#also I have never been to the midlands somehow until today

[aefensteorrra]

had to be in the Black Country this morning and the accents!!! not one I’ve had much exposure to in general and certainly never heard in person

[all-things-fic]

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things. 

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it. 

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe. 

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had  quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’. 

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place. 

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude. 

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care. 

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him. 

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years. 

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness. 

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch. 

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning. 

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy. 

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch. 

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over. 

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety. 

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt. 

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is. 

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes. 

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you. 

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music. 

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark. 

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try. 

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat. 

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap. 

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours. 

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging -  one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in. 

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it. 

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring. 

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain. 

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night. 

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction. 

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is. 

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper. 

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry. 

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different. 

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him. 

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted. 

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.” 

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.  

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction. 

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first. 

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he? 

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap. 

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed. 

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage.  You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.” 

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.” 

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown. 

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however. 

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.” 

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them. 

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before. 

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry. 

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.” 

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore? 

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact. 

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped. 

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined. 

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in. 

And neither did he. 

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you. 

Understanding was vital. 

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete. 

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore. 

And for once you didn’t feel alone. 

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became. 

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here. 

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t. 

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“ 

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.” 

“We were both drunk, it happens.” 

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?” 

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes. 

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug. 

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door. 

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting. 

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers. 

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question. 

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in. 

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished. 

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar. 

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar. 

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of. 

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly 

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately. 

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double. 

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.” 

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment. 

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning. 

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment. 

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him. 

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity. 

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?” 

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them. 

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape. 

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile. 

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him. 

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him. 

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found? 

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated. 

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.” 

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly. 

“Not if I have my way.” 

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs. 

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his. 

“Different, but better.” 

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away. 

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged. 

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh. 

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his. 

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck. 

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you. 

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved. 

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back. 

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too. 

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show. 

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him. 

“You don’t have to-“

“No?” 

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused. 

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling. 

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue. 

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear. 

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt. 

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away. 

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself. 

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more. 

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks. 

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting. 

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents. 

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling. 

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.” 

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession. 

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed. 

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable. 

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you. 

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more. 

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge. 

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders. 

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks. 

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were. 

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too. 

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time. 

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before. 

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things. 

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips. 

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking. 

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour. 

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch. 

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale. 

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again. 

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

[missytearex]

I can’t believe the first month of 2020 is nearly over. Time flies when you’re reading good fic I guess. Here’s this month’s list. Under 10k fics are under the cut. Remember to leave kudos and comments. 💕

After Dark, After Light by @becomeawendybird --- [fic post]

larry | 71k | explicit

Harry Styles is the laird of Clan Edwards who is just trying to keep his clan afloat when they get word that the Mackenzies have been cutting a swath through the Midlands and beyond, and their sights are set on the northern Highlands next. In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland.

Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses. As the winter draws nearer by the day, the two are thrown together to prepare for the invasion that they expect as soon as the ground thaws.

If You're Out There (I'll Find You Somehow) by @jacaranda-bloom --- [fic post]

larry | 55k | explicit

Harry looks so intensely into Louis’ eyes it’s as though he’s reaching in and touching his very soul. “I never thought… I never… I’ve been searching for so long, Louis, but I never gave up. I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop trying,” Harry says, bottom lip trembling as he strokes the backs of Louis’ knuckles. “I just knew that if you were out there, I’d find you somehow.”

OR the story of how one man’s love changed the world.

Listen To Your Heart by @chloehl10 --- [fic post]

larry | 35k | explicit

Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.

Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

Sisterwives by @jaerie --- [fic post]

larry | 32k | explicit

This was it, the moment Louis had been waiting for his entire life. Giddy excitement bubbled up as he held hands and stared up at his soon-to-be alpha and husband and grinned. The ceremony was small and simple, but Louis didn’t mind. Fresh flowers pinned into his hair and a brand new outfit was all he needed to feel special in front of their few witnesses. It was just some members of his family and a few of the church elders in attendance as was customary for any marriage beyond the first wife within the faith.

First wives were the ones to have elaborate weddings with the whole community involved. An alpha’s first wedding was a celebration of an their coming of age, his first steps into fulfilling God’s prophecy. There were many glories for an omega that came with being a first wife but also many responsibilities. Louis had never aspired to be a first wife or even a second. He wasn’t experienced enough to be the leader of an alpha’s many wives and children and he didn’t think he’d be up to the task.

Louis was just fine in the position he was stepping into as the seventh.

Or Louis thinks he's getting everything he's ever dreamed of. Harry helps him find what makes him truly happy.

From the Start by @allwaswell16 --- [fic post]

larry | 32k | explicit

Louis has no idea that one act of kindness will cause his life to spiral out of control. But that's what happens when his new friend fake proposes to him and a video of it goes viral.

Access Economics by @bitter-leaf --- [fic post]

nouis | 25k | explicit

When Louis moves to a new city for a new job with a big economics firm, he’s charmed by Niall, his colleague and new housemate. However, when things turn physical and feelings get involved, they find themselves in a risky game of supply and demand.

But Now Together, We're Alone by @becomeawendybird --- [fic post]

larry | 22k | mature

It's a stroke of good luck when Harry Styles, a man who grew up on the small island of Martinique, is offered the position of tutor to the Dauphin and his sister.

When he arrives at the palace, he is dragged into a world of opulence, courtiers, whispers in the shadows, and illicit affairs. But he is also introduced to the king, the most intriguing man he's ever met.

Caught By the Sun by @metal-eye

larry | 19k | mature

Harry and Louis meet every summer at the lake.

Can't Forget You by @writsgrimmyblog --- [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 13k | explicit

Nick wakes up in hospital and discovers he's lost several years of memories, including getting together—and breaking up—with Louis Tomlinson, the owner of the local café that Nick's being trying to pull for ages.

As he tries to work out what went wrong, Nick falls in love with Louis all over again.

Just Want To Be Loved By You by @londonfoginacup --- [fic post]

larry | 11k | teen and up

Harry loves Liam like a brother. Liam loves Zayn. Zayn comes with Louis. Louis doesn't trust anyone, and Harry is terrified of hybrids.

Weekend Rockstars by @clumsykisses --- [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 10k | teen and up

Told backwards in time, we see Nick and Louis get married after going through a difficult time, then we see Louis serving time for dealing cocaine, and finally we see how the two met. So it's an angst sandwich.

Strangers In The Night by @kingsofeverything --- [fic post]

larry | 9k | explicit

Louis never thought he’d meet his soulmate. Harry never thought he’d meet a vampire.

To Fall Down At Your Door by @magicalrocketships --- [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 9k | teen and up

Nick has failed to pay attention in any of the meetings leading up to him filming a documentary in the Scottish Highlands, mostly because he's just been dumped and he's in the middle of some very important wallowing. This does not entirely explain what Louis Tomlinson is doing there filming in the Highlands with him, and it absolutely does not explain why the world's press seems to think that they've just got married without telling anyone.

He's fairly certain none of this is actually his fault, but it doesn't change the fact that everything has suddenly got a little bit weird.

if we can make it through december by @march-z5 --- [fic post]

larry | 9k | explicit

Louis runs into his ex at a holiday party, who talks loudly about Louis being single to embarrass him. Harry saves the day by kissing Louis’s cheek and pretending to be his significant other even though Louis has never met him before... has he?

Meet Me Underneath The Mistletoe by @evilovesyou --- [fic post]

larry | 8k | general audiences

Louis flies out to Chicago for business just before Christmas... His flight home is cancelled because of a snow storm and he ends up going to his colleague Niall's Christmas party where he meets the most gorgeous man he's ever seen. And if they end up under the mistletoe within less than an hour then that's nobody's business but theirs.

We're Driving in Your Fast Car by @sadaveniren --- [fic post]

larry | 6k | explicit

Louis and Harry are car thieves about to pull off a million dollar job

lettuce be together by @zarrycats --- [fic post]

ziall | 5k | teen and up

“Do you go because you like the food or because of the sandwich boy?” Harry asks, grinning at Zayn like he already knows the answer.

Zayn takes a bite of his sandwich to avoid answering. He does enjoy the food. He’s always been impartial to sandwiches but they’re growing on him a bit. Subway might not be the moan-inducing establishment that Trevor made it out to be, but it’s good. And Niall working there and being cute and pretty and nice is simply the cherry on top of everything else.

Maybe Zayn does have a crush on him, a little bit, but it’s harmless. It’s not like Zayn’s going to dive across the counter and beg Niall to take him right there next to the shredded lettuce, so what does it matter?

We Had a Good Thing (Going) by @phd-mama --- [fic post]

larry | 4k | teen and up

Sometimes things fall apart.

Sure Feels Good To Love Someone by @loveislarryislove --- [fic post]

larry | 4k | general audiences

“You thinkin’ of adopting today?”

Louis shakes his head. “No, not today I’m afraid,” he says. “We’ve always said we wouldn’t get a dog until-”

He stops, suddenly, clarity hitting him like ice water to the face. They’ve been together for nearly four years now, living together for two. Why shouldn’t “until” become “now”?

“Until?”

Louis shakes his head, looking down at the puppy in his lap. It seems to have curled itself even tighter, but one dark eye is peering up at Louis, soft and warm. His heart pounds.

“Until now, apparently,” he says.

Niall’s face breaks into a wide grin. “Good choice,” he says. “You’re picking the white one, I presume?”

Louis smiles down at the bundle of fur in his lap. “He’s picked me, mostly,” he says. “But I suppose it’s mutual.”

Thank You (To the One Who Let Him Get Away) by @fallinglikethis --- [fic post]

larry | 3k | not rated

Louis' soulmark says "Will You Marry Me?". In all scenarios where Louis has imagined hearing those words, he never could have dreamed it would go like this.

your eyes are like starlight now by @farfromthstars --- [fic post]

ziall | 2k | not rated

drunk friends, a forced christmas duet and one touch is all it takes.

Angel in the Snow by @warpedtourniall --- [fic post]

ziall | 1k | teen and up

For a big city, New York is a small town.

The Stupid Striptease One by @jiksax

gryles | 1k | mature

Harry takes his clothes off and accidentally says the wrong thing.

[pocketmosaic]

Who am I and why this blog?

What a good question, I am so glad you asked.  I am a 45 year old, mother of three, who has fibromyalgia, cfs/me and arthritis.  I guess I should also say that I am single as that is usually one of the first questions people ask when you meet them.

My children are aged 26 (yes, I know I was young when I had him), 20 and 18.  My eldest lives in the Midlands (UK) which is where his Dad and his family are, I don’t see him very often but I have been fortunate (in some ways) to have been able to spend 2 months with him this year.  I say fortunate in some ways because the reason he stayed with me for so long was because he was having a bit of a crisis and needed to get away.  Thankfully while he was here he helped me almost, if not more than I helped him.

The younger two live with me in East Anglia (UK), their father (who is a different man to my eldest’s dad) lives 10 minutes away.  My 20 year old is my main carer, he also helps with the 18 year old who has autism and social anxiety.  My 20 year old has been my rock through the years and I don’t believe that I would be sat here today if it hadn’t been for him and his support (and yes I do make sure that he knows that he is a very amazing person, even if he doesn’t always believe it).  Sadly he lost his job in the hospitality industry during the COVID-19 epidemic, as did so many others.  He didn’t work full-time but I do think that it was important for him to have that outlet, where he could make friends and do things that were not related to helping me and his sister.  We are trying to do thinhgs to help him rejoin the working world when the shielding is over.

As I mentioned my daughter has autism and severe social anxiety.  Around Oct 2017 she had total meltdown and refused to go to school, leave the house or even go near a door that was open to the outside.  She was in mainstream school before that, she is very clever and quite talented when it comes to anime drawings.  Sadly we did have quite a few problems with bullying, which the school did try and help with, even getting the police involved when the situation called for it.  Unfortunately, despite my asking for help several times, everything going on in the outside world just became too much for her and she put on the brakes.  We have had a little bit of help and after a lot of hard work on our part we managed to get her to leave the house.  She would go down to the local shop and the chip shop next door (about a 5 minute round trip), and we managed to get a volunteer to come and take her to a cat sanctuary once a week.  Two weeks after she had started doing this the cattery shut its doors to all non-necessary staff and then we went into lockdown mark 1.  Since then she has taken several steps backwards (although she does still do the shop trip if she has to).  I have been trying to encourage her to come out of her room and she refused to speak to me for 8 weeks, she wouldn’t even look at me.  We are now talking but she doesn’t come and search me out as she did before.  I am sure we will be okay and once the pandemic has some solution then we will work again at getting her out there.

