#at this moment ive realised that after months of experimenting and trying to build up a healthy representation of men in my head that

[faaun]

Tbh I've noticed I like men much more as a concept when it comes to romantic relationships, but I fear the moment I declare myself a lesbian a man will come along and ruin my dreams of living happily ever after with a woman 😅

u dont have to declare urself anything ! i promise ur dreams of living w a woman will not be ruined, if u ever fall in love w a man your dream will just change/you'll grow a new dream of a happy life w that person ! don't feel the need to restrict urself bc of a potential event in ur future. and if u only like men conceptually and don't feel attracted to them in any way, then it's ok to label urself as a lesbian ! labels can change as we change, and also many labels (like sexualities) are just tools that are sometimes helpful but rarely ever truly necessary :) ♡

[pen-observing]

My Only One iii

Diavolo and you have been together for a century. While time flies, the last decade has not been kind to either of you. He is about to become the King and while you have subjected yourself to transformations, just to live with your beloved, the pressure is unending. You live your life publicly. It is no luxury. Not having an heir when 100 years have passed tears you apart- just as much as it divides those that you inevitably rule. A solution comes like the last ray of hope. Go to an enchanted fortress used for fixes of the worst kind. Subject yourself to even more hexes to have the possibility of producing an heir. It’s just for a year. A short time for those immortal. A long time for those in a complex relationship, especially when for the sake of efficiency, letters are the only means of communication you are allowed to have with outsiders. 

Warnings: none

i / ii / _  / iv

When was the last time you felt something good? When was the last time you felt a spark of positivity, a light? You did not know and neither did Karasu. The truth is that Karasu has never observed you with such watchful eyes; has never felt such pity upon your soul.

Karasu did not dare to leave your side.   Someone, anyone, had to witness your existence in that utter solitude for you to remain halfway sane.  

What does humanity mean in these moments of helpless weeping and fighting?

To you? It meant a mask of stability in front of those that experimented on you. It was the last thing you could grasp. You put up with everything silently; with a blank stare as the witches questioned about your state.  

Short answers. Fake smiles. Lifeless eyes.  

They noticed something was wrong but they did not care enough to question about matters outside of their job. Why would they be surprised about weakness some human carried? It was inevitable after all- in their eyes and hearts you possessed no strength to redeem you as a future ruler.  

You noticed that their mannerism nonchalantly spoke those inner thoughts. The watchful eyes noticed their behaviour, Karasu’s ears overheard their gossip. They had no right to judge you at all. They had absolutely no idea about how you fought for an inkling of sanity. Karasu sometimes felt scared of you. Nothing in all these years was as broken as you were.

Your room became a place of chaos. Nothing was in place. There was no order.  Clothes were scattered around- some of them ripped.   The walls had thin marked lines that your nails made- in moments when you were sure sanity was leaving completely while mocking you.  

Perhaps, what was even more concerning was the fact that the only place to remain somewhat orderly was the desk in front of the window. Was this place the only chance you had to remember your past glory? Past happiness? Past hope?

Some nights you just cried without uttering a word. Internally cursing the fact that the love you thought you had was not pure as love itself ought to be. Some nights you laughed at yourself for being so stupid, so idiotic, so human. Some nights exhaustion would settle in and force you to sleep while nightmares surrounded your dream land and real life.  

Karasu had no way of helping you. Karasu desperately wished its wings could hold down at least some part of your sadness. It was impossible. Karasu thought you were impossible.

The diary started back when you were living for the hope of love was damaged. It was filled with tear stains and smudged lines. It had curses written- Diavolo’s name scribbled and then crossed. It had nothing but pain inside. For where did agony lie if not between those pages your hands desperately filled?

You did all of that yet remained stoic when questioned about the fertility treatment? You did all of that yet you remained static every time a new letter from Diavolo would find its way to you?   How could you live like this?   Barely.   How could you act like this?   Was this humanity?

Every letter you received was longer than the previous one by a paragraph. His guilt was increasing. He must have carried on with the affair. Diavolo was trying to build a false lullaby. The letters only tantalized you. They were obnoxiously showing sweet words as a lie.   Everything that Diavolo did was utterly wicked.  

Yet, so were you.

Writing letters back making sure they were not filled with passive-aggressive motions. Deciding on just the perfect length to maintain the image of unsuspecting. It took practice to lie like that. It took so much time and energy to word them properly. It took Karasu everything to look over them and make sure they were fitting. Karasu was loyal to you- not to Diavolo.  

On another starry night was when Karasu dared to ask something other than words of concern. It happened just as you were sealing the envelope shut after realising how much the words at the top of the paper- ‘To my only one’- were losing power in your heart.

“Why...do you continue on with this torture that you are living?”

Sealing it neatly and setting it on the table; you extended a hand towards your old friend. It felt cold. Usually Karasu would scold you for petting with icy hands but when your life was undeniable misery- it could be forgiven.

“You ask me why. You should know already. I have to be strong.”

Forget the position of the future ruler- you must be strong yourself, my dear.

Karasu did not question you after that. This was seemingly your only way of dealing with the cruel game lady luck played.

This continued on. You needed a final push to regain some control over the sanity that seemed to be slipping in and out of shaky hands.  

And it happened. It came. Its bells victoriously rang welcoming you back to life.  

Month five marked the arrival of two letters. The golden one was from Diavolo; as usual. The other one in a charming black envelope; scented in roses, oh so nostalgic: finally grounded you.  

The brothers. It was from the brothers.   In a rush you opened it first. Gold details only decorated lies. How could you forget that you still had pact marks manifested on your skin? Such a fool. They could feel an inkling of how you suffered all this time.

The letter was short- forget that- it seemed like a note. They were almost never open with their feelings, there was no need for them to write long words that would drip honey and magic dust. They were not guilt ridden.  

All that the black envelope contained was a photo of all 8 of you, in the garden of the house. You were all so content. You were so happy. Doing them favours just to snap this memory was not.easy.at.all. 

This was taken before Diavolo. This was taken when you were just a human; just yourself, without the title of future ruler hanging over every.single.thing. It was taken when romantic ties to Diavolo were non-existent and therefore could not choke you. 

You smiled gently at it. Karasu saw the light in your eyes chase away the shadows.  

On the back of the photo; written out in Lucifer’s beautiful cursive letters but conveying all of their feelings were words that meant more than anything Diavolo could say.

“Come back to us. The way that you were, the way that you are.” 

You knew what the meaning was. Regard. Care. Acceptance. All in honesty.

And indeed, my dear, you will.

(Aqua didn’t you say it would be a two fic chapter, then three and now there is more? Uhm...Well, indeed, my dear, I did- however I get carried away while writing sometimes so.. this way it seems easier. Please tell me what you think! Does this fic even make you feel anything? I try to focus more on your feelings than Diavolo.)

[bowsie22]

Pingxie Collection 4

Summary: There was something wrong with Wu Xie.

It started small, barely noticeable. A forgotten date, pricing an antique wrong. Then Wu Xie started making bigger mistakes. Confusing tombs, forgetting Xiaoge’s favourite meal. Pangzi was worried. Was Wu Xie sick? Had he touched something in the last tomb? Was he just messing with them? Pangzi swore that if this was some stupid joke or prank, he was going to destroy Wu Xie’s extensive cardigan collection.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only one to notice. Xiaoge was suspicious too. And he was a bit more proactive about investigating it, following Wu Xie whenever he left Wushanju and looking through his phone and computer. When Pangzi mentioned the invasion of privacy, Xiaoge responded that he’d apologise when they finally figured out what was going on. And more importantly, why Wu Xie hadn’t confided in them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After two weeks of this, Pangzi and Xiaoge made the decision to search Wu Xie’s office. It was the only room in Wushanju that Wu Xie had completely to himself, sharing the living spaces with the other two and a bedroom with Xiaoge.

The door closed behind Wu Xie, but the two waited for a few minutes. It wasn’t unusual for Wu Xie to forget something and have to rush back in to grab it. Five minutes later they walked into his office which looked like a bomb had hit it. Avoiding a stack of papers waist high, Pangzi winced. “Does he not have a filing system? A way to organise these things? I can see why Wang Meng avoids this place.” Looking through all this junk wouldn’t be easy.

Half an hour later and they still hadn’t found anything of use. Financial records, maps, historical records, books, Pangzi had found them all and then some. But nothing suspicious. Collapsing into the chair behind the desk, Pangzi sighed. He had hoped that they would find some answer in here. Watching Xiaoge flick through a stack of papers, he knew he wasn’t the only one. He leaned back, concentrating on the ceiling, not expecting to find anything. But directly above his head, there it was. A barely noticeable gap between one ceiling tile and the next. Scrambling onto the desk, Pangzi reached up, shoving the tile aside and reaching into gap. Fingers gripping something, Pangzi tugged it towards himself. A box, bit cliché but it was something. Pangzi would accept anything at this point.

Handing the box to Xiaoge, Pangzi watched as the older man opened it, his face becoming somehow paler. “What is it? Oh god, is it his nudes?” Turning the box around, Xiaoge held it up for his friend to see. “Well, that complicates things, doesn’t it?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A dinner party?” Pangzi nodded, concentrating more on the food cooking in front of him than Wu Xie standing behind him. “You couldn’t have told me this before?” Dropping the spoon, Pangzi turned to face his friend, aware of Xiaoge dropping his knife and doing the same. “Wu Xie, we planned this last month, remember? Huaye and Heiye have been visiting Huaye’s shipping facilities around China. We thought they might like a nice dinner to welcome them home.”

Wu Xie stared at the floor for a second too long. He looked up, smiling brightly at his friends. “Of course, I’m such an idiot! How could I forget something like this? Well, I doubt you want my help in the kitchen. I’ll go get the table ready.” Listening to footsteps fade, Pangzi turned back to his cooking, Xiaoge returning to his vegetables at the same time. “Xiaoge, is everything ready for tonight?” Xiaoge nodded, eyes on the chopping board. Tonight was going to be interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Surprising no one, the meal was delicious. Collecting the plates, Pangzi winked at Heiye, who stood up, pouring wine in everyone’s glass. “A toast! To say thank you to our generous hosts.” He tipped his glass to Xiaoge who sat with arm on the back of Wu Xie’s chair, a soft hand stroking down the younger’s back. Tipping his glass back, Wu Xie took a deep drink, realising too late that he was the only one who had. As his friends watched, Wu Xie slumped unconscious, face first onto the table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Struggling to open his eyes, Wu Xie winced as he felt rope rub against his wrists and ankles. Looking down at his body, he realised that he was tied to a chair in the middle of Wushanju’s back courtyard. “Guys, this isn’t funny! Untie me, let me go!” He was quickly surrounded by the group, Heiye standing behind him, Pangzi and Xie Yuchen on either side and Xiaoge in front of him. Turning his doe eyes towards his boyfriend, Wu Xie pouted. “Xiaoge, what are you doing? What is going on?” Pangzi threw something at the younger man’s feet. “You know what, we were just about to ask you the same question.”

Zhang Haike swore as he saw his two face masks at his feet. Looking up, he froze at the coldness in Xiaoge’s eyes. Heiye leaned in to whisper in his ear, “The only reason Yaba Zhang isn’t killing you right now is because you know where Wu Xie is. Be smart about this Zhang Haike and tell us where he is.” Never let it be said that Zhang Haike wasn’t a smart man. He knew that he couldn’t fight his way out of this, not with Heiye and Xiaoge there. Not one of the men surrounding him would hesitate to kill him if it meant Wu Xie’s safety. “Cox has him. He thinks that Wu Xie’s blood is the key to his experiments. We sent a message pretending to be Xie Yuchen who needed help and the little idiot came running. I’d been studying his behaviours for a while now, so it made sense for me to replace him. I can bring you to where he is provided I get to live.”

After a quick discussion, Pangzi went to get the car while Heiye and Xiao Hua went to Wushanju to gather up some weapons. Xiaoge stayed behind, keeping watch over his old friend. The two stared at each other, Zhang Haike trying to see any fondness or softness that might be left. Xiaoge looked back at him, emotionless. “Why? Why did you do this? Why take him from me?” Zhang Haike couldn’t help but laugh, a horrible, bitter sound. “Why? Why? Are you serious? You are the Zhang family patriarch and you spend your time following that little idiot into tombs. You are at his beck and call constantly! You are wasting your blood on keeping him alive-“ Xiaoge’s sword flew through the air, resting against his throat. Swallowing, Zhang Haike felt blood trickle down his neck. Finally, some emotion from his old friend. Rage was better than indifference. “I follow him because I love him, I’m in love with him. Because he is the most important person in the world to me. If I don’t have him, I have nothing, there is nothing to keep me here. And I know that he feels the same way.”

Sheathing his sword, Xiaoge bent to untie Zhang Haike. “If I see you again, if you ever dare to wear his face again, I will kill you. There will be no hesitation, no mercy, you will die.” Zhang Haike stood, stumbling as blood flowed to his feet. Following his patriarch to the car where three heavily armed men waited for them, Zhang Haike realised that he may have made a mistake with this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saving Wu Xie had been surprisingly easy. There weren’t many guards in the building and Zhang Haike’s key got them to the main lab with no problems. Once the scientists saw the armed men, they ran, valuing their lives more than their work apparently. Wu Xie lay in a bed in the main lab. One arm had a needle that removed blood every half hour, his other arm an IV that was giving him nutrients. According to Zhang Haike, Wu Xie was kept sedated. He was easier to handle like that. Xiao Hua went through the computers, copying anything useful onto a hard drive, deleting everything when he was done. Heiye and Pangzi laid charges around the room, leaving enough time for the group to get out. Xiaoge removed the needles from Wu Xie’s arms, lifting the young man into his arms.

Pangzi and Xiao Hua settled Wu Xie into the car as Heiye kept watch. Xiaoge stood with Zhang Haike, watching his friends work. “Remember what I said Zhang Haike, I don’t want to see you again.” With a final look at his childhood friend, Xiaoge climbed into the car beside Wu Xie, pulling the other’s head to rest on his shoulder. His friend had made his choices and so had Xiaoge. There was never a moment of doubt, Xiaoge knew his choice had been the right one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once he woke up, Wu Xie showered, ate and collapsed onto the living room couch, pulling Xiaoge down with him. After some manoeuvring, Xiaoge lay on his back, Wu Xie lying on top of him, head resting on his chest. It was his favourite way to lie on the couch. He claimed that hearing Xiaoge’s heartbeat always relaxed him. Xiao Hua and Heiye settled themselves onto the love seat while Pangzi took the armchair. They sat in silence, knowing that Wu Xie would speak when he was ready to.

“I was unconscious for most of it. They woke me up for a few minutes every day. Not sure what they did with my blood. I think they made some serums or something? Ah Ning stopped them from injecting me with them. They injected some mice though. And then the mice melted, so thank God for Ah Ning. And yes Pangzi, I know we need to have another conversation about me rushing off by myself and being stupid.” Pangzi nodded, satisfied smile on his face. He was proud of Wu Xie knowing that he had made a mistake. Look at his little Tianzhen growing up. The group sat in the living room for another few hours, wanting to spend some time with their friend and knowing that Wu Xie always needed to be surrounded by the people he loved at times like these.

Pangzi was the first to move, dragging himself to his feet. Before leaving the room, he ruffled Wu Xie’s hair, laughing at the annoyed shout. Heiye and Xiao Hua followed him, Heiye also going for the hair, Xiao Hua leaning down to press a soft kiss to the now messy hair. “We love you Wu Xie.” Wu Xie sat up to pull his oldest friend into a tight hug. “Love you too Xiao Hua.”

Finally. Xiaoge got to tuck Wu Xie into their bed. Climbing in behind him, he pulled Wu Xie close, smiling as the younger man pressed a kiss to the other’s clavicle as he did every night. “I know I say this every time, but thank you for coming for me, especially considering what you lost to get me back.” Xiaoge took a minute to respond, hand running through Wu Xie’s hair, slowly lulling the man to sleep. “Wu Xie, I love you. I’ll always come for you, no matter what. And Zhang Haike isn’t as important as you. I can lose anything and anyone in this world except you.” Looking down he realised that Wu Xie had fallen asleep. Well, it wasn’t like Wu Xie didn’t know that Xiaoge loved him. Xiaoge would just have to happily spend the rest of their lives reminding him of that fact.

[pyrodarknessanny]

Whilst the topic of treating women with  respect is a hot button issue at the moment it got me thinking about my own experiences in life. and whilst I can say that I am one of the lucky ones who’s not been assaulted   things have happened around me that  had they gone differently  my story would be very different indeed. it also saddens me  that I know so many close friends and family who were not so lucky , many of them were children when they were first abused. and yes I do know  “not all men”   but   as the brothers , fathers , uncles , cousins ,friends and co-workers  the weight of this falls on you to call out  the  unacceptable behaviour of your peers. I’m going to list this instances in chronological order. and keep in mind that  I am a  goblin , short, weird , don’t care for looking nice and makeup and such  but still  ive been put on the spot numerus times in the past by  “nice guys”™ high school , senior years .   met some one I thought was decent online . we had an on again off again  video call thing going it spanned years  and started innocently enough  however in the latter years  when I was super depressed it turned quite toxic and manipulative   where he would refuse to   pay attention to me, controlling the calls , there was a time zone difference  so I was up till 4am most nights  hoping that this person would be around.    When we did get into calls  he had me doing  increasingly  dangerous things .   he’d even convinced me to  send him a  substantial amount of money of the last 12 months of our contact.          I’ve since cut them off  cold some years ago now but   they’ve certainly had an impact on me

 In between this on again off again online thing   when I was single I’ve and no less than 3   older male friends  try to hit me up because their  partners at the time were out of town. one even messaged me one night when I was high and tried very hard to convince me that it would be a good idea to drop round.       I don’t talk to any of them now but  each one I told to stay faithful to their partners and denied their offers.    

