#and then i remembered ny family is coming to visit for Christmas

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Me, while manically cleaning my room at 3:27am: I should make several large, life-changing, irreversible decisions.

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

this is me trying

Modern Day AU! Steve Rogers x OC!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years.

word count: 3592

[a/n: I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to update this and my other story. i’ve been busy with school and work. thank you for your continued patience and support]

previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 20 Year: Dec. 2014 Location: Brooklyn, NY

"How have you been James?”

Bucky looks out the window to his right. Hands grasped together in his lap as he sits on the dark green sofa across from the woman he's been seeing for the last 5 months.

He ponders the question, making sure to answer it honestly. He looks back at her giving her his full attention again.

"Good," he answers truthfully, a small smile planted on his face. Life has been good. School is going incredibly well. My job is going better than I could've imagined. Really learning a lot."

"How are things going with Natasha?" The older lady asks.

“Great. Really great," Bucky says with a slightly bigger smile.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," she smiles back, proud to the see progress James has made since his first visit moths ago.

After the blow up he and Steve had, Bucky fell into a depressive state. He refused to talk to anyone about what had happened. It wasn't until his younger sister Rebecca came to talk to him:

"I get you don't want to talk to any of us about what happened last week," she said as Bucky laid in bed looking out the window, his back facing her, "But you can't just stay in bed, hiding for the world. Starving yourself isn't going to solve anything.

"Sulking is only going to make you worse. It's not healthy, Buck. We're all worried. Ma is incredibly worried. She's barely been eating. I hear her wandering the house at all hours, because she can't sleep."

"You don't want to talk to us, fine. But you need to talk to someone. If not for yourself, but for Ma. Please," she begs, before leaving Bucky alone to ponder what she said.

He knew he wasn't coping the healthy way. He hadn't realized how much he was affecting his family by shutting down. The last thing he wanted to do was worry his mother. So he got himself up, took a shower, ate breakfast with his family. They were surprised to see him come down, but tried not to draw any extra attention to it. Rebecca gave him an understanding nod, which he reciprocated. After breakfast, he began his research. He decided to listen to Rebecca's advice and find someone to talk to someone to help him make sense of what is going on in his mind.

And that's how he ended up in Dr. Abraham's office.

"Have you contacted Steve yet?" She asks.

"No," he answered fiddling with his fingers, "I feel embarrassed about the way I reacted."

"That's normal, James," she assured him, "But in order to repair any damage that's been cost, you need to talk to Steve. To move forward. From what you've told me he's a very understanding person. I'm sure once you've apologized and explain to him the steps you've taken to help your mental health, I'm sure he'd be willing to accept you back into his life."

"I'm not so sure," he looked down at his hands.

"You won't know until you've tried. Listen, I'm not here to tell you what to do or what not to do. I'm just here to help you navigate your thoughts a little better. In a more healthy way. If you're really serious about living a more healthier mental life, I think you should talk to him. You don't want to really throw this lifelong friendship away, do you?"

"No, I don't," he shakes his head.

"Good. Remember to be honest," she tells him, "Vulnerability isn't a bad thing. Your feelings aren't a nuisance. it's how you handle them is what matters. I'm not saying you have to talk to him as soon as you walkout of here. I just want you to start making the notion of doing so. Our time is just about up, how about we do this. Some homework for the week.

"I want you to write a letter to Steve. Bring it in next week, you don't have to read it. But I would like to discuss it. What do you say?"

"Okay, I could do that," he agreed.

Christmas week

Steve and Elizabeth flew back home a few days before Christmas. They put their bags in the trunk of their rental car.

The car ride was silent for awhile, both tired after a long flight, now sitting in traffic on their way back to their parents' place. This would be their first time back to Brooklyn since the whole Bucky situation. The road trip back to California was fun, but there was a looming sadness over Steve. It's not like he regrets standing up to Bucky he doesn't. He just wishes thing would've played out differently. He really wished Bucky would've talked to him before he left back to California.

"How are you feeling about being back?" Elizabeth asks, while they sat in traffic.

"I don't know," Steve sighs, "Feels weird going back home and not talking to Bucky."

"Maybe you should try calling him. It's been a few months. I'm sure he'd be willing to hear you out," she said, rubbing his right arm.

"I don't want to push him," Steve said through gritted teeth, his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter.

Bucky had been a touchy subject the last few months. During the first month Elizabeth would ask Steve if he'd heard from him, the answer always being no, followed by Steve shutting down. After that Elizabeth stopped asking, noticing how much it was affecting Steve, but the constant reminder of it wasn't helping. She knew that if Bucky ever did call, Steve would tell her. The only thing she could do was be patient and be there for Steve whenever he needed her.

The holidays kept everyone busy. On Christmas Eve. Steve spent it with Elizabeth's family at her grandma's house. Elizabeth found herself watching Steve play with her younger cousins, she couldn't help but giggle when they roped him into a tea party. She found herself imagining a future where Steve would do the same with their own children. She quickly shook the daydream away. Reprimanding herself a little for even thinking about kids at their young age.

On Christmas morning Elizabeth and Steve spent it with his parents. It was a nice peaceful day just lounging around in their pajamas. For dinner, Elizabeth's parents went over to have dinner at the Rogers' house. It was a nice little send off dinner for their parents who were leaving for Mexico to spend the New Years for a couples' getaway.

Elizabeth and Steve were heading to the Hamptons to spent NYE with Wanda, Thor, Loki, and Scott. They had planned to have a nice, peaceful trip.

While Steve and Elizabeth were at the Hamptons, Bucky and Natasha were spending their NYE at his family's beach cottage in Port Washington.

They were cuddled on the couch surrounded by take out containers, watching the New Years Eve special waiting for midnight to happen.

Bucky got up about 15 minutes to midnight to grab something from the kitchen. He walked back into the room with a new bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes.

"Got some champagne," he said holding it up for Natasha to see.

"Um," Natasha awkwardly shifted in her seat, "Actually about that."

Bucky looked at Nat confused, putting the bottle and flutes down on the coffee table before sitting back down next to her.

"What's wrong" he asked, grabbing the tv remote to mute the tv, and give Natasha his full undivided attention.

"So there's something I haven't told you," she says looking down at her fidgeting fingers.

"You're worrying me Nat," Bucky said, grabbing her hands to help ease her nerves

She looked up to meet his worry filled eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she announced.

Bucky eyes widen at her announcement, instantly dropping her hands. The look on her face showing she was telling the truth.

"How is that possible?" He asks in disbelief, "We've been so careful. We use double the protection. Condoms and you're on the pill."

"Actually about that," she nervously shifted under his intense gaze, "I haven't been on birth control in a little over two months."

"What?" Bucky yelled, quickly rising from his seat, "What do you mean you haven't been on birth control in a little over two months?"

"I got off of it," she shrugged trying to play it off, "It's my body and I can do what I want with it. And I just wanted to give my body a break, I've been on the pill since I was 15."

"I get it's your body, Natasha, I'm all for you doing whatever you want," he stresses, "but you should've told me. I'm your boyfriend, we have sex frequently. You should've at least had the respect of your sexual partner, letting him know that you were no longer on birth control. So in that case I could've been a tad more careful."

"We were using condoms," she half heartedly defended herself.

"They aren't 100% effective Natasha," he gripped his hair, in complete disbelief over this entire conversation, "You even know that. That also doesn't defend yourself for not telling me. You should've told me."

"I'm sorry. It's not like I was planning for this to happen," she yelled.

Bucky just stared at her like she just grew two heads. How is she not freaking out, he thought. They were clearly way too young for this. Which is why they took precautionary measures.

After a few moments of silence Natasha spoke up, "I'm keeping the baby."

Bucky didn't know what to say. He felt the room closing in on him. He started having a hard time catching his breath.

"James," Natasha quietly said, getting up to check on him. He raised his hand, silently telling her to stay where she's at.

He headed for the back door, the house felt too suffocating for him. He walked through the the small yard to the gate that led to the beach. Stumbling around.

To a stranger they would just think he's drunk. In reality he was just having a panic attack.

It was all too much. His mind was racing.

She's pregnant. With a baby. My baby. I'm going to have a kid. I'm going to be a dad. I'm not ready to be a dad. My dad was shit. God I can't be like my dad. I'm not ready for all of this.

He put his hands on his knees, hunched over trying to catch his breath. But he just couldn't. He did the only thing he could think of. He pulled out his phone and dialed the only person he knew would help.

Steve and Elizabeth were laughing with their friends, waiting for the countdown to begin. Steve felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He moved his shoulder off of the back of the couch, where Elizabeth was cuddled up against.

He pulled his phone out and his heart dropped at the name that appeared. He quickly got up and walked out of the living room and upstairs to the room where he was staying in for the week.

Wanda raised her eyebrow at Elizabeth, who just shrugged her shoulders, equally as confused.

"Bucky?" Steve answered the phone, closing the door behind him. He could hear Bucky hyperventilating on the other side.

"Steve," he tried to get out.

"Buck, what's wrong?" Steve asked, pressing the phone even closer to his ear the sound of everyone downstairs counting down to midnight.

"Steve, I-," Bucky was struggling to get out.

"Buck, please try to calm down," Steve stressed, "Inhale, hold it for a few seconds and then exhale. You need to calm down. I can't help you, if I can't understand you."

Bucky tried his best to calm himself down, with Steve talking him through it.

"Now, can you explain to me what's wrong?" Steve asked, hearing Bucky's breathing leveling out more.

"I-I'm not re-ready Steve," Bucky stutters, sniffling his nose.

"It's okay take your time, I'm here whenever you're ready."

"No, it's Natasha.”

"What's Natasha? Is she okay?" Steve questioned, getting more concerned.

"Yes, she's fi-ine," he stuttered again, trying to say the words.

"Where are you Buck?" Steve asked, looking around for his shoes and keys.

"I'm at the beach cottage."

"I'm in the Hamptons. Is there any way you can meet me back at my place?"

"Yeah, I think I can," Bucky said a bit more calmer now.

"Okay, I'll see you soon."

When midnight struck Elizabeth went upstairs to check on Steve, making sure everything was okay. She could hear him on the phone talking to Bucky, trying to calm him down. She waited outside of the door to give them some privacy.

Twenty minutes later Wanda went to go check on them, to find Elizabeth sitting on the floor.

"Is everything okay?" She whispered.

"I don't know," she answered, "I'm waiting for Steve. You can head back down, I'll be down shortly."

"Okay. We're here if you guys need anything," Wanda said before walking back down.

After another 25 minutes Elizabeth heard Steve hang up the phone. She softly knocked on the door, and let herself in. She walked in to see Steve frantically going around the room collecting his things.

"Steve is everything okay?"

"It's Buck. He called me while he was having a panic attack. Something about Natasha," he tells her.

"Is she okay?"

"I think so. I was able to calm him down. I need to get back home," he said putting his things in his suitcase.

"Okay. I completely understand. Do you want me to go with you for the drive?" She asked.

"I don't want you to have to cut your time here short," he says, feeling guilty for bringing this on her.

"Steve, something is clearly going on with Bucky. I want you to go to him, but maybe it's best if I drove. I haven't had a drink in hours, and you seem too frantic. Please let me help," she pleaded, placing her hand on his stopping him.

Steve looked up and noticed the worry on Elizabeth's face.

"Okay," he gave in, "We'll need to leave as soon as we can."

Elizabeth nodded, quickly grabbing her weekender bag and start shoving things in. If they forgot anything's he knew Wanda would bring it back.

They said their quick goodbyes and were on the road within 5 minutes, with Elizabeth behind the wheel and Steve fidgeting in the passenger seat.

Bucky took a few minutes to himself on the beach, trying to make sure his anxiety was at rest before he headed back inside. When he entered the house, Natasha shot up from her seat.

"Happy New Years," she awkwardly said, trying to cut the obvious tension.

"Umm," Bucky scratched his head looking everywhere but at Natasha, "We need to leave."

"What?"

"I mean, you can stay if you want and I'll pick you up tomorrow," he rephrased, "But I can't stay here. I need to go. Steve is meeting me at his house."

"Steve?" She was taken back by that mention, not expecting to hear Bucky say his name. He hasn't mentioned Steve in months.

"Yeah, I called him," Bucky says rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well that's good right?"

"Yeah, listen. I really need to go, so are you going to stay or come with me?"

"To see Steve?"

"No. I would drop you off at your place," he tells her, "I'm seeing Steve alone."

"Will she be there?"

Natasha didn't really know exactly why Steve and Bucky weren't talking, at first. Then she heard that Steve and Elizabeth were dating, and it all made sense. The only person that could tear Bucky and Steve apart. She never told Bucky that she knew. Figured it wasn't worth the fight. Especially not now when she was carrying his child.

To an outsider it might seem like she got pregnant on purpose, but that wasn't the case. She knew they were too young for this, at least that's what she thought when she first found out about the pregnancy a week ago. But now that she's sat with it she's taking it as a sign that this is meant to happen. She's just really hoping that Bucky would see it, if not now but eventually.

"Listen, Natasha, I don't have time for this," he looks her in the eyes, "Are you coming or not?"

"I'll get my bag," she remarked with a snark tone, walking passed him to their shared room.

A couple of hours later Bucky was pulling up in front of the Rogers' house. 2:15 am read the clock in his car. He looked to his right, out the passenger side window to see a dark figure sat on the front steps of the house.

Bucky took one last breath before exiting the vehicle.

As soon as he opened the front gate Steve stood up from where he was sat on the stairs.

Once Bucky approached him both young men threw their arms around each other. Gripping each other tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. They stayed like that for awhile. Relishing in the comfort of being back in each other's arms. Their silent fight no longer important. All they knew in that moment was everything was going to be okay, because no matter what they'll always have each other.

Steve walked into his parents' living room holding two mugs of coffee. As he rounded the couch, he handed one to Bucky.

"Sorry, if I ruined any of your plans," Bucky apologized, "Tell Elizabeth I'm sorry for taking you away."

'Buck, don't worry about it," Steve waved him off, "She completely understands. And truth be told, I wasn't necessarily feeling in the New Year's mood."

"Yeah," Bucky sighs.

"Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?" Bucky nods his head, placing the coffee mug on the coffee table in front of him. He shifted his body to the left to face Steve.

"She's pregnant," he announces.

"What?" Steve asked, not expecting that to be the reason, he quickly placed his mug next to Bucky's.

"Yeah, my reaction exactly," Bucky said.

"What? How?"

"Apparently Natasha hasn't been on the pill in a couple of months," Bucky explains, "And even though we always used condoms, they aren't exactly 100% effective."

"Did you know she wasn't on the pill?"

"Nope," Bucky tells him, "If I knew I wouldn't been a bit more cautious."

"So she told you she was pregnant?" Steve said getting back to it.

"Yeah. She was so nonchalant about it. Like it was no big deal," Bucky stressed,

"How is she just so calm. We're not prepared for this. I'm not ready for this Steve. I can't be a dad. I don't even know how to be a decent human being."

"That's not true Buck," Steve disagreed.

"Come on Steve, we haven't talked in months, and we both know it's not because you didn't try," Bucky says, "I was so caught up in my own jealousy. And selfishness, that I never even considered your feelings or Elizabeth's. And I don't think I can ever make it up to you for treating you like you're nothing to me."

