#JACOB / LIKE MY MOTHER BUT BOLDER

[fangirlvibez]

The Bradshaw son and Seresin daughter - part 4

Characters: Bradley Bradshaw x female!OC Madison Ella Hanscott, Son!OC Nicolas Peter Bradshaw, Jake Seresin x female!OC Quinn Kelsell, Daughter!OC Hazel Alexandra Seresin, Son!OC Benjamin Jacob Seresin, OC!Connor Malcolm Oxland

Warnings: in this chapter: mention about teenage pregnancy, mention of abortion, mention of running away, Navy inaccuracy, mention of strong language and vomiting. (Let me know if I forgot a warning)

Summary of the story: The 16 year old daughter of Jake Seresin gets pregnant. The dad: the 18 year old son of Bradley Bradshaw. How will the dads react to their kids becoming teen parents.

A/N: English is not my first language, so if there is any spelling or grammar errors: please let me know

Previous part - next part - masterlist

July 28, 2046

Nick and Hazels house

It has been 5 years, 2 months and 22 days since Nick and Hazel ran away from home. They packed their things and left the night of the dreaded dinner. With two duffel bags filled with clothes and two backpacks filled with other supplies they left to Maryland. Nick took his savings from the multiple student jobs he did for years to buy two train tickets to Maryland. Hazel left a note for Benjamin, telling him how much she loves her brother and that she will try to keep in contact with him.

The couple didn’t know what their parents would do. If they would let them be or inform the cops and started looking for them. The only idea that the two teenagers could think about was changing their appearance. Before the train left they bougth hair dye and scissors. They changed hazels beautiful longe blonde hair in short black locks. Nick went a little bolder with his hair. He dyed one part of his hair blue and the other part black. Hazel though he looked very good. They both wore glasses and hats to hide more of their identity. They also left their phones at home, not wanted to get tracked.

When they arrived in Maryland. They applied to have their name changed. Again a plan of them to hide their identity. Nick got accepted into the naval academy and he knew his dad would know if his surname was still Bradshaw. Their changed names: Nicolas Peter Bradshaw became Nicolas Peter Bradfield and Hazel Alexandra Seresin became Hazel Alexandra Serpell. With the acceptance, he had to change his hair color again, since multicolored hair wasn’t allowed. He decided to go blonde.

Had they taken this a little too far? Maybe. But they were determined to raise this baby the best that they could.

After living for 3 months in a homeless shelter, they found a small apartment. It wasn’t in the best neighborhood, but it was affordable with the small amount of money the couple earned with their small jobs. Nick worked as a construction worker for 2 months before finding out he was accepted in the academy. Hazel worked at a small café and managed to get into an evening school to finish her high school degree.

They may haven’t had much, but they were happy. And their little family got bigger on November 25, 2041 when their kids were born. Yes, kids. The couple had twins. Twin boys to be specific. Their names: Benji Theodore Bradfield and Mac Adrian Bradfield. Their firstborn was named after Hazels brother, who she kept in contact with. Occasionally she would send a letter to her brother and Benjamin kept them away from his parents. He didn’t take it very well when he found out that his parents were going to force his sister to have an abortion.

When their parents found out their kids ran away, they went out of their way to look for them. The dads were determined to find their kids, while their mothers were worried more about the dangers they could be in. After a half year of looking for them, their hope left little by little. The fathers, who weren’t really good friend anymore after the dinner, realised their mistakes. It took a while for them to become friends like they were before, but they were as good as they could be after losing their children. The Bradshaw family were lucky with Sparky. A reminder of their son while it took the Seresin family a little longer to accept the disappearance of their youngest and only girl.

After 2 years the couple moved out of their apartment to a smaller house in a nicer neighborhood. Nick had still 2 years left of his education in de academy. During the first year he had received the callsign Dash. Hazel couldn’t stop laughing when he explained the meaning behind the name. Dash: Dumb Ass Shit. Given to him by a friend after Nick threw up all over a commanders officers shoes after a night out.

