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healthrandomcare · 4 years ago

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How To Lose Weight

Hello, World

Get any eating routine book and it will profess to hold all the responses to effectively losing all the weight you need—and keeping it off. Some case the key is to eat less and practice more, others that low fat is the best way to go, while others recommend removing carbs. All in all, what would it be advisable for you to accept?

The fact of the matter is there is no "one size fits all" answer for lasting solid weight reduction. What works for one individual may not work for you, since our bodies react diversely to various nourishments, contingent upon hereditary qualities and other wellbeing factors. To discover the technique for weight reduction that is ideal for you will probably require some investment and require persistence, duty, and some experimentation with various nourishments and diets.

While a few people react well to checking calories or comparable prohibitive techniques, others react better to having more opportunity in arranging their get-healthy plans. Being free to just dodge seared nourishments or cut back on refined carbs can set them up for progress. Along these lines, don't get too debilitated if an eating routine that worked for another person doesn't work for you. Also, don't thrash yourself if an eating routine demonstrates excessively prohibitive for you to stay with. Eventually, an eating routine is just ideal for you if it's one you can stay with over the long run.

Keep in mind: while there's no simple fix to getting more fit, there are a lot of steps you can take to build up a more advantageous relationship with food, check passionate triggers to gorging, and accomplish a solid weight.

Four well known weight reduction methodologies

Learn how to lose weight which are given below.

1. Cut calories

A few specialists accept that effectively dealing with your weight boils down to a straightforward condition: If you eat less calories than you consume, you get in shape. Sounds simple, isn't that so? At that point why is getting more fit so hard?

Weight reduction is anything but a direct function over the long haul. At the point when you cut calories, you may drop weight for the initial hardly any weeks, for instance, and afterward something changes. You eat similar number of calories yet you lose less weight or no weight by any means. That is on the grounds that when you get more fit you're losing water and fit tissue just as fat, your digestion eases back, and your body changes in different ways. Along these lines, so as to keep dropping weight every week, you have to keep cutting calories.

A calorie isn't generally a calorie. Eating 100 calories of high fructose corn syrup, for instance, can differently affect your body than eating 100 calories of broccoli. The stunt for continued weight reduction is to discard the nourishments that are stuffed with calories however don't cause you to feel full (like treats) and supplant them with food sources that top you off without being stacked with calories (like vegetables).

A significant number of us don't generally eat essentially to fulfill hunger. We additionally go to nourishment for comfort or to mitigate pressure—which can rapidly crash any weight reduction plan.

2. Cut carbs

An alternate method of survey weight reduction recognizes the issue as not one of burning-through such a large number of calories, yet rather the manner in which the body collects fat in the wake of burning-through starches—specifically the part of the hormone insulin. At the point when you eat a supper, starches from the food enter your circulation system as glucose. So as to hold your glucose levels within proper limits, your body consistently consumes off this glucose before it consumes off fat from a supper.

In the event that you eat a sugar rich supper (bunches of pasta, rice, bread, or French fries, for instance), your body discharges insulin to help with the convergence of this glucose into your blood. Just as controlling glucose levels, insulin completes two things: It keeps your fat cells from delivering fat for the body to consume as fuel (since its need is to consume off the glucose) and it makes more fat cells for putting away all that your body can't consume off. The outcome is that you put on weight and your body currently requires more fuel to consume, so you eat more. Since insulin just consumes starches, you need carbs thus starts an endless loop of devouring carbs and putting on weight. To get more fit, the thinking goes, you have to break this cycle by diminishing carbs.

Most low-carb slims down backer supplanting carbs with protein and fat, which could have some negative long haul consequences for your wellbeing. On the off chance that you do attempt a low-carb diet, you can decrease your dangers and breaking point your admission of immersed and trans fats by picking lean meats, fish and vegan wellsprings of protein, low-fat dairy items, and eating a lot of verdant green and non-bland vegetables.

3. Cut fat

It's a pillar of numerous eating regimens: in the event that you would prefer not to get fat, don't eat fat. Stroll down any supermarket passageway and you'll be besieged with diminished fat bites, dairy, and bundled dinners. Yet, while our low-fat alternatives have detonated, so have heftiness rates. Anyway, for what reason haven't low-fat weight control plans worked for a greater amount of us?

Not all fat is terrible. Solid or "great" fats can really assist with controlling your weight, just as deal with your temperaments and battle weakness. Unsaturated fats found in avocados, nuts, seeds, soy milk, tofu, and greasy fish can help top you off, while adding a little delectable olive oil to a plate of vegetables, for instance, can make it simpler to eat well food and improve the general nature of your eating regimen.

We frequently make some unacceptable compromises. Huge numbers of us tragically swap fat for the unfilled calories of sugar and refined starches. Rather than eating entire fat yogurt, for instance, we eat low-or no-fat forms that are stuffed with sugar to compensate for the loss of taste. Or on the other hand we trade our greasy breakfast bacon for a biscuit or doughnut that causes quick spikes in glucose.

4. Follow the Mediterranean eating routine

The Mediterranean eating routine stresses eating great fats and great carbs alongside enormous amounts of new products of the soil, nuts, fish, and olive oil—and just unassuming measures of meat and cheddar. The Mediterranean eating regimen is something other than about food, however. Customary actual action and imparting suppers to others are additionally significant parts.

Whatever weight reduction methodology you attempt, it's essential to remain persuaded and maintain a strategic distance from regular counting calories traps, for example, enthusiastic eating.

Control passionate eating

We don't generally eat basically to fulfill hunger. Very frequently, we go to food when we're pushed or on edge, which can wreck any eating regimen and pack on the pounds. Do you eat when you're concerned, exhausted, or desolate? Do you nibble before the TV toward the finish of a distressing day? Perceiving your passionate eating triggers can have a significant effect in your weight reduction endeavors. On the off chance that you eat when you're:

Focused – find more advantageous approaches to quiet yourself. Attempt yoga, contemplation, or absorbing a hot shower.

Low on energy – find other mid-evening shots in the arm. Have a go at strolling around the square, tuning in to empowering music, or taking a short snooze.

Desolate or exhausted – contact others as opposed to going after the cooler. Call a companion who makes you giggle, take your canine for a walk, or go to the library, shopping center, or park—anyplace there's kin.

Practice careful eating all things considered

Dodge interruptions while eating. Do whatever it takes not to eat while working, staring at the TV, or driving. It's excessively simple to carelessly gorge.

Focus. Eat gradually, relishing the scents and surfaces of your food. In the event that your psyche meanders, tenderly return your consideration regarding your food and how it tastes.

Blend things up to zero in on the experience of eating. Have a go at utilizing chopsticks as opposed to a fork, or utilize your utensils with your non-prevailing hand.

Quit eating before you are full. It requires some investment for the sign to arrive at your mind that you've had enough. Try not to feel committed to in every case clean your plate.

Remain persuaded

Lasting weight reduction requires rolling out solid improvements to your way of life and food decisions. To remain inspired:

Locate a cheering segment. Social help implies a ton. Projects like Jenny Craig and Weight Watchers use bunch backing to affect weight reduction and deep rooted smart dieting. Search out help—regardless of whether as family, companions, or a care group—to get the consolation you need.

Steady minded individuals will win in the end. Getting in shape too quick can negatively affect your brain and body, causing you to feel slow, depleted, and debilitated. Plan to lose one to two pounds per week so you're losing fat instead of water and muscle.

Set objectives to keep you inspired. Transient objectives, such as needing to find a way into a swimsuit for the late spring, generally don't function just as needing to feel more certain or get more beneficial for the wellbeing of your children. At the point when enticement strikes, center around the advantages you'll harvest from being more advantageous.

Use instruments to keep tabs on your development. Cell phone applications, wellness trackers, or basically keeping a diary can assist you with monitoring the food you eat, the calories you consume, and the weight you lose. Seeing the outcomes in high contrast can assist you with remaining propelled.

Get a lot of rest. Absence of rest animates your hunger so you need more food than ordinary; simultaneously, it stops you feeling fulfilled, making you need to continue eating. Lack of sleep can likewise influence your inspiration, so focus on eight hours of value rest a night.

Cut down on sugar and refined carbs

Regardless of whether you're explicitly planning to cut carbs, the greater part of us devour undesirable measures of sugar and refined starches, for example, white bread, pizza mixture, pasta, baked goods, white flour, white rice, and improved breakfast grains. Supplanting refined carbs with their entire grain partners and taking out sweets and treats is just important for the arrangement, however. Sugar is covered up in nourishments as assorted as canned soups and vegetables, pasta sauce, margarine, and many decreased fat nourishments. Since your body gets all it requires from sugar normally happening in food, this additional sugar adds up to only a ton of void calories and unfortunate spikes in your blood glucose.

Less sugar can mean a slimmer waistline

Calories got from fructose (found in sweet drinks, for example, pop and handled nourishments like doughnuts, biscuits, and candy) are bound to add to fat around your tummy. Scaling back sweet nourishments can mean a slimmer waistline just as a lower danger of diabetes.

Top off with natural product, veggies, and fiber

Regardless of whether you're cutting calories, that doesn't really mean you need to eat less food. High-fiber nourishments, for example, natural product, vegetables, beans, and entire grains are higher in volume and take more time to process, making them filling—and extraordinary for weight reduction.

It's commonly alright to eat as much new products of the soil boring vegetables as you need—you'll feel full before you've tried too hard on the calories.

Eat vegetables crude or steamed, not singed or breaded, and dress them with spices and flavors or a little olive oil for flavor.

Add organic product to low sugar oat—blueberries, strawberries, cut bananas. You'll actually appreciate bunches of pleasantness, yet with less calories, not so much sugar, but rather more fiber.

Mass out sandwiches by adding sound veggie decisions like lettuce, tomatoes, fledglings, cucumbers, and avocado.

Nibble on carrots or celery with hummus rather than an unhealthy chips and plunge.

Add more veggies to your #1 primary courses to make your dish more considerable. Indeed, even pasta and sautés can be diet-accommodating on the off chance that you utilize not so much noodles but rather more vegetables.

Start your feast with serving of mixed greens or vegetable soup to help top you off so you eat less of your entrée.

Assume responsibility for your food climate

Set yourself up for weight reduction accomplishment by assuming responsibility for your food climate: when you eat, the amount you eat, and what nourishments you make effectively accessible.

Cook your own dinners at home. This permits you to control both segment size and what goes in to the food. Café and bundled nourishments for the most part contain much more sugar, unfortunate fat, and calories than food prepared at home—in addition to the segment sizes will in general be bigger.

Serve yourself more modest segments. Utilize little plates, bowls, and cups to cause your bits to seem bigger. Try not to eat out of huge dishes or legitimately from food holders, which makes it hard to evaluate the amount you've eaten.

Eat early. Studies recommend that burning-through a greater amount of your every day calories at breakfast and less at supper can assist you with dropping more pounds. Eating a bigger, sound breakfast can kick off your digestion, stop you feeling hungry during the day, and give you more opportunity to consume off the calories.

Quick for 14 hours per day. Attempt to have supper prior in the day and afterward quick until breakfast the following morning. Eating just when you're generally dynamic and offering your absorption a long reprieve may help weight reduction.

Plan your suppers and snacks early. You can make your own little segment snacks in plastic packs or compartments. Eating on a timetable will assist you with abstaining from eating when you aren't genuinely eager.

Drink more water. Thirst can regularly be mistaken for hunger, so by drinking water you can evade additional calories.

Breaking point the measure of enticing nourishments you have at home. On the off chance that you share a kitchen with non-weight watchers, store liberal nourishments far out.

Get going

How much exercise helps weight reduction is available to discuss, yet the advantages go route past copying calories. Exercise can build your digestion and improve your standpoint—and it's something you can profit by this moment. Take a walk, stretch, move around and you'll have more energy and inspiration to handle different strides in your get-healthy plan.

Need time for a long exercise? Three 10-minute sprays of activity every day can be similarly in the same class as one 30-minute exercise.

Keep in mind: anything is superior to nothing. Start off gradually with limited quantities of actual action every day. At that point, as you begin to get in shape and have more energy, you'll see it simpler to turn out to be all the more genuinely dynamic.

Discover practice you appreciate. Have a go at strolling with a companion, moving, climbing, cycling, playing Frisbee with a canine, getting a charge out of a pickup round of b-ball, or playing movement based computer games with your children.

Keeping the weight off

You may have heard the broadly cited measurement that 95% of individuals who get in shape on a tight eating routine will recover it inside a couple of years—or even months. While there isn't a lot of hard proof to help that guarantee, the facts confirm that many weight reduction plans fizzle in the long haul. Regularly that is just in light of the fact that eats less carbs that are too prohibitive are difficult to keep up after some time. In any case, that doesn't mean your weight reduction endeavors are destined to disappointment. A long way from it.

Since it was set up in 1994, The National Weight Control Registry (NWCR) in the United States, has followed more than 10,000 people who have lost critical measures of weight and kept it off for extensive stretches of time. The investigation has discovered that members who've been fruitful in keeping up their weight reduction share some basic procedures. Whatever diet you use to shed pounds in any case, receiving these propensities may assist you with keeping it off:

Remain genuinely dynamic. Effective health food nuts in the NWCR study practice for around an hour, regularly strolling.

Keep a food log. Recording what you eat each day assists with keeping you responsible and spurred.

Have breakfast each day. Most regularly in the investigation, it's grain and natural product. Having breakfast helps digestion and fights off craving later in the day.

Eat more fiber and less unfortunate fat than the run of the mill American eating routine.

Consistently check the scale. Gauging yourself week after week may assist you with recognizing any little puts on in weight, empowering you to speedily make remedial move before the issue raises.

Watch less TV. Scaling back the time spent sitting before a screen can be a vital piece of embracing a more dynamic way of life and forestalling weight gain.

Read More - How To Take care Of Eyes

#how to lose weight #lose weight #weightloss #lose weight naturally

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besttourismdeals-blog · 5 years ago

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How To Find The Finest Places To Visit In India?

A place where there is stunning decent variety, India Travel fills all the faculties with amazement. From its old legacy and customs to its eminent design and staggering scenes, the nation offers something for each sort of voyager. Here are probably the best goals to design an occasion in 2018.

Kasauli A Place Tha Has Romance In Its Air

Kasauli is one of the most peaceful and lovely goals of Himachal Pradesh in the Solan Valley. Monitored by the snow-topped mountains, blossoming streams, splendid greeneries, knolls and canvassed in the cover of thick timber wood timberlands, the goal has got everything. The antique old amazing Victorian houses standing erect in the bumpy surroundings under the quiet condition give the goal an appealing delight as though plunged directly from paradise. And all the words I am having right now for its depiction is a direct result of my ongoing outing to Kasauli Tourism in the most recent end of the week. It was enchanted to such an extent that during the whole excursion it kept me suffocating in its excellence. Entertain yourself with the beautiful

Rajasthan A Place Of Culture, Fairs & Festivals

From fantasy castles and epic strongholds to brilliant celebrations and natural life experiences, Rajasthan, the Land of the Kings, is India at its dynamic best. Various strongholds and castles, including Jaisalmer's fantasy dessert station, Amber's nectar tinted fortress royal residence and Jodhpur's forcing Mehrangarh can be seen all through the state. Staggering crafted works and expressive arts were created and supported through support by the maharajas. Numerous vivid celebrations, from pompously enriched mounts at the camel and elephant celebrations in Pushkar and Jaipur, individually, to the rainbow blasts of Diwali and Holi, are praised over the district.

Get Visited Mesmerizing Karnataka

A staggering prologue to southern India, Karnataka is a prosperous, convincing state stacked with a triumphant mix of urban cool, sparkling royal residences, national parks, antiquated remnants, seashores, yoga focuses and unbelievable hang-outs. At its operational hub is the capital Bengaluru (Bangalore), a dynamic city renowned for its specialty lager and eatery scene. Taking off of town you'll experience the evergreen moving slopes of Kodagu, specked with flavor and espresso ranches, the grand quality of Mysuru (Mysore), and wildernesses abounding with monkeys, tigers and Asia's greatest populace of elephants. Head to the counter-social enclave of serene Hampi with loungers, hallucinogenic nightfalls and stone were strewn ruins or the happy, for all intents and purposes immaculate coastline around Gokarna, favored with excellent inlets and void sands.