Also in high school - this happened at my  part time job. boss had a mate who would often sell him stuff for the store ,  bit of a flipper. one of the other senior staff thought it was FUNNY  to tell him that  I was fair game. so this guy who is well in his 40’s   would seek me out at work and harass me. usually when I was at the back of the shop bagging the bulk produce into smaller retail portions. mind you I’m  an 18 yr old autistic person .  had to find excuses to  avoid this person   make it look like im working  in the areas that had security cameras on them or   hope that there were customers so he couldn’t  talk to me.       I had spoken out about this  to the boss and  the owner of the business ( as it was one of his friends)   but they  all thought it was a harmless game. guy bailed me up at the back of the store one afternoon as im bagging  up animal feed.  Store was dead quiet  so not a lot of escape options   I had had enough of it by that point  and put him in his place.   Fortunately  for me he was a little old Asian man  had he of been some one of my dad’s stature  that scenario would have played out MUCH differently.  

Hey now speaking of family! growing up in an abusive household sure dose   wounders for building character huh? im on good talking terms with my family now but growing up  was interesting.

Our house hold was one of hard disciplines.  We didn’t just get smacked we got absolutely belted.

Or our things were broken… actually it was only ever MY things that got trashed out of discipline. my 4 brothers always got off Scott free. Whenever there was a fight or argument ? it was always me that was in trouble  regardless of the circumstance.

Good lessons to teach the kids eh’

My real dad  was off the sceen,  we were more or less raised by our step dad but   when he got an upper management job at his place of work , shit at home  got  bad.    The abuse turned from physical   to psychological .     nothing was ever good enough.   You were always trash  or a disgrace. and praise was only ever given to  the brothers.          So  yeah more good lessons  for  impressionable teens.   shitty ex #1 -  met them at a convention , seamed like a reasonable kind of guy we hit it off and it was great.    Very quickly realised something was off about them. tried very hard to control me .  would say one thing and then do something else entirely. caught them out on numerous lies and on more than one occasion said some very concerning things about minors.       Moments that stand out the most .   was staying at my place for a party , either a birthday or Halloween .   at my house with my family and close friends , had the gall to try and control my behaviour  because  he thought I was being too weird , he did this in front of my mother and best friend.     Another time , it was my birthday and he promised  to buy dinner out . started out as  we would go to this fancy casino restaurant .    ended at a Mc Donald’s with me catching the train home by my self  fuming.     I should have ended that one much sooner than I did but I didn’t want to come across as “mean” or unreasonable  so it let it drag out for another 6 months before I told him to fuck off.

 Dude then proceeded to cyber stalk me and  several friends there after. he was super bad at this and  finaly backed off when I threatened to call the cops. YEET!

 Shitty ex #2 -  technically we only dated for a few weeks decided that it didn’t work for either of us but stayed good friends .        had to tell them  frequently  about what things were and weren’t appropriate  for the friendship afterwards ,    eneded turning into one of the biggest narcicists ive ever seen.

 Miscellaneous things.   Im mentioned before about peer pressure and that its on the boys to call this shit out when they see it. I’ve had  to be the voice of reason for a number of male friends   when they were getting  a bit too obsessed over  girls who had zero interest in them.        One guy in particular  could not leave it alone  , this girl he was white knighting for    was a friend from school , she had a partner but he  swore black and blue that   he could “save her”  from making shitty decisions.     I think he eventually gave up on her when she ripped him off over some digital art that was a trace job and he lost  a good sum of money but   it was disturbing to hear just how obsessed he was with  her.

[cloakedinfall-a]

aesthetics for the entities bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning.  the comfort of a loved one’s weight.  soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.  dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth.  a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.   insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community.  a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment.  breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark.   shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.  the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night.  time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north.  an empty church.

v.  the flesh.   body horror.  factories.  a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiitng for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.  long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body.  a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism.  forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.  cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

iv.  the desolation.   senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire.  heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family.  losing everything you’ve ever held dear.  so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.  touch that scars.  coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one.  disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

vi.  the end.   the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain.  ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambiling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.  causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

viii.  the hunt.   sharp canines.  sore calves after a run.  the scent of blood.  an adventure for the journey’s sake.  the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.  the woods.  the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.  being tracked.  fear of someone knowing your every movement.  hunting down monsters.  hide and seek.  running away only to end up where you started.  staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.  a set of footsteps behind you.  blood dripping from bare hands.  barks and growls.  focused eyes.  a victim going limp under your hands.  a mouth full of fresh blood.  catching the scent of something monstorous.  perfecting your craft.  peering into the dark and running after it.

vii.  the eye.   googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t watch away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge.  truth.  analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism.  police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

ix.  the lonely.   an apartment too small for a double bed.  completely vacant streets.  waking up to see everyone gone.  fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd.  a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles.  a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows.  isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.  your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea.  depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you.  talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there.  safety in being alone.

x.  the slaughter.    a game of tag.   senseless violence.  a true crime hobby.  improvised weapons.  blinding rage.  intent to kill.  a horrific day in a quiet community.  a medal of bravery.  holding on to what validates your anger.  history books that spare no details.  an injury you want revenge for.  war.  counting kills.  songs of soldiers.  a knifeblock on the counter.  a pool of blood.  shellshock.  unspeakable horrors.  anger pushing you forward.  unimaginable pain.  not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.  a fully human monster.  an authority sending its lessers to their deaths.  kill or be killed.  unedited wartime memoirs.  a weapons collection.  not knowing the names of who you kill.  too many to remember.  loss of hope.  there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  the spiral.   sleep deprivation.  corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.  losing possessions.  losing people.  losing your sanity.  corkscew curls.  rows of funhouse mirrors.  optical illusions.  a separate reality.  walking through the wrong door.  delusions.  not knowing what your hands are doing.  blank spaces in documents.  hallusinations.  wrong proportions.  a nameless thing.  a place that has never existed.  doubting your own mind.  blind faith.  losing track of names, labels, categories.  distorted sound.  an imperfection in a glass that twists the view.  loss of time.  a garish colour.  doors that open to nowhere.  lies.  an unnatural laugh.  jokes and tricks.  illusions.  a doorway.  a sculptor with a wild imagination.  limbs in impossible angles.  doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible.  fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  the stranger.   wax figures.  a close approximation of a human face.  a borrowed appearance.  a strange smell.  glass eyes.  furs and pelts.  a dance.  a song of a choir.  the uncanny valley.  stitching yourself together.  the colours of a circus.  a puppet with no strings.  mannequins.  glitter and sequin.  a stranger you’ve always known.  someone strange in the place of someone you knew.  stolen identities.  stolen skins.  a machine imitating humanity.  the anonymity of a service worker.  hiding in plain sight.  uncomfortable to look at.  a faked accent.  concealing.  forgetting who you are.  forgetting who others are.  a replacement no one notices.  images that look posed.  the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiv.  the web.   undecipherable code.  a puppeteer holding the strings.  power over the weak-willed.  strings of fate.  manipulation.  an arranged accident.  a hundred minions doing your bidding.  cobwebs.  spiders.  a laid trap.  never voicing discomfort.  outwitting a cheater.  doing things without realising it.  red string across a corkboard.  finding something lost where you were sure you checked.  power over the unrealiability of chance.  watching others dance for you.  an entangled death.  a thousand tiny legs and fangs.  shady forum threads.  something important gone missing.  suspiciously disregarded case.  a missing witness.  connections.  the world wide web.  power of victimhood.  gullibility.  no control over your own decisions.  an invisible leash.  mass psychology.  a horror film in the making.  scapegoat.  never remembering to ask for a name.

xiii.  the vast.   open spaces.  carnival rides going up and down.  fear of heights.  endless infinity around you.  your insignificance in an universe.  stomach turning at a drop.  fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.  the sway of a cable car.  an adventure holiday.  losing track of where the surface is.  miles and miles of nothing around you.  staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it.  loss of control.  a fall that doesn’t end in death.  glass floor to the view below.  terminal velocity.  the sound of wind in your ears.  a reach over the railing.  a jump from the top of the building.  falling into nothing.  feeling your feet let go of the ground.  a leap of faith.  motion sickness.

TAGGED BY:  stole it. 

+  the extinction.   the end of an era.  apocalypse movies.  the alarms of warning systems.  a desolate landscape.  end of the world cults.  nihilism.  the last written history.  a changed world.  no survivours.  old prophecies.  a thousand predicted ends.  a new chapter.  an end with no escape.  catastrophes.  a calendar counting down.  breaking point.  overindulgence.

TAGGING:  @theaterism <any of them> @dcigrxtia @tragicblood @runnerkiller @pickdroses @fartemis-crock @rxdhairxdsirxns @nullcide @discipulusmaleficus @bustcdkneecaps <elias>

[monsterloveday]

Single life - the good and the bad.

The good and bad sides to single life. It absolutely has both, as does everything in life. There seems to be some kind of war between singles and coupled folk, as if they are trying to get one up on each other, to prove that their life is considerably ‘better’ than their opponents.

This bothers me. It bothers me because life isn't that rigid or consistent, life moves, and so do all of our situations. There is also the need to consider that people are so different, you know the saying, “one mans treasure” and all that. For some, my single life is their idea of a worst knight mare, simile, a nuclear family at the age of 25 would be mine.

Its nothing personal I guess, I think its just taken that way when people try and force their way of life on you, or assume you are miserable because you haven't got what they have, this goes without saying the people that straight up judge you for whatever your life circumstance - they can do one (and my oh my, there are many of them!). There are definitely times for me where being single is actually epic and others where it actually sucks balls.

I will share them with you. Bad points... Lack of touch. This one is strange for me, because I haven't been touched for so long, that Ive grown used to it, yet I still crave it from time to time (usually in the winter). BUT if I ever do get touched or if someone tried to hug me or something, it weirds me out now, that I find it unnecessary because I have gone so long without it!. Its definitely made me less affectionate and less expectant to receive affection. That part of me has kind of died.  I think I have associated touch / affection to do with only a partner - which is bad. (lets just say I am no longer a ‘hugger’) 

You also become very observant. All the “Netflix and chills” / “lets cuddle up on the sofa”, comments you so often see on social media or hear among all your coupled up friends and family members (yes I am pretty much the only single one left out of friends and family - which I will mention later on as its an issue in itself!) are a little punch in the heart. You kind of become a little bit bitter that some people have that certain someone that they can come and hug after a really shit day - and how some really take that for granted. Little things are so huge and not many people get that. I think that the people that have had a real good amount of time of being single understand this. Love is not something you are owed, but for some it just falls in their laps and they have never had to live life coping on their own. (You definitely get annoyed at people who take love for granted and people who cheat etc!) But - being deprived of something makes you learn to live without it - its a educational, saddening yet strengthening double edged sword. I cant even remember what snuggling up to a man feels like and they say that touch is actually something that humans need and that it releases the ‘feel good’ hormone - perhaps lack of touch does really do things to humans?. I believe so. Feeling Safe. Now, I think in my whole relationship / dating life, only one man made me feel safe and it was wonderful. Im not saying that women can not feel safe without a man - absolutely not. But there is something so damn sexy and reassuring when you can actually feel a mans strength (in his body and mind) and you know he has your back. When you walk down the street, you know there will be no shit from no one, as you are with him. That when you're in his arms - you feel completely and utterly safe, it makes you feel so feminine. Nothing can get you, and you breathe a sigh of relief, thats all is well, because you are there, with him.  I miss that, even if just for a minute I could have that again. All of your family and friends are pretty much hooked up. Gone are the days of going out and flirting with a group of guys, because all of your mates are at home with their others half's sucking dick or fanny. This also adds to the struggles of trying to ‘get out there’ as you’d be on the prowl alone - not attractive. When all your mates hook up, it kills your social life too, I miss the nights of going out dressed up all girly, dancing the night away and flirting / kissing with drunken guys.

There is no one to talk to when you have those ‘Im feeling crappy about being single’ moments because no one gets it because no one is in your situation. You will also never get a break from being surrounded by couples, family gatherings = couples everywhere, meeting with friends = couples everywhere. You have to become accustomed to always being the third, forth and fifth wheel when with family and friends. There was once a New Years Eve party where at midnight, everyone was obviously eating face and there I was - twat face, the only single person sat there hating my existence and wallowing in self pitty. (Holidays are the WORST for being single) This is not to say I dont love my friends and family but sometimes you just wish you had some single pals to break away from the constant reminders or someone to really open up to and that they understand, its tiring to always put on this brave face when really you just want to say you feel like shit. Theres also the chance coupled friends will get offended if you need to vent about always being the single one - its not personal, sometimes we just need to express ourselves. Sometimes you just wonder if you are destined to live life solo Perhaps it isn't happening because its not supposed to?, that you are actually happier alone?. Its happened to everyone else so easily so there must be a reason its not happening to you?. To you, its like climbing mount everest, yet to most, its as easy as 1,2,3!. That in the time you have been single, others have gone through about 3 relationships that have started, ended and then they have found ‘the one’ and got married, yet you cant even find A date?. Am I an alien? I must be doing everything wrong?. The longer it goes on for the more convinced you become that it will never happen and you kind of begrudgingly, make peace with it and stop trying and just live your own life. Confidence Sometimes, only sometimes you wonder what is wrong with you and that you are just not fanciable / fuckable / loveable. Those thoughts can fuck off - Im fucking awesome. You get so good at being single that you think you'd be crap at relationships The thought of having to share a bed with someone makes you want to die. What if they snore?. What If Im ill and I just need to do smelly farts all night and toss and turn without worrying that Im going to keep someone awake? What if I want a wank and I cant because THEY are there?! Omg would that mean we would have to arrange shower times in the morning?, Im not fucking sharing a shower with him! Oh man imagine someone constantly texting you even though you see them all the ruddy time? - just fuck off!. And having to see someone all the time?! Someone demanding my time from me? oh god I cant deal!. Gone would be the days of just going where ever I want without explaining myself to anyone! - Ive got too used to only thinking of me, Im too selfish to change that now! and whats more - ID HAVE TO FUCKING SHAVE AND GET MY BODY OUT. Man I’d be so shit at sex =\ and Id have to tell them I love them!. So. Many. Vulnerable. Feelings. Stay. Up. Walls!. Finance All those people who share bills, rent etc. Not everyone would have had an opportunity to move out if they didn't have their significant other, especially in this day and age of expense!. I can also say as a single person it is ruddy annoying having to cash out on everyone else's other half's / kids etc. Whereas presents for you are ‘from both of us’. My single life benefits everyone else's pockets when it comes to christmas! GAH!.  I get SO JEALOUS when I hear someone say that their other half is picking them up from work or cooking for them that night, I WISH I had that!. Fuck buses, walking the dog then having to cook for myself - food NEVER comes for single people, just try getting a bag of spinach for one! so much waste!. Good Points... My Flange is probably really tight  Its so out of use its like its brand new. I dont have to shave for anyone and it is marvellous.  I dont have to get my body out to worry what someone else thinks of it, nor do I have to worry if Im up the duff (although I use precautions, that worry is ALWAYS there, wondering, freaking the hell out, wondering when my period will ever come etc). Its a worry that is brilliant to not have to think about - nor do I have to think about the ruddy pill (no thanks!). Also - self service! =P Your independence and strength will sky rocket You really dont understand how some people freak out when they have to do things alone. For you, doing things alone is such an adventure / enjoyable experience. Yes I go out to dinner, the cinema, weekend breaks alone and its not weird my dears. I love how I can plan anything at anytime. Your strength builds up and up when your doing everything for yourself and it is really liberating and you realise that people that also have this quality are very rare. It makes you very strong and independent and independent people are sexy. =p You are as free as a bird - go fly!. I do what I want and I can order pizza at 3am and eat it in bed if I wish. (what a plan!). I could go travel for months on end if I wanted, I could move to a completely new place and chat up randomers if I so wished too and answer to no one. I could shave all my hair off and pork a load of girls just for fun. Learn a new instrument / get a hobby / go to evenings classes etc - because you CAN. I hear friends who have kids say how they would love to do the smallest of things like have a night to themselves, to go to the cinema or just go shopping, and I realise that I too, take small things for granted and I need to embrace my single life more.  What I do is completely my choice and my choice alone - no hold backs. It feels so good. Finance Yes there is a factor of finance on this side of the spectrum! Your money is YOURS. Go spend a butt load on a new jacket if you want. Go spend £70 on a hair cut if you want. Whats more, you save money on not having to buy hair removal stuff! No birthday or christmas presents on your other half - or dates, or nothing! Save up that spare cash and do something worth while - like get tattoos all over your body ;P - priorities darling, that is YOU! =P. You have control of your own wellbeing One of the biggest issues for me when in relationships / seeing someone was how their actions / treatment towards me effected my wellbeing. I hated that they had so much power to hurt me because my feelings for them were so deep. I hated being so vulnerable and how my happiness was so reliant on how they chose to treat me. With single life problems, they are mostly what you have brought upon yourself, and sorting your own shit out makes you stronger and not dealing with someone else's bullcrap is a breath of fresh air =) So, these are some of my good and bad points, I really could have gone on for forever!. My unshaven flange enjoys parts, and doesn't with other parts. I want to say that its completely human to have weak times about things - like wanting to be hugged sometimes does not make you needy! (I hate that theres so much name calling for humans wanting to be humans!) Whats your favourite thing and hate about your relationship status? Be back soon. Jay Monster.

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Could you do a sneezefic where Jack is excited to go somewhere and crutchie gets sick and feels really bad about letting jack down.

(I just bought N//ews1es L//ive and I am all for some n//ews1es content!! I am also sorry that this is super short, and its not the most well written, but I’m hitting a writers block :// but i still want to keep posting and pushing myself! Fic under the cut)

Jack’s dream was always to go to Santa Fe.

