of the bathroom rather than pull him in with me.

When I got out, Wei Ying was still in pajamas, cleaning up the remains of our breakfast. I remember looking at him, softly humming to himself at the sink, and thinking how much I wanted to just walk up behind him and leave a kiss at the back of his neck… I now realize I haven’t had the opportunity to do just that yet…

Note to self: Let Wei Ying clean the dishes tonight. Just so I can kiss him that way. 

… I should get back to this. 

Wei Ying and I spent some time together on the couch, watching yet again some cartoons that I have grown fond of, and around mid-afternoon, we agreed we should get dressed. I have grown fond of these lazy days too, dressing up much later than my usual, just… just existing for a few more hours as I am, rather than as I should be. I should be a Lan in all circumstances, always prepared, always elegant, never messy. And… I guess a part of that is who I am too but… It is very nice not to push myself to be my family’s name, and to just be me. 

I’m deeply thankful that this is who Wei Ying sees. Who Wei Ying loves.

…

This is going to take me much longer than I thought it would. I know I’m avoiding going into what needs to be said…

I can do this. Even if I don’t finish, I’m getting there. I can do this. I can’t afford to lose any more time... 

We dressed up. Wei Ying struggled with his tie and I remember wondering about his shaking fingers and his nervous smile as I worked on his tie for him. I remember him telling me he was just anticipating going into “the society” again. I remember telling him we didn’t have to go, we could just stay home and spend the evening together. I remember Wei Ying laughing, holding my hands, insisting we go. “Your uncle prepared this for you.” I remember not caring as much as Wei Ying did. I remember giving in because Wei Ying wouldn’t let go. I remember giving in because I wanted… I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to disappoint Wei Ying. I didn’t want him to think less of me because I was being unfilial. 

Maybe I should have fought. Maybe I should have been unfilial. Maybe… 

I can’t afford to think of what could have happened right now. I need to focus. 

… I don’t like what I am focusing on. I don’t like seeing this side of me, plainly written. Wei Ying mentionned it in his blog posts… I… still haven’t read them all. The posts he wrote during that time. I know I’ll have to. Eventually. It will probably be required to move forward in our therapy. I just… I stopped reading after the… the 3rd day, I think? Perhaps the 4th. It hurt too much. But… I read some of what Wei Ying told Huaisang. Huaisang and I talked about that too afterwards. I told him he is not at fault. I still believe so. 

Wei Ying is not at fault either. 

I still… I still don’t like seeing this. I thought… I…

I’ve always thought I was someone who was able to stand by their principles. Rigid. Stubborn. I’ve heard people say that about me before. But… It was all lies, wasn’t it? All I am good at is hiding. Hiding. Hiding everything that lurks beneath the surface, the hopes, the desires. Anything that might bring conflict with someone I care about. Anything that might make them think I am not worthy of them in the end. Anything that might make them punish me for the wrongs I did. Huaisang, Xichen, Wei Ying… I only fought with Xichen when it’s about the Lan family, because I do not care about the Lans anymore. I stopped caring about them a long time ago. Even if I care about my brother. Huaisang, I already had that conversation with him. Wei Ying… Wei Ying happens to be the first person whose decisions align so perfectly with my desires, I would follow him into the unknown in a heartbeat. I did many times before and never regretted those times.

But… I see this now and… I hate seeing it… Because Wei Ying is not at fault and I don’t want him to believe he is. I would follow him into the unknown in a heartbeat and I mean it. But the Lans… I know them too much. I know the expectations too much.

I hate them too much. 

I didn’t want to go to that birthday party. Even if it was held by my uncle. Even if so many people would be disappointed in me. I wasn’t afraid of disappointing them. But I was afraid of disappointing Wei Ying. I was afraid of fighting with Wei Ying. I didn’t want to go to that birthday party. And… I didn’t tell him. I wasn’t resolute enough. I should have been more resolute. I should have insisted more. I should have told him that all I wanted was to spend my birthday with him, only him, no one else…

… I should have refused my uncle’s invitation altogether. I should have said no. 

… I need to discuss this with my therapist tomorrow. I… I think this is important… 

Wei Ying wanted us to go, and I agreed. It was not what I wanted, but it was my decision nonetheless. I chose to go. And… Wei Ying smiled at me, and I remember thinking everything will be alright if he’s with me. I remember thinking that everything is worth it with him by my side. I remember thinking that, perhaps, the milieu I grew up in has changed. Perhaps I should give it another chance. Perhaps I should give my family another chance, even if I still couldn’t think of them as such. Perhaps they would be welcoming to Wei Ying. 

I should have seen it coming. I should have known. I should have been more firm in my decision not to go. I should have never agreed to Uncle’s invitation. 

Of course, he decided to invite everyone in our circle. Not just the Lans and the Nies, but the Jins and the Jiangs too. Uncle never mentioned them in his invitation. And yet, they were there, the same people who hurt Wei Ying so badly. Madam Yu was the only representative of the Jiangs present. The Jins decided to come en masse though. I still can’t believe Jin Zixun had been invited at all. 

I told Wei Ying we should leave the moment I saw them in the ancestral Lan mansion. I grabbed his arm and pulled towards the door, nevermind that they took Xichen’s car away already, nevermind that they just removed our coats and welcomed us there. But Wei Ying… He smiled and shrugged it off and “This is for you, Lan Zhan,” and held onto my hand tighter. And I just… followed him when he pulled me towards my uncle to greet him and thank him for the birthday. 

I remember… feeling the eyes of the people around following me, following us, whispers and murmurs added to the scrutiny, all of which reminded me why I left at all. Xichen had already taken his leave to greet Meng Yao. Mingjue and Huaisang were on our periphery, too far away to walk towards without insulting anyone around us. There were so many people, too many, all wishing me a happy birthday, none of them asking about Wei Ying, and I hated them all the more for that, yet I still managed to slip into that mask I used to wear, thanking them with a nod but never a smile. I had hoped that he would think of them, but uncle didn’t extend his invitation to Aunt Yi and Baoshan. I wish they had been there. I wish I had seen a few more people whom I knew truly cared. Instead, there was Madam Yu, looking at Wei Ying with disdain, offering me the bare minimum of birthday wishes, before leaving as early as politeness offered. There was Jin Zixun, insisting I drink with him. 

It happened much later. Before that, the event was as I expected it to be. This was not for my birthday. It was only another occasion for the big families to gather and discuss business and trade. I stood awkwardly on the sides, wondering why I was there at all, why uncle even bothered with organizing all of this. It was all pretense. I didn’t taste the cake. I knew it would be horrendous, a pale copy of what a good cake should be. Wei Ying confirmed it to me when he dared take a bite. 

The evening was more humiliating than anything. But Wei Ying… Wei Ying made things bearable. He kept chattering at me through the evening, always touching me one way or the other, and I found myself grounded by the way his hand settled on my arm or on my back. He wouldn’t linger, but… it made a difference. Huaisang too, but he seemed concentrated on something else at the time, eyes focused on the crowd the same Mingjue’s were. Huaisang told me they have been hired for security when I asked them then. Later, when he told me the truth and apologized for not letting me know before, I understood better.

Birthdays and “informal” events are often used for “informal” business ventures. I was aware of that, even though I never saw the purpose of doing so myself. Neither had Xichen, as far as I am aware. I never expected there would be such a deal right under Uncle’s nose. 

I am… getting ahead of myself. This is information in the midst of everything, when Wei Ying was away. I’m… surprised that I retained anything at all from what I was told, giving the state I was in too… 

… 

It was around 10h30, I believe. Madame Yu was already gone, even if some who accompanied her stayed. Most had taken liberties with their clothes, removing vests, ties and high heels, the only advantage of being at an informal event. Wei Ying kept his intact, despite how often I saw him toying with the neck of his shirt. I remember asking him if perhaps I had tied the knot of his tie too tight and he smiled at me and “absolutely not, it’s perfect!” and then walked away to grab water for the both us, he said. That’s when Jin Zixun strutted towards me and offered me alcohol. I remembered what he did to Wei Ying and simply ignored him. The only attention this man deserved would be that of my fist on his face, and I knew it wouldn’t do to do so here. I wanted to leave as soon as possible, and causing a scene would only force us to stay longer dealing with the consequences of such a thing. I did remember that from the time I broke his arm. Jin Zixun, however, didn’t seem to remember that as he started speaking louder, sneering at how “the great Lan Wangji thinks himself so much better than everyone else, refusing to share a simple drink for his birthday.” I felt sick at his tone, at the attention everyone turned on us, at the whispers starting again. I still ignored him. I remember Xichen offering to drink for me and Jin Zixun offering him a glass of his own, insisting we should all drink together to celebrate this day. I remember seeing Dage looking at us, arms crossed, slowly making his way towards us. But then, Wei Ying was in front of me. I remember the bite in his voice, the challenge, “I will drink for him,” and all I could see was the back of his head as he downed the glass still offered to me in one go. I remember the frown on Jin Zixun’s face before he smirked and walked away. And then, for a few minutes, I thought it was over. Xichen met Mingjue halfway through and they discussed together quietly while Wei Ying pulled me towards a corner, mumbling about how much of an asshole Jin Zixun is, asking me if I was okay, if I was hungry, “I haven’t seen you eat much at all tonight, Lan Zhan, you must eat!” and I told him I was okay, and he smiled, and I thought… I thought everything was okay. He was smiling. Giggling. Telling stupid jokes that I had assumed were only so we could forget about what happened. I don’t remember how much time passed. But then, he caught once in the middle of a joke, and started laughing. And laughing. And laughing… I remember feeling confused. And then smiling at his mirth, asking him what was so funny. He never responded. And then… Then, his laughter didn’t sound right anymore. Too loud. The edge of it became too sharp. I remember grabbing his arm, asking him what’s wrong, but he pushed me away hard enough that I stumbled back two steps. And he kept laughing, and laughing. It’s only when I noticed the tears escaping his eyes that I saw how blown out his pupils were. There was nothing left of the grey of his irises. I remember my uncle asking what’s wrong with him. I remember other voices speaking badly about Wei Ying. And then, one of them got louder than the rest, Jin Zixun snickering about “Lan Wangji’s drug addict boyfriend.” I would have turned around and punched him in the face, but then Wei Ying fell on the ground and started seizing and… and…

[bebepac]

The Pink Lady

I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt# 42 “Let’s be honest with ourselves, we knew this was going to happen” will appear in bold

Liam, Riley, Hana, and Maxwell all belong to Pixelberry.  All other characters are my own creation to support our story.  

This is the 7th Chapter of Fast Forward To catch up on Liam and Riley’s future Life please click 

Fast Forward

I wasn’t kidding when I said this story keeps taking turns on me, and it did yet another one.  I really can’t control this one.  There are some mentions of some things if you are not following  the Life of Riley  or  some of my wacky drabbles or one shots.  Mentioned in this fic:  Riley’s horrible driving, The Pink Lady Guitar, and Riley’s Accident.  To get more back ground on them check out Ride with Me (my very first fic i posted)  and Ghost Girl from the life of Riley, and January 18th  Links are :  

Ride With Me

Ghost Girl

January 18th

Song inspiration for this chapter:  When I Was your Man by Bruno Mars.  

https://youtu.be/ekzHIouo8Q4

I don’t own rights to any of the music or lyrics displayed.  

Summary:  Von stays at the palace per Riley’s request.   Riley spends the day at the private beach with friends with Von.  Von attends his first courtly event, as Riley’s guest and gives her a very special gift from her past.

Warnings:  Profanity, depression, sadness, domestic violence,  Angry Liam.... becomes Evil Liam.  This just went dark.  Sorry guys not my intent.

Word count: 2733

Tagging:  @queenjilian @dcbbw @burnsoslow @loveellamae @lovemychoices @bbrandy2002 @nomadics-stuff @kimmiedoo5 @cordonianroyalty @cordonia-gothqueen @lodberg @aestheticartwriting @glaimtruelovealways @custaroonie @texaskitten30 @janezillow @atha68 @my0123456789universe @kaitycole @indiacater @losingbraincellseveryday @yukinagato2012 @furiousherringoperatortoad @marietrinmimi @hopefulmoonobject @sevenfuckslefttogive @ac27dj @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @mrsdrakewalkerblog @islandcrow @xpandabeardontcarex  @axwalker @sanchita012 @queenwalton @flutistbyday2020 @gabesmommie1130  @mom2000aggie @queenaaliyah @jared2612​

"Maybe you can fool her with that you are on vacation bullshit. Cut the crap. I saw your little interview. What do you really think you can accomplish by coming here now Donovan?"

"I think the real question is, why are you so insecure with your relationship, that you are coming at me like this bro?"

"Because I feel something from you; the only reason you have come here is to try to take My Queen back with you. You do realize we have a family together right? Riley loves me and our children, and I love my wife."

"Then why is she not your equal?  The way you overrule her and talk over her.  I have seen you do it millions of times in press conferences.  You even did it to her today.  I asked Riley was she pregnant. I didn't ask you.  You answered for her, like she was incapable of answering for herself.  No wonder I've been hearing from her so much lately.  I feel like all you want is a pretty faced, pretty shaped Queen to give you heirs. Riley is more than that. She is not a trophy. You treat her like she's property. Probably the only reason you want another baby is to show someone that she's yours."

"SHE IS MINE! You are sadly mistaken if you think you are gonna swoop in and …."

"Look who's up?" Riley walked back into the room holding Jaiden bouncing him on her hip. He rubbed his eyes. Liam gave him a kiss on the forehead. "My baby boy."  Ellie and Adam followed behind her, looking inquisitively at the stranger standing before them. 

Von gave them a tiny wave. Adam waved. Ellie looked right at her father. Von could have sworn he saw Liam slightly shake his head "No." Ellie did not wave back. 

"Von, I'd like you to meet our children. Ellie, and Adam say hello."

Both children holding close to Riley's hips peer around her but only Adam said hello. 

"Ellie where are your manners? Say hello to Mommy's friend."

Ellie said nothing but ran across the room to Liam. 

He picked her up holding her in his arms. 

"I'm sorry Von, she's usually not shy. I don't know what's gotten into her."

"No it's okay."  He looked at Ellie. Of course he was training her to be just like him. She was the crown princess.  They both had the same look in their eyes, staring at Von, anger. 

"And this is Jaiden."  

Von remembered everything Riley had ever told him about  Jaiden. When Riley's memories came back she had told him about what happened with him that day during the accident.

"He would be so happy you named one of your sons after him."

"I think so too." Von softly touched Jaiden's cheek and  he giggled.  He grabbed Von's fingers holding them. 

These two were definitely Riley's children, that Riley had the primary influence over them.  Not Crown Princess A-hole that was looking down at him sneering just like her father. 

"Von do you have a place to stay? We have plenty of room you could stay with us. We could get…"

Liam cut her off  yet again. "I'm sure Donovan has made his own arrangements Riley, we shouldn't interfere.  He said he is in fact on vacation, he probably has a plan."

Riley laughed out loud. 

"Actually Liam not really. Riley, you know me so well. One of the things that is my fatal flaw that Riley loathed was my lack of planning. However, bucket list item #13 stay in a palace, so there you go!"

"We can get someone to bring in your stuff. I assume you rented a vehicle?" 

"I did, my stuff is in the car. 

"We can do something fun but low-key tomorrow because I'll have the kids. You don't mind that do you Von?"

"No not at all, it will be nice to get to know your kids."

"We will have a great time, I could even drive."

"NO!" Both Liam and Von screamed in unison. 

"So she's never been able to drive, these are not recent events from just not driving much?"

"LIAM!!!!"

"And I was there when she took driver's ed….three times."

Liam laughed, shaking his head at Riley.  "You're lucky, you're beautiful and charming."

"VON!!!! You gonna tell my business out on the street like that?"

"Mommy says snitches get stitches," Adam chimed in loudly.

"That's right, baby and Mommy's always right."

Von laughed out loud, "The New Yorker is strong in this one."

Von knew right then, if Riley ever left Liam, and he got another chance with Riley, he wouldn't have a problem loving adorable Jaiden and Adam as if they were his own kids. Liam would never let Riley take Ellie. She was too important to him. She was him.

Servants helped bring his items in but one box he wouldn't let out of his sight.  He held it carefully.  "It's a surprise," he said.

"Tomorrow we are having a small get together here in the ballroom.  Please say you will attend as my guest."

He nodded to Riley.  

The next morning after breakfast Riley security team took them to the beach. He noticed right away the way Riley's guard Nico was staring at her in her bathing suit. That's why Liam wanted another child. He's staking his claim on Riley. Liam was so transparent, at least in Von's eyes. 

But how did Riley truly feel? he wondered.

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you recommended this.  I’ve never been so relaxed in my life.   Who knew the thing I was missing from my life was a private beach.”  

Riley laughed.  “I feel the same way when I come here.   I think about all the times we went to the Island to go to the beach.  Do you remember?!? Shoulder to shoulder with people.”  

Inviting her friends also built in babysitters so that he could talk to Riley.  He had already noticed some things he was worried about.

He decided to just jump into it.

“Riley, is something bothering you?”

“I’m just fine.”  She said smiling.  A smile he saw didn’t reach Riley’s eyes.  He saw sadness.  He’d seen that type of sadness in her eyes before.  Riley. Was. Not. Fine.

He watched Riley when she didn’t think she was being watched.   She took a sip of her water and put it down.  He noticed her hands were shaking.  

Riley looked deep in thought.  

**** 10 months ago *** “We’ve tried multiple times to turn the baby, but it’s just not working.  The baby is still breech. Being so close to your due date Your Majesty. I think a C-section would be best.  

“Both Ellie and Adam I had naturally.  “Will there be scars?”  

“We’ll do our best to make them as minimal as possible.”

“And there’s no chance the baby will turn so Riley can deliver naturally?”

“There’s always a chance King Liam, but it looks highly unlikely at this point.  A C-section is the safest option for both mom and baby.”

Liam gently rubbed Riley’s large rounded stomach.  “Yes, we want them both to be safe.  Is there anything else Dr. Ramirez?”  

“That’s all I can think of, we’ll have you back next week, as we’re going to start weekly visits from here on out.”  

“I just had one more thing, Go ahead Liam  I’ll be out in one second.”

He walked out the door. Riley waited until he closed it behind him.  

She chuckled at Riley, “You would think it’s your first baby how nervous you look.”  

“Well,” Riley tried to make her voice sound as nonchalant as possible,”  Since we’re doing a c-section would it be possible to perform a tubal ligation while i’m open already?”

“Queen Riley, you have plenty of child bearing years left, if we do the procedure and you change your mind, we might not be able to reverse it.”

“I won’t be changing my mind, I want the procedure.”

“King Liam hasn’t mentioned anything of the sort.”

“It’s not King Liam’s body, It’s mine.”

Dr. Ramirez gave her a knowing look.  “Is it though?  I don’t feel comfortable performing such a procedure on the Queen of Cordonia without the King’s consent or knowledge. Is there anything else?”

“No, That about covers it,” Riley commented with a stiff smile, walking out the door.  

He watched Riley looking down at herself.  Her hand still shaking touched her stomach for  a moment.  

There were sad tears in Riley’s eyes.   He remembered yesterday when he asked Riley was she pregnant and the mortified look that crossed her face for a second, that Liam didn’t even notice.

Realization hit Von like a ton of bricks.

“Riley. Two things.. First…. Why haven’t you told Liam you’re pregnant, and Second, why aren’t you happy about it?  

"It wasn't always like this. I really think somewhere he loves me. He is a good father Von, but not so great a husband. Sometimes he's sweet, but Sometimes I feel like he forgets we're supposed to be ruling together and makes decisions for all of us like I don't matter. Ellie matters more to him than I do. He wanted more children, so I've given him more children.  I've done and given him everything he asks of me, and at the end of the day, he doesn't take me seriously. I'm not enough. He's the ruling monarch with royal blood. No matter how much I give him it's never enough Von."