The Appealing Himachal Pradesh

With fabulous cold pinnacles and plunging waterway valleys, lovely Himachal is India's open-air experience play area. From trekking and moving to the boat, paragliding, and skiing, it very well may be done here. Tangled geology of interlocking mountain chains likewise makes Himachal an awesome spot basically to investigate, by transport, vehicle, motorbike, jeep or foot. Towns roosted on stunning inclines captivate with fantasy design and their kin's agreeable warmth. Slope stations bid with an occasion air and frontier echoes, while explorer magnets draw with their delighted out vibe and mountain excellence. Such is the wealth of the Himachali jigsaw that in McLeod Ganj, the Dalai Lama's home-away-from-home, and in Lahaul and Spiti, with their hundreds of years old Buddhist societies, you may even think you've unearthed Tibet.

A Place Of God Kerala

For some voyagers, Kerala is South India's most peacefully delightful state. A thin waterfront strip is formed by its layered scene: practically 600km of wonderful Arabian Sea coast and seashores; a slow system of sparkling backwaters; and the flavor and tea-secured slopes of the Western Ghats. Simply going to this swath of soul-extinguishing, palm-concealed green will ease back your subcontinental walk to a pleasured out to wander. Kerala is a world away from the free for all of somewhere else, as though India had gone through the Looking Glass and turn into an out and out increasingly laid-back spot.

A Captivating Kashmir and Ladakh

The territory of Jammu and Kashmir (J&K) unites three unimaginably various universes. Jammu and Katra, in the south, are the state's rail center points and a significant draw for residential explorers. Kashmir is India's Switzerland, drawing in swarms of nearby voyagers looking for cool summer air, elevated view and Srinagar's sentimental houseboat settlement. And afterward, there's the Himalayan place where there is Ladakh, which for most outsiders is the state's most noteworthy fascination. their immortal cloisters are set between parched gulches and taking off pinnacles, while emerald-green towns settle photogenically in good country deserts.

Get Visited The Attractive Uttar Pradesh

There are not many states more quintessentially Indian than Uttar Pradesh. The subcontinent's noteworthy and strict roots – Hindu, Buddhist, Islamic and common – interweave right now holy waterways and immense fields, showing insights vital. Beside famous Agra, UP is home to Varanasi, India's holiest city, acclaimed for its incineration ghats and lively services along the Ganges River. Stories disclose to us that Krishna was conceived in Mathura, while Rama was conceived in Ayodhya. Buddha gave his first message in Sarnath and passed on in Kushinagar, presently peaceful journey goals. Also, the Mughals and the Nawabs made their imprints too, abandoning structural and gastronomic artful culminations – especially in Lucknow (and obviously Agra).

Get Visited Madhya Pradesh

The spotlight doesn't hit Madhya Pradesh (MP) with a remarkable same brightness as it sparkles on increasingly commended neighboring states, so you can encounter travel wealth positioning with the best without that sentiment of simply following a vacationer trail. Khajuraho's sanctuaries bristle with probably the best stone cutting in India, their lovely sexual figures a simple cut of the compositional marvels of a locale exceedingly blessed by the gods with castles, fortresses, sanctuaries, mosques, and stupas, most wonderfully in the towns of Orchha and Mandu. Tigers are the other large news here, and your odds of recognizing a wild Royal Bengal in MP are on a par with anyplace in India. Journey cum-explorer safe houses, for example, Maheshwar and Omkareshwar on the Narmada River are injected with the otherworldly and relaxing vibes for which India is famous.

A Ravishing Place Tamil Nadu

Tamil Nadu is the country of one of mankind's living old-style civilizations, extending back continuous for two centuries and particularly alive today in the Tamils' language, move, verse and Hindu religion. Yet, this profound South state is as powerful as it is drenched in the convention. Fire-loving fans who smear tikka on their foreheads in Tamil Nadu's broadly stupendous sanctuaries may surge off to IT workplaces – and afterward, loosen up at a stylish evening frequent in quickly modernizing Chennai (Madras) or with sun greetings in bohemian Puducherry (Pondicherry). At the point when the hot the disarray of Tamil sanctuary towns overpowers, getaway toward the southernmost tip of India where three oceans blend; to the awesome chateaus sprinkled across parched Chettinadu; or up to the cool, woods clad, untamed life sneaked the Western Ghats.

Heavenly West Bengal

A bit of fruitful land running from the tea-hung Himalayan lower regions to the sultry mangroves of the Bay of Bengal, West Bengal offers an exceptional scope of goals and encounters. In the tropical southern regions, the ocean washed village of Mandarmani strives for consideration with Bishnupur's fancy earthenware tiled Hindu sanctuaries and castles. The striped Bengal tiger stealthily who swims through sloppy rivulets in the beautiful Sunderbans. while a lot of European phantom towns line the banks of the Hooghly (a part of the Ganges) further upstream as tokens of the state's sea prime. In the cool northern slopes, the 'toy train' chugs its way up the enchanting British-period slope station of Darjeeling worshipped for its ringside perspectives on enormous Khangchendzonga. West Bengal additionally flaunts a lively craftsmanship scene, flavorful cooking, and a truly accommodating populace.

A Stunning Place Upper East States

Tossed over the most distant scopes of India, darkened from the more prominent world by ever-enduring backwoods and considerable mountain goes, The Northeast States are one of Asia's last extraordinary characteristics and anthropological havens. Offering outskirts to Bhutan, Tibet, Myanmar (Burma) and Bangladesh, these remote wildernesses are an area of tough magnificence, and a crash zone of ancestral societies, atmospheres, scenes, and people groups. Right now, swashbucklers, chilly Himalayan waterways spill onto Assam's huge floodplains, confidence moves mountains on the hazardous journey to Tawang, rhinos munch in Kaziranga's swampy meadows and previous talent scouts gradually grasp innovation in their tribal longhouses in Nagaland.

#kasauli #india travel #kasauli Tourism

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rhyanross011-blog · 8 years ago

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We provide yoga in Laurieston, We have a variety of Southside yoga classes in Glasgow for beginners and more advanced practitioners of yoga.

#Yoga Mansewood #Yoga Oatlands #Yoga Gorbals #Yoga Kinning Park #Yoga Ibrox

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maevefiction · 6 years ago

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 23

When we arrived at Estelle J Wilson, there wasn’t a parking spot to be had. Even those earmarked for funeral attendees were taken, and as we drove past the main entrance to head around the block in search of one for ourselves, there they were…news vans from local affiliate stations WWL, WDSU and WGNO. A few feet down I spotted the paparazzi, four or so as best I could tell, lurking and waiting.

I turned to Tom, smirking. “Weh-hel, THIS is going to be a lot more interesting that I anticipated. Apparently.”

He pulled into an open space two blocks down from the funeral home and put the car in park. His right arm rose, then settled on my shoulder, hand grasping the back of my neck, massaging gently. “You okay to do this?”

I shrugged, enjoying the way the fabric of my dress seemed to float around my arms. His massaging continued in spite of my movement. “I’d like to tell you to turn around and go back to the hotel, but somehow I don’t think me not showing up for my mother’s funeral would improve upon the situation. And I know I’ll have to talk, because, hey-o, I can’t even run past them. But, on the bright side, at least I had the sense to wear my yoga shorts underneath the dress so there’s no chance of a wardrobe malfunction during any of this.”

Tom laughed, lines appearing around his eyes, relaying the story of a man who enjoyed doing so and had for his entire life. “Thank god for small favors. If I happened to get a look under there at this point they’d all be in for far more of a show than they’re equipped to handle.”

“Dude. Was that supposed to help? Because…not helping.” I leaned over and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips, then opened my door. The ibuprofen I’d taken had helped immensely, and I was fully capable of walking without crutches, albeit slowly. Chances were that using them, though, might garner some sympathy from the press. Tom watched me pull them out of the car, eyebrows raised. “One, I can move faster if I use them. Two, I want everyone to feel sorry for me. Sorrier. Don’t ruin my moment, Hiddleston.”

“Perhaps I should carry you instead if it’s attention you’re seeking.”

“Not attention. SYMPATHY. If you carry me, people will feel LESS sorry for me. Not part of the plan. Plus, it’s like, two blocks and you’d fucking keel over. Also not part of the plan.”

He got out of the vehicle and came round to the passenger side, my messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “Thomas, you are a god among men, unashamedly carrying your woman’s purse.”

His eyes lit up, and he pointed at it. “This? This is NOT a purse, darling. THIS is a EUROPEAN CARRYALL.”

I raised my forearm up as far as the crutch would allow. “Nice. Second Seinfeld reference of the day. High-five.”

The palm of his hand connected with mine, tenderly, and our fingers twined together. “Remember, I’m going to be right there with you. And if you don’t wish to say anything, simply don’t say anything.”

“Um, I’m sorry…I’m supposed to be the one telling YOU that, yes?”

He grinned impishly. “Tables, Maude. Oh how they turn.”

As we reached the news vans, the noise began, seven people shouting out questions all at once, cameras and mics pointed in my direction. The cacophony caused my brain to shift into crisis management mode, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Tom stood at my side, transferring his weight from one foot to the other. My gaze moved from one reporter to the next, looking them straight in the eye. The noise died down, then out. I took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Hello there. How’s everyone doing today?” They turned to one another, shoulders shrugging, faces contorting into expressions of puzzlement, unsure as how to proceed. “Under normal circumstances, I’d be happy to give you all the time you need, but I’m running behind as it is and have in inkling that it would be just a wee bit disrespectful if I were to be late for my mother’s funeral service. That being said, I think I DO have enough time for one question from each of you.” I pointed to the young, dark-haired woman in the floral print dress holding a WWL microphone.

She cleared her throat, then motioned to her cameraman to begin recording. The other two crews followed suit, and I assumed the paps were recording as well. “Ms. Gallagher, do you have anything to say regarding your ex-husband’s arrest?”

I had plenty to say. So, so much to say…ninety-nine percent of it unsuitable for television. “First, allow me to mention that the Winchester family has been in my thoughts ever since I heard the news. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to have someone invade the sanctity of your home, where you’re supposed to feel safest. And someone armed…it must be terrifying. Mr. Bonaventura’s actions were deplorable, and I trust that the Louisiana justice system will dole out the appropriate punishment when the time comes. Next question, the gentleman from WDSU. And please, call me Maude.”

He was short, chubby and dressed in a tweed jacket that I was certain made him feel like he was in the ninth circle of hell. “Maude, is it true that he intended to break into your mother’s home but chose the wrong house in error?”

Suppressing the smile that fought to spread across my face was a daunting task. “That’s my understanding, yes.”

The reporter from WGNO didn’t wait his turn, and exceeded his inquiry limit within seconds. “Why would he need to break into her home? I’ve seen a copy of the will…it was to go to him, without question. Are you contesting it? Have you taken possession illegally? Did you lock him out? Is that why he did it?”

What a total douche canoe. I wanted to slap him, but stared him down instead as I prepared my reply. “Gosh, I think that was five questions, not one. I know, I know…math is hard, right? Anyway. My mother died intestate, which means the entire contents of her estate passes to me according to Louisiana law. The will that was in Mr. Bonaventura’s possession was revoked, and another was not created. You can contact her attorney, Bartholomew Stevens, if you have additional questions regarding the matter. As to why he did it, my guess is he came back to New Orleans expecting something, and when it turned out that something was actually nothing, he grew rather malcontented. Next question, you in the red T-shirt.”

He held out his phone to better capture our exchange, sun creating a halo around his blonde, curly hair. “Maude, is it true that Mr. Bonaventura cheated on you with your own mother, and that your father killed himself because of it?”

Tom muttered something under his breath, and I hoped I was the only one who’d heard. The inner calm I felt in the face of a question that would have caused a breakdown just days earlier made me feel damn near invincible. “Absolutely correct.” I pointed at the young Asian woman dressed in a bright purple track suit and pink Converse Hi-Tops. “You’re next, please.”

Her face was an expressionless mask. “According to Passages Hospice, you never visited your mother there prior to her death. Is that accurate, and if so, why?”

“Yes. That’s correct. As to why…my mother suffered from alcoholism and Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Though, in actuality, it was everyone close to her who did the majority of the suffering. Her cause of death was alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver. The last time I saw her was in 1998, when I walked in on her and Mr. Bonaventura during an intimate encounter. No-contact is a widely accepted method for dealing with toxic people in order to facilitate recovery. I was contacted by the hospice when she passed as I’m the only next of kin. Gal in the tank top…your turn.”

The tank top was an old-school wife beater, paired with khaki shorts that reached her knees. Her white- blond hair was short on one side, long on the other, with pink tips. “My sources tell me that you’re an alcoholic too. True or false?”

My jaw tightened. They’d obviously been speaking with ‘mourners’ in spades, and it was no surprise that a good number of people here still thought of me as drunkard Mary’s drunkard daughter. “In September of 1996, my boyfriend was killed in a car accident. Shortly after his funeral, I discovered I was pregnant. Soon after THAT, I miscarried. I found myself unable to cope with such profound loss and used alcohol to self-medicate. Since I honestly can’t say whether I wasn’t capable of stopping or just chose not to during the time I was drinking, alcoholic is probably an applicable term. I’ve been sober for seventeen years, though. Last question, gentleman with the man bun.”

He laughed briefly, then frowned slightly, as if he was reconsidering asking what he’d planned to. “Hello, Maude. I spoke with Mr. Bonaventura’s current wife, Anna Beth, this morning via phone. When I asked her how she felt regarding his arrest, she expressed relief and indicated that he abused her verbally and physically. Is that something you experienced during your marriage to him?”

I gave a curt nod. “Yes. It was. Unfortunately, it was something I’d endured for years in my own home prior to marrying Mr. Bonaventura, so it didn’t seem abnormal to me until after I removed myself from the situation. If my sources are correct, Anna Beth was very young when she met and married him, as was I. It is my hope that this incident will allow her to move on with her life, heal and find the peace she deserves. Okay, folks. Apologies, but that’s all I have time for. Thanks so very much for your cooperation.”

Man bun raised his hand, then pointed to my walking boot. “Maude, I’m pretty sure we’re all wondering how that happened. Would you mind…”

My eyes rolled skyward. “Damn, and here I thought you wouldn’t notice.” Laughter rang out. “I wore heels to dinner last night, and they got the best of me. Right down on my ass in the middle of the Palm Court Café. It’s just a sprain, two weeks and I should be good. Seriously, though…gotta go. You all enjoy the rest of the day.”

They stepped back and to the side, allowing us to pass. Four crutch swings later Tom appeared in front of me, the admiration in his eyes flooring me completely and freezing me in place. Two steps brought him close enough to lean in to kiss me, admiration replaced by ardor and fire, grasping the back of my neck with one hand, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth so forcefully that I came. It was a tiny orgasm, over and done in two seconds, but an orgasm nevertheless. His grip on my neck tightened, and I knew he must have felt me shudder. He deepened the kiss, and as our tongues met I heard camera clicks, faint, as if they were down at the end of a tunnel, far away. A distant repetition of ‘Excuse me, Ms. Gallagher?’ grew ever louder, finally snapping me back to reality. I pulled back, looked past Tom to discern the source, and was mildly humiliated upon seeing Reverend Thompson standing there. His face was as red as a cherry tomato, the flush extending down his neck and, I assumed, beneath his clerical collar.

He cleared his throat, hands clasped behind his back. “Ms. Gallagher, we’re about to begin. Follow me, please.”

Tom remained in front of me, a look of astonishment on his face as he mouthed the words ‘Did you…?’ I plastered a polite smile on my countenance, nodding at him as I addressed the reverend.

“Apologies, Reverend Thompson. Thank you for your patience. Lead the way.”

As we walked toward the entrance Tom fell into step beside me, whispering in my ear. “An orgasm. From a kiss. MY kiss. Man alive, I feel like a fucking rock star right now.”

My head spun in his direction, ponytail swishing back and forth across my neck in its wake, eyes narrowed. His mouth dropped open, then closed again as he reached out to touch my bare shoulder.