He saw it in his dreams, a sickly sweet magical paradise where he didn’t have to as much as think of the harsh reality of his life in New York. When push came to shove and monsters taunted him, he’d push through with his eyes closed with Santa Fe giving him his only hope. He’d  forget about his worries as he lost himself in his art, so he could visualise the paradise so it could seem more real.

Santa Fe was all he had. It was the only thing keeping him going.

That was until he met Crutchie.

The moment Jack laid his eyes on the new Newsboy selling papes, his voice slick and smooth as he sold to eager passerbys. He was rough and dirtied up like the rest of them, but there was something so endearing about his soft skin and how the light perfectly balanced off him. There was something about the twinkle in his eye, the sweetness and sunny optimism that he radiated despite the darkness of his situation.

Jack had vowed to love this boy forever.

Throughout the years, the two had grown a deep bond with one another. It was a bond that no other newsie questioned, a constant in their lives. It was a part of routine, and everyone understood how much they had cared for each other.

One day, Jack got the opportunity to finally come to his dreamland, his paradise, everything he had ever wanted right in front of him.

But he realised that Crutchie was all he ever wanted. He was right here in New York, and wherever he was, Jack was there right by his side.

But Crutchie understood how much Santa Fe meant to Jack, and while Jack had no more interest in moving to Santa Fe, and had grown a fondness of New York, he wanted Jack to at least see the place.

He had worked extra hard selling papes over the past few months, and had finally earned enough money for the two of them to visit Santa Fe for a week.

Jack was ecstatic, and Crutchie’s heart could not handle the look of happiness on his beloveds face. He felt accomplished, feeling his happiest when Jack was happy. The best thing in life was Jack Kelly’s smile.

But the weeks of hard labour and exerting himself did not do good for Crutchie’s weaker immune system.

He really had overexerted himself trying to save up for Jack, and he had been so into his goal that he had left his own health on the sidelines. He was constantly energetically selling papes, and when he wasn’t he was thinking of more ways to sell papes. The work had took a toll on his system.

“Papes! A small scruff of a child goes missin’ in a dark ol’ forest and yous’ll never guess what happened next!” Crutchie yelled out, slightly exaggerating the story.

Suddenly, a light tickle began to itch at his nose. Crutchie groaned softly, rubbing irritably at his nose trying to avoid the tickle, but it only traveled to the tip of his nose where it was completely inevitable.

“hhhehhITTSchUU! HhffttSSCHHIEW! Ugh,” Crutchie sneezed into his sleeve, sniffling tiredly and went back to selling papes, trying to ignore the building fatigue that ate at his bones.

He shivered violently, gripping onto his crutch tight, the wooden object threatening to lose its balance, slipping and causing him to stumble and collapse on to the floor. Crutchie wasn’t too fussed about it though, falling on the floor and laying there didn’t sound too awful at all.

Crutchie coughed a fit of congested coughs into the crook of his arm, his body shaking intensely as he did. He tightened his grip on the crutch further, for fear that his body would be overpowered by the force of his coughing. Through his watery, bleary eyes he could see the worried eyes of Romeo staring at him worriedly, and he was running off.

Crutchie tried to make a noise of protest, worried that Romeo would run off and tell Jack, but all that came out of his throats was a strangled wheeze. He cleared his throat irritably, hoping that Romeo wouldn’t. He shivered with the cold, pulling his sleeves down to try and provide himself with some more warmth and coverage.

Crutchie tried to get back into selling papes, but he physically could not muster enough energy in him to yell his little heart and enthuse the citizens of New York about this newspaper. He winced at a headache pounding at his head, squinting and rubbing at his temples aggressively in a desperate attempt to seize or soothe his headache.

Suddenly he felt an arm on his shoulder.

“Oh shit!” Crutchie exclaimed in shock, turning around voice scratchy like sandpaper.

Race frowned at him as he got a look at Crutchie’s face, “Yeah, Romeo ain’t lyin’. Ya really are sick, ain’t ya Crutch?”

Crutchie scowled at him and shook his head, turning away from him, “I ain’t a clue what yer talkin’ about, Race.”

As of his body wanted to make Crutchie look stupid, he was inhaling sharply and pitching forward towards the floor, “ehhttSCHU! hahhppSHUU!”

Race raised an eyebrow, “Wow, I am so convinced.”

“Oh shaddup Race!” Crutchie hissed, sniffling as he aggressively rubbed at his reddened nose irritably, a dazed look on his face, a sure sign the tickle hadn’t left yet.

Race frowned, “Ya ain’t goin’ to Santa Fe tomorrow.”

Crutchie grew defensive, heat rising in his body as he snapped, “Ya we are! We’ve been planning this thing for ages, Race, I ain’t gonna ruin this!”

Race softened, “I never said you would. Jack ain’t gonna let ya like that.”

Crutchie huffed, sulking, “Its a cold, Race. It’ll be gone in a day or two. I ain’t lettin’ somethin’ as stupid as a cold ruin this for Jack.”

“Exactly, Crutchie,” Race explained, putting a firm hand on Crutchie’s shoulder comfortingly and kindly, “You can’t let a cold ruin this. You can go next week, or as soon as ya kick this thing. Jack deserves to experience Santa Fe with you, not some half assed, feverish version of you. You can’t do that to him, can ya, Crutch?”

Crutchie’s eyes welled up with tears, biting his lip defensively and refused to meet Race’s eye, nose twitching as he sneezed into his arm again, “eehhTSSCHHUU! hahhtTSCHIIEE! hehhTSCHU!”

He sniffled weakly, “I know I’m letting Jack down, Race! I know! I don’t need a reminder! I keep ruining things for him, I keep holding him back..he would be better off with Katherine or Davey.”

Race’s face fell, “No! That’s not what I was at, Crutchie! I just mean that you need to look after your..”

“Whats the commotion down here?” Jack yelled at them, voice bursting with joy and the signature Jack Kelly slickness, striding coolly towards the two of them.

“Is Race over here a lil’ jealous he ain’t comin’ to Santa Fe with us?” Jack teased, ruffling Race’s hair playfully. His cheerful grin faded a little as he noticed Race didn’t respond with a snide comment, or Crutchie didn’t respond with a snarky smile.

“Hey, hey, what’s goin’ on?” Jack asked softly, grabbing Crutchie and wrapping an arm around him gently.

“Nothin’, Jack!” Crutchie hissed defensively, frustrated tears trying to force themselves out as he squirmed in his grasp.

Crutchie’s breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut, nostrils twitching in an attempt to hold back his sneezing, but as the tickle that was once concentrated by his bridge traveled downwards to the tip he lost the battle against his own sinuses. He inhaled sharply and managed to catch his sneezes into the crook of his arm.

“HhEEhHshUU! HehhehhSHEHH! HahhtSCHHEE! HehhTSHHIIEE!” Crutchie sneezed ticklishly and miserably into his arm, letting out a pathetic sniffle as he finished, refusing to meet Jack’s eye.

Race decided to make a quiet leave when Jack’s face fell.

“..Crutchie, you’re sick..”

Crutchie could hear the sadness dripping out of Jack’s heartbroken voice. He couldn’t handle the fact that he had hurt Jack, that he was constantly causing pain to him and that he kept letting him down. Crutchie’s heart couldn’t take it.

Crutchie burst into tears, pushing Jack off him and turning his back as he shook violently with sobs, guilt pouring out of him by his ever flowing tears, spilling onto his fever reddened cheeks. He couldn’t help the ugly little sobs that ripped out of his throat.

“Crutchie?!” Jack exclaimed, his heart sinking and tightening as his beloved began to burst into tears.

“I’m so sorry Jack,” Crutchie weeped shakily, covering his face with his hands, feeling ashamed and embarrassed, overly sensitive from his illness. He felt so exhausted, just wanting a break from all of this.

Jack approached him slowly, before cautiously but firmly resting a hand on his shoulder. Crutchie tensed, but soon enough relaxed so Jack took it upon himself to slowly wrap his arms around Crutchie’s waist, resting his chin on Crutchie’s dirty blonde hair.

“What’s wrong, bud?” Jack whispered gently.

Crutchie’s nose ran rapidly as he cried, wiping it on his sleeve as he tried to speak over his violent hiccuping, “I ruin everything Jack..this was supposed to be special, I just want you to be happy and I keep doing this to you..I don’t deserve you Jack, I ain’t good enough. You was so excited for all this, and I keep doing this to you! It ain’t fair on you..”

Jack was shocked, “What? What do you mean you ain’t deserve me? You are the best thing in my life, Crutchie. We’s a family, Crutchie, I told you this..”

Crutchie sniffled, “..hahh..hhEETSSSCHHEE! hahhTsCHHIIUU! ..I know, and you said you’d never let me down..and you don’t, but I always let you down..”

Jack kissed the top of Crutchie’s head, “That ain’t true, baby, I love you real good Crutchie. You never let me down..you bring me up, up to the skies, cloud nine and alls that junk. Did ya forget you saved all this cash for me to see my stupid little dream? It aint gotta be tomorrow, Crutchie.”

“You were so excited,” Crutchie croaked, voice cracking.

“Yeah, but I ain’t gonna be happy if I knows you ain’t. We stills young, Crutchie, we got tomorrow and the day after. It can wait,” Jack reassured, spinning Crutchie around so that he could be facing him. He leaned forward and wiped away his tears, gazing at him with so much love and passion.

Crutchie ducked away, inhaling sharply, “hehhITSSCHHUU! hahhTSCHHEEHH!”

Jack chuckled and kissed Crutchie’s nose fondly, “Santa fe don’t much matter if you ain’t with me.”

He kissed his forehead lovingly, “Nothing is, if you ain’t there with me.”

Crutchie managed a weak smile through his hiccuping, “..Wherever you go, Jack Kelly, I’ll be right by your side.”

Jack smiled from ear to ear, bringing him close for a hug, then scooped him up into his arms with a smirk with ease.

Crutchie squirmed, but giggled all the same. He quickly covered his face, “hehhTSCHHIUU!..ugh..”

“I’m gonna nurse you back to health, baby, I promise,” Jack smirked, ruffling Crutchie’s hair as he began to walk home.

“After you do that, we’s off to paradise, eh?” Crutchie giggled.

Jack smiled fondly and kissed his cheek, “When you’re here, I’m already there.”

[book-n-bean]

What would it be like without tv?

Every night, we put the tv on and watch it until it’s late or we’re too tired to stay up any longer.

Since when did everyone just switch on their tvs at night after dinner and just watch?

What’s it like without the tv? Without the noise? When you have to entertain yourself? Would you spend more time with the people you love, would you read more? Would kids do more homework just to have something to do?

I’m not saying I’m not grateful for technology, I just think it’s so sad to be in this position every night, it’s so empty and boring and sad.

It’s just going to get worse as I get older too. Everyone connected to technology more and more. How long will it take for our world to be made out of technology? We’re already working on trees that glow in the dark to provide light and save electricity?

I don’t know.

Lately I’ve just been feeling like life is so empty and sad and pointless, and maybe that’s me being a little depressed and hopeless; but it’s true. What should we be excited about in life? Our futures? Because our futures are the same as everyone else’s, there’s really not much we’ll do that other people havent. And of course, that doesnt mean we wont enjoy it, i dont know what it means.

Maybe there’s something wrong with me - I FEEL wrong. Like im so much more up in my head than i should be, but i cant figure out how to come back to earth. I cant even remember if this is normal, to spend so much time thinking; even when im talking to people, doing things, i’m in my head. It’s worse when im listening to music, or doing something that doesnt require concentration. Reading is a distraction, and watching things can be a distraction too; but then i feel strange when I stop doing those things. I feel blank and empty like there’s nothing waiting for me beyond the book or the screen. Like the world is so quiet, unturning, people are frozen out in the street where they were walking, smoke comes from the exhaust of cars...but they dont move. And then time just skips, and suddenly it’s a couple of hours later and ive lived and so have the people in the street, the frozen cars are different to the ones before and the light outside the window is different. I know i lived every moment that i seem to have skipped, and i can remember each and every one of those seconds, but it feels like nothing happened in them at all...

I think i need help, but it would be so hard to talk about this. No one would understand, they couldnt help...it’s like that feeling i used to get, where it felt like my cells were freezing, through my chest into my left arm, into my palm. It felt like my blood was freezing, and it hurt. It would throb through me, some kind of icy breeze, and then it would linger...then disappear. My counsellor didnt understand that, i cant remember what she said; but im sure i would have remembered if it had been useful or interesting/important.

What do i do? I feel like ive got so many problems, but maybe im not looking at the big picture. Maybe i’m looking at every individual problem as it hits me and they just keep banking up as i fail to immediately solve them. That’s another question though, how far do they bank up? Have i actually been solving any of my problems, or have i just been side-stepping them and saying “good enough”?

I know i need help...maybe, and maybe i want help...but how do i get it? Therapy has never helped me before, ive always been better off working things out on my own, talking to my mum about things to get them off my chest and then doing the rest on my own. Who do i get help from? What would it cost? I could go to a school therapist, but i’d have to skip class for that, it would get weird. I dont want to skip class - that would stress me out. And last time, the school counsellor didnt help, but then again, i cant remember having big problems the last time i went...i think i’d been dating james for 2 months when i went to her; that’s such a long time ago, around about now.

Maybe this is normal...it’s just being a teenager, right? I dont want to worry my mum either, im okay, im dealing with it; even if that means struggling...as long as im just dealing with it. Im trying to focus on music, i know i should be trying to focus on school but im not interested right now. School feels empty too, i go to a building, entertain myself on the bus twice a day, talk to people i call friends, sit through six classes and take notes, pretend to/actually listen, crush on people who dont notice me, and then i go home and do it all again the next day. For what? An education, to be social; whatever. See what i mean? Everything feels pointless.

Even my possibilities seem close-ended; my endless possibilities. Breaking up with James was meant to make me feel open, see all the options out there. It doesnt feel like that. Sometimes i get a flash of that feeling, realising that there are so many people to love in the world and I could probably have a lot of them...but that door is as closed as ever because of my crush on the boy who’s taken; my heart is already dedicated to him...and he’s going to have to break it. I dont want him to, but if im going to move on, he’ll have to break my heart first. Maybe it’ll be indirect, maybe i’ll do it for him, telling myself he’ll never notice me, that im not like her and she’s better than me, the simple fact that it probably means nothing when he looks at me, oh and the lack of him noticing me. Yea sure, we text a lot occasionally, when i start the conversation, we tease each other and joke, but at the end of the day, what does it really mean? Anything? I dont know.

That’s the answer to all of my questions: I don’t know.

I’m not going to get help, not yet. At least I know I’m not depressed, something’s wrong but it’s not that. Luckily, I’m not suicidal, and I don’t want to self-harm; I tried that. In the shower, with the shaving razor, two little red lines, running blood, the sting, it didnt feel good, it didnt help; and I regretted it, I wanted it to go away. I won’t be trying that again, at least not for a while.

I just don’t understand, when did this all happen? And why? What started it - and how do I stop it? Melbourne Music Tour was perfect, I felt alive again, life felt electric and full, lovely and full of opportunities, friendship, warmth; experience. It was 7 days. I had seven days of life. It has been almost 7 days since. I have had seven days of emptiness. I could say it’s a cycle, but it’s not. It was a long, flat line of nothing, and then a 7 day blip, a promising little heartbeat...the world has gone flat again.

I’m kind of getting sad writing this, negativity and all. And it’s not helping, I feel the same, fuzzy head, tired, bored, it’s late (11:07pm, so not really that late for me, but im still tired). Im surprised about how much ive written though, how all of this is just flowing and ive just been letting it all out; ive barely stopped.

Maybe i am a little depressed, sadness comes easily. I do feel sad, deep down, it hurts. And when i do feel sad I know it’s deep, it’s the kind of sadness that opens a ravine in your chest and makes you want to hug something close to you, tight, to close the gap, make it feel better; to have something to hold onto while you’re being ripped apart from the inside out; and when you have no one that’s a little hard to do.

I want to tell myself that I’ll be okay, the thought lingered in my head, but I don’t feel like I will be right now. Im not interested...in life? I dont want to die, i just dont feel interested in doing anything im doing, not really. Even my hobbies are all dropping away. What are my hobbies? I spent one day writing in the holidays and i havent since. I read a bit...but its not very fun. I havent painted anything for months, watching Glee is a good distraction, but its more a way to pass the time than a way to entertain myself. Music is my only real hobby, i enjoy it, i love playing guitar, feeling the song, learning piano, looking at sheet music, recording my voice memos on my phone; if anything can get me through, it’s music. Maybe that’s the way out. I’m planning on buying a proper microphone, to record myself and sing into and...ive been thinking about starting a youtube channel, to have somewhere to put all of the voice memos i record. Maybe people will like it, maybe i’ll like it. It feels like the only step, in any direction, that im planning on taking in my life right now; everything else seems blurred and slow motion, walled-off. Music seems like a road to follow...

I dont know how to end this, i dont know what to say at all. I feel like there’s a lot more to say, but i know ive already said a lot, and i also know that theres nothing else materialising in my head right now; just the distant feel of thoughts. Im scared as well, we just watched a movie, there were dead people in it, it was gory, scary; i didnt like it. So now im paranoid and scared. I’ll go sit in my room, against my headboard, with the wall next to me; it feels safe there.

Maybe i really do need help - i sound insane. Im not, im just going through stuff...maybe i’ll end up talking to mum about it, but for now im going to take the weekend to chill.

[allyinthekeyofx]

Fading light -part 2- 3/6

PART ONE  -  Chapters 1-6

PART TWO  -  Chapter one   Chapter two

PART TWO

CHAPTER THREE

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call your Mom?”

