#and also i was soaked for like 8 continuous and suffered a week long cold afterwards

[ratatatastic]

"it rained, didnt matter! we're not made of sugar!" LUNDY

[burnedbyshoto]

the bodyguard

— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.

word count: 20,500

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!

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“I’ll be okay.”

The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.

The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier. 

There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.

Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears. 

His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.

“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.

But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock. 

05:30.

Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.

“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.

Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.

I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.

Date: 4/2 Time: 08:00 Location: UA Services

“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”

Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.

Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.

It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.

“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”

Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.

“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.

Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.

The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.

“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”

Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.

“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”

Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.

“W-Wha—”

“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”

Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.

“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”

“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.

“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”

“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”

“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”

“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.

The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.

There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.

He was okay.

He was okay.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

Kirishima looked up, his neck craning to the side to see a tall, skinny man standing at the doorway. 

Toshinori Yagi was an esteemed bodyguard, one of the best in the industry, which was saying something considering that most bodyguards went unknown and unnamed. According to Google, Toshinori gained the nickname All Might after saving multiple political and celebrity lives when the government could not. It was long after his prime, and the man had retired but has since filled as the company’s head — thus why this job was near impossible to get.

Kirishima heaved a breath, realizing that he hadn’t taken a single breath when Toshinori’s bruised eyes narrowed in his concern.

“C-Coming,” Kirishima smiled, the blood rushing to his ears mostly ignorable now, but the scorching concerned gazes of his friends feel like cinders on his shoulder.

He straightens his tie, fingers curling when he feels the cold sweat penetrating through his clothes, but Kirishima doesn’t let it show. Smiling like he does, Kirishima pushed through his friends and followed Toshinori out the door.

They walked down towards the conference rooms, rooms that held their contractors, in complete silence.

“This is an important case,” Toshinori began, his voice gentle and poorly hiding his concern. “I chose you because you are a great asset to have, Kirishima. You are strong and smart, and most importantly, are personable.”

Kirishima looked at the man, his face contorting with his anxiety. He didn’t want to be treated like glass.

“Honestly, you being so personable is why I chose you for this assignment. Todoroki-shounen was a contender at first, but he’s not much of a talker; the same goes for Bakugou-shounen. Midoriya-shounen was probably the best choice, but there’s a new assignment that asked for three, so I gave up those three,” Toshinori explained the current assignments. It both delighted Kirishima to hear that he could keep up with arguably the three most qualified workers here as it did, at times, make him feel lesser. 

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

“The only reason why you weren’t the first choice is because of what I walked into just now,” Toshinori interrupts Kirishima’s thoughts and words. Kirishima finds his eyes tearing away from the smooth, polished wood floor to see Toshinori stopping in front of Conference Room A, his gaze intense on him. “To be frank, I wasn’t too sure if we should have hired you all that time ago. You are excellent on the field, your skills are phenomenal. Something to be proud of, truly, but you are clearly not completely healed from your time on the force.”

“Toshinori—”

“Kirishima-shonen, I’m not saying that there’s shame in your current struggles,” Toshinori once again interrupts, his hand a soothing warmth on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m still not healed from my past injuries, and as many people have undoubtedly told you, it’s okay to not be okay. But you barely passed the psych evaluation and only passed your field training because you scored so phenomenally on the other things your lack of a shooting score passed you.”

Kirishima felt unable to look away from the piercing blue eyes, and the lump in his throat never tasted as bitter, as sad.

He had barely passed the admittance test.

“I just need to know, are you ready to take on this assignment?” Toshinori asks in complete seriousness. “It’s a high stake, big-name client. We do not expect anything untoward to happen, but we never know in these cases. I think highly of you, Kirishima-shonen, and if you are ready to take this on, I’ll believe you, but likewise, if you’re not, I will gladly give this to someone else.”

Kirishima swallowed, his dry tongue passing through his equally dry lips.

Without question, he was not okay, not when he nearly broke down twice in a matter of hours, but it was just a bad day. He wasn’t as shaken as he was two months ago; he was going to his mandated therapy, talking to people who could assist him. Kirishima just didn’t want to be treated like glass anymore; he wasn’t glass; he was an unbreakable force.

Steeling over his nerves and ignoring how his stomach twisted and turned, Kirishima raised his gaze to Toshinori.

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

If Kirishima was sweating because he was on a mental slip earlier, he was now sweating because he was beyond petrified and embarrassed. His hands raised up to brush against his red spikey hair, praying to God that it didn’t look dumb. His legs bounced at a speed that was bordering insanity, but he could only hear the sound of his racing heart as he stared at your frowning form from across the table.

It was you — the Y/n, the world's biggest music idol, an absolute legend in the making.

“This is our very own Kirishima Eijirou, age twenty-eight. He has been with U.A.Services for approximately six months now and is without a doubt one of our most capable and well-serviced men,” Toshinori began the introduction to the three people on the other side of the table. Kirishima could feel a blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks as what he presumed to be you, your manager, and your lawyer shuffling through paperwork that was very thorough on his background. “He was enlisted in the military before joining our ranks and was honorably discharged at the age of twenty-six as First Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou due to extreme injury. He excels in negotiating, scouting, and is, as you know, a skilled close combatant and was skilled in handguns—”

“I don’t think he’ll need firearms,” you interrupt, a frown on your face in contrast to the bright smile Kirishima was so used to seeing on your face. He tensed in worry.

“Y/l/n!” your manager, Sato Kimiko, scolded.

“What? It’s true! We’ll be around my fans for the majority, if not all the time! How is that right? For him to have a firearm around defenseless, and may I add, harmless individuals?!” you argued, your eyebrows scrunching in your fury.

Kirishima felt frozen in his chair, his eyes seeking Toshinori for guidance, but found himself unable to look away from you. He knew nearly everything about you, he could admit with a proud grin that he was a super mega fan of you, and he might have, at one point, looked your height up to imagine how you would appear beside him. Kirishima had known this entire time that you were two feet shorter than him, but it hadn’t hit what that meant until he was shaking your hand when he first entered.

You were tiny.

His dick and mind really liked that, and seeing your own passion spilling out for your fans was making him fall deeper into this hole he had for you.

“You don’t have a say anymore? Do you understand? You were nearly assaulted yesterday, and we are all done waiting around for something serious to happen!” Kimiko yelled, her face contorted into a look of both frustration and fear. “Either you take this, or we all leave you. I won’t have you murdered in front of me! You’re twenty-six now, stop acting like a damn brat and grow the hell up!”

The words scorched the table, blistering heat filling the conference room as you met Kimiko’s glare.

Kirishima watched with a dropped jaw as your nostrils flared, your lips pursing, and your eyebrows furrowing with unspoken distaste and anger.

“Six months tops.”

“Uh, yes,” Toshinori interjected. “Our contracts only last up to six months for new clients, but if you find yourself wanting to extend your contract after those six months, we are very much open to negotiations.”

You nodded your head, your eyes falling back onto the booklet in your hands that exposed all the information available on Kirishima. From his likes, dislikes, to his allergies and the reason why he was discharged. Each in disturbingly deep detail to make sure all things were up on the table.

“So, you can’t shoot your gun, Kirishima-san?” you speak, your voice tight, a pleased, almost taunting tone.

Kirishima stills, embarrassment bubbling in his chest as you drop the booklet onto the table, exposing his military history to him and you. 

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

The lawyer shifts from the other side of you, his eyebrows scrunching as he too comes across that piece of information. 

“He won’t use firearms?” the lawyer scoffs, his semi-permanent frown deepening. “How will we know that he will keep Y/n completely safe from any sort of danger that may come her way? We’ll be paying six months for a glorified security guard? We want a bodyguard.”

“And we clearly have one,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing. “If my bodyguard isn’t Kirishima-san, I’m not getting one. I mean, isn’t that what you said earlier?”

“When we were assuming that the person Toshinori was assigning to your case was a well-rounded bodyguard. Not one that was still clearly haunted by his past.”

Fuck, that one hurt.

You scowled, your head tilting as you bared your teeth slightly, “And what? He managed to get into the best agency in all of Japan in spite of that. Sounds like he’s competent. I already told you I won’t take on a team, just one individual. I trust in Toshinori-san’s guidance and his choice in picking Kirishima-san. If you disagree, that’s too bad for you.”

“Y/n! Please stop this! You’re being ridiculous!” Kimiko huffed, slamming her own booklet down, her eyes drowning with her exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori-san, Kirishima-san.”

“H-Hey, it’s okay!” Kirishima immediately imputed, his hands raising in a sign of retreat. “I know that Y/n has always enjoyed her independence as a solo star, and how me being involved now is imposing, especially after multiple attacks.”

Kirishima felt that his smile was a bit strained, a bit too forced, especially as your eyes hawked onto him. He felt like you were examining him, like a lab rat going through its initial trial and not knowing just what was to be expected.

“Six months?” you spoke, your gaze not leaving Kirishima’s own.

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

You hum, your head nodding. “Fine, six months tops unless the Lieutenant Colonel can apprehend these assholes faster.”

It had been ages since Kirishima had been called by his title, and for some reason, he found himself blushing. His mouth, for the first time this entire meeting, curled into a wolfish grin.

“You got it.”

The lawyer groaned, entirely aggravated and insulted. He stood up, “You’re asking to be murdered, Y/n. Don’t come haunting me when you end up dead and mutilated. You deserve all the shit you’re getting.”

Kirishima watched with his lips parted in a bewildered expression as the lawyer walked out of the room with a loud slam of the door.

You were unfazed, and Kimiko groaned, exhausted and embarrassed as she mumbled a weak, sullen, “I am so, so sorry, Toshinori-kun.”

“Ah, Kimiko-chan, it’s okay!” Toshinori shook his head and smiled knowingly. It wasn’t as if the long time famous bodyguard hadn’t seen his fair share of childish fights between clients. “Thank you for coming as always, and we’ll do our best to make sure that Y/n is in the best of hands.”

“Thank you… and so, the rest of the contract?”

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

For six months, Kirishima would be attached to your side. He must always remain at most three meters away from you when there is no one around, and during fan interactions no more than one meter. He had a full say about your safety. If things got rough, you were to follow his every command. Your agency would pay for his room and lodging. He was to wear black pants and a black long-sleeved cotton tee. He would be working with every venue, every hotel, every conventions security team. He would lead them and never leave your side. He was to be awake an hour before you, rest when you were asleep so long as it was safe to do so. He was your guardian angel of sorts, and you would do nothing but adhere to him. 

Most importantly, according to Kimiko, there was one thing they were hoping for: Kirishima's help and discretion. For the next six months, they would be relying on Kirishima’s support to figure out who the group behind the assault was and who the mastermind was behind it all is.

Or so the contract said.

“Y/n!” Kirishima called when the papers were signed, and the day he was set to start was printed. He will begin tomorrow. “Wait!”

You stopped at the door, Kimiko and Toshinori chatting merrily between them as they exited the conference room, Toshinori’s booming voice asking if it was true that Kimiko was attending to a near forty clients to which she bashfully admitted to. You were dressed in a creme knit long-sleeved shirt, faded ripped jeans, and a pair of nude heels. The heels were big, undoubtedly giving you inches, but you still barely got to his shoulder.

“I-I’m looking forward to looking — I mean working with you!”

You looked at him closely, your eyes dragging to the top of his toes to the tallest spike in his hair before your lips pulled into a contemplative pout. You looked back to his eyes, and you steeled over, your head tilting to the side.

“I mean no offense, Sergeant, I thank you for doing your job, but I have no intention of looking forward to working with you. I don’t want you here, so do your best to ignore the contract and realize that I am the most important person, so you will follow my demands.”

Kirishima can do nothing but stare as you turn on your heel and leave.

Well, so much for a good case.

Date: 5/2 Time: 14:00 Location: Tokyo Music Stadium

If you would have told Kirishima Eijirou that he had been working for the grand, the perfect, the fantastic music idol Y/n for a month now, two months ago, he would have laughed so hard he’d cry. Not only would he have not believed it, but he would only think of a million and two scenarios where he would go the entire day flirting.

Now a month into knowing you, of being your bodyguard on a contract for six months, Kirishima could say that of that entire thought, the only thing he had been right about was that he was, in fact, crying. Not only has he never managed to speak an entire conversation with you despite being attached to your hip seven days a week, but despite your much shorter stature, you had managed to get away from him.

You always managed to sneak away from him.

Kirishima could admit that the no more than five meters rule had been wholly and utterly demolished.

And now, Kirishima was crying, not out of joy, but of pure manly fear as he raced through the backstages of the stadium, desperate to find your short-ass anywhere.

“Go, Kirishima!” someone yelled as Kirishima whizzed past him, “Find Y/n!”

“T-Thank you!” Kirishima screamed as he continued onward, the yellow-lit concrete hallway seemingly haunting the further he went into it. The earpiece in his left ear shrilled, the telling sign he was getting a call. Putting a finger to the circle in his ear, he answered the car. “Hello?!”

“Ah, Kirishima-san!” Kimiko’s voice chirped on the other side of the line. “Wonderful to hear your voice again! I’m calling to let you know that the tour bus is parked outside of the venue now. The concert was a smashing success, and she’s come out unharmed for the past month! To make matters even better, since your arrival, there have been no more assault attempts! Oh, um, sorry, where are you guys?”

“We’re just, um!” Kirishima tried not to pant into the microphone; he was still racing ahead, his head peeking into every door and room he passed. “Y/n needed to use the restroom?!”

“Oh, wonderful. Okay! Let me know when you two are on your way over!”

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

Kirishima hung up as he crashed through the doors at the end of the hallway.

It was night out right now, the full moon reflecting down on the dirty concrete with the same intensity as the streetlamps overhead. And in the middle of a crowd of around twenty people was the person Kirishima was trying to find: you.

You were still dressed in the final costume change of your concert. Even from a distance, Kirishima could see the glitter and highlight on the tip of your nose and the curve of your cheekbones. The crowd around you was clearly not hostile. Each face was bright with broad smiles and sparkling with fresh tears, each voice high and pitchy as if they were talking with some goddess and not you. 

There was a slight longing in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of you interacting with your fans, your smile was so beautiful, and he wished just for a moment that he was the one that it was directed towards. If he had met you as a fan, and only a fan, he wonders if you would look at him as you did the others. Would he see the pure joy in the depths in your eyes, the love, wonder, and pride as they asked you questions and answered your own?

He wanted to be just a fan.

“Y/n, the tour bus is here,” Kirishima finally found his voice, the tenor of his voice spreading through the narrow alleyway. “Say your goodbyes.”

He had to ignore the way you stiffened immediately, the unsolicited joy in your face breaking and becoming bleak as you met his gaze. Kirishima absolutely did not feel pressure behind his eyes when you rolled your eyes and began to say your goodbyes; he did not!

The group of fans waved goodbye as you walked backward toward Kirishima; you didn’t stop waving and continuing your parting conversations with the group until the metal doors of the stadium doors closed behind the two of you. Kirishima let out a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment before looking down at you. You were expressionless, eyes cold as you looked dead ahead.

“You’re not supposed to run away like that.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant.”

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

“Part of your contract. Yeah, I know, but that’s your contract, not mine.”

“Oh, okay. Um, Kimiko? ...yeah, we’re heading out now. Five minutes, till.”

And then there’s only silence.

Neither Kirishima nor you bother talking the entire walk towards the tour bus, and you ignore Kimiko’s call that your lawyer would be meeting briefly before tomorrow's fan signing event. You walk into the bus and go directly to the beds, throwing yourself into the terribly padded bunk and passing out without so much as a sound.

Kirishima sinks into his own bed, it’s too small for him, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Sleep overcomes him easily these days; he’s always way too exhausted in chasing you down like some spoiled toddler you’re behaving like to dream. But that’s okay, he thinks as the comfort of sleep begins to dig its skeleton fingers into his side, at least the exhaustion stops the night terrors.

Date: 5/3 Time: 10:00 Location: Tokyo Music Tower

Now, Kirishima knew that it was a common belief and a nearly proven theory that when you met your idols, you should never ever have your expectations high on who they are as a person. Celebrities were out of touch, cruel, rude, nearly jaded. They weren’t exactly the common folk. With people willing to forget things like them being human beings themselves or the common thread of celebrities being too rich to care, any type of famous person was cold, rude, and ruthless.

He knew that.

He also knew that you weren’t like the nearly proven theory.

You were kind, sweet, a practical angel to anyone who dared to approach you. You were the exception to the rule, an outlier to them all. You spoke politely to all your fans, domestic and foreign, and you treated each fan like the most special person in the world.

You were a good person.

But Kirishima knew, just as you reacted to any cruel person you encountered, you had an edge. Your words were as vicious as your name was known. He genuinely enjoyed watching you put assholes into place, but he sulked, knowing he was always at the receiving end of the sharp, bitter tongue of yours.

For a month and a day now, he had been the number target of your bitter words and scorching hate, but he admitted that he enjoyed it when it wasn’t directed at him, if but a little bit.

“I’m not renegotiating my contract!” you groan, your palms slamming into the depths of your eyes. “I already told you that I don’t need all that money!”

“And I’m telling you that you need to increase the wages that you pay the rest of your team instead of all those charities or else people will begin dropping you!” the lawyer countered with similar fire, his scowl angry enough that Kirishima felt like he had to tear his gaze away from this horrible battle. “You won’t be the best of the best forever, y/n, get over your stupid savior act and look over the changes!”

Kirishima looked over at you, his eyebrows pinching as he watched you fold your arms, your cheeks pushed out to a puff as you looked at the stack of papers with the title page fully covered with the word Contract of Y/n and Co. on it. Well, it seemed that the rumor of you spending your paycheck on things that weren’t you was right, how entirely manly.

“Oh fuck off,” you growl, pushing out of the chair and storming away.

Kirishima glanced over at Kimiko, who was looking pale and exhausted, undoubtedly exhausted from the past thirty-minute battle between the lawyer and the idol that neither made a single step forward nor a step back. How you had the energy to fight so passionately was beyond him. Kimiko nodded minimally, her lips parting in a sigh as Kirishima stood up and followed after her.

“The only way that brat is going to listen is by force,” the lawyer sneered, his voice fading into the room that Kirishima exited. “If that’s how she wants to play, so be it.”

Fortunately for Kirishima, he catches up to you. There are tears of fury dripping down your cheeks, and he feels unable to speak as he discovers a new layer to you.

...how interesting.

“It’s my money,” you speak, but Kirishima is unsure if those words are meant for him or for the void, the earth that you would much rather converse with than him. “I already pay them all a much greater paycheck than they should be getting considering their client pool. Why do I have to bend to their stupid will when I’m the one making the money.”

Kirishima blinks, wondering just what people might want to raise with their contracts. But, he knew you were right. By her account, Kimiko had a client list of many successful individuals, and he may not know anything about the lawyer, but if he worked with Y/n, his name must be good. Guess they weren’t like you.

“People are selfish assholes,” was the only thing that Kirishima could think of, and was something he spoke before he could stop himself.

But you stop in your storm, the anger that clouded you somewhat dissipating, clearing just enough for you to turn to him, your sharp, beautiful eyes for the first time filled with rage that was not pointed at him, and an emotion that made him think of… amusement?

“Yeah,” you agree, a half-smile cracking onto your face, and Kirishima feels his soul begin leaving his very body. “People are selfish assholes, huh?”

“Very much.”

There’s a calm, a snorted chuckle, and Kirishima finds himself stumbling further into the abyss of his feelings for you.

The next ten hours seem to pass in a blur, Kirishima feeling like he was on Cloud Nine as he stood behind you, three meters as he watched fan after fan approach you. Signatures were made, pictures were taken, and Kirishima found that he never once had to approach.

Maybe, he thinks, just perhaps, the two of you can overcome this.

Ten minutes after the official signing is done, Kirishima can’t find you, and he curses loudly into the echoing floor.

So much for change.

Date: 5/17 Time: 23:00 Location: The Parking Lot - Mt. Lady Studios

Kirishima was, for the lack of better words, completely fucking done with you.

Don’t get it wrong, he still was a complete and massive fan of yours. He would never once betray his loyalty to you and your musical career, but he was slowly starting to realize just why the lawyer was set to dying of a heart attack any time soon. Despite your early entrance to stardom and the stuff of legends, you had kept your fiery, stubborn individualism.

Kirishima thought it was absolutely hot and sexy at times, especially the times where you strut around in revealing clothes because ‘this is your body,’ or the lingerie campaign you completed two days ago as part of some fundraising event. There were significant perks to your strong handle and claim to keeping your indestructible personality, but it came back to rub them all back in the worst of ways when once again, you escaped from Kirishima’s side.

To be fair, most of the time, Kirishima was a very level headed individual; he was near impossible to rile up despite popular initial belief. I mean, he was good friends with Bakugou Katsuki, who riled up just about anyone he talked to! He needed to have steel calm emotions, or at the very least portray that he does. But even the unbreakable after tireless attempts can, at times, be broken.

It had been a hard morning.

Kirishima had woken up in a panic, the sweat of his night terror soaking through the sheets of his bed, and his head felt like lead. They had been in the tour bus for the entire day because you were going from the tip of Japan to the bottom of it, thus meaning that you couldn’t run away from him, concluding that when he went to bed that night, he was merely tired, not exhausted.

“K...Kiri...shima?” the voice whispered in his ears when he bolted from his bed and tumbled to the ground, his chest heaving in his panic as he cried.

He only slept for four hours that night, the ghost of his comrade haunting him too much for him to ever drift back to sleep. The only thing he was grateful for when he stumbled down to the hotel lobby for breakfast was that he had an attack while in his own room and not in a tour bus with ten others.

But the lack of sleep and the twisting of his guts from his still unburied memories meant that his exhaustion was dialed up larger than he thought was capable. Today was an interview day plus a miniconcert at said interview.

That meant that for an hour before your interview and two hours afterward, Kirishima lost you and had to hunt you down. You weren’t making it easy on him and had started moving with the crowd you gathered to evade him.

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

“Let’s go,” Kirishima spoke in a low, commanding voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, the crowd of fans parting like the red sea as he stands behind you, larger than life, imposing.

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

“Aw, did you make that just for me?! This beading is gorgeous!”

To be fair, Kirishima isn’t really sure if he’s crying right now or if steam is protruding from his ears like some stupid cartoon. The only thing he knows is that it's been a bit longer than a month, and his client is the most perfect person in the world except to him and some lawyer. All he knows is that he has been continuously mocked, shamed, and disrespected by his client, and at this moment, with his mind and body aching with the memories of the morning, he can no longer stop the tsunami of emotions and thoughts that shove out of him.

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

“We’re leaving now, sorry to disrupt your time. Come see Y/n another day.”

Kirishima isn’t even aware of your screams, the banging of your small fist against his back as his hand encompasses your bicep easily. He walks and walks and walks until he stops, his mind slightly put back into place.

“—FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! LET GO OF ME, SERGEANT!”

Oh, right.

He lets go of you immediately and nearly snorts at how you stumble into his back. So small, so delicate, and so completely weak.

“You want to know my problem, y/l/n?” he asks, voice eerily calm, much calmer than he actually is. “My fucking problem is that I signed onto this case with a single rule: keep you in sight and protect you. It’s simple, almost too easy, isn’t it? But easy and simple is everything that this assignment is!”

Your face contorted into a flash of anger and embarrassment, your nose scrunching as you found your footing, “And I told you that I don’t give a crap about that contract! I didn’t want it in the first place, but no one listens to me!”

Kirishima snorts, his body shifting so that he can look at you properly; your face is seething, your teeth bared and eyes wild, but Kirishima has faced worse.

“It’s not in my contract to listen to you, unfortunately,” Kirishima points out, his eyes narrowing. “I would have a better time listening to you, trying to find an agreement that worked if you used that brain of yours and figured out a way to compromise with me.”

“Compromises aren’t—”

“You think I wouldn’t?” Kirishima almost whines, his voice tight with emotions, fingers fisting in his hair, “You really fucking think that after a month and how many days of me spending stupid hours trying to find your ass, most of the time never knowing if you’re dead or not, I wouldn’t want a better solution?!”

“Like hell they’ll kill me! And if they do, I don’t fucking care!” you stubbornly insist, finger buried against the swell of your chest.

“Oh my god,” Kirishima can’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping, “you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?! I’m not the ridiculous one here!” you cry, your eyes bursting with unshed, bitter tears. “So what that I run away from you? Can you imagine living the past ten years of your life trying to be something that the media wants you to be? No! You can’t, Sergeant! Those times where I’m running away isn’t to be some dick, but to give me time to be me!”

“You’re a goddamn idiot!” Kirishima barks, his anger curdling in his chest like a raging fire. “If you had looked at my damn file correctly, instead of focusing on the stupid shit like me not being able to fire my gun correctly, you would be more than aware of the fact that you are one of my favorite artists!”

“Wh-”

“I am one of the best in my company! I am easy to get along with, personal, manageable, flexible even, but from the very first moment you laid eyes on me, you’ve hated me! You talk down on me, you shit on me, my job, the reason I’m here! Listen, I would fucking love to be anywhere but here right now. I have literally never hated my job before, but you just made that a reality. But the worst part of this all is the fact that you seem to think I would have kept you away, prohibited you from doing things that I already know you love! You stand there and tell me that I would try to force you to do shit you don’t want when I have merely been asking for you to take me there with you! I don’t care if I have to stand away and watch, but I want to be there! I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you’re being nothing more than a stubborn brat who refuses to see the efforts I’m trying to make, and frankly, I’m done.”

Kirishima’s chest is burning with the lack of oxygen, his eyes narrowed and filled with raging fire as he stares down at you, his neck craned so that he could be closer, more daunting, intimidating.

“Fuck o-off,” you snap suddenly, a lone tear, your voice tight and shoulders tense as you storm off.

“So predictable,” Kirishima calls after you, but it’s not filled with the previous anger he had but the sinking misery and regret.

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

And then the all too familiar sound of a fist colliding with skin.