"You're enough for the right person Riley. You're enough for me."

Von took her hand in his. She quickly pulled away.

"Please stop. I can't take any more complications than I have right now."

On the way back they stopped with Maxwell to get Von a nice suit. Von saw immediately that Riley was his best friend by the way they talked. He liked Maxwell right away too. He reminded him a little of Daniel.

He sat at the dinner with Maxwell and Hana, they both were her best friends . They talked and laughed with him like they were old friends. He noticed Riley watching them from her dais as she sat next to Liam in their matching thrones.

She made her way over to him "Are you guys having fun?"

"Lots of fun Little Blossom, can we keep him?"

Von chuckled, "Maxwell you're hilarious. And how many stories does this guy have about peacocks?"

Riley let out a deep belly laugh, "He has millions. I've yet to hear the same peacock story twice."

"So Liam wanted me to ask you something, would you be willing to do a song for us, to open up the social part of the evening? I know you're on vacation."

Was this dude really this stupid? He was about to light a fire in this place, and in Riley.

"I'll do it for you, but I need to get something first."

He came back shortly with the same box he had been so protective over. He whispered something to Hana and she nodded.  Riley introduced him when he was ready.

He stood up. "Thank you for that lovely welcome Queen Riley. We grew up together in New York.  And she doesn't know that I spent the last 3 years looking for this, and just found it two weeks ago. This was part of the reason I'm here is to return it to its rightful owner. He opened the box revealing Riley's pink lady guitar. He walked closer so she could see it.

She jumped up out of her throne, gasping. Liam grabbed her arm. She slowly sat back down into her throne.

"I know what you're thinking. When I went to my fans to help me find it, I left one detail about The Pink Lady off the information.  After a few false alarms, Someone messaged me about this one. I just asked them one simple question, was there anything unique about it? They told me yes, on the back there initials engraved in the wood RB and DJ."  

Liam looked at the tears in her eyes in confusion.

"My Dad bought me that guitar. You know I lost almost everything I owned after the accident.  I could never find it, I looked for it, every chance I got."

When he handed it over to her she quickly checked the back.  She remembered her and Von engraving their initials after she played her first song she had ever written for him. She closed her eyes, also remembering walking around the store with her Dad, finding it for the first time.  She opened her eyes again looking at Von.

He smiled. "You'll never guess where it was.  In California. Thirty minutes from where I live."

"Hana if you would."

Hana sat at the piano playing for him. When he started the second verse, of the song,  Von's eyes met Riley's, and they never left hers.

My pride, my ego, my needs, and my selfish ways Caused a good strong woman like you to walk out my life Now I never, never get to clean up the mess I made, oh And it haunts me every time I close my eyes

It all just sounds like ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh Mm, too young, too dumb to realize That I should have bought you flowers And held your hand Should have gave you all my hours When I had the chance Take you to every party 'cause all you wanted to do was dance

Now my baby's dancing But she's dancing with another man

Although it hurts I'll be the first to say that I was wrong Oh, I know I'm probably much too late To try and apologize for my mistakes But I just want you to know

I hope he buys you flowers I hope he holds your hand Give you all his hours When he has the chance Take you to every party 'Cause I remember how much you loved to dance Do all the things I should have done When I was your man Do all the things I should have done When I was your man

The crowd roared in applause.  

"Riley, play something for your people."

"That won't be necessary," Liam interjected.

Riley ignored him and had gotten up putting the strap over her shoulder.  

"I'm a little rusty, so hopefully it will sound okay.  This has always been my favorite song since the first time I heard it."

When Riley played the first few chords,  Von knew what she was playing.  She was playing their song. Playing it for him.

Liam recognized it right away too.  She could feel Liam's anger  radiating off him.

When the song was over everyone was cheering for Riley.  Liam excused them. Von saw how he gripped Riley's arm as they walked out the ballroom, and he didn't like it.  He followed them. As he got closer to the door. He heard Liam's voice full of anger. "HOW DARE YOU EMBARRASS ME LIKE THAT!"

Then he heard an unmistakable sound. He slapped  Riley.

Von pushed the door open seeing Riley in tears holding her face.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING MAN?!? DID YOU JUST HIT HER?!?!?"

"Von please go," Riley pleaded. "You'll  just make it worse."

"Riley you don't have to take this from him. Is this how you treat the mother of your children?!?!?"

"I will treat her however I please."

He yanked the guitar from Riley grip, holding it in the air.

"Please don't Liam. Please, I'm sorry Liam. PLEASE DON'T!!!!"

Liam ignored her. He slammed it hard to the ground, shattering it.

Riley fell to her knees bursting into tears. "This wasn't about him Liam, My father gave me this, and YOU RUINED IT!!!!!!! WHY?????"

"Maybe now you will think twice about sharing looks of lust for another man so blatantly in front of your King and His People."

He stood  towering over them. Von's grip tightened around Riley as to protect her.

"Let's be honest with ourselves, we knew this was going to happen."

He stared down at Riley on the floor crying, shaking. Von held her in his arms, her back against his chest. Von was staring at Liam in pure disgust.

"I'm sure you know you're not welcome in the royal chambers tonight, unless you're ready to do whatever your King desires you to do for you to be forgiven. Otherwise, find alternate sleeping arrangements."

Liam walked out the room, the door slamming behind him.

“

[lycorogue]

A Family Tradition: Giving Thanks Tree

Tina Belcher - Image care of “Bob’s Burgers” on Fox

When I was a kid - I can’t even remember how old I first was - my mother would tape a cardboard cutout of a bare tree onto the attic door. Along its trunk were the words “Giving Thanks Tree”. She would then hang up a manila envelope filled with leaves cut out of red, orange, and yellow construction paper. Our goal for the month of November, leading into Thanksgiving? Write just one thing we’re thankful for each day and then hang it up on the cardboard tree so it is full by the end of the month.

As a child I HATED this tradition. It was so hard for me to think of 30 unique things I was grateful for, and usually ended up with generic things like “food” or “a home” or “boys” (I was a bit like Tina there). It wasn’t until college did I truly get the value of taking a few minutes each day to think about a blessing in your life you may have otherwise taken for granted. It was hard for me my freshman year of college to know I couldn’t participate in the family Giving Thanks Tree, so, with a new appreciation for the tradition, I made my own cardboard tree, hung it on my dorm room door, posted a sign explaining the tradition, and put out my own envelope of paper leaves for my floormates to join in. I was a naïve 18yo, but thankfully no one posted joke leaves. I was surprised at how many joined in on my tradition as I filled my tree with gratitudes. (I later brought my leaves home to post on the family tree).

In 2011 I got married and officially moved out of my mother’s home. I have yet to find a good wall or door to hang a big ol’ cardboard tree, so instead I switched to a digital list. This year I had decided to share to more than my personal Facebook page. I tried posting daily on Twitter as a month-long thread, but... well, it didn’t go so well, so I stopped after day 13, I think. I did finish the thread over on Facebook, and I decided to bring the complete list over to Tumblr.

So, for any who are interested, below the break is my list of 30 things I was grateful for this past November; things I hope to remain grateful for well beyond the next year. Always remember to stop to count your blessings. If you really try to find them, you will discover you have more than you might have realized.

1. I am grateful that my friends and family have been (mostly) safe and healthy this year, and that those who did contract COVID-19 were able to recover. ❤ (*proceeds to knock on wood*)

2. I am grateful for the amazing support system I have. I know I am one of the lucky ones, but between my husband, my family, my friends, and even my readers, I have so much positivity lifting me up, and I want to make sure I never take that for granted.

3. I am grateful to have a stable roof over my head. It's a decent size for two people (we just have a LOT of things). It has sturdy walls & a secure roof. We can keep it warm in the winter and cool in the summer (not cool enough for Hubby, but nothing outside a meat locker would be). We have an attentive but not intrusive landlady. She repairs anything that needs fixing ASAP, and is a lovely woman we can just pal around with on occasion. Those are things I know a lot of people can't say about their landlords/ladies. We also have welcoming neighbors that are a joy to run into in the parking lot. If we have to be "stuck" somewhere until we can buy our own place, where we are works wonderfully.

4. I am grateful that we are no longer hurting for money. We can splurge on smaller purchases (under $50) without much second thought. We can now pay off ALL of our monthly bills after just the first paychecks of the month. And then the rest of the month is building up funds for the next month's bills and savings. Speaking of, we have a little nest-egg of a couple grand, which is still relatively new for us. I'm also over-paying my student loans and car payment. Not by much, but enough that my bills are a couple months ahead, so... cool. I know that during this year in particular, having any sort of financial security is hard to hold onto, so I want to count our blessings that we're doing alright. *proceeds to knock on wood again*

5. As silly as it seems to say, I am grateful for all of the election memes. It was a super stressful time for most of us, and to have some sort of humor that most of the country could relate to (such as Flash from Zootopia being in charge of counting Nevada's votes) was a great stress reliever and bringer of much-needed smiles. So, thank you, Meme Lords/meme creators for bringing us such fantastic content to help ease that wait and stress.

6. I am grateful to see that my Muse is slowly returning to me, like a groundhog after a long hibernation, poking its head out just enough to acknowledge it's there before scurrying back into its burrow to hide again. It hasn't been much, and only one story was actually written in November, but I have been playing with a handful of plotbunnies. It's nice to be able to de-stress via plot-building and playing with character growth again. 😊 ❤

7. I'm sure you all saw this coming, but I am grateful that T**** lost the election. Not so much that Biden/Harris won, because there's issues there too, but that T**** will be out of the White House. Mostly, I'm grateful because that means so many that I love - and those online personalities that I respect - are going to be in a safer America (and world) as of January 20th. For those who suffered through physical, mental, emotional, financial, and maybe even spiritual hardships over the past 4 years - both Americans and international citizens alike - I am grateful that you get to take a breath and relax (at least, for a little bit) now. I don't know if Biden/Harris will (or can) do anything to actually help heal what caused my loved ones' suffering, but at least they won't be actively adding to it.

8. Getting away from the political, I am grateful that Hubby and I can eat whenever we want (outside of work). We may grumble about what we have available, but that's mostly due to not having the energy to turn ingredients into meals, or we've had the same meal 3x in a row already. Regardless, we CAN eat whenever we are hungry, and I am grateful for that.

9. Keeping with the "things people can take for granted easily" theme, I am grateful for my wardrobe. It may be simple and repetitive, but it is enough to wear something clean each day for anywhere between 7 and 12 days before needing to run to the laundromat. Nothing has holes or ratty edges (unless it's a beloved shirt I refuse to give up). My shoes have good soles to them, and I rarely have sore feet. When my feet DO get repeatedly sore, I have the funds to either fix my shoes via new insoles, or I can simply buy new ones. My coats are warm and, aside from one missing the grip of the zipper (but the zipper itself still works), they are still in good condition. I may not be the most fashionable, and I'm sure I'm not picking the best clothing to fit my body shape, but over-all, I'm protected from the elements, my body is protected, and I am well-kempt.

10. Kept me too long to mention this, but I am grateful that I was able to marry my best friend. There are those out there still looking for companionship. There are those who found it, but, in some cruel twist of fate, lost it. There are those who love their spouse, but may not exactly be friends with them. And yet, here Hubby and I are: two people who would gladly spend every waking moment with each other. I found someone I could chat and cuddle and laugh and cry with every moment of every day. Someone I share interests with, and someone who expands my list of interests. Someone who also expands my view of the world; who makes me wish to be more understanding and accepting, and just... better. I am lucky, and I never want to see a day when I forget that fact.

11. I feel a bit silly with this one, but I am grateful I don't have any major allergies I have to worry about. Specifically, no food allergies. I've seen how difficult it is for people to navigate around food allergies or intense airborne allergies. To have to not think about those sorts of things is such a privilege, and I'm truly grateful for it. I have enough issues with lactose intolerance.

12. Another kinda silly one, but, I'm grateful for @dragnime​ living next door to us. Same was true for when another friend was our neighbor. There's just something about seeing dragnime’s car when I come home (again, same with the other friend and his car) that makes me smile. I don't have to actually socialize with dragnime that day if we're both busy, but to see his car and know he's there should I want to reach out is just a weird sort of comforting. (Man, I really need Hubby and I to win the lottery so we can build our commune already....)

13. I am grateful for publicly announced self-appointed deadlines. Last year I started up my own tradition within the Miraculous Ladybug fandom: Friday 13ths should be Plagg Appreciation Day. Plagg is a character who, I feel, doesn't get nearly enough love or screen time. He's also the kwami of bad luck and destruction, so... Friday 13th seemed fitting. The final bit of writing I had actually finished and posted prior to November was for this fandom holiday back in March, and at the end of that story I told everyone "see you in November!" so I felt silly if I'd let this poor-writing year defeat me. I was determined to have at least THIS story written, and that determination paid off. It ended up taking almost literally my entire day off, but I was able to become inspired enough to write SOMETHING, and it seems to be received well, so... added yay. 😊

14. I am grateful for my relatively easy life. I have been loved and supported my whole life. I never really experienced abuse or prejudice (or even really bullying) personally. I was able to fully experience college without much personal trouble (my student loan debt notwithstanding). Aside from a single 6-month stint right after moving to NY, I have been able to find work easily enough. I haven't had to struggle for food or clothing or housing (stretch budget, yes; struggle, no). I haven't had to live without electricity or clean running water. I've never lost loved ones or valuable items (even sentimentally) through natural disasters. *knock on wood some more* There have been struggles in my life, to be sure, but, on the whole, I've had a happy, safe, supported, and relatively easy life.

15. I'm calling out @chibisunnie​ specifically. I am so SO very grateful for her. I mean, I always am, but this year in particular she's been such a pillar of strength for me. I can't even imagine the stress and panic this year must cause her, and yet she's still always there to comfort ME. (I mean, I hope I comfort her too, but this year in particular I feel it's more her comforting me.) She's been the main one (right behind Hubby) to remind me to be kind to myself this year and that it IS an unusual year; my "failings" in 2020 don't define who I am seeing it's an outlier year.

16. I am grateful that my sister is seeing her true self-worth. She’s worked so hard to improve herself and to find out who she truly is, and it's been fantastic to see her continue to evolve. It's also great to see her find someone who builds her up, so a side bit of gratitude to her boyfriend. And, yes, her perseverance, strength, and determination (as well as her mad crocheting skills) are still things that I greatly admire in her. I'm just so happy and proud and grateful that she seems to be in such a good place. ❤

17. I am grateful that my mom has discovered how capable she truly is. This year has been undeniably hard on small businesses such as hers. It must be such a struggle to keep everything afloat and to stay positive, and yet she is. She's pushing herself to improve her business and marketing. She's dealing with modern technology – basically the bane of her existence – nearly all day long between Zoom meetings to network and learn and grow, to working remotely, to making videos to help promote herself, to reworking her business's website, etc. She's grown so much over the year and I'm so proud of her.

18. Since I mentioned it, I am grateful for video conference programs such as Zoom. Unfortunately, due to scheduling conflicts, exhaustion, and my right knee getting worse, I had to stop doing Zumba (I'm hoping to work my way back into the routine again sooner than later). However, before June screwed me over, Zoom was how I was able to keep up with this exercise routine post-shutdown. It's how I've been able to see my family. It's how so many have been able to continue working. It's how YouTubers I enjoy manage to still interact for their videos. It's fantastic that this technology is not only available, but it's also accessible to so many.

19. Speaking of which, I am grateful for the Oxboxtra crew, Dicebreaker, the Theory Family (yes, I’m aware people find MatPat problematic...), SuperCarlinBrothers, OSP, Hello Future Me, and The Warp Zone. In total, that’s nearly a dozen different YouTube channels I routinely watch – focused mostly on OutsideXbox, Outside Xtra, Film Theory, Game Theory, Food Theory, and SuperCarlinBrothers – and these channels have really helped me keep my sanity. The fandoms specifically for OutsideXbox, Outside Xtra, and SuperCarlinBrothers are just so sweet and supportive of even fellow fans. The YouTubers have such big hearts and are so delightfully goofy, it's almost like welcoming friends into my home whenever I watch them. I even started checking out stuff on Luke Westaway's and Ellen Rose's private channels on YouTube because I enjoyed these entertainers so much. So, thank you, YouTubers, for helping me find something that lets me forget what's going on in the world for 2hrs and just have fun. ❤

20. Along those lines, I am grateful for games such as Animal Crossing: New Horizons and Among Us. Both of those games, and similar ones that were available this year, were great distractions from the chaos of 2020. They have provided fantastic and unique gameplay content for the YouTube channels I follow, which, in turn, provided great video content for me to watch. These types of games were also, and most importantly, great ways for people to stay connected. I've been able to bond and joke around and preoccupy myself with games and gaming streams, and they have certainly been such great lifelines.

21. I am grateful for quiet cuddle moments. Be it in the evening while Hubby and I are watching TV, or while we're actually snuggled in bed watching Disney+ or Netflix, or after hitting snooze in the morning and just wanting to stay cuddled together for another 5 minutes, or even when one of us (*cough*usuallyme*cough*) is feeling super stressed and we just take a couple-minute time-out to just hug, I am grateful for all of them. I know not every couple gets to have these physical contact moments for various reasons, add in my own experience of having an 8-year long-distance relationship, and I try so hard to not take those quiet moments of just simple hugs or hand holds or back scratches for granted.

22. I am grateful for music and the ability to experience it. It motivates me. It inspires me (I have so many stories/chapters written because a song made me think of the plot). It helps with cathartic release. It gets me moving and exercising. It keeps me focused. It allows me to just zone out. Music is just so important in my life and the life of so many more. Bless all the music creators and performers.

23. I am grateful for Anime Night. It's a bit of normalcy in this year of anything but. It's a way to stay connected with a couple of my friends, and the little bits of socializing we do outside of watching has really allowed me to get to know both men more, as well as learn more about the other people really important in their lives.

24. I am grateful for the experience of turning fans into friends (and also being allowed to evolve from fan to friend). One of the best things about fanfiction is the ability to see people interact and react with your work, and to then respond in kind. It's sort of a silver lining to the relatively small number of views and comments on most fanfiction (compared to most professionally published work, that is), since it means you aren't too overwhelmed to truly experience each comment, follow, fave, like, reblog, etc. Through people gushing about my work, and me gushing back at how happy they've made me, I've been able to build up some really sweet friendships. I've also made two new close-acquaintances (we don't interact QUITE enough to be “friends” just yet) from my own gushy reviews and their responses to how great my reviews made them feel. So, to @chibisunnie​, @thetauruspixie​, @livrever​, @tlos21​, @chanceuseladynoire​ and @zenmisery​ (I hope that's all of you), I am so grateful for the bond we've had over fanfiction. Love all of you so much! ❤

25. I am grateful for members of minorities and other marginalized peoples for taking the time and effort to try to educate others; making it easier on us when they are in no way obligated to help us understand at all (it's really on us to put in the effort to try to understand them). This year alone, via personal posts on social media, infographics, comics, people posting reference sheets of hotlinks to research/source materials, etc, I was able to learn so much. I was able to grow and try to overcome my own prejudices, misunderstandings, and misinformation. All because people decided to share their raw experiences or do the research for me. It was something each and every one of them volunteered to do in an effort to help educate, and I am so grateful for the lessons they've taught me.

26. I am grateful that people find me a safe person to talk to. It is one of the few things I want in life; to be a safe haven for friends, family, and even strangers who are hurting. I realize the amount of trust people put in me and the vulnerability they are allowing themselves. It is humbling, to say the least, but also such an amazing feeling. I will try to keep learning and keep growing to keep earning the trust warranted me being this safe haven, but in the meantime, I'll continue to be grateful that people do find me as someone they can be safe with.