I’m trying to understand Scully’s reluctance to involve her Mother; I’m aware that the knowledge of her collapse yesterday will just seek to fuel another emotional outburst from Maggie, but even so, it just doesn’t sit right with me. But then it’s not my fight so I’m not sure I have a right to even hold an opinion, much less pass judgement over Scully’s decisions in this regard. To have to watch her losing control of her body is heart wrenching to me and I suppose she should be permitted to decide just how much of her gradual decline she wishes to share with her Mom.

But I still can’t help the guilt that gnaws at me that I am at least in part, a willing conspirator against a woman who has shown me more kindness and the past than I believe I deserve.

But Scully sets her mouth in a straight line, shaking her head and looking all the word like a small, determined child.

“No. I mean it Mulder. I’ll call her when I get home.”

When she will get home is still undetermined however. She’s had a pretty rough morning since she woke up. I hadn’t considered really just what the effects of swallowing so much blood yesterday would have on her and she’s been throwing up on and off for the past 3 hours or so despite a cocktail of anti sickness drugs added to her IV and she is clearly exhausted by this latest assault. Apparently the human digestive system - as Scully helpfully informed me - does not process large quantities of its own blood too well and vomiting in this circumstance is commonplace. It was something she apparently went through the last time around and something she never discussed with me. But then she didn’t really discuss much of anything with me back then and if I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure I had earned the right, intent as I was on seeking justice, and my partner, the woman I loved, the object of such heinous wrongdoing, somehow became secondary to my quest.

I’ve always been ashamed of my actions back then. I think I probably always will be and although I’ve never told her, I’m still haunted by the knowledge that I wasn’t there when she needed me the most. Yes, Scully is an intensely private person, but I was so blind back then that even if she’d expressed her need in neon letters two feet tall I doubt I would have been able to see past the ether of my obsession in order to react to it. And that’s why now, even though I had prayed that a resurgence of her cancer would never come, that I will be to her everything I wasn’t before.

I know I am going to have to leave her soon though, just for a while; because if she won’t allow me to involve anyone else, the most basic tasks need to be completed by me. Essential items, toiletries, a change of clothes, her robe....all fairly insignificant in the great scheme of things but items that will make her stay easier. I particularly know that she is desperate to clean her teeth. Scully is probably the most fastidious person I’ve ever met and I know that being unable to properly freshen up using her toothpaste and her brand of soap is pissing her off. She doesn’t need that on top of everything else. Not when it’s something that is so easily rectified.

I also need to grab a shower and a change of clothes because the scrubs, whilst pretty comfortable aren’t the most inconspicuous apparel to be wearing in a hospital and frankly I’m terrified that someone might mistake me for a member of the nursing staff and my duplicity will end up killing someone.

I’d said as much to Scully and was rewarded by the first genuine smile she had managed so far that day. And for a brief moment amidst the headache and the nausea and the fear, she was right back there with me.

“You’re an idiot Mulder”

I’d leaned in closer to her tickling her neck with my lips as I whispered in her ear so only she could hear me

“Admit it Scully, you just wanna play Doctors with me.”

And that earned me a swat on the arm.

Another small victory. But I would take it.

Shortly after that though she had closed her eyes and by the delicate furrows that marred her brow, I knew that the headache was back. She needed sleep and I’d suspected that it was something she was fighting against while I was still there with her. So I’d perched gently on the edge of the bed and taken her slim white hand in mine. I swear that her naturally pale skin tone had become virtually translucent since yesterday and my own hand seemed almost dark in comparison. And for some reason I can’t quite fathom, the sight of her hand engulfed in mine had tightened my throat as a sudden film of tears inexplicably gathered across my eyes and it took every single fucking reserve I had to not break down right there in front of her.

She noticed of course; I can’t hide anything from this woman and when I allow myself to really think about it, it humbles me that she has somehow managed to know me so completely. I am further humbled when she places her free hand against my cheek, holding it there for just a heartbeat.

“It’s okay” she whispers softly turning those incredible eyes on me that, just for a moment, radiate such compassion, such concern, that I want to gather her up and never let her go. To rain a thousand kisses down upon her body in an attempt to rid her of the hurt and the fear I know she is feeling.

“It’s okay Mulder. Go home for a while. I’ll be fine.”

She is tired. She needs to sleep.

So I simply nod and bring her hand to my mouth, kissing each finger softly before grazing my lips across her palm, tracing circles with my thumb across the satin soft skin and by the time I gently lay her arm across her chest, she has succumbed to her exhaustion and her eyes have fluttered closed. I allow myself the luxury of drinking in her image, the long chestnut eyelashes that sit in sharp contrast to her pale skin and despite the dark shadows under her eyes, to me, she is flawless.

“I’ll be back soon” I whisper.

And the small contended sigh that escapes from her slightly parted lips tells me that she hears me even in her dreams.

XXXX

I had briefly considered walking back home but given the fact I was dressed like an escaped mental patient and clutching a transparent trash bag containing the blood soaked clothes from yesterday, I’d decided against it and had asked the helpful volunteer at the admin desk if they could call me a cab. Even then I braced myself for the driver’s reaction to his strange passenger, but as it transpired, the driver, when he arrived, turned out to be a her and in my experience, women seemed to much less phased about these kinds of things than their male counterparts. A short Hispanic woman who bore more than a passing resemblance to Frohike, right down to the bushy eyebrows, didn’t bat an eyelid; she simply grabbed the bag from my hand, tossing it in to the backseat as she held the door open for me.

“Rough night?”

I laughed in spite of myself and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

“Yeah you could say that.”

She simply nodded and gestured that I should sit in the front next to her and I was grateful to not have to sit looking at Scully’s blood soaked clothing for the ten minute journey back to her apartment.

Once inside I gave her the address and leaned my head back against the seat, relaxing properly for the first time since that terrifying moment by the lake when Scully began to choke on her own blood. It happened less than 24 hours ago and yet seems like a lifetime. I am beginning to learn in the harshest way possible that nothing is constant where this disease is concerned. That in the blink of an eye everything changes. I hadn’t realised last time around just how much Scully had hidden from me and just how much she had coped with on her own.

How many times had she been puking up undigested blood after a nose bleed and had then followed me on whatever case I had managed to conjure up to ensure she kept moving? So that she wouldn’t have either the time or energy to walk away from me? Because by trying to keep things normal, I could deny what was happening. Until that final night on the sweeping stairway of the American University.

*I can’t go with you Mulder*.

I hadn’t even asked her why. Oh I knew her refusal to join me was directly tied to her cancer. But I hadn’t asked because for my own selfish reasons I wasn’t able to acknowledge it. That she was dying. Some fucking partner I turned out to be.

“Hey Mister....you okay?”

I snap abruptly back to the present day and realise with a start that we have arrived. I’m not sure how because it only seems like a few seconds since we pulled away from the hospital and joined the throngs of traffic heading in to the capitol.

“You zonked out on me” Mrs Frohike supplies helpfully and I shake my head in apology.

“Like I said. Rough night. I’m sorry, how much?” I glance at the meter and notice that the digital display is blank and am more than a little surprised when I feel a set of stubby fingers tighten briefly on my arm.

“Use it to buy your girl some flowers and tell her I said to get well soon.”

The kindness of a stranger.

And she called Scully ‘My girl’.

I can’t speak suddenly. The lump that formed in my throat makes it impossible. So I settle for a shaky smile that I know doesn’t quite come off and, after grabbing the bag of soiled clothes from the back, I exit the car.

Conscious that time is ticking and I want, no, need to be back at the hospital before Scully wakes up, I head straight for the wide double doors that grace the front of the beautiful old building that Scully calls home. And I realise perhaps for the first time that it feels like home for me too. Three months. Three short months is all it’s taken. Maybe it’s time I had a discussion with Scully about moving the fish in.

The concept makes me smile, a smile that freezes on my face as the familiar voice assails my senses from behind. My reaction is sudden and violent as I spin around to face a man who has brought nothing but misery and destruction to everyone and everything he comes in to contact with. As always a noxious blue cloud surrounds him, the smoke curling insidiously around him as though cloaking him in death and he is smiling at me. He has the audacity to smile at me. The cigarette smoking son of a bitch who calls himself my father. I would rather have been spawned by the devil himself; but then again, maybe I was.

His eyes settle on the bag I am still clutching at my side and his smile widens. It’s almost fatherly, jovial even and that alone makes me want to shove the barrel of my gun in to his mouth and blow the back of his fucking head off. Maybe it’s a good thing that it’s sat safely locked away in the apartment where I left it yesterday before we left for the park. I hadn’t wanted to carry a gun whilst walking with Scully through the autumn leaves beneath our feet. I just hadn’t felt the need.

“Did Agent Scully enjoy her Birthday gift?”

His oily unctuous voice reaches me somehow through the sudden white noise that seems to invade my every sense. And I recognise it as rage. Blind rage that he even has the audacity to speak her name.

“What did you say?”

My voice is low, dangerous, Icy in its control. Scully would be proud. Because what I actually want to do right now is to rip his head from his fucking shoulders.

“Her Birthday gift Fox. The one we gave her.”

I shake my head in an effort to clear it, as a horrified realisation suddenly hits me like an out of control boulder. Rolling towards me, gathering speed, unstoppable and unforgiving.

He caused it.

Yesterday.

The bleeding.

He caused it.

Somehow he caused it.

“You fucking black lunged bastard......” 

and I take a step towards him. I want to hurt this man so badly I can barely breathe. I want to systematically make him suffer in the same way he has made us suffer.

Has made Scully suffer.

But all it takes is for him to hold up his hand for me to stop in my tracks. Because I know. Suddenly I know that this is all a game to him.

“Now Fox. Don’t spoil things for yourself. Who knows what might happen to Scully if you do something rash.”

I ball my hands in to fists, the feel of my fingernails biting in to the flesh of my palms. But I welcome the pain. It tempers me just enough to remain where I am.

“What do you want from us? From me?”

He shakes his head

“You still haven’t figured it out have you Fox? I want nothing. Nothing but your loyalty. When the time comes.”

“When the time comes for what? you fucking double talking sick bastard.”

And when he doesn’t respond something inside me breaks free, I actually feel it give, like a rubber band stretched too tightly, unable to bear the pressure for even a second longer. All the years that this man has loomed like a spectre above us, controlling, manipulative, a manifestation of pure evil, hiding behind a conspiracy that destroys everything it comes in to contact with. And I can’t allow it to continue. For both Scully and I he has to be stopped, and I feel a sudden surge of satisfaction at the fear in his eyes as I lunge forwards and wrap my hands around his throat.

Continued chapter four.

[blogdangerousobjectcollecto-blog]

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about 3 months ago i got a ticket for going 23 over and went to court. the judge gave me a $40 fine and said if i didn't get another ticket for 6 months that the first ticket wouldn't be on my record. this morning i got a ticket for going 10 over. it was really stupid because i was going the speed limit and had cruise locked on but it was a downhill and i got going. the ticket is $20 and i dont have to appear in court. Will my insurance go up? if so how much should i expect. the judge told me last time that if the insurance company doesn't look at my driving that they dont send them notification.

Would my car insurance pay to fix a cracked windshield?

There was a crack in windshield 6 months ago. I have no ideal how it happened. Now it has gotten bigger and bigger. Would my car insurace pay to fix it now? I have AAA car insurance.

How much would it cost for insurance for a 17 year old male with a jeep?

Its a 1998 cherokee sport and we live in arknansas. The jeep is a dark green color.

Auto insurance. please help me. =)?

I'm sixteen and i just got a truck. it's a 1977 dodge pick up 4x4. i can't drive it without insurance and i don't know where to get my insurance from. i've tried getting online quotes and stuff and it didn't work. anybody know a good insurance company with a plan that covers the basic stuff i need just so i can drive my truck?? thanks. =)

I need help with Car Insurance... Please!?

I am a 17 year old male in the UK and have just passed my test on september 2012. I cannot get insured anywhere because they are all charging me at least 500 pound a month to be insured on my mams car (Corsa SXI 2002), i cannot afford this... obviously. I have tried almost every car insurance site and i cannot seem to find any cheaper than 500 pound a month! It is very frustrating because i am a very sensible driver. I need some help!!! Is there any cheap cars that i can buy that will make the insurance cheaper? Can you recommend any cheap or used cars that have cheap insurance for young drivers? Can you recommend any good insurance sites for young drivers? Please any help will do!!! Thank you""

Insurance price for a 16 year old?

I'm 16 live in Minnesota and i want to get a car maybe around $5000 just wanted to know how much a month it would cost for insurance with and without my parents

Can you get insurance on a scooter? And would it be cheaper than car insurance?

Can you get insurance on a scooter? And would it be cheaper than car insurance?

""For insurance cost repairs and parts, which is better , the Honda Fit , Subaru Legacy Wagon or Toyota Matrix?""

Im looking for a fuel efficient vehicle to drive one hour into Montreal. I live in the rural area of Quebec known as Rawdon, which is a little mountainous, and the weather can change from slush to ice to rain for periods of time in the winter. Im a musician and cook that needs an economical hatchback to carry my equipment around. A used car salesman told me that the Honda Fit will be less safe to drive in the winter on Quebec roads than the Subaru Legacy wagon will be. Will it make that much difference ? Is there more chance of getting killed in the Honda Fit on dangerous roads ? Im not a fast driver anymore, and don't need any more speeding tickets. Some people might say that the Subaru is a superior car ( 2006 Legacy ) but I just spoke to a friend of mine who used to own a Subaru and she said she was paying a lot of money for parts when she needed to do repairs, and to stay away from them. Are Subaru parts much more expensive than Honda, and please tell me why the Subaru wagon is a better choice, if it is. The engine on the Subaru Legacy is almost double the size, I think 2.5 L as opposed to the Fit 1.5, although both are 4 cylinder., and both are selling for around $ 10,000. I havent looked enough into the Toyota Matrix. They seem to fall somewhere between the Honda Fit and he Subaru Legacy. I think the Fit would probably give the best gas mileage, the Matrix the next best and the Subaru the least. But again, which cost the most to repair ? Toyotas seem to have the highest reacall history out of the three of them. I live in the country and my life has not been functional without a vehicle the last few weeks since my Dodge Caravan died, so I need to make a decision as soon as possible.""

Why is it important to carry car insurance if the odds of a major accident are quite low?

Its a stats question

Will I loose my parents health insurance if I fail one of my college courses?

All too soon I'm going under the knife and I'm worried to death that me failing my online english will cause me to loose my parent's health insurance. Does anyone know if I will or not?

Im about to turn 17 how much is insurance for a lamborghini or ferrari cuz my parents said i could have one?

Im about to turn 17 how much is insurance for a lamborghini or ferrari cuz my parents said i could have one?

How much do you pay for car insurance per year?

i pay $3000 a year on car insurance, im 22, female, 3 points on my license and drive a v8 mustang, red. progressive. NJ HOW MUCH DO YOU PAY? please put everything i put above, but for you, survey for college class. thanks for helping!""

Does the title of a car have to be in the insurance owners name?

I currently have insurance on mine and my ex boyfriends car. I dont just want to drop his insurance, so im giving him the opportunity to get his own insurance. He is saying that he needs the title of the car in order to get alternate insurance....is he being honest?""

Insurance question plz help?

Im wanna go to school to be a lvn but at the school i wanna go to u have to have malpractice insurance. What is malpractice insurance and how much does it cost

Which car is a good cheap first car?

so im starting driving in january and my grandad has promised to buy me a car (which i am very grateful of). So i was just wondering which car to get? I was thinking a ford Ka. Also i need the car to have cheap insurance. Cheers.

Health Insurance?!?!?

I am having to get my own health insurance for the first time. Can someone help me figure all of this out? What should I be looking for? I am young and healthy, so I would not like to pay that much, but I would like to feel confidant in my coverage. Also, I will need dental coverage-any info there?? Thanks so much!""

alabama insurance office

alabama insurance office

Whats a good car from the year 1996 to 2002 for a 16 year old boy so that the insurance is cheaper?

Whats a good car from the year 1996 to 2002 for a 16 year old boy so that the insurance is cheaper?

Are the insurance companies having a super party right now?

I mean it is now law that they will have a steady stream of customers. So are they psyched?

Vehicles with lowest insurance rates?

I live in Ontario Canada. I'm needing a car for work now. I have three tickets about two years ago; two running red light tickets and one for driving ten over the limit. I'm looking for a car that is good on gas and easier on the wallet for insurance. Thanks

""Whats the difference between limited, broad and regular collison deductibles with insurance?""

Whats the difference between limited, broad and regular collison deductibles with insurance? Trying to get an auto insurance quote, thanks""

What CAR Should A First Driver GET ? Also What Company For The Insurance To Be The Cheapest ?

Passed My Driving Test 2 Days Ago ! I am 22 ! what car should i get that is cheap on insurance too ? Please give me the names and for the insurance companies :)) Thanku

What wold be the cheapest and best insurance?

I'm 19 and a full time college student and I live in Wisconsin. I have a work study job at school as well as a full time job in the summer. I live with my grandma because I was technically abandoned by my mom while in high school and she is unemployed so I don't think she has insurance. I wrestle in college and earlier this year I sustained a concussion and a few days afterward I got rear ended which made the symptoms a lot worse. Theyre insurance is paying for some of the bills but not all. So what insurance should I try to pursue.

Car Insurance In St Louis?

I just purchased a 2002 Mazda Protege today and I bought the car right out but now I'm looking into auto insurance but I have no idea where to go. I am looking to just get liability but doing online quotes is a lil' tiring because I really don't know what I'm looking at. Could someone tell me what is the best rate for auto insurance in St. Louis to go. I also have never had auto insurance before and have never had any priors driving anyone else's car.

Who gets cheaper insurance guys or girls?