The anger in Kirishima’s blood evaporates immediately, and horror sinks in as he turns towards where you had stormed off. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

The parking lot is filled with an ugly yellow light that seems to set the stage for what was to come down. His footsteps crashing down against the black pavement were mute in his ears, and his eyes were focused on your limp body slung over somebody's shoulder. There was one person behind him, the other one already hopping into a van; Kirishima was the devil on their heels.

“Come on! Let’s go!” the one in the van screamed, his voice full of gruff apprehension and fear.

The van turns on.

Kirishima grunts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sidesteps the man who was lingering behind the one carrying you and quickly slams his shoulder into the man's sternum, knocking him out the moment he collapses onto the ground. 

He lets out a roar of such, his eyes glowing with anger and a single mind track to take down the person who held you, ready to throw your unconscious body into the back of the van.

Kirishima doesn’t even know when he manages to get to the man's side, one hand on his shoulder, the other on you, and with the strength and anger of a million fighting warriors, he ripped you from his hold and sent him stumbling into the trunk. Your shallow breathing brushes against his neck, and Kirishima is hyper-aware of the cursing men who chose to abandon their unconscious comrade on the floor. 

With his arms filled by your unconscious body, Kirishima can only watch the van scurry out of the lot, the license plate immediately burning into his mind.

T082-23

When the man on the floor finally wakes up, he’s in police custody, and you’re just waking up. There's a bruise on your cheek, and you begin crying immediately.

Kirishima watches from the distance, his heart aching and guilt climbing up his throat as he watches Kimiko hold you close, her arms warm and tight.

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

Kirishima sits in a waiting room, his head relaxed against the wall as he waits for your discharge from the hospital. They suspect a concussion, and they’re running some tests right now. The police are there too, trying to get information from you on the failed kidnapping attempt as well as beginning the initial trials of interrogation of the abandoned kidnapper with a broken sternum, ruptured spleen, and three cracked ribs.

He was not surprised when the police officers came to talk to him, and he gave them the license plate.

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

(“Well, when we asked for a motive, it seemed that it wasn’t his idea,” the detective admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “His boss said that, and I quote, Y/n will end up dead and mutilated as is deserved. She deserves all the shit she has coming her way, end quote. Any ideas of who it could be”

Kirishima rubbed a hand across his face, the words striking a bit too familiarly to him, but from where. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his bouncing knee.

“Thank you,” Kirishima said, his tone pointed in a clear indicator that this conversation was now over. The detective nodded, his frown slight as he left. The moment he was gone, Kirishima pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kimiko? Yeah, I think we might have our first suspect.”)

For now, he was waiting for you.

An hour passed before you shuffled into the waiting room. There was a bandage on your swollen cheek, but besides the obvious attack, your eyes looked strong, and it seemed like there was no concussion.

“I should be fine,” you speak first, your jaw tensing as if it physically pained you to speak (whether it was because you hated talking to him or because of the injury, Kirishima had no idea). “I will be fine; I just need some sleep.”

Kirishima nodded, his body completely exhausted, and his mind filled with nothing but regrets on how he handled his anger earlier. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he had definitely crossed a few too many lines.

“Should we go?”

You chewed on your lip, your eyes looking down at the white tiled floors of the hospital — so bleak, so anxiety driving.

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

Your eyes raise back up before looking away again, “the contract.”

Kirishima finds himself nodding, his hand gesturing towards the empty seat in front of him.

“Sure.”

And with a heaving sigh that sounds like you were on the verge of tears, you sit before him.

The contract was then discussed.

It was decided that you could continue to interact with fans as you wish, so long as you took Kirishima with you. He didn’t care about the long hours, the manic fans, or the impending doom of a group of people who meant business. He needed to be there.

Everything else stayed the same, but Kirishima looked at you one last time that night in the hospital, his body leaning towards you as he did his best to keep his face void of emotion and any lingering teasing.

“I’ll only accept this new negotiation on one term.”

“W-What?!” you pause, thinking. “Fine, say it.”

“From here on out, I think we should be friends, yeah? I’m on your side, after all, it’s a bit weird if we stay just acquaintances.”

The tension and horror leave your body, and Kirishima, for the first time ever, bears witness to the most relaxed, meaningful smile he has ever seen you give. It had been one hell of a shitty night, but at that very moment when the seventh turned into the eighth, Kirishima felt a new warmth flood through his chest, his heart racing at the sight of your glorious smile.

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?” 

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about all that I said. It was unmanly of me and out of line.”

“It’s okay. To be fair, I was a bit of a self-absorbed brat, too.”

The next day, a picture of Kirishima holding you bridal style is trending.

Date: 6/12 Time: 19:00 Location: Hime Onsen

An Interview with Y/n | Vogue Japan 4.5 million views • Premiered 2 hours ago 874k [liked this] 12.3k [disliked this] Timestamp: 05:32 / 10:33

[Interviewer]: Now, Y/n, we must congratulate you on your latest achievement! Your latest self-titled album, ‘Y/N,’ has been nominated for a record high of twelve awards for the upcoming Japan Record Awards, which will be coming up in about a month! Tell us how you feel about this?

[You]: It was quite a surprise actually! I didn’t realize that it would have done so well in the critic's eyes to get this type of award. I am proud of myself and am excited to see all the other amazing artists and musicians who were nominated as well.

[Interviewer]: Now, your album is all about staying true to yourself, whether that be in love or war. It depicts your own highs and lows while also highlighting beautifully universal things many of us face. Without question, you have always been adamant on staying connected with your fans and keeping a simple rule: no bodyguards.

[Y/n]: Oh, (laughs) yes! That is definitely a new thing, huh?

[Interviewer]: A new thing and a beautiful thing at that, too! Look here!

[captioner notes: interviewer displays many photos of Y/n’s bodyguard, including the most famous one where he’s holding y/n after the failed kidnapped attempt]

[Interviewer]: This is a beautiful — don’t giggle! — a beautiful man, Y/n! What do you have to say for yourself?! Did you finally succumb to keeping untrue to yourself for this beautiful man?! If so, it is perfectly acceptable. By chance, is your contract with him done? I would personally love to have this man on my team.

[Y/n]: (laughing) By all means, take him! (Y/n looks behind her, her bodyguard is there) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! (pauses) No, actually, sorry. Kirishima is an outstanding bodyguard, and I have no intentions of leaving him so soon. Uh, while I did say I had no wish or intentions to have a bodyguard, obviously that was not the best solution, so I hired Kirishima. He is a wonderful addition to my team and still allows me to be authentically me, so it’s still all good.

[Interviewer]: Ah, okay, well, Kirishima-kun, if you ever need a new client, call me. But moving on, yes! Would you like to discuss the series of increasingly concerning attacks?

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

Today was one of the last remaining days you had off, and in celebration of your upcoming award season, you had decided that it was mandatory to visit the hot springs. Everyone on your team — the backup dancers, band, and hair and makeup — were ecstatic to learn that they were being involved with it too.

This high-end resort had accommodated your entire team to receive their own private spring with an all-inclusive menu too. 

It was thanks from the owner for the free PR and, of course, because they were some of your biggest fans. So, in thanks, everyone got to enjoy the springs.

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

As of the past month, things between Kirishima and you had improved a lot.

With Kirishima no longer needing to run a marathon daily to find where you were, he would find himself walking at your side. He no longer felt like you hated him. There was respect and actual friendship between the two of you. You joked with him, showed him memes and TikTok, sent him snapchat streaks, and invited him to watch weird shows with you. You even complained to him about the things that annoyed you, namely Kimiko’s attention being stolen by other clients and the rude conversations you would have with the lawyer.

It made Kirishima’s chest warm up knowing that you were friends now.

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

But there were some things that Kirishima would not have expected to… arise.

Namely you growing to be comfortable enough to walk around with nothing but a thin pair of panties and a large shirt. You curling into his side whenever you watched a show together in the bus, the way your lips brushed against his neck when he leaned down to hug you, or the very so not obvious teasing you would do when you changed in front of him. It was as if you were watching his every reaction, enjoying the way that his eyes horribly tore away, or the silent hitch in his throat whenever you speed his heart up.

The biggest surprise arose the night after the failed kidnapping attempt:

You had come to his room, hours after you were supposed to have fallen asleep.

Your eyes were sunken, still a bit tired, and the bruise on your cheek was looking bad. In your arms was a white binder undoubtedly filled with the introductory packet you had received at your initial meeting. Kirishima had opened the door in his sleepy state in nothing but gym shorts. He had barely started dozing off, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened if you hadn’t managed to scream, and so he kept tossing and turning.

Seeing you outside of his room, his head dropped down to look at you properly, and his fist rubbing at his eye fell, “Y/n?”

“Did I wake you?” you asked, your face filled with a shocked, near uncomfortable, and embarrassed expression he doesn’t recall ever seeing on you. “I’m so sorry! I’ll wait until—”

“No,” Kirishima grunts while he shakes his head, his voice raspy and dry from his lack of use. “I’ve been tossing and turning, um, what is it? Do you want to come in?”

“I-If that’s okay?”

Kirishima breathes out a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles softly, “Come on, let’s talk about what’s on your mind.”

The door clicked behind your tentative steps with an echo, and Kirishima watched as you walked into the hotel room with wariness and caution.

“Would you like some tea?” Kirishima offered, picking up a shirt from his dresser and pulling it over his body. The fabric was tight against his chest and shoulders, but felt more appropriate to wear around you.

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

You stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to sit, stand, or lay.

“Go ahead and make the bed,” Kirishima offered, taking the chair by the desk. “I promise it’s still clean.”

You laugh slightly, smile strained but grateful as you sit at the edge of the bed, binder resting on your lap.

“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to sit on a dirty bed,” you joke, but it sounds weak to Kirishima’s ears.

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

“You have my portfolio,” he shrugs, leaning forward so that his forearms rest on his knees. “I have a feeling you have some questions.”

“Oh, right,” you whisper, your eyebrows scrunching as you open the binder to the first page, but your eyes are focused on the desk. “What’s the medication for?”

Kirishima turns his head to follow your gaze and comes across the yellow tinted medicine containers.

“My PTSD,” Kirishima answers honestly, his voice soft with emotion, but there was no shame in it. “My service had a difficult end.”

“That’s actually… that’s what I came to talk about,” you rush, your hands slamming the binder closed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, obviously I won’t push it! God, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay,” Kirishima interrupted, his smile sad, but he stood up, his body a tower in front of yours as he urged you to sit back down. “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it.”

“B-But what if I say something that makes it all worse?”

A pause.

“Then I’ll tell you that it’s too much.”

A nod.

“Are you… are you still experiencing a lot of symptoms?” you ask, your fingers tightening and untightening around the binder.

“Some days are worse than others,” Kirishima admits, his shoulders shrugging. “I don’t experience much anxiety while in crowds anymore; I don’t have many flashbacks to those days anymore, not since February at least. I do still get… I still get night terrors and dream of that day. It’s nowhere near as bad as the first few months after the accident, but it’s still here.”

“What happened?” you asked after a bit, morbidly curious.

The file had all the details that proved Kirishima to be a master of firearms during his entire time on the force. He was a powerful combatist, and his ranking was a clear indicator of the respect and skills he had. Still, it was the quick honorable discharge, the near year-long hospitalization, and the current inability to use a firearm that concerned you.

What had happened?

“I was involved in a grenade explosion on my last day on tour. I was the only one who managed to survive the blast,” Kirishima easily stated, his voice quiet.

“Oh my god, I… holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, it’s all good. There were only two others around, and one of them was already dead.”

“Was that um, Major—”

“We called him Crimson Riot, actually,” Kirishima smiled, a chuckle light on his tongue as he leaned back onto the chair, nodding. “Yeah, that was him.”

“Crimson Riot,” you repeat, nodding. “Did you watch him… watch him die?”

Kirishima presses his lips tightly together, and for a moment, you’re unsure if he’s going to cry, answer you, or tell you to leave. There’s a whirlwind of emotions on your optimistic and typically jubilant bodyguard despite your asshole tendencies that make your stomach twist.

“Yes,” Kirishima finally answers, and you nod.

It’s hours into the morning before you finally depart back to your room, the horrors of Kirishima’s past still pounding into your ears. Kirishima wouldn’t notice, and neither would you, but on his shirt and yours, there’s a few drops of tears the both of you shed when you said goodnight.

Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou, while on an active warzone, had accidentally struck and killed his superior officer, his friend, his role model Crimson Riot, thinking that he was nothing more than an enemy target as he sat wounded behind a wall. He died on his lap, and as someone came to help, a grenade landed two meters away before detonating.

“K...Kiri...shima?” Crimson Riot had whispered as he fell to his knees, blood gushing and seeping through his clothes, spilling onto Kirishima’s lap. “I’ll be okay.”

For whatever reason, since that night, Kirishima felt something in him shift. He still took his medication, still had his virtual therapy sessions when he could fit them in, and even had painful night terrors of that moment, but it was becoming less frequent.

He wasn’t made of glass.

There had been more instances after the kidnapping attempt, but unlike the last times, Kirishima was prepared. He had stopped each one, keeping you safe and sound. As of one week ago, he had officially been given a firearm to keep strapped to his thigh at all times now.

It was an unfamiliar weight, one that still twisted his stomach and made him nervous, but he knew the reason why it was needed. Since the gun had been added to his gear, the attacks stopped. He was definitely not ready to be firing it anytime soon, but it had deterred the attackers for the time being.

Kirishima paused when he heard his earpiece ring, and he dropped his phone where he had been watching your interview despite being there himself.

“Talk to me,” Kirishima answered, his finger pressing the accept button.

“Kirishima!” came the distressed voice of Kimiko, “We just got a tip!”

Kirishima stilled, his eyes scanning the empty hallways that stretched throughout the private hot springs.

“I don’t know, but a person with connections with this mastermind said something about how there were two more events he was staging. Today is one of them!”

Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting to answer Kimiko when instead there was a large, loud crash in the water from inside your room. He assumed the worst.

“Y/n!” Kirishima shouted, hands throwing open the sliding door and racing through the storage room, the shower, and exited out into the hot spring.

Steam curled through the wind, the white wisps of steam feeling warm and light against Kirishima’s skin, and Kirishima panicked when he couldn’t see your shadow or figure in the hot springs.

“Where is she?! Is she alright?!” Kimiko panicked, her voice panicking already. “I’ll call the—”

Kirishima turned on his heel, ready to complete a full sweep of the outdoor hot spring when he crashed into something smaller than he was… smaller, softer, and definitely the shape of a woman. Kirishima felt his entire body stiffen when his rough palms felt the undeniable feeling of wet, warm skin.

“Oh my god,” he heard you shriek. “KIRISHIMA!”

“She’s all good, Kimiko,” Kirishima stifled out, his voice tight, his head slamming backward so that his eyes were concentrated on the starry night sky.

“...sorry… uh aha! Another client of mine is calling, goodbye!” Kimiko’s apology was meek and small before she hung up.

Kirishima’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but his body was frozen, unmoving like a rock when he realized that pressing to his stomach was, without a doubt, your breasts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you doing in here, pervert?!” you splutter, your hands pressing to his stomach as you step away. “Are you a pervert or something?!”

“I, no! No! Of course not! Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I’ll go! There was a tip that something was going to happen right now, and there was a crash and—”

“What are you looking at?” you exclaim, squeaky frustration heavy on your tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with the sky! Look me in the eyes? Have you never been to a co-ed hot spring before?!”

“Y-Yes, sorry!” Kirishima apologized, bowing slightly in apology before he peered down. Still, his face bursted in a flame as he watched the way your jaw dropped in disbelief, the dewy wetness of the hot spring clinging to your body. You were, obviously, soaked, and Kirishima bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep the whimper from expelling past his lips when he saw the light gleaming off your breasts. But he watched your face shift between a million emotions, each one appearing too fast for him to read, too fast to register, but he saw the way a single-arm wrap around your breast and the other shoving into his stomach.

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

“That was a test! This is my private room! I have the right to not be willing to be looked at right now!” you shrieked as Kirishima spun around, allowing you the complete privacy of his gaze.

“You told me to look at you!” he squawked. “Y-You told me, and I listened because of our contract!”

Kirishima could feel his body trembling, his mind reeling in disbelief that he definitely saw you in your entire nakedness, and if the swirling heat in his stomach had anything to say about it, he liked it. Fuck.

There was a soft laugh and the sound of sloshing water as you probably (he wouldn’t know because he wasn’t looking) reentered the spring.

“I know, I was teasing,” you sing, and he can tell the water is gliding around your body. “Turn around, Kiri, let’s talk.”

“Haha, um, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Kirishima admits, although sitting in this steam-filled space with just you sounds so very nice. 

“Why not?” you asked, voice sounding a bit upset.

“I’m supposed to be outside, doing my job?”

“Augh, but these private springs are so boring alone,” your voice whines; the water sloshes, and Kirishima winces at the slight throb on his tongue as he continues to look at not your direction. “Turn around, Kiri.”

Not too long ago, you had taken to calling him Kiri, a subtle change, a not unusual nickname people gave him. But just because it was you, his stomach flipped and twisted, and now with the image of your tits in mind, his dick throbbed. 

Gulping, Kirishima turned, his gaze bashfully looking down at you before glancing away. You were chest-deep in the hot springs, tendrils of your wet hair sticking to your neck. Was he dead? Maybe dreaming?

No, his dreams were never like this.

“Do you want to come in?” you continued to ask, your body moving towards him in the water until you reached the edge of the pool, arms testing into the black rocks. “You’re the only one not in one, and since I hate being in these alone, I figured you’d like to join.”

Kirishima wanted to join. More than anything, he wanted to take his clothes off and jump into the springs with you, for you, but that would be unprofessional. Entirely and utterly unprofessional.

“Please?” you ask softly, pleadingly, and Kirishima makes the mistake of locking his gaze with yours. 

“...fine, but I’ll be on the other side of the spring,” he concedes, his steps near clumsy and oafish as he stumbles backward to the shower and closet.

“Such a gentleman pervert,” you tease, fingers curling as you wave at him until Kirishima finally closes the door behind him.

The empty room is nearly deafening in its silence and the future as Kirishima slumps against the sliding door, excited apprehension rippling through every cell of his skin as a smile spreads across his face. He walks to the storage room, and despite it being a private room, there were two closets. The closet not already occupying your clothes had the things needed for him, and thankfully, it fit. 

He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them into the cubbies. Fully naked, he approached the showers, and under the lukewarm showerhead, he cleaned his body of any grime, dirt, and sweat. 

Feeling refreshed and clean, Kirishima began his descent to the hot spring, his heart hammering when his fingers grabbed the handle of the door.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, a healthy amount of fear, excitement, and heat drumming through him.

“I’ll keep my virgin eyes away from your body, don’t worry,” came your slow tease, and Kirishima snorted softly.

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

Just like the first time, the entrance to the spring was warm, the steam seeming thicker than last time, clouding the outdoor room and his sight. You were at the furthest out part of the pool, your back towards them as you worked your fingers through your scalp.

Discarding his slippers at the edge, Kirishima climbed into the pool.

The pool only went as far as his thigh, and he sank into the warm water. It felt wonderful on his body, relaxing his muscles just enough for him to wonder when was the last time he had managed to visit a hot spring.

“I’m in,” Kirishima said, his arms rising up out of the water, resting onto the black stone. “You can turn around now.”

“God, took you long enough,” you tease, your body twisting so that you were facing him again.

To Kirishima’s complete and utter surprise, you stilled, eyes dragging up and down his exposed chest, eyes locked on the series of tattoos all over his right pectoral, and trailed down his right arm. His lips felt dry as your eyes shifted back to his face, to his arm, and back to him. The smile on your face felt weak, but it sent a spiral of dizzying heat through Kirishima when he noticed the hushed lust.

For a while, the two of you remained at opposite ends of the hot spring. Eyes closed, hummed melodies passing through the song. You asked Kirishima about how he felt, if his medication was due for refills, if therapy was okay (he was doing better, a refill was due in two weeks, and therapy was going the same). He asked you about your relationship with Kimiko, with the lawyer, and if you had any real friends within the music industry (Kimiko was like an older cousin to you, the lawyer was a pain to deal with at times, and surprisingly, you did meet some genuine friends). You questioned how his friends were doing, if he had any contact with them despite their busy schedules. 

So Kirishima found himself retelling stories of his coworkers turned close friends. Each story he told left both of you with sore stomachs from laughter, and tears at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard. 

“Was the tip story true?” you asked once the quiet overcame and grew old. You shift through the water, getting a bit closer to Kirishima.

Kirishima coughed, suddenly feeling a tad bit shy about his posture, but decided to keep from moving.

“You honestly think I would have barged into here just because I wanted to see you?”

Truthfully, had Kirishima been a man without morals, chivalry, or disrespect for you, he would have. Definitely would have.

“Let a girl dream,” you smile, like a luring siren as you wander closer by just a step. “It would go against everything I know about you, but it’s fun to tease.”

“You’re a bigger brat than I thought you would be,” Kirishima smiles back, trying his best to not show the way goosebumps were bursting against his skin, his eyes locked on yours, trying to not get distracted by the way your wet skin made his mind spin.

“I don’t think I’m a brat,” you counter, getting close enough that he could feel the currents of the water with your movement. But you were far enough that Kirishima felt like pointing out the fact you disregarded his keep apart rule would be a mistake. “How am I a brat?”

The sound of the water rippling through the springs along with the growing noises of the bugs began a melody around the two of you, and all Kirishima could do was stare at the way you blinked your eyes slowly — like a feline stalking a prey.

“A lot of ways, really,” Kirishima breathes, his heart rising up to his throat as he felt your hands gingerly place themselves on his knees.

“Yeah?” you ask, parting through his naked legs, and Kirishima felt his breathing stop when your exposed chest pressed against his. Your lips were ghosting so far from his but tantalizingly close enough that he felt drunk off your sweet breath. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Kirishima sucked in air, his arms resisting movement, and his eyes glanced down at the way your mouth was millimeters from his. His dick was very much interested in what he could do about it, and when your hands grazed up his thigh and onto his chest, Kirishima could feel something rumble in his chest.

He moved to eliminate the space, but there was a crash in the following spring, pushing you away from him long before he could claim your mouth.

“FUCK!” the person in the opposite spring screamed, and Kirishima’s eyes closed in his muted annoyance as you sighed.

His eyes dropped to the water, giving you the privacy to rise out of the water and make your way over to the wall.

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

“Give me a warning the next time you try fucking your hot bodyguard in the middle of a private onsen!”

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

And with that, Kirishima took this as his embarrassed cue to leave.

He stood at the entrance of your private spring for about twenty minutes, entirely uncomfortable with the still hard dick in his pants, rubbing and chaffing against his jeans as he stood there. Eventually, you exited the hot spring, face glowing from the steam and eyes avoiding his gaze as you walked back to your room. Your robe was tight on your body, the hair on the nape of your neck pressed to your skin.

Kirishima sighed as he watched you enter your room, your smile short as you nodded a simple goodnight before letting the door slam shut behind you.

Rubbing his face, Kirishima listened to the voices in his intercom talk about how nothing had happened tonight. An attempted unwelcome visitor tried to get into your room, but they had stopped him. They didn’t fight, but they had run away the moment they caught on to the fact that they weren’t exactly authentic.

Kirishima sighed as he slumped into his room, collapsing on the too small bed as he found himself looking at the ceiling in deep concentration.

What was he going to do now?

That was undeniably sexual, his still semi-hard dick damning evidence to the known fact that he wanted you. By god did he want you. Wanted you beneath him, over him, splitting yourself down onto his cock while you gripped your arms and legs around him, fucking down onto his driving cock. 

Kirishima groaned low in his chest, guilt blooming in the back of his throat as his palm rubbed his pulsing cock.

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

“Kirishima-san?” a voice broke through his earpiece, and Kirishima nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you there?”

“Hi Kimiko,” Kirishima sighed, his dick deflating instantly. “Everything all right?”

“Ah, yes! Sorry about earlier, the false tip and the sudden abandonment!” Kimiko embarrassingly apologized. “My client was ringing for the fourth time, and while I care deeply for y/n, I had to take it!”

“Mm, no worries, Kimiko,” Kirishima smiled politely despite the lack of visual contact. “How can I help you?”

“Ah, yes,” Kimiko asserted, her tone changing from apology to one of formality. “So, about the visitor incident I’m sure you were brought attention to, it seems that the vehicle they came in was with the driver's plate: T082-23. Does that sound familiar?”

“Not currently,” Kirishima sighed, his body stretching into a sitting up position. “Does it to you?”

“No…” Kimiko admitted, and Kirishima could feel the worried frown on her face. “Well, I just wanted to call and give you that information. It was passed along to me, and they mentioned they hadn’t told you. And since I was going to give you the schedule for the upcoming JRA’s award day, I figured I’d let you know!”

“No problem! Let’s go over the schedule now?”

“Yes! I have a client meeting in America right after this! Can you believe it? An American celebrity wants my help?!”

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

“Okay, so this is how the day’s going to go!”

Date: 7/10 Time: 18:00 Location: Tokyo Hotel Room 101

Kirishima watched as an entire team was getting you dressed up.

Two people were doing your hair, three people doing your nails, one person doing your makeup, and five getting one of your three outfits for the night ready.

According to you, as you had strutted around in these outfits nearly two weeks ago were your red carpet and beginning of the award show outfit, your performance outfit, and of course, the after-party outfit. Each one was different, yet when adorned on your body was a perfect replica of who you were.

Most importantly, the two of you had decided to ignore every single instance of tremendous sexual energy and desire that basically leaked from both of your pores. It was for the best to ignore it. There was no point in pursuing it, especially when there was a known hunt for you, and Kirishima was the last line of defense between you and whoever it was.

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

Since the night of the initial kidnapping that finally closed the gap between you and Kirishima, there was something that the caught criminal said that stuck with him.

Everything you had coming your way, you deserved, he had said in bitter spite.

