#and yet the need for attention persists so here i am. posting and embarrassing myself even further

[daz4i]

man. i am SO embarrassed by my own existence. ashamed of every aspect of myself. everything i have ever done has been shameful in one way or another and i wish i could erase it

[lavendertwilight89]

Shelter

Part 4

Posted to AO3 HERE!!!!

THERE BE SMOOOOOOOOTS

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  Kagome honestly wasn’t sure exactly what she was more embarrassed about. The fact everyone basically saw her naked, the odd phenomenon of her ancestor appearing after Inuyasha had just finished pumping her full of his seed, or the mortifying need that arose in her to rejoin with him again after Kikyo disappeared.

She honestly wasn’t sure. The whole situation was not what she expected her first time to be like.

Really, she never had thought about it in general until they were liplocked and grinding against each other, losing themselves to the burning connection between them; but, if she had before their heated kiss, she never would have placed Kikyo’s ghost, the demon slayer who couldn’t seem to stomach the sight of her, a monk, and her now brother and sister-in-law all in the same room as her, andddddd then being pulled out to take a bath rather than allowing her and her mate to bask in the afterglow.

Yea no, definitely not what she dreamed about. If anything she would have been willing, no, needing to mate again with him; afterall she had been so relieved to hear she hadn’t sentenced him to death and that the jewel was also gone. They were so happy; he was smug and she, thankful.

The way their bodies just molded together, the tender loving touches he gave her, the intimate kisses, his hot breath in her ear, down her neck, his flaming tongue skimming over her breasts and between her folds, the strong muscles her hands grasped on his back, arms, chest...

She was hot. Burning. Would it be rude if she turned around and made her way back to his room??

Not knowing it possible she became even more uncomfortable when they entered the bathroom; it was literally a GIANT room full of hot springs. Where were they? Honestly she hadn’t seen the outside of the castle; she had only seen his room, the hallway, the study, and now the bathing room. Well, she did see outside to the gated-off porch from Inuyasha’s room. Not that she had been outside yet. But she had never been around this much--extravagance.

As the village priestess, she lived very humbly. A small hut with her family, enough to eat and drink but… trips to the hot springs were never on the schedule. She was lucky if her cleansing spiritual baths in the lake and adjoining waterfall were warmed by the sun. But this-- Gods .

Kagome knew Inuyasha’s brother was the Lord of the Western Lands. In reality she'd never been far from the north where Koga’s tribe was and they were far from flashy. She usually only went to the nearby villages if someone needed a blessing or help with a rogue demon.

That direction of thought made her begin to worry; how were they doing? Were they okay? Did Naraku leave them alone and just follow her? Did he go back to her village? Did he trick the villagers to hate her further? What about her family--

“Lady Kagome?” Rin asked and she helped her into the water. Kagome hadn’t even registered Rin had stripped her and had stepped into the bath herself.

“Huh?” She slightly jumped from startlement having been so lost in thought. “Oh, I-I’m sorry, my lady.”

Rin helped her ease down, shaking her head with a soft smile, “Just sister or Rin, will do. You are officially family now.” With the annunciation, Rin stroked the mating mark Inuyasha had left upon her shoulder. Shivering, even though she was far from cold in two ways, she smiled at the evidence of her and Inuyasha binding their souls together.

As Kagome sank down into the water, she hissed from the contact on her sex. She hadn’t realized she was so sore. Or raw may have been the better choice of words. Maybe it was a blessing Rin took her away for a bath. She probably was more experienced in that area; well, she had to be since she was pregnant.

She heard the shoji door pop open when she was fully seated in the water. Rin turned her head towards the entrance as well. Kagome saw the woman demon slayer enter in just a yukata looking bashful and slightly uncomfortable.

“I was asked to join you,” she mumbled with a blush upon her face.

It wasn’t in Kagome’s nature to hold grudges. She smiled softly and nodded to the woman, “Come join us then. We don’t mind--right, Sister?”

Rin eagerly nodded and the slayer dropped the yukata and stepped in the water. She tied up her hair and then turned away from them looking for a place to rest--away from them. Which was okay; Kagome didn’t want to force a friendship on her. It was when her back was turned Kagome saw a giant scar that stretched up and down her back. She couldn’t hold in the gasp that escaped her mouth and caught the slayer’s attention.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” Kagome quickly apologized.

“It’s alright. It happened long ago on a job.”

“It marks you as a warrior though; you should wear it proudly,” Rin offered.

“Hm,” the slayer hummed.

“Uhm… Sango was it?” The slayer in turn nodded. “I am sorry for what happened to your village. I am slightly responsible for Naraku attacking your village.”

“I… I am also sorry. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me. I didn’t allow myself to rationally process what had actually occurred. You do not owe me any form of apology, Lady Priestess.”

“Kagome,” she corrected.

“Kagome, then. I do truly apologize for my emotional behavior earlier.”

“There isn’t anything to forgive. It was just a misunderstanding.”

Sango smiled at her and nodded as she relaxed into the water. Rin rose and scooted around to sit behind Kagome. She felt Rin brushing through her locks. Turning, she saw Rin using some really creamy soaps. She didn’t smell a scent coming from them--likely because her sister’s mate also had a very sensitive nose.

In their time in the hut, she learned things he liked and didn’t like; spicy food in particular was not something he enjoyed. At all. Not that he even let her pick the designated herbs to even let her make a batch for themselves.

Blushing at the memory of how he would carry her into the woods, holding her close and so carefully so he would jostle her when he leapt from tree to tree… It was clear now he was subtly pressing his nose to her hair, letting his hands cup her body--she was just as subtle as she had pressed her nose into his haori--

She felt a brush of his youki against hers startling her from her ever wandering thoughts. His concern made her smile as she stroked her reiki back comfortingly. Idly, she began to wonder what they were talking about.

“Sango?” Kagome began. “Why were you asked to join us? Not that I--or rather we-- mind, just--curious, is all.”

“There is no reason for you to be nervous around me, Kagome. I think they wanted to discuss with Lord Inuyasha something that was delivered at the castle gates.”

“But why without you?” Kagome questioned.

“My lord likely wanted it discussed with the lord monk and your mate to see how to proceed,” Rin offered and as she rinsed through Kagome’s hair.

“What do you mean? Why just them?”

“Miroku sealed the evil that he could sense from the… object. They also wanted to see if Inuyasha recognized what it was,” Sango hesitated.

“‘Object’?” Kagome pried.

“Hmmm…” Rin hummed. “My lord has taken you as his own charge-- because you are family. He likely wanted to discuss with your mate just his thoughts before we eat dinner.”

“But why wouldn’t they let us join??”

“Likely Lord Sesshomaru wanted Lady Sango to join us just in case something disturbing were to occur. Not that I do not think you are unable to handle yourself, sister but….”

“The object was cursed… for me wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Sango answered simply.

Kagome began to worry. Obviously it was Naraku at work. It was his way of sending a message; but to what end? And why? How did he know where she was? Could he sense her? Is that how he found her? But why didn’t she ever sense him?? There had to be more to it than just that…

Whatever she was feeling before she had entered the water dried up--her mind went from sex to panic. She figured Rin and Sango also felt her nervousness but didn’t mention anything of it. Instead Rin asked how Sango and Miroku had met.

“We had met a couple times on some jobs that required a spiritualist and a slayer. Originally I was angered and disgusted by his… persistence. I hadn’t been brought up like a normal woman and the tactics of men letting a woman know they were interested wasn’t something I was used to.

“I also wasn’t overly fond of him paying attention to other girls after he had just proposed to me so I brushed off his advances. Obviously he had plenty of other women who would bear his children.

“But he would stop paying attention to the other women and would follow us back to our village. He kept trying to pursue me, even when I would smack him after getting a little too familiar with his touches and tell him it was never going to happen.

“Soon enough I realized he actually was serious when we would repeat visit the villages or even meet elsewhere and the women asked why he never came back… Apparently he was just a giant flirt. The fact he continuously only asked me for my hand weirded me out. I couldn’t wrap my head around it! I even confronted him about it--demanding to know what was going on in his perverted and twisted head! He, of course, laughed and said that I was worth the work. He honestly wanted to be with me and no one else.

“It wasn’t until we were exorcising a bear demon that it became truly apparent to me. When he leapt in front of the demon and took a hit for me I realized how serious he was. He almost lost his life for the sake of mine and his actions forced me to be honest about my own feelings regarding him. Despite the way I had continuously brushed his advances aside, no one had made me feel the way he did, like I was special and someone to be treasured. He also was never intimidated or threatened by my strength, unlike most other men I had come across. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to and secretly I liked it. All the time I had spent with him...I had grown so attached to his presence by my side and developed a deep affection for him. So I remained behind with him when my family left and… well, when he asked me again to bear his children I said yes.

“He actually became a changed man after that. Somehow he convinced the elders at the temple to allow him to move into our village, talked my father into allowing him to be housed with us until we could have our own hut built.

“We were married within a month and have been happy ever since.”

“That’s so wonderful,” Kagome said happily. “He sounds like he realized what he found in you was real.”

“I suppose so. We’ve been together for two springs now.”

“How romantic,” Rin hummed as she rinsed through Kagome’s hair.

“What about you, Lady Rin? How did you and Lord Sesshomaru meet?” Sango asked as she rested her elbows on her knees.

Kagome was actually quite curious on how they had met. Inuyasha hadn’t known when she asked--or didn’t care to tell. Back when they were stranded in the hut when she was injured and healing, they had talked about his brother and now sister-in-law. But when she had asked, he seemed uninterested. Or rather hurt. He seemed like he had been doing better with the whole situation now. Hopefully.

They were only able to briefly talk about his feelings before they--

And there went her heated desires stirring within her belly once again. Blushing, she tried to hide her obvious line of thinking but only heard Rin giggle in response.

“Oh, you poor thing. The mating mark is calling, isn’t it?” Rin teased.

“Wait--what--??” Kagome started.

“Ahhhh, I’ve heard of that. As demon slayers, we had to learn about demon nature and mating was a huge lesson. It’s when a demon takes a make they often end up… indisposed for some time.”

“Yes it is due to their inner instincts. They have to make the bond so--perfect and indestructible that they often will lock their mate away for days to make sure the bond is secure and established so that no other demon can threaten it or try to destroy it,” Rin sighed… Ok. Kagome was officially turned off again knowing she was talking from personal experience.

“D-Days??” Kagome stuttered.

“Sometimes even a month,” Sango replied. “It depends on how well they were bonded before the biting mark was placed.”

“O-Oh g-goodness,” Kagome flushed from the idea of being locked in his room for a month only doing t-that.

“Lord Inuyasha and you likely will not have to do that for days. The fact he allowed me to take you away to bathe and that he didn’t attack us upon entering your chambers was a good sign,” Rin soothed as she began to braid Kagome’s hair.

“B-but--”

“Oh, yes, you will likely end mating a lot in the next couple days,” Rin agreed with her worries. “That is why I wanted to make sure you bathed and were cleaned properly. Especially since it was probably quite some time since you last had a proper bath. But I also figure you were likely sore, and a nice warm cleanse would do the trick.”

Kagome nodded as she blushed, “It was a good idea. I do appreciate it. N-not that I didn’t want to--I mean--”

“It’s alright, Sister. Relax. This is a safe place. Right, Lady Sango?”

“Of course. After two years of marriage, not much can make me blush at this point.”

“Do you and Lord Miroku have children?” Kagome asked.

“Yes; we have twin girls back at home with my younger brother.”

“Are you planning on having anymore?” Rin winked.

“Yes; but we are waiting until after this whole Naraku mess has been taken care of. We are already worried about the possible dangers now being away from home.”

“My lord has ensured that his protection is visible at your village while you are away,” Rin said softly. “I understand your worries, but because you are helping us, you and your village have been taken under his charge as well. We appreciate all you have done for us so far and hope we can rely on your strength in the coming turmoil.”

“Rin... Why did you mate with Lord Sesshomaru? You never answered. I-if I’m prying--please, tell me and I’ll--”

“Oh no, I’m sorry! Hahahahaha, no; I meant to answer but I noticed your hazy expression and it reminded me of myself a couple years ago.”

“How old are you, Lady Rin?” Sango asked.

“Uhmmm…about twenty-two. Almost twenty-three. Sesshomaru found me when I was just over nineteen. My village had been attacked by bandits. I lost most of my family… friends…

“But Lord Sesshomaru saved me and the other women right before we were--well--”

“No need to elaborate,” Sango offered.

“The other women were terrified of him--but I was just so entranced. He was so handsome and stunning. While he had a cold face and seemed emotionless, I could still sense the worry coming from him in waves. I could see he cared because he had helped us when he didn’t have to. Afterall, he was the ruler of the West to demons. Yes, he allowed humans to reside in his lands, but he was known to not get involved in human affairs.

“Even now, I’m not certain as to why he had been in the area. But, I stood unsteadily and… he caught me as my legs gave out. Without a word, he pulled out a spare kimono from the armor he wore and wrapped my bare body in it and flew us home.

“He had the healers see me and he had refused to leave. Whatever I had been feeling for him, he had obviously felt it too. He offered to take me back to my village, but also said if I wanted to I could remain here.

“And… well… It wasn’t too long after that we mated. I made him make amends, or at least try to mend things with Lord Inuyasha. It wasn’t his fault he was born from their father and Inuyasha’s mortal mother.

“Because Lord Sesshomaru was born from an… heir mating rather than an actual mate-bond, he felt mates were non-existent. When Inuyasha was born, it deeply hurt Lord Sesshomaru. He felt he was being replaced with a son he actually wanted rather than needed. He felt he could only serve his father but not as a son would--but as an ally.

“But after meeting me, I believe he finally came to understand his father. And he regretted how he treated his younger brother.”

It really dawned on Kagome how much Rin must have changed Sesshomaru after the way Inuyasha had described him. Uncaring. Distant. Cold.

With Rin’s love and understanding, he was able to outgrow his original disdain for Inuyasha and was finally about to move on.

Rin helped her rise out of the bath. Sango followed suit and they all dried off. Pulling open the door to the changing room, Rin reached in and selected three new robes; colorful, bright yukatas. Kagome was awed by the fancy silk material covered with intricate patterns. They were so regal, so elegant, and only served to reinforce the sheer opulence of the estate Rin shared with Sesshomaru. Sango seemed just as touched by the gesture but was waved off by Rin.

Rin was literally the exact opposite of those things. She just seemed so much warmer. Like she could radiate a room with her smile alone. For a Lady, a woman in power, she did tasks that were so beneath her. She washed her hair and even rubbed her shoulders. Explained things she hadn’t needed to. Coming from a simpler way of life, and coming so close to having that life ended, must have given her a better appreciation of everything she had gained since meeting Sesshomaru.

Kagome dressed herself in a dark purple yukata with orange and green swirls, Sango was given one that was mainly pink with hues of purple and yellow, and Rin wore one of royal blue with red and white swirls. Kagome thought it oddly resembled Sesshomaru’s haori and hakama set, only rather than the base being white, hers was blue and the swirls of white were all over the kimono but the red matched where his designs had set.

“Comfortable?” Rin inquired.

“Yes, thank you La--I mean Sister,” Kagome said with a bow.

“Yes, thank you Lady Rin,” Sango offered a bow as well.

“Please--you are our guests. I’m sure dinner must be ready. Your mate is surely ready and waiting for you,” Rin said with a wink. Kagome blushed completely scarlet.

Rin led the way to the dining hall and they were greeted with only a few demonic servants. Kagome saw only three but they held food trays in each of their hands. Maybe Sesshomaru didn’t like to have that many people on hand? Inuyasha had also mentioned to her his disdain for humans…

Was it possible that his staff had decreased when he took a human mate? Or was he just… more private in general?

Kagome finally took a survey of the room and noticed the men were sitting, waiting for them. Miroku sat across from Sesshomaru, Inuyasha sat directly to Sesshomaru’s left side on the other side of the table. It was then she saw how intensely his golden eyes were raking over her body.

Oh God. She forgot how much she wanted him. How much she was craving him. She squirmed a little bit under his intense gaze and pinched her thighs together as she took her lip in her mouth.

The sight before her only made her hotter when she saw him cock an eyebrow and then smirk. Oh Gods. She was screwed. Wait--no--she shouldn’t think that. She was a priestess for goodness sake; she could control herself and her needs. It wasn’t like she was thinking about how it would feel if he pinned her up against the wall again and drove his leg between her legs and-- WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HER?!

Sesshomaru clearing his throat was probably what really made her the most mortified. Of course if her mate could smell her excitement--he obviously could too.

Was there an option for her to opt out and jump from the window down to the gardens to dig her own grave from dying of embarrassment? No? Not an option? Well damn…

Inuyasha had walked from his room to the dining hall with the monk who was going on about what the women were doing and what a sight it likely was to behold. While his demonic half wanted to kill the bastard for even suggesting he would look upon his mate, he had to rationalise the monk was just talking. He seemed rather loyal to his human wife. Even so much so that he would try to show her kindness and defend her to a pack of demons.

But the comment itself spun him into another realization; he had the crazy undying need to want to fuck his bitch again. And again. And again. And then probably one more time.

Damn. He was just as bad as that pervert next to him. What was wrong with him? It hadn’t been that bad before they had mated… Not really. Yea, he wanted to rut her but he could control himself. He’d gone through puberty. Sure he’d wished he hadn’t tasted her body when he healed her, let alone see everything those dingy miko robes had hidden from his view...But--well shit . Now he couldn’t get his dick to calm the fuck down.

Reminding himself of the situation at hand only helped slightly. The fact his thoughts kept going back to his bare breasted mate launching herself into his arms and kissing him senseless after the dead priestess disappeared was making him crazy. He just kept wondering what or where that would have headed if the others hadn’t interrupted.

He stepped into the dining room and his brother was already sitting at the kotatsu awaiting the others. Miroku took a spot across from his brother so Inuyasha did the proper thing and sat at his brother’s left hand side. The look Sesshomaru gave him softened his cock fully. Even though demons weren’t as embarrassed or uncomfortable by the smell of arousal like humans, it didn’t make Inuyasha feel any better that his brother knew where his thoughts lied.

Which was right between his mate’s thighs.

“It is normal to be thinking such thoughts. They will not subside until the bond is strengthened to the likings of your youkai.”

“Fuck. How long does that fucking take?”

“Depending on how strong your bond is already. The level of trust, love, conviction, and satiation will all play factors in the length of time.”

“Pardon, but what are you both--”

“None of your fucking business, monk,” Inuyasha interrupted. “Sesshomaru how long--uh, you know, nevermind.” It occurred to him he actually didn’t want to know how many times he fucked his sister-in-law until his body didn’t crave it like food in a famine.

“Our bond was fairly established before we mated.”

“Ohhhhhhh,” the pervert smirked.

“Say another word, and I will literally rip your mouth off your face.”

“No need to be embarrassed. I know in the demon world finding one’s mate is a full blessing! I did not mean to make you uncomfortable,” Miroku apologized.

“His human half does not allow him to see past the discomfort of talking about mating.”

“Can we just not fucking talk??”

There was finally silence but then Rin, Sango and his mate entered the room. He caught her beautiful clear ocean blue eyes--

And he was a goner. Especially when he smelled her spicy hot cinnamon scent that burst from her. Fuck. She felt the effects too. And her eyes were heated and about to be glazed over with lust. He smirked at her and then the bastard had to clear his damn throat.

Son of a bitch. Literally.

Later we will take what is ours .

Please, for the love of any God, not fucking now.

We desire our mate and she desires us. Isn’t that something to be happy about?

Yea yea. I ain’t complaining. I just don’t want to talk to your ass right now--I wanna stare at--

“How was your bath, Sango?”

Goddamnit.

“It was very nice. Lady Rin is very hospitable.”

“D-Did you have a good bath, Kagome?” Why was he nervous?

When she knelt down beside him, he swore she was the sun and he couldn’t look away. She was bright, loving, literally radiating happiness and beauty. Her kind eyes shone like diamonds, “Yes. The palace is beautiful. Thank you for hosting us.”

“We are not hosting you,” Sesshomaru said coldly.

“My lord is correct; this is your home now. If that is what you want,” Rin offered, placing a hand on Sesshomaru’s lap.

“That is very kind of you,” Kagome bowed. Fuck. How was bowing so sexy? Was it because he was thinking about the last time she had done that and took his cock in her--

“Did you mention the object we received while you were cleansing?” Miroku asked Sango.

“Yes… but not in great detail,” Sango admitted. “I figured she would want to actually see it.”

“Yes, please. Wh-what was it? What did Naraku leave here?”

Sesshomaru then spoke, “He left a ring with your hair attached along with a finger. The monk has already sealed the finger, as we sensed the jyaki from it. We could not risk the potential of it affecting others.”

“A--A---A--” she was spiraling. Inuyasha grabbed her and pulled her to his lap and wrapped his arms around her. The rumble that emerged from his chest was purely instinct. He couldn’t help but try to calm her body that instead of reeking from arousal now wept with unadulterated fear.

“Kagome, it’s ok, I’m right here.”

“W-Who’s--Who’s was it??”

“I don’t know…” Inuyasha admitted.

“Lady Kagome, I know this must be painful for you but please, until you know everything you must try to remain calm,” Miroku added.

“Lord Koga is on his way here with more information, sister. Please, it’s going to be okay. Lord Inuyasha won’t allow any harm to befall you.”

He could tell she wasn’t going off the rails but still was afraid. “Kagome?”

“Koga is coming? Why??”

“We knew you were from his territory and needed to learn more about what was going on,” Sango offered, trying not to offend his skittish mate.

“He--he’s going to be so mad,” she sobbed into his chest. He forgot she mentioned she just left. Took off. No word or anything to protect everyone.

“Kagome--did Hojo give you a ring?”

She froze in her sobs, “Y-Yes… the ring Naraku sent was likely mine. I left it with my family.”

“You didn’t return it to him?” Inuyasha asked.

“No. I--It was late when I left. I didn’t have time to return it. My mother might have, though,” she whispered into his haori.

Sesshomaru nodded his understanding and Inuyasha returned the gesture, thankful she wouldn’t have to repeat herself in the state she was in. Inuyasha looked to his brother again and noticed his attention had shifted. “Our guest has arrived.”

Rin rose beside him and walked to the dining hall door. Opening the door, she revealed the thick stench of wolf. Jaken entered first and shortly after a fox demon walked through with the wolf right behind him.

The wolf looked around the room and stalled when he laid eyes on Kagome. He seemed shocked to see her. Was it because she was in an intimate position with him? Or because she was with a half-breed?

“Ka-Kagome…” He stuttered.

“Kagome!!!!” The little fox cried, running before the wolf could grab him and launching himself across the table.

Kagome had pulled away at the sound of the young fox’s cry and leaned forward away from Inuyasha to catch the fox in her arms, “Shippo!”

She pulled him close to her chest and sank back into his hold and cried.

“I thought I’d never see you again!” Shippo cried.

“I’m so sorry Shippo. I never meant to hurt anyone--I just wanted to protect you, the pack, the villagers, my family--”

“Don’t feed us that shit, Kagome. You know we could have protected you! You ran away! I looked for you for days!! But I couldn't leave my pregnant mate!” Koga snarled.

Inuyasha returned the favor and growled menacingly right back, “Back off, wolf.”

“And then you went and mated with this ?? What the fuck were you thinking!! You were supposed to marry that human boy!”

“I didn’t love Hojo, let alone even like him like that!” Kagome yelled back. That was his girl.

“Kagome--You’re better than this! You can’t be serious!!”

“Koga he’s my mate!!” She finally yelled, still holding the fox kit in her arms. He seemed completely oblivious in her arms, seeming to soak up her presence just as Inuyasha was.

The wolf lord stopped in his tracks. Rin stood behind him with Jaken in front of her as Sesshomaru had risen from his seated position. The tension could be cut with his sword.

“He’s--you--he’s your what ?!!” Koga finally snapped back.