27. On the flipside, I am grateful to have friends who allow me to just be who I am. I can be obsessed with a cartoon aimed at 10 year olds (Miraculous Ladybug), and my friends not only don't judge, but they also happily let me know when their young children start to enjoy the show! I can be goofy or forgetful or screw something up, and, again, there's no judgment. They just accept me as I am, and I am blessed.

28. I am grateful for the support my friends and family have (outside of me) in their lives. It does my heart well to know that even if I disappear due to my own mental health issues, that my friends and family still have great support around them. They are all kind people surrounded by more kind people, and I nearly cry whenever I read or hear about my friends getting support they need and the outpouring of support. YOU ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE AND I LOVE YOU ALL AND EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU DESERVE THE OUTPOURING OF SUPPORT YOU'VE FOUND. ❤

29. I am grateful for the continued bonding we've had with my sister-in-law this past year. I miss having the post-Zumba walk where we can just talk, but, largely through effort on her part, we've been having some time every Tuesday when she comes over to work after dropping the kids at school. We also had a whole evening with her on Black Friday. She's also texted and called a few times to chat, and we are getting closer and closer each year. Not everyone thinks of their in-laws as family despite what the law says, so I'm grateful that we have always thought of each other as family, and that we continue to bond and grow as siblings.

30. I am grateful for this family tradition. It allows me to really focus on what is important in life, and all the joys and blessings I've experienced. It's especially important during this trash heap of a year. I love that I can find silver linings in my life and appreciate what I have. This tradition is also a reminder to not take things for granted. I am so SO grateful that my mom introduced us to this tradition and forced us to participate as we grew up. It's a lesson that will stay with me, and it's such an important one. Thank you, Mom!

[bixenwrites]

Yours Truly, Jack

A fictional take on Jack the Ripper

NOVEMBER 1888

           This was too much. Everything was too much.

           The air was incredibly humid given the time of the year. My eyes wandered around the damp streets of Whitechapel District, traveling from one building to another, taking note of reminding the officials about the growing mass of garbage when I return to work tomorrow. It was awfully quiet, but that’s only because it’s 3 o’clock in the morning, otherwise the streets would’ve been filled by people of all age and size. I stared at the lamp posts, oh what horrors have these things witnessed?

          Whilst everyone is at ease inside their homes, I was just getting home from a long day of police work. I walked further to East, hoping to reach my residence fast, keeping in mind that he was still out there. London at night is eerie, it’s as if I can stumble upon a murder any minute, and the last thing I want at this moment is another job to do. The warm and sticky ambience was also not helping; it made me feel like I was being constantly choked and it made me feel sick to my stomach. I tried to relieved myself by unbuttoning my uniform and removing my hat, but it did not help at all. I walked faster, desperate to seek solstice in my home.

          I reached out to my pocket, lighting up my last stick of tobacco. I let my lips wet the unburnt tip and positioned it in between my teeth. I tried to ignore its bitter taste lingering in my tongue, and slowly, I breathed in the smoke. The coolness spread through my mouth, to my throat, reaching up to my chest, and then I exhaled, allowing myself to get intoxicated by the comfort it’s giving.

          The tobacco was consumed to the last bit when I reach the door to my house. I went inside, removed my shoes, and didn’t even bother to get changed before I collapse on my bed. However, instead of sleeping, I stood up again and sat on my chair. I picked up the documents on my latest case and started browsing and searching for loopholes.

          Mary Ann Nichols. Annie Chapman. Elizabeth Stride. Catherine Eddowes. Mary Kelly. All of them found dead with severely slashed throat; some of them mutilated, kidney removed, disemboweled, missing womb, and one was even skinned down. It was a work of a psychopath.

          My eyes found the letters he sent the Central News Agency among the documents. It was an untidy scrawl of him boasting and being proud of his murders. He wrote like a maniac, he treated everything like a game. He gloated and laughed at how good it felt to kill these women. He mocked the police for our inability to identify and find him, and ridiculed us even more by teasing us with a clue that he planned to left after a murder. It was the letter from hell, and it signed: Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper.

          The year 1888, hadn’t been good to the people of London. We encountered heaps of heavy thunderstorms since April, and just when August was supposed to end, the ripper came out to bring terror to our lives.

           God, it was frustrating. This was too much. Everything was too much.

           I picked up my written report and began reading the same notes that I have been reading for two months now. He had a pattern; all of his victims were prostitutes, all of his murders were killed at the ungodly hours of the morning, and all of his victims were cut and disemboweled in a way that would suggest that the killer had anatomical and surgical knowledge.

           He wasn’t just any serial killer. He was smart, nay, he was a genius. He walks the streets among us, interact with us, and laugh with us, smoke with us. He appears perfectly sane, frighteningly normal, yet capable of extraordinary cruelty.

           Jack the Ripper, that attention seeking, fearless bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he found pleasure in the audience he was getting. This was exactly what he wanted, he wanted publicity, he wanted to be recognised, he wanted to be an enigma, he wanted spectators; and we are giving him exactly what he wanted.

           He was always one step ahead of us. 

I sighed, this is exasperating. I laid down the files on my desk, and went back to my bed. That’s enough for today.

           November is ending, and we are nowhere near in capturing him than we were in August. The police solving the case are exhausted, the media running after us are exhausted, the people are exhausted, and I’m exhausted.

           Jack the Ripper is a riddle, I can’t solve it, but that doesn’t mean it’s unsolvable.

JANUARY 2018

           “I say, let it be a mystery. We’ll never know. We’ll just never know.”

           “What?”

           “Let it be a mystery.”

           “You’ll be a very-very bad judge: Court is adjourned, let it be a mystery.”

           I watched as Shane and Ryan bicker with each other on the newest episode of Buzzfeed’s True Crime series on YouTube. It’s a 37 minutes long documentary and it has successfully explained the whole case.

          “For over 100 years, the mystery of Jack the Ripper has continued to fascinate, confound, and infuriate the public. Perhaps one day we will have the means to solve the crime, or perhaps this famous case will be yet another victim to time. But, for now, the age old question will continue to persist, Who was Jack the Ripper? The case remains unsolved.”

           The screen faded into black. I stared at it for 15 minutes or so, taking in the vast information that I have just received. The air from the fan suddenly became colder, and my fingers started shaking. I looked at the picture of my great-great-grandfather next to five women; the photograph was old and wrinkly as it has been passed on our family for a century. He was smiling straight to the camera, a newspaper in one hand, and a tobacco on the other. The women beside him were laughing.

          I flipped the photo; at the back of it is a note saying:

A fine morning with Elizabeth, Annie, Mary Ann, Mary Kelly, and Catherine while waiting for John. – Jack.

- jo bixen

[haunted-halloween]

Long Post Ahead Alert:

Welp.

I found out earlier today that I tested positive for Covid-19. I’m devastated to say the least. This past Saturday I felt a little off, but I honestly thought it was because I was working hard, doing things around the house. I stopped for a little bit and I felt like I was burning up, so I took my temp and it was at 99.3, which is a slight fever but nowhere near a true fever. I took some medicine and slept for the rest of the day. Woke up Sunday and I honestly felt fine. Then I woke up on Monday at around 3 am because I couldn’t breathe through my nose. Fell back asleep somehow and when I woke up, I felt like complete shit. Tuesday was a little bit better, but I knew that I had a cold. My temp was back to normal until around noon and when I checked it, it was back up in the 99 range and I kind of felt run down and had a lack of energy. At that moment I decided to get a test done because I am a type 1 diabetic and have no immune system, so when I get sick, I AM SICK. Wednesday was much better, but I still had a pretty bad stuffy/runny nose and it was hard for me to sleep at night. Then came today. Today was the first day since this past Saturday that I actually felt pretty good. I felt positive because I thought, “I’m going to be totally fine for Halloween and I’ll be able to pass out candy!” Then I looked at my email and saw my results...POSITIVE in big red letters. My heart sank into my ass to be honest. I started sobbing, not for me, but for my family because I would rather die than have one of them get it.

So now my three family members went and got tested right away and I’m praying to a God, if there is one, that none of them have it. I’m pretty surprised at how fast I got my results and I’m truly blessed that all of my symptoms have been mild. I had a really bad cold back in January of 2018 and this virus is not even touching how bad that was. What’s odd to me is that not once did I have that horrible headache or cough that’s associated with Covid. It just feels like a really mild cold for me and I can actually breathe through my nostrils today, so I know I’m getting better already. The only thing of concern is that my temp keeps going up and down for some reason. When I checked earlier tonight, it was back up in the 99 range. My blood sugars have been a little bit elevated as well, which always happens when I get sick.

This year has been a dumpster fire. My city did end up cancelling trick-or-treating times, but not trick-or-treating itself, so we were going to still pass some out. We even built a plexiglass shield to put on a table to do it safely. If you know me, then you know that Halloween is my life, my blood, as dramatic as that sounds. Last year, I also had a horrible Halloween due to construction and snow and the cold. People still came to my house though. I just feel like I’m letting everyone down. I only ever went to work and home and always wore my mask, so I’m pretty upset that I contracted the virus. I’m just glad that I’m doing well and I know that everyone else is having a horrible year too. It was supposed to be perfect this year...Halloween on a Saturday night with a full moon? Ugh. I plan on going big next year and I’ll just bring my extra candy into work when I’m allowed to go back.

If you read all of that, then thank you from the bottom of my heart for listening. I feel alone and a little sad right now, but also feel better knowing all of you love Halloween just like me and that Halloween always lives in our hearts and can never die or be “cancelled”.

Much love to you all and please have a Happy and safe Halloween!

🖤

[gobigorgohome2016]

All the Cliches

When I started writing this post in my head, I was going to title it something like Out of Hibernation, yet make it known that I wasn’t planning to bore you with a 1,300 word soliloquy comparing myself to a Bleeding Heart (which is apparently a Spring perennial and, you know, we’re all about cliches here) blooming through the last remnants of Winter frost.

Then I thought, no, do I really need an intro to tell everyone I’m back on my bullshit after a few steps forward and another step back?  

Then I realized...isn’t running really just the epitome of a giant cliche?  

TL;DR I had a big accomplishment in the fall and thought the momentum would carry over super easily into the Spring.  I ignored some symptoms, realized I was anemic, felt really sad, and now I’m starting to feel like myself again.  aka, the simple, common, cliched journey of every.single.runner.

Even though this experience is the embodiment of what it means to be an endurance athlete, why do we act surprised every single time?  Leading up to Philadelphia, after my year of mystery illness [which, it turns out, had another plot twist.  Remember how I was having a massive immune system reaction and pretty terrible quality of life?  Well, after we found mold in the house the problem went 90% away.  The remaining 10% was still driving me crazy.  Long story short, the installation of a whole-home water filter has returned me to a fully functioning human being.  Hello, my name is Anna and I’m just your local canary in the coal mine] I vowed I would do a better job about just letting life go with the flow and not try to fight the current every step of the way.  I guess I got too big for my britches because - lo and behold - I found myself avoiding what I pretty much knew all along.

After Philadelphia, I took 2 weeks off and really enjoyed my down time.  The highlight was a day trip to French Lick, where Dave and I hit the casino (I won $25), ate all the sweets, shopped, split an amazing kobe beef burger, got day drunk, and took the scenic drive home.  The next day I started running again and, much to my surprise, felt way better than I normally do after two weeks of zero exercise.  This felt like a big win. 

December turned out to be extra crazy, then at the end of January I co-hosted a women’s running retreat, BAnna Camp.  Any fatigue I was feeling during December and January I just chalked up to stress and the typical things you do when you’re in that awkward in-between period from one race to another:  less sleep, less healthy food, less fitness.  

^have to make sure this post never dies

The first day I was in Austin, Becki and I did a workout together.  It was my first “real” workout back (other than some fartleks and strides), and it wasn’t even supposed to be hard:  3 x 7 min @ 6:00 pace.  I STRUGGLED.  I couldn’t breathe, my quads were heavy, and the paces felt much more difficult than they seemed like they should.  But, there were plenty of excuses:  it’s windy, we were running a net uphill, I was dehydrated from travel, I was stressed about the upcoming camp, etc. etc.  Midway through that workout I had a very distinct thought of oh shit, this feels very anemic right now.  That night I texted my friend who would be joining us later in the week and asked her to bring some iron pills, since I had forgotten my supplement.  

The following week my workout didn’t feel great, but again, it was easy to make excuses.  I was on a treadmill.  I was still catching up on sleep from camp.  Maybe I’m more out of shape than I thought. 

Longer efforts didn’t feel great, but I was getting them done.  My paces felt quick, but, winter training never feels amazing.  Plus, it seemed like every workout I did was into a strong wind, so how can you really judge pace and effort?  

In early February, I had my first race of the season which was a 5 miler in downtown Indy.  I had told Dave I was going to hold 5:30 pace for as long as I could and see what happened.  My first mile was 5:54, and Dave said he could hear me breathing before he could see me.  I was 3rd that day in just under 30:00.  Again, there were plenty of excuses.  It was windy.  We had celebrated Valentine’s Day the night before, so maybe steak, lobster, buttered mashed potatoes, and wine wasn’t the best pre-race meal?  

During my sulking about the race I had an aha moment.  In December, prior to realizing we had an issue with our water, I was trying to figure out what was still causing skin rashes and GI issues.  The only thing I was taking every day was ferrous sulfate, which is an iron supplement that is gentle on your stomach but has some suspect ingredients (food colorings, sorbate, etc.).  I decided to switch my supplement (one that had worked for me for YEARS) to something that seemed “cleaner”:  ionic iron.  While I was wracking my brain trying to figure out what could be wrong, it occurred to me to check my iron dosage.  

I was taking ~10% of my normal ferrous sulfate dosage, and honestly don’t even know how absorbable ionic iron even is.  That day I made the switch back to ferrous sulfate, but knew that if my iron/ferritin was low, it would take about 6 weeks before I felt a difference.

If at this point you’re reading along and thinking to yourself, it’s not expensive to just go and get a blood test to find out whether your iron is low - you are absolutely correct.  I should have just scheduled an appointment to take a blood test and find out.  But, I’m stubborn.

Two weeks after my 5 mile race I flew to Atlanta for the Road to Gold, an 8 mile race on the 2020 Olympic Trials course.  This is a whole other post in and of itself, but I will say that the hype is real.  That course is going to be hard.  

While the experience was great, my time was not.  My goal had been to run 5:45 pace through the first 4 miles and then pick up the pace.  While I did go through the first 4 miles in 22:50, just under my goal, I went through the next 4 miles in 24:20ish, and again felt as though I couldn’t breathe.  I finally conceded it was time for a blood test. 

The results were pretty much exactly what I thought they would be:  low ferritin, high CO2 in my blood, and borderline-low Vitamin D.  After weeks of agonizing over whether I was out of shape I finally had an answer (albeit one I should have just figured out sooner).  So, I upped my iron supplement and looked ahead.  

Nowhere to go but up, right?

In the following weeks I paid better attention to meal timing (i.e., if I was having a steak for dinner I wasn’t pairing it with red wine or other iron-inhibiting foods).  I cut out my second cup of coffee in the afternoon so that my body could have a better chance at iron absorption.  I focused more on sleep.  I got back on nutrient tracking to make sure I was getting everything I needed from my diet.  

and it paid off

6 weeks after my miserable 5 mile race where I could barely run faster than 5:58 pace for 5 miles, I ran 1:16:37 in the Carmel half marathon on a less-than-ideal day with rain and wind.  

During race week I cut out all caffeine and red wine to hopefully give my body the extra boost it needed to absorb iron.  I meal prepped early in the week so that I had nutrient-rich options readily available.  I said no to a couple work-related opportunities that popped up in favor of less stress, and I gave myself my best chance to succeed.  

In truth, sometimes setting yourself up for success is scary.  What if you do everything possible and you don’t succeed?  I have seen so many talented athletes give up because they went all in and it didn’t immediately pay off.  But, that’s probably another post for another day, too. 

Come race day we had 15 mph winds, pouring rain, and puddles on the course.  It will sound sarcastic when I say this, but that truly is my favorite racing weather.  Going into the race my A goal (not accounting for weather) was 75 min, B goal 76 min, and C goal 77 min.  My plan was to run the first 10 at 5:45 effort, then see how fast I could go the last 5k.  

Starting off, I was very pleased to find myself in a pack of men and through the first mile around 5:40.  I NEVER trust my GPS, so all splits I give will be those from the course.  I went through 4 miles in 22:50 - the exact same time I went through 4 miles in Atlanta, only this time I felt so much better.  I went through 6.55 (again, as marked on the course, not my GPS) in 37:26 and felt like I really had a chance at sub 75 still.  Through 10 miles I was right at 58 min.  I felt strong for the first time in a long time. 

Around mile 11 I started to get tired, and just focused on getting through 0.5 miles at a time.  T last couple miles were definitely the toughest, as they were mostly uphill/into the wind.  76:38 is my fourth fastest half [74:03, Houston, PERFECT weather; 75:20, ‘17 US championships, goal race full taper, 75:59, Columbus half, 4 weeks out from Philly], and this gives me a lot of encouragement considering some sub-par months of training.    

Now that I am feeling the effects of higher ferritin, I’m beginning to wonder if I wasn’t a little bit low during my Philly build up.  I have had some of my best long runs and workouts the past couple weeks - ones that would have blown away what I did leading up to Philly.  It also makes sense, given how I felt the last half of my Philly race, that my ferritin may have been low.  Moving forward, I’m going to schedule blood work much more regularly so that I don’t have preventable problems like this occur.  Definitely kicking myself, but, as with all failures in life it was a great opportunity to learn and grow.  

My next race is in 6 weeks and I’ll be at the 25k championships in Grand Rapids.  I’m looking forward to seeing what another 6 weeks of quality training and (hopefully) warmer weather can do for my fitness!  

[eurusholmmes]

Prologue - Ethereal | Castiel

So, per @feathersinthesky suggestion, I have decided to post Ethereal on here as well given that links basically don’t work anymore. One chapter a day (I’m currently finishing Season 6) and 10+ notes for the next chapter. I’m gonna tag some mutuals who might wanna read again, just for the pain ;)

THIS IS NOT A X READER FIC - I MERELY PUT IT IN THE TAG TO BE SEEN AND WILL REMOVE IT ONCE IT IS 

tag: @dontshootmespence @thehoneybeecastielfollows @webcricket @littleredwriter 

1970

It had been a constant struggle to keep himself away from her. While order remained in Heaven under the rule of the Archangels, several Seraphim had been sent to walk the Earth to ensure the safety of the humans their Father had created. Gabriel had been adamant that Josiah, despite being a higher ranking angel, be one of them. He was one of the most intelligent and the most willing to get the difficult things done.

He wasn't supposed to be attracted to her. Not a human anyway.

She was tall and fair, standing at 5'10 with black hair that reminded him of the ocean; falling in deep waves that cascaded down her back and ended just above her waistline. Her eyes were akin to that of the newest emerald, shimmering brightly under the sunlight and always glowing with the happiness that life often accompanied.

It took Josiah a while to gain the confidence to approach her, but he hadn't regretted one moment of their time together since. She had been no older then 20 when he caught her attention on the cliffs of Oregon the summer of 1970, just before she was to start her sophomore year of college. He cursed his lustful thoughts when she came bounding up the bank, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail as she stared at him, hands wrapped tightly around her hips.

"What's your name?" She questioned softly. Josiah inhaled deeply and parted his hair from his eyes, flashing a warm smile when she gasped at the colors of his eyes. They were a striking blue - one that reminded her of the ocean she'd grown up in, the color of the sky during the midsummer days. It was one she felt she could often get lost.

"My name is Josiah." He replied. "And what about you, darling?"

"Alexandria."

1975

"You know, Father would kill me if he found out I was an accomplice in this." Gabriel muttered, slapping the younger angel as he peered into the glass cases of engagement rings. "You rebelled, Josiah. You rebelled for a human. Do you have any idea what kind of a message that sends to the higher ups? Michael already wants to kill you!"