Hazel found a better paid job in a clothing store. Having a low paid serving job and trying to save as much money as possible. Hazel tried to save money with upcycling baby clothes from the thrift shop. She realised that she had a talent for sewing and designing clothes. Apart from her job in the clothing store she follows an online course for fashion design. The lives of the couple went well and they never regretted leaving their homes at such a young age.

~~~~~~~~~~

July 28, 2046

Nick and Hazels house

Back to the present

Hazels age: 21, Nicks age: 23, the kids ages: 4

It was almost 5:30 pm and Hazel was making dinner for her family. The two 4 year old brothers were in the kitchen with her. Benji was coloring a Bluey coloring book while Mac was playing with a kids puzzle. Benji was the loud one out of the two while Mac liked to stay in the background. They were a perfect combination of both Nick and Hazel. They had Hazels Natural light blonde hair and Nicks dark brown eyes. Even though they had Hazels nose, you could tell they were Bradshaw boys. Hazel became very fond of her short dark black hair and decided to keep it. Nick didn’t mind, because he thought she looked very sexy with her bright eyes and dark hair. Nick let his hair fade back towards his light brown color.

“Baby! I’m home!” A deep voice came from the hallway. The front door closes and Hazel called back that they were in the kitchen. Nick came into view. He was wearing his flightsuit and had a big smile on his face. “Here are my favorite people” he said. “Daddy!” The young boys at the dinner table rushed off their chairs and jumped into the opened arms of their dad. “My boys! How was your day?” He asked, hugging his sons close to him. “Daddy! I read a whole book today.” Mac told his dad, while smiling brightly. “A whole book?! Wow kiddo, you’re becoming as smart as your mom.” Nick said smiling up at his girlfriend. After talking about their exciting day in kindergarten, both boys went back to their activity.

“I have news” Nick said, hugging Hazel from behind while she was sturing a sauce in a pan. “Good news or bad news?” She asked, turning her head slightly to look into Nicks eyes. “Both, I guess” Nick put his chin on her shoulder. “Me and T-rex got into Top Gun” he said. Hazel eyes went wide and she turned around in his arms. “That’s amazing honey!” She said exciting, hugging him with her hands around his neck. “I’m so proud of you and T-Rex.” she said. T-Rex, government name: Connor Malcolm Oxland, was Nicks backseater. He got his callsign after eating two full racks of BBQ ribs faster than anyone else ate one. Someone commented that it was like watching a Tyronnosaurus eat.

“Yeah, we were very honored to be chosen especially since we only finished the academy a little longer than 1 year ago.” Nick and Connor were one of the best pilot and WSO duo the Navy had seen in years. It didn’t surprise Hazel that they were chosen to go to Top Gun. “Well what’s the bad news then, Lieutenant?” She asked kissing Nick on the cheek. Nick smiled. Ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant, Hazel couldn’t stop saying his rank. “I heard some officers talking in the hallway” he started. “The were talking about the Top Gun teachers that still won’t retire” Nick could feel Hazel stiffen up. Nick swallowed before continuing. “I’m 99 percent sure they were talking about our dads”

Taglist: @confusedpimp @dempy @michael-loves-chickens @massivedetectivestudent @starkleila @mirrorball-6 (if your username is crossed out it means I couldn’t tag you) (let me know if you want to be tagged)

A/N: the callsigns used are real callsigns. Check this website out for more funny callsigns

[kits-shrine]

“Are you alright,” Wulf asked in concern, walking over to check her hands, “and yes, it's not quite comfortable, but it's easy enough to do.”

"I'm fine, I'm fine but watch your feet." Rebecca looked down worriedly.

"That's so cool." Jacob crowed still pumped at the latest discovery "You're really like the foxes you know! I can't wait for you to meet them." He shoved his toast in his mouth before running to his room to change.

Watching him disappear Rebecca lifted her hand to play with her locket before quietly murmuring to Wulf "There might be trouble if we go in to town ourselves. They've been getting bolder harassing my mother lately. I'm scared what they may do if they see us out and about."

[indigobackfire]

The fashion question back to you! But I want to ask about Indigo and Phoenix. What’s their style? You can include Jacob as well, of course, but if it’d be too much or you don’t have a clear idea for him yet, that’s fine too :)

Also, please, take this question however you wish. You don’t have to make collages or anything – unless you want! Then go for it!

Thank you so much for sending the question back 💖

I didn't have to but, I don't if you ever used it, I spent my early teens on Polyvore day and night making collages and I forgot how fun (and tiring) they are so I made it for each! Polyvore closed years ago, so b4 anyone asks, I did them on Medibang with PNGs from Tumblr.

I focused more on them during Hogwarts years, but I hope to make a post for their fashion as adults.

Indigo's Style

So this isn't half as much as I really wanted represented here xD due to the confinement of the space and png availability. I made one for her more academia side and one for her colorful self.

As general style rule Indigo will avoid anything tight or that shows too much skin, she wants freedom of movement. I'm sure I didn't convey her witchy vibes enough, nor her 70s influence, but soon I'll make another set.

She also doesn't vibe with blue, pink, nor with black. Yeah, no matter how gloomy she's feeling. But her favourites are red, green and orange brown.

Phoenix's Style

Here, I suffered with the lack of good male clothing pngs and my laziness xD.

Though I focused on his more yellow and neutral side, Phoenix has a passion for the colorful as well, with inspiration from the preppy fifties, with some boldness from the 60s/70s especially with clothes handed down from his late (biological) father.

Anyway, I think I did convey his very cozy good boy vibes, he's milk and honey, breeze on a hot day type of person.

I had been so long staring at screen doing his, my head began hurting, I had to lay down before moving on to Jacob, reason why his has less stuff than the others. Also I don't think I planned the space right 🙈

Jacob's Style

His collage is the most chaotic but that's pretty resonant with his character, not as much red as I'd like for him nor as punk as his style really is.

You right, I still have very little on my Jacob, but searching trinkets and clothes I actually got inspired x). Anyway, I like to think there's a before and after the vault Jacob in matter of style, I'll say more below, but can get experimental with his style, despite his laziness to put any effort into it.

And I'll talk under the cut just to avoid being huge x)

I don't think I can't explain Indigo's style as whole all at once so I'll divide by her Hogwarts years.

1st

Indigo is trying to drive her image away from Jacob, better yet, her mother is doing it for her, the colors are toned down and very basic, but it's inevitable the resemblance. She spends most of her time in complete or half uniform.

2nd

Now determined to explore the vaults, she invites the 'Jacobness' in, she's purposefully looking for him not just literally but figuratively. She's wearing jackets and shirts he left behind even if they definitely don't fit her right yet. She's got a classic colorful 80s girl style out of class and isn't afraid to call attention to herself. A time to be experimental with her hairdos.

3rd

Starting to develop her own style while being influenced by Rowan, trying to mix her new nerdy side with remnants of her brother.

The year she slowly starts growing, she has her first period, she gains weight, she's well, confused in herself. The colors are a tad toned down in comparison to the previous year. Tho, as the year progresses, since the current curse has to do with fear, she subconsciously seeks in her fashion saturated, happier and bolder colors.

But when she joins the gryffindor quidditch team, it enforces that red, burgundy color palette.

4th

Despite the exercising and duelling training, she continues to gain weight due to stress eating. Lucky for her, she continues getting taller which helps hide some of the weight gain, but her ever changing body does influence in the types of clothes she picks.

Since Rakepick is around now, she wants to be defiant - strong colors, oversized shapes, leather details and footwear, bringing back those Jacob clothes she had.

Also with the start of her friendship with Barnaby and with more of Aspen's influence, she begins wearing more and more plaid patterns to represent her Scottishness.

Another year of fun hairdos, especially considering her approximation to Tonks.

5th

As Rakepick's apprentice she's more and more inclined to dress with confidence.

She's dating Barney and he influences her fashion / As well as spending more time with Rakepick - she adopts the habit of wearing jewelry, a belt for her utilities, a lot more red and green, she begins putting her hair in place.

In the matter of hair, here is where it becomes like I usually draw (or try to), with hormones flourishing as well as her Legilimency, her hair has a growth spurt and becomes very thick and voluminous.

On opposite route to the previous year, she's stress starving, due to pressure because of the Curse and working in kitchens makes her lose her appetite. Therefore she's colder than usual, fluffy coats and a brown leather jacket and a tartan wrap Barnaby gifted her become ever so present in her daily wardrobe.

She's wearing saturated colors but also lots of brown, she associates the color to maturity and is how she wants to appear to her friends and, especially, to Rakepick. Red also becomes prevalent with the feelings of love.

For the first time she's putting actual effort into looking pretty for a boy.

6th

In here Barns has broken up with her for seemingly no reason and this takes a tool on her fashion for most of the year. She's not putting effort at all, dark colors patternless mourning the loss of her relationship as well as the departure of both Rakepick who she was beginning to grown fond of, as well as Jacob.

But with Jacob back around after a while, it's his style she's back at mirroring, tho most clothes she and Phoenix had borrowed had to be returned, she still keeps many he doesn't want anymore or that don't fit his new weight.

Then later, Achilles, whose fashion is similar to Jacob's but closer to what the 90s will bring with a renewed side of punk. She's also trying to make Barnaby jealous with Achilles so a bit more revealing clothes, blacks and strong greens - which doesn't last long since Achilles himself tells her how this isn't her.

Even then, she's not certain who she is.

7th

I'm not sure what will happen this year cause I don't feel like following canon and I've got so many ideas.

But it's a confusing year to her, while things have an air of settling down, the future feels unsettling. While she takes hold of her Legilimency, her self confidence doesn't follow. She's not sure of herself or her purpose and it reflects in her fashion.

Except, this is the year of true reconciliation with Rowan which brings her back those times of their third year, resurfacing with her nerdy academia side, this time with accents of leather and darker colors.

7.1

Yes, she stays another year cause she fails her NEWTS spectacularly.

The year of nostalgia with the golden trio coming along, therefore vintage, 'childish' patterns and styles, also trying to blend into the background because she really doesn't want to be there.

Preference for brown and burgundy, mostly trousers instead of skirts, hats and beanies more often used. And plaid, lots of it.

Phoenix

Phoenix never worried about fashion, he wears what mom buys and that's good. He also grew up with Jacob's hand-me-downs as part of his wardrobe ever since he was a baby, consequently paralleling his brother's style, not to mention always being a few years outdated in relation to the other kids.

But even after Hogwarts, his best friend is Rowen, not popularly known for being a fashion king himself.

Even with growing older, Phoenix is a Veela, naturally beautiful and charming so he often relies on that more than style - even though, sometimes, not even his pretty face can help his dweeb fashion.

What I wasn't able to add to the collage was Ismelda's influence on his style. Not only he has the boldness of dying a strand of his hair turquoise, he begins wearing black!!! Mostly stuff that used to belong to Jacob, but it does start seeping into his fashion slowly the longer he stays with her, though without ever losing his soft essence.

Jacob

Considering Jacob was a teen during the late 70s, he got caught in the beginning of the punk movement, taking inspiration from Vivienne Westwood, Sex Pistols, Blondie, Bowie, and well whatever media he could access at the time.

But also the classics, bell bottoms, weird patterns, bright colors along with plaids, and very funky hair.

After the vault, he loses the body he had along with his confidence, he used to be stocky and reasonably tall, but now he's skinny, cold, and feeling very unsexy. He's opting for dark colors, uninspired combinations, beanies and gloves. Though he doesn't realize straight away, he does use a wrap around his shoulders much like Rakepick does.

Also, even though he's not very sporty, he like sportswear, jerseys, baseball caps, and cool basketball sneakers.

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU one-shot “Hidden Talents” (Rated PG13)

Summary: After the stress and pressure of wedding planning drives them out of the city, Kurt and Sebastian hide out in Sebastian's old room. Kurt starts cleaning Sebastian's closet while Sebastian flips through old yearbooks, being of no help whatsoever. While weeding through Sebastian's collection of clothes and shoes, Kurt stumbles upon something he'd never thought he'd find in a million years - Sebastian's long lost violin. (4613 words)

Notes: So, we all remember that in ACITW Sebastian plays the violin, that Julian claimed he was really good at it, and could have probably done something with it? Then it just never gets mentioned, not even once by Sebastian's parents, which leads me to believe there's a reason. This one-shot explores that reason, and whether or not Sebastian is really as proficient as his brother claims.

Part of ACITW AU

Read on AO3

“Donate or keep?” Kurt asks, holding up a fitted Marc Jacobs polo, fashionable despite its age. Then again, polo shirts are the standard, and designer never goes out of style. Like a fine wine, it matures, even if the shirt’s owner - sitting cross-legged on his bed, chuckling over photos in an old yearbook - has managed to remain perpetually sixteen.

His sense of humor pinging at a solid age twelve.

“Jeff, you bastard!” Sebastian snorts, flipping off a photo that Kurt can’t see from where he’s standing. Sebastian finds a block of sloppy text at the bottom right corner and runs a fingertip over it. He reads the slanted script, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, gatekeeper of another undignified snort. “Fuck, I miss you, man! See you at the wedding.”

Kurt clears his throat, aggravated by the amount he keeps losing Sebastian’s attention, but he can’t help smiling either. They don’t reminisce about high school often - too many mines left undetonated in those fields. But it’s nice to see Sebastian like this, especially considering the current stress they’re both under - a stress that’s driven them from their penthouse in the city back home to Westerville for the next few weeks.

Unfortunately, retreating to this sanctuary of family and nostalgia has caused that stress to amplify tenfold.

“Sebastian,” Kurt sings when even his most dramatic throat clearing doesn’t do the trick. “Oh, Sebastian. Eyes up here, please.”

Sebastian’s head snaps Kurt’s way, his brow pinched as if he only now remembered that Kurt is in the room with him, and that they have a job to do. “What?”

“Donate,” Kurt repeats in a syrupy tone (more like pine tar as opposed to maple - thicker, darker, more bitter), shaking the navy blue shirt on its hanger for emphasis, “or keep?”

“Keep,” Sebastian decides in an instant, then returns to his yearbook, snickering at another picture on the same page.

“Good,” Kurt murmurs, setting the polo aside. I intend on borrowing that one, he thinks, finding the silver lining since he’s the only one of the two of them taking this task seriously. He rifles through the closet and pulls out another shirt, one less style-savvy than the polo. That’s okay. At this point, it can be deemed retro. Regardless, Kurt has no intention of borrowing it. “How about this one? Donate or keep?”

Sebastian’s eyes flutter up from the page, barely focusing on the shirt before returning to the book in his lap. “Keep.”

Kurt rolls his eyes as he lays this shirt over the polo. He’d really hoped this one would end up in the donate box. If they hold on to it, there’s a chance Sebastian might actually decide to wear it, which puts the burden on Kurt to come up with something for himself that matches (provided they don’t want to run the risk of blinding anyone).

Kurt didn’t fall in love with Sebastian for his taste in clothes, which, to be fair, is decent - long lines; primary colors; simple, clean-cut elegance that pairs well with Kurt’s bolder, more adventurous choices. Sebastian can be quite the fashion plate himself when he has a mind to, one rogue t-shirt notwithstanding.

He lets Kurt style him more times than not so Kurt can’t complain.

Kurt goes back to the closet and selects a pair of shorts he knows don’t fit Sebastian anymore. They’re from Sebastian’s lacrosse days, when his thighs were bulkier, his glutes rounder. Not that Sebastian doesn’t have a gorgeous body now. His fitness regimen is impressive, even by Kurt’s standards. But spending hours on end running up and down a grass field does wonders for the buns and thighs.  

Kurt doesn’t want to banish everything from Sebastian’s Dalton days. Sebastian’s lacrosse uniforms were the first things Kurt slipped into the keep box without asking his say so. But these tan shorts are atrocious! He’s glad that after an hour of this, they’ll finally have a submission to the donate box, which has collected only dust so far along with one lonely copy of Mein Kampf - a relic from senior year AP European History.

“Donate or keep?” Kurt asks, dangling the garment presumptively over the donation box.

Sebastian glances at it, tilting his head and giving the matter a soupcon of thought. “Donate.”

Kurt removes the shorts from their clips with a sigh of relief. Finally! he thinks. Now we’re getting somewhere! But before he has the chance to drop them in, Sebastian recants (without looking up). “No, keep. Keep.”

“What!” Kurt stares at Sebastian, mouth agape. “Why? These don’t even fit you!”

“Are they too big or too small?”

“Too big! Plus, they’re cargo shorts, Sebastian! Cargo shorts!”

“They’ll be good for layering.”

Kurt’s eyes go buggy and wide. Sebastian hasn’t peeked, but he grins knowing what Kurt must look like right now, that vein in his head that throbs when he gets upset ready to burst. “When in the world would you need to layer shorts!?”

“I dunno,” Sebastian mumbles, eyes glued to a new page.  

Kurt growls, slamming the offensive item into the overflowing keep box, which might as well be labeled the Why are we wasting our time here? box. “Are you planning on getting rid of anything?”

“Uh …” Sebastian looks up and around. “Yes. That burrito wrapper over there.” He points to the corner of his desk where the trash from their lunch had been unceremoniously abandoned in favor of this. “That definitely needs to go.”

“Ha ha,” Kurt says, reluctantly cleaning up the mess. He objects to playing maid in his fiance’s old bedroom, but since he’s not currently doing anything of value, he grabs the stiff paper wrapper and crumples it in his hands - no, strangles it, using it as a stand-in for Sebastian’s neck. Sebastian turns to the next page, but looks up when he hears the wrapper succumb to Kurt’s crushing fingers.

“Oh, wait! I don’t think I finished …” Sebastian gestures repeatedly at the wadded wrapper, unable to think of a suitable end to his sentence, his brain sandwiched between curbing Kurt’s annoyance and processing the sentiments on the page without them bringing a tear to his eye. People say that if high school was one of the best times in your life, you were probably a privileged asshole. Well, he was. And it was … mostly. “I may want to hold on to that a little while longer.”

“Why!?”

“Dunno.”

“What the---!?” Kurt slams the balled up wrapper down with an irritated yawp. “Cleaning out your closet was your idea you know!”

“Oh contraire,” Sebastian retorts with maddening superiority. “All I said was that I may want to siphon out a few things while I’m here. You’re the one who came up with the brilliant idea of paring down my things and donating them to charity.”

“And why not? What good does any of this stuff do just sitting here in this closet? It’s not like you’re planning on moving any of it to our place and wearing it!”

“True, but if I get rid of it, what would my mother have in her later years to rummage through sentimentally, hold to her cheek and sigh when she misses me?”

Kurt shakes his head slowly, unamused on Charlotte’s behalf. “That’s just … horrible. Like the plot of a bad Hallmark Christmas movie.”

“There are good Hallmark Christmas movies? I sure as hell never seen one.”

“Hmph. And you say I watch too many cheesy chick flicks.”

“You do, but that’s entirely beside the point.”