I started by telling you about the children because it does tie in with what I am about to say in a few.  I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and CFS/ME about 15 years ago, gosh that was a long road to get the diagnosis.  It took about 4 more years to get my arthritis diagnosis because whenever I mentioned the pains they automatically put it down to the fibro/ME no matter how hard I tried to convince them that this pain was different.  Thankfully someone eventually listened and that meant that I could learn to do things that could help.  I do have other problems which impact my life slightly less than these, but we could be here a while if I went to deep into that and I am sure you don’t want that lol.

Long story short, I put on a lot of weight (about 6 stone or 84 pounds or 38.1kg), I was struggling to stay awake long enough to cook a meal and so I would just grab easy convenient snacks which we all know are not great substitutes but if I hadn’t done that then I probably wouldn’t have eaten anything.  I also wasn’t moving around anywhere near as much as I used to do, I had always been doing something before and although my diet wasn’t great I was burning up a lot of those calories so while I have never been skinny I wasn’t a big girl,

Up to the present(ish), I have battled with depression and anxiety for a long time, some of it because of how I looked a lot of it because of what I couldn’t do.  I forgot to focus on what I could do, what I did have.  A few weeks ago I went for a short walk by the quay (all my walks are short because it hurts so much and after a short time I struggle to pick up my feet).  I was watching the water, which I find very peaceful, and I saw a branch floating by on the current.  I was taken by an major urge to jump in and float off with it, which I am sure you will be glad to hear I managed to resist.  I thought about just getting into my car and driving until everything and everyone I knew were far behind me.  I felt like they would be better without me in their lives.

Somehow I managed to get back home and I tried to figure out how I had got to this point in my life.  I know I was missing my eldest, I was pleased I had managed to help him out but it had left a big hole when he went back home.  While he was with me we managed to sort out my house and threw away most of the clutter, which was great I felt like things were starting to move the right way.  So why had I spent weeks crying night and day?  I was awful to be around, even the woman who comes in to help me with the things I struggle to do wasn’t able to help with how I was feeling.

I knew I was lonely, although I have two children living at home they spend the majority of the time in their rooms, my daughter was ignoring me (even looking at the wall when she came to a room I was in so she didn’t have to look at me).  Every time I watched the television I would hear stories on how the lockdown had brought families together and how they were doing more as a family.  I couldn’t relate to that at all.  There was also so much talk about how people were keeping in touch over zoom or the like, I hadn’t even had one talk like that.  I don’t have a lot of friends, I am not good at keeping in touch and after you have had to cancel last minute so many times people stop asking you to do things.

I hated the way I looked but I had no clue on how to change it, every time I have tried to do any exercise I have suffered for days afterwards, even having a conversation with someone would leave me drained.  I had managed to lose 3 stone before the first lockdown but, after struggling to get deliveries and when I did it seemed that the things they couldn’t provide were all the healthy options I tried to get, I put back on 2 stone.  My face was starting to show the ravages of time, the worst being the hooded eyes I now have. I have always liked my eyes so it is sad they are not as noticeable as they used to be.

I think I might be coming up to the menopause, my period was over two weeks late at that point (it took another week before it said hello).  Any of you women out there will know that when your period is late it causes your hormones to go out of whack.  Looking back I know that had something to do with how I was feeling.

I remembered something my Dad had told me, “If you can do something about it then do so, if you can’t then all the worrying in the world won’t do anything”.  I decided that I had to try and do something to fix the problem areas I saw in my life.  I couldn’t do much about my hormones, expecially as it is the first time in over a year that it has taken so long which means the doctor wouldn’t do anything.  That meant I just had to let that one sort itself out.

I knew that if I listened to some Toby Keith or Kellie Pickler I always felt better (well Kellie does have two songs which make me cry because they cut so close to home but in a strange way even that makes me feel less alone), so I decided I was going to start listening to them, amongst others, more and if I could I would dance to them, that would at least get me started with moving.  It helped because I did lose 6 pounds in the two weeks leading up to this second lockdown.

Facing another month of lockdown I wanted to do something that would help me and also stop me from worrying about the fact that I couldn’t go for a cuppa with my carer and her partner on a tuesday morning.  So I decided to set myself a challenge.  I want to leave lock down looking better than I did when I entered it.  This meant looking for exercises that I could realisticaly do, I can’t see squats ever being a big part of any exercise routine I ever do.  I found some arm exercises that could be done sitting down, then I learnt about the wall push or standing push-up, I tried it and found that I could manage that so I added that one in.  I also looked at loads of videos for slimming down the stomach, the one exercise they all included was the plank.  Now I didn’t think I would be able to manage that, especially getting down and back up again, but I am pretty stubborn so I figured that I would try it.  The first time I thought I was going to die by the fifth second but I managed it and I am now going to try and do it as often as I can, after all no-one is about to see the crazy ways I have to use to pick myself up afterwards.

I also decided that I needed to lay down some house rules.  I drew up contracts for the two children who live with me (by drew up I mean I found some templates online and adapted them to suit).  Part of the contract stipulates that they need to spend some time with me while they are both home full-time.  That has stopped me from feeling so isolated even though they are here.  I have been making plans on what I want to do when the world returns to some sort of normality.  My life has basically been on hold for the past 15 years, I don’t even know how that happened, but it did and I am determined that I am going to put myself out there when I can (I might change my mind later, but at least for now it is giving me something positive to look forward to).

I had always said that when my youngest reached 18 (which happened during the first lockdown) I was going to start travelling.  This is definitely something I plan to keep to when travel plans can be a little more stable.  I used to be an active member of the theatre when I was in the Midlands but I didn’t even know we had one here until last lock down.  I want to look into joining them and doing some theatre stuff, that was the job I always wanted a far cry from what I ended up doing which was mechanical engineering.  I have a couple more things in the “to-do” bank but they are just the ones I am going to mention for now.

I don’t want to get back to that place where I want to disappear, to keep me on track I started this blog.  I want a record of where I started and how I am progressing, and it kinda gives me some sort of accountability.  It also makes me write something every day which is going to help me with another dream.  That, however, is a story for another time.

Take care and believe in yourself, you CAN do it, whatever IT may be.

[g-2doc]

Things no longer allowed in 2Doc fics because I frikkin said so - so you gotta think of something else

- Murdoc's 'calloused' fingers

- 2-D's 'voids'

- Murdoc 'looking at 2-D with mismatched eyes'

- Murdoc being 'the raven haired man'

- 2-D being 'the bluenette' it's not a word, and if it was it'd be for women because of the '-ette'

- Murdoc being a homophobe at any point because that beyond ooc of the founder of one of the most progressive and politically active bands on the music scene today

- 2-D being a butt virgin. Look at that boy - he gets it all the time, stop tryna kid yourself,

- Murdoc being a butt virgin. That mans a playa - he's been there done that or had that done or whatever or

- Murdoc saying Satan or referring to Satanism every other freaking sentence

- Making 2-D a complete and utter naïve blockhead. He's a fully gown adult, not a toddler - he's knows what stuff is. Also he's surprisingly capable of human thought above the level of that of an actual carrot.

- Making Murdoc super freaking old. He's in his early fifties, not his late seventies, calm it down on the whole 'ehhh im an old man help meee' thing

- Also the whole 'ah i was born in the 60's i don't know any millennial slang ahh what does lol mean' like, c'mon...

- Murdoc being chubby past phase 2 - he got bony then he got ripped, check your facts fellas

- 'i luv you' 'im murdoc and i don't know human emotions because my dad sux fuk u ahh im running away bye go die while i avoid you until i finally face how i feel and then we can fuk but this time it's different because we said we luv each other' this is the plot to about 704 fics out there, the charm has worn off at this point

- Over-doing 2-D's lisp. Just. Be casual. Don't thhhgthhthhhhth everything ok?

- 'do yew wanna go outside?' 'i haven't seen yew in a while' 'thank yew' 'yew look like you need some sleep' 'can I talk to yew?' just don't do it man.

- English slang is allowed - especially Murdoc's midlands slang - but don't go writing the English accent out phonetically all the god damn time or I'll actually die

- If you 'bloody' and 'blooming' all over the place I'm gonna have a stroke

- Noodle being like 'squeee yaoi!!! i wanna watch you fuk!!! aha yaoi all the way because i'm from japan land ✌️' what kinda backwards lunatic wants to watch two of their closest friends have sex??? especially in early-phase fics - what kinda backwards lunatic child????? c'mon guys?!?!??!! and seeing as Noodle has never shown any interest in yaoi canonically, idek where this comes from....

- Russel somehow staying out of everything for the entire thing. 2Doc fics obviously star 2-D and Murdoc, but as far as the other two are concerned, Noodle's the only one who seems to ever have a side role - Russel fuckin disappears for the whole fic!! If you're only writing 2-D and Murdoc, that's fine, let them romance in peace. But if they're doing band stuff and Russel is just in the corner in silence while Noodle is the only other character aside from the main two - rethink your life choices my dude

- This applies to all fics: 'noods'. If you don't see the problem, say it out loud. If you still don't see the problem, say it out loud in front of your grandma. It's a bad nickname. Come up with something else for the love of god, it's just downright innappropiate guys.

- Murdoc hurting 2-D in any way after they've gotten together (unless it's a super angsty fic) because that completely defeats the purpose of the ship entirely

.

| Feel free to add your own fic peeves on :) |

[jimmigmalingan]

BAGUIO MIDLAND COURIER: Still Standing, But How?

 The Baguio Midland Courier has been around for decades now, but as an Ifugao person, I must admit that I am coming into this near empty-handed. I would’ve preferred to look into the history of Ifugao press, but it seems as though that would be hard to trace. Not only do we not have any notable publications in the province but the ones that do come to mind that cover events in Ifugao are ones  who are academic in nature or affiliated with certain organizations and not entities of their own.

This is my second best option.

I did come across the Midland Courier in the past, although I did not pay it much mind. Of course it wasn’t until I did my research did I realize how much of a force it was. It isn’t particularly the first publication to circulate Baguio, there were many ones that came before and with it, but it definitely is the oldest one to survive.

Maybe we should start with the context. Begin to the point before it began if you will.

It was the beginning of the 20th Century. The Spaniards left, and the Americans took over, so the logical next step for them is to succeed at where the past colonizers have failed. One of those things is to take political control over the Cordilleras. That kind of explains why Cordillera in general is more American than it is Spanish, adapted culture-wise.

So here steps into the picture, dear old Baguio City, which was revered by the American troops for its cool climate, in contrast to the scorching tropical weathers of the lowlands. They thought it would be a good idea to turn the place into a vacation spot. That of course lead to the modernization (by western standards) of Baguio City.

Where am I getting at? Good question.

It’s the mining. Of course it is. A couple of publications at the time questioned the intentions of the Americans as to why they were so eager to construct the difficult Benguet Road no matter how irrationally high the spending for it was. It couldn’t possibly be something as innocent as making vacation houses for the troops, right? Somehow, in retrospect, they were right, but it must be said. If it wasn’t for the mining industry in Baguio, the city wouldn’t have been as developed, or as popular to the rest of the country, and we wouldn’t have our first pieces of homegrown journalism, which is surprisingly also concerning the mines.

Fast forward to World War II, the Japanese took over sovereign power, and Baguio City wasn’t safe from the bombs. There was heavy censorship in terms of journalism. The only things that slipped through at the time were propaganda pieces by the Japanese.

Of course this didn’t last. Tomoyuki Yamashita surrendered in Kiangan, Ifugao (which only takes a jeepney ride from our house, though I’ve never been to the shrine. Shame.) Little to none of us in the modern day Philippines have any remnants of a successful indoctrination tactic by the Japanese colonizers. They did leave us with a couple of things, though. A lot of generational trauma, and Baguio City being in shambles, along with the rest of the Philippines.

After the war, there was a boom in publications being produced in the city, One of them was Baguio Midland Courier. Because it’s the things in life that you silence that will blow up in your face eventually.

This is part of the efforts to restore Baguio City to its former glory, and again, a huge part of these efforts is the mines. If we learned anything from the Americans, it’s that if we are faced by the threat of economic crash like we are right now during this pandemic, we look to the homegrown mining industry.