The interesting thing was that it was the lawyer who had said that, multiple times at that. The lawyer seemed to have everything to fuel him to rage against you. Everything you said or tried, the lawyer was on your heel, barking at you that it was wrong. Kirishima had also seen the contracts between you and the lawyer, and the amount that he was paid to be your attorney was not large at all.

The mass majority of the funds you earned were always funneled towards charities and organizations you trusted to help people in need — in fact, it was almost 80% of your total earnings. A meek, barely larger than 20% was split between you, your lawyer, Kimiko, your music crew, and any other unforeseen expenses. The lawyer was also in a situation where he was not in demand with clients, and if you weren’t heeding his expensive tag, he needed a new contract with you.

A contract he was always demanding to discuss with you that you denied to change.

Attacks tended to happen days after you and the lawyer tumbled, not enough to rouse suspicion if you weren’t looking, but Kirishima was. He just needed damning evidence now.

Something.

Anything.

And for some reason, his gut was screaming at him that something big was going to happen tonight, that tonight was going to be the last attack—the one to end everything.

So he had told everyone about it. Kimiko, the security at the JRA’s, even you. It made him nervous.

It made his hand sweat, the gun strapped to his thigh feeling like hot iron as he stood about as you laughed with your makeup crew.

Kirishima swore, promised, and vowed he would protect you.

He was going to.

And when the gold dress was tied to your body, fitting you beautifully, Kirishima found himself unable to look away like strands of your hair framed your temples.

“What do you think, Kiri? Will I be on the Best Dressed List?” you asked, tearing Kirishima’s attention away from the bodice and skirt of the dress. Your eyes were bright, hopeful, yearning for a positive reaction from him.

“How could you not be?” Kirishima admitted, his grin toothy, and he shifted against the wall.

“You’ll make me blush,” you grin back, eyes batting just a bit as you clasp your hands together. It takes everything in Kirishima to keep from striding across the space between the two of you and kissing you silly. “Are we ready to go?”

Kirishima wet his lips, unwillingly tearing his gaze from you, and whispers into the intercom.

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

Straightening back up, Kirishima smiled at you, his head motioning towards the door.

“Alright, y/n, let’s see you make some history?”

“Damn right I will.”

Kirishima smiled as he exited first, carving the path for you. 

Paparazzi were on you immediately, the lights flashing and terribly bright as he helped you through the throngs of them. His hand pressed to your back as they screamed demands, most of which you complied with until Kirishima stated that you would be late. You, unfortunately, couldn’t be late to the awards show.

Ushering you into the limousine, Kirishima follows in shortly after you, scrunching up in his seat as he sits opposite of you. However, your typical light and bright demeanor are gone; instead, you seem almost anxious as you open your handbag.

“You okay there?” Kirishima asks as he realizes you pulled out a distinctly obvious metal flask.

“Awards make me nervous,” you painfully admit; you're weakly smiling as you knock back a shot of the drink. “I hate winning and losing; the alcohol makes me less… of a wreck. Do you want some? I think it’s apple soju, I don’t know, a good luck gift from Kimiko.”

Kirishima grins, his eyes rolling as he decides to decline the drink. “Sorry, love, I think that I need to be completely sober for today.”

You scrunch your nose, obviously displeased, “Lame, who shows up to these awards sober?”

“Me,” Kirishima laughed, his head tilting back and scraping against the ceiling of the limousine. 

“Such a prude, sober, pervert,” you sigh, taking yet another swig before putting the flask back into your bag. 

“Such a brat.”

Just like every previous instance, your eyes seem to glow in glee at that name, your lips curling into a pleased smirk as you shrug. It's a sight that makes Kirishima’s mouth dry and heart racing. Fuck, he should not be thinking about fucking you in the limousine right now.

But before the heat in the limousine could simmer to one of undeniable boiling, you had arrived.

Kirishima cleared his throat, sending a quick wink your way as he exited the car first. The first stop was for him to join the lineup to guide you through all the different photo and interview sessions. No one wanted pictures of him emerging from the limo after all. 

There's a moment where after Kirishima closes the door, your eyes filled with worry and excitement as he winked goodbye, that things changed. He stood up, his eyes already scanning the area for anything suspicious, when he saw the all too familiar van.

T082-23.

His eyes widened, his head looking around for anyone else, but there was no one to help. No one could do anything as the car continued to drive away, disappearing from Kirishima’s line of sight. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands instinctively went to his thigh. He had his firearm… he had it.

With nothing but a quick report to the head of security via his com, Kirishima pushed on ahead, waiting for your descent down the red carpet.

When you eventually emerged from the limousine, Kirishima found that at this moment, the entire world faded away as a gloved hand assisted you out of the vehicle. You were elegant, stunning, a realistic vibrant portrait within his world of greys. As you took photos for the cameras, he was by your side a few strides away as you talked to reporters.

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

“For all the pain in the world that she is, she’s quite charming from a distance, huh?” a voice spoke to his side, and Kirishima froze. His eyes widened completely when he noticed that standing beside him was none other than the lawyer.

The lawyer was dressed in a nice suit, glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time Kirishima had seen, the scowl was not quite so hard.

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

This was the man he was so sure was the reason behind your every attack. A man fueled by insufficient funding, a need for a new contract that would never be approved without your signature.

“What are you doing here?” Kirishima asked, subtlety never being something he was ever good with. “I’ve never seen you anywhere except to argue with Y/n about contracts. This doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing it.”

“Kimiko wanted me to give her a new contract proposal to give to y/n. However, to be fair, it’s quite easy for anything to come down to an argument with y/n,” he shrugs, and Kirishima watches a cloud of emotions pass between the man’s eyes. “At least between her and me, we’ve never gotten along, but I suppose that’s how it is for any type of family who works together.”

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

“Yes, I know it’s strange to believe. I am quite ugly, and she is not, but we’re family.”

Kirishima’s mind was racing now. It didn’t make sense. If he was family, why would he be in such pursuit of potentially murdering you? If you were family, he was sure that you would help out? If he needed a raise like he thought, wouldn’t you have helped?

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

“Kiri!” your voice broke into his mind and tore him back to reality. You waved at him, then passed a stuck-out tongue to the lawyer in a teasing fashion. “Let’s go in?”

Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss. 

Oh fuck.

He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.

You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.

“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”

Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”

Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.

“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”

“...she’s drunk?!”

“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”

“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”

“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.

Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.

“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.

Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.

Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.

You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.

You smile.

But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.

You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.

Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.

The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.

How were they related?

What connected them?

“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”

Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.

Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.

Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.

“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”

“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”

There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.

“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”

Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.

“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”

Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?

“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.

“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”

“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”

Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”

Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.

“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”

Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”

At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.

His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.

BANG!

“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”

The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.

With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched. 

Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.

You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.

He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.

Tonight.

“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”

At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.

“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”

“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.

Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality. 

To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.

But it was growing late.

The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.

“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you. 

You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.

“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms. 

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown. 

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room. 

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima. 

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him. 

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming. 

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want. 

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move. 

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance. 

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again. 

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin. 

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap. 

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain. 

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good. 

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat. 

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you. 

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you. 

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers. 

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands. 

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center. 

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

[newmusickarl]

Album & EP Recommendations

Freakout / Release by Hot Chip

They may be nearly 30 years and 8 albums in at this point, but electro-pop legends Hot Chip are still yet to deliver a bad record. Reuniting with one another following lockdown, the London-based dance machine unleashed all their pent-up energy into this new wild collection of synth-soaked tracks found on Freakout / Release.

The record starts strong, with the album’s three excellent teaser tracks greeting listeners to their liberated new energy. Opener Down features an addictive groove reminiscent of their early classic Over & Over, but with some added soul-influence provided by a brilliant sample of Universal Togetherness Band’s More Than Enough. Second single Eleanor then features a typically playful melody, catchy chorus and some trancey dance synths, but with dark lyrics at the heart about suffering through unimaginable pain. The title track is then instantly one of the best Hot Chip tracks of recent years, boasting some distorted robotic vocals reminiscent of their own track Huarache Lights, whilst frontman Alexis Taylor sings “Music used to be an escape, now I can’t escape it.” Before long, the track breakouts into a barrage of reverbing rock guitars and hard synths, helping the song to truly live up to its name.

Outside of the three singles there’s plenty more to enjoy here though. Hard To Be Funky is the album’s smoothest number whilst The Evil That Men Do is arguably the band’s most overtly political song to date, also featuring a killer cameo from Canadian rapper Cadence Weapon.

However, the album really shines when Hot Chip show their vulnerable side. Broken is a heartfelt song about sheer desperation, which is brightened up by the song’s hopeful, pop-tinged melody. Not Alone is then instantly one of the most beautiful tracks the band have ever written - a song about new musical collaborations that also doubles-up as a shimmering love song, elevated by chime-like electronics and the gorgeous, contrasting vocal styles of Joe Goddard and Alexis Taylor.

Eight albums in and Hot Chip continue to sound not only as fresh and vibrant as ever, but also deliver some of their very best work too. Whilst overall it may not be their absolute best album yet, it’s still a solid outing from a legendary act that continue to do no wrong.

Listen here

Stellar Drifting by George Fitzgerald

I feel like I say this most weeks, but incredible electronic records have really been in abundance this year. With the likes of Bonobo, Lane 8, Kavinsky, Moderat, HAAi and Mall Grab all delivering great records this year to name just a few, it already feels like a hallmark year for synth-soaked, mind-bending sonic whirlpools. Now you have another to add to that pile and that is the latest outing from Mr George Fitzgerald.

Titled Stellar Drifting, this third album from George began life with him using pictures of stars and galaxies and turning them into audio wavelengths. From there he would build the sounds out, until they eventually became the 10 tracks on Stellar Drifting. Cosmonaut Alley takes the listener on a journey across Jupiter whilst The Last Transmission imagines a spaceman’s final message to Earth. Therapeutic and uplifting, this collection of ambient tracks will charm, soothe and relax in equal measure. Amidst all the celestial wonder, there’s some great collaborations to be found too with George teaming up with the likes of Panda Bear (Passed Tense), SOAK (Rainbows and Dreams), Ellie Goulding (Cold) and London Grammar (The Last Transmission).

As a huge fan of George’s last album All That Must Be, which even finished in my Top 20 Albums of the Year for 2018, I’m pleased that this latest effort is as equally spellbinding. Magically constructed from cosmic patterns, it’s an interstellar trip that you’ll want to take again and again.

Listen here

Sing With Abandon by VLMV

If you are partial to the soaring post-rock instrumentals from the likes of Mogwai, Explosions In The Sky and Godspeed You! Black Emperor, then do not sleep on this latest album from London-based ambient rock outfit VLMV.

Boasting haunting, beautifully atmospheric, string-drenched soundscapes, it makes for a constantly enchanting and spine-tingling listen. With the album almost a 50/50 split between complete instrumentals and some vocal-led pieces, the moments when the soft ethereal harmonies come in really take the record to another level. On tracks like There Are Mountains Underneath Us, For Empire and The Navigator, it adds just another dimension to the melancholic beauty that seeps out of every pore of this record.

At just 35 minutes long, there’s no reason to not set half an hour aside to just bask in the glorious ambient splendour of Sing With Abandon. This is an album that has had a huge impact on me in a short space of time and I can already see it sneaking into my Top 50 Albums of the Year as wintertime arrives and the weather inevitably has me yearning to return to this album’s dark majesty. Can’t recommend this enough!

Listen here

Moondust for My Diamond (Every Piece of Dust Edition) by Hayden Thorpe

Originally released last year, Hayden Thorpe’s second solo outing Moondust For My Diamond went on to become one of my Top 5 albums of 2021. Upbeat and free-flowing with richly intricate and multi-layered synth-driven instrumentation, it’s littered with radiant melodies that provide the perfect backdrop for Hayden’s philosophical musings, inspired by long walks in his homeland of the Cumbrian Lake District. If you’ve yet to hear it, there is no better time as he recently released a new Deluxe Version – the Every Piece of Dust Edition.

Featuring the original album along with several remixes and four brand new tracks, the highlights of this new version include the haunting atmospherics of In the Drift, the extra hypnotic and trippy Nakhane remix of Parallel Kingdom and, of course, recent single Polygod. The latter remains one of his best songs to date, with Hayden repeating the instantly catchy refrain of “Set me on fire” against some glistening instrumentation. About midway through the track really comes alive, with some piercing, 80s-style distorted guitars bringing some additional funky flavour to the track.

Listen here

Pre Pleasure by Julia Jacklin

““I care so much about the people around me,” reveals Jacklin in an album press release, “so much it makes me want to sleep forever, it feels so overwhelming”. This care and vulnerability pours out through the ten tracks on PRE PLEASURE. This really is a gorgeous collection of songs that are deeply personal and crafted so eloquently. It’s a beautifully contemplative listen from an authentic and big-hearted songwriter.”

Read Matt McLister’s full Gigwise review here

Listen to the album here

Also out, also great: Looking Back EP by The Native, Lucky Me by Phoebe Green, Keep On Smiling by Two Door Cinema Club, The Forever Story by JID

Tracks of the (Last Few!) Week(s)

There’d Better Be A Mirrorball by Arctic Monkeys

The big single release of the last few weeks was of course the much-anticipated return of Sheffield’s finest. Not too much is known at this stage which direction the Monkeys will take with their new record, however a recent interview with drummer Matt Helders did seem to suggest they would continue down the same path as their last album, the much-debated Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino.

This first teaser certainly backs up that theory, as There’d Better Be A Mirrorball has the same lounge feel and aesthetic, but with added grandiose strings and noticeably more sincerity. Set to be the opener for forthcoming album The Car, it doesn’t give too much away but already feels like a step up from their previous outing. As someone who really wasn’t a fan of their last album, this one has got me (somewhat surprisingly) quite intrigued.

Listen here

Weird Goodbyes by The National featuring Bon Iver

You only have to see the words “The National featuring Bon Iver” to know this is excellent. A stirring composition thanks to a gentle piano line, some moody electronics and a touch of strings, the track becomes particularly goosebump-inducing when those gorgeous vocal harmonies between Justin Vernon and Matt Berninger finally come together. Utterly stunning.

Listen here

Little Blue by Swim Deep

Everything Brummie indie darlings Swim Deep seem to touch just radiates sunshine and latest single Little Blue is no different. With some distorted pop synths, a playful drum beat and an instantly catchy chorus of “We’re going to make it here”, it’s stylistically different to their previous output but no less optimistically blissful.

Listen here

Kid Gloves by Low Island

Oxford electro-pop outfit continue the build towards their second album Life In Miniature with this incredible second single. Bouncing along with a shimmering synth-driven melody, heartfelt lyrics and some wonderful gospel-like vocals, every song these guys release these days seems to be better than what preceded it – keep them coming!

Listen here

Only You Say It by Lonely The Brave

Their first new music since last year’s third album The Hope List, Cambridge rockers Lonely The Brave have recently served up another powerful, hard-hitting anthem just in time for their upcoming UK tour. If they’re playing near you and there’s still tickets, I highly recommend popping along as these guys will completely blow you away.

Listen here

Merging Into You / European Son by Maxïmo Park

With their Singular tour celebrating their biggest and greatest hits just on the horizon, legendary Geordie indie outfit Maxïmo Park have served up a new double A side for fans to enjoy. Merging Into You is a horn-backed slice of their vintage sound which continues their renaissance following last year’s Nature Always Wins. On the flip side, European Son is a politically charged, 80s-tinged number, that sounds almost like The Smiths meets Human League. Both great!

Listen here

ATK by Bonobo

Fresh off his excellent Fragments album released earlier this year and some outstanding festival performances over the summer, Simon Green has returned with more music in the form of new single ATK. With a colourful blend of tropical sounds and a wonderful celebratory feel, it’s a typically mesmerising and joyous cut from the electronic maestro.

Listen here

Prettier by Bexx

Rising star Bexx has already delivered great singles like Hard To Love and One More Night that showcase her exceptional talent for writing glossy, retro-inspired pop tunes. Now with recent release Prettier, she shows off her more aggressive, grittier side with a heavy rock banger that takes fierce aim at people who body shame. There’s also a fun horror movie inspired music video that you can watch below.

Watch the Prettier video here

Shout by Placebo

There are few bands that do a better cover than Placebo – see their takes on Bigmouth Strikes Again and, most famously, Running Up That Hill as just two prime examples. Now adding a new one to their collection, they’ve recently delivered a particularly faithful cover of the Tears For Fears classic, distinguished only by Brian Molko’s sublime, distinct vocals.

Listen here

You Get What You Give (Apple Music Home Session) by Jamie T

And I leave you this week with another cover, this time Jamie T covering the New Radicalz classic You Get What You Give. Just Jamie on his own with a piano and an electric guitar, it’s a unique, stripped-back and worthwhile take on the 90s one hit wonder.

Listen here

[reifromrfa]

On the Line - Chapter 9

Prompt: Alternate Universe

Wrote this for Jumin x MC Week and the story became longer than I expected ^^; I hope you guys liked the previous chapter, despite the angst :)) I hope you guys enjoy this chapter too! 

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Chapter 8 | x

On the Line - relinks to fanfiction.net

Thank you so much for all the likes, reblogs and comments! :) I really appreciate them! :D

“He hasn’t been out of his room since this morning.”

Jihyun Kim steps into the manor and shrugs off his coat, which was drenched in rain. It had started raining halfway to the town and he was afraid the helicopter would have to land somewhere else for their safety. Thankfully, they landed in the vineyard safely.

Jaehee had called him half an hour ago, telling him that Jumin wouldn’t come out of his room and refused to see anyone. He hadn’t eaten anything all day, and Jaehee heard crashing sounds in the room.

Jihyun came as fast as he could, bringing with him the backpack from his trip, which contained mostly lenses, flashes and batteries for his camera, a fresh change of clothes and some money. He didn’t know how long he would be staying here or what happened to Jumin, but he grabbed his backpack and drove to Jumin’s office as soon as the call ended.

Jaehee greeted him as soon as he hung his coat on the rack and he noted the large bags under her eyes.

“V, thank you so much for coming on such short notice.” Jaehee said, sounding anxious.

“Of course. How’s Jumin?” Jihyun asked. Jaehee shook her head.

“He still refuses to come out of his room. We tried opening the door with the master key but the moment he heard the lock click, he screamed at us to go away.”

Jihyun’s eyes widened. “Jumin…screamed at you?”

Jaehee nodded worriedly. “Yes…I was quite surprised. Mr. Han never yelled at anyone in the office. He never yelled, period. He’s very good at handling his emotions. But this morning, at around midnight, I heard him scream. I rushed to his room and—” Jaehee broke off, worry creasing her forehead.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “I could hear him crying from outside. V, I’ve never seen him like that. I’ve never seen anyone like that. Mr. Han…he looked so broken, V. That’s the only word I could think of to describe him. Broken.”

“But why was he crying? What was he doing here? I thought he was supposed to go home this morning.” Jihyun asked. It didn’t sound like Jumin at all. He knew his friend since they were kids and he always joked that Jumin was too cold and unfeeling, but he understood why Jumin was like that. Jihyun could understand that.

So what broke through his dam and released his emotions?

Or better yet, who caused him to feel?

Jaehee shrugged. “He refused to come out and I had to postpone his flight home. However,” Jaehee said, adjusting her glasses. “Mr. Han made me research on the background of this vineyard, as well as the family who lived here and the man who bought this place years ago. He seemed very interested in this place’s roots and that’s also the reason why I’m here. There’s something about this place that piqued his interest but I’m not sure what made him…”

Jaehee didn’t need to finish her sentence; Jihyun knew Jumin’s new assistant must be very confused after seeing her usually cool and calm boss break down.

Jihyun nodded. “Take me to him.”

Jaehee thanked him again and led him upstairs, to where the guest rooms where. He couldn’t help but admire the interior of the manor, noting the modern additions to the vintage aesthetic of the place. When they reached the third landing, he could hear the rain beating against the roof and he wondered how Jumin was able to sleep with all that noise; he knew his friend was used to sleeping in a quiet environment.

When they reached the door at the end of the hallway, Jaehee handed him the master key before bowing and taking her leave.

Jihyun raised his hands and knocked on the door gently.

There was silence at first, and he rapped his knuckles against the surface again, louder this time. And then came his friend’s deep voice.

“Leave me alone.”

“Jumin, it’s me.”

“…Jihyun?”

“I’m coming in, alright?”

When there was no reply, he took it as a good sign and unlocked the door. Pushing it open slowly, Jihyun stepped into the room.

The first thing he noticed was the broken wooden chair right in front of the door. One of its legs had fallen off and another was bent, splinters scattered on the floor around it. Next to it was a built-in cabinet with a dent in its door; probably from where the chair had hit it. His eyes swept through the room and Jihyun took in the rest of the wreckage; shattered vases, upturned tables, various papers scattered on the floor...the room was a mess.

Then he saw his best friend in the midst of it, leaning against the wall, cradling something in his hands. His head was lowered so Jihyun couldn't see his face, but he noted the way his friend's shoulders were shaking. Jihyun closed the door behind him and stepped through the broken items,making his way to Jumin's side.

“Jumin, are you alright?” Jihyun asked, sliding off his backpack and placing it on the floor. He knelt beside his friend and studied the item in his hands.

An old telephone.

Jumin was cradling it in his hands like it was something precious, something he cherished. But his hands were banged up —Jihyun’s eyes widened when he saw Jumin’s bloody knuckles.

Jihyun had no idea what happened in the week that Jumin stayed here, but he was determined to find out.

“Jumin,” he said softly, reaching out to touch his friend’s hands. When his fingers were inches away, Jumin’s hands clutched the phone tighter.

“I couldn’t save her.”

Jihyun’s hand froze. He met his best friend’s eyes and saw fresh tears flowing down the raven-haired man’s face. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying but Jihyun could see the immense sadness in his eyes —he could see it from the tortured expression on his face, as if he had harbored all the pain in the world inside his heart.

Jaehee was right. It was the first time Jihyun had ever seen a man so…broken. It pained him to see his best friend suffering like this.

Jihyun reached out and pulled Jumin into a fierce hug, tears forming in his own eyes as well. He couldn’t stand seeing Jumin like this but he let the other man cry. Jihyun could feel Jumin’s body heaving as he cried silently and he held on.

I’m here now, Jumin. Don’t keep it bottled up anymore.

The two men stayed like that for a while. One offering support and love and understanding while the other whispered a goodbye.

Sunlight streamed into the room, casting shadows all over the debris on the floor.

Jihyun and Jumin had their backs on the wall, neither of them speaking. Jumin still held onto the phone, and Jihyun didn’t have the heart to tell his best friend that the line looked like it had been cut a long time ago; the phone was virtually useless.

They stayed like that throughout the entire night —silent and unmoving. Jihyun could only offer his company and his support for Jumin refused to talk about what happened and he didn’t have the heart to push his friend for answers; not when he looked like that.

When Jumin sighed, Jihyun turned to him.

“You’re here for answers, I presume?” Jumin asked him. His voice was hoarse and Jihyun reached for his backpack, fishing out the water bottle he had stashed in there. He opened the lid and handed the bottle to his friend.

“Drink, my friend. You must be parched.”

Jumin reached out a shaking hand and grasped the bottle in his hands before taking a gulp of water. Then he laid the empty bottle on the floor and held onto the phone again.

“I’m not here for answers,” Jihyun replied. “I’m here for you. Jaehee was worried —and she had every right to be. Seeing you like this…I’m worried too, Jumin. It doesn’t matter if you tell me what happened or not, just let me be here for you.”

Jumin was silent.

“I…met someone.”

Jihyun’s eyebrows rose but he kept silent, letting his friend continue. And the story came pouring out from Jumin. From the first phone call to how MC laughed at his jokes, from how she was decades behind them and her psychotic fiancé.

And how he couldn’t save her.

How she died and how Jumin listened as Hong Chul shot her and how she crumpled to the floor, her father screaming her name.

Jihyun listened and took it all in, never judging, never doubting his friend. He nodded and soaked in the details, the emotions behind the words, the sureness of his remarks.

Jumin was telling the truth. And Jihyun believed him.

“Why did this happen, Jihyun?” Jumin asked, using his real name. “Why did I meet her if I wouldn’t be able to save her?”

Jihyun was silent for a while, arranging his thoughts as best he could given the weight of the information Jumin had just given him.

“Perhaps,” he said. “You were sent to her to give her courage.”

“I drove her to her death.”

“No, don’t say that.” Jihyun replied immediately. “It wasn’t your fault. Hong Chul pulled the trigger, not you. If anything, you gave her a reason to live, Jumin.”

“Live? She’s dead because of me! I should never have told her to escape!”

“And then what? She’d be trapped in an abusive marriage, unhappy and mistreated! That is not living, Jumin.” Jihyun softened his tone. “You gave her hope. She stood up for herself and I bet she would have done it a thousand times over than choose a miserable existence with that horrible man.”

Jumin closed his eyes and sighed. “I only wish she could have lived a happy life. She…made me believe in impossible things…silly things I would have laughed at if anybody else had said it. But her belief in fate and love…” Jumin trailed off and Jihyun laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I know I can never fully understand what you’re going through and I’m truly sorry it had to end that way. She sounds like a lovely person.”

“She’s an angel.” Jumin murmured quietly. “And I…I love her.”

3 Years Later…

Jumin Han has entered the chatroom.

Jaehee Kang: Good morning, Mr. Han.

707: WASSUP MISTAH TRUSTFUND KID

Jumin Han: I would appreciate it if you refrained from calling me that.

Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han, are you on the way back to the office now?

Jumin Han: Yes. I will be there shortly.

707: HEY JUMIN

707: I

707: JUST

707: GOT

707: A

707: GREAT

707: IDEA

707: !!!!

Jaehee Kang: Please type it in a sentence, Luciel ;;;

Jumin Han: What idea?

707: Since you’re always working

707: And leaving the office late

707: Maybe you should leave Elly with me ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Jumin Han: Out of the question.

Jumin Han: And her name is Elizabeth the 3rd.