“You’ve got tons of clothes here you don’t use,” Kurt presses with renewed vigor. “It wouldn’t hurt to get rid of some of it, make someone else’s day brighter by giving them the opportunity to purchase name brands for a bargain. I know that always cheers me up.”

“Weren’t you the one telling me that as much as you love Marie Kondo, closet purging is overwhelming the charity industry, and that most of the stuff we donate ends up on barges traveling the world, bouncing from port to port until they inevitably sink into the sea and devastate the aquatic ecosystem?”

“Yes, but at the time you were trying to get me to trim down my Jimmy Choo collection.”

“Because no one in their right mind needs eighty-six pairs of the same patent leather loafer, Kurt!”

Kurt tuts sharply. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“I do know you! That’s how I knew that if I came out against your plan, you’d get loud and yell-y! That’s what I was trying to avoid! I only went along with it because …“ Sebastian’s sentence cuts off when he clamps his jaw shut with a clack that shoots straight up Kurt’s spine. If Sebastian’s tongue had been anywhere near his teeth, part of it would have been chomped clean off.

“Because what?” Kurt asks, sore at being accused of acting ‘yell-y’ - a stone’s throw too close to ‘groomzilla’, which they’ve both accused one another of too many times in the last three months to count.

Sebastian sighs, rearranges his legs on the bed so that they’re spread and not twisted like a pretzel. “Asking you up here was an excuse to get you alone for five frickin’ minutes. We’ve been swamped since the second we got here! We left the city to escape your friends and my friends and the wedding planner’s incessant phone calls. But my mom and Olivia took over where everyone else left off.”

“They’re just excited for us,” Kurt says soothingly, not admitting yet that he knows exactly how Sebastian feels.

“I realize that. And I’m glad they’re excited but …” Sebastian thumbs the edges of the pages he has yet to read, watches them fall beneath his hand one by one “… who knew that deciding to get married would mean never getting a moment’s peace?”

“I guess they figure we’ll get enough of that after we’re married.”

“Then they don’t know us very well, do they?” Sebastian scoffs, venom lacing his words, so palpable it gives Kurt a rash.

Ever since Kurt moved up the ranks from Flying Monkey in the cast of Wicked to the more coveted role of Fiyero, he’s been in higher demand, and thus, less available. Even to Sebastian.

Kurt has dreamed of planning his own wedding for years. He’d started an idea book along the way, cutting out photographs from bridal magazines and gluing them into the pages, creating palettes and themes depending on current trends, potential venues, and time of year. But with both Kurt’s and Sebastian’s schedules so hectic, they had to weigh the importance of Kurt planning their wedding against the probability of them marrying before the turn of the century.

Getting married won, but only by a slim margin.

They hired the best wedding planner in the city, recommended by everyone in their tax bracket, whose artistic vision matched Kurt’s nearly beat by beat (according to the pictures on her website of ceremonies she’d helped bring to fruition). To Sebastian’s naive mind, that meant they would leave everything in her capable hands while they went on with their lives, drop in for the occasional consultation to check that the roses she chose suit Kurt’s vision or that the place settings have the right number of candles in them.

But Kurt literally hated everything their planner came up with.

So they’ve had to be present for every second of their wedding’s creation to ensure they’ll get the chance to celebrate the way they want.

They’re paying someone else thousands of dollars for Kurt to plan their wedding anyway.

The irony is staggering.

To that end, they’re having two weddings - one for their New York friends and associates, and a second intimate ceremony for their Ohio family.

Sebastian knew from go that Kurt’s pack of female friends from high school would descend upon them and monopolize Kurt’s time with the obligatory brunches and showers, which was understandable and therefore forgivable. What Sebastian didn’t factor in was the amount in which the theater company would use Kurt’s engagement as a PR instrument, slipping it into every interview, at every opportunity how one of their leading male cast members is months away from wedding his wealthy boyfriend, playing the whole thing up as some sort of fairy tale (with the term ‘fairy’ vaguely but constantly applied).

Broadway’s full of gays, remember! And this one’s gettin’ hitched!

Sebastian thought the whole thing vulgar but he didn’t sweat it … not until the side-effects of that exploitation began to bleed in to their every day lives.

Namely the celebrity.

Sebastian is accustomed to having eyes on him. He’s a handsome man and he knows it. He’s used his charm and his checkbook to open doors that weren’t already propped for his arrival his entire life. What he wasn’t used to was the sheer amount of eyes that would follow him everywhere. Letters addressed to Kurt showed up at his office. Paparazzi camped out on their doorstep. Admirers stopped him on the street to ask him every manner of question.

And Kurt’s fans knew no shame.

An unsolicited tide of attention chased them back home, along with an utter lack of privacy because everybody knows.

Everybody.

Even out here in backwater Ohio.

Checkers at the supermarket, cashiers at Target, the guy filling up the tanks at the gas station down the block, pretty much every single person they’ve come in contact with has congratulated them on their wedding.

How people found out Kurt and Sebastian had gone to Ohio, Sebastian has no idea. They left in the middle of the night and drove so they wouldn’t have to fuss with tickets. No one needed to be informed because time off for both of them had been arranged ahead of time. But someone found out they’d left early, and that person told because they’ve received everything from gift baskets to magnums of champagne at both the Smythe estate and Kurt’s father’s home.

The (now mildly - because that’s considered progress) homophobic country club that refused to let Kurt and Sebastian take dance lessons as a couple had the nerve to call and congratulate Greg and Charlotte on their son’s upcoming nuptials, offering them use of their main ballroom for the wedding, the reception, any accompanying shindigs they had planned - the same ballroom that hosted both Presidents Reagan and Carter during their administrations (they mentioned more than twice).

Olivia happened to be at the house the day they called, so Charlotte gave her the honor of the telling them where they could shove their offer.

It made Olivia’s day.

“If you’d told me from the beginning that you wanted to get me alone,” Kurt says, arching a suggestive eyebrow, “we’d be on your bed making out instead of doing mindless busywork on opposite ends of the room.”

“Ooo. Sounds like a plan,” Sebastian says, throwing Kurt a wink … then goes back to his yearbook, finger raised in a pause gesture. “Just … give me … one second.”

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Wow. That’s just … that’s just … wow. Thanks a lump.” Ego bruised, he turns back to the closet. He pushes the clothes aside, giving up on that front for a while, and tackles the floor. He smirks when he sees Sebastian’s shoes, stored in their boxes, lined up in rows and stacked three deep. If he knows his fiance, the majority of them are boat shoes, each in the exact same style but different colors.

Make fun of me for my eighty-six pairs of loafers, will you?

He reaches for the topmost box but gets distracted when his hand brushes something hard and canvas leaning against the wall. Kurt steps aside to let more light in since the object blends in with the shadows. Kurt gets a good look at it, realizes what it is, and his heart stutters in his chest.

“Oh my …” He grabs hold of the handle and tugs it out gently. “So here it is. The fabled violin.”

That succeeds in getting Sebastian’s attention. His eyes light up when he sees Kurt approach carrying the case in his arms. Kurt hands the violin case over and Sebastian takes it, bringing it to him like a sacred artifact from his own past - one he thought he’d never lay eyes on again.

“It’s been forever,” Sebastian gasps. “I forgot I put it in this closet. I thought my mother had it.”

“Why did you give it up?” Kurt asks, watching Sebastian open the case to reveal the sublime instrument, wood polished and gleaming, appearing deceptively brand new with the exception of a few tells that speak to how much Sebastian played it - light-colored wear on the fretboard, a cloudiness to the finish on the chin rest, scratches here and there on the veneer.

“It’s just one of those things that faded from my life, stopped bringing me joy … about the same time everything else did.”

“Do you think you’d ever play it again?”

“Possibly.” Sebastian removes the violin from its case and holds it lengthwise in front of his eyes, examining it from end to end. “I mean, it’s been a dog’s age. I’m not sure I’d be any good at it.”

“Any chance it’s like riding a bike and you never forget?”

“Only one way to find out.” Sebastian plucks the strings in succession and smiles. It doesn’t sound too far off pitch to Kurt. Sebastian adjusts the strings, checking them against one another to make sure they’re in tune. Then he removes the bow from its resting place and tightens it. “Don’t rag on me too hard if I completely suck at this.”

“I won’t,” Kurt says. “I promise. I’ll just, you know, bring it up subtly at special occasions and bank holidays, maybe find a way to fit it into my toast at the wedding.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Sebastian rosins up his bow. He fits the violin underneath his chin. From the second it touches his skin, his attitude changes. He simultaneously tenses and relaxes, reminiscent of the way he behaved during their first sushi date, when he dropped eel and flecked soy sauce all over Kurt’s clothes. Kurt refrains from laughing at the memory. He doesn’t want Sebastian to think he’s laughing at him. But he can’t help smiling. Yes, their past is riddled with landmines, but the memories hidden in the flat, stable ground between never cease to make him glad.

Glad that he and Sebastian got together in the end.

Sebastian runs the bow experimentally over the strings, the sound it produces warm and rich, like hot Godiva cocoa on a cold, rainy day. Sebastian leans into that tone as he runs through scales, drawing end notes out a full four beats before launching into the next set. The quickness in which he picks it up takes Kurt’s breath away.

If Kurt was thinking of making fun of Sebastian for anything, he surely isn’t now.

“Why don’t we start with a classic, hmm?” Sebastian suggests, cheeks starting to pink from the look of open and unabashed awe on Kurt’s face.

“Where do you want to start? Bach? Beethoven?”

“I think …” Sebastian sits up taller, corrects his posture “… Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt teases, but with less snark than usual. “I wouldn’t want you to set yourself up to fail or anything.”

“It’s good to go back to the basics. Limber up the old chops, so to speak.”

“Are they still chops if you’re talking about your fingers?”

“Don’t know,” Sebastian says with a shrug. “I didn’t invent it.”

Kurt settles in comfortably on the bed as he waits for Sebastian to pull something mid-range from his bag of tricks, like Minuet in G, a piece that millions of children have hammered out on innocent instruments since learning the recorder in middle school became mandatory. But true to his word, Sebastian starts with Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, picking the notes on the strings with his forefinger. But one verse in, he puts the bow to the strings, and starts a whole other story.

Kurt had expected Sebastian to be rusty, suffer a few false starts before he got into the swing of things. Scales are one thing. They follow a predictable pattern. It’s fairly simple to keep them smooth. But Sebastian sounds like he put his violin down for the last time yesterday. Kurt almost stops him to accuse him of having a secret violin hidden somewhere that he’s been practicing on this entire time, probably at his office where Kurt wouldn’t see. He considers pulling out his phone and texting Sebastian’s secretary, interrogating her to see if she’ll spill about any mid-afternoon practice sessions when the partners were out at lunch.

Though, in this particular instance, Kurt doesn’t know if Sebastian is more likely to hide his tremendous talent or rub it in his face.

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star ends and Sebastian melds it into a classical melody, one Kurt can’t name off-hand though he knows he’s heard it before. It’s slow, romantic - the kind of piece a director would use to cap off the credits on a bittersweet rom-com, one where the tragic heroine, diagnosed with a withering variety of late-stage cancer, dies after the love of her life proposes.

It’s sad.

So incredibly sad.

That sadness lingers in the air after the notes dissolve, becomes stronger, more powerful with every sway of Sebastian’s body. He’d closed his eyelids when this piece started and he’s fallen into the sadness, let it envelope him.

It’s become a part of him. Maybe it’s always been a part of him and he’s just now letting it out for Kurt to see.

Or he never intended on Kurt seeing it, and this is simply an accident.

Whatever it is, Sebastian finally notices it because he switches, keeps the same key but changes the song, seamlessly transforming into something more contemporary, slightly more upbeat.

Kurt’s heart stops when he realizes the song Sebastian is playing is from Wicked. Not only that, it’s a song Kurt sings as Fiyero.

As Long as You’re Mine.

Sebastian has never, to Kurt’s knowledge, played that song on the violin or any instrument, has never sung that song himself, hasn’t seen the sheet music. He’s heard Kurt sing it over and over, practicing it in their bathroom until the tile could sing it back to him. But now he’s playing it on an instrument he hasn’t picked up in decades.

Kurt swallows hard, heart swollen with pride but his chest hollow with jealousy.

That’s talent. True talent.

Even Blaine might not be that talented.

Kurt would kill for that kind of talent.

Years they’ve been together, they’re about to get married, and Kurt thought he knew everything there is to know about this man. But Sebastian is still such an enigma. What is Kurt going to learn in another ten years? After twenty?

On the one hand, it’s daunting the way these secrets pop up out of nowhere.

But more than that, Kurt is excited to find out.

Sebastian plays through the first verse again when the song ends, a twinkle in his eyes trying to coax Kurt into singing it while he plays. Sebastian plays with such emotion that, even though Kurt would love to duet with him, he can’t bring himself to - too transfixed to make his mouth move, or even hum the tune. But he hears the words in his head, hears their meaning ring in his ears. He’s never paid too much attention to the words outside of what they mean in the musical. Now he’s hearing them, understanding them, for a different reason all together:

Kiss me too fiercely Hold me too tight I need help believing You're with me tonight My wildest dreamings Could not foresee Lying beside you With you wanting me

Sebastian ends not on a note of completion, but open-ended, with the promise of more.

Longing for more.

“Julian was right,” Kurt says, clearing his heart from his throat.

“He’ll be ecstatic to hear that,” Sebastian teases, casually shelving the emotions his violin brought to the surface.

“You do play beautifully. You should have gone to NYADA.”

“That’s … that’s very kind of you, babe,” Sebastian says, flashing a rare shy smile, knowing how great a compliment that is coming from Kurt, how much NYADA has meant to him. “But being good at the violin and being a musician are two completely different things. And I’m not a musician. Or a performer. Not like you. I enjoy it … I definitely enjoy that you enjoy it … but it’s not in my blood. I mean, obviously, seeing as I could put this violin down for so long and not even think about it, hmm?”

Kurt wonders about that after Sebastian says it. It’s easy to believe considering Kurt found out about Sebastian’s playing not from Sebastian but from Julian (the night he devised a plan to break the two of them out of dance lessons no less). Other than that, he can’t remember for the life of him either brother bringing it up again. Even Charlotte, who praises in excess everything her children have accomplished, has never brought it up, not even to say that she misses it. The way Sebastian holds the violin to his chest reminds Kurt of the way Blaine held his favorite guitar - as if it, and not Kurt, were his soulmate. As with so many things in Sebastian’s past, Kurt suspects there’s a bigger story surrounding this violin and why he stopped playing it than he’s putting on.

It had faded from his life, he’d said. Stop bringing him joy about the same time everything else did.

The same time things went south with Julian and Sebastian moved away, which would explain why it seems to have been erased from family history.

“So what do you think? Donate?” Sebastian asks with a surreptitious sniffle. He doesn’t let go of the violin, doesn’t return it to its case. On the contrary, he seems to hug it tighter. “Maybe to one of those inner city performing arts programs you love to volunteer for so much?”

“No! Keep! A definite keep!” Kurt gushes. “Maybe you can put it down and never play it again, but now that I’ve heard you, I don’t think I can exist without your playing in my life!”

“But I thought you said I was keeping too much stuff.”

“Meh,” Kurt dismisses with a wave, done with the whole concept of cleaning Sebastian’s closet anyhow. “What’s too much stuff when you can fit half of Central Park in your penthouse? Plus, I have to think of your mother, right? Wasting away in this run-down, rickety shack with nothing at all to remind her of her youngest son? Especially not the thousands of photos and videos she’s taken over the years.”

Sebastian looks at Kurt through long eyelashes, a wicked streak creeping into his smile, turning it into a full-fledged smirk. “I guess we could always switch out some of my old lacrosse uniforms for it.”

“What?” Kurt sits up straight, the color draining from his face. He knew Sebastian would find out about that eventually (on their honeymoon, if not sooner), but he didn’t think he’d caught him when he did it. “No! No, no, no reason to do that. Who says I even … uh … weren’t we going to make out?”

[carewyncromwell]

Yay! Hi Mama Lane!😊 First of all, how are you doing today? Second, I wanna ask, what do you think a normal mother should be like? My mama doesn't treat me very well so I have pretty low standards. But you are VERY nice to your kids, and sometimes that confuses me. Sorry if I'm being bother...

[Sarahi’s meek body language has a visible effect on Lane. Her blue eyes become a little smaller, rippling with something deeper, sadder...is it compassion? No...empathy.

The Magical Historian comes up to Sarahi and -- very, very gently -- brings an arm around her.]

“No. No, sweetheart...you are anything but a bother.”

[Despite the firmness of the denial, there is no harshness in Lane’s voice at all. Instead her tone is a bit lower, less breathy, and steady.

In a very slow, careful movement, so as not to spook the girl, Lane coaxes Sarahi to sit down on the couch with her. She weighs her next words very carefully.]

“...Sarahi...I can’t act like I have all the answers, about what a mother ‘should’ be. My mother and I...were very different in how we’ve raised our children. ...When I was growing up, there was always this...detachment, in how my parents raised my siblings and me. We all had our own roles to play, in our family -- one we had no say in, and one we were expected to...well, fulfill...no matter what we ourselves had to sacrifice. Our needs...were treated as less important than the desires of our parents. Our freedom -- our privacy -- our feelings...all of that came second, to what my mother and father deemed was necessary to bring honor and esteem to our family. My siblings and I were constantly made to compete against each other in vying for their approval and affection. My mother in particular...I think resented that I wasn’t what she’d wanted me to be. She’d resented...that I wasn’t bolder, like my sister Pearl -- or prettier, like my sister Claire...she hated that I wanted to be a historian and that I loved the Muggle World as much as she despised it.”

[She considers Sarahi for a long moment, her eyes rippling with a lot of emotion despite the calmness of her expression and voice.]

“...When I was your age, I didn’t know what a ‘normal’ family looked like. Even now...I’m still not sure I do. But...when I became pregnant with Jacob...I tried to imagine myself raising a family of my own, the way my mother had. And I realized...that I couldn’t treat Jacob the way I had been treated. I couldn’t live with myself if my son went through the feelings of loneliness, isolation -- inadequacy -- that I had. I realized...that the way my mother had treated me, my whole life...was wrong. And so I decided that I couldn’t be a mother like the one I’d had -- I couldn’t be what had been ‘normal’ to me. So I bought some books on parenting -- did some people-watching at the park, watching parents with their children. I reached out to some old friends from school for advice. And the common thread I found...as strange as it sounds...is unconditional, selfless love. The idea that...you encourage your children to be the best they can be -- giving them just enough structure that they can function in society -- praising their best efforts as well as their achievements -- earning their respect rather than demanding it -- making it clear that, no matter what mistakes they make, no matter who they are or who they love, you will always be there, when they’re most frightened, the most alone...whenever they need you...”