The Baguio Midland Courier began its operations in 1947, and was founded by brothers, Sinai and Oseo Hamada. The first issue started with only four pages, four columns on each. Alongside that came its own printing press, Baguio Printing and Publishing Co., Inc.

Right off the bat they swore to live by the motto; Fair, Fearless, Friendly, Free. Which if you come to think of it, is quite a nod to the 5 elements of ethical Journalism;  truthfulness, accuracy, objectivity, impartiality, fairness, and accountability, although I do believe this was coined way after the first issue of the Midland Courier. Also you’d expect a publication called “Baguio Midland Courier” to have its scope delimited to concerns of Baguio and Benguet, or at least start from that point. Nope.

In the article published by Sinai Hamada, founding editor of Midland Courier at the time, on its first issue, he made it known that it is somewhat of a responsibility for the publication to cover stories of interest for all of Cordillera. He made references to Baguio being the gateway to the rest of the region, thus the wider and more ambitious reach.

The problems around these times were mainly concerning the machinery used for its weekly production. That of which needed some funds. To supplement that, investors and advertisers were invited in and soon enough, five years later to be exact, they would have their hands on the Babcock flatbed printing press, which was capable of producing up to 1800 copies per hour.

The struggle they had to face then was to prove its worth to the Cordilleran masses, which the editors admittedly found difficult. See, people at the time favored the national publications based in Manila and did not see much need for a community publication.

In came the 50s and 60s, which lead to the rise of radio and television as the household media, along with the rest of the world, really. The first radio broadcast in Baguio was from New York’s “Voice of America”, while the first actual Baguio-based radio broadcast began in 1958 with DZBS, otherwise known as Voice of Baguio. Makes sense, right?

Not only that but it’s mother company, Radio Philippines Network or RPN, was responsible for bringing colored television to Baguio City back in 1971, after expanding from radio to television in 1969.

This significantly affected not only the Baguio Midland Courier but also the community paper industry in general at the time, in terms of advertising revenue.

While looking for parallels in Philippine History that I can correlate to the Midland Courier’s timeline, one question stuck to mind; Did Baguio Midland Courier shut down during Martial Law?

Turns out, it didn’t. it was garnering some prestige in the early 70s if anything. Although according to a research by Kenneth Robles (2016) there was a significant drop in sales during this period, only to skyrocket again as soon as Martial Law ended. But get this, there was an increase in obituary entries during the time of the Martial Law. Quite a dark thought to ponder upon.

1986 was when the EDSA Revolution happened and the country saw another boom in terms of Media and Journalism. Capitalism was back in style, everywhere. Reagan was the president in the United States at the time. His “Reaganomics” policies reeked in our country somehow. There was an air of competition in general amongst the media outlets. Everyone had a bit of taste for some greed and luxury. That was until the earthquake happened.

One of the most prevalent pictures to come out of the 1990 Luzon Earthquake was the image of the ruins of the Hyatt Hotel, located then at Camp John Hay, Baguio City. I watched this roughly 2 hour live broadcast of the 1990 earthquake by ABS-CBN, where they interviewed this woman who said that this might just be God’s punishment to Baguio being “too materialistic”. 

I digress.

The internet came to the Philippines in 1994 and became more popularized at around 1997. The Baguio Midland Courier officially went online in 2007. Apparently majority of the consumers of its online format are Overseas Filipino Workers.

Today, Baguio Midland Courier stands strong in their 74th year, and has proven to be resilient in withstanding all of the turbulent events and difficult competition that came and went with the times. With all the accolades under their name, the news, commentaries, editorials, and adverts tailor-fit for the Baguio City and Cordilleran lifestyle has made Baguio Midland Courier a significant part daily Bagui living.

And to that, I pay nothing but respect.

[mr-rod-lestrange]

Rome

It all started on the day we left. Our flight was at 3.30 so i suggested we left at midday, John argued that it would be too early but it takes roughly an hour and half to get to east midlands and we've got check in and security etc plus it was ryanair so i thought the more time the better. after much arm twisting he agreed though told me all the way there on the empty dual carriageway that i was paranoid etc until we got there and were waiting for ages in both check in and security and if we had left when he wanted to we'd have missed the flight. Throughout the lines he was panicking we didnt have enough time and said it was unusual as usually he gets checked in and through security in ten minutes.

The flight was my part of the arrangement, his was the hotel. when we got there we got a cab to the hotel which i had planned for. there was a bus into rome but as neither of us had been before we couldnt figure out where to catch it, fine. it wa 40 euros and took an hour- whatever. i paid for this. when we got to the 'hotel' it turned out to be on the top floor of a block of flats, like an air bnb sort of thing, cheap rooms, which i was fine with. only no one was answering the intercom, luckily someone was leaving and let us in and we got to the top to find no staff and no information. John proceeded to have the hugest meltdown i have ever seen 'I'm stuck ellie, i'm stuck in a foreign country where no one speaks english and we got no where to stay tonight and we're going to be homeless' now i was a bit worried, but we had passed like five hotels on that street alone and it wa sa tuesday, someone would have SOMETHING. we stayed up there maybe ten minutes before deciding to get something else, which we found on the corner. he paid like 150 euros for the night and it was nice. Only when he checked his emails he found out he'd been sent all the check in info from the hotel people, check in was until 8 and we got there at 8.30, but they sent him the codes and instructions anyway it was fine we went out got a bit tiddly, had some food and crashed in our nice room.

It was during the first night i found out that he had only booked the hotel until saturday morning. Despite me showing him the itinerary for flights and telling him the dates about 4 times, each time he told me 'sure babe' he had not read the itinary or paid any attention as we were due to fly out again on tuesday the 19th. I understandably wasnt very happy with this as i ran it by him so many times and he basically had chopped our holiday in half. I did toy with the idea of staying by myself until tuesday but i realised getting a hotel saturday night might be difficult and expensive and i just got an email that my flat is finally ready :)

went to the room next day, it was nice, just a bed, tv, balcony, and bathroom but in the same room seperated with a slidey glass door. I was fine with this, he was fine- whatever. Rest of the trip went well we had good wine, good food saw all the sights, rome is a truley lovely place. My next gripe with him might come across as a bit petty but I just couldn't get past this, John shits a lot, which is fine, people have different digestive rhythms to myself, but he doesnt clean the toilet after himself.I'm not kim and aggie guys but it takes five seconds to scrub a bog after youve been in it. there is nothing quite so grim than going to loo and seeing and smelling someone elses shit. Also, i don't know when this happened in our relationship but John felt this was the appropriate time to start farting in front of me, in bed, while on the balcony, everywhere, and it stunk, it made me feel sick.

somehow in the wake of all the stress he caused me with the whole chopping my holiday in half scenario and the fart and shit festival we were having in the room he also felt it wasa great time to initiate shags which i could not have been less on board with. didn't happen, i dont know whether its because i was mad at him or disgusted but i'd rather have fucked donald trump at least his bedroom would have been clean.

so anyway we got up today to go home, our taxi was booked for 7am and we waited outside, we were told it was a white sedan, all of the taxis in rome are white sedans. this taxi pulls up, we get in, go to the airport and pay. only when i get inside the airport, i find ive got ten missed calls. that wasnt the taxi i booked. my fault i suppose, but i did ask the guy if he was the one we booked and he said yes but chalk it up to communciation error? anyway that taxi company keep nagging me for 40 euros to pay for the journey i boked but never had, theyve sent me bank details but i cant figure out how to do it so i suppose theres a bounty on my head and i can never return to rome.

We had two planes today, rome to pisa and pisa to east midlands, he paid for both flights which is good cos its his fault for not listening. rome to pisa was fine, we got a maccys breakfast, hung out in the smoking shed thing and slpt through the flight. Pisa to east midlands was more manic, again he got angry ecause of the queues ut we're flight jet2holidays what can be expected? he got mad again cos they made him take his belt off to get scanned but anyway we got home. when john gets mad he gets sweary and loud and i get quiet and try and calm the situation and it's a side i don't like seeing.

It's just been shit after shit literally and the straw that broke my camel back happened this afternoon, we were leaving the airport car park and the machine was broken. John buzzed for the intercom and explained it was broken, the man asked him to put his card in the machine about five times then said it was johns problem for having a card that didnt have chip and pin. in johns defense the card machine was displaying an error and they got a man our to fix it, all the while a massive queue formed behind. john got mad at intercom man and started swearing at him and i had to shout JOHN at him like the wife out of one foot in the grave my actual words were 'dont swear at english people while they are working they won't help you' and the intercom guy did cut us off for five minutes and i dont blame him. I know John was tired and mad and so was everyone else.

Best thing was when the engineer came to reset everything some old bint with pink came out with a fag on having a go at the engineer for how long it was taking (maybe 15 minutes at MOST) and her big bald hubbie came out and was like 'yer keepin' us prisoner, we're prisoners in this car park, let us out we've got rights, we've got places t' be' and i'm like holy shit anyway they let u go without paying the car park fee which was £60 so that's one teeny tiny victory in all this.

I loved rome, as a city its massive and beautiful and has loads to do, taste and see. I can't quite put it into words but literally John had a stress every time something mildly inconvenient happened, he hated the crowds, he hated queueing, he hated the traffic the only thing he didnt hate was the wine and having a shit. Coming home today has been so difficult to explain cos i was so jet lagged from the two flights but it's okay, i'll just wait for the threatening emails from he rome tax company and in the mean time organise me moving out :)

Am i being unreasonable? I found him disgusting this week?

[talesofwight]

The First

Another story I wrote up! This time focusing on expanding on Rufus’s first gladiatorial bout, and also his very first relationship, doomed to be lost in the fires of the Calamity. Under the cut for lengthiness! Some NSFW involved!

Darkness clung to the room like it was made of pitch, an all-encompassing abyss surrounding him as he lay back in his bed, in his home. The night was silent. He heard his thoughts with crystalline clarity. Such things were not uncommon. Often did he reflect on his life as he lay in bed, though of late such thoughts tended not to haunt him as they used to.

He shivered slightly as the hearth had long since died out, the room filled with cold. His body was bare 'neath the sheets, as he almost always slept. He pulled his quilt up around his neck, revelling in the warm embrace it offered. When did that start? He pondered, as he quietly rustled the sheets and raised his right hand to his chest. Thereupon, he gently grasped a small pendant hanging from a silver chain around his neck. The room was dark, but he could still picture the image in his mind. He brushed a thumb gently over the contours and shapes of the surface. A wolf's head lay profile on the face, arced up as though howling at the moon. It belonged to his mother - his one and only keepsake of hers. One day, he intended to give it to the woman whom he was to marry, though that day continued to elude him yet.

Ah... probably back then... His thoughts continued as his thumb finally ceased tracing the pendant, the image in his mind of the trinket was suddenly replaced by the visage of a young, vibrant midlander girl with peach-coloured skin. Short-cut, fair hair that suited her tomboyish looks.

It had been some time since he last thought of her.

Amelia... what would my life be like if you were still here today? The thought nagged at him for a time, his face scrunching into a soft frown. A sigh bubbled up past his lips as he fluttered his eyes closed, shuffling his body in vain purpose to find a more comfortable sleeping position. As the minutes wore on, he quickly began to surrender himself to the siren song of sleep, the darkness enveloping him...

Amelia.

Rufus had slept well the night before, all things considered. He understood the pressure mounted upon his shoulders for the following day well, he had been training for it practically all his life. His father demanded no less of him, and “demand” was the kindest word to call it. Sunlight streamed in from the window opposite the bed in his simple, rustic room. Wooden floors and walls, with little to decorate them, and suitably bland furniture to match. The big day... He thought to himself, letting a quiet yawn escape him as he tried to will his body to rise. It didn't respond. He felt something heavy, stuck to his right arm. It was warm. It was... moving? He blinked in the dim light, a moment passing in utter silence as he recalled to mind his situation. He rolled his head to the right, and his gaze was met with the face of a sleeping woman. Young, freckled, with short, blond hair. She breathed softly beside him, having not yet been stirred from her peaceful slumber.

