#aware that i have descended into something even more irrational than the post body
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horrorsequel · 10 months ago
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i keep seeing the talking point of like "if someone upsets you, you need to bring it up immediately so you can resolve it as quickly as possible instead of sitting with it" and i think the crux of that is good advice, and I think it's probabaly juat generally good advixe to most people but i can't DO that because when someone upsets me, i never realize until way later. like my emotions have to ferment or some shit. like it's the weirdedt fucking thing. my brain will not let me process emotions in real time. like if i was in a social situation and someone said something awful to me and u pulled me to the side and asked me if i was okay, I'd be like "what, why?" because my brain is??? idk maybe too focused on navigating being around other ppl. so then i never notice like that someone hurt me or pissed me off until I've had some time alone and my brain finally catches me up on everything that happened. and at that point its like. how do i even bring this up? would brining it up at this point make it worse?
you know what i mean? like maybe these are just incoherent ramblings from a traumatized brain but ive been so BUGGED by that lately not because its like Bad or because people Shouldnt Do That but because i dont qant people to think that because I bring something up at a later date, ive been getting grudgy over it. its like no i actually only just realized it happened. to me, this IS bringing it up when it happened.
like its already hard enough to bring things up at a later date so im just nervous abt that mentality making the rounds and becoming the new Internet Life Rule that ppl ascribe to fully.
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hope-for-olicity · 6 years ago
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Fabulous Olicity Fanfic Friday - November 2nd, 2018
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Happy Friday! So this is my attempt to both thank awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and offer my recommendations to anyone who is interested. Here are the fantastic fanfic stories I read this week! They are posted in the order I read them. I’m slowly catching up on my reading and feel so very lucky to be in this fandom with so many AMAZING writers! Hugs! 
Re-Airrow: Episode 2x07 by @lostolicityscenes - Another sort of longish one. I wrote Scene 1 because I wanted to see more of the fallout of last episode’s talk and also further my subplot of why Isabel hates Felicity it takes place before the episode. Scene 2 includes a character that I introduced in 1x08. Did I do that so that I could feature him here and Felicity’s offhand comment in the episode would refer to him? Yes I did! Scene 3 is mostly set up for later and adds to Isabel and Felicity’s increasing hostility. Lastly, scene 4 takes place after the events of the episode. I remember the first time I watched it I was struck by Oliver’s expression and thought, this is the moment he knows he loves her. https://lostolicityscenes.tumblr.com/post/179220041276/re-airrow-episode-2x07
Charmed I'm Sure! multi-chapter WIP by @christinabeggs - What happens when three witchy sisters take on the evil in the world? https://archiveofourown.org/works/15852249/chapters/36922482
seemingly impossible (but not untrue) multi-chapter WIP by @alexiablackbriar13 - Young genius historian Dr Felicity Smoak unknowingly and accidentally calls up a bewitched alchemical manuscript within the Oxford Bodleian Libraries - a book that has been lost for centuries. Descended from an old and distinguished line of witches, Felicity wants nothing to do with magic, despite her unruly and powerful abilities. But her discovery of Ashmole 782 sets the world of creatures stirring; with a mystery afoot and new, dangerous magical abilities manifesting for her to navigate, she is approached by the enigmatic vampire biochemist Professor Oliver Queen, who seems to have a deep interest in both the manuscript
 and her. Based on A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224353/chapters/37923743  
Love and Little Cupcakes multi-chapter WIP by @christinabeggs - Felicity loved sweets so much that she paid no attention to her lovelife. Until Thea Queen came into her store wanting fabulous cupcakes for her sixteenth birthday. SO ADORABLE! http://archiveofourown.org/works/12400539/chapters/28216053
Oliver the Cardinal by @someonesaidcake - “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” Her words taunted him, a man of the cloth, sworn to an oath that had been forced upon him. But his heart sat elsewhere... with her. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16334099
Oliver the (Divorce) Lawyer multi-chapter WIP @someonesaidcake - Black tie, white shirt, grey suit... when Oliver put them on that chilly December morning, he hadn't planned on meeting her. 'Her' being Felicity Smoak, the sassy dark haired college student and daughter of his (only) client. This should be fun... https://archiveofourown.org/works/14823708/chapters/34304472
Whiskey and Romance multi-chapter WIP by @mindramblingsfics - Felicity Smoak gets the opportunity of a lifetime to compete for the hand of Prince Tommy Merlyn. She is taken from her normal mundane Vegas life and is soon swept up into a lifestyle full of nobles, drama, obligations and chaos. All the while trying to stay afloat, someone else begins to win her heart, Tommy’s best friend, Oliver Queen. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14441952/chapters/33357156
The Phoenix Rises multi-chapter WIP by @supersillyanddorky06 - For two years, Felicity has lived as a woman happily married to Oliver Queen. They have had their differences, like they always do, but nothing they could not come back from. Until now. Things crumble to the ground as an evil from the past descends upon their married life and tragedy reigns, they face something they never have before. But Felicity knows together, they can brave through. Oliver has no intention of letting go. Neither does she. Mature content. Mild swearing. A lot of sexual tension. You will probably want to bash their heads together at times. http://archiveofourown.org/works/4413614/chapters/10024649
Rebels Connected multi-chapter WIP by @mindramblingsfics - Felicity Smoak is an escaped mutant on the run. Oliver Queen, leader of an underground safe house for mutants to call home comes to her rescue. Everything changes once he brings her into the organization and his life. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16014089/chapters/37369784
The Reason multi-chapter WIP by flipflops - Oliver is an Alpha and Felicity is an Omega....circumstances lead Oliver to find this out and a very bad time or maybe very good time... https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012431
Undisclosed Desires multi-chapter WIP by @green-arrows-of-karamel - People seldom show their true face to the world. Nobody knows this better than Felicity Smoak. She worked hard to get where she is and nothing, not even a nuisance like having a stalker, can stop her. When the threat proves to be more serious than she thought, Felicity is forced to hire Green Arrow Security. Her reluctance to have a bodyguard, shadowing her all day long, transforms itself into a —irrational, some would say— dislike for the man in charge of her safety. No other client had ever driven Oliver so crazy as Felicity Smoak does. That has nothing to do with her mesmerizing beauty or her astonishing intelligence but everything to do with her exasperating stubbornness. Honestly, he doesn't know what’s her problem is with him. If it wasn't because, Thea, his little sister, made him promise that he’d personally protect the woman, he would have quit months ago. It takes very little to ignite the fire between them. A single innocent comment can turn into an epic battle of vicious words, with the only purpose of irking each other. Everyone around them watches all happening from the front row. They ask themselves what will befall first
 Felicity and Oliver killing each other, or realizing that they’re in love. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808077/chapters/36794202
Beyond the Spotlight multi-chapter WIP by @arrow-through-my-writers-block - Bodyguard/Popstar AU. Felicity Smoak is music's hottest star. But when her fame and deeply hidden secrets breed threats to her life that cannot be ignored, she hires Oliver Queen. As her new head of security/pet bodyguard, their personalities clash. Can he protect her from the many unknown enemies from her past that hunt her, or will her intriguing complexities and his own developing feelings be a detriment to them both? http://archiveofourown.org/works/11067006/chapters/24679221
Fictober18 #22 - “I know how you love to play games.” by @tdgal1 - A continuation of the vampire series. The sisters try to help out! https://tdgal1.tumblr.com/post/179313475755/fictober18-22-i-know-how-you-love-to-play
Fictober18 #23 - “This is not new, it only feels like it.” by @tdgal1 - A continuation of the vampire series. Dinner with the sisters continues. https://tdgal1.tumblr.com/post/179357810215/fictober18-23-this-is-not-new-it-only-feels
Just Beneath the Surface multi-chapter WIP by @smoaking-greenarrow - When an S.O.S signal is sent to the FBI from a woman named Felicity Smoak, Director Oliver Queen knows that she is in grave danger. He can’t help but notice the haunting similarities between what’s happening to her and what happened nine years ago; in thirteen unsolved cold cases that drove ex-agent John Diggle out of the bureau. With a race against the clock, Oliver enlists the help of his old mentor to reopen the investigation, and hopefully save Felicity’s life. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239002/chapters/37963052
The Predator multi-chapter WIP by @supersillyanddorky06 - Oliver Queen is the one anomaly in the Chicago Outfit. He is the only non-blooded member to be a part of the high circle in thefamily. His reputation precedes him and he is their best hunter. Felicity Smoak, daughter of theStarling boss, infiltrates his house, intent on killing him. But a startling encounter tips the scales. He goes on the prowl and she escapes. Hate, heat, and friction. Sparks. But something bigger is happening in their world. And despite their disagreements, only they can fight it down. Mob AU. Not Bratva. Enemies-lovers. http://archiveofourown.org/works/5077885/chapters/21891689
H(a)unted by @smoaking-greenarrow - Prompt: I had a prompt idea :) One where Oliver is (finally) out of prison but very aware of his surroundings, especially when he goes out with Felicity and William. He doesn’t want to let them out of his sight because he’s, kinda paranoid for the lack of a better term, about something happening to them and their safety. Set in season 7ish but canon noncompliant :) http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/post/179438084324/haunted
Kiss and Plate by @crazycrystal10 - Prompt - "Why didn't he come and talk to me himself?" Pregnant, hormonal Felicity Smoak × Loving hubby, Oliver Queen. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16415555
Angel multi-chapter WIP by @it-was-a-red-heeler - Oliver encounters a stripper by the name of Angel and is blown away. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961898/chapters/37227686#workskin
Fictober18 #24 - “You know this, you know this to be true.” by @tdgal1 -  A continuation of the vampire series. Felicity continues to try to get Oliver to see reason. https://tdgal1.tumblr.com/post/179459661835/fictober18-24-you-know-this-you-know-this-to
Fear Wakes You Up multi-chapter WIP by @smoakmonster - In a world divided into factions, being Divergent means certain death. For years, Oliver has hidden his terrible secrets–masking his own Divergence within the chaos of Dauntless, covering up the sins of his father’s past that mark his body beneath tattoos, and pushing himself to overcome his nightmares through endless simulations. He’s biding his time until he can somehow save his sister back in Abnegation. But everything changes the day a new batch of transfers arrive. The day he meets her. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16058117/chapters/37490819
Home To You multi-chapter WIP by @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl - Oliver Queen has never done what his family expected of him. He took a gap year after high school instead of going to college right away. He quit his fraternity sophomore year to join the student newspaper, switching his major from business to journalism. He became a photojournalist for a wire service instead of taking a place at Queen Consolidated. He went missing after six months instead of coming home for his sister’s twenty-first birthday. He survived five years of captivity in a war zone when everyone thought he was dead. He came home. But home didn’t have a place for him in it anymore. His parents were both dead, casualties of their own mistakes and a city they had turned against them. His sister was all grown up, the CEO of Queen Consolidated with a fiancĂ© and a dog and a life of her own. Oliver didn’t belong in his old life, but there was nowhere else for him to go. He was a man without a home, without any way of finding one, until he stopped by the IT department of his sister’s company to get files off an old, battered memory card, and found a woman with curly blonde hair and bright, intelligent eyes chewing on a bright red pen and swearing at a computer screen. https://archiveofourown.org/works/12613188/chapters/28734552
The Queen's Mage multi-chapter WIP by @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl - Words have power, and mages, those with the aptitude to draw on that power, are few in number. Thus, their services are highly sought after by anyone who has exhausted all mundane means of solving whatever problem is plaguing them. Felicity is reminded of this fact the hard way when she is hired by Moira Queen, the Lady Starling, to find and return to her son Oliver, who fled his family home five years ago following the death of his father. With a threat hanging over her should she return without Robert Queen's heir, Felicity begins her search. When she finds Oliver, and ends up joining his vigilante crusade while she waits for him to decide whether to return home, the last thing she expects to do is fall in love with him. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617068/chapters/33781269
Elizabeth Grace Smoak multi-chapter WIP by @lynn8828 - What if Felicity and Oliver briefly had met before he got on the Gambit? Despite her best efforts, Felicity was unable to get in contact with the famous Oliver Queen after having a one night stand with him and getting pregnant with his child. After raising their child for five years after finding out that Oliver died on the Gambit, she finds out he is alive and knows that she needs to tell him about their daughter. But will he believe her? AMAZING STORY!! http://archiveofourown.org/works/13639371/chapters/31322715
From Somewhere Within multi-chapter WIP by @smoaking-greenarrow - Their connection has always felt natural to them, safe and secure. But others tend to fear what they don’t understand, and as far as their enemies are concerned, the world isn’t ready to accept two people who can know each other the way that Oliver and Felicity do. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16009244/chapters/37356257
And So The Adventure Begins multi-chapter WIP by @mindramblingsfics - Felicity spent her first year of college focused solely on her studies. In year two, with the convincing of her best friends Iris and Sara, she lets her hair down a bit. Oliver spent his first year partying with his wingman Tommy and living up to the status that came with his last name. He realizes he should buckle down focus on the most important part: actual school. Oliver and Felicity meet, and even though they are on different ends of the spectrum, they don't realize that they can each bring out hidden parts of one another. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15800025/chapters/36771018
Pieces of Always multi-chapter WIP by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34 - Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows. Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. http://archiveofourown.org/works/8220479/chapters/18840356
// @emmaamelia95 // @mel-loves-all // @oliverfel4 // @green-arrows-of-karamel // @coal000 // @miriam1779 // @memcjo// @captainolicitysbedroom // @tdgal1 // @spaztronautwriter // @lalawo1// @quiveringbunny // @wrongshipper // @thebookjumper // @vaelisamaza // @myhauntedblacksoul // @lovelycssefan // @laurabelle2930 // 
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dietsauthority · 4 years ago
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Diary of a hip replacement: week 1
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The countdown to my hip replacement
My ideal leg that has actually had actually the hip replaced is my stronger leg and taking a great deal of the stress, as is my back. In my evaluation, the specialist creates in the notes sent out to my GP and also myself that there is a 3cm distinction in leg size. No surprise my back is harming. He keeps in mind that the un-operated leg is 'perished'.