“I didn’t stutter, Koga!! He’s. My. Mate.”

“That’s not possible! He’s a half-breed!”

With that, Kagome was off his lap and she had dropped Shippo to the table as her power flared around her hotly as she said in a voice full of warning, “Koga.”

“Lord Koga, you address my brother and his mate as beneath you. You will recognize you are in their home and mine. The western lands welcome you and want you present but you will refrain from insulting them here forward.”

“What the fuck?? Lord Sesshomaru, get a grip! You didn’t respect the mutt ‘til you found your human mate. Why the change? Expecting half-breed pups??”

Now, normally, Inuyasha would have been the one to attack first and ask questions later. He hadn’t expected Sesshomaru to have leapt over the table and grab Koga in a choke hold pressing him against the wall.

“Lord Sesshomaru!” Rin cried as Jaken blocked her from stopping her mate.

“Oh fuck,” Koga chocked coughing. “She is pupped, isn’t she??”

Sesshomaru glared and Inuyasha felt his demonic aura increase. It made his own youki rise and he felt himself changing.

“ Brother. Let the wolf breathe ,” Inuyasha ordered in inuyoukai.

“ Beta will be silent .”

“ Alpha, my mate needs him .”

“ Both our mates have been insulted. That is unacceptable .”

“ Both mates will be in danger if we don’t allow the wolf to speak .”

“ He apologizes first. ”

“ As alpha commands, ” Inuyasha conceded.

With their conversation ended their instincts calmed somewhat. Sesshomaru finally exhaled and glared at Koga. “You will apologize to my mate, my brother, and his mate or you will be asked to leave.”

“I didn’t mean to insult Kagome, let alone your mate. From what I was taught--”

“You were taught wrong,” Sesshomaru growled.

“I apologize, Lord Inuyasha. Kagome. Lady Rin,” Koga bit out. Sesshomaru released his neck and stepped to his upset mate who immediately clung to him. Then Sesshomaru did something so uncharacteristic he wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. As Inuyasha watched he stroked Rin’s face, softly and tenderly. The usual stone-cold face actually showed concern. What. The. Fuck. As if that day couldn’t have gotten any weirder.

“Keh. Don’t care. They’re just words,” Inuyasha said as he relaxed back into the pillows of the table. He watched as his mate stayed stiff and glowered at her friend.

“Kagome… Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not a child Koga. You can’t treat me as such.”

“Kagome; you know I love you. I always have and always will. Can you blame me for trying to protect you?? Can you blame me for getting upset and angry you just took off and now, here you are, mated to a half-demon that last I had heard held no name, no title, no home, no nothing?? Do you think that’s the kind of life I would have wanted for you??”

Inuyasha slightly tensed. She loved him. She mated with him.

The wolf is competition to our mate bond .

He’s mated… or so she said.

Our bond is not completely solidified.

Wolves mate for life .

A demon is a demon. He can take more than one mate.

For the love of God--SHUT. UP.

Solidify the mate bond!

Kagome must've sensed his inner turmoil. Or maybe she heard him growling and whimpering as he had his eyes squeezed shut with his ears pressed down. Either way, she sank back onto his lap and stroked her fingers through his hair and then brought her hands to his cheeks.

“Hey… stay with me. It’s ok. Koga loves me and I love him--but not in that way. Not the way I love you,” she softly said as she licked his cheek. It took literally all he had not to fucking purr.

He found his face nuzzling her mark as she twisted her hands back into his hair and held him close.

Miroku clearing his throat followed by a grunt brought Inuyasha back to his senses. He locked eyes with the monk and saw the slayer had knocked him in the ribs. Good. Even though they got off on the wrong foot, he liked her. It seemed like she and Kagome had made amends in their bath.

“Uh--Inuyasha. For real, I’m sorry. I--I didn’t know. Or rather, I guess I didn’t see. I’m sure you know how special she is.”

Inuyasha looked at the wolf who had approached and was now standing where he was going to take his seat. Rin and Sesshomaru had made their way back to the table and were just sitting back down. The runt was sitting in Kagome's former spot studying Miroku. Koga was waiting for Inuyasha to accept his actual apology.

“I do… Thank you for lookin’ out for her,” Inuyasha conceded. Kagome smiled and kissed him lightly but fuck if it didn’t make his cock twitch. She must’ve felt it because before she shimmied her way off of his lap, she oh so very subtly ground her intimate bare heat against him. Oh fuck. He needed her.

But her, now sitting beside him, with the fox kit on her lap and her hand on his thigh, made him have to have control; thankfully he was able to contain himself. Mostly. He intertwined their hands and listened closely to the wolf’s story.

“Since Kagome left, Naraku hadn’t been as active as he was before. He would still appear in the mountains as if checking to see if she came back. I tried tracking him but my mate birthed twin cubs. So I couldn’t leave her. Them. I sent a couple of my men, and they were unable to pin him down.

“About after a couple weeks he completely disappeared. It wasn’t until about a month ago we noticed he popped back up.

“At first, we thought it was you, Kagome… but you never came to see us. We realized her scent was off and the fact she wouldn’t recognize or play with Shippo--it became pretty apparent it wasn’t her. We warned her family when we noticed she was gone from sight. They also noticed her acting strangely. We were able to take them to our caves but…”

“But?” Kagome asked.

“But… when we returned, your village was… gone,” Koga finished.

“Gone??” Her voice hitched. He noticed her hand around the kit that was snuggled into her chest dropped limply.

“I tried Kagome. I did. Your mother, brother, and grandpa are safe. I know that’s not a lot but… it’s something.”

“What about… Hojo? His family?”

“Hojo left the village looking for you. We haven’t heard from him. But his family… they’re gone as well.”

Inuyasha looked at his mate and realized she had gone numb. He pulled her back into his lap and rumbled softly for her. She clutched his haori, with Shippo pressed between them, and shivered from the realization.

“Lady Kagome--you know this isn’t your fault, right?” Miroku asked.

“He is right, Kagome!” Sango agreed. “You know this is Naraku’s doing. He wants you to feel guilty! You can’t fall for his schemes.”

“The question is why,” Sesshomaru added.

“Sister please, don’t--”

“Where is the finger?” Kagome finally spoke.

“It’s--It’s locked away,” Miroku hesitated.

“I want to see it.”

“Kagome--not now--” Sango tried.

“A finger?” Koga asked.

“A finger with the ring that the human gave to my brother’s mate was delivered to our gates earlier today,” Sesshomaru informed.

“Wow… that bastard seems to have something planned,” Koga replied.

“I want to see it!” Kagome yelled.

“Kagome, we can look at it later. After you have eaten and rested. Have you forgotten everything that’s happened today?” Inuyasha asked. He looked directly into her eyes to make sure she was hearing him. Her soft and sad expression back was enough recognition. He nuzzled her cheek and her sigh was a relief to his ears.

Their dinner was finally set down in front of them and they ate with light conversation.

As they got up to leave, it was finally dusk. His brother decided they would continue this discussion in the morning; likely sensing Kagome’s drop in energy and Inuyasha’s heightened… needs.

He finally caught her alone as they exited the dining room. Shippo had been told by Koga he was to follow him back to his quarters where he would also be residing in for the night. After a small fight, Kagome soothed the young demon that she would see him in the morning but she needed some time alone with her new mate. Honestly, he was about to boop the brat because he was literally craving his mate. Dinner had been… interesting. He had been trying to control himself. The whole situation was super fucked up. This fucking baboon was sending weird ass messages threatening his mate and he couldn’t stop thinking about dragging her back into his room and fucking the shit out of her.

It was like he was replaying him mating her over and over--her body shuddering beneath his, her pants and moans that made his ears twitch, her gentle strokes along his body.

What made it worse was he had to control himself around his brother. He could smell that shit. Along with the wolf. But Kagome’s scent was just so… intense.

The fact she had bathed off his scent mark had his inner demon in a tizzy. Along with how cozy and familiar the wolf was with his mate. Thankfully his inner self recognized the kit that sat on her lap throughout dinner was more of her child than competition. Which kind of made the kit his. Something they would need to discuss.

Our mate is sad and we need to comfort her.

Whatever. We don’t need to rut her to make her feel better.

Don’t lie to yourself saying you don’t want to.

I do--but that’s besides the point. As half-human, I know she will need to talk.

Don’t be a fool, hanyou. We both can smell her need. Her desire.

“Kagome,” he breathed softly in her ear making her halt in her steps when they entered his--no; it was no longer just his room-- it was theirs.

“Inuyasha,” she replied breathily.

“Are you alright? I know that was a lot…” Fuck he could barely control himself. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms but he didn’t trust himself right then. He knew he’d take her. Whether she wanted it or not.

But she stepped into his space and wrapped her arms around his waist. Shit. He was strong. He wasn’t a pup. Wrapping his arms around her, he buried his nose into her hair.

She sighed and rubbed her face against his chest, “I don't know. I… I feel guilty. Angry. Sad… I just…”

“I know. I get it; we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We can do whatever you want.”

“Inuyasha,” she said softly.

“Yea?”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure about what?”

“What I want?” She asked leadingly.

“Are you… implying something there, wench?” He smirked feeling her hand shift from his back to his cock.

“Is it--wrong that I can’t stop thinking about this?” He could see she was blushing even though her face was buried within his haori.

“Fuck--if it is, I’m just as bad.”

“If I had wanted to just cuddle,” she started pulling her head from his shirt to look at him. Damn he could get lost in those beautiful blue. “Would you have been okay with that?”

“Of course--I would never force you to mate with me again, Kagome.”

“Even though you want to?”

“Why are you asking me this Kagome?”

“I just--I want to make sure you know you can ask me and tell me what you want too. This isn’t just about me and what I want and what I need,” she said as she shifted her hands to wrap around his neck.

“I know Kagome. But today--after all of that--your needs get to come first.”

“Hmmmm,” she hummed as she shifted onto her tip toes. Who was he to deny her? He leaned down and closed the distance as his hands grabbed her silk covered shoulder.

Her lips were wet and full. He couldn’t get enough of them. Now. Ever. Fuck. He loved her. Even if they stayed right there, just like that. He would be fine. Any way shape or form she was touching him made him feel complete.

Her hands were busily tugging on his haori and he almost chuckled at her impatience. Her scent of spice snuck up on him. Maybe she had been hiding it after realizing they could smell it coming off of her. Was she embarrassed by it? That was a dumb question--she was human. A human priestess. But fuck--if it wasn’t hot to learn she had hidden that basic need and desire alllllllll through dinner.  Damn; he was already rock hard.

His haori and kosode were falling to their floor and her hands were back around his neck as she whimpered into his mouth and wrapped her silky legs around him in one subtle leap. His hands caught her thighs and held her easily to him as she hotly ravished his mouth.

He found it so odd that she was so drawn to his demonic features. Her tongue always found his sharp fangs when her tongue shoved its way through his lips. Her fingers traced the tips of his ears and she always pushed his demonic strength to hold her or move her.

She gasped when she found herself pressed against the wall by him. He smirked and started to kiss down her jaw to his destination--her mark. Gods he needed to sink his fangs back into it. Taste her sweet blood that was now infused with his own youki. Confirm she was truly his.

Her moan only egged him on as he breathed on the purple jagged mark that laid upon her shoulder. Fuck. Would it be terrible to skip foreplay? The way she was nudging herself closer to his mouth only told him she likely felt the hard pull too. His hands found the tie on her fancy yukata that Rin loaned her and within a second, she was bare. He shifted her to remove her dress from her arms so he could stroke those silky smooth ligaments lovingly, his face never leaving her mark as his bit around it--teasing it and her.

“Ugh, Inuyashaaaaaa,” she whined, grinding her wet core against his dick. Damn. Maybe she was just as desperate as he was.

“Yes, Ka-Go-Me?”

“Don’t--Don’t tease me, please,” she pleaded as her hand found its way down to his obi and began to pull it open.

“Impatient??” He nipped at her chin.

“You have no idea,” she exhaled when his hakama finally fell and she felt him against her sex.

“I don’t wanna rush this--you deserve more,” he growled as he ground his cock into her wet folds. Her hitching breath and whimper only made him want to pound into her harder.

“We have all night,” her sultry voice sounded in his ears. The subtle breath she exhaled made his ears go crazy and in turn, his dick.

“Damn,” he ground out through his clenched teeth as he finally stopped fighting what they were both craving and seeking.

He shifted her higher in his hold and angled her body so that he could enter her. She was fighting against his hold, likely because he had to put some distance between their top halves in order to get his tip right at her wet entrance.

Fuck. How was she that wet??

He slammed into her and felt her cringe. Dammit. He needed to get a fucking grip but he felt his youki rising and before he knew it, she was stroking his cheeks drawing his attention from not coming right after her tight walls contracted around him.

“You ok?” He barely managed to say.

“Yes, are you?? Your marks--”

“It happens sometimes when I have really intense feelings more instinct related--fuck why do you feel so good?” He admitted dipping his head to kiss and lave her neck.

“I could ask you the same question. You can move,” she sighed out as she rotated those sinful hips in his hands making her stroke around his deeply buried cock. Fucking hell.

He didn’t even bother to reply as he gripped her ass tightly and started thrusting hard and fast into her. He wasn’t the best mate but fuck, if she wasn’t responsive. It made him feel better for not totally prepping her even though she was hot and bothered. But he vowed he’d make up for his hastiness.

In more ways than one.

The other hand that wasn’t on her ass, holding her up so he could take her, started kneading her taut nipples, switching between each as her moans and cries escalated.

“Inu--Gods--Inuyashaaaaaaa!!!”

“Close, Koi?” He heard his own deep voice in his ears. Luckily she didn’t seem disturbed or if she was, she was too distracted to care.

“Y-Yes!”

His head took over for his hand, sucking and nipping at her nipples. His tongue snaked out to soothe some of the harder bites he gave because his elongated fangs were harder to keep at bay. Not that she seemed to mind. If anything her fucking wails made it perfectly clear she liked that rougher treatment.

His hand dipped down to her wet folds and began stroking her excited nub roughly. If he wasn’t a demon, he wouldn’t have lasted as long as he did--not with her convulsing in his hold, screaming for the entire fucking castle to hear, her wet hot sex squeezing his.

Fuck. If she wasn’t the most enticing creature he had ever met. And she was all his. His fangs ended up in her mark as he came and she cried out again, her walls still vibrating around him, pulling his seed deep into her womb.

Coming down from their high, his youki receded and he ungracefully knelt, still inside of her and swung himself to lean against the wall he just fucked her against.

They were both still panting and trying to catch their breaths after such an intense release; the whole day had been building up to it. While it was fast and quick, he swore it was more powerful than the first.

“You good?” He finally asked.

“Mhm,” she replied tiredly.

“Glad it was just as good for you,” he chuckled into her hair. She hummed her approval and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Will it always be like that? I--I know Rin mentioned that after the bonding we would want to--” she cut herself off, flushing scarlet like his robe of the fire rat. He couldn’t help but laugh at her blushing after they just engaged in that passionate round against the wall.

Fuck she had clawed off his clothes so quickly too. With that thought he laughed harder.

“H-hey!” She tried but he couldn’t stop. He felt her squirm to dislodge them which had the opposite effect it should have; it had him harder than hell again. Clearly she felt him and gasped as she stopped moving.

“Sorry, but don’t do that unless you don’t want to finish talkin’,” he admitted hotly breathing into her ear which made her stiffer than his cock.

“I don’t like it when you laugh at me,” she said averting her eyes.

“I just think it’s kinda… funny that you get so flustered about talking ‘bout mating when you were the one ripping off my clothes. But yes, Sesshomaru mentioned that depending how strong our bond is will determine how much my youkai will demand the reinstatement of the bond.”

“Has your uhm, other self said anything?”

“Definitely didn’t like how friendly the wolf was with ya,” he informed her.

“Was…”

“Was what?”

“What about… Shippo?”

“The runt? He’s too young for me to feel threatened by… I did want to talk about him though too.”

“O-Oh?” She sounded scared. Why?

“I don’t mind the kit.” He made sure he didn’t use an insulting word towards the young demon. His intention was to make sure his mate knew he recognized their relationship and he wouldn’t be the one to step between it. It wasn’t often a fox youkai saw a human mortal--a priestess at that--as a mother figure. “I know he sees you as a mother. I’m not stopping or stepping between that. He… well…” Well fuck. They hadn’t really talked about where they were gonna live. Kids. None of that. Honestly they never even talked about having sex until it was kinda just… happening?

“Hey,” she soothed as she reached for his cheek to bring his face to hers. “I know we haven’t really talked about all the details and we kinda just… jumped into this. But I was serious when I told you how I felt. I’ve never felt like this with anyone before. I never thought I could--or that I would want to. I know this isn’t reversible--and I in no way shape or form wish that it was. I want to be stuck with you. I never want to know what it’s like to be without you.”

“Kagome…” He couldn’t stop himself as he dipped down to capture her lips in a chaste but also very intimate kiss. He needed her to know exactly what those words actually meant to him. Fuck. He loved her. More than the Gods loved their own children. He didn’t think it would ever be possible to care about someone or something so much that the fear of losing them could actually kill him and swallow him whole.

He wrapped his arms around her back and dipped her to lay on her back. She happily moaned her compliance as her hands shifted up to his ears. She was so weird. Going for something so inhuman.

Whatever. She admitted she loved him as a half-demon back in their ran-sack hut. Let her fucking love him.

He didn’t want to separate from her, but he did want to taste her. The idea she was still full of his seed and he could taste their mixed juices highly appealed to him. Would it be ok with her?

Kissing down her body he withdrew from her, her protest made loud and clear, to be fair, he was also very disappointed by the missing contact but once he mouth claimed her dripping lips, he didn’t give a fuck about how hard and uncomfortable his cock was--she tasted like fucking paradise.

Knowing she not only tasted of seeping hot arousal, but of him, that it was him who had filled her, it was him who pleasured and that it was him she only allowed to do this with--damn he was so fucking close to bursting and he wasn’t even in her.

Initially he hesitated until her hands were pressing the top of his head into her. He sped up his tongue movements and felt her tighten around his fingers that were dancing at her opening. Thankfully his youki was sated from their previous round and his claws were more controllable. He started to insert his fingers--one, then two, then finally three until she called out his name in a begging fashion. His mate was summoning him to help her to completion. Shit. She was so beautiful. He sucked down on her clit and used his tongue to swirl around it and pulled the most desperate cry from her as her walls crushed his fingers within her.

Hot damn. He could barely keep teasing her with his mouth. Pulling away slightly but allowing his fangs to slightly scrap her for a moment, he panted. It took all he had to not squirt all over the floor of his room.

He needed to get a grip. Think un-mate like things. Not how she smelled. Not how she sounded. Not about her thick creamy silky thighs wrapped around his--NOT THAT--Koga. Sesshomaru. Naraku. Ok, that helped. Almost too much.

Slinking back up her body, adding kisses along the way, he was met with her lust filled eyes and he couldn’t help but smirk. He’d already brought her to release just what felt like moments before he devoured her and here she was, blissed out. He could get used to her like that.

“Inuyasha?” She asked as she reached for his face. He rose from nibbling her breast and nuzzled into the contact. “Can we… try something?”

“What is it?” He asked, confused.

“I--”She swallowed and he could tell she was trying so hard not to blush. Cute. “I--uh--I want you to take me the--uhm--the dog w-way,” she finally finished. Her lip ended up sucked in by her teeth and he chuckled thinking he was just about to claim it for himself.

“Are you sure? I know that it’ll please my inner self--but we can wait until you’re ready. More… seasoned,” he grinned wagging his eyebrows to hopefully lessen her embasement.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I want to try. I--this isn’t just about what I get out of it. I want to please you too.”

“Kagome…” Why was she so perfect? Kind? Caring? Giving?? “We don’t have to do anything you're uncomfortable with or if you think I’ll get something out of it.”

“Trust me--” she breathed as she sat up to kneel in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, her breasts rubbing against his bare chest. “I want this. I just--I wasn’t sure if you did.”

“Of course I do. I just--didn’t think as a human you would,” he finally admitted sheepishly. Her hands made their way through his silky tresses and to his ears, stroking them and bringing out his soothing rumble of happiness and safety.

“I’m not ashamed of being with you. A half inu-youkai. I love you for who you are; ears and all,” she soothed kisses him before pulling away and turning away from him.

Then there she was; ass presented to him, her body held up by her hands and knees. He couldn’t even stop his youki even if he wanted to. His hands gripped her hips harshly. Her sigh and moan at the pressure only made him want to forget he needed to go slow but after the last time and hitch of breath even though that had been their second penetration, he knew he had to be gentle. Gentler anyway when they started. Once he entered her--she demanded he not be careful. She craved his demonic speed and strength. Something he was highly glad for.

He slowly dipped his cock between her folds to make sure it was slick enough to enter her without any additional resistance. Finally, he slowly drove into her, waiting for her if her breathing changed from her eager frustrated pants or if her voice wasn’t that of need but of pain. When he didn’t hear anything but a moan, he began to drive into her relentlessly. So much for slow.

But Kagome seemed to start to meet his thrusts as if conveying she needed more from him. He was only happy to make sure she was fucking sated as he was from this position that had him dying for more. One of his hands dropped down to her folds again knowing that enlarged excited nub was the key to getting her to release and the other kept a steady pace on her hips. With his youkai at the surface, he did what he knew best; he went directly for the mark and bit down.

Her cry thankfully was from her orgasm and not from pain. He originally was scared he was doing too much, and being too wild but her scent of arousal only kept spiking upward filling their entire room of something so… Kagome. Anyone that entered would immediately know she was his. His alone.

Throughout the night, they continued reinstating their mate bond between a couple hours of sleep. He never pushed her, never instigated anything because he knew humans needed their rest; but she proved resilient. She was just as hungry for him when she came back around and only encouraged him further to take her over and over again.

By morning… she was exhausted and fully satisfied, just as he was. Deeply asleep in his arms, she was wrapped around him. Like she was afraid he was going to disappear. That was far from true; if anyone disappeared, it would be her. Because she was a fucking dream.

She was wrapped up in his haori to keep the cooler air from her but also if she were to have woken again with her vivacious appetite, something to which he wouldn’t have to worry about marring as it was self healing when he dug back into her body. His nose was pressed into her sweet smelling hair when he heard a small knock at the door and smelled Rin as the door opened so she could have a peek in. He wiggled his ears, letting her know he was awake but his mate was not.

“Can the young Shippo enter?” She whispered just for him. He wiggled his ears again acknowledging and hopefully letting her know that it was alright with him.

The kit came and stood by their heads. He stared at him with his wide green emerald eyes.

“Did you want to snuggle with her or not?” He whispered harshly.

“You’ll… let me?” The young fox replied in awe.

“I’m not taking her away from you… I know she left and didn’t really explain why. She wasn’t looking to replace you or get rid of you though. She was just trying to keep you safe.”

“From the shapeshifter. Koga and Ayame told me… not a lot. But some. They didn’t let me try and find Kagome. But at least explained why…” He explained as he brushed the hair on Kagome’s head softly.

“Well come on.”

“But your… even Koga wouldn’t let me sneak away to sleep with her in the night.”

“Kagome said her villagers didn’t understand demons and their relations. Didn’t she save you?” Shippo nodded in response. “Koga was only trying to protect you then. I’m sure Kagome wanted you to be safe too, which is why she never asked you to come to the village with her and she placed you in Koga’s protection.”

“I guess that makes sense… Does she see me the way I see her?”

���Yea… I’m sure she does. We’ll talk more about living arrangements later. We started talking last night before--” When did demon children learn about mating? The runt obviously knew what it meant for them to be together.

“I know about mating. Koga and Ayame are mates. I was there when they bonded--or rather before when Koga was still pursuing Kagome.”

“And they…” No. He didn’t need to ask. Kagome told him he was her first and only… not to mention how she never thought of anyone like that.