"You were hurt," Steve tried to excuse.

"Doesn't excuse the way I behaved," Bucky says, "I know that now."

"I've been seeing a therapist," Bucky informs him, "I never realized how much my mental health was taking a toll on those around me. So after our fight, I found someone to talk to. To work through the shit that's going on in my mind."

"How's that been going?" Steve asked.

"Good," Bucky gives a half smile, "Really good. She's good. I've realized a lot about myself that I didn't know. Working through all the issues I've had with my father leaving."

"That's good Buck. I'm proud of you, truly," Steve beamed, patting Bucky on the shoulder.

"I really am sorry for the way I behaved," Bucky repeated again.

"Buck, you really don't have to apologize again," Steve told him.

"I need to Steve," he said, "I can't believe I acted that way. I should've been happy for you and Elizabeth. I'm glad you two have each other. Seriously. I couldn't imagine her with anyone better, same goes for you. I won't cause any more issues for you two. It's not worth not having you in my life. You're my brother Steve, and I don't want to miss anything."

"Thanks, Buck. It really means a lot to me to hear that," Steve smiles, "Because I don't want to miss anything in your life also."

"Yeah, especially now," he says, the reality of why they're there dawning back.

"How are you feeling now about the baby?"

"I don't know, man," Bucky shakes his head, "I'm afraid I'm going to screw this up, like everything else."

"But now you're working on that," Steve reminds him, "And you're not going to be doing this alone. You have people who are always going to be there. I may be in California now, but I'm just a phone call away. You're not alone. But you do have to try Buck. That's all that you can ever do. Try your best, no one's asking you to be perfect, but as long as you're trying your best, that's what's important."

Age: 21 Year: 2015

The sounds of a baby crying woke Bucky up from his sleep in the early depths of the morning. He quietly and quickly got out of bed, making his way to the small New York kitchen to make a bottle.

He walked into the small nursery where the two-month-old baby wailed from hunger.

"It's okay," Bucky shushed gently, picking up the small baby, "Daddy's here."

He adjusted the small baby in his arms before placing the bottle in the baby's mouth.

"There you go," he encouraged the small one, as soon as he heard the sounds of the baby drinking.

Bucky sat down on the chair in the corner of the room, opposite of the crib. He just stared as the newborn drank their bottle, while simultaneously falling asleep. Even though he was completely exhausted, he had never felt more happier. More at peace with where his life was at.

As long as he kept trying his best, he knows he can do this for the rest of his life.

[alldayangst]

back to 505 (Tom Holland)

DESCRIPTION: Tom crumbles completely when you cry.

A/N: Hi, Tumblr! This is my first public fan-fiction piece. Would love to hear feedback. Inspired by 505 by Arctic Monkeys, as I’m a big fan of the band. This is a PoC and LGBT friendly reader insert. This is set around the holiday period, but there is no mention of Christmas/X-mas, any religious festival/holiday, time period, so I encourage you to insert whichever holiday you celebrate to make the fic suit to you the best!  

Warnings: ANGST, fluff, and allusions to sex/cyber sex + toxic relationships? (this is up to interpretation), on and off relationships, loneliness during the holiday period.

You and Tom were like a little flicker, on and off and on and off. Too selfish to let one another go, even though you probably should’ve at this point. 

Even when land, cities, vast bodies of sea separated you, your heart still ached for his love, his touch, for him. But in times like this, where you found yourself on the 505 California interstate on your way to visit your parents, with Tom on a movie set seven hours away; you wondered whether it was all worth it.

The holidays were unbearable without him, the regular days not much better. Tom’s present for your little sister, sat delicately in the passenger seat, had done you much better company that he had done all year.

When you got to your parents house, your baby sister fixed her embrace around your legs. “Where’s Tommy?” she queried as she pulled back from you with soft puppy eyes. You kneeled and patted her on the head. “Don’t you know? He’s a superhero. He’s just gone invisible!” And you handed her her present.

“I didn’t know Spiderman could go invisible..” she whispered as she sauntered off, now occupied with her present.

“I knew Spiderman could go invisible. He’s done this disappearing trick a few times now, actually.” your father said as he hugged you. “It’s not like that this time, dad.”

Your dad scoffed. “It never is.” He seemed more tired of this whole merry-go-round than you were. “It’s always ‘he’s a good guy but there’s too much distance,’ ‘he’s great but he doesn’t live in the States, he’s only got a work permit, we won’t work in five month bursts.’ When is this guy going to prioritise you over a couple bucks and a Best Picture nomination?”

“Dad, it’s his dream. It’s not that easy.”

“Is that what he tells you?”

You felt vibrations against your hip. You pulled your phone out of your purse. It was Tom.

“I have to take this.” You pitter-patter upstairs. 

“I’m off set. I have, like, 5.” Rushed and heavy groans. 

You knew exactly what Tom was talking about. He’d call you sporadically in between takes on set when he needed a special kind of attention. He’d sometimes call you even when you weren’t together, but the flame between you was ready to burn bright again. He’d once called you after a three week radio silence after one of your funks, saying that he’d been imagining you in bed, getting up to no good, only for your friend Sonny to have picked up to call, told him to ‘fuck off’ and have been sorely disappointed when you were papped wrapped up in his arms on another NY movie set a week later.

“Tom, I’m at my parent’s house. You’re on speaker.” He wasn’t. You just wanted him to stand down and swallow guilt for leaving you solo during the holiday period, especially with a family who’d been playing ‘either/or’ with his seat at the dinner table, no less. “Remember how you’re supposed to be here with me?”

“I know, I know darling.” Tom settles for short sentences because he knows the director will be calling him back to film in a few minutes time. And the last thing he wants to go through again is the collapsing and rebuilding of the love empire you built. But the regret is like a bite, and he feels the remorse feast on him because he knows he’s fallen short of the mark once again. This is why it never works, he thinks.

“So why aren’t you?” Tom’s not on speaker, but you are. So you hear the director call all the actors back for their last scenes before they can engross themselves in their million dollar holiday getaways. And something about that makes you so angry, your face so hot, and your blood boil as it runs through your veins. Because everything is planned around this, but never you. And you realise you’ll always be second best to a movie set on the Lower East Side, some Boom microphones, a garden of extras and a fat stack of Universal Studios’ cash. And how can you compete with that? You’re just one person.

You’re so angry you could cry. So you do.

“Oh darling, I crumble completely when you cry.” You hear him ‘awe-ing’ and ‘oh-no-ing’ and knocks at the door asking him when he’d be ready to return to set, because apparently ‘cameras are rolling’ and ‘time is money’. “Babe, please don’t cry.”

“I can’t fucking help it!” Your bark’s worse than your bite sometimes. 

You hear a ‘what was that?’ coming downstairs from your little sister, and an ‘Are you okay?’ which slowly gets quieter with every syllable, indicating your dad had shut the door.

“You’re breaking my heart!” The croak in your throat splits your sound into multiple voices, each more tortured than the other. “Again!”

“Darling, I’ll finish these scenes, then I’ll be on my way to you. I’m going back to 505. I don’t care if it’s a seven hour flight.”

You think it’s funny how he thinks his sweet words can still swoon you. He’s ridiculously tempting. You’d probably still adore him with his hands around your neck, or you would last time you checked.

You almost can’t ignore that little voice in your head saying, ‘this is why it never works’, but you and Tom are like a little flicker, on and off and on and off. This time, you’re too tired to make the lights go dim. Perhaps, you’re too selfish to let him go, even though you probably should at this point.

Masterlist

Upcoming Works

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Life Without Reverend Moon by Jen Kiaba – October 22, 2012

Thirty-thousand feet seems like a good altitude at which to question one's life. “I am already in motion,” I tell myself. It's a kind of progress. Shortly after my twentieth birthday I was in progress, between JFK and Heathrow, en route to Oslo.

After takeoff the girl sitting next to me smiled kindly, asking where I was headed. I told her:

“To Norway. To visit my husband.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a stack of glossy women's magazines, offering me several. They promised hot sex tips, orgasm-inducing positions, and advice on how to find a man to orgasm with. She pointed to a few with a wink. “Maybe you can find something nice in there for your husband.”

Today, almost a decade later, to use the word husband feels wrong; I avoid it. But at the time it was what he said I should call him. “I am your husband!” he would say. The word sounded foreign in my ears; "husband" was supposed to be a word attached to “honoring” and “cherishing,” and whatever else heartfelt marriage vows should entail. But I had not been given the choice to say those vows.

My parents were married, along with two thousand other couples, in Reverend Sun Myung Moon's Unification Church at Madison Square Garden on July 1, 1982. I was the first of five children, and we were all raised as members of the Unification Church's Second Generation, who were thought to be born sinless and of God's Lineage, through the Blessing marriage ceremony officiated by Rev. Moon. Theologically this meant that Rev. Moon, as the purported Messiah, had created a heavenly lineage through his personal perfection, relationship with God, and marriage with (the much-younger) Hak Ja Han, in 1960.

Growing up, I always had the expectation that Rev. Moon would choose my spouse. In the Unification Church, one didn't date. Flirtatious interactions with the opposite sex were severely frowned upon, all activities were separated by gender, and we referred to one another as brother and sister in order to emphasize platonic relations. Sex before marriage was absolutely out of the question. The Church had a word for that: falling. To fall was the greatest sin that could be committed, and it could not be undone. To fall was to enter the realm of Satan, to be cut off from God and to wound His already-suffering heart.

Perhaps childhood's greatest tragedy is what we learn to normalize. In my upbringing, to question what we were taught was to invite Satan and the evil Spirit World into your mind; to fend off evil, one must quiet the questions and dive further into the readings and teachings of Rev. Moon. Some of the most effective brainwashing was what we had been taught to perpetuate upon ourselves.

At 19 I found myself on a terrifying personal precipice. I was seriously considering leaving the Unification Church, but with no means of supporting myself and no safety net outside of the insular church community, the notion was enough to bring me to panicked tears. Yet I didn't know if I believed Rev. Moon, his world, or his supposed messianic mission. As a reflex, I was ashamed and hated myself for feeling that way.

When word of an administrative opening in the US Second Generation Department reached my family, I was intrigued. What better way was there to understand what this movement was all about than by working for one of the central organizations? So, before making a decision to abandon the culture of my childhood, I climbed into the belly of the beast looking for truth. That’s where I lost my way.

When the Christmas holidays rolled around, I took my miniscule stipend and boarded an Amtrak train home to ponder the nothingness I had found but had not yet accepted. When I arrived home, there was news: after five years of having parents match their children, Rev. Moon was stepping up again, and was going to conduct a matching ceremony for the Second Generation.

My parents sat me down in the bedroom, listing all of the reasons why I should go. Though it was left unspoken, we all knew that at almost 20 years old, my eligibility expiration date was staring me hard in the face. My mother finished with, “If Jesus came to you and said that he had found your perfect spouse, what would you say to him?” She paused for effect. “Now, how much more is Father?”

How could I say no? To refuse was to deny the remotest possibility that this man might be who he said that he was. I simply had not gotten there in my journey. Besides, I told myself, it was just a matching. My match and I would have time to get to know each other before deciding to get married.

My biggest mistake was to assume that I would be allowed to exercise free will.

My mother dropped me off at East Garden, one of the Moon family's mansion-compounds in Tarrytown, NY, and I entered into the ballroom of the estate with approximately 10 other nervous young people. For the next several hours, one of the Korean leaders proceeded to lecture us on our unworthiness. That’s when I found out that by the time we left, we were all going to be Blessed to someone.

The panic blossomed. I had to leave and began approaching anyone, even strangers, to ask to borrow their cellphones. Repeated calls home, begging my parents to come pick me up, were answered in the negative.

By the end of the day, the ballroom was packed to capacity. Young people from all over the United States, Asia, and Europe had answered Rev. Moon's call. Late in the evening, Rev. Moon came out to address us through his interpreter. Though I had never heard them from his mouth before, I desperately wanted to hear words of wisdom — or something that rang true — from the man who held my future in his hands.

One phrase stuck out to me in the monotony: “Do you want me to match you tonight?” A thunderous “Yes” answered Rev. Moon's question, and we were lined up into rows, divided down the middle, and categorized.

I should have left, I tell myself. I should have simply snuck out of the sweltering ballroom, slipped out of the mansion, and found my way through security to get outside of the compound. Even if I had had to follow the train tracks from Tarrytown back home, I should have left. But with no money, no means of communication, and no idea if I would have a home to go back to if I left, I was frozen in place. Besides, I had been trained to obey.

Suddenly Rev. Moon began pointing. A girl, then a boy would stand up, acknowledge each other, bow to Rev. Moon, and then be ushered out to be “processed” by administrators. My breathing was shallow; I tried to quiet my mind and draw upon the things I had been taught.

Absolute faith. Absolute Love. Absolute Obedience.

When Rev. Moon's finger pointed to me, time stopped. I looked deep into the eyes of the man who had bidden me to rise with his gesture and saw nothing. I was gazing into the eyes of the man who was determining my future, and I had expected to see some sort of timelessness, or to feel as though his eyes were digging into my soul. But he was looking through me, as though his finger had arbitrarily found its way to me in a game of love roulette. I felt suspended over an infinite emptiness.

Then time sped up, his finger jabbed in another direction, then another and another. Three other people stood up, and I had no idea which of the other two men I had been assigned to. One I had met at a summer camp several years ago, but he was looking at someone else. The other man gestured to me and I found myself eye-level with a shrunken and pilled sweatshirt emblazoned with the word “Norway.”

In an instant, I was no longer suspended. A kind of darkness engulfed my mind, the words “game over” ringing in my ears. Afterward, everyone was abuzz with excitement; I desperately looked around to try and find someone whose face mirrored the same panic I was trying to fight. A gesture from above caught my attention. “Norway” was trying to introduce himself to me.

Finally I looked up at the man that Rev. Moon had chosen for me. "Tall" was the only word that came to mind. Over the noise, he tried asking me questions; what they were and how I answered, I forget. Those next hours were a strange blur — alternating between sadness and terror. At one point I borrowed someone's cellphone and called home. It was 2 a.m. and my mother's sleepy voice answered. “I'm matched,” I said without emotion. “To a Norwegian. His name is Chris.” Then I hung up.

We were woken up the next morning at 5 a.m. for morning service. I had lain awake all night, clutching my stomach, trying to keep nausea at bay. Chris found me and approached me with a bagel — the first meal I remember receiving in 24 hours. The smell of food made me ill and I politely refused. Despite his best efforts to chat with me and have the “getting to know you” small-talk, I could barely muster words.

Every so often I would sneak away to borrow another cellphone, calling home in tears. But if my parents had refused to budge before, they certainly weren't going to now that they had a son-in-law waiting in the wings.

The day after Christmas, at the back of that crowded ballroom, I was wearing a wedding dress that didn't fit, standing next to a tall stranger, and repeating vows in a language I didn't understand. After the Blessing ceremony, we had official photos taken. As the photographer told us to say “cheese,” I realized that I couldn't remember how to smile.