Walking any kind of range causes substantial pain in my lower and also center back, so before the op I am doing 10 swimming pool sizes at the local recreation centre as well as a series of workouts to maintain myself mobile. I could put it off no more. I should get this hip replaced to even up the disparity in height and to reduce the pain.
At my pre-assessment a week prior to the surgery, a nurse takes my high blood pressure, asks me a series of concerns regarding my way of living, weighs as well as gauges me, takes pee as well as blood examinations, and offers me an ECG heart test.
Coping with anxiety before my hip substitute operation
But probably my most significant concern regarding the hip procedure was going under basic anaesthetic. I have no idea why. I have had lots of hip ops over the years - 7 major operations before the age of six. Some surgery in my twenties then, in 2000, the right hip replaced.
I had never even thought of the general anaesthetic prior to, but this time, it is a significant problem that towers above me. I am 54, not 24 or 14 or 4. Would I make it through the anaesthetic?
I know it sounds absurd, yet it was definitely actual for me for about a fortnight prior to the day. Ultimately I located the ideal means to deal with this irrational fear (I am menopausal) was to deep take a breath whenever the stress and anxiety hit as well as keep active, disturbance being a coping method. That's why I went swimming the night prior to the procedure, because it soothed me down.
When I did fulfill the anaesthetist, I stated to him, 'I am extremely nervous'. 'Of course, you are' he responded. And naturally, the op was mosting likely to happen. Exactly how else was I to be knocked out? With a Roger Rabbit- style animation mallet as well as chirruping cartoon bluebirds circling around over me?
Day 1: the day of my hip replacement operation
A week later on I go to the hospital where I fulfill the expert and also the anaesthetist.
The anaesthetist informs me that I will certainly have an overall basic anaesthetic, asks me if I have any type of loosened or incorrect teeth as well as asks me to move my neck from entrusted to right.
The time has actually come. After not consuming or consuming alcohol from twelve o'clock at night I am asked to place on a gown and also some paper pants. They are prepared for me.
Wheeled to operating theatre, the anaesthetist asks me what I provide for a work (15 years ago it was a '10, 9, 8 ...' countdown), while inserting a cannula right into my hand, as he infuses a solution we bid farewell to each various other and ...
I am woken up by a man stating my name and also telling me that it is around. I have actually felt nothing in all and had no aware knowledge of anything being done to me, or memory, I am impressed and soothed.
I am pressed back as much as my room I am lifted from the trolley to the bed. The specialist enters into the space as well as tells me that my hip was really tight, and that I hemorrhaged a great deal and also have a drainpipe with a container of blood connected to me. The nursing team take my blood stress frequently and also give me an anti-sickness medicine into the cannula in my hand.
The opening night passes, I need to request for a bed pan twice. The staff check on me consistently. I am linked to a set of electric 'socks' that pump as well as grind throughout the evening, as well as carry a set of limited knee-high elastic socks, both to avoid blood clots. I am also provided a shot right into the stomach.
Day 2: my post-hip-replacement physio begins
The adhering to early morning I fulfill the physiotherapist for the very first time and also given a strolling structure so I can rise to go the toilet.
I must rest on the bathroom as well as any type of chair carefully, placing my operated leg out directly. I must not go past a 45 degree knee-leg posture. When my right hip was changed in 2000, I was issued with an elevated seat to put into to the commode itself now the physio tells me that just stretching my operated leg out in front of me will certainly do the trick.
I should not flex over, or exist on my side, as there is a threat of placing the round as well as outlet out. I must not cross my legs. Gingerly, does it, I could stagnate anywhere quickly.
Pain alleviation is a box including morphine with a switch that I could press if I feel I need discomfort relief, I additionally have an oxygen nose pipe.
Later, I opt for my initial stroll with the physio therapist, out and also up as well as down the hallway outside, there is a bar along the wall like in a dancing college. I do some small bends as well as aim to lift the knee of the operated leg. This is tough as the leg still feels swollen and numb from the surgery.
Day 3: the physio encourages me to get out of bed
The physio comes back as well as we pace again and do some even more simple exercises, she speaks with me about waking the muscular tissues up, and also worries the value of obtaining the surrounding tissue relocating once again, also while the new joint is bed linens itself in my body. She also motivates me to get clothed as well as sit out in a chair instead of just maintain climbing back into bed. I admit that I really feel extremely tired in those initial two days as well as spend a great deal of time sleeping in and out of sleep.
Day 4: my morphine pump is removed as well as I practice fluctuating the stairs
The morphine pump is gotten rid of in addition to the oxygen mask makings me cost-free to move around. Two registered nurses come as well as remove the drain that is inside my leg and also the bottle of blood that goes along with it. They inform me to take a deep breath as they draw the drain out, there is a small tugging experience. It is not unbearable.
I am secured by a physio as well as we do the stairways. One step each time: 'Great boost to heaven, poor leg to hell', which implies increasing the staircases you put your unoperated foot on the action first, on the descending trip your freshly run leg goes first. This is sluggish progress as you raise one leg then up with the crutches and also carry up the other one, pigeon design, 15 years back, you were not enabled to do stairs, today you are encouraged to be as mobile as possible.
Day 5: going home after the hip replacement
I'm going home today. A nurse evacuates my bag for me, I am not enabled to flex, and also takes me through the medicines I will certainly take home with me.
The pain alleviation now recommended is 2 paracetamol as well as 2 ibroprofen every 4 hours.
I proposal farewell to the team, who have actually been terrific, as well as my sibling drives me home, in the front guest seat. It is advised that you put a strong plastic bag on the seat, to make sure that you could pivot right into the seat without removaling the brand-new hip joint. It does really feel unusual sitting in the safety seat and I could really feel that something has actually happened in that hip joint.
Home finally (my birthday) but we keep cake and candle lights to a minimum. I need to work out the staircases as well as do my exercises, some standing up holding into a strong chair, as well as some resting in bed, each set needs to be done 4 times a day.
You must sleep on your back, handing over might cause the hip joint to dislodge, not a great situation as you would definitely discover yourself back in hospital.
I am delighted to be home without the noises of the active ward, and also calm down right into my brand-new regimen. I am using two elbow joint assistance props, some medical facilities allow you entrust to walking sticks, it depends from hospital depend healthcare facility trust.
Day 6: sleeping on my back and doing the bed and standing exercises
After an evening obtaining utilized to resting only on my back, in my bed at residence, I rise with aid from my partner, I have little cravings and have the ability to take care of some fruit as well as among those little yoghurt drinks.
We choose that I would certainly do both the bed as well as the standing works out four times a day, with an established day-to-day timetable, for these, though it tends to slip every now and then. The bed workouts contain Deep Breathing to begin, Ankle Pumps (increasing my feet and also doing foot 'circles'), Quadriceps and also Gluteal Contractions (elevating my knees and also calf bones, feet an inch or more and also holding it for 2 secs, Heel Slides (bending both knees no even more than 45 levels), and Hib Kidnappings relocating the operated leg out to the side as much a comfy). This exercise is the hardest and also I require my other half to relocate the leg as I discover it practically difficult to move it under my very own heavy steam.
Surprisingly, the standing exercises are a great deal easier. Hanging on throughout of the bedstead or dining room table or chair, I comply with a series of knee bends, unoperated-leg swings sideways and also to the back, hamstring curls, mini crouches as well as heel raises.
Day 7: obtaining used to moving the house after my hip replacement
I obtain utilized to walking around your home, slowly, I proceed my workouts. I consume hardly any, though it's thought that you could be prone to weight gain while in recovery, due to absence of activity. My little girl chefs a spaghetti dish in the evening which I take pleasure in, the very first dish I've actually enjoyed considering that the op.
I am taking medicines every 4 hours, and as I rise the staircases for the umpteenth time, I remind myself that my 80-year-old mom has in the last few years had both her knees replaced as well as managed it. If she could do it at 80, so can I. I am very worried, nevertheless, that the upper leg of my run leg has swollen to two times the dimension of the other one.
After 2 full days in your home, I appreciate the very straightforward 'precautions' around your home. We have hand grasps all over the house. These are so beneficial, as my crutches are up to the floor whatever I relax them versus. The developer of gravity defying crutches will succeed. I have my mobile phone in my clothing dress pocket when I'm around your home. I have to keep in mind to put on a jacket with pockets.
We have actually additionally gotten a second-hand, straight-backed wooden chair for me to sit in the living space. Low seat, soft pillow sofas and elbow chairs are a rigorous no for the following couple of weeks.
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thegladelf · 8 years ago
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She Left No Instructions
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So, I sat down to write a sweet, little fluffy piece in keeping with the theme of @csjanuaryjoy​. Somehow (as is always the case when I try to write fluff), I ended up with this monstrosity of an exploration of grief and death. So be warned, this whole thing revolves around character death. But before you accuse of getting too far from the theme, I’ll just say it’s always darkest before the dawn...and joy comes with the morning. As always, you can find this on ff.net (I’ll work on getting that collection on Ao3 eventually, I promise). Thank you to everyone involved in putting this together. @icecubelotr44
Word count: 8.9k
It happens exactly as she said it would.
A dark night. A hooded figure—a dark sorcerer Killian hadn’t heard of until Jasmine spoke his name. The flash of streetlights on metal. The crunch of sword piercing flesh.
He remembers rushing forward. He remembers knowing it was too late before Emma's body hit the ground. He remembers a hoarse shout beside him—hoarse, young—and the scrape of pavement under his boots, the brush of fine wool under his fingers. He remembers tackling Henry to the ground, shielding him from the heat of the sorcerer’s flames and the sight of his mother's burning body.
Jafar leaves them nothing more than ashes to bury.
He doesn’t remember stumbling home, but it confronts him suddenly, looming out of the night, the creaking gate bringing him crashing back to his senses. Alone. He stares up at the three story Victorian, what little dinner he ate—dinner sitting cold on their
his dining room table—before it all went to hell comes up in a churning rush. He gags and spits as his knees hit he sidewalk. One solid, white gate post supports him as the sickness settles into uneasy nausea. Too numb for tears, Killian pushes back to his feet and stumbles away from the house.
This isn’t home. It can’t be. Not ever again.
He remembers every step between the house that was theirs and his ship. All of them weighing more than a chest of gold. He boards the Jolly, his feet far less sure than they’ve ever been. For a moment, he bemoans the guardrails that keep him from falling into the drink and getting crushed against the dock by the hull of his ship. But that would leave a mess for David and Snow to clean up and he can’t do that to them now.
Instead, he clambers below deck and pulls out his strongest bottle of rum. The rum is halfway gone when the tears finally come.
The creak of heavy tread pull Killian from his haze of grief and rum late the next afternoon.
David calls his name. A moment later, he calls out again, “I’m coming down,” and his boots appear on the top rung of the ladder.
Killian drags himself into some semblance of upright as David descends. He is aware of the other man’s presence, but he cannot meet his eyes, choosing instead to focus on the empty rum bottle sitting my his foot. He failed, he failed them all. He was supposed to protect her.
“We were thinking
” David pauses. Swallows loudly. “Tomorrow night. At the beach.” Another pause. “If that’s alright with you.
Killian nods. He can’t find one single reason to ask for more time. What would that gain him anyways. David departs after a few moments of awkward silence and Killian heaves himself to how feet to grab another bottle of rum. Something is missing. A niggling feeling in the back of his mind whispering that this isn’t quite how it should be, how he should be, but he cannot put his finger on just what it is.
Pulling himself out of bed the next day is made drastically easier for the fact that his tears and grief ran out sometime during his third bottle of rum. Numb, he puts on his best clothes for the wake—clothes he hasn’t worn in months. He finds the vest he wore the day they met and cannot deny himself the sentimentality of it. She would have laughed at him, but he can see the soft, sweet smile she would give him at such thoughtfulness.
He makes it through the proceedings with dry eyes, though as far from sober as he can get away with. After three hundred years, that is very far.
They scatter her ashes on the beach. Her parents step up first, each taking a handful from the jar Archie holds and letting the fine dust go to drift over the water.