707: Think about it!!!

707: She must be so lonely in that penthouse!

Jaehee Kang: Didn’t you just say you were drowning in work? ;;;

707: (glasses shattering emoji)

707: (glasses shattering emoji)

707: (glasses shattering emoji)

707: BETRAYED

707: BY A FELLOW EYE-GLASS WEARING PERSON

Jaehee Kang: (exasperated emoji)

707: HOW COULD YOU JAEHEE

707: I TRUSTED YOU

Jumin Han: Assistant Kang may have wanted to spend more time with Elizabeth the 3rd.

Jumin Han: Since you revealed Luciel’s secret

707: Lol it wasn’t really a secret

Jumin Han: I shall reward you by letting you keep Elizabeth company over the weekend

Jaehee Kang: ?!

Jaehee Kang: I DON’T WANT THAT CAT FOR THE WEEKEND

Jumin Han: You’re welcome, Assistant Kang.

Jumin Han has left the chatroom.

That settles Elizabeth’s company for the weekend. Jumin sighs and leans back against his seat, putting his phone back in his pocket. What a long week. Truth be told, he’s exhausted from all the endless meetings, piles of paperwork and frivolous company events he had to go through that week. But he doesn’t really mind; keeping himself exhausted would help him sleep better in the evening.

It’s been three years since his last trip to the vineyard. Three years since he last spoke to her on the phone.

Jumin feels a pang in his heart as his thoughts stray to that final phone call —to MC’s voice. He pushes away those feelings and puts up the barrier around his heart, mentally preparing himself for the next meeting he is about to attend.

The car rolls to a stop in front of C&R and bodyguards surround him as the young CEO steps out. He buttons his coat and walks towards his building, where he’s greeted by Assistant Kang.

“Mr. Han, our guests have already arrived and are waiting in conference room A.” Assistant Kang says, matching his stride. “They’re from the largest car import company in the country and it would be beneficial if we manage to acquire their company.”

“Leave it to me,” Jumin replies as they step into the elevator.

“Of course, Mr. Han. But Mr. Kim was unable to come as he has been unwell, so he sent his son instead.”

“How inconvenient. I know nothing about his son.”

Jaehee scoffs and Jumin arches his brow at her.

“You’ll know what kind of a person he is the moment you see him.”

“…I take it this man has an unpleasant character?”

Jaehee gives an almost imperceptible nod.

Great. Just great.

They reach the third landing and Jumin heads for conference room A with Jaehee close at his heels. The guards open the door for him and he’s greeted by a man who’s about his age, with slicked back brown hair and dark eyes.

Jumin understood what Jaehee meant. The over-confident way he carried himself, the style of his clothes, the scowl on his face —he didn’t like this guy already.

“Mr. Kim, I apologize for the delay.” Jumin says, moving towards the guy. The guy gets up from his seat and smirks.

“Hey, no problem. You’re a busy man. I get it,” the guy replies.

A sense of familiarity gnaws at him and Jumin can’t help but get this nagging feeling that he knows this guy from somewhere.

“Thank you for your understanding.” Jumin says, extending his hand. “I’m Jumin Han.”

The guy’s smirk transforms into a grin. “Yeah, no shit. Everyone knows who you are.” He grips Jumin’s hand tightly and warning bells go off in his head. “My name is…”

Jumin tenses. He feels like the floor has opened up underneath him, his mind is thrown into a jumble.

Because this isn’t possible. He is supposed to be dead. Assistant Kang did all the research, it was even published in various newspapers.

But there was no mistaking the spark of mischief and madness behind the man’s eyes.

He just shook the hand of Kim Hong Chul.

Dun dun duuuun~ ^^ Thanks for reading and for the support! :)

1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |  6  |  7  |  8  |  x  |  SOON?

Buy me a Mango Shake? (─‿‿─)

[shirlleycoyle]

How to Grow a Pandemic Garden

There are all kinds of reasons that people get into gardening, most of them quite practical. Maybe you need a hobby, and like being surrounded by green things. Maybe you want to become more self-sufficient in general, and harbor homespun dreams of spending long days canning, pickling, and preserving your harvest so you can crack open a jar of summer during the cold winter months. Maybe you’re looking to pull back from the cruel capitalist churn of food production and farm worker exploitation in this country. Maybe you just want to spend less money at the grocery store, or to make it easier for yourself and your neighbors to avoid it altogether.

Or maybe the current crisis has you thinking more in the long term. The coronavirus pandemic continues to disrupt food supply chains, and unemployment numbers have soared into the stratosphere. Farmers unable to sell their crops are letting tons of produce rot in the fields (despite an urgent need from food banks), and grocery store workers fear the potentially deadly consequences of reporting to work. Without being fatalistic, it might not be a bad idea to take steps now that ensure you’ll have access to fresh produce a month or two from now.

During World Wars I and II, ordinary citizens in the U.S. (as well as a number of other countries) were encouraged to plant so-called “Victory Gardens” in order to take pressure off the straining food supply and spice up their own meager government rations. The humble backyard garden served them well then, and those of us alive now could benefit from a return to the practice—ideally without the racist, imperialist baggage that came with the second wave of U.S. victory gardens. When thousands of Japanese farmers were thrown into internment camps by the U.S. government during WWII, the food supply suffered but California agribusiness giants secretly celebrated. With their highly efficient farming methods and close-knit communities, Japanese immigrants had been a threat to the American farms’ profits, and their farms were lost alongside their freedom in an ensuing government land grab. The growth of victory gardens ties directly into that shameful episode, so for the sake of this piece, let’s just stick with “garden” for our purposes here (or “quarantine garden” if you’re really leaning into the branding).

Growing herbs on your windowsill isn’t doing it for you anymore, and those baleful houseplants peeking out at you from various corners around the apartment aren’t exactly pulling their weight, either. You’ve decided you want to take that extra leap and start your very own garden, so, let’s take stock. Say you live in an apartment in a major city, can afford to spend a few bucks on supplies, and have a little extra space to play around with. We’re not talking full-on backyard (in this economy? please) but you’ve got a solid few square feet of outdoor space that you’ve decided you want to draft into your personal war against free time. You’re ready for an upgrade.

That’s great, but there are a few things you need to consider before you dig in, pun absolutely intended.

Where Should I Plant a Garden?

When planning out your new kitchen garden, you’ve got to keep the old real estate maxim “location, location, location” in mind. When deciding what is going to go where, you’ll want to pick out the sunniest spot possible. Vegetable plants are the opposite of intimidating goth teens in that they love the sun and crave your attention.

If you’re working with a fire escape or a stoop, you’ll probably be in good shape, but if you’re staking out a section of a shady backyard area, it’ll be a little harder to coax your crops into cooperating. You’ve also got to consider potential weather conditions. The last thing you want is for your small leafy sons to drown the next time it rains because you planted them in a weird slopey corner of the yard, or for them to fall to their deaths from the fire escape on a windy day because your dumb ass balanced them on a step. Find a nice, level spot that isn’t going to betray you the first time it rains.

How Much Sunlight Will My Garden Need?

Most plants require at least six hours of direct sunlight per day to thrive, and the more sun they get, the bigger, happier, and healthier they grow. Leafy greens like lettuce, spinach, kale, chard, and herbs like cilantro, thyme, and parsley can handle a little more shade, and root vegetables like carrots and radishes can run on only four hours if needed, but most of the beloved staples you’re going to want to grow—tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, beans, squash, corn, basil, rosemary—are going to want to soak up that sun.

What if you don’t live somewhere sunny? You need to get familiar with your hardiness zone (which sounds like some sort of cursed Crossfit spin-off, but is actually a means by which gardeners can determine what kind of plants will thrive in their particular area during cold weather). Seed packets and live plants will note their zones on the package; if a range of zones is provided (for example, if zones 4-9, is indicated, the plant is good to go in zones 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9). Also, use your common sense; while I appreciate your millennial moxie, you’re probably not going to be able to grow that avocado tree in Maine.

What Should I Grow in My Garden?

Now that you’ve got all that figured out, you need to decide what you actually want to grow in your garden. This year, we spent hours paging through seed catalogs trying to settle on the perfect heirloom varieties, but you don’t have to be that precious about it. Think about what you want to eat, what you like to cook with, and what you’d like to have on hand just in case. If you’re looking to harvest regularly or feed more than a few people, go with high-yield plants like tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchini, peas, and salad greens like lettuce and spinach.

Herbs are always a good bet and play well with other plants, though you’ve got to watch out for mint—much like the U.S. itself, a mint plant will choke out the competition and colonize every inch of space around it if left to its own devices. You can achieve a nice balance of function and form by growing pretty flowering herbs like lavender, chamomile, yarrow, and borage. These will have the added benefit of attracting bees and butterflies, which is as adorable as it is necessary to keep your plants well-pollinated. (Tip: If you’re going to be using containers, look for varieties labeled “compact,” “space saver,” or “bush;” these mini-versions of popular garden staples are bred to take up less space than usual, leaving you more room to maneuver).

Where Can I Get Plants For My Garden?

Do you want to start from scratch and buy seeds, or would you rather pick up an armload of baby plants from your local garden center? Are you going to throw in a few wild cards, like those spring onions you’ve been idly regrowing on the countertop?

If you’ve never tried to grow anything before (or have, and found yourself to be the unhappy possessor of a black thumb), it might be a good idea to start off with a few store-bought (or gifted) plants to get your confidence up before you tackle anything more demanding. You can try out some of those vegetable regrowing hacks that are always floating around Instagram, but the only one that’s ever reliably worked for me is the spring onion trick (where you simply place the white bulb roots-down in a cup of water, and watch as they regenerate into full-grown onions again).

How Do I Start Seeds Indoors?

In my own personal experience, starting seeds inside is a pain in the ass, but depending on what I’m trying to grow, it’s often a necessary evil. Some plants are tricky, and can’t be directly sown (i.e. planted directly in the soil outside). Instead, they need to be “started” indoors and kept inside until they’re strong enough to withstand the elements.

There are a number of ways to do this and endless tutorials online, but I’ve had the best luck so far with the following method. Take a cardboard egg carton, fill the little cups with potting soil, and plant each cup with three or four seeds. Keep the soil damp and stow the carton in a warm, dark place until you see sprouts, then move the babies under a grow light or under a sunny window, and let them get their strength up. Once they’ve had a week or so to grow, start moving them outside for a few hours each day to “harden” them, or get them used to the changes in temperature. Gradually increase the time spent outside for the next seven to ten days, until you’re ready to transplant them. You can then cut the egg cartons apart and plant the individual cups directly in the soil, and welcome them into their new home by giving them plenty of water. (Your mileage here may vary; seeds can be finicky little dicks, and I’ve already had to re-start like 50 of them this year. Don’t give up!).

What Are Raised Beds, and Does My Garden Need Them?

Once they’re all grown up and ready to move out, are your plants going to live in pots and containers, or are you dreaming bigger? If you’ve only got a few feet available, a couple of big, deep containers will be your best bet here. As a bonus, containers are especially good for vertical gardening. Adding a trellis, wire cage, or other support system gives vine-y plants like tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, sweet potatoes, and beans room to climb, which is handy when space is at a premium (and if you’re feeling really ambitious, you can try to train your vines to wrap around your balcony or fire escape).

My other half (who has a background in agriculture and is fact-checking this over my shoulder as I write it) got a little fancy with our garden this year and built some raised beds. A raised bed is basically a flat box that sits on top of the soil (or concrete), and they’re great for beginner gardeners because you can control important variables like soil quality, drainage, pests, and weeds. They don’t need to be expensive, and are pretty easy to build; there are millions of tutorials on YouTube, and you can make them out of pallets or cheap lumber. (You can also buy ready-made ones, but those are needlessly expensive and I promise you can just do it yourself for a fraction of the cost). Ours are 8’ x 4’ due to the shape of our weird little front yard, but you can go much bigger or smaller depending on your situation. If you have the space for them, raised beds are a great option for city gardens, or in places where the soil is contaminated or otherwise inhospitable.

What Kind of Soil Do I Need For My Garden?

The next step is choosing the right soil for what you’re looking to grow. Different plants thrive in different kinds of soil, but basically any soil you’re going to encounter can benefit from adding compost to it, so throw a few bags of that into your shopping card before you leave Home Depot (or start making your own). Some vegetables like carrots, cucumbers, garlic, tomatoes, onions, cauliflower, and sweet peppers also prefer slightly acidic soil (so do most berries!); luckily, there are a number of ways to up the dose of acid in your soil, some store-bought and some DIY. I sometimes add used tea leaves or coffee grounds to the soil around these plants, and you can also mix two tablespoons of vinegar into a gallon of water and use that for an easy fix. You can also just buy soil with a higher acidity level. (“Just buy some” is usually an option for most things when it comes to gardening, but we try to keep things as DIY and organic as possible in our garden, because this shit can get expensive).

So now you’ve got your space scoped out, you’ve got your plant babies at the ready, you’ve got your containers set up, you’ve got a bunch of dirt locked and loaded, and you’re feeling good about your setup. It’s finally time for the fun part—planting! Make sure to make a nice deep pocket in the soil to place the plant down into, fully cover the roots, and to water them thoroughly once they’re settled. Good job! You have a garden now.

How Do I Keep My Garden Alive?

It’s always a good idea to read up on the types of vegetables you’ve planted beforehand so you understand how much water each kind will need each day after that (again, don’t drown your babies!). Familiarize yourself with each plant’s needs, and settle in for the final, hopefully most fruitful chapter of your garden journey: doing your best to keep the damn things alive. It will require care, effort, and somewhat constant vigilance, but it’ll be worth it. If you spot any stray weeds, remove them; if you see a suspicious bug or odd colorations on a plant’s leaves, Google them and take care of it. I can guarantee that for any garden problem you encounter, someone else has already written a how-to guide on how to fix it.

Don’t pick things before they’re ripe, or let veggies rot on the vine. Be kind to your plants, even the ones that get droopy or don’t produce as well; they’re doing their best. Most importantly, once you start harvesting your bounty, share the abundance with your friends and neighbors (from a safe distance). Remember, nothing tastes as sweet as mutual aid.

How to Grow a Pandemic Garden syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[chuckadams]

The Fierce and Beautiful World: A Requiem for a Year

And now let us gather round the hearth—or whatever it is we consider a hearth in this day and age, be it a wood-stove (you lucky bums) or the soft glow of a smartphone screen—let us gather and dive into yet another of my long-winded rants and raves about the past year. For it has been a doozy. Is that the right word? Can a doozy capture both the highest of highs, as well as the lowest of lows? Is there a better word? I have already googled “best word to describe a year of ups and downs” and google cannot adequately give answers.

Because there are no answers.

Last year I wrote that there are only “arcs and circuits and feedback loops, and they are always bending and flowing. Gaining and losing. Seeking a balance, that will never be perfect or purely balanced.” 2019 was the year that proved it.

SRI LANKA NEW YEAR

On the first day of 2019 I woke up in Bucharest after a long sleep, interrupted briefly by midnight fireworks in the piazza down the street. I had just returned from a two-week trip to Sri Lanka, which, if nothing else, allowed me time to reflect and consider where I was going. I had just begun dating Ani, an Armenian-born Russian citizen, earlier that fall, and she was back home in Russia for the holidays. 

One year later, I will read this, from a book gifted to me by my brother: “I will find my way into new country that beckons me to take unexpected risks, which turn out not to be risks at all, but the next step.” And I realize this was what 2019, and pretty much all of the past decade, has been about. Unexpected risks turning into next steps.

In Sri Lanka, I sat on a beach and watched a daughter excitedly frolic in the waves with her dad, and I thought, Wouldn’t that be nice, too? I took surf lessons (“I need to impress my surfing girlfriend,” I told my instructor). I sat on a flat wooden raft and was pushed across a lake by a silent boatman, while I spied elephants on the far shore with my binoculars, tuning in to the steady splashes of water against the hull. I leaned out from the open door on a jungle train as it chugged through tea fields in the highlands from Ella to Kandy to Colombo, listening to a soundtrack of indie rock music on my mp3 player. 

I read, months later, about the terrorist attacks in Colombo and thought about the wonderful people I had met who would likely suffer from less income this year.

THE TROUBLE WITH ONLINE DATING

“Everything, even the weather, becomes a communication, or even a critical comment, on one’s relationship with things, phenomena, persons, etc.” I wrote that last year. It seems sad to admit, but the biggest comment about my newfound relationship with Ani came when I deleted all of my dating apps on my phone. Not days after I met her, nor even weeks. It took months. Months of internal conflict that culminated in what, for me, was a small victory for the soul.

Online dating apps have been both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, they have allowed an introvert like me to actually have a dating life. I recall, back in 2007, when I was suddenly single after a long relationship, how difficult it was to date. I didn’t even have the Internet at my house in Eugene, Oregon; no Wi-Fi, and definitely no smartphone; I got 8 hours of screen-time per day at my job, and that was plenty for me, thank you. Dating in 2007 was like the Stone Ages compared to today, where you had to physically go out and “bump” into strangers, or just wait until strangers fell into your orbit.

I’m not really the kind of person who talks to strangers at bars (at least not in bars in my home country), so I let people drift into and out of my life like those deer who show up in your front yard, eating your clover, and then move on down the street. I was that kind of deer, too. A feral browser, moving to and fro, with no rhyme or reason.

And then, around mid-2016, voila! an endless scroll of possibilities with dating apps, whilst living in ever larger cities of Portland, and then Bucharest. But I noticed something: the “endless possibilities” became, for me, antithetical to actual committed relationships. I remember going on a few dates with women, who were, on balance, worth spending my time and energy with, but that energy was instead spent scrolling through the endless possibilities still out there. It was like I was living through some bizarro world version of my college art film, “Hunting Love.” I had become a hunter-gatherer, and yet I wanted to be a farmer. These apps had turned me into a hypocritical monster. With so much wild game at my fingertips, there really was no rational reason to switch to cultivating a sustainable life with another person. I had resigned myself to eternal bachelorhood, and I was becoming more and more okay with this.

Then I met Ani.  

And isn’t this how it typically happens? Someone defies all of your expectations, catching you unaware?

With Ani, our courtship (and yes, I insist on using that old-fashioned term) developed over the course of months, not days. It was like a tree that needed to grow a few rings of thickness before it knew it was something of substance. In the past, I would have looked at the seed, imagining I saw a tree, prematurely. Often I would have planted anew before even giving it a chance to grow.

For me, the seed became a tree when we both took a weekend trip to the Black Sea coast in late January 2019, a full 2.5 months after we met. We got a deal on a room at one of the few seaside resorts still open in the dead of winter, one that had an indoor pool and a sauna. That evening, before dinner, we took a stroll along a desolate stretch of beach. It was dusky, cold, and a light rain fell, coating us in those fine white dots of spray. I remember thinking, “There are only so many people on this Earth who would actually enjoy what we are doing right now. I mean, it stinks like dying fish on this beach, and it’s bloody cold, and there is nobody else around here except us.” But we got closer, for warmth, and it was obvious I was not asking too much of her to be here with me.

Later, in the spring, we took a weekend road trip to the far western part of Romania to scout a location for a school trip. Then, for a week we road-tripped through Bulgaria, with the highlight being some wild camping on a beach near the border with Turkey. Again, I came back from these trips pinching myself.

ADDRESSING THE ISSUE OF CHILDREN IN WAR ZONES

In the midst of all this, I continued to teach at the American International School of Bucharest, surrounded by intrepid and exasperating students, as well as adventurous colleagues.

For example, there was that wonderful week in February spent in Sweden with colleagues. We walked around Stockholm, then spent a solid few days cross-country skiing and soaking in hot tubs in Funasdalen, in the central-west mountains near the border with Norway. Mmmhmmmm, just what was needed in the middle of winter. 

I also took on a new challenge this year, namely that I coached the middle school’s Model United Nations (MUN) for the winter season. We had a group of 8 students, all quirky in their own ways, who got practice in debating, resolution writing, and the fine art of lobbying. I’ll admit that I probably would not have been interested in MUN when I was a middle schooler, nor as a high schooler. It does seem to favor those who like to hear themselves talk, though it certainly attracts those with a desperate need for social skills practice. However, I liked that this was a group that actually enjoyed discussing worldly topics, like the role of NGOs in developing countries, or the role that religion plays in national politics. I was most comfortable when I could just assume the Humanities teacher role and guide students to a well-written and researched resolution addressing the issue of children living in war zones. We had a local, on-campus MUN conference in March, and then traveled to a MUN conference in Budapest, Hungary. The big news I wish to share is that, for the first time in my life, I bought a suit. Apparently MUN participants must dress the part, and their coaches must follow suit, literally. So there’s that. A small but significant change. Ka-ching.

THE POETRY OF BONFIRES

After MUN season wrapped up in early April, I got ready to lead a group of 7th and 8th graders on a trip to Port Cetate, in the far southwestern part of Romania, for a week-long creative writing and photography retreat. At my school, the 7th through 10th graders go on week-long trip in mid-May tailored to their interests. The trips ran the gamut from creative pursuits (like writing and photography), to outdoor pursuits (like rock-climbing, mountain biking, or scuba diving), to service-learning pursuits. On the trip I led, I got to teach kids about writing short, descriptive vignettes, as well as how to take photos manually using a DSL film camera (using my old Canon AE-1). It blew their minds that they would have to wait 2-4 weeks to see the fruits of their photography, most of which turned out slightly out of focus. Above all, I won’t forget the last day we had with the students, when we had a bonfire on the banks of the Danube River, looking across to Bulgaria. We had an impromptu dance party, which is probably the most memorable poetry these kids will remember a few years from now.

When we returned from this trip, I headed straight to the airport, to fly to Portugal to meet Ani in Sagres, where we spent two days surfing, eating amazing meals, swinging in hammocks, and hanging with her surf camp friends. We spent one sunset overlooking what can only be described as “the end of the world.” And others describe it this way, too. Sagres is the extreme southwestern point of the European continent. (It is at this spot that we hope to perform a small but special ceremony in June 2020.) Later, we drove north to spend a day in Lisbon, a wonderful city well worth the time and energy spent exploring its nooks and crannies.

SUMMER OF HANG TIME

After that, time moved swiftly. The school year ended, and my summer break began. This summer I would not be charting something so adventurous as the previous summer’s month-long bike tour of the Balkans. No, this summer the theme was Hang Out with Friends and Family, and Renew Relationships. I think this summer epitomized what I wrote last year about optima:

“Optima means there is no single variable which should be maximized over any other single variable: period. This is the practice of stability, of optimization; an oscillation of gain and loss; the practice of diversity; the spirit of community.”

What this meant, in practical terms, is that my legs and lungs probably got less exercise this summer, but I was exercising something else, perhaps less physical, but no less important.

I spent quality time with friends and former professors in Laramie, Wyoming; a week with my brother Jonah and family in Colorado; a road trip across Hwy 50, the “loneliest road,” from Utah to Oregon, with my brother Phil; a family reunion in Astoria with my niece, Skye, and her fiancé, driving in from San Diego, as well as my sister, Elisha, and her boyfriend, Joe, flying in from Chicago, essentially to celebrate my return from abroad, as well as my niece’s recent engagement.

At first I anticipated this reunion with trepidation, as Elisha has a knack for returning to Astoria with hurricane force winds, knocking down everyone in her path of verbal volleys, usually snarky but occasionally biting. That being said, I hadn’t seen her in over a decade, for a variety of reasons, and I realized, after she arrived, in full hurricane mode, and saw her interactions with everyone, that I missed her. Her boyfriend, Joe, was sporting a mohawk and pounding down the local craft beers I was offering. Uh-oh, I thought. Maybe I should have mentioned these were 6% ABU? Somehow we all made it up to the Astoria Column for the sunset.

I remember waking up the next morning and seeing that nobody was taking action to make anything special for breakfast. Such lazy bums, I thought. Then I remembered that I was an adult now...it only took me 36 years to figure that out...and that if I wanted pancakes for breakfast, I had to make them myself. So I got out all the ingredients and I started churning out what we call “big pancakes” in my house, and which are called Swedish pancakes, or French crepes, elsewhere. Sure, there were arguments about whether my dad’s cherry jam would or would not cause food poisoning...arguments over the absurdity of my brother running out and buying three large jars of high fructose corn syrup jelly…but those arguments came from the parents. I remember that Elisha and Joe were grateful for my sweat over the stovetop.

This, I choose to remember.

RECONNECTIONS

Later, once my extended family came and went, I focused on hanging with my parents, and spending time with friends in Astoria and Portland. On this trip alone, I met at least nine brand new humans under the age of two, such is the state of mid-30s life. At some point, I remember briefly thinking, “I miss the freedom of my bike tour of the previous summer, where every day I packed up my panniers and cast off on another journey to another new town.” Then I remember thinking, “Well, but this is nice. To reconnect and restore relationships...moreover, to have the blessing of time off in the summer months to do such a thing, is priceless. There will always be time for adventures; there is not always time to just hang out, however brief, and catch up on life.”

Indeed, I even got to spend a few hours with Ngaoi, a friend I met back when I was volunteering on a farm in New Zealand in 2010. She was the best friend of our hosts, and would come over often to hang out and help us in the hydroponic lettuce greenhouses. My ex-girlfriend, Rachel, and I secretly wanted to adopt her as our daughter (we were in our late 20s; she was in her late teens). Zoom ahead a decade, and she was visiting her current boyfriend, an American she met in New Zealand, but who happened to live in Beaverton, Oregon. They both made a weekend trip to Astoria, and I introduced them to the Blue Scorcher’s coffee and we browsed a “flea market” at a local church.

The sun races around the galaxy; the Earth sprints to keep up with it in gravitational orbits; and we always make our returns back to our origins to begin again.

THE ORIGIN OF LOVE

When I flew back to Romania, Ani had moved into my apartment in downtown Bucharest. We had planned on it before I left, but still it was a bit of a shock to see all her belongings in place, the decor slightly personalized to her likings. I didn’t mind it at all. Moreover, it was an important milestone, a difference that made a difference.