Who gets cheaper insurance guys or girls?

Car insurance question?

Im currently a proposed driver on an car insurance policy(FULLY COMP) on a Fiat Punto and im 19. My elder brother is getting a Vauxhall VXR and said if he is insured on the car (fully comp) and said if i drive his car, i am legally allowed to drive it but i will only be covered under Third Party. Can someone outline the Rights and Wrongs? Is it actually legal? any problems which may arise?""

How much will I get charged for an insurance ?

Im 20 and I received a Ticket for no Insurance, How much should I get charged once I get one? Which One is a cheap one to get, and how much for a Fred Loya insurance ?""

How much does your auto insurance go up after you get a speeding ticket?

i got one going 80 in a 55. dont get all high and mighty on me. i was being a dumbass and we know im paying for it now. also i live in MA and im 18 driving for less then a year

""Average utility and insurance cost Orland Park, IL?""

I'm planning on buying a townhouse in Orland Park, IL and was wondering what the average utility (water, electricity, heat, disposal) costs are? Anyone have any estimates on insurance? The association fees cover common insurance but don't think it covers anything within the four walls of the house. Know what insurance requirements the lender puts on mortgages? Trying to estimate how much home ownership really is.""

Apartment Insurance?

I live in the basement of a house. Am I covered on my landlords insurance policy, or should I invest in renters insurance?""

How to appeal declining application on Health insurance?

I just received letter from Blue Shield of California on my recent application for health coverage, I am asking for any suggestion on appeal and my rights in this process. My COBRA is running out, and this recent application took 2 months before they turned me down. I considered myself fairly healthy other than a monthly low dosage cholesterol prescription. Any help or suggestion is appreciated.""

Car insurance company wont pay for my car? /:?

I got into an accident like 6 or 7 months ago. I was making a legal left hand turn and she tried to pass me on the left while I was making that left and obviously she hit me. she lied to the police and said I was pulling out from the shoulder and I didn't look to see her coming and the officer believed me and wrote my story down on the report cuz that's actually what happened lol. her insurance company (Geico) is obviously taking her side cuz they don't want to pay and even though they have the police report they are only paying me 50% and that's just unacceptable. Is there anything I can do to make them pay for at least 75% of it?( besides eyewitnesses cuz there were none )

What would be the approximate cost of insurance on an 2004 Acura TL for a 17 year old boy?

What would be the approximate cost of insurance on an 2004 Acura TL for a 17 year old boy?

""What is the cheapest, good auto insurance for one person?""

I recently moved out of my parent's home due to some serious conflicts and am living with a close friend. I currently work and am about to buy my own car using some of my savings. I'll have to get auto insurance for myself and was wondering if anyone can recommend an insurance company with a good reputation that is also very affordable, particularly for a single person, single car type of plan. Thank you!""

Average costs of homeownership wisconsin?

i really want to get a small single family house for me and my girlfriend and wanted some insight on average costs of home ownership such as morgage insurance utilitys and so on and whats the average. im looking to draw up a budget and see if it is even plausable for me to own a small house. thanks for all input

Unpaid insurance in trouble or not?

Can i be incarnated for not having proper insurance? Who can i ask for help?

What is the usually price range for sports bike insurance?

I'm turning 19 in july and want to start riding. I live in california. so what do you guys think the price may be?

What is the cheapest insurance for a teenager? --or ways to make incurance cheaper?

I live in Southern California, and I will be turning 18 next month, 2 days before I need to buy my next insurance policy. I have had my license since the day I turned 16 (I took drivers ed then got my permit for 6 months then my license). I have had no accidents or tickets or have even been pulled over. I am driving a '04 F-150 and making payments on it. I do get the good student discount. What are some cheap insurance companies? Or ways to make your rate cheaper?""

UK: Converting standard car to kit car to reduce insurance?

I'm 19 and I drove a Jaguar S-type in the US. I've moved back to the UK and my insurance premiums are looking around 7000 (roughly 4x of what it was in the US). What I'm thinking is what if I buy an s-type, and replace the engine with a small 1.6L engine (I don't care about speed, just luxury) and change the car to a 'kit car' status, will that lower my insurance to a more affordable rate? Thanks for any advice.""

How much is State Farm Car Insurance per month?

How much is State Farm Car Insurance per month?

Cheap Drivers Insurance For Teenagers?

So im about to get my first car an it be a luxury car but i wanted to know what place would have the cheaper insurance for me, keep in mind i do have decent grades also.""

What company has the very cheapest car insurance for Tennessee?

I just need the bare minimum insurance. Which is the cheapest?

alabama insurance office

alabama insurance office

Car Insurance without a license?

I know this is a dumb question, but I thought I would ask anyway. My 25 year old son, recently had his license suspended, due to non payment of a ticket. His car registration is coming up this month. Is there any way he can get insurance, so the registration on his car, will remain current. At least until he pays off his ticket.""

Cheap insurance for a 17 year old?

Is there any hope of me insuring a group 14 insurance car? I don't care how crappy the insurance is as long as its legal. All the quotes I have been getting are ridiculous.

Car insurance question?

I have been driving my boyfriend car to get to work and school and what not. His car is insured, but my name is not on the insurance. What would happen if i got pulled over and the cop saw my name was not on the insurance?""

Will getting a speeding ticket raise my insurance?

Will getting a speeding ticket raise my insurance? I was helping my friend move her car today and got pulled over for going 10 mph + the speed limit (in a different state). I showed the cop her insurance and my license. He said he is going to mail me the ticket. Now, I am wondering after I pay this ticket, will my insurance increase even though this was not my vehicle, vehicle insurance, and it was in a different state (California). Please help with any advice, I cannot have my insurance go up. Cop still gave me ticket even after ten hours of driving and crying afterwards..""

Driver's Test Insurance?

Im going to take the driver's test next month but have no insurance. The car is under my dad's name and is insured under his name. Can I use his car and insurance for the test or do I have to get my own insurance for it?

Health insurance question plz help?

My husband lost his job and my and our child health insurance was with him. Can i get health insurance my employee even through its middle of the year will my husband loosing r insurance qualify us qualify event that allow you to enroll

18 year old car insurance rate?

Can you give me an educated guess on how much it would be per month or 6/mo to insure an 18 year old boy on a 2005-2009 Mustang GT? Can Military service lower/raise the rates?

Question about Liability Insurance.?

My mother has insurance on a car I drive, but do to a horrible driving record State Farm - her car insurance company - won't carry me, and when they will again it won't be cheap. I recently found some cheap liability insurance but I was curious - the insurance companies won't give me a straight answer - does my mom have to switch all the insurance for the car, or can I have insurance just for when I drive. If so should I get PIP - personal injury protection instead of liability? Pretty much can there be 2 forms of insurance from 2 seperate companies on one car? Full Coverage for the car and my mom, and Liability for me?""

Do you need medical on your auto insurance?

Yesterday I purchased a new auto insurance policy. I was convinced by the rep that I needed an optional medical provision for $5,000 dollars worth of coverage in case of an accident. She said that if I didn't get the medical coverage, I would have to inform my health insurance provider that they held the primary responsibility in case of an accident and that many health insurance plans will not accept this. My family has really good health insurance--do we really need medical coverage on our auto insurance, too?""

How much is Ferrari insurance?

How much would it cost to insure a 16 year old for a 308 Ferrari that is worth $20,000""

Car insurance for Fiat?

Hi, guys i was just wondering how much will it cost me for full coverage car insurance for 2013/2014 Fiat Arbath in State of California. Im 24 years old? I'm just wondering how much will it cost in California.""

California auto insurances?

There's a car under my parent's name and under their policy. i'm 19 and i have my license for a year now. Since i am on my winter break now and i would like to drive it sometimes. However, i'm not under their policy nor any policy. So, i am driving their car and if 'm involved in an accident, will i be covered under my parent's policy? And i heard that if i am involved in an accident i will be covered by my parent's policy for the first time only, so is this true?""

About how much does car insurance for a BMW cost??

i dont know if the car model matters but just in case lets say a 2004 BMW 325i for a guy under 30

Looking for best insurance product (LIC) which returns guaranteed & handsome amount on maturity along with acc?

Age : 35 yrs., married Premium Amount : 90  99 K per year Premium term : 25 to 30 yrs best lic plan combo plan""

Affordable car insurance quote?

Please can any one tell me where i can find info on affordable car insurance quote

I dont get what to do about car insurance?

Im 16, and ive had my permit since last august, and im gonna go for my license. I lived with my dad, but i have been living with my mom for a while. Im probably going to go on my dads insurance. But, can i drive my moms cars. So my questions are 1. Can I drive my moms cars when if i am on my dads insurance, is there a policy where I can drive other peoples cars? 2. Can I go on my dads insurance if I dont live with him? 3. Im not on any insurance now, I drive with my parents. They are on the insurance and their cars are covered, so do I already have to be covered with just a permit. 4. Im going to use my moms car for the driving test, do I have to be on insurance by then? I know they check for proof of insurance but i dont know if im supposed to be on it. My parents are divorced and I live in illinois and they have different insurance companies.""

How to quoet car insurance?

I just bought a car and i don't know how to put my car info and get me cheap insurance before i stack with expensive insurance company.

""Confused about car insurance...stacked, unstacked??

i am looking up car insurance quotes online and for Uninsured Motorists Bodily Injury Option there is a stacked option and a unstacked option. Does anyone know what this means? What the diff is? This is for PA

""Where Can i Get Non-Owner's Insurance in Austin, Texas?""

Where Can i Get Non-Owner's Insurance in Austin, Texas?""

Is it legal for me to drive this antique car?

Hello. My dad has just offered me his old MGB. During the talk about it, he said if I get it running I can have it. But he also said that I might need to be 21 to drive a car with antique plates. We have Geico. Is this true? Thanks guys.""

How much does Geico car insurance cost?

How much does Geico car insurance cost?

Is there a loop hole in motorcycle insurance?

I'm going to finance a motorcycle at a dealership. I know I will need full coverage insurance, and being I first time rider it will be expensive. My question is, can the dealership find some loophole through the system to make insurance cheaper? I live in california""

Car Insurance Question?

A couple of months ago, I checked out Insurance on Money Supermarket and got a cheap quote of 1,115.44 for a 5 door 1.1 Citroen Saxo, but I've been recently checking again and now all the quotes from the same company are over 4K??? Are they allowed to do this anyhow? And if I phone up the company and tell them about the cheap quote, will they give it to me?""

Average 125 motorbike insurance ?

can anyone give me an idea how much insurance would cost me on a 125 motorbike i am 41 and would be driving on a full driving licence.

How can I get the cheapest car insurance just to be street legal?

I have an old toyota tercel here in california. I just want the thing to be street legal to drive here in california but I don't want to spend over 40 bucks on insurance every month(thats liability insurance), I don't care about any coverage, just want it to be street legal. Are there other options for me? 10-20 bucks a month is more on my price range just for it to be street legal.""

alabama insurance office

alabama insurance office

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/what-happens-when-you-cant-afford-insurance-anthony-white/"

[cami1822]