"She liked the water," Snow says with a heavy smile and a sad glance in Killian's direction.
Henry steps up next, his hand shaking, hovering over the jar as his shoulders heave silently. Hesitantly—the lad hadn’t exactly been pleased with him the night
the other night—Killian places his hand on the lad’s shoulder. Henry stills, glances back, his eyes narrow, and he shrugs Killian off. It is not rational, but then, Killian knows all too well how irrational the mind can be in grief. It was he who stopped the lad from interfering and so he is the one the lad will be angry with. Perhaps it is best that way. Better to be angry at Killian than at his family.
Henry swipes his tears away with his sleeve, plunging is hand into the jar and withdrawing. Jerky, but certain. He practically throws the ashes out over the sea, every inch of him tight as a wire. He glares as he brushes past Killian.
It strikes him as he steps up and slides his own hand into the jar of ashes that he is too rational, too calm. He should be as angry as the boy, he knows that. He should be cut to the core. He should hurt more.
He knows all too well what goodbye feels like and it is not this.
This realization as ashes trail from his fingers cuts him to the core. He ducks away from Snow’s sad eyes and concern, feels even less able to meet David’s heavy gaze, and shambles back to his ship.
When she rescued him from the River of Lost Souls, her eyes bore the scars of a heart torn open. With his ship creaking around him, he realizes that is not how he feels. Sad, yes, but not overly sad—no raw, gaping wound in his chest as with Liam and Milah. The dull ache of a love long gone, perhaps, but nothing more crippling. Not for the first time, he wonders if true love can be one-sided—but this time it is not her love he questions. How can he? She weighed her heart, she opened the door. She loved him better and truer than he has ever known. She taught him what true love was when he thought he already knew the meaning.
For the first time, he wonders if he simply isn’t capable of true love. Too dark. Too broken.
How else does he explain making it through this day with his sanity intact? Without tears? With more sorrow in his heart for her parents and son than for her?
He spends that night wrestling with an all-consuming guilt.
He spends the next day in a rum-soaked haze.
The fifth day he spends hungover and contemplating the best way to leave Storybrooke.
He belongs nowhere now, least of all here, least of all with this family that mourns her with every fiber of their being. This family that still sends leaves him concerned voice messages despite what his all-encompassing failure.
He considers sailing out of the harbor and never looking back. He considers gathering his crew—though he has no desire for the constant company—and convincing Zelena to use the apprentice's wand to take them home.
Except he has no home.
Except he probably only fooled himself into thinking he had one in the first place.
She could make sense of all this. Perhaps it would be a lie, but she could tell him he was being ridiculous and he’d believe her.
He misses her.
He considers taking the Jolly out far enough they'll never find his body, but for reasons he can’t name, he knows he can’t do that.
On the sixth day, booted heels thump on his deck, a cautious voice calls his name.
Regina's eyebrows shoot up when he appears topside still clad in the shirt and pants he wore to the funeral. Quickly though, concern clouds her features, her gloved fingers twisting so tightly they look ready to snap.
"Henry isn’t here, is he?" she asks.
Killian scans the deck with a baleful eye. "Nope."
"You're sure?"
"I think I'd notice a stowaway on my own ship."
She twists her mouth in a line that indicates she thinks otherwise. "He was supposed to go back to school today, but Snow hasn't seen him," she says. "She thought I kept him home another day, so I didn’t know until a few minutes ago."
A stiff wind comes up, cutting through his thin linen shirt. He fights back a shiver.
"I was hoping..."
Killian shakes his head. "I haven't seen him since..." His voice falters, he cannot say those words. Clearing his throat, he tries again, "Since Friday." He turns away from her.
"Wait, where are you going?" Regina asks, her voice tight.
"To change," Killian replies without looking back, his foot already on the first rung of the ladder. "I'll need a jacket if I'm to go searching in this weather."
As he disappears below deck, a soft "Thank you," floats on the breeze.
There are many places he thinks to search. The tunnels under Storybrooke. The pond where he unleashed hell's denizens. The clock tower. The woods. But when he and Regina go their separate ways, her number newly programmed into his phone, his feet carry him to the one place he thought to never set foot in again.
The door to the house stands slightly open, the lad's keys still hanging in the lock. Dull, brown clumps—leaves leeched of their color by the rain have collected on the steps. The porch creaks, a puddle sits in a corner
"Henry?" Killian calls as he opens the door.
He scans the first floor quickly before climbing all the way to the third. He searches the second floor last, saving the room that had been his and Emma's until the very end.
The sight of the empty bed, the covers still thrown back carelessly, steals his strength for a moment and the dull ache of missing her roars to life. And yet, he can stand, he can tear his eyes away and see the open closet door and the swatch of light cutting through the dim light.
He finds Henry on the closet floor, back to the wall, knees drawn to his chest, face buried as his shoulders shake. Over those shoulders, his fingers gripping the leather tight enough to crumple it, rests the red jacket. Not the one she wore when they first met, but the one she wore so regularly it seemed like her second skin.
He crouches beside the boy, touching his shoulder gingerly, expecting to be rebuffed yet again.
Henry lifts his head, his eyes bloodshot, his face blotched and sticky from many bouts of tears.
"I miss her," he croaks.
"I know," Killian whispers, wishing he had more with which to comfort the lad. "I miss her too." His voice breaks. "So much."
The jacket falls from Henry's grasp as he flings his arms around Killian's shoulders and knocks him back against the wall. His head cracks sharply against the wall and the world spins for a moment. The small room smells of cinnamon and run and he understands why Henry fled here. He understands what the lad means when he says that he misses her.
Emma may not be here any longer, but he is.
He offers no words of comfort. Does not tell Henry that it will be alright. All he can do is return the lad's embrace, holding him as he cries enough for the both of them. And the extent of Henry's grief moves him to tears, quiet tears shed for the child who has lost so much at such a young age. At some point, his hand falls to the floor, seeking out the worn leather.
He knows now why he cannot leave. He will not be one more person Henry loses.
As long as fate will let him, he will take care of Emma's lad.
And he does, dragging him back downstairs and rummaging in the kitchen for something that hasn't gone bad.
"Are you up for a grilled cheese?" he asks, nose crumpling at the sight of molding leftovers.
Henry shrugs.
"Grilled cheese it is then," Killian declares. "Would you like some tea?"
Henry shakes his head. As Killian pulls out the cheap, plastic-like cheese and butter, Henry turns the electric kettle on. The low simmer of the water and the scrape of butter on bread become their conversation. At the flick of the switch, Henry retrieves two mugs from one cupboard and two packages of cocoa mix from another.
"Watch the sandwiches," Killian says as he pulls his phone out.
"You found him?" Regina sounds calmer.
"Aye." His eyes flick to Henry standing at the stove, staring down at the pan. "He came home."
On the other line, Regina sighs. "Good." A pause. "How is he?"
Killian considers the lad. Henry flips the second sandwich dispassionately.
"Well, we're making dinner," Killian supplies.
"Oh, okay." She accepts his non-answer, her voice heavy. "Do you want me to come get him after dinner?"
"Henry," he says, "how long do you want to stay?"
His eyes cut to the door, his shoulders sagging. "Mom can pick me up whenever she likes, I guess."
The sticky, sweet smell of sizzling butter fills the air for a moment. Killian presses his lips together, thinking.
"You’re welcome to stay the night, if you like," Killian says, "if that's alright with your mother."
"It is," Regina says before Killian finishes the sentence.
Henry must catch that bit, because his eyes light up. The light dies just as quickly. "But you've been sleeping on your ship."
Killian smiles, leaning against the counter. "As it turns out that bunk isn't as comfortable as it once was."
"Okay," Henry says, the closest he's come to enthusiasm.
Killian nods. "Well, then, your majesty, I'll have him at your doorstep bright and early for school in the morning."
Silence crackles over the other line. Not the silence of an ended call, but the tension filled silence of a mind in motion.
"Hook, tell him he doesn't have to go if he doesn't feel ready," Regina says slowly. "Tell him I'll—“Her voice dies, but picks up again a moment later with more confidence. “I'll pick him up after work. Just let me know where."
Killian frowns, confused by how easily Regina swallows this, the lack of venom despite her worry earlier.
Unless she knew where her son was all along. It occurs to him that her worried expression from earlier might not have been Henry’s location that had her so worried.
"He’s stubborn as—He’s stubborn, but he misses you too, you know," she says in a low voice.
He swallows. "I know."
"Thank you, Killian."
The line clicks.
He doesn’t brave their bed that night, but he makes a show of wishing Henry goodnight and closing the door, waiting until he hears Henry's door upstairs close before he changes into more comfortable clothing. He grabs his pillow and a blanket from the closet.
At the last moment, he tucks her pillow under his arm as well.
He sleeps on the couch, his phone set early enough to get up and make a good show of having slept in his room like normal. He falls asleep half-smothered as he inhales the scent of her shampoo, lemon and vanilla. In his dreams, he doesn't sleep alone.
They settle into a pattern. He starts dropping by the sheriff's station, to David's apparent relief and it feels good to have something to distract him. It distracts him so well, in fact, that he forgets she's gone. The more time passes, the more he finds himself turning to a woman who is no longer there or expecting to hear her keys in lock. He doesn't go back to the Jolly Roger, not in any permanent capacity. They have no set nights that Henry stays over. Some days Killian comes home to the lad sitting on the steps or already in the house, munching on some of that horrible junk food he and his mother loved so much.
Grief weighs heavily on the young lad and Killian does his best to lift his spirits. On rare days, if he's lucky, he'll catch the flicker of her smile on the lad's face.
To his surprise, Regina accepts this shift without protest. He expects to catch the sharp side of her tongue each time he calls to appraise her of Henry's whereabouts, but he receives gratitude, though sometimes a bit grudging. It is clear the woman misses her son, wishes he ran to her when the grief strangles him, but she makes no fuss.
One day, weeks later, she requests a meeting at Granny's and Killian knows she has had enough.
He arrives early, knowing he has no right to ask her to let Henry continue to spend the night on occasion, but wanting to anyways. Wanting to keep this last bright spot in his life.
Regina breezes into the diner, the brightly jingling bell a stark contrast to the grim look on her face. She wears her trademark sensible pantsuit, a leather binder clutched in her arm. She slides in across from Killian without a smile. He expected no less.
"One night a week," he says. "At least allow us that."
Regina blinks. "What?"
"I know you miss him," Killian clarifies. "And I know you can't humor him every night, but perhaps we could have a night on the weekends?"
"You think I want tell my son where he has to spend his time?"
Killian raises an eyebrow.
Regina rolls her eyes. "Fine, I am a little...jealous, but if it would help him recover, I'd let him stay at your house every night."
"Oh," Killian says. "Then why are we here?"
"My will."
"What?"
"My will. It's a document that—"
"I know what a will is, your majesty." He waves her explanation off, his rings shifting slightly. As loose on his fingers as the clothes he wears. "What I don't understand is what it has to do with me."
Regina looks down at her hands. "I want to put you in it, Hook. As Henry's legal guardian should anything happen to me."
"Me?"
"No, moron, the other Captain Hook that's running around town."
"But he has..."
"David and Snow?" Regina flips the binder open, pulling out a stack of papers. "They are on the list. It's just..." Regina sighs. The papers flutter as the door opens again, admitting a gust of air that carried the promise of spring despite the cold bite. "You know the Charmings. They’ll stay and fight until their last breaths. And I don't..." She glances around covertly, as though she expects to find Jafar lurking in a corner. "I'm the heaviest magical hitter we have on our side, if something happens to me, I want him with someone who will be willing to cut and run if things look bad enough."
"I feel like I should be offended."
Regina glares at him. "I just said you're the one I trust most with my son, it's a compliment." She rubs at her temple. "Look, you're the only one I'm sure would put Henry's life before anything else."
He hears the words she leaves unspoken.
"I'm honored," Killian says, "but I'll make no promises about leaving Storybrooke."
"I'm not asking you to," Regina says.
There are papers he needs to sign for her lawyer. She hands him a birth certificate, school records, all of them bearing the name "Henry Jones". He looks up in surprise.
"They're real." She shrugs. "Well, as real as false documents can be. No magic. I paid good money to get someone to forge these."
"What for?"
"So you'll be prepared. In case you do end up leaving. You can pass for his father easily enough and it will be easier out there if you’re his father legally."
Killian swallows as he looks at the birth certificate, a lump rising in his throat as he sees her name in the appropriate spot. Henry is not the only one with a different last name on this piece of paper.
Regina offers a sympathetic glance. "I didn't think it would be wise to use Swan, they might have traced it to records that would conflict with these."
He nods. "Makes sense. I'll be right back." He slips quickly to the back of the restaurant, locking himself in the bathroom as he fights against the burning sensation behind his eyes. He tries closing them, but that only makes it worse. The two words are written across the back of his eyelids, over and over, her name paired with his. A future that will never be now, he knows that. He knows that. But, oh, how he still wants it.