When you are 22, you have your whole life ahead of you, and, even if you’re certain about a thing, can take your time to get around to ascertaining it. Well, when you’re 36, and you are certain about a thing, there is no practical use in waiting to ascertaining it. You take hold of it and don’t let it go.

Thus, by mid-October, while we Ani and I were on vacation in Greece, on the island of Crete, on a stretch of beach we had all to ourselves, as the sun hung low on the horizon, I proposed.  

The engagement ring has the words “origo amare” engraved on the inside of the band, an allusion to our first meeting at a coffee shop named Origo. The Latin phrase means, “The origin of love.” It seems ironic, I know, that the origin of love could be instigated by a few messages sent back and forth on Internations, a social media site for expatriates, followed by a meeting for coffee. There was no love at first sight. In fact, it took a month before we exchanged our first kiss. But every slow burn needs its spark.

Our spark came when I asked if Ani would show me how to use her longboard, which she had in the trunk of her car parked a block away. As we walked to the concrete slab, she pushed me from behind to see which foot was more dominant. It was just a test, but later, she told me, “You felt so warm.” Perhaps the body knows things before the brain does. Life is a mystery, and I want to hold onto that mystery, because there is no reason we should have met each other, growing up on opposite sides of the world, to meet under such particular circumstances. That spark led to another meeting, and then another... 

So it goes.

One year later we were engaged. Unlike most other times in my life, there is no inner conflict, no hesitation. Sure, there are “What if…?” lines of inquiry, as per usual. But the one line of inquiry that sets me straight is the one that goes, “What if I had never met Ani?” It sets me straight because I know the answer to that one: I would be writing this end-of-year review as per usual, likely on a tropical beach somewhere, likely alone, and happy enough, because I am perfectly fine enjoying my own company (and the company of books), and I would be describing some incredible moments from the past year.

But I would not be describing what I suppose I’m describing now: a change in trajectory, a revolution of priorities. Without Ani I would have been happy; with Ani I know I will be happier.

OF LOGISTICS AND A DOG BITE

So the year beat on. In November, I brought my cross country team to the championships in Kiev, Ukraine, and got bit by an unclaimed dog in the middle of the coaches race. Spent my November getting injections of rabies vaccine by a no-nonsense nurse at the Anti-Rabic Clinic here in the city.

We enjoyed a three-day weekend at the end of November in Milan, Italy, visiting with an old friend and taking engagement photos with an iPhone X. I celebrated my 37th birthday on a rare sunny day in Milan, eating turkey at a belated Thanksgiving Day feast. 

Throughout the fall, Ani and I spent many an evening planning the logistics of when and where we would get married in Romania (in front of the legal authorities) and in Sagres, Portugal (in front of family), as well as the insane amount of bureaucratic paperwork needed to fulfill the requirements here in Romania.

Ani and I have no plans to return to the United States to “settle down.” We met as global citizens of the world, and we intend to stay that way, at least for the time being. As of today, I have spent a little over 5 years of my adult life living abroad, in places all over the world. I feel at home in the world now, and building a cross-cultural, multi-lingual family seems to be my ultimate fate, happily.

THE REBALANCING OF HIGH & LOW

Well, so much for the highs. Sometime in September, I thought, “I’ve been lucky so far, because I have only lost my grandparents, and that was long ago. But...it’s only a matter of time.” And that time came in early October, with the passing of my Uncle Remi. He was 76 years old. My parents flew to Chicago to attend his funeral, as well as take care of his final arrangements. He was living in his family home at the time, and now that house, which had been in my family’s possession for over 70 years, will be up for sale.

Then, on the evening of December 7th, I got a call from my brother. I was in the middle of my school’s holiday party, at the Marriott Hotel, when he told me our sister had passed away. She was 47 years old. At one point, he mentioned that we knew this moment would come eventually, and I knew what he meant. In 2011 she had nearly died as a result of a critical MRSA infection. At that time I was in a far remote corner of Ethiopia, and the power and Internet was cut. My family was rushing to the hospital in Chicago, and I was rushing to catch a bus to somewhere with a phone signal. She miraculously recovered from that scary episode, and so I like to think that she was blessed with eight more years of life. Eight more years to make memories with her daughter, and to see her daughter get married on a beach in Hawaii this past October, so happy and joyful.

After the news, I sucked it in as best as I could and went to work for three more days. Some colleagues wondered why I was at work. Where else would I be, I thought, on the couch moping? No, it was better to see the faces of my students, to let them know what happened, so they saw me as a frail human. And they were so kind about it. About seven students from my 6th grade English class even surprised me with kind notes attached to my door, reminding me of the spirit of giving and generosity in our darkest month of December.

I flew to Chicago on a Thursday, arriving late, hosted by my cousin Jeremy. Despite the circumstances, it was satisfying to catch up with some of my family still living in Chicago, such as my cousins Jeremy, Harmony, Mike, and uncles Steve, Ben, and John, and aunts Linda, Pam, and Kathy. As well, meeting my cousins’ tiny children for the first time was a diamond in the rough.

The night before the funeral, my brother Jonah, his wife LuAnne, and my brother Phil, all of whom just arrived by air, picked me up from my cousin’s house. We congregated at the Hampton Inn, in Lisle, Illinois, where several folks were staying for the weekend, to put together three large photo-collages that would be displayed at the funeral. Elisha’s step-sister, Melissa, had collected arts and crafts supplies from the daycare she runs, and we all got to work, including my niece Skye and her husband, David. Together, we all did our best to piece together Elisha’s life from images collected from several sources across the ages. It was hard not to dwell too long on this treasure trove of images, some of which we had never seen until now, and before too long it was nearly midnight.

What is there to say about funerals? Are they really for the deceased? Or are they for the living?

As family and friends came together at the funeral home for a two-hour moment in time, we paid our respects to Elisha, and we paid our respects to each other. I met people for the first time, and I reunited with people I had only met once, long ago. The photo-collages were beautiful, but it was the photo album that my Uncle Steve brought—ones that held Elisha’s baby photos, when she ran and frolicked on the farms and coastal beaches of Oregon—that choked me up the most.

Every time I got near my sister’s urn I choked back tears. Stupid as it sounds, because I didn’t have any tissue on hand, I stifled the tears. But when the funeral parlor director came out to ask everyone to take a seat, or take a knee, while he said a prayer, I found some tissues, and the tears burst forth.

Then he asked everyone except the immediate family to walk past the urn and pay their final respects. I did not, could not, look up. More tears.

Then he asked the immediate family to come forward. We made a half-circle in front of the urn, in all its rainbow-hued splendor, reflecting my sister’s colorful character, sitting there amidst the expensive floral arrangement paid for by my Uncle Steve (“For these types of things you call the professionals”). More tears from me—and the funeral director told what amounted to an anecdote about his own mother’s passing as a way to lighten the mood. Later, Jonah would ask, “You think he tells the same story at every funeral?”

He probably does tell the same story. Because it’s always the same story. Loss is loss. Grief is grief. He can tell us all about how it will only be “a little while—hopefully not too soon! (haha)” before we see our loved one again in the metaphysical afterlife, but, believers or non-believers, it does not take away the pain of the present moment.

Even so, the funeral was over, and it was time to pack up the cars full of flowers and photo albums and an urn, and head over to Q’s for the reception, where the menu was Italian-American to the max, including what my vegetarian brother described, accurately, as a “meat salad.”

The remainder of the days in Chicago were for hanging out. Being together. One-by-one, people flew home, and I stayed until Tuesday so that this “hanging out” would not be rushed. My cousin Jeremy took Friday and Monday off work, as far as I could tell, just to hang out with me. In many ways, this trip was an extension of my summer trip back to the U.S. No matter how far I fling myself out in the world, the Great Magnet always reels me in, back to Chicago, back to Oregon, back to the Rocky Mountain West, back to the Pacific Ocean, back to Doug fir trees, sand dunes, and the coastal river valleys, where campfire smoke always drifts downwind, and where an ageless youth laughs out loud, in a cackle, at the glee and sheer terror of catching a crawdad.

CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

The final half of December I spent with Ani as we celebrated the Christmas spirit at three locations throughout Transylvania, in Romania, each place unique. The first place, Sinaia, is known for its mountain peaks on all sides. We intended to go skiing, but the snow report stunk, so we went hiking instead. Then we moved on to Cund, a small, quiet village in what is known as the Saxon part of Romania, a place with a strong German heritage, and fortified churches. We sat by a roasting wood-stove, watched movies, and went on a meandering ridge-line hike in the mist. Finally we moved on to Sibiu, a small city that resembles a storybook German village than anything you typically find in Romania. They have one of the largest Christmas Markets in Eastern Europe, and it is exquisitely framed by a picture-postcard square, with buildings that have droopy eyelid windows in the roof, so it looks like you are being watched.

And, who knows, maybe we are being watched over.

There is much to be thankful for in the year 2019. For me, a solid job I am passionate about, a fiancée who sticks by my side through thick and thin, and the good health to still run my legs through the forest at a fast speed, rabid dogs notwithstanding.

There is so much to look forward to in 2020, up to and including:

In February, travel to Ethiopia, with a group of five other colleagues

In March, Ani’s cousin’s wedding, in Togliatti, Russia

In April, travel to Armenia, to visit my newly adopted motherland

In June, our family wedding in Sagres, Portugal

In July, a possible bike tour :))

I welcome this new decade, like a new chapter, with open arms.

[nicoleswanderings]

ANNAPURNA CIRCUIT- Part 1

The first 11 days of the trek were a rollercoaster. We started the journey in Pokhara, took a 6 hour public bus to Besisahar- the official starting point. We decided to skip the first 5 miles or so on a dirt road so we took one more bus to Nadi Bazaar. My first thoughts as I put on my pack and started hoofing it up the hill were “holy shit. This pack is wayyyyy too heavy. Is it going to be uphill the whole way? Why did I want to do this again?”. And that was the start of working through that voice in my head that continually wanted to be in comfort. That needed to find a way to complain to escape the moment. It became routine for me to have these thoughts the first couple days. We would wake up around 6:30 am, eat our breakfast (which for me was overnight oats soaked in water with dates, walnuts, almonds, peanut butter, and protein powder- no wonder my bag was so heavy 😂), pack up our backpacks, and head out around 7:30. To be fair, the first 3 days we really didn’t reach our destination for the night until around 6pm- so they were freaking long days. But I just couldn’t for the life of me pull myself out of this rut of resisting everything- “ugh I don’t want to wake up”

“Do we really have to climb this hill?”

“Veg curry it is...for the 4th time in a row.”

and I was choosing to be here! I had been dreaming about this place for months!

But by the end I realized truly that this had nothing to do with the trek specifically- that was just a great environment for my mind to showcase its power and for me to recognize a habit I have (not just in the mountains) that needs to be trained.

Physically, it was hard- but not that hard. After the first few days, I got in a groove and my mantra (courtesy of Ruby) became I ACCEPT. I accept this blister on the back of my heel that rubs raw every time I step. I accept that it is freezing cold right now. I accept that I am hungry. I accept that there is no hot water. I accept that there are feelings of sadness inside my body. I accept that I miss home and the people I love. I was accepting the moment, with everything it held, for no other reason than this is all there is. This is life. A string of continual moments that come into fruition as NOW. All I was doing by resisting what already existed was causing suffering to myself with no option to change it. I couldn’t make there be hot water. I couldn’t force myself out of the feelings I was having. I could merely change my attitude toward them from one of disgust to one of accepting it with open arms and shedding love on that negative feeling. Truly love is the only thing that can dissolve reactionary emotions. I let go of the “shoulds”. “I should be feeling happier.” You have 2 options in any given moment. Accept all that is in this moment and feel the gentle ease grow inside you, or resist it and live in your mind out of alignment with the world around you. And soon, I ACCEPT didn’t hold any tinge of resentment or force- I was appreciating all the unfoldings as they came. Most of the time 😉

Okay more about the trek. We met amazing people in the first week. Since there is a pretty standard route to do this circuit, if someone starts the same day as you, you’re pretty much guaranteed to be seeing them until the end. Which is awesome. Trail family saved my sanity many times. We would play cards or tell stories around the fire in the living room of guest houses. Share about our countries, really just talk about life. Ruby and I hiked with a 20 year old couple from Sweden a lot, Josh from San Diego who does sweet seasonal work (and may buy my RV!), Eric, a retired hippy from Rochester NY who now lives in Turkey with his wife, and Babette from Holland.

In terms of housing, we stayed in guest houses for free each night in return for eating dinner from their restaurant. For being out in the middle of nowhere, we actually did have some nice luxuries. Electricity, a fire to dry our clothes, WiFi (sometimes) and hot food. They did have the same government regulated menu at every place though. But no hot water or toilet paper- though I have come to love squat toilets and the Nepali way of wiping ( lol look it up. Actually is more sanitary I think.)

The food was mostly MoMos (dumplings), curry, garlic soup, chapatti or buckwheat bread (like roti or tortillas) and Dal Bhat (lentils and rice). It was all pretty good actually! They also had fresh Seabuckthorn Juice at high altitudes which was amazinggggg!! It’s know to be the highest vitamin C food in the world!

So our first 11 days were spent uphill making our way over Thorong La Pass at 5,400 meters. The last 2 days had heavy snow and we were all layers. The locals told us this year actually has been a lot more unpredictable and snowy than normal. 6 people died about a month before we went up actually. But that was because of avalanches and the pass was closed when they went. The day before the pass, we hiked up to high camp as we left our beloved Josh behind to acclimatize a bit longer because of a headache. We were hiking in a total blizzard and made it to High Camp around 5pm. There is one structure here to house those crazy enough to spend the night. Most people leave around 4 am the next morning to get up there before wind hits, but we waited because we wanted I hike in the daylight- I am glad we did that. Every inhale at that altitude feels like not enough, my body was never satisfied with how much oxygen was in it.

At one point I had a buckle over my chest to keep my backpack secure but I started getting dizzy. I later realized after Unclipping it that it was because my chest couldn’t expand enough with true clip on. It’s really the smallest things. I also took Gingko Biloba and Co-Q10 a week before to help with heart health and oxygenating the blood. And doing day hikes to high altitudes then sleeping at lower ones is very helpful (I.e. Ice Lake).

Anyways we made it over, but culturally, into another world. Stay tuned for part 2!

Here’s our route:

Day 1- Pokhara-Ghermu

8:30-6:30 6 miles

Day 2- Ghermu- Tal

7:30-6:30 11.5 miles

Day 3- Tal-Danaqyu

7:30-1:30 7 miles

Day 4- Danaqyu-Chame

8-1 6.5 miles

Day 5- Chame-Upper Pisang

8-1:30 9 miles *BEAUTIFUL DAY*

Start of the huge Mountain Views!

Day 6- Upper Pisang- Mungii

8-3:45 7.5 miles

Day 7- Mungii-Ice Lake- Manang

8-4:30 9 miles up to 4500 meters!

Day 8- Rest day in Manang ( I got to see the old version of Into Thin Air in a makeshift movie room!)

Day 9- Manang-Letdar

8-1 7 miles

Day 10- Letdar- High Camp

8-5 3.5 miles

Day 11- High Camp- Muktinath

7-4:30 8 miles

[flutecattle9-blog]

Miso Chicken Soup with Leeks, Cabbage, Shiitake Mushrooms and Radishes, with Radish Chips

Who says you can’t put miso in chicken soup? Or chicken in miso soup? I get it—miso paste is a great plant-based source of protein and flavor. Chicken soup, made from flesh and bone, needs little help in those departments. But I couldn’t decide. When it comes to winter slurping satisfaction, both chicken soup and miso soup are such all-time comforts. If you like both those soups, too, they only get better when you combine them. I really put the kitchen sink into this one. Strolling the gray winter farmers market, my boyfriend pointed at a pile of black radishes. You know—those radishes that are so hard to love. Had it been summer, they might not have caught our eye, inundated as they would be from striped summer squash in five different shades. But now, in winter, they stuck out with their tar-like color and bloated size. Tough-skinned as a rhinocerous after taking a mud bath, I decided we had to get some. Oh, and leeks, some cabbage, and chicken. We’ve been suffering the sniffles lately, and chicken soup sounded like a good mend.

Douglas the dog interrupts a photo of black radishes and leeks

This, of course, is all that’s needed for a good soup, and a quite interesting one, given the addition of radishes. I imagined them softening to clear cubes like so many bowls of wintermelon soup I had gulped down as a kid, my mom’s homemade go-to. Nowadays, she often puts daikon radish cubes into her soup, which soften to almost the same effect. But they lend the soup a warm, earthy and sort of funky flavor and aroma. It is not her neighbor’s favorite smell, apparently. Lately, my mom has been embroiled in a feud with an upstairs neighbor of the condominium that she lives in. The woman has been leaving notes on her door complaining of the “pungent” smell whenever she cooks daikon radish soup. My mom is thoroughly enraged.

whole chicken breasts (bone-in) before covering with cold water and simmering to create stock, and shredded meat for the soup

Shiro or “white” miso paste (use red miso paste alternately)

Not having this problem—and having neighbors who fry fish to a pungency that engulfs the entire hallway—I merrily simmered my soup, giggling over this. I tossed in dried shiitake mushrooms, remembering more of my mom’s cooking. These shriveled mushrooms, a staple found in Asian markets, need a good soak in water to reconstitute them, so adding them to soup is an easy way to do that. You’ll also get the benefit of its concentrated savory flavor leaching into the broth as they do (definitely save the soaking liquid if you’re using the mushrooms for another use). Of course, you can opt for fresh shiitakes or other mushrooms, or just leave them out.

Red cabbage is maybe not the best choice if you want to avoid having a purplish-tinted soup in the end, but it’s what I had—hey, purple is a nice color. I saved some leeks to sprinkle like scallions on the finished bowl (light green and white parts only, the most tender and scallion-like). And I had a lot of radish to use up. So I sliced one thinly with the help of a mandoline, and gently roasted the slices to a chip-like effect.

Radish chips: a crunchy garnish that can easily stand in for croutons or crisp bread, and pack more flavor at the same time. If you’ve made kale chips before, you can make them. This dish in total may take a lot of steps. But it made for plenty of lunches throughout the week. Starting completely from scratch with whole, bone-in chicken breasts that are simmered into stock before shredding up the meat, it’s a nice winter weekend activity that’s mostly hands-off. And once the miso paste is stirred in at the end, it reaches that “worth it” stage very well.

Peeled and diced radish, shredded cabbage, chopped leeks and dried shiitakes go for a long bath with the chicken stock, along with some stray green leek tops (to remove after simmering)

I am sure that any radish or turnip would work similarly here instead of black radishes, so give them a go on your stove (and oven, for the chip part). But be warned now, if you’re not used to the smell of radishes simmering in soup.

Miso Chicken Soup with Leeks, Cabbage, Shiitake Mushrooms, Radishes with Radish Chips (makes about 8 servings)

2 bone-in chicken breasts 3 quarts cold water

1 large leek 2 tablespoons olive oil about 1 lb radishes or turnips about 1/2 lb cabbage 8 or so dried shiitake mushrooms (or fresh mushrooms) 1/4 cup miso paste (or add more to taste) salt and pepper

Rinse and pat dry the chicken breasts. Place in a large pot and cover with the water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Once water is boiling, skim the scum that rises to the surface with a ladle. Continue to do so a few minutes until most of the scum is gone, and reduce heat to a low simmer. Let cook uncovered for 1-2 hours.

Trim the leek of the really green, tough leaves on the outside. Chop the remaining, reserving about an inch of the light-green part to slice finely into rounds; set aside those pieces for garnish later on. Shred the cabbage finely.Peel and dice the radishes or turnips, saving one or half of one in its full round shape. With that remaining piece, slice as thinly as possible, preferably paper-thin with the help of a mandoline. Set those pieces aside.

Once the chicken has simmered at least 1 or preferably 2 hours, remove the meat from the pot and let cool several minutes.Strain the stock. Once the chicken is cool enough to handle, shred the meat from the bone and discard the bones.

Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a large pot and add the leeks. Cook on low, adding a pinch of salt and pepper, for about 5 minutes. Add the strained stock, diced radishes, shredded cabbage, and shiitake mushrooms. Bring just to a boil, then reduce heat to a low simmer. Add the shredded chicken meat and cover. Let simmer, covered, for 45 minutes to 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees. Toss the sliced pieces of radish with the remaining tablespoon of olive oil and a pinch of salt and pepper. Roast for about 5 minutes, then check and flip the pieces (or turn the pan around if your oven distributes heat unevenly like mine). Continue roasting until all the pieces are fairly golden-brown, then remove from heat.

Remove the soup from heat. Pour a ladle of the stock into a small bowl, and add the miso paste. Mix to combine the paste thoroughly, adding more water if necessary, then pour the mixture back into the soup. Taste for seasoning, adding extra miso paste, salt and pepper as desired. To serve, ladle the soup into bowls, and top each with the reserved sliced leeks and a handful of the radish chips.

Cost Calculator (for about 8 servings)

2 bone-in chicken breasts: $14.00 3 black radishes: $2.50 1 leek: $0.75 1/2 lb cabbage: $0.50 8 dried shiitake mushrooms: $0.75 1/4 cup miso paste: $1.00

Total: $19.50

Health Factor

Five brownie points: This soup is nourishing, filling, and chock full of nutrition. Like any good winter soup should be. The radishes add some funky flavor and they’re also full of nutrients like Vitamin C (good for winter sniffles), fiber, and a host of minerals. The chicken will give you soul-soothing protein, while the miso adds to that protein quotient while replacing salt in this soup. Hide plenty of cabbage in this, as it’ll provide you with a hoard of superfood nutrition.

Green Factor

Five maple leaves: I’ll pat myself on the back for creating something that tastes totally new out of winter ingredients that I’ve played around with (not) endlessly—by using a couple trusty Asian pantry staples like miso paste and dried shiitakes. This dish is also versatile, as you can even omit the chicken, or swap in other winter veggies like carrots and rutabaga for those found here. Source: http://noteatingoutinny.com/2018/03/17/miso-chicken-soup-with-leeks-cabbage-shiitake-mushrooms-and-radishes-with-radish-chips/

[whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname]

The Stories We Tell

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Word Count: 2176

Summary:  The reader tries to move on after but there are obstacles.

Warnings:  Some fluff, some angst, some humor, lots of swearing

Not all love stories have a happy ending.  

And there's nothing wrong with that.  

Sometimes two people can love each other completely, and still break up.  It’s not that it ended, it’s that it ran its course.  

You loved him completely, and always would.  But the story of you two together, sweaty and tangled in bed sheets, desperately reaching for each other after a hunt, curled up in front of the TV, that story was over.

Now there was only friendship.  And it was okay, you promised yourself.  

It was okay.  

You still hunted together.  You’d promised each other that the break up wouldn’t affect your working relationship.  And it hadn’t.  Your dynamic was still the same: you still knew how to cover his open, you remembered all the hand gestures and commands.  The only difference was going to sleep alone every night.

That and Dean’s new girlfriend.

You hadn’t met her exactly, but you knew she was there.  He’d been sneaking out of the bunker regularly in the night when he thought you were asleep.  

(As if you could sleep. As if you weren’t pacing your room, yearning, aching-)

For the most part you kept your feelings under wraps.  Hunters were never the most emotional species, yourself included.  But still sometimes in the dark places of your mind –

But you didn’t think about that.  

“You’re up late,” Sam noted, watching you stare at your computer, eyes glazed.  He peered over your shoulder at the clock.  “Or, very early.”

“It’s 8 am somewhere,” you said with little interest. You were trying to watch a video, trying to ignore the fact that right here, right now, that man you loved was with someone else.

“Something is bothering you,” Sam said, slumping down next to you.  When you said nothing he pushed your computer closed.

“Hey!”  

“No, no, don’t try to deflect,” Sam said defensively.  “You’re always up late now.  I remember a time not so long ago when you couldn’t wait to jump into your bed the second you got home.”  You shrugged.

“I guess it helps if there’s someone to jump into it with.”  The words tumbled out of your tired mouth before you realized what you were saying. You panicked.  “Not that I-,”

“So this is about Dean.”  Sam didn’t sound surprised.

“No, it’s not about Dean,” you deflected, running your nail along a grain in the Oak Table

“You two had an amicable break up,” Sam continued, and it almost sounded like an accusation.

“Yeah, we did.  And we are.”  You didn’t know how to have this conversation with him.  Sure, you and Sam were friends.  But he was also Dean’s brother.  It wasn’t exactly something that was easy to discuss with him.

“No, what I mean is, it was too amicable. You’re supposed to get angry, call him a jerk, burn his clothes.”  Sam leaned closer and you found yourself focusing on his collar instead of meeting his gaze.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you promised, needing him to know you weren’t a loose cannon, that you wouldn’t allow anything to change the dynamic.  

“I know.  And that’s the problem.  You didn’t actually break up with him.”

You dragged your eyes up to look at him.  He looked so earnest.

“Come again?”

“Yeah, you might have said the words,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.  “But you still love him.  You’re still tolerating his new bullshit the way you tolerated the old bullshit. Thought, now instead of him using your toothbrush, it’s him hitting on waitresses.”

“So you want me to get angry,” you said slowly, trying to navigate this new trap.  Sam…wanted you to freak out?

“I want you to be happy.  And you won’t do that moping over Dean’s one-night stands.”

“It’s not a one-night stand,” you said before you realized you’d spoken.  You snapped your jaw closed but it was too late.  

“What?”

“It’s not just a one-night stand.”  You repeated.  You sighed before continuing reluctantly.  “He has a new girlfriend.  I wish it was a one-night stand.  That would be better.”  Once you’d started talking you couldn’t seem to stop.  “I mean, if he just needed to get his rocks off, that’s one thing.  But If he’s seeing someone else, if he has a new girlfriend, then it means she has something to offer him I never could.”

You cleared your throat, blinking rapidly. Sam silently watched you.