“Kagome only wanted to be friends with him. He wanted more but didn’t push her into anything. Then he met Ayame and he stopped his pursuits. He did confide in Ayame how he really did love Kagome, even if it wasn’t as intense as what he felt for Ayame. She was okay with it--Kagome didn’t threaten their relationship and even if she did, Koga was loyal to his mate.”

“Good to know… well, climb in. We had a long night. She’s probably gonna wanna rest.”

“That’s what Rin said. She said she’d be back by lunch to wake us,” Shippo informed as he slipped in between them and curled under her chin. She smiled in her sleep and hummed happily.

Inuyasha closed his eyes, knowing likely she actually would sleep until lunch. Trying to ease his mind of any other thoughts they could discuss after her restful sleep.

Kagome awoke feeling warm, satisfied, and loved. Opening her heavy eyes, she saw a very poofy tail in her face. She was a little confused at first, but then it dawned on her that Shippo snuck in with her and Inuyasha. Beginning to panic, she was startled when she heard Inuyasha’s purr.

“It’s fine. I let him join us.”

“You’re--you’re really okay with this,” she said in awe.

“I’m not here to replace anyone in your life, Kagome. I’m your mate. I’m here to just add to your happiness. If this tyke makes you happy, why wouldn’t I be okay with him?”

“Koga… he didn’t like Shippo cuddling up to me if I ended up staying at the wolf dens overnight.”

“Because Koga wasn’t mated to you. An unmated woman with another unmated male would make him hesitant and angry. He would have likely seen Shippo as competition.”

“But you don’t? Why did he?”

“Koga hadn’t met his mate yet and so he let his more base instincts get in the way. To be fair, I don’t really like Koga around you even though he is mated. But I respect your friendship with him because he is mated and you are mated to me. If you weren’t mine, I’d probably have more issues about the whole thing.”

“Talk about trust and stuff…”

“Yea; I do, you know.”

“What?”

“Trust you.”

“Are you sure? I--I’ve almost gotten you killed and I lied… I refused to open up to you…” She could feel her sadness and regret sneaking up on her when she felt his hand intertwine in her hair.

“Kagome… We’re bonded. I allowed you to see me at my most vulnerable. I’ve never…As a half-demon, hell even Koga if he felt strongly enough he could have gone against his instincts and mated with you. As a half-demon, I could have sought out other females. But I didn’t. I couldn’t trust anyone. Not like that. Not enough to share myself with someone.

“I know we got off to a rocky start, but from the moment you came clean, I planned on never letting you go.” He finished his confession brushing his hands down to her mark. For the first time, it didn’t make her feel heated and needy. If anything it just soothed her and made her feel cherished.

“I trust you too Inuyasha. With everything I am…”

“Kagome… I know we’re already bonded in the demon way. But would you want to in the human way?”

“Wh-what are you asking me?” She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she really thought he was going to ask her---

“I’m asking if you’ll marry me, Kagome. I want to honor you.”

“Of course I’ll--what kind of--” Tears pooled at her eyes and she could tell she had disturbed Shippo when he began to stir. Inuyasha picked him up by his tail and moved him to be on top of her hip and he closed the distance between their lips. This was a just a completely chaste kiss. Full of promises and love.

A soft knock at the door startled her but Inuyasha seemed like he was expecting it. She turned and saw Rin poke her head in. Smiling as usual. “Will you be joining us for lunch?”

“Yea. She just needs to get dressed.”

“I’ll make sure there’s a place for you both. We are going to… pull out the sealed dark object. Lord Miroku thinks that it should have been purified by now. Not until after we have eaten though, of course. I’ll see you shortly,” she added as she bowed.

Her mood slightly dropped but Inuyasha, her mate, her rock, her savior, pulled her up to a sitting position and held her close. “It’s gonna be ok. I’m here. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“I’m afraid Hojo may have been... because of me… And--”

“Hey--don’t jump to conclusions. We’ll talk to my brother. I’m sure even Koga will send out some wolves to help look for him too alright?”

“Would it be too much to ask if my family was brought here?”

“That’s the question Kagome; what do you want to do when this is all over?”

She hadn’t really thought about that. She just knew she wanted to be with him. Was that the right answer?

“I just… I want to be with you.”

“But where do you want to live? Here? Back at the shelter we once found? Do you wanna rebuild your village? Go to a new one?” He asked as he pulled away from her to let Shippo climb back on her lap.

“I actually hadn’t given too much thought about what I would do when we were done,” she admitted when she began to brush through the kit's bangs. He was so good. He knew when he needed to be quiet and allow the adults to talk.

“I don’t really care one way or another. But before we move them--I think we need to figure it out. Having them out in open too much and too often may be dangerous.”

“You’re right,” she agreed sadly. He caught her chin as her head began to drop and she got lost in those fiery determined ambers.

“Don’t. You’ll see them again soon.”

“Inuyasha…” Did she mention she loved him? Her gruff but oh so kind and sweet hanyou?

He stood and dressed after kissing her sweetly again. She followed suit and was about to grab her yukata that Rin had lent her when Inuyasha nudged her. He pointed to his chest and pulled out another one from it. She frowned in confusion, but he explained Rin had it stocked for her when she awoke. Just another thing she needed to thank her new sister-in-law for.

They walked to the dining hall together hand in hand and Shippo perched on her shoulder. Koga was coming down from the other end of the hall when they met at the shoji.

Koga studied them and she nervously clenched Inuyasha’s hand. She wasn’t sure who she was trying to comfort; herself or him.

“It’s fine Kagome. I’m not going to challenge his claim on you. I see your devotion,” Koga stated and the tension fell away at his words.

“Koga… I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. The fact the mutt respects Shippo means he’s a bigger man than I was. Besides, I have Ayame. I love her. She is really my mate. But that will never mean I don’t care about you.”

“I know, Koga. You’ll always be important to me,” she tried to explain.

He smiled softly at her and nodded as he entered the dining area where Sango, Miroku, Sesshomaru, and Rin were already seated. Rin smiled at them as they took their seats, same as the night before.

They exchanged some words over lunch but it was mainly eaten in silence. Likely in preparation for what they were going to have to do after their meal. Even though she hadn’t eaten very much in the past week due to her sleeping… she still found herself not very hungry. She picked at her food. Oddly enough, she found her chapped lip more appealing to munch on. Inuyasha stirred her from her thoughts when he waved some rice in her face with her chopsticks. She smiled at him uneasily but took the food from him. He repeated the process until she had finally finished her rice.

“I’m full, Inuyasha,” she told him.

“Fine. You ate enough. For now,” he added.

“If you are finished,” Sesshomaru said dryly.

She blushed and leaned into Inuyasha’s side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she sighed in thankfulness. She honestly wasn’t sure she was ready for all of this.

Sesshomaru nodded to Miroku who stood and retrieved a box from the other side of the room. He brought it back to the table and Kagome immediately felt the jyaki. It was already trying to attack her from the wards. Inuyasha sensed her nervousness and started to growl as he pushed her behind him.

The box was calling to her--but why? Naraku wasn’t a...priest or a monk. He was a demon. Demons could only curse objects after death. This felt--

“This is the work of a dark priestess,” she said aloud in shock.

“A dark miko?” Rin repeated.

Kagome nodded her affirmation and then looked to Miroku. “How did you get it locked away in the box?”

“Not easily, I’m afraid. Once the ring was separated it became slightly less difficult and I could then wrap a ward around the appendage, after which we placed it in the box.”

Kagome began to panic. “Who else touched it?”

“Why is that important?” Sango asked quickly and worriedly.

“I was the only person to touch it but my wards were in place.”

“What’s wrong, Kagome?” Inuyasha finally turned away from the box to her. She looked at him concerned; whatever was meant to ensnare her, likely also caught the monk in its trap as well.

“No one else touch it,” was all she could muster in reply as she stood. She looked down at Miroku who looked grim. He knew exactly what he had done but didn’t inform anyone else. He nodded, and closed his eyes and rose to stand. They held a silent conversation knowing what they had to do, what needed to be done.

“Miroku??” Sango asked frantically.

“Forgive me, Sango,” he replied.

Kagome looked at him and then Inuyasha. Swallowing, she gave him a small smile and said as steadily as she could, “It’s going to be okay…” Turning back to Miroku they spoke through their eyes knowing the road ahead was going to be long, hard, and exhausting. But they were the ones with spiritual powers. They were the only ones who could do it. Even though she was scared, she was confident in their combined powers; he was a powerful monk, and she was one of the strongest priestesses from stories she had heard of her predecessors. She also knew Inuyasha would be by her side--figuratively anyway. Their bond was strong enough to keep her from swaying in fear.

“What--Kagome--” Before he could finish she swiped her hand over the box releasing the wards. The ring that had been in Miroku’s possession was ripped from his robes and pushed itself on her finger. She winced as she fell backward but didn’t feel the fall as her body landed.

Instead when she opened her eyes, she was consumed with darkness. Thankfully, she wasn’t alone. Miroku stood beside her and looked unnerved.

“Have you ever been cursed before?” She asked him to try to break the tension of their daunting task.

“No… But I did have to learn how to break one. Though learning and doing are two very different things. Especially when you are not sure what you will encounter in one’s mind.”

She hummed her acknowledgement as she looked around. Darkness. Nothing else. Wonderful.

“Have you, Lady Kagome?”

“Honestly no… I’ve been able to deflect them before being cursed but these are very different circumstances.”

“Indeed,” he agreed lightly. “Do you know what to look for?”

“Doubt. But I’m not sure what it’ll look like.”

“Is there anything you are doubting now?”

“Not really. If we had this conversation yesterday, I would have known exactly what it would look like. But today--”

“Today you are a happily mated woman. I understand. Your aura was very pure and easy today--aside from your nerves regarding this, I assumed.”

“Your assumption was correct--I think the only thing I honestly worried about now is--”

“Kagome?” And there it was...the Doubt that plagued her mind. Hojo. But his eyes were gleaming red. Of course it'd be Naraku in the form of Hojo. The only two things that stood in the way of her happy ending.

“Is that…” Miroku started but didn’t finish as the appearance of the human male strode forward.

“Yes. My fiance ,” she bit out. She stepped back as he approached, unsure what would happen if the Doubt actually touched her. Miroku sensed her anxiety and also stepped back slightly putting himself in front of her.

“Kagome, how could you? You were mine… We were promised to wed and then you--you slept with that thing .”

“Hojo--you know I didn’t feel the same. We were only going through it to appease our parents…”

“That’s not true! I love you! I still love you! I won’t let him take you away from me!” Hojo yelled as he reached out for her. Kagome shoved Miroku away as Hojo’s arms turned into tentacles and wrapped around her form. Damn! It touched her. She’d probably feel that later. Well actually she was feeling it right then--it was burning her skin, she literally felt sick; the amount of dark energy flowing through her body was weakening her and it made her cry out in agony.

She barely heard Miroku as he smacked the tentacles with his own power or felt when she dropped into his arms. Tears glazed over her eyes as she looked to him and noticed his hands were a raw singed purple.  

“I’m sorry,” she croaked.

“This is not your fault, Lady Kagome. I knew what would happen and felt I needed to help you.”

“But what if this--”

“We stand together in this fight.”

He helped her stand uneasily, and they gazed to the being before them.

“Do I talk to it? Do I fight it? What do I do?” She finally asked Miroku.

“You tried talking… I think we have to fight it.”

“Great…” She sighed as she called upon her power. It was weak--drained from the previous encounter.

“It drained you--or rather us when we made contact. We must tread carefully. I would hate to see what happens if our power is completely consumed.”

“I think you know what will happen,” she hinted darkly and looked soberly into his indigo eyes. He nodded solemnly. Death. Possession. But they wouldn’t voice that. They needed to keep those negative thoughts at bay while they fought the Doubt in physical form already inside her head.

“Kagome I love you--we belong together. Come with me, we can destroy the half-breed together,” Hojo said but she also heard the dark undertone of Naraku’s voice mixed in.

“Sorry Hojo,” she said softly as she tapped into her power and sent out a purification blast to the body that stood before her. It dodged and began its pursuit on Miroku, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. Miroku sent out his own blasts, but cringed as it ate away further at his hands.

Kagome mentally winced for him. She took advantage of the creature’s distraction and closed the distance and grabbed onto his shoulders even though it burned. She started to use her purification powers; it hurt. There was no other way to describe it other than she thought she was going to pass out from the searing pain that shot out from the body she grasped onto.

Miroku latched onto the other side and held on as he too, expelled his power into the dark being before them. It felt like hours but Miroku fell first. She called out his name but he disappeared. Damnit! She hoped he had awoken from the curse. If he died because of her, she--no! She couldn’t think that! He was ok! He was alive! As long as she finished what they started, everything would be fine.

“You’re all alone now, Ka-Go-Me... Does this seem familiar?” She heard Naraku’s voice now fully immersed in Hojo’s body. She could no longer see anything in the darkness and she was wet, cold, and alone. She reached out and came up with nothing and fell forward.

“No!!” She panicked as she sat up and grabbed her covered knees. Her eyes pinched tightly closed, trying not to let the illusion frighten her. She was with Inuyasha--or rather her body was. This was just her mind playing tricks on her. “This isn’t real--you’re not real!!!”

“Oh but I am very real and I’m coming for you,” Naraku promised.

“If you’re real, then you know Inuyasha is here and he won’t let you harm me,” she spat back feeling braver than she had before as she opened her eyes to glare at him even though all she could see was darkness. She shot out a couple of bursts of power and came up with nothing. Rising again, she ran only to be smacked down and held to the ground by another tentacle, making her cry out in agony.

“That half-demon, the son of the former Inu-no-Taisho and a Hime from Musashi? Brother to Lord Sesshomaru who is the current Inu-no-Taisho? ”

“You are real…” She had no idea who Inuyasha’s mother was. He got a little edgy speaking of her. All she knew was her name was Izayoi and she was the most beautiful woman Inuyasha had known before Kagome.

“Would I lie to you, my jewel?” He said coming into view still possessing Hojo’s body.

“What do you want?!”

“You. The jewel. All of it.”

“There is no jewel--it’s gone!!”

“Oh but my dear, there can always be a new one,” he expressed as he started to cackle.

“What does that even mean?! And where is Hojo? What have you done with him??”

“You’ll find it in due time , my jewel. But it’s hard to say for certain where your betrothed is... He could be there,” he teased as he waved his hand and showed Hojo tied up in the darkness. “Or there,” he referenced to a dead Hojo on the other side. “Or even right here,” he added as he knelt down in front of her smirking wickedly.

“I’ll find him--you can’t stop me!” She hissed; if she was strong enough she would have blasted him again but her arms felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Not to mention she was trying to ignore how her skin literally felt like it was being ripped from her body.

“Oh, I don’t want to, Kagome. I want you to fight me. I want to see how angry you can get--how hatred can consume that pure heart you possess. This whole charade was merely only to send you a message; I’m coming for you. You. Are. Mine.” He whispered darkly as he leaned closer to her ear, making her already burning skin crawl. He licked her ear and she whimpered, turning her head away and she thrust her arms out and used her remaining power to push him out of her mind.

He laughed as he stepped back and stared at his purple flaming body, “Hate me that much, my love? Just remember when I take you how that power will dull… It’ll turn black and corrupt. Isn’t the world just more beautiful when it is painted in malice?”

“Stop talking!!” She cried. Why wouldn’t he just leave!? Die already!! “Why do you want the jewel anyway?!”

“That should be obvious my pretty little miko,” he sneered. “Power. Over all. Even you. You will learn to love me again.”

“Never! I’m Inuyasha’s mate!!!”

“Just remember my flower, you were mine first.”

“Nothing happened between us!!! You didn’t--that wasn’t--”

“Oh, I’m not referring to our shared time in the cave… that was nothing compared to what is coming for you. I’m referring to your previous life. Tell me, do you like it behind like before? Do you still like your nipples pulled and twisted? Your hands pinned over your head until you submit? Is that how the disgusting dog made you his? You always did love submission to those more powerful than you.”

“SHUT UP!!!”

He only continued to laugh until his ashes were the only thing that remained, the sound seeming to leave behind an echo that closed in on her in this terrible nothingness. She felt herself falling and she screamed until she felt the jolt that she was back in her physical body with arms wrapped around her as Inuyasha called out her name. She initially squirmed but cried out feeling the burns from her spiritual form spreading along her body.

“Kagome!!”

“Put her down!” Miroku’s voice sounded through her ears. She heard muffled yelling as she was so consumed with the pain but the arms never loosened on her.

She felt a slap of a sutra and immediately she felt relief. She opened her eyes weakly, panting before reaching her hand to Inuyasha’s cheek, “He’s...coming…” And then the darkness was back, only this time, she knew she was safe. Inuyasha had her. Her strength. Her armor. Her love. He was her shelter and he alone would protect her.

[jjungkooksthighs]

finally got enough time to read yearn for you and girl!!!!! where do I start from? first of all, I'm sorry you did not receive enough love for this fic but I'll try my best to try and express all the gratitude for you. ok so, this is gonna be messy because english is not my first language and I'm a bit dyslexic so forgive me😔... I remember reading edacity and thinking damn! she can write! and got soooo hooked on the way you write. then I stumbled on claws of carnality and I already told you anything I had to say about this fic: a masterpiece. then I decided to read undercurrent (I couldn't read it straight away because of how long it is and how hectic life could be) but then again, what else could I have expected from you? the way you described the scenes (don't wanna spoil anything if people didn't read it yet).. it was like I was there (this applies for all of your fic but this one has something different to it? can't really describe it, I'm sorry). you are such a talented writer, so elegant, so eloquent, so detailed, so entrancing, so attractive in a way? so when you announced you were going to post another story I was thrilled! and you delivered, god, did you deliver. I was so frustrated with jk at the beginning of the story, you pulled me in your story with just a few sentences.. but at the story went, I felt so content because of how you described their relationship, the trust they have in each other, the desire to please the other, the love you can basically feel through the words and when I was reading about the flashback, I could feel the love. I also loved how even if he is a hard dom, he is so whipped for her... when she stands after he strips her and he sees her kick her heels off and he grins? my heart beat a little faster, don't ask me why. I loved how even if jimin was there, he could also have not been there at all and the after care? the way he is basically going around, calling her his fiancee, love them. at the end, my greedy, curios brain (and heart, who am I kidding) wanted more lmao. I have a few questions if you don't mind.. what happens with taehyung? because he was a bit of a brat, trying to get in her pants and then complaining when he got a bit left out? honey, you got a big storm coming. will you ever write little drabble for this couple? like, how did he propose? not gonna lie, kinda curious about the dress he picked out for her for the gala.. no pressure tho baby, feel free to ignore this part. I also loved how he called her petal and flowers and how he didn't even think twice about buying the necklace. want something like this for me, it would be the life, having someone you love who loves you back and is always ready to remind you... anyway, this is all for today, gonna go read yean for you a few more times now☺️🥴. hope you are having a good day, we love you💙

Your english is very impressive for someone that doesn’t speak it primarily, darling. You don’t need to apologize for being dyslexic, either. You can’t help that and should not apologize for something beyond your control. Anyway, you found me through Edacity, huh? It’s always interesting hearing about how you guys find me, I have to say. That one was written in a lust filled craze following the video that the gif used for that fic was recorded from. Manbun Jungkook really took my pussy (and fingers) and said WORK FOR IT. Ugh, he’s just so hot istg I really couldn’t help myself when I wrote that fic, lol. Anyway, it’s cute that you cycled through like all of my fics and I’m glad that you liked my work enough to keep reading through everything that I had posted on here! I will say that Undercurrent is very precious to me because it’s the very first reader x member fic that I wrote and posted to Tumblr. I love that story so much and I’m so elated to know that you appreciated it as much as you did! It took about two weeks for that like YFY, but every time that I sat down to write it, I just would smile like an idiot whenever I’d read through it at how cutely I encapsulated the lovers to be in their feelings for each other. 

Truly, who else writes a damn novel for their first ever fic? Gah, I am still so soft over Undercurrent. That fic is like my first child, lol. It is very special to me. So is COC, but we all know my sentiments about that fic at this point. I feel like I’m being annoying with it, but the self-consciousness and insecurity about that one still persists and whenever I hear about it from my readers, I get nervous because I have this lingering anxiety that more negative comments will be given on it. Well, this ask isn’t about COC, so I should move on, I think. Sorry about that mini-rant, anon!

Switching back to YFY, Jungkook’s personality in this one is a little different than what I have done before and I am glad that you liked the way he’s built in terms of his characterization. I wanted to show a Jungkook that was so in love with you that he is willing to give you anything you want (even if that means fucking another man) while also staying true to the possessive creature that we all know he is in real life. He adores reader very much and because of that, he just wants to see her happy at the end of the day. She is a constant in his life and gives him stability where the world would fall apart under his feet and he cherishes her for that for sure. I adored their relationship just as you did because they care about each other so much and each one of them just wants to please the other always. It’s funny that you say that Jimin could have not been there because the person that commissioned this fic from me actually wanted just a CEO!Jimin fic in the beginning, lol. Kook wasn’t even factored into the story in the initial stages and it actually was going to be a hybrid CEO!Jimin fic where he goes into heat while at work, but that idea was never fully fleshed out because Jungkook had to come out with his D’ICON stuff and really, it was over for me when I saw that video of him in the leather fit. 

I talked to my commissioner about it and she was more than eager to have Kook involved in the fic (even though she originally thought that I would not go so far as to write 31.5k words worth of shit that Kook was responsible for over 22.3k for before Jimin even makes an appearance, lol. I couldn’t really help it being the Jungkook slut that I am, but hey, it brought such sin out of it and I can’t apologize for THAT because it was too much fun to keep writing the lewd escapades of reader and her fiance that loved his future wife too much to deny her of anything so as long as he is part of it. 

As for Taehyung, well...let’s just say that Jungkook had a nice “chat” with Taehyung and the two ended the discussion with Jungkook sat in his office while Taehyung got to listen to a recording of reader fucking herself with Jungkook’s name falling repeatedly from her lips. Taehyung may or may not have had a tent in his pants while Jungkook gave a cruel smirk and when you’re summoned to his office, let’s just say that Taehyung gets a nice show while Jungkook fucks you over his desk. Now, this is done AFTER Jungkook orders you to bind Taehyung’s wrists with his tie so that he can’t do anything while he watches, his lips drawn between his teeth the entire time that Jungkook fucks into you like a crazed man. When it’s all over and you lie boneless on the desk, Jungkook eats the sandwich you brought him off your stomach before eating you out and let’s just say that when Taehyung leaves the office, his cheeks have never been more red both with embarrassment and rage. 

Wow, I really let myself keep going with that, huh? I guess that shows just how much I’m fond of YFY, lol. 

I would consider writing a drabble for YFY, but that would have to be commissioned as I am facing a financial crisis right now and can’t really afford to spend time writing anymore unless I will be compensated for it! It’s very sweet to ask that because it shows me you want more of this story and that’s very heartening to know!

As for the dress, I would be more than happy to show it to you if you message me (you can go through anon again if you prefer) once more with that question because this ask is already really long! 

Also, I’m pleased to know that you liked the pet names! I have a weakness for them, you see, so you’ll find an abundance of that in just about everything you read from me. 

It would be quite a life to have a man like YFY Jungkook in it, wouldn’t it? You would never want for a thing with him, that’s for sure. You also would never feel deprived of attention or love because he’d readily relinquish both to you 24/7. I wanna swoon over YFY Jungkook because he’s just so dreamy, isn’t he? 

Anyway, I am so happy to hear you liked the story. Thank you for reading my work and taking the time to say all of that, lovely. It really makes my day so much better when you guys tell me things like this and I can’t thank you enough for being nice enough to let me know all of this!

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Block

It’s been quite some time since I’ve written here and I’ve recently been reflecting on why that is. The obvious being lack of time and energy, but if I delve a little deeper I know it is more than that.