“Maude, I’m sorry, that was a dreadfully self-centered thing to…”

I grinned and shook my head, speaking softly as he removed his hand. “I’m just screwing with you, Thomas. That lip thing…it…DID something to me. Anyway. Allow me to assure you that you are a fucking rock star. MY rock star. And as an added bonus, it would have REALLY pissed my mother off to know that I was making out with the sexiest man alive at her funeral.”

“That’s not a title People magazine has bestowed upon me as yet, Maude.”

“I’m well aware of their prior woefully inadequate choices. But I just did.”

“And that’s infinitely more meaningful, of course.”

“Nice save, Hiddleston. If they don’t put you on the cover soon, though, they’re going to be getting some…calls.”

We’d reached the front door, and Reverend Thompson held it open for us. The service was being held in the same room as the viewing, and as we approached I could see it was packed well beyond its limit. After pausing for a moment to prepare myself to walk the gauntlet, I opted to do so without the crutches, resting them against the wall to the right of the doorway. Reverend Thompson motioned for us to enter before him, and Tom offered his arm. I gratefully accepted, and as we crossed the threshold all heads turned, row by row, gazes fixed upon us. Tom’s face was expressionless, the dark blue of his button down shirt reflecting in his eyes, black trousers sitting low on his hips, black leather tie perfectly knotted at his neck. Even less graceful than normal due to the height difference of my walking boot and my black Birki, I kept myself in check by counting the number of steps it took to reach the front of the room where the closed casket rested, covered in a blanket of pink roses. Two seats were vacant in the front row, on the aisle and next to Anne. The whispers began when we were halfway there, fifteen steps in. My head remained high, jaw firmly set, as I passed by the throng of people who’d decided attending the funeral of someone they hadn’t given the remotest shit about in order to obtain a firsthand account of the event so they could later spread any juicy gossip they managed to gather was an ideal way to spend a summer afternoon.

Tom continued to hold my arm until I was comfortably seated next to Anne, then took his place at my side. Anne patted my knee as Reverend Thompson half-jogged to the front and began. I put my right hand over hers and squeezed, and Tom reached out to take my left one in his. After the introductory portion of the service, I zoned out, Reverend Thompson’s voice becoming very similar to that of the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon. All I heard was ‘wah wah, wah wah wah wah wah, wah wah’, and eventually even that faded away into nothing. Man bun’s words haunted me, and my thoughts turned to Anna Beth. I’d been strong enough to get away from Will on my own, but I’d actually had somewhere to get away TO, the funds to get there, AND enough to start over with. Those were luxuries she did not possess, and there were three children she’d need to support on her own going forward as well, another hurdle I hadn’t had to clear. Marrying at such a young age had more than likely put her in a position wherein she had little to no employment experience, and few marketable job skills…or none whatsoever. Though I’d intended to donate the proceeds of the estate sale to the Metropolitan Center for Women and Children, I found myself seriously considering sending them her way instead. It would have to be done anonymously, of course, and Barty already had a way to contact her. Part of me felt as if I’d be slighting the many to help the few, but in this instance it was personal. We had an ill-fated kinship, Anna Beth and I, born of lies emanating from a man who’d used us for his own nefarious purposes, violence and mental abuse his means of controlling us so we’d never dare to question a single blessed thing as he fulfilled his unscrupulous objectives.

The sound of the crowd around me rising to their feet derailed my train of thought, and I left my seat as fast as I possibly could, not wanting anyone to have the slightest indication that I hadn’t been paying any attention to the service. At all. Tom’s arm slipped around my waist, and we remained where we were until the rest of the room cleared. Anne offered to join us at the cemetery, asking to hitch a ride in our rental car as she’d taken a cab to the funeral. I was pleased to discover that the news trucks had departed, but the paps remained, photographing and filming Anne and I as we waited for Tom to bring the car round for us. At Greenwood it was just the three of us, the hearse driver, and the folks responsible for the interment procedures. I remained back at least fifteen feet from the crypt, silent the entire time, having already said my final goodbyes to the people who’d brought me into this world. We left for as soon as they began the closing process, and I looked back over my shoulder one last time as we made our way out of the garden, wanting this moment to be my last memory of my mother. Dead. Gone. Sealed inside a coffin, inside a mausoleum, never to speak new words that could hurt me ever again. And that was enough to shift the specter of the past from translucent to transparent…what used to only allow light to pass through while masking the details was now completely clear, entirely visible. The thing about the past is this…it’s always present. There’s no escape from it. You can run, you can hide, but it will inevitably find you. There is, of course, a better solution, one I’d finally been brave enough to attempt. Face it. Embrace it. Remember it. Learn from it. And, most importantly, try your best to not let it fuck your life up too badly along the way as you moved further and further beyond it.

Tom and I bid Anne adieu as we dropped her off at Café du Monde, then hurried back to the hotel so we’d have enough time to change, pack, check out, and arrive at the airport by four. Our flight was scheduled to leave Louis Armstrong International at five-thirty and arrive in New York at nine-thirty, and if the gods were feeling generous we’d be settled into my apartment an hour or so later. Or, I should say, our apartment. A foreign concept as far as I was concerned, but one that made me deliriously happy. And that was something I could totally get used to.

**************************************** The duration of our first-class flight was primarily spent sending each other naughty text messages, each one filthier than the last. Afterward there was much debate as to who started it, but I refused to confess even though I was guilty as sin. He was just sitting there, in his cargo shorts and white V-neck T-shirt, up against the window with the sun reflecting on his pretty fucking face, driving me insane.

The hollow at the base of your neck, right above your collarbones. My tongue needs to be there. Like, now. – M

Go ahead. No one will notice. We’re in the last row. – T

Hmm…is it me or did that make your nipples hard, Thomas? I can see them right through your shirt. Guess they’ll be the next stop for my tongue. – M

The first stop for MY tongue is going to be your mouth, Maude. Running it over your lips, your teeth, then thrusting it in and out over and over until your moaning alerts the passengers in front of us. –T

Back and forth we went, until the final exchange.

I’m going to work my cock into your ass, inch by inch, until I’m buried inside you. Then I’m going to slip three fingers into your pussy and fuck you with them as well, so I can feel my cock from the INSIDE through the oh-so-thin wall that gives both of us so much pleasure as I pound your ass relentlessly, my thumb massaging your clit until you want to scream…but since you can’t, I’ll be forced to cover your mouth with my hand in order to keep you quiet. – T

And just as you’re about to come, I’ll invite you to fuck my mouth. As soon as you pull out of me, I’m going to drop to my knees and suck your cock so hard you’ll see stars. I’ll sneak my index finger in my beside it at some point, get it nice and wet, then run it between your ass cheeks until I find that glorious pucker. My finger will keep moving round and round the rim as I keep licking at and sucking on your cock, loosening you up, stretching, until you’re ready…then in it goes. Then out, then in. Again and again. I’ll wait until I feel your rhythm start to falter, then I’ll press my finger down on that magical spot inside you and swallow you whole as your come shoots down my throat, hot and sticky. You’ll have bruises on your knuckles for a week from biting down on them so hard. – M

That broke him. He stood, put his hands in his pockets to hide his raging hard on as best he could, pushed past me and locked himself in the bathroom. When he returned he was smirking, and I’d thought I wouldn’t need to, but he kissed me, long and slow, and I found myself in the loo a few moments later, pants around my ankles as I attempted to rub one out so I could make it home without fucking him in the back of the car that would be waiting for us. Or on the plane. In front of everyone. My phone dinged, and I bent to pull it out of my pants pocket. He’d sent me a video he’d made during his turn, hand on his cock, jerking himself off, standing right in the same spot I was in now. That was all the inspiration I required, and then some. I deleted it as soon as I finished, then texted him to remind him to do the same. Even though his face wasn’t visible, it still wasn’t something that should be kept around. Despite the fact that I wanted to watch it a thousand more times.

As we circled LaGuardia, I began singing Frank Sinatra’s ‘New York, New York’. Quietly, I might add, until Tom joined in, then a good number of the other passengers in first class, turning it into an impromptu sing-along that grew loud enough as we reached the final chorus to warrant a shushing from the flight attendant. We disembarked, picked up our luggage, and found the driver holding a sign with GALLAGHER written on it. Tom had given the company my name in an attempt to avoid any unnecessary scrutiny, but it turned out to not make a difference as this was New York, where no one gave much of a fuck about how famous you were. I’d seen Madonna try to cut line at a bagel shop once, only to be rebuked none too gently by everyone already waiting, resulting in her taking her place at the back of the queue, laughing and saying she should have known better than to do such a thing on her home turf. There was not a single soul standing still as we followed the driver to the curb, everyone looking down and walking quickly as they sought to fulfill their own personal missions.

Forty-five minutes later we arrived at 250 Mercer Street in Greenwich Village/NoHo, a wide smile spreading across my face at the prospect of being home, growing ever wider when I turned to Tom and it hit me that for the first time since college, someone I loved was coming home with me.

He leaned over me, peering out my open window, craning his neck to see how high it went despite the fact that it was dark.

My hand found his thigh and settled there. “It’s 16 floors in some spots. Building was erected in 1888, renovated in 1979 and remained rental apartments until 1986 when it went co-op. My dad bought it in 1995, for exactly how much I don’t know. He signed it over to me for a dollar a few months later, and I didn’t pay any attention at all to the paperwork. Surprising, right? I’d have to pull the deed to find out the amount. Now it’s worth around eight hundred thousand or so, but I don’t care, because I am NEVER selling it. I’m on the 5th floor. And yes, there are elevators. Thank god.” I opened the door, stepping on my right foot gingerly. The pain was back, mainly because I was a fucking moron and not only forgot to take my ibuprofen but had packed it away in my suitcase instead of my carry on. The crutches were in the trunk, and the driver brought them around first for me, the followed with our luggage.

Tom came out on the curb side as well, stretching, arms up over his head, T-shirt riding up just enough to reveal his belly button and the start of his happy trail as he glanced around at the street signs and location. “The Village, yes?”

“Technically it’s right on the border of Greenwich Village and NoHo. Best of both worlds and all that. Washington Square Park is right over that way…” I pointed in the correct direction, but it looked like I was pointing at air since it wasn’t visible. “You can totally see it from my window.”

Tom tipped the driver, who’d brought the luggage right to the door for us when he realized it was way too much for one person to carry. The glass door opened towards us, and out stepped Murray Goldberg, my favorite doorman. His uniform was black, with gold trim and buttons, exactly the same as it had been when I’d moved in, and, according to him, as it was when he started back in 1987. He was in his mid-sixties, not much taller than I was, with thinning white hair and gold-framed John Lennon glasses.

“Well, well, well…look what the cat dragged in. If it’s isn’t Miss Maude Gallagher. You were supposed to be back for the July 4th weekend…how I worried and worried!” He chuckled as I half-embraced him, crutches tucked to my side with my elbows.

“Oh please. You are so full of shit, old man. You didn’t even notice I was gone. And besides, look what I brought back with me!” I released him and gestured to Tom. “Murray, this is Tom Hiddleston. Tom, Murray Goldberg.”

Murray glanced at Tom, then rolled his eyes at me. “So THIS is why you went AWOL.” He held his hand out to Tom, who shook it vigorously. “Nice to meet you, Tom. Welcome to 250 Mercer.”

Tom grinned. “Thank you, Murray. Pleasure to meet you as well.”

Murray looked puzzled for a moment, and I knew it had dawned on him that Tom was an actor, but he shrugged it off and poked my arm, suddenly switching to a thick Brooklyn accent. “Englishman, eh? Whatsamatta, New York guys not good enough for ya anymore?”

I snorted. “Nice. Offend him before he even has a chance to see the place.” We all laughed, and I pointed to my walking boot. “I’m injured. I don’t suppose you can dig us up a luggage dolly from somewhere?”

He shook his head at Tom. “Been back less than five minutes and she’s already a giant pain in my ass. Wait here.”

They loaded the cart while I watched, and Murray wished us a good night as we headed for the elevator. Tom wheeled it inside and I punched the 5 button quickly, hoping to avoid company. My strategy was successful, and less than a minute later the stainless steel sliders opened, my white apartment door visible from where we stood. It turned out that crutches were useful for holding elevators, but I felt completely useless as I watched Tom struggling to drag the cart up over the lip and onto the grey carpet.

I pointed to the left. “C503. That’s us, right over there.” Grabbing my messenger bag off the pile of luggage, I fished out my keys, put the correct one in the deadbolt, then pushed down on the handle. The door swung inward, and I reached in and flipped the light switch. I turned around to see Tom, his eyes wide and slightly misty. I grinned, leaned my crutches against the sideboard and threw myself at him, arms wrapping around his waist. “Welcome home, Thomas.”

****************************************

To the right of the door, behind the bathroom, was a metal staircase that led to the loft. Tom unloaded all the luggage there, then brought the cart back downstairs to Murray. I fumbled around in the sideboard drawers, looking for my spare apartment key. It was way in the back, buried under entirely too many takeout menus…all of which reminded me that I was starving. The stove clock said it was 10:55. Most of the Thai and Chinese places would be closing soon, but The Bagel Café/Ray’s Pizza was open, and they had a huge menu to choose from.

“New York, I have missed you so very much. Where else can I get breakfast delivered to my door in the middle of the night if I want? And cannolis. And cake. And…”

My musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. I opened it just a crack, peeking out and pretending to be wary. “Yes?”

Tom raised a brow and grinned.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

He feigned exasperation, arms crossed, frowning and tapping his foot.

“Oh, right. You’re that totally hot guy who followed me home from Hawaii.” I opened the door fully. “Well, come on in, I guess.”

Tom grabbed my waist, bending down to kiss my neck. “Totally hot guy wants to drag his totally hot woman to bed, but he’s suffering the effects of food deprivation and fears his performance will suffer unless calories are consumed forthwith.”

I passed him the extensive Ray’s menu, pulled my phone from my pocket and hefted myself onto one of the kitchen bar chairs, mentally noting that finding the ibuprofen should be next on my to do list. “Let me know what you want. I’m going to add my stuff to the order while you’re deciding.”

I ordered a Meat Lover’s Omelet with bacon, home fries and toast, an everything bagel with scallion cream cheese, a slice of strawberry cheesecake, a large orange juice and a large black tea with cream and sugar. Tom was still perusing the menu. I managed to be patient for a bit, but then leaned forward, putting my face between him and the paper.

He laughed. “Someone’s nearing hangry level orange.”

“Mmm, not quite yet but if you don’t make up your mind soon things may get ugly before the delivery guy gets here.”

“Well, no one wants that, do they? I’d like a large Irish Crème coffee, a cranberry scone, a Gone Bananas smoothie, a Greek salad and a deluxe cheeseburger with bacon, please.”

“Dude, your order is even weirder than mine. I’m impressed.” I entered his items and my credit card info, then pressed the submit order button. Forty minutes according to the website, which was unusually fast. I slid off the chair and stood on my left foot as I reached for the crutches. “It’ll probably be an hour before it gets here. There should be some water and soda in the fridge, though, in case you’re thirsty. I’m going to go scare up some ibuprofen so I can maybe walk upstairs at some point this evening.”

Tom shook his head. “No, stay. I’ll get it for you. Where is it?”

“In one of my suitcases. I think. All I really know is that I packed it.”

“Do you keep any here in the house?”

My mouth dropped open. “Well, shit. Yeah. The bathroom, cabinet under the sink. Wonder how long it would have taken me to come up with that? Oy. It’s the door behind you, on the right.”

He came back, shaking the bottle, then went around the corner into the kitchen, opening the stainless-steel refrigerator door and letting out a low whistle. “Soda, water, basic condiments and some whipped butter. Toss in some ancient moldy leftovers and a few bottles of beer and it would be identical to mine. Though mine’s just white. Not fancy and shiny like this one.”

He passed me a bottle of water across the counter, and I quickly swallowed two tiny red pills and stuck my tongue out at him. “It used to be much shittier, trust me. Back in 2011 everything was in such bad shape I said fuck it and decided to put the money into renovating it. Plus, I needed more storage options. For books. Want the official downstairs tour?”

“Indeed I do.”