“But it’s fine.  It really is.  I’m happy for him.  I just want him to be happy.  I’m sure whoever she is, she’s a really great person and she’ll be really good for Dean,” you were rambling but you couldn’t stop.  You could quite put to words how you felt, so you floundered helplessly.

“This is what I mean,” Sam finally said.  “This isn’t healthy.”

“I’m just being mature, Sam,” you said with a petulant tone that undermined your position.  

“Exactly!  Don’t be mature!”  Sam shouted, jumping to his feet.  Peering up at him you couldn’t help but think: you really are a million feet tall. “You’re sad, Y/N!  Don’t think I can’t see it just because you hide it. Get angry!”  

“Stop,” you said.  It was hard enough to control your own feelings about this, you couldn’t help Sam reign in his own.

“I can’t!” He shouted, long hair wild.

“Why is this so important to you?”  You asked, trying to remain calm in the tempest that was Sam Winchester.

“Because I’m angry!  You’re my family and I care about you, but I’m angry with you; I’m angry at Dean; I’m angry at the both of you!”

You paused, trying to catch up with this turn in the conversation.

“Because I won’t call him a jerk?”

“Because you threw away something worth fighting for,” Sam thundered, finally facing you again.  His hazel eyes were burning.  “Do you know what I would give to have a glimpse of what you two had?  And you gave up on it over, what, a fight.”

“It was more than a fight,” you said, temper rising.  Sam made it sound so casual, like you didn’t care, as if you’d given it all up for no reason.

“It was irrelevant.  You hit a bump in the road and you gave up.”  You pushed yourself away from the table, standing on shaking legs.

“I never gave up on him!”  You shouted.  “Dean walked away from me, I did not give up on him!”  Sam grinned and you wanted to punch him.  What the fuck?

“There we go,” he said with an approving nod. You took a steadying breath.  Sam had played you.  Son of a bitch had wound you up

“You’re such a jerk,” you spat, storming out of the room.  

You needed to get outside, to get a breath of fresh air, to distance yourself the bunker and its recycled memories.  It didn’t even bother you that the dark sky poured a pounding gale of freezing rain; you stepped into the cold regardless. You were soaked in moments, teeth chattering as you paced.

Finally, you let yourself have the imaginary fight you’d pushed out of your mind for the past few weeks.  

Between your silent argument and the rain on the metal bunker you never saw the Impala approaching until you were bathed in its light. You held up a hand against the onslaught, listening as the engine turned off, headlights following in turn.  

“What are you doing,” Dean asked, closing the car door with a slam.  “It’s 4 am and freezing.”  He turned up his collar to the rain, crossing the gravel lot towards you.

“I can do whatever I want, Dean,” you snapped, aware that ‘whatever I want’ currently looked more than a little unhinged.  

“I never said you couldn’t,” he said, squinting at you through the darkness.  “I’m asking what it is you are doing.”  

The anger and hurt you’d pushed down exploded out of your mouth.

“I’m sure I’m not the person you want to see after coming back from your girlfriends,” you shouted.  Your argument didn’t even make sense.  You were just so angry, so betrayed.  

What did she have that you didn’t?  How could he say he needed space and then turn around be with someone else?  How could he be with someone else at all?  The thought of anyone touching you was repulsive; the thought of Dean touching anyone else made you physically ill.  

“My girlfriend,” Dean asked, recoiling from the accusation.  And fuck, it hurt hearing him say those words.

“I don’t even care,” you lied, shivering in the rain.  “I really don’t.  Have a girlfriend, I don’t care.”

“What are you talking about,” Dean said in a voice that wasn’t shouting, but was close.

“I know you’re seeing someone!  You don’t need to sneak around,” you yelled, trying to raise up to his height.  They were both so damned tall!

“I’m not seeing someone else,” Dean said, bewildered.  

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you shouted, louder than you needed to.  

“I’m not.  I never have,” Dean continued, taking on a long-suffering patience one would take dealing with a child or drunk.

“Then why have you been sneaking out every night,” you accused, pressing a finger to his chest.  The proximity was almost your undoing.

“What?”  Dean looked genuinely confused.  

How was he not understanding?  You were laying out your evidence and hypothesis with flawless accuracy.  You should get an honorary doctorate, this argument being your thesis: Dean Winchester is a Loser and Has a New Girlfriend: Evidence and Supporting Arguments.

“In the middle of the night.  I hear you leave just after midnight.  You never come home until 8am.  I know you’re going to see her!”  You were shouting now.  The rational part of your brain realized it, but your hysterical side had finally taken over, and had no plans to relinquish control anytime soon.

“Have you been keeping tabs on me,” Dean asked, and he almost seemed touched.  A shadow of a smile touched his lips.  His soft, kissable lips.  They were so tantalizing, even now, chapped and purple from the cold.  You could warm them up if you just leaned in a little closer.

“I just have ears,” you defended yourself.  Fuck, stop staring at his lips, Y/N!

“So,” Dean said, clearly trying to contend with your rambling logic.  “Because I go out, you think I’m seeing someone?”

You ignored him.  You’d rehearsed this part of the argument.  What he actually said didn’t really matter, you were going off previously prepared material.  Fuck Dean for going off script.

“I’m not telling you to stop.  But I can’t be around to see it because I still love you. Because it kills me to know you replaced me so easily.  Like I was nothing.  Like you stopped loving me.  Like you never did!”

This must have struck a nerve because Dean’s half smile slipped off his face, eyes darkening.

"I never stopped,” Dean thundered.

"What,” you breathed, eyes wide, chest heaving.

"I never stopped loving you."  Dean stepped closer, brows furrowed from the rain striking his face. You watched rivulets of water race down his nose.  The damn you’d built around your carefully guarded emotions began to crack.  You hadn’t rehearsed this part.  

“But what about your girl?”  You said raggedly.  You couldn’t suppress the emotion behind your voice.

“You are my girl.”

“No, the girl you’re seeing.”  Dean tilted his head, looking at you with the most adorably confused frown. “You’re always going out I thought-,” you repeated, restating your carefully gathered and vetted evidence. You trailed off as Dean began to smile, radiant in the freezing downpour.  “What about your girl,” you finished slowly.

“You are my girl,” Dean repeated with a chuckle.  “There was never anyone else.  There could never be anyone else.  “

“Why are you laughing,” you shouted, another waves of anger washing over you.  Leave it to Dean Winchester to fucking laugh at you when you were upset.  Dean reached for you, pulling your soaking wet body into his arms.  You pushed against him, annoyed at his confusing behavior.

“I had to leave,” Dean murmured, holding you tightly.  “I couldn’t sleep without you.  So I’ve spent my nights driving, thinking about you, how I messed up the best thing that ever happened to me.”  

“Best thing,” you asked brokenly, as if in a haze.  You definitely hadn’t prepared for this.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt it.  You’re the only one for me, Y/N.  You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”  

He claimed your lips it a wet kiss, sloppy and chilled, but perfect in every way.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.  But you’re mine and I’m not letting you go again,” he promised, nuzzling his nose into your cheek.  

“Who says I’m taking you back,” you asked, the last smoky whisper of anger snaking out of your mouth.  

Dean responded by pulling you in for another kiss.

Not all love stories have a happy ending.

But sometimes they do.

Forever Tags: @thereaderoffanfics, @notnaturalanahi, @thegreatficmaster, @feelmyroarrrr, @nicmob, @arryn-nyx, @the-fandom-took-over-my-life, @jessiedangerous, @smoothdogsgirl, @panther-and-peacock, @savage-pineapples, @asifbyblackmagic, @mu-alpha, @catackles16, @legitgirl15 @the-winchester-pack, @docharleythegeekqueen, @captainjmarvel, @freaksforthewin  @anokhi07 @mrsbatesmotel53 @adaliamalfoy  @brooke-supernatural16 @demonic-meatball  @amyapathetic @just-a-touch-of-crowley @missdestiel67 @eileenlikesyou-maybe @stone-met @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @justanotherwaywarddaughter @trench-coated-angels @dustycelt @typicalweirdbookworm 

Pond Tags (Dean, Fluff, Angst): @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @loveitsallineed @nichelle-my-belle @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @blushingsamgirl @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat  @whispersandwhiskerburn @lipstickandwhiskey @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @samsgoddess @wildfirewinchester @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1 @for-the-love-of-dean@mysupernaturalfics @spn-fan-girl-173 @deandoesthingstome @cici0507 @fiveleaf@deansleather @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious@supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @jpadjackles @quiddy-writes @babypieandwhiskey@wi-deangirl77 @deantbh @supermoonpanda @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx@writingbeautifulmen @revwinchester @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel@inmysparetime0 @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons

[lindyhunt]

How Winter Beauty Routines Differ Around the World

Ever look out your office window, mid-winter, and feel a sinking sense of blah? Why is it dark enough to be cocktail hour at 2pm? And on that note, why are we not sipping on cocktails at 2pm? A feeling of despair due to winter darkness is a real thing, but Canadians are far from the only ones suffering. Getting through the dreary season is made easier with some products and treatments, and thanks to a few friends from similarly frozen nations around the world, we’ve gathered a few tips and tricks to keep us cushy ’til spring. Click through for winter beauty rituals from around the world, from Russia to Morocco to Japan.

A photo posted by Moscow Views (@moscowviews) on Mar 9, 2014 at 8:55am PDT

Russia

Ksenia Makhaniova, Spa Administrator at the Purovel SPA & Sport at the Swissôtel Krasnye Holmy Moscow

During the winter, I really love a chocolate body wrap. Chocolate can increase your sense of happiness and well-being, which everyone needs a boost of in the cold, dark months. (According to the Medical Wellness Association, “Chocolate stimulates the release of endorphins, natural hormones produced by the brain, that generates feelings of pleasure and promotes a sense of well being.”)

The treatment not only lifts your spirits, but also makes skin really soft, supple and boosts its natural glow thanks to the chocolate’s nourishing properties. It also increases circulation, so you’ll look and feel good enough to eat!

Another popular treatment for wintertime is a paraffin wax manicure. Starting with an exfoliating scrub to get rid of dry, dead skin, we then use a rich mask to soften and condition hands. After that, the paraffin wax treatment is applied. Paraffin wax is extra important in the winter as its thermotherapy increases circulation and helps renew tissue, and deeply moisturizes from the inside out.

A photo posted by Visit Luxembourg (@visit_luxembourg) on Jul 11, 2015 at 1:25am PDT

Luxembourg

Mélissa Sfredda, half-French, half-Luxembourger beauty aficionado

Although Luxembourg doesn’t have extremely cold temperatures in the winter, I still need to switch up my beauty routine and add extra moisturizing products. My hands get especially dry, and Neutrogena’s Original Hand Cream is the absolute best. Rich in super-moisturizing glycerin, this highly concentrated cream instantly soothes and hydrates my hands.

For my lips, I love French favourite Nuxe’s Rêve de Miel Lip Balm. A winter staple, this delicious honey and grapefruit-scented balm is rich and repairs even the driest and most delicate lips.

Another winter must-have for me is Clarins Delectable Self-Tanning Mousse. It’s nice to have a natural-looking glow in the winter, and this makes skin the perfect shade of tan without looking at all fake. The mousse is also really beautiful to apply; it feels really light, smells divine and moisturizes skin, too. You can also use it anywhere, on the face or body, which is another reason why I like it better than other self-tanning products.

A photo posted by visitnorway (@visitnorway) on Aug 8, 2015 at 11:55am PDT

Norway

Line Schrøder, PR and marketing manager, and Jasmin Jacobsen, a skin therapist at Artesia Spa & Skincare in Olso

During the cold and dry winter in Norway, it’s especially important to re-hydrate skin, so we like to use products and have treatments that focus on moisturizing and protecting the skin from cold weather and snow.

We especially like using rich facial creams, hydrating serums, or even facial oils, paying special attention to skin at night when the skin repairs itself best. The Lagoon series from Carita is one of our favourites, as are the rich facial creams and hydrating serums from Elizabeth Arden PRO.

At the spa, we love our Artesia Facial, which is tailored to each client’s individual needs. Generally, during the winter, we incorporate extra hydrating products, mainly from Murad. And we always stress the importance of an at-home program post-treatment to achieve the best and longest-lasting results.

There’s no point in spending hundreds of dollars (or kroners, as we use here) on treatments if you don’t continue to care for your skin everyday. It would be like going to the gym and running on a treadmill for an hour once a month, and expecting to run a marathon in a few weeks. It doesn’t work like that! A good hydrating boost you can do at home is Carita’s Biological mask. It’s very moisturizing and really makes skin glow; perfect for a Christmas party complexion boost.

Above all, we also remember that the skin is a reflection of your insides, so we make sure to eat healthy and drink lots of water to hydrate from the inside out.

A photo posted by Fleur De Force (@fleurdeforce) on Nov 23, 2015 at 2:49am PST

Japan

Linda Dong, Designer

While living in Japan, my absolute favorite go-to product for keeping my skin hydrated and soft in the winter was Hada Labo Gokujyun Lotion. Its ingredients actually help absorb other lotions you layer on top of it, so on really dry winter days, I would apply this lotion and then put on a Japanese face mask (SK-II’s was one of my favourites) and the lotion would help pull all the extra goodness into my skin.

I love removing makeup with cleansing oil because it’s so gentle and moisturizing for my face, as opposed to the harsh and drying alcohol cleansers, and Three Balancing Cleansing Oil is my favourite. I liked how Three sources it’s cleansing oil from all-natural organic ingredients found only in Japan. I used this paired with a Japanese Konjac sponge to gently exfoliate my face.

To keep my hair smooth and hydrated during the winter without weighing it down, I used Shiseido’s Tsubaki Damage Care Shampoo and Conditioner. It has Camellia oil, otherwise known as green tea oil, which is a very popular Japanese skincare ingredient and it smells fantastic.

On really cold days, my favourite thing to do was go to an onsen (hot springs) and soak in the hot mineral water for a couple of hours, it was the perfect way to warm up and left my skin really soft and lovely. I try to replicate that now with a long soak in the tub using Japanese bath salts, like Bath Roman Yakusen Japanese Bath Salts.

A photo posted by Visit Bulgaria (@visitbulgaria) on Sep 11, 2013 at 10:23am PDT

Bulgaria

Neli Korkinova, product junkie

For my naturally curly hair, I like to use MOA Argan+ Hair Treatment, which is extra moisturizing in the dry winter season — it’s formulated with Melaleuca, Omega-3 and Argan Oil for a triple dose of hair nutrition. My hair feels soft, easy to style and maintains a natural look and feel after using it.

Because I have normal to combination skin, I don’t need to go crazy with heavy face creams. Once a week during the winter, I just replace my night cream with coconut oil, which is very popular in Bulgaria at the moment.

For my lips, I love Greenland’s lip balm. It’s a Dutch brand that uses all natural ingredients in their products. This lip balm’s formula is made with cocoa butter, jojoba oil, Shea butter and beeswax to nurture and hydrate lips. They have a lot of yummy flavours; right now I’m using the papaya one.

One thing that does need extra care in the winter for me is my skin. To fight dry skin on my body, I use Cattier Paris Beurre de Karité Honey Fragrance. It’s made with 100 % organic shea butter, and it’s suitable for your face, hair and hands. It keeps my skin soft and elastic, and I also use it as my hand cream.

A photo posted by @chiletravel on Nov 13, 2015 at 4:18am PST

Chile

Marcela Ortega, Head of Tierra Atacama’s Spa

During the winter, the night’s here get pretty cold, and being in the desert means year-round dryness. To combat this during the harshest season, I love a full-body scrub, followed by a yellow clay mud mask, a local thermal mud rich in minerals.

In Chile, we are lucky to have mineral-rich crystal salts that are extracted from mines in the Atacama Desert. 100% natural, they gently scrub away dry, dead skin cells. Exfoliating is especially important in the winter to reveal the softer skin underneath. It also preps skin to better absorb moisture, which is why we use yellow clay right after the salt scrub.

Chilean yellow clay is extremely good at moisturizing skin, as it has hydrating and restorative properties. But it does so much more than that: it’s highly concentrated and nutrient-dense, which allows the clay to improve circulation, tone and tighten skin, relax muscles and alleviate joint pain, and has anti-inflammatory and anti-bacterial properties. Dry, tired, winter skin is restored and has the ability to retain moisture.

A photo posted by Travel Visit Morocco (@travel_visit_morocco) on Aug 28, 2015 at 10:56am PDT

Morocco

Touria, a sales assistant, and Mbarka, a hammam therapist at the Kasbah Tamadot

Touria: I start my mornings every day by washing my face with warm water, then rinsing with cold water to firm my skin. After washing in the winter, I apply a rose cream all over my clean face and use a little sunscreen, too; the rose cream is extra moisturizing in the colder months, and sunscreen is important in Morocco all year round.

To seal in hydration when it’s cold, I apply sweet almond oil, which is a great source of nurturing Vitamin E, all over and gently massage it in to my skin. Once a week, I apply Argan oil — it’s very rich, so once a week is enough to reap its replenishing and softening benefits. Also done weekly, I apply a homemade mask for my rosacea. I mix some milk powder with cucumber juice and leave it on my skin for 30 minutes. It helps soothe my skin and reduce redness.

Mbarka: I work in the hammam, so I need to moisturize my skin, face often— dryness is exaggerated in the winter when I’m in the hammam all the time. In the morning, I wash my face with a lavender soap, followed by patting on a little Argan oil. I do the same at night, and I apply the oil all over my body and a tiny bit in my hair to help keep my skin and hair nourished in the drying winter.

[jessicakehoe]

How Winter Beauty Routines Differ Around the World

Ever look out your office window, mid-winter, and feel a sinking sense of blah? Why is it dark enough to be cocktail hour at 2pm? And on that note, why are we not sipping on cocktails at 2pm? A feeling of despair due to winter darkness is a real thing, but Canadians are far from the only ones suffering. Getting through the dreary season is made easier with some products and treatments, and thanks to a few friends from similarly frozen nations around the world, we’ve gathered a few tips and tricks to keep us cushy ’til spring. Click through for winter beauty rituals from around the world, from Russia to Morocco to Japan.

A photo posted by Moscow Views (@moscowviews) on Mar 9, 2014 at 8:55am PDT

Russia

Ksenia Makhaniova, Spa Administrator at the Purovel SPA & Sport at the Swissôtel Krasnye Holmy Moscow

During the winter, I really love a chocolate body wrap. Chocolate can increase your sense of happiness and well-being, which everyone needs a boost of in the cold, dark months. (According to the Medical Wellness Association, “Chocolate stimulates the release of endorphins, natural hormones produced by the brain, that generates feelings of pleasure and promotes a sense of well being.”)

The treatment not only lifts your spirits, but also makes skin really soft, supple and boosts its natural glow thanks to the chocolate’s nourishing properties. It also increases circulation, so you’ll look and feel good enough to eat!

Another popular treatment for wintertime is a paraffin wax manicure. Starting with an exfoliating scrub to get rid of dry, dead skin, we then use a rich mask to soften and condition hands. After that, the paraffin wax treatment is applied. Paraffin wax is extra important in the winter as its thermotherapy increases circulation and helps renew tissue, and deeply moisturizes from the inside out.

A photo posted by Visit Luxembourg (@visit_luxembourg) on Jul 11, 2015 at 1:25am PDT

Luxembourg

Mélissa Sfredda, half-French, half-Luxembourger beauty aficionado

Although Luxembourg doesn’t have extremely cold temperatures in the winter, I still need to switch up my beauty routine and add extra moisturizing products. My hands get especially dry, and Neutrogena’s Original Hand Cream is the absolute best. Rich in super-moisturizing glycerin, this highly concentrated cream instantly soothes and hydrates my hands.

For my lips, I love French favourite Nuxe’s Rêve de Miel Lip Balm. A winter staple, this delicious honey and grapefruit-scented balm is rich and repairs even the driest and most delicate lips.

Another winter must-have for me is Clarins Delectable Self-Tanning Mousse. It’s nice to have a natural-looking glow in the winter, and this makes skin the perfect shade of tan without looking at all fake. The mousse is also really beautiful to apply; it feels really light, smells divine and moisturizes skin, too. You can also use it anywhere, on the face or body, which is another reason why I like it better than other self-tanning products.

A photo posted by visitnorway (@visitnorway) on Aug 8, 2015 at 11:55am PDT

Norway

Line Schrøder, PR and marketing manager, and Jasmin Jacobsen, a skin therapist at Artesia Spa & Skincare in Olso

During the cold and dry winter in Norway, it’s especially important to re-hydrate skin, so we like to use products and have treatments that focus on moisturizing and protecting the skin from cold weather and snow.

We especially like using rich facial creams, hydrating serums, or even facial oils, paying special attention to skin at night when the skin repairs itself best. The Lagoon series from Carita is one of our favourites, as are the rich facial creams and hydrating serums from Elizabeth Arden PRO.

At the spa, we love our Artesia Facial, which is tailored to each client’s individual needs. Generally, during the winter, we incorporate extra hydrating products, mainly from Murad. And we always stress the importance of an at-home program post-treatment to achieve the best and longest-lasting results.

There’s no point in spending hundreds of dollars (or kroners, as we use here) on treatments if you don’t continue to care for your skin everyday. It would be like going to the gym and running on a treadmill for an hour once a month, and expecting to run a marathon in a few weeks. It doesn’t work like that! A good hydrating boost you can do at home is Carita’s Biological mask. It’s very moisturizing and really makes skin glow; perfect for a Christmas party complexion boost.

Above all, we also remember that the skin is a reflection of your insides, so we make sure to eat healthy and drink lots of water to hydrate from the inside out.

A photo posted by Fleur De Force (@fleurdeforce) on Nov 23, 2015 at 2:49am PST

Japan

Linda Dong, Designer

While living in Japan, my absolute favorite go-to product for keeping my skin hydrated and soft in the winter was Hada Labo Gokujyun Lotion. Its ingredients actually help absorb other lotions you layer on top of it, so on really dry winter days, I would apply this lotion and then put on a Japanese face mask (SK-II’s was one of my favourites) and the lotion would help pull all the extra goodness into my skin.

I love removing makeup with cleansing oil because it’s so gentle and moisturizing for my face, as opposed to the harsh and drying alcohol cleansers, and Three Balancing Cleansing Oil is my favourite. I liked how Three sources it’s cleansing oil from all-natural organic ingredients found only in Japan. I used this paired with a Japanese Konjac sponge to gently exfoliate my face.

To keep my hair smooth and hydrated during the winter without weighing it down, I used Shiseido’s Tsubaki Damage Care Shampoo and Conditioner. It has Camellia oil, otherwise known as green tea oil, which is a very popular Japanese skincare ingredient and it smells fantastic.

On really cold days, my favourite thing to do was go to an onsen (hot springs) and soak in the hot mineral water for a couple of hours, it was the perfect way to warm up and left my skin really soft and lovely. I try to replicate that now with a long soak in the tub using Japanese bath salts, like Bath Roman Yakusen Japanese Bath Salts.

A photo posted by Visit Bulgaria (@visitbulgaria) on Sep 11, 2013 at 10:23am PDT

Bulgaria

Neli Korkinova, product junkie

For my naturally curly hair, I like to use MOA Argan+ Hair Treatment, which is extra moisturizing in the dry winter season — it’s formulated with Melaleuca, Omega-3 and Argan Oil for a triple dose of hair nutrition. My hair feels soft, easy to style and maintains a natural look and feel after using it.

Because I have normal to combination skin, I don’t need to go crazy with heavy face creams. Once a week during the winter, I just replace my night cream with coconut oil, which is very popular in Bulgaria at the moment.

For my lips, I love Greenland’s lip balm. It’s a Dutch brand that uses all natural ingredients in their products. This lip balm’s formula is made with cocoa butter, jojoba oil, Shea butter and beeswax to nurture and hydrate lips. They have a lot of yummy flavours; right now I’m using the papaya one.

One thing that does need extra care in the winter for me is my skin. To fight dry skin on my body, I use Cattier Paris Beurre de Karité Honey Fragrance. It’s made with 100 % organic shea butter, and it’s suitable for your face, hair and hands. It keeps my skin soft and elastic, and I also use it as my hand cream.

A photo posted by @chiletravel on Nov 13, 2015 at 4:18am PST

Chile

Marcela Ortega, Head of Tierra Atacama’s Spa

During the winter, the night’s here get pretty cold, and being in the desert means year-round dryness. To combat this during the harshest season, I love a full-body scrub, followed by a yellow clay mud mask, a local thermal mud rich in minerals.

In Chile, we are lucky to have mineral-rich crystal salts that are extracted from mines in the Atacama Desert. 100% natural, they gently scrub away dry, dead skin cells. Exfoliating is especially important in the winter to reveal the softer skin underneath. It also preps skin to better absorb moisture, which is why we use yellow clay right after the salt scrub.

Chilean yellow clay is extremely good at moisturizing skin, as it has hydrating and restorative properties. But it does so much more than that: it’s highly concentrated and nutrient-dense, which allows the clay to improve circulation, tone and tighten skin, relax muscles and alleviate joint pain, and has anti-inflammatory and anti-bacterial properties. Dry, tired, winter skin is restored and has the ability to retain moisture.

A photo posted by Travel Visit Morocco (@travel_visit_morocco) on Aug 28, 2015 at 10:56am PDT

Morocco

Touria, a sales assistant, and Mbarka, a hammam therapist at the Kasbah Tamadot

Touria: I start my mornings every day by washing my face with warm water, then rinsing with cold water to firm my skin. After washing in the winter, I apply a rose cream all over my clean face and use a little sunscreen, too; the rose cream is extra moisturizing in the colder months, and sunscreen is important in Morocco all year round.

To seal in hydration when it’s cold, I apply sweet almond oil, which is a great source of nurturing Vitamin E, all over and gently massage it in to my skin. Once a week, I apply Argan oil — it’s very rich, so once a week is enough to reap its replenishing and softening benefits. Also done weekly, I apply a homemade mask for my rosacea. I mix some milk powder with cucumber juice and leave it on my skin for 30 minutes. It helps soothe my skin and reduce redness.