The blonde angel smiled as he pointed to a deep sapphire ring in the back of the case, urging the sales attendant to remove it for him to examine. "Heaven has no say in whom I choose to marry, Gabriel. And if it is the end of me to love this beautiful human, one who has taught me the true beauty of humanity..” Josiah's cerulean irises locked on Gabriel who merely snorted in response, tracing circles along the glass case. "Then it is an ending I will cherish."

"That is quite possibly the most poetic thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth, and your name literally means Jehovah has healed. That's pretty poetic in itself."

The future grooms eyes narrowed in on a stunning diamond with two smaller sapphires fastened beside it. The band was silver, thin around the width and small enough to forever rest safely on the finger of his future bride.

"That one." He replied, eyeing the clerk behind the counter. The young woman nodded eagerly and gingerly pulled the ring from the case, opening the velvet box and placing it inside. "This is the ring that Alexandria will wear when I ask her to marry me." Gabriel grinned widely and slipped the clerk his emergency card, for when he had to spend time on Earth playing as a human.

"I'm super proud of you bud." He proclaimed, taking the box and tucking it into the pocket of his over sized leather jacket. "Now, in all seriousness here.. When I tell you not to get her pregnant, you have to listen to my advice. It's not just for her safety.. but also for yours."

Josiah tilted his head as the Archangel lead him back outside and into the busy streets of Portland, Oregon where the two of them would live for the next several weeks until the day of the wedding. As much as Alexandria wanted a large, traditional wedding on the beach, she had come to the realization that as long as she was in love with an angel.. traditional was no longer the norm.

"Why?"

"When a human and an angel do the horizontal tango," Gabriel began, swiveling his hips for good measure. "The kid that's created is called a Nephilim. They're an abomination in Heaven and most of them are hunted down before they even learn what living is really like. They're more powerful then us Archangels. So if you value your life and your gorgeous brides too... Do not allow a Nephilim to be born."

Fall 1978 - Lawrence

"Jos," Alexandria called out, grimacing as she slowly exited their deep cherry red 1970 Chevy Camaro in the driveway of their new home. Lawrence, Kansas was a small suburban town a few hours outside of Topeka. Not across the country from her parents, but close enough for the occasional Christmas and Thanksgiving visits. After Gabriels proclamation of a world with no Nephilim, when he had come to find out of her pregnancy, Josiah had immediately moved them to Lawrence given that it was where he was most familiar with. "I got a phone call from Mary Winchester this mornin'. She wants us to join her and John for dinner tonight."

"Alex.. I'm not sure how comfortable I feel with befriending a woman who was a hunter her entire life." Josiah confessed, ducking his head down to his chest in shame. Alexandria pressed her lips together in a thin line as she slowly stepped closer to her husband and outstretched her hand to rest his own on the growing swell of her stomach.

Gabriel was going to kill him.

"She's very sweet, Josiah. Her husband wasn't a hunter. John works as a mechanic in town to pay their bills before Mary has her baby in January. They're good people." She pleaded. "I don't want to spend the rest of our lives together confined to four walls and a roof. I want to meet people, explore.. I want a good life for our baby boy."

Josiah inhaled deeply and ran his hands through his hair, turning Alexandria around in his arms and pulling her back loosely to his chest. His calloused hands rested over his son as they gazed at the horizon together, the sky illuminated in hues of deep red and gold as the sun began to fade over the treeline.

"Did you make that casserole this morning before we went to the baby store in town?" Josiah whispered, grinning against the shell of her ear as Alexandria burst into fits of laughter. "I'm sure John would kill to try that fantastic cooking."

February 1st, 1979 - Reagan Carter

Josiah sat calmly beside his wife as she exhaled sharply through her nose, now deep into her seventh hour of labor with their son. Mary and John were both sitting outside with baby Dean in the waiting room for the much anticipated arrival of the first Carter baby. "Are you ready to let me take away your pain now, you stubborn woman?" He mused, his palm lit an intense gold.

Alexandria threw her head back against the pillow and grit her teeth behind closed lips. "This-This is what women do, Josiah! We bleed and we pull through our pain because at the end, we get to learn how to fall in love for a lifetime when we see that baby. So-" The raven haired woman gasped when her husbands palm rested against her forehead, sending a wave of warmth through her body and seemingly bringing her pain to a halt.

"Better?" He mused, grinning widely as she rolled her eyes at him. "I'll just tell the doctors you received your epidural from one of the nurses. I'd like my son to come out in one peace if at all possible, sweetheart." Josiah watched the tension seep from her body as her eyes, now a vibrant gold, focused on the ceiling. "The birth of a Nephilim is not easy. Your pain will return. I want you to survive this. To be able to tell the story that you did the impossible."

Less then five hours later, young Reagan Carter came into the world.

Less then two years later, Alexandria gave birth to another child before she and Josiah ultimately decided to no longer have children. While it took several years for the power to fully manifest through the Nephilim, it was with their second child that the power truly began to flow.

While Cleopatra Abigail Carter was a hurricane, there was no chaos in her wake.

And now you're at the start of the story.

You may think this is just your typical story of a heroine who started at the very bottom - the epitome of self doubt, a girl without a father, living in a world where she has no idea of how to begin to live. Where she would like to no longer be hunted, to be able to just give in to the loneliness ebbing away at the facade she's so desperate to keep.  

I'm getting too far ahead of myself. Why won't we continue from here? Keep in mind - this is not a happy story. It's one of irreparable loss, grief, anger, and further in... Of love.

------------------

"Castiel never does anything without cause. That's what drew me to him.. He is a true man of honor. That's all I've ever wanted."

--------------------

[lifewithkassie]

New Year, New Me

We’ve all heard that one before, amiright? Some of us have even said it. If you’re like me, you may have gone previous years feeling annoyed at that darling little phrase. Why even is that? I guess that’s a question I can only answer for myself – I can’t speak for us all. Maybe it’s because I’ve had many resolutions in past years only to let myself down by January 2nd. Maybe there’s some jealousy toward the people who were successful with their resolutions from last New Year and I knew they’d be successful once again with the new resolution they’ve proudly posted all over Facebook for themselves. Maybe I get irritated at the cliché of it all. Maybe it’s a little bit of all of those things, but the one thing they DO have in common? Those “reasons,” if we can even call them that – I see them more as excuses now – they’re all on me. I have no one to blame but myself for feeling any of those ways. Typing them out makes me feel even more petty and stupid, because admitting those things makes me seem like a terrible person. Perhaps you’re reading this now and can resonate with everything I’ve just said. If that’s the case, then I have good news for you: This year is different. For me. For you. For us.

 What makes this year different? This New Years Eve, for the first time in my life, I proudly proclaimed new year, new me. Did I post it all over Facebook for the world to see? No, but I also didn’t cringe at every post that I saw about how great 2018 was and how much better 2019 was going to be. Instead, I welcomed those posts with open arms. Seeing everyone uplifted and positive filled me with joy and made my heart happy. What inspired this change in me going into 2019, I can’t quite say; maybe there’s a certain maturity that comes with reaching the ripe old age of 24. But no matter what the cause, this is a change for the better that I can feel good about.

 (Before I get too ahead of myself, it’s entirely possible that my newfound positivity and burst of energy is riding on the high spectrum of the depression wave that I tend to ride. I’m telling myself that that is okay – I am going to ride it for as long as possible and if there’s a crash, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. That’s the end of this disclaimer. Thanks for letting me be honest with you.)

 If you’ve read this far into my rambling of thoughts, I know you’re probably thinking – “well, did you make a new year’s resolution or not?” In a way, I guess I did. And if you didn’t, you can too; it’s not too late. I’ll even let you steal mine. Are you ready?

In 2019, I’m choosing to be happy. For someone who ‘hated’ the cliché of it all, that seems a little hypocritical, don’t you think? That’s ok, too. I’m embracing the cliché. Say it one more time with me to really drive it home: In 2019, I’m choosing to be happy.

 Of course that’s easier said than done. Most things in life are. But I have made a very conscious decision to live this year for myself. I’m terrible at doing things for myself – maybe you can relate to that too. The depression wave I mentioned earlier? That comes with high and low tides of severe anxiety, as well. I am terrible at decision-making. I am terrible at even the mere thought of disappointing other people in my life. I am terrible at putting myself first. I live in a constant state of worrying what other people will think of my actions, my lifestyle, and me as a person in general. Sound familiar? I hope not. But if it does, welcome to 2019: the year of being honest with ourselves. The year that we stop envisioning the people we would like to be – 2019 is the year that we become that person for ourselves. Don’t you think we owe ourselves that much?

 So let’s talk about what’s making this year different for me.

 I’ve started this blog.

This is a huge step for me. I actually ~made~ this blog months ago with the intention of starting to post things that probably nobody actually cares about. The idea of someone actually reading this extensive word-vomit that I’ve just plucked from the ramblings in my brain is terrifying. I suppose that might be kind of the point; in a way, I’m killing two birds with one stone. Is there not a quote somewhere in the universe that says, “If it scares you, it’s probably worth doing”? I think that’s a thing, and this definitely scares me. On the flip side, word-vomiting this all out helps to make sense of the thoughts flying through my head. I have to give myself props for the balance of it all. While it’d be cool if someone did read this and maybe even took something away from it, this blog is largely for myself and I have made the decision to try and post one blog weekly. That shouldn’t be too difficult, right? Stay tuned.

 I bought a fancy planner.

Yes, I know, lots of people buy planners. Some people use them, some people don’t. I absolutely fall into the category of people who buy fancy planners and do not use them. But what’s our new motto? This year is different. I’ve already sat down and filled my January section with all of my appointments, important birthdays, and even my meal prep for the entire month. Which brings me to the next item on the list…

 I’m eating clean.

This is something I yo-yo with more than I’d like to admit over the course of the year. Sometimes I have stretches where I am super good about it, and then there are other (much longer) stretches where I eat like an asshole on the regular. I am by no means going to go crazy and plunge my body into ketosis or become vegan overnight [zero hate for the awesome people who live those valid lifestyles], but I am going to be much more conscious of the way I treat my body. That means things like getting all of my veggies in during the day, drinking plenty of water (but not too much, because that is a ~thing~ I struggle with – do not judge me), and of course…

 I’m taking my fitness seriously.

I love going to the gym. Honestly, I’m not just saying that. But much like my eating habits, I’m just not very consistent. Chalk it up to laziness or…well, no, laziness is pretty much the only thing I can think to blame it on. Regardless, I have been going to the gym since my high school years. This year, however, I am making it a point to be consistent. Like I said earlier, I’m being very self-aware in the way that I treat my body these days and, let’s just be truthful here, my body is overwhelmingly happier when I exercise. That’s a simple fact that some of us tend to blissfully ignore or lie to ourselves about. But c’mon – exercise releases endorphins, endorphins make you feel happy, and in 2019 we’re choosing to be happy. Remember?

 There you have it. Maybe I didn’t post my resolution or my goals to Facebook for family and friends to see, but I did just lay them all out for you here. (Maybe not all of them, I’m sure more small goals will pop up. It is only January 1st, after all.) Getting back to the idea of this whole blogging thing – if you’ve made it this far, I truly thank you. I thought writing this would be difficult, and instead the words just kept flowing until here we are, so many words later. I haven’t yet decided what the focus of my blog posts will be about. Truthfully, I can’t promise that they will follow any sort of theme. But I’ll tell you what, I will make it a point to keep you updated on this resolution of mine throughout the year. I did say that I’d like to post at least once a week, though, so I better start thinking up more topics pretty quickly. I’ll come up with something else that probably nobody actually cares about, I promise.

 One more time before I wrap this up:

In 2019, we are choosing to be happy.

 Don’t forget it. Write it on your bathroom mirror or tape it to the front of your fridge. If we say it enough, maybe we can at least trick ourselves into believing it.

  Talk to you soon.

K

[shaynanabroad]

ONE suitcase, FOUR months

It does not feel real that in two days I’m going to board a plane for Sweden, where I will be living for the next four months. I’ve spent so much time thinking and talking about my future plans to study abroad but have not taken the time to let it sink in that these plans are no longer for the distant future. Everyone I know that’s studied abroad has told me to go in with an open mind and try to leave all expectations behind. I’ve tried to take this advice, but have discovered that “having no expectations” is just about impossible.

Already, before I’ve even left home, my experience is different than I expected. Subconsciously, I thought that by the time I was packing to leave, I would in some way feel ready to go. I don’t feel prepared to go at all. And not just in the physical sense of packing my bags. My main sense of lacking preparedness is emotional. I think it's going to take a while before I truly comprehend that I am going to be living in Sweden for the semester and not returning to Villanova’s campus to be with all my friends. Once I’ve been in Sweden for a few weeks, I’ll surely realize that I’m not just on vacation, but immersed in a new chapter of my life, thousands of miles away from my beloved family, friends and campus. I just looked it up, I’m going to be 4,004 miles away from Villanova.

I’m sure I’ll have amazing experiences abroad, but right now, I can’t help but feel like a freshman all over again. Packing up and moving away from the life and place I know, to go somewhere far away from home. I don’t know the local customs and I’m convinced I’ll stick out as different. I wonder if I’m going to be accepted and liked by the people around me. I’ve never had a problem making friends, and if studying abroad is anything like my freshman year, I am in for the time of my life. But, despite everything in the past having worked out, I still feel nervous and a bit anxious. Maybe this is why I haven’t felt ready to go. Until now, I haven’t taken the time to sit down and really absorb the fact that I’m leaving very soon because I’m trying to put off feeling anxious. Like any good psychology student, I know avoiding thinking about a situation that makes me feel nervous isn’t the best coping mechanism, but I’d really rather just pretend I’m not nervous until I’m there and my only choice is to embrace the new experience and all of its surprises and obstacles...right?

So far this post has been fairly morbid, but I promise I’m usually really upbeat and positive. In fact, my core course while studying abroad is Positive Psychology. Since reading the syllabus for this class, I’ve been super excited to get started. Wow that sounded so nerdy. But seriously, I frequently recent so many cheesy cliches such as “look on the bright side,” “every cloud has a silver lining” and my personal favorite, “a positive attitude is everything.” I cannot wait to dive head first into learning about research regarding positivity! Speaking of expectations, I hope mine aren’t too high in thinking this class is going to be life changing!

Now that I’ve done a bit of ranting about how I feel, I’d like to give this post some semblance of structure and talk a bit about my preparations for leaving for Sweden and how I made the decision to study abroad in Stockholm through DIS….

On Packing: Packing is a pain in the butt! At least if you’re like me and very unorganized, both mentally and in terms of your belongings being scattered all over the house. I’ve spent the past few days rearranging miscellaneous clothes into piles of must-brings, maybes and leave-at-homes. Unfortunately, the more I go through the piles, the more maybes I move into the must-bring pile.

Arriving in Sweden mid-January will surely require warm clothes: boots, wool socks, sweaters, thermals, etc. I also have to consider my core course week in Athens Greece(!!!), which I imagine will be warm (or, at least, warmer). I keep telling myself I’m going to pack “light,” but as a classic over-packer about to embark on my experience living outside of the US, I am starting to get worried about whether or not I’ll be able to zip my overstuffed suitcase shut. As I add the four pairs of shoes I’ve determined to be essential, I’m envisioning my little sister sitting on my suitcase as I try to zip it up.

I find myself trying to pack for any possible scenario that could arise, but am starting to realize it may be impossible to fit all necessary outfits for “any possible scenario” into one suitcase. Logically, I know it is unlikely that I’ll need both my Villanova National Championship T-shirt from 2016 and my Villanova National Championship T-shirt from 2018, but I caught myself deeming both as “must-brings.”

As much as I feel unorganized in my packing, in reality, I imagine I’m using this time feeling indecisive over T-shirts as a way to try to collect my thoughts and wrap my brain around the idea that in 48 short hours I will be kissing my family goodbye, or rather hej då (I’d better get used to integrating some Swedish phrases into my vocabulary) and boarding a flight to Stockholm. Today I packed a “trial” suitcase with the pile of clothes I’d deemed essentials, just to make sure everything would fit. And to my surprise, and delight, it did!  I’m sure there are a few last minute things I will think of to add to my suitcase, but for now I am feeling quite accomplished and just a little bit more ready for the journey ahead of me.

WHY I chose DIS Stockholm for my Study Abroad Experience: I’ve spent the past few years of college assuming I’d be studying abroad in Spain, as I was an aspiring Spanish major, but after some soul searching, I decided this summer to reduce my Spanish major to a minor and focus on studying Psychology. With Spain no longer my only option for studying abroad, I was initially overwhelmed with the task of deciding where in the world to study.

One of my self-described greatest strengths, my open mindedness, consequently can have another side to it. I am incredibly indecisive. The idea of choosing one country in which to have the amazing experience of studying abroad, out of the hundreds of beautiful options seemed impossible, so I set up a meeting with my study abroad advisor. To my surprise, the first piece of advise my advisor gave me was to forget about what country I’d be studying abroad in and to think about my expectations for my study abroad experience. This felt much more manageable to me. I prepared a list for our next meeting:

Homestay option

Speak either English (preferred) or Spanish (I could get by but I’m self-conscious about my ability to conjugate verbs)

Warm weather!

In Europe -- I want to do some country hopping!

Psychology classes Villanova does not offer

My advisor referred me to a few different programs he has had experience sending students to in the past that he felt were good options for me, located in various cities (Vienna, Stockholm, Amsterdam, Salamanca and Copenhagen). He sent me off with the task of researching these programs and coming back to him to discuss these options the following week.

When I returned to his office a week later, I was firmly leaning towards Stockholm because the program seemed to fulfill all of my requirements sans the warm weather. Most importantly, the DIS website was plentiful with information and, as someone inexperienced in travelling and nervous about what to expect, the easy access information on the DIS website eased some of my anxieties and offered a realistic preview of what to expect in their program. The inclusion of some of the less than desirable aspects of the study abroad experience, like to expect culture shock and a commute time of up to an hour, in the info provided by DIS made their website feel more reliable than the websites of other study abroad companies that I felt were holding info back and had the vibes of a sales pitch.

About two weeks ago, I felt reassured that I’d made the right decision about where to study abroad when I got my first email from my Swedish host family introducing themselves to me and sharing their excitement about having me come to live with them. I am sure my decision to live in a homestay will come with its share of challenges, but I was thrilled to find out that I will have 3 younger sibling in my host home and will only have to travel 35 mins to get from their home to DIS. I am sure I will reflect on my homestay experience quite a bit in my upcoming posts. I cannot wait to get there and meet them, but I am also starting to question my ability to finish packing ONE suitcase for the next FOUR months.

That being said, I really should get back to packing!

Until next time,

Shaynan

[paladinsuho-moved]

stay with me [chanbaek]

summary: when byun baekhyun wakes up in the ER and can’t remember anything about the car crash, or the man who was driving, who is apparently his husband, he braces himself feel pity for the man, one park chanyeol. it comes as quite a surprise to him and everyone involved when chanyeol wakes up and doesn’t remember him either.

ship: chanbaek (park chanyeol x byun baekhyun)

genre: ANGST, fluff

warnings: minor language, minor medical procedures, hospitals, my bad attempts at humor.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: i’ve been wanting to write this since,, january. and i just finished this like, twenty minutes ago. this is going to be a more baekhyun-centric fic, as you can see in this first chapter, but there will be chapters focused on chanyeol. this fic is my baby (do i not say that about all of my other fics tho?), so please, i hope you guys enjoy (and also enjoy my girlfriends’ appearance in this, amber and krystal from f(x)) ;-; happy suffering! also, the part about crime shows being the only thing to watch at the hospital comes from personal experience, i know what i’m talking about.

masterlist

chapter one: my name is byun baekhyun

“What do you remember?”