I pointed at the kitchen. “Where you’re at…that’s the kitchen.” He smacked my hand gently and rolled his eyes. “Countertops are concrete, back splash is glass tile. Gas stove over yonder, mainly used for boiling water and reheating takeout food. Next to the fridge is a Fisher & Paykel DishDrawer. It’s a dishwasher, but it pulls out like a drawer and takes up a lot less space. We won’t talk about how much it cost. It’s embarrassing, and I didn’t really NEED it but damn, it’s really fucking cool. Don’t open it, though. I think I may have forgotten to do them before I left. After seeing my mother’s house I don’t like the cabinets as much as I used to, but at least they have stainless pulls instead of gold. Bathroom next.”

Tom rounded the corner and followed me the seven steps to the washroom. “You’ve already seen this. And you’ve looked in the cabinet under the sink. Hopefully there’s nothing too embarrassing in there, though I tend to keep most of that stuff in the loft. Floor is teeny tiny marble tiles, walls are subway tile, because, New York, and the shower is black glass tile. I love glass tile. I have no idea why, but I do. The overhead light in there is awesome…I abhor showering in low light. Can’t see shit. The fixture is a Grohe, and it’s got a rain head AND a massager. In retrospect, I would have gone with just the massager because the rain head gets water in my eyes constantly. And here we have a sink, and the excrement receptacle. Very exciting, no?”

He chuckled. “Excrement receptacle. I’m stealing that one, if you don’t mind.”

I waved my hand. “Sure, fine, why not. Now, let’s adjourn to the living area. To your left is the sideboard, where I keep all the crap I don’t have another place for. The mirror above is handy for making sure there are no boogers hanging from my nose before I leave the house AND for watching myself burn things in the kitchen. Up next are these very cool metal lockers that function as my coatroom and general storage. They all have a different combinations and I don’t know the two on the far end so please don’t turn the dials. To your right is a dining set that is not anywhere within the scope of my usual taste, but it was a gift from Anne when I first moved in and part of her parent’s estate so it remains. Recovering the seats in black leather made them more palatable. There’s a matching hutch on the wall behind it, which I use for books instead of dishes. The rug is from her, too. Sorry, am I rambling? Just let me know if you want me to shut up.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m enjoying this immensely. This…this is the place you call home. I want to know every detail, the how, the why, the significance of each and every thing and what it means to you.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, well, we’re only going to be here for three days and I did plan on leaving the house to do stuff so…anyway.” I gestured to the windows. “Those are eight feet high, the ceilings are twelve. There’s a remote on the coffee table that opens and closes the shades. Some people don’t mind parading around in the buff in front of the entire city, but I try to avoid it. Emphasis on TRY.” He laughed. “The bookshelves are custom…I designed them myself. Underneath are storage cabinets, which hold more books, my speakers, and some DVDs and CDs. The rug under the coffee table is also from Anne, and the white sofa…I have no explanation for it other than it had clean lines and metal feet. How it’s remained unscathed in light of my clumsiness is a mystery. The chaise part is pretty cool, though, and the TV’s on a swivel so I can turn it in that direction. Both pieces of art are things I found while traveling. The one by the windows was at an estate sale in Boston, and the big one is from a gallery in San Francisco.” I held my hands out to the side at shoulder level. “So, that’s it, I guess. If you turn around you’ll see the loft, and as soon as my meds kick in we can go up and unpack. Oh, wait. One more thing. Here’s your key.” I reached into my pocket, then held it out to him, allowing it to lay flat on my palm.

He lifted it slowly, the pads of his fingers brushing delicately against my hand, the connection creating a current of what felt like a thousand volts. It surged through me, and when I met his gaze he burst into tears. I wound my arms around him, crutches falling to the floor with a metallic whump, kissing each wet cheek in turn as my own eyes began streaming.

Wiping at his eyes with the back of one hand, his other arm around my waist, he smiled softly. “Wow. Sorry about that…I just…I…not even seven days ago I was certain I’d lost you forever and here we are, actually, finally in New York and you’ve welcomed me into your home…into your LIFE…and I’m just…I’m…so…so…GRATEFUL, Maude. And thankful. All that we’ve learned about each other, how much closer we’ve grown…which, honestly, I wouldn’t have believed to be possible, given how close we already were…I feel…unburdened. Lighter. Freer. I feel…ALIVE. So very much alive.”

His mouth was on mine before I had a chance to speak, and when he did the lip thing again I lost my mind completely. One hand was up my shirt, caressing my breasts first over then under my bra, the other down my shorts, inside my underwear, two fingers abruptly thrust inside me, pumping in and out. I glanced at the stove clock as I undid his zipper and wrapped my hand around his throbbing cock. It read 11:25. At least fifteen more minutes before dinner arrived. Plenty of time.

He whimpered pitifully as I began stroking him, voice breaking when he managed to speak. “Oh…Maude…I wanted to wait and take my time but…ohhhhh, GOD…I’m afraid I’m more than a little desperate for you, my love. May I have you, please? Now?”

I walked him backward toward the coffee table, fumbled for the remote and hit the button to close the shades, then grabbed waist of his shorts and pushed them down over his hips until they fell unceremoniously to the floor. He did the same with mine, dragging my panties with them, pausing to allow me to lean on him as he lifted my right leg to pull them over the boot. Our mouths met again, mine open and waiting for his tongue. His kiss was at first gruff, then yielding, gasping as I sought to imitate the forcefulness he’d displayed when sucking on my lip, pulling his into my mouth with a ferocity I hadn’t known I possessed. I felt myself being lowered onto a surface, which I assumed was the chaise portion of the couch, but wouldn’t have cared if it was a bed of nails.

Suddenly his weight was upon me, cock hard and leaking against my entrance. He broke the kiss to hold my head in his hands, our foreheads almost touching, gazes locked. “I love you, Maude. I will love you all of this life, and in each and every one that follows. I will love you as the world turns to ash around us. I will love you as the universe collapses into itself, and in the blackness of the eternity that awaits, I will remain, with you, at your side, holding your hand, never to let go. This love…it knows no bounds. It is forever. Two souls made one, together unto infinity. I love you. I love you.”

He shifted his hips, pushing himself inside me, slowly, stilling when he hit bottom, and I wept against his shoulder, hands at his waist under his shirt and grasping his hips. He wrapped his arms around me, hands in my hair, his lips on my neck, kissing every spot over and over.

“I love you, Thomas. Never let me go. Please. Never let me go.”

We began moving together, all gentleness cast aside as we raced at breakneck speed to feel the completeness that resulted only when the physical and the spiritual combined. His hips slammed against mine so savagely I knew I’d wake tomorrow to bruises, and my hands moved further up and under his shirt, fingernails digging in, then raking down his back as the head of his cock nudged my cervix and I came, pleasure and pain intermingling, a chasm opening and suspending us in a single instance of time and space as I felt his cock pulsing in tempo with my walls, then erupting its liquid fire inside me, like a volcano buried deep in the ocean floor.

The only sound in the apartment was our breathing, both of us panting and gasping. Tom rose up on his elbows, conducting a visual inspection to determine if I’d incurred any damage.

“Fuck, Maude…I’m so sorry…that was positively barbarous of me…are you all right? And your ankle…I forgot about THAT altogether…”

I placed my palms on his chest. “Barbarous is a bit harsh, don’t you think? I’d go with delightfully uncivilized. Either way, it was electrifying. And I’m fine. How’s your back, though? Let me see.”

“My back? Why?” He whipped his shirt off and slipped it under me as he pulled out and turned around. Eight welts stretched from his shoulders to his waist, four of them bleeding in spots.

My hand flew to my mouth, dampening a loud gasp. “Now that there, THAT’S barbarous. You. Are. Bleeding.”

He craned his neck to see behind him, then got up and went to look in the sideboard mirror. I got up, and hobbled over to stand next to him, clad only in my T-shirt.

“Tom…shit…I’m like…SO sorry. Yikes. I’ll go get some peroxide…”

He started at his reflection, head tilted, puzzled. “I didn’t feel that. At all.” As he turned around to face me, his hands reached for mine, grasping them. “What I DID feel was you. Us. I want you to know, Maude, I meant every word of what I said. Every word.”

“I know. Thank you. I…I…I’m not sure if I can formulate a reply that would convey my own feelings adequately…”

A kiss cut me off, his tongue forcing its way past my lips and teeth to reach mine, and when he pulled away he pointed at the couch. “You already did, my love.”

The blush began in my already flushed cheeks and spread all the way down to my breasts. My gaze shifted from his face to the floor. “Oh.”

Tom chuckled. “Suddenly modest, are we?”

I let go of his hands in order to cover my face. “Oh. My. GOD. Shut. UP.”

He roared with laughter, the sound echoing in the open space that surrounded us. I turned on my heel as quickly as my injury would allow and opened the bathroom door, looking back at him over my shoulder.

“I’m still going to get you some peroxide, in spite of the fact that you’re a complete and total asshole.”

The laughter continued as I searched the drawer, then abruptly ceased as someone knocked on the door and loudly announced ‘delivery for Gallagher’.

I took off my T-shirt and tossed it to Tom. “Here, put this on. And don’t forget your shorts. I’ll hide in here. There’s tip money in the dish on top of the sideboard.”

Figuring I might as well pee while I was in there, I giggled as I sat down on the seat. “Excrement receptacle. Damn, I’m fucking hilarious.” I could hear Tom thanking the delivery guy as I finished up and washed my hands, followed by the sound of the door closing. He was in the kitchen when I came out, removing the food from the bags and placing it on the counter, sorting it into two piles. I put my underwear back on and dug a T-shirt out of my luggage. There was no way to be sure whether it was clean or dirty, but it passed the sniff test so I deemed it wearable.

We ate at the dining table, him snatching half my bagel and a good sized chunk of my omelet. The cheesecake and the scone went in the fridge so we’d have something on hand that passed for breakfast, and as he loaded the silverware into the dishdrawer (which had been empty, thankfully) a yawn escaped him, so powerful he dropped the fork he’d been holding.

I bent to pick it up, remembering he’d been up hours before I had. It seemed a physical impossibility that the press encounter and funeral had occurred earlier that same day, and suddenly all I wanted to do was lie down with him snuggled against me. He closed the drawer and pushed the start button, and I reached for his hand.

“Come on, you. Time for sleep.”

He let go, shaking his head. “We haven’t unpacked, nor have we texted Luke and Simon to let them know we arrived safely and to find out if they have as well, and we still have to call Norman…”

I grabbed my phone from my shorts, which were still on the floor where he’d dropped them. “There. Luke and Simon texted. Where’s your phone? Let’s text Norman, too.” He passed it to me. I typed quickly.

Hey – just wanted to say thank you for reaching out, and no worries. The internet, as they say, is forever. Appreciate you noticing and providing clarity as to the source. Hope filming the rest of the season is going well. Best, Gallagher & Hiddleston

I turned the screen so Tom could read what I’d written.

He nodded. “That’s perfect. Thank you.”

I hit send, set my phone on the sideboard and turned off the downstairs lights. “Let’s go. Move that ass.”

He snorted and followed me up the stairs. It felt like it took forever with the stupid boot, and I dreaded having to pee during the night. I turned back the covers, then stood by the dresser at the bottom of the bed and removed my shirt and panties, Tom’s arms winding around my waist from behind, holding me in place so I didn’t fall over as I wrangled the underwear over the boot.

His voice rumbled in my ear. “So, this is where the magic happens…”

“Ummm…if you’re referring to solo magic, yes. Lots of it. But other than that, no. Not in a long, long time, anyway.”

His grip loosened and he stepped back, silent until I turned around.

“Maude, I’d forgotten he lived here with you…I’m…”

I raised my hand to stop him. “Shush. There’s no longer room in my heart, or my head, for anything other than what’s right in front of me. What happened can’t be changed, nor would I want it to be. Life is meant to be experienced in the moment. If you dwell on the past or focus on the future, you miss everything in between. Trust me. I know. And I’m so very, very done with missing out. Now get those clothes off.” I held out my right arm, palm up, towards the platform that held a queen size mattress. “This way to my bed, sir.”

#your light in the mist #chapter 23

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dsrparkway · 3 years ago

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muabannhadatbinhduonggiare · 4 years ago

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Nhà phố The Standard Bình Dương biệt lập khép kín đẳng cấp, tiện ích 5 sao hiện hữu, CK từ 2-3%

THE STANDARD CENTRAL PARK BÌNH DƯƠNG – AN GIA INVESTMENT. 💦Giữ chổ ưu tiên 50 triệu/căn. 💦Tên thương mại: THE STANDARD CENTRAL PARK. 💦Vị trí dự án: Thủ Khoa Huân – Tân Phước Khánh 10 – Bình Dương.

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Liên hệ để đi xem và cảm nhận thực tế về dự án !

Trân Trọng !

Điện thoại:

Bài viết Nhà phố The Standard Bình Dương biệt lập khép kín đẳng cấp, tiện ích 5 sao hiện hữu, CK từ 2-3% đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Mua bán nhà đất Bình Dương.

source https://muabannhadat.binhduong.vn/nha-pho-the-standard-binh-duong-biet-lap-khep-kin-dang-cap-tien-ich-5-sao-hien-huu-ck-tu-2-3-57865.html

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 7 years ago

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Resource Management, pt14

Word Count: 3001 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @anotherotter @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses @mtriestowrite @wanderingkat77

I would be lying completely if I said I wasn’t dragging my sad, sorry ass out for my morning running date with Lex. I slowly made my way to our meeting place. Lex was waiting for me, looking far too pleased to be awake. I stifled a yawn and tried to smile.

“You look exhausted, Anna.” Lex had the concern of a doctor.

“It was one helluva weekend,” I admitted.

“You’re sure that’s all? You’re so pale.” She stepped closer. I waved her off.

“Really, I’m just tired,” I excused. “I’m going to be pathetic, but I’m here.”

“Okay. I’ll push the same as I did on Saturday, but just walk if you’re really dying,” Lex said. We stretched and then headed out. I figured if Lex was going to treat me like it was any other day, I should probably act as though it was, and I tried to shake off the exhaustion. I truly tried. About 15 minutes into the run, I felt the fatigue drop off, almost like I was shedding a weight. My legs felt good, my muscles felt loose, and I felt awake. And energetic. I picked up my pace, and kept up with the intervals when Lex pushed. She didn’t say anything, but I could tell she’d noticed because our pace increased just a little. I pushed through to the end of the run and felt amazing when we finally slowed down. I was hot, and sweaty, and tired, but it was a different tired than when I’d arrived at the park.

“You broke your wall,” Lex commented as we stretched.

“Yeah, I feel good.”

“Endorphins are a powerful thing,” she laughed. “Seriously. Good for stress, increased energy. You’ll probably have a great day.”

“Well, I am in the process of rebuilding a destroyed department. Might not be the best day ever, but I certainly feel better for it right now. Thanks, Lex. I’ll see you Wednesday.” I headed home to get ready for work. Before I headed out the door, I packed up my gym bag for my hand-to-hand training, strapped on my sidearm, and pocketed my badge. I had a total James Bond moment as I walked down to my car. I was certainly dressed to kill, taking my new role as director to heart. I had dug out my nicest blazer and pencil skirt, and matched it with a pair of patent heels. I’d wrapped my hair in a bun, and slipped my glasses in the front of my blouse. Combined with all the new ‘accessories’, I really felt like I was an international woman of mystery. Not that I would give someone like Romanoff a run for her money, but I’d decided to own the sexy librarian comparison Rick had made. I almost wished I had Lola just so I could complete the utter badassery of my image. The self-satisfied smirk I wore was probably enough though.

I strode into the office, feeling confident, and surprisingly, there was nothing to bring me down. I almost expected something. I locked my purse in my desk and went to fill my coffee cup. Erin was leaning against the counter in the kitchenette, waiting for the pot to finish brewing. She was holding a ridiculous sea life pirate mug in her hand that I recalled her having at her place. It had a school of fish with pirate bandanas and an octopus with a peg-tentacle and tricorn hat on it. It was ridiculous, and silly and brought exactly the kind of levity we needed into the office.

“Settling in then?” I nodded at the mug.