It’s hard to feel creative and inspired to write when my days are long, busy, tiring and full of housework and child rearing. And whenever inspiration does strike it is at a time when I can’t write anything down, and when the first available opportunity presents I’ve either forgotten or I’m much too tired to write. Or there’s something more important to do instead like empty the dishwasher, put a wash on, hoover, put clothes away, bake something nutritious for the children, eat some chocolate, do my tax return, organise a cupboard, do more hoovering, look at instagram, wipe kitchen surfaces, clean a toilet, school admin, life admin, and a million other things! 

It’s hard to feel like I have anything interesting to say when my day is filled with these mundane tasks, and even if I did have anything interesting to say my self doubt stops me; she tells me I’m not a writer and my lack of writing skills would not do it justice. 

When it comes specifically to writing this blog I have a weird OCD thing where I think everything needs to be chronological. This blocks me from writing anything because the gaps in between posts are too long and there is way too much to fill in (a pandemic, having twins in a pandemic, having twins full stop! children starting school, turning 40). 

Writing has always been for me a way to process what is going on in my life, usually at times of great difficulty. The last two years have been the most difficult of my life and would normally be a time to write. But my experiences during this time have been so difficult and too much to process. I haven’t been able to gather my thoughts enough to write anything at all. So more recently when I have had moments of lightness and felt like I could write something, the baggage of the last two years has weighed me down, and the need to fill in and write all that has happened stops me writing anything.

The other block for me is I have often not seen the point of writing when no one reads it anyway. I have a handful of subscribers (friends and family) and it is so infrequent that I post anything that they probably don’t recognise that this is my blog anymore and likely don’t even open the email! 

These are the reasons that stop me. The biggest of which if I’m being totally honest is my self doubt and a feeling of embarrassment thinking about people reading what I write and thinking it’s totally rubbish. I have started two novels and given up because ‘Who would want to read them? the ideas aren’t original/clever/profound enough and my writing isn’t good enough’. I shamefully admit I don’t understand grammar, either my schooling was insufficient or I wasn’t paying enough attention but I’m terrible at it, I don’t understand all the rules and it makes me feel embarrassed. So why on earth would I put myself out there to be ridiculed?! 

It would be incredibly easy to just stop completely, close down the blog and not think about it anymore. And yet …

And yet, something niggles, something keeps me wanting to write. I don’t understand what it is, maybe I’ll never know. But it is persistently niggly enough to keep me here (how annoying!). 

So if I’m not going to give in then what I am going to do is try to remove the blocks. 

Firstly stop being a weirdo and realise I don’t need to write in a chronological order!

Realise this doesn’t have to be a blog about my life as a parent, my life is about all sorts of things, and it’s my blog so I get to make the rules! I can even include my poems if I want to! And things that are unfinished (shocking!)

I started this blog for me and not anyone else, so it really doesn’t matter if no one reads it. This blog was always a diary for myself to record precious memories with Squiggles and Roo. I am so thankful that I started it because when I read back old posts, I’m reminded of so many wonderful things about their early life that I had forgotten. So my original goal has been accomplished. 

Stop listening to my inner critic; she’s annoying and has held me back my whole life. Yes I’m not a great writer, yes my grammar leaves much to be desired, but no that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to write.

I love my life and I’m so grateful for my four amazing children. In this current phase of my life parenting is my whole world, but I am so much more than a parent. I have forgotten (trust me it’s very easy to forget who you once were when you have no free time for the things you love) that once I was a dancer and a dance therapist. I have studied at University (five years in total). I have had many jobs: some I loved; most I hated! I have travelled the world sometimes with people, sometimes completely on my own. I have been lonely. I have needed to escape people. I have volunteered in Kenya. I have lived in Italy. I have had my heart broken. I’ve lost people I’ve loved because of death, and because of life where sometimes you just lose people. I have moved to a city that I loved and had my heart broken again when I left many years later. I have started a new life for my family in a different place. It’s been hard. I’ve grown my family more than I imagined, and realised it was everything I never knew I wanted. I’ve navigated pregnancy and birth in a pandemic.

I have a whole heap of experiences that have nothing to do with my children, I also have a whole heap that have everything to do with them. Both are worthy of being shared.

So when the negative voice in my head tells me I can’t write, I’m going to tell her: These are my experiences, my memories, my stories, and only I can tell them.

[ahbonjour]

five times fox told lark he loved her and one time she said it back

@creative-skull, @museumlad, @dothewhatnots

this is shmoopy. enjoy.

1.

The first time Fox said it, he didn’t mean to. It was late, one-thirty AM, and he graded papers in the office, trying blearily to push his eyes open for one more stapled sheaf of error-riddled argumentative essay. Lark doggedly kept pace beside him, despite not being paid to be here, like he was. She had offered to help him grade, but his professionalism forced him to deny her, so instead she leafed through her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice.

An old clock ticked loudly from the top of a wood cabinet. “You don’t have to be here,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“I’m perfectly capable of keepin’ myself company.”

“I know. The quiet is nice, though.” She looked up at him, the spark of intelligence that he’d come to admire more than her beauty shimmering through her eyes. “I like reading in peace.”

“There are places you could be alone.”

“I like reading with company and in peace.”

“Hm.” He looked back at his papers and stifled a yawn, pressed his hand against his temple to ease the headache pulsing there. He saw Lark stand and exit, and he felt a small press in his chest, like someone had pushed gently against his throat. Had she genuinely decided to leave without saying anything? He glanced over at his phone, essays receding in importance as he debated texting her. How would that look? Too needy, he decided. Too needy.

He was trying to decide what to say the next day when he saw her (current lead: “Couldn’t stand the conversation anymore, huh?”) when her brown hand reentered his field of vision, depositing a mug of black coffee next to his left hand. He looked up at her in surprise and saw she was holding her own mug of tea.

The fluorescent light behind Lark’s loose hair made her look like she wore a halo, and his angel said, “You looked tired. I know you take it black.”

He smiled, relieved and grateful, and said, “I love you.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he cringed. His spine tightened, his cheek twitched. Lark’s eyebrows jumped, and she jerked back; a tiny movement, but an unmistakable one. An invisible barrier had been crossed between them, one that they didn’t know how to deal with.

After a second of agonizing silence, Lark nodded and went back to her seat. “Well,” she said, blowing out a breath she’d been holding for fourteen months, “I should hope so, after all I’ve done for you.”

2.

“He’s in love with her,” Donnie said, leaning over the counter to stare at Fox but talking to his current boyfriend, David Peterson.

David glanced at Donnie, then at Fox, then back to the espresso machine. He could still taste his heart in the back of his throat when he thought about how in love with Lark Fox was, had been for a while. They’d competed for a bit, privately and silently but obviously, and yet Lark’s relationship with horrid Brandon had persisted, so they’d dropped it. David buried his spurned affections in Lark’s brother, but Fox had continued to nurse the love in his heart like the coals of an ancient fire, and anyone who looked close enough could see the flame still smoldering there.

Both David and Donnie knew this, from the competition to the lost love to the fact that Donnie was absolutely David’s rebound, but neither of them seemed to mind. The days remaining of their relationship were numbered on two hands, but the days of their friendship were limitless, so David swatted Donnie on the shoulder and said, “Stop staring. It’s rude.”

“If he doesn’t want people staring he needs to not come in here looking so lovelorn all the time,” Donnie countered. “Look at him. Lookin’ like fuckin’ Mr. Darcy over there. Brooding.”

“How do you know about Mr. Darcy?”

“Please. Lark watched that movie so much the DVD wore out.”

David snorted. “Maybe that’s why she’s got such a big crush on him, too. Brooding Englishman. All they need is a moor to run across.”

Donnie leaned back and looked at him inquisitively. “You think she likes him?”

“It’s not going to be me,” David said, waving his hand dismissively. “That’s fine. But if it’s not going to be me, it better be him.”

“Why?”

“Because it cannot be fucking Brandon,” David spat. “It just can’t.”

Fox looked over his glasses at them, the word ‘Brandon’ snagging his attention like a fishing hook baited with poison. “What’re you two talkin’ abou’?”

Donnie spread his arms wide with a big, cheesy grin and said, “How in love you are with my sister.”

“Oh yeah,” Fox snorted, looking back at his work, blush spreading over his neck and ears like wildfire. “Yeah, I’m so in love with Lark. Completely.”

3.

Word of Fox’s joking love confession had quickly circled around their friend group and back to Lark. To his immense relief, she’d realized it was a joke and had laughed, and to his horror she’d thought it was a little too funny.

Mags would usually see her first from his perch on the couch, and would try to warn Fox as best as he could. “A lady’s imagination is very rapid;” he’d say, pointing at Lark as she came for her afternoon latte, “it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”

But the knowledge of oncoming embarrassment was rarely enough to save him. Fox would look, panicked, from his mug to the woman walking in to Mags, hoping someone could help him, but no one ever could. He would simply have to sit there, powerless, as she came in and spotted him.

A slow grin would curl around her cheeks and she would tease, “My darling Fox, my heart upon earth—”

“Please,” Fox would beg, “please stop.”

“—my shining star, my darling prince—”

“I’m beggin’ you, lass.”

“—my garden, my rose. Hello. How are you?”

Fox would have inevitably covered his face at this point, and all his answers would be muffled. “Fine.”

“And your students?”

“Fine.”

“And your love for me?”

“No.”

“Come on, Fox,” she would entreat, laughter bubbling below the surface but face deceptively earnest. “We don’t have to hide our affections. We can shout them out—”

“Lark, please—”

Donnie would normally try to save him by shouting, “Lark, I got your drink!”

But even then, she would collect her coffee and then come back to his table to say, “I’m not leaving until you say it. You have to say it. Come on. You have to.”

And every time, every time, he would. “I love you, Lark.”

She would giggle, and tip her drink to him, and leave Fox to contemplate why he was deserving of this torture.

4.

Lark broke up with Brandon in December of her junior year, New Year’s Eve, over a drunken voicemail shortly before midnight. She’d been egged into it by every single one of their friends, all of whom knew, to some degree, the terror he had been putting her through, and all of whom knew she could not be alone that night, regardless of her relief.

David had swung Fox over to a corner while she made the call. “Look,” he’d said, the word so precise it might as well have been bullet-pointed, the surest sign he was drunk. “She’s going to need support, and Donnie is otherwise occupied. It has to be you.”

Fox was also tremendously drunk, red as a stoplight and just as cautious. “Me? Why me?”

“Mags and Toby have disappeared somewhere, good for them, and Donnie isn’t going to want to leave Alexa’s side, not now that he’s close to getting somewhere.”

“An’ you?”

“It’s not going to be me,” David said, looking at Fox intensely over his slipped-down glasses. “That’s fine. But if it’s not going to be me….”

Fox looked over at Lark, who was hanging up the phone with tears streaking down her cheeks, wearing a smile bright enough to power solar panels. He nodded, and David clapped him on the shoulder, and Fox stumbled over to her. The clock began counting down to midnight and David watched as she said something to him, and he said something back, and when everyone shouted ‘one’ she pulled him in and kissed him. The jealousy in David’s stomach, he was pleased to note, didn’t squirm like acid reflux as it normally did. He took that as a good sign.

He even managed to raise his drink in a toast when Fox looked back at him, the Irishman’s face bewildered as Lark took his hand and pulled him out the door.

Lark and Fox would, in the future, be able to only remember flashes of the night from that point on: a conversation with a trio of drag queens, petty theft at a convenience store, a serenade from a fire escape, a decision to go to the beach. They lost their shoes along the way, and their sense of embarrassment shortly after, and they huddled together under Fox’s jacket against a concrete post on the edge of the sand, watching the moon slowly sink.

“In vain I have struggled,” Fox laughed, murmuring against her hair.

Lark laughed as well, looked up at him with eyes that sparkled beneath their haze of alcohol. “What are you talking about?”

Fox sighed and said, hopelessly, drunkenly, “I love you. I really do.”

For a moment, Lark was silent, but then she let out a pitifully small, “Oh.” The sound broke Fox’s heart and swelled it all at once, and for a second he was conscious enough to be grateful that they wouldn’t remember this in the morning. Lark looked out at the water and continued, “I think I knew that, not for reals, but somewhere. I’m sorry I teased you.”

“’S alright.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“’S fine, really.”

“I…want to, I think. But I don’t know right now. With Brandon—”

“Lark,” he said gently. He put his arm around her, giving over his coat totally to her. “I get it. I honestly do. I just think I wanted yeh to know. You know?”

Lark nodded and tucked herself in deeper, deeper into his coat, into his side, into his heart. “Okay. Coolio.”

5.

Lark laid in Fox’s bed, which he’d given to her for the night, for the week, for as long as she would need. She was still so quiet. She’d come in, put her bag on the floor, and gone to bed without a word. She was still wearing her clothes. Her eye was bruised from where Brandon had hit her, and she had marks on her arms from where he’d held her down.

She’d come several hours ago, Fox’s home having been chosen for its anonymity. ‘We’ll move to a new dorm,’ Toby signed when the decision was being made, her hands trembling with rage. ‘But until then the police said you shouldn’t stay there.’

“I’m fine,” Lark spat. “I’m not running away.”

“It’s not running away, no va a su bola!” Alexa argued back. “You can’t stay there!”

“It’s my home!”

“He knows where you are!”

“He won’t come back, he’s not that much of an idiot—”

“He’d better not,” Alexa snarled, “or I will kill him myself.”

“Not helpful,” Ethan snapped, and Alexa fell silent. “You can’t go back there, though. David?”

David shook his head. “He knows my place, too.”

“I can’t—you can’t stay with us, it’s a boy’s dorm, it—they won’t let you, even with the police report they won’t let you,” Donnie stammered. He’d been wringing his hands the whole meeting, distraught and devastated that he’d been unable to help her. “He, it—I don’t know, maybe a hotel?”

Mags nodded. “A hotel’s not a bad idea.”

“No,” Lark said firmly. “I’m not staying in a fucking hotel, he—I’m not letting him take my home, too. He took so much of my life, he can’t take my home.”

“What about my flat?” Fox asked. The words had slipped out before he could stop them, and everyone swiveled to look at him. “He doesn’t know where it is.”

Ethan’s brows knit together and he said, “I don’t think any of uth know where it ith.”

Fox leaned back and crossed his arms. “Yeah, that’s on purpose.”

The address was distributed to the seven of them, with promises that they’d each come by for a few hours at a time to help keep company, and then Lark was released to pack a bag. The whole thing was arranged without really asking for her input, and she had at least one set of eyes on her at all times, watching while she packed, while she headed over, while she got into bed. She felt like a prisoner, like Brandon had taken not only her dignity and sense of safety, but her freedom as well.

To his credit, Fox didn’t bother her with asking if she wanted to talk or filling the air with meaningless chatter as her friends, whom she loved dearly, would have. He let her lay in silence, still for an hour or more while he clattered around the small apartment. After a while he came back into the bedroom and deposited a sandwich and a glass of juice on the nightstand. She was on her side so he couldn’t see her face, but she could hear as he dithered at her bedside.

Finally, he asked, “You awake?”

She said nothing. She didn’t want to talk to him; while he was a kind jailor, he was a jailor nonetheless, and she resented him.

“Are you asleep?” he ventured, lowering himself to sit beside her and lowering his voice so as not to wake her. She was careful not to move and break the illusion, instead content to sit in silence as he blew out an exhausted breath. “I’m sorry abou’ all this,” he continued, so soft she could barely hear him. “If it was up to me you’d be in your room, but ‘s not. They just—we just—want you to be safe.” She felt his hands clench the blanket next to her. “I shoulda stayed,” he said, voice still soft but ferocious in its anger and regret. “I shoulda—if I’d just stayed with you for another couple of hours, it would’ve, I could’ve—something. I could’ve done something.” He unfurled his hands. “I love you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.” He was silent for a few seconds, then he stood and left the room, leaving the door open a crack. Lark waited until she was sure he was gone, then curled up tighter in his bed, hoping that maybe if she was determined enough she could just disappear.

One.

Fox had never asked if he could take Lark out; he didn’t have to. They both knew it was a gentle inevitability. She needed time to heal, to be alone and learn who she was, and when she came to him and asked if he wanted to take her somewhere, you know, like a date, he’d practically leapt out of his skin. It was the last day of class before her final summer vacation, and she’d be back in Cape Cod the next day.

“I didn’t want to leave it like we have it,” Lark explained on his fire escape that evening. They’d gone to dinner, and to karaoke, and finally to ice cream, which they ate while leaning on the metal railing protecting his fourth floor apartment. “You know?”

“I do,” Fox replied thoughtfully. He crunched down the last of his cone and ran his thumb under his lip. “I didnae want to pressure you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I know you need time.”

“I need a before and after,” Lark said thoughtfully, scraping the chocolate off the bottom of her plastic dish. “I needed a separation of my life. I can’t go back to before, so I need to look at the after, and I need something good to kick off the after.”

“Who told you that?”

“Dr. Heidelberg. She thought asking you out was a good idea.” Lark grinned. “I cleared it with her first.”

The mention of her therapist brought a soft smile to Fox’s scarred face. Lark had changed so much over the past five months, had become more thoughtful and gentle than she was before; he could still see the girl he’d fallen in love with, passionate and bright, but she’d been tempered. He knew the feeling of the need for before and after. He wished he’d had someone to tell him he needed something good for the after.

But he didn’t say any of that. Instead he nudged her and said, “So I’m something good, eh?”

“Don’t get a big head.”

“Can’t stop it now, my girl. You’ve swelled it up good.”

Lark laughed, tossed her head back and made her dreadlocks shake. Fox couldn’t help but laugh with her, which caught him all the more off-guard when she looked at him, that same spark in her eyes, and said, “You can say it now. For real.”

He flinched and felt sweat spring to his palms. “Say what?” he asked, but she didn’t prompt him further, only stared at him with a shy, helpless smile. He recognized that smile, though it felt weird to be seeing it on her face and not feeling it on his own, and he swallowed. Hesitantly, he pushed the words out. “I love—I love—” he tried, looking at the iron they stood on, the banister they leaned on, anything but her face, for fear he wouldn’t be able to get it out. “I love you.”

There was silence between them for a moment, undercut by the sound of traffic below them and the distant melody of someone’s record player, then she sighed and he felt his heart flutter below his breast pocket. She put the dish down and reached over, threading her fingers into his curly hair and bringing him down to kiss her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and this time he knew they would remember every breath.

[encoresencores]

girl crush (part 3)

But none of the many objects of my adolescent (and then teenage) obsessions were quite so untouchable as Celeste. With her, it was different — I didn’t long desperately to be her friend, but was content with gazing up, from a distance, to the pedestal I had set her upon.

I never knew her personally; I only knew of her, and that was enough. In school she was one of the lead Chinese dancers, and at every Chinese New Year or Teacher’s Day (or whatever uninspired drag of a special occasion’s) performance, the curtains rose on her standing front and centre. When the other girls filed off into the wings, she would emerge from the riff-raff, upstage in the spotlight, regal and delicately arranged like a flower as she remained on stage waiting to begin her solo; the calefare having dutifully made way for their star. Everyone knew who she was. She was Ding Laoshi, the Chinese dance instructor’s, favourite; I once heard from a friend that Ding Laoshi referred to her as “小公主” - little princess - and it was obvious why. When she danced, in her long graceful lines and winsome smile was a dramatic air of triumph and tragedy combined, femininity glorified and yet reproached. She was all vulnerable charm and earnest strength. I could never tear my eyes away from her when she was onstage.

Offstage, she was steeped in a mist of mystery.

But first, a description: she was tall and lithe, with a long neck and expressive fingers, no curves to speak of. A golden-brown, sharp-jawed face with full lips and fierce, dark eyebrows; large almond eyes that were challenging and secretive at the same time; long lifted cheeks that gave her face a sense of yearning openness. To this day, I am still of the opinion that no one’s features came together as alluringly, as perfectly exotically, as hers did (which I suppose already explains my untiring fascination — as you might know, I am too easily mesmerised by all things beautiful).

In real life, she carried herself in a self-conscious, tentative manner that made her seem more fragile than her strong limbs and powerful technique on stage betrayed; her shoulders were slightly hunched, accentuating jutting collarbones, and her hands always carefully held in front of her body (I knew this from passing by her in the corridors, or spotting her from afar in the canteen). On Instagram, for she was one of those people who lived their lives on Instagram, she regularly posted dimly-lit close-ups of herself looking vacantly into the camera, lips parted so a flash of white teeth showed through, and captioned these photos with melancholy and cryptic poetry. She was too thin, and her gaze a tad too raw, to be considered sexy — but she was endlessly sensual.

She was not just a talented dancer, but also a gifted artist. A painter and sketcher, one of her favourite canvases was herself — she experimented with wild lipstick colours and stunning, deftly-blended eyeshadow creations that would not have looked out of place on a runway. She was equally bold and varied with her fashion choices: from heavy maxi skirts and boots (in Singapore weather!) paired with skimpy tank tops, to baggy men’s shirts and oversized pants and aviators, to clashing colours and unyielding eclecticism of pattern layered unabashedly on pattern, to slinky evening gowns fit for a red carpet, to girlish blogshop chic… she pulled it all off seamlessly. Her style was the sum of all styles, her great skill that of metamorphosis. A chameleon of a girl, flitting from one look to another.

Fittingly, these artistic inclinations were accompanied by failing grades in math and science. Even her name suited her perfectly. Celeste - elegant, ethereal, poetic. Unique but not blatantly so. Anything else would have been too coarse, too common, trying too hard. But not everything about her was so deeply-passionate and dramatic: like any other teenage girl (here is a reminder that we were merely sixteen at the time), she posted cheery OOTDs, and food photos, and group snaps where she was grinning so wide that her eyes were tiny and all her teeth showed — those were my favourite photos, the ones where she looked gloriously happy. Tortured artist perhaps, but there was joy in her life, I was sure. This only served to further my obsession. I marvelled at how such a pensive, complex being could also be so purely exuberant and vital — it was precisely this polarity that mesmerised me. The capacity for feeling that she appeared to possess (deep plunges into depression, lofty heights of euphoria) was too far removed from my own petty anxieties and common joys for comprehension; she eluded understanding. I wondered how she had grown into this identity, what thoughts went through her mind, how much of what I saw was real. Her entire personality seemed like a dream.

I’m well aware that I’m manic pixie dream girl-ing her from start to finish; even back then I knew very well that the Celeste-construction in my head was merely my selective interpretation of what she projected to the world. But I reasoned that it was harmless, since it was all in my head. What makes me feel more guilty, is that I know the current, 2020 Celeste would likely be horrified if she ever stumbled across this. Her and her great struggle with being looked at and evaluated, her impassioned revolts against the unforgiving bounds of beauty. What violation would she feel if she saw me picking her apart, analysing her younger self in such excruciating detail? (On the other hand… perhaps the exhibitionist in her would enjoy the attention. I don’t know - I never properly knew her and I still don’t.) Now I recognise that she struggled intensely back then with body image and self-esteem and mental health in general — but at the time I knew only to be entranced, not empathetic.  

When I step back and look at it, actually, it’s strange the manner in which I viewed her. Because in a school as small as ours, I had many friends who knew her personally. I mean, we were in the same damn school — she wasn’t that far off at all. Also, it wasn’t precisely a secret that I thought she was cool, because she was sure to come up in rabid gossip sessions; she was considered “high profile” in our school, and in my defence, I wasn’t the only one who pondered and speculated about her life and her relationships (she briefly dated a boy in our level, a well-muscled good-looking jock-type, who was as obscenely rich and distastefully boyish as one could get — it perplexed me how someone like her could be attracted to someone like him — but that’s a story for another time).

A friend, Gina, once interrupted me when I mentioned Celeste’s unblemished complexion (while bemoaning my own persistent outbreaks) — “Celeste? No way. Her skin is quite bad leh.” Gina, always flippant and unabashed, and who was a classmate of Celeste’s, seemed keen to correct me. “She has a lot of pimples on her forehead. But in photos you can’t tell because of the concealer.” I took this in for a second, with brief wonderment. With just that, she had inched closer to reality.