When he collects himself enough to return to the table, Regina pulls out a large, goldenrod envelope. "There are documents for both of you, ID cards, everything you might need to start a new life. I hope you don't have to use it, but if you do..."
"And David and Snow?"
Regina's nails make a hollow tapping sound against the table. "I’ll talk to them. I don't think they'll see a problem.” She nods. “This is what she would have wanted."
As it turns out, David and Snow share the sentiment. David badgers Killian until he agrees to learn to drive, in the truck, not the bug. As much as the idea of driving that car appeals to his more masochistic side, it requires two hands and he fears damaging it should he try to figure out how to manage with his hook.
He dodges Snow's invites to dinner at the loft, until one day it isn't Henry he finds waiting for him at home, but the princess. He isn't rude enough to slam his door in the face of a lady—at least not one that he's on friendly terms with—and she waltzes inside, declaring that they are having a family dinner here.
"You can sulk upstairs if you like," she says, setting her bag of groceries on the counter. "But this is happening. David's picking up Henry and Neal and we’re not leaving until we’ve eaten.”
It is a beginning and the smile that lights up Henry's face as they all sit around the table is the only convincing Killian needs to keep the tradition up.
It feels a bit like the days after Zelena's defeat and he finds himself at the loft as often as he finds himself at home. Soon, there is something known as a “Pack and Play” in the spare room and Neal's things scattered around his living room. He dreads the day Snow asks him to watch the tyke—he knows it's crossed her mind more than once—and only hopes that she'll wait until the prince is out of diapers at least.
One night, she hands him a yellow envelope, much like the one Regina gave him for Henry.
"She's onto something," she says by way of explanation. "David and I, we're tied here—we have an obligation to these people, but if something were to happen to us, you wouldn't be."
Killian doesn't think of saying no. He sees the regret in her eyes, can tell how badly she wishes that protecting her daughter had been this easy. No matter how calmly she accepted Emma's decision, it pains her.
Jafar remains in everyone's periphery. Elusive. Clever. Hard to pin down. The only boon is that the sorcerer is too proud to seek the Crocodile's help.
The ease with which he turns away from vengeance scares Killian. He would make the effort regardless, he has Henry to think of now, but the rage doesn’t burn as it did three hundred years ago. He possesses an odd calm when he thinks of the sorcerer. Just one more way that he gives Emma less than she deserves.
Still, he is threatening the town and Killian is on the side of heroes now, which means that when they need him, he answers the call.
Months after her death, at the point of the year when the last of winter’s chill makes for pleasant sailing in the afternoon, Regina locates his lair. Hidden in a pockets of tunnels, a maze of stone, twisting and dark.  
They find him not at home.
"Split up," David says. "There has to be something here that can help us."
Electric lantern hanging from his hook, Killian creeps into the darkness, glad to be long past his childish fear of the night. Something deep in his gut pulls him forward, his feet finding the path as surely as if he knew it by heart. Ridiculously, he imagines he could switch the lantern off and still find his way.
He does eventually pause to switch the light off, but not for any foolish flight of fancy. Up ahead, he spies the glow of another light source spilling across the floor of his tunnel, bright enough he can see the circle of the passageway in its glow. Stepping carefully, slowly, so as not to dislodge loose stones he creeps up to the opening. Pressing his back to the tunnel wall, he cranes his neck, peering into the room.
The cavern appears empty, though it clearly a living area. He can see the edge of a couch, the rest hidden beyond his periphery. A roaring fire burns in the hearth near a desk cluttered with magical objects and several shelves stand against the wall. Several feet of bare cavern floor separate this nearer side of the cavern from the more comfortable area he spied.
Sword held high, he edges into the room, ready for the wards to go off. He hears no blaring alarms, no sound of a magical beast waking from its slumber.
A soft gasp echoes through the cavernous room and Killian whirls, his heart jumping into his throat, though he doesn't place why until he sees her.
His first thought is that it's a trick. A trap laid by Jafar, but the moment he meets her eyes his entire world clicks back into place. He understands why there is no gaping hole inside him. Why it never felt like the true good-bye.
"Swan."
He hears metal clatter to stone and vaguely notes that he has dropped his sword, but he only sees her, with her wide green eyes and glowing blonde hair.
"Killian, stop!"
Her voice rings through the air and he obeys without thought, stumbling to a stop a few feet out of reach.
Emma lifts a hand and presses it against thin air, her palm flattening against a barrier he cannot see.
"If you step across the line, you'll be stuck in here with me."
"I’ll wager there isn’t a handy way to get rid of it," he says, closing the distance between them, his eyes on the invisible line. He never has been much of a fan of lines.
"You found me," she says, her eyes on him, her smile bright despite the situation.
"You're alive."
"Yeah."
He stares down, realization dawning. "Gods, Emma, I'm so..."
"Hey," she interrupts, still smiling. "You found me."
"I'm getting you out of there." He takes a step back, searching for any discernable mechanism, runes he can smudge, something to break. After all this time, after thinking her gone for so long, he just wants to be able to touch her again.
"I think he used some of that invisible chalk that Gold has in his shop."
"Invisible chalk?"
"Right, that was when I left you in New York."
"Ah."
Her theory held up, he could see no discernable mark to the edges of the barrier. "I don't suppose you know how high up the wall goes, perhaps if I had a rope..."
"Already tried that," Emma replies ruefully.
She jerks her chin at the couch he. Now that he looks at it, he can see the way the arm is misshapen, as though pressed against something solid.
"Right." Killian takes a deep breath. He knows what he has to do, but the last thing he wants is to leave her here alone. Enough time has passed with her trapped here and him none the wiser.
"You want the good news?" she asks, her eyes crinkled up at the sides.
She is a marvel, his Emma, radiating joy despite the situation. Killian studies her. She still wears the clothes she wore the night of her presumed death. Her hair is a greasy mess, barely contained by a braid. To his relief, she shows no signs of starvation or abuse, though there are dark circles under her eyes...and yet, she looks lighter, more carefree than she has in ages.
"Of course."
"Jafar was the oracle," she says.
Killian tilts his head, considering her words. His brow furrows. "The oracle, the one that told you..."
Emma crosses her arms, having the audacity to look smug despite the present situation. "It was all him."
His breath catches in his throat. "You said I couldn't step across the line."
Emma blinks. "Uh...yes..."
"So if I did this..." He steps right up to the line, carefully to leave a few inches between the toe of his boot and hers, and wraps his fingers around her elbow. Solid. Warm beneath his fingers. No phenomenal cosmic force pushes him forward, though a tingle of magic rings his skin.
Emma leans into the barrier, she tries to slide her hand down his arm and link their fingers together, but Killian has other ideas. Cupping her cheek, he leans through the barrier, pressing his lips to hers. Emma sighs into his mouth, cradling his hand against her cheek as they kiss, a tingle that has nothing to do with magic sings up his arm and fills him with a warm glow. When she pulls away with a smile and turns to press another kiss to his palm, he almost forgets why he should not cross into her prison fully.
Resting his forehead against hers, he catches his breath and reels his emotions back in. Though there will be no helping the grin on his face any time soon.
“You have to go.” Her breath whispers across his skin, sending chills down his spine and nearly robbing him of his will to leave.
"I'll be right back," he says, kissing her again and deciding that it will not be the last time. She is alive. It most certainly won't be the last time. He pulls the knife from his belt, slipping his hand past the barrier one last time. "Just in case Jafar returns before I do."
He doesn't waste time, though part of him wants to back out of the room, wants to keep his eyes on her as she leans against her jail cell until he absolutely must turn away. But the key to her freedom is out there, searching the other tunnels. He spins on nimble feet, scooping up his sword and the lantern as he does so. Perhaps he is over hasty as he barrels down the tunnel in search of the others, but Emma has spent months in that cavern with only a narcissistic sorcerer for company he imagines. She deserves a bit of haste.
Snow, David, and Regina are not hard to find. Apparently, they managed to trigger some defensive spell while he was gone. Their racket travels down the tunnels long before he can see them. He bursts into the main cavern, sword held high, eyes sweeping the cave.
"Bloody hell," he says as he stares up at the giant looming over Emma's parents.
The giant consists entirely of rocks and mud, with a crudely carved face and bulky, ungainly limbs. David ducks a swinging fist and the collision of the creature’s fist with the ground dumps him on his ass. Snow jumps in front of it loosing an arrow at the same time that Regina releases a fireball. Both glance off the thing’s face.
"Hey, guyliner, a little help," the queen yells, dodging another swing.
"What the bloody hell is that thing?"
"A golem." Snow takes aim again as David rushes the beast. "Open wide pretty boy."
"There’s a token. In its mouth," Regina says. The beast roars and she lets fly another fireball, missing again. But not before the golem treats all in the room to a good view of the shining sigil on the roof of its crude mouth. "Get rid of that and it goes back to being dirt."
Killian scans the room, looking for an advantage as he races to David's side. The basic plan seems to consist of trying to get the golem to open its mouth and hoping an arrow or a fireball lands inside. The golem swipes at Killian, nearly knocking him down.
"We need to get up to its level," Killian shouts
"There." David points at a shelf of rock. "That could work."
"Distract him." Killian dodges under an arm and sprints for the wall of the cave.
Behind him, he hears the hiss of fire against stone, the chink of another arrow missing its mark. The shelf is high enough to bring him to eye level with the golem, but not so high that climbing will be an issue. He's thankful for that as the stone doesn't look particularly suited for climbing with hook.
He drops his sword, seizing the shelf with his good hand, using his feet to gain the leverage he needs to get his other arm onto the ledge. One of his buttons pops off as he hauls himself up. He grimaces at the sight of the now scratched leather.
Then he shrugs. He knows a lass that can fix it good as new with a wave of her hand.
"Oi," he shouts, waving his arms at the monster. "Over here you big git." Picking up a loose stone, he hurls it at the golem's head.
He hits his mark with a dull thunk and he writes that one down as something to tell Henry when this is all over. His lad would get a kick out of it.
The golem's head rotates in place on its shoulders.
"That's right," Killian says, "and I've got another where that one came from. What are you gonna do about it?"
He knows he looks the maniac, what with the broad grin he sports.
"Hook..." David draws out.
The golem twitches back toward the three of them, so Killian chucks another stone at it. That gets its attention. The beast lumbers around, its steps sending dust tumbling down from the ceiling.
The golem is big. The golem is powerful. But the golem is not particularly agile.
It tries swing one rocky fist down on Killian, only by the time the fist lands, he stands three feet to the right and its arm is trapped in a crevice. He jumps, using the creature's arm as a gangway to its shoulder.
It turns its head, blasting him with noise and foul air as Killian plunges his hook into the creature's mouth, twisting until it hits the glowing sigil.
The monster's head crumbles around his hook. As does the rest of the creature, forcing him to jump or land on his ass. He rolls with the momentum, sloppily, his roll ending with him staring up at the ceiling.
He can't help it. He laughs.
And then David looms over him, offering his hand.
The prince eyes him suspiciously. "Are you alright?"
"Better than you know, mate," he says, accepting the help up.
David blinks. "I take it you found something useful then?"
Killian's grin widens. "Not something. Someone." He tries to elaborate, but Snow cuts him off.
"Which way?" she demands, scooping up her flashlight. "Where is she?"
Regina and David share a glance, confusion etched in nearly identical expressions.
Snow huffs. "There is only one person I know that has ever made him smile like that. Now which way, Killian?"
He doesn't need asking a third time.
A strangled, "What?" escapes David's lips as Killian passes him, followed by the sound of boots on the stone floor.
He explains quickly, describing the room and the barrier in as much detail as he can. The lights bounce off the walls as Snow and David keep pace with him, fingers intertwined.
"I'm hate to be the one to ask," Regina breaks in, "but are you sure it's her?"
"Absolutely."
"But...how?"
"I just...knew," he says. "I saw her and I knew."
The soft glow of Emma's prison appears in front of them and they lower the lights again, slowing their footsteps. Just as with last time, the study like area stands empty. He nods.
Snow rushes past. "Emma?"
"Mom?"
Besides him, David lets out a long breath, leaning against the wall briefly before entering.
"No, Mom, you'll be--"
"I don't care."
Killian enters on David's heels, just in time to see Snow embrace her daughter, heedless of the invisible wall now imprisoning her. Emma buries her face in her mother's shoulder, her fingers clutching at Snow's thick winter coat. David does not join them. Sword in hand, he turns to the door.
"Regina, can you get them out of there?" he asks.
"I'll see what I can do." Regina examines the floor. "Emma, where is the barrier?"
Emma disentangles herself from her mother's embrace to toe at the wall. "Here."
Regina presses her lips together, considering. Her hands glow a soft as she holds them up to thin air. There is a pulse of power and suddenly, the empty air in front of them is awash with a curtain of shimmering red light. It curves around Emma's area, reaching all the way to the ceiling.
"See?"
"Have you tried your magic?" Regina asks.
"I haven't." She holds up her arm, pushing back the sleeve to reveal a thick, jeweled bracelet. "When I woke up, I was wearing this."
Snow immediately reaches for the cuff, but it sparks and Emma winces.