[The memory of Carewyn’s strained smile as she closed her bedroom door the previous summer -- so like one Lane had seen on Jacob’s face so many years ago, before he’d disappeared -- rippled over Lane’s mind, and she had to suppress a choke.

Lane’s face spread into a small, pained smile.]

“...That idea...even if it was something meant for my children -- something I had to give Jacob and Carewyn, even though I never knew it myself growing up...it inspired me more than I can ever say.”

[She shifted herself forward to bring her other hand onto Sarahi’s other shoulder in a quasi-hug, looking her straight-on in the eye.]

“I can’t speak to your experience, Sarahi -- I know your life is very different from mine...but I believe, truly, that everyone should know that feeling...whether from one’s biological parents or not. Everyone should know that feeling, whether by receiving it as a child...or by becoming your own parent, and giving it to yourself.”

Ask Lane Cromwell!

[delicrieux]

anon🌻 said: Hi! So you said that you still write BillxMC and because you write propably the best one I have a request. Could you do the one where Bill and MC spends a day like a muggles. They go on some rock concert, eat junk food(MC never really tried it in her life), maybe get soem tattoos(Bill get his ear pierced or sth). Just something really fluffy and nice. You can write it as a part of your stories or as something new. It would be amazing to read it. Also sorry for my English, not being native sucks a/n: bill knows how to play guitar pass it on. also i changed it a bit!

masterlist | ko-fi

You have come to learn that Bill holds the same, or at least partly same, fascination of the muggle world as his father does. The concept of things existing and functioning without the help of charms and jinxes is entirely new and curious. And being half-muggle – on your mother’s side – you are more than experienced with the magical aspects of the un-magical world: junk food, skate parks, hip 80s fashion. So when he called you on the telephone – yes, he called you – and asked if you were to show him the ropes of being a typical teenage muggle, you nearly screamed with glee.

He got to you via portkey and nearly failed to recognise you out of your school uniform: it’s a hot day and you are wearing something that lets your skin breathe in sunlight. You met him at the station, of course, pulling him into a quick hug that you had to stand on your tippy-toes to manage. He is quite tall, isn’t he? With a chuckle he had ruffled your hair, mumbling a sleepy hello to you as you gave him a once over, “Well…” You assessed his outfit, “It’ll do, I suppose.” He resembled more of a wizard trying to pass as a muggle than a very fashion forward high school kid, “Lose the jacket, perhaps…” you then added, tugging it of off him, “I have so many things planned…Get ready for the best day of your life, William.”

It started with lunch. At first you showed him around local stores, pointed at current fashion trends – he took a particular liking to punk -, had him try on a few silly sunglasses at a local vender. He had been walking by your side and beaming, and before long his hand had made its way atop of yours and your fingers had intertwined. You pretended not to blush, and with a shy smile you took him to the most romantic place you could think of…McDonalds. You ordered him a Happy Meal.

“Isn’t this for kids?” He had asked as the two of you sat down with your orders at a booth. You grinned.

“Maybe.” You replied cheekily, taking a sip of your cold Coca-Cola, “But I wanted you to know that you make me Happy.”

It was his time to blush.

Bill had then convinced you to take him to some piercing place he had seen when you were on your way to lunch. You had asked him to clarify if this ‘deadly cool look’ would sit well with Molly. He never responded. You took him anyway. The place was small and packed with various trinkets and glittering silver and gold earrings. Some gothic portraits were covered by band posters – one you recognised, Sex Pistols. Tattoos were laid on display and the mechanic buzz of the ink machine mixed with rock music playing from the radio. A somewhat friendly looking goth lady eyed you and Bill suspiciously when he requested to get a piercing, but alas caved in fairly quick when you showed her a twenty.

“Nervous?” You had asked him as he took a seat on a nearby stool. He flickered a loose strand of hair from your face with a silly smile.

“No, should I be? Can’t hurt more than the cursed ice.”

“Well, we have a concert at 8 and I don’t want you bawling for the remaining of the time.”

He snickered, “I will hold back the tears if I must.”

True to his word, he had not even flinched when the lady lodged a silver earring into his ear. However, now he was insanely distracted, catching his reflection in every mirror or window and awing, mumbling a ‘wicked’ each time. It was both hilarious and annoying at the same time.

Having no other plans for the time being, you had decided to show him around your humble abode. Your parents were at work, and the house was empty and quiet when you stepped in. The happy day was left outside once the front door shut. It was a stark contrast between the Burrow and here for Bill. He was cautious to talk. He felt as if he was invading your personal space, even if he knew that he wasn’t. Your brother’s disappearance and how much you suffered because of it was now evident and clear by how silent you became. Conversation started flowing once he noticed a guitar hid behind a pile of clothes in your room. You had confessed that it is Jacob’s. Bill, with a grin, picked it up and sat down on the bed as you eyed him curiously from the floor.

“You mean to tell me you know how to play and you never once even mentioned it?” You questioned with a raised brow. You figured it was the new earring that was making him bolder than usual. Bill simply shrugged.

“My dad loves muggle things.” He said, “I might’ve stolen an odd guitar from him a couple of times. Learned how to play. I’m not really good at it though.”

What a charming liar he was, you had realised. He was brilliant with the guitar, at the very least better than Jacob. Not that Jacob was anything to brag about, but still…

Your boyfriend was insanely cool.

8 o’clock struck and you took him to some garage band’s performance in a shady area where all the misfits hang out. Your mum would not like you visiting places as such – grimy, loud, not family friendly – but she wasn’t there to scold you and you felt safer than ever with Bill on your side. You had pushed through the crowd of rowdy teen screaming and dancing, cigarette smoke catching at the back of your throat and so you coughed for most of the time. Once the two of you made it to the front you joined in the fun, letting the lights blind you and the incoherent lyrics fuel your need to dance. Somewhere down the line the two of you started making out.

The night was just getting better and better…

requests are open!

[prophesyr]

Transcribed.  THE BOOK OF JOSEPH,  Chapter 3. trigger warnings :   child abuse. 

          III           “They quote prophets who were born slaves. They sing the praises of saviours born of the people. But in their arrogance, they will never understand that the messenger is not of their caste.”           —  Sermon from the Project at Eden’s Gate. When the Voice spoke to me again, it had been a long time since I’d heard anything comforting. Father had just taken me and Jacob out of school to home-school us himself. He meant to pass on knowledge more faithful to his convictions, away from evil influences, as he proclaimed to anyone who would listen. Which was no one. I no longer had the stories our teachers innocently recounted of the adventures of pious, tightknit, loving families of pioneers who conquered the country by braving all sorts of dangers. If those pioneers had known what would become of their dreams, they most likely would have chosen not to brave anything at all and to slaughter their own oxen and burn their covered wagons. But home-schooling was quite common and perfectly legal in the state of Georgia as long as one of the parents could read and write. Father met both of these criteria. The fact that he was an alcoholic who beat us simply did not concern the authorities. As for the neighbours, they were too busy with their own problems to worry about the fate of Old Mad Seed’s boys. It wasn’t that they were heartless — on the contrary, they were good people. But despite their kind nature, they had been hardened by misery. In our town, everyone worked the same job — collecting unemployment. We lived off a patchwork of welfare, food stamps, charity, and soup kitchens funded by rich liberals from wealthy suburbs, paid for to buy themselves a conscience or so they could brag about it at the dinners they threw at hip Atlanta restaurants. In these parts, everyone had their own cross to bear. Some had more than one, and the worst off had enough to fill a cemetery. Thus, we were alone with our problems, just us, members of a family descended from pioneers who failed to conquer anything but vast nothingness and gained only the right to settle their misery in one place. Amid this emptiness, my sole source of joy was running to the corner gas store at the very end of our street. Our mother would send us there to buy — often on credit — the hot dogs and frozen pizza the bulk of our diet. And whiskey, of course, for our father. The owner was a good man at heart who let me skim through the magazines next to the register, without a word. I would sit alone in a corner, enjoying the cool breeze of the noisy air conditioner and the sound of the radio playing over worn-out speakers. I read and the world disappeared. Sometimes he’d give me a soda, for no reason, without asking for anything in return, as if he weren’t from around here. Later, when I began founding my community and gathering believers, I decided to bring him the message I bore. I wanted to save him the way he had saved me. That’s when I learned he had been shot years earlier in a robbery committed by two people who couldn’t have been from the neighbourhood — everyone in town knew that the contents of his cash register drawer weren’t worth three .38 bullets. May he rest in peace. At least he won’t be around for the horror of the end times. Why did the Voice choose to speak to me on that day in particular? I believe it’s because recently my brother Jacob had begun to clash with our father more and more.  We were separated by more than just age. He was also bolder. He was the first one to jump into the polluted reservoirs, the quickest to go adventuring in other neighbourhoods, despite the bands of kids who marked it as their exclusive territory. He was also the one who pinched candy whenever possible, at the risk of severe punishment, just so we could have a bit of sweetness and comfort in our lives. He was surely a thief, but I came to admire him as a modern day Robin Hood, with a forest of broken down houses, cracked roads, and overgrown gardens. We were accustomed to our father’s mood swings, the stench of alcohol on his breath, his maniacal sermons. We were even used to his smacks and kicks, to the lashes of his belt. But he had started beating our little brother, John. Jacob was strong and determined, and I was somehow able to retreat deep within myself during whippings. But John was young and so delicate.  It tortured Jacob to see him cry and howl after being beaten. And the anger Jacob felt mutated into a fierce hate. Our mothers lethargy only made things worse. She glided through the house, listlessly, always wearing the same nightgown. She had never been anything more than a ghost to us, of no help whatsoever, possibly doomed to derangement for all eternity, having been crushed by her marriage to a man who spoke like a saint but acted like a demon. Violence seeped into the cracks between the father and his oldest son. We certainly didn’t lack examples. Violence filled our neighbourhood. Robberies, fights, drug deals, domestic violence — what kids from nice neighbourhoods saw on TV, we saw from the windows. The full range of misery, and its faithful companion, crime, was everywhere we looked. We had all the inspiration we needed. Violence had become so normal that when we went to bed, Jacob talked shamelessly with us about the various strategies he had come up with for getting rid of our father. Maybe he was only plotting and dreaming out loud, like mistreated employees who think about revenge after a few drinks. Nonetheless, I understood that I needed to talk to Jacob and hold him back. We could lie and steal and be forgiven, but could not raise a hand against our father. For behold, this is the greatest of all sins — the ultimate, unforgivable sin. Why, then, did the Voice speak to me and not my brother? I have often asked myself this question. I have never truly understood, never received a response. I was no better or worse than any of the other children. Maybe it was just that I was available, in the right place at the right time to hear the Voice. In time, I stopped asking all these questions and accepted that I was the messenger as I had accepted the message. I spread the message, tirelessly exalting the souls, like the crackling speaker that warmed the heart of a child sitting under a flashing neon sign in a gas station in Rome, Georgia, USA.

[ren1327]

Stay Away From Lake Derek: A Sentry Prequel

Hi guys, this is my first creepypasta that would be my jumping off point for The Sentry series. I thought I'd post the first three chapters here (minus The Midnight Tea Party). I really like my series and want to give it some more love here. And if you guys like it, please find more on my AO3 under Original Works!

The Sentry series follows three young men: Cole; an adhd boy who's often about to be killed by his own curiosity, Jacob; his best friend who is trying to escape his past trauma and make something new, and Mac, thier schoolmate turn friend desperately trying to find a sense of normal as he find himself shifting into a murderous beast nightly. They try to come to terms with losing thier humanity and escaping the sights of a Wendigo and his human followers. They are taken in by Grayson; an exiled fae prince turned sentry of a sealed doorway between worlds, Jasper; his literal man-eating southern husband, Mac's cousin Paige; a badass barista and her sleepy bat-shapeshifting partner, Toffee, and later a mysterious hybrid humanoid named Kai, among many familiar myths and legends known through out the united states and the world.

CW: Violence, Gore, HS senior aged boys being dumbasses.

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

His mom had just got a new job as a deputy at a sheriff's office in a town surrounded by thick woods on one side and the coast of Washington state some miles west of Victoria. The town wasn't too big, but not staggeringly small. They had a Walmart and the drive to the city wasn't too hard to manage.

His new school was a one-story building with a gym, a computer lab, a standard size library and about eight classrooms. So, getting to class was quick and easy, the only downside being no official cafeteria, but a fully stocked kitchen. The food was often delivered to the home rooms, where they would report to for their lunch break and free period.

Another plus was that they only had four classes a day, so the students were able to arrive at 10, have lunch, then start the one-hour classes. They had our forty-minute home room, where they would gather supplies for the day, finish homework, catch up, use the bathroom, hear school announcements, and watch the local news on donated TVs. Then the first of their five-minute change of classroom started. Being a small school with under one hundred students, it was easily managed by both staff and students.

Cole, luckily, already had a friend to help him get around.

Jacob Bennett had been his friend since he was a boy. Despite the very religious and severe upbringing, Jacob was colorful and kind. Then he had been taken from his parents and placed with his Uncle Tristan. Tristan had taken Jacob as far as he could to Seattle, then moved farther as an opportunity to give Jacob a new outlook and the ability to start over.

Cole knew Jacob needed this change, and despite the many years that passed, Cole never made any more friends.

So when his mother told him she would go as a consultant for a year, Cole begged to go and see his friend. Esperanza Fletcher-Ruiz had counted on Cole coming along for the ride and told him her new apartment had two rooms so he wouldn’t have to stay behind with his grandmother. The moment he saw his blond friend, now delightfully chubby with freckles doted over his honey toned shoulders and cheeks, as opposed to sallow and thin, Cole knew he would be okay.

Jacob let Cole know the rules over the phone; how to easiest navigate school life and mostly, who was who and how to connect. And who to avoid.

Cole’s first day had been pretty nice. He had connected with a few teachers, and even made some acquaintances.

During fourth period, he was packing up his history notes when he noticed…her.

She was willowy, thin and pretty, but a little on the shorter side, with long dark hair that hid some of her face. She was still writing in her journal. The teacher had long gone already, and the school would be closed soon for the night. Cole adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

"Hey, um, class is over." He called.

She didn't move except her scribbling.

"Hey?" Cole called again; now nervous he might have to talk to her even more. He didn't like talking to others if he could avoid it.

He felt Jacob’s warm hand grab his wrist and yank him away. “Hey, yeah, no. Do not talk to her.”

"What? Why?" He asked, rubbing his wrist.

"That Marla Gutierrez. Her Grandpa is scary as hell." He explained as they walked to the bus stop. They lived a few stops away and luckily were only a floor apart in the apartment building.

Once they paid and took their seats, Jacob continued. "Rumor is the old man killed his wife and son and kidnapped Marla. She never ever talks. Like ever!"

"That can't be true. Wouldn't the cops have taken him away?" Cole asked, knowing how much Jacob liked tall tales and gossip. "Come on, Jake, you don't believe in that stuff."

"They can't prove it." He said with a huff.

"DNA test on her?" The speckled boy countered.

"Well...okay, you got me there. But what if he killed her parents. His son went missing and washed up on the lake shore in pieces. They said a bear did it...but you never know." He said in a spooky voice.

"Lake? As in Lake Derek?" He asked.

"Yeah! Lots of kids go there to mess around. Speaking of which...Wanna go tonight?" Jacob asked, cheeks a little rosy. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

As much as Cole hated socializing, he was curious. Jacob had talked about a new friend in the last few months.

“This Dom guy?” Cole asked, a little flare of jealously igniting in his gut.

“He doesn’t like that name.” Jacob said, smoothing a lock of hair behind his ear. “But trust me, you’ll love him.”

They went to Lake Derek, parking by a chain link fence with a huge hole cut into it, duct tape wrapped around the lose wires to protect clothes and flesh from the cut metal.

Sneaking through, they came upon a huge bonfire and several people standing around, drinking from a couple of kegs and coolers filled with wine coolers and sodas. There were even a few beanbag chairs thrown onto a tarp as the occupants passed around a gun shaped bong.

Jacob snapped Cole out of his stupor.

"Cole, meet Macrae. But call him Mac. This tall jerk was my only saving grace I had when I first got here." Jacob said, motioning to the tall teen next to him.

Cole shook the stranger's hand. So this was the boy who had soothed Jacob’s transition.

The guy was tall, with dry, most likely dyed blond hair and eyes that held blackout contacts, as one could see a ring of pale blue around them. Cole noticed he had faded scars on his shoulders, and slouched lazily, wearing blue jeans, a sleeveless rock band shirt, combat boots and a shark tooth necklace.

"Jakey! I was gonna go for a swim. Wanna join?" He asked gleefully, immediately ignoring Cole and pulling Jacob close.

"No. I just got here!" Jacob said with a laugh, pushing the sweaty boy away. "Take my buddy here on one of your famous adventures. Just don't get tangled in the rocks again."

"I got out...minus some skin." Mac muttered before putting a long arm around Cole’s shoulders. "How about it, Cole?"

Cole looked at Jacob, who smiled and nodded. Cole could feel the taunt muscle of Mac’s arm, warm from the fire and nodded back, Mac feeling him and whooping loudly.

He guided Cole down a dirt path, away from the party, away from Jacob.

" Let's go visit old Mr. G." Mac said, taking out a flask and downing whatever was in it.

The smaller teen dug his heels in the dirt, causing Mac to pause. "Wait. Isn't that bad?"

"Naw. Come on." Mac said, taking off his jeans and shirt.

Cole covered his eyes before he noticed Mac hanging up his clothes in a tree and walking down to the sandy area. He kicked off his shoes and waded in the water. Cole sighed.

Might as well just stay in the shallow area. He undressed to boxers and went in. They waded in the shallow area along the edge of the rocks. Cole noticed some looked broken from the cliff and Mac huffed.