I still have that photo. I look like a confused child playing a bizarre game of dress-up; I'm gazing into the camera with a lost expression. Chris is looking away, dressed in an equally ill-fitting tuxedo. The picture would have been funny if it weren't so sad.

That was how I found myself several months later at 30,000 feet, bound for Norway. To fight the mounting dread of the impending arrival, I immersed myself in the magazines that my neighbor had kindly lent me. It was the first time I had ever picked up any material that encouraged an expression of sexuality, and I felt a delicious bit of rebellion wash over me.

As I pored over the pages, I could feel certain gears shifting as pieces of me unlocked and unwound inside. The women in these pages catapulted me into an exhilarating daydream in which my choices were my own. That daydream left an intense hunger within me.

As a 20-year-old virgin, I wanted to know what it would be like to sleep with a man because you wanted to, or because you loved him, not because you were pressured by your parents and his parents to “start family life.” The idea of sex with Chris made my skin crawl, and I had no idea if I would face pressure from him or his parents when my plane touched down.

Rev. Moon died on September 3, 2012, at the age of 92. His daughter, In Jin Moon, stepped down from her role as leader of the American church a few days later, after having given birth to a child from a three-year affair with a married man. While the church has not been a part of my life for many years now, I've watched these recent events and their fallout with interest.

At first, this news of Rev. Moon's daughter didn't bother me. Then the leadership began trying to explain away her actions and affair, saying that she "chose love when she had a chance.” How many of us were given the allowance to "choose love when we had the chance"? That was something we were explicitly denied; instead were taught to feel ashamed for our feelings unless they were chosen for us, and then sanctioned by someone with power over us.

Sometimes I wonder where my life would be if I had sat next to someone else on the plane, who offered to let me borrow a copy of The Economist instead. The girl next to me on the plane offered a small form of salvation; in a kind gesture she offered me a glimpse into a world that I had had no idea existed. It was a world in which I did not need to be ashamed of my body and my sexuality. My desires for love were not evil. It was a world that encouraged me to discover who I was, not a world in which I had to break my inner-self down to fit a preconceived notion of goodness and of womanhood. Most important, it was a world that let me take ownership of my future, my free will, my reproduction, and my heart. It was a world that I finally knew I needed to escape to.

And I did. It didn't happen overnight. It didn't happen while I was in Norway. It took me almost two years of fighting with Chris, fighting with his parents and my own, before a church divorce was granted. The decision to "break the Blessing" was an agonizing one that took me turning myself inside-out, trying to reform into the kind of person who could love and accept Chris. But finally, I walked away — free but with a proverbial Scarlet "A" branded into my chest, as far as other church members were concerned. Today I am proud of it. It is my battle scar from a fight I am proud to have survived, because I fought my way into this new world.

Jen Kiaba is a photographer living in New York's Hudson Valley. Her work explores dreams, memory, fantasy, and the realms where all three blend. This is her first personal essay. She and her sister also have a blog about their experiences within the Unification Church.

___________________________________

The Purity Knife: Sex, Death and Human Trafficking in the Unification Church

http://summerofcheesecake.blogspot.com/

https://www.jenkiaba.com/portfolio

___________________________________

Jen Kiaba on the Ares Meyer podcast

Conceptual Self Portrait Artist
Join me in conversation with Artist Jen Kiaba as we talk Poetry, Self Portraits and Child Marriage.

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/conceptual-self-portrait-artist/id1549515902?i=1000507915214

___________________________________

Why Didn’t You Just Leave?

Jen Kiaba
: Hello and welcome to my least favorite question in the entire world. It’s one I’ve heard more times than I care to count, and sadly I think that’s something many cult survivors can relate to. In the past that question used to make me clam up and spiral into shame, or mumble, “It’s not that simple.” But in those days I didn’t fully understand the coercive control mechanism that were used to keep me, and so many others, trapped.

Read more:
 https://jenkiaba.medium.com/lessons-on-leaving-why-didnt-you-just-leave-789953c4689a

___________________________________

We Are All Vulnerable

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‘Falling Out’ Elgen Strait podcast  April 6, 2021

13. Fuel For Nightmares: Jen Kiaba – Part 1

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/13-fuel-for-nightmares-jen-kiaba-part-1/id1550448436?i=1000516011584

• Jen’s website: jenkiaba.com • Introducing a new segment “Autotune the Moon.” • “Bad Moon Rising” by John Gorenfeld – Recommended by Jen.


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‘Falling Out’ Elgen Strait podcast  April 13, 2021

14. Scorpion House: Jen Kiaba – Part 2

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/14-scorpion-house-jen-kiaba-part-2/id1550448436?i=1000516958607

Recommended reading from Jen: "Pure: Inside the Evangelical Movement That Shamed a Generation of Young Women and How I Broke Free" by Linda Kay Klein

[the-coconut-asado]

Our Golden Girl’s Kitchen

A couple of years back, my cousin Doro announced she was going to publish a book of our grandmother’s recipes. It set all the cousins off on an odyssey of frenzied WhatsApps swapping memories, and in my case a mad dash to storage to find yet another of mum’s old scrapbooks, stuffed with fragments of recipes typed up on that onion-skin paper of the Mad Men era. 

Slowly but surely, recipes surfaced for Granny’s steak and kidney pudding (to this day, the name of our family WhatsApp group), tallarines (fettuccine by any other name) and more cakes and tarts than a whole series of Masterchef pressure tests.  

But Doro’s job was made much easier by someone else who had kept Granny’s legacy alive all these years. The person who, while Granny was a distant memory for many of us, was the biggest influence on our lives. At the end of the book, Doro wrote a dedication to her: “ Auntie Joan, I remember you, sometime before Christmas, making us stir the plum pudding and saying “don’t forget to make a wish!”; the chicken pie or Irish stew with dumplings you prepared when I used to come for lunch after university classes; the plum ice cream you always had in your “ancient” fridge and the smell of scones and cake on our birthdays.’

Last week, Auntie Joan died. 99 years of love, wisdom and many a raised eyebrow at each of us at one time or another. She had a delicious smile that hinted at secrets she might share with you some day, and even up to her mid-nineties kept a ramrod straight back, figure to die for and effortless elegance that prompted a 28 year old male friend to comment at my wedding that she was the only 68 year old he had ever fancied.Cheeky, but at the same time, kudos. 

If I’ve made her sound  like a warm embrace of a woman, she was. She was also a ninja. For most of her working life, Auntie Joan  - Joan Nolan MBE -  was Vice Consul at the British Embassy in Rosario, and later in Buenos Aires. She started volunteering there during the war, and eventually they started to pay her (nice of them), then promote her. 

This had upsides - her influence to help others (a guiding principle of her life), the opportunity to travel, and the people she met. She once told me of an Embassy cocktail party on board a ship attended by Eva and Juan Peron. She had little time for Peron, but was a little flattered when having started to leave down the gangplank he  abruptly turned back, sought Auntie Joan out, kissed her hand and apologised profusely for not having said goodbye. Manners counted for a lot with her, so the apparently off-hand Eva was barely mentioned in despatches.  

Her job also had downsides: held at gunpoint more than once, and in the constant company of a bodyguard after her boss was kidnapped (the inspiration for Graham Greene’s novel The Honorary Consul). One day a masked gang raided the embassy, rounded up all the staff, tied them up and locked them in the bathroom. But the ringleader treated Joan with weird courtesy, politely requested she enter the bathroom but left her unbound. Joan said afterwards: “ I think that man knew me. And if I ever see those eyes again, I will know who he was.” She kept looking but never did, but she did show us the hail of bullet holes the gang had let off at the outer wall of the embassy before they left. 

30 years on, at 85, clearly feeling she had been down this road before, she wrestled an armed thief trying to steal her friend’s car. ‘ Dear, I knew the gun was a toy’, she said breezily when I had my WTAF! Moment on a phone call with her.

Though all this time she looked after my grandparents and my great aunt until their deaths - pretty thankless and back-breakingly hard as they all survived to their nineties and in my great aunt’s case to 101 - as well as her husband Stanley who died when she was still young. Yet she still made time to feed, nurture and look out for her nieces and nephews as they travelled through her flat en route to school, college and work - and then her grand nieces and nephews as they repeated the cycle. 

Living in London, I didn’t see as much of Joan as my cousins, but felt just as close to her thanks to her copious letters. And it was her trips to London I remember most. Wafting glamorously into Gatwick in her boucle red overcoat, nipping up to Newcastle for the day to have lunch with a friend (when Dad retold the story, he always added, untruthfully,  ‘And the friend wasn’t even at home!”), leaving a cloud of delicate rose scent in her wake, a perfume that always reminded me of her apartment in Rosario. A bit like Buenos Aires itself, Auntie Joan was an evocation of the best bits of 1930’s Europe. 

And despite eating like a mouse in her own home - spreading her morning toast with what looked and tasted like wallpaper paste but was actually zero cholesterol cream cheese - her kitchen with its pots and pans, scoured and gleaming  within an inch of their lives, was in a constant hiatus of puddings, pies and roasts for the family as well as that iconic plum pudding at Christmas. And when we took her out to eat the appetite she kept hidden at home came tumbling out. I once witnessed her demolish a whole sea bass, noodles and a quarter of a peking duck when we took her to a restaurant in Chinatown. Unlike the rest of my family, she was unafraid of spice and heat. 

Serene, always; sassy,  sometimes. After all, Joan’s favourite TV programme when she came to visit us in London was The Golden Girls. In a life where everyone depended on her, she was someone comfortable with not needing to depend on anyone else - until old age meant she had to. I used to smile to myself when, in later years, she would end all of her stories with ‘And they said, “Joan, you are the ONLY one who could have done/ solved/ sorted/ this’’. And yet, if we don’t tell the world how talented, determined and capable we are - who else is going to? #thiswomancould

So here are two dishes that we all eat thanks to Auntie Joan - her plum ice cream (with some added spice from cinnamon) and her Spanish Cake, a delicate and sweet treat that evokes  those high teas that are still a family tradition. And finally, a dish that evokes the memory of lemon chicken, the dish that she and my daughter Lara would love to make together. 

Hasta luego, nuestra querida tia. We were so lucky to have you as long as we did. 

Plum ice cream

I have never eaten plum ice cream other than at Auntie Joan’s house and I have no idea why it isn’t a popular flavour commercially. My version only tweaks her original recipe - two egg whites rather than one, a stick of cinnamon and the seeds of a vanilla pod added to the plums as they poach. The brilliant thing about this ice cream - aside from it’s taste of autumn, log fires and sticky crumble - is that you don’t need an ice cream maker.

Serves 4-6

Ingredients

300g red-skinned plums

175g caster sugar

¾ cup water

1 cinnamon stick

Seeds from one vanilla pod

Juice of half a lemon

300g double cream

2 egg whites

How to make

Seed and quarter the plums and pop into a pan with the sugar, cinnamon stick, vanilla seeds and water. Bring to a simmer, cover and continue to simmer on a low heat until the plums are soft and the liquid has become syrupy. Turn off the heat and leave for another 10 minutes - you really want the spices and the red skin of the plums to seep into the syrup. 

Turn the plums into a sieve and extract as much syrup and pulp as you can into a clean bowl, using the back of a spatula. Cover and chill for at least an hour. 

In two separate bowls, whisk the cream until it forms soft peaks (be careful not to overbeat or it will turn into butter) and the egg whites until they form firm peaks. 

Alternate folding the cream, then the egg whites, then cream, then egg whites into the plum pulp. 

Pour into a freezer container - or just use an oblong cake tin, cover and freeze overnight. Remember to take out of the fridge for 15 mins before serving. 

Spanish Cake

This is the perfect cake to eat with a cup of tea or coffee. Light and delicate from texture to flavour. Simple dust of icing sugar on the top and you are good to go. Auntie Joan’s original recipe as typed - which features in Doro’s book - is as spare with detail as one of Bake Off’s technical challenges. Fortunately I featured it in a column I wrote for Choice magazine a few years ago, so  have filled in the gaps. Makes 12-16 squares. 

Ingredients

125g melted unsalted butter

200g caster sugar

2 eggs, separated

125ml milk

600g plain flour

3 tsp baking powder

1 tsp ground cinnamon

¼ tsp mixed spice

Icing sugar to serve

How to Make

Heat the oven to 180C. Grease a 20cm square cake tin and line with baking parchment.

Whisk the sugar with the butter until thick and pale. Add the egg yolks and continue to beat for a couple of minutes. 

Add the milk and beat again. Finally, sift in the flour, baking powder and spices and mix gently until incorporated.

In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until stiff, then fold into the cake batter. 

Pour the batter into the cake tin and bake in the oven for 25-30 minutes. The cake is ready when the top is golden and a toothpick or sate stick inserted into the middle comes out clean. 

Cool in the cake tine for 5 minutes then turn out onto a wire rack to cool. When cool, dust the surface with icing sugar, cut into squares and serve. 

Quick Chicken with kale, haricots and caramelised lemon

Auntie Joan loved chicken, and when we visited Buenos Aires when my daughter Lara was little, she and Auntie Joan would love to make lemon chicken together. Am sure she would have loved this flavour-packed little number, courtesy of Alison Roman in the NY Times. 

Ingredients

1 lemon, thinly sliced, seeds removed

1 shallot, peeled and cut into 8

6-8 chicken thighs

1 400g can of haricot or cannellini beans

1 bunch kale, leaves only (discard ribs)

1tblspn sunflower oil

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Olive oil for dressing

How to make

Toss the lemon slices and shallots in a small bowl and season. 

Heat a large frying pan or skillet, add the sunflower oil, then add the chicken, skin side down. Press the chicken down with a spatula to ensure the maximum surface gets nice and brown. Cook for 5-8 minutes, then cook on the other side for a further 8-10  minutes until cooked through and the chicken skin is nice and crispy. Transfer the chicken to a plate, leaving the fat in the pan. 

Add the lemon and shallot to the hot pan - stand pack as it will probably spit and sizzle. Cook, stirring gently, until the lemon has started to caramelise - about 3-5 minutes. 

Add the drained beans to the pan and season. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the beans soak up that caramelised chicken fat - about 4 mins. Working in batches, add kale and toss to wilt, seasoning again as you go. 

Return the chicken to the pan, along with the juices that have collected on the plate, and cook for a couple of minutes more. 

Serve, drizzled with a little olive oil, and accompany with some crusty bread. 

[tdotsspot]

2020.....

Wow, it’s been almost TWO years since I've posted anything on here. I’ve thought about it from time to time, but never sat to actually say anything. I just looked at my last two posts....so funny. This is why I'll probably always keep this....just to look back, see where I was, who I was.

But back to 2020 bc HONESTLY this year is the one to go. down. in the mother. fucking. books. 

2019 was literally the best year of my life. It was the year I did the most traveling, the year I made the most money...it was like, perfect until the end. I went to Puerto Rico and St Thomas....Atlanta, Boston of course, MARTHA’S VINEYARD FINALLY and even though I've been there 100 times, this was the absolute best. Of course having Dameo was a plus, getting to show him my childhood summers, but Unc let me use the Mercedes which I legit fell in love with, we met Danny Glover which was crazy, I got the brass ring on my first try lol, and we had a lot of good food. LA, was amazing, I miss it so much....NY.....I feel like I’m missing a city, oh yes, dc! That was a fun drunk night.