"You need magic," she says through gritted teeth.
Snow makes an apologetic noise, reaching for her daughter’s hand.
"Well, let me get you out of there and I'll see what I can do about it," Regina says, brow furrowed as she examined the slowly fading light. "This is definitely rune magic. Powerful stuff..."
"Aye, we're aware," Killian says. "Seeing as it's kept the bloody savior locked up for nearly four months."
"Hey," Regina snaps. "I'm on your side, I just...need a moment."
"We're not exactly on friendly turf," David says. “We might not have a moment.”
"Would you rather I blast the five of us to smithereens?" Regina kneels, tracing her finger along the line. Carefully, she rubs the dust between her fingers, considering. "Okay, I don't think I have enough juice to blast through this."
"Then..." Snow starts.
Regina holds her hand up. "But, I might be able to redirect  it, create a hole of sorts."
"Okay," Emma says. "Mom you go first."
"No, I'm not leaving you."
"He needs me for some reason, he doesn't need you. Besides..." Her eyes lock with Killian's. "I'll be right behind you."
Regina swallows, planting her feet and taking a deep breath. Killian takes up position on her other side, glancing toward David at the door. With no sign from the other man that dangers approaches, he nods to Regina.
Her hands start to glow, brighter this time, and the red light returns. This time with a circle of clear air cut out of it, no bigger than a diner plate. Regina spreads her hands apart, widening the circle.
"Mom, go," Emma says.
"Come on, love," Killian offers his hand to Snow.
The princess takes it, clambering out as quickly as she can.
"You okay?" Emma asks, her eyes shooting to Regina.
"Just get out of there," she grits out.
Killian doesn't wait, he reaches inside, wrapping an arm around Emma's waist. She goes with his cue, leaning out, arms circling his shoulders as he half drags her through the hole until she is far enough out for him to lift her the rest of the way. She doesn't let go when he sets her on her feet. Rather, she tightens her grip, her cheek pressed just beneath his jaw.
She is a miracle, he decides as he buries his fingers in her hair and pulls her closer, grateful to just feel her ribs expand and contract as she breathes. No matter what his heart told him, he thought her gone. He listened to logic and logic told him he would never see her again.
That makes three times he's been wrong.
He hopes they don't have to test it a fourth time.
"Not that I'm trying to interrupt anything that may or may not be happening back there," David calls out, an edge in his voice. "But unfriendly territory."
"He's right," Regina says, a bit breathily. She looks paler than a moment ago, but she straightens back up and holds her hand out. "Let's see what we can do about that cuff."
Emma proffers one arm, while keeping the other tight around Killian, her fingers doing that bloody distracting thing in his hair.
The cuff falls easily enough and Regina pockets it. "Let's go." She smiles tightly. "I know someone who misses you very much."
"Yeah," Emma says. "Let's go home."
"Hold on, love," Killian says, spying the jacket sitting on the arm of the couch. He snatches it up and hands it to Emma. "It's a bit nippy out there."
She giggles at that, tugging him toward the door and her father.
David relaxes his guard as they approach.
"Hold on." Regina holds up a hand. "Before we do anymore happy reunions, let's get out of this cavern."
Purple smoke envelops them and the familiar sensation of being spread out and coming back together washes over Killian. The only thing he really knows on the journey is that Emma's hand never leaves his, though he's not quite sure how that works. They're in Regina's office at city hall, the window throwing long shadows across the floor.
David gets his bearings first—or it's his sheer bullheadness coming through—for he moves before any of them, wrapping his arms around Emma. It's unclear who holds up whom as the big man lets out a gasping sob.
"I'm so sorry," he rasps.
"It's okay," Emma says. "It's okay." She opens her arms for her mother and the three of them stand for a long moment, holding each other. "Now," Emma says, pulling away and wiping at her eyes, "it's time for me to go find my kid. Regina—"
"He's probably at your place," the mayor says. "But maybe I should warn him first."
Killian steps forward. "Let me. Please."
Regina nods.
For the second time that day, he closes his eyes in one location and opens them in another. He staggers for a moment, hand closing around the picket fence as he struggles to keep his balance and glad that Emma prefers to walk places.
Grinning, Killian pushes through the gate, taking the front steps two at a time. His key slides into the lock, but the door rips open before he gets the chance to turn it.
"Where have you been?" Henry demands.
“Listen, Henry,” Killian says, heedless of the boy’s tone, “we found Jafar’s lair and...”
“We who?”
“Your grandparents and Regina, but—”
“All of you?” Henry asks. He shoves at Killian’s shoulder. “You went after the guy who killed my mom and you didn’t even bother to tell me? What if something had happened? What if—What if—" He clutches at Killian's jacket. "I've been here for two hours and I didn't know anything!"
"Hey, hey, hey," Killian squeezes the boy's shoulder, ducking to meet his eyes. "No one was hurt, lad. But something did happen..." He grins.
Henry glares at him, but there are tears in his eyes. "Did you find a way to defeat Jafar?"
"No, we found something better." He takes a deep breath. This is the sort of news you're supposed to tell someone to sit for, but he has no doubt that Emma is hot on his heels. "He didn't kill her."
Henry snorts. "Of course not, it was the sword and the fire that killed her."
Killian grasps his arm, ducking down to the lad’s level. "No, Henry, she's alive."
Henry regards Killian as though he grew a third eye, breathing in short pants. He shakes his head. "No, I would know, I would...she's my mom, I would feel it. I would—" He hiccupped. "I always felt like she was right there. I always—"
"Hey, I know, I know." He wraps his arms around the boy. "I felt it too, I just didn't understand."
The stairs creak behind him, but the sixth sense that kept him alive for nigh on tree centuries in Neverland stays quiet, so he knows who it is. A hand squeezes his arm and Emma walks into view.
"Hey, kid," she murmurs.
Henry lifts his head, tears streaking his face. He blinks, catching at the hand that moves to caress his cheek. "It's really you?"
"Yeah, I'm right here."
The lad throws himself at his mother, delivering a bone-crushing hug. Emma holds onto him, whispering comforting words, rubbing slow circles in the middle of his back. Killian steals her hand for a moment, pressing a kiss to the back before heading inside and turning on the electric kettle.
Full dark falls before Emma and Henry come inside.
The others follow soon after and Emma explains what she knows. She picked up bits and snippets of Jafar's plan while his prisoner—the man apparently had a penchant for monologuing—but he never strayed close to his true purpose in Storybrooke.
"Whatever he wants, I think it's connected with what happened in Agrabah," she says finally before taking a sip of her cocoa.
Since she got there, Snow has put many a barkeep to shame in keeping her daughter supplied with hot chocolate. No sooner does Emma finish one cup than a new mug appears at her elbow, though Snow’s used nearly all of them by now.
David crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. "I'll talk to Aladdin and Jasmine and see if any of what you've told us triggers something."
"And to think," Snow says, stilling behind her husband for a brief moment, "Jafar has been lying all this time."
Killian and Regina snort in unison.
"Well," Killian says, ignoring the shared moment, "he is a villain. I have it on good authority that they're all liars."
Regina rolls her eyes.
Killian shoots her a look.
"Look, we can take care of that in the morning," she replies. "I think we all deserve a good night's rest after all this." She raises an eyebrow, meeting first Emma's eyes and then flicking her gaze to Henry, so quickly the lad probably missed it.
Emma sits forward, her hand covering her son's. "And some of us have school in the morning."
"Seriously, Mom?"
"Seriously, Henry."
"Now, Swan--"
"Actually, Emma--"
Killian and Regina both cut off, gesturing for the other to speak first. Emma stares at both of them, before her gaze settles on Regina.
"You're okay with that...I mean, I know you," she turns to Killian, "have no problem with playing hooky, but..."
"I think even the strictest teachers can make an exception," Regina says.
"Ha," Henry says, pumping his fist in the air. "Two out of three parents agree, you're outvoted."
Emma gapes at the two of them. "I--I--" She glares at Killian.
He smiles.
"Well, glad that's settled." Regina stands, brushing out the wrinkles in her slacks. "Now, some of us have to get to work in the morning. Namely, those of us whose mother has not just returned from the dead.” She graces the room with a tight smile. “A fact I'm sure we're all grateful for, in my mother's case." She tightens the knot on her coat and breezes out the door.
Emma watches her go, a thoughtful expression on her face.
At Snow's prompting, David stands as well, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of Emma's head before walking arm and arm out the door with his wife.
Emma squeezes Henry's hand once more. "I'm beat, kid, you mind me calling it a night?"
"Pancakes in the morning?" Henry asks.
"Sure."
He still bears the shadow of his scars in his eyes, even as he hugs his newly returned mother, but the light and joy have truly returned to the lad's features. He was always going to be alright, but now, with time, he would be as he was. He bounds up the stairs with the unconquerable enthusiasm of youth.
Killian and Emma follow at a more sedate pace, entwined hands hanging between them. With a coy smile, she bumps his shoulder.
"So you're a parent now."
He lifts his hand, without letting go of hers, to scratch the spot behind his ear as he thinks.
"Hey," Emma says, squeezing gently. "It's where we've always been headed."
"Aye, well..." He feels the heat creep into his cheeks. "That's the first time he's said any such thing."
Emma laughs softly. "In that case, I'm surprised Regina didn't set anything on fire."
He sighs. "I have something to show you."
The tug is redundant, she would have followed him anyways, but the gentle request that she follow feels right. As he closes the door behind him, she slips up and places her arms round his waist. If she notices the two pillows on his side of the bed, she makes no comment as she follows him to his nightstand.
The papers from Regina and her parents are in the top drawer, buried under a layer of other odds and ends. He fishes them out, the paper crinkling as he hands them to her. She looks up at him with both eyebrows raised as she opens the envelope and peeks inside. Mattress springs groan beneath her as she sits. All the certificates and IDs  slide from the envelope and she picks them up one by one, eyes growing rounder with each piece of paper.
“As you can see,” Killian says to fill the silence, “this isn’t exactly the first time Regina and I have discussed it.”
“What is all this?” Emma speaks low, her voice slightly hoarse as she takes in the piece of paper trembling in her hand.
“A contingency plan,” Killian says. “I was deemed most likely to cut and run, so
”
“That is so not what this is about.” She sniffles, wiping her nose on a sleeve. “This was Regina’s idea?”
He nods solemnly.
“We should hold onto these,” she says, carefully tucking the birth certificate back in the envelope. “This is Storybrooke after all. You never know, we might need them.” She swipes at her nose again, before turning back to him with a smile. “Anything else exciting happen while I was gone?”
“Your father taught me to drive.”
“Oh? And how did the mailboxes fair?”
“Better than when he taught your son how to drive.”
She laughs and until the day he dies, he is certain that he will never find any magic more powerful than the sound of her voice. Or the force of her smile. Or the press of her lips on his. He leans into the fingers caressing his jaw, breaking the kiss to press his lips to her palm. Her thumb strokes his cheek once and she turns away and puts the rest of the documents in the envelope one by one. He hopes she’s not asking for space, because he’s not sure that’s something he can give her right now—he will have to give it to her eventually for some reason or another, this is Emma after all, but in this moment he thinks he’d rather die again than ever be separated from her.
Long moments of silence stretch on after she slips the last ID card into the envelope and refastens it.
“You alright, love?” he asks.
She nods. “I spent so much time, worrying about everyone, about Henry, about you.” She reaches up, tangling their fingers together, smiling when he squeezes back. “But you guys were okay. Or you were going to be,” she adds when he starts to protest. “I’m just glad you were going to be okay.” Her voice skips on the last word.
Gently letting of her hand, he plucks the envelope from her grasp and slides it back into the nightstand. “Why don’t I get the shower started for you, I know you told Henry you were tired, but—”
“Yeah, I lied. Though a shower does sound nice. Or maybe a bath, with plenty of bubble bath.” She grins wickedly and there is no mistaking her thoughts or the thrill it sends down his spine.
He hesitates though. “Are you certain?”
“Killian,” she says, the tone of her voice divesting him of his resolve as easily as her hands remove his jacket, “I have spent months with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs and sleep. It’s going to be at least as long before I even know what tired means.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Hmmm, I think I remember something about you liking those.” She stretches onto her tiptoes, nose brushing against his, taking a deep slow breath before meeting his lips.
“Actually,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against hers once and then twice before he continues, “I believe my exact words were ‘I love a challenge’.”
“Good thing too.”
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ourversailles · 8 years ago
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himukuro; your name
tatsuya
mirror
It’s with annoyance that he regards his reflection, already far more mindful of his appearance than he would be on any other day. Who wouldn’t be, after reading a message like that?
‘I don’t think your hair is very practical for basketball.’
Kuroko wouldn’t cut it, would he? He’s not the type. He wouldn’t dare.
Either way, he leaves a hair clip on his desk, in plain sight, for the next time. Just in case.
juxtaposition
He’s been a city boy all his life, but he admits there’s a novelty in all the fresh greenery, the uninterrupted sky. Out here, there aren’t enough lights to overshadow the constellations, not enough noise vying for attention among his thoughts.