The last degree of separation between us dissipated come year 1 of junior college, when we ended up in the same H1 Chinese class. It was a small class, only 7 students, all of us having had failed our Chinese O-Levels (haha). She sat at one side of the classroom with her classmates, and I sat at the other with mine. Our two groups didn’t mix, and there was no need to. No one really listened or participated in class anyway. It was H1 Chinese. By that time I was no longer as enamoured of her as I’d previously been, but it was still a thrill to be in the same room, to listen to her reply Chen Laoshi (a grumbling man of retirement age, balding and constantly sweating or complaining about the school management) in stilted mandarin when called upon. Her voice was husky, sounding like it did in the acoustic covers she posted online (by then she had added singing to her repertoire of talents).

One lesson, Chen Laoshi, exasperated by our unresponsiveness, shuffled us around and made us discuss a news article. I ended up paired with Celeste — we exchanged awkward smiles before going about perusing the passage in silence. All of a sudden, I felt distinctly embarrassed to be in her presence. I became conscious of how the waistband of my skirt dug into my stomach, and how my blouse was sack-like and sloppy, and the way baby hairs sprung straight upwards from my hairline no matter how I tried to pin them down. I squirmed internally considering the unattractive largeness of my round, sweaty face next to her fine-boned features. She was, and I was sure of it in that instant, too pretty not to be cruel. But when she finally spoke (in English) to ask me what the last sentence of the article meant — her voice, though American-accented, had an undoubtedly Singaporean accent. She had seemed so beyond my ken, but when the words “lah” and “leh” came out of her mouth, I was shocked to realise that somehow she was just another girl. Illusion dispelled — I gathered myself, and replied that I thought it was trying to say that, despite seeming advances in Singapore’s conservation practices, there was still a long way to go before the nation as a whole really embraced the spirit of sustainability.  

(this is so fucking long I’m dying omg kjfhafhalsf I have no idea how to end this. how did what I intended to be a brief character sketch turn into such a sprawling mess…. but still posting it NOW bc I just want to be done with it lmao. TO BE EDITED/COMPLETED, mayhaps)

(27.01.20)

[kdinthecity]

Confessions of a Teenage Sugar Queen: Starstruck

I think this one was meant to be “starlight,” but it’s really not. So, after this, I’ll stop tagging as @zutaraweek​ because it’s really not. I’ll keep posting here on tumblr and on Ao3, too.

Chpt. 1 | Chpt. 2 | Chpt. 3 | Chpt. 4 | Chpt. 5 | Chpt. 6 | Chpt. 7 | Chpt. 8

I wake up the next morning with images of fire lingering from my nightmares, and four sinister faces looming over my bedside. A rise of panic seizes me, and a scream nearly escapes my throat when I remember where I am. The masks on the wall in Noren’s guest room are still creeping me out, though, so I roll over and reach for my phone. Without Zuko’s sweatshirt to comfort me, I resort to another one of my pathetic daily rituals. I scroll through every text he’s ever sent me. We exchange a few messages now, and I wonder where he ended up spending the night.

The door slowly creaks open, and I pull the covers up to my chest. I’m dressed decently enough, I suppose, and I secretly hope my unannounced visitor is Zuko. Of course, it isn’t, because he would most certainly knock first.

“Hiya, remember me?” A blur of pink pajamas and dark brown pigtails enters the room.

“Oh. Yeah. Hi there, Kiyi.” She is so close to me now that I catch a whiff of maple syrup and something else vaguely familiar. Mmmm, pancakes for breakfast?

The young girl’s attention shifts to the mysterious décor on the wall, and a wide grin spreads across her face. “I like the dragon empress the best.”

I rotate to look at the masks again, and my eyes are immediately drawn to a blue and white one bearing intricate tribal carvings.

“That’s the Blue Spirit,” Kiyi announces. “Is it your favorite?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Why does everything remind me of Mom? I sigh and bury my face in my pillow, so she won’t see the tears forming. Of course, the fabric smells like moonpeaches.

“It’s my mom’s favorite,” she says without skipping a beat.

Kiyi smells like moonpeaches, too. I bolt straight up in bed. “Is your mom here?” I ask.

Noren knocks softly at the door. “Kiyi, sweetheart. Don’t bother our guest. She had a long day traveling and needs her rest.”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

Once the child leaves, I launch to my feet and quickly dress myself. I stop short before opening the door, though, because I can hear their conversation outside in the hallway.

“And what is our rule about talking about Mommy?” Noren asks his daughter.

“To not to,” Kiyi replies.

“Good girl.”

“But when is she coming home?”

“Soon, Kiyi. Very soon.”

“But Daddy, I think Mommy would like Zuko and Katara. They are nice.”

“I know, sweetheart, but they are not staying here long. We are just helping Uncle Iroh.”

“Mommy likes to help people, too.”

“Kiyi… that’s enough.” Noren’s tone is weary, like they’ve had this conversation before.

Dad and Sokka are not scheduled to arrive until later this afternoon, so I ask if I can show Zuko around Anchorage since I’ve been here several times before. Kiyi keeps slipping up by talking about Mommy, so Noren seems relieved by my suggestion. Good, he’s not suspicious of my plan, then.

I was able to get the information I needed from my perfectly innocent, yet very obliging five-year-old accomplice. I did a little snooping—I mean, investigating around their house, too. Zuko would disapprove if he knew what I was doing. He keeps making these comments about how normal this family seems, and what a loving father Noren is.

Sure. Normal and loving and LYING.

“You weren’t lying to me, were you Katara?” Zuko frowns when we step off the bus.

“No, why?” I say sweetly. OK well, sorta. Not really.

“I thought you said we were going to the library.”

“There is a library somewhere on the Northern Pacific University campus, I’m sure.” My voice breaks, and I’ve given myself away. Zuko can read me just as well as I can read him.

“Katara… what are you up to? Where are we going?”

I make up some fluff. “Yue said this was a great school with lots of emphasis on ecology and stuff.” Hmm, maybe I would be better at public relations than investigative reporting. Then I remember a piece I read in one of the forgotten files on the mystery USB drive. “My mom wrote an article about it. I just… wanted to see it.”

Zuko laces our fingers together and pulls me toward him. I shudder as he kisses my temple and whispers in my ear, “If it’s anything to do with your mom, then I’m right there with you.”

“Thanks.”

I sure hope the feeling is mutual.

At the student center, I send Zuko to buy me a NPU sweatshirt at the campus bookstore while I interrogate the front desk clerk about summer class offerings.

“I’m sorry, miss, but Professor Noriko is not teaching here this session.”

“Are you sure? Check the English department listings,” I persist.

The man glowers at me from behind the counter. “She doesn’t teach English, young lady. She teaches social justice.”

“OK… so when is her social justice class?”

“Not. Offered. This. Session.”

The man is visibly frustrated, but aren’t my intentions obvious by now? “Ugh, so when is it offered!?”

“Are you even a student here, miss? You look a little… young.” He stands to survey me, but I won’t fall for that intimidation tactic.

“Not yet! But I will be… and… you’re not being very helpful! Maybe I don’t want to come here after all.” I stomp my foot and put my hands on my hips, like I’m scolding Sokka for leaving his stinky socks lying around. OK, maybe it’s not the most mature response, but he did peg me. I’m only fifteen, dammit.

Surprisingly, he relents. “Fine. She’s teaching a fellowship at Ba Sing Se University for the summer. Happy now?”

“Ba Sing Se?” Zuko interjects. “That’s on the other side of the world.”

I didn’t see him walk up, but probably because tears are starting to blur my vision. How could we come this close, yet still be so far away?

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, gently grazing my elbow with feather light fingertips.

I shake my head and pull my arm away. “Nothing. Let’s just get out of here.”

Once outside the building, I plan to storm off like I always do, and I expect Zuko to let me, like he always does. But he firmly grabs my wrist instead. When I resist, he pushes me back into a nearby tree. Something burns inside me, but the words, LET ME GO, die in my throat when I see Zuko’s face. I can’t read this expression AT ALL.

I think it might be… desire? Oh fuck, now I’m really on fire.

He kisses me, thank God, but painstakingly slow and sweet despite his vice grip on my wrist and his weight pinning me to the tree.

He steps away suddenly, and sadness returns to his eyes. “Katara, I—“

I lean against the rough bark and try to steady myself. Every part of my body is thrumming with a sensation I’ve never felt this strongly before. I debate between shortened breaths on whether I should run from this or tackle him to the ground for more of those amazing, addictive kisses.

I tilt my head to the side. Zuko looks almost shy now, and I wonder why. Then, he reaches into the bag from the campus bookstore he’s been holding this whole time.

“I bought you something.” He extends shaky hands to reveal a necklace.

I gasp. The pendant is a whalebone carving suspended by a velvety blue ribbon, very similar to the necklace my dad made for my mom except that instead of a wave pattern, it has… stars? It looks like a constellation—maybe the Big Dipper, if my memory serves me correctly.

“It’s supposed to be a bear,” he says. “The school mascot… I think?” He shrugs then gestures toward my neck. “May I?”

I bite my lip and nod. When Zuko’s fingers brush against my skin, chills run up and down my spine. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“They didn’t have a sweatshirt, like you asked for,” he continues. “But since you like cuddling with my sweatshirt, I thought you might like this?”

I have mere seconds to feel embarrassed that he somehow knows about the sweatshirt thing before he pulls out a fluffy white stuffed animal. I helplessly and girlishly squeal when soft fur brushes against the raised flesh on my neck where Zuko had just touched me.

“It’s also supposed to be a bear,” he mumbles. “But I think it looks like a dog.”

“A polar dog!” I declare. I laugh at his furrowed brow of utter confusion. Maybe someday I will share my fictional world with Zuko. “What else is in the bag?” I point at the bulge in the bottom of it.

“Um, you might want to sit down for this next one.”

Alright then. First we had sentimental, then sappy, and now… serious. We settle comfortably in the grass, and I wonder, if he’s lavishing me with gifts and all that, does this mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend? We haven’t really properly talked about it, yet.

Zuko clears his throat and hands me a book. “I… saw this on a display near the checkout line.”

Everything comes to a halt—those typical teenage feelings of friendly flirting and hormonal hopefulness, all notions of normalcy. I skim a trembling thumb across the title, “Blue Spirit Crashing.”

“Is it… a collection of your mom’s poems?” I ask, noting the author’s name. If so, this confirms my suspicions about Professor Noriko.

“N-n-no. It’s… a story about your mom.”

“What!?” I flip through the book frantically, but I don't know where to begin. I can't even comprehend what I'm looking at right now. Without reading the words, none of it makes sense, of course.

Nothing has ever made sense about any of this. Especially Zuko’s next statement.

“I… read it already. Or well… most of it.”

“You had time to… just now?”

“No. I read the draft.” He turns away from me and tucks his knees under his chin. “In the Painted Lady folder.”

“Oh.”

“So… this Noriko woman. She must be… my mom.” Zuko lets out a strained and awkward laugh. “Or impersonating her.”

“I think she is,” I say. “That’s why I wanted to come here.”

“How did you know?”

“I read about it. In the Blue Spirit file.” And since we’re dropping bombshells, I might as well tell him about Noren, too. Or is it... Ikem?

But Zuko launches himself to his feet and shoots me with another expression I’ve never seen before.

Rage.

“And you didn’t think to tell me about this!?” he yells.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know she was in this city… or at this school until…” I start sobbing uncontrollably, because he looks so hurt and angry, and I was just trying to help. “I wanted… to be sure… I didn’t want to… give you false hope… and Iroh said that…”

“Uncle!? He was in on it, too!?”

I think about running away for the third time, but we are finally talking about this, a conversation long overdue. It would be better if he wasn't shouting, though.

But this time, Zuko does the running. And I let him go.

It’s a beautiful summer day in Alaska, and I’m spending it sprawled out on the grass in the middle of some college campus crying. I wish I was simply having boy problems, but it's more than that. Zuko is the first person I've ever gotten this close to—and I’ve broken his trust. I also miss Mom so, so much. But I can’t bring myself to open that book.

I hug my polar dog tightly with one hand and clutch my new necklace with the other. I notice a rough indention on the backside of the pendant, so I unclasp it and read the inscription. It’s the name of the constellation—the “great bear.”

Ursa.

[fiery-assassin-arc]

The Kids Cried Out—Stop. Stop. He's on Fire. I Won't Stop.

Chapter 23 of Of Shadows and Flames up and running! 

This thing is like eight pages long on my documents, so it is very long. There is a death and blood, so that’s all for triggers.

Anywho, enjoy! 

The sun glares its ugly rays on the marketplace the second we enter, hearing music filter through the chatter of usual every day life. Last I was here I was with my family, buying Greenbells and—

I shake my head, remembering the young boy I saved. His eyes full of relief and joy that I put an end to such a petty execution. I wonder how his family is doing. Is his sister okay?

“Hey, you okay?” T asks, grabbing my wrist to stop me from being run over by a carriage. My body is so not used to being deprived of sunlight. I'm probably a vampire-shade of skin. “You're zoning out.”

I lick my dry lips, looking around once again. Waiting to hear that Australian accent, hear the electric whir of his “heart.” Feel a hand on my throat, silencing me. Thought you could escape me, now? “Y-yeah,” I stutter. “I'm fine.”

“All right, let's get some spices for Mom's soup.” T says, before adding, “And take off your hood. It's hot out here.”

“I like the hood, back off.” I snap. “I don't want to stand out.” “It'll make you easy to spot if we get lost—red hair like that is super rare.”

And that's why I'll be found. By either Kotal or Kano. Mostly Kano. I pull the hood closer, pushing back my hair. Even with the cut down to my waist, it is still untamed and puffy from the heat.

“Iris, T! Come along, now. The guards will make their rounds again, soon.” Lazur shouts. “We need to be back before then.”

Here in Outworld, the guards do rounds once every two months, hoping to find Mileena, the previous ruler of Outworld since she has been usurped by Kotal Kahn, a thing I knew, but never paid attention until now. Now she hides somewhere in the realm, plotting her return with two more Edenians. A part of me wonders if they are all close to death, or still here in Outworld.

They check houses, sweep the place head to toe, talk to every family member. Hopefully they put an end to this. I became witness to these “rounds.” From a hidden area in the house; I really didn't wish to be spotted by a guard of the Emperor. I didn't even tell Hannah and her family about why I'm terrified to be outside.

I keep my head down, paranoia creeping inside me like a virus. If I'm spotted, it's all over. I'll be forced to kneel in front of the Emperor, I'll probably be executed on sight.  Breathe, Iris. Breathe. We make it over to a fellow booth, observing the meats there. I look at a woman with a bird-like face and smile. “What can I get for you, pretty girl?”

“I'd like two of your finest chickens, please. And is that gingerroot?” I point to the root above the food.

“Nice eye, girlie. That'll be four crowns.” she says.

I look over to T, who is in charge of some of the pay . . . only to find he's not there. What the hell. I look behind my shoulder, through the small river of people around the market. No sign of T. Great.  I dig in my dress skirt pockets for the crowns, handing them to the lady. “Thank you.”

“Where did that boy go?” Lazur asks.  “I could have sworn he was just here. He might be with his friends.”

I can't stop the sigh that comes out of me. Ditching us while we shop. Then again, I've been this way before. I used to sneak away from the family to be with Kelly when I spot her. “I'll go get him. You'll be fine, won't you?” “Of course. Give him a earful for me.” He takes the bag from me, and leaves a butterfly kiss on my cheek.

I feel my face lightly flush as I turn and head into the deep crowd, pulling the hood close so it won't fall off my head. People are milling around, the guards in short-supply. For a lookout for a fallen empress, they don't seem to be high in numbers. Maybe it's because she wouldn't pop up here.

If I were T where would I be . . . The idea strikes me for a good moment. Out by the fountain. Northwest of here. “T, you're in a shitload of trouble.” I growl, the heat on my skin not from the thin hood and sunshine combined. I shift and twirl past the people, watching a young toddler for a brief moment go to their parents in fear.

Getting to the Northwestern part of the market place is about a five or ten minute walk; unless you're gifted with enhanced speed. I manage to get there in three and a half minutes, seeing T's floppy tawny hair among a group of boys by a booth. Damn, that kid moves fast.

A boy laughs right as I walk over to them. He keeps up conversation. “So then, she wanted to kiss me before I left her place, and . . . uh, T, seems like you have a pissed off girl there.”

“What do you mean?” T turns to look at me, and the humor fades from his face, also blood. “Uh . . . hey, Iris.” “Why did you run off like that?” I start. “Your father and I thought the guards got you.”

“Hey, relax, red. He just wanted to hang.” a boy interrupts. “Didn't know you'd be angry about it.”

“We were out shopping.” I put my hands on my hips, glaring at the boy with distaste. “And silence your tongue before I rip it out.” I hear a small chorus of snickers. Gods, teenage boys are idiots.

“T, come on, we gotta go. The rounds are starting soon.” This sets the group on edge; no one wants to be out during the rounds. One person was out, and they are now in prison. The Kahn takes anyone being a part of Mileena's hidden locations seriously, even if they didn't do anything.

“Damn, that's right. See you 'round, T.” Blond Boy says, no longer leaning against the post. There's sweat coming down in bullets on his face, and I know heat isn't the only factor. Two other boys begin to move away, and I can only watch as T's face falls in disappointment.

“This isn't over,” he growls.

“Oh, it is.” To make it more embarrassing, I pinch his ear. “Let's get—”

“What business do you have around here?”

We all turn to the guards, tall and menacing behind their masks. My breath is stuck in my windpipe. Shit, shit.

“We are just relaxing, ya know, regular commoners do it.” Blond answers. “Nothing to worry about.” A guard looks across the five of us, his eyes locked on me. “You look familiar. Have we met?” I swallow dryly, before T bumps in. “Why are you asking her? It's us you're interrogating, not her. Get your head out of your pants.”

The guard's expression shifts to something sinister, looking at T and his friends. “Did you all purchase anything? Or, did you steal from supplies used for our brewing civil war?”

My anger begins to rise, and I cannot hold my tongue for much longer. Like that time at the town square. “These kids didn't steal anything; do you have any proof aside from a simple accusation?”

“I know for one of these kids to be in persistent trouble with the law.” the second guard pipes up. “Ma'am.” His voice travels to the woman behind the concession stand. “Did any of these boys take anything?” “No,” says the woman.  “They didn't. Take your negative energy, elsewhere.” She waves her hand in a shooing motion.

The guard's jaw ticks in annoyance. “I will need to have a word with them; maybe they—”

I put myself in front of T, heat rising like a tidal wave. “You won't be needing anything; these innocent children have done nothing. They do not need to have a word with you.”

The guard and I have a staring contest, thinking the same thing: They're in my way and they have to be removed. My heart pounds against my chest, the same way it did months ago, stuck in that warehouse.

I have the need to be free, to be rid of this suffocating energy. The boys cower behind me, and my fists begin to clench, heat surrounding them like gloves.

He wants a fight, I'll give him one.

“Step. Aside.” “Over my dead body.” I snarl.

He takes one more step, but I bend my leg, creating some sort of field around the boys, and the lady's stand. He really wants to show his buddy what he can do. That he can push me to the ground.

He's acting like he's King. Or a God.

Within seconds, he lifts his arm to push me out of the way. Yet, somehow, I am able to grasp it in my hand. His wrist is slick with sweat, my fingernails biting themselves into the flesh like maggots. I can almost taste his pulse, feel it in the nail beds. Instead of searing him like steak,  I shove him away, watching him stumble and crash near two barrels.

There is laughter surrounding us as the guard tries to pick himself up—it seems our little spat caused an audience. People begin to clap, while wondering who is the girl protecting these boys.

And then the lady behind the counter says, wow she has such pretty red hair.

I reach above my head to feel the thick mane of hair. (I probably look like Simba.) I'm exposed.

The guard rises, brushing off the dust off the plating of his armor. He spits the word I am familiar with back home, by Kano, and that makes me move from the boys. I've had it.

No one calls me that word. And that's when I realize this man was about the same height as Muscles, but he wasn't bulging with ripped triceps and biceps. And when I shoved them, it didn't feel like an effort. He is a weak man. Picking on little boys, acting like he's everything.

I bend the second he tries to stab me with a sword, my body screaming from the scabs growing on my back. I adjust my body as he lunges at me, throwing me to the ground. There is a loud sound in my ears, and I see people covering their ears.

There's gasps and oohs from the crowd.

It's from me, I think. “You should learn your place.” he says in my ear, and moves me to the side. A swift kick in my chin makes me bite my tongue. The intimacy of iron and copper spread in my mouth and on my teeth. My eyes drift over to the boys, T in particular, shaking. No, no no no.

This guard is going to make them hurt for T's mouth. For a simple accusation.

“NO!”

I don't know how I did it.

My hand lets loose a ball of flame and it latches on to the guard like a newborn on a mother's breast. He starts to scream. The fire doesn't stop, in fact, in spreads above his feet, to his calves, joints, and up to his waistline. It reaches his upper body, the skull on his face cracking from the immense heat.

It's a sickening smell as his sweat mixes with the smoke and fire. Everyone is screaming, yet I am just watching it unfold. Like a fat candle, his skin starts to slough off. His hands paw at his face, to get rid of the burning of his body. Strands of hair begin to curl and fade into smoke.

A girl is screaming for the other guard, but he is off somewhere else. I don't know where he is. Maybe to get backup.

“Holy shit, THAT GUY IS ON FIRE! HOW DID SHE DO THAT?”

I take the blood down into my empty stomach, getting up with a groan. The guard falls to his knees, his body doing a procedure to take out the fire. The color of his skin changes from a lush peach to a charcoal black, flames creating cracks and spaces as he burns, screams with such agony it makes me sick.

But another, dark part of me likes that he's suffering. Kind of like how Muscles died, I wanted to keep going. I wanted to make sure he was dead. “STOP IT!” the guard screeches.

He really needs to shut up.

So I open my hand the same time T yells, “Iris, you're scaring everyone!”

Scaring? If anything,  I'm stopping the noise. Then I see the faces. Petrified of what I can do. That I am a killer. A girl hides in her face in her mother's skirts, tears welling up. The guard is still screaming. The smell of him drifts up into the clouds above.

I drop my arm as everything happens all at once.  Six guards come and pin me to the dirt, rubbing my face in it for good measure. I see the look of fear upon every face, but what breaks my heart is T's, and eventually Lazur's. My hands are behind my back, restrained once again. I feel my mind slipping into memory of when I was bound before, and I let myself fall limp.

Words drift inside my ears, catching seams and threads of conversation.

I can't believe that just happened.

Good riddens, that guy was such a bully.

That girl is a freak, she showed no remorse.

She looks like an Earthrealmer, or maybe she's a rebellion.

Fighting for the Kahnum? She's dug her own grave and she will lie in it.

Lifting me by my hair, pressure on my scalp, the guards take me to a nearby carriage, where a beast snorts in displeasure. I take the first two steps before a young boy stops me. He has the same hair, but it's a light golden brown from the sun. His eyes—so purple—are bright. So bright.

“Thank you for saving me.” is all he says before the the door shuts.

I kick a stale piece of bread out of my prison cell, and a rat takes it, lifts it up to his mouth. It squeaks in disgust.

Me too.

It's been hours since I have been inside the cell, and so far, my brain is thinking in too many directions. Four walls have me contained. The fourth wall being bars color of silver. The other cells are full of either skeletal bones, or people about to perish. The lit candlelight kills any chance of rest. My eyes are still envisioning that guard on the floor, dying from my fire.

Fire that wasn't born from Training. Or fun.

It was with the intent of stopping that man. But it had a catch of murder.

I'm not a killer. I'm not Kano.