Late November for Britt’s bday we all went out and that was the first time I was ever real life drunk around his fam, but it was so much fun. The next week....nana passed. It was sad, weird....I hadn’t lost someone in a really long time, and I was there to see some of her last lucid moments. We definitely got closer over the last two years or so since I visited her a good amount, and it made me more sad than I thought. I’m glad I got to have those moments with her, it was cool to get a grandmother again. Made me miss nanny a lot though...

A few weeks later, we found out I was pregnant! It was planned, we were excited although tbh I was kind of freaking out. A baby??? Like a whole ass human? No more weed, liquor, or runny eggs??? HOW SWAY! I don’t think I was ready yet, and a few weeks after that, RIGHT before Christmas, RIGHT before we were going to tell the family, I had a miscarriage. Goodness, I really wasn’t ready for that, at all. Obviously it’s common, but I never thought I’d have one....I was healthy, in a healthy relationship....happy....how the hell did this happen? Unfortunately we already told our moms at that time, partially to help cheer ang, and I knew my mom would be hype as well. I knew it was early, but I told some close friends as well. The pain I felt from that, I just didn't really expect. It was, really sad....I delayed our trip to Boston twice because I really just couldn’t bring myself to leave the bed and sit on a train for 6 hours. I almost canceled altogether but KNOWING NOW THAT THE FUCKING WORLD WAS GOING TO SHUT DOWN, I'm really glad we still went. It was reassuring to get my hugs from my mom, cry it out with her, and see the fam. Except Kendall was such a douche that visit *rolls eyes*. I did get to go see the friends pop up which LEGIT made my whole holiday. As such a huge fan, it was AMAZING, simply, amazing, and I got to enjoy it with my two older cousins and of course, the Dame. 

So that brings us to the new year of 2020. 2020 the year I think EVERYONE thought was going to be amazing, and maybe it will be. Maybe everything that’s going on albeit sad, overwhelming, insane....is in fact the year we all really needed. The Amazon was on fire, forever and as someone who truly cares about global warming that was super stressful. We almost had WWIII thanks to good old Trump, but boy oh boy....that was just the tip of the iceberg. A few weeks later AGAIN, I call my dr telling them I still haven’t gotten my period, my boobs hurt, and wtf is going on? She tells me to take another pregnancy test, which I thought was a joke because I JUST had a miscarriage weeks before, and yes we had sex, but we were ‘careful’. COME TO FIND OUT, my ass is pregnant again. I was, very confused...a little upset because I was planning on waiting a bit before trying for real again. I mean we just dealt with so much loss between nana and the miscarriage, I hadn’t even fully processed what my body just went through. I remember angrily buying the test because, those shits aren’t cheap.....peeing with the door open with Dame downstairs, (not at ALL romantic like the first time I told him) and looking down like....wait. “WHAT THE FUCK” about 3 times was said, I explained to dame this indeed does say I’m pregnant, but how?? 

30 minutes later, the world finds out Kobe Bryant died. There were a lot of emotions that day for sure. Even though I wasn’t a die hard Kobe fan or anything, for some reason this one really made me sad. Maybe because I was currently listening to a book his personal coach wrote; relentless....which is REALLY fucking good.

A week later, I'm confirmed via bloodwork that I am indeed pregnant and it’s time for take two! I didn't get excited until I passed my first trimester, just in case...but now at almost 26 weeks, I’m really excited to meet her. My babygirl! It’s still wild to know I’m about to be a mom, but I’m really pumped for both of us and I know we’ll make great parents. 

Ah yes, the mid march, covid 19 hits America. I was supposed to go on a three city tour to the west coast which I was very much looking forward to, before the world stopped. In fact, it was that very weekend, right after we had our ultrasound, the first and only visit Dame was allowed to come in, that everything stopped. A week or so later, a mid level of depression kicked in for me, which lasted about a month. I couldn’t believe that after WEEKS of puking and being dead ass tired, I was finally ready to work again, but I was Essentially unemployed. The west coast gig was a cute check, I had multiple events coming up that got canceled....weddings that got postponed, and all I could think about was I’m about to have a kid with no money. I went almost two entire months without making ANY money....luckily unemployment kicked in and I got a couple of grants I applied for because I really don’t know what I would’ve done. My mom of course was in my corner, and Dame would start working from home, but still fully employed so at least we wouldn’t be homeless. I knew there were hundreds of thousands of people in my boat, if not worse but I couldn’t help but be consumed with not making any money, and my 2020 year essentially being wiped out. 

Again, this was supposed to be MY year. Be a parent, make a lot of money, and I felt like I just fell flat on my face, in mud, and was suffocating. 

America’s approach to covid was trash, more and more people died...I was worried about my mom and aunts as they're older and more susceptible. This is the longest I've gone without seeing my mom, but thanks to technology! We literally FaceTime every day. 

I almost forgot! Red literally almost died. He got attacked by a pit that lives up the street and it was one of the scariest things I ever dealt with. We just came back from a cute little drive, it was absolutely beautiful out, and I just remember parking, letting him out for a walk, looking at a dog running but I couldn’t tell if it was on a leash or not. I then realized nope, this bitch is not on a leash, crossing the street, and watching it whip its head at me and red and sprinting across the street to attack him. I was absolutely terrified. My baby red, is literally getting mangled by a fucking pit by the neck. I’m also pregnant and scared the pit is going to attack me, that my stress is going to cause another miscarriage, and that I’m probably going to watch red die in front of my eyes. I completely blacked out on the woman who was sloppily running to get her dog off of him. Had it been a minute more, max, he would’ve been dead. I still picture it sometimes and it legit makes me so sad, but luckily he pulled through after about a week of healing, and a huge bloody abscess that needed to be drained. 

THEN about a month ago now, George Floyd was killed on tape by a cop and it changed the world. Between Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Abery dying and being cooped up for months in the house, major cities went up in flames, literally. It was a revolution that Is still happening which has caused corporate America to shove ‘black lives matter’ down our throats like black people just popped up, shown privileged ass white people who refuse to try and understand, racist fucks that just hate us so much....and the list goes on.

That’s been our year so far! and it about to get shut down again because because aren't taking covid seriously. 

Pregnancy has been really interesting though....not at all like what they show on tv and the movies. I’ve been emotional as hell crying over my body  changing....constipated af to the point where I now celebrate any time I shit, hella uncomfortable....but I know when we see her face it will indeed all be worth it. Doing this back to back though like Dame envisions....I don’t know man lol. We shall see. She's due in about 3.5 months. Check in before then....

Tdot, out. 

[lobsterdex]

holsom & it’s nice to have a friend by tswift (I copied this from the notes on my iPhone and I’m too lazy to reformat it so sorry for whatever bullshit this is)

* Ransom and holster are childhood friends who lost contact and meet again in college

* They were mini mites together

* As kiddos they were like BEST best friends like do everything together stay at each other’s houses on the weekends best friends

* Then holster’s dad gets a new job or sth and they have to move to upstate ny

* And baby Justin and Adam are adamant that they will stay friends but are too young to really get the logistics of that

* They manage a few visits and more than a few calls but after a year they just. Lose contact. Adam’s parents get a new landline number and Adam didn’t have Justin’s number memorized and it’s hockey season and they don’t have much free time and eventually they become just another family they get Christmas cards from

* When his phone calls stop going through sweet baby Justin considers sending a letter but talks himself out of it, but it doesn’t matter anyways because they don’t have Adam’s address because they’re Jewish and don’t send Christmas cards

* Idk if Christmas cards are a thing in Canada but they are for the purposes of this au

* They both grow up remembering the other as their childhood best friend they never saw again

* They both stick with hockey and end up at Samwell and meet during the hockey orientation tour led by none other than Shitty B Knight

* Justin thinks, hey, that kid Adam seems really familiar, but doesn’t think much of it

* Adam, on the other hand, immediately recognizes Justin from their Christmas card

* T

* “JUSTIN?”

* “...Yeah?”

* “IT’S ME ADAM! ADAM BIRKHOLTZ!”

* Justin, staring blankly, gears turning, then, “HOLY SHIT DUDE”

* They’re instant best friends, their nicknames come a few days/hours later

* Flash forward through three glorious and chaotic years of friendship

* It’s their senior year

* They’ve been in some strange soft grey area where they like. Might be dating? They kiss and stuff but do the same things they did as friends except now they’re kind of dates

* They’re sitting up on the roof on the reading room watching the sunset

* Their hands get closer to each other every time they shift position

* Ransom links their pinkies together

* Holster links their fingers together

* “Hey holtzy���

* “Yeah?”

* “Are we dating?”

* “Hm. Yeah.”

* “Good?”

* “Yeah. Good.”

* They kiss on the roof as the sun goes down

* End scene

[caninelaws-blog]

MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE WITH CANINE CORRAL IN HUNTINGTON, NY

Hello! My name is Donna.  

In 2008 my son was 12 years old.  He had been asking (begging) me for a puppy for the longest time.  I felt it was time to make that dream come true for him.  I called my Aunt Kathleen to ask her where she had gotten her previous four puppies (cockapoo's) as I knew that her pups were healthy, happy and awesome dogs with great personalities. Over the years, she has always raved about the place (Canine Corral) that she had gotten her pups from. She shared with me that her and her husband had been dealing with Canine Corral in Huntington Station NY for the past 20 years & that it is a family owned and operated kennel. My aunt & uncle say they had one great experience after another.    So in December of 2008, a week before Christmas I decided to surprise my son with a puppy for Christmas.  I went to Canine Corral, looking for a small pup,  perhaps a Maltese, Cockapoo or Bichon Frise'.  I wasn't really sure what I wanted.  I knew I wanted a puppy, but not an extremely young one, as I had a limited time to house train it.  When I walked into Canine Corral, one of the employees said hello, told me to look around and to let her know if I had any questions.  I was amazed that the place was immaculate even though somewhat crowded.

(remember it was just the week before Christmas)

Within a few minutes a young woman came up to me and asked if I would like to see a specific type of puppy.. I explained what I was looking for, then she showed me a few pups.  One more beautiful than the other. As I played with each of the pups, one by one, in one of their playrooms,  I felt as though I wanted them all.  Unbeknownst to me, the best was yet to come.  The last pup I met was this 5 month old Bichon Frise' , he was shy but very happy & extremely affectionate.  Just what I was looking for, he was perfect!. I decided to go for it. Yes, I said, this is the one, he is perfect!  I'll take him!! I thought I'd be walking out the door in moments, however that was not the case.  She took the pup and they gave him his first grooming.  She had told me that the groomer had been there since

1963

.  I was amazed.  While my new pup was getting groomed, she spoke to me about what food he was on, how much I should feed him, what size crate he would need, etc. and then to my surprise they gave me a

FIVE YEAR Health Guarantee

. I said what? Thinking, to myself, I must have misunderstood what she was talking about.  She explained to me that if anything came up with my pup's health I could go to the veterinarian and have the issue taken care of.

Now that was impressive!

When my pup came back from his grooming I started to cry, he looked so beautiful, smelled delicious and so handsome with a blue ribbon on his collar. However, my interaction with Canine Corral was not over yet.  Canine Corral called me that evening to see how things were going with my new pup.  Then they called

again

the following day to see how me & my pup (now named Buddy) was doing.  They asked if I have any questions or concerns. They gave me great advice on how to get Buddy started with house breaking. I am not sure, but I think we must have been on the phone for 20 or 30 minutes. I thought to myself this is unbelievable that a family owned kennel would care so much about me and my new addition to the family.  I was so very impressed.  

I am, to this day, convinced that I made the right choice going to Canine Corral.

 Since the day I got Buddy, I have recommended

14+ family members & friends to Canine Corral

.  Everyone of which couldn't be

happier

with their experience!. To this day, Buddy still gets groomed at Canine Corral and I still go to Canine Corral not only to buy Buddy's food & treats but to also say hello to everyone & visit with the new puppies. It makes me so very happy.

Buddy will be 12 in July.

He is extremely healthy and is still a happy go lucky dog.  He is my son's best friend and we couldn't want for more!  When I look at Buddy's pictures,he is always smiling.  It makes my day...everyday!

Canine Corral is the only kennel that I would feel comfortable recommending.  They have been around for many, many years.  They are sincere in their livelihood and know exactly how to run a reputable kennel.

 I have spoken to many people on Long Island about Canine Corral, their reputation is undeniable.  They are the best in New York & I would highly recommend them.        Kindest regards; DonnaOyster Bay NY

Read more at https://www.caninecorralreviews.org/newsarticle/canine-corral-reviews-huntington-ny-donna-6.aspx

[eldritchsurveys]

717.

What is the date and time? >> 8.35p EST on the 2nd of April.

What time did you go to bed last night, what time did you wake up? >> I think I finally got to sleep at around half past midnight. I woke up at like 6a, I think. Sleep has been weird lately (partially because of the routine break, partially because of the weather getting milder and making me more likely to overheat and therefore wake up frequently, and partially just because my sleep pattern is rarely perfect to begin with).

What are you currently wearing? >> A Dark Tower t-shirt and lounge pants with a Stitch pattern.

Have you ever stubbed your toe? >> Sure.

Do you cuss frequently? >> Yep.

What did you eat for dinner last night? >> A burger and fries.

Who do you live with? >> Sparrow. And a cat.

How many exes do you have or have you ever had a girlfriend/boyfriend? >> I have more exes than I’d care to think about.

Are you currently in love? >> No.

Have you ever lost anyone close to you? >> Sure. One to death, others to life.

Who did you last IM if you have any messengers? >> Elle, here on tumblr.

Do you do chores around your house? >> Sure.

Do you laugh a lot? >> I don’t know how much I laugh. Often enough, I guess.

If you could say anything to any one person, what would it be? >> ---

Who makes you smile the most? >> Can Calah, I’d imagine.

Have you eaten popcorn in the past 48 hours? >> No.

Does a heartbreak feel as bad as it sounds? >> Well, I’d imagine it got its name because of how deeply awful it felt to whoever coined the term. So... yeah?

Where is your pet(s) right now? >> I don’t know where the cat is. Probably on Sparrow’s bed or on the cat tree.

Last time you laughed really hard? >> I don’t remember.

Has anyone ever been more important to you than a family member? >> Family members have never been particularly important to me, so this isn’t exactly a high bar...

Have you ever tattooed anyone's name on you? >> Nope.

Ever found more than a dollar in a random place? >> Yes.

Do you think you have made a difference in anyone's life? >> That’s just how it works, innit? I’d have to be a test tube baby raised in total seclusion by a machine or something to not make any difference on anyone’s life.

Who is the last person you added to your contacts list in your phone? >> Elle, I think.

Do you prefer to take showers at night or in the morning? >> In the morning.

Does it matter to you if your boyfriend/girlfriend smokes? >> Smoking only matters to me when it comes to someone I’m living with, because of how the smell gets into everything and all that.

If someone liked you right now, would you want them to tell you? >> It really doesn’t make a difference to me either way. I’m still going to treat whoever-it-is the same way I always did. So you’ve got nothing to lose, but nothing to gain either, lmao.

Whats on your mind? >> The survey I’m taking.