“When I close my eyes, I see the eagle burned into my eyelids. It’s on everything. I just needed something to make me feel like I am still me,” she sighed. The coffeemaker beeped and she pulled it off the burning to pour for both of us.

“Thanks. Have you checked email this morning?” I asked.

“I have two or three urgent emails from Fury.” The way she said urgent made me think she was not going to be answering them any time soon. She sighed and sipped at her coffee.

“Has he spoken to you about your new responsibilities?” I asked, trying not to give away what I knew to be Fury’s expectations.

“If he thinks for one minute that I’m going to become a field agent, he’s out of his goddamn mind. I joined SHIELD to use my HR degree, to put money into a 401K and not ever have to think about a different job somewhere else. I’m not about to go from safe and secure in my office to carrying a sidearm and a stupid goddamn badge,” she rolled her eyes. My shoulder holster felt heavy. I wondered if my blazer was hanging funny.

“Erin, it’s not really any different than taking a self-defense class. It’s just paid.” My coffee was still too hot to drink, and I could feel my endorphin high starting to fade. I started back toward our offices.

“Well, if you want to jump through Fury’s hoops, you go right ahead. I, however, am polishing up my resume.” It was unlike Erin to be quite so snarky, but truth be told, I knew where she was coming from. She really wasn’t well suited to the operations side of working at SHIELD. She liked a set schedule, uninterrupted vacation time, and the finer things in life. Had she discovered someone hacking encrypted data on a Saturday night, she certainly wouldn’t have run into the office to find out what was going on. I had no response for her. I accepted everything that came at me in this job, usually without question. In the end, I guess I was more of a company person than she was.

My inbox was filled with angry demands for reinstatement of security clearance. I had anticipated that, and already had a form letter ready for posting in response. I selected each message and attached the letter to it before sending it. That cleared about half of my inbox. There were a few inquiries regarding death benefits, and a cryptic message from Stark that I didn’t understand at all. I finally lit on the last unread message. It was from Kate’s grandmother. I stood and closed my office door before opening the message.

It was short, and sad, and broke my heart. Despite only knowing Kate for the week at the academy, I’d liked her very much. And her grandmother was grieving. I picked up the phone and dialed the number that I’d pulled from Kate’s personnel file. When Kate’s grandmother answered, I quickly identified myself.

“Katie spoke of you after you were away at that conference. She said she was glad to have made a new friend at work.”

“I am so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Banks.” I was at a loss for words. “I just wanted to let you know I received your email, and I have flagged Kate’s file. Your survivor benefit should be fast-tracked.” My voice cracked as I spoke.

“Oh dearheart, that’s not why I wanted you to phone me. I just wanted to tell you about something that happened to me years ago. I found a hornet’s nest in the tree in my backyard. And hornets are horrible pests. They destroy everything around them, and their venom can be quite lethal. I needed to get rid of that nest. I smoked them out, dearest. I waited until they were out of the nest, and calm because of the smoke, and then I dropped a bug bomb right at the nest and killed them all. When there was no more activity, I took down the nest, and I burned it. I’ve never had an issue with hornets since,” she explained. I pinched the bridge of my nose in confusion. Kate’s granny was dotty. I didn’t recall seeing a dementia diagnosis in Kate’s file, but I’d been so emotional I couldn’t see straight.

“That was very brave. Hornets and wasps terrify me,” I allowed.

“Well dear, sometimes we need to face the things we fear the most in order to make our homes safe. Thank you for calling me.” The line went dead. I called up Kate’s personnel file to make a note in it that her next of kin contact was not of sound mind. When I clicked into the cell to access Mrs. Banks’ information and add the note, a deactivated personnel file opened. Cecelia Banks, retired from duty in 1983. Kate’s grandmother had been a field agent. I skimmed the file quickly and saw that she had specialized in encrypted messages. I grabbed my cell and texted Phil quickly.

Do hornets and wasps have any significant meaning in coded messages?

Why?

I just had a weird conversation with someone about how to kill hornets. I think it was a coded message.

Try to remember everything you can about it. We’ll talk over dinner. XO

I slipped my phone into my lap as Erin knocked and entered my office. I closed Cecelia and Kate’s files as Erin flopped into the chair across from me.

“Fury says until I complete my training, my clearance is pulled. This beautiful stack of folders is now all yours.” She dropped a thick stack of files on the edge of my desk. I rolled my eyes. Of course it was.

“And that would be?” I prompted.

“Every outstanding Stark, and Hulk-Smash in the organization. There’s about 85 there,” she winked and patted the pile. I let my head drop and hit the desk.

“Thank you so much,” I groaned. Erin looked far too satisfied as she left my office, annoyingly pert pirate octopus coffee mug in tow. As she breezed out, Natasha Romanoff stepped in. My stomach tightened, and I unlocked the drawer where I kept my purse and dropped the files in before locking it again.

“Agent Ellis.” She offered her hand.

“It’s Ms. or Director, Agent Romanoff. I’m not an agent,” I corrected her and shook her hand.

“But you are. You have your badge now.” Her smile was knowing. I closed my eyes and sighed.

“Of course,” I agreed.

“There’s a training facility a few blocks from here. Did you bring something to change into? You’ll stand out dressed like that.” She was in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt herself.

“I’ll just go get changed now then.” I grabbed my gym bag and headed to the washroom.

I landed on my back, hard. I could feel the eyes of the other agents training on us. Romanoff’s knee was across my throat in seconds, and we were both breathing hard. I kicked out, arching my back and rolling us both over until I’d pinned her. Before I could properly pin her arm, she tucked it between us and used it as leverage to push me back. I scrambled away, and regained my footing, sweat dripping into my eyes. Romanoff’s chest heaved as she circled around me. I sidestepped to keep an even distance between us, keeping my eye on her. She faked a punch to my left and as I dodged, swept my legs from under me. I was done. She pinned me on my stomach and I tapped out, raising both my hands from the mat in surrender.

She stepped off me, and offered me a hand up, patting my shoulder once we were face to face. I had at least an inch or two on her, and probably weighed thirty pounds more than her, although I think most of that weight would have been in my boobs. We probably wouldn’t have been in the same weight division in a tournament, is what I’m trying to say. She was incredibly fast, strong and agile. I felt like a lumbering drunken moose beside her.

“You’re better than the report read,” she commented as she grabbed her water bottle. I pulled my own from my bag and took a long drink.

“You certainly live up to the legend, Romanoff,” I complimented.

“Well, I was raised for this. What exactly is your story?” She asked.

“I grew boobs when I was 11. My dad thought I should know how to defend myself. One thing led to another,” I shrugged.

“You’re good. You telegraph your punches on the right,” she commented.

“I do?”

“No one has ever mentioned that?” She seemed surprised.

“I don’t know that anyone has ever noticed before.” I had a few DVDs of tournament footage at home, I was going to have to look at it and see what she was talking about.

“Well, it’s worth working on. I’ve got a pretty good idea of what I’m going to teach you now. We’ll discuss it over lunch.” We headed toward the change rooms.

Lunch with Romanoff was interesting. Once we were seated at the café, she insisted I call her Natasha, and dropped all the formality I had noticed in the gym. She was a genuinely pleasant person. It took me off-guard, but I wasn’t stupid enough to comment on it. Instead, we enjoyed lunch, and getting to know one another better. We were equally guarded in what we shared. I was careful because we were still trying to keep Phil’s continued pulse quiet. Her reserve came from years of training. She had little tells though, that made her more human. She wore a necklace with an arrow charm on it. After New York, everyone had speculated that she and Barton were close. The charm was very telling.

“I like your necklace,” I commented. She smirked, not the least bit deceived by my ruse.

“I hear that a lot these days.” She looked me in the eye. “It’s just an arrow, Anna.” There was a finality to the way she said it that warned me it wasn’t something she was going to talk about. I raised an eyebrow and smiled back. It was fair. We barely knew each other. I would be disturbed if she started volunteering personal information that we both knew wasn’t in a personnel file.

“Your training. I’ve never actually had a reason to read your personnel file, so I’m not sure about it. You said you were raised for this?” I asked, moving back to what I hoped was a less invasive topic.

“I was orphaned, and the government put me in a program as a young child to train me as an assassin. In Russia, although I think you probably knew that part.” It was an abrupt answer. Fair enough. I would probably be uncomfortable talking about that kind of history as well.

“I’m sorry if that was too personal a question.”

“You have clearance to read my file. It’s nothing you couldn’t have already seen,” she shrugged.

“Dr. Richmond thinks very highly of you.” I was floundering. I felt out of place and awkward and really uncomfortable, despite how easy and pleasant things felt. Almost as though the pleasantry was a façade. She finally broke a genuine smile.

“Lex is a remarkable woman. I wasn’t aware you were friends.” She leaned in a little.

“I would like to say we are, but we’re still acquaintances, mostly. She’s helping me out with the running and fitness portion of my training,” I admitted.

“If anyone can teach you to run, it’s Lex. If she’s not already working on your strength training with you, you should ask her about that too. It’s not really her area, but she’s pretty damn strong.” Natasha looked thoughtful. “You could probably help her with her hand-to-hand in exchange. She’s not as terrible as she used to be, but she’s nowhere near your ability. I work with her on occasion, but not often enough to be able to be consistent.”

“I’ll mention it on Wednesday. Thanks, Natasha.” I’d heard that Romanoff was the most cerebral of the Initiative, and that one little off-hand comment put that into perspective. Her brain obviously never turned off. We collected our things for the short walk back to the office

“I heard you’ve had a couple run-ins with Stark?” She changed the subject with a wry smile.

“I wouldn’t really say run-ins. Well, yeah, I guess. He was in my seminar during the attack on the Triskelion, and then he basically saved my life. And then he bugged my phone and my office,” I laughed.

“I’d call those run-ins. Tony is worth having as an ally, Anna.”

“I’ve already discovered that, and am currently overlooking what I find to be faults,” I laughed. Natasha joined me, nodding.

“We all do.” We were standing outside the building my office was in. I looked up and sighed.

“So, anything you want me to work before Wednesday?” I asked.

“Your shooting. Clint says you’re terrible. And this is going to come easy to you, so don’t sweat it.”

“God, I feel like I’m the current Avengers Initiative assignment,” I laughed.

“Listen, if anything feels weird or off to you, contact one of us. You’ve got contacts now for Clint, Tony, and me. And Lex can get Steve for you in a heartbeat. If anything at all bugs you, trust your gut and track one of us down,” she leaned in and spoke quietly.

“What?” I breathed. I felt the air rush out of my lungs like I’d taken a punch in the solar plexus.

“We both know that attack was an inside job. And whoever did it intended you to die in it. Fury says he’s got one of his best agents keeping an eye on you, but he won’t say who, so I don’t know if he can be trusted. But this isn’t over, Anna, not by a long shot. So if you think you are in the least bit of danger, you let us know,” she kept her voice low. “And don’t forget, stop telegraphing that right,” she raised her voice, and slapped my shoulder as a couple of people came out of the building.

#avengers fanfic #avengers fanfic with OFC #Phil Coulson x OFC

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eikosbeachhouse-blog · 5 years ago

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4 Things To Know About Beach Houses For Rent In Treasure Island, FL

Are you Looking for luxury, extreme comfort, natural attraction, and more security in condo rentals? Here I come up with many answers which you probably need to know before planning a family vacation in Florida.

No Homesickness

The mesmerizing beach beauty lost for a while and remind you are in heaven. So, you do not need to get back home. We all search for scrumptious food, a lot of games, lush green garden to enjoy the scenic views whenever to hang out with family & friends.

The paradise is awaiting in Treasure Island cottages for rent with including plenty of opportunities for you. Early morning, you can get direct sunbath from the balcony and enjoy the sip of warm luscious coffee.

The afternoon is perfect to go online and do chit chat with kith & kin even after the long distance. How to stay connected with lovable ones when prefer condo renting at FL? The answer is a good WiFI facility, tv connection provided at beach houses to bring more fun at every corner.

Modular Kitchen

No need to buy food from outside because you can make freshly brewed coffee, fresh juice, hot chocolate, and other home-made dishes in rental property. They don't demand of expensive budget compared to the restaurants and hotels.

You can easy to get daily use utensils such as microwave, dish-wash, electric grill, refrigerator, garbage disposal with the utmost ease. It will save you hefty money and give extra time to serve your family mouth-watering breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

These are beneficial for inviting the guests to do a lot of gossips which is somewhat difficult in hotels. As you have to pay a lot in that case and costs very high. For these reasons, the beach houses for rent in Treasure Island, FL are more demanding compared to their counterparts.

More spacious

Condos are wide in space and offers several rooms to sleep and fun. It includes an ample parking space for parking two or more cars. The heated swimming pool to keep you odor-free, fresh and clean.

The beautiful balcony to ignite the wanderlust around the paranormal views. The playroom for enthralling gaming experiences to kids. Apart from that, a separate shower room, back yard, bedrooms, living room are other facilities that one can look forward to before visit.

The fully-equipped amenities ensure you to give comfortable stay along with the aesthetic decoration for the photo-shoot. It provides an eco-friendly and peaceful environment to let your fear and stress out.

Budget-friendly

You are happy to know that the seafront rental property is inexpensive so, you will never miss the chance to experience a wealthy life. There is no worry about purchasing additional kitchen and home appliances.

It doesn't demand of repair and maintenance expense that burns a hole in one's pocket. You are free from the HOA & association fees. It can offer deluxe rooms in a single investment.

It ends up the need of finding relaxing space for brisk walking, yoga and performing strenuous exercises. You can meditate for hours without disturbance of vehicles. The affordable place will promote healthy living to meet with you heavenly beauty.

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thedemonconstantine · 4 years ago

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adventurepunks:

Gone were the days when she was young and foolish and thought that Jimi would just tire out. It was as if her golden prince was powered by Duracell running amok and causing havoc. How many times did Talia have to apologize and make excuses with that tired voice, how many times did Talia return home looking like she wrestled bears in the wilderness just from taking him to the park.

Better to have an energetic child than one that just sat in front of the TV she reminded herself.

“Jimi! Jimi stop right now or I am taking you straight home, no shoes, no toy no ice cream” she warned pointing to the noodle bin for Jimi to relinquish his weapons.

“That’s it young man I am not leaving you out of my sight. Hold mommy’s hand” Talia demanded extending her hand to him.

Like wrangling a herd of cats…that’s how it felt to her trying to put order in Jimi’s life.

“What about these Adidas ones?” she asked bringing down a black and white pair for Jimi to look at somehow John’s words still rung in her ears that the kid would pick the most garish looking pair in existence.

“Wuh- b-buh!!” No FAIR, he did as he was told and stayed INSIDE the bloody shop!!

Jimi pouted as he stared at his mother, shoulders slouched whilst dragging himself over to the noodle bin and he sheathed his weapons there. Fine, see, this was why there were no parents in Neverland.

He took Talia’s hand with one and the other was busy picking at his nose. Jimi cleaned his snot on another customer’s coat as they walked by. His boredom was beginning to mount, staring at the rows and rows of shoes that hardly looked impressive, let alone the black and white pair that Ma produced from the highest shelf. It looked exactly like what Lord Poopmian would wear.

“I dun likes it,” He pouted then threw himself across the seats to roll on it for a bit, bumping into a yoga chick that was trying on some trail shoes. She turned, shocked that someone was touching her bum but upon seeing Jimi’s innocent and playful face, laughed and relented.

“Hullo,” Said Jimi whilst looking at her upside down, beaming as he tried to reach for her braids.

“Hello to you too, where’s your mother?”

Jimi pointed to Talia and grinned, “I likes your ‘air-“ Then he melted off the seats and tumbled over to his mother to grab her around her legs.

“Ma I wants ropey ‘air like ‘er!” Point point!!

“Is like a fish tail I kin smack Alexis wiff it when she takes me shirts!” He grabbed Talia’s arm and swung on it and decided he was more liquid now and slumped onto her with a groan.

“Ungghh I dun wants any o’ these, Ma, they’re BORINGGGGGUH——“

#hellblazer #jimi constantine #talia al ghul #her rising star

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singbox13-blog · 5 years ago

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Philly Used to Be a Cat Town. Now It’s Gone to the Dogs.