"Weird, right? Use to be connected to the sea." Mac said and he climbed on a boulder above the lake. "They'd find all kinds of fish that swam through this underwater cave from the cove. That's why the water smells so salty. Plus, this lake is a deep goddamn hole. My pop said people use to scuba dive into it. Til the Main Cave collapsed. Blocked off all the other underwater caves. Now it's just a deep ass lake. Bet ya down there, in what the old folks call the Way Deep...there's something."

"Really?” Cole asked, scrambling up the bolder. "People would have had noticed or something, right? That can’t be true."

"Then how do you explain the disappearances?" Mac asked with a grin.

He pulled Cole up to sit next to him, making sure he was steady.

"In the last ten years, there's been 35 drownings in this lake. And the bodies never found. Everyone thinks it Old Man Gutierrez.”

“Why?” Cole asked.

“He lives out here and acts all suspicious, like he's hiding something.” Mac said. “I bet he axed off his wife that way. Everyone thinks he dumps the bodies in the lake, weighing them down so they can never be found."

"Seriously?"

"I kid ya not. I try to get Jakey out here, but he can't swim. Still love him though." He slurred slightly. "Plus, I got stuck in them at one point. Maybe I was drunk, but it felt like something was yanking me into the water."

"Uh...I think I need to get back. I still have a curfew." Cole said, trying to find an excuse to get out of the creepy lake.

"Whatever, dude!" Mac teased. "Tell Jakey I'll be back soon!"

Cole nodded and scuttled down the rocks back to the sand, quickly getting dressed and quickly following the path. He stopped when he saw a deep red from the corner of his eyes.

Marla.

She was staring at the lake several meters from me. Just standing there on the edge like she was frozen. Her long dark hair fluttered along with her deep red skirt that brushed the dirt around her feet. Cole thought to call out, but just wanted to find Jacob and go.

Speak of the devil, Jacob was walking towards him.

“Cole?” He asked. “Why are you alone?”

Cole looked behind him to see Marla was gone and so were Mac’s clothes.

“Where—” Cole looked at Jacob.

“Where’s Mac?” Jacob asked.

“He wanted to go to Mr. Gutierrez’s.”

Jacob froze, looking shocked and scared. He pushed pass Cole. "We gotta go get him!"

"What? Why? What's wrong?" Cole asked.

“I can only assume he’s drunk right now and he’s not the safest guy.” Jacob hissed. “He’ll really hurt himself this time.”

Cole looked at his feet, face burning in shame. He stammered and pointed the way he came.

“This way.” he said, taking Jacob’s hand and leading him to the boulder, but finding the area barren of any life.

"Where is he?" Jacob asked, distraught.

"Maybe he’s already at Mr. Gutierrez’s house?"

Jacob nodded and led Cole around the lakeside, his hand trembling in Cole’s.

“What are you not telling me?” Cole asked.

“…Mac…He’s an alcoholic.” Jacob said. “He’s been doing better, moderating.”

“But?”

“But he got all weird when I told him you were coming, and I don’t know why he would fall so hard off the wagon.” Jacob whispered.

“Are you guys…a thing?” Cole asked. “Does he know why you’re here?”

“No. I mean, yeah, he knows about my parents but we’re not exactly…No.” Jacob answered, cheeks red. “Just, keep walking, we’re like, right in front of the house.”

They finally made it over to a rough looking lake house. The wood exterior looked murky, the porch littered with dirt and dead leaves. The wooden railing was splintered and rotting, the steps in just as bad shape.

"Is this it?" Cole whispered too loudly.

Jacob winced and made a push down motion with his hand, Cole covering his mouth.

"Yeah." Jacob said in a better volume. "Mac might be around the dock. It leads into the house."

“You guys come here often?” Cole asked.

“Not to mess with him.” Jacob said with a soft sigh. “just for a thrill or two…”

Jacob pulled Cole to a dock that led into a boat garage. The lake went under the thick rusty door into a pool Cole assumed a boat or canoe would be docked to. Jacob went to the door and jiggled the handle, finding it unlocked. He slowly opened the door and both teens gasped at the sight.

Leading from the pool where a worn rowboat was, blood led out of the water, along the edge of the opening and through a door leading into the house. From the blood pattern, it looked like someone was dragged.

And in the blood smears was a familiar shark tooth necklace.

Cole covered his mouth to keep in a fearful shout down.

He grabbed Jacob’s shirt, who had picked up the necklace and gave a breathy shutter. He cradled it in his hands, cheeks and nose reddening as he let out a soundless gasp.

They both shrank against each other when they heard a yell from inside.

“No!” Mac’s voice, muffled, yelled out. “Let go, man!”

“He’s alive…” Jacob whispered.

"We have to get help.” Cole croaked.

"It might be too late when they get here!" Jacob said. And Cole remembered with cold dread they had left their cell phones in Jacob's car, halfway around the lake. Cole knew he was right.

Gutierrez could kill Mac before they even had the chance to call for help.

Cole crept to the open door and peeked through into the kitchen to find Marla hiding under a table, hugging her knees and drenched in water.

“What the…” Jacob scanned the room and crawled under to kneel in front of her.

"Are you okay?” He asked.

She nodded, her eyes wide and lips pressed together hard.

“Have you seen our friend? He has long blond hair and was wearing a ripped shirt.”

She looked at them, eyes widening more as she clutched the fabric of her long skirt and nodded again.

"Do you know where he is?"

Another nod.

"W-where's your Grandfather?" Cole asked.

She pointed to the window and they peeked out to see the grizzled old man going into a shed. They heard a machine start, maybe a table saw, and immediately knew the small window of time to find Mac was closing.

"Can you show us where he is?" Jacob asked Marla.

She nodded and started to crawl from under the table through the door. Jacob followed and Cole noticed Marla’s hands had left a few red splotches.

She still crawled forward despite them being out of sight from the windows. Cole stood up as he looked at the peeling wallpaper…No…newspaper clippings…

Most were about people missing from the lake or even sightings of a strange creature. And framed on the wall, was a news article about a man's remains being recovered on the rocks near the lake.

To the left was a shrine to the same man and an older woman in the corner, their pictures immaculate and fresh flowers around the frames. They were in several pictures with Mr. Gutierrez. Two newspaper obituaries were laminated in plastic: Alma Gutierrez, who died of breast cancer and Derek Gutierrez, who had been attacked by a bear.

Cole’s head was spinning with so many questions, but he found himself gravitating to another shrine across the room, where a small…coffin with a glass top was, salt poured around it. The box was wrapped in chains and Cole looked over it, gasping at the sight, drawing Jacob’s attention.

He fought the urge to vomit when he and Jacob saw it was the torso and head of a mummified woman. Her waist was covered on scales and looked like she had been cut in half, nails long, hair greenish and scales along with two wide membraned fins next to her in the box. Her teeth were all as sharp as steak knives and thin as nails, jutting out in a snarl. Like a goblin shark. Her body was still decomposing, skin leathery and hanging off the bones, and the stench that escaped horrible.

On the box, carved around the border, it said: "Fair is fair Trade a life Take my child Take my knife Rest in pieces Like your prey Sleep now, devil Evil still stays"

Marla opened a trapdoor in the floor at the back of the room and pointed inside.

"Marla...what is this?" Jacob asked hands out.

Marla looked at the shrine and mouthed "Papa"

"Derek's your Dad. Okay...but what is this...thing?!" Cole asked, voice cracking as he gestured at the box.

She pointed again to the inside of the trap door. Cole finally noticed the same smell of rotten meat came from there too. But...fresher.

Cole shook his head. "What is this monster? Why is it here? Did it kill your Dad? What is it?!"

Marla stared at them for a few seconds before smiling. Her lips opened to reveal the same jutting sharp shark teeth. In a lyrical voice she said, "My Mama."

Jacob pushed Cole out of the room and slammed the door behind them. Marla screeched like some alien creature and banged on the door from within. Jacob ripped off his belt, clumsily tying the doorknob to an exposed pipe in the wall.

Cole grabbed his arm and quickly ran back to the kitchen, seeing Mac being helped onto the table, wearing a splint made of crudely cut pipes and blankets. Mr. Gutierrez looked at the boys, holding Mac steady.

“Jakey! Cole!” Mac croaked. Mr. Gutierrez still held him as he growled.

"What the hell are you doing there? You think I put up that damn gate for decoration?!" He shouted before going pale at hearing Marla's screeching.

"Shit! You all need to get lost. Take my truck and get out of here! Make sure no one comes near the lake!"

"That thing in the box...it's the thing that kill those people back then..." Cole said, connecting the dots. "It came in from the sea and..."

"Got trapped here." Gutierrez said, looking for his keys. "It lured my son in. He was such a romantic boy...who wouldn't want to be friends with a mermaid? But she...she killed him. I went after it. I found it and made sure it would never hurt anyone again...and then I found the baby. She looked normal. Legs and all. She looked so much like Derek did...”

He took a deep breath.

“I thought it was all over until our dog went missing. She had eaten him in the bath. She can't be out of water for more than a few days or she'll die like her mother did. But she also can't help hunting. I let her out to hunt fish and deer but..."

"She started hunting people." Jacob said.

"I should have..." Gutierrez shook his head, finding his keys and handing them to Cole. "Marla is still Derek's daughter. I can't...I can't lose my son again!"

He gave Mac a metal bat to lean on as he helped him to the door. "All three of you get out of here! Get out!"

Jacob and Cole grabbed Mac, shuffling out to the truck and starting it as Marla's screams grew louder.

The next few hours were a blur.

Jacob had drove around the lake to the hole in the gate, got Mac into his car and gunned it to the nearest hospital. Mac had a huge bite on his calf, which would leave him with a nasty scar and a temporary limp, but at least he was alive.

Esperanza had been the officer to respond to the hospital’s call and grilled Cole on what happened, but all three boys stayed quiet. After she noticed how all three of us were scared out of our minds, she simply asked if an animal had attacked them, wherein all three nodded.

They never went back to the lake. As far as Cole knew, Mr. Gutierrez built a new fence. One that was high, smooth bars with spikes on top. Impossible to climb or scale.

Many people noticed right away it had no door or entry way. As if not trying to keep anyone out, but keep something in.

Inside, the game would run out. The fish would be gone. And Mr. Gutierrez would find his last moments like that of his son.

It would be comforting to think Marla would eventually starve to death. If not for the rumors of a hooded figure seen walking in the trees.

Then recent news update about a storm reopening the Main Cave and the recent disappearances.

[shorthaircutsmodels]

Karlie Kloss's Short Hairstyles and Haircuts - 20+ - https://shorthaircutsmodels.com/karlie-klosss-short-hairstyles-and-haircuts/ - Karlie Kloss's Short Hairstyles and Haircuts, debuted her fresh do with a fierce selfie on Instagram. Pictured is the model sporting a beautiful peach-toned glam created by celebrity make-up artist Patrick Ta to complement her new style. Short long wavy or stylish really doesn't have a look that Karlie can't pull off. Just last month everyone from Maisie Williams to Julianne Hough to Bella Hadid has had her hair styled into blunt bobs. Karlie Kloss's Short Hairstyles and Haircuts Karlie Kloss's Short Hairstyles and Haircuts, Now go ahead and add karlie Kloss to that list. The final leg of Fashion Week rocking a bob for a technology entrepreneur story kloss haircut while traveling, as evidenced by his last showing in real-time via Instagram Paris just under the chin looks like an insect bite sharp blunt bob model officially has returned. There's no such thing as mid-Fashion Week where he writes. Karlie Kloss's Short Hairstyles Karlie Kloss's Short Hairstyles and Haircuts, Hairstylist Jacob Rozenberg's clipping is Kloss's shortest cut in years and is also a throwback to his signature chin, known as karlie in 2020 - 2021 and then revived just ahead of the met Gala in 2020. Kloss is cold from Chicago but he could also be from California with his signature sun kissed locks. And although she experimented with different shades and was a brunette earlier in her career on this day, Ms. Kloss seemed to settle into life as a blonde. Karlie Kloss's Short Haircuts Karlie Kloss's Short Hairstyles and Haircuts, The haircut of the year has arrived. Yes already. Vogue calls the chop while others named it karlie after model karlie Kloss. Miss Kloss, already a 20-year-old fashion world veteran, cut nearly seven inches of her dark hair late last year. In a four-page feature story in its January issue, Vogue announced the cut of the moment and said the season's new hair was and refreshingly easy to wear. Karlie Kloss's Hairstyles Karlie Kloss's Short Hairstyles and Haircuts, The cut was the brain of hairdresser Garren DeFazio, who stands just above the shoulders, has a bit of layering at the front and is topped with bursts. It echoes Jane Birkin's 1960s haircut. Model karlie Kloss has looked more confident on the red carpet since her new jaw-length cut cut backstage at the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show in November. And he has a good reason. Karlie Kloss's Haircuts Karlie Kloss's Short Hairstyles and Haircuts, people can't stop talking about how good she looks. In fact, today The New York Times calls it karlie's haircut of the year. Apparently, he has magical powers. Kloss first took to Instagram Stories this morning to document her hair change by posting a photo of her freshly cut hair covering the floor of a salon ruffling her short hair before recording herself. Job well done hairdresser Harry Josh said the mastermind behind the cut. You mentioned the bulge you cut my hair by seven inches. Karlie Kloss's Short Hair Karlie Kloss's Short Hairstyles and Haircuts, New Year's, New Me. I can't stop touching it, Kloss told The Fashionologie backstage website at a fashion show shortly after the new cut opened.She added that having short hair actually takes the focus off your hair and puts the focus on you. I began to realize that it was all about trust. Edited by hairdresser. Karlie Kloss's Hair Garren for a feature in the January issue of Vogue Karlie's chops sounds like a new alternative to the long red carpet waves that have become so popular that it's no longer interesting, the hairdresser Times reported. Create a deep part for your hair and dry it in different sections. A paddle brush does you a huge favour to get a desired shape to frame your face during the blast. I feel bolder and bolder. Karlie Kloss Debuts Blunt Bob Haircut For Fashion Week It's a really Frenchman almost told karlie that Jane Birkin chopped off her new short haircut for the January issue of Vogue after party at Victoria's Secret Lavo last night. Also. how you move and dress is changing. Oh possibilities. Start wearing Bumpits that will perhaps develop a bad smoking habit, or God forbid Karlie's Kookie recipe from allowing gluten. Karlie Kloss just cut her hair into a short bob The model turned entrepreneur scored hairdresser Jacob Rozenberg for the spectacular cut while the industry was distracted by watching Paris Fashion Week shows but Bobs is back this season. Karlie Kloss bob haircut Rozenberg Kloss regular hairdresser dubbed celebrity hairdresser Harry Josh by an assistant the blunt cut bob style is slightly shorter than choppy 2020 - 2021 means best friend mom and annoying co-worker. Karlie Kloss Hairstyles & Hair Colors And the latest celebrity to get into the trend is karlie Kloss who has just cut her hair in a short wavy lob. The 'lob'that Kloss recently sported on the front row. But the cut is proof that getting rid of a few stray inches of hair can make all the difference as the style perfectly frames Kloss's camera-worthy bone structure, while a centre parting provides extra volume without the need for roots.it waves. Karlie Kloss haircuts 2020 - 2021 Social media has also been filled with overwhelmingly positive comments from Kaia Gerber's mother of Ashley Graham and even Serena Williams being Irina Shayk sharing their love of style if you need one more reason to allow your hairdresser to get scissors. Karlie Kloss is the latest celebrity to try the bob haircut trend. Karlie Kloss's Beauty Evolution The Model posted an image of her new stylish haircut on Instagram with the caption hair cuts mid-Fashion Week. Kloss has worn her hair short and covered much of her career but her new chin length cut may be her shortest and sharpest hair yet. His new do comes briefly after this year's Emmy when a whopping 17 celebrities came up with Bob's haircut. It's clear that this hairstyle hasn't gone anywhere recently. Karlie Kloss natural hair color Check out Kloss's new haircut and other styles he's tried over the years. In case you haven't noticed that so many celebrities have changed their hair this month. The list of famous hair transformations to cut from colour continues to grow. The latest celebrity to join this list is Karlie Kloss. The Model made the New much shorter cut at. Karlie Kloss bob hair style Paris Fashion Week. Karlie Kloss's new short bob is coming to jawline and it's actually super-trendy right now. Pull your soft hair back into a messy bun and gently tease the front sections to add lift to your hair. Use your hands to identify this hairstyle with hair products for a polished and refined effect. This is a medium hairstyle that. Karlie Kloss new hair Will make you look very sweet with soft tousled waves. The natural waves and textures to get wet while you still have large sections of hair look hot iron in your hair. Best short hairstyle for women under 30. Karlie Kloss hair colour I'm looking for a new sweet short haircut for this summer. The side-part bob haircut is in fashion this year with many celebrities wearing short hairstyles in recent years, and many opting for a pixie cut and side-Bob haircut. How to get Karlie Kloss hair No one can come to mind as quickly as karlie Kloss when it comes to millennial supermodels. The Victoria's Secret model and host of the upcoming show Movie Night With karlie Kloss could give Gisele her money when it comes to gorgeous hair. Karlie Kloss long hair I love her, Ms. Kloss told The Fashionologie backstage website at a fashion show shortly after the new cut opened. I can't stop touching.She added that having short hair actually takes the focus off your hair and puts the focus on you. I began to realize that it was all about trust. Karlie Kloss new haircut She is also never afraid to take a hair risk. In 2020, karlie was one of the first celebrities to launch the bob craze when it looked like every single celebrity would get a bob. So if you need some hair spiral and want to change your. Karlie Kloss hair tutorial Look for 2020 - 2021 your stylist say show one of these looks and give me Karlie please. Selena Gomez and her extra-long extensions seem to be short of the celebrity consensus for the notable exception autumn haircut. Karlie Kloss haircut vogue Literally in the middle of Paris Fashion Week, Karlie Kloss decided to do an impromptu hair change. Hey you never know when inspiration will come to amirite. On Thursday, the host of Bravo's Project Runway visited hairdresser Jacob Rozenberg for a quick fix before heading to the next event. The model, who last saw a wavy lob at Christian Siriano's first PFW show, now has a sleek bob with layers of face framing. Karlie Kloss short haircut Here's karlie Kloss's new hairstyle yes she shows off her signature bob haircut but this time she has reserved a new fashion-side short straight bob haircut. This short bob hair style is simple and stylish which featured a side blast. Karlie Kloss brown hair This short haircut is ideal for oval square round heart face shapes. This fantastic short bob is ideal for those looking for a low fuss style with hairstyle and attitude. A small product is required to shine and hold. Karlie Kloss hair color Karlie Kloss opted for a slender cat eye which featured just a touch of silver lining on the bottom cover for an extra touch of colour rocking a bright tangerine lip that looked fresh and summery. I love this style so much. Perfect view for summer days. Karlie Kloss haircut However, Kloss is typically not for dramatic hair transformations, his toughest to date, when he goes platinum yellow in 2020 - 2021, but this is not the first time he has chosen fashion week as the perfect occasion. cut. last February Kloss signed up to give hairdresser Harry Josh a lob. He later shared a video showing the finished result telling Josh job well done. You pushed me off the ledge. Karlie Kloss hairstyle New Year's, New Me. We're four months shy of 2020, so Kloss's new cut probably isn't tied to New Year's resolutions but maybe he cut his hair a few weeks ago for the shoulder-grazing style of his brother Ivanka Trump, who left his long Center. It is not a coincidence. Only time and the next Kushner family meeting will tell.