He remembers feeling angry. An argument, but not what he was saying. The car, soft pop music from the radio almost taunting him with its chipper melodies. Sitting in shotgun, when lights come into sight, blinding him. The impact, his senses kicking into overdrive as the car hits his. And next to him, in the driver’s seat…

“A man. Th-there was a man with me.”

The nurse and the doctor exchange a look, before looking back to him. He feels uncomfortable, as if he’s a science project being poked and prodded at -- he hopes this ends soon. He wants to go back to sleep, even though he’d been unconscious ten minutes ago.

“What’s your name, sir?” Doctor Liu’s voice is monotonous, lifting her clipboard and looking at some documents, papers that he can’t see. He searches his mind for a moment, eyes darting here and there as he ponders the answer.

“B-Baekhyun. My name is Byun Baekhyun.”

The nurse eyes the documents the doctor is looking at, then nods. “Good. You remember that much. How old are you, Mr. Byun?”

He bites his lip, racking his brain for an answer. He remembers being 21, but he doesn’t feel 21. And judging by what appears to be the wedding ring on his left hand, he’s definitely not 21.

“I… I can’t remember.”

Once more, to Baekhyun’s dismay, the nurse and the doctor exchange glances once more. He sighs in slight desperation, wondering when they’ll just get to the point. “W-what’s wrong with me, doctor?”

The doctor looks over to Baekhyun, and sighs at the look on his face. “Mr. Byun, what do you remember about the man who was with you in the car?”

Baekhyun takes a deep breath, before clenching his jaw so hard that he can feel the way his teeth grind together, like gears that don’t fit well with each other. He can’t find a face, or a voice, or a name of the mystery man driving the car. The only thing he’s sure of is that he must’ve been very angry, too angry, to start yelling.

“I can’t remember anything, I’m sorry.”

The doctor nods firmly, before pulling the nurse to the side to speak for a while. He fiddles nervously with his fingers, staring at his right leg, which is stuck in a cast whiter than the stark bright lights of the hospital room, the ones that greeted him when he first woke up, the ones that made him wonder if he was dead.  

He catches a few words here and there, but doesn’t strain his ears to listen -- he doesn’t really care. He’s still in shock, asking himself why he doesn’t remember anything, even though deep down, he knows the answer. He’s seen that movie with Channing Tatum and Rachel McAdams, he’s not stupid. Amnesia.

Ironically, as he silently asks himself how old he is, racking his brain for any trace of a memory of his last birthday, he can’t come up with anything other than the lyrics to that stupid Blink 182 song. He rolls his eyes at himself, before lying back down, shutting his eyes and trying to shut out everything else around him.

“Mr. Byun?” The nurse asks less than a minute later, now having finished her exchange with the doctor. He perks up, eyes opening and beginning to sit up. “Yes?”

The nurse walks towards his IV and begins to ensure that everything is in check, and Baekhyun winces at the slight discomfort as the needle under his skin moves slightly as the tube connected to it is tampered with.

“Mr. Byun, if you truly can’t remember the accident, your age and the man in the car with you, then, my diagnosis would have to be post-traumatic amnesia, along with physical damage -- three bruised ribs, a concussion, and a broken leg.” Doctor Liu’s voice is firm; non accusatory yet stern.

Baekhyun nods, furrowing his eyebrows as the official diagnosis sets in. “H-how long was I unconscious, exactly?”  

At this, the doctor scratches the back of her head, before glancing at her papers once more. “According to this… Sixteen hours. You should feel lucky that you’re awake, Mr. Park is still unconscious, and with the damage he’s sustained, we’re unsure if he’ll wake up at all--”

“Mr. Park?” Baekhyun can’t help but interrupt, the mention of a new name, and the curiosity inside him wonders if this was the man driving the car, the one he’d been arguing with.

“Oh, yes -- sorry about that. The man who was with you, driving the car. He received most of the trauma, given the fact that he was in the side of the car where the truck crashed into it. His name is Park Chanyeol, and according to these files, and the visitors you’ve had… Well, he’s your husband.”

Husband? Baekhyun thinks, furrowing his eyebrows, Wait, I’m gay? That’s so… Actually… That’s not surprising. Like, at all.

Still, he can’t deny the cold feeling washing down his spine as he sits up from the hospital bed, like when the wind blows at you while you’re walking through the rain, and the wetness makes it worse.

“Wait, so… h-how is he? Chanyeol.”

Doctor Liu purses her lips and exhales sharply through her nose, as if she doesn’t want to share the information. For a moment, she tilts her head back and forth, weighing the consequences.

Baekhyun bites his lip nervously, and a twinge of involuntary guilt blooms in the middle of his chest -- what will happen when this man wakes up, and Baekhyun has no idea who he is?

Doctor Liu eventually lifts the papers on her clipboard to check her facts before reporting back to Baekhyun. Quietly, gently, trying to sugar-coat the damage.

“He's… he’s not good. Two broken ribs, a broken wrist, a concussion.”

Baekhyun winces at the news, before shaking his head and clasping his hands together in hopes that they don't start shaking. He takes a deep, shaky breath before gathering the courage to speak again.

“But he's not awake? I can't go to see him, or anything—”

“You're still supposed to stay in bed, Mr. Byun, because of your leg,” Nurse Krystal reminds him, “And even if you could, Mr. Park hasn't woken up since the accident. He's not in critical condition anymore, but—”

“Krystal,” Doctor Liu interjects through somewhat gritted teeth, “This is obviously overwhelming information, for someone who just woke up himself. Let's give him a while to process this before we tell him the whole story. Unless, that's what you want, Mr. Byun—”

“N-no, please.” Baekhyun doesn't look at either of them, staring straight ahead at the dull bluish gray wall of the hospital room, “I’d rather not do this right now. I’d like to rest, if that's alright.”

Doctor Liu nods, and so does Nurse Krystal, eyes showing a slight amount of remorse and guilt. The nurse explains that the button behind him on the wall will notify her or any other nurse on duty. He nods once, indicating understanding, and with that, the pair take their leave.

When the door finally closes, he realizes he'd been holding his breath. Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair, shutting his eyes for a minute, taking everything in.

My name is Byun Baekhyun. I was in a car accident. I have amnesia. I'm gay, but that’s honestly not much of a surprise. I'm married. My husband still hasn't woken up.

My husband's name is Park Chanyeol. I don't remember anything about him.

His eyes open, slowly, as his gaze curiously glances down to find the wedding ring on his left hand. Clenching his jaw, he quickly removes it to inspect it more closely.

He cradles it gently, as though it's made of  glass. It's nothing too flashy, silver and gold sandwiched together to meet in the middle. On the inside, he catches an engraving, and he brings it closer to his eyes, closing one of them and squinting in order to read the tiny text.

To Baek, from here to the stars.

He sets it down on the small table for a moment, before realizing he could lose it, and half a second later, despite feeling his skin crawl he puts it back on.

His skin doesn't crawl because he woke up married to someone he couldn't remember. That happens to the average person after a wild weekend in Vegas. His skin crawls because it feels wrong to be here, wearing the ring.

He feels like an impostor who's taking the place of someone else. He doesn't… he doesn't know this man, this Park Chanyeol. He's not sure if he'd love Park Chanyeol if he woke up and barged into his hospital room claiming to know and love him.

Because he had a feeling that, in the best case scenario, Park Chanyeol had loved a Byun Baekhyun—but not the Byun Baekhyun that was currently in charge of steering the sinking ship. It's a horrible way to think, but it was the truth. The ugly truth, yes, but still the truth.

A knock on the door jolts him back to reality, and half a second later he’s glancing up to see the door opening, and to his relief, it’s finally a familiar face. Two faces, actually, as his best friends, Minseok and Jongdae enter the room.

Jongdae’s expression is slightly happier than Minseok’s, and as Jongdae closes the room, they exchange a brief look. As they make their way towards Baekhyun, he manages to crack a small smile.

“Hey.” It’s the only thing he can manage to say without breaking down completely. He feels like he’s just jumped off of a plane, and his parachute isn’t working. He’s falling, falling, and there’s nothing to slow down his momentum.

“Hey, Baek.” Minseok’s response is quiet, and while he manages a smile, he still sounds grim. “How’re you doing?”

He shrugs, tongue lying heavy in his mouth. “I’ve been better. I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”

Once again, the pair in front of him exchange looks, before looking back to him. Jongdae puts his hand on the small railing of his hospital bed, and leans against it, careful not to let it roll around too much.

“Nothing? Nothing at all?”

Baekhyun shakes his head, furrowing his eyebrows. He holds up his left hand shakily, showing off the ring. “Do you have any idea just how terrifying this is? I’m married, for fuck’s sake.”

Jongdae’s face flashes in a somewhat sympathetic expression, and Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair, desperate. “Doctor Liu told us everything. I’m sorry, Baek. We’ve been here since yesterday, if it makes you feel any better. Waiting for you to wake up.”

“How long have I been married to this guy? Chanyeol?” Baekhyun bites his lip nervously, exhaling through his nostrils.

Jongdae opens his mouth to speak, raising a hand, but Minseok cuts him off, nodding his head back and forth as he speaks. “It’s going to be four years next may.”

“And how long have I known him?”

Minseok pauses for a moment, looking to Jongdae for a moment, before back to Baekhyun. Baekhyun notices something in Jongdae’s eyes for a brief second, but it’s gone before he can tell what. “Well, you guys met that night we had that big party at my house... That was a few weeks before your college graduation, so that would make it six years now.”

Baekhyun nods, face still scrunched up at the information. He’s staring at his lap, processing what Minseok just told him. If his math is correct, and he’d known Park Chanyeol for six years, then he’s most likely 27. The room falls silent for a few moments, before Jongdae finally sighs, before speaks.

“You guys really love each other, if it makes you feel any better. He takes good care of you, just like you take care of him, you know?”

Baekhyun’s smile is sad, and once more, he looks down at the ring on his finger. “I just… I don’t want to know how he’ll react when he wakes up. I don’t remember him, but I also don’t want him to hurt, you know?”

Minseok puts his hand on Baekhyun’s back, giving him a few rough pats. “It’ll be hard on him, probably. But he’s pretty optimistic, and if I’m right, he won’t give up on you. He loves you too much.”

“And besides,” Jongdae interjects, “Yeol’s a big boy, he can handle you.”

“Figuratively, and literally. He’s tall as hell. And if what I remember from you being drunk a few years ago is true… He’s a big boy, if you know what I mean.” Minseok smirks, trying to lighten the mood, wiggling his eyebrows before both Jongdae and Baekhyun smack him, Baekhyun snorting.

“Shut up, hyung,” Baekhyun and Jongdae say in unison, before turning to quietly laugh at each other.

Once the laughter bubbles down, Baekhyun smiles at both of them, tilting his head. “Thanks for being here, guys. I don’t know what I’d do if I were alone by myself.”

“We’ll always be here to help,” Minseok replies, “We weren’t going to just leave you here.”

Baekhyun’s smile grows, and Jongdae ruffles his hair. “I mean, the only reason you were alone when you woke up was because we were hungry as hell, and the bibimbap they have here is great, but at least we're here now.”

“Jongdae?”

“Yes, Baek?”

“Shut up.”

The days pass slowly, Minseok and Jongdae taking turns so that he wouldn't be alone, except at night, when they went back to their homes to sleep.

Minseok and Jongdae have helped to fill in some, but not all, of the gaps as the days pass. He's 28, he's a preschool teacher, Chanyeol works an office job, and up until now, the only child they've had is their cat, Asshole. He's still not sure if Jongdae was kidding or not when he told him the cat’s name.

His memories still haven't come back, and a little voice at the back of his mind asks if they ever will.

His days were occupied by Minseok’s fussing, Jongdae’s bad jokes, Doctor Liu’s check-ups, bland, unseasoned lunches and dinners, reruns of Law and Order: SVU on the television, failed attempts to stick a straw into his leg cast to scratch at any itch he gets. And, of course, thoughts of Park Chanyeol.

He asks, at one point on the third day, if he can visit him, to which Doctor Liu denies him, saying she didn't want him to get stressed.

He's definitely not dumb. He knows that if Chanyeol still hasn't woken up after this long, that something is wrong, and if he was, at one point, emotionally involved with him, he at least wants to see him, just to see what he looks like. He would've looked through his phone to find a picture, but it was destroyed in the accident.

It's on the eighth day after he wakes up that Baekhyun finally catches a break, and Doctor Liu tells him he's responsive, but not fully awake.

“We think he’ll be fully awake and responsive by tomorrow,” Doctor Liu explains during her daily check-up, “You're doing much better, would you like to see him then?”

Baekhyun contemplates the offer for a moment, before nodding. “Might as well get it over with,” He answers, and Doctor Liu nods with a small smile.

When Minseok comes back and he explains what she'd told Baekhyun, he nods and smiles at the news.

“That's good, man, that's good. You'll be fine. I know you will.”

He can’t sleep that night. He’s too restless, too impatient, too scared. The man he’s meeting in a few hours is his husband, but he still can’t remember a thing. And that terrifies him.

The way his memories can’t remember anything about him make him want to keep Park Chanyeol at a cold, clinical distance, barely within arm’s reach.

But the way Minseok and Jongdae have been filling his empty head with stories of the man who gave him the ring that, for some reason, he refuses to take off, makes him doubt. They’d said Chanyeol would be willing to wait for him. But what if he didn’t?

To wake up in a world where the one you loved has been replaced by someone who wants nothing to do with you, now that is the most terrifying thought indeed.

He sits impatiently the entire morning, he barely even manages to down his morning coffee. The reruns of Law and Order: SVU that play on the TV manage to calm him down, but it can only do so much. Neither Jongdae nor Minseok are with him, finally being called back to their respective jobs. By the time Doctor Liu comes around, he’s practically bouncing off the walls.

“Good morning, Baekhyun.” Her voice is warm, calming, her tone motherly. He smiles, nodding.

“Sleep well?” She asks, and he drops the smile, shaking his head. “I barely slept. I’m terrified, Doc.”

She nods, understandingly. “It can be a bit overwhelming. But I’m sure you’ll be fine. I haven’t gone in to see him yet -- but I assume he’s asking about you already. It’ll be fine, they’ve probably told him about your condition, so it might not be as much of a shock once he sees you again for the first time.”

He doesn’t respond; her encouragement doesn’t exactly ease the high speed nerves churning in his stomach, as if someone’s pressed the puree button on a blender.

She helps him out of bed, and he groans slightly as he’s helped into the wheelchair that they’ve brought him to move to the bathroom or anywhere else if he needed to, seeing as his leg is still in the cast. They told him it’d be another month and a half before he’s able to walk right, assuming he takes care of himself.

He assumes the way to Park Chanyeol’s room will take a while, so he decides he’ll think of what to say as Doctor Liu helps him get there.

Big mistake. It’s right next to his, and he almost pisses himself when he comes to this realization. But at the same time, he was less than twenty feet away from Park Chanyeol, and no one told him? Rude.

This hospital room is different to his; it has a small hallway before it opens towards where he assumes that the bed lies. He can’t see anything, or anyone, except for a wall.

“Mr. Park, are you awake?” Doctor Liu says, and he hears a hum of confirmation. The voice is deep, and he gnaws on the inside of his cheek, his hands gripping the sides of the wheelchair until his knuckles turn whiter than the walls.

“Come on in,” The voice says, and he takes a deep breath as the wheelchair rolls into the room,  and, for the first not first time, he finally sees Park Chanyeol, face to face.

The first thing he notices are the ears. They’re big, and stick out underneath dark, black hair. His eyes are dark, quickly bouncing between him and the doctor, and the few small tattoos he has along his arms seem to jump out at him against the background of tan skin. He has a few stitches, and the circles under his eyes are dark, as if he hadn’t been sleeping for more than a week, but he still manages to take Baekhyun’s breath away.

If being gay didn’t come as a surprise him, the fact that he fell for this gorgeous human somehow surprises him even less.

“I’m Doctor Liu, I assumed Doctor Kim told you about me?”

“Yes, he did,” Chanyeol says, nodding. His voice is deep, and soft, as Chanyeol’s eyes meet Baekhyun’s. The blender of nerves sitting in Baekhyun’s stomach goes into overdrive, from puree to instant death from the inside out.

Chanyeol studies Baekhyun for a moment, and Baekhyun waits for it to come: a hey, sweetheart, or Baekhyun, you’re here, or something along those lines that will make Baekhyun’s chest tighten with pity.

Instead, what Chanyeol says next causes his eyes to widen, and the blender to turn off, as if it’s been dropped off a cliff along with the rest of his stomach.

“Doctor… Who’s this?”

[chapter two: my name is park chanyeol]

[grimelords]

​My October playlist is finished, please enjoy it. From 14 minute 70s acoustic guitar instrumentals, Armand Van Helden bangers and Christian music I’ve had a lot of feelings about this playlist has it all in four hours.