He almost stopped breathing himself as he recalled to mind the events of the night before - what led him to being weighed down by this cute, tomboyish girl... bereft of clothes. As he was. A smile slowly crept across his lips as he rolled to his right, laying on his side and opposite to the yet-dreaming woman. His left hand deftly slipped forward, until his fingertips met flesh not his own. Her thigh. She was muscular, and yet... so soft. So enticing. So intoxicating to his young mind. His fingers moved as if controlled by another, drawing lazy circles in her flesh. He watched as her expression shifted slightly, registering the touch. She let out a little moan. He smiled still. Those fingers began a languid ascent up the toned muscle of her leg, following the shapely curve of her body, coming to rest upon her hip. She stirred again, her head tilting so that the greater portion of her neck was exposed to him. He wasted no time and leaned his head in, plying his lips to the exposed skin and peppering it with a series of feathery kisses. 'Mmm... Rufus...?' She breathed sharply, swiftly followed by a long, delighted exhale. He offered no verbal response, though a guttural 'mhm' noise flowing past the lips that had locked onto her neck and sucked as though a child with a comically-sized lollypop. 'Your first match is today... shouldn't you be getting ready...?' 'I think we still have some time... Could use some... encouragement.' He chuckled, and she chuckled in response. His teeth trapped a section of skin between them and pressed firmly, eliciting another moan from her. 'You make it hard to say no, Rufus. But I don't want to be the reason you're late...' 'Just a little longer,' he argued, his exploring hand slowly ventured south as it sought what lay between her legs, 'I'm sure we can spare a few minutes...' 'We only became lovers last night, Rufus... don't be so hasty.' She chimed in a tone that held teasing, as her hands found his beneath the sheets, playfully halting him in his tracks. He let out a childish huff from his nose, reluctantly disengaging from her form and rolling onto his back again. 'Oh, don't pout you big baby. You'll see me again, after the match. I'll be there to celebrate your win... or nurse you back to health. Either way, I win.' She cracked a toothy grin at him, brighter than the burgeoning daylight coming through the window, he thought. 'Bah... alright! But if I lose, I'm blaming it on my love not seeing to my needs. The Mythril Eye will report it, and you'll look like you're soooooo mean to me.' He flashed a mirthful grin back at her, as she laughed and rolled out of the bed. There, for a good several moments, she stood in her all - her nothing, turned to face him. He couldn't help how his eyes wandered in that moment, so greedily drinking in the sight. She was shorter than him, as most midlander women tend to be, but she was also powerfully-built. Strong arms connected to firm shoulders, which led south to her surprisingly well-endowed breasts, swaying softly with every little breath. His gaze remained on her chest for what felt like a bell. Tearing his gaze away and further south still, her toned abdomen belied her many hours spent working on her fitness. Her abdomen gave way to wide hips, that surely indicated a firm and plump rear. A streak of dark hair caught his eyes as he marked what it was 'twixt her legs. Groomed, as though she knew the night before was certain to happen. Her thighs were thick and strong, and looked easily capable of crushing a man's head between them - how blissful that would be were it his own.

She was perfect to his eye. It was all he could do not to pounce her then and there. Before his gaze could linger any longer, she swiftly and cruelly snatched the quilt from the bed and wrapped herself in it, faux-coyly hiding away the beauty he was so in awe of. 'Careful, your eyes will pop out of their sockets if you stare any more.' She chided playfully. Ironically, it was her eyes that now took the time to stare at his own bare form. He was larger and stronger than her in almost all shapes and aspects. His body trained to the peak of physical fitness by demand and necessity. Few things there were to catch the eye outside of his doubtlessly impressive musculature, though always there would be the ugly, misshapen symbol burned into the back of his right hand - the three spears that symbolised Halone, Goddess of War. One drunken night his father somehow convinced himself that if Rufus was marked by the Goddess's icon, it would infer to him greater combat prowess. Not a night that Rufus looked back on fondly. Aside from that was little out of place. Though he noted her own longing stare at what hung 'twixt his own legs, amidst a field of brown hairs. To his pride, he stood at a respectable size when all was said and done, and it seemed to do the job very well in the night prior. 'Careful yourself.' He teased, moving his hands to cover his groin in a playful gesture, as though a shy maiden. 'Now I'll never wear white at my bonding!' His words were met by a laugh from Amelia, who was now skirting around the bed and making for the door with a train of bedsheets following her. She didn't even attempt to pick up any of her belongings from the clothes-stewn floor. 'I'm going to make my champion-to-be a nice, big breakfast, while you go and bathe. You can look as handsome and masculine as you like, but it'll do you no good if you smell of sweat and sex.' Amelia laughed, pausing only briefly on her way to the door to look at him as he forced himself up and out of bed, running a hand through his messy, parted hair that framed his face so well. She strode over and leaned up on the tips of her toes, as she pressed her lips to his own in a greedy, loving kiss. She reached a hand up to stroke his jawline, her own hardened fingertips brushing the fluff of hair beneath his chin. 'I love you.' She whispered, breaking their kiss. Her eyes stared warmly and lovingly into his own, piercing right through him like an arrow. 'Love you too, sweetheart.' He rumbled, and leaned forward to entwine his lips with hers once more, not quite satisfied just yet. Rufus cared not for the passage of time whilst locked in intimacy like that with her. She was his everything.

He could hear the crowds outside the Guild, all abuzz with excitement. Today, those people were going to watch him fight another man - possibly to the death. All for their own excitement. Something about it twisted his gut in an aggravating way. Yet, this was the line of work that he was born to do - or so his father had told him. The progeny of two renowned Gladiators, what else would he be suited for? Cooking, was the first thing to his mind. 'Rufus! It's time!' A rough voice called him from across the room at the top of the stairs which led down to the arena. He shifted his head and regarded a blue-skinned roegadyn man waving emphatically at him. He sighed. Showtime. He thought, and turned his attention to his equipment for one final pre-fight check. He wore very little - such was the custom of the field: He wore a galerus that covered various vital spots on his shoulders and neck, and very little everywhere else on his torso, black, fingerless gloves with metal plates attached to the knuckles to enable more painful punches, a pair of breeches that exposed his thighs, and pair of plated caligae that probably offered the most protection of all that he wore, save for the final piece - a steel barbut that covered his entire head. It was already hard to see from inside, even with the visor lifted. He checked the sword hanging at his left hip, his right hand grasping the hilt and drawing it some few ilms out of the scabbard. Just a precaution. The buckler he had strapped to his left wrist seemed sturdy enough, though he couldn't help but wish to have been outfitted with something a tad larger. Nonetheless, now was his time, and he would not keep destiny waiting.

Down there, stood before the gate that led to the arena floor, the crowd was even more deafening. They screamed, cheered, and bristled with anticipation. Rufus felt a cold sting run through him. Yes, he had trained for a long, long time for this moment. And yet... butterflies still raged in his stomach. He felt like he wanted to be sick. He forced the sensation down, just in time to jump in surprise as the metal gates let out an ear-splitting screech and began to rise upwards. Slowly. It was as though an eternity had passed in the time it took for it to grind to a halt. The crowd roared as he stepped out into the wide, circular floor. His neck craned upwards, scanning the spectator booths lining the walls. He didn't recognise any in the first two. Then his eyes caught a familiar sight. In the booth to his north and west was a lone figure - a tomboyish lass, so familiar now to his eye, was leaning on the edge of the stone, screaming something from the tops of her lungs. Whatever words she spoke were lost in the din of the crowd. Nonetheless, he lifted his hand and gave her a wave, then treated the rest of the audience to the greeting. Before long, he found himself stood near the centre of the arena, facing down his opponent - a highlander male with a fiery red mane of hair, bearing a shock of white in it that belied the aged face beneath, garbed in brown leather armour. He wore a confident smile as he sized up his opponent, patting the hilt of the sword at his hip. 'Yer about to curse yer ma an' da fer birthin' ye, lad. Yer facin' The Claw of Ala Mhigo today! Rhalgr have pity on yer soul.' His voice was so... large. So fierce, that Rufus had no problem hearing him over the baying crowd. He frowned, lifting a hand to clasp shut his visor. No words were necessary. Above the two, an equally commanding voice rung out - one that silenced the spectators as they turned their eyes to him. The roegadyn he had seen before. He was announcing the fight. 'Good people of Ul'dah! Welcome to the coliseum! Today, we have a special match for you all to witness, I'm sure you heard. Today is the first match of the progeny of Drystan and Selene Miller - Thal rest her soul. Today we see Rufus - Blood of the Iron Wolf - begin his career on the Bloodsands! Will it begin with a bang, or a whimper? We'll certainly see, as he is pitted against The Claw of Ala Mhigo - Sigmund Bloodbane!' The crowd once more erupted into a cacophony of cheers for the two warriors who were now about to do battle - Rufus could almost swear he felt the bloodlust radiating from them. 'Now, without any further adue,' the roegadyn boomed 'let the battle begin!' The Claw of Ala Mhigo lunged.

Years of training - almost two decades. And in this moment, Rufus felt that naught could have prepared him for what he was experiencing. His opponent was pressing his clear advantage, using his height and strength to force Rufus onto the defence. Blow after blow came towards him - he just barely managed to parry them. His skin blazed with small nicks where he hadn't managed to avoid Sigmund's blade in time. His back was nearing the wall. He would soon be trapped if he didn't find a way to break the onslaught. Sigmund swung again, the arc of the blade would've easily cut open his chest if Rufus hadn't ducked beneath the swing and tumbled past his opponent, converting his momentum into a roll and springing back onto his feet. 'Ye'll not win if ye run forever, pup!' Sigmund called tauntingly. Rufus swore behind his helmet. He knew that much. 'Fine! I'll be glad to say I kicked the arse o' the wee, snivelling coward yer ma and da made! Just stand still!' He stepped forward three times, spun, and aimed another strike at Rufus's head. Enough. Rufus thought, moving his left arm into ready position, he shoved his shield outwards, catching the incoming blow, and to the surprise of his enemy, pressing forward to knock Sigmund off balance. Pain seared through him with every motion he took, but he was not about to give up without fighting. No. Not after all he had been through. He would look upon his father's face as a victor, and show him that for all the pain and suffering he endured, he had come out on top. He would not be broken.

The tables had turned. The crowd roared at the dramatic twist, as Rufus launched his own assault on the highlander. Using his smaller size to his advantage, he danced around Sigmund, nicking him with each stroke he landed - wearing him down with each cut. His ears tuned out the world around him, only able to hear the blood rushing past. The adrenaline pumping in his veins. He backed off to avoid a flimsy counter, wasting no time as he ran at a circular angle back towards the Claw. He was slowing down. Blood loss does that to you. He was now worse off than Rufus was. The strike that came was easily avoided - a step, a pirouette, and a thrust to the hip. His blade bit deep, eliciting a cry of pain from Sigmund, and a roar of approval from the crowd. That was it. Or it should  have been it. Doubtless the highlander is a hardy specimen. Even with steel embedded within him, Sigmund turned his head towards Rufus. The pain and rage that  twisted his mein was a true horror to behold. Before Rufus could respond, a massive hand reached out and grabbed his barbut. He struggled, trying to break free of the grip, but it was as a vice. With a violent pull, his helm was all but ripped from his head and tossed to the side. He was in shock. He stumbled backwards, letting go of the sword which clattered to the ground. He caught his own feet, and fell to the ground.

Move! He willed himself. But he wouldn't respond. Move! He tried again. Sigmund was raising his sword. MOVE! The third time did it. He began to shuffle back to avoid the strike.

It was a vain effort.

The coliseum was filled with the sound of a scream then - a long, baying howl. Absolute and consuming pain burned from his face. His eyes were hazy, and they stung. Flecks of red fluid clung to his lashes. The crowd sounded like garbled nonsense, muted as though they all spoke from behind a wall. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his eyes. They wouldn't. Crimson dripped from the newly-formed gash, a hideous cut from right to left diagonally, profusely bleeding. He felt like he was going to pass out. Like he was going to scream. That he wanted to tear the man who had done this to shreds. A whorl of emotions churned within him. Before he even knew what he was doing - as though a marionette, moving by the machinations of another - he rose and, through a haze of red, grabbed his blade from the floor and rose. This time it was Sigmund who was too slow. Before he could react, the Claw of Ala Mhigo felt the sting of Rufus's blade as it carved from his belly up to his chest. It wasn't a deep cut, but it was the final one he needed. With a sigh, the highlander's body went limp, as he fell to the hard ground with a heavy thud. He breathed still, albeit faintly. Not that Rufus noticed. He panted as though having just ran a marathon in full plate, his body was numb, his vision darkening. He thought he heard the crowd screaming - in terror this time. The booming, distorted voice of the announcer was the last thing he heard before darkness overcame him.