Crankcase

Screw you, New Philly, and your schnauzer too.

Philly dogs have taken over our once cat-loving town. Photograph by Colin Lenton

When I moved to this city fresh out of college in 1978, I brought with me my cat, Julio, who’d been living (illicitly) in my dorm room. I rented a ground-floor apartment at 21st and Walnut — it cost $145 a month — and Julio and I settled in. The married couple in the apartment next door, Geoff and Danielle, had a couple of cats. Jimmy, the gay guy who lived above them, had a Persian, and Liz, the girl who lived above me, had a loud Siamese. This was a city of cats then; you’d walk down the block and see them sitting in windows, dozing or eyeing pigeons dubiously.

We had cats because cats were suited to the way we lived. We were homebodies; there were so few reasons not to be. The city had hardly any good restaurants — Steve Poses had opened Frög, the sword-tip of the renaissance vanguard, five years earlier. There was Bookbinder’s — well, there were two of them — where no one could afford to eat, and there were joints like Little Pete’s, where anybody could. A few years earlier, Chestnut Street had been closed to private vehicles to create a “transitway” for pedestrians and buses. The result was a bleak, empty canyon slicing through the city. Muggings were rampant. There wasn’t any nightlife except for a bunch of cheap bars — McGlinchey’s, McGillen’s, Dirty Franks — whose surly, sullen bartenders (cheers, Ruthie!) would have laughed in your face if you’d asked about the cocktail du jour.

Sounds awful, doesn’t it?

It was great. Did I mention the $145 rent? There wasn’t any traffic, because nobody could afford cars. It was so safe to bike in the streets that I was a bike messenger for a few years. There was no such thing as social media, so no one cared that there was no place to go. You’d have the neighbors over for beers, then cook up some burgers or chicken while cats wrapped around your ankles. Why go out? Where to?

None of us had dogs. Dogs were for suburban tract houses, out where there were fences and kids. It wouldn’t be right to have a dog here. It would be heartless to leave it cooped up in a tiny apartment all day.

But you could leave a cat with a litter box and a big bowl of dry food while you went to the Shore or the Poconos for a weekend. And you would go to the Shore or the Poconos on weekends, because the city was old and bleak and gray. You kept your head down when you walked those mean streets. You got where you were going. You didn’t linger. There weren’t marathons or pop-up bars or Restaurant Weeks or Roots Picnics. We weren’t sharers. We kept cats, and we kept to ourselves.

•

I don’t know when the changeover began. I’m not sure when I started to see them — the dog people — out on the sidewalks and in the parks, strutting and smiling and greeting people they didn’t even know. Oh, maybe there had been a poodle or two in Rittenhouse Square in the old days, walked by a butler or prim Chanel-suited matron. But the two veterinarians closest to my apartment were cats-only. I don’t remember any pooper-scooper laws; instead, there were occasional polite signs suggesting that you PLEASE CURB YOUR DOG, which, for the uninitiated, means have it defecate in the gutter instead of on the sidewalk. No one was asking you to pick up that poop. There literally weren’t enough dogs for anybody to care.

Maybe the switch dates from 1980, when the first Broad Street Run was held. That same year, the Phillies won the World Series and then the Eagles went to the Super Bowl, startling us all. Or maybe it was in 1984, when developer Willard Rouse III announced that he was raising One Liberty Place, busting through the longstanding “gentleman’s agreement” that no building in Center City would be taller than City Hall. (Such a rebel!) Or 1991, when Ed Rendell was elected mayor of a city on the brink of bankruptcy and vowed to turn it around.

Rendell was big and gruff and loud, a transplant from New York, where they’ve always had dogs, because New Yorkers don’t care about anybody else’s quality of life. He had dogs — a succession of golden retrievers (what else?), Mandy and Maggie and Ginger and Royal. When Maggie died, Rendell penned a tribute that read, in part: “I lived on this earth for over 73 years and as a trained lawyer, the most persuasive empirical evidence I have found about the existence of God is that someone must have done something to create that special bond between dog and human. It exists for us with virtually no other animal and I can’t believe it was just an accident.”

If you’re touched by that, you must be new around here. Philadelphians are cat people — private people — and private people don’t emote this way. We might whisper in Kitty’s ear while cuddling her in our lap, but we don’t shout it from rooftops. We’re tidy as a litter box. We don’t slobber. We don’t wag our tails. We have dignity.

You have to stay a little removed, after all, in a city of rowhomes. You have to pretend you don’t overhear the couple next door arguing in bed, or notice the booze bottles in their trash can, or see the underwear hung out to dry in their backyard. You have to remain aloof — like a cat, you know? You mind your own business, addressing a paw with your tongue while the bill collector knocks just across the street. That’s the way our moms and dads were. That’s how we were, back before Ed Rendell.

•

Once, this was a city of suspicious nocturnal predators. Today, it’s home to cheerful tail-waggers, and the difference is as startling as Dorothy’s transition from Kansas to Technicolor Oz. There are now dozens of dog parks in Philly. There are bakeries that will make your dog a custom birthday cake, and doggie haberdashers where you can get Sparky suited up for your wedding or a holiday. There’s puppy yoga at breweries and Yappy Hours at bars. As I head into work along South Street, I pass two doggie daycares as well as an Unleashed by Petco (which has a self-serve dog wash so you can scrub the city grime off Rocky) and an outpost of the chic local chain Doggie Style Pets. There are Philly folks who’ll perform acupuncture on your dogs, and tattoo artists who adorn human arms and legs with canine faces. It’s a rare cafe that doesn’t have a doggy water bowl beside the outdoor tables. You can even bring your pup with you to work, if your employer is Urban Outfitters HQ or Neff Associates or Petplan, the Philly-based pet insurance company started by two Wharton students. There are dog walkers galore, along with trainers and groomers and therapists and psychics and programs where kids read to dogs. I and my kitty kin sit at home and marvel at this canine industrial complex. According to the American Pet Products Association, Americans spent $72.13 billion on Fluffy and Squeaky and Tug last year, with the annual cost of cat ownership two-thirds that of a dog, at $988 vs. $1,549. That cat cost is wildly inflated, btw, since it budgets $30 annually for toys. You only buy toys for your cat the first few months you have her, until you figure out she doesn’t give a damn about toys; she just wants to chew your houseplants.

Dogs, if I can be frank, are the spawn of success and gentrification. The Inquirer said so two years ago in an article called “If It Seems As If Dogs Are Everywhere in Philly’s Gentrifying Neighborhoods, They Are.” It quoted a Villanova economics prof, David Fiorenza, who says millennials are having dogs before they have children. A third — a third! — of American millennials who buy houses cite wanting more space for their dogs — a motivating factor that outranks marriage or the birth of a child. A WHYY report last year on gentrification in Grays Ferry quoted a longtime resident, 83-year-old Theodore Jackson, on the subject of his new neighbors: “They love them dogs.” Hey, that wasn’t a cat mask Chris Long put on.

One consequence of the influx of pups has been an influx of poop. Those “Curb your dog” signs are gone, replaced by ones warning of $300 fines for not picking up after your pet. (By “pet,” we don’t mean cat. And by “picking up,” we don’t mean putting that shit in a plastic bag and depositing it on someone else’s stoop.) If you want to get Old Philadelphia going, start a conversation on this subject. Beneath our (cattily) inscrutable expressions, many of us are seething with resentment toward doggy doo. “I see it everywhere,” one co-worker who lives in Rittenhouse hisses. “I stepped in some this morning,” another bitches. Neighborhood blogs froth at the mouth about the excrement situation. In 2018, Beth Ann Dombkowski, a resident of Passyunk Square, mounted a gallery exhibit of photos she took of dogs as they were pooping. In 2012, a Tacony man was shot to death by the guy two doors down for not picking up after his Chihuahua. Which reminds me: Earlier this year, a South Philly dog owner died after being punched, allegedly by another dog owner whom he’d asked to leash his pet.

Cat people don’t kill each other. We have no reason to.

•

Last April, the City of Philadelphia’s verified Twitter account tweeted out:

ANNOUNCEMENT: After noticing that our top audience interest is DOGS, we have decided to become a dog and cat rating account. Reply with your dog and cat pictures and we’ll rate them.

The “and cat” was a sop; felines were nowhere on the accompanying chart, which showed the account’s audience interest in dogs at a staggering 100 percent, ahead of “weather,” tech news” and even politics. Granted, the tweet went out on April 1st. But even on April Fools’ Day, the joke worked because it rang true: Who doesn’t love dogs?

Once upon a time, Philadelphians didn’t. Back in the day, this city’s sports heroes were cat-like loners like Allen Iverson and Mike Schmidt. Now, New Philadelphia has rallied to goofy Cameroonian wolfhound Joel Embiid and bulldog Bryce Harper. The favored writers in my salad days were embittered sourpusses — Stu Bykofsky, Christine Flowers, Buzz Bissinger. In March, the Inquirer — the city’s newspaper of record — started a new Sunday section, “The UpSide,” that prints only good news. Yippee, puppies and rainbows all around!

This city you kids are making is a foreign place to us — bright and happy and colorful and buzzing with life. It has parklets and bike lanes and hammocks you can hang in. It’s got more City Council candidates than you can throw a stick for. It wins all kinds of awards — for new architecture, new recreational venues, new chefs. It’s been declared best place to visit and City of the Year. Its sports teams are in ascendance. Clearly, you newcomers think this relentless assault of excellence will pound down our native gloom and let the sun shine in. Haven’t we ever heard of cats’ bad habits — that they hang out with witches and suck the breath from babies? Don’t we want our faces licked?

Um, no. No, we don’t, thank you. We’re into pain; isn’t that obvious from the public officials we elect? We’re proud that Slate recently labeled cats “the world’s most uncooperative research subject,” and that a study in the journal Animal Cognition concluded that “the behavioral aspects of cats that cause their owners to become attached to them are still undetermined.” You dumb kids, we loved this place when it was a pit.

So go ahead and encourage us to adopt our very own bowwow buddies. Keep telling us how comforting a dog would be in our dotage. Go on saying: “You think you love that cat. Wait till you try a pup.” Sashay past us with that dachshund dolled up in a Rhys Hoskins jersey, or your chow chow with the lion cut, or that terrier with the tie-dyed hair. Woo us with research on how people who share their homes with canines are healthier, happier, and less likely to be visited by thieves. We’re Philadelphians. We know exactly what you’re up to. A new study from Penn Med says the number of olds who suffered bone fractures from walking their dogs more than doubled from 2004 to 2017. A full 17 percent of the total injuries were hip fractures, which just happen to give us a 30 percent chance of dying within a year. You kids may be yanking at the leash to take over this town. But Kitty and I will just wave from the window, thanks.

Published as “It’s a Dog-Eat-Cat World” in the June 2019 issue of Philadelphia magazine.

Source: https://www.phillymag.com/news/2019/06/15/philly-dogs-cats/

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glowingmeadow · 6 years ago

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writing

I remember I used to write a lot. I still do, just in a different way now. I now mainly almost only write in this format, as a form of diary or log, and while that is something I used to do too, I also wrote some thing in a more literary or poetical way. Now I remember I used to be good at doing that and it was always a joy and a challenge cause it made me wonder for words that could describe what I would feel and it made me feel like I was looking deep into my soul. For some reason I feel like I used to have a better vocabulary but that must be just because I would use a lot of the words I would read in my books, that were mainly fantasy, adventures young-adult stories. In this format of writing, I have surely improved a lot. That I do know. I used to make some grammar based faults that I have stopped making, and I feel that I do use language in a better way and more correctly. My words combined make more sense now. Or at least that’s what I believe.

I changed paragraph now cause my mind just carelessly jumped to another thought and that I think is my major fault that I do constantly. I must learn how to control this in my writing. A text needs to be well structured and the content of it must blend well together and it’s whole must have a sensible and logical sense. Also punctuation is something I want to learn, cause I have just been using it the way I feel that is right to me; but in reality there are specific rules which are kin of hazy in my mind and I do not seem to remember their correct use. Another important element in writing is the correct use of grammar and the use of the times in verbs, which can sometimes cause me some trouble. Verbs in general come naturally to me and I never think about the time I have to put them in for the phrase to be correct. Somehow it just feels right and almost always it is. I’m pretty good naturally in english and to be honest I think in all the languages that I speak, but I am not good with grammatical rules.

Still, that is something that can be learned. And whilst I may constantly say that I am not good with picking up new things, that is not entirely true. I am usually kinda slow to understand something new but that doesn’t mean that I do not. I just have a personal rhythm that may be considered slower than the average.

I think I am sold for the subject I am gonna chose at uni. AI think I am fine with it, I did initially find it interesting when I was younger and I remember talking to my ballet teacher about it even. The only thing that bothers me a little bit is how similar it is to what my mum did. And I generally sometimes feel that everything I do or slowly become, takes up after her a lot. I find many similarities with her and that is not bad, she is an amazing person and I love her to bits but it’s just that sometimes I keep thinking that it’s not very creative and I am scared that I will end up being an exact copy of her. Body wise to be more specific. She’s absolutely beautiful, why wouldn’t I want that? Because I am another person and I have a different body and I am destined to be someone unique and specifically different. I am designed to have a strong physique and to be very physically active.

I have started doing some yoga exercises and strengthening again during the day and I’ll go back to climbing with my sis now. I really want to start going for runs but I don’t think that is a wise idea just yet so I’ll be saving that for later. Biking would be good too, so I might ask N if he has a second bike so we can go together for a ride sometime in the park. That would be so cool.

To be honest I’m so glad. I am really happy with my decision of quitting professional ballet. I love it still, but what I realised is that when it is so demanding and hard i can’t do it. Like when back in greece I stopped going to my ballet school and went to another one that was very chill and not professional, I felt free and I started to feel like I could breathe again. I found time for myself, enjoyed my time with and within ballet. Then I jumped back into the professional world of it and all the bad things came back crashing. So now, by having let go of it, I feel like I can breathe again. I feel like ballet wasn’t something wrong in my life. Absolutely not. It’s there for a reason and I will get back into it again. Same goes to contemporary and that one I will do a bit more too. But I feel like it’s time. It’s time for me to go to uni and study for real. I just really want to do that to be honest. I just want to be able to have some freedom that you are not given with ballet.

#diary #lee's adventures #loulou #lou #lou talks

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rhyanross011-blog · 8 years ago

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Yoga in Gorbals - Yoga Inspiration

#Yoga Oatlands #Yoga Gorbals #Yoga Laurieston #Yoga Kinning Park #Yoga Ibrox

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russianspy24 · 6 years ago

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Devils in the Windy City - Chapter 6

Summary: Elijah travels to Chicago, led by a vague prophecy about a girl who could be the Mikaelson family’s salvation. Klaus soon confronts him, and later Rebekah is drawn into another case of family drama. However, this trip to the Windy City turns out to be longer than a short stint. The Mikaelsons discover that their lives may change forever. Including every other vampire’s.

Word Count: 5,024

Author’s Note: This story is posted on FF.net and AO3, and since I’m on Tumblr, decided to post it here. ‘Bout time I’d say. Hopefully you read and enjoy!

Warnings: Rated M

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Chapter 6: Mum’s the Word

The sun was setting. It was a beautiful sight. The skyscrapers of downtown, the direction in which they were walking, were silhouetted with a deep orange. The light glinted off cars that sped down Lake Shore Drive. The lake itself was darkening, but the rays hadn’t disappeared just yet, so Niklaus still had his sunglasses on, a pair of classic wayfarers. He and Elijah were strolling along the lakeshore path. Bicyclists and joggers passed them on the left.

“I’ve got an idea,” Klaus began dramatically and didn’t wait for his brother to prompt him to go ahead, “Why don’t I book a redeye flight to Los Angeles and pay a visit to the little psychic boy, snap his neck, and you take care of the witch? Or, you can wait for me, and I can help you since there’s her werewolf roomie to deal with, too. At least, you and I will get some fun out of it.”

Elijah had ended up telling his brother most of everything. The cat was out of the bag, so to speak. Klaus had left him with no choice after he’d showed up by Liza’s apartment.