The 4am shift was always Jays favourite shift at tastebuds, the cute cafe that none of the so called ‘cool’ people went to when there was a Starbucks. It was a open and airy cafe, with floor to ceiling windows at the front of the building, and worn, wood panels on the rest of the walls. Fairy lights were strung along one wall and pictures were tangled in the string lights, just pictures of frequent costomers and the cafe throughout its years. Retro lightbulbs hung from the ceiling, scattered throughout the rest of the cafe. The chalk boards behind the counter were brand new because the others had gotten used so frequently that the dust had become one with the boards. Jay always had loved the cafe ever since she came here as a kid with her grandma for afternoon tea.  She loved the squashy arm chairs and the dark wooden tables.  She loved the small, vertical garden near the entrance, and eating the mint leaves off of it. She loved that it could be airy in the summer and cozy in the winter without anything changing.  Jay loved the oversized chipped mugs and the extra nutmeg that she always found in her coffee. Now, at 17 she could finally work here. Her favourite spot was in the corner by the window, with the vertical garden behind her and the window beside her, so she could see everything and the plants tickled the back of her neck. Beside the garden was a bookshelf. it wasn’t that big, but big enough that it took her a year and a half to finally get though. Jay was behind the counter, adding ‘hot chocolate’ in stick like writing to the chalkboard since the weather had reached its mid point in autumn when she stepped back and knocked a mug off of the edge of the sink. She swatted at it in mid air twice until it finally slipped from her clumsy grasp and hit the birch floor with a ‘plonk’, thankfully not smashing. She groaned in relief, and clasped its handle with her pinkie, scooping it up and into the sink.  No one was in the cafe ever at 4am and thats why she liked it the most. She could sit in her corner with a good book, and a free coffee, and she got paid for it.  Usually it was quiet like that until 6 to 6:30, when the first early risers trudged in, folding their collars back down and whisking off toques.  Jay also loved to watch the sunrise, she loved to watch it set the cafe of fire like everything was glowing a soft golden. The sunrise was always perfect because the the cafe windows faced directly towards it, and the small brick cones across the street were short so it didnt block the sun. At this time in the year the sun rose at around 5:45 which gave Jay lots of time for her to read in her favourite light setting.  She never flicked on the main lights until 6, instead turning on the fairy lights and basking in the soft glow of them with a book and blanket. ‘This stuff sounds stupid’. Jay always thought to her self whenever she did this, or dwelled upon the fact that she count be more content in the moments she spent in the cafe at that time. But Jay always felt like the cafe was her own little palace.  She felt like the cafe was a book, and every time she was in it, she was rereading it and finding tiny bits of information she had missed before, and rereading her favourite parts. No one could read the book like she could, maybe because sometimes she felt like she wrote it. Jay had hopped onto the counter and was obsorbed in a new book she had just gotten when she heard the heavy door being pushed open, a the dented christmas bell tinkle.  Jay spun around, a little too fast, loosing her balance and almost falling off of the counter.  Once she had composed herself again she looked up to see a tall lanky guy with chattering teeth and big black frammed classes sliding down a thin nose. His hands were deep in his pockets and he was trying to smile sheepishly thought his noisy teeth.  I raised my eyebrows, and nodded to the chalk board. “I just added hot chocolate to the menu, want some?” She asked. He nodded and bit his lip to stop the chattering. “More like need some, thanks.” Jay slipped off the counter and started to make the hot coco. “So, why are you here at 4 in the morning?” She asked, heating up milk. “same reason you are.” He seated himself in Jays corner after a carful selection, and jay didnt know weather to be proud of irritated. “To make money?” Jay smiled. He studdied her for a minute before replying. “Well no, im here to, to be _here.” _Jay raised her eyebrows again and started to shake to can of whipped cream. “Obviously, someone our age would not work to 4am shift here unless they really wanted to.” Thats when Jay realized that he was around the same age as her, and also not wearing any jackted but a too big worn out hoodie. “And how do you know I wasn’t a fill in for someone else?” I asked him another question. “Because if you were you wouldn’t have asked me why I was here genuinely unless you were checking me out, which you weren't.” Jay could tell she had an amused look on her face and the guy smiled at her when she sat the steamy mug down in front of him. “Whats you're-” “Sawyer” He cut me off with a grin (the chattering had stopped) “I swear im not this cocky all the time.” I laughed slightly and sat down in the chair across from him. “Nah I can tell, your a real teddy bear inside aren't you sawyer.” Sawyer grimaced slightly, scrunching up his nose. “I wouldnt go that far.” “awe you just proved it.” Jay bit her lip and watched as he shook tiny water droplets out of his dark hair. “You're not the only one who can read people.” She smiled as he tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “So give me a reason why you're here, of why you want to be here.”  Sawyer licked his lips and curled his fingers around the mug taking a sip. “Wow this is good! what did you put in it? Was it-” “Nutmeg.” she finished. “It tastes like Christmas.” He beamed down at the drink. Jay laughed and shook her head slightly. “Thats the point. You still haven't given me a reason.” “Why can't a guy just go to a nice cafe without getting questioned about it?”  He asked taking another sip and peering at Jay over the brim of his mug. “because you're right, no one our age wants to be up at this time at night, unless theyre at a party.” He sighed into his hot coco, sending rippled across the surface. “You are not going to give up on this are you.” Jay shook her head slightly and looked down at her lap surprised to see that she had brought her book over without even realising it. She traced the new spine with her index finger waiting for Sawyer to say something. She had started to space out when sawyer gasped. “What?” Jays voice was slightly scratchy because of the lack of use and alarmed tone. “That. Is my favourite book.” He was looking at it hungrily, with his lip between his teeth and hands tight around his mug. “Jules Vern hey?” Jay asked thankful that he appreciated it. “Journey to the centre of the earth. Its genius. I love it.” He grinned up at jay half of his face in the shadows becuase of the fairy lights. He looked like a mad man. “Just got it yesterday for the shelf.” Jay pointed over to the bookshelf and sawyer got up, still sipping on his drink to look at it. “You like reading?” Sawyer asked, running his hands along the spines of the books. “I love it.  Mostly just fantasy and sci-fi, but I like a good horror book to.” “Huh. It sucks, books are going out of fashion, and people just don't like them anymore when you can watch tv.” “I know, barely any of my friends read and whenever I pull out a book they dont seem to get it.  They always ask me why I read for fun...” Jay trailed off and gazed out the window, tucking her feet underneath her. When she looked back sawyer was sitting back in his chair squinting at her. “The reason im here is because I was at a party. My friend dragged me out and I was there til about one just reading with the cat curled up on my lap. I got kicked out by some drunk collage student. He actually kicked me.” Sawyer rolled up his jeans to reveal a deep gnash on his shin, and Jay scrunched up her nose and went to get the first aid kit (it was usually there for herself when she smashed a glass and cut herself, but there was always that one customer). “I dont think he meant to but he said I was ‘to much of a boring character’ to be at a party, so I left. My friend was still at the party, already drunk so I started to walk home, but...I kind of got lost.  Anyway I found my way back into town and I realized id never been to this part of it, with the cobble streets and alleyways, you know what im talking about right?” Jay nodded. “Well I walked around here for like 2 hours and its so beautiful. I can't believe I've never been here.  It looks like Rome almost. Everything was just quiet and I was the only one out. I dont know, its weird to see a town that is usually really busy all quiet and dark. SO now im here. Does that answer your question?” “So you’ve never been to the older part of town?” Jay questioned, awestruck. “Nope.” “Well I can tell you one thing, its way cooler then the new parts with the big buildings and tall condos.  Also the people are more fun here, no offence, but you must be filthy rich to have never been here.”  Jay spoke a tiny bit louder then she had before, unzipped the first aid kit at the table. Sawyer had an amused smile on his face and tried not to laugh. “Actually, I just moved here 3 months ago, and we are probably living in one of the worst apartments in town.” “Oh. Shit.” Jay whispered. “sorry about that whole thing, ive kinda had bad experiences with the richer people...” “but....” Sawyer edged her on. “My grandma just recently died, and she had a lot more money then she should have living down here. I inherited it all, so I guess I can't really be talked.” Jay spilled some peroxide on sawyers cut and he hissed. “Oh hush you’re fine.” Jay rolled her eyes. “Im sorry about your grandma, you were close?” Jay nodded, and started to gingerly wrap gauze around his leg. The two were quiet as she finished up. “You didnt have to do that.” Sawyer said in a low voice. “Actually, if a customer has an open wound in the shop, I have to clean he or she up because it is not sanitary for the food and it could disturb other customers.” Jay smiled slyly as she went to put away the kit. “Oh so im not special then.” Sawyer mumbled with false disapointment laced in his voice. “Nah its just the rules I'm following.  You want some more?” Jay pointed to the empty mug and had already started to make it before he could answer. Sawyer got up and leaned against the counter with a sleepy smile plastered on his face. “Do you always work this shift?” “Nah just when I dont have school the next day.” Jay Handed him another cup and started to make one for herself. “So what books do you like?” She asked, tucking a strand of hair that came loose from her pony tail behind her ear. “Science fiction all the way. I guess I read some fantasy, but for the science aspect of it.” “Do ya like Harry Potter or lord of the rings at all?” “I mean ive read all of them but none of them could be real, so theyre not my favourite.” “Then why do you read books?” “What?” He tilted his head to the left. “People usually read books to escape, or to travel into a different reality. If you dont like books that can't be real, why do you read?” “For knowledge.  I read to know things. To learn new things, but I guess your right in a way. I mean yeah, thats part of it.  I guess I never thought of it that way but now...” He trailed off and looked slightly confused. “I think thats exactly why I read. I always do it when im stressed or upset.” His eyes were wide and he had a half smile on his face. “well now I feel stupid.” Sawyer muttered looking down at his hot coco a smal lsmile still in place. Jay laughed. “Dont, you’re not the one who works the night shifts just because you like it here more then your own home.” “Tough home life?” Sawyer looked up “Yes. No. Not really sometimes its great sometimes its not. I just like it here.  Especially when its quiet.”  Sawyer nodded, licking whipped cream off of his finger. “Is this your music?” He jerked his head up, indicating to the soft jazz music sounded from them.  Jay blushed and bit her lip. “Yeah, I don’t usually listen to jazz, but I made a playlist for the cafe. I dont know I thought it was nice.” “Its great actually, you have nice taste in jazz.” “Ha. Thanks most people don’t appreciate how much better it can make a room feel, music I mean.”  Jay let them back over to her corner, this time taking her seat back, forcing him to raise his eye brows and sit in the seat across from her. “Sawyer there is something you should know.” All of a sudden Jays face went very serious and sawyers smile slid off his face. “This seat right here, with the mint behind me and the window beside me, this is my seat.” Jay grinned and plucked a mint leaf off of the garden wall, and slipped it into her mouth. Sawyer started to laugh but was cut off suddenly by a blinding light. “Whoa...” Sawyer shielded his eyes and looked out the window to see the marvellous sunrise taking action.  Jay closed her eyes and let the warm glow wash over her like she had swum up to the top of the ocean and had broken its subtle surface for the first time.  Sawyer lowered his arm and blinked a few times. Everything had turned golden in the cafe, and he watched the dust particles dance in the sunbeams. He wondered briefly why the sun didnt always cast this glow on everything. He looked at Jay, who still had her eyes closed, and started to grin stupidly. Jay opened her eyes a moment later, to see sawyer staring at her. “What?  Whats wrong?” “Are you bliss?” He asked drunkly, with a ridiculous smile. Jay scrunched up her face and chucked the balled up napkin she had at him. He tried to duck but it ended up hitting him in the forehead and falling into the last of his hot coco. “Shut up.” She muttered. “You really love it here.” “Yeah, its like my panic room.  I have everything I will ever need right here.” “Hey I still don’t know your name.” He pipped. “Oh yeah, its Jay.” “Nice to meet you Jay.” “You too sawyer.” “Whats with the mint leaves?” Sawyer asked stoping her halfway from slipping another into her mouth. “try one.” She passed him the leaf and he raised his eyebrows in uncertainty. Jay rolled her eyes.”Just do it you wimp its a leaf, its not gonna bite you back.” Sawyer glared at her but couldnt keep a smiled from coming across his face. “It tastes sweeter then I thought.” He said after eating it. “Thats because I grow them, and I grow them with amazing talent and spectacular care.” This time sawyer rolled his eyes. “Does that mean you like to cook too?” He asked. Jay started to giggle. “If i ever try to cook anything but grilled cheese again, I will definitely burn the town down.  Plus its grimy, you have to clean after, even  if you dont even make it to the final product because you keep eating the ingredients separately.Its a waste of my time.” Sawyer laughed but then put n a fake face of seriousness. “Cooking is a science.Baking is an even better science.  I can't believe you, you make drinks right? You should love it.” “Drinks are different. I know exactly what everyone likes by just the way they say hello, even if I dont know them. Drinks are someones personality.  Food is just food.” “I bet I could change your mind on that.” Sawyer muttered slightly distracted. “And hows that?” “I could cook you a meal at my house say 7ish?” Sawyer didnt really know what he was saying, but when he realized it, his eyes widened and he whipped around to see Jay looking at him with a half smile on her face and her head tilted to the side.  She had pulled her legs up criss cross and her strawberry red hair was coming out of her pony tail at the front and framing her face perfectly (It was just grown out of bangs). Sawyer licked his lips nervously. Jay let out a short breathy laugh and then leaned forward, tugging sawyer towards her by the neck of his hoodie. She pressed her lips against his softly,  they were chapped and tasted of mint and chocolate and sawyer melted into her, reaching up to touch her chin just slightly. He had closed his eyes leaning in, and he opened them just halfway, to look at her freckles and her closed eyes through his glasses. He smiled on her lips and so did she. Thats when he heard a word Christmas bell go and the gruff huffs of a man. “What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?” The man asked. Jay fell out of her seat. She clumsy stood up, flushed, and then bent down  to whisper ‘triple shot americano with whipped cream’ into his ear. For a minute he was confused. “morning sir what can I get you today?” Sawyer turned around to watch Jay serve the man. “So you're the barista here? Maybe you should be waiting tables instead of making out with your boyfriend.” Sawyer looked around at the spotless tables and empty chairs, enternally screaming. “Im very sorry I will keep that in mind.” Jay still had a smile fixed on her face. “Ill get a triple shot americano with whip.” Sawyers jaw dropped and Jay grinned to herself as she started to make the drink. A few moments later Jay passed the man his drink as he payed but the man didn't move. “Are-are those rainbow sprinkles?” He stuttered, his eyes flipped from the drink to Jay. “Yup, just a touch I thought id add.” All of a sudden the mans face split into a toothy grin. “Thank you miss.” He croaked. “Have a nice day sir.” She smiled again. And the man put a 5 dollar bill in the tip jar. Once he left, Jay sat back down with sawyer. “Thats how its done Sawyer. I earn money by making peoples day and its a talent few have.”  Jay had a smitten air around her and sawyer grinned. This time sawyer pulled her in for a kiss, and she let out a gasp of surprise. Then he scribbled down his address on a napkin, paid for his drinks, and put 6 dollars in the tip jar, just to one up the man. “You didnt really just do that. Tell me, I'm not going to date a guy who is that petty.” Jay crossed her arms. “Shut up Jay I'm a big teddy bear inside.” And with that sawyer left the cafe and Jay, who had never felt like her own little panic room could do anything more for her. *** a lot of spelling errors and run on sentences but hey, to my 2 followers out there what did you think

[vitalmindandbody]

Haruki Murakami and Seiji Ozawa talk music, art and creativity

One writes fiction, the other conducts an orchestra, but Murakami and Ozawa share a drive, determination and a passion for music. They discuss the creative process, inspiration and the eclecticism of Mahler

Until we started these interviews, I had never had a serious conversation with Seiji Ozawa about music. True, I lived in Boston from 1993 to 1995, while he was still music director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and I would often go to concerts he conducted, but I was just another anonymous fan in the audience. Not long after that, my wife and I happened to become friends with his daughter, Seira, and we would see and talk to her father now and then. But our acquaintance was casual and had nothing to do with either his work or mine.

Perhaps one reason we never talked seriously about music until recently is that the maestros work kept him so fully immersed. As a result, whenever we got together to have a drink, wed talk about anything other than music. At most, we might have shared a few fragmentary remarks on some musical topics that never led anywhere. Ozawa is the type of person who focuses all his energy on his work, so that when he steps away from it, he needs to take a breather. Knowing this, I avoided bringing up musical topics when I was in his company.

In December of 2009, however, Ozawa was found to have oesophageal cancer, and after major surgery the following month, he had to restrict his musical activities, largely replacing them with a challenging programme of recuperation and rehabilitation. Perhaps because of this regime, we gradually began to talk more about music whenever we met. As weakened as he was, he took on a new vitality whenever the topic turned to music. Even when talking with a musical layman such as myself, any sort of conversation about music seemed to provide the refreshment he needed. And the very fact that I was not in his field probably set him at ease.

I have been a fervent jazz fan for close to half a century, but I have also been listening to classical music with no less enjoyment, collecting classical records since I was in high school, and going to concerts as often as time would permit. Especially when I was living in Europe from 1986 to 1990 I was immersed in classical music. Listening to jazz and the classics has always been both an effective stimulus and a source of peace to my heart and mind. If someone told me that I could listen to only one or the other but not to both, my life would be immeasurably diminished. As Duke Ellington once said: There are simply two kinds of music, good music and the other kind. In that sense, jazz and classical music are fundamentally the same. The pure joy one experiences listening to good music transcends questions of genre.

During one of Ozawas visits to my home, we were listening to music and talking about one thing or another when he told me a tremendously interesting story about Glenn Gould and Leonard Bernsteins 1962 performance in New York of Brahmss First Piano Concerto. What a shame it would be to let such a fascinating story just evaporate, I thought. Somebody ought to record it and put it on paper. And, brazen as it may seem, the only somebody that happened to cross my mind at that moment was me.

When I suggested this to Ozawa, he liked the idea immediately. Why not? he said. Ive got plenty of time to spare these days. Lets do it.

To have Ozawa ill with cancer was a heart-wrenching development for the music world, for me personally, and of course for him; but that it gave rise to this time for the two of us to sit and have good, long talks about music may be one of those rare silver linings that are not in fact to be found in every cloud.

At the risk of sounding somewhat presumptuous, I confess that in the course of our many conversations, I began to suspect that Ozawa and I might have several things in common. Questions of talent or productivity or fame aside, what I mean here is that I can feel a sense of identity in the way we live our lives.

First of all, both of us seem to take the same simple joy in our work. Whatever differences there might be between making music and writing fiction, both of us are happiest when immersed in our work. And the very fact that we are able to become so totally engrossed in it gives us the deepest satisfaction. What we end up producing as a result of that work may well be important, but aside from that, our ability to work with utter concentration and to devote ourselves to it so completely that we forget the passage of time is its own irreplaceable reward.

Seiji Ozawa rehearses with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra in Salzburg, 1999. Photograph: Ali Schafler/AP

Secondly, we both maintain the same hungry heart we possessed in our youth, that persistent feeling that this is not good enough, that we must dig deeper, forge farther ahead. This is the major motif of our work and our lives. Observing Ozawa in action, I could feel the depth and intensity of the desire he brought to his work. He was convinced of his own rightness and proud of what he was doing, but not in the least satisfied with it. I could see he knew he should be able to make the music even better, even deeper, and he was determined to make it happen even as he struggled with the constraints of time and his own physical strength.

The third of our shared traits is stubbornness. Were patient, tough, and, finally, just plain stubborn. Once weve decided to do something in a certain way, it doesnt matter what anybody else says, thats how were going to do it. And even if, as a result, we find ourselves in dire straits, possibly even hated, we will take responsibility for our actions without making excuses. Ozawa is an utterly unpretentious person who is constantly cracking jokes, but he is also extremely sensitive to his surroundings, and his priorities are clear. Once he has made his mind up, he doesnt waver. Or at least that is how he appears to me.

Creative people have to be fundamentally egoistic. This may sound pompous, but it happens to be the truth. People who live their lives watching what goes on around them, trying not to make waves, and looking for the easy compromise, are not going to be able to do creative work, whatever their field. To build something where there was nothing requires deep individual concentration, and in most cases that kind of concentration occurs in a place unrelated to cooperation with others, a place we might even call dmonisch.

Still, letting ones ego run wild on the assumption that one is an artist will disrupt any kind of social life, which in turn interrupts the individual concentration so indispensable for creativity. Baring the ego in the late 19th century was one thing, but now, in the 21st century, it is a far more difficult matter. Creative professionals constantly have to find those realistic points of compromise between themselves and their environment.

What I am trying to say here is that while Ozawa and I of course have found very different ways to establish those points of compromise, we are likely headed in pretty much the same direction. And while we may set very different priorities, the way we set them may be quite similar. Which is why I was able to listen to his stories with something more than mere sympathy.

This conversation took place on 22 February 2011, in my Tokyo office. We talked a great deal about Mahler. As we spoke, I realised what an important part of Ozawas repertory the music of Mahler has been. I myself had a problem getting into Mahler for a very long time, but at a certain stage in my life the music began to move me.

Haruki Murakami: Among musicians who perform Mahler and maybe among his listeners, too there are many who think a lot about the composers life or his worldview or his times or fin-de-sicle introspection. Where do you stand with regard to such things?

Seiji Ozawa: I dont think about them all that much. I do read the scores closely, though. On the other hand, when I started working in Vienna more than 30 years ago, I made friends and started going to the art museums there. And when I first saw the work of Klimt and Egon Schiele, they came as a real shock to me. Since then, Ive made it a point to go to art museums. When you look at the art of the time, you understand something about the music. Take Mahlers music: it comes from the breakdown of traditional German music. You get a real sense of that breakdown from the art, and you can tell it was not some half-baked thing.

HM: I know what you mean. The last time I went to Vienna, I went to a Klimt exhibition at an art museum. Seeing the art in the city where it was created, you really feel it.

SO: Klimts work is beautiful and painted with minute attention to detail; but looking at it, dont you think theres something kind of crazy about it, too?

HM: Yes, its certainly not what youd call normal.

SO: Theres something about it, I dont know, that tells you about the importance of madness, or that transcends things like morality. And in fact, at the time, morality really was breaking down, and there was a lot of sickness going around.

HM: A lot of syphilis and stuff. Vienna was more or less pervaded with this kind of mental and physical breakdown: it was the atmosphere of the age. The last time I went to Vienna, I had some time to kill, so I rented a car and spent four or five days driving around the southern part of the Czech Republic the old Bohemian region where Mahlers birthplace was located, the little village of Kalischt, or Kalit as they call it now. I didnt go there on purpose, I just happened to pass through. Its still tremendously rural out there, nothing but fields as far as the eye can see. Its not that far from Vienna, but I was surprised at how different the two areas were. So Mahler came from a place like this! I thought. What a huge turnabout in values he must have experienced! Back then, Vienna was not only the capital of the Austro-Hungarian empire, it was a colourful centre of European culture and probably ripe to the point of being overripe. The Viennese must have looked upon Mahler as a real country bumpkin.

SO: I see what you mean.

Seiji Ozawa conducts Mahler Symphony No 9.

HM: And on top of that, he was a Jew. But come to think of it, the city of Vienna gained a lot of its vitality by taking in culture from its surroundings. You can see this in the biographies of Anton Rubinstein and Rudolf Serkin. Viewing it this way, its easy to see why popular songs and Jewish klezmer melodies pop up in Mahlers music all of a sudden, mixing into his serious musicality and aesthetic melodies like intruders. This diverse quality is one of the real attractions of Mahlers music. If he had been born and raised in Vienna, I doubt that his music would have turned out that way.

SO: True.

HM: All the great creators of that period Kafka, Mahler, Proust were Jews. They were shaking up the established cultural structure from the periphery. In that sense, it was important that Mahler was a Jew from the countryside. I felt that strongly when I was travelling around Bohemia.

…

Gustav Mahler in 1907. Photograph: Imagno/Getty Images

HM: Just listening to this third movement of the First Symphony, it seems pretty clear to me that Mahlers music is filled with many different elements, all given more or less equal value, used without any logical connection, and sometimes even in conflict with one another: traditional German music, Jewish music, fin-de-sicle overripeness, Bohemian folksongs, musical caricatures, comic subcultural elements, serious philosophical propositions, Christian dogma, Asian worldviews no single one of which you can place at the centre of things. With so many elements thrown together indiscriminately (which sounds bad, I know), arent there plenty of openings where a non-western conductor such as yourself can make his own special inroads? In other words, isnt there something particularly universal or cosmopolitan about Mahlers music?