It felt like the nightmares were unending. He felt feverish. Every time he tried to sleep, he saw Sigmund's fiendish visage in the backs of his eyelids. He woke every time with a start, and a yell, and a flash of pain as he reminded himself where he was. Being treated for his wounds by an alchemist in a bland, white and beige room in the Scholar's Walk. The bandages on his face felt hot. Itchy. He wanted to take them off. How bad could it have been? Every time he rose a hand to attempt to do anything to the pesky bandages, a strong, feminine hand reached over to grab his. Amelia. She had been watching over him for days and nights at a time. She looked sick with worry. It pained him, more than any physical hurt ever could. 'Sweetheart... you should go and rest...' He spoke, and it was as though his throat was lined with sand. She shook her head and smiled at him. 'No... No, Rufus. I can't leave you like this. I want to stay.' Tears clung to those large, emerald eyes. 'You can stop looking at me like that... I won the match, didn't I...? My first match...?' 'Technically, yes... But what a way for it to happen. The alchemists say you'll be fine. Though you may be left with some scarring...' 'Yeah...? Like... sexy-scar or ugly-scar...?' The attempt at a joke hurt, and he let out a hacking cough, sending spasms of pain throughout his body. Amelia just smiled at him. She opened her mouth, ready to speak, but abruptly found herself cut off as the door to the room opened with a whine. Both of them looked. Both eyes went wide.

The aged, dark-skinned man limped into the room, using a cane of some sort of wood - Rufus couldn't tell - to support himself. He looked frail, almost as much as Rufus felt himself to be. But his eyes were still bright and attentive. And if you looked closely - squinted even - you could see that he was probably quite a statuesque man once upon a time. 'Son...' The man spoke, finally. '...Father.' Rufus whispered back. Amelia was as quiet as death. 'I... saw your bout today. You did well...' '...Thank you.' 'Training paid off...' 'Yeah...' The silence was palpable for the next few moments. Both men looked away, then slowly back to one another. It was the father who spoke first. 'What the announcer said -- your ring name... "Blood of the Iron Wolf". They meant your mother...' 'I know. What about it?' The withered man lifted his one free hand. From around his neck, the father produced a pendant, hung on a silver chain. He limped forward and held it out to his son. 'This... was your mother's. She wore it in every fight. Including when I met her. I... well... with your name, and all... I thought you should have it...' Rufus was speechless. His tired eyes simply scanned the face of the necklace. A wolf's head, howling at the sky. He reached a hand forward, palm-up, to accept the treasure. The father took another step forward and dropped the necklace into the awaiting hand. 'I'm sure... if she were here today. She'd have been proud of you, son. Like I am.' '...Thanks... dad.' 'I'll leave you two be... you've got to rest.' 'Right... thanks for coming. 'Bye.' His father gave him a cursory nod and, for the shortest of moments, he thought he saw a look of gratitude directed at Amelia, who simply nodded in return. With that, he turned and limped his way back out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving the two remaining in a manner of stunned silence.

It was Rufus who broke the silence first. Lifting the pendant closer to his unfocused eyes, seeing it more clearly. 'That's a very special thing, Rufus...' 'Yeah... I know it is. The only thing I've got to remember her by... Even if I didn't know her.' 'I'm sure she'd be as proud of you as I am, my champion.' Amelia leaned over the bed and plied a gentle kiss to Rufus's lips. Hers tasted so sweet and soft. His felt dry and cracked. Truly perfect. She settled back into the chair she had pulled beside his bed after a moment. 'Will you keep fighting?' Amelia asked in a small voice. 'Hmm...' Rufus muttered, squinting and frowning until it hurt at the pendant. 'I... suppose it wouldn't be very legacy-worthy if I was to quit after my first, wouldn't it?' Amelia smiled, nodded, and kissed his hand - his inscribed hand. Considering what awaited him after the bandages came off, he was glad she wasn't repulsed by scars.

[rjptalk]

Refinancing? Well, yes. the rates on mortgages right now, this minute, are the lowest they have ever been in the history of U.S. mortgages. Some people nipped in before me and got mortgages at 2%, even 1.5% though I think these were the better-off no risk people. This all happened because I couldn’t get a $6,200 0% mortgage from a bank … and we really needed that boiler. We also needed the back door and sheathing replaced … and honestly, we need a new love seat because this one is 14 years old and we sit in it ALL the time. It has kind of collapsed.

The sofa we bought the same day as our loveseat is covered with dog-hair, but is otherwise in excellent condition. Unless we have company (these days, we have Owen living here, so someone really does sit on it) — it has been a bed for dogs. Our dogs have grown from puppyhood to their final moments on that sofa. We keep covers on it to keep the worst of the dog hair, mud, and half-eaten dog treats off it, but we also keep a lot of pillows on it because they like to toss the pillows around. Now there’s only one dog and Duke is not having as good a time tossing pillows as he had when Bonnie helped him.

The last time I checked, the value of our house was below what we owed on it. That it was 10 years ago. We had been going through a two-year period of getting zero salary, so when we got into Obama’s HARP (Home Affordable Refinance Program), it reduced our mortgage payments from $2800/month — which was unsustainable — to $1500. It gave us our lives back. That was also when I finally started getting Social Security, Garry began to get his pension and Social Security and suddenly, we were alive.

The way HARP worked was that HUD (the Housing and Urban Development agency) “took over” $80,000 of our mortgage. They held that money as a lien against the house, interest free, with no payments from us until we refinanced, moved, or died. The rate was 4.88% which in 2010, was a good rate. We’ve been living with it ever since. When this loan came through — I had been begging for it for months — I had cancer in both breasts. Thus I was not in one of my mentally acute phases. The HARP loan came through just about one day before I went in for a bilateral mastectomy. I had two kinds of cancer, one in each breast. I don’t remember getting papers from the bank or signing anything, although I probably did. I simply wasn’t in any mental state to deal with paperwork or even understand anything. Neither was anyone else. We were just absurdly grateful to finally get a mortgage we could pay.

My back door

Bronze oak leaves piled against the back door

  So now, with the American economy in tatters and having been refused by all local banks who were part of the “freebie” boiler loan program, I was watching the news and they were talking about interest rates. One of the things they said was that mortgage rates were unbelievably low. Anyone who was thinking of buying or refinancing, this was a great time to do it. Out of tragedy, someone benefits and this time, it was us.

Nonetheless, I wasn’t optimistic, but I figured there was no harm in asking. I used one of the  lists (Angies?) to see if we could get a money-back refinance. I said I was interested in refinancing. Within 2 seconds (no joke, they are THAT fast!), the phone was ringing and emails were popping up. I may never get my loveseat, but but apparently finance companies are standing by their phones, panting with the expectation that someone will need their help.

I decided to use Mutual of Omaha, mostly because I’d heard of them. I have worked with banks that have been in business for 5 minutes. I wanted to at work with a company that has been around awhile, in this case, more than 100 years. My coordinator ran the numbers, said we could do it, ordered an appraisal, sent us papers to sign (it’s amazing how much they can make an electronic signature look like the real thing) online and we were off and running.

Unfortunately, so were several million other people. Anyone who was (or is, because the rates are still very low) looking for a new house in the ‘burbs or wanted to get a better rate, or like us, was looking for a cashout to repair the house, the moment had come. Amidst the chaos, anguish, and nightmare of a plague and devastated economy, even we unlikely folks could take some advantage of the disaster.

It turned out that we could reabsorb the $80,000 from HUD and get a new refinance (at 3.12%) and still pay less per month than we were paying at 4.88%.

There were a few issues. One was we had actually borrowed almost $88,000 from HUD, not $80,000. This chopped off a big piece from our proposed cashback, but still, it would be enough. Barely. I haven’t refinanced in more than a decade. I’d forgotten about prepaying taxes and insurance. Moreover, for every piece of paper you need to refinance, there’s a price attached. The people charging the money essentially are faxing a copy of a piece of paper, but it adds up. By the time we got the almost final settlement (yesterday), we were getting not $15,000 but $5,000. It would be enough to finish paying off the boiler (we’ve paid more than half of it already) and get the back door done. Probably pay for the loveseat should it ever become available.

Old boiler

New boiler

I said it seemed an insanely long time for a refinance (I remember them taking maybe a week or 10 days), but Ryan said the everybody and his cousin George was buying or refinancing and they were working as fast as they could and doing it from home. Which meant problems getting into the mainframe, problems getting stupidly simple things like fast delivery packets for UPS or even getting copies made.

We’re now in the final home stretch. To make things even more interesting, we aren’t getting all the money in one lump. We get one lump from Mutual of Omaha. We get two months of no mortgage AND we are getting a chunky refund from our current mortgage purveyor. Fortunately, I arranged to pay the boiler off in $800 slices after the down payment, so I don’t have to come up with all of it at the same time … and should our furniture store ever actually make delivery of our loveseat, I’ll work out something with them, too. They are local, we are local. We’ll get it done.

I am exhausted. Every morning begins with a phone call from Mutual and papers show up online, in the mail. Today’s crisis was getting the payoff statement from Midland because Mutual has been trying to get a copy all week and it hasn’t arrived. Ryan asked me if there was something I could do. I did what all suburban women do. I got on the phone with Midland. I told them they were preventing me from completing my refinance and costing me money. Real money because when you extend past a certain amount of time, they start charging interest on extra days. Please don’t ask for an explanation. I know the answer, but there are a lot of numbers and legal explanations. I’m too stupid to explain them.

Garry thanks me every night for all the work I’ve done on this project and I say “You’re welcome.” This all part of the explanation of why I haven’t had time to do anything. The phone keeps ringing and the papers keep arriving and we keep signing. But now, we are in the home stretch, so hopefully by the end of next week we should be finished. I think my brain is beginning to dissolve.

Photo: Garry Armstrong — Finished new wall

Finally finished front door

After this, I will be involved in contractors and other repairs. One of these days, I will scrub my kitchen floor. Mostly, I’ve been sweeping and vacuuming and wiping up spills. Because I have this abscess and am taking tons of antibiotics that do nasty things to my tummy which means I can’t take anything for the pain in my back, it has made housekeeping less frequent. Oh, and did I mention that Duke is dropping his coat? It’s his first major drop. About right. He’s turning three and his coat is just about to really come in. I have a funny feeling he is about to get a lot furrier. And I have to find some money to get one tooth repaired and another extracted, but I’ll work something out somehow.

None of these are complaints. They are, however, explanations. Of why I’m not reading a lot of posts. Why it’s hard to find something to write about that doesn’t have to do with refinancing, repairing the house, or dealing with the abscess in my mouth. Which is also why I’m thinking of taking a break and dealing with all the stuff going on.

REFINANCING IN THE TIME OF COVID-19 Refinancing? Well, yes. the rates on mortgages right now, this minute, are the lowest they have ever been in the history of U.S.

[riaa-isabel]

After Scarlett’s grand escape from NICU, she and I didn’t immediately go home. Home for us is actually 2 hours away in Andrews, Tx.  So going “home” for Scarlett meant an extended stay at Grandma Sylvia’s and Popo’s house (my mom & her boyfriend). 

Both of whom we are so incredibly thankful for, for opening up their home to us following Scarlett’s hospital stay. I honestly can’t say enough how much their help meant to us during this transitional period. 

Our reasons for sticking around longer are not as crazy as you might think. BJ & I made decisions that were best for our family at the time. While we would have loved nothing more than to take our sweet, tiny warrior home; it was better if she and I stayed close to her doctors for a little while. Following her release from NICU she would have several specialists she would need to follow-up with (within the first month alone). Cutting out traveling time, not only helped us financially but also gave this mama a peace-of-mind staying close to doctors who were already familiar with her medical history.  Not to forget to mention that Scarlett came home on supplemental oxygen support! All of which was something I wanted to be completely comfortable using, before taking any extended road-trips.

The Oxygen tanks & Pulse Ox Machine

The answer to the million-dollar question: Why did we choose to follow up with doctors in Lubbock, rather than Midland/Odessa which are a lot closer to us?

For starters. Because we wanted to. Our kid, Our choice lol.

But for real, because I was scared. I was a first-time mom, with a fragile baby, who had already overcome SO many obstacles. Having a choice between going to doctors in an area I’m not 100% familiar with. Verses seeing doctors in the area where my daughter was born, and we already knew.. I mean… It wasn’t really a choice – at least not in my eyes. We also have most ALL of our family in Lubbock. It’s where BJ & I were born and raised. So having that familial support and being so close, allowed the opportunity for our family to enjoy time with Scarlett. That was something we really wanted for her, especially during that time.