He can be alone, in a way he can’t be as himself: just him with an often empty court, him with the sound of rubber on cement, him with the crickets and the stars and no other people around to put him on a pedestal.
pride
"You sure are fired up right now, Tetsu," says Aomine, and Himuro pauses, noticeably, before he responds. It's partly to think of the right way he should—apparently, it takes far more than that to warrant one of Kuroko's smiles, nor is he the type to take offense—and partly because long pauses, apparently, are part of Kuroko's character anyway.
"I'm no different from yesterday," says Himuro, passing the ball back. Carefully, he adds, "Aomine-kun."
Aomine catches it and grins, seemingly satisfied with the exchange. The truth is something Himuro keeps to himself: he can't bear to play without giving it his all, and he's lucky enough to switch bodies with someone who feels the same.
wire
The tension between him and Taiga had been taut for a few years now, every conversation and interaction akin to walking a tightrope, which is why it's jarring when Taiga calls out, "Tatsuya!" so freely one day, without the pain and restraint that used to be so audible in his tone.
He leaves a note for Kuroko as soon as he's able ("What did you do!?") and receives an admonition in turn ("Talk to him, Himuro-san. Don't undo my hard work.")
vanilla
If you ever put another drop of milkshake into my body, he’s tempted to write under Kuroko’s baby blues, it might just keel over and die.
tetsuya
bathtub
It's not within his nature to blush at any sort of provocation, but he thinks this moment should be an exception. He's wet, undressed, and though it's nothing he hasn't already seen, his cheeks still warm when he dares to glance down.
match
As if having to play in official game isn’t enough, Himuro is also the team’s shooting guard, apparently lauded for his exceptional shots. The anxiety is nearly enough to desecrate Himuro’s cool, collected image by redecorating the floor with his lunch, but another emotion joins it when they enter the stadium.
The lights, the crowd, the court bigger than any he’d ever stepped on—the urge to throw up hasn’t left but now there’s also a buzzing in his veins, a racing to his pulse.
He’s excited.
More than that, he’s excited to win.
sunflower
There’s a few flowers in a vase on his desk, freshly-picked, when he next returns to himself. The question is becoming sort of a trend with them, but still he has to ask: ‘What did you do?’
‘You’re a lucky guy, Kuroko-kun. I’ve never received a bouquet during a confession before,’ is not his first clue that this Himuro guy is something of a charmer, but it does reinforce his other impression that Himuro, in essence, is kind of insufferable.
envy
He had left the entry in Himuro's phone on a whim, somewhat nostalgic for somewhere he's never even been to until a few months ago: 'I can't help but compare. Your life seems so much more vibrant than mine.'
He doesn't expect such an honest reply.
'I've spent so much of it wanting to be someone else, I never realized someone else would want to be in my place.'
smoke
Just seeing the cigarettes irritates him, an emotion both rational and irrational. Rational, because Himuro is an athlete, and should know better.
Irrational, because Himuro’s putting his health at risk, which has nothing to do with sports and everything to do with how Kuroko, against his own volition, feels his own chest tighten at the thought of Himuro ever finding it hard to breathe.
together
sunshower
The last thought he ever has, with his face tilted to the sky, is that it's beautiful right now; so beautiful, as if the star is descending just to learn his name, that he forgets to be afraid.
windowsill
The second to the last thought he ever has has to do with his second to the last day: the boy in the cafe window certainly has the face he’d been wearing, but if it really was Himuro, then why doesn’t he recognize the face he’d been wearing too?
Was Himuro pretending not to?
No, he thinks immediately. Himuro can be cruel, as Kuroko’s come to learn, but he wouldn’t be cruel in that way.
It was foolish hope that prompted that day trip to Tokyo, but Kuroko regrets neither his folly nor his hopefulness—only that the meeting didn’t go as he’d painted in his mind.
After all, it’s not as if he can ever meet Himuro again.
voice
“Kuroko-kun!” seems to be falling on deaf ears, even if Himuro feels him nearby, just barely out of his reach. Desperate, he tries, “Tetsuya!”
“Himuro-san,” comes from behind him, familiar but different at the same time—so that’s the monotone he’d been trying to replicate. “I don’t recall giving you permission to call me that.”
Himuro turns around, and smiles through his tears.
You’re alive, he wants to say.
I’ve been looking for you, he wants to say.
But, “then call me Tatsuya, so we’re even,” is what comes out instead.
strawberry
They said it’s an event that only happens once every two thousand years. They said Tiamat would streak across the clouds for a few days as it falls into step with Earth’s orbit. They said to watch as the sky is lit up something beautiful.
They never said it would split apart, or bleed red; they never said it would bring death and destruction with it.
The second part, the news will report later. Right now, Himuro tilts his face up to the sight and they were right: it is beautiful.
But they never said he would feel so afraid.
key
There’s nothing to suggest that their plan to evacuate wouldn’t fail and everything to suggest that it would; as highly as he thinks of Aomine and Momoi it soon becomes evident that not even their help would be enough.
There’s nothing about him that doesn’t burn when he cries—his eyes, his skin, his heart—forehead pressed to a nearby post as he tries to catch his breath between sobs and hiccups.
There’s something on his palm and vaguely, he’s aware of its importance. It was put there by the person who wanted to save him, the name of someone he doesn’t want to forget. He opens it to unlock the memory and smiles through his tears; ‘I love you’ is scribbled in messy penmanship, as if by someone who isn’t used to writing in kanji, in place of something to help him remember.
But there’s nothing else he needs to keep running again.
apart
nicotine
Smoking is an ugly habit he can't seem to break, ever since he picked it up. It had been after the comet had landed, after the second chance they'd been given, after the smudged writing on his hand he couldn't make out.
The taste is awful and the heat in his lungs makes his eyes water, but he keeps a pack in his pockets, lights up on nights he feels especially alone. It's comforting in a way he can't explain.
Somehow, the smell reminds him of home.
razorburn
He doesn't know why looking at pictures of an old, vanished town feels so much like cutting too close to skin, just a hair's width away from drawing blood. The logical solution would be to wipe it from his mind like it had been wiped from the map, but it's that logic that he banishes instead.
If no one else will remember them, then he will; he'll remember them no matter how raw his insides get, no matter how it's as if his chest has been carved open and its contents scraped out.
asphalt
It’s a little past noon and the ground is as hot as he feels, his shirt plastered to his spine with sweat, so he sees it fit to treat himself to an iced coffee. He bypasses the vanilla milkshake on the menu—he can’t stomach the stuff anymore, despite having no aversion to it before—and orders his usual drink. He sits at his usual window table and goes about his usual routine.
Nothing about today is unusual up until the moment he lifts his eyes and they lock with a pair outside the cafe, blue as a summer sky but not quite as clear. They’re clouded over with an emotion Himuro can’t place, but. He wants to.
He want to know the person they belong to.
stain
The man in the cafe is familiar in a way Kuroko can’t place, and he seems to feel the same way Kuroko does; he, too, seems to stop breathing when their stares meet.
The man in the cafe nearly abandons his phone as he stands, and completely abandons his drink as he heads for the exit, his eyes never leaving Kuroko’s as Kuroko half-runs to the entrance himself.
The man in the cafe wears a face that feels like it had been tattooed to his heart; the skin above had scabbed over and scarred, but the ink remained underneath.
streetlight
He’s made it outside the cafe, with Sky Blue across from him, and suddenly the whole endeavor seems incredibly stupid. What’s he even supposed to say?
They’re only strangers.
Sky Blue’s eyes falter as Himuro exhales, and prepares to walk past.
They’re only strangers.
He doesn’t quite have in him to inhale until he turns on his heel, suddenly afraid at the thought of simply watching that back walk away.
They’re only strangers, and yet

“Hey, don’t I know you?”
Sky Blue’s already looking at him again, eyes softer than he’d ever seen them. “Yes, I think so too.”
Himuro would be content if the two of them were to stand there together until the streetlights come on, gazing at each other as the earth turns, but the day is young, the years have been long, and they have each other’s names to learn.
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timdjohnson131-blog · 6 years ago
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Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition
Hey friend, want to have a heart to heart?
The most important part of Vintage Revivals, surprisingly isnt the Merc, or my post on how to paint furniture. It's my Real Life Story. It's been a while since I've updated it and while I wasn't initially intending this post to be part of it, I feel like it needs to be. Cause struggling and being human is way easier when someone else says “Hey girl, me too.”
I dont know what your last year has been like, but if I had a word for 2018 it would be STRESS. Like that, in all caps, screaming in your face. Over the last few years I've felt it compounding, but this last year it was overwhelming. I found myself paralyzed in anxiety, brimming with anger, and disconnected, jealous, and negative. (Which is very unlike my rose colored glasses way of living.) I had a few irrational outbursts, I had stress induced psoriasis patches all over my body, I very intensely thought about driving my car into a wall one night.
The crazy and most frustrating part is that I tried everything that I could think of to find relief. Hormone therapy, actual therapy, change in diet, sticking to a schedule, meditation, exercise, podcasts, books, if it was suggested to me I tried it. And nothing made it better. Every time I cut my hair my sisters were worried I was going to buzz it Britney circa 2007 style.
Have you ever been in a place like this? Where you've pulled your boot straps up so high that you're wearing them like suspenders and yet, you are still there, in the garbage? GAH! It is the worst feeling like you're letting everything and everyone around you down. Man, if you have my heart goes out to you. Maybe we should start a suspenders club?
For me, I've learned, is that it wasnt about the circumstances that were going on (maybe we'll talk about those soon). What really was happening is that sometime along the way I shifted my spirituality into neutral. Spoiler alert! It seems to be when you put something in neutral, it eventually coasts to a stop and that is what happened. I had stalled out.
For those that don't know, I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My faith is what has rescued me from the seemingly unreachable darkness. Understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the power that it has to bring grace and purpose to my life changed everything. After experiencing all of the miracles that we have over the years, you would think that I would be set on the right path and have all of the energy in the world to endure whatever ups and downs life throws at me, but man it just is not that way.  I was still going to church, Court and I are still missionaries for the 12 Step Program, and still doing the “things” but trying to restart some spiritual momentum out of sheer self loathing is just not the way that it works.
In October I went to a hypnotherapy session that changed everything. It was probably the most sacred and spiritual experience that I've ever had. I can't share all of it, but during the session, I had this huge weight of darkness descend on me. As I focused on it I could feel it, like a thick black mist, intertwining itself around every part of my body. My therapist had me project the feeling outside of my body and asked me what shape it took on. It was like I was staring at a mirror image of myself, but instead of skin and clothing it was a faceless shadow of tumbling black smoke staring back at me.
As I faced it, those familiar feelings of dread, stress, hatred, anger, jealousy, self-will, pride, resentments, and sadness intensified and the smoke grew larger and larger until it was no longer the shape of me, but just a huge swirling black mass of despair. My therapist had me directly ask why it was there, and with a laugh and an energy that I recognized as Satan it replied “because you allow me to be”.
That son of a #&*%$
Slowly, almost undetectably I had let all of these garbage thoughts and feelings take seed in my life and they grew  and grew and grew until I found myself in this horrible place. Never has the term enemy of my soul meant more to me.
I dont know if you know this, but when I started my blog I had never DIYed a thing in my life. I had very little confidence in anything, especially myself, and what little I did have was sucked into the dark hole of Court's addiction. I was an absolute shell of a person. When I stumbled one day upon the world of DIY blogs, it changed everything! These wonderful, relatable, awesome women shared their knowledge with me and made me feel like I could do something scary. It unlocked a talent that had been completely undiscovered and quite literally altered the course of my life.
A few months into the blog I knew that I needed to share our struggle with addiction. At that point Court had only been sober for a few months, but he was so different than any other time he had been clean, that I didn't hesitate to believe that this time really was different. From the moment of being willing to be vulnerable things changed for me. I learned who I was, and how God speaks to me. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the reason that I had this gift was to bring people to the blog so that I could share with them hope, and confidence, and happiness. Maybe in a thrifted dresser, maybe in a relationship, maybe in God. But always that change is real and everything can be made better. That purpose unlocked my heart.
But over the years, that perspective shifted. If you ask me point blank, that is still the answer you'll get, but in my heart it changed. It became about me, not about you. I dont know if the content really changed all that much, but the energy and reason behind it did. I would be interested to know for those long time readers, if you'd noticed.
So for the last little while, I've focused on finding my Savior and my peace and my perspective again. It has become my number one priority. It never ceases to amaze me that He is always there. ALWAYS! Even when I turn away from him, even when I struggle and try to do things on my own and make a mess out of the path that he set my life on, he is still there! Through this journey I've dedicated more time to going to the temple and reading the Book of Mormon. I've cut out everything in my life that doesn't fill me with hope and happiness (I'm looking at you Netflix) and my heart has been changed.
One of my favorite quotes by President Benson says “When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives. Our love of the Lord will govern the claims for our affection, the demands on our time, the interests we pursue, and the order of our priorities.” It's quite miraculous how that happens. I feel like I know what my Heavenly Father wants from me and as I am willing to trust him and move forward in faith that he will work the miracle for me to become whatever he intends.