Love Love Love - The Mountain Goats: Posting on the web about Mountain Goats songs you've had a moment with is about as universal as it gets, so here's mine for this month. I woke up one morning with the line about Sonny Liston in my head one day after not listening to this song in years. John Darnielle is perhaps the only person on earth I'd trust to write a song about Kurt Cobain's suicide and he does a very simple and beautiful job of it here. Ben's My Friend - Sun Kil Moon: I discovered Sun Kil Moon way after I probably should have via that guy who was doing parody songs of him last year. This song is fantastic because it takes so long to make its point, and like so much good art is just some middle aged guy recounting his every thought and movement for four minutes. You Were Meant For Me - Jewel: I was trying to remember how Dreams by Fleetwood Mac went and all I could think of was this song, and settled on singing it to myself instead. Sober - Lorde: Sorry to be a normie but listening to Lorde break down this song on an episode of Song Exploder was incredibly good and it definitely made me appreciate the way the brass sounds a lot more. Melodrama really does get better and better as a cohesive whole the more I listen to it. Night Moves - Bob Seger: We as a society need to bring back Power Voice I think. I've been obsessed with this song for months now and as far as I can tell Bob Seger has precisely zero other good songs, which is unfortunate because this one is so good. This also is another song about getting the Lamenting Night Hornies because you heard a thunderstorm that reminded you of the times in your youth that you Fucked and it's, in my opinion, very beautiful. Cairo - San Fermin: This is on the list not only because it's a good song but also unfortunately because of Podasts. San Fermin guested on an episode of Improv4humans and got absolutely roasted about this song so I highly recommend the ep. UFO - Sneaky Sound System: It's unfortunate that Sneaky Sound System's highest played song according to Spotify is the Nicolas Jaar remix of Big (an all time top ten piece of music) because it's really overshadowed the rest of their incredibly good singles. Do you remember 2006? What a time to be alive. UFO (Van She Tech Remix) - Sneaky Sound System: This is my absolute pick of the month and I have been raving to everyone who'll listen but nobody cares, I cannot get enough of it. Do you remember when Justice came from France to bless us all with the secret of bass and we betrayed them by inventing Skrillex not three years later? Van She remember. Charlie Chazz & Rappin Ralph - Duck Sauce: I believe there is a real argument to be made that any song that doesn't refer to the listeners collectively as Party People is absolutely worthless. Duck Sauce's album is a completely underrated classic in my opinion, it's a go-to mood elevator from beginning to end and for some reason has a subplot thoughout about aliens transmitting coded messages to influence human evolution, which is a big thumbs up from me. I Took Your Picture - Cults: Guess what Cults are still really really good. I haven't given this album enough time yet but this bassline has invaded my dreams so that's a good sign. Pavement - City Calm Down: The way this layers and builds into and through the chorus is so satisfying. I love this sort of thick synth production and the contrast between the different registers of his voice is so satisfying as the chorus comes back again. Pogo - Digitalism: Australian electronic music had a real moment around 2007 between Digitalism, Van She, The Presets, Midnight Juggernauts, Cut Copy and all them and I'm realising retrospectively that it was very, very good. Semicircle Song - The Go! Team: The world's best band are back and their new album isn't out until fucking January! This song features big horns and a bridge that's just a montage of children telling you their star sign so that's how you know it's good. The Garden's All Nighters - The Number Twelve Looks Like You: It's a real shame that #12 broke up after this album because it feels like they were really on the edge of something. Over 4 albums they morphed from a straight ahead grind band into some sort of math-prog thing approaching it from a whole different direction to everyone else. I love the idea of writing such an expansive, complex song seemingly just about living in New Jersey. The way it transitions into the groovy latin part is so nice and the solo is just beautiful; and unlike other bands in the same sort of sector they never make a joke of genre switches either, they just keep moving forward with a smile. Paris/Orly - Deux: I forget how I first came across this album but it’s easily the wankiest thing I absolutely love. An 80s French synthpop duo that only ever released a cassette and some singles that got reissued by a label called Minimal Wave a few years ago. It is absolutely the best. New wave mixed with Kraftwerk and synthpop except incredibly french and cool as well. I constantly have their song Game And Performance in my head but this one was my obsession this month. Walking Into Sunshine (Larry Levan 12" Mix) - Central Line: There’s something very authentic about disco songs that are lyrically all about working all week all day every day, and desperately needing a break to perhaps, dance your worries away in a new york discotheque. Cradle In The Crater - The Number Twelve Looks Like You: This is maybe my favourite #12 song because it appears to be about some kind of super child who came from space and perhaps wrought havoc on the citizens of earth, but told in a very real and emotional way like it’s a story about someone they really knew. It reminds me of Mother 3 and the good times I had as a teen playing that game with my best friend, so that’s an added bonus. Under The Ice (Extended Version) - Topo & Roby: Italo disco forever. This song is a duet between a woman and a robot where they relay the story of him coming from a distant planet in a spaceship and crashing on the north pole then getting trapped under the titular ice where he waits to I think murder me. Now that I think of it it’s world similar to Cradle In The Crater. It sounds so good, far better than a novelty song like this has any right to. There’s also a video with someone’s 80s mum dancing with an incredibly shit robot on youtube if you’re interested. Outta The Woodwork - Kurt Vile and Courtney Barnett: I really love the covers they chose for this album because they both really make it their own. Outta The Woodwork really sounds like a Kurt song now and I love the strong piano giving the song the harder edge the lyrics deserve and Kurt just lazily soloing to hell any chance he gets Peepin' Tom - Kurt Vile and Courtney Barnett: I think I almost like this version more than the original, making it just an acoustic thing but still keeping all the dynamics of the original is so nice. I love specifically the deep bass voice of ‘peepin’ to the high ‘tom’. It satisfies something weird in my brain. Mercury (12" Version) - Bloc Party: I can’t believe i’ve lived this long without ever knowing that there was a 12” version of Mercury out there. The song I always felt was way too short to contain the amount of energy it has has a 7 minute version that well and truly lays it out into a slow intense burn instead. Electric Feel (Justice Remix) - MGMT: Just to get my 2007 opinions straight Electric Feel is not a good song. Kids is a good song but Electric Feel isn’t. That said: this remix comes damn close to making it good. Justice figured out the secret sound and we’re all the better for it. Comin' Apart - Gary Wright: There’s no greater joy than tracking down a sample and finding out that the original song is also a banger. This pairs extremely well with My My My as a sort of extended intro. My My My - Armand Van Helden: I posted that playlist a couple weeks ago of songs mid-2000s bangers with extremely horny videos and this is a highlight from that. I'm always amazed with how much mileage great producers can get out of a relatively straightforward sample because this hums along for almost 7 minutes and only gets better. Laser Life - The Blood Brothers: The Blood Brothers are one of the few bands that scratch the brain itch I have for totally bonkers Mars Volta markov chain lyrics phrases like 'Oh dream machine I'm a pound of flesh inside a drum machine dream'. They're also the only band I think that can get away with having this sort of cabaret swing feel in a song with a lot of screaming and not have it be absolutely unbearable. Camouflage, Camouflage - The Blood Brothers: Where a lot of The Blood Brothers early songs were just chaotic bursts, they have a few songs that spread out into a long multi movement ideas culminating in very good final lines like 'I couldn't see the love and affection it was camouflaged as a jungle of erections, and I couldn't see the skeletal lightning it was camouflaged as a young machete' 16 Tons - Tennessee Ernie Ford: The mistake people make in covering this song is trying to match the extremely grim lyrics to the music, but this version succeeds exactly because it's on some upbeat Frank Sinatra shit with the clarinet refrain sounding like a children's song while still being very much about dying face down in the dirt from arsenic poisoning. Take This Hammer - Leadbelly: On the other hand you have a song like Take This Hammer from a guy who really worked on a chain gang complete with involuntary WAH sounds to time your hammer strikes to, and it's still so much more upbeat and positive musically than it has any right to be looking at the lyrics. San Francisco - Foxygen: There's something about the chorus of this song, and they way the phrases of the two voices line up where if it gets stuck in your head it just goes around and around and around forever and it is absolutely maddening so I thought I'd share that with you all. El Manana (Metronomy Remix) - Gorillaz: This remix reminds me of Studio to a degree with the way it just moves forward with no regard for regular structure. It's gutsy to remix a song and somehow restructure it so the chorus doesn't even sound like it's the chorus anymore but just another small part in a slowly winding up machine. Monkey Gone To Heaven - The Pixies: The way he's screaming that GOD IS SEVEN in this song I feel like if Black Francis hadn't made it in music he'd be running a very successful incomprehensible conspiracy website. This is a song I can get very lyrically involved in when I'm in certain moods, nodding my head like the creature in the sky DID get sucked in a hole and now there's a hole in the sky, and we're all in trouble because of it. Cannonball - The Breeders: I like this song because it feels like everyone in the band is working on their own unique structure. The clean guitar especially just comes and goes at will through the whole song, the lyrics start whenever, the rhythm guitar just keeps strumming along. It all comes together for the chorus and then they just go their own separate ways until it's chorus time again. S.A.D. - Kirin J Callinan: The production on this song just amazes me, especially as it moves into the later choruses the sheer weight of the chords is just crazy. The barest suggestion of guitars chugging in the background but blending into the huge synths chords. Combined with the vocals it's the most threatening pop song I've ever heard. Wrapped up in plastic thrown down the stairs feeling fantastic. Water Coast Blues - Honeyboy Edwards: I feel like Honeyboy Edwards has gotten a raw deal from history. When he died most of his obitaries made a big point of how he was one of the last living people to know Robert Johnson personally. Which is an important detail but it overshadows Edwards contributions in his own right as a guitarist and songwriter who had a 70 year career. The album this recording's from is a really good compilation that gives an overview of his whole career, mixed with interviews with Edwards and Alan Lomax that are just amazing. Anyway just listen to the playing on this song because it is incredible. The bass figure he switches into when he says 'when I had money'? Phenomenal. Another Leather Lung - The Sound Of Animals Fighting: The Sound Of Animals Fighting was a supergroup of a bunch of guys from RX Bandits/Chiodos/Circa Survive and bands like that coming together in animal masks to make the most pretentious band possible at the time. There's a lyrics on one of their other songs where he sings 'the artist! the true manifestation of struggle!' which is quite good. But outside of that they did make some very good music and the second half of this song where it takesoff is really something. Bone Machine - The Pixies: It's amazing Black Francis hasn't been linked to a string of murders in the mid 80s honestly. This whole song feels like evidence. Also the way he says 'I was talking to peachy peach about kissy kiss.. [incredibly long, awkward silence] ... he bought me a soda. he bought me a soda and he tried to molest me in the parking lot hep hep hep hep' is perhaps the most amazing verse ever. Stomping Tonight On The Pennsylvania/Alabama Border - John Fahey: This is John Fahey's best song and I've listened to it probably 4 times a week for the last 4 years. It is quite honestly an eternal mood. Ares - Bloc Party: War! War! War! War! I love the guitar in this, because it's just textural noisemaking more than anything else and mixed with the vocal manipulations in the chorus it's just absolute chaos. It's such a shame that everyone in Bloc Party either left the band or had their brain removed after this album because between this, Mercury and Talons it was truly an incredible moment. Special Rider Blues - John Fahey: I can't believe I only found out this month about John Fahey covering Skip James, and even that it took me this long for me to listen to the full version of his America album. Mark 1:15 - John Fahey: I also learned that on account of cds only holding 80 minutes of music, this 14 minute reissue version of Mark 1:15 is 2 minutes shorter than the original vinyl version and I'm completely riled up about it and demanding a second, definitive reissue to restore them. Regardless, this song is an absolute masterpiece and when it switches into the portion of When The Springtime Comes again about three quarters of the way through it's just amazing. Swim - Nicolas Jaar: Here's another quite long and involved piece of music from the other side of the spectrum. It has a very similar feeling to Mark 1:15 really, so if you liked that persevere through this. It's taken me such a long time to get around to listening to Nymphs for some reason but I'm glad I finally gave it a shot because this song especially is a real masterwork. Crimes - The Blood Brothers: A third Blood Brothers song for you, If you didn't like the other two there's a chance you'll like this one because it's much more sedate. This song is also a good first Blood Brothers song because the way the second vocalist sounds when he finally turns up is really funny if you're not expecting it. This is another on the long list of songs I seem to just always have in my head and sing to myself when I'm walking around. NRG - Duck Sauce: Are you ready for the most powerful 12 minutes of your life? It's the entirety of the NRG single by Duck Sauce. I like to think of it as a purposeful multi-movement work rather than a song and two remixes because that's what it feels like. Starting out we have the original, incredible instant power of NRG. NRG (Skrillex, Kill The Noise, Milo & Otis Remix) - Duck Sauce: and next we have the absolute peak of the work, the fever pitch. See if you can guess which part Skrillex was responsible for. I love the addition of miscellaneous woos and yeahs among the already busy main riff, I absolutely love the bass which sounds like some kind of steel drum pulled down four octaves. I love the distortion on the vocals in the second half as it slowly gives you time to catch your breath. NRG (Hudson Mohawk Remix) - Duck Sauce: The we move into the comedown, the HudMo contribution where the drums somehow sound like they're coming from next door like the party has passed you by and moved on to enliven your neighbours. I love the snare building and then splitting into triplets like it's going to drop before the peace of the synth gives way to the rolling thunder drums hafway in. On The Other Hand Baby - Etta Baker: I don't know what to say about Etta Baker. She's incredible and it's an absolute shame that she didn't really get recorded until she was about 70. This album was recorded when she was about 92 and her playing is still amazing. Crucible - Sleigh Bells: You have to give Sleigh Bells credit for still going strong four albums in if nothing else. Somewhere along the line they adopted this sort of corny rock chick thing that wasn't really there in their first album and I think it works against them but I really can't get enough of the instrumental of this song. The distorted brass and string amongst everything else especially. I feel like there's a much better song buried in here somewhere but I'll take what I can get. Pirate Blues - As Cities Burn: As Cites Burn are another good example of a metalcore band absolutely mellowing out into a indie rock band over the course of three albums, and the result Hell Or High Water has turned out to be one if my favourites of all time. This song especially is an obsession, and I love a band having the sense to no longer make metalcore, but learning enough from it to take a song to a a huge crescendo when they need to like this one does. Timothy - As Cities Burn: Between As Cities Burn, mewithoutYou and a couple of other christian bands I was very nearly converted in highschool and it still informs a lot of my uh theistic thought in a strangely unembarrassing way. This song, from their second album where they were sort of caught between their metalcore origins and the full fleshed indie rock of Hell Or High Water is one of their best. Yelling at god about your dead friend is a massive thing to write a song about but it's done so well and it builds and builds before dissolving into a sparse, thoughtful solo for a good six minutes into a beautiful ending.

listen here

[perfectirishgifts]

Position Yourself Financially To Define The New Year With Confidence

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Position Yourself Financially To Define The New Year With Confidence

While many are counting the days until we can finally put 2020 in the rear-view mirror, I can’t think beyond Christmas. In fact, I haven’t been this excited about the holidays since I was a kid. That’s because something truly special is coming my way on December 25th—give or take a few days. That’s when my second grandson is due. He’ll enter this world at a tumultuous time, amidst a global pandemic and economic recession. Yet, all he will know is the love and warmth that surrounds him from his parents, big brother, doting grandparents, and aunts and uncles.

As our family eagerly awaits our new addition, I’m reminded that even in the darkest of times, there’s always hope and joy to be found. Recent news regarding the approval and distribution of several COVID-19 vaccines can attest to that. While this has been a tough and worrisome year for so many, the vaccine puts hope on the horizon for people’s lives and livelihoods, and the economy at large. It also speaks to human ingenuity at its best. Never before has one vaccine been developed and readied for distribution in so short a period of time, let alone three. That’s something we can all be grateful for and feel hopeful about, as the new year approaches.

Yet, we know we still have a long way to go before vaccines are available to all Americans and are distributed throughout the world. That makes the next few months critical for public health and the economy. While the disappointing November jobs report showed a net gain of 245,000 jobs, it represents the slowest month of growth since the recovery began. The unemployment rate ticked down to 6.7%, from 6.9%, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, but the decrease was primarily due to a large number of workers leaving the labor force. Unemployed Americans, many of whom don’t know how they will pay their rent, mortgage or utility bills in the coming months, or put food on the table, are in dire need of another round of economic stimulus. So too are thousands of small business owners struggling to remain open and avoid further layoffs. As I write this, bipartisan support for a new economic relief proposal continues to grow. This is likely the last chance Congress has to pass a bill in 2020, before it can consider a larger package in 2021. However, the clock is ticking as Congress prepares to recess until January.

If 2020 taught us nothing else, it’s that circumstances can change quickly. As this year winds to a close, it’s likely that you have spent time reflecting on this unusual year and the impact it’s had on you and your family. As a result, you may find yourself re-evaluating your priorities for the new year. Your finances play a significant role in this exercise since they help you to live purposefully as you seek to accomplish today’s objectives and tomorrow’s goals.

What has changed?

As you think about where you’ve been and where you’re going, keep in mind that any changes in your circumstances can have important planning implications. For example, did you recently welcome a new child or grandchild, or celebrate a milestone event, such as retirement, or turning age 50 or 65? Did your income increase or decrease due to a job change or loss? These are all reasons to work closely with a financial advisor to review your financial plan or put one in place.

In 2020, many people experienced significant changes in their spending habits and priorities. If some of the things you used to spend money on are no longer important, think about redirecting those savings to support other goals or new priorities, such as building your emergency fund and increasing your retirement plan contributions.

What will change in the new year?

Periods of increased market volatility and rising equity values can cause your portfolio to become misaligned with your risk target. Do you need to review your asset allocation or rebalance your portfolio? If you’re retired, think about where you will draw income in today’s low interest rate environment. Is your strategy as tax efficient as it could be? Will your taxable income to be higher or lower in 2021?

What about your estate planning and legacy goals? Have recent tax law changes or your own priorities or circumstances impacted how you will define your legacy going forward, or how assets will transfer to your heirs? I’ve spoken with a number of clients this year who said the pandemic created a renewed sense of urgency about ensuring their estate planning is up to date. Do you have the right legal documents in place, including a will, durable power of attorney, and healthcare directives? Are they current or do they need updating? When was the last time you reviewed the beneficiary designations on your retirement accounts and life insurance policies?

These are all important considerations as you work together with your financial advisor to prepare for the year ahead. As we think back to this time last year, none of us could have predicted the massive changes that 2020 would bring to individuals and businesses. While we expect to see significant progress on the road to recovery in the new year, nothing is guaranteed. Advancing and protecting a lifetime of wealth requires a personalized and focused approach. That’s why it’s so important to take the actions now that will best position you to weather financial change so you can continue to pursue your goals with hope and confidence, no matter what is taking place around you. Download our complimentary guide to learn more about Defining Your Future with Confidence.

More from Wealth Management in Perfectirishgifts

[baz-you-numpty]

Giving In to Snow

Soooooo, this is a fic which has been a long time in the making. It was inspired originally by @snowbazzled ‘s post about an Aridante au , but I’m so glad I can finally present it to you. It got a lot longer than I originally anticipated, so I’m going to put it into three parts so as not to crash on mobile. So, here you go. Here’s to the lovely @snowbazzled and to my wonderful beta @rabid-faery who I truly couldn’t live without.

Set during their eight year.

Genre: pure fluff

Words: 10,838 (all 3 parts together)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

January 1st, Baz

On January 1st, I wake up alone. Simon is not in his bed, nor is he in the bathroom. It is the first time I can remember since about third year that Simon has not only been awake, but out of bed (and actually out of the room) before me. 

Instinctively, I assume that I'm the reason he's gone. That he'll be doing something he doesn't want me to see, plotting away somewhere. But then I laugh, actually a little bit out loud, because I realise I'm sounding like him with all my plotting theories. (I sound like Simon Snow). (That causes a little pang of some unwanted emotion). Even so, I'm a little more wary than usual when I go about my daily routine. But after half an hour of absolutely nothing happening, I push my suspicions aside. "Happy New Year, Basilton," I say to myself in front of the mirror. New year, new beginning. Resolution One: abandon all hope of ever dating Simon Snow. If Resolution One is a success, Two should hopefully follow relatively easily: stop feeling so sorry for myself. And then I think carefully about the rest. I don't want to fall into the trap of something I know I'll never keep up, like working out regularly (I tried that in fifth year because I read that it can help clear your mind, but it was fucking hard. It turns out I don't really have any muscles there to enlarge). I come up with just one more: don't give in to Snow. If I'm honest, I don't really know what I mean by this, but it feels like something I can say to myself in almost any circumstance, as motivation in a time of weakness. I test it out as I'm doing up my last button. "Don't give in to Snow." My face is stern. The words taste firm and unforgiving. Begin as you wish to go on. Then, with a little scuffle, the latch on the door opens, and Simon Snow pushes himself through backwards wearing his frayed tartan Watford pyjamas. When he turns around I see that he is holding a tray, on which sit two small plates and two glasses of orange juice. The sight makes me a little queasy and I quickly reassume my 'stern' face. "Delightful," I drawl. "Were you planning on waking me before your little... picnic, or assuming I'd be willing to witness?" He blushes and the door swings shut, and I remind myself sternly of Resolution Three. There's a little twitch of his head as if he wants to brush a hand through the hair, but can't because he's still holding the tray. This must remind him, because he sets it down onto his bedside table. (Then he does run a hand through his hair. And I swallow and curse myself for knowing him that well). "Uh, ha, before, actually..." "Well, it seems I am, as usual, one step ahead of you. No need. I am already awake, and also leaving. Presently. You can have your little Wellbelove-and-orange-juice."

Simon tilts his head. "Wellbe- you mean Agatha?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Snow. It's really not necessary." I don't even think he notices my remark on his IQ. He's twisting his hands in front of him like I've done something wrong.