I lie down on the metal flat bed, the cold touch relaxing against my ever burning skin. I've always had a warm temperature before, but this—fueled by my absolute rage by the fountain—is if someone dumped me into a pit of burning coals. I grew tired of that guard, I grew tired of the word used to put me down, when girls themselves use it on each other as a way of being friends. I have no problem if a girl uses it on me, but when a guy says it to me...

I have no choice but to make them s h u t t h e f u c k u p.

Footsteps echo above me, and dust filters its way out of the ceiling cracks. I rise up, hot hands clenching the metal so tight I fear it may melt. “What's happening?” “...Two.... things.” says a prisoner two cells down. “Food.... or someone's being released.”

“I fear another thing in mind.” I whisper.

“Might..... be...... executioner.” the prisoner gives a chest-rattling cough, hacking.

Fabulous.

Light bleeds like a wound from the cage-like protection of the stairs, and heavy footfalls collapse on each wooden step. A guard holds a bucket, and I catch a good whiff. Bread.

“Step away from the bars. You, girl, rise.”

For now, I obey, but I keep a close distance to the bars, tilting my head at him. “Special reason why?”

“Move from the bars. You won't be able to eat.”

“Don't feel like it,” I grumble. “Now why do you have me rise? What's the occasion? Am I being executed?” For once, I felt a confident wave of fire on me. I wanted to see the shocked look on the Emperor's face when I appear in his throne room. I stopped something unjust, at the cost of someone's life. And he sits on high horse, thinking it should be the natural order.

“The Emperor has decided you've been too much of a nuisance since your last time here.” He squints to get a better look at my face, and my lips curl back. “You've almost achieved the look of an Outworlder. Amazing how you've been hidden from him.”

I turn my attention away from him, my fists shaking. “May you let me out, please?” I reply sweetly.

“Yes, of course.”

I hear the click of the lock, and the creak of metal as I take a foot out of the cell.

[kaaras-adaar-a]

Kaaras and Romance.

// I said I was going to write up some important details when it comes to romance, so here I am. :3 

First off, it should be known that Kaaras works off chemistry! This is non negotiable. I will NOT force him to ship with someone he doesn’t have chemistry with and doesn’t like. It doesn’t mean me, as the mod, may not think it’s a really cute idea (I’m a ship whore), but I will not force him into anything he doesn’t want to do. I’ve done this before, and let me tell you, it was all kinds of fucked up, and it ended in severe misery and the whole thing turned out bad. So yeah... besides being a decent person to my muse’s wishes, there is also severe reason behind this choice. 

What you need to know is that Kaaras needs time. If you want to develop a romance with Kaaras, then that is what it will require: development. Development doesn’t just mean skype/discord chatter amongst ourselves (although that can help). What it means is:

Communication between muses -- this needs to be at a comfortable constant as it does with RL people. Meeting twice is not grounds to fall in love, meeting a few times over comfortable periods of time is definitely needed to develop a crush.

Time spent with muses -- this means quiet and quality time. Time to get to KNOW each other. Not just orders here and there, but actually getting to quietly speak and chatter with each other.

Chemistry is obviously a must still -- Some people have it, some people don’t. If your muse has a crush on Kaaras, that’s fine, but if he’s not feeling it, don’t pressure him. 

REAL LIFE TIME -- Threads don’t just end in one day, some threads go over weeks long. The more time he spends with your muse over a literal day or hours or weeks or whatever, the more comfortable he will be with your muse. We can have multiple threads going, that’s fine, but real life time is essential. Also, none of this skipping and darting around. Kaaras needs to ESTABLISH a real relationship with your muse. If he’s one thread at the beginning of a relationship and then the next they’re already 6 months in a relationship? Not going to work. What HAPPENED in those 6 months? How did they treat each other? Did they get closer? HE DOESN’T KNOW, and this actually freaks him the fuck out and he doesn’t know or understand. He needs control and order. If we’re skipping around it’s chaos and it makes him uncomfortable. This is what I mean by REAL time. A FLOW of time, communication and development being established. He needs to grow with your character. Because that’s what happens, each of them will grow from one another and that’s development. :) 

Kaaras may crush quickly, and we’re both aware of this. It does NOT mean that this crush will develop into love. What it means is that he has some strong feelings towards your muse that 100% have the potential to disappear. A crush is never solid, a crush is an infatuation, and it is a bit of an addiction with Kaaras, because it’s something that makes him feel alive, an adrenaline rush and even arousal. It’s a pleasant feeling in the middle off the hell that is being Inquisitor. 

In saying that, of course it absolutely has the potential to become more than a crush and a well established and developed relationship. But only time will tell.

Kaaras is shy and private. He will flirt with your muse, and often does just with people he considers friends. However, if there is a real show of interest back, take note that he might be surprised and that’s when all the coyness settles in. Kaaras’ self esteem is pretty damn low when it comes to himself, and most of the time he’s oblivious and doesn’t think anyone would be romantically attracted to him. It doesn’t stop him from flirting and it doesn’t stop him from still making moves. He is shy, but he is also a determined individual, and if he does get wind that your muse likes him romantically, he will be sure to voice himself on his thoughts and opinion. Kaaras isn’t the kind of person to let things sit and miss an opportunity, he WILL let his feelings be known. 

One thing to keep in mind is that if Kaaras and your muse end up in a romantic relationship, sex will never come first. Kaaras isn’t innocent, he’s spent a fair few of his younger years getting up to some trouble, but he’s never gone the full way and considers himself a virgin. You will never get sex out of Kaaras until he’s READY. Don’t think going in for smut is going to be easy. XD Kaaras is exceptionally slow with going the full way until he is comfortable with your muse. He may be good at using his hands or oral, but when it comes to going the full way, he fumbles, he’s not confident, and he may even need guidance from your muse. 

Please take note that I will ALWAYS treat these as realistic as possible (as I do with all of my writing). It will be awkward, it won’t be all hot and smutty and whatever you expect from a romance novel. Accidents will happen, embarrassing things will happen, and please keep in mind Kaaras’ PSAS that very well affects his sex life, meaning it will affect your muses sex life with him (if we’re Rping, then you should already be aware of what this condition is as it’s in my rules--a quick Google search on Persistent Sexual Arousal Syndrome/Disorder will suffice as well :3 ). 

Next on the list is Kaaras’ preferences. First off, Kaaras is pansexual and panromantic. He will date all genders of all species. Please read THIS POST about Kaaras and women however, as it goes into some depths about humans, specifically. That way I don’t need to repeat myself here. 

Kaaras is generally pretty easy on the male side of things, and he absolutely has a preference and a weakness for older men. Anyone who is a good 7-8 years older than him and plus, can be quite an instant attraction for him. This is pretty personal to him, and it is due to some psychological things. His father died at 12, no male role model, wanting to please, etc, etc. If I make a meta about that, then I’ll make one, for now, I won’t go too in depth with it. It is just something that should be known, especially for those who have older male muses. 

AGE MATTERS to Kaaras. Please note that Kaaras RARELY dates people who are 25 and below (he is 29 as Inquisitor), and even 25 sometimes he sees too young (he’s yet to break this rule, so I just let people know). I am not entirely sure WHY he is like this (it could be to do with his preference of older muses, I am not 100% certain). If your muse is younger than 23, though, he simply does not look for a potential romantic relationship with them, it doesn’t even OCCUR to him. Those thoughts are not for people that younger than him. He seems to be very strict on this rule, though. I do say that chemistry is chemistry, and if he does happen to break this rule, then... he breaks it. It’s not up to ME. It’s just something he does. But ever since I’ve Rped him, Kaaras has never broken this rule yet, so it’s something I pretty much put out there as a warning for people who are looking to romance Kaaras. If your muse is below this age limit, the chances are going to be slim to outright nil. 

It’s not that he sees your muse as immature or a child, the age gap just makes him uncomfortable, despite enjoying such older muses. *shrugs* If your muse is young and gets a crush on him, I’m not going to stop them from crushing on him, you be true to your muse :3. Just know that Kaaras most likely will not see them in such a manner, and will be baffled if they tell him. He might even avoid them depending on how much younger they are. Don’t take this as an “I don’t want to RP with you” because that’s not it, lol. Kaaras deserves to have friends as well as lovers. And if I like your muse, then I absolutely still would love to RP with you. :) 

It is important to know what also attracts Kaaras to a person. Generally, if your muse is a nice, caring, selfless and gentle person, then those are some pretty easy ways to get Kaaras’ attention. 

If your muse is an arsehole, enjoys killing for pleasure/sport, and is an overall bad and negative person, then there’s no real chance of him liking your muse. Assassins seem to get this a lot, and he is REALLY iffy on assassin muses, because they are essentially killing for gold (a mercenary and an assassin are NOT the same thing, and if you try and compare Kaaras’ job to an assassin he will lecture the shit out of you XD). 

Please know that as Inquisitor, Kaaras is ALREADY under an immense amount of stress. He needs his alone time, he needs his Kaaras time, he needs to just worry about himself every now and again and be ALONE. As much as he loves his LI and wants to be with them, he is not and never will be entirely dependant on them. in fact, often Kaaras is perfectly fine in his solitude. He doesn’t like being lonely, but he doesn’t mind being alone. He will need his independence. If your muse ends up being incredibly clingy and overall unhappy and needy and taking up all his energy, and puts more pressure on Kaaras, chances are that his feelings may change after a while.

Lastly, I want it to be known that feelings CAN and WILL change. Kaaras has gone head strong into some relationships and rushed into them without thinking, and in the end, I’ve had to deal with the consequences, and Kaaras has had to break up with muses. 

For one, don’t think this is because I no longer like your muse, this is KAARAS’ doing. It’s NOT mine. I may even still totally ship them! I may still love them and think they’re adorable, but Kaaras’ feelings DO change. Don’t hate him because of that. He’s only a person, and all of our feelings change. Relationships grow and relationships fall. Mainly, it’s because he’s rushed into it, and basically there’s been no real development, and once he realises, he freaks the fuck out and panics on me, and I have to deal with it all. So yeah, it’s a pain in the arse, but don’t put more pressure on me by trying to guilt trip either of us. That only leads to an extremely bitter Kaaras, and you don’t want to go down that path, it’s really not pretty. Mod gets over things very quickly, but if you keep digging that hole, Kaaras will down right end up hating with a passion. You’re all pretty decent folks, though, I don’t expect that to happen <3 

Just be aware that feelings do change, and time and development is something very important and basically essential if you want to romance Kaaras. Not everyone will get to romance him, and that’s okay! Kaaras still likes having friends. :) And it’s important to have friendships with other muses, not just all LIs! 

I THINK I’ve covered most? If there’s anything else, just hook me up and a huge thanks for anyone who took the time to read this, it got way longer than I anticipated! 

[tailorcanoe55-blog]

Words of hope, from moms who have already overcome postpartum depression

It is not uncommon for moms of babies to have Postpartum Depression. In fact, I’ve read some studies that state all mothers get PPD at some point in the first year of giving birth.

Yet, for so many of us we feel alone in our depression. We think that somehow it makes us bad moms to be sad or even upset at certain aspect of motherhood with our gorgeous new babies. We worry that the Dr might call CPS on us if we show anything less than a perfect view of ourselves at that 6 week appointment. So we are silent. We don’t reach out. We don’t get the help we need.

I suffered with PPD silently for a long time, not realizing it was okay to reach out. Now that those hard first months are over, I want to be sure other moms are given the chance to reach out for the help they need. To know that Postpartum Depression is a normal, and okay part of motherhood, and something that doesn’t have to be faced alone.

I asked on my Facebook Page for other moms to give words of advice to those who might be in the thick of PPD and I was overwhelmed by the responses. So many women from all different walks of life, willing to share and grant hope to those facing a difficult time right now.

If this is you, please call your OB/GYN. Talk to your spouse about it, reach out to another mom. You don’t have to do this alone. You are an awesome mom. Depression and all!

Enough from me, here are some beautiful words from DOZENS of moms who have walked the road of PPD and want to help you feel loved and realize what an amazing mama you are.

Please remember – None of these words are written by doctors or psychiatrists, mine included. We are not medical professionals and I definitely recommend you talking to a medical professional if you feel you may be suffering from PPD or any other sort of depression. I hope these stories help you on your way to healing and encourage your heart today, but they should not be taken as medical advice in any way. (hugs)

Moosey says – “For me, both times, I prayed and exercised like mad. Know that it is okay to cry and keep focusing on one goal at a time. I am 7 months PP and I still get spurts of depression. Just know that you are not alone!”

Ashley shared – “I had it, but never got the needed help. I was a first time mom with a child who was born with severe heart defects. I thought my feelings were normal based on that, and truthfully, never even considered ppd. I believe everyone should be tested – beyond the simple questions the pediatrician asked at one of his appointments that I lied about, because I was embarrassed.”

“I have it and I was so ashamed of the stigma. I didn’t want people to look at me with concern over whether or not I would harm my children. That seemed to be the only cases of PPD that ever got any publicity. I worked long and hard and still struggle with it. The best thing I ever did though was tell people with a wonderful sense of humor. I’m breaking down the stigma of PPD by telling people about my own personal struggle with it and you should be applauded for talking about it as well.” – Tanis

Kathryn says “I think more people need to know that not only is there PPD there is also postpartum anxiety. I had severe anxiety afterwards and no one told me or checked on me (doctors). I think it’s something that needs to be talked about more along with PPD.”

“It real. There is help. Get the help! The only thing I regret is not getting help sooner. It’s like a fog has lifted.” -Heather

“I had it with my first two. It’s important to realize that it manifests itself in different ways. With my first I was super sad and emotional all the time. With my second I was super anxious all the time. It was helpful to have someone to talk to. – Candy

Amanda shared her story – “Knowing that it can strike later in the first year would have been helpful for me. I knew I was struggling in the first 10-12 weeks postpartum, but then we got settled into a routine and the fog lifted and I started feeling more like myself (albeit a very tired version of myself). Around 6.5 months postpartum my endocrinologist adjusted my thyroid hormone down closer to my pre-pregnancy level and that teamed with going back to work for 25 hours a week sent me off a CLIFF. It was a downward spiral like I’ve never experienced before and it was very hard to acknowledge it as PPD because I felt like that window had already closed and I shouldn’t be dealing with ‘that’ anymore. I eventually was able to right the ship (found a new doctor who listened and changed my thyroid med formulation, which turned things around in 2 weeks). I learned that big changes in routine, medication (even though neither of then ‘looked’ big to my pre-pregnancy self) can make a big difference and if you aren’t feeling ‘right’ then you probably aren’t…and it’s ok to reach out and find help.”

It’s nothing you did or didn’t do. It’s not your fault. Your baby needs a healthy and happy momma and by taking care of yourself you are taking care of your baby.” – Nicole

“I had it and the most important thing I can offer is hope. I just wanted someone to tell me I would feel like myself again and I just want to tell other women that you will feel like you again and that the rain does stop.” – Kathy

“Other moms need to know it’s ok to lose it once in a while, the people around you love you and understand it’s hard.” – Elaine

“If baby was sick or hurt, would you seek care? Do the same for you!” – Nicole

“My best advice is find someone who you can trust like a parent or spouse or friend and talk to them about your feelings. There is also hotline numbers you can call and talk to someone without giving personal information.” – Michelle

“Get help! If you’re sad for longer than you think you should be, PLEASE talk to a therapist or psychiatrist. I had it with 3 out of my 4 babies and medication and therapy were the best investments I ever made.” – Melanie

“You are not alone!” – Ashlee

Ashlee says – “I want you to know that you are not alone!!!! I had it and the depression started during the pregnancy but was then diagnosed as PPD as soon as she was born. I struggled for almost two years after she was born. The darkest time was right before it got better.

“I want other moms to know that Postpartum Depression and Anxiety can actually start before you deliver and that seeking help via medication and/or talk therapy is okay. It doesn’t make you a bad mom.” – Mackenzie

“Postpartum Depression doesn’t make you a bad mom” – Mackenzie

“If you see your friend struggling, ask her. And ask her again. And ask her again. Be gentle and loving and persistent. I had 1 friend whose response was “are you sure it’s not just harder with 2?” and another who gently encouraged me to see my OB to have my hormones checked about every 3 weeks for almost 5 months before I finally went. I’m so thankful she really saw me and gently and lovingly and consistently encouraged me. I needed her and I didn’t know it.” – Sarah

Vanessa shares – “A girlfriend brought it to my attention (that I may be suffering from PPD) around my first Mothers Day which was 5 months postpartum. One thing I wish I understood is how important it is to accept help. You don’t have to do it ALL by yourself and trying may cause you and your family more damage in the long run.”

“I had it with my second pregnancy and refused to acknowledge the problem even though I knew it was there. I finally did and got help. You are not alone!” – Katie

Jolene says – “I had it with both my kids. My advice is don’t allow denial to rule you and accept any help offered and don’t be afraid to ask for help!”

“Please mommies, if anything feels different to you, talk to your doctor. And don’t be scared to tell anyone. I let it go for a couple of weeks and they were the two scariest weeks! Get help and get on medicine if you need to. It’s ok!” – Jenny

Did you have postpartum depression? Add your words of encouragement in the comments and we just might make a part two! I think this will go a long way in encouraging other moms. YOU ARE NOT ALONE!!!! And you are an awesome mama!

The following two tabs change content below.

Young wife, mama, author, blogger, encourager, friend. Lover of hot weather. Lover of travel. Accomplished chocolate eater. Proud Hufflepuff.

Source: https://www.beautythroughimperfection.com/post-partum-depression-moms/

[muscleduck8-blog]

Words of hope, from moms who have already overcome postpartum depression

It is not uncommon for moms of babies to have Postpartum Depression. In fact, I’ve read some studies that state all mothers get PPD at some point in the first year of giving birth.

Yet, for so many of us we feel alone in our depression. We think that somehow it makes us bad moms to be sad or even upset at certain aspect of motherhood with our gorgeous new babies. We worry that the Dr might call CPS on us if we show anything less than a perfect view of ourselves at that 6 week appointment. So we are silent. We don’t reach out. We don’t get the help we need.

I suffered with PPD silently for a long time, not realizing it was okay to reach out. Now that those hard first months are over, I want to be sure other moms are given the chance to reach out for the help they need. To know that Postpartum Depression is a normal, and okay part of motherhood, and something that doesn’t have to be faced alone.

I asked on my Facebook Page for other moms to give words of advice to those who might be in the thick of PPD and I was overwhelmed by the responses. So many women from all different walks of life, willing to share and grant hope to those facing a difficult time right now.

If this is you, please call your OB/GYN. Talk to your spouse about it, reach out to another mom. You don’t have to do this alone. You are an awesome mom. Depression and all!

Enough from me, here are some beautiful words from DOZENS of moms who have walked the road of PPD and want to help you feel loved and realize what an amazing mama you are.

Please remember – None of these words are written by doctors or psychiatrists, mine included. We are not medical professionals and I definitely recommend you talking to a medical professional if you feel you may be suffering from PPD or any other sort of depression. I hope these stories help you on your way to healing and encourage your heart today, but they should not be taken as medical advice in any way. (hugs)

Moosey says – “For me, both times, I prayed and exercised like mad. Know that it is okay to cry and keep focusing on one goal at a time. I am 7 months PP and I still get spurts of depression. Just know that you are not alone!”

Ashley shared – “I had it, but never got the needed help. I was a first time mom with a child who was born with severe heart defects. I thought my feelings were normal based on that, and truthfully, never even considered ppd. I believe everyone should be tested – beyond the simple questions the pediatrician asked at one of his appointments that I lied about, because I was embarrassed.”

“I have it and I was so ashamed of the stigma. I didn’t want people to look at me with concern over whether or not I would harm my children. That seemed to be the only cases of PPD that ever got any publicity. I worked long and hard and still struggle with it. The best thing I ever did though was tell people with a wonderful sense of humor. I’m breaking down the stigma of PPD by telling people about my own personal struggle with it and you should be applauded for talking about it as well.” – Tanis

Kathryn says “I think more people need to know that not only is there PPD there is also postpartum anxiety. I had severe anxiety afterwards and no one told me or checked on me (doctors). I think it’s something that needs to be talked about more along with PPD.”

“It real. There is help. Get the help! The only thing I regret is not getting help sooner. It’s like a fog has lifted.” -Heather

“I had it with my first two. It’s important to realize that it manifests itself in different ways. With my first I was super sad and emotional all the time. With my second I was super anxious all the time. It was helpful to have someone to talk to. – Candy

Amanda shared her story – “Knowing that it can strike later in the first year would have been helpful for me. I knew I was struggling in the first 10-12 weeks postpartum, but then we got settled into a routine and the fog lifted and I started feeling more like myself (albeit a very tired version of myself). Around 6.5 months postpartum my endocrinologist adjusted my thyroid hormone down closer to my pre-pregnancy level and that teamed with going back to work for 25 hours a week sent me off a CLIFF. It was a downward spiral like I’ve never experienced before and it was very hard to acknowledge it as PPD because I felt like that window had already closed and I shouldn’t be dealing with ‘that’ anymore. I eventually was able to right the ship (found a new doctor who listened and changed my thyroid med formulation, which turned things around in 2 weeks). I learned that big changes in routine, medication (even though neither of then ‘looked’ big to my pre-pregnancy self) can make a big difference and if you aren’t feeling ‘right’ then you probably aren’t…and it’s ok to reach out and find help.”

It’s nothing you did or didn’t do. It’s not your fault. Your baby needs a healthy and happy momma and by taking care of yourself you are taking care of your baby.” – Nicole

“I had it and the most important thing I can offer is hope. I just wanted someone to tell me I would feel like myself again and I just want to tell other women that you will feel like you again and that the rain does stop.” – Kathy

“Other moms need to know it’s ok to lose it once in a while, the people around you love you and understand it’s hard.” – Elaine

“If baby was sick or hurt, would you seek care? Do the same for you!” – Nicole

“My best advice is find someone who you can trust like a parent or spouse or friend and talk to them about your feelings. There is also hotline numbers you can call and talk to someone without giving personal information.” – Michelle

“Get help! If you’re sad for longer than you think you should be, PLEASE talk to a therapist or psychiatrist. I had it with 3 out of my 4 babies and medication and therapy were the best investments I ever made.” – Melanie

“You are not alone!” – Ashlee

Ashlee says – “I want you to know that you are not alone!!!! I had it and the depression started during the pregnancy but was then diagnosed as PPD as soon as she was born. I struggled for almost two years after she was born. The darkest time was right before it got better.

“I want other moms to know that Postpartum Depression and Anxiety can actually start before you deliver and that seeking help via medication and/or talk therapy is okay. It doesn’t make you a bad mom.” – Mackenzie

“Postpartum Depression doesn’t make you a bad mom” – Mackenzie

“If you see your friend struggling, ask her. And ask her again. And ask her again. Be gentle and loving and persistent. I had 1 friend whose response was “are you sure it’s not just harder with 2?” and another who gently encouraged me to see my OB to have my hormones checked about every 3 weeks for almost 5 months before I finally went. I’m so thankful she really saw me and gently and lovingly and consistently encouraged me. I needed her and I didn’t know it.” – Sarah

Vanessa shares – “A girlfriend brought it to my attention (that I may be suffering from PPD) around my first Mothers Day which was 5 months postpartum. One thing I wish I understood is how important it is to accept help. You don’t have to do it ALL by yourself and trying may cause you and your family more damage in the long run.”

“I had it with my second pregnancy and refused to acknowledge the problem even though I knew it was there. I finally did and got help. You are not alone!” – Katie

Jolene says – “I had it with both my kids. My advice is don’t allow denial to rule you and accept any help offered and don’t be afraid to ask for help!”

“Please mommies, if anything feels different to you, talk to your doctor. And don’t be scared to tell anyone. I let it go for a couple of weeks and they were the two scariest weeks! Get help and get on medicine if you need to. It’s ok!” – Jenny

Did you have postpartum depression? Add your words of encouragement in the comments and we just might make a part two! I think this will go a long way in encouraging other moms. YOU ARE NOT ALONE!!!! And you are an awesome mama!