Could you stand to go out in what you're wearing now? >> No. I don’t have a binder on, and I like inside clothes to be worn inside and outside clothes to be worn outside.

When was the last time you told someone you loved them? >> I don’t remember.

Can you remember what you did on or for your tenth birthday? >> I really the fuck can’t. I don’t even remember being ten.

Has someone whose name began with an "N" ever kissed you? >> Probably.

Are you counting down the days until Christmas? >> No, lmao, it’s April.

When was the last time someone genuinely surprised you? >> I don’t remember.

When was the last time you went to church? >> Christmas.

Have you ever had a near-death experience? >> Possibly.

Are you a channel surfer? >> We don’t even have channels to surf.

How many other windows do you have open on your computer? >> Just Discord.

What's your current favorite song? >> Oh, I don’t know.

What is the last beverage you drank? >> Sprite.

Do you check the ingredients in your food? >> I mean, yeah.

Have you ever stabbed yourself with a thumb tack? >> Probably.

Which one spoils you more, mom or dad? >> ---

Can you touch your toes without bending your knees? >> Nope.

When was the last time you had a professional picture taken? >> I have never had a professional photo taken. I don’t think. Do senior photos in high school count? Oh, wait, a photo of me was in the NY Times once so I guess that’s professional.

If you won a week-long trip to any city in the world, where would you go? >> *shrug* Any city I haven’t already been to, I guess.

When was the last time you visited the hospital? >> About a year ago, when Sparrow’s nephew was born.

Are you more interested in art or in music? >> Well, music is art--

Do you know your blood type? >> Nope.

Who do you admire the most, dead or alive? >> ---

What is your most embarrassing moment? >> ---

Who was your first serious boyfriend or girlfriend? >> Bleagh.

Did everything go the way you wanted it to today? >> Sure. I mean, nothing went horribly or anything, so I’ll consider it a win.

What were you doing before you took this survey? >> I was chatting on Discord.

How many people have you talked to today? >> In person? Three (the greeter at Meijer, the cashier at Meijer, and Sparrow).

What's your favorite chapstick flavor? >> Ew, no.

Are you an obsessive hand washer? >> Nope.

Do you prefer plain or patterned Band-Aids? >> Patterned! But I can never find bandaids that are both patterned and the size I need. It’s like only children are allowed to have cool bandages. Fuck that.

How many Star Wars movies have you seen? >> All of them except this most recent one. I just knew it would piss me off so I decided to spare myself the trouble.

What time is it now? >> 8.50p EST.

[heavenburdened]

GRIEVING, consumed with fear &  mad with loneliness, eden finds  himself more lost than ever ; and  soon, like the distant stars and  constellations he reads about in  books, eden no longer seems to  be part of this world. he imagines  that he is made of the galaxies and  nebulas —— light-years away and  out of mind, out of sight ; drifting  away peacefully in the cold vacuum of space & building his walls up high  —— cementing them there, strong,  as no one, not even once, comes to  break them down. A LONELY PRINCE  TRAPPED IN THE HIGHEST TOWER ;  that’s what eden becomes yet again.  yet he exudes a quiet unassuming  warmth, for he is closer to the sun  up here.

WHY HELLO THERE LOVELIES !!! i’m edie ( 23, she/hers, gmt+11, cat mum, literature nerd & tea enthusiast ) & my cute lil woc ass is so gosh darn excited to be a part of this muh’heckin amazing group ?!!?!?!??!?!?! i’m here with eden lovegrove ( and cha eunwoo’s heaven-sent face ????? can i get an amen ??!!!?? ) ; a #softnsadboi with a rrrrruff past who i’ll be introducing to you all right down below !!!!

DISCLAIMER : this ???????? is a heckin’ 1000-page novel. 2 ur left u will find refreshments n water —— pls stay hydrated whilst you read thru this ! 

[ ! ] CLICK HERE FOR A MOBILE VIEW ( less formatted for easier reading ! ) OF EDEN’S INTRO POST !  

* ╰  APPLICATION !! ❜ ───

✧･ﾟ(   atlas + cha eunwoo + cismale  ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !!  have you seen (   eden lovegrove ) around ? (   he  ) has been in kaos for (   one week   ). the (   twenty-four year old   ) is a (   journalist & freelance writer  ) from (   wisconsin, usa  ). people say they can be (   ascetic   ) but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be (   forbearing   ). whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of (   a wound too great ; that always has been & won’t heal, grief ; consumed by sorrow & mad with loneliness that yet still could not keep the boy from kindness, and softness ; emanating from starlight and filling him full to the bone   ).  ･ﾟ✧ ( penned by edie, 23, gmt+11, she/hers ).

* ╰  STATISTICS !! ❜ ───

basics

BIRTH NAME: eden park ADOPTED NAME: eden lovegrove BIRTH DATE: february 25th, 1995 ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: pisces AGE: twenty-four CURRENT LOCATION: kaos, greece NATIONALITY: american ETHNICITY: south-korean GENDER: cismale SEXUAL ORIENTATION: demisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: homoromantic

background

BIRTH PLACE/HOMETOWN: wisconsin, usa ( birthplace & childhood residence ) —— manhattan, ny, usa ( late adolescence )  SOCIAL CLASS: lower class ( birth ), upperclass ( during late adolescence / adoption ), middle class ( present ) EDUCATION LEVEL: completed a journalism degree with honours at yale FATHER: franklin park MOTHER: dolores park SIBLINGS: matthew park, christopher park FATHER ( ADOPTIVE ): chet lovegrove MOTHER ( ADOPTIVE ): amelia lovegrove  SIBLINGS ( ADOPTIVE ): everett lovegrove OCCUPATION & INCOME PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: journalist ; writing articles for guardian u.s. SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: freelance writing ; prose, poetry, essays, published in zines & online CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB? yes PAST JOBS: bookshop clerk, library assistant, florist SPENDING HABITS: very thrifty ; good at saving MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: a faded photograph of himself and his first love, now passed away

appearance / physical information

FACE CLAIM: cha eunwoo HAIR COLOUR: black EYE COLOUR: brown BUILD: mesomorph DOMINANT HAND: left hand HEIGHT: 183cm WEIGHT: 76kg INK: none PIERCINGS: none ALLERGIES: shellfish DIET: vegetarian

psychology

MBTI: infp ENNEAGRAM: type 2 ; the helper MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic good DOMINANT TEMPERAMENT: melancholic PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE: verbal-linguistic & intrapersonal SOCIABILITY: medium EMOTIONAL STABILITY: stable DRUG USE: no ALCOHOL USE: yes PRONE TO VIOLENCE? no VIRTUES: ardent, profound, forbearing, sagacious VICES: reclusive, distracted, withdrawn, ascetic HOGWARTS HOUSE: ravenclaw ACCENT: manhattan accent FAVOURITES ACTIVITY: reading, baking, knitting, writing, going on walks ANIMAL: cats BEVERAGE: boricha / barley tea COLOUR: powder blue FOOD: yachae sundubu jjigae / spicy soft tofu and vegetable stew CELEBRATION: christmas MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: walking MUSICIANS: keaton henson, flyte, palace, the black skirts, banff, kelsey lu, matt maltese SCENERY: the ocean BOOKS: disoriental by négar djavadi, the uncensored picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde, when i hit you: or, a portrait of the writer as a young wife by meena kandasamy, brother by david chariandy, & 10 minutes 38 seconds in this strange world by elif shafak. 

* ╰  THE STORY !! ❜ ───

eden’s biography is trigger heavy, with the following triggers —— religious fundamentalism, homophobia, racism, physical & emotional abuse.

CHAPTER ONE : THE LONELY PRINCE.

COLOURED BY AMBIGUITY and suspended in an air of INEXACTNESS from the moment he breathed his first breath, eden park was born into the world as a simple PLACE HOLDER between his older and younger brother —— caught in the middle, outshone on both sides, and quite often FORGOTTEN, even as a child.

in amongst frank and dolores park’s hopes and dreams for their eldest and youngest sons, eden learned terribly early on that his existence mattered VERY LITTLE to anyone at all —— for while the youngest son ( matthew ) was doted upon, fussed over and coddled, and the eldest son ( christopher ) was given the responsibility of shouldering the entire burden of the park family name [ a family with important ties to the church community in wisconsin ] ; eden seemed to FADE AWAY into the background —— more an OBSERVER of his family’s comings and goings than an ACTIVE PARTICIPANT in amongst it all. growing up, eden had no particular expectations placed upon him, nor was he deemed any specific role to play ; and so he often spent his time ALONE and off and WANDERING, DRIFTING from interest to interest ; from this to that, biding his time in the absence of his parents who had their hands full with matthew and christopher, and their devotion to the religion that had gotten them through the hardships & aftermath of the korean war.

where his home life was tainted with an estranged apprehension, when eden was old enough to start attending school he discovered that this new part of the world was no sanctuary for him either. his peers pulled at the corners of their eyes whenever he passed, called him yellow, and jeered at the unusual & pungent packed lunches he brought. as the real world gave the young boy no reprieve ; eden turned to books —— opening the covers and crawling inside the pages to feel safe and at peace. with each new page, he would escape the exhaustion of his family life, and the terrors of the society around him would all but fade away. by falling into the quiet blank spaces that separated the printed, parallel lines of black, eden found himself a sanctuary of utter calm and peace ; safe at last from a world that was too cruel and too loud for his heart to bear the burden of. 

and so the days passed & darkened. ballet, books, and an overwhelming sense of BEING ALONE ; eden spent his days growing his mind & heart in SOLITUDE, quite nearly completely HEEDLESS of extremist religious views his parents and siblings propagated as the world spun madly on. eden’s ballet recitals : missed by his parents, morning mass went by without breathing a single word to anyone —— the middle bed, left untucked.  SURROUNDED by so many people and still so estranged, eden never truly was a part of the family he’d soon fatefully grow to HATE.

the only sanctuary of hope and light for eden was the one he found in a friend, then confidante, then lover ; a boy he’d met in ballet class at 8. 

the boy who changed everything for eden. 

the boy he was caught kissing at 16 in the park family’s garden ; blood red roses blooming.

SCREAMING, A BODY BROKEN, AGONY SINKING INTO EDEN’S BONES. 

FADE TO BLACK.

CHAPTER TWO : THE HEART CAN BEAT OR IT CAN BURN.

sixteen years old, and eden awakes to the sight of his lover standing over him with a smile. brown eyes fill with tears of relief & a chest so sore it could burst begins to shake with sobs. the tears clear eden’s vision ; and as he becomes more lucid, the vision of his lover fades away. ALONE IN A HOSPITAL ROOM, the boy scrambles to recollect the series of events that led to his arrival in the emergency room ; something buried deep in the labyrinth of his mind unsettling, warning him, letting him know that he’s not ready to remember. the nurses don’t look him in the eye, and the doctors reek of a sickening mixture of sympathy and pity. everything is raw, and horrid, and lonely, and eden can’t quite figure out the reason behind why his heart feels so terribly broken.

after three sleepless days and nights, a social worker visits eden —— relaying to him the chain of events that led to his broken body & weakened soul. the social worker tells eden of how he and his lover had been caught kissing among the flowers —— she tells eden of how his brother, matthew, had discovered them. then she tells eden of how his family had hatefully beat the only person he had ever loved into a coma ; and how when their rage had still not been satisfied, in a fury, they turned on their own son and brother.

THE WOUND IS TOO GREAT —— it always has been & it won’t heal, and eden’s cries rip through the hospital ward like a scream of agony. his tears make him tremble so violently he feels as if he were a rainstorm shook by lightning.

.

.

.

the recovery is a long & arduous one. knees grazed scarlet —— every night, eden PRAYS. he prays for his lover, he prays for his family, and he prays for god to change him ; to save him ; to cleanse him of his sin ; black, purple & blue covering every inch of his soft skin. most of all, though, eden prays that the loneliness and pain that grows inside his heart like a disease will cease spreading ; the boy’s pillow stained with tears as he cries himself to sleep each night. 

mutilated, torn, tortured & etched away at, eden is alive, but he is nothing but a hollow body ; a home for little more than an agonised, sorrow-drenched soul.

just one week after the incident, eden’s partner passes away ; and eden is taken into the care of the state —— never to hear from his parents or brothers again ; safe at last from them. 

CHAPTER THREE : I WILL NOT RAISE HELL; HAVE WE NOT ALL ALREADY SUFFERED ENOUGH? I WILL RAISE MY VOICE, AND I WILL RAISE CONSCIOUSNESS. 

ten months after the incident, eden is adopted into a family by the name of lovegrove —— a family tainted with far too much darkness for eden to ever call home. the lovegroves are an all-american, white family with ties to the republican party ; with the head of the family, chet lovegrove, having strong political aspirations. the lovegroves adopt eden into the family as a move for positive press, believing that having a person of colour adopted into the family will make for a more empathetic family narrative. 

and so it goes that eden park is given the new name of eden lovegrove, and once again, THE WORLD SPINS MADLY ON. while under the gaze of the public-eye chet and amelia lovegrove parade their new son eden around as if he were the sole pride of the family ( much to the chagrin of everett, the lovegrove’s biological son ), behind closed doors, they stand back and do nothing as everett calls eden words like chink, faggot, gook, fruitcake and coolie ; disdain and disgust dropping from every syllable like venom.

grieving, consumed with fear & mad with loneliness, eden finds himself more lost than ever ; and soon, like the distant stars and constellations he reads about in books, eden no longer seems to be part of this world. he imagines that he is made of the galaxies and nebulas —— light-years away and out of mind, out of sight ; drifting away peacefully in the cold vacuum of space & building his walls up high —— cementing them there, strong, as no one, not even once, comes to break them down. A LONELY PRINCE TRAPPED IN THE HIGHEST TOWER ; that’s what eden becomes yet again. yet he exudes a quiet unassuming warmth, for he is closer to the sun up here.

.

.

.

as eden grows from adolescence to adulthood —— though he leaves ballet in the past, where memories too painful to bear the burden of have no risk of being dredged up —— his love for books and writing never waivers even in the slightest. literature helps him understand himself as he comes to terms with the world around him, and writing helps him find a voice in a world where people keep trying to tell him what he ought to be. traumatised, a foreigner, a faggot, a stranger amongst his own family. an outcast, an orphan, a charity case. with his pen as a sword ; ink running like blood, eden finds his voice —— learning to use it to speak words of love and truth in a world that has only ever been cruel to him ; raising his voice so that it can be a light in the darkness. 

high society life tastes bitter upon eden’s kind palette ; and though he is treated with nothing but malice within lovegrove manor or the high society around him, eden endures the trials and tribulations of his new life in order to use his predicament for his own benefit. rather than fixating on the cruelties of his adoptive family, eden decides to focus instead on the opportunities that have presented themselves ; using the money and the connections that the lovegroves possess in order to grow into someone that his lover, lost in wisconsin but forever in his heart, can be proud of. 

a quiet renegade, eden decides to pursue journalism, graduating with honours from yale ; becoming a questioner of the common, and using his compassion and kindness and his love for words to grow into a safe-harbour for the voiceless. his first piece, an exposé on the callous and tokenistic life he has lived with the lovegroves, leaves him branded as a traitor by the family that took him in for their own devices ; and finally, after being cast out in shame, eden finds himself free at last. 

the name lovegrove suits him well, however ; love becoming him, love consuming him —— and so he keeps his adoptive surname, wearing it like a battle wound for all the world to see. writing of people’s stories, in search of the truth, kind, but lonely, this is the way that eden lovegrove spends his days. 