Grandma Sylvia

Finding balance isn’t; easy and can be very taxing. I know it took us time to find ours (and we’re still working on it lol). We found that by following the NICU schedule the first few days at home made the transition a lot easier on Scarlett. The absence of machines beeping and people coming and going made home eerily quiet for her. Thankfully the sounds from her oxygen machine created white noise which helped her sleep. I eventually started changing the routine a little at a time in order to make it our own and what worked for us.

That first couple of days home were both a challenge and a blessing. While I no longer had the helping hands of 100 NICU nurses, I was able to take care of Scarlett all by myself. I had been looking forward to days like these. That’s not to say I didn’t have my worries. But thanks to the wonderful UMC NICU staff, I had been well “trained” on what to do in case things got a little hairy.

The days were fairly smooth and easy…when she slept, I slept – We slept. 😉 Jk. I had a “newborn” on my hands – I wasn’t getting any sleep! lol Like any other mom, I spent most of my time changing diapers, prepping bottles, feeding, and washing bottles. Change. Feed. Wash. Repeat. You get the idea. My mom and Luis (a.k.a Popo) were almost always at work, so most days we had the house to ourselves. Visitors were far and few between. We were still in Flu/RSV season and everyone respected our boundaries. Healthy = a visit & Scarlett snuggles.  Unhealthy = Love us from a distance.

When our families would visit I would get a “break” and was able to shower and feed myself lol. Which was AWESOME! You don’t realize how amazing those things are until you wind up skipping a few meals and start to smell like baby poop. They are such a godsend! They stepped up and learned Scarlett’s routine in order to alleviate some of the work Scarlett required lol. I’ve said it a thousand times and I’ll say it a million times more. OUR VILLAGE ROCKS! Seriously.

Laura stealing Scarlett cuddles so Mom could “nap” (aka clean lol)

Tia Stephanie & Tia Mo helping with the nighttime routine

Night times were a little more challenging. BJ would continue to travel back and forth from Andrews to Lubbock, which meant I was something like a single mom. (Kudos to ALL of you full-time single parents. Raising a small human on your own ain’t easy!)  On the weekends, we would take turns getting up with Scarlett during the night which worked out…for the most part. However, two grown adults sharing a twin bed wasn’t exactly comfortable…so neither one of us was getting much sleep. Yet, somehow, we managed. At the time, I think BJ & I were in “survival mode” and just did what we had to do to make things work. We didn’t take a single thing for granted. After all, we had already been blessed beyond measure. Scarlett slept in a pack’n’play that was given to us by our dear friend Shannon. Which made things SO much easier! With Scarlett on oxygen support, she would constantly need her pulse ox monitor on. The pack’n’play made it THAT much easier for us to pick her up/move her without having to thread or untangle all of her wirings. I highly recommend using one of these for your own little one in the beginning.

  Her first post NICU appointment would be with her pediatrician, two weeks after her release. That day was one of my most anxious days of all.

From our Facebook Group 1 1/2 years ago. 

I took Scarlett to her first appointment today; and I’ll be honest with you – I was really nervous about it. Just like any first time mom, I felt all of the anxiousness you feel when it’s time to take your new baby on their first outing. I had all of these questions and worries flooding my mind. What time should I leave? Will we be there on time? Am I going to the right place? Do I have enough diapers? Do I need to pack extra clothes? And the list goes on and on and on…

And then on top of all of THAT, I felt the nervousness new moms, of a preemie, feel and all of THOSE worries and questions that come to mind. How am I going to carry Scarlett AND all of her equipment? Will I need to take all of her medicines with me? Do I give her medicines now or wait until after the appointment? What if the battery goes out on her monitor? What if her tubing gets snagged somewhere and I don’t know how to fix it? And on and on and on…

Needless to say – I was one very anxious and overwhelmed mess of a momma this morning. (And don’t get my started on how my night went, especially, with our little rain storm)

I made a plan. I had a list. I tried my best to be prepared.

So I when woke Scarlett up this morning to start our morning routine, (change diaper, feed Scarlett, give Scarlett her breathing treatment…) God surprised me and put my worries at ease. I walked past my moms room, like I have every morning since we came home, and instead of it being empty, my mom was in her bed. She was waiting for me to wake her up so she could help and go with us today.

We went to her appointment and it was great! We got there okay, and after a little adventure (called being lost), with some help we found our way. I met with Scarlett’s pediatrician – she’s nice, I REALLY like her. But she gave me a lot of information and in the end I felt overwhelmed yet again. I forget that even though Scarlett is out of the hospital, she still has a ways to go before she is caught up with other babies her age. There are things that I as her mother have to do to help her get there. So when we came home I was kind of feeling down in dumps. I just felt worried all over again because I want to make sure Scarlett is taken care of and that I am doing the best that I can for her.

I don’t know about you, but to me that’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself – but I tend to do that sometimes. I have worried so much about Scarlett, her health and wanting to do what is best for her. That I sometimes forget to stop and ask God to help me. I forget to ask him to take these worries from me. When I opened my bible app today, I was searching for a new devotional to follow and I saw my favorite bible verse. Isaiah 40:31 And in that moment I felt an instant relief. I laughed at myself; because in all of my worrying, even though I forgot to ask for Gods help, he saw what I needed and he provided for me – like he always has. He never ceases to remind me of his constant love.

1st Doctors Appointment

I know this new season of life will challenge me again. Now that Scarlett is home there are new obstacles to face and overcome. But only by Gods grace and love will we be able to get through it. We just have to take things one day at a time and remember to pray.

So with all of that being said – Scarlett is 8lbs 9oz and 20.5in long! She’ll have a weight check appointment next week. We will see her pediatrician every 2 weeks (until we decide otherwise) and She has an eye appointment on Friday. Please pray that we get good results like we have been.

Thank you all for your love. And I hope this helped you in some way. If you are struggling with something or just needed a reminder of Gods love. Know that he is always ready and waiting.

“…the Lord must wait for you to come to him so he can show you his love and compassion. The Lord is a faithful God…” – Isaiah 30:18

 Looking back at this I can’t help but be PROUD of myself for being strong and BRAVE enough to talk about my feelings. It’s scary to open up and be 100% honest with not just yourself but the world! 

While life after NICU was ANYTHING but normal and easy, I am so grateful that God provided for us time and time again. It’s hard being a new parent and learning to take care of someone else. But it’s just a “tad” bit harder when your child requires a lot of special attention. Yes, we are blessed that SO MANY things went RIGHT for Scarlett. But that doesn’t mean our struggles weren’t real. I’m still dealing with my PTSD and taking things one day at a time. But if sharing our story will help any of you other NICU parents, I am so happy about that!

I hope that you can learn to find balance too and always know that no matter how hard the struggle is, you are NEVER alone.

  Epilogue: Balancing Act – Life after NICU After Scarlett's grand escape from NICU, she and I didn’t immediately go home. Home for us is actually 2 hours away in Andrews, Tx.

[power-is-an-illusion]

If I could go back

I can pinpoint the exact point in time where I screwed my entire life up. If I hadn’t agreed to go to prom with a friend I wouldn’t be where I am today. She wanted to go but couldn’t drive and I had a car with no one to go with. We’ll call her “girl M” for short. The perfect match right? All I had to do was say “no”. I found out later on that another girl really wanted me to take her but girl M threatened to kill her if she got close to me. I was the kicker on the varsity football team, I lettered all 4 years, but at the start of my junior year I threw it all away. Girl M took up all of my time, I got booted to 2nd string, my grades tanked, I threw away my shot to kick for the university of South Carolina. I spent my senior year in high school losing all my friends and tanking my chances at making it in to college. I got suspended the first week because I skipped class to be with girl M underneath the theater room stage. I got diagnosed with this fun thing called Guilion Barre in middle school, where my nervous system shuts down randomly. Most people die from it but somehow I didn’t, lucky me right? I fell asleep in English class and just didn’t get up. Got evaluated at the doctor and they couldn’t find anything wrong. It took months for them to finally diagnose the guilion barre. So anyway I went to the varsity game that night and everyone was freaking out and hugging me and I asked why everyone was being so weird. Found out that my friend told everyone I died so they were just happy to see me. So back to high school, I collapsed on the soccer field and was dead for a short time. Woke up in the hospital, that was a hell of an experience. Luckily I graduated high school with a 3.6 GPA, I did really well the first 3 years. I got into the university of South Carolina somehow studying mechanical engineering. Girl M moved to Pennsylvania and called me on some October night, it was cold as fuck and I was walking around the heart of campus. She broke up with me over the phone and I cried of course but what I didn’t realize until after I was done crying was that we were having a group conversation. She thought it would be funny for all of her friends to hear me brake down. Oh I forgot to mention, I lost my virginity to the high school slut, sorry I mean girl M. She was passed around more times than a blunt on 4/20. I guess I thought I could help her but she royally fucked me up, slept around while we were dating and gave me serious trust issues.

So my freshmen year I spent in the engineering community occasionally getting a prank phone call from girl M, I think the funniest one was the mr. rogers one. Really sounded like him. But I didn’t pay attention in any of my classes because me being me, wearing my heart in my sleeve, I missed her for some fucked up reason. My roommate was a sociopath and my other flat mates were never around. I lived off of warmed up McDonalds and peanut butter. Not proud of it but I was a hermit. I went to way too many parties and drank myself under the table in most cases. I was depressed and it fucking sucked, I failed out. I spent a year doing nothing and hanging out around the house until I met a girl who pulled me out of the rabbit hole. We’ll call her “girl A”, so we were just friends, well actually she was in my cousins math class I think. At the time I was the only one with a license so I was the chauffeur for their group of friends. I don’t know what she saw in me but she liked me. I was tasked by my brother and his girl to brake up girl A’s current relationship. The guy was a D-bag, cheated on her while he was deployed and would rather be at the strip club and lie to her about it. So I bought this big balloon and a teddy bear and showed up to her workplace for Valentine’s Day. I was there for her when the D-bag made her cry. It took a semester but she finally left him and I was there to pick her up. Only problem was I fell for her and holy shit she was perfect. It was like one of those movies where your paid to take out the girl and fall for her but in this movie she never found out, instead I told her and I told her I loved her. She got me a job where she worked and sadly I’m still there. We talked about our life and kids together but her mom and I never got along and when it came down to it she chose her mom over me so we split up. For more reasons than that but I lost the only good girl I’ve ever had. We dated for about 2 years and during that time she turned my life around and I got my associates degree from midlands tech and reapplied to USC, I got in and this time I was depressed over girl A. I wanted her back she wanted nothing to do with me. I also got reacquainted with a high school buddy of mine, he was one of the people I lost touch with because of Girl M. I was a groomsman in his wedding and we are practically brothers now. He’s going to be a dad and wants me to be apart of his child’s life. That’s just one of those things in life that is hard to put into words. So while girl A has moved on and dated like normal people in still single and have no idea how to get started again. I spent my first semester back at school severely depressed over girl A and was drowning in my studies, realized I don’t even like mechanical engineering and I was going to kill my myself. Stood over the I-20 bridge and was about to jump but I thought about my mom and dad and didn’t do it. So got some help, changed my major and I did well the second semester but I failed 1 class I wasn’t supposed to be in and here I am. Failed out again. I have to write a letter in hopes that the university will waive my indefinite suspension. If this letter doesn’t work I’ll have to sublet my apartment because I won’t have the financial aid to pay for it. I’m 23 years old and I still love at home because I’m a fuck up and not really good at anything. I’ve let life pass me by and it’s my own fault here recently. The sad part is my mom wants to die too so instead of counseling we just talk to each other about how we feel and how we would probably kill ourselves. It’s not the healthiest thing on the planet but I can talk to somebody about it I guess. There is so much I didn't include here, I've skipped around a lot but it's basically FUBAR.

If I could go back and not go to my junior prom with girl M I would be in a very different place right now. I never would have met girl A, although I hope that I would still meet her, she’s amazing, I probably wouldn’t even have met my buddy because the classes I would have taken would have been higher up. I wouldn’t have lost my virginity when I did and high school would have been a lot different. I would potentially lose all of the people I care about now but I would go back and change it all because if I do end up killing myself it doesn’t really fucking matter now does it?

[mlephoebe]

Making a positive out of a negative situation.