[psychotherapyconsultants]

7 Women Who Inspire Me

Proverbs 13:20 says, “Walk with the wise and become wise; associate with fools and get in trouble.” In other words, hang with the winners. A few months ago, my therapist gave me the assignment to think about the wise women in my life, warriors who had persevered through difficulties in their lives to emerge as stronger figures, examples of resilience who could serve as my teachers. I went even further and interviewed each one, asking them about the force or philosophy behind their strength.

The following women have survived illness, divorce, deaths, lay-offs, but pressed on with a tenacity that inspires me. They are world travelers, executives, communication professionals, caregivers, and master healers who have made the world a better place.

1. Rose Pike

Angel Rose holds a special place in my heart because she has showered me with kindness at difficult crossroads in my life. She was my editor at a health website three years ago when I experienced a severe depressive episode. Instead of berating me for my slower writing pace at that time, she sent me flowers and cut my workload in half. Kindness is synonymous with Rose. Her imprint of compassion is evident in every feature she publishes for the different websites she has worked for. As a writer, I am inspired by her unwavering dedication to disseminate stories of hope for persons faced with chronic conditions.

An adventurous spirit, Rose told me one of her biggest obstacles was breaking free from the routine and comfortable life of her family life growing up. Although difficult, she moved away from her hometown in order to find a new life of her own. “That distance helped me become my own person,” she said. The support of her daughter and daughter-in-law and her friends helps sustain her today.

Her advice to young women is to persist and to not resist change because things are always changing. To that end, her favorite quote is the chorus of Bob Dylan’s song, “Things Have Changed,” which says, “People are crazy and times are strange, I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range, I used to care, but things have changed.”

2. Carolyn Casey

Carolyn was seven when her mother committed suicide. Her father abandoned his children and left town. The bottom fell out of her world. She and her 2-year-old sister and 4-year-old brother lived with their grandparents, and Carolyn became the caretaker for her younger siblings.

Some years later, her father married a woman who despised Carolyn and was abusive to her. Her stepmother would lock herself in her room reading and separated herself from her children, which numbered seven at that time. Carolyn turned to a higher power and prayed for strength and courage. In her darkest moments, she knew from deep within herself that there was something greater than herself.

At age 40, Carolyn found herself divorced with three children. She now understood the pain her mother felt and why she wanted to end her life. She turned the struggles of her past into strength and courage, and a desire to help lift up others from their suffering and facilitate healing.  She could have given up and become an embittered person, but through the grace of a higher power she continues her journey in gratitude and knows for certain that there is something greater than ourselves that loves us even when we don’t. A feisty, single woman who devotes her time to causes, her children, grandchildren, and friends, she inspires me with her tireless energy toward service to others. Carolyn’s favorite quote is Soren Kierkegaard’s observation: “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”

3. Eileen Bailey

I consider Eileen the female Job; however, she never whined to God. She simply took the next step to make her life better. Eileen endured the most difficult loss when she lost her son two years ago. Proactive in her grief and with everything in her life, she turned her pain into love and created scrapbooks of her son’s life for her grandson and formed a tighter bond with him.

I asked her how she was able to persevere through such a tragedy and keep a positive attitude. “Just do it,” she said, “like the Nike ad. Break your day down and do the thing in front of you.” She stays busy as a regular contributor to HealthCentral in addition to a day job.

Laughter and friends also keep her sane. After her second divorce, when her daughter moved away to school, she found herself lonely. She looked up a group on Meetup for women over 50, but they didn’t have many activities, so she created her own group. They met for breakfast six years ago and are still friends today.

Eileen’s favorite quotes are:

“We never truly get over a loss, but we can move forward and evolve from it.” – Elizabeth Berrien

“The journey never ends…”

“If you want to have a friend, you first need to be a friend,” one that her mother told her often and what drove her to create the Meetup group.

4. Lisa Hillman

Lisa never meant to become a poster child for parents coping with a child’s drug problem. She was an accomplished health care administrator, a fundraising executive married to former Annapolis Mayor Richard Hillman, and a mother of two.

Few people knew about the nightmare that was unfolding at home starting with a phone call from her son’s high school teacher the start of his senior year, alerting her to his possible marijuana use. Jacob’s addiction unraveled from there, resulting in a dependence on opiates that threw his life into reverse. Jacob’s story has a happy ending. He eventually got sober and stayed sober after visiting a few inpatient treatment centers.

Lisa chronicles the journey to hell and back in a riveting, poignant book called Secret No More: A True Story of Hope for Parents With an Addicted Child. But even more inspiring than her pages is the woman who wrote it. Her life, as well as her words, speak of the journey of shedding shame and guilt to make room for a bolder kind of love. In her blog, she shares powerful anecdotes on how to lower expectations, walk through fear, ask for support, let go of control, and hang on to hope. Whenever I experience bouts of insecurity about sharing my story, I call up Lisa for a much-needed reminder to be authentic.

Lisa has several favorite quotes:

“Take care of the little things and the big things will take care of themselves.” – from her father

“You are stronger than you know.” – from her mother

“One day at a time.”

“You can glance back at your past, just don’t stare.”

“We are here on earth to serve others. What the others are here for, I don’t know.” – W.H. Auden

5. Jen Brining

Jen is the lay Mother Teresa, traveling the world and giving back in her unique way. She divides her time between her son’s house in New Jersey, helping with her new granddaughter, and leading Habitat for Humanity group trips in Asia, Africa, and Central America. These “volunteer vacations” entail more than erecting physical infrastructures, they build community. For Jen, there is nothing like the rewarding, emotional feeling she has every time she leaves a build.

“Although the initial intent is to help families by building a house, latrine, or a stove,” she explained to me, “we are immersed in their community, in their homes … in their lives. There is a unique bonding of friendships between fellow volunteers, the deserving homeowner, the local community, and international cultures.”

Jen’s hardest obstacle was losing a child, one of two twins at birth. She overcame it by being the best mother she could possibly be to her amazing two children. Her advice to young women? “Be yourself, follow your dreams, but take the opportunity to travel internationally as soon as you can. It will change your outlook on life.” Her favorite quote is “Not All Who Wander Are Lost,” often attributed to J.R.R. Tolkien.

6. Michelle Rapkin

Even as Michelle’s professional life blossomed early with several executive positions within the publishing field, her love life took a little longer. In her mid 40s, Michelle met and married the love of her life, Bob, and lived 10 years of happy ever after until he died from complications from gall bladder surgery. She took the tragedy in stride because she was well-trained in the school of hard knocks.

Just two years after marrying Bob, Michelle was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, which she eventually beat, achieving remission. One of Michelle’s best gems concerns the 14 days between her blood tests and a diagnosis. “Don’t waste 14 days,” became her motto, not just about that time of uncertainty but about life with cancer and anxiety and loss. She made a very deliberate intention to live life to the fullest.

Today Michelle’s cancer has returned, and she is in the midst of different treatments. Once again, she concentrates her efforts on moving forward and does not waste any time in regret. Michelle’s favorite quote is “This, too, shall pass.”

7. Mary Beth Beaudry

Strong women make remarkable mothers. Mary Beth’s absolute devotion to her two daughters immediately impressed me as well as her ambition to live a life well lived with a strong moral compass, characterized by integrity, respect, and service and love toward others. While her marriage of 20 years was collapsing to take better care of herself so that she could, in turn, take better care of her daughters, she was proactive in four ways: she relied upon her faith, embraced Transcendental Meditation, focused on her work as Research Nurse Manager and Program Administrator for the Mood Disorders Center at Johns Hopkins, and pursued her own growth gaining admittance to a top doctoral program. Her ambition is to be the greatest mother and role model for her daughters that she can be. 

Mary Beth is a personal cheerleader to countless persons, including me, who battle mood disorders. She was the first one to send me an encouraging note after I published a very raw post about my suicidal ideations. Her compassion and optimism, combined with her skills as a communicator, spread hope to those who desperately need it and inspire those burdened by different conditions to take the next step toward wellness. Mary Beth shared she adopted Kesha’s “Praying” as her personal anthem during the most challenging time in her life: “I’m proud of who I am…. I can breathe again…. and now the best is yet to come.”

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/7-women-who-inspire-me/

[greenshawled]

TAG ARCHIVE ONE.

[thomasgmcelwain]

Genesis 27

Genesis 27

1 Now it happened when Isaac's eyes

Were dim with age, not to advise,

He called Esau his older son

And said to him, "My son, my son."

And he answered him, "Here I am."

2 Then he said "Indeed now, my lamb,

I'm old. I do not know the day

When I shall die. 3 "Now therefore, say

Will you take weapons, quiver, bow,

And go out to the field and show

Your hunting skills for me. 4 "And make

Me savoury food, such as I take

With joy, and bring it to me so

I may eat, that my soul may know

To bless you before I shall die."

5 Now Rebekah was listening why

Isaac was speaking to his son

Esau. And with the speaking done

Esau went to the field to hunt

The game and bring it to the front.

6 Rebekah spoke to Jacob then,

Jacob her son, saying "The men

Were talking and I heard your father

Speak to Esau your brother rather,

Saying 7 'Bring me game and make food,

A savoury dish for me and good,

That I may eat it and bless you

Here in the presence of Lord YHWH

Before my death.' 8 "Now therefore, son,

Obey my voice and get it done

Whatever I tell you to do.

9 "Go to the flock and bring me two

Choice kids of goats, and I will make

The savoury dish of tasty steak

Such as your father loves. 10 "Then you

Shall take it to your father, do,

That he may eat it, and bless you

Before his death." 11 And Jacob said

To Rebekah his mother bred,

"Look, Esau my brother's a man

Of hairy skin while I'm a man

Of smooth. 12 "Perhaps my father will

Feel me, and I shall seem worse still

To be deceiver in his sight

And get no blessing, but a blight."

13 But his mother said to him, "Let

Your curse be on me, and forget,

My son, only obey my voice,

And go, get them for me and choice."

14 And he went and got them and brought

Them to his mother, and she wrought

The savoury dish his father sought.

15 Then Rebekah took the choice clothes

Of her elder son Esau, chose

From what was with her in the house,

And put them on, to fool her spouse,

Jacob her younger son. 16 And she

Put the skins of the goats to be

On his hands and on the smooth part

Of his neck. 17 Then she gave the tart

Of savoury food and bread, which she

Had made, to her son Jacob free.

How many mothers and their sons seek blessing

From fathers, hands and arms and necks caressing,

To find the world a harsh and heated waste

Despite the pot of savoury herbs they taste.

The damp and clinging skins contrived to seal

The sought for fate of glory always feel

Just what they are, the bloody, sodden things

Of sure deceit known to all who'd be kings.

With loathing I shake off the woollen bands

That tell the world what it less understands

That I seek divine love with heart and voice.

Abandoned, naked, I renew my choice

In poverty to sing Your lovely name

Enjoying that wealth more than any claim.

18 So he went to his father and

Said "My father.' And "Here I stand"

Said he, "Who are you, my son?" 19 Then

Jacob said to his father, "When

You sent me Esau your firstborn

I went and did as you would warn,

Please rise, sit, eat the game I've brought

And give to me the blessing sought."

20 But Isaac said to his son, "How

Have you found it so quickly now,

My son?" And he said "Because YHWH

Your God brought me the barbeque."

21 Then Isaac said to Jacob, "Please

Come near, and let me feel at ease,

My son, if you are Esau or

Someone that I've not bargained for."

22 So Jacob went near to Isaac

His father, and he felt the thick

Hair on him and said "The voice is

Jacob's voice, but these hands of his

Are those of Esau." 23 And he did

Not recognize him, since he hid

His hands with hair like that upon

His brother Esau's hands to con,

And so he blessed him on the skid.

Believe the half of what you see and none

Of what you hear, my father told his son.

All things are changed and all are made to fit

The purposes of those who've chosen it.

Things are not what they seem in this dark world,

The wicked core is gold embossed and pearled.

So I believe no angel no nor prophet

That's come to say his piece both on and off it.

Instead I listen to the voice that can

In no wise be mistaken. Voice of man

Betrays, but Your voice, my Beloved, is sure

And thunders in the silence loud and pure

Despite the centuries since You last spoke

A sermon on Mount Sinai when men woke.

24 Then he said "Are you really he,

My son Esau?" He said "The same."

25 He said "Bring it then near to me,

And I will eat of my son's game,

So that my soul may bless you here."

So he brought meat and grape juice near

To him, he ate and drank. 26 Then dear

Father Isaac said to him, "Here,

Come near now and kiss me, my son."

27 And he came near and kissed him one,

And he smelled the smell of his clothing,

And blessed him and said nothing loathing,

"Surely, the smell of my son's as

The smell of fields that Lord YHWH has

Blessed. 28 Therefore may Ælohim give

You heaven's dew while you shall live,

Earth's fatness and grain plenty and

Grape juice. 29 Let folk of every land

Serve you, and nations bow down to

You and be master in your due

Over your brothers, and let your

Mother's sons bow to you the more.

Cursed be the one who curses you,

And blessed be those who bless you too!"

The prophet Jacob, though he heard his mother,

Betrayed both father and his elder brother.

Yet blessings given cannot be retracted

Despite the underhanded way he acted.

I bless the prophet Jacob and not curse

Lest I find perils in my way for worse.

I bless the fields that smell of fresh and new,

I bless the fatness of the earth and dew,

I bless the harvest kernel and the grape

Cut into forty pieces in a scrape

For those who whirl about the throne of God.

I bless the ear and bless the greening pod.

Bless me, too, my Beloved, and bless me well,

Though I am dressed in veil and mask and shell.

30 Now it happened, when Isaac finished

Blessing Jacob, and not diminished,

Jacob had scarcely gone out from

His father's presence, Isaac's sum,

That Esau his brother came in

From his hunting where he had been.

31 He also had made savoury food,

And brought it where his father stood,

And said to his father, "Get up,

And eat the morsel, taste the cup,

Of his son's game, and bless me here."

32 And his father Isaac said to

Him, "Who are you?" So he said "True

It is I am your son, your first

Born, Esau." 33 Then fearing the worst,

Isaac said "Who? Where is the one

Who hunted game and brought it done

To me? I ate it all before

You came here calling at the door,

And I have blessed him, and indeed

He shall be blessed and all his seed."

34 When Esau heard his father's word

He cried greatly for what occurred

And bitterly said to his father,

"Bless me, me also, O my father!"

Note he who steals my honour and my bread

Is one who lacks both, but pours on my head

The ill-gained fruit of his ill-starred ambition.

Therefore I write and read this small petition.

I am the grateful son, obedient

And true, and all my life I've surely spent

In honour of my parents. All I do

Is for their pleasure and also their due.

He is the cheat and slinking man of fate,

And I do well to bide my time in hate.

For all of that, Beloved, I still desire

Your blessing on one walking in the mire.

If with my dirty feet I come before

Your throne, I come as primogenitor.

35 But he said "Now your brother came

Deceitfully and stole your claim

To blessing." 36 And Esau said "Is

His name not rightly Jacob? His

Supplanting me has come now twice.

He took my birthright in a trice,

And now look, he has also taken

Away my blessing!" Then forsaken,

He said "Have you not kept for me

A blessing?" 37 Isaac answered "See,"

And said to Esau, "I have made

Him master, and the whole brigade

Of all his brothers servants to

Him, and with grain and grape juice too

Have I sustained him. What's to do

For you, my son?" 38 And Esau said

To his father, "Have you instead

Only one blessing, O my father?

Bless me, me also, O my father!"

And Esau lifted up his voice

And wept because he had no choice.

The world takes all, and takes it by deceit,

Yet You, Beloved, stand by it seems to treat

Them with the blessings they have grasped outright

And trampled poor and innocent with fight

And guile. And so I come with call and tears

To beg a blessing beyond what appears.

I rend in anger or in patience veils

And cry that You will listen to my tales.

I boil a soup of my own kidneys and

Give up my liver to Your bowl and hand.

O my Beloved, grant me poor Esau's blessing,

Though without sauce and without savoury dressing,

I come to You, Beloved, and come again.

Deliver me from all deceitful men.

39 Isaac his father answered and

Said to him, "Fatness of the land

Shall be your dwelling, and the dew

Of heaven above. 40 By your sword too

You shall live, and you shall serve long

Your brother, but you shall be strong

And break his yoke from off your neck."

41 So Esau hated Jacob for

The blessing which his father bore

And blessed him, Esau said within

His heart, "The days are coming in

To mourn my father, then I will

Kill brother Jacob for my fill."

42 And the words of Esau her older

Son were told to Rebekah, bolder,

So she sent and called Jacob her

Younger son, and said to confer

With him, "Surely your brother now,

This Esau comforts himself how

He'll kill you later. 43 "Now therefore,

My son, obey me on this score.

Get up, flee to my brother who

Lives in Haran, my brother Laban.

44 "And stay with him a day or two,

Yes, go and stay with brother Laban

Until your brother's fury dies,

45 "Until your brother's anger flies

Away from you, and he forgets

What you have done to him. So let's

Wait till I send for you from there.

Why should I be bereaved with care

Of both of you in one day?" 46 And

Rebekah told Isaac, "Disband

My weariness of life because

The daughters of Heth show their claws.

If Jacob takes a wife like those

Daughters of this land, let life close."

Rebekah's words to Isaac do not tell

The thoughts of heart but only cast a spell

To further aims she does not want to speak.

The mother of the faithful thus is weak

As she relates to her own husband's pride.

To hide the truth to save a dear son's hide

In face of death may very well be fair.

We have to kill the gnat to breathe the air.

Yet it is sorrow to my heart to know

The best and dearest must be dealt with so.

I turn from veils of words to say Your name

And thus change choking dust for lasting fame,

And blackened coals for diamonds out of hand

While trying to make sense and understand.

[readbookywooks]

Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn From his displeasure; in whose look serene, When angry most he seemed and most severe, What else but favour, grace, and mercy, shone? So spake our father penitent; nor Eve Felt less remorse: they, forthwith to the place Repairing where he judged them, prostrate fell Before him reverent; and both confessed Humbly their faults, and pardon begged; with tears Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeigned, and humiliation meek. Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood Praying; for from the mercy-seat above Prevenient grace descending had removed The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh Regenerate grow instead; that sighs now breathed Unutterable; which the Spirit of prayer Inspired, and winged for Heaven with speedier flight Than loudest oratory:  Yet their port Not of mean suitors; nor important less Seemed their petition, than when the ancient pair In fables old, less ancient yet than these, Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restore The race of mankind drowned, before the shrine Of Themis stood devout.  To Heaven their prayers Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious winds Blown vagabond or frustrate: in they passed Dimensionless through heavenly doors; then clad With incense, where the golden altar fumed, By their great intercessour, came in sight Before the Father's throne: them the glad Son Presenting, thus to intercede began. See$ Father, what first-fruits on earth are sprung From thy implanted grace in Man; these sighs And prayers, which in this golden censer mixed With incense, I thy priest before thee bring; Fruits of more pleasing savour, from thy seed Sown with contrition in his heart, than those Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees Of Paradise could have produced, ere fallen From innocence.  Now therefore, bend thine ear To supplication; hear his sighs, though mute; Unskilful with what words to pray, let me Interpret for him; me, his advocate And propitiation; all his works on me, Good, or not good, ingraft; my merit those Shall perfect, and for these my death shall pay. Accept me; and, in me, from these receive The smell of peace toward mankind: let him live Before thee reconciled, at least his days Numbered, though sad; till death, his doom, (which I To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse,) To better life shall yield him: where with me All my redeemed may dwell in joy and bliss; Made one with me, as I with thee am one. To whom the Father, without cloud, serene. All thy request for Man, accepted Son, Obtain; all thy request was my decree: But, longer in that Paradise to dwell, The law I gave to Nature him forbids: Those pure immortal elements, that know, No gross, no unharmonious mixture foul, Eject him, tainted now; and purge him off, As a distemper, gross, to air as gross, And mortal food; as may dispose him best For dissolution wrought by sin, that first Distempered all things, and of incorrupt Corrupted.  I, at first, with two fair gifts Created him endowed; with happiness, And immortality: that fondly lost, This other served but to eternize woe; Till I provided death: so death becomes His final remedy; and, after life, Tried in sharp tribulation, and refined By faith and faithful works, to second life, Waked in the renovation of the just, Resigns him up with Heaven and Earth renewed. But let us call to synod all the Blest, Through Heaven's wide bounds: from them I will not hide My judgements; how with mankind I proceed, As how with peccant Angels late they saw, And in their state, though firm, stood more confirmed. He ended, and the Son gave signal high To the bright minister that watched; he blew His trumpet, heard in Oreb since perhaps When God descended, and perhaps once more To sound at general doom.  The angelick blast Filled all the regions: from their blisful bowers Of amarantine shade, fountain or spring, By the waters of life, where'er they sat In fellowships of joy, the sons of light Hasted, resorting to the summons high; And took their seats; till from his throne supreme The Almighty thus pronounced his sovran will. O Sons, like one of us Man is become To know both good and evil, since his taste Of that defended fruit; but let him boast His knowledge of good lost, and evil got; Happier! had it sufficed him to have known Good by itself, and evil not at all. He sorrows now, repents, and prays contrite, My motions in him; longer than they move, His heart I know, how variable and vain, Self-left.  Lest therefore his now bolder hand Reach also of the tree of life, and eat, And live for ever, dream at least to live For ever, to remove him I decree, And send him from the garden forth to till The ground whence he was taken, fitter soil. Michael, this my behest have thou in charge; Take to thee from among the Cherubim Thy choice of flaming warriours, lest the Fiend, Or in behalf of Man, or to invade Vacant possession, some new trouble raise: Haste thee, and from the Paradise of God Without remorse drive out the sinful pair; From hallowed ground the unholy; and denounce To them, and to their progeny, from thence Perpetual banishment.  Yet, lest they faint At the sad sentence rigorously urged, (For I behold them softened, and with tears Bewailing their excess,) all terrour hide. If patiently thy bidding they obey, Dismiss them not disconsolate; reveal To Adam what shall come in future days, As I shall thee enlighten; intermix My covenant in the Woman's seed renewed; So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet in peace: And on the east side of the garden place, Where entrance up from Eden easiest climbs, Cherubick watch; and of a sword the flame Wide-waving; all approach far off to fright, And guard all passage to the tree of life: Lest Paradise a receptacle prove To Spirits foul, and all my trees their prey; With whose stolen fruit Man once more to delude. He ceased; and the arch-angelick Power prepared For swift descent; with him the cohort bright Of watchful Cherubim: four faces each Had, like a double Janus; all their shape Spangled with eyes more numerous than those Of Argus, and more wakeful than to drouse, Charmed with Arcadian pipe, the pastoral reed Of Hermes, or his opiate rod.  Mean while, To re-salute the world with sacred light, Leucothea waked; and with fresh dews imbalmed The earth; when Adam and first matron Eve Had ended now their orisons, and found Strength added from above; new hope to spring Out of despair; joy, but with fear yet linked; Which thus to Eve his welcome words renewed. Eve, easily my faith admit, that all The good which we enjoy from Heaven descends; But, that from us aught should ascend to Heaven So prevalent as to concern the mind Of God high-blest, or to incline his will, Hard to belief may seem; yet this will prayer Or one short sigh of human breath, upborne Even to the seat of God.  For since I sought By prayer the offended Deity to appease; Kneeled, and before him humbled all my heart; Methought I saw him placable and mild, Bending his ear; persuasion in me grew That I was heard with favour; peace returned Home to my breast, and to my memory His promise, that thy seed shall bruise our foe; Which, then not minded in dismay, yet now Assures me that the bitterness of death Is past, and we shall live.  Whence hail to thee, Eve rightly called, mother of all mankind, Mother of all things living, since by thee Man is to live; and all things live for Man. To whom thus Eve with sad demeanour meek. Ill-worthy I such title should belong To me transgressour; who, for thee ordained A help, became thy snare; to me reproach Rather belongs, distrust, and all dispraise: But infinite in pardon was my Judge, That I, who first brought death on all, am graced The source of life; next favourable thou, Who highly thus to entitle me vouchsaf'st, Far other name deserving.  But the field To labour calls us, now with sweat imposed, Though after sleepless night; for see!the morn, All unconcerned with our unrest, begins Her rosy progress smiling: let us forth; I never from thy side henceforth to stray, Where'er our day's work lies, though now enjoined Laborious, till day droop; while here we dwell, What can be toilsome in these pleasant walks? Here let us live, though in fallen state, content. So spake, so wished much humbled Eve; but Fate Subscribed not:  Nature first gave signs, impressed On bird, beast, air; air suddenly eclipsed, After short blush of morn; nigh in her sight The bird of Jove, stooped from his aery tour, Two birds of gayest plume before him drove; Down from a hill the beast that reigns in woods, First hunter then, pursued a gentle brace, Goodliest of all the forest, hart and hind; Direct to the eastern gate was bent their flight. Adam observed, and with his eye the chase Pursuing, not unmoved, to Eve thus spake. O Eve, some further change awaits us nigh, Which Heaven, by these mute signs in Nature, shows Forerunners of his purpose; or to warn Us, haply too secure, of our discharge From penalty, because from death released Some days: how long, and what till then our life, Who knows? or more than this, that we are dust, And thither must return, and be no more? Why else this double object in our sight Of flight pursued in the air, and o'er the ground, One way the self-same hour? why in the east Darkness ere day's mid-course, and morning-light More orient in yon western cloud, that draws O'er the blue firmament a radiant white, And slow descends with something heavenly fraught? He erred not; for by this the heavenly bands Down from a sky of jasper lighted now In Paradise, and on a hill made halt; A glorious apparition, had not doubt And carnal fear that day dimmed Adam's eye. Not that more glorious, when the Angels met Jacob in Mahanaim, where he saw The field pavilioned with his guardians bright; Nor that, which on the flaming mount appeared In Dothan, covered with a camp of fire, Against the Syrian king, who to surprise One man, assassin-like, had levied war, War unproclaimed.  The princely Hierarch In their bright stand there left his Powers, to seise Possession of the garden; he alone, To find where Adam sheltered, took his way, Not unperceived of Adam; who to Eve, While the great visitant approached, thus spake. Eve$ now expect great tidings, which perhaps Of us will soon determine, or impose New laws to be observed; for I descry, From yonder blazing cloud that veils the hill, One of the heavenly host; and, by his gait, None of the meanest; some great Potentate Or of the Thrones above; such majesty Invests him coming! yet not terrible, That I should fear; nor sociably mild, As Raphael, that I should much confide; But solemn and sublime; whom not to offend, With reverence I must meet, and thou retire. He ended: and the Arch-Angel soon drew nigh, Not in his shape celestial, but as man Clad to meet man; over his lucid arms A military vest of purple flowed, Livelier than Meliboean, or the grain Of Sarra, worn by kings and heroes old In time of truce; Iris had dipt the woof; His starry helm unbuckled showed him prime In manhood where youth ended; by his side, As in a glistering zodiack, hung the sword, Satan's dire dread; and in his hand the spear. Adam bowed low; he, kingly, from his state Inclined not, but his coming thus declared. Adam, Heaven's high behest no preface needs: Sufficient that thy prayers are heard; and Death, Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, Defeated of his seisure many days Given thee of grace; wherein thou mayest repent, And one bad act with many deeds well done Mayest cover:  Well may then thy Lord, appeased, Redeem thee quite from Death's rapacious claim; But longer in this Paradise to dwell Permits not: to remove thee I am come, And send thee from the garden forth to till The ground whence thou wast taken, fitter soil. He added not; for Adam at the news Heart-struck with chilling gripe of sorrow stood, That all his senses bound; Eve, who unseen Yet all had heard, with audible lament Discovered soon the place of her retire. O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death! Must I thus leave thee$ Paradise? thus leave Thee, native soil! these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of that day That must be mortal to us both.  O flowers, That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my last ;t even, which I bred up with tender hand From the first opening bud, and gave ye names! Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount? Thee lastly, nuptial bower! by me adorned With what to sight or smell was sweet! from thee How shall I part, and whither wander down Into a lower world; to this obscure And wild? how shall we breathe in other air Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits? Whom thus the Angel interrupted mild. Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign What justly thou hast lost, nor set thy heart, Thus over-fond, on that which is not thine: Thy going is not lonely; with thee goes Thy husband; whom to follow thou art bound; Where he abides, think there thy native soil. Adam, by this from the cold sudden damp Recovering, and his scattered spirits returned, To Michael thus his humble words addressed. Celestial, whether among the Thrones, or named Of them the highest; for such of shape may seem Prince above princes! gently hast thou told Thy message, which might else in telling wound, And in performing end us; what besides Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair, Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring, Departure from this happy place, our sweet Recess, and only consolation left Familiar to our eyes! all places else Inhospitable appear, and desolate; Nor knowing us, nor known:  And, if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of Him who all things can, I would not cease To weary him with my assiduous cries: But prayer against his absolute decree No more avails than breath against the wind, Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth: Therefore to his great bidding I submit. This most afflicts me, that, departing hence, As from his face I shall be hid, deprived His blessed countenance:  Here I could frequent With worship place by place where he vouchsafed Presence Divine; and to my sons relate, 'On this mount he appeared; under this tree 'Stood visible; among these pines his voice 'I heard; here with him at this fountain talked: So many grateful altars I would rear Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone Of lustre from the brook, in memory, Or monument to ages; and theron Offer sweet-smelling gums, and fruits, and flowers: In yonder nether world where shall I seek His bright appearances, or foot-step trace? For though I fled him angry, yet recalled To life prolonged and promised race, I now Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts Of glory; and far off his steps adore. To whom thus Michael with regard benign. Adam, thou knowest Heaven his, and all the Earth; Not this rock only; his Omnipresence fills Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives, Fomented by his virtual power and warmed: All the earth he gave thee to possess and rule, No despicable gift; surmise not then His presence to these narrow bounds confined Of Paradise, or Eden: this had been Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spread All generations; and had hither come From all the ends of the earth, to celebrate And reverence thee, their great progenitor. But this pre-eminence thou hast lost, brought down To dwell on even ground now with thy sons: Yet doubt not but in valley, and in plain, God is, as here; and will be found alike Present; and of his presence many a sign Still following thee, still compassing thee round With goodness and paternal love, his face Express, and of his steps the track divine. Which that thou mayest believe, and be confirmed Ere thou from hence depart; know, I am sent To show thee what shall come in future days To thee, and to thy offspring: good with bad Expect to hear; supernal grace contending With sinfulness of men; thereby to learn True patience, and to temper joy with fear And pious sorrow; equally inured By moderation either state to bear, Prosperous or adverse: so shalt thou lead Safest thy life, and best prepared endure Thy mortal passage when it comes.--Ascend This hill; let Eve (for I have drenched her eyes) Here sleep below; while thou to foresight wakest; As once thou sleptst, while she to life was formed. To whom thus Adam gratefully replied. Ascend, I follow thee, safe Guide, the path Thou leadest me; and to the hand of Heaven submit, However chastening; to the evil turn My obvious breast; arming to overcome By suffering, and earn rest from labour won, If so I may attain. -- So both ascend In the visions of God.  It was a hill, Of Paradise the highest; from whose top The hemisphere of earth, in clearest ken, Stretched out to the amplest reach of prospect lay. Not higher that hill, nor wider looking round, Whereon, for different cause, the Tempter set Our second Adam, in the wilderness; To show him all Earth's kingdoms, and their glory. His eye might there command wherever stood City of old or modern fame, the seat Of mightiest empire, from the destined walls Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can, And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir's throne, To Paquin of Sinaean kings; and thence To Agra and Lahor of great Mogul, Down to the golden Chersonese; or where The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since In Hispahan; or where the Russian Ksar In Mosco; or the Sultan in Bizance, Turchestan-born; nor could his eye not ken The empire of Negus to his utmost port Ercoco, and the less maritim kings Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind, And Sofala, thought Ophir, to the realm Of Congo, and Angola farthest south; Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount The kingdoms of Almansor, Fez and Sus, Morocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen; On Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway The world: in spirit perhaps he also saw Rich Mexico, the seat of Montezume, And Cusco in Peru, the richer seat Of Atabalipa; and yet unspoiled Guiana, whose great city Geryon's sons Call El Dorado.  But to nobler sights Michael from Adam's eyes the film removed, Which that false fruit that promised clearer sight Had bred; then purged with euphrasy and rue The visual nerve, for he had much to see; And from the well of life three drops instilled. So deep the power of these ingredients pierced, Even to the inmost seat of mental sight, That Adam, now enforced to close his eyes, Sunk down, and all his spirits became entranced; But him the gentle Angel by the hand Soon raised, and his attention thus recalled. Adam, now ope thine eyes; and first behold The effects, which thy original crime hath wrought In some to spring from thee; who never touched The excepted tree; nor with the snake conspired; Nor sinned thy sin; yet from that sin derive Corruption, to bring forth more violent deeds. His eyes he opened, and beheld a field, Part arable and tilth, whereon were sheaves New reaped; the other part sheep-walks and folds; I' the midst an altar as the land-mark stood, Rustick, of grassy sord; thither anon A sweaty reaper from his tillage brought First fruits, the green ear, and the yellow sheaf, Unculled, as came to hand; a shepherd next, More meek, came with the firstlings of his flock, Choicest and best; then, sacrificing, laid The inwards and their fat, with incense strowed, On the cleft wood, and all due rights performed: His offering soon propitious fire from Heaven Consumed with nimble glance, and grateful steam; The other's not, for his was not sincere; Whereat he inly raged, and, as they talked, Smote him into the midriff with a stone That beat out life; he fell;and, deadly pale, Groaned out his soul with gushing blood effused. Much at that sight was Adam in his heart Dismayed, and thus in haste to the Angel cried. O Teacher, some great mischief hath befallen To that meek man, who well had sacrificed; Is piety thus and pure devotion paid? To whom Michael thus, he also moved, replied. These two are brethren, Adam, and to come Out of thy loins; the unjust the just hath slain, For envy that his brother's offering found From Heaven acceptance; but the bloody fact Will be avenged; and the other's faith, approved, Lose no reward; though here thou see him die, Rolling in dust and gore.  To which our sire. Alas! both for the deed, and for the cause! But have I now seen Death?  Is this the way I must return to native dust?  O sight Of terrour, foul and ugly to behold, Horrid to think, how horrible to feel! To whom thus Michael.  Death thou hast seen In his first shape on Man; but many shapes Of Death, and many are the ways that lead To his grim cave, all dismal; yet to sense More terrible at the entrance, than within. Some, as thou sawest, by violent stroke shall die; By fire, flood, famine, by intemperance more In meats and drinks, which on the earth shall bring Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew Before thee shall appear; that thou mayest know What misery the inabstinence of Eve Shall bring on Men.  Immediately a place Before his eyes appeared, sad, noisome, dark; A lazar-house it seemed; wherein were laid Numbers of all diseased; all maladies Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, Intestine stone and ulcer, colick-pangs, Demoniack phrenzy, moaping melancholy, And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, Dropsies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums. Dire was the tossing, deep the groans; Despair Tended the sick busiest from couch to couch; And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delayed to strike, though oft invoked With vows, as their chief good, and final hope. Sight so deform what heart of rock could long Dry-eyed behold?  Adam could not, but wept, Though not of woman born; compassion quelled His best of man, and gave him up to tears A space, till firmer thoughts restrained excess; And, scarce recovering words, his plaint renewed. O miserable mankind, to what fall Degraded, to what wretched state reserved! Better end here unborn.  Why is life given To be thus wrested from us? rather, why Obtruded on us thus? who, if we knew What we receive, would either no accept Life offered, or soon beg to lay it down; Glad to be so dismissed in peace.  Can thus The image of God in Man, created once So goodly and erect, though faulty since, To such unsightly sufferings be debased Under inhuman pains?  