"You know Agatha... goes home for Christmas," he mutters, but the pause suggests that's not what he was going to say. It is true, though. Most students do go home, there's only a handful or so of us left. Snow normally goes with her. And I normally go back to my own family. This year I couldn't really be bothered with the whole thing; I went home on Christmas Eve and came back Boxing Day. As far as I know, Snow's been here since school broke up. For a moment, I don't know what to say. I almost feel guilty. But it doesn't matter, because Simon suddenly remembers how to speak. "It was - for you, actually." And just like that, I forget. I forget how to even stand up and have to grab the back of the desk chair next to me. "Well, you know, you don't... I mean, I just thought, well, it's the New Year. So like, resolutions and that.." He trails off again. Where is he going with this? My heterosexual sworn enemy has resolved to bring me breakfast in bed? "I just..." He looks at me almost desperately. "This.. thing between us. It's so childish. We're eighteen, for Crowley's sake." Thing? "I mean, who even has an arch enemy past the age of twelve?" Ah. That 'thing.' I look up and his eyes meet mine and it is the worst decision I have ever made. My knees buckle and suddenly, forget Resolution Three, Resolution One is now the one in danger, because Simon Snow has just brought me breakfast in bed and I am very much not over it. "So, Happy New Year, Baz. You're a pretentious arsehole, but I suppose I am a scatterbrained one, so in that sense we match. I know we'll probably never be mates -not really from the same circles- but like, if we could maybe even just be chill this year, that'd be sweet." I'm floundering. "You know. Like, that'd be good. Sweet as in good." He is absolutely a scatterbrained arsehole, and I absolutely want to be his 'mate.' I want to be so much more than just his mate. I let out a breath while I compose myself and find something to say. "Like… mutually beneficial?" Is he rewording this for my benefit? Does he think I don't understand him? Before I can stop myself I'm saying, "Yes, thank you, Snow, but I was perfectly capable of understanding the word 'sweet.' I believe you have said it enough in the past." But, amazingly, I find that I'm smiling the whole time I'm snapping. Maybe I look manic. I stop abruptly, but Snow is laughing. "Well, I don't know how much upper class vampires are exposed to the dialect of the peasantry!" "As little as possible," I reply, but I'm smiling sort of coyly. It's the weirdest feeling I've ever experienced.

Snow sits down cross legged on his pillow, and motions for me to take the other end of the bed. I do, and he hands me the plate with the least-burnt toast of the two. I take it, but don't eat. Just because I'm sitting on his bed doesn't mean I'm about to eat in front of him. I sip the orange juice instead, just to show I am still part of this bargain. "So, that's it?" He says, "we're cool now?"

"It appears that we are 'cool,' yes."

Snow laughs and his eyes crinkle, and it brings the freckles across his face into little ripples. I blush (and then blush harder because of the fact that he made me blush with his stupid face). And then drink some more orange juice to try and hide the fact that I'm blushing.

"Well, that was easy," he's saying. "If I'd known it only took orange juice I'd have done it years ago."

"No you wouldn't," I say, putting down the empty glass. "You were as invested in this hatred as I was."

"That's not fair! The only reason I hated you was because you hated me."

"It was a system that worked." Snow pauses to chew a slightly repulsively large mouthful of toast. I brush some crumbs off the bed. I'm sure I see him smirk. "It's funny, when you stop taking it seriously, to think about how pathetic everything we've ever said to each other has been," he says after a few moments. "You know, the constant insults, scowling, opening and closing the windows. It's, like, primary school-level immature." He looks at me as if expecting a response. I have to agree with him, when I think about it. And having him point that out is suddenly mortifying. Not that I'm going to let him know that. "Are you telling me I can no longer insult you?" I arch my eyebrows. "Well, I suppose that would be a little unfair," he counters, "pretentious arsehole..." We both smile. "But the windows... Perhaps it's time we did reach an agreement on that." "It's funny because until now, even though it's been going on almost eight years, I had never even thought about it being an 'issue.'" I wonder if I'm being a little too casual too soon, but Simon just nods his head. "I don't think I really did either... You know, wake up, open the window, beat Baz to the bathroom, realise you didn't so kill some time rumpling his blanket a little bit or praying he gets attacked by goblins, use the bathroom, come back out and open the window again... It's just mindless routine, really." I smile and I wonder how much of that is really true. By the time Simon has finished both of our breakfasts (I tell him I don't like toast), I'm almost certain we can never go back to enemies. We're by no means 'mates,' but I have got to know more about Simon Snow in the last twenty minutes than I have in the past seven and a half years. January 3rd, Simon

I actually can't believe how easy it was to become friends with Baz. Orange juice and three days alone. That's all it took. Cheap, if you ask me. Up until that point I'd been desperately awaiting Penny and Agatha's return to school on January 4th, but now that it's tomorrow I realise I've hardly thought of them since the new year began. It would seem Baz is not such a bad guy. We've had some quality bonding time. A few people start arriving back today so the hall is back on main meals again. But seeing as apparently all of our friends have loving families to spend time with and none of them get back until tomorrow, Baz and I actually have lunch together. We talk about football, and it feels strangely… normal. Afterwards, we head upstairs. It's nice to do things with somebody, even if what you're doing is not very much. Before, Baz and I (or at least I) used to take every effort not to be in the room when we knew the other would be, but today we sit in companionable silence, the radio on quietly in the corner. I'm laying on my bed watching YouTube and I think Baz is claiming to be working, but honestly his eyes have been on my laptop screen far more than his Greek verb sheet. He gets up and lays on his bed in the same way I am, on his stomach, feet crossed on the pillow. He's looking at me like he wants to say something, so I shut the laptop screen. "So," he says, "what's the deal? When does this all end?"

"What- when does what end?" I ask, surprised.

"This...nicety. When do we resume the window opening and closing and generally miserable existence?"

"Umm... Preferably not in the foreseeable future..."

"Oh." I don't think he was expecting that.

"Dude," I tell him, "we literally spent yesterday comparing our shitty upbringings. That's deep shit. I don't just tell stuff like that to anyone. You can't bail on me now."

Baz blinks like he's not really sure how to reply. "Okay," he says eventually. "But you cannot call me 'dude.'" And, just like that, he gets up and starts playing some prelude or sonata or whatever on the violin. And honestly, now that I'm not trying to find fault in absolutely everything he's doing, he's bloody impressive. January 9th, Baz

As I'm walking back from football practice I mull over the past few days. The wind is biting cold but I'm hot and it feels nice on my skin and whips at me like it's trying to pull everything out. It sort of has that effect because all my thoughts are surging about, thick in adrenaline and blustery endorphins. The truth is, I absolutely love being friends with Simon Snow. It's so easy I find it astonishing that I have only just worked out how. 

We still actually tease each other just as much as ever, but now it's with smiles and playful hits. He'll mock the way I speak, or come up with elaborate excuses about having to go to operas, or having high tea. Or he'll point out a picture of some weird looking animal on his computer and say something like, "I didn't know you had Facebook." It's mostly him doing the teasing. I'm just constantly a little bit paranoid that it looks like I'm flirting, and sometimes I think maybe I am. But Simon seems happy enough with what we've got going, and I'm not about to change it. I thought people would make a huge deal of us being friends, but I was wrong. It turns out that people actually don't really notice much about anyone other than themselves. Other than Penny who I presume has noticed, nobody has said a thing. Agatha raised an eyebrow at me the second day back, but I wasn't sure if she was just being flirty seeing as it appears she's no longer together with Snow. (I can't help but feel responsible for that. I also can't help but feel nothing but good about it. At least they're still on friendly terms). And it's not like we've been avoiding each other outside the dorm either, Snow kept his word about that. In fact I almost feel like I've been living the easiest nine days of my life. Like it's all leading up to something, just a big build up to some elaborate trap where the tension will culminate. But I don't dwell on that too much. When I push open the door, Simon is lying on his bed with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. He opens one eye when he sees me and I rake a hand through my hair (possibly a habit I've picked up from him) and pull out the hair bobble on the way. I'm about to take a shower when Simon calls my name. "Mm," I answer, from the bathroom door. I lean against the frame and pretend to myself that's it's not because I look really good in a football kit.

"Do you ever just feel really uneasy? Like stuff isn't sitting right?"

I was not expecting that. I think carefully about it before I answer him. "Yes."

"In what way?"

"As in, I feel a particular way but I don't act on it. Or, I have an idea of who I should be but I'm not. And so I'm letting people down who want me to be that person." Simon sits up. "Mm," he murmurs, but remains quiet.

I perch on the end of my bed casually. "You gonna tell me what's up?"

"I guess?" he says. Everything he says is always so tentative, full of 'I guess' and 'sort of' and 'like' and 'I mean.'

"You guess?"

"I dunno," he says, flopping back down again. "No, go have your shower. I can smell you from here." And I don't know whether I'm more hurt that he didn't confide in me, or the fact that he himself is hurting. 14th February, Baz Valentine's Day. When I wake up my mind is full of remnants of broken dreams of Simon getting together with Penny, Simon getting back with Agatha. Simon hitting on Dev and Niall for Crowley's sake. I'm so paranoid I can't even escape it in my sleep. He hasn't been showing a remote interest in any of them, but it's fucking Valentine's Day and Simon Snow is single. Simon Snow. The chosen one. Even if he doesn't, surely other people will take advantage. I concentrate really hard in all of my lessons just to avoid thinking. I realise I've been slacking recently so it was kind of necessary. In the evening I eat dinner opposite my usual spot, just so Simon will be behind me and I won't have to look at him. Dev takes my usual seat, and Niall sits next to him. All the way through the meal I see them watching Simon, scoffing occasionally.

When Dev goes to get us pudding, Niall sticks his fingers in his mouth and pretends to vomit. "Tosser," he says, and looks my way a couple of time as if expecting me to ask him what he's seen. When I don't, he begins to tell me anyway. "Your golden boy's quite the heartthrob," he says snidely, trying to start up a conversation. The cold irony of his words stings bitterly.

"You sound like a jealous wanker," I reply curtly.

"No, you sound like a jealous wanker, you wanker."

"That's a shit comeback."

"Well, you do. You've been pissy all day. Not got a date?" The last bit is teasing, but I'm not in the mood. I glower at him and he shuts up, and then Dev puts a jam roly poly with custard in front of me and we're eating again instead of talking. But as we leave the dinner hall, I begin the see what Niall meant. Even from this distance I can see there's a crowd (a crowd, for Crowley's sake) around Simon. Girls, from all year groups. Mostly they're just loitering, looking coy and flashing him smiles, but a few are gathered around him, laughing too loudly and flicking their hair. There's one I recognise from my maths class, Sophie, I think her name is, standing right in front of him with her hand on her hip, while Agatha glares daggers at her from his side. The giggling gets louder the closer I get. One girl with ginger hair is telling her Korean-looking friend she thinks he's gay. "He only has female friends," she says, "and he broke up with Agatha. I mean, who would break up with Agatha Wellbelove? I thought they were going to get married."

"He's got Basilton. "

"I think they're just roommates," the ginger one responds, and then there's a pause while they share a look. The Korean girl says "Ooh la la," in a dramatic voice, and they erupt into giggles. I shove past them both angrily and they shut up, but as soon as I've passed them I hear a whispered "jealous boyfriend!" and it takes all my strength not to turn around and shout at them how utterly, unfairly wrong they are (despite their pathetic logic). I was only trying to get through to the door, but Simon catches my eye as I'm passing him. He's still got Sophie and a couple of her friends around him, who Agatha is still scowling at, and his look is desperate and pleading.

"Thanks, Soph, really, but like... it's maybe a bit soon after my breakup-"

She cuts him off. "Oh no no, not a date," (stupidly high pitched laugh) "just a movie. As friends."

"Right. Well, I usually go to see movies with my friends, like you say," Simon tells her. "My friends Agatha and Penelope."

Agatha raises a pointed eyebrow. I glance round quickly and see that Penny has been sidelined and is engaged rather heatedly in a deep conversation with a girl with short spiky hair about gender roles.

Whilst Simon has Agatha at his side, it seems to me she's more the figurehead of the trio, while Penny is the driving force behind it. And with Penny distracted, I take his desperate look to heart.

"Well they're only showing it tonight," Sophie is saying, "as a Valentine's speci... Well obviously that's not why I want to go with you... Hey, maybe you could bring a friend and I'll bring a friend too?" she offers.

"Really, Sophie, thanks for thinking of me, but I honestly have got to... I've got..." Simon's eyes flash towards me again, and without thinking, I step in for him.

"Simon and I always play chess on a Friday night. It sounds stupid, but it's just a thing we always do. No exceptions."

"Okay..." Sophie replies, looking a little taken aback. "Can't you just, like, postpone it or something though?"

I give her my best withering look. "No. Our timings have to be submitted by midnight tonight."

"Timings?"

"For the national chess championship league," I answer fluently.

She's looking sceptically at her friends by this point.

"Sorry!" I offer, perhaps a little too brightly. "Chess?" Agatha asks as they disperse slowly. "That's totally lame."

Simon's eyes meet mine and I feel the smile behind them. "To be honest," he says, "I couldn't care less what they think I do in my spare time. In fact," he adds, hurrying around a corner to avoid what looks like another girl trying to catch his attention, "the lamer the better."

Simon Back inside our room I actually begin to laugh.

"The fucking... champions league of chess?" I splutter, and Baz kicks his shoes off and rolls onto his bed.

"How the fuck do you come up with this stuff?" I ask, stretching myself out next to him. On his bed.

He smiles to himself. "I don't know... You looked like you needed help."

"Yeah, but. Chess?? Have you ever even played chess?"

Baz rolls his head to face me and our noses are inches away from each other. His bed is bigger than an average sized single, so there's room for us both, but it's by no means big.

"Yeah," he says, like it's obvious. "Haven't you?

I don't respond because I don't feel like telling him that in most of the care homes I grew up in you'd be lucky to find a Connect Four game with more than four pieces.

He squints at me for a second, and then jumps up. I rock slightly from the impact.

"Then let's play," Baz says. "I'll teach you." He pulls out a chess board from one of his desk drawers and sets it out next to me on the bed.

I sit up without saying anything and watch him arrange the pieces, and then cast The game is afoot. "You think I'm going to cheat?" I ask him incredulously. "I don't even know the rules!"

"Then it'll make sure you don't get them wrong, won't it."

I cross my legs carefully, so as not to jog the pieces. Baz notices, then casts a Stay put on it too, and after a moment Yeast will help it rise, and the board levitates several inches above the duvet. Then he sits down opposite me.

"White or black?"

"What's the difference?"

"White starts."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"White."

"Okay." Then he begins to explain the rules. There's a lot. And they're really confusing. Each piece has it's own specific rules about which direction and how many spaces it can move. And there are, like, six different pieces. And then sometimes their rules change.

"Can you write this down?" I ask Baz, "I'm going to forget it."

"I'll remind you," he says, but he casts a See what I mean anyway. His handwriting is swoopy and pretty, and it really suits him. So I tell him.

He stops abruptly. "Okay," he says again. And then "Thanks," and I think it's maybe the first time he's ever thanked me. And then I feel stupid because he's trying to teach me to play a game because he helped me out earlier on and I'm not even concentrating. I try harder after that. And actually, it's really fun. I get it wrong almost every time: trying to move pawns two spaces every time as opposed to just their initial move, or trying to move the rook diagonally rather than the bishop. And Baz has me in check pretty much every other turn, but I'm enjoying myself.

"I think I'm ready for the National Champion Chess League," I say, knocking down one of his pawns and sitting it next to his other one on my side of the board. "Look, two prawns down already."

He looks up sharply, probably ready to tell me they're not called prawns, but shakes his head at my twisted smile. "I'm starting a shrimp army," I tell him.

"I'm starting an army-army," Baz replies, smoothly knocking down one of my horses and adding it to my already lost rook and three pawns.

"Oh."

"And check," he adds.

"Oh."

"Still ready for the National League?" he smiles. And forget the chess league, I'm not ready for Baz to be smiling at me like that. When did he even learn to smile? How can the mouth responsible for such a snotty sneer be capable of producing this? Brilliant white teeth tucked almost shyly behind curling lips, dark and thin, and almost sinister but for the glimmer in his eyes. Deep eyes, the grey of the night meets the blue of the ocean. Positively fucking glittering at me. I shake my head and return to the board. "Why won't it let me put my horse here?"

"Because you're not getting out of the check. And it's called a knight, Snow, not a horse."

"Fuck."

"You could put it there."

"Why would I take advice from my opponent?"

"Because I'm also teaching you how to play. I'm going easy on you. This is a practise game, Snow."

"You called me Simon before."

"When?"

"'Simon and I play always play chess every Friday...'"

"Fuck."

"Check mate."

"Yeah," he nods. "Check mate." And it's not check mate, it's not even check. But I've got him. Because he did call me Simon.

[paboy-in-the-flesh]

(3-18-2018): Oh my, it's been roughly a month since I've posted here.

Subject/title says it all. Its been a very long time since I've posted here. Part of the reason is because a good portion of my time as of late has been consumed with playing Monster Hunter World. However, I've been somewhat keeping up with my sub/sissy activities, just nothing posted here, though, I've been posting (reblogging) a lot on my main paboy account. (Its easier/quicker to reblog and occasionally write something on an already existing post vs writing something new.) Anyway, so about some time in late January or possibly February (I forget), I went to my usual CD party spot in Manhattan on a cold Thursday night (it snowed the day before) and though the turn out was very small, I met a wonderful MTF girl there whose attention I caught. Long story short, we made out, had sex, and cuddled each time after sex as if we were lovers. She topped me three times in the party, I topped her once. I then invited her to my hotel room where we showered together and cuddled for the remaining hours of that morning. Upon waking up, I gave her a blowjob which led to her topping one last time that morning. As we parted ways, exchanged numbers, I didn't think we'd see each other again. Despite having her number, I couldn't bring myself to call or text her despite having a great intimate night with her. Part of me was scared, part of me said it couldn't work because we live far away from each other (neither of us drive and I have a thing against long-distance relationships) and I didn't want to overstep my bounds and bother her. Skip ahead a couple of weeks, I went back to the CD venue, this time on a Saturday night. Before going, I went to a going away party for a former coworker/friend. No one there knew I was coming in "dressed up". Heck, no one there even knew that I "dress up." When I got there, it was a weird reaction on everyone's end in the sense that they knew it was me, but didn't want to assume it was me, the same guy they worked with. However, everyone was very supporting and I caught up with so many of them. It was nice. I left after about hour, took a cab back to my hotel room and changed into my slave harem outfit for the party. Upon entering the party, I met a CD I've met before (I'm pretty sure we sucked and fucked each other) around some time last year. The party was okay at the beginning and middle. Heck, I made out (well, kissed a lot) with 2 actual girls at the same time at one point, nearly got fucked by 2 different CD's (full penetration was sadly not achieved) and just as I was about ready to leave, the MTF girl I met a few weeks prior to this party surprisingly showed up. My heart skipped many a beats as I rushed to her arms wide open, lips locking and just fully embracing her. She truly made my night. We didn't have sex there (I was having issues getting it up and I didn't want to be penetrated), but after some time, we cuddled a lot. After the party, we stopped by a coffee shop and this unstable man was there. The man proceeded to berate the cashier unnecessarily and I defended her. He then wanted me to hit him because he was just unstable. I declined and out of nowhere, my girl (am I presuming too much calling her my girl?) comes up behind me, wraps her arms around me as if to protect me from him. He walked away and was shortly escorted out by a couple of cops (employees called them) and all I could think was how she would go to battle for me. She already had my heart, but now, I dunno, she had me. Like, she was..is my world. We then went back to my room, talked, I ate (which definitely meant I wasn't bottoming) and we cuddled and slept for a couple of hours. Somewhere in there, I topped her twice and well, I told myself this time, I'll definitely keep in contact. Do I love her? I'm scared of this answer, but yes, I am. Am I IN love with her? That's even scarier because I think I am. Like at one point on our second morning together, we were brushing our teeth together at the same time sharing the same sink/basin. Sure it sounds mundane, but in my head, I pictured us doing this in our own home and it would be normal. Living together would be...normal. Hmm. On a side note/last note, I recently purchased a few sex toys on amazon. First, I purchased a replacement inflatable dildo. (I've showcased it before on other posts.) The second thing I ordered was a Doc Johnson 7 inch butt plug. (Doc Johnson American Bombshell - B-7 Tango if you want to look it up). Lastly, I ordered a 9.96" horse dildo. (Romi Big Animal Dildo 9.96" Horse Penis Realistic Cock Anal Plugs Artificial Adult Sex Toys ( Black ) if you want to look it up). This weekend was the first time I got to try them and boy oh boy do I have my work cut out for me. As of now, I can't get past the third ring on the Doc Johnson plug and I've gotten just a little past the midway point with my horse dildo. Horse dildo is easily my new favorite toy. It feels exotic being inside me and it hasn't even fully penetrated me yet. Ooo, I love it! Anyway, if you made it this far, thanks for reading. I do hope to have some new pics soon. Trying to put together a new outfit (I think my next theme will be punk rock/goth girl) for my next CD party. Will very likely be attending one on the last Thursday of this month. Until next time followers and/or new readers.