What a morning I have had. It is currently June 7th, the day I was leaving to volunteer at Download festival, yet little did I know it was not going to happen. I was told by lecturers to blog about the experiences we gained over the summer, yet even though no hands-on volunteering experiences were gained on the Download site, I did however learn a lot and came out of this experience in a positive head space. The total opposite to how I was feeling earlier this morning when I discovered I was not going to make it anymore.

If you happen to be reading this knowing little about me, you would not know Download festival has been an event I have wanted to attend since I can remember, and this year I could kill two birds with one stone and watch some awesome bands whilst also gaining an experience to put on my CV, which was volunteering through Hotbox.                          

On February 2nd, fellow course mate Tom and I sat in Beats, our Universities café and applied to volunteer at Download festival 2017. A £145 deposit seemed pricey at the time but completely worth it when we laid out the opportunity we were gaining. By March I had found out that I was accepted and would be attending, which I was through the moon about. This would be the first big scale event I would be working at and the fact it was Download made me so pumped, this meant the countdown was on and would be all I talked about for the coming months. So apologies to all that I annoyed greatly when sharing my love for the line-up.

(Side note here which I wanted to throw in as I felt like it fitted well. Let’s briefly touch on the line up for Download this year. There has been quite a bit of controversy over it compared to previous years, i.e. last years, which of course it would never be as good as, the headliners were absolutely insane p;us it was Sabbaths last UK show but I will say I was in the group of people that did like the line-up this year. Sunday didn’t fit me right, Aerosmith yes but other than that not too good. However, Friday and Saturday are bargains for your money, System of a down for Pete’s sake! My top picks however which I am very upset about missing were System, Sum 41, The Devil Wears Prada, The Story So Far and Knuckle Puck).

Now fast forward a few months to May which was when we could choose our shift times. Tom and I both picked Bravo 1 as our first choice, which would mean our shifts would be Thursday 12am to 8am, Friday 4pm to Midnight and Sunday 8am to 4pm. Other than missing Sum 41 and System of a down It was a fantastic shift timetable and fitted us both fantastically, also meaning we could see bands together which is always fab with friends. On May 30th it was confirmed that we got out Bravo 1, hallelujah!

 The week commencing the festival I went out to collect what I would need, luckily Lidl’s the place of the gods had deals on camping equipment, so my bargain tent for £20 was greatly appreciated, (thanks Lidl you absolute babe of a store). Also shout out to Mountain Warehouse for the £60 saving on the wellies and rain coat I bought, absolutely fantastic. I know what you may be thinking here didn’t you lose money on all of this, well no is the answer to that question, as wellingtons and a sturdy, warm waterproof coat is on the kit list for Reading Festival which I will be volunteering at in August, so fear not my money has not been wasted. Only the £145 deposit and £52 I had spent on pre-booked trains to East Midlands from St, Pancreas and return would I loose. But I am keeping a positive head whilst writing this, as it has saved me money from not going. I didn’t have to spend a fortune on food and the return to London from Wycombe.

So whilst at the train station a tear was shed and eyeliner was smudged, honestly don’t really know what was wrong with me as that is totally not like me at all, probably just absolutely pissed at myself for being a total noob. But I soon realised being in a mood was not going to make this situation better for myself and that I needed to look at the positives, number 1 being I could actually vote in the election tomorrow, something I had royally fucked up if I had gone to Download as I had left it too late to get a proxy vote so would not have been able to vote if I had gone to the festival. 2. Being I could host the pub quiz at my works 2nd pub, thirdly I could keep my snapchat streaks going (yess I am that sad ahah) and finally I could attend my friends going away BBQ, so I had to look up at the positives because there are some.

Funnily enough I don’t even think I have explained why I am not even going, so that would probably be a strong point to touch on and the one which you are probably wondering most about. So on the 6th of June I totalled up the cost of how much this was all going to cost me and how much money I would have left, just between us the answer was not much, and with events over the next couple of weeks causing me to travel into London quite a bit I would not have the money left to do so If I went to Download. But with much frustration I decided I would touch my savings, something I never wanted to do at Uni as I wanted that to be there for emergencies when I left and moved onto the big wide world, plus I’m a stubborn bitch and did not want to go to my mum, despite knowing she would help me out in a heartbeat, I could never do that even if I was on the verge of being homeless, I am independent and that is something I wanted to stay throughout this situation. But because I’m smart I have my savings set up to only put money into not width draw from so I had to somehow change that. Which luckily, I managed to and as on 9am Wednesday I was happily woken by my alarm with the intentions of going despite still being extremely anxious about the money situation. (something I have learnt from this is how I need to worry less about money and more about myself). So I booked a taxi as there was not a cat in hells chance I was going to get all my luggage and tent to the train station by myself. Now this is where this situation goes south. The taxi did not turn up☹ there is a reason I never use taxis one being I see it as extremely lazy and the other I have never trusted them, today was a prime example of that. With 12minutes to spare until my train left the station I decided to powerwalk to the station whilst dragging my luggage with me, I must have looked crazy for trying as it takes me about that time to walk there without carrying masses of luggage. As you can probably tell I didn’t make it and by waiting for the next train would miss my east midlands train which I had already pre booked, yayyy!!! (sarcasm there, MAJOR sarcasm). Once talking to the station staff begging them to let me transfer my ticket to a later train and being told there was not a chance, I would have to buy a new one was when it all hit me too hard and I had a slight break down, but here I am to tell the tale, in Starbucks writing this post as well as creating updated CVs to hand in to find a second job to hopefully get my shit back in line, something which would be fine if my current job gave me more than 1 shift over the next 3 weeks, not a dig at all, (TOTALLY IS!!!) as you can probably tell I am very sour about it. But onwards and upwards we go, looking on the positives we have an interview for another internship, fingers crossed, Wireless festival work experience from the 21st and many more in August, so positive cap on there will always be many more Downloads to attend.

UPDATE ON THE STORY:

It's the next day and guess who is an absolute idiot who should have read the terms and conditions? MEEEEE, yes me. Turns out there is a 20day deadline in which you need to let them know by, if you can no longer make it, or otherwise you will be blacklisted from Hotbox events. Yes you did hear that correctly I am BLACKLISTED, can you actually believe this? #closingdoors for myself or what? Now I understand how inconvenient this must be for them, I get that and I know I will lose my deposit, and quite frankly at this point don't really mind, but the lady who I have been speaking on the phone with does not seem to realise no money means no travel, and no money also means no way of getting there. She is probably a bloody lovely lady just doing her job, dealing with inconvenient, annoying people like myself but come on. Also praying this just means I can not volunteer with them anymore not actually be banned from events they are at, because that would majorly fuck my career up, yayyy!!!

Ps: expect a tidal wave of blog posts to come over the next week, I have so much to write about from the month of May as well as things to write about from the coming weeks yet I keep starting posts then moving onto the next without even completing the one I was on, so it has been a day spent in Starbucks trying to finish them all. What I’m trying to say is watch out!

[xottzot]

2017-5(MAY)--05-06-Friday (later)---Koongamia statistics etc.

2017-5(MAY)-06-Friday (later)---Koongamia statistics etc.

I am in a LOT of pain. Cannot sleep.

When I WAS trying to get to sleep, criminal shitheads roaming around ON THE STREETS, yelling and calling out to each other from one end of the streets to the other......

Later on, many HOURS later after that.....it all became quiet......that's when things can go wrong in this hellhole......

Oops, spoke too soon! 9:05pm...and they're STILL yelling out to each other in the strets in the darkness.....

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I went online, a on a whim, did a google search of this hellhole. After the first several pages of crap, and also crazy ads for tings that don't even exist in this hellhole....I came across a few things of interest.......

First was an image (an old photo) of Koongamia train station. The following is the information from that site and I'll add to it with my own afterwards here.

The information with that image states, it may be helpful to some after I am dead:

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https://www.facebook.com/remembermidland/photos/a.448733285222606.1073741828.448335958595672/836494796446451/

Koongamia takes its name from two Aboriginal words – ‘Koong’ meaning hill and ‘Mia’ meaning home.

The Greenmount Picnic Reserve was once located where the suburb is located today. The State Housing Commission began developing the area in 1955.

Koongamia Railway Station Image: WAGR & Rail Heritage WA

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Everything about this old photo looks to be of the station being new.

We moved to Koongamia AFTER the train service had stopped.

For you information, at that exact same place, but more on the right (unseen) of that photo, was the Koongamia bus terminus. The bus service was what replaced the public travel 'needs' of Koongamia andlasted many many years there. It was a desolate, lonely, forbidding place even then there.

The photo to me (although the page did not state it so), looks to be a festive event, the bunting possibly even an inauguration of the station and train line. The train line was a 'spur line' off from the main train tracks in Bellevue and which there has long since removed the spur line although the reserve land (waste land) is promoted as a 'bridle path' or whatever they like to call it. That all now is a thoroughway for motorbike shitheads on offroad motorbikes to use and evade Police, or shitheads in cars. To try to stop them, authorities resorted to cuttting deep trenches horizontally across the train track old ground. But shitheads kept filling them in and still carrying on.

The age of 'protecting the public at any cost' had not become entrenched when I was growing up and walking all about. We were always so desperatly poor that I could never afford to have a bicycle until I was in highschool, and even my first bicycle was a donated by a friend. (thank you Shane B. and your Dad. I love you and your family. You met dear Fliss with me only very briefly. She became upset and I had to leave with her because I also became upset at Fliss being upset. I will not say anymore right now about that traumatic incident of which you may very well have forgotten all about and I appreciate you and your apologies which was later (about the incident not of your making).

Local politicians now and then vaguely will be 'tempting' with promises to 're-open' a train service to once again have a rail link but that's all pie-in-the-sky stuff.

The rail line actually went MUCH further onwards to the rear of this photo, into the foot of that hill you see in the background and curving right and going still further until it ended at a quarry which the rail line also serviced. I doubt the public train service ever went that far of course.

Of note in the photo.....the elderly woman looks very eerily like it is my own (now deceased) mother on the right. It even looks like the handbag she had, and even the coat is one like my mother had. My mother must have somehow wanted a home in this suburb for we were about to be lose our rented home in Claremont, Western Australia (it was being demolished). But I doubt that this IS my mother for we lived far off in Claremont and had not yet moved to Koongamia for some years. And we only apparently moved in after another woman (family?) with a small child had recently left the very small house we got.

I have no idea who this woman in the photo is. But looking like my dear mother it makes me quite emotional and wont to cry.

The photo must be early because even the railway station name sign is tiny, and yet I know there was a fullsized large proper railway sign there. The large sign was still there when I was a child and living in the suburb even though the train service no longer was.

As a child I can clearly remember railway lines crossing Stuart Street still embedded in the road and usable. There was no railway shelter there as far as I ever rememeber when I was a child. But everything was as if a train could pull in and use it all at any moment.

The rails in the Stuart Street surface were all eventually ripped out and removed. Dunno when that happened since that area was always so very far to walk to for us. It was terrible enough to get off the Koongamia bus terminus there (just a bus post in the ground that said "TERMINUS" and have to walk home in all weathers and climates, across on a muddy/clay/dirt track. And I had no bicyle. And when I did eventually have a bicycle, going up the steep Stuart Street hill was a killer and it was easier to walk up the hill with the bike than even attempt it. Coming DOWN Stuart Street meant having your life in the brakes of your pushbike, but as I had a 'backpedal' brake and no silly stupid 'just & only' brake pads as all bicyles have these days instead of, I felt and was perfectly safe with that brake system which never failed....unlike brake pads which always wear out, pop off, twist, or just fail because of brake cables or whatever.

The train station I knew as a child is STILL there (albeit relics of). It is very heavily termite destroyed since the side facing the rails was more like an embankment shored up with the timber. In current times there has been some sort of 'public art' sculpture or metal commemorative plaque/structure put up there for many years as vertical pillars and I think they have information on them. It's a wonder shitheads haven't destroyed them or smashed into them with stolen cars. - Or maybe they did and have been replaced, I have no idea.

As a litle more older kid, I also had a friend who's house and land would be visible right behind the train because his side-fence abutted the train line area.

Looking at the other human figures in the photo, it strikes me VERY much how well-dressed they all are, even the children. - Do you see the parked bicycle on the left of the photo? I think that belongs to the girl on the left standing by a tree (it' a girl's bike). If the terrible current state of criminals all about her was then, her bicycle would very surely be stolen for there and she would never see it ever again. I wonder if the bicyel is from FLASH CYCLES in Midland.