“We will do no such thing,” Elijah said sternly.

“It seems to be the best solution,” Klaus argued.

“It is not. Absolutely not. You will kill no one. We will kill no one.”

“Witches and their prophecies. They never go right, ‘specially when our family is concerned, so the best thing to do is get rid of the prophets. Have you learned nothing over the years? This is how you deal with them, Elijah.”

Elijah hardened his voice like the scolding older brother that he was. “That boy is innocent. He was just delivering a message. Killing does not get rid of it. In fact, all that killing will accomplish is setting the spirit off—and it’s a witch’s spirit, no less.”

Klaus rolled his eyes, which then followed a fit, young woman who was jogging past them. She had a nice, tight ass, even though he didn’t comment on it. “So, what do you propose we do?”

“What I wanted to do was monitor the situation—to do things my way. And you know, this wasn’t really a prophecy. There were no eloquently written words, as there usually are. It was just a message, which connected this girl to our family.”

“Right, which involves me, brother. And Rebekah. How long did you plan on keeping this from us?”

It was Elijah’s turn to roll his eyes. “As long as I saw fit—until I knew more about it.”

Klaus turned a glare on him. Elijah ignored it. “You had no right.”

“Well, now you know, Niklaus. I don’t want to argue about this. If you were a more rational person, I would’ve probably included you in on this from the start. But alas, all of your actions in the past have proven otherwise. You don’t think before you act.”

“I don’t need an analysis of my personality,” Klaus snapped.

“Then don’t ask me why, if you already know the reason,” Elijah said coolly.

Klaus was silent for a long moment, his fists clenched at his sides. He watched the people around them through his shaded glasses, looking from a pair of adults and their toddler, who was running across the grass, giggling; to an elderly couple on a stroll, hand in hand. How cute. A group of bicyclers passed. The momentary distraction of listening to heartbeats and pumping blood at various rates helped calm him, seemingly. Elijah indulged his brother’s silence as long as Klaus needed it in order for his mood to level out.

“Perhaps one of us knew this girl’s grandmother at some point,” he suggested eventually.

Elijah answered in stride. “I’ve thought of that, but I did not recognize her name,” the older brother said. “No witches from the Soviet Union jog my memory. What about you?”

“I’ve only spent time in the satellite states—and Moscow, of course. And after the fall, it was a clusterfuck.” Klaus smirked at the memories of the time he had spent in the early 90s. “Perfectly chaotic. Humans, reveling in new-found freedom, made their blood taste especially...ripe.”

“I meant during the height of the Soviet Union,” Elijah clarified.

Klaus glanced at him. “No. I tried to avoid post-war Russia. The scenery was quite boring...and I don’t like military regimes.”

“So, nothing jogs your memory either.”

“No, I suppose not,” Klaus said indifferently. He stopped all of a sudden, looking at something across the grass. Elijah followed his line of sight.

Klaus was looking at a group of people doing yoga, a group of twenty. Smirking, he watched. Elijah paused beside him but didn’t let his brother’s thoughts carry him away, thoughts which were morbid, more than likely.

“Are you going to meet with Marcel?”

“Later,” Klaus replied distractedly. The group switched to downward facing dog and he was fascinated. Yoga and the meditational arts were something that had never interested him, though. He didn’t have the temperament. But there were mostly women in the group. Their asses were in the air.

“I’ll join you,” Elijah said, watching him watch them. Instead of answering his older brother, Niklaus returned to their previous subject.

“So, if this girl has no idea what the spirit of her dead grandmother meant, then how will you go about finding out?”

Now, who looked like a stalker? The yoga enthusiasts switched to the cobra pose and those asses clenched up. They didn’t notice that they had an audience of one. Elijah resumed walking. Klaus had no choice but to follow him, albeit a few seconds behind. He caught up with several long strides, huffing impatiently.

Elijah answered once he was beside him again. “I don’t know yet, but I do know it entails keeping the girl alive.” He’d left out the part of the spirit’s message that had mentioned their family’s “salvation,” because he had no idea what to think of it and knowing Klaus—he would jump to his own conclusions. “Perhaps we need to find a way to contact the spirit again.”

“I was just about to suggest that, Elijah. Perhaps the girl herself can do a séance, and we can all sit in a circle and hold hands.”

“You’re being a smart aleck, Niklaus.”

Klaus spread his arms in a shrug, a hint of a smart-ass smile on his face. “I agree with you. Let’s go back and see the girl. Her bedtime isn’t in a couple hours, right?” He looked at his wristwatch.

Elijah dismissed the idea. “We are not going back tonight. Let’s go meet with Marcel. We’ll see the girl another day.”

Klaus deflated. “Why not tonight?”

“There is no immediate urgency,” Elijah answered simply.

Klaus hated when his ideas were shut down. “Do you not want to find out why our family should give a shit about this girl?” he questioned.

“We will bide our time and we will go about this rationally,” Elijah explained. He had to be patient. They had to be patient. He also didn’t want to rile Klaus up. Elijah wanted him to understand his reasoning. “I need her to trust me first, and right now, I am far from that goal.”

Klaus couldn’t help but turn sardonic. “She doesn’t trust you, Elijah? Why, this is a surprise. You’re usually good at building trust with humans. And you said you saved her from a couple of rapists, didn’t you?”

Elijah sighed. “Also, that same night, I had barged into her home, questioning her about her grandmother. Liza lost her a mere six months ago. Of course, she doesn’t trust me. And her roommate even less so.”

This perked Klaus back up, gave him an idea, which Elijah saw brewing behind his sunglasses. “See, that’s why you need me. The wolf girl. I should talk to her. I can get her to trust me. She’ll see that we’re…basically kin.”

“Not quite, Niklaus, and you know it.” A hybrid wasn’t the same as a werewolf.

“Ah, but I am handsome and charming.”

“Charming when you want to be,” Elijah emphasized. “Let’s cross to the other side through there.” He gestured to the pedestrian underpass they were approaching. They’d walked around the whole of Lincoln Park and were nearing the Gold Coast.

“Yes, and let’s get a cab,” Klaus agreed.

“I was thinking we’d walk to Marcel’s. It’s a beautiful evening, and downtown is magnificent at night.” Elijah loved his walks, he really did, and he couldn’t get enough of the city. Klaus, on the other hand, wasn’t a take-a-walk type. Walks didn’t exhaust him—he just didn’t like them. Plus, he was being difficult. And sight-seeing wasn’t his thing. He much preferred Europe, if he had to pick, like the city of Paris. He was very much a snob that way.

“I honestly don’t know why you like this city,” he groused when they entered the tunnel, which was lit by yellow bulbs. It was empty, save for a dog walker going in the same direction ahead of them.

“I don’t know why you don’t,” Elijah returned.

“Well, it’s the Midwest, first of all. I hate the Midwest.” Their voices echoed slightly.

“You should’ve been there at the World's Columbian Exposition. It took place here in 1893. It was a marvel. I was with Rebekah. She enjoyed it immensely with me.”

Klaus felt like he had to one-up his brother. “I was at the Exposition Universelle in Paris four years before that. The Eiffel Tower was its grand opening. I highly doubt this place had anything more impressive than that.”

Elijah didn’t fall into the trap of possible argument. Niklaus loved to argue. It was draining. “I’m not trying to compare which city is better, brother. I’m just explaining why I love Chicago.”

“Good for you,” Klaus said shortly. He just wanted to get to the other side of Lake Shore Drive.

“Rebekah and I met H.H. Holmes,” Elijah said lightly. “But the most exciting part was seeing all of the new inventions in action. You know, during the course of our long lives, we tend to miss the little details that might not seem so important in the moment. For instance, electricity was used to power the fair, did you know? And the “clasp locker” was first introduced.” Elijah could tell that his brother was tensing as Klaus quickened his pace, trudging ahead, and this was amusing, but Elijah kept his smile to himself. “That was the predecessor to the zipper, Niklaus.”

“How fascinating,” he said flatly.

“Many artists exhibited too,” Elijah said matter-of-factly.

There was one thing that had peeked Klaus’ attention. “Did you say you met H.H. Holmes? The murderer?”

Elijah pretended that it wasn’t such a big deal. “The serial killer, yes. What about him?”

Klaus looked back at him. “Did you kill him?”

“No,” Elijah said. “Why would we? It would’ve been too easy. We did give the human authorities a few leads on him, however.”

“It’s said that he killed more than 200 people, even though he confessed to killing 27,” Klaus said. He was a fan of serial killers. In a way, he was one himself, if he was in the mood. Naturally, humans who had a lust for blood and murder intrigued him. Sometimes, they even impressed him.

When they got out of the tunnel, he took his sunglasses off, put them on the edge of his collar, and shoved his hands into his pockets. Finally, something interesting to talk about. Elijah humored him.

“I always had a theory about Holmes,” Klaus was saying.

They made their way south. Cars on Lake Shore Drive whooshed past. The sun was almost set by now. The Gold Coast was a neighborhood filled with mansions, row houses, and high-rise apartments. It was historic and once compared to Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Elijah looked up, taking in the buildings as if for the first time, marveling at them, while Klaus explained his theory rather enthusiastically.

“I believe that he was the Whitechapel Murderer. Now, I had tried to find out who he was myself, at the time, to no avail. At first, I thought that he was like us, but the blood of his victims was never drained. He was without a doubt human. And I believe that I almost found him once. I chased a man across all of London. The bastard narrowly escaped on a boat that was headed toward America."

"You did? For your amusement or because you wanted to be helpful to the police?" Elijah said. Definitely not the latter.

Klaus went on. “I’m not the only one with this theory, you know. Many disprove it. But their shortcomings result from a lack of understanding the two men. Their killing styles were different, sure. The Ripper was a messy, unorganized. While Holmes was calculating and clever. But what I know about humans is that they are forever evolving, slowly, but evolving nonetheless. Perhaps it’s one of their few positive traits."

"Mm-hm," Elijah said, but he was listening. "Very true."

“The Ripper was able to evade capture, did he not?” Klaus didn’t actually want an answer, though his brother simply nodded. “He was even able to outrun me. Means he wasn’t a complete idiot. He could’ve very well gotten smarter."

“Interesting theory, Niklaus,” Elijah said. “Could be possible, perhaps.”

They continued walking. Klaus didn’t bring up flagging down a taxi. He enjoyed hearing himself talk, and he knew that Elijah was a good listener and would indulge him. And this way, Elijah got his walk, so it was a win-win.

###

“It seems that you’ve established yourself quite well here, Marcellus,” Klaus said, smirking. It was his way of expressing praise. He was impressed with his progeny’s new pad and position with the Chicago vampires, but he wasn’t going to say this straight out. Klaus also wasn’t sentimental, so when he saw Marcel that night for the first time in years, he’d gone for the mere clasp-on-the-shoulder. Marcel was a hugger. He’d been affectionate since he was a little boy.

It wasn’t that Klaus wasn’t happy to see his progeny, his “son.” He just didn’t get all emotional. Marcel, meanwhile, regaled him and Elijah with what he’d been doing in the city over a very fine scotch. They sat comfortably on the large, modern suede sectional before the large, floor to ceiling windows.

Marcel had a gorgeous view of River North. It was an area north of the loop, full of fine dining, galleries, and a lively nightlife. Tall buildings stood all around—boasting regional offices of companies such as Google, Yelp, and Motorola. Countless lights lit the streets outside.

The condo was modern and had two floors, a spiral staircase leading up. The walls and ceiling were white. The floor was a sleek, light brown wood, and the décor was very contemporary. Marcel was always more modern than the Mikaelsons. Sure, he appreciated the old world, but he was the one that stayed up to date with the times. He had the latest everything.

The kitchen and living area were connected, and other rooms branched off from them. There was a loft space upstairs with a glass railing, but the bedrooms were hidden. The wall behind Marcel had a massive collection of records. The opposite wall had a large flat screen and stereo system.

“I’ll go back to Nola eventually, but I’m going to enjoy my time here right now,” he was saying, his arms spread on the back of the couch.

The brothers were on the longer end of the sectional. Elijah sat with his knees crossed. Klaus was sitting somewhat like his progeny, completely relaxed, only with one arm on the couch, not both. Elijah didn’t seem too easily impressed, but that was fine with Marcel. He could tell that Klaus was proud.

“As I was telling Elijah the other day, Chicago runs like a well-oiled machine. There’s no curfew for the vampires, but there are strict no killing laws. Those that break them get punished accordingly, but honestly, if you follow them, you otherwise do whatever you want. Klaus, more scotch, my man?”

Obligingly, Marcel stood and reached for his maker’s now empty glass.

“Why thank you,” Klaus said.

“Elijah?” Marcel looked at the older Mikaelson.

“Still savoring this one. Thank you,” Elijah said as he glanced down at the bit of liquid bronze left in his glass. Marcel went around the couch to the bar tucked into the wall by the records.

“It’s good for a 30-year Macallan, huh?” He grinned at them both. Pouring Klaus a new glass, he went on. “So as I was saying, the vampires mind their own business, the weres mostly roam the suburbs, and the humans are in the know if they need to be. They got a helluva lot of their own issues to deal with. We stay away. If one of us intervenes, there’s got to be a good reason for it. Daylight rings are allowed. If you got ‘em, you got ‘em. If you don’t, you don’t.”

“What is it that you’re working on, Marcel?” Elijah inquired.

Marcel returned to them, handing Klaus his glass and sitting down with a refilled one of his own. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and eagerly answered the question. “Right now, we’re making sure the blood bank operation goes smoothly. It’s with LifeSource. The CMO is one of us, and so is the COO. Believe it or not, only 40% of the vampire population actually hunt in this city. There are plenty of willing donors, but a lot prefer blood bags nowadays.

“LifeSource gives the option of getting the blood without having to compel anyone at the local collection center too many times. Draws zero attention. The company provides free delivery to your home, or wherever you’re staying.”

“You’ve memorized the sales pitch,” Klaus teased with a chuckle, taking a sip. "Trying to sell to us?"

Marcel grinned and leaned back. “The council members—they wanted me to take over PR.” He also took a sip, looking carefully from brother to brother. “So I accepted the offer. I told them I’d stay for a couple years at least. A decade or so. Of course, I have to do well. But they like me here. They like how I’m with people.”

“You always were a smooth talker, Marcellus,” Klaus said with a faint air of affection. “But I always thought you had an interest in law.”

“Well, there are some similarities with PR. Strategy for one. Predicting outcomes, making sure all your bases are covered. And you know what, I like working with the public. I like being around people. Our kind. Doing some good.”

Klaus looked over at Elijah to see what he thought—Elijah listened, one eyebrow slightly raised—before looking back at Marcel. “I raised you well, didn’t I?” he said boastfully.

“You had some help,” Marcel said. His smile all the way up to his eyes, which looked at Elijah over the rim of his glass. Elijah nodded, his own dark eyes flitting over to Klaus. “Don’t give yourself all of the credit, Klaus,” Marcel said. “Your brother had a hand in it too.”

Klaus scowled dramatically. “Elijah gave you your schooling, while I made sure that your childhood was well rounded in other ways. Right, Marcel? Did I not? Who did you get your charisma from? Why, me, of course!” Marcel threw his head back and laughed, a warm laugh, compared to Klaus’ slightly maniacal one. “And all of those endless talks about life as I passed on my invaluable wisdom to you.”

“All right, all right,” Marcel conceded.

“Depends on your definition of wisdom, of course,” Elijah commented.

Klaus thumbed at him. “Imagine if it was he who raised you. You would’ve turned out to be smarter, sure, but what a prude you’d be!”

“Intelligence doesn’t make one a prude,” Elijah said pointedly. He finished his glass but simply held the glass in his lap.

“Hey, now, I’m smart. I did go to law school,” Marcel argued, chuckling. He was standing again, ever observant. “Let me get you that refill, Elijah.”

As he went about doing so, he listened to his maker.

“Of course, you are, my boy. What I mean to say is that I’m glad you turned out more like me and less like my boring brother,” Klaus said, a jab in his voice, directed to his brother, who shrugged it off his shoulders. Elijah's gaze drifting across the condo. Klaus liked to ball-bust at other’s expense—nothing new.