[romaniassexdungeon]

Who fortune could not save

Pairing: LadKug

Summary: As his relationship with the eccentric Franz Edelstein grows, Lars Oxenstjärna contemplates how little he knows of the man's past, why that could possibly be, and how much of his own past is worth revealing.

Notes: Well, this is the first in a series of one-shots involving APH ships based on various Pogues songs that are all pretty sad and melancholy because most Pogues songs are depressing as fuck. This one's LadKug and although it could be argued most of these stories take place in the same universe (with the exception of the RoBul and aph Australia ones), the two that are definitely linked to this are the AusHun and SuFin stories, so please look out for those. A lot of these stories are epistolary too, because that's something I want to explore more and I like using them for historical fics.

This particular song is based on 'Thousands are Sailing' and parts of this song also inspired the SuFin and AusHun ones, though they get their own songs too.

Read on AO3

...

"In manhattan's desert twilight In the death of afternoon We stepped hand in hand on broadway Like the first man on the moon"

...

Franz - Kugelmugel Lars - Ladonia

...

18th October, 1952

Franz, my dearest friend,

You said you do not have anyone to send letters to. Well now you have me! I mean, you already had me but now you have me and a letter to read whenever you please. Maybe I can even write to you about things my stupid mouth refuses to say aloud. Or, you know, about the important things. Or about you. Or all three?

For example, I wish I knew what to say about so many things. I wish you were less alone. Where are your parents? Do you not have brothers or sisters? I cannot even believe you came to this country alone. Were you scared? You travelled to England as a child. To live? Your parents let you live on your own like that? Like a grown up? You were so lucky!

I did not mean to make this a letter prying into your personal life. Tell me when you want to.

The truth is, I have no idea what to put in a letter. We see each other every week. I suppose I could complain about Peter, but I do that in person already. Is there anywhere you would like us to go? I feel there is still so much of this city we have yet to explore – and I have lived here since I was three!

All the best,

Your good friend Lars

19th October, 1952

Dear diary,

Trying to recall my earliest memories reminds me of drowning. Like I am surrounded by inky water and clawing my way towards the light. It is like staring at a half-finished painting. Or an abstract work of art whose meaning you have not quite yet grasped.

Trying to put dates and time spans to these memories would be like tearing the pages of this diary out and throwing them on the floor, only to spend days putting them back in order.

This is how I feel trying to remember my papa.

I have one memory of his face. His living face, that is. Warm. Stern, but kind. He was proud of me, I think. Maybe I had taken my first steps? Or fed myself? But he was overjoyed. Was it back in Sweden? Maybe that is my only memory of Sweden, but I have long forgotten everything in the image that was not papa.

In my other memories, he is a corpse.

I remember wondering why papa was sleeping on the table. Why was the blanket covering his face? I was never allowed to hide under the covers – Mr Tino said I might suffocate in the night. He always worried about things like that.

He was crying. I wondered if it was because papa was sleeping under the covers. And on the table.

Papa was a strange man, or so I have since been told.

They put him in a box and buried him in the ground. I tried to climb in after him, wake him up and get him out of there or he’d be scared when he woke up. Mr Tino cried and pulled me out. I thought he might get angry, shout at me and tell me to stop playing, but he never; he just cuddled me as I screamed to get papa out of there.

He didn’t like the dark. What were they doing?

Peter threw flowers into the hole after him. I remember little else.

I have yet to think of the reason I write all this down. Why would I want to document such an event? Then again, these are the only memories of papa I have.

Mr Tino told me to call him Isi. He said he was our new papa, that our real papa had asked him to look after us as if we were his own children. It was something we accepted without much thought, and something I will always accept.

Lucky I have more memories of Isi. He truly was my second father and I only wish Franz could meet him too. They would get along, most likely, travelling all the way from Europe.

I think I now accept I cannot remember a thing about Sweden.

28th October, 1952

My own dearest friend,

I feel there are many things I have never explained to you, things I felt I did not need to and things I did not want to speak of. Not right now. I have told no one for thirteen years and will do at some point, but I want to know I can trust you with such information. Do not speak of Kindertransport again until I am ready to explain, or do your own research for the time being and think of what you truly wish to ask.

Regardless, I agree with your wish to be less alone. I have had no one, really. Not in a good while.

Prying aside, I did enjoy your letter. I have not had post in a long time – even my foster family in England have moved on – but now I not only have a beautiful letter but something of you I can hold and keep with me! Thank you.

Yours faithfully,

Franz Edelstein

31st December, 1952

My diary,

I should invite Franz over. We always go to his apartment and he cooks for me and fusses over me so much. I love it but sometimes I feel bad that he does so much work. I mean, he has that job at the theatre and still makes time to care for me like we are married?

I will cook for him! I will make him something Swedish – he likes Swedish, so he was telling me. No, wait, I don't get paid for a few more days... cupboard leftovers it is, I'm afraid. Sorry, Franz.

I will make sure Peter is on his best behaviour too. Or, preferably, not home at all. Is there not someone he can go out drinking with? He certainly is going nowhere near the kitchen.

I wish I had somewhere more impressive to bring you, Franz. A one-room apartment… what to do? The tour would be rather a disappointment:

“So this is where I sleep, and I eat in that chair with the creaky leg, and that dark stain on the ceiling is from where my adoptive father blew his brains out.”

No! We will have a good time! I just have to believe in my abilities as an entertainer.

1st January, 1953

Dear diary,

So I burnt dinner.

Franz tried his best to spare my feelings and eat a lump of spam and chips that I blamed on Peter – yes of course he cooked and left just before you showed up, it is completely his fault that they burnt – but, soon enough, I could see your gourmet stomach was aching.

So we went out to a bar, not the same bar I’d convinced Peter to go it, no, one to more our… tastes. After getting something to eat, of course.

I hope Franz doesn’t think I’m here for his money, though it was lovely sitting in a top-class restaurant, with rich, expensive food and wine. I would love Franz if he wasn’t an actor. He could be homeless and I’d love him all the same. After all, he loves me though I sweep roads for a living.

We stayed at the bar until last year rolled into this, holding each other close and dancing like we were the last two people on earth. Honestly, the way things are headed, we could find wake up and find ourselves the last two people on earth, or that we’ve become nothing but dust and ash, so why not grab every opportunity to live our lives and go out with no regrets? I sang louder and danced harder and held Franz closer at the thought.

A strange way to go about life: both living for the moment and be damned with the consequences; and secrecy mixed with caution because as much as I want to say to hell with everything, there is still a chance of life ahead and I don’t want that life to be spent in prison.

Or, more importantly, I couldn’t bear to see Franz in prison.

Why am I talking about this? I’m here to talk about the best night of my life!

When Franz and I eventually stumbled into the street, it was still night. Morning couldn’t have been far off though and things had an otherworldly magic to them. Or maybe I was too tired and plonked to see properly, but a drunk artist is still an artist, after all. Few cars were about, even as we walked along Broadway, holding each other up and laughing and at some point we danced. Stupid, lively dancing. No music, but no matter.

Lucky for us, Franz’s hair is so long, and he’s so small compared to me. That mess of blond was tied into a ponytail, swishing everywhere and whacking me in the face as he spun. His coat ballooned like a pleated skirt, and he took his hand in mine, leading me in a waltz.

Neon lights overhead were our spotlights, the distant rumbling of cars our cheering audience. He even climbed a lamppost as he sang singing in the rain.

He kissed me before we parted at the end of the night. He caressed my face before disappearing with a wink, wishing myself and the city a good night.

When I got home, I may have cried.

24th May, 1953

Meine Liebe,

I shall give you this letter personally and you in turn will promise to keep it safe and hidden. Written word removes the risk of unwanted ears hearing what I have to say, but creates cold, hard proof that I love you. There, a man condemned. I love you, Lars Birghir Oxenstjärna. What of it, world?

I would ask you to destroy this letter after reading, but I suspect you would like to keep it. After all, I worked hard on making it aesthetically pleasing. Cherish this, but hide it.

Keep it next to your heart, next to me.

You’ve changed my life, you know? You’ve filled it to the top and made it better than I could ever hope for. The colour you brought into this world saved my artist lungs and soul, and it's is starting to push back the tide of grey. It's no longer everywhere I see. I can love the twinkles of light all around me, like I'm walking in a fairy wonderland. I now notice the headlamps of cars that dance across puddles in the road. There is magic in this city and in you, please remember that.

I believe we will last forever, that the love of an artist can never be killed, not truly. We may not see it now, but our relationship will leave its mark on the world.

Until we meet again tomorrow and I can tell you all this in person,

Your dear Franz xx

1st August, 1953

Dear diary,

Franz is the best thing to ever happen to me.

Yes, everything about our relationship must remain a secret, but I’m still so happy to have this gentle, loving man in my life, to caress and hold and swear to protect. We have pockets of moments, between work and trying to sell my paintings. We have nights and whispers and kisses and he tells me he doesn't mind quiet, secret. He hates being exposed, out in the open with everyone knowing everything, like they could use it against him. He is a whirlwind too, but he has his limits.

Franz does look after me, maybe a little too much – I am supposed to be a grown man – but I have promised that nothing bad will happen to him either, not if I can help it. Something tells me he just needs a break in life.

I love his hair so much. It's a wave of ice but the softest things. And his eyes! They look like little jewels and he has a mole on his cheek that is so cute. Anywhere I put my hands is soft, smooth, perfect. Every smile he gives is so genuine I cannot believe I can make a human look at me in such a way! He is an expressive man, must be to work on stage, but every emotion he rides, even the ones he would rather avoid.

Sometimes, at night when he is awake and I'm almost asleep, he looks like he will cry.

I still don’t know much of his past. I don’t know about the kindertransport or the Shoah or any of those words he hesitates in telling me, hesitates more before saying now isn't the time. I understand, I think.

Something evil happened.

I asked Peter, but he knows nothing. Typical. He told me to go to the library, and I suppose, if I have no other option, then I could see what a few hours reading can tell me.

I’ve heard to talk about the Shoah a lot, now that I think of it, not with me, but with older people, other immigrants with haunted looks and old scars. Franz doesn't share the look, but rather one of loss, fear. It ages him before me, and I want to know what was taken from him. If I cannot get it back, I could avenge Franz, right?

I need to know. I have to know what hurt him! I have to be able to protect him properly so he doesn't become like those other people. Is that a possibility?

That’s it! I should ask them instead! Then I will know what to say to Franz, and how to talk to him without causing him to, well, clam up. Maybe I can help?

2nd August, 1953

I understand now. Oh God, I understand now.

[thekintsukuroikid]

December 23 2017.

I never wanted to post these. I wasn’t going too.

It wasn’t until I saw the pictures of my family members did I realize I actually did capture something worth sharing, worth working on, worth feeling good about.

I’ve been on meds for awhile, been to therapy too. I’m starting to feel like I have the tools in my toolbox to start making some steps forward. I just don’t feel like I have the self belief to really go for it.

I’m tired, i’m frustrated and I’m finding it increasingly harder to rationalize this fight for myself. I remember being so excited when I moved away that finally I had the ability and the freedom to focus on myself, all of myself, especially my mental health. The commitment to do so has be fraught with setbacks and frustration.

The silver lining to which is the sheer immensity of kindness and love I’ve received from my friends. I question how I deserve it…obviously, and I am always wary of making sure our conversations aren't always about negative stuff. I don’t want to drag em down, or be a bummer.  I always believed the most insulting feeling in the world is being pitied. I’d rather be hated than pitied. Maybe i’m just being loved.

I always need external context, I never feel like I can start or finish or be without some sort of external form of permission, context, and sometimes motivation.

Whether is a girls number at the bar, or a degree on the wall I can never truly feel happy or connected to a moment, or an outcome unless I can work out how i’ve earned it. I almost never do.

What this means Is that I am often left floating, never really sure of myself in any given situation. Never really sure if what Im doing or experiencing is really building on a person or values as opposed to the consistent stringing together of just getting through the day.

Taking pictures is a hobby that feels safe to me, it feels worth pursuing. I think because deep down I have never felt like the main character of my own story, behind the lens I don’t have to be.

I named this blog after Kintsukuroi because I loved the meaning behind the art of fixing broken pottery with gold. I wanted to feel like I could do that for myself. Shine through my flaws. But even if I don’t, you can still fill the cracks with pyrite instead of gold and still hold water. Maybe that’s ok.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

See the key to enjoying family vacations is finding little moments of solitude, of respite where you slip out the back and escape for a few hours armed with a bluetooth speaker and a book that wasn’t assigned reading.  

 -I found a beach chair on the very edge of the resort property, a small wooden fence and a small one person security shack all that separated me from the public beach area filled with local kids splashing and yelling.  

- I played something slow and looked out into ocean and came up with as many lame water metaphors as one could presumably concoct under the circumstances of time and a mild hangover. - I present them here:

  See I preface all of this by saying writing all flowerying and poetic like this is like eating buffallo wings really fast, like it tastes good but is always accompanied with the heartburn of being this self indulgent. It just kinda feels douchey haha.  Ah fuck it lets go. Maybe self indulgent is the point?  When else can you be self indulgent right? 

How do I explain the fear of wondering if I wasted my best years simultaneously treading water, and never actually getting wet. How do I reconcile that? Am I gonna be in my late 30s wondering what its like to feel smart enough, or hot enough or good enough. That seems like it could suck, I mean it sucks now, what happens when it also feels like I’ve run out of time?

Speaking of water...

--

Sabrina Benaim said that Depression is turning lonely into busy.

and I am always busy.

She said that  

“Depression is sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness, I cannot baptise myself”

- I get that. You see it all around, potential everywhere, happiness so close it seems within reach and everyone around you thinks so too, yet you can't submerge yourself in it. You just drift along, walking on the water that is happiness and not being able to get yourself soaked in it. Always staying dry.

-  Maybe in my own metaphor if depression is the actual water?

- I wonder if Happiness is instead the sky you look up to when you’re treading water, concocting dreams of rescue helicoptors or philanthropic Pterodactyls swooping down to save you from your lack of cardio.

-I’ve tried to learn more about treading water by watching people who know how to swim really really well.

Google defines the Rapture of the Deep as an incapacitation that occurs when you dive too deep into the ocean, and no longer know what way is up. It can happen even if you learn how to swim really really well. One way or another some people just sink.

...and some people just take themselves way to seriously...I wonder if thats me?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

January 20th 2018 

AN ADENDUM 

I am  not afraid of the dark. 

Night time makes snack food taste better.

Depression is a slowdance lit ever so romantically by the light of the street light by my window. the glow of the 3:00am on the clock backlighting my stirrings, as a defiance against the convention of normal sleep patterns that’d  make even my teenage angst say dude chill…take a nap.

- I envy people. 

Not because I want some material thing they have, or some accomplishment. -

- I’m jealous of people who’s ears don’t constantly ring with self doubt. I always felt like I wanted to be a producer instead of just a consumer. But I’ve never had the self belief to stand by what I make...or just make. You know how people play hard to get? I feel like I play hard to want. Like all the time. Trying to be happy means sometimes trying to hard and that is annoying as shit. 

 I cannot for the life of me understand how people can just, be. 

I cannot understand how people can get through the day with more hope beyond just getting through the day. I’d give one eye just to have the other see through that lens. 

I cannot understand for the life of me how people know what to do, like ok you’re a therapist how did you know you wouldn’t be the worlds best advertising agent, or a poet or a spot welder? how do these other options not keep you up at night?

- How many people actually try Luge, like what if there is the worlds best Luger (sp?)  and he’s instead stuck in the accounting department fantasizing about  how to ask out the intern in accounts receivable? He could be fucking Luging bro.  

What I’m saying is I cannot understand how people know who to be friends with, or where to live, or who to marry? What if a more compatible partner is out there but she lives in Nicaragua...Fuck dude you gotta go to Nicaragua maybe! maybe the beauty is that out of 7 billion people, out of a million decisions, and happen stances, out of a million one in a millions, you found each other. Maybe thats worth something too? The grass is greener where you water it and all that but how do you know you should be planting grass and not palm trees....or Weed?

How do you know what parts of the tree to prune, what parts can you cut to make it grow and what parts will kill the tree?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I do try my best, see thats the frustrating part I think. I've tried. I tried to be patient too, To not get ahead of myself. or try to feel like im entitled to feel better just because im trying too.

This has been the most open I've ever been with the people in my life bar my family. Not a single person i've told has reacted with anything other than a reaction of love and care.  No matter how I try I can't feel like I deserve it.  I’m so scared of opening up too much, and stifling how much and how long I talk about the bad days, I lie about how many good days im having because I don't want this to be a burden for them.  I don't want to get left behind because when im alone this thing starts getting the better of me. This is all a bad mix of feeling like I have the most to lose and feeling like I have the least amount of resources i’ve ever had to not lose them.

So much has changed and yet, it still feels like I have nothing to show for any of this. 

I read somewhere once that possession is the enemy of love. 

That you kill a flower by picking it. Instead of watering it where its rooted.  

-

Maybe more patience is required, it’d just be nice for a sign that somethings sprouted, that i’m doing the right things to bring forth an eventuality that this chapter of my life will be over.  I just wonder when perseverance ends and delusion begins?

--

I went into my brothers room to give put back a book. I found his sticky notes plastered all over his desk with like meditative buzz word, he's got books on history of architecture and james baldwin and eckhart tolle with the bookmarks well into them. He's starting his own creative company, hes filled out an application for the NYT. he's doing freelance work. hes already killing it with his company and in school. He is an awesome photographer,  he's a fashion whiz. he's a veritable genius. and I can't get out of bed.  I walked 3 steps out the door today, said nope, and went to bed. I went to bed at midnight last night and didn’t leave my room until 4pm.  Im not saying this in a jealous way or in away that harbours any negativity towards him. I love my brother, even if we are never going to be on the terms I hoped we’d be. To be honest I'm not really interested in the things he's into so him being good at those things don't take anything away from me. Its just insane to me how far behind I feel. I can't even basically function and he's taking on the world. If he were where I am, the world would be robbed of so much of the things he can do. I just feel like i'm robbing myself of what I could maybe do too. and It used to be a thing where If I saw somebody getting theirs, id be like aight I gotta go get mine too and id be motivated and it'd give me a boost. Because I believed in my better. I believed I had more to give.  now I just, I can't  envision any of that for myself. I don't even know what it looks like anymore.

I know that isn’t a fair comparison, I know he’s healthy and I’m not, I know comparison is the thief of joy.

It’s just, I started this whole getting healthy thing to start feeling more like myself. To start  to answer the questions about what I could do if depression  wasn’t at the forefront of every endeavour I chose to undertake, every thought that crossed my mind and every relationship I established. The fact is I feel no closer to answering that question. None. I feel farther than ever. I am the product of such wonderful privledge, to waste those gifts on a disease so self centred and indulgent seems ridiculous to me, yet here I am.

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I have people walking with me now on this whimsical mental health adventure I’m on. Which is weird, because for the first time I’ve had to be cognizant of where my arms flail, or how much room I take up on the sidewalk. We walk together lock step, looking at that straight lined horizon, for something to eagerly burst its linearity and meet us more than half way.

While I appreciate the company it’s come with the added fear of what will happen if and when I have to stop, to stumble, to catch my breath, and for the sake of time, they keep walking. Until I can’t see them. Until the horizon is no longer something to move forward too. No north star to guide me home. 

See gratitude is anxiety. 

Always wondering how you’ve earned the luxury of a second to breathe, to use that moment to appreciate. 

 Always waiting for the other shoe to drop.