SO: Well, this is all very complicated, but I do think there are such openings.

HM: I remember when we talked about Berlioz and you said that his music had openings that a Japanese conductor could exploit, because it was crazy. Cant you say pretty much the same thing about Mahler?

SO: The big difference between Berlioz and Mahler is that Berlioz doesnt put in all these detailed instructions.

HM: Ah, I see.

SO: So we performers are a lot freer when it comes to Berlioz. We have less freedom with Mahler, but when you get to those final, subtle details, I think there exists a sort of universal opening. We Japanese and other Asian people have our own special kind of sorrow. I think it comes from a slightly different place than Jewish sorrow or European sorrow. If you are willing to attempt to understand all of these mentalities, and make informed decisions after you do so, then the music will naturally open up for you. Which is to say that when an easterner performs music written by a westerner, it can have its own special meaning. I think its well worth the effort.

HM: You mean you have to dig down to something deeper than superficial Japanese emotionalism to understand it and internalise it?

SO: Yes, thats it. I like to think that a performance of western music that also makes full use of Japanese sensibilities assuming the performance itself is excellent has its own raison dtre.

HM: When Im listening to Mahler, I always think that there are deep layers of the psyche that play an important role in his music. Maybe its something Freudian. In Bach or Beethoven or Brahms, youre more in the world of German conceptual philosophy, where the rational, unburied parts of the psyche play the most important role. In Mahlers music, though, it feels as though he is deliberately plunging down into the dark, into the subterranean realm of the mind. As if in a dream, you find many motifs that contradict one another, that are in opposition, that refuse to blend and yet are indistinguishable, all joined together almost indiscriminately. I dont know whether hes doing this consciously or unconsciously, but it is at least very direct and honest.

SO: Mahler and Freud lived at just about the same time, didnt they?

HM: Yes. Both were Jewish, and their birthplaces were not far apart, I think. Freud was a little older, and Mahler came to Freud for a consultation when his wife, Alma, had an affair [with the architect Walter Gropius, whom she married after Mahlers death]. Freud is said to have been deeply respectful of Mahler. That kind of straightforward pursuit of the underground springs of the unconscious may make us cringe but I think it is probably what helps to make Mahlers music so very universal today.

SO: In that sense, Mahler rebelled single-handedly against the sturdy mainstream of German music, from Bach through Haydn to Mozart, and from Beethoven to Brahms at least until the emergence of 12-tone music.

HM: When you stop to think about it, though, 12-tone music is extremely logical, in the same sense that Bachs Well-Tempered Clavier is logical music … Twelve-tone music itself has hardly survived, but different elements of it were absorbed into the music that came afterwards … But this is really quite different from the kind of influence that Mahlers music has had on later generations. I think you can say that, dont you?

SO: I do.

HM: In that sense, Mahler was really one of a kind.

…

HM: What is the biggest difference between reading a score by Richard Strauss, for example, and reading a score by Mahler?

SO: At the risk of oversimplifying it, Id say that if you traced the development of German music from Bach through Beethoven, Wagner, Bruckner, and Brahms, you could read Richard Strauss as part of that trajectory. Of course, hes adding all kinds of new layers, but still you can read his music in that stream. But not Mahler. You need a whole new view. Thats the most important thing that Mahler did. There were also composers like Schoenberg and Alban Berg in his day, but they didnt do what Mahler did.

Portrait of Arnold Schoenberg by Richard Gerstl. Photograph: Archivo Iconografico, S.A./COR

HM: As you said a minute ago, Mahler was opening up very different areas than 12-tone music.

SO: He was using the same materials as, say, Beethoven or Bruckner, but building a whole different kind of music with them.

HM: Fighting his battles while always preserving tonality?

SO: Right. But still, in effect he was headed in the direction of atonality. Clearly.

HM: Would you say that by pursuing the possibilities of tonality as far as he could take them, in effect he confused the whole issue of tonality?

SO: I would. He brought in a kind of multilayering.

HM: Like, lots of different keys in the same movement?

SO: Right. He keeps changing things around. And hell do stuff like using two different keys simultaneously.

HM: He doesnt discard tonality, but he causes confusion from the inside, really shakes things up. Thats how he was, in effect, heading toward atonality. But was he striving for something different from the atonality of 12-tone music?

SO: Yes, it was different, I think. It might be closer to call what he was doing polytonality rather than atonality. Polytonality is one step before you get to atonality it means that you use more than one key at the same time. Or you keep changing keys as the music flows. In any case, the atonality that Mahler was aiming for came out of something quite different from the atonality and 12-tone scale that Schoenberg and Berg were offering. Later, people like Charles Ives pursued polytonality more deeply.

HM: Do you think Mahler thought he was doing something avant garde?

SO: No, I dont think so.

HM: Schoenberg and Berg were certainly very conscious of being avant garde, though.

SO: Oh, very much so. They had their method. Mahler had no such thing.

HM: So he flirted with chaos, not as a methodology, but very naturally and instinctively. Is that what youre saying?

SO: Yes. Isnt that exactly where his genius lies?

John Coltrane By Lee Friedlander.

HM: There was a development like that in jazz, too. In the 1960s, John Coltrane kept edging closer and closer to free jazz, but basically he stayed within the bounds of a loose tonality called mode. People still listen to his music today but free jazz is little more than a historical footnote. What were talking about may be kind of like that.

SO: Wow, so there was something like that in jazz?

HM: Come to think of it, though, Mahler had no clear successors. The main symphonic composers who came after him were not Germans but Soviet Russians, such as Shostakovich and Prokofiev. Shostakovichs symphonies are vaguely reminiscent of Mahler.

SO: Yes, very much so. I agree. But Shostakovichs music is very coherent. You dont feel the same kind of craziness you do in Mahler.

HM: Maybe for political reasons it wasnt easy for him to let anything like craziness come out. There is also something deeply abnormal about Mahlers music.

SO: Yes, its true. The art of Egon Schiele is like that, too. When I saw his pictures, I could really see how he and Mahler were living in the same place at the same time. Living in Vienna for a while, I got a strong sense of that atmosphere. It was a tremendously interesting experience for me.

HM: Mahler says in his autobiography that being director of the Vienna State Opera was the top position in the musical world. In order to obtain that position, he went so far as to abandon his Jewish faith and convert to Christianity. He felt the position was worth making such a sacrifice. It occurs to me that you were in that very position until quite recently.

SO: He really said that, did he? Do you know how many years he was director of the State Opera?

HM: Ten years, I think.

SO: For somebody who spent such a long time conducting opera, its amazing that he never wrote one of his own. I wonder why not. He wrote all those Lieder, and he was very conscious of the combination of words and music.

HM: Thats true, now that you mention it. Its too bad. But given the kind of person he was, it might have been hard for him to choose a libretto.

English translation copyright Haruki Murakami and Seiji Ozawa 2016. Extracted from Absolutely on Music by Haruki Murakami and Seiji Ozawa, published by Harvill Secker on 15 November at 20.00.

Read more: www.theguardian.com

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[viralhottopics]

Speed-reading apps: can you really read a novel in your lunch hour?

Apps such as Spreeder and Spritz are bringing speed reading back into fashion. But what gets lost in this race for the last page?

This article contains 1,993 words. If you were to read it to the end, without being distracted by your email or your dog or your children or the contents of the fridge or the bills you have to pay, it would take you, on average, a little over six minutes. But what if you were able to imbibe all of its (undoubted) nuance and richness in half of that time? Or a quarter? What if you could glance at the text and know everything it said just by running your eyes down the page?

The idea of speed reading was invented by an American schoolteacher named Evelyn Wood, whose search for a way to improve the lives of troubled teenagers in Salt Lake County, Utah, by teaching them to read effortlessly, led her to the belief that she herself could read at the rate of 2,700 words a minute, 10 times faster than the average educated reader. And further, that the techniques that allowed her to do so could be taught and sold.

With Doug, her husband, Wood opened her Reading Dynamics institutes across the US and beyond in the 1950s and 60s, and her methods became a self-help craze. The way in which we read, she professed, in the managerial spirit of the moment, was inefficient in terms of time and motion. We had to stop subvocalising saying words out loud in our heads as our eyes moved across the page as well as learning to outlaw the pauses and detours that led to us reread phrases when our minds drifted or our understanding snagged. Print should be consumed in blocks rather than words and sentences. To achieve this, Wood promoted a technique of running a finger down the middle of a page to activate peripheral vision. By the end of a course in Reading Dynamics, breathless students were reading Orwells Animal Farm at the rate of 1,400 words a minute, and telling tales of revolution.

President Kennedy, who believed himself to be a gifted speed reader (and who colleagues observed reading the New York Times and the Washington Post each morning in 10 minutes flat, scanning and turning the pages), sent a dozen of his staff tothe Evelyn Wood Reading Dynamics Institute in Washington. Presidents Nixon and Carter, under mountains of briefings, followed suit. The science of Woods method was never remotely proven, however, and by the time of her death in 1995, her ideas had fallen out of fashion.

Recently, the attractions of speed reading have been revived and promoted, for a couple of reasons. The first is the persuasive perception that we are living in times of information overload, that we are daily presented with more words than we can possibly cope with, and that new tactics are called for to enable us to make sense of it all. The second factor is the belief that since text can now be presented more dynamically on screens we are not restricted by the rigidity of printed sentences on a page: surely there is a better way?

These twin perceptions have led to a wave of businesses and apps that once again aim to revolutionise your reading speed (at the cost of $4.99, or whatever, a month). For the past couple of weeks Ive been experimenting with a few of the best known, mostly on my smartphone. The apps generally use a technology called Rapid Serial Visual Presentation (RSVP), in which individual words, or blocks of two or three words, appear one after the other in the centre of your screen. The rate at which they do so can be set to 300 or 500 or 1,000 words a minute, enabling you to feed in text and books to be read faster and faster.

Two of the more popular platforms offer a slightly different approach. The Spreeder app allows you to choose the number of words you see at each moment, and to vary the rate at which these words come at you. I found that I could just about take in three-word chunks of Animal Farm for sense at 800wpm, but that in doing so I not only had a slight feeling of panic in trying to keep up, I lost any sense of the rhythm of language, and with it any of the tone of what was being said.

Spritz technology, meanwhile, developed by a company in Boston, is based on the idea that much of the time wasted in reading is spent in the fractions of seconds as the eyes focus moves between words and across the page. Spritz which drives the app ReadMe! offers successive individual words in which one letter, just before the midpoint of each word, is highlighted in red, keeping your focus on that precise point on the screen (the Optimum Recognition Point). With this technology I found I could just about read simple passages for sense at 700wpm, an ability I imagine would become more natural, if not necessarily more comfortable, the longer you practised it.

Both of the apps and there are dozens of others to choose from come with tutorials and exercises to help you master the system. In most cases you start, as Evelyn Wood used to, with an assessment of your current (bad) reading habits. Its the nature of my job as a journalist to often assimilate a lot of information under time pressure, so I like to think no doubt along with pretty much everyone else that I have developed quite fast comprehension skills. An app called Acceleread was mildly impressed with my ability to read a passage about deep sea creatures and then answer a series of questions about it.

The assessment began positively enough: 385wpm Fantastic! You already demonstrate some advanced techniques such as reading words in groups rather than individually. But the assessment had caveats: You may still find that you often say words silently and get easily distracted. (Youre not kidding.) Your program will focus on reducing subvocalisation, strengthening your eye muscles and increasing your capacity to absorb more information at once. You should see rapid and dramatic results

Before embarking on this body-building course for my eyes and brain, I read through some of the quite complex science of reading (generally at no more than 200wpm, and with plenty of distractions). There have been many studies of the claims made by speed reading courses, going back to the early promises of Evelyn Wood. As well as arguing that it was possible to utilise peripheral vision, she claimed that our eyes were lazy, unless yoked into rigorous training. The studies most definitively a large-scale research project, So Much to Read, So Little Time: How Do We Read, and Can Speed Reading Help?, led by scientists at the University of California, San Diego and published last year concluded that in general such training is neither biologically nor psychologically possible.

The mechanics of reading have only recently been fully understood. They depend on a brief fixation of the focal point of the eye, which lasts about 0.25 of a second on each word. The transition of that focus to the next word is allowed by saccades fine, ballistic eye movements, which last for about 0.1 of a second. The eye then either keeps moving forward or momentarily and subconsciously flicks back to confirm the sense of what has been read so far. All the experiments suggested that short-circuiting any part of this process led to a loss of comprehension and retention. The genius of normal reading is that it can minutely vary those fractions of seconds depending on how much of the sense of what is being read has been grasped. In a dense sentence, with sub-clauses and unfamiliar language, fixations and saccades are adjusted accordingly, so there is no break in reading flow. In easier passages the eye dances along swiftly. About 30% of the time it automatically shrinks the saccade over a familiar run of words, skipping past those it can predict.

How does this understanding bear on the apps such as Spreeder and Spritz? The acceleration they promise tends to depend on three issues: sub-vocalisation, looping backwards, and the time lag between words. The So Little Time study examined each of these in turn. When scientists tried to get people to eliminate sounding words subliminally in their heads by having them constantly hum while reading, for example comprehension dropped precipitously. The evidence suggested that when people saw words, they instantaneously accessed the sounds of those words to help understand them. The two processes worked seamlessly; speed dislocated them.

The problem with the second promise is perhaps more obvious you dont have to use the apps on fast speed for very long to realise that without the ability to go back and reread a phrase or a sentence, you can quickly lose the thread of what is being said. (Some of the apps have recognised this and added a rewind button.) The issue with the third claim has to do with rhythm. While it is true that you dont receive any fresh information in the spaces between words, the research suggests that the millisecond pauses are crucial for cognition: they are our brains tiny spaces for reflection.

In the fast lane: the speed-reading innovator Tim Ferris. Photograph: Amy E Price/Getty Images for SXSW

One of the things the studies dont dwell too much on is the nature of what is being read. I cant imagine ever wanting to read a novel at more than the normal 300wpm (by comparison, a speaking voice is roughly 150wpm and even cattle auctioneers can only rattle at 250wpm), but the virtue of reading short articles or emails on RSVP at double that speed seems more plausible. Chances are, however, that most of us already use various intuitive skimming techniques to extract information from such documents when time is short.

You dont really need studies to prove (though they do) that the more familiar we are with a subject, the more likely we are to be able to extract important information from it at pace. It is for this reason that JFK was able to read the New York Times so quickly presumably he knew most of the stories first hand, anyhow, and was just letting his eye flick across headlines and first sentences for a sense of argument. Most of us do something like this with material with which we are familiar although we are all probably less adept at it than we imagine.

Ronald Carver, a professor of education and psychology at the University of Missouri, proved in a landmark study of brainiacsin 1985 that, even for very practised speed readers, attempting to read above 600 words a minute meant that comprehension of any text fell below 75%, and went down dramatically as the reading speed increased beyond that. There is some evidence to show that we can, however, develop the ability to fillet a book quite quickly if we use adaptive techniques. In another study of the various techniques of skimming, two researchers at the University of Bath showed that skimmers who were most successful at extracting and retaining meaning were able to focus on critical sections of an argument and to jump forward as soon as the rate at which they are gaining new information drops below a threshold. They were particularly alive to bullshit or repetition.

Much of the buzz of our so-called digital overload comes from those latter growth industries. It has been argued that the subconscious mind can process 20,000,000 bits of information per second; but of those, the conscious mind holds on to only about 40 bits at any moment. Rather than trying to read more quickly we might be better advised to read more selectively. A lot of our lives can be scanned and scrolled and skipped, but reading remains a more immersive kind of act, dependent on detail. As Woody Allen observed: I took a course in speed reading and was able to read War and Peace in 20 minutes. Its about Russia.

Read more: http://bit.ly/2nXm1QK

from Speed-reading apps: can you really read a novel in your lunch hour?

[jmd303]

Ive decided to write this blog. Not because I want to be heard but because all i want is a release. A healthy release. To be happy. To feel something again and all my heart wants is to never feel alone.

Ill tell my story first. Over 3 months ago my life was perfect. Or in my opinion it was to me. I was powering through my second year of my building design course and had been dating a kind, gentle guy for the last 18 months. He was like no other guy I had dated before and he made me a better woman. More considerate and I stressed less with him. We loved eachother or atleast I thought we did. We never pushed anything on eachother and barely had fights and when we did disagree, the fights never lasted long because we both knew that loving eachother was more of a mission than fighting with eachother.

It was long distance relationship about 1 and a half hours from the CBD of town or 2 hours if from my house. And although it was tough, we made it work. We would drive to one another. Him more so than I because I was contracted to work alot of weekends although, i was determined to make time for him because he was so important to me. His flaws were that of mild selfishness and being a little bit of a know it all. And although those traits are annoying they were always masked beautifully with his charm and large vocabulary that would be able to manipulate any insult or fight in his favor or to be seen as the more mature person in the relationship. He was far from mature and although he was charming…. I always saw through it. That was both a skill and curse of mine. Sometimes I wish I just believed it all and didnt see any of his flaws but we are after all only human. Despite these mild flaws I still loved him no matter what. My heart raced when he looked at me and when he put his arms around me I felt safe and warm.

For a little while I noticed he was having a hard time at work and at home with his family. Mostly because they had made him feel bad for leaving to see me all the time and his sister had not developed a proper healthy social life that she became dependant on him which is understandable as thats what siblings are for. His job also was very demanding and long as he was a draftee for a large design production company. Pushing out floor plans was a mission to managers whereas my ex partner valued quality in work and wanted to ensure a better deal for his clients and for the designs to be structurally sound and worth the money spent. He was a hard worker and that was another trait I loved about him and boasted about with anyone when he was not in my presence. I could see he struggled to keep everyone happy and it put a weight on him but he powered on and all we spoke about was looking forward to everything being simple and being able to come home and kiss eachother and be there for one another. Although we never pushed any ideas of family and living arrangements we gradually fell into the arrangements of house inspections. It was so natural and not pushed and I was feeling more and more content with life.