And as for the enemy of my soul, whenever I am feeling frustrated or defeated I read from the Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 4:18-35
18 I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
19 And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.
20 My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.
26 O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?
27 And why should I yield to sin, because of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul? Why am I angry because of mine enemy?
28 Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.
30 Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.
So what does all of this mean!? Hahaha man I have no idea. But I do know that Vintage Revivals always going to be about projects and paint and trips to Home Depot. But if I'm creating that content with love, awareness, and perspective-I believe that it can create a deeper connection and that is what the whole point behind all of this is. To know that none of us are alone in our bad bathroom tile, or in our imperfect lives.
If you've made it this far you get 10 Vintage Revivals points and a huge heartfelt thank youuuuu! Thank you for letting me share about where I've been cause man, what a lonely and crappy place that is. And thank you for letting me figure this whole thing out. You are wonderful!!
If you would like to learn more about the LDS 12 Step Addiction Recovery meetings, you can get more info for meetings in your area here.
If you're interested in receiving a free copy of the Book of Mormon, I would love to send you one! Shoot me an email at [email protected]!
Love your guts guys!!
    The post Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition appeared first on Vintage Revivals.
0 notes
karenpbrown12-blog · 6 years ago
Text
Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition
Hey friend, want to have a heart to heart?
The most important part of Vintage Revivals, surprisingly isnt the Merc, or my post on how to paint furniture. It's my Real Life Story. It's been a while since I've updated it and while I wasn't initially intending this post to be part of it, I feel like it needs to be. Cause struggling and being human is way easier when someone else says “Hey girl, me too.”
I dont know what your last year has been like, but if I had a word for 2018 it would be STRESS. Like that, in all caps, screaming in your face. Over the last few years I've felt it compounding, but this last year it was overwhelming. I found myself paralyzed in anxiety, brimming with anger, and disconnected, jealous, and negative. (Which is very unlike my rose colored glasses way of living.) I had a few irrational outbursts, I had stress induced psoriasis patches all over my body, I very intensely thought about driving my car into a wall one night.
The crazy and most frustrating part is that I tried everything that I could think of to find relief. Hormone therapy, actual therapy, change in diet, sticking to a schedule, meditation, exercise, podcasts, books, if it was suggested to me I tried it. And nothing made it better. Every time I cut my hair my sisters were worried I was going to buzz it Britney circa 2007 style.
Have you ever been in a place like this? Where you've pulled your boot straps up so high that you're wearing them like suspenders and yet, you are still there, in the garbage? GAH! It is the worst feeling like you're letting everything and everyone around you down. Man, if you have my heart goes out to you. Maybe we should start a suspenders club?
For me, I've learned, is that it wasnt about the circumstances that were going on (maybe we'll talk about those soon). What really was happening is that sometime along the way I shifted my spirituality into neutral. Spoiler alert! It seems to be when you put something in neutral, it eventually coasts to a stop and that is what happened. I had stalled out.
For those that don't know, I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My faith is what has rescued me from the seemingly unreachable darkness. Understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the power that it has to bring grace and purpose to my life changed everything. After experiencing all of the miracles that we have over the years, you would think that I would be set on the right path and have all of the energy in the world to endure whatever ups and downs life throws at me, but man it just is not that way.  I was still going to church, Court and I are still missionaries for the 12 Step Program, and still doing the “things” but trying to restart some spiritual momentum out of sheer self loathing is just not the way that it works.
In October I went to a hypnotherapy session that changed everything. It was probably the most sacred and spiritual experience that I've ever had. I can't share all of it, but during the session, I had this huge weight of darkness descend on me. As I focused on it I could feel it, like a thick black mist, intertwining itself around every part of my body. My therapist had me project the feeling outside of my body and asked me what shape it took on. It was like I was staring at a mirror image of myself, but instead of skin and clothing it was a faceless shadow of tumbling black smoke staring back at me.
As I faced it, those familiar feelings of dread, stress, hatred, anger, jealousy, self-will, pride, resentments, and sadness intensified and the smoke grew larger and larger until it was no longer the shape of me, but just a huge swirling black mass of despair. My therapist had me directly ask why it was there, and with a laugh and an energy that I recognized as Satan it replied “because you allow me to be”.
That son of a #&*%$
Slowly, almost undetectably I had let all of these garbage thoughts and feelings take seed in my life and they grew  and grew and grew until I found myself in this horrible place. Never has the term enemy of my soul meant more to me.
I dont know if you know this, but when I started my blog I had never DIYed a thing in my life. I had very little confidence in anything, especially myself, and what little I did have was sucked into the dark hole of Court's addiction. I was an absolute shell of a person. When I stumbled one day upon the world of DIY blogs, it changed everything! These wonderful, relatable, awesome women shared their knowledge with me and made me feel like I could do something scary. It unlocked a talent that had been completely undiscovered and quite literally altered the course of my life.
A few months into the blog I knew that I needed to share our struggle with addiction. At that point Court had only been sober for a few months, but he was so different than any other time he had been clean, that I didn't hesitate to believe that this time really was different. From the moment of being willing to be vulnerable things changed for me. I learned who I was, and how God speaks to me. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the reason that I had this gift was to bring people to the blog so that I could share with them hope, and confidence, and happiness. Maybe in a thrifted dresser, maybe in a relationship, maybe in God. But always that change is real and everything can be made better. That purpose unlocked my heart.
But over the years, that perspective shifted. If you ask me point blank, that is still the answer you'll get, but in my heart it changed. It became about me, not about you. I dont know if the content really changed all that much, but the energy and reason behind it did. I would be interested to know for those long time readers, if you'd noticed.
So for the last little while, I've focused on finding my Savior and my peace and my perspective again. It has become my number one priority. It never ceases to amaze me that He is always there. ALWAYS! Even when I turn away from him, even when I struggle and try to do things on my own and make a mess out of the path that he set my life on, he is still there! Through this journey I've dedicated more time to going to the temple and reading the Book of Mormon. I've cut out everything in my life that doesn't fill me with hope and happiness (I'm looking at you Netflix) and my heart has been changed.
One of my favorite quotes by President Benson says “When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives. Our love of the Lord will govern the claims for our affection, the demands on our time, the interests we pursue, and the order of our priorities.” It's quite miraculous how that happens. I feel like I know what my Heavenly Father wants from me and as I am willing to trust him and move forward in faith that he will work the miracle for me to become whatever he intends.
And as for the enemy of my soul, whenever I am feeling frustrated or defeated I read from the Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 4:18-35
18 I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
19 And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.
20 My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.
26 O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?
27 And why should I yield to sin, because of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul? Why am I angry because of mine enemy?
28 Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.
30 Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.
So what does all of this mean!? Hahaha man I have no idea. But I do know that Vintage Revivals always going to be about projects and paint and trips to Home Depot. But if I'm creating that content with love, awareness, and perspective-I believe that it can create a deeper connection and that is what the whole point behind all of this is. To know that none of us are alone in our bad bathroom tile, or in our imperfect lives.
If you've made it this far you get 10 Vintage Revivals points and a huge heartfelt thank youuuuu! Thank you for letting me share about where I've been cause man, what a lonely and crappy place that is. And thank you for letting me figure this whole thing out. You are wonderful!!
If you would like to learn more about the LDS 12 Step Addiction Recovery meetings, you can get more info for meetings in your area here.
If you're interested in receiving a free copy of the Book of Mormon, I would love to send you one! Shoot me an email at [email protected]!
Love your guts guys!!
    The post Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition appeared first on Vintage Revivals.
0 notes
lowmaticnews · 6 years ago
Text
Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition
Hey friend, want to have a heart to heart?
The most important part of Vintage Revivals, surprisingly isnt the Merc, or my post on how to paint furniture. It’s my Real Life Story. It’s been a while since I’ve updated it and while I wasn’t initially intending this post to be part of it, I feel like it needs to be. Cause struggling and being human is way easier when someone else says “Hey girl, me too.”
I dont know what your last year has been like, but if I had a word for 2018 it would be STRESS. Like that, in all caps, screaming in your face. Over the last few years I’ve felt it compounding, but this last year it was overwhelming. I found myself paralyzed in anxiety, brimming with anger, and disconnected, jealous, and negative. (Which is very unlike my rose colored glasses way of living.) I had a few irrational outbursts, I had stress induced psoriasis patches all over my body, I very intensely thought about driving my car into a wall one night.
The crazy and most frustrating part is that I tried everything that I could think of to find relief. Hormone therapy, actual therapy, change in diet, sticking to a schedule, meditation, exercise, podcasts, books, if it was suggested to me I tried it. And nothing made it better. Every time I cut my hair my sisters were worried I was going to buzz it Britney circa 2007 style.
Have you ever been in a place like this? Where you’ve pulled your boot straps up so high that you’re wearing them like suspenders and yet, you are still there, in the garbage? GAH! It is the worst feeling like you’re letting everything and everyone around you down. Man, if you have my heart goes out to you. Maybe we should start a suspenders club?
For me, I’ve learned, is that it wasnt about the circumstances that were going on (maybe we’ll talk about those soon). What really was happening is that sometime along the way I shifted my spirituality into neutral. Spoiler alert! It seems to be when you put something in neutral, it eventually coasts to a stop and that is what happened. I had stalled out.
For those that don’t know, I’m a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My faith is what has rescued me from the seemingly unreachable darkness. Understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the power that it has to bring grace and purpose to my life changed everything. After experiencing all of the miracles that we have over the years, you would think that I would be set on the right path and have all of the energy in the world to endure whatever ups and downs life throws at me, but man it just is not that way.  I was still going to church, Court and I are still missionaries for the 12 Step Program, and still doing the “things” but trying to restart some spiritual momentum out of sheer self loathing is just not the way that it works.
In October I went to a hypnotherapy session that changed everything. It was probably the most sacred and spiritual experience that I’ve ever had. I can’t share all of it, but during the session, I had this huge weight of darkness descend on me. As I focused on it I could feel it, like a thick black mist, intertwining itself around every part of my body. My therapist had me project the feeling outside of my body and asked me what shape it took on. It was like I was staring at a mirror image of myself, but instead of skin and clothing it was a faceless shadow of tumbling black smoke staring back at me.
As I faced it, those familiar feelings of dread, stress, hatred, anger, jealousy, self-will, pride, resentments, and sadness intensified and the smoke grew larger and larger until it was no longer the shape of me, but just a huge swirling black mass of despair. My therapist had me directly ask why it was there, and with a laugh and an energy that I recognized as Satan it replied “because you allow me to be”.
That son of a #&*%$
Slowly, almost undetectably I had let all of these garbage thoughts and feelings take seed in my life and they grew  and grew and grew until I found myself in this horrible place. Never has the term enemy of my soul meant more to me.
I dont know if you know this, but when I started my blog I had never DIYed a thing in my life. I had very little confidence in anything, especially myself, and what little I did have was sucked into the dark hole of Court’s addiction. I was an absolute shell of a person. When I stumbled one day upon the world of DIY blogs, it changed everything! These wonderful, relatable, awesome women shared their knowledge with me and made me feel like I could do something scary. It unlocked a talent that had been completely undiscovered and quite literally altered the course of my life.
A few months into the blog I knew that I needed to share our struggle with addiction. At that point Court had only been sober for a few months, but he was so different than any other time he had been clean, that I didn’t hesitate to believe that this time really was different. From the moment of being willing to be vulnerable things changed for me. I learned who I was, and how God speaks to me. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the reason that I had this gift was to bring people to the blog so that I could share with them hope, and confidence, and happiness. Maybe in a thrifted dresser, maybe in a relationship, maybe in God. But always that change is real and everything can be made better. That purpose unlocked my heart.
But over the years, that perspective shifted. If you ask me point blank, that is still the answer you’ll get, but in my heart it changed. It became about me, not about you. I dont know if the content really changed all that much, but the energy and reason behind it did. I would be interested to know for those long time readers, if you’d noticed.
So for the last little while, I’ve focused on finding my Savior and my peace and my perspective again. It has become my number one priority. It never ceases to amaze me that He is always there. ALWAYS! Even when I turn away from him, even when I struggle and try to do things on my own and make a mess out of the path that he set my life on, he is still there! Through this journey I’ve dedicated more time to going to the temple and reading the Book of Mormon. I’ve cut out everything in my life that doesn’t fill me with hope and happiness (I’m looking at you Netflix) and my heart has been changed.
One of my favorite quotes by President Benson says “When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives. Our love of the Lord will govern the claims for our affection, the demands on our time, the interests we pursue, and the order of our priorities.” It’s quite miraculous how that happens. I feel like I know what my Heavenly Father wants from me and as I am willing to trust him and move forward in faith that he will work the miracle for me to become whatever he intends.
And as for the enemy of my soul, whenever I am feeling frustrated or defeated I read from the Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 4:18-35
18 I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
19 And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.
20 My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.
26 O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?
27 And why should I yield to sin, because of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul? Why am I angry because of mine enemy?