.

.

.

ink-stained fingers & a sorrow-drenched soul that only wants to heal ; the stars, the moon, a study of the human condition through prose and endless essays. a journalist at guardian u.s., and a freelance writer, eden lovegrove is an ink splatter of words thrown against kaleidoscopic feelings —— messy, hurt, lost, ardent, sincere, broken, human, and so much stronger than he knows.

WHERE ONE STORY ENDS, ANOTHER BEGINS : ATLAS IN OLYMPUS.

“ SOMETIMES I GET THESE VISIONS — HORRIBLE VISIONS OF INEXPLICABLE VIOLENCE, GRIEF & SORROW [ … ] LIKE REMNANTS OF A PAST LIFE BLEEDING INTO MY PRESENT. ”

over the course of the past six months, eden has started experiencing some truly horrendous nightmares —— these terrors sometimes even creeping past the border of sleep, haunting him in visions during hours of waking. 

trauma from the park household, trauma from the lovegrove family ; that’s what eden believes, and that’s what his therapist believes. how could they know that these visions are actually coming from a past life ? one where eden was condemned to hold up the celestial heavens for eternity, as atlas. 

“ TAKE A BREAK, SON. A VACATION. THE WORLD WILL STILL BE HERE TO WRITE ABOUT WHEN YOU GET BACK.  YOU GOT A GIRL ? TAKE HER SOME  PLACE NICE. ”

eden doesn’t know how to tell his editor that he’s never had a girl, and nor will he ever. but the vacation doesn’t sound like too terrible an idea —— so eden packs up his belongings, and asks a man at the airport counter what the cheapest & earliest flight to someplace nice would be. KAOS, the man says. the island of kaos. and just like that, atlas finds his way to olympus. 

.

.

.

eden’s toes curl gently into a horizon of golden sands ; soft waves lapping at his feet as he relearns how to breathe. a softness emanates from the setting sun ; filling the broken man, full, to the bone. the world is wide —— and for the first time in his life, on this strange and beautiful island called kaos, eden feels like he might be in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. 

since arriving in kaos one week ago eden’s nightmares have been getting worse ; and the visions, strange, violent, and full of glimpses of sorrow, split his head with migraines —— yet curiously, eden does not feel as if he is breaking  —— on the contrary, it feels as if he is on the very edge of awakening.

.

.

.

–— AAAAAND, SCENE !!!!

 i’ll get to posting some replies to starters & interacting tomorrow ( because i’m eXHAUSTED after an excruciatingly horrendous day at work today ), but please like this post if you’d like to plot something up ??? OR LITERALLY JUST slide into my dms and throw headcanons for our muses at me pls ?! bc i’m awfully awkward and idk ?? how ?? to aPPROACH PEOPLE for plotting !!!!!

okie bye i’m going to go make some dinner and then shall slumber for 2000 years, but ilu all already and am so excited !!!! to start !!!! writing !!!!!

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

the last great american dynasty

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x OC!Reader; Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years.

Word Count: 4658

Warnings: maybe some swearing (don’t really remember), mentions of deaths, sadness, loneliness.

Previous Part

Series Masterlist

Age: 17

Year: 2012

Location: Brooklyn, NY

The last few months haven't been the greatest for Elizabeth.

She never did get to run for Student Body President during the months of October and November. Steve ended up running and winning. Elizabeth had even decided to leave student body council once campaigning started. She found no point in staying, everyone in the club didn't like her.

She had kept to herself. She no longer felt the need to make new friendships or continue the ones she had. The rumors made sure of that.

This was not how Elizabeth had thought her senior year would be. She thought she'd be crossing out he dates in her calendar feeling sad with each passing day, but now she's counting down to when she will never see these faces again.

She had also been approached by the principle right before school was dismissed for Holiday break. Principle Alvarez had told Elizabeth that she was the front runner for valedictorian. Elizabeth politely declined the offer, but Principle Alvarez told her to take the next three week holiday to think over it.

Elizabeth promised she would, but that was a lie. There was no way she would go in front of her classmates and give them a fake speech on comradery. 

These people wouldn't know the first thing about that.

Instead she focused on anything besides school.

Her parents weren't oblivious to Elizabeth's sudden change in personality. At first they thought it was because of her breakup with Bucky. But Elizabeth had told them it was a mutual decision. They wanted to believe her, but they knew their daughter. They knew it was not what she had said.

They knew something must've happened, especially with the way Bucky has been actively avoiding running into them. Even going as far as running inside whenever he saw Mr. Sanchez get home from work.

Even Steve stopped coming around. That was another red flag.

Then they had found out from Sarah Rogers, Steve's mom, that Steve would be running for student body president, after Elizabeth stepped down and left the club.

They were shocked to hear the news.

How could she not tell them. Her parents had debated back and forth whether or not they should have a conversation with her.

She had been keeping this a secret for months. Whenever they would bring it up, she told them it was in the works. But she had lied. There was clearly something bigger going on.

They then received a phone call from Principle Alvarez the day before winter break started. She told them about Elizabeth becoming valedictorian but turning it down. Another secret her parents had heard nothing about.

"Mrs. Alvarez, we had no idea," Caterina, her mother, said.

"I figured which is why I called. I told Elizabeth to take the break think it over."

"Thank-you, Mrs. Alvarez," Brandon, her father, thanked, "Actually we were just discussing Elizabeth and her sudden personality change. Do you have any idea what might have happened?"

"Well," she cleared her throat, "I'm assuming you both know about her breakup with James."

"Yes, but she told us it was a mutual decision, somehow we don't think she's telling he truth," Caterina explained.

"I suppose she isn't. Unfortunately, I don't think it's my place to say. Her grades are not falling behind, she hasn't done anything that would create a cause for concern," she half lied.

"But she quit student council. She isn't even talking to Steve," Caterina explained, slightly frustrated with the situation.

"Yes, well," Principal Alvarez pauses, "There was some rumors going around at the beginning of the year, surrounding James and Elizabeth. Sadly those rumors favored James."

"Why are we just hearing about this now?" her father asked.

"I have spoken to Elizabeth, she had asked me not to say anything to you. In order to keep this a safe place for her and other students, there's some things that need to stay confidential.

"I didn't sense any danger and the rumors died down. Yes, she did quit student council, but you wouldn't be surprised by the amount of students who leave a club senior year." she explained to them.

"We have had no idea any of this was happening," Caterina, sighs softly, her eyes getting teary. Her husband softly rubs her back.

"What do you suggest we do? Should we confront Elizabeth about all these lies?" Brandon asks.

"I think Elizabeth is trying to protect you guys and herself. I can't tell you what to do. This is your child. But I can offer some advice," she says, "Give her some time. When it comes, I'm sure she'll open up, it might not be now, but it will be when she is ready. I've seen this a lot with seniors who get thrown a massive curve ball and it just throws them all off.

"It's what I like to call their first taste of the real world. How they get through it shows how they will handle these kind of stressors in the future. Some just go right off the handle and turn to some bad things to cope. Some repress their feelings, and let it all boil until they have some sort of snap. Some, learn and grow from it. Those that learn and grow, take it quietly, figure out what's to come afterwards. They stop worrying about what's happening now, and are ready to move on. The reason I haven't reached out is because I can see how Elizabeth is handling it. Yes, maybe she has changed, grown up a bit, but I still haven't gotten any major danger signs from her that say she isn't handling this in an unhealthy manner.

"Elizabeth has been meeting with our guidance counselor, about once a week. And that was something she had chosen to do on her own. We aren't necessarily obligated to tell parents that because of  confidentiality reasons. If there was any cause for concerns you would've heard by now."

"So we should just wait?"

"Yes," she sighs, "I know it's probably not what you wanted to hear, but just know you have a wonderful daughter, who seems to know how to take care of herself in a healthy mature manner."

The conversation they had with Principal Alvarez brought some peace to their minds. Not completely, but enough to know that if Elizabeth really was in trouble she would go to them.

They had decided that it was probably best to get away for the winter break. Brandon and Caterina were able to work remotely during the holiday season, so they decided to take a trip to the family's cabin.

Elizabeth was excited to head to the cabin for the holidays. It meant that she wouldn't have to worry about running into anyone from school. And any reason to spend more time with her grandmother was exciting. Especially since she would be heading off to college soon.

Elizabeth had decided that Christmas to break the news to her parents that she had decided on the University of Stanford. She would be going as a Pre-Law student. The school was on the other side of the country. When she and her parents visited this past  summer, Elizabeth fell in love with the campus. 

Her last two choices were Stanford and Columbia.

With some talking to her guidance counselor and some major thought, she decided she desperately needed a change in scenery. A change in people.

For the first time since returning home, she had never felt more free. She was excited about the possibility of the future. She could no longer worry about what the hell was happening in Brooklyn.

Her parents were excited to hear about her choice. They were glad that she wasn't keeping this from them. They had decided that Principal Alvarez was right, Elizabeth was becoming such a strong woman in front of their eyes, and they had to trust that she knows what's best for herself.

Elizabeth and her grandma stayed that third week of break, while her parents were sent away by her grandma so she could have some quality time with her only granddaughter.

Elizabeth and her grandmother were currently sat in the living room going through some old photos. Elizabeth was helping her grandmother put them in some new photo albums she had gotten for Christmas.

"So, any new boy in your life?" her grandma, Sophia, asked.

"No, I'm done with high school boys," Elizabeth said, carefully going through the old photos.

"Good, high school boys are nothing but trouble."

"You're preaching to the choir," Elizabeth joked.

While grabbing another small box of photos, Elizabeth opened it up to reveal some very old letters and photos.

"What are these grandma?" she asked softly turning the box over for her grandma to see.

"Oh, I've been wondering where those went," she softly smiled, going over to sit next to Elizabeth on the couch.

Elizabeth handed her the box, and she pulled out a light yellowish envelope, the color from old age.

"Who are those from?"

"My old friend Rebekah," she said looking over at the letter.

"Rebekah? You've never told me about a Rebekah before.

"Well she was an old friend," her grandma said, handing Elizabeth a black and white photo of two young girls. One was her grandma and the blonde next to her must've been Rebekah. The photo was dated 1965.

"How did you guys meet?" Elizabeth asked.

"In junior high, we were both 12," her grandma handed her a photo dated 1960, it was of two even younger versions of the young teens.

"Oh, wow."

"From 12 to 21 we were inseparable."

"Woah, what's this?" Elizabeth asked, showing her grandma a photo of a quickie style wedding.

"Ah, that was Bex's first wedding."

"First?"

"Yup. Right out of high school, freshly 18. Adam Grant. Bex's high school sweetheart. Prom King and Queen."

"What happened?"

"Young love doesn't always last forever. Why do you think I was always so insistent with you not to worry about marriage until after you've graduated college and started your career."

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, "Just thought you thought I was too young, and you were right."

"Aren't I always," she winked playfully.

"What happened between them?"

"Adam wanted Rebekah to be a stay at home wife, to start popping out babies. That wasn't Bex at all. Bex was always the life of the party. She was a social butterfly, but she had dreams of making it to Broadway. Adam was set to take over his dad's mechanic shop.

"The marriage had only lasted a year, before they pulled the plug. After the divorce, Bex started to go on more auditions, while she waitressed part time, and once a month she would sing at a lounge in Manhattan. Now when I say she could sing, I mean she could sing. I believe she really could have made it," her grandma reminisces.

"What happened?"

"Bill happened," her grandma said, handing Elizabeth a photo of a man who appeared to be in his late 40s early 50s.

"Who's he?"

"Bill Carter. The richest man I have ever met. His family had oil money. He and his colleagues were in attendance at the lounge on one of the night's Bex was singing.

"From what Bex told me it was love at first sight. After that night Bex couldn't talk about anything but Bill. They were both so smitten over each other. I don't think I've ever seen Rebekah act like that. She started to clean herself up a little bit, to try and appease his family. But Bill loved her just the way she was when he met her."

"They were engaged two months later. This was both of their second marriages. Bill's parents desperately wanted him to have a prenup, but he was completely against it. He said that unlike his first marriage he knew this was the one. Plus Rebekah didn't care about all of that. She had had many opportunities to make some heavy cash by being a few married men's mistress, but that's not what mattered to her."

Elizabeth glanced down at the photo. It was a photo of the bride and groom surrounded by their friends, all of them have drinks and cigars in their hands, with big smiles on their faces.

Rebekah's hair was a everywhere, doesn't look like she bothered to comb it for the big day. Bill's tie was undone, along with his shirt being halfway unbutton, no suit jacket in sight.  Her lips were dark in the black and white photo, which meant she probably was wearing a darker lip, judging by the lipstick marks on Bill's lips, cheek, and neck.

"Was this at the end of the night?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, this was just after the ceremony," her grandmother smiled, "Bex and Bill started the party after they said I do."

"The limo we all rode in together were filled with laughs, drinks, and cigars," she laughed.

"You guys knew how to party," Elizabeth smiled at her grandmother.

"Hey it was the late 60's," she shrugged her shoulders, handing Elizabeth another photo from the wedding.

"This looks small," Elizabeth remarked.

"Yeah, Bill's parents decided they weren't going to pay for the wedding when Bill refused to have Rebekah sign a prenup," she said, "So Bill and Bex decided to have a small wedding. Free of judgment. Just those that loved and supported them."

"That's nice," Elizabeth smiled at the thought of a small intimate wedding.

Elizabeth had never really given much though of how her wedding would be. I mean she and Bucky used to talk about getting married, but that was it. No plans were every truly made. Elizabeth also never truly saw herself as a big ballgown type of gal.

All that had mattered was her and Bucky. Now that's no more.

She felt her eyes get a little teary, she cleared her throat.

"So where did they go to after?"

"Rhode Island."

"Rhode Island?" Elizabeth looked at her grandmother, "Why Rhode Island?"

"They took a trip out there when they were dating, and fell in love with it. Plus Bex has always wanted to live on the sea. She said it made her feel free."

"Did his parents ever accept their marriage?"

"Sadly no," her grandma said, "Especially not after Bill's doctor told him to settle down with the party."

"Did he get sick?"

"Yes, around year 7 of their marriage, his doctor told him if he continued down this path he wouldn't live a long life."

"What did he do?"

"Bill told him he'd rather live the rest of his short life filled with happiness then become a boring old man who lived forever."

"Did he die?"

"Yes he did. He lived another three years, he and Bex were able to spend their ten year anniversary before he passed a week later. The summer of 1979."

"A week later?" Elizabeth asked shocked.

"Yeah," her grandmother sadly remembers.

"Rebekah was never the same after that," her grandmother says, "She never fully recovered from Bill's death."

"Did they have any kids?"

"Not together. Bill had two kids from his first marriage, but the kids only cared about their inheritance, that they never got."

"What?"