The clay and rock you see on the left of the photo cvered by the sparse greenery is just as this terrible front and backyard of this hovel is now. -- The old photo looks to have been taken in slightly cooler weather, perhaps when rain happened in this hellhole.

The train itself is of the ones I VERY well rememeber as a passenger. They were smelly diesels, loud, uncomfortable, sparsely appointed for passengers (like old busses), and the diesel fumes would often come in thru any open windows so you had a choice, windy air with the chance of diesel fumes coming in and stinging your eyes and choking you, or window closed where you baked in the heat inside. -- I rememeber those windows could be opened fully upwards and you could bodily lean out of them. (obvioulsy dangerous if you are a child) and so later on they put limiters in the window runners to stop passengers from opening the windows too open upwards. And so you got hot.

Old locomotives STILL ran on the train lines in those days of the photo because they were STILL running when I was a young child. And locomotives were running but being phased out when I was a child to be replaced by the 'new diesels' which were noisy, smelly, and inside was like being in a horrible place with the drone of the diesel engine also making everything vibrate with the droning. You could plainly tell when the train driver would open or decrease the throttle by the diesel stink and the vibrations.

Something I've noticed in that old photo......why is it to me that the people on the ground of the trainline (beind the train) look to be standing on grassy areas? Was the place all being already taken over by grass weeds even then? -- The foreground of the photo has the train track and ballast looking strange. Has the photo been retouched before andor after it was scanned? - Or was all the grass weeds sprayed with weedkiller?

The houses in the background of that photo largely still exist, or at least they did. Many places in Koongamia have been bought up, demolished, and a new home put in their place. If I went to this exact location and compared it to now, I could tell you what homes were still existing and more of some local history. - But nobody cares.

It's strange how I absolutely clearly remember a steam locomotive awaiting pickup next to the water reservoir at the north west end of Koongamia alongside Scott Street. At the time there was NO HOUSING AT ALL built along next to there as there is now. It was all bush with only the road separating the bush from the fenced water resevoir which was completely open and not all covered over as the resevoir has been now for many many years. -- I wonder where that old locomotive went? Did it get transported to the Midland Railway Workshops and cut up and butchered away to nothing like so many did?

As I said earlier the rail lines into Koongamia were across the road and atill existed much later. Stuart Street was a well-used necessary street and closing it would have been quite disruptive. But somehow and somewhen, the rails were ripped up and gone.

Sleepers and rails still existed further north west beyond Koongamia but they were orphans, on an orphaned section of train line unconnected to anything useful. - As a small kid without a pushbike, we often walked along there. And soone enough, the rails went. Then the sleepers slowly began to get covered by ground and dirt.Yo had tobe careful not to be very careful not to walk into sleepers with raildogs still sticking up in them, hidden in grass or weeds. - And eventually even the sleepers all were ripped up and gone leaving just the area which we walked on. And sometimes horse riders went on.

The age of pleasure approached but I was still too poor. I surmise that all those old sleepers with their still embedded dog spike must have irked somebody enough to have them all ripped up and taken away.

And I would be MOST remiss if I did not speak about the bushfires that went through there, of which must have also destroyed remaining railway sleepers.

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Whilst also trying to deter myself from terrible agony and pain, I also came across crime statistics for Koongamia which are relatively recent......

Have a look at: (for 2010/2011)....

http://myboot.com.au/6056/Koongamia/graphic-chart/western-australia-crime-statistic.aspx

Then compare it with 2007/2008.....

http://myboot.com.au/6056/Koongamia/graphic-chart/Western-Australia-crime-statistic2008.aspx

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And I think I have already posted about this but have a look at:

http://www.watoday.com.au/wa-news/two-brothers-in-custody-after-koongamia-burglary-and-robbery-20140310-34ghx.html

This was an actual incident that dear Fliss and I actually saw occuring at the time some years ago. We watched it unfolding.

They attacked the aborignal drug dealer house.

The aboriginal drug dealer supposedly contacted the West Australian Police, or it was more likely terrified neighbours who did. The Police swarmed the area AND called in the Police helicopter. The drug dealer house was VERY well known to Police and it's activities, they had been there countless times. (But nothing at all like the number of times the Police have gone to the current 2017 CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD.)

And I don't know what occurred afterwards. It was all a great mystery, but of course known to the people involved. - The entire huge incident has been washed away and quietened up and indeed most people have no idea it even occurred or actually how violent and massive it all was. The news story washes over it all as if it was all straightforward, but it was chaos. At least as observers it was. I'm pleased the Police were effective and arrested the culprits.

By the way, that news report states that the "Police airwing tracked the two men, and they were found hiding in a garden bed outside a house in Radford Place. Two brothers, both 29, are currently being questioned by police over the incident."

That Radford Place looks to be one of the many areas that shitheads and aboriginals now heavily frequent, and on a Google Earth map you can clearly see the criminal pedestrian walkways so heavily frequented by criminals. - Those walkways are shown as skinny 'streets' on the Google maps and you can clearly see how aboriginals now wander all about and use them to 'loop' around and can go in one direction and show in another without anyone (especially Police and departmentals) knowing their routes or where they might be at any time. They do this all day and every day.

https://www.google.com.au/maps/place/Radford+Pl,+Bellevue+WA+6056/@-31.9071817,116.0353951,17z/data=!4m5!3m4!1s0x2a32b879b9e85d27:0xc47900255aca970a!8m2!3d-31.9077054!4d116.0377501

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Clayton View Primary School, Koongamia, WA

https://www.myschool.edu.au/SchoolProfile/Index/111971/ClaytonViewPrimarySchool/48769/2016

And for "student attendance" see:

https://www.myschool.edu.au/StudentAttendance/Index/111971/ClaytonViewPrimarySchool/48769/2016

Have a look at "Indigenous students" (Aborignals), and have a look at their attendance rates (how often they go to school). It's less than everyone else.......

Hardly suprising when in fact they are wandering the streets and hanging about the shops area all the time or going all about committing crime. There's many who ALWAYS NEVER GO TO SCHOOL AT ALL. They wander all about and when old enough to be in high school, they don't even bother going to high school.

The primary school-aged kids walk around WITH the older kid and parents, they actually walk around together and do the same criminal shit as the adults do.

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False Calm.......

When I use that in my blog it means that there 'seems' to be peace and quiet and no criminals about and maybe.....just maybe everything's going to be okay.....

This is the part when I finish a blog entry of mine and just go away and do the things I have to do in despair. And I try to cheer myself up and offer dear Fliss reassurance in whatever hell she might be going through in my blog signoff post.

It's time to feed dear Sam & Max.

[daveywankenobie]

Christmas and new year’s day suddenly appear to be a distant memory – and I found myself this week exiting the bubble-like time capsule of the festive season in a slightly sub-par frame of mind.

When January the 3rd hit (the first day back to work for most of the UK) even though I don’t (yet) have a job I was suddenly reminded of the need to make progress in life.

This in my case isn’t just limited to employment. All of a sudden I feel slightly overwhelmed with the stress of needing to demonstrate to the world and myself that my time off for the last five months has not been wasted and that each day represents some form of incremental progress.

It’s probably not going to come as a surprise to anyone that in this respect I can probably be too hard on myself – but I feel the need to rekindle a sense of purpose that maybe began to relax a little bit in December. I’m beating myself up a bit about that.

I doubt I’m alone in this though as both the parks and countryside where I’ve been walking over the last few days have routinely been crammed with joggers and runners – all of whom appear to be wearing suspiciously pristine clothes and trainers.

I guess I’m witnessing the annual January miracle, where those previously unable to leave the sofa or put down their bags of Doritos are suddenly propelled into the outside world by new years resolutions clothed in nothing but spandex and propelled by dreams of smaller waistlines.

For my own part I’m not yet in lycra (the thought of it chills my blood) and my start isn’t new – but I feel like I’m still at something of a crossroads.

I wrote recently about the fear of a plateau and it’s still dogging me. I feel continually like I’m not doing what’s required of me and I’m beginning to let it get me down. I’ve genuinely struggled with food this week and I need to re-focus somehow – to zero in on the positives of life.

Today the outside world looked wonderful, and thankfully I’d pre-arranged a walk along the Stratford Greenway (link) with a friend.

The last time I walked this was in 2008 when I first lost a lot of weight. Back then myself and two friends made the slight tactical error of walking the entire five mile length into Stratford from the start and then back again to my car – which resulted in some rather unpleasant blisters.

I remember that my companions at the time felt exactly the same as me and by the time we’d finished the day none of us seemed enthusiastic about repeating the experience in the near future. This time however (with the benefit of advanced age and wisdom) we decided to take two cars, leaving one in Stratford to begin with and then once we’d finished going back to the start (where we’d also parked a car) to pick up the other.

I think it’s highly unlikely that we could have randomly chosen a better day for our walk, and as we exited the car at the start there was almost complete silence. The air was crisp and fresh and the world was totally still. Although the temperatures were well below freezing at the start of the day (and for most of the morning) the sun was out and the sky was a pure, cloudless blue.

Constant warm rays slowly thawed the world around us as we walked and talked.

  Neither of us were planning on setting any speed records today so we ambled along at a relatively sedate pace (Apple Watch tells me on average that was about 24 mins per mile).

The walk isn’t a complicated affair – and it’s one where it’s pretty much impossible to get lost. The Greenway is completely straight and level track thats ideal for prams, cyclists, dog walkers, runners, the disabled and ramblers. Although I no longer need them these days there are also plenty of spots (every mile or so) where you can sit down on a bench and sip tea if you’ve brought a flask with you.

The route follows the path of a disused railway, built in 1859 by the Oxford, Worcester and Wolverhampton Railway companies – and later absorbed by the Great Western Railway. It originally linked Stratford and the Midlands to Cheltenham and the South West of England -and for a time (whilst owned by British Railways) carried ‘The Cornishman Express’ to and from the West Country until the line’s eventual closure in 1976.

After a time falling into disrepair it was reclaimed by the local authority and remodelled as a recreational walk. It still has some of the old railway features along the way such as cafes in old railway cars, (in Milcote and at Stratford – open only at the weekends after 10am it seems and currently not very photogenic) the remnants of the old Milcote platform and a delightfully rusty railway bridge.

Shortly after this there are also some pretty nice views of Stratford race course.

Mostly the walk is through open farmland – and because of this there’s a lot of incidental wildlife. There were tons of birds flying overhead (noisy geese seemed to be a feature of the day) and there was seemingly always a squirrel making a hasty getaway out of the corner of my eye from whatever crime scene it had recently visited.

Walking in the frost also has an added element of child-like joy and wonder attached to it, thanks to icy puddles – otherwise known by me as nature’s bubble wrap.

It’s next to impossible to stop yourself stepping on these virgin patches of ice when you find them – purely to hear the fracturing and cracking beneath your feet when the surface gives way and splinters. It’s a wonderfully addictive sound and sensation – and I couldn’t help but notice other walkers doing this as well as we passed them.

  All in all the walk (thanks to the scenery and spirited twalking) absolutely flew by. Two hours after starting we were standing at the end of the path in Stratford next to the Holy Trinity Church.

Despite Stratford only being several miles around the corner from where I live it’s somewhere that I almost NEVER visit, so this was quite a treat.

I do rather like the place!

For Christmas it seemed like various groups in the community had been knitting decorations for the trees that were still in situ. Pretty much all one the ones in the nearby graveyard had winter coats on them and further into town many also had knitted baubles for the branches as well – giving the whole place a rather twee ‘little town’ feeling (even though it’s a busy tourism hotspot)

As we sat by the (mostly frozen) river and dock watching the seagulls perched on the surface and drinking a well earned McDonald’s coffee (black with sweetener of course) I felt like the weight of the worries I’d started the walk with had (at least temporarily) dissolved in the sunshine and melted along with the frost.

Both my friend and I agreed that soon (now that I’m not so terrified of fitting into ‘normal sized’ seats) we would have to come to Stratford again and visit the theatre for something high brow and Shakespearean with famous thespians in it.

I haven’t been to a play since I was at university internet – and I think it’s high time I re-introduced some culture into my life. Getting fit is great – but I am beginning to realise that I need to start feeding my mind with new thoughts as well as repairing my body.

Maybe that (and a job) will take my mind off over analysing my ‘successes’ or ‘failures’….

Davey

Frosty Greenway Christmas and new year's day suddenly appear to be a distant memory - and I found myself this week exiting the bubble-like time capsule of the festive season in a slightly sub-par frame of mind.