Approximately 3 weeks before my schooling was coming to an end for the year my ex rang me after work. I was surprised he rang and thought it was gonna be another lovely phone call full of “i miss you” and “cant wait for the school holidays. Finally get more time and family events together”. He told me he was down. Struggling and didnt know what he wanted to do. I was very thrown and said ask over and over what he wanted and how I could help make his situation better. I started shaking when I realised he was leading up to a break up.. I asked him outright if he was breaking up with me…and to my surprise, he was.. He was very apologetic and felt the need to explain that he thought I was the perfect girl just a bad time scenario.. the moment I heard that I felt like such a sad cliche… Like in really bad movies with b grade actors that cried ugly. My heart was absolutely broken and he could not tell me or did not know why he needed to break up.. he just knew he needed time or change and was unsure if the issue was me, him or his current situation with everything else in life. I knew in my heart he just decided I wasnt worth it. I was the girl that just filled his emptyness that had been around since he graduated high school. Struggling to find a girl and then building his ego up when he got what he wanted… or atleast thats how I feel and felt as i heard his empty and unsure excuses.

Although I was angry. I was so soo angry at him part of me still felt so very much in love with him. And still do.. he was and still is not a bad guy deep down… Thats the hardest part of watching someone you love move on. Being inlove with them but, not being with them. You lurk his facebook and hope to get a text message begging to take you back and it never happens. It got to a point where I decided that I had to move on because my heart could not take anymore. 1 month passes and although I had high hopes he still did not want me back but, i maintained busy and looked forward to the future and that was when it happened…

To my shock I learned I fell pregnant to my ex boyfriend. It was not a recent pregnancy. It had already matured to 10 weeks in my belly by this point. The day I used the at home pregnancy test my heart dropped again for the second time. I had cried and screamed, yelling out for my mum and sister in hopes that I was dreaming and that my nightmare hadnt become true. The lonely pregnant spinster that was unloved and depressed. I cried alot and then got mad and I remember clearly thinking “that asshole led me on in our relationship, got me pregnant and left me to pick up the pieces”.

I laid in my bed, tossing and turning deciding what my next step would be. I read up on articles and went to my closest family members for advice and spoke to a counselor within the 24hrs of knowing. All were supportive on either end of the spectrum. Little did alot of people know I had a chemical abortion not long after high school with another ex boyfriend of mine with no other reason other than I was too young and had so much to live for, i gave up my first possible child. And had also gone through a miscarriage but had not known until after I had lost the baby. These life experiences played with my mind alot and I did the math and learned that I would be 6 months off 24 when this baby arrives. So many reasons for and against having this child came to play. Most of the ‘against’ reasons were that of me looking out for my ex boyfriends feelings and future. Funny how he treated me and I still felt like protecting him more than myself and more than my oncoming child. The fact that I still loved him clouded my decision that would be best for my conscious, heart and possibly future. How wrong is that!?

I decided enough was enough. I went to the 10 week ultrasound and there it was. A perfect little baby with a head, two hands and two legs. The baby was actively moving around, sucking its thumb and the moment I saw it I knew to my core I couldn’t give he or she up. I loved it and I didnt even think it was possible as I saw those types of woman as crazy nutjobs just wanting to have babies. I never understood why women could not give up something they had not yet physically seen or kissed goodnight or even built a relationship with…. until now. I knew with some health concerns that I would struggle to carry a child had I continued to delay it as I approached 30 years of age or longer (although it was never a serious concern of mine). The chemical abortion also did a little number on my uterus and if i did another one now  at 10 weeks it would be a more messy abortion and would result in scarring of my uterus tissue which is what the doctor warned me about… I then started to consider other life aspects as I was nearing the end of my design course with 6 months left. My car was large enough and other materialistic objects were not a worry with things like baby showers and government funding. Support was immense from family, friends and even work colleagues. Now the real question. Was I ready? Was i ready to tackle such a massive change in my life? Was I ready to tackle on my career and a child. Knowing full well that it was going to be absolutely hard in life. I wasnt sugar coating anything my head knew it was going to be the biggest game changer in my life. Being a single mum and trying to put my foot in the door in the workplace.

My dad reminded me of something and did not tell me in anyway what he wanted me to do nor did he help me make my mind up. All he did was sit with me and explain that all the women in our family, the mothers and mothers before them were all very strong women. Even the daughters were ones that would never show weakness and were the most hard working and made the most of any situation. Life has always thrown its darts my families way and we always seem to make it through because we are strong people and a strong family unit.

So despite my age, my marital status, life experience and readiness. I made the decision to keep the baby. Not based on those factors specifically but, based on my heart. It had gone through so much thus far that I could not for the life of me get rid of another child and feel later the guilt that is destroying life and apart of myself. The health of my uterus and the risk that I may not have many or no childen later on in life hit me hard. My decision was made up from many factors but ones things for sure, I did it with no one elses heart or future in mind other than my childs and mine. My ex had become a distant thought in my mind it was tough but, it had to be done.

After a couple of days I contacted my ex partner and told him the news. He took it well but, the moment I told him I was keeping it he went into a small panic and kept asking me “why”?!. Why?!.. I was so overwhelmed that I knew my reasons wouldn’t be understood by a man and especially not at that stage as I only just told him what I had planned on doing. Time was the key but, time was something he didnt want to wait for with knowing my reasoning.. Although it clicked in my head, I honestly did not need to explain myself to him. I mean why would I?, it was a decision I made when I was left on my own… looking back, when he was overwhelmed and felt bad for leaving me he too could not tell me his honest to heart reasons except for that he didnt know why and need to figure himself out. I just expected him to respect my decision as I did his when he chose to leave me. I was no crazy ex girlfriend. I was a respectful ex girlfriend and only wanted whats best for him. I figured he would have the decency to do the same. He could not.. It upset him and angered him, naturally. I honestly expected nothing less as it was a huge deal but, he behaved like someone i had never met before. He was no longer the guy I loved. He changed for the worse and became a real jerk. His selfishness amplified and I was made out to be selfish for the making this decision that I felt was important to my heart and body. Apparently that was a selfish thing to do in his eyes.. Its as if he didnt want me to have my health and happiness, he wanted me to do what was best for him despite the fact that I said he didnt need to be physically involved in the childs life. I was in no way tieing him down because I wanted him to be with the baby knowing he loved it and be with me because he knew he loved me. But that was all a dream and a hope at this stage. For now all I wanted was to take care of my child and myself. To be happy and healthy!

His indicated he wants nothing to do with our litte one and wants to travel the world and do things that make him happy. He claims being selfish is not a bad thing but to what extent is that not a bad thing?. With little to no communication efforts from him or his family and I feel as though he will forever regret this decision in life because I plan on raising the best damn kid in the world. I will be there for every Birthday, Christmas , Easter and family holiday. Im gonna show mini me the world and empower this little person so that he or she does not get treated poorly, is respectful and keeps its head held high. ❤

[allyinthekeyofx]

Fading Light 9/24

Fading Light AllyinthekeyofX PART TWO CHAPTER THREE “Are you sure you don’t want me to call your Mom?” I’m trying to understand Scully’s reluctance to involve her Mother; I’m aware that the knowledge of her collapse yesterday will just seek to fuel another emotional outburst from Maggie, but even so, it just doesn’t sit right with me. But then it’s not my fight so I’m not sure I have a right to even hold an opinion, much less pass judgement over Scully’s decisions in this regard. To have to watch her losing control of her body is heart wrenching to me and I suppose she should be permitted to decide just how much of her gradual decline she wishes to share with her Mom. But I still can’t help the guilt that gnaws at me that I am at least in part, a willing conspirator against a woman who has shown me more kindness and the past than I believe I deserve. But Scully sets her mouth in a straight line, shaking her head and looking all the word like a small, determined child. “No. I mean it Mulder. I’ll call her when I get home.” When she will get home is still undetermined however. She’s had a pretty rough morning since she woke up. I hadn’t considered really just what the effects of swallowing so much blood yesterday would have on her and she’s been throwing up on and off for the past 3 hours or so despite a cocktail of anti sickness drugs added to her IV and she is clearly exhausted by this latest assault. Apparently the human digestive system - as Scully helpfully informed me - does not process large quantities of its own blood too well and vomiting in this circumstance is commonplace. It was something she apparently went through the last time around and something she never discussed with me. But then she didn’t really discuss much of anything with me back then and if I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure I had earned the right, intent as I was on seeking justice, and my partner, the woman I loved, the object of such heinous wrongdoing, somehow became secondary to my quest. I’ve always been ashamed of my actions back then. I think I probably always will be and although I’ve never told her, I’m still haunted by the knowledge that I wasn’t there when she needed me the most. Yes, Scully is an intensely private person, but I was so blind back then that even if she’d expressed her need in neon letters two feet tall I doubt I would have been able to see past the ether of my obsession in order to react to it. And that’s why now, even though I had prayed that a resurgence of her cancer would never come, that I will be to her everything I wasn’t before. I know I am going to have to leave her soon though, just for a while; because if she won’t allow me to involve anyone else, the most basic tasks need to be completed by me. Essential items, toiletries, a change of clothes, her robe....all fairly insignificant in the great scheme of things but items that will make her stay easier. I particularly know that she is desperate to clean her teeth. Scully is probably the most fastidious person I’ve ever met and I know that being unable to properly freshen up using her toothpaste and her brand of soap is pissing her off. She doesn’t need that on top of everything else. Not when it’s something that is so easily rectified. I also need to grab a shower and a change of clothes because the scrubs, whilst pretty comfortable aren’t the most inconspicuous apparel to be wearing in a hospital and frankly I’m terrified that someone might mistake me for a member of the nursing staff and my duplicity will end up killing someone. I’d said as much to Scully and was rewarded by the first genuine smile she had managed so far that day. And for a brief moment amidst the headache and the nausea and the fear, she was right back there with me. “You’re an idiot Mulder” I’d leaned in closer to her tickling her neck with my lips as I whispered in her ear so only she could hear me “Admit it Scully, you just wanna play Doctors with me.�� And that earned me a swat on the arm. Another small victory. But I would take it. Shortly after that though she had closed her eyes and by the delicate furrows that marred her brow, I knew that the headache was back. She needed sleep and I’d suspected that it was something she was fighting against while I was still there with her. So I’d perched gently on the edge of the bed and taken her slim white hand in mine. I swear that her naturally pale skin tone had become virtually translucent since yesterday and my own hand seemed almost dark in comparison. And for some reason I can’t quite fathom, the sight of her hand engulfed in mine had tightened my throat as a sudden film of tears inexplicably gathered across my eyes and it took every single fucking reserve I had to not break down right there in front of her. She noticed of course; I can’t hide anything from this woman and when I allow myself to really think about it, it humbles me that she has somehow managed to know me so completely. I am further humbled when she places her free hand against my cheek, holding it there for just a heartbeat. “It’s okay” she whispers softly turning those incredible eyes on me that, just for a moment, radiate such compassion, such concern, that I want to gather her up and never let her go. To rain a thousand kisses down upon her body in an attempt to rid her of the hurt and the fear I know she is feeling. “It’s okay Mulder. Go home for a while. I’ll be fine.” She is tired. She needs to sleep. So I simply nod and bring her hand to my mouth, kissing each finger softly before grazing my lips across her palm, tracing circles with my thumb across the satin soft skin and by the time I gently lay her arm across her chest, she has succumbed to her exhaustion and her eyes have fluttered closed. I allow myself the luxury of drinking in her image, the long chestnut eyelashes that sit in sharp contrast to her pale skin and despite the dark shadows under her eyes, to me, she is flawless. “I’ll be back soon” I whisper. And the small contended sigh that escapes from her slightly parted lips tells me that she hears me even in her dreams. XXXX I had briefly considered walking back home but given the fact I was dressed like an escaped mental patient and clutching a transparent trash bag containing the blood soaked clothes from yesterday, I’d decided against it and had asked the helpful volunteer at the admin desk if they could call me a cab. Even then I braced myself for the driver’s reaction to his strange passenger, but as it transpired, the driver, when he arrived, turned out to be a her and in my experience, women seemed to much less phased about these kinds of things than their male counterparts. A short Hispanic woman who bore more than a passing resemblance to Frohike, right down to the bushy eyebrows, didn’t bat an eyelid; she simply grabbed the bag from my hand, tossing it in to the backseat as she held the door open for me. “Rough night?” I laughed in spite of myself and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Yeah you could say that.” She simply nodded and gestured that I should sit in the front next to her and I was grateful to not have to sit looking at Scully’s blood soaked clothing for the ten minute journey back to her apartment. Once inside I gave her the address and leaned my head back against the seat, relaxing properly for the first time since that terrifying moment by the lake when Scully began to choke on her own blood. It happened less than 24 hours ago and yet seems like a lifetime. I am beginning to learn in the harshest way possible that nothing is constant where this disease is concerned. That in the blink of an eye everything changes. I hadn’t realised last time around just how much Scully had hidden from me and just how much she had coped with on her own. How many times had she been puking up undigested blood after a nose bleed and had then followed me on whatever case I had managed to conjure up to ensure she kept moving? So that she wouldn’t have either the time or energy to walk away from me? Because by trying to keep things normal, I could deny what was happening. Until that final night on the sweeping stairway of the American University. *I can’t go with you Mulder*. I hadn’t even asked her why. Oh I knew her refusal to join me was directly tied to her cancer. But I hadn’t asked because for my own selfish reasons I wasn’t able to acknowledge it. That she was dying. Some fucking partner I turned out to be. “Hey Mister....you okay?” I snap abruptly back to the present day and realise with a start that we have arrived. I’m not sure how because it only seems like a few seconds since we pulled away from the hospital and joined the throngs of traffic heading in to the capitol. “You zonked out on me” Mrs Frohike supplies helpfully and I shake my head in apology. “Like I said. Rough night. I’m sorry, how much?” I glance at the meter and notice that the digital display is blank and am more than a little surprised when I feel a set of stubby fingers tighten briefly on my arm. “Use it to buy your girl some flowers and tell her I said to get well soon.” The kindness of a stranger. And she called Scully ‘My girl’. I can’t speak suddenly. The lump that formed in my throat makes it impossible. So I settle for a shaky smile that I know doesn’t quite come off and, after grabbing the bag of soiled clothes from the back, I exit the car. Conscious that time is ticking and I want, no, need to be back at the hospital before Scully wakes up, I head straight for the wide double doors that grace the front of the beautiful old building that Scully calls home. And I realise perhaps for the first time that it feels like home for me too. Three months. Three short months is all it’s taken. Maybe it’s time I had a discussion with Scully about moving the fish in. The concept makes me smile, a smile that freezes on my face as the familiar voice assails my senses from behind. My reaction is sudden and violent as I spin around to face a man who has brought nothing but misery and destruction to everyone and everything he comes in to contact with. As always a noxious blue cloud surrounds him, the smoke curling insidiously around him as though cloaking him in death and he is smiling at me. He has the audacity to smile at me. The cigarette smoking son of a bitch who calls himself my father. I would rather have been spawned by the devil himself; but then again, maybe I was. His eyes settle on the bag I am still clutching at my side and his smile widens. It’s almost fatherly, jovial even and that alone makes me want to shove the barrel of my gun in to his mouth and blow the back of his fucking head off. Maybe it’s a good thing that it’s sat safely locked away in the apartment where I left it yesterday before we left for the park. I hadn’t wanted to carry a gun whilst walking with Scully through the autumn leaves beneath our feet. I just hadn’t felt the need. “Did Agent Scully enjoy her Birthday gift?” His oily unctuous voice reaches me somehow through the sudden white noise that seems to invade my every sense. And I recognise it as rage. Blind rage that he even has the audacity to speak her name. “What did you say?” My voice is low, dangerous, Icy in its control. Scully would be proud. Because what I actually want to do right now is to rip his head from his fucking shoulders. “Her Birthday gift Fox. The one we gave her.” I shake my head in an effort to clear it, as a horrified realisation suddenly hits me like an out of control boulder. Rolling towards me, gathering speed, unstoppable and unforgiving. He caused it. Yesterday. The bleeding. He caused it. Somehow he caused it. “You fucking black lunged bastard......” and I take a step towards him. I want to hurt this man so badly I can barely breathe. I want to systematically make him suffer in the same way he has made us suffer. Has made Scully suffer. But all it takes is for him to hold up his hand for me to stop in my tracks. Because I know. Suddenly I know that this is all a game to him. “Now Fox. Don’t spoil things for yourself. Who knows what might happen to Scully if you do something rash.” I ball my hands in to fists, the feel of my fingernails biting in to the flesh of my palms. But I welcome the pain. It tempers me just enough to remain where I am. “What do you want from us? From me?” He shakes his head “You still haven’t figured it out have you Fox? I want nothing. Nothing but your loyalty. When the time comes.” “When the time comes for what? you fucking double talking sick bastard.” And when he doesn’t respond something inside me breaks free, I actually feel it give, like a rubber band stretched too tightly, unable to bear the pressure for even a second longer. All the years that this man has loomed like a spectre above us, controlling, manipulative, a manifestation of pure evil, hiding behind a conspiracy that destroys everything it comes in to contact with. And I can’t allow it to continue. For both Scully and I he has to be stopped, and I feel a sudden surge of satisfaction at the fear in his eyes as I lunge forwards and wrap my hands around his throat. Continued chapter four. #fanfic #x files #fading light