Marcel regarded them over his shoulder, at the bar, still smiling. He was an expressive man. Since he was much younger than them, he might’ve been more human than either them, mentally. But it was also his personality. He was honest and genuine. He certainly had an egotistical side as most vampires did, and could be quite vicious, but he also wasn’t bothered by showing his feelings.

“I missed you two. It’s been too long,” he said, returning with Elijah’s glass.

Klaus didn’t echo the sentiment, but he raised his own glass in a toast. “Far too long. Here’s to our unexpected reunion, my son.”

Elijah gave a somber nod. “It’s good to see you doing well, Marcel,” he said, sitting forward. He always carried himself unaffected, but Marcel knew his words were genuine.

Standing before them, Marcel held out his own glass to clink with theirs. “I hope you two stick around for a while.”

The three drank. After, Marcel decided to put on some music and went to the record player. As he did so, he changed the subject. “So, what is it that brings you guys to Chicago anyway? Elijah mentioned business.”

Elijah was quick to gloss over the answer. “Nothing important. Just some matters,” he said and stood. He wanted to see the view out the window and approached it, looking at the lights, the street below.

“Something like that,” Klaus added cryptically, and his gaze twinkled, mischievous. He reclined in his spot. “Really, I had no idea about these matters until earlier today,” he confessed.

Elijah’s back stiffened.

“My brother wasn’t going to tell me about them. I had to pry it out of him. Really, they concern me, too. The whole family, actually. Perhaps even you, Marcellus.”

Marcel had turned on some light blues, which he kept at a volume that would allow them to continue talking comfortably. He turned around, first looking at Elijah, who’d looked back at them, standing at the window, appearing absolutely disapproving; then Marcel looked at Klaus, who seemed like his diabolical self.

“It doesn’t concern him, Niklaus,” Elijah said, caution in his tone. Marcel knew it was serious when Elijah used Klaus’ full name. Marcel’s obsidian gaze bounced between them. He took a drink.

“What’s going on? Something serious?” he asked lightly.

“Potentially,” Klaus said.

Elijah had spoken over him. “No. Nothing to worry about, Marcel.”

Marcel spread his free hand as if to placate him. “Hey, if it’s not my business, that’s fine. Not trying to pry. I was just wondering what my adoptive family was up to.”

Klaus was encouraged by his words, however, much to Elijah’s chagrin. “Niklaus,” he started.

Klaus cut him off. “Elijah found himself a witch,” he explained brightly. “He’s been watching her for the better part of the week, as a matter of fact.” Marcel’s gaze jumped to Elijah, who scowled. Uh oh.

“This doesn’t involve him, Klaus.”

Klaus looked at his brother over the back of the couch. He stood up, then, facing him. “It could, Elijah. He’s family, after all. Besides, you said it yourself, you don’t know why she’s important to us. I say that Marcel should know. He could be of great help.”

Elijah’s hand was tight around his glass, not enough to break it, he wasn’t a drama queen, but his knuckles were white, and he was restraining himself. “Klaus, you simply cannot help but run your mouth.”

“Yes, so the cat’s out of the bag,” Klaus said smugly.

Marcel stepped toward them, his hand still raised, palm out. He didn’t want them fighting. He hadn’t done anything, but he was feeling culpable already. “Hey, I can keep a family secret. You know that. I won’t say anything to anyone.”

Elijah looked at him sharply. “Yes, I know, Marcel, but that’s beside the point. I told my brother that this is something I was handling. And since the situation isn’t clear yet, there was no reason to involve anyone else.” He slowly looked back at Klaus, his expression hard and reproachful. “He’s always had a fear of missing out. He simply cannot help it.”

“I think Marcel can help us,” Klaus repeated, raising his voice a few notches. The smile on his face turned tense as he approached his progeny and put an arm over his shoulders. “Perhaps not right this moment, but he’s got connections in this city now. Chicago is his playing field. We’re merely guests here.”

“I want you to feel at home,” Marcel assured him. Klaus kept looking at Elijah, trying to provoke him further.

“Come now, brother. Don’t be cross with me. You think I can’t keep my mouth shut, which may be true. In this case, I simply made an executive decision. It’s only fair, since you hadn’t been planning to tell me at all. Let’s let Marcel in on our little plan and tell him about the psychic boy and the spirit.”

“Psychic boy?” Marcel repeated.

Klaus turned his head, his arm still around him. “You watch television, don’t you? I haven’t got the time for it, but you must’ve heard of this lad. Apparently, he’s got quite the gift if he’s telling all manners of actors and celebrities their fortunes.”

Marcel drew his brows together. Elijah had turned away, raising a hand to his forehead, his index and thumb fingers pressed against respective temples. He needed a moment to compose himself. Klaus grated on the nerves. Half the day spent with him was already enough to bear.

“Are you talking about one of those reality shows?” Marcel clarified with a laugh.

“Yes, yes, those,” Klaus said, gesturing with his glass. “One of those real-life series.”

“Are you talking about….?” Marcel was thoughtful for a beat, grinning. “Are you talking about that kid? That ginger kid? What’s his name?”

Klaus didn’t know how he looked like, so he regarded Elijah, who didn’t answer. He was downright aggravated and avoided Klaus’ attention.

“Damn it. I can’t think of his name,” Marcel said. Klaus let him go, taking a swig.

“Benjamin Henry,” Elijah said at last, grudgingly.

Marcel snapped his fingers. “That’s him. I love that kid. I saw some episodes. Like that one when he’s talking to the Kardashians.”

“Who?” Klaus asked, raising his eyebrows.

“You know. The Kardashians. As in “Keeping up with the Kardashians.””

Silence. It didn’t seem like it rang any bells with Klaus, so Marcel just waved his hand.

“Never mind. What’s Benjamin Henry got to do with you?”

And so Elijah was forced to tell him. Klaus wasn’t going to. He didn’t know the details. It was all up to his brother. Klaus sat back down on the couch, satisfied and triumphant, and Elijah remained standing and pacing. He began with the psychic boy and the spirit, explaining as levelly as he could, only wanting to explain this once. He left out details, which he hadn’t mention to Klaus, but Elijah said enough so that Marcel could wrap his mind around it.

Afterward, the bottle was almost finished. The young vampire spread his arms and said, “Let me know how I can help.”

#vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the originals fanfiction #the originals #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #marcel gerard #rebekah mikaelson #original character #elijah mikaelson x oc #klaus mikaelson x oc #fanfiction #originals fanfiction #originals #vampires #elijah mikaelson fanfic #klaus mikaelson fanfiction

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tswatch · 8 years ago

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I am getting a bit tired of this. I am other/fiction kin and I use it as a way to cope with depression and anxiety. I'm 16 and will be 17 later this year. I been mocked by an EX friend who was older than me for choosing a life style. Saying it was "cancer" and that I need "help". They blocked me. It's hurtful, because my life has been rather dark, grim and unhappy. I always been rather downhearted, and tend to make gashes on my face or arms due to it... advise?

Hey,

we apologize for the late answer, how have you been doing since you send us this message?

I am honest with you, I have my opinion on otherkin and fictionkin and it’s rather ambivalent and it really depends on the individual and their situation. But all in all I have nothing against it. Just so you are aware of this, but please remember this is just my opinion and my opinion should not matter to you too much. I am just one out of a million and more people.

Let’s start with your former friend. I am really sorry that they hurt you so much, this is not okay, this is not fair of them and they are clearly not aware of how badly words can hurt someone. Don’t listen to their words. Just like I said before, one person out of so many other peple, their opinion should not matter to you, there are so many people out their who love you and will love you for who you are. There will always be people in our lives that try to make us down, but there will be people who will love us unconditionally as well.

That brings me to my next point, all of us will meet people who will make us down for something, for something and it doesn’t even matter what. People will use the weirdest reasons to excuse their behaviour. If someone does something different than they do, they make them down. If someone doesn’t like what they do, they will make them down. If someone deals with something they have no experience with, they will make them down. Someone could not like the colour green and get called annoying for that. Someone could make a cake different than someone else and they called stupid for that. Someone could suffer from a mental disorder that someone else has no experience with and they get called a psycho. Someone could not like the band someone else does and gets called a loser.

My point is, it doesn’t matter how ridiculous the reason seems, people will always find something that annoys them and they will make someone else down. Why do they do it? Most likely because they have problems on their own, because they are desperate, because they hurt others to cope with their feelings, because they just don’t understand the other person.

You are not cancer and we all need help with things. But I think you need help with your depression and anxiety, not for using otherkin and fictionkin as a way to cope with it. Which brings me to the next point. Are you harming someone with being otherkin or fictionkin? No. Is this helping you to deal with negative emotions? Yes. So why the hell should you stop with it or change it? You seem aware of the fact why you do this and that you are actually a human, not a dragon, a wolf or a fictional character. Here is where my personal opinion comes in, as long as it helps someone to deal with things, a long as it makes someone feel good, as long as they are still aware of the reality, everything is cool. However I talked to people where this got out of hand and they were not aware of reality anymore and of how things really are and that is where I say they need help. But even then, who am I to judge, if they are happy with how things are and no other people get harmed with it, why should they change something? Just because I say so or someone else? No.

That is a topic I could probably talk about forever, but before this reply gets way to long I will stop right here. I think I made my point clear and I hope you understand what I mean.

Back to your former friend, don’t listen to them, you are lovable, you are amazing, you are beautiful, you are important, you deserve to be happy and alive.

There is something else that I would like to talk about. You said that because of all the things happening in your life you harm yourself.

I know that harming yourself seems like a way to cope with negative feelings, but it is not. It may help for a short moment, but after that you will feel like you messed up and you won’t feel good about this at all. Self harm only causes more problems and makes life harder than it already is.

There are better ways to cope, ways that are healthier and will help you so much better over a long period of time. Learning these ways may not be easy, you will fall back into old habits, you will feel like the new ways don’t actually help, but they need practice. A lot of practice. You will get used to them in time, you will see them help in time, you will find the right things to do in time. Keep trying, even if it’s a long and hard way.

Depending on how strong the urge to harm yourself is, you can try different things. The stronger the urge, the more things you should do in a row for the urge to stop.

Let’s start with a small urge to harm yourself. When you feel that, you should try to distract yourself, usually that will make the urge go away so that you can think clear again. Here are some ideas what you can do.

• Listen to music or sounds of the nature• Sing• Play instruments or learn a new instrument• Watch a funny movie• Read a book• Paint• Draw• Paint your nails• Go out for a walk• Listen to the sound it makes when you walk over stones or leaves• Write down your feelings or good memories• Make some origami• Call or skype with a friend• Dress up or try on old clothes• Write creatively• Talk to someone• Do some sport• Eat or drink something delicious• Do some baking• Make funny faces in a mirror and take pictures• Read inspirational speeches• Learn a magic trick • Mess up your room• Watch some videos on Youtube• Clean your room• Learn something new like knitting or how to make a Tumblr theme • Go to the zoo and name all of the animals• Jump up and down, do rope jumping, or jump on a trampoline or your bed• Meditate or do some Yoga• Play a game• Go shopping• Recite a favourite monologue• Watch the sky• Do a puzzle, crossword or sudoku• Meet up with friends• Sleep • Do your homework• Watch your favourite TV program/show• Make up a roleplay about something you’d like to happen• Play with a pet• Have a bath or a shower • Make a scrapbook• Decorate your wall with inspirational quotes• Dance around your room like an idiot• Make a new Tumblr blog• Color your hair• Leave nice messages in someone’s askbox• Take some pretty pictures outside• Get your friends and family and play board games • Tie a small string or a rope into knots • Make a tiny gift for your best friend • Make a bucket list • Smile to at least 5 people, bonus points if they are strangers • Go out and perform one act of kindness • Watch how the wind makes the leaves of the trees move. • Do volunteer work • Give your blog a makeover • Write a letter to a friend • Donate all the clothes you don’t like anymore • Go to a park and sit on the swings, be a little kid again • Plan your outfits for the week • Give someone a hug • Simply relax, and enjoy your life

Here are websites to distract yourself.

• The Quiet Place • Relax Exercise • Thouhts Room • Dawn Room • Pixel Thoughts 60 Seconds Relaxation• Emotional Baggage Check• Automatic Flatterer • Silk• Neon Flames • Painting• Sand• Stickman• Koala Mosaic• Sunshine and Rain• Rainy Mood• Mood Turn• Magic Button• Secret Door• Geo Guesser• Make some Music• Soundrown• The Colour Game• The Universe• Free Rice• Watch A Dream• Imagination• Make Music With Circles• Make Music With ToneMatrix• Fatal to the Flesh (Trigger Warning)• Play Super Mario• Cute Online Games

Try out a few things and see what helps you the best. Once you found things that help you, write them down, keep these things close to you in a box or something so you can do them right away when you feel like harming yourself.

If the urge gets stronger and simple distractions don’t help anymore, try to do things that help you to get out your emotions like anger, sadness, fear or guilt. Here are some things you can do.

• Scream really loud into a pillow• Let yourself cry• Go to an open space and shout all the things you hate right now• Scribble on photos of people in magazines• Tear apart newspapers, photos, or magazines• Throw a ball/stone/ice cube etc. against a wall• Listen to music and sing along loudly• Beat up a stuffed animal or a pillow• Blow up balloons and pop them• Build a fort of pillows and then destroy it• On a sketch or photo of yourself, mark in red ink what you want to do;cut and tear the picture• Write your feelings on paper, then rip it up or burn it• Make a soft cloth doll to represent the things you are angry at;cut and tear it instead of yourself• Break sticks or old things you don’t need anymore• Cut up fruits• Pull weeds in the garden• Put on nail polish, then peel it off• Splash your face with cold water• Slash an empty plastic soda bottle, or a piece of heavy cardboard, or an old shirt or sock• Instead of punishing yourself by self-harming, punish yourself by not self-harming •The Butterfly Project: Draw a butterfly on the place(s), where you would like to harm yourself.If the butterfly fades without self-harming, it means it has lived and flown away,it’s like giving a sense or feeling of achievement.Whereas if you do harm yourself with the butterfly there, you killed to butterfly.If that does happen, you can start again by drawing a new one on.You are not allowed to wash of the butterfly, it has to fade on its own.You can also name the butterfly after someone you love.•Think of a loved one [a friend, family member, or anyone else who cares about you]and write their name on the place(s) where you want to harm yourself.When you want to harm yourself, remember how much they careand how they wouldn’t want you, to harm yourself.• Talk to someone about how you feel• Create a safe place to go• Try to imagine the future and plan things, you want to do• Make a list of all the positive things in your life• List all the reasons, why you don’t want to harm yourself• Remember why you want to recover

Try out as many things and possible and try to figure out what helps you the most. Once you did this, keep the things that help you on a list or keep them in a box close to you, so that you have access to them right away. When you feel a stronger urge coming, do 1-2 things of the stuff named above and then distract yourself with 1-2 of the listed distractions.

When you get a really, really bad urge to harm yourself, try alternatives to harming yourself. These will either trick your brain into thinking there is blood when there is no real blood, or by making yourself feel something. Doing some of the alternatives, you can even feel some kind of pain, but it doesn’t harm you in a bad way. Here are some examples.

• Draw red lines on the places you want to cut, or use red watercolor,and put it on the place where you want to cut; it will look like it’s bleeding• Viciously stab an orange or an apple• Eat something really sour• Do sport, like running, strength training, jumping on a trampoline,dancing etc., until you are completely exhausted• Take a hot/cold shower or bath• Drink freezing cold water• Wax your legs or plug your eyebrows• Bite into a hot pepper or chew a piece of ginger root• Rub ice across your skin, where you want to harm yourself,or hold it in your hands• Put rubber bands on wrists, arms, or legs and snap them

Like with the things before, try them out and see what helps you the most. Make sure you have fast access to them. When you feel this really strong urge, start for example with a cold shower, then scream into a pillow or tear apart paper, and then distract yourself with something.

Make sure to write the things that help you down, so you don’t have to start thinking about what to do with yourself everytime you get the urge to self harm.

If you feel like you cannot deal with all of this on your own, please reach out for help. There are people out there able and willing to help you.

Take care of yourself!

- Belle

#anonymous #message #support #belle

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