The following two tabs change content below.

Young wife, mama, author, blogger, encourager, friend. Lover of hot weather. Lover of travel. Accomplished chocolate eater. Proud Hufflepuff.

Source: https://www.beautythroughimperfection.com/post-partum-depression-moms/

[radioactivegrowth]

Writer’s Fear

I still remember when SV first suggested I start a "blog," way back when it was the cool thing to do and everyone else was doing it. I laughed and cringed (I wonder what the emoji for this would look like) and blushed and stuttered and eventually said, "Uh who me? No thanks, dude."

We were in London having the experience of a life time and even though there was so much happening all the time and even though I've been writing about my entire life for my entire life – that’s way before the Internet (much less blogging) was even in popular existence - the thought of labeling that process and posting it in a public place was....not going to happen.

I've always had a love-hate relationship with writing - I wonder if other writers do, too? People tell you you're talented, you enjoy thinking about writing more than actual process of writing, and you fear the result. Poring over the words, the structure, the grammar, the (lack of good) ideas! Endless self-criticism - it isn't pretty.

But SV persisted, and I actually started considered it until, inevitably, the voice in my head would roll her eyes (yes, voices have eyes) and say, "you think you're important or something?" (Pretty sure this voice also has a Brooklyn accent, permed red hair and is smacking her bubble gum. Go, read it again with that image.) "Who cares what you have to say! How embarrassing that you're putting your life out there - and for who? Ha!" (She has red nails, too, and she’s examining them as she puts me back in my place.)

I shared my fears with SV (left out the part about it being from Brooklyn) and she assured me that no one else would have to read it…but I’d still have to. I'd have to permanently catalogue the dumb things I did or the insignificant things I thought so that I could always look back on my own self-importance and wish for disassociation. 

And I was afraid. Oh man, was I afraid - of judgement, of showing more than meets the eye, of vulnerability, my imperfections, my immaturity. My lack of interesting ideas...I mean, what would I say? My teenage diaries were encyclopedically boring. This whole thing was a terrible idea. 

…So I did it. It's an unspoken rule I have with myself: you're afraid? Perfect, go get it done. No excuses and no exceptions. Face that shit and win! #competitiveZ

When I started, and for a while after, I couldn't even say the word "blog” out loud without shuddering. It screamed the opposite of humility, reeking of self-aggrandizement and the smugness that comes with wisely telling you about things you haven’t experienced yet, poor dear you. I was so conscious of this persona that I feared would overtake my writing at any second, so afraid of it further inflating my ego, and so worried that I sounded…unnecessary. This time the image in my head was of my brother, rolling his eyes at me, smirking, and saying “did you just say you write a blog?!” Kill me now.

But, slowly, posting grew on me and the more I wrote, the more I found things to write about. Blogging became a tool to process what I was experiencing and a way to communicate with others who were interested in my journey abroad (and prevented me from having to endlessly repeat myself). I found myself looking back on my writing, appreciating it artistically but also relishing in the articulation of the lessons I learned - for my own sake, irrespective of its reception by others. 

Today, nine years have passed since the beginning of that journey and a whole new set of fears (along with some persistent old ones) have been keeping any thoughts of restarting at bay: the talent you had disappeared when you didn't use it; you're too old now to catalogue mistakes and learnings; you have nothing new to say; the world is saturated with articles from thought catalog and all these other random sites eschewing unneeded advice largely from green know-it-alls. And the worst one: who do I think I am? What makes me more worthy to share thoughts and feelings? I'm a hypocrite for judging them and typing my story at the same time. 

Compound this with the fact that what I'm writing (because this is what's on my mind these days) is about tough breaks in a relationship, challenges with living what others might see as a dream life (so, like, am I allowed to struggle?), conquering body image issues, or learning lessons I should already know like "How to Have Fun 101." The nagging voice (this one looks like me but sounds meaner and snobbier) says you should be more perfect than this. Do you really want to draw attention to things that don’t need highlighting, that other’s don’t suspect? Don’t go alerting people to flaws they aren’t observing, that’s a dumb idea.

Vulnerability, nostalgia, imperfections, and relationships - these are all white-hot centers of pain and shame, full of learning curves and lessons that I keep thinking everyone knows but me. That, plus this damn ego of mine that can’t seem to stop taking herself so seriously: all of these are shining beacons of discouragement and wonderful excuses to continue ignoring the impulse to write. And yup, I'm afraid…and I know what that means.

No excuses, no exceptions, it’s time to go at it again and it’s time to win.

As I think this through (and desperately try to claw at a silver lining), I'm reminded of the value of writing that I often take for granted: evidence to help me make sense of myself and the world, the patterns and trends that I see. For example, I was afraid the first time I started, too. I felt too old then, too exposed, too silly. I spent hours in my head, hours fixing before posting and then editing after the fact. I worried about who was reading, what they thought of me, and dealing with backlash and criticism on what I shared.

But I also received encouragement, found my voice, practiced what I loved (and got better!), and gave myself the gift of neatly packaged reflections and lessons learned. Not to mention, I chipped away at my long-term goal of publishing.

So, no more procrastinating, here goes. I'm on a new adventure now and more than a little annoyed to discover that fears aren't once-and-forever conquered but rather friends that walk beside us, become our companions, loyal through landscape changes, birthdays, and iterations of ourselves. I'm thankful for the sparring partners they are and even though my heart is fluttering and I feel that familiar nervous nausea pre-post (see what I did there? #nerdalert), it’s time once again to bite the bullet, take the plunge, go ham, and any other cliché you feel like adding.

Here’s to taming the ego and being more radioactive. 

[gooeyguy]

email to my teacher (warning alot of personal stuff)

Hey so, sorry to email you out of nowhere like this? But i feel like maybe im finally at a point where i can explain more thoroughly why im having trouble with school or just succeeding in general. I think its really important that i tell you some of this junk because theres a chance it might make the rest of the year easier for you and me.

I wanted to start off with apologizing for all the trouble ive caused you throughout the year with the annoying comments, disruptions and backtalk.  And most of all the terrible ability i have with doing and turning in work.

This email is mostly to explain my situation and reasoning for acting/struggling the way i have been (not to annoy you or be sarcastic).

Alright so, if you havent noticed i struggle with some things and one of them i never really bring up is ptsd. I have been diagnosed and im hoping to enlighten you on my specific issues with it, (everything i mention will apply to me as to make it less confusing from here on)

 I have a specific type of ptsd called Complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD; also known as complex trauma) This type of ptsd is different in that it results from repetitive, prolonged trauma. My causes for being diagnosed are specifically natural-detachment from my mother and physical/sexual abuse growing up and some other things im not going to mention.

My side effects from this are,

Attachment – "problems with relationship boundaries, lack of trust, social isolation, difficulty perceiving and responding to other's emotional states, and lack of empathy"

This is strongly linked to my reactive attachment disorder and explains alot to why i am the way i am. Heres a link to a website http://www.webmd.com/mental-health/mental-health-reactive-attachment-disorder#1 that explains a bit of what it is so that i do not have to make this already long email that much longer, i would also really appreciate it if you read even just a little.

I have an extreme lack of trust in others and am constantly doubting myself, there is not a second of the day where i dont think im a horrible person, i could be doing better, im disgusting to look at ect. The social isolation is a big problem for me, because im “this way” i feel that bothering others with my presence/problems/medical difficulties ect. is not necessary and for the better. Hence why i refrain from asking when i really need help, im scared to bother you. I dont want to make you angry and i know you and mrs mumford are already so stressed by the time my bell starts.

Biology – "sensory-motor developmental dysfunction, sensory-integration difficulties, somatization, and increased medical problems"

This ties into my Fibromyalgia and eds which ill explain more about after i go through ptsd. Its all kind of one big mixed bag of disorders that tie together and make me the way i am.

Affect or emotional regulation – "poor affect regulation, difficulty identifying and expressing emotions and internal states, and difficulties communicating needs, wants, and wishes"

Like i talked about before i feel extremely useless and annoying when asking for help or even talking about the things i enjoy. And when trying to explain my difficulties i stop midsentence or forget words/forget what my problem is and it becomes frustrating.

Dissociation – "amnesia, depersonalization, discrete states of consciousness with discrete memories, affect, and functioning, and impaired memory for state-based events"

THIS is what i blame for never being able to remember anything. With fibromyalgia i have whats called “brain fog” and with the constant dream like state im in because of dissociation it makes my memory absolutely terrible. Remembering your names in class took me until almost 3rd quarter and it was utterly embarrassing(i still forget sometimes), its even more embarrassing when i forget basic buttons on the calculator and have to ask in front of everyone looking like an idiot.Or when i try to shout out an answer in class and it comes out gibberish because my mind is everywhere all at once, Or when we have a test on the formula we learned a week ago, and of course my mind draws a blank. I cant remember, and it makes me so frustrated with myself that i want to break down right there in class. It renders me doing weird things too, like the other day i put the icecream in the bread drawer, and on sunday i woke up and got ready for school. Theres alot of other things i could say but its as if fibro is laughing in my face.

 Dissociation in my own words is feeling like nothing is real, things dont feel like they happened. What does feel real is the pain/feeling in my body, i am a very anxious and jumpy person so im very sensitive to loud sounds/touch/weather and certain (triggering)  talk among students. And yet i still feel in a daze,My vision will sometimes blur and i am very prone to falling/accidents, staying focused can be extremely frustrating because my brain feels like a cloud, its almost uncontrollable like a dream. I dont think anyone can control those very much so i think its a good example.

Behavioural control – "problems with impulse control, aggression, pathological self-soothing, and sleep problems"

Im pretty okay with impulses, i of course have alot of very impulsive thoughts but i am good at controlling them id say, same with aggression but i very much so struggle with sleep problems because of nightmares from ptsd and chronic pain from fibro, i have not been diagnosed with insomnia but im sure i fit the criteria im just really bad at opening up with doctors/people ect.

These are just a couple more symptoms to help explain,

Cognition – "difficulty regulating attention, problems with a variety of "executive functions" such as planning, judgement, initiation, use of materials, and self-monitoring, difficulty processing new information, difficulty focusing and completing tasks, poor object constancy, problems with "cause-effect" thinking, and language developmental problems such as a gap between receptive and expressive communication abilities."

Self-concept – "fragmented and disconnected autobiographical narrative, disturbed body image, low self-esteem, excessive shame, and negative internal working models of self".

Alterations in relations with others, including isolation and withdrawal, persistent distrust, a repeated search for a rescuer, disruption in intimate relationships and repeated failures of self-protection.

Loss of, or changes in, one's system of meanings, which may include a loss of sustaining faith or a sense of hopelessness and despair.

Variations in consciousness, including forgetting traumatic events (i.e., psychogenic amnesia), reliving experiences (either in the form of intrusive PTSD symptoms or in ruminative preoccupation), or having episodes of dissociation.

Changes in self-perception, such as a chronic and pervasive sense of helplessness, paralysis of initiative, shame, guilt, self-blame, a sense of defilement or stigma, and a sense of being completely different from other human beings

Now that im done explaining the ptsd, Fibromyalgia

Fibromyalgia is a chronic pain disorder that my doctor believes to be linked to my other disorders, Fibromyalgia has to do with the senses we as humans all have, feeling, hearing, taste, and sight. The difference between someone with fibro and an average healthy person is lets say theres a knob for how strong each of these senses are, so imagine someone taking all those knobs and turning them all the way up to max sensitivity. Youd think oh cool youre like a super hero (like my sister likes to say) but no its the exact opposite, it does not benefit me whatsoever. Feeling, paired with ehlers danlos syndrome both my joints and my muscles are constantly in pain and some days ill have what you call a “flare up” which is where getting out of bed usually isnt an option for my body, i cannot remember the last time i didnt feel at least a dull ache in my head, i get migraines at least once everyday and unfortunately i get nauseous so i dont eat very much . Almost everything is irritating to my skin, a simple light rub of my finger on the top of my forearm is irritating and raw feeling (like ive been sitting there rubbing the same spot for hours) /Writing is over all painful, including typing as well/

If youve ever woken up in the morning with sore muscles from pushing yourself too hard the day before,that is how the muscles in my body feel, if you press on them they ache, and sting/burn when i use them. painful touch for most of my body paired with constant anxiety of getting bumped into/touched is stressful and tiring. On a good day my pain scale is a 5 from 1-10 but thats if im really lucky.

Then theres the weather, if im too hot and i start to sweat, the sweat stings my skin and i end up going into a frenzy of scratching and agony.  If its too cold my joints will start to lock up and become painful, its like they freeze and when i move them it feels like im shattering ice in my hand mixed with dull muscle ache. If its a good temperature theres still the feeling and i swear, the sound i can hear of my joints grinding together like two pieces of rubber being rubbed against eachother slowly.

Hearing is also bad, loud sounds are very irritating to my ears and will cause my migraine to get worse.(Talking too loud)Other irritating sounds, paper rubbing against paper roughly making that blblblb sound, high pitched noises of any loudness, squeaks, repetitive beeps ect.

Sight wise turning on lights abruptly is painful and makes my migraine worse, any bright light in general.

Taste doesnt really matter so i wont mention, but because these knobs are turned full blast it means the nerves and pain receptors in my body are being over worked constantly by my brain

And my brain thinks its doing its job by constantly acting like ive been running triathalons.

The recollection of pain comes in avalanches of distress for me. I usually experience the intense turmoil of fibromyalgia in the winter, or whenever cold fronts shatter the air and its frail victims. My limbs cannot contain the strength possible to function during those cold spells. Fibromyalgia’s lengthy sentence comes and goes for some, but, as a teenager, it’s disheartening. For the rest of my life, I will never be able to remember living without every waking moment marked by pain.

The abnormality of fibro weighs on my shoulders when I’m asleep, awake, or anywhere inbetween. I wake up at 4:30 each morning in order to be shuffling around by 6:20 a.m. The heaviness of my body pulls me down and pains me as I take a shower, put on my clothes, and put my small backpack on my shoulder to head out to school. Any sense of touch creates extreme levels of pain for me. Touching my arm, poking my leg, and brushing against my back hurt as much as twisting my ankle. My distraught reaction is a lot like a dog crying in pain and distrust after you accidentally step on its paw. Because im always in pain im always right next to the emotional breaking point, im always on the verge of tears. The smallest things can make me break down.

The pain prohibits me from being a teenager. Thanks to fibro, I cannot dress up in my favorite clothes and be what you call “Extra” everyday as i so much wish to be during the winter. My hands are crooked and shake too much usually to apply makeup. I struggle with applying eyeliner, because my hands hurt too much wrapped around a brush. The uncomfortable school chairs make me weep when I return home, because they destroy my concentration, forcing me to focus on the overwhelming pain I feel. I used to excel in school, but now, I can barely think fast enough, and come off as ditzy. I feel like I’m constantly struggling to maintain the fragments of my intelligence I lost due to fibro medication and fibromyalgia itself.

My GPA, became my ball and chain in school, rather than an accomplishment worth sharing. During the year, my schedule is dictated by the weather. Cold weather causes agonizing, excruciating pain that races down my spine and branches through my limbs. If a cold front passes, rain falls, snow falls, or temperatures drop, I freeze like the Tin Man, except there isn’t any oil to move my joints. The way I get sleep should be considered a torture method. Many people feel refreshed or renewed when they wake up after 8 hours, but I feel completely restless and exhausted. And thats if the nightmares from the PTSD dont interrupt. I toss and turn for hours in pain, because the pain signals interrupt the sleep cycle. I cry intensely whenever I think of sleep; school usually means a lack of sleep, but I am further deprived without choice. My biological system cannot allow me to rest, and continues to tense my muscles in a constant state of flight or fight.

With most schools starting at 8 a.m., my body struggles to run on 8 hours of sleep (which really feels like two). The exhaustion prevents me from hanging out with some of my closest friends. In the early stages of having fibromyalgia, I used to be able to do school clubs, hang out with my best friend, and go to cons with my friends often. Now, I spend my time huddled down, trying to make up for the nights of lost sleep. The lack of sleep and the endless pain contribute to extreme depression. And to keep my mood relatively happy i act like a goose in school with friends which doesnt do me good with teachers, I do it to not break down and let myself get too low around others because i know id regret embarrassing myself like that more than anything. The pain yearns for my thoughts to leap toward suicidal thoughts, and I was obsessed with death for years and still am. There was a time when I searched for ways to end my life, because nobody could help me and I couldn’t face living the rest of my life knowing that I’ll always be in pain. I still have these thoughts, and I believe I always will as long as I emit pain. Hence why i was in the hospital for a week recently, the hopelessness and embarrassment is dragging me down. The whole idea of having fibromyalgia embarrasses me. I’m embarrassed that I am constantly being called crippled, disabled, or chronically ill.Or worse not being noticed at all while struggling. I’m embarrassed that fibromyalgia makes me feel like I’m 67 instead of 16. I’m embarrassed that I will never be able to be an artsy beat poet like Patti Smith, or a rock ‘n’ roll guitarist like Keith Richards.

So i think thats as much as i can cover for you right now with my two of my biggest problems , im extremely exhausted and im not joking when i say my fingers feel like they are gonna fall off haha.  

Im terribly sorry for how long this email is but i think i got most everything with these two topics in there, also dont feel obliged to reply to this, im already embarrassed i even wrote all this down (terribly).

Quick thing i would like to say before i end the email, with all respect i am not looking for sympathy in any way. I am simply stating the way i am  in hopes that if you understand itll make things less stressful for me and you. So dont feel like you have to do anything for me.  

Thankyou for reading if you got this far, really. (btw forwarding this to Mrs. m******d is totally okay with me)

[hypertagmaster]

Why Your Greatest Asset May Be Slowly Eroding (and How You Can Rebuild It)

“Why are we sending this email to this list again?” Kim asked.

I was incredulous. “Umm, because we never sent it a first time,” I thought to myself.

Still, before responding, I decided to check. Glad I did.

It turned out we had indeed sent the same information to the same email list a week prior. And I was the one who wrote that original email.

So why had I forgotten about writing it to such an extent that I wasn’t even hit with a pang of remembrance while planning and writing a second, similar email?

It seems I was losing control of one of my most basic and important assets. I wonder if anything like this has happened to you recently.

Your greatest asset (it may not be what you think)

In terms of your ability to succeed as a writer, marketer, or digital entrepreneur, what is your greatest asset that you should protect above all others?

It has to be your audience, right? Represented as your list of customers, members, and subscribers.

Wrong.

It’s more fundamental than that.

Okay, then it’s your website, yes? Which enables you to attract, retain, and convert visitors into subscribers, members, and customers.

Wrong.

It’s way more fundamental than that.

How about your knowledge and experience? Which enable you to build authority and a website with useful information.

Wrong again.

It’s even more fundamental than that.

What must you be able to do to gain experience, as well as build and retain knowledge?

Two things:

You have to be able to pay attention.

You have to be able to focus.

Yet, in this era of ubiquitous “war” — the War on Terror, the War on Drugs, the War on Truth, you get the idea — there is another damaging war that we all fight every minute of every day, whether or not we recognize it.

And the weapons used against us keep getting more and more sophisticated and pervasive as the cost to us of losing gets more and more expensive.

The War on Attention is real

We’re under siege from seemingly every angle.

“You have a finite amount of attention to expend each day. If aimed carefully, your attention can bring you great meaning and satisfaction. At the same time, however, hundreds of billions of dollars have been invested into companies whose sole purpose is to hijack as much of your attention as possible and push it toward targets optimized to create value for a small number of people in Northern California. This is scary and demands diligence on your part.” – Cal Newport, On Digital Minimalism

It’s time to fight back … or watch our ability to pay attention and maintain focus erode slowly, but surely, into nothing.

At which point, well, good luck getting any meaningful work done.

Finding the root cause of the issue

The story that I opened this post with really happened, just a few weeks ago. It was a major eye-opener for me, in part because it wasn’t the first time.

Although I’m okay with revealing it in this context, with the benefit of hindsight, I’m glad it didn’t occur more out in the open. And I’m certainly glad it didn’t occur without Kim’s intervention. Otherwise, I’d have sent that second email. Oh how embarrassing that would have been.

Even though that didn’t happen, I was still embarrassed — and a little mortified. How had I just … forgotten?

It immediately led me to take a step back and seek out the cause.

Addicted to distractions

At first, I thought my memory might just be poor or deteriorating. This terrified me for the better part of a few days. (Heck, I almost signed up for a $500 course about improving memory before my wife calmly, reasonably suggested I slow down a bit.)

And when I drilled down further, I realized it wasn’t a memory issue at all.

When I need to remember something and focus on the information, I can usually remember it.

The problem was that my email misadventure was the latest in a growing line of items that I should have remembered, but didn’t.

Which zeroed me in on the real issue:

I wasn’t giving enough focused attention to what I was doing.

Even while seemingly focused on the single task of the moment, I wasn’t focused enough.

Reflecting on the email situation specifically, I wondered:

How many times did I check my inbox while writing the email?

How many times did I check Twitter?

How many times did I glance at my phone?

How many times did I get up, mindlessly walk to the kitchen, open the refrigerator, close it without grabbing anything, then walk back to my desk?

I didn’t know the answers to any of those questions, but the fact that I even felt compelled to ponder them at all struck me as a major problem.

I realized, quite starkly, that I had become so used to these kinds of distractions — even uncomfortable without them — that I was now actively seeking them out even while ostensibly in the midst of trying to block them out.

In other words, I was getting blitzkrieged in the war for my attention.

Time to fight back

I had now been smacked in the face one too many times with clear instances of when I could be better.

I recognized that deficiencies in attention and focus were holding me back from being my best. And given technological and social trends, without intervention these deficiencies were only going to get worse.

So I resolved to improve.

The first step was admitting to myself that willpower would not be enough to overcome persistent temptations.

I needed to remove the temptations. And replace them.

The results have been astounding, so here’s a quick rundown of four steps I’ve taken so far.

Perhaps one of them, or something they inspire, might help you take back a bit of the attention you may not even realize you’ve been losing, so that you can focus on your content marketing strategy and get more meaningful work done.

1. I removed social media from my phone and removed Twitter from the dock on my work computer

Twitter is a great resource and a great tool. It’s also an endless loop of distraction that I found myself checking too often.

Now? I can’t get lost in Twitter on my phone, and I have to be far more intentional about using it while working. Plus, I don’t get any notifications that might pull me out of another activity.

I have yet to regret anything I missed out on.

This change was fairly easy to make. (Which is good, considering my career may depend on it.)

But even without Twitter on my phone, I found that during any free moments in my day, I would still pull out my phone, open a web browser, and bounce quickly from site to site looking for an enticing headline.

So …

2. I removed all web browsers from my phone

A little more drastic, yes.

I have a feeling I know what your immediate reaction will be to this one. It’s likely the same one my wife had:

Aren’t there legitimate reasons to look up things online? And isn’t it convenient and efficient to be able to do so on your phone?

Sure. Of course.

But I started to wonder how often it really needed to be done on my phone right this second. If it were so important, couldn’t it wait for me to be at a computer? And might I gain something valuable by learning how to not nosedive into my phone so often?

I posited “yes.” So far, that has proven exceedingly true.

And a funny thing has happened since I made my phone more of a distraction-free zone …

I still find myself searching for something when I have free moments at different times of the day.

I’ve just found that instead of staring at my phone and ending up down an internet or social media rabbit hole, I have often ended up in a book … or, imagine this: a thought.

Over the last few weeks since I made these changes, I’ve already read two books and am currently breezing through a third. I’m embarrassed to admit that is more than the number of books I read last year, despite great intentions to read more.

I either wouldn’t start a book due to the many diversions I would encounter on the way to reading it, or I would get too distracted once I started reading and be unable to make significant progress. I’ve been amazed by how quickly this problem has gone away.

A valuable decluttering of my mind has come along with these changes, which is why, buoyed by the immediate returns I experienced from the changes I made with my phone, I decided to make some other changes as well …

3. I stopped listening to podcasts in the shower

I know. Kind of an oddly specific one, right?