Why should not Man, Retaining still divine similitude In part, from such deformities be free, And, for his Maker's image sake, exempt? Their Maker's image, answered Michael, then Forsook them, when themselves they vilified To serve ungoverned Appetite; and took His image whom they served, a brutish vice, Inductive mainly to the sin of Eve. Therefore so abject is their punishment, Disfiguring not God's likeness, but their own; Or if his likeness, by themselves defaced; While they pervert pure Nature's healthful rules To loathsome sickness; worthily, since they God's image did not reverence in themselves. I yield it just, said Adam, and submit. But is there yet no other way, besides These painful passages, how we may come To death, and mix with our connatural dust? There is, said Michael, if thou well observe The rule of Not too much; by temperance taught, In what thou eatest and drinkest; seeking from thence Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight, Till many years over thy head return: So mayest thou live; till, like ripe fruit, thou drop Into thy mother's lap; or be with ease Gathered, nor harshly plucked; for death mature: This is Old Age; but then, thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty; which will change To withered, weak, and gray; thy senses then, Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forego, To what thou hast; and, for the air of youth, Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life.  To whom our ancestor. Henceforth I fly not death, nor would prolong Life much; bent rather, how I may be quit, Fairest and easiest, of this cumbrous charge; Which I must keep till my appointed day Of rendering up, and patiently attend My dissolution.  Michael replied. Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou livest Live well; how long, or short, permit to Heaven: And now prepare thee for another sight. He looked, and saw a spacious plain, whereon Were tents of various hue; by some, were herds Of cattle grazing; others, whence the sound Of instruments, that made melodious chime, Was heard, of harp and organ; and, who moved Their stops and chords, was seen; his volant touch, Instinct through all proportions, low and high, Fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue. In other part stood one who, at the forge Labouring, two massy clods of iron and brass Had melted, (whether found where casual fire Had wasted woods on mountain or in vale, Down to the veins of earth; thence gliding hot To some cave's mouth; or whether washed by stream From underground;) the liquid ore he drained Into fit moulds prepared; from which he formed First his own tools; then, what might else be wrought Fusil or graven in metal.  After these, But on the hither side, a different sort From the high neighbouring hills, which was their seat, Down to the plain descended; by their guise Just men they seemed, and all their study bent To worship God aright, and know his works Not hid; nor those things last, which might preserve Freedom and peace to Men; they on the plain Long had not walked, when from the tents, behold! A bevy of fair women, richly gay In gems and wanton dress; to the harp they sung Soft amorous ditties, and in dance came on: The men, though grave, eyed them; and let their eyes Rove without rein; till, in the amorous net Fast caught, they liked; and each his liking chose; And now of love they treat, till the evening-star, Love's harbinger, appeared; then, all in heat They light the nuptial torch, and bid invoke Hymen, then first to marriage rites invoked: With feast and musick all the tents resound. Such happy interview, and fair event Of love and youth not lost, songs, garlands, flowers, And charming symphonies, attached the heart Of Adam, soon inclined to admit delight, The bent of nature; which he thus expressed. True opener of mine eyes, prime Angel blest; Much better seems this vision, and more hope Of peaceful days portends, than those two past; Those were of hate and death, or pain much worse; Here Nature seems fulfilled in all her ends. To whom thus Michael.  Judge not what is best By pleasure, though to nature seeming meet; Created, as thou art, to nobler end Holy and pure, conformity divine. Those tents thou sawest so pleasant, were the tents Of wickedness, wherein shall dwell his race Who slew his brother; studious they appear Of arts that polish life, inventers rare; Unmindful of their Maker, though his Spirit Taught them; but they his gifts acknowledged none. Yet they a beauteous offspring shall beget; For that fair female troop thou sawest, that seemed Of Goddesses, so blithe, so smooth, so gay, Yet empty of all good wherein consists Woman's domestick honour and chief praise; Bred only and completed to the taste Of lustful appetence, to sing, to dance, To dress, and troll the tongue, and roll the eye: To these that sober race of men, whose lives Religious titled them the sons of God, Shall yield up all their virtue, all their fame Ignobly, to the trains and to the smiles Of these fair atheists; and now swim in joy, Erelong to swim at large; and laugh, for which The world erelong a world of tears must weep. To whom thus Adam, of short joy bereft. O pity and shame, that they, who to live well Entered so fair, should turn aside to tread Paths indirect, or in the mid way faint! But still I see the tenour of Man's woe Holds on the same, from Woman to begin. From Man's effeminate slackness it begins, Said the Angel, who should better hold his place By wisdom, and superiour gifts received. But now prepare thee for another scene. He looked, and saw wide territory spread Before him, towns, and rural works between; Cities of men with lofty gates and towers, Concourse in arms, fierce faces threatening war, Giants of mighty bone and bold emprise; Part wield their arms, part curb the foaming steed, Single or in array of battle ranged Both horse and foot, nor idly mustering stood; One way a band select from forage drives A herd of beeves, fair oxen and fair kine, From a fat meadow ground; or fleecy flock, Ewes and their bleating lambs over the plain, Their booty; scarce with life the shepherds fly, But call in aid, which makes a bloody fray; With cruel tournament the squadrons join; Where cattle pastured late, now scattered lies With carcasses and arms the ensanguined field, Deserted:  Others to a city strong Lay siege, encamped; by battery, scale, and mine, Assaulting; others from the wall defend With dart and javelin, stones, and sulphurous fire; On each hand slaughter, and gigantick deeds. In other part the sceptered heralds call To council, in the city-gates; anon Gray-headed men and grave, with warriours mixed, Assemble, and harangues are heard; but soon, In factious opposition; till at last, Of middle age one rising, eminent In wise deport, spake much of right and wrong, Of justice, or religion, truth, and peace, And judgement from above: him old and young Exploded, and had seized with violent hands, Had not a cloud descending snatched him thence Unseen amid the throng: so violence Proceeded, and oppression, and sword-law, Through all the plain, and refuge none was found. Adam was all in tears, and to his guide Lamenting turned full sad; O!what are these, Death's ministers, not men? who thus deal death Inhumanly to men, and multiply Ten thousandfold the sin of him who slew His brother: for of whom such massacre Make they, but of their brethren; men of men But who was that just man, whom had not Heaven Rescued, had in his righteousness been lost? To whom thus Michael.  These are the product Of those ill-mated marriages thou sawest; Where good with bad were matched, who of themselves Abhor to join; and, by imprudence mixed, Produce prodigious births of body or mind. Such were these giants, men of high renown; For in those days might only shall be admired, And valour and heroick virtue called; To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory; and for glory done Of triumph, to be styled great conquerours Patrons of mankind, Gods, and sons of Gods; Destroyers rightlier called, and plagues of men. Thus fame shall be achieved, renown on earth; And what most merits fame, in silence hid. But he, the seventh from thee, whom thou beheldst The only righteous in a world preverse, And therefore hated, therefore so beset With foes, for daring single to be just, And utter odious truth, that God would come To judge them with his Saints; him the Most High Rapt in a balmy cloud with winged steeds Did, as thou sawest, receive, to walk with God High in salvation and the climes of bliss, Exempt from death; to show thee what reward Awaits the good; the rest what punishment; Which now direct thine eyes and soon behold. He looked, and saw the face of things quite changed; The brazen throat of war had ceased to roar; All now was turned to jollity and game, To luxury and riot, feast and dance; Marrying or prostituting, as befel, Rape or adultery, where passing fair Allured them; thence from cups to civil broils. At length a reverend sire among them came, And of their doings great dislike declared, And testified against their ways; he oft Frequented their assemblies, whereso met, Triumphs or festivals; and to them preached Conversion and repentance, as to souls In prison, under judgements imminent: But all in vain: which when he saw, he ceased Contending, and removed his tents far off; Then, from the mountain hewing timber tall, Began to build a vessel of huge bulk; Measured by cubit, length, and breadth, and highth; Smeared round with pitch; and in the side a door Contrived; and of provisions laid in large, For man and beast: when lo, a wonder strange! Of every beast, and bird, and insect small, Came sevens, and pairs; and entered in as taught Their order: last the sire and his three sons, With their four wives; and God made fast the door. Mean while the south-wind rose, and, with black wings Wide-hovering, all the clouds together drove From under Heaven; the hills to their supply Vapour, and exhalation dusk and moist, Sent up amain; and now the thickened sky Like a dark cieling stood; down rushed the rain Impetuous; and continued, till the earth No more was seen: the floating vessel swum Uplifted, and secure with beaked prow Rode tilting o'er the waves; all dwellings else Flood overwhelmed, and them with all their pomp Deep under water rolled; sea covered sea, Sea without shore; and in their palaces, Where luxury late reigned, sea-monsters whelped And stabled; of mankind, so numerous late, All left, in one small bottom swum imbarked. How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold The end of all thy offspring, end so sad, Depopulation!  Thee another flood, Of tears and sorrow a flood, thee also drowned, And sunk thee as thy sons; till, gently reared By the Angel, on thy feet thou stoodest at last, Though comfortless; as when a father mourns His children, all in view destroyed at once; And scarce to the Angel utter'dst thus thy plaint. O visions ill foreseen!  Better had I Lived ignorant of future! so had borne My part of evil only, each day's lot Enough to bear; those now, that were dispensed The burden of many ages, on me light At once, by my foreknowledge gaining birth Abortive, to torment me ere their being, With thought that they must be.  Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold, what shall befall Him or his children; evil he may be sure, Which neither his foreknowing can prevent; And he the future evil shall no less In apprehension than in substance feel, Grievous to bear: but that care now is past, Man is not whom to warn: those few escaped Famine and anguish will at last consume, Wandering that watery desart:  I had hope, When violence was ceased, and war on earth, All would have then gone well; peace would have crowned With length of happy days the race of Man; But I was far deceived; for now I see Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste. How comes it thus? unfold, celestial Guide, And whether here the race of Man will end. To whom thus Michael.  Those, whom last thou sawest In triumph and luxurious wealth, are they First seen in acts of prowess eminent And great exploits, but of true virtue void; Who, having spilt much blood, and done much wast Subduing nations, and achieved thereby Fame in the world, high titles, and rich prey; Shall change their course to pleasure, ease, and sloth, Surfeit, and lust; till wantonness and pride Raise out of friendship hostile deeds in peace. The conquered also, and enslaved by war, Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose And fear of God; from whom their piety feigned In sharp contest of battle found no aid Against invaders; therefore, cooled in zeal, Thenceforth shall practice how to live secure, Worldly or dissolute, on what their lords Shall leave them to enjoy; for the earth shall bear More than enough, that temperance may be tried: So all shall turn degenerate, all depraved; Justice and temperance, truth and faith, forgot; One man except, the only son of light In a dark age, against example good, Against allurement, custom, and a world Offended: fearless of reproach and scorn, The grand-child, with twelve sons encreased, departs From Canaan, to a land hereafter called Egypt, divided by the river Nile; See where it flows, disgorging at seven mouths Into the sea:  To sojourn in that land He comes, invited by a younger son In time of dearth; a son, whose worthy deeds Raise him to be the second in that realm Of Pharaoh:  There he dies, and leaves his race Growing into a nation, and now grown Suspected to a sequent king, who seeks To stop their overgrowth, as inmate guests Or violence, he of their wicked ways Shall them admonish; and before them set The paths of righteousness, how much more safe And full of peace; denouncing wrath to come On their impenitence; and shall return Of them derided, but of God observed The one just man alive; by his command Shall build a wonderous ark, as thou beheldst, To save himself, and houshold, from amidst A world devote to universal wrack. No sooner he, with them of man and beast Select for life, shall in the ark be lodged, And sheltered round; but all the cataracts Of Heaven set open on the Earth shall pour Rain, day and night; all fountains of the deep, Broke up, shall heave the ocean to usurp Beyond all bounds; till inundation rise Above the highest hills:  Then shall this mount Of Paradise by might of waves be moved Out of his place, pushed by the horned flood, With all his verdure spoiled, and trees adrift, Down the great river to the opening gulf, And there take root an island salt and bare, The haunt of seals, and orcs, and sea-mews' clang: To teach thee that God attributes to place No sanctity, if none be thither brought By men who there frequent, or therein dwell. And now, what further shall ensue, behold. He looked, and saw the ark hull on the flood, Which now abated; for the clouds were fled, Driven by a keen north-wind, that, blowing dry, Wrinkled the face of deluge, as decayed; And the clear sun on his wide watery glass Gazed hot, and of the fresh wave largely drew, As after thirst; which made their flowing shrink From standing lake to tripping ebb, that stole With soft foot towards the deep; who now had stopt His sluces, as the Heaven his windows shut. The ark no more now floats, but seems on ground, Fast on the top of some high mountain fixed. And now the tops of hills, as rocks, appear; With clamour thence the rapid currents drive, Towards the retreating sea, their furious tide. Forthwith from out the ark a raven flies, And after him, the surer messenger, A dove sent forth once and again to spy Green tree or ground, whereon his foot may light: The second time returning, in his bill An olive-leaf he brings, pacifick sign: Anon dry ground appears, and from his ark The ancient sire descends, with all his train; Then with uplifted hands, and eyes devout, Grateful to Heaven, over his head beholds A dewy cloud, and in the cloud a bow Conspicuous with three lifted colours gay, Betokening peace from God, and covenant new. Whereat the heart of Adam, erst so sad, Greatly rejoiced; and thus his joy broke forth. O thou, who future things canst represent As present, heavenly Instructer!  I revive At this last sight; assured that Man shall live, With all the creatures, and their seed preserve. Far less I now lament for one whole world Of wicked sons destroyed, than I rejoice For one man found so perfect, and so just, That God vouchsafes to raise another world From him, and all his anger to forget. But say, what mean those coloured streaks in Heaven Distended, as the brow of God appeased? Or serve they, as a flowery verge, to bind The fluid skirts of that same watery cloud, Lest it again dissolve, and shower the earth? To whom the Arch-Angel.  Dextrously thou aimest; So willingly doth God remit his ire, Though late repenting him of Man depraved; Grieved at his heart, when looking down he saw The whole earth filled with violence, and all flesh Corrupting each their way; yet, those removed, Such grace shall one just man find in his sight, That he relents, not to blot out mankind; And makes a covenant never to destroy The earth again by flood; nor let the sea Surpass his bounds; nor rain to drown the world, With man therein or beast; but, when he brings Over the earth a cloud, will therein set His triple-coloured bow, whereon to look, And call to mind his covenant: Day and night, Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost, Shall hold their course; till fire purge all things new, Both Heaven and Earth, wherein the just shall dwell.

[psychotherapyconsultants]

Mother’s Memoir of Son’s Opioid Addiction Offers Hope

Lisa Hillman never meant to become a poster child for parents coping with a child’s drug problem. She was an accomplished health care administrator, a fundraising executive married to former Annapolis Mayor Richard Hillman, and the mother of two.

Few people knew about the nightmare that was unfolding at home starting with a phone call from her son’s high school teacher the start of his senior year, alerting her to his possible marijuana use. Jacob’s addiction unraveled from there, resulting in a dependence on opiates that threw his life into reverse: preventing him from returning to the University of Maryland; presenting troubles with the law; and deteriorating most of his relationships, including his once-tight bond with his mom.

Jacob’s story has a happy ending. He eventually got sober and stayed sober after visiting a few inpatient treatment centers.

Hillman chronicles the journey to hell and back in a riveting, poignant book called Secret No More: A True Story of Hope for Parents With an Addicted Child. I practically underlined the whole book because, as a recovering addict myself, her narrative spoke directly to me. However, you don’t need to be an alcoholic or mother of an addict to benefit from the wisdom on her pages.

Her story is full of life lessons for anyone who has a pulse — powerful anecdotes on how to lower expectations, walk through fear, ask for support, let go of control, hang on to hope. Her insights are universal to everyone because the book is primarily about her journey of shedding shame and guilt to make room for a bolder kind of love.

As a person often enmeshed in other people’s problems — trying to fix everything at any opportunity I have — I was inspired by the passages in the book where she reminds herself and the reader that the more you try to control the situation, the more suffering you bring on. She writes:

I made all the classic mistakes that parents with addicted sons and daughters make. I searched for the “cause” of the problem. Out of love and desperation, I kept trying to control a situation that was totally out of my control. I ached to find both a cause and a cure I was incapable of finding. I just didn’t know it yet.

Later she writes:

In all our counseling, no therapist had ever used the word “codependent.” But in those early days of separation, there was a “codependence” in how we both grappled with this new way of living. Jacob and I were finally and fully leading separate lives. I had to accept that my son was no longer a child…. I also had to acknowledge that he was starting his recovery, and I was starting mine. We were two travelers, each toting a bag packed with fears and anxieties about the future. All we had to do was place one foot in front of the other, take one step at a time. How strange, I thought much later, to be on the same path as my son, and at the same time. Lisa and Jacob, learning a new way to live, together, separately.

The strength and brilliance of this book lies in her heartrending descriptions of the conflict and the questions that live inside her heart – the authenticity with which she grapples with the mess of it all, and the brutal honesty in articulating the struggles she faces. She affords the reader a peek inside the anguish and confusion, but also of the opportunities, of a mother or father facing a child’s addiction.

Secret No More offers an inspiring message for parents, addicts, or anyone experiencing a difficult situation of any kind – that even in those moments when life seems like an ugly jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces, there is beauty and there is hope.

She ends the book with this moving passage:

There is a saying, “Addicts are angels in the making.” If that’s true, Jacob has become an angel in my life, keeping me honest, helping me to stay focused on the day, knowing what I can control, and feeling gratitude for all I have….No one knows that tomorrow will bring; today is all we have. I still work hard to let go of expectations, but never of hope. After all, if one angel can make it, others can, too.

This book has the potential to do so much good that I would count Lisa among the angels of which she speaks.

For more information, visit Lisa’s website.

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2017/09/14/mothers-memoir-of-sons-opioid-addiction-offers-hope/