Mbarka: I work in the hammam, so I need to moisturize my skin, face often— dryness is exaggerated in the winter when I’m in the hammam all the time. In the morning, I wash my face with a lavender soap, followed by patting on a little Argan oil. I do the same at night, and I apply the oil all over my body and a tiny bit in my hair to help keep my skin and hair nourished in the drying winter.

The post How Winter Beauty Routines Differ Around the World appeared first on FASHION Magazine.

How Winter Beauty Routines Differ Around the World published first on https://borboletabags.tumblr.com/

[honeynuggetslife]

I just love your thin, frizzy hair – said no one ever

For those of you who suffer under the weightlessness of thin and porous hair, there’s hope.

Sure, the idea of growing it is about as fanciful as a talking pig riding a unicorn over a rainbow.

However, Against all odds (and there many, many odds) I have grown my thin and porous hair to my elbows.  It has the juiciness and weight of healthy hair and shows no signs of discontent.

Don’t know if you have porous hair?  Thegoodwifebeauty has a great how-to.  Essentially, if your hair is always fuzzy and resistant to all things sleek, it’s probably porous.

Photo by Livin4wheel on Unsplash

Nutrition

You are what you eat, we get it.  Moving along.

Organic iron supplement

Iron supplements are notorious for waging spartan style battles with the stomach.  No one is interested in swapping lethargy for bloating, nausea and constipation.

This is why you need the organic variety.  I have been taking organic iron tablets for 3 years and have not experienced a single negative side effect.

If you take it consistently, you should notice your hair thining a little less after about a month.  If you continue to take it, the new growth will add volume to the old growth, albeit very slowly.  The new growth will no longer be taxed in replacing older and longer growth as it abandons the scalp in droves.

Organic iron will not thicken your hair strands.  That will take divine intervention.

However, it has the added bonus of hardening your nails and bringing an end to cursed peel.  You may also develop a healthier glow to your skin and eyes.

Wins – many, losses – 0.

Zinc

I have read that Zinc encourages quicker hair growth and regulates the oil around the follicle.  My experience with zinc supplements reflects this.

However, before you take a zinc supplement, read the label carefully.  If taken on an empty stomach, it will likely cause nausea.  Honestly, you have been warned. Further, I believe it cannot be taken over a lengthy period of time and breaks are required.

Protein

This deserves a mention because hairdressers will insist you apply “repair” products, which are predominantly protein-based, whilst in the same breath, tell you to be careful not to apply too much protein to the hair.  There is doom at either end of this vague tunnel of trickery.

Unless you have been violating your hair with regular unprotected heat and endless chemicals, I very much doubt a lack of protein is a contributing factor to your hair woes.  The planet is protein obsessed and to be honest, I’ve grown tired of the word.

The chances that you are not getting enough protein in your diet or in your hair products is highly unlikely.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Circulation

Getting regular blood flow to the scalp will make a noticeable difference in the density of your hair.  Infrared energy devices that encourage blood flow to the scalp are used by hair loss clinics for this very reason.

Don’t rush out to buy an infrared device just yet.  I purchased a very expensive infrared cap from a hair loss clinic about 4 years ago and noticed no difference what so ever.  Well, other than a lesser bank balance.

The best way to increase circulation around the root of your hair is boring ol’ exercise.  Regular exercise not only improved the density of my hair, but it also visibly reduced its porosity.

Now I am not suggesting you sign up to Ninja Warrior.  However, 30 minutes of exercise at least 4 days a week, with enough intensity to get your face and scalp sweating will improve the quality of your hair over time, guaranteed, abnormalities aside.

Photo by bruce mars on Pexels.com

Cold Water

Nothing beats cold water for closing the hair cuticle, reducing its porosity.  It’s free and simple.  It will give your hair a gloss that a product will never equal.

All you have to do is rinse your conditioner or treatment (whichever you apply last) of with nothing but straight up, cold water.  The colder the better.

This is torture at first and in winter, the cold water can give you brain freeze.  If you stick with it, you will eventually climatise.  Your hair only needs to be under the cold water long enough to ensure all of your strands are officially cold, which is usually about 10 seconds.

The most comfortable way to do this is to flip your head upside down so you can hold it under the cold water while your body remains safe.  Alternatively, you can save the rinse off for the bathroom sink whilst your body is snuggly wrapped up in your towel.

Consistency will slowly reduce the porosity of your hair and improve strand density.

If you rinse with cold water each time you wet your hair, it will continue to close the cuticle.  A closed cuticle will trap more moisture within the hair shaft.  Your hair will also be more resistant to damage as the closed cuticle will provide a stronger shield.

Wetting your hair opens the cuticle.  The longer you can keep it closed and coated, the better.

As your hair is thin and porous it will likely look dirty (as opposed to oily) by the day following a wash.  Resist the temptation to wash your hair every day.  Wash your hair as few times in a week as you can pull off.

To last longer in between washes, you can hold your head upside down and blast the hair at your scalp with the hair dryer on its cool setting.  This will help to dry the oil.  Then use your dry shampoo or corn starch as you ordinarily would.

  Photo by Juha Lakaniemi on Unsplash

  Products

Cheap conditioner – the miracle cure

Conditioner is the most important thing for protecting your hair.  This really struck me when I read that conditioner protects against heat damage far more effectively than products specifically sold for heat protection.

Buy a cheap and watery conditioner intended to moisturise your hair.  I found Sunsilk (the pink bottle) perfect for this.

Step 1.

Before you wash your hair, whilst it is dry, load up the mid-lengths to ends with the cheap conditioner until they are drenched.  If you can do this sometime before your shower to allow the conditioner time to soak in, even better, however, this isn’t make or break.

The purpose of this step is to give your shampoo something to wash before it gets to wash away the natural oils in your hair.

Do not add conditioner to the hair around your scalp.  Ever!  Your natural oils are more than enough.

Step 2.

Wash the hair at your scalp only, with quality shampoo (discussed below).  As you rinse the shampoo out, the soap will run down, through the rest of your hair.  As your hair is thin and porous, I promise you, this is enough.

If you have loaded up on dry shampoo and need a second wash, do it, but again, only the hair at your scalp.

Don’t worry about build up of product.  Your hair will receive a thrashing at the basin of your hairdresser at each appointment.

Photo by Element5 Digital on Unsplash

  Step 3.

After shampooing, apply a quality thick cream or balm hair treatment (discussed below), coating your hair from the ends up to mid-length only.  To be safe, stay closer toward the ends.

Alternatively, you can simply apply the cheap conditioner again as you would ordinarily use conditioner. Do not apply the treatment or conditioner to the hair around your scalp.  Ever!

Now, I know you have thin hair and thick balms weigh it down.  I understand hairdressers everywhere tell you that you need “light” everything – I call bollocks

Thick creams and balms are a blessing for porous hair.  Avoiding the scalp will help to balance the heaviness of the balm and minimise the chances of your hair looking like a dead weight.

Step 4.

Rinse with icy old water.

Step 5.

Squeeze the water out of your hair with a towel.  Never rub or rough as this will open the cuticle defeating all of your hard work.

While your hair is still wet, apply the cheap watery conditioner from the ends to the mid-lengths in the same way you would use a regular leave in conditioner product.  You can afford to be more on the generous side here.  Do not apply it to the hair at the scalp or soak your hair in it as you would if you were in the shower.

Comb the conditioner through with a wide tooth comb.

Simply replace your leave-in conditioner with legitimate cheap conditioner.  Once your hair is completely dry, it will be juicier than it usually is and carries the weight of denser hair.  No more floating in the air like fluff.

As your hair dries, it will go through a hideous phase.  Bare with it, it becomes more glamorous once it has completely dried.

The key here is a cheap watery conditioner.  Not the nasty stuff or fancy and expensive conditioner.  I’ve tried and the results are nowhere near as good.

I believe the cheap watery conditioner works best due to its moisture to residue ratio.  It has plenty of water for your hair to soak up and leaves just enough residue to coat the hair and seal the water in.

Step 6.

If your hair is long enough, you can also tie your hair in a loose bun until it dries.  Once you let it out, you will have loose juicy curls.

Otherwise, now that your hair slightly more glamorous than it was yesterday, carry on with life.

Brushing and Straightening

I found that straightening my hair once the cheap conditioner has dried, achieves a better result than any other product I have used

Try to use only a wide tooth comb on your hair if possible.  This is literally, all I own to brush my hair.

If you choose not to straighten your hair, which I do more often than not, avoid brushing it at all once it is dry.  This shouldn’t be much of an issue with the messy look and conditioner in your hair preventing tangles.

Photo by Valerie Elash on Unsplash

  Making the cut

This business about having to get your hair cut every 6 – 8 weeks is nonsense.  Following this regime often mean you are only cutting off what you have just managed to grow.

It’s not a secret – blunt cuts and a fringe help to make thin hair appear thicker.  Boring I know.  I also only get my hair trimmed every 10 – 12 weeks and limit the snip to the scraggy tips only.

Let it grow

For 2 years the only hair product I used, other than shampoo and the odd experiment, was Sunsilk conditioner (the pink bottle).  That’s it.  I did not use any other in shower treatment, heat protection, leave in conditioners, straightening balms, curling sprays, oils, anything.

It is the single best beauty discovery I have ever made.  The monetary saving was also brilliant.

I am confident that I have used a majority of salon and store brand hair products.  Sunsilk (the pink bottle), used in the way described above, moisturised and protected my hair far better than any other product I have ever used.

  So…I just do that forever?

At first, I recommend using a gentle natural shampoo for oily hair from say, a health food store.  Contrary to what hairdressers insist, my experience with salon products is that, unless my hair is already in great condition, salon products make the hair much worse.

Once the quality of your hair has improved you can change to the more industrial strength salon products.  If you swap to a salon product and find your hair in decline, just go back to the hippie shampoo until your hair ready for a more serious commitment.

In the past year, I swapped my shampoo to Joico for fine limp hair (green bottle).  I have also swapped my in shower Sunsilk conditioner with Joico treatments.  I simply apply the treatment as I ordinarily would a conditioner.

I recommend Joice Moisture Recovery Treatment Balm, for when you intend to apply a lot of heat to your hair.  This is because it is incredibly thick and coats the hair very well.  Your hair will be juicy and feel dense.

Constant use of the balm will become far too heavy for thin hair.  I recommend alternating with Joico K-Pack Care Intense Hydrator (the gold one) for when you’re doing beach hair or the office up-dos.

  When you first start using a thick cream or balm (discussed below), your hair may look greasy.  However, if you straighten or blow dry, the greasy appearance (not your hair) will dry up.  Further, your hair adapts and will stop looking greasy after some time.

If I use the Joico K-Pak, I recommend also using the VO5 Heat Protection spray on the mid-lengths to ends after towel drying.  This spray is exceptional at giving the hair the appearance of a closed cuticle and also adds texture.

  However, I have found nothing better than cheap conditioner as a leave-in protective conditioner.

How to Grow Thin Porous Hair I just love your thin, frizzy hair - said no one ever For those of you who suffer under the weightlessness of thin…

[jakehglover]

Essential Oils That Could Help Your Headaches

By Dr. Mercola

For people who experience the worst type of headache — migraines — one might describe them as something like being forced to go on a long, impromptu bus trip during a lightning storm while wearing a helmet that’s way too tight, the stereo is set on deafening and all the energy you’ve got is spent trying to hold your stomach together. Migraine headaches result from specific changes in the brain, and the pain almost always focuses itself on one side of your head, causing a “pounding” sensation that gets worse with physical exertion.

However, sometimes it hits both sides of your head and may involve sensitivity to light and/or sound, eye pain and nausea so severe that vomiting is part of the package. Migraines are experienced by 37 million people in the U.S. annually1 — roughly 1 in 7 Americans — which vary in duration from four to 72 hours and can be triggered by stress, hormonal changes and lack of sleep.

They’re the main reason why people visit emergency clinics, and most often are experienced by women of childbearing age.2 The Hearty Soul3 relates a number of other triggers that many might not consider:

Monosodium glutamate (MSG)

Chocolate

Stress

Dehydration

Smoking

Birth control pills

Magnesium deficiency

Meats with nitrates (bacon or lunch meat)

Peanut butter

Wine

Medications

Dairy products

Whether the migraine excursion is taken occasionally or frequently, the pain is bad enough that any cure is deemed worth looking into: cold compresses, hot compresses, head massages, body massages. There are numerous over-the-counter and prescription drugs available, but these aren’t always without side effects.

Migraines: ‘Debilitating,’ ‘Like a Vice,’ ‘Soul Crushing’

To call a migraine a “bad headache” is a gross understatement. Some headache sufferers might tell you they’re impossible to define in a truly meaningful way — just that they’re awful. Huffington Post4 asked several people to describe the sensations they experience either before and/or during a migraine:

“It’s like having your head compressed by a 2-ton brick while someone hits your temple with a hammer at random intervals.”

“Like a vice around my head, with stabbing behind my ears and pressure behind my eyes. Pull the shades, lie down, don’t move.”

“Like being hit in the head by a semi. Or having your head compressed by thousands of cubic feet of water.”

“When I’m in the grip of a really bad one — one of those terrible, soul-crushing ones that comes around once a year or so — I almost always think, ‘There’s nothing I wouldn’t give up to make this go away right now.’”

“Like you are trying to give birth through your forehead.”

People describing symptoms often talk about their throbbing temples, pain behind their eyes, sensitivity to light and sounds and ongoing nausea. More than a few reference things like jackhammers and icepicks. Some mention auras of flickering light just before being slammed with the pain.

Understandably, migraines often lead to insomnia, and sleeplessness causes profound fatigue, which exacerbates the frequency and severity of migraines in a vicious circle. But Migraine.com5 notes that there are different types of headaches. A study of nearly 4,000 people enabled researchers to break the most common symptoms down into percentages:6

Throbbing, pulsating pain — 85 percent

Pain on one side — 59 percent

Light sensitivity — 80 percent

Blurred vision — 44 percent

Sound sensitivity — 76 percent

Auras — 36 percent

Nausea — 73 percent

Vomiting — 29 percent

Essential Oils to the Rescue

But what if the most effective relief came from something natural, extracted from powerful plant compounds instead of pain medications? I’m talking about essential oils, which have been used in ancient Egyptian, Chinese and East Indian cultures for around 6,000 years.7

Keep in mind that before applying essential oils topically, you should dilute them first with a safe and mild carrier oil, like coconut oil, olive oil, almond or jojoba oil. Essential oils have made a remarkable surge in popularity in the last several decades, proven not just anecdotally but in clinical trials to:

Ease pain

Relieve nausea

Relax your muscles

Improve sleep

Lower inflammation

Reduce stress

There are different ways to use essential oils for relieving headaches, including a few drops in tea, applying or massaging the oil (or oils) directly to the problem spots and inhaling the fragrance. One thing to always remember regarding essential oils is to avoid using them on your skin (or anyone else’s) undiluted. AromaWeb explains:

“Using a 2 percent essential oil dilution is generally considered a safe guideline for topical application of essential oils on adults when an essential oil does not have a more restricted dermal recommendation … For children or elderly, cut the dilution in half. With children, use only essential oils regarded as safe for children.”8

Reducing the frequency and severity of migraines has been achieved by continuous use over days, weeks and months. Essential oils have proved to have antibiotic, antiviral and antibacterial properties and some reports have suggested them as useful for Alzheimer’s disease, heart problems, cancer and labor pain.9

As for synthetic substances created for aromatherapy, the study noted that using actual plant oils was found to be superior, especially since synthetic fragrances often contain such irritants as solvents and propellants.10 Here’s a list of five of the most effective essential oils for relieving varied symptoms of migraines.

Peppermint Essential Oil

Having already made a name for itself among migraine sufferers, peppermint oil contains menthol to do double duty: relieve pain and relax your muscles. A collaborative study11 in Philadelphia found that applying a topical gel with 6 percent menthol “significantly” decreased pain intensity for patients after two hours.

A review published in the Asian Pacific Journal of Tropical Biomedicine noted the merits of aromatherapy using essential oils from the roots, bark, stems, leaves, flowers and fruits of the peppermint plant for a number of maladies, including swollen joints, depression, indigestion, insomnia, muscular pain, respiratory problems, skin ailments and “urine-associated complications,” as well as headaches. According to the study:

“Inhalation and the external application of these oils for the treatment of mental and physical balance are the very basics of aromatherapy … to relieve stress, rejuvenate and regenerate … Olfactory nerves from nose to the brain are the site of action …”12

To mix a topical application, dilute two or three drops of peppermint oil with one or two drops of coconut oil to ease the nausea sometimes associated with migraines. Rub the oil on the back of your neck, forehead and shoulders, but a “double whammy” of effectiveness may come from diffusing a few drops of the oil for aromatherapy.

Peppermint is a good example of an essential oil that can be used in a number of ways for greater effect, The Hearty Soul13 notes. You can add five to 15 drops to a warm bath for a soak, and meanwhile, sip on peppermint tea.

Afterward, apply a diluted solution to your temples, the back of your neck below your skull and the bottoms of your feet. There are potential peppermint oil side effects in individuals with a sensitivity; one is possible sleep interference, for people taking antacids or with gall bladder problems, and in breast-feeding women, decreased milk production, to name a few.

The National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health (NCCIH) adds something that should always be in the forefront when using essential oils, including peppermint:

“Like other essential oils, peppermint oil is highly concentrated. When the undiluted essential oil is used for health purposes, only a few drops are used. Side effects of applying peppermint oil to the skin can include skin rashes and irritation. Peppermint oil should not be applied to the face or chest of infants or young children because serious side effects may occur if they inhale the menthol in the oil.”14

Lavender Essential Oil

Lavender oil also helps with the pain of migraines, and it’s one that tackles the inflammation exacerbating it, causing the head-splitting “hammer on the skull” sensation. Part of the mechanism is its ability to dilate pressurized blood vessels. Lavender also improves sleep and reduces stress, which are the two main triggers of migraine attacks. A 2012 study15 published in European Neurology in 2012 notes this oil’s use as a sedative, antimicrobial and wound healing accelerator, among other things.

Reduced frequency and severity of migraines was reported by study subjects in a trial after using lavender for three months, according to a 2016 study.16 The researchers observed that among the 129 headache attacks in the course of the study, 92 “responded entirely or partially to lavender,” a significantly higher percentage compared to the participants in the placebo-controlled group.

The study concludes by saying that inhalation of lavender essential oil “may be an effective and safe treatment modality in acute management of migraine headaches.”

In another study featured in Evidence-Based Complementary and Alternative Medicine in 2013, researchers conjectured that if lavender’s “alleged curative properties” ranged from successful treatment of insect bites, parasitic infections and spasms, it might also be an effective therapy for neurological disorders.

A review of lavender’s efficacy for pain was noted in the study, for pain ranging from cesarean section,17 breast biopsy surgery,18 “nonspecific subacute neck pain” and low back pain,19 and for migraine headaches, especially when applied early in the attack.20

Not to mention the fact that with lavender, “there’s no potential for drug abuse.”21 For aromatherapy, add five to 10 drops of lavender oil to a bowl of warm water. You can cover your head with a towel to get the most of the vapors, lean over the bowl and breathe deeply until your headache starts to diminish. You can also use a few diluted drops to massage behind your ears, your temples and back of your neck.

Eucalyptus Essential Oil

This oil is good for several types of headache pain,22 but it’s said to be most effective for people suffering from headaches due to chronic sinusitis. A 2009 study published in the Journal of Agriculture and Food Chemistry23 reported that inhaling eucalyptus oil may relieve pain and lower inflammation.

Mix one drop with a teaspoon of carrier oil such as the aforementioned coconut oil before massaging into your chest, temples and forehead. Breathe the vapors as described in the lavender oil section, and place a few drops onto a handkerchief to inhale the fragrance whenever needed.

Chamomile Essential Oil

Another effective oil for migraines, chamomile oil reduces inflammation, according to a 2014 Medical Hypotheses study,24 which described it as “a novel medicine for the relief of migraine pain.” The Top 10 Home Remedies says it also relieves symptoms of stress and anxiety, which may in turn serve to relieve your migraine.

Dilute a few drops of chamomile oil with one or two drops of a carrier oil to massage into your temples and forehead. Inhaling the steam after placing a few drops into hot water is another way to help treat your pounding head.

Rosemary Essential Oil

A 2013 study25 published in Food Chemistry points to rosemary as having a long history in tradition for treating headaches due to the potent anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving compounds it contains. It backs up a 2008 study26 that found the same benefits. Added to that are comments by Top 10 Home Remedies:

“It helps treat headaches because of its stimulating, anti-inflammatory and analgesic properties. It has a calming effect on the body and helps reduce stress and insomnia, common triggers that can cause headaches.”27

Suggested ways to use rosemary essential oil for migraine headache relief include adding one or two drops to a cup of tea, water or soup and drinking it. You can also mix two drops of rosemary oil with two drops of peppermint oil and a teaspoon of coconut oil to massage your forehead, temples and the back of your neck.

You can get an allergen test before using essential oils to make sure you’re not allergic. This entails applying a diluted amount of oil onto your skin and observing if allergic reactions occur. If you experience side effects, don’t use the oil. However, while oils like those mentioned above can have therapeutic effects, they aren't instant cures, nor are they a substitute for optimal nutrition and a healthy lifestyle.

from HealthyLife via Jake Glover on Inoreader https://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2018/06/09/essential-oils-for-headache.aspx

[faunceblaze]

JMT 2017: Part II - The Hike

Part I of our JMT trip, covering our pre-trip activities, can be found here. 

Day 0: We arrived in Lone Pine, CA at around 1:30 am Saturday morning. In normal traffic it is a little over a 7 hour drive. In Friday afternoon traffic...it’s a nightmare. After setting up our tents at the Portagee Joe Campground, we crashed for a few hours until sunrise. Come sunrise, we headed to the local diner to fill up on the largest breakfast we could find. This was probably going to be our last ‘real’ meal for a couple weeks. On our way up to Horseshoe Meadow Campground - where the Cottonwood Pass Trailhead is located - we stopped by the Eastern Sierra Interagency Visitor Center to pick up our JMT permit and got our first look at Mount Whitney! (pictured above) 

Horseshoe Meadow (pictured below) is located at about 10,000 feet, so we planned an entire rest day at altitude to help ourselves adjust; and boy am I glad we planned for that. That evening I was suffering the effects of altitude sickness: headache, nausea, loss of appetite, malaise and insomnia. Having to backpack miles after ascending rapidly from 3,000 feet to 10,000 feet would have most likely spelled disaster for the trip.

Day 1: The next morning we woke up feeling much better than the day before. It looks like our bodies had adjusted enough. We started out early because we had a big first day.  We hiked about 14 miles to Rock Creek, and along the way climbed Cottonwood Pass, our first of many Sierra Nevada mountain passes. We could start to feel the effects of the elevation as we made our way up: little tougher to breathe and it felt like our muscles were tiring out quicker. 

A quick aside to describe the differences between east coast (the AT, especially up here in NH) and west coast hiking. Out on the JMT the trail is maintained for pack animals as well as for humans. As a result, the grade of the trail is much lower than out on the east coast (some great analysis on that here). Additionally, the trail condition on the JMT is generally smoother with less rocks, roots, or scrambles than on the east coast. The flip-side of that is you spend much longer ascending the mountain passes. I noticed that this played on my mind a little bit. I was used to just charging up the mountain and being done with it quickly. Spending a long time winding up switchbacks was at times a downer. Another difference is the exposure. Much of the JMT is alpine, with no tree cover, no clouds, and lots of sand. It took some time to adjust to the sand and constant sun exposure. Ok, back to the trail!

Day 2: Today brought us past some alpine meadows and lakes up to Guitar Lake and the base of Mount Whitney. It was a sunny and hot day, and the 10 miles felt more like 16 - I think elevation was still playing a role. (Not so) surprisingly, Guitar Lake is actually shaped like a guitar! We set up camp near the shore (pictured above) and enjoyed watching all of the marmots hiding in the rocks. There was an amazingly beautiful sunset and stars that night. I think this was the first time that I have ever seen the Milky Way. 

Day 3: We woke up early to start our ascent of Mount Whitney (highest point in contiguous US) and the actual beginning of the JMT. Since we would be coming back down the way we came, we decided to leave most of our gear at base camp at Guitar Lake. The climb up the western face followed an endless path of switchbacks cut into the side of the mountain. We kept our steady pace (”slow is smooth; smooth is fast”) going and made it up to the summit in about 4 hours. The last couple of miles at high elevation really was tough on the lungs. I also think it made our minds just a little bit fuzzy, too. This elevation, 14,505′, is the highest I have ever been. I think we may have felt just a tiny little fraction of what high-altitude mountaineers may feel when they climb mountains. It sure is tough, but the feeling on top is worth it. After celebrating/resting on the summit, we started our descent. We passed many day hikers coming up from the east side of the mountain at Whitney Portal (8,000′), and a lot of them looked much more worn out by the elevation difference than we felt. It really reinforced our decision to start at 10,000 feet and spend those few days acclimating. Our descent went well, and we could really tell the difference in the lower elevations (climb high sleep low, as they say). We got back to Guitar Lake, packed up camp, and hiked a few more miles before pitching camp at Crabtree Meadows. All-in-all it was a 12 mile day and the official start of our JMT.

Day 4: We hiked 12.5 miles to reach the base of Forester Pass - the second highest point on the JMT. It was there that we camped at the highest elevation on the trail - 12,495 ft. We were feeling good, and I think that by now most of the effects of altitude have worn off. We camped by a beautiful alpine lake with ice/snow around the rim. The water was freezing cold, but very refreshing after another day of full sun. That evening we watched storm clouds roll through to the south, but thankfully we didn’t get any rain.