"Turns out Bill had changed his will when the doctor had first told him to slow down. He left everything to Rebekah," her grandma says, "That did not help Rebekah after his death either,

"Rebekah wasn't a heartless person, she made sure his children were taken care of, she created a fund for both kids. She never wanted Bill to do that, she didn't even know until the will reading two days after his funeral. All Bex wanted was her Bill. She would've given up all that money just for him."

"That's so sad," Elizabeth commented.

"Very. Even though Bex acted like none of the rumors bothered her, it did. Because that town was painting her to be this horrible woman. Calling her the most shameless woman they had ever seen, saying she enjoyed ruining everything. So she gave them what they wanted. She gave them the most shameless woman they would ever see. From what I had heard the partying got worse. She had parties every day, the house was filled with people from the city. She even got in a feud with one of their neighbors and stole his dog and dyed it green."

"What do you mean 'from what you heard'?" Elizabeth asked confused.

"Well, Rebekah and I weren't close anymore. The last time I had seen Rebekah was the week of Bill's funeral. Before then we hadn’t seen each other in almost 8 years.”

"What happened?"

"Well after I graduated in 1970, your grandpa and I decided to get married and settle down in Brooklyn," her grandma said, handing her a photo of their wedding day, "We were done with the whole party scene. We were ready to begin our own lives. Grandpa and I had already had good jobs lined up. We were ready to be adults. We were ready to start our family.

“Rebekah never understood that. She claimed ‘kids ruined everything’. She and Bill were living this extraordinary life. Kids didn’t fit the picture.”

“What about his kids?”

“They’d visit once per season. Their mother didn’t think that lifestyle was for them, and Bill never fought it,” she told Elizabeth, “And after I had your Uncle Eric in 1972, Rebekah couldn’t put her own feelings for children aside. It put a strain on our friendship, causing me to realize that I couldn’t be her friend if she couldn’t support what made me happy.

“I had supported Rebekah in every aspect of her life. When she wanted to marry Adam right out of high school, I supported her, hell I drove them. When she wanted to divorce Adam, I was there to hold her while she grieved her first failed marriage. She wanted to become a Broadway star, I was right there cheering and supporting her. When she met Bill, and everyone was against their relationship, I was their only support. When they decided to get engaged and married only 5 months after meeting each other, I was there, every step of the way. Did I have time? No, I was busy with school, but I made time.

“I was there for everything. I supported her through everything. But when I was ready to begin my own life, Rebekah couldn’t be there,” her Grandma sighs, “It made me question everything about our friendship.”

“It wasn’t until Bill’s funeral that I fully realized, she was just scared of being alone,” she says, “His funeral was filled with people. But not one of them was there for her.”

“How sad.”

“Rebekah and I finally talked that night,” her grandma says, “She told me all about the nonstop adventures she and Bill had.”

“Did you guys makeup?”

“Yes and no,” she says, “Rebekah was still against kids. She apologized for what she had said, but at that point I had already had three kids. We knew that our friendship would never be the same. We knew that the only way we could be in each other’s lives was if we kept our distance. If any one of us needed each other we knew we could call. But sometimes people come into your life only to be a small part of it. They don’t stay forever, but they make an everlasting impact.”

“Do you know what ended up happening to her?”

“She died, 9 years after Bill’s death. She was only 40 years-old,” she tells Elizabeth with a glimmer in her eye, “She died alone. While on vacation in Italy.”

“I’m sorry Grandma,” Elizabeth sympathetically says, she places her hand softly on top of her grandmother’s.

“It’s okay sweetie, time has come and gone. We all have to go through it someday.”

“What happened to that big house of her’s?”

“It’s still there. It never sold.”

“Why?”

“People claim it’s cursed,” she says, “so now it sits empty on that hill in Rhode Island.”

“They claim a crazy woman lived there, that anyone that were to live there would end up in the same fate as she,” her grandma says, “She wasn’t crazy. She was heartbroken. That whole town exiled her. Blamed her for everything. Made her out to be someone she wasn’t.”

“I get the feeling,” Elizabeth mumbled, looking down at her hands.

“She wasn’t crazy. She was a woman who lost the love of her life. She traveled the world to find anything to fill that void in her heart, and she never did. So she made sure to give that town everything she had.

“She was a very scorn woman. Filled with hatred, and anger to those that did her wrong,” her grandma says, clutching Elizabeth’s hands, forcing her to look into her eyes, “I don’t want you becoming like that Elizabeth.”

“I know whatever is going on in school, is not the easiest. But please, don’t let your heart be filled with so much hatred. I don’t want you becoming like Rebekah. She never learned to forgive.”

“It’s hard to forgive,” Elizabeth sniffled.

“I know, but it’s even harder to carry around so much darkness in your life,” she explains, “You should be able to go to college with nothing weighing you down. Not having anything negative reminding you of back home. You shouldn’t dread going back home, you should be filled with joy. Don’t exile those around you, just because they haven’t figured out that part of their lives.”

“Don’t let these last few moments of your high school life be filled with what those kids are saying,” she squeezes Elizabeth’s hands, “You know who you are. Those closest to you truly know who you are. We love you and support you. And are so incredibly proud of the woman you have become.”

“So please find it in yourself to forgive,” her grandma pleads.

“It’s hard being the bigger person,” Elizabeth sniffles again, silent tears streaming down her face, “they hurt me so much.”

“I know sweetie,” she pulls Elizabeth into her arms, “But let them regret what they have done. Don’t let them win by seeing you become this mad woman. Let them look back in their life, regretting the way they treated you.”

————————

Once Elizabeth went back home, the weekend before she was due to return to school from winter break. She had a lot to think about.

Does she listen to her grandma and forgive everyone for everything they’ve done. Or does she continue down the path she started on months ago.

She had to admit to herself, the path she was on was lonely. She didn’t like it one bit. She didn’t like what they made her become.

She decided to take her grandma’s words, and promised that once she returned to school on Monday, she would go back to being who she was. Not entirely, but at least not filled with so much hatred. She had to move on. For her own soul.

The first step, forgiving Bucky.

She knew that that was the only way to start. She wasn’t ready to talk to him in person, she’s not sure if she ever will be. So she sat at her desk and wrote him a letter:

Dear James,

(Yes, I called you James). I don’t know how to begin this. My grandmother told me I should forgive those that hurt me. You know my grandma, filled with nothing but wisdom. She told me a story about a friend she had, one that let the rumors consume her with hatred. She died alone.

I don’t want to be that person.

I know you don’t believe me to be that person, even after the things I’ve said to you.

But, I do feel myself becoming that person. Hating everyone around me, aside from my own family. (They still have no idea what’s going on with me)

So my first step in letting go, is forgiving you.

Letting all the pain and hate you’ve caused on me go...

I forgive you James.

I forgive you for everything you’ve done.

I don’t think I’ll fully understand why you cheated on me.

I know that’s not who you truly are. So I hope, that whatever you’re going through you come out on the other side.

This is harder than I thought it would be...

I loved you so much. I really thought we would end up together. Maybe that was just a childish thought.

Does anyone even make it out alive with their high school sweetheart?

But I want to thank you. For being my first love.

We were best friends to begin with, so falling in love with you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

Being in love with you was the easiest thing I’ve done.

It was just so effortless. And now I’m starting to wonder if that’s not how love is supposed to be...

But thank-you, for loving me the best that you could. You might not think it was the best, but it was.

You’re a part of my life forever. Even if you’re not physically a part of it.

You, James Buchanan Barnes, have left a forever imprint in my life.

So for that I want to thank you and forgive you.

I will always remember you as the 7 year-old boy who taught me how to ride my bike.

-Elizabeth “Betty” Sanchez.

Elizabeth walked across the street and placed the sealed letter in the Barnes’ mailbox.

As she walked back to her house, she felt this heavy weight lifted off her shoulder.

Come that Monday morning she was going to accept, Principal Alvarez’s valedictorian offer. She was also going to talk to the student council and see if there was anyway for her to rejoin student body. She was also going to apologize to Steve. He was just an innocent bystander that got caught in the crossfire. She couldn’t blame him for standing by his best friend’s side.

Monday, her life will officially be going down a different path. One filled with less hatred, and more understanding and forgiveness.

————————-

Age: 35

Year: 2029

Location: Rhode Island

“We haven’t had any interested buyers in decades,” the relator tells the happy couple, “Because of that, the house is basically a steal. The family that owns it just wants it out of their possession.”

“Now, it is a bit of a fixer upper, since no one has lived here since the late 80s. But that shouldn’t be any issue for you since you’re married to the youngest recipient of the Pritzker Architecture Prize.”

The couple shares a brief smile with each other.

“But if I might ask, no one has every showed interest in this house, especially not a young family like yours. Why do you want to buy this house?”

“I think this house has been empty long enough. It’s time someone filled this house with lots of love and happiness. Like before,” Elizabeth smiled, small crows feet forming around her eyes.

“Well what better way then a family like yours,” the relator smiled, “There’s plenty of space for lots of kids.”

“This one is out last,” Steve smiled, putting his arm around Elizabeth, placing his hand on her growing belly.

“Three is enough for us,” She playfully poked Steve’s side.

They followed the relator to the back where two young children are running around playing.

“So what do you think?” Elizabeth whispered to Steve, looking up into his eyes.

“It’s definitely a fixer upper, but I love it,” he smiles, “Like I said before, wherever you go. I’m there.”

Elizabeth presses a soft kiss to Steve’s lips.

“Diane,” she calls out to the older relator who is running around with mini-me’s of Elizabeth and Steve.

“We’ll take it,” she smiles broadly.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #247

“i tried to choke my mom with my umbilical cord, the doctor was too busy amputating my horns.”

Have you ever had confetti pancakes? I don't believe so. Do you obsess over your appearance? To a degree, ex. in regards to weight. Are you responsible for stuffing someone’s stocking? No. What’s your favorite romantic comedy? Ah man, idk. I like romcoms, just none are coming to mind right now. Do you stock up on make-up palettes during November? ????? no????? Have you ever taken a class online? Yes. Do you have a Neopets account? Omg I have so many piled up, I'm sure, lol. Loved that shit and kept going back. Do you make your own smoothies or juices? No. Do you think time really does heal all? No. Are you more sensitive to heat or the cold? HEAT, FUCKING CHRIST. Has anyone searched your room for anything recently? Mom helped me search for one of my mood stabilizers that the cat got out of my basket... We never found it. A new bottle. Thank god my psychiatrist just gave me a sample pack til my prescription can be refilled. Is anything in your room purposely hidden? Yes. Do you get a cold around the holidays? I rarely get sick, regardless of the season. Does it snow where you live? Rarely. Have you ever been pranked via hidden camera? No. Is hair gel a turn off on guys? "Not necessarily, but too much can be." <<<< This. Do you think cursing makes people sound unintelligent? Lol fuck off. What’s something you can cook extremely well? The only thing I CAN cook is cheesy scrambled eggs but I mean they're exceptionally good lol. Have you ever been bitten by a snake? Nope. How about a spider? Possibly at some point. If you don't want kids, was there ever a time you did, and vice-versa? The only time I ever wanted kids was deep into Jason's and my relationship. It's funny because I wanted three and now I'm just all NOPE. I stopped wanting kids after him. What is your favorite color for bridesmaid dresses? Idc. Do you ever count sheep to help you fall asleep? No. Do you have a youtube channel? If so, when did you start it? Yeah. I was on YouTube real early... don't remember the actual year, though. Do you have a secret crush right now? No. When was the last time you called customer service? I haven't. Do you take birth control pills? Not currently for mood reasons, but with my incredible fear of being raped, I kinda wanna go back. Do you like chocolate cake? Yeah man. Do you know anyone who doesn’t want to have kids? Plenty of people, myself included. Do you regret letting a certain guy or girl slip away? Ugh idk. There's no telling how awfully or well that path would've gone. Have you ever fainted? Yes. Do you consider yourself a good artist? Decent, anyway. Do you ever play board games anymore? Not really, I don't enjoy board games. The only time I ever really do is if Girt's over cuz that's like our "thing." Who was your first celebrity crush? Whew, Jesse McCartney. Who in your family did you get your height from? Mom. Who did you get your smile from? your hair color? your eye color? Smile, idk. Hair, also unsure. Dad was born dirty blond like me, but his hair turned black. Meanwhile I think Mom has always had brown hair, but hers is very dark/almost black. My maternal grandpa had blue eyes like me. Do you have big or small hands? Idk, normal. What was the name of your first imaginary friend you remember having? I never really had one. Do you pray to God regularly? Considering I don't believe in Him, no. What is your favorite version of the Bible to read? Even growing up religious, I sure never spent time reading various versions of the Bible. Have you been baptized? If so, how and where were you baptized? I was as a baby in a Roman Catholic church. You know, the traditional baptism with being dipped in water. Do you eat meat? Sadly. What college did you go to? and what was your major? I'm not sharing what college I go to, but my major is Art & Design. Do you miss living with a roommate? I look back on living with Jason, Jacob, and Amanda fondly most of the time, but idk if I can say I miss it. I at least don't miss my mental health. Have you ever been abused in any way? I feel incredibly thankful that I haven't... It seems like most people I know have been in some way or form. Do you like unicorns? Yeah man, they're dope. How old were you when you found out Santa wasn’t real? Idk, some year in elementary school. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? Ha ha no, I've got a cat for that. He insists on being cuddled most of the time. Name 3 things you are allergic to. Just pollen and silver. Oh, I do get headaches from artificial sweeteners, but "allergic" seems like the wrong word. Is there one book you have read over and over again because it’s so good? if so, which is it? The only two books I know I've read more than once are Because of Winn-Dixie and the Meerkat Manor book. Who was your favorite Rugrats character? Uhhh I think it was just regular ole Tommy. Which fairytale resembles your life the most? Uh idk. Do you play games on your phone a lot? No. What’s your favorite thing to do on your phone? Text Sara. Where do you buy most of your clothes? Wal-Mart or Hot Topic. Who is your favorite cousin? I don't have a favorite. Do you have family that lives in another state? Oh yeah, we're all the hell over the place. What states have you lived in? Only NC. Do you watch birth vlogs on youtube? bitch what the fuck What is your favorite type of cake? Red velvet. Favorite arcade game? I neeeeeed to find an arcade one day that actually has the Silent Hill game. It's so rare. I'm sure I'd love it. Have you ever found a roller coaster relaxing? Uh no, but I've never been on one, nor can I even imagine one ever being relaxing. Have you ever seen a spirit? I believe I have. Have you ever been kidnapped? Yikes no. Is there a running trail near your house? Not that I'm aware of. A game you cheated on in elementary school? None that I remember? Do you wear a retainer at night? I'm SUPPOSED to, but I haven't in so long that it doesn't even fit anymore. Where is the last place you had a kiss? The airport. When was the last time you cried out of physical pain? I think it hasn't been since that infected cyst was drained in like late '16. FUCK that. Have you ever done anything to Support the Troops? No. Do you donate blood? I did once, but now I'm too nervous to because I know I don't drink enough water and don't wanna faint. Have you ever owned the socks with toes on them? Ha, yeah, my sisters and I did. They were just a silly gift sometimes. What were you the last time you went trick or treating? WOW I couldn't even try to tell you, that's reaching far back. What was your favorite part about studying ancient Greeks and Romans? The badass names lmao. Where did your mom go to high school? Somewhere in NY. What’s a subject you would never major in? Mathematics. Is there someone who you can turn to for money and not be ashamed? No. I'm only EVER capable of doing so with Mom, but even then I don't like it. Have you ever swam in a river? Yeah, as a kiddo. I don't think I would now. What food do you love the smell of while it’s cooking? Cinnamon rolls omfggggg. What food do you hate the smell of uncooked? Fish, I guess? Has a bee ever stung you? Yes, once. Where did you last go camping? Never been. In what month do you start Christmas shopping? I can't Christmas shop considering I don't have an income. Have you ever slept in a bed with someone with bad BO? Yes. Do you have a favorite flavor at Baskin Robbins? No. Have you ever had a crush on a celebrity of the same sex? HUNNY Hannah Hart is a GODDESS godDAMN What kind of flowers would you plant in your garden? I'm too lazy for a garden. Do you believe that kids should be taught abstinence? I would definitely inform them of it being a completely valid and safest form of STD prevention, but I don't believe it should be what is "right." What's important is educating them on safe sex and to choose whom they're intimate with very carefully. I absolutely encourage them being taught what being "too young" means, too. Now what "too young" is can be argued, but let's be a late teen at least. When’s the last time you went to Chuck E. Cheese? Boy, I don't have a clue. What’s your favorite cheese or cheese flavored food? American. Cheese-flavored food is absolutely impossible to pick. Do you like black licorice? I hate licorice. Do you watch anything on the E! network? No. Have you ever tried out or thought of trying out for American Idol? Nope. Did you keep any momentos of high school dances? I had my... what's it called? The flower band on your wrist? Whatever, I had that for a long time. Do you still have clothes from your high school dances? I have both prom dresses. I'm probably gonna try to sell them this prom season though because I have absolutely no reason to keep them, and I'm poor lmao. Can you touch your nose with your tongue? No. Ever been to the original 13 colonies? I live in NC so like,,, Have you ever been to a concert that got out of control? Nope. Can you jump rope double dutch? I used to be able to as a kid. I loved jump rope. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know? Eek... idk. Actually, I might know. I want to know, but also don't, if whether or not how I treated Jason after the breakup was abusive or not. I've asked people in my life, old therapist included, if it was from what I told them (which was honest), and the unanimous answer has been no, that I was sick/actually insane and heartbroken beyond words, but yeah. I still wonder about it. Do you have a bucket list? If so, what are the top three things? Not really, but I mean of course there's things I wanna do, top two (idk about three) being to meet Mark and visit the KMP to photograph and pet the meerkats. Do you feel you had a happy childhood? For the most part, yeah. When did you last cry in front of another person? Last week when I was having a meltdown about school. How do you feel about tattoos and piercings? Explain. I LIVE!!!!!!!! FOR THEM!!!!!!!! As someone who never felt totally comfortable in her body, one thing that has always helped me has been new tats and piercings. It's like a more permanent form of make-up, you could say. All they've ever done is make me like a part of myself. Do you wear a lot of makeup? Why/why not? I almost never do unless I want to take a "pretty" picture. Talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way. JINKIES!!!!!!! UHHHHHHH man that's hard 'cuz there's a whole whoppin' load. I guess I can talk about some lyrics from Ozzy's "Life Won't Wait" that used to make me really emotional back in the dark days: "Every day that you wait, you're falling faster / no sleight of hand, no twist of fate, no ever after / when it's gone - it's gone, a fight to the bitter end." Just that whole song used to sting so much when I felt like I really was just entirely wasting my life being sad every day. Just like... a lot of Ozzy's lyrics have really resonated and stuck with me. I still have the hardest time believing the Parkinson's news. God, life's cruel. Poison a legendary singer's voice. I hope, so long he feels truly capable, this concert still happens so I can actually hear and see him one time and literally sob and okay I'm getting emotional basically I Love Ozzy Osbourne. List the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel. Ha, speaking of concerts. Only seen Alice Cooper, but it was aaaaaaamazing! Outside in a (mostly light) thunderstorm playing some classic good shit. It was a fun adventure, especially having my younger sis, a full-on redneck, come along just because she was bored and came for the ride. She was so, so, SO confused and creeped out and was NOT fucking happy when he brought his python on stage as he usually does. We were absolutely drenched when it was over; the ride home, we were freezing, and changing out of those soaked clothes was like a holy experience. Who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say? Jason telling me he forgives me and doesn't hate me. Do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organized/not organized? I don't, sadly. My bed is where I do like... everything, which I hate. I'd love to turn my sister's old room into like my "work" room, where I do homework, draw, etc., but I can't for a number of reasons. What is your night time routine? Go to the bathroom, take my meds, go to bed. Not very complicated. What’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know? Certain places I've "done things" oops. If you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why? I wanna dye my hair lilac currently. I wouldn't change the style. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high? N/A What’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars? Murder, to name just one. If you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? If you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair? My hair is short now. What is the most important thing to you in your life right now? My mental health.