But I realized that I was giving myself no time during the day to just experience my thoughts. I had become uncomfortable in silence. In a sense, I’d become uncomfortable … thinking.

Whether in the shower, in the car, on walks, or elsewhere, I was constantly engaging my brain but not really reflecting on what I was experiencing or intentionally considering what I should do next.

It’s tough to convert short-term memories into long-term memories if you never reflect on them. I realized my jumbled, distracted mind was leading to jumbled, distracted actions.

Now my morning showers are quiet, but I get a lot more out of them. They aren’t exactly meditative, but they are a great way to open my day with some much-needed peace and clarity.

I plan to find more space in my day to do this. Silence really can be golden for the brain.

I obviously love listening to podcasts, but I also love this emerging feeling of comfort from hanging out with my thoughts and feelings again. I’d forgotten what that feels like.

Plus, I would much rather listen to one podcast, reflect on it, and learn something from it than just power through two or three but have nothing to show for it when I’m done.

4. I stopped “phubbing” people and priorities

Phubbing is “phone snubbing” — the act of paying attention to your phone over a person (or other priority) in your presence.

I didn’t realize how often I did this until I decided to stop … at which point I found, to my dismay, that I was constantly beating back the impulse to look at my phone for one reason or another, even in the presence of my wife and daughter (who I love spending time with).

Now that I’m further removed from the initial difficulty of breaking this habit, I realize how much the barrier of my phone impacted my experiences. And it wasn’t just when my phone was out and in my hand.

It was the constant whisper that I might be missing something while it was in my pocket.

It’s the same whisper that kept suggesting I check Twitter one more time while I was working. I’ve had to learn how to tune out that whisper.

I’m getting better at it and finding a lot more space for attention and focus that I didn’t know I had been missing.

And that’s the biggest point I want to make …

Are you even aware of what you’ve been missing?

The most terrifying element of the war for our attention is that we often don’t even realize when we’re in the midst of a losing battle. The habits develop so perniciously that we’re unaware of them.

We’re like the proverbial frog: drop us into a pot of boiling water and we’ll scream and hop out, but place us in cold water and gradually increase the heat to a boil and we’ll allow ourselves to be burned alive.

This is why I’m so glad my email embarrassment happened. It was the boiling water I needed.

While I’m taking steps to improve my ability to control my attention and direct my focus, I know I’m only aware of a small fraction of the forces — both internal and external — working to distract me at any given moment.

I know I need to be vigilant. I know I need to respect the power of habit and channel it for good.

And I know I need to also practice self-compassion, because as Cal Newport explains about social media companies, they “harvest our time and attention and transform it into revenue. This is a lucrative industry, so they invest a large amount of resources into making their services as addictive as possible.”

It truly is a war for our attention, being waged by an opposition that fights dirty and with great sophistication. While I resolve to triumph in the war, I’m deluding myself if I don’t think I’ll lose plenty of battles along the way.

It’s a humbling feeling.

You’ll lose battles too. We all will.

The key is to be able to recognize a loss when it happens and reclaim your attention before any deficit snowballs. That might even include taking proactive steps that protect you from your own habits, until you can replace counterproductive habits with better ones.

Protecting our most valuable asset … together

Hopefully you’ve already started doing this long before I did. And hopefully you have found some strategies for keeping your attention and maintaining your focus that work for you.

They might work for others too.

I do hope you’ll share them in the comments section below. Let’s help each other.

Our attention and focus must be protected at all costs.

Otherwise, our greatest — and most basic — skill, our ability to control our attention and direct our focus, will erode without notice, taking along with it our magnificent potential to create meaningful value for others.

Reclaim your attention.

Reclaim you.

The post Why Your Greatest Asset May Be Slowly Eroding (and How You Can Rebuild It) appeared first on Copyblogger.

via marketing http://ift.tt/2je58PW

[marie85marketing]

Why Your Greatest Asset May Be Slowly Eroding (and How You Can Rebuild It)

“Why are we sending this email to this list again?” Kim asked.

I was incredulous. “Umm, because we never sent it a first time,” I thought to myself.

Still, before responding, I decided to check. Glad I did.

It turned out we had indeed sent the same information to the same email list a week prior. And I was the one who wrote that original email.

So why had I forgotten about writing it to such an extent that I wasn’t even hit with a pang of remembrance while planning and writing a second, similar email?

It seems I was losing control of one of my most basic and important assets. I wonder if anything like this has happened to you recently.

Your greatest asset (it may not be what you think)

In terms of your ability to succeed as a writer, marketer, or digital entrepreneur, what is your greatest asset that you should protect above all others?

It has to be your audience, right? Represented as your list of customers, members, and subscribers.

Wrong.

It’s more fundamental than that.

Okay, then it’s your website, yes? Which enables you to attract, retain, and convert visitors into subscribers, members, and customers.

Wrong.

It’s way more fundamental than that.

How about your knowledge and experience? Which enable you to build authority and a website with useful information.

Wrong again.

It’s even more fundamental than that.

What must you be able to do to gain experience, as well as build and retain knowledge?

Two things:

You have to be able to pay attention.

You have to be able to focus.

Yet, in this era of ubiquitous “war” — the War on Terror, the War on Drugs, the War on Truth, you get the idea — there is another damaging war that we all fight every minute of every day, whether or not we recognize it.

And the weapons used against us keep getting more and more sophisticated and pervasive as the cost to us of losing gets more and more expensive.

The War on Attention is real

We’re under siege from seemingly every angle.

“You have a finite amount of attention to expend each day. If aimed carefully, your attention can bring you great meaning and satisfaction. At the same time, however, hundreds of billions of dollars have been invested into companies whose sole purpose is to hijack as much of your attention as possible and push it toward targets optimized to create value for a small number of people in Northern California. This is scary and demands diligence on your part.” – Cal Newport, On Digital Minimalism

It’s time to fight back … or watch our ability to pay attention and maintain focus erode slowly, but surely, into nothing.

At which point, well, good luck getting any meaningful work done.

Finding the root cause of the issue

The story that I opened this post with really happened, just a few weeks ago. It was a major eye-opener for me, in part because it wasn’t the first time.

Although I’m okay with revealing it in this context, with the benefit of hindsight, I’m glad it didn’t occur more out in the open. And I’m certainly glad it didn’t occur without Kim’s intervention. Otherwise, I’d have sent that second email. Oh how embarrassing that would have been.

Even though that didn’t happen, I was still embarrassed — and a little mortified. How had I just … forgotten?

It immediately led me to take a step back and seek out the cause.

Addicted to distractions

At first, I thought my memory might just be poor or deteriorating. This terrified me for the better part of a few days. (Heck, I almost signed up for a $500 course about improving memory before my wife calmly, reasonably suggested I slow down a bit.)

And when I drilled down further, I realized it wasn’t a memory issue at all.

When I need to remember something and focus on the information, I can usually remember it.

The problem was that my email misadventure was the latest in a growing line of items that I should have remembered, but didn’t.

Which zeroed me in on the real issue:

I wasn’t giving enough focused attention to what I was doing.

Even while seemingly focused on the single task of the moment, I wasn’t focused enough.

Reflecting on the email situation specifically, I wondered:

How many times did I check my inbox while writing the email?

How many times did I check Twitter?

How many times did I glance at my phone?

How many times did I get up, mindlessly walk to the kitchen, open the refrigerator, close it without grabbing anything, then walk back to my desk?

I didn’t know the answers to any of those questions, but the fact that I even felt compelled to ponder them at all struck me as a major problem.

I realized, quite starkly, that I had become so used to these kinds of distractions — even uncomfortable without them — that I was now actively seeking them out even while ostensibly in the midst of trying to block them out.

In other words, I was getting blitzkrieged in the war for my attention.

Time to fight back

I had now been smacked in the face one too many times with clear instances of when I could be better.

I recognized that deficiencies in attention and focus were holding me back from being my best. And given technological and social trends, without intervention these deficiencies were only going to get worse.

So I resolved to improve.

The first step was admitting to myself that willpower would not be enough to overcome persistent temptations.

I needed to remove the temptations. And replace them.

The results have been astounding, so here’s a quick rundown of four steps I’ve taken so far.

Perhaps one of them, or something they inspire, might help you take back a bit of the attention you may not even realize you’ve been losing, so that you can focus on your content marketing strategy and get more meaningful work done.

1. I removed social media from my phone and removed Twitter from the dock on my work computer

Twitter is a great resource and a great tool. It’s also an endless loop of distraction that I found myself checking too often.

Now? I can’t get lost in Twitter on my phone, and I have to be far more intentional about using it while working. Plus, I don’t get any notifications that might pull me out of another activity.

I have yet to regret anything I missed out on.

This change was fairly easy to make. (Which is good, considering my career may depend on it.)

But even without Twitter on my phone, I found that during any free moments in my day, I would still pull out my phone, open a web browser, and bounce quickly from site to site looking for an enticing headline.

So …

2. I removed all web browsers from my phone

A little more drastic, yes.

I have a feeling I know what your immediate reaction will be to this one. It’s likely the same one my wife had:

Aren’t there legitimate reasons to look up things online? And isn’t it convenient and efficient to be able to do so on your phone?

Sure. Of course.

But I started to wonder how often it really needed to be done on my phone right this second. If it were so important, couldn’t it wait for me to be at a computer? And might I gain something valuable by learning how to not nosedive into my phone so often?

I posited “yes.” So far, that has proven exceedingly true.

And a funny thing has happened since I made my phone more of a distraction-free zone …

I still find myself searching for something when I have free moments at different times of the day.

I’ve just found that instead of staring at my phone and ending up down an internet or social media rabbit hole, I have often ended up in a book … or, imagine this: a thought.

Over the last few weeks since I made these changes, I’ve already read two books and am currently breezing through a third. I’m embarrassed to admit that is more than the number of books I read last year, despite great intentions to read more.

I either wouldn’t start a book due to the many diversions I would encounter on the way to reading it, or I would get too distracted once I started reading and be unable to make significant progress. I’ve been amazed by how quickly this problem has gone away.

A valuable decluttering of my mind has come along with these changes, which is why, buoyed by the immediate returns I experienced from the changes I made with my phone, I decided to make some other changes as well …

3. I stopped listening to podcasts in the shower

I know. Kind of an oddly specific one, right?

But I realized that I was giving myself no time during the day to just experience my thoughts. I had become uncomfortable in silence. In a sense, I’d become uncomfortable … thinking.

Whether in the shower, in the car, on walks, or elsewhere, I was constantly engaging my brain but not really reflecting on what I was experiencing or intentionally considering what I should do next.

It’s tough to convert short-term memories into long-term memories if you never reflect on them. I realized my jumbled, distracted mind was leading to jumbled, distracted actions.

Now my morning showers are quiet, but I get a lot more out of them. They aren’t exactly meditative, but they are a great way to open my day with some much-needed peace and clarity.

I plan to find more space in my day to do this. Silence really can be golden for the brain.

I obviously love listening to podcasts, but I also love this emerging feeling of comfort from hanging out with my thoughts and feelings again. I’d forgotten what that feels like.

Plus, I would much rather listen to one podcast, reflect on it, and learn something from it than just power through two or three but have nothing to show for it when I’m done.

4. I stopped “phubbing” people and priorities

Phubbing is “phone snubbing” — the act of paying attention to your phone over a person (or other priority) in your presence.

I didn’t realize how often I did this until I decided to stop … at which point I found, to my dismay, that I was constantly beating back the impulse to look at my phone for one reason or another, even in the presence of my wife and daughter (who I love spending time with).

Now that I’m further removed from the initial difficulty of breaking this habit, I realize how much the barrier of my phone impacted my experiences. And it wasn’t just when my phone was out and in my hand.

It was the constant whisper that I might be missing something while it was in my pocket.

It’s the same whisper that kept suggesting I check Twitter one more time while I was working. I’ve had to learn how to tune out that whisper.

I’m getting better at it and finding a lot more space for attention and focus that I didn’t know I had been missing.

And that’s the biggest point I want to make …

Are you even aware of what you’ve been missing?

The most terrifying element of the war for our attention is that we often don’t even realize when we’re in the midst of a losing battle. The habits develop so perniciously that we’re unaware of them.

We’re like the proverbial frog: drop us into a pot of boiling water and we’ll scream and hop out, but place us in cold water and gradually increase the heat to a boil and we’ll allow ourselves to be burned alive.

This is why I’m so glad my email embarrassment happened. It was the boiling water I needed.

While I’m taking steps to improve my ability to control my attention and direct my focus, I know I’m only aware of a small fraction of the forces — both internal and external — working to distract me at any given moment.

I know I need to be vigilant. I know I need to respect the power of habit and channel it for good.

And I know I need to also practice self-compassion, because as Cal Newport explains about social media companies, they “harvest our time and attention and transform it into revenue. This is a lucrative industry, so they invest a large amount of resources into making their services as addictive as possible.”

It truly is a war for our attention, being waged by an opposition that fights dirty and with great sophistication. While I resolve to triumph in the war, I’m deluding myself if I don’t think I’ll lose plenty of battles along the way.

It’s a humbling feeling.

You’ll lose battles too. We all will.

The key is to be able to recognize a loss when it happens and reclaim your attention before any deficit snowballs. That might even include taking proactive steps that protect you from your own habits, until you can replace counterproductive habits with better ones.

Protecting our most valuable asset … together

Hopefully you’ve already started doing this long before I did. And hopefully you have found some strategies for keeping your attention and maintaining your focus that work for you.

They might work for others too.

I do hope you’ll share them in the comments section below. Let’s help each other.

Our attention and focus must be protected at all costs.

Otherwise, our greatest — and most basic — skill, our ability to control our attention and direct our focus, will erode without notice, taking along with it our magnificent potential to create meaningful value for others.

Reclaim your attention.

Reclaim you.

The post Why Your Greatest Asset May Be Slowly Eroding (and How You Can Rebuild It) appeared first on Copyblogger.

[nathandgibsca]

Why Your Greatest Asset May Be Slowly Eroding (and How You Can Rebuild It)

“Why are we sending this email to this list again?” Kim asked.

I was incredulous. “Umm, because we never sent it a first time,” I thought to myself.

Still, before responding, I decided to check. Glad I did.

It turned out we had indeed sent the same information to the same email list a week prior. And I was the one who wrote that original email.

So why had I forgotten about writing it to such an extent that I wasn’t even hit with a pang of remembrance while planning and writing a second, similar email?

It seems I was losing control of one of my most basic and important assets. I wonder if anything like this has happened to you recently.

Your greatest asset (it may not be what you think)

In terms of your ability to succeed as a writer, marketer, or digital entrepreneur, what is your greatest asset that you should protect above all others?

It has to be your audience, right? Represented as your list of customers, members, and subscribers.

Wrong.

It’s more fundamental than that.

Okay, then it’s your website, yes? Which enables you to attract, retain, and convert visitors into subscribers, members, and customers.

Wrong.

It’s way more fundamental than that.

How about your knowledge and experience? Which enable you to build authority and a website with useful information.

Wrong again.

It’s even more fundamental than that.

What must you be able to do to gain experience, as well as build and retain knowledge?

Two things:

You have to be able to pay attention.

You have to be able to focus.

Yet, in this era of ubiquitous “war” — the War on Terror, the War on Drugs, the War on Truth, you get the idea — there is another damaging war that we all fight every minute of every day, whether or not we recognize it.

And the weapons used against us keep getting more and more sophisticated and pervasive as the cost to us of losing gets more and more expensive.

The War on Attention is real

We’re under siege from seemingly every angle.

“You have a finite amount of attention to expend each day. If aimed carefully, your attention can bring you great meaning and satisfaction. At the same time, however, hundreds of billions of dollars have been invested into companies whose sole purpose is to hijack as much of your attention as possible and push it toward targets optimized to create value for a small number of people in Northern California. This is scary and demands diligence on your part.” – Cal Newport, On Digital Minimalism

It’s time to fight back … or watch our ability to pay attention and maintain focus erode slowly, but surely, into nothing.

At which point, well, good luck getting any meaningful work done.

Finding the root cause of the issue

The story that I opened this post with really happened, just a few weeks ago. It was a major eye-opener for me, in part because it wasn’t the first time.

Although I’m okay with revealing it in this context, with the benefit of hindsight, I’m glad it didn’t occur more out in the open. And I’m certainly glad it didn’t occur without Kim’s intervention. Otherwise, I’d have sent that second email. Oh how embarrassing that would have been.

Even though that didn’t happen, I was still embarrassed — and a little mortified. How had I just … forgotten?

It immediately led me to take a step back and seek out the cause.

Addicted to distractions

At first, I thought my memory might just be poor or deteriorating. This terrified me for the better part of a few days. (Heck, I almost signed up for a $500 course about improving memory before my wife calmly, reasonably suggested I slow down a bit.)

And when I drilled down further, I realized it wasn’t a memory issue at all.

When I need to remember something and focus on the information, I can usually remember it.

The problem was that my email misadventure was the latest in a growing line of items that I should have remembered, but didn’t.

Which zeroed me in on the real issue:

I wasn’t giving enough focused attention to what I was doing.

Even while seemingly focused on the single task of the moment, I wasn’t focused enough.

Reflecting on the email situation specifically, I wondered:

How many times did I check my inbox while writing the email?

How many times did I check Twitter?

How many times did I glance at my phone?

How many times did I get up, mindlessly walk to the kitchen, open the refrigerator, close it without grabbing anything, then walk back to my desk?

I didn’t know the answers to any of those questions, but the fact that I even felt compelled to ponder them at all struck me as a major problem.

I realized, quite starkly, that I had become so used to these kinds of distractions — even uncomfortable without them — that I was now actively seeking them out even while ostensibly in the midst of trying to block them out.

In other words, I was getting blitzkrieged in the war for my attention.

Time to fight back

I had now been smacked in the face one too many times with clear instances of when I could be better.

I recognized that deficiencies in attention and focus were holding me back from being my best. And given technological and social trends, without intervention these deficiencies were only going to get worse.

So I resolved to improve.

The first step was admitting to myself that willpower would not be enough to overcome persistent temptations.

I needed to remove the temptations. And replace them.

The results have been astounding, so here’s a quick rundown of four steps I’ve taken so far.

Perhaps one of them, or something they inspire, might help you take back a bit of the attention you may not even realize you’ve been losing, so that you can focus on your content marketing strategy and get more meaningful work done.

1. I removed social media from my phone and removed Twitter from the dock on my work computer

Twitter is a great resource and a great tool. It’s also an endless loop of distraction that I found myself checking too often.

Now? I can’t get lost in Twitter on my phone, and I have to be far more intentional about using it while working. Plus, I don’t get any notifications that might pull me out of another activity.

I have yet to regret anything I missed out on.

This change was fairly easy to make. (Which is good, considering my career may depend on it.)

But even without Twitter on my phone, I found that during any free moments in my day, I would still pull out my phone, open a web browser, and bounce quickly from site to site looking for an enticing headline.

So …

2. I removed all web browsers from my phone

A little more drastic, yes.

I have a feeling I know what your immediate reaction will be to this one. It’s likely the same one my wife had:

Aren’t there legitimate reasons to look up things online? And isn’t it convenient and efficient to be able to do so on your phone?

Sure. Of course.

But I started to wonder how often it really needed to be done on my phone right this second. If it were so important, couldn’t it wait for me to be at a computer? And might I gain something valuable by learning how to not nosedive into my phone so often?

I posited “yes.” So far, that has proven exceedingly true.

And a funny thing has happened since I made my phone more of a distraction-free zone …

I still find myself searching for something when I have free moments at different times of the day.

I’ve just found that instead of staring at my phone and ending up down an internet or social media rabbit hole, I have often ended up in a book … or, imagine this: a thought.

Over the last few weeks since I made these changes, I’ve already read two books and am currently breezing through a third. I’m embarrassed to admit that is more than the number of books I read last year, despite great intentions to read more.

I either wouldn’t start a book due to the many diversions I would encounter on the way to reading it, or I would get too distracted once I started reading and be unable to make significant progress. I’ve been amazed by how quickly this problem has gone away.

A valuable decluttering of my mind has come along with these changes, which is why, buoyed by the immediate returns I experienced from the changes I made with my phone, I decided to make some other changes as well …

3. I stopped listening to podcasts in the shower

I know. Kind of an oddly specific one, right?

But I realized that I was giving myself no time during the day to just experience my thoughts. I had become uncomfortable in silence. In a sense, I’d become uncomfortable … thinking.

Whether in the shower, in the car, on walks, or elsewhere, I was constantly engaging my brain but not really reflecting on what I was experiencing or intentionally considering what I should do next.

It’s tough to convert short-term memories into long-term memories if you never reflect on them. I realized my jumbled, distracted mind was leading to jumbled, distracted actions.

Now my morning showers are quiet, but I get a lot more out of them. They aren’t exactly meditative, but they are a great way to open my day with some much-needed peace and clarity.

I plan to find more space in my day to do this. Silence really can be golden for the brain.

I obviously love listening to podcasts, but I also love this emerging feeling of comfort from hanging out with my thoughts and feelings again. I’d forgotten what that feels like.

Plus, I would much rather listen to one podcast, reflect on it, and learn something from it than just power through two or three but have nothing to show for it when I’m done.

4. I stopped “phubbing” people and priorities

Phubbing is “phone snubbing” — the act of paying attention to your phone over a person (or other priority) in your presence.

I didn’t realize how often I did this until I decided to stop … at which point I found, to my dismay, that I was constantly beating back the impulse to look at my phone for one reason or another, even in the presence of my wife and daughter (who I love spending time with).

Now that I’m further removed from the initial difficulty of breaking this habit, I realize how much the barrier of my phone impacted my experiences. And it wasn’t just when my phone was out and in my hand.

It was the constant whisper that I might be missing something while it was in my pocket.

It’s the same whisper that kept suggesting I check Twitter one more time while I was working. I’ve had to learn how to tune out that whisper.

I’m getting better at it and finding a lot more space for attention and focus that I didn’t know I had been missing.

And that’s the biggest point I want to make …

Are you even aware of what you’ve been missing?

The most terrifying element of the war for our attention is that we often don’t even realize when we’re in the midst of a losing battle. The habits develop so perniciously that we’re unaware of them.

We’re like the proverbial frog: drop us into a pot of boiling water and we’ll scream and hop out, but place us in cold water and gradually increase the heat to a boil and we’ll allow ourselves to be burned alive.

This is why I’m so glad my email embarrassment happened. It was the boiling water I needed.

While I’m taking steps to improve my ability to control my attention and direct my focus, I know I’m only aware of a small fraction of the forces — both internal and external — working to distract me at any given moment.

I know I need to be vigilant. I know I need to respect the power of habit and channel it for good.

And I know I need to also practice self-compassion, because as Cal Newport explains about social media companies, they “harvest our time and attention and transform it into revenue. This is a lucrative industry, so they invest a large amount of resources into making their services as addictive as possible.”

It truly is a war for our attention, being waged by an opposition that fights dirty and with great sophistication. While I resolve to triumph in the war, I’m deluding myself if I don’t think I’ll lose plenty of battles along the way.

It’s a humbling feeling.

You’ll lose battles too. We all will.

The key is to be able to recognize a loss when it happens and reclaim your attention before any deficit snowballs. That might even include taking proactive steps that protect you from your own habits, until you can replace counterproductive habits with better ones.

Protecting our most valuable asset … together

Hopefully you’ve already started doing this long before I did. And hopefully you have found some strategies for keeping your attention and maintaining your focus that work for you.

They might work for others too.

I do hope you’ll share them in the comments section below. Let’s help each other.

Our attention and focus must be protected at all costs.

Otherwise, our greatest — and most basic — skill, our ability to control our attention and direct our focus, will erode without notice, taking along with it our magnificent potential to create meaningful value for others.

Reclaim your attention.

Reclaim you.

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