Day 5: An early start had us up to the top of Forester Pass before 8 am. On the north side of the pass we hit our first major snow field. The descent down was probably the scariest thing that I have ever done in my life. At one point, any slip in the snow would mean sliding down about 500 feet of vertical elevation right into a boulder field. Needless to say, the pucker factor was quite high. Thankfully, we made it down and back on smooth trail. We hurried along, because that evening we were meeting Kelly and friends at Charlotte Lake! We got to camp early and did some washing up in the lake. Around 6 or so our friends showed up (with our food!) and we had a wonderful evening hanging out. 

Day 6: This morning we saw our first (and only) bear on the JMT. We woke up earlier than our friends, so we were just chilling in our tent, when a momma bear and cub come strolling through our camp just a few feet away! They didn’t cause any trouble, and we didn’t give em any. 

The hiking today was an easy (low mileage) day over Glen Pass to Rae Lakes (pictured above). We spent the day hanging out at camp and having a good time with friends. A couple guys brought fishing poles and were catching some Rainbow and Brook Trout, and we ended up having a couple fish with our instant mashed potatoes and stuffing that night (they were delicious!). 

Day 7: Today was another low(er) mileage day that ended with us at another lake (we really like camping at alpine lakes). We had a nice long downhill to a bridge crossing right before lunch. There aren’t too many bridges along the way, most of the time you have to ford the river, but this one was over a large gorge with a raging river, so it was a nice convenience. From there it was a few mile uphill to our destination - Twin Lakes. Randomly, we ran into our friend Nanako along the way! We had heard she was hiking the trail SOBO, but weren’t sure where she was or if we would even end up passing each other. We ended up passing at a small ice field/snow bridge along the river, and quite almost didn’t even recognize her! We hurried to set up camp because there were some nasty clouds/thunder/lightning that was building to our south. Thankfully the storm held off moving towards us and stayed on the other side of the pass. This would be our last night with our friends, so we stayed up playing cards and enjoying the sunset.

Day 8: Today was a big day for us. We tackled two passes in one day! Leaving our friends in the morning was pretty tough. They were still having their wonderful breakfasts and relaxing, so it was tough hiking away from that. We hit Pinchot Pass early in the morning. Mentally we felt down, but we were actually making some good time. The views from the passes are always so beautiful, and it is really neat to be able to look in both directions and see the meadow/bowl you came from and the new one you are heading towards. We had a few river fordings before the long approach to Mather Pass. On the other side was the Palisade Lakes. These lakes were some of the most beautiful lakes on the trail with their snow fields ringing the edges and large cliffs with waterfalls tumbling down. It was getting towards evening so we stopped briefly to eat our dinner and then continued on some more. We descended what is called the Golden Staircase. It is a series of (many) steep switchbacks down into a canyon, and in the afternoon light the rocks and river have a golden glow. 

Day 9: This morning we woke up to a strange squawking noise only to see our very first pika. I think we camped close to his home, and he was not too pleased about that. We hiked through Le Conte Canyon on our way up to Muir Pass, named after John Muir. Today was the solar eclipse, but it ended up being cloudy out and we didn’t get to see any of it (bummer!). We had a light rain for about an hour - the first precipitation for us on the JMT. I don’t think we ever went a 9 day stretch on the AT with no rain! Climbing up to Muir Pass was probably the most amount of snowfields that we crossed, but we hit the pass in the afternoon so it was nice and soft for sure footing. There was so much snow melt that at times the trail was basically a very large and shallow river. On top of the pass (pictured above) is the Muir Hut - a stone shelter built in 1930 and dedicated to John Muir. The top of passes generally are not considered a safe place to be during inclimate weather, so I don’t think the hut gets much use these days. We descended the north side and camped at the base of the pass along Wanda Lake with some of the coldest water I have ever felt. It was very welcomed though as our tired feet could use the soak.

Day 10: Today was our 16 mile “nero”. Typically, a nero means a “near-zero” mile day; however, we consider this day a nero because we finished so early. That morning we passed by the Evolution Lakes, which were really nice, but also strangely crowded (a group of 15+ campers). It was another sunny and hot day, and the trail was mostly exposed today, which was really taking the energy out of us. When we reached Piute Pass Trail and the Piute River (pictured above) we decided to call it a day and have a nice rest. We set up our camp before 3pm! A nice bath and laundry in the river and then it was time to relax and recuperate. We probably fell asleep before 7pm, like a true Grams and Gramps! 

Day 11: After our long relaxation day from yesterday, we woke up energized and ready to go. We put down some good miles early and tackled Selden Pass (pictured above) before lunch. We decided to go for our stretch goal that day and get to Lake Edison for a 22 mile day. After some off-trail excursions for some river fordings we started the climb up and over Bear Ridge. Everything was going pretty smoothly until we started our descent. Overhead cracked thunder and lightning, and out of nowhere the heavens opened up on us. It started as rain, but quickly turned to pebble sized hail. We were on the switchbacks of the descent, so there was no where to fast-pitch our tent to get some relief. We huddled under a tree and grabbed our trash bags to try and keep us and our gear somewhat dry, but basically we were soaked to the bone. The trail was a river of chocolate milk. We tried waiting it out, but we were getting pretty cold (and pelted by ice bullets!) so we decided to try and hoof it to a camp spot as fast as we could. Thankfully, we found a decent spot in a few tenths of a mile. We pitched our soggy tent and peeled of our freezing clothes and got into our bags to warm up as fast as we could. Naturally, the storm let up right when our bodies finally began to thaw. 

Day 12: We had a late morning today. It’s always hard to get up when everything is cold and wet. Thankfully on the JMT, unlike the AT, we were almost guaranteed a warm sunny day to dry our gear. We packed up, put on our wet shoes, and started out towards Silver Pass. On top of the pass we had an extended lunch so we could air out and dry our wet gear (pictured above.) We also met some SOBO hikers from Massachusetts - small world! The second half of the day took us along Lake Virginia, a beautiful lake in large bowl. We ended our day at Duck Creek excited for tomorrow, because tomorrow we would be arriving at our resupply point in Reds Meadow! We were able to shave off a full day from our planned itinerary. We went to sleep dreaming of burgers and their famous milkshakes...

Day 13: It’s town day! Well, not exactly a town, but a place to get some real food! We woke up early and were grooving on the trail. We had 11.5 miles to go, and we were trying to make it there before they stopped serving breakfast. We pulled into Reds Meadow at 10:45 am, the sign at the cafe said “Breakfast 7 am - 11 am”. Whew! We sit down and promptly order the largest breakfast they had (eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, hash-browns). After devouring our breakfast, we headed next door to the general store to pick up the few resupplies we need. With the extra day of food, we only needed a couple meals to get us to the end. We then immediately went back to the cafe to order ourselves some lunch! Probably 15-20 minutes had passed since finishing breakfast. Hiker hunger is a real thing folks, and it is scary. After chowing down on cheese burgers, coleslaw, and the best chocolate milkshake you could ever have, we were finally feeling satisfied. Now the hard part begins - actually leaving the wonderful place of filtered water, flush toilets and prepared food! We steeled ourselves, grabbed our packs, and started back to the trail. Along the way we took a detour to see Devils Postpile (pictured above). It is a unique columnar basalt formation formed by lava. It was pretty crowded with tourists, and quite hot that day (90s), so we didn’t spend too long there and kept moving. We tacked on about another 9 miles for what was a big day for us: 20 miles with a resupply. We ended at, you guessed it, Gladys Lake. This lake wasn’t as pretty as the others. We were now getting lower in elevation and away from the pristine alpine lakes. Gladys Lake was a little bit more muddy/boggy, which made the mosquitoes pretty ferocious. 

Day 14: Today was the day: we were finally going to make it into Yosemite National Park! We decided to go for another bigger day and do 20 miles over Donahue Pass, which is the border of Yosemite NP. Along the way we passed many lakes that all had gemstone names (Ruby, Emerald, Garnet) and finally Thousand Island Lake (named for all the little islands and not the salad dressing). Our climb up Donahue Pass was a quick one, not because it was short, but because “strong legs and a dash of fear will get you up and over any mountain” (says Grams). Some ominous clouds were brewing, so we kicked it into gear. We also were pretty excited to be entering Yosemite. Mentally, it’s a pretty big milestone in the trip. Once on top of the pass we met a Yosemite backcountry ranger who was there verifying permits and bear canisters. After a brief chat we started down into Lyell Canyon. We hiked until we were completely down from the pass and in the Lyell Forks meadow area of the canyon (pictured below.) This started a pretty long stretch of basically completely flat trail. We pitched camp here so we could have a easy start to tomorrow.

Day 15: A record setting day for us: 26.2, the most miles we’ve backpacked in a day. For some that may be chump change, but for us it was a good day. We zoomed through Lyell Canyon and Tuolumne Meadows; all flat and easy trail. We hike up through Cathedral Pass, which is the last pass we would go through on the JMT. The hike down into Yosemite Valley took us through what looked like recent (past year or two) wildland fire areas. Burnt and charred shells of trees stood as sentinels all around us. And a current fire in the distance left a lingering haze in the valley. We were getting tired as sun continued to melt us, and finally reached our destination of Clouds Rest Trail. There were quite a few people camped here, because it’s a popular spot for those that want to hike either Half Dome or Clouds Rest. We accidentally ended up camping pretty much in the middle of a tour group, but they were pretty cool about it. We were wiped out and fell asleep almost immediately.

Day 16: The last day. Only 7.1 miles to go to Happy Isles. We woke up extra early today, because we needed to get down to catch the 10 am bus. We packed up in the dark, trying not to wake everyone else up, and started down to Yosemite Valley in high spirits. We had hiked most of this trail before on a previous trip out here, so it was somewhat nostalgic walking the same stretch of trail again past Nevada Falls and the Mist Trail. We reached the Happy Isles trailhead around 8 am and had our mini celebration...we did it! There was some time to spare before heading to the bus stop so we head over to Half Dome Village for a morning sandwich and snacks. A frozen breakfast burrito and ham and cheese sandwich never tasted so good! Although we were done hiking for the day, we still had a long way to go. We hopped on the bus for a 2.5 hour ride around the back roads of the western Yosemite area to finally arrive at the Merced Amtrak station. Two one way tickets to Richmond, CA, please! It was another few hours on the train where we sit, relax, eat our snacks, and talk about the trail. Once in Richmond transferred to the BART subway and got into San Francisco around 5 pm. Just an easy 7 hour commute! We found a hotel in the city (HIE of course), unpacked and cleaned our gear, took about 5 showers each, and stuffed our faces with all of the burritos, beer and tacos we could find. Our time on the JMT had finally come to an end.

Whew! What a long post! Thanks for sticking around for the whole thing. Stay tuned for another post covering our post trail thoughts and data!

[dangerouslyclosetothesurface]

Saturday

home -> half moon bay -> home. Last week after biking to Filoli, I decided that I would bike to Half Moon Bay next, because I’ve never been there, and it was a reasonable distance, and I could take my newly built-up road bike. Also I thought it would be nice to ride PH1 (depending on weather). strava: there & back snapchat story playlist: (shuffled/repeated) in case anyone gaf

verdict: the weather was terrible. it was cold and gray and foggy and wet. PH1 was still pretty beautiful, but I stopped 0 times to admire it. I stopped at the closest beach which seemed fun, for the many people who showed up to barbecue, but I had no reason to be there, and the beach was cold. I also forgot to draw despite bringing supplies. The “downtown” of Half Moon Bay seems to have nothing. Would go again on a nicer day, and probably not alone.

packed: sketchbook + watercolors + pencil, bike lock, 1L of water, hat (in case sun came out) wearing: tshirt (didn’t feel like wearing my jersey), new UA hoodie (excited to test it out), blue marmot windbreaker cuz it seemed cold, carbon38 tights that i’ve used and abused (wanted to wear bike shorts for the chamois but i don’t have leg warmers and it seemed cold (and it was cold)), converses! (because road bike has platform pedals and in case i wanted to walk around), bike gloves that are not even bike-specific gloves, and are falling apart because they are 5+ years old.

there: 1) fog af 2) going down skyline dr is like, the worst shit ever. no fucking idea how i ever did this brakeless. i was a true hero. lord. 3) literally no uphill suffering of any sort happened thanks to gears. once again, no fucking idea how i ever did this on a fixed gear. 4) everything up to pacifica was a breeze, and also familiar from last time. 5) road bike also started squeaking quite noticeably and i was not sure why. 6) got up to higgins, and saw a fuckin trail entrance?!??!!? and was like OMFG WTF?!!?!? I CAN’T DO NO DIRT!!!!! there was a group of mtbers and i asked them if it was advisable to go on this trail to get to half moon bay, and they said yes. 7) so i followed them on old san pedro mountain road which was this horrible terrain of cracked pavement and rocks and dirt until we split ways. they went to more trails and i continued on. 8) the climbing was not noticeable at all, either due to the fact that i was on the lowest possible gear, or because i was freaking out at every divot in the path, or both. also i was repeatedly thanking the lord that i did not attempt to do this last time (when i rode brakeless to pacifica). 9) after some point, i got to the downhill part of the road, which was INFINITELY MORE TERRIFYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i was afraid to use brakes because a) i am unfamiliar with braking HAHAHAHA, and b) there was hella sand and gravel and i am afraid to do anything on that except roll through that shit without changing direction. also there was a lot less pavement/pieces of pavement, and a lot more patches of straight up dirt/sand/fine pebbles??? at this point i was invoking god's name, very much in vain, cuz the terror did not subside. (does it count as a religious experience if the experience makes you turn to religion?) 10) after a particularly harrowing section where it was ALL SAND/DIRT AND VERY STEEP (alright probably not that steep), WHERE I DID SOME SKIDDING BECAUSE I USED THE BRAKE WRONG OR MAYBE JUST NO TRACTION SO BRAKE DONT EVEN WERK WAT WHY, i encountered this couple who was very amused by my terror, who gave me directions and ensured me that there would be no more terrifying sections like this for the rest of the path. 11) i followed their instructions and eventually came upon highway. BLESS YOU, HIGHWAY DESIGNER. BLESS YOU, INVENTOR OF PAVEMENT. 12) from there it was smooth (literally) rolling to half moon bay. 13) gears are fun! i think i kinda got the basic gist of how to shift effectively.

hmb: 1) impressions of hmb: there is nothing here. i went to a bookstore and an antiques shop, found nothing of note, and then cruised the main street, where i found rich people and boutiques targeted at rich people. 2) however there was also a dunkin donuts nearby! very exciting. i got half a dozen donuts and ate 2.5 of them and then hit up this cafe that was on the highway (good, because it's not one of the rich-people-targeting businesses) and got a latte and spent a good deal of time solving a puzzle. felt dumb for not solving it faster.

back: 1) decided that i WOULD NOT!!!!! go back the way i came, so i took highway 1. pretty straightforward ride. 2) shifting down to the lowest possible gear is like, cheat mode x1000000, but it got me swiftly up the many turns in which there is no bike lane, so i'm sure the cars that i was blocking were happy about that. 3) the incorrect sizing and fit of this bike really came into focus when i was going through the tunnel (which i have previously driven through before, with emily!). the right side of my back was cramping up like crazy, and i wanted to stretch, but was afraid to ride no hands (this is why i need to practice this). 4) went down quite fast in the curvy bit between the tunnel and pacifica, which was less terrifying (but still scary). cars behind me were able to pass me without any honking. this pleases me. 5) riding through pacifica was good. no issues at all. 6) but then i came to skyline motherfuckin' drive. dude. how in the hell did i EVER do this brakeless. HOW HOW HOW HOW HOW HOW i dropped to lowest gear, and those 4 hills... man. i had to pause after hill 1 (arcadia), and then after hills 2 and 3. i was sweating so much after hill 1 that i wanted to take off my hoodie, but i was literally drenched in sweat, and was afraid i would catch a cold, so i took it off for a minute, and some guy in an SUV stopped at the stopsign and was like, are you trying to go up that hill? i can bring you up the hill if you'd like. i politely declined, and of course this made me feel quite indignant, which is why i did not take a break after hill 2. it still wasn't as bad as going down (on the way to hmb). anyway, after the hills, i had to go downhill, which was ok, actually! there wasn't much traffic and the fog had mostly lifted. there was a car behind me and it didn't even get close, so i probably made decent time. 7) skyline blvd: not bad. easy. 8) great highway: wanted to go faster but back was cramping up again. and bike was screeching a lot, so i mostly focused on evening my pedal stroke, which seemed to quiet it. 9) ggpark: some outsidelands foot traffic, but nothing too obstructive. biking up that tiny thing from lincoln to chain of lakes was hell, though. i went to 2nd lowest gear (refused to go to lowest gear because pride) because fuck it. 10) got home, it wuz gud. also stopped by spoke easy to say hi and also see if they could diagnose the screeching. anson fixed it by tightening my QR levers.

other thoughts: 1) thank. god. i did not attempt this route brakeless. i cannot even describe the absolute terror i felt going through the dirt (this segment on strava is called Planet of the Apes). 2) how the FUCK did i do home -> pacifica -> home brakeless. HOW. HOW!!!!!!!! but also i think some of the segmenets took me super long, and this time it took a reasonable human amount of time. 3) this was only 60 miles but it felt longer. i've sweated so much that my shirt is transparent. and soaked. 4) super glad i got some donuts. yessssssss. dunkin donuts makes a fuckin' bike ride, yo.

[daveywankenobie]

My last post was deep and reflective. It was an effort to deal with some very deep feelings, and it did.

I felt somehow purged after writing it – and the feedback both publicly and privately was both humbling and heartfelt. I can’t thank those who took the time to reach out enough. Your words (and sometimes tears) meant everything to me.

In a very buoyant frame of mind I’ve taken some time today to look through the photos that I FORCED myself to take and keep – regardless of how they made me feel at the time. Many of them I felt showed me in a poor light and I was intensely embarrassed when I looked at my own image.

However I don’t regret taking a single one because today I’ve been able to look back over the feelings and thoughts that I experienced on my journey and milestones so far and see the progression thats happened over the last year – starting on the 26th January 2016.

However from my blog’s perspective it really started on the 10th February when I began writing and shortly after tried to walk somewhere and use my exercise bike.

The walking distance I was capable of (which at the time tore both my calf muscles and the plantar tendon in the base of my right foot) was roughly the end of my street or just past the beer garden at a local pub (the Saxon Mill). On my bike I managed around 0.4 miles before I was in agony and couldn’t breathe.

However I’d stopped drinking and was beginning to think about improving my health. It took a while though as I’d decided that I needed to be certain that was a thing of the past before I tried to diet.

My brother took a sneaky photo following this in mid March – which (if you take into account the picture above my head) says much about our mutual tendency to take the mickey out of eachother, but even more about how far I’d fallen health wise. My face, arms and stomach are swollen and bloated – just like the rest of me.

However, quietly sitting on my wrist (although I didn’t know at the time) was my new best friend.

On the 14th April I finished an intensive four week recovery programme which used Cognitive Behavioural Therapy and mindfulness to help me explore my relationship with alcohol, food, and the recent death of my mother.

I’d promised myself that As soon as this was complete I’d start a diet plan of some kind – so I did. On the 16th of April I joined Slimming World.

This was a truly terrifying and horrible day – but also the start of something wonderful. I was 34st 8.5lbs when I stepped on the scales, and could hardly fit on the little red chairs in the school hall.

I cried myself to a standstill writing my blog later that evening.

Two weeks after starting I’d lost eight pounds. In many ways I was still a little in denial about the task at hand – but feeling more positive. In early May I tried to walk small distances again – and found that I couldn’t do even 1/3 of a lap of the park near to where I worked (Arrow Valley in Redditch) but persisted and also started trying to walk around St Nicholas Park in Warwick.

This started twin addictions – one for walking in the park, and the other related to a group of cygnets that I spotted. Ultimately only one of them survived – and that day (forgetting what a baby swan was called) I christened it ‘The Swanling‘ – but please don’t ask me which one is which!.

I’d also started collecting certificates and stickers. This too would become something of an addiction…

However I was initially struggling to understand the SW plan. I’d begun to eat things in the wrong quantities and had my first blip quite early on – which knocked my confidence. For the first (and last) time I stomped out of the group without staying for the talk. It was a big mistake.

I spent the week hating myself needlessly.

At this point I started realising that the Apple Watch on my arm might be more than just a toy – and began (hamfistedly) trying to track my walking progress. I still couldn’t walk far – but by the 3rd of June I was able to do a single lap of Arrow Valley or St Nicholas.

The crappy app I used gave continually unreliable stats – but I was (with a LOT of sitting) beginning to gradually improve.

Sometimes I found the whole process really demoralising though and at times was in near constant pain – tearing muscle after muscle as well as still suffering badly with plantar heel and tendon problems.

Slimming World however seemed to know just when I needed picking up, and around this time I quite unexpectedly got an award. On the 18th June I was voted my group’s man of the year – and also picked up my 2 stone award.

At this point I was still taking 5 pills a day for my type 2 diabetes – but for the first time on the 12th of July I had become fit enough to walk down the hill near my house to a diabetic retinopathy screening and back up again.

It was a massive milestone for me, but also an annoying reminder that chairs with arms were still my natural predator.

On the plus side all the extra activity meant the certificates kept rolling in during July and by the end of it I was 3.5 stone lighter. This was a much needed morale boost, because by then I’d also been made redundant…

However, despite no small degree of sadness I tried to see it as an opportunity and a new beginning rather than an end. The weather was good in August and I was loving my walking!

It was around this time that a chance photo with a friend who was exhibiting at the Leamington Art in the Park festival (she’s very talented) made me realise just how far I’d come. All of the extra notches that I’d had to make in my belt suddenly became really apparent when it slipped out of it’s loop.

At the time I realised I’d lost around 8 inches from my waist.

This REALLY spurred me on – and I began to test myself more and more.

In August I returned to Aberystwyth (my university town – and somewhere I love) and climbed constitution hill which was followed by a bath for the first time in around a decade. On the way home the next day I then walked around the medium difficulty trail at Nant Yr Arian’s forestry commission which was something I never thought I’d be able to manage.

Until I did.

I finally rounded off the month by conquering a fear that had been with me for ages. I caught the train to Birmingham and left my car behind. I had to make my way under my own steam – and there was no backup plan.

My trip was enjoyable, but also a mixed bag, and my shirt was embarrassingly soaked with sweat from the heat in the museum that I had wanted to visit. Although I’d done it I still felt like I stood out in a crowd and was very self conscious.

However I did do it – and a friend pointed out to me around this time that I had (in a week) walked the length of the English Channel. Filled with enthusiasm from this I rather whimsically set myself the goal of walking the slightly longer channel tunnel length (31.5 miles) the following week.

August also heralded more certificate successes and by the end of the month I’d lost over four and a half stone…

In September the idea of walking virtual geographical distances mushroomed a little when a lady at Slimming World casually suggested that I expand my horizons and track my progress across the globe on a larger scale.

I decided to run with this idea and plot my walking progress from the moment I joined SW – mapping it onto a virtual walk from Lands end to John o Groats (847 miles). I realised that (thanks to the friend on my wrist tracking everything that I’d done since buying it) that I was already a good way toward my goal and that I now walking around 134 miles a month!!!

I also tried to conquer my (still) nagging negative feelings about travelling to Birmingham under my own steam and not long after made a trip to the Electric cinema (something I’d wanted to do for many years but couldn’t) which was still a squeeze – even with their front row premium seats.

Thanks to around another stone being gone, September heralded a noticeable increase in mobility and I found myself exploring all over the place – often with four legged companions!

Unusually the English summer just kept on going in 2016 and October was also a great month. I spent some time exploring Hay Wood locally, got re-acquainted with canal walking, took home my six and a half stone certificate – and also managed to make it around the whole of Cardiff Bay!

To put a cherry on October’s cake I also managed to get the group’s ‘Mr Sleek’ award (and a fetching tie) as well as a seven stone award – which happens to be THE WEIGHT OF A FRIDGE FREEZER!!!

  November started to get a little chillier – and since I’m getting thin on top I embarked upon a new relationship to keep me warm in the cold winter evenings. Me and peaky are still very happy together and have yet to fall out!

Peaky kept my head warm as the leaves fell from the trees and winter drew nearer and (despite a pretty epic episode of shin splints in my left leg which is frikkin painful!!!) I managed to get some more bling, walk across the completely unmanaged and overgrown Ryton Woods (making my leg waaaaay worse like an idiot) play with a cute puppy in group and take a small fortune’s worth of huge clothes to charity.

By the time December arrived I was still motivated – but probably somewhat unsurprisingly given the time of year things slowed down – both mentally and physically. I became obsessed with the idea of reaching a ‘plateau’ and that somehow I would fail.

In reality (looking back) I was always moving forward – and just occasionally admiring the view.

Thanks to my Slimming World group and friends I stayed largely on plan throughout Christmas – even walking six miles to my brother’s house for and back for dinner on Xmas day (with an epic blister all taped up) just to ensure I wasn’t naughty.

Christmas had no bottles of Southern Comfort as was traditional for me for many years past and was powered only by the magic of weaponised caffeine.

And so we come to January.

It’s not over yet – but by the end of it I’m hoping that I’ll have my ten stone certificate. 

So far this month has seen me hit my target of walking from Land’s end to John O Groats, have my first (unsuccessful) job interview in a decade and a half, meet more dogs, start to massively increase my cardio based exercise and walk the length of the Stratford Greenway.

To make me even happier, the swanling in St Nicholas park has survived, and is flourishing. It gets a bit more beautiful every day.

So – that’s my year, and you know what? For the very first time in nearly a decade I can look back on the last twelve months of my life and feel a sense of pride.

Furthermore I feel something else to. Hope.

I no longer take medication for my diabetes (which appears to be in full retreat) and I’m far less likely to die a really early death. I’m fitter than I think I’ve ever been at any time I can remember.

I love life at the moment internet – and I can’t wait to see what the next year has in store. I hope you’re here to find out with me!

Davey

    Year one retrospective My last post was deep and reflective. It was an effort to deal with some very deep feelings, …