[johnthestitcher]

QUILT #9 - GRANDMOTHER’S FAN-TASY

Size: 70" x 71"  

Completed:  January 1982

This quilt created several projects, including writing a 'how-to' article for the December 1982 issue of Quilt World Omnibook Christmas Special, the making of kits for blocks, and teaching embroidery classes.

I remember creating this quilt concurrently with working on the blocks for quilt #10 - the Twelve Days of Christmas. It also gave me the chance to work with satin, moire and velvet, and helped develop my embroidery skills. Looking through my notes it seems that my initial design was to be all blue fabrics - and cottons - but that was quickly abandoned. I also experimented with the placement of the fans and concluded that the fans should be made small enough that the black satin edge of the fans would connect and form a central medallion surrounding a circle of four fans. Once again, costume fabrics from shows and my job as a sewer for a costume shop supplied most of the fabrics used in this quilt. This quilt would also entail handfuls of embroidery floss, still an inexpensive commodity in the early 1980′s.

The quilt is constructed of thirty-six twelve and one-half inch blocks in six rows. The fans were constructed first and appliqued to a corner of the base blocks; scraps of satin in various shapes were then added and basted in place to fill the remainder of the block. The black satin bands and handles would be added last to cover the raw edges. All 36 blocks were basted before starting the embroidering, and I would carry whatever block was being currently worked on around with me, doing some embroidery at odd moments. It was a very portable project, contrasting nicely with concurrent project #10 that turns out to be one of the largest quilts I would make. For its rather compact size of 6' x 6', Grandmother's Fan-tasy would also turn out to be one of the heaviest.

 There are many interesting items in this quilt. There are lace appliques sprinkled liberally and embroidered roses on many of the fans. On the first row in block #4, there is an embroidered picture of a black and white dog labeled 'Fuzzy' - the treasured family pet. My name is also embroidered in the center circle of fans, blended into the block embroideries. In the lower right-hand corner is a black satin brocade piece that is embroidered 'J M 1982'; beneath that patch is the great hidden mystery of the quilt. On the day I was finishing the border, I inserted a square of muslin beneath the patch on which is written the headlines of the day in permanent marker. I remember two of the headlines being the invasion of Afghanistan, and the awaiting of the birth of the first prince of Charles and Diana. My name is embroidered into the black band of one of the central fans.

The backing of the quilt is a brilliant sky blue moire faille. The quilt is bound in maroon cotton binding and a maroon silk tassel hangs from each corner. The quilt is tied in sky blue embroidery floss.

I remember this quilt hanging at a show called 'Victorian Splendor', sponsored by the Quilters of the Hudson Highlands. What makes that occasion memorable is that I and fellow quilter Richard Zimmerman attended this show dressed in Victorian finery! [See: QUILT, Summer 1983] Also- there was a Victorian quilt block contest sponsored at this same show, and I made a smaller version of one of my blocks to enter the contest, and won First Prize for the block (the quilt show was non-judged). The story of those blocks and how they were lost and recovered and turned into a wall hanging is detailed in a future installment of this chronicle.

This quilt was appraised for $650 by a professional appraiser.

Owner: the quilter

Condition: never used

PLEASE VISIT MY ARCHIVE FOR MORE PICTURES OF MY QUILTS, QUILTING, WALL HANGINGS, HOOPS, AND PATCHWORK CLOTHING! MORE TO COME IN THE FUTURE!

 Exhibitions & Prizes:

 1982 -  NQA #13 (New Orleans, LA) - Third Prize

           Goshen, CT Fair - First Prize

           Bethlehem, CT Fair - First Prize

Mad River Grange Fair - First Prize {note: This quilt did not win Best of                Show because it was exhibited along with quilt #10, which did}

1983 -  NSQG World of Quilts #4 - Second Prize

           Thames River Quilt Show

           First United Methodist Church Show

1984 -  Corning, NY Quilter's Guild Show

           Ninnigret Quilters of Rhode Island

1985 -  Narragansett Bay Quilters Association - Narragansett, RI

1987 -  Trumbull Piecemakers -'April Shower of Quilts #2,' Trumbull, CT

 Magazine Pictures and/or Articles:

 Quilt World Omnibook Christmas Special, December 1982, p43-45 “Victorian

           Crazy Quilting”. Four color pictures of Grandmother’s Fan-tasy with

           ‘how-to’ article.

QUILT, Summer 1983, p23-24 “Victorian Splendor at Vail’s Gate, NY”, color

           picture of author and Richard Zimmerman in Victorian costume. The

           Victorian wall hanging blocks came from this show.

 Book:

“Gallery of American Quilts 1860 – 1989; Book 2” – published by the American Quilter’s Society. Detail of quilt #9 appears on cover and in whole on page 23.

[jonwongton]

09/14/19

Life has been really crazy these past few months.

Sam finished his internship at my company last week, which marks three months since he’s come to San Jose to live with me for the summer. It baffles me how fast this summer has gone by. We went to QQ noodle the day he flew in, I went to KCON NY, he took a trip to LA, I went to KCON LA the week after, we went to Santa Cruz for our company picnic, and now he’s back in Irvine starting his senior year.

I turned 24 two weeks ago. After 22, there wasn’t anything to look forward and now I just feel old. All our new grad hires and interns are super young now (as they should be), and the thrill of being super young at work has kinda disappeared. At least for the first time in three years, my birthday wasn’t awful. In 2016, I was feeling sick and all the Angry Orchard didn’t help. In 2017, I was actually sick, and it was way too tiring of a day considering I was with my family in LA. 2018 sucked too because a bunch of adults from Oregon came and they dragged me to Tomi, and there was nothing to do since I was the only kid. This year, we went to watch Hobbs and Shaw, I got some quiet time to do homework, and we cut a fruit tart at night. Welp, I’ve used up my Saturday/Sunday/Monday (labor day) birthday, so the next few birthdays will all be during the work week.

I made the decision a few weeks ago to just finish off my master’s program this semester, so I’m taking all four classes I need to graduate at the same time. Damn I’ve been so tired recently, I haven’t been this stressed out since Berkeley. I think I was super panicking the first couple of weeks trying to get up to speed and get ahead (the start is always a pain because you have to spend so much extra time getting the environment for the class set up), but I think it’s calmed down quite a bit. I’ve literally dropped Korean for the past three weeks to only do school, and I think after two more weeks of continual effort, I’ll have enough of a head start in every class to catch a breath. I’m probably biting off more than I can chew, but I feel like I haven’t been working hard enough lately and the thought of being free in December as opposed to May truly sounds nice.

I just got promoted to senior! I had the career talk with my family over the weekend and it still blows my mind how blessed I am. The company has been paying for my masters, they let my brother intern here over the summer on short notice, and my boss is treats me reallllyyy well (he’s figured out how to work with my rather passive personality). I feel like the millennial mindset is to jump jobs after a few years to get that instant pay bump, but I can also see from a manager’s perspective, how valuable it is to have loyalty from your employees too. There are other opportunities once you build up your tenure that are probably worth more than a slightly higher salary.

My brain has been so fried recently I really miss doing Korean. I’ve been so diligent this year having an entry in my notebook almost every day but since KCON LA and the start of this semester, it’s been a lot more bare. On the flip side, I might have needed a break like this because I feel like I was starting to burn out from just drill-and-killing grammar and vocabulary for months straight. Now that I haven’t gotten a chance to work on it, I’ve built up all this motivation so that when the opportunity arises, the magical feeling should come back. I’ve still tried to keep up on fromis_9 vlives and I came to the realization that my comprehension improves when I pay less attention lol. Even in English, if I focus too hard on the sentence and listen to every word, my brain can’t put the meaning together fast enough. But when you just kinda accept the fact a lot of the words will go in one ear and out the other, it’s way easier just trying to remember the point.

Once my birthday passes, it marks four months left in the year (and considering there’s Thanksgiving and Christmas, it goes by even faster...). I’d say mentally right now, I’m only in mid-June, but when I think about all the summer comebacks that were a few months ago, the cognitive dissonance really sets in. There have been some good songs this year, but kpop definitely hasn’t lived up to the standard 2018 set last year. There’s only two months left to get some more songs before the end-of-the-year awards start kicking in, but I think we’ve all already decided our song-of-the-year and album-of-the-year by now.

Lastly, I went to a funeral today, which is the fourth one I’ve been to in three years (which I think is a lot). I’ve visited this great-aunt on weekends ever since I was kid, so it feels like a big turning point knowing I might not go to her house anymore. May she rest in peace.

[lakarenloftus]

As much as I love to travel, it is true that there is no place like home for the holidays. It's always great to see friends and family and visit old holiday haunts that inevitably bring up memories of those since gone and or a part of us that may no longer be with us either. Regardless, it's a great time of year to reflect back on the year and or a lifetime as I always feel so nostalgic this time of year. This pic was taken a week ago today on Christmas Eve. It was a mix of a new and an old tradition. I have never spent Christmas Eve in downtown Philadelphia, yet I have always done a spin into the city at some point in the season for the holiday fare for as long as I can remember. Going to Jon Wanamaker's and seeing the holiday light show brought back a rush of memories from my great aunt who was better to us than any grandparent could ever be. No one loved the holidays nor gift giving more than she did. I wish I was half as generous as she was. Being in the iconic Jon Wanamaker store in downtown Philadephia any time of the year, particularly Christmas so reminds me of her and of Christmas as a kid. Being in the city also reminds me of my Dad who went to school in the city. When he picked me up from the train (when I was in from NY) or from the airport (in from LA) he always gave me a tour as if I had never been there before. His point of pride for all things Philly was palpable. Another tradition was our going to Little Italy at some point in the season for big meals and big fun when I was visiting. There was a lot of red wine and some really bad singing involved. No matter where I am, I do love me some city. This city & any city is typically filled with festive fun.  Last week, I made many a friend, several from all around the world; Nepal & Kenya selling wares I recently bought in my recent travels. Of course, seeing kids lit up like Christmas trees always makes me beam from the inside out. Here's to a good look back & an even brighter look forward to what is to come. May it be filled with childlike joy, friends, family & festivities, wherever & whatever time of year. Happy New Year, everyone! XO! Lofty via Instagram http://bit.ly/2EXwhop

[charamccorkindal-blog]

Boston Christmas Ornaments.

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