28 Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.
30 Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.
So what does all of this mean!? Hahaha man I have no idea. But I do know that Vintage Revivals always going to be about projects and paint and trips to Home Depot. But if I’m creating that content with love, awareness, and perspective-I believe that it can create a deeper connection and that is what the whole point behind all of this is. To know that none of us are alone in our bad bathroom tile, or in our imperfect lives.
If you’ve made it this far you get 10 Vintage Revivals points and a huge heartfelt thank youuuuu! Thank you for letting me share about where I’ve been cause man, what a lonely and crappy place that is. And thank you for letting me figure this whole thing out. You are wonderful!!
If you would like to learn more about the LDS 12 Step Addiction Recovery meetings, you can get more info for meetings in your area here.
If you’re interested in receiving a free copy of the Book of Mormon, I would love to send you one! Shoot me an email at [email protected]!
Love your guts guys!!
    The post Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition appeared first on Vintage Revivals.
Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition published first on https://landscapingmates.blogspot.com
0 notes
alexrodriguespage · 6 years ago
Text
Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition
Hey friend, want to have a heart to heart?
The most important part of Vintage Revivals, surprisingly isnt the Merc, or my post on how to paint furniture. It’s my Real Life Story. It’s been a while since I’ve updated it and while I wasn’t initially intending this post to be part of it, I feel like it needs to be. Cause struggling and being human is way easier when someone else says “Hey girl, me too.”
I dont know what your last year has been like, but if I had a word for 2018 it would be STRESS. Like that, in all caps, screaming in your face. Over the last few years I’ve felt it compounding, but this last year it was overwhelming. I found myself paralyzed in anxiety, brimming with anger, and disconnected, jealous, and negative. (Which is very unlike my rose colored glasses way of living.) I had a few irrational outbursts, I had stress induced psoriasis patches all over my body, I very intensely thought about driving my car into a wall one night.
The crazy and most frustrating part is that I tried everything that I could think of to find relief. Hormone therapy, actual therapy, change in diet, sticking to a schedule, meditation, exercise, podcasts, books, if it was suggested to me I tried it. And nothing made it better. Every time I cut my hair my sisters were worried I was going to buzz it Britney circa 2007 style.
Have you ever been in a place like this? Where you’ve pulled your boot straps up so high that you’re wearing them like suspenders and yet, you are still there, in the garbage? GAH! It is the worst feeling like you’re letting everything and everyone around you down. Man, if you have my heart goes out to you. Maybe we should start a suspenders club?
For me, I’ve learned, is that it wasnt about the circumstances that were going on (maybe we’ll talk about those soon). What really was happening is that sometime along the way I shifted my spirituality into neutral. Spoiler alert! It seems to be when you put something in neutral, it eventually coasts to a stop and that is what happened. I had stalled out.
For those that don’t know, I’m a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My faith is what has rescued me from the seemingly unreachable darkness. Understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the power that it has to bring grace and purpose to my life changed everything. After experiencing all of the miracles that we have over the years, you would think that I would be set on the right path and have all of the energy in the world to endure whatever ups and downs life throws at me, but man it just is not that way.  I was still going to church, Court and I are still missionaries for the 12 Step Program, and still doing the “things” but trying to restart some spiritual momentum out of sheer self loathing is just not the way that it works.
In October I went to a hypnotherapy session that changed everything. It was probably the most sacred and spiritual experience that I’ve ever had. I can’t share all of it, but during the session, I had this huge weight of darkness descend on me. As I focused on it I could feel it, like a thick black mist, intertwining itself around every part of my body. My therapist had me project the feeling outside of my body and asked me what shape it took on. It was like I was staring at a mirror image of myself, but instead of skin and clothing it was a faceless shadow of tumbling black smoke staring back at me.
As I faced it, those familiar feelings of dread, stress, hatred, anger, jealousy, self-will, pride, resentments, and sadness intensified and the smoke grew larger and larger until it was no longer the shape of me, but just a huge swirling black mass of despair. My therapist had me directly ask why it was there, and with a laugh and an energy that I recognized as Satan it replied “because you allow me to be”.
That son of a #&*%$
Slowly, almost undetectably I had let all of these garbage thoughts and feelings take seed in my life and they grew  and grew and grew until I found myself in this horrible place. Never has the term enemy of my soul meant more to me.
I dont know if you know this, but when I started my blog I had never DIYed a thing in my life. I had very little confidence in anything, especially myself, and what little I did have was sucked into the dark hole of Court’s addiction. I was an absolute shell of a person. When I stumbled one day upon the world of DIY blogs, it changed everything! These wonderful, relatable, awesome women shared their knowledge with me and made me feel like I could do something scary. It unlocked a talent that had been completely undiscovered and quite literally altered the course of my life.
A few months into the blog I knew that I needed to share our struggle with addiction. At that point Court had only been sober for a few months, but he was so different than any other time he had been clean, that I didn’t hesitate to believe that this time really was different. From the moment of being willing to be vulnerable things changed for me. I learned who I was, and how God speaks to me. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the reason that I had this gift was to bring people to the blog so that I could share with them hope, and confidence, and happiness. Maybe in a thrifted dresser, maybe in a relationship, maybe in God. But always that change is real and everything can be made better. That purpose unlocked my heart.
But over the years, that perspective shifted. If you ask me point blank, that is still the answer you’ll get, but in my heart it changed. It became about me, not about you. I dont know if the content really changed all that much, but the energy and reason behind it did. I would be interested to know for those long time readers, if you’d noticed.
So for the last little while, I’ve focused on finding my Savior and my peace and my perspective again. It has become my number one priority. It never ceases to amaze me that He is always there. ALWAYS! Even when I turn away from him, even when I struggle and try to do things on my own and make a mess out of the path that he set my life on, he is still there! Through this journey I’ve dedicated more time to going to the temple and reading the Book of Mormon. I’ve cut out everything in my life that doesn’t fill me with hope and happiness (I’m looking at you Netflix) and my heart has been changed.
One of my favorite quotes by President Benson says “When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives. Our love of the Lord will govern the claims for our affection, the demands on our time, the interests we pursue, and the order of our priorities.” It’s quite miraculous how that happens. I feel like I know what my Heavenly Father wants from me and as I am willing to trust him and move forward in faith that he will work the miracle for me to become whatever he intends.
And as for the enemy of my soul, whenever I am feeling frustrated or defeated I read from the Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 4:18-35
18 I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
19 And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.
20 My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.
26 O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?
27 And why should I yield to sin, because of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul? Why am I angry because of mine enemy?
28 Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.
30 Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.
So what does all of this mean!? Hahaha man I have no idea. But I do know that Vintage Revivals always going to be about projects and paint and trips to Home Depot. But if I’m creating that content with love, awareness, and perspective-I believe that it can create a deeper connection and that is what the whole point behind all of this is. To know that none of us are alone in our bad bathroom tile, or in our imperfect lives.
If you’ve made it this far you get 10 Vintage Revivals points and a huge heartfelt thank youuuuu! Thank you for letting me share about where I’ve been cause man, what a lonely and crappy place that is. And thank you for letting me figure this whole thing out. You are wonderful!!
If you would like to learn more about the LDS 12 Step Addiction Recovery meetings, you can get more info for meetings in your area here.
If you’re interested in receiving a free copy of the Book of Mormon, I would love to send you one! Shoot me an email at [email protected]!
Love your guts guys!!
    The post Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition appeared first on Vintage Revivals.
Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition published first on https://vacuumpalguide.tumblr.com/
0 notes
jeffdonaldsons · 6 years ago
Text
Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition
Hey friend, want to have a heart to heart?
The most important part of Vintage Revivals, surprisingly isnt the Merc, or my post on how to paint furniture. It’s my Real Life Story. It’s been a while since I’ve updated it and while I wasn’t initially intending this post to be part of it, I feel like it needs to be. Cause struggling and being human is way easier when someone else says “Hey girl, me too.”
I dont know what your last year has been like, but if I had a word for 2018 it would be STRESS. Like that, in all caps, screaming in your face. Over the last few years I’ve felt it compounding, but this last year it was overwhelming. I found myself paralyzed in anxiety, brimming with anger, and disconnected, jealous, and negative. (Which is very unlike my rose colored glasses way of living.) I had a few irrational outbursts, I had stress induced psoriasis patches all over my body, I very intensely thought about driving my car into a wall one night.
The crazy and most frustrating part is that I tried everything that I could think of to find relief. Hormone therapy, actual therapy, change in diet, sticking to a schedule, meditation, exercise, podcasts, books, if it was suggested to me I tried it. And nothing made it better. Every time I cut my hair my sisters were worried I was going to buzz it Britney circa 2007 style.
Have you ever been in a place like this? Where you’ve pulled your boot straps up so high that you’re wearing them like suspenders and yet, you are still there, in the garbage? GAH! It is the worst feeling like you’re letting everything and everyone around you down. Man, if you have my heart goes out to you. Maybe we should start a suspenders club?
For me, I’ve learned, is that it wasnt about the circumstances that were going on (maybe we’ll talk about those soon). What really was happening is that sometime along the way I shifted my spirituality into neutral. Spoiler alert! It seems to be when you put something in neutral, it eventually coasts to a stop and that is what happened. I had stalled out.
For those that don’t know, I’m a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My faith is what has rescued me from the seemingly unreachable darkness. Understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the power that it has to bring grace and purpose to my life changed everything. After experiencing all of the miracles that we have over the years, you would think that I would be set on the right path and have all of the energy in the world to endure whatever ups and downs life throws at me, but man it just is not that way.  I was still going to church, Court and I are still missionaries for the 12 Step Program, and still doing the “things” but trying to restart some spiritual momentum out of sheer self loathing is just not the way that it works.
In October I went to a hypnotherapy session that changed everything. It was probably the most sacred and spiritual experience that I’ve ever had. I can’t share all of it, but during the session, I had this huge weight of darkness descend on me. As I focused on it I could feel it, like a thick black mist, intertwining itself around every part of my body. My therapist had me project the feeling outside of my body and asked me what shape it took on. It was like I was staring at a mirror image of myself, but instead of skin and clothing it was a faceless shadow of tumbling black smoke staring back at me.
As I faced it, those familiar feelings of dread, stress, hatred, anger, jealousy, self-will, pride, resentments, and sadness intensified and the smoke grew larger and larger until it was no longer the shape of me, but just a huge swirling black mass of despair. My therapist had me directly ask why it was there, and with a laugh and an energy that I recognized as Satan it replied “because you allow me to be”.
That son of a #&*%$
Slowly, almost undetectably I had let all of these garbage thoughts and feelings take seed in my life and they grew  and grew and grew until I found myself in this horrible place. Never has the term enemy of my soul meant more to me.
I dont know if you know this, but when I started my blog I had never DIYed a thing in my life. I had very little confidence in anything, especially myself, and what little I did have was sucked into the dark hole of Court’s addiction. I was an absolute shell of a person. When I stumbled one day upon the world of DIY blogs, it changed everything! These wonderful, relatable, awesome women shared their knowledge with me and made me feel like I could do something scary. It unlocked a talent that had been completely undiscovered and quite literally altered the course of my life.
A few months into the blog I knew that I needed to share our struggle with addiction. At that point Court had only been sober for a few months, but he was so different than any other time he had been clean, that I didn’t hesitate to believe that this time really was different. From the moment of being willing to be vulnerable things changed for me. I learned who I was, and how God speaks to me. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the reason that I had this gift was to bring people to the blog so that I could share with them hope, and confidence, and happiness. Maybe in a thrifted dresser, maybe in a relationship, maybe in God. But always that change is real and everything can be made better. That purpose unlocked my heart.
But over the years, that perspective shifted. If you ask me point blank, that is still the answer you’ll get, but in my heart it changed. It became about me, not about you. I dont know if the content really changed all that much, but the energy and reason behind it did. I would be interested to know for those long time readers, if you’d noticed.
So for the last little while, I’ve focused on finding my Savior and my peace and my perspective again. It has become my number one priority. It never ceases to amaze me that He is always there. ALWAYS! Even when I turn away from him, even when I struggle and try to do things on my own and make a mess out of the path that he set my life on, he is still there! Through this journey I’ve dedicated more time to going to the temple and reading the Book of Mormon. I’ve cut out everything in my life that doesn’t fill me with hope and happiness (I’m looking at you Netflix) and my heart has been changed.
One of my favorite quotes by President Benson says “When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives. Our love of the Lord will govern the claims for our affection, the demands on our time, the interests we pursue, and the order of our priorities.” It’s quite miraculous how that happens. I feel like I know what my Heavenly Father wants from me and as I am willing to trust him and move forward in faith that he will work the miracle for me to become whatever he intends.
And as for the enemy of my soul, whenever I am feeling frustrated or defeated I read from the Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 4:18-35
18 I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
19 And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.
20 My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.
26 O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?
27 And why should I yield to sin, because of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul? Why am I angry because of mine enemy?
28 Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.
30 Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.
So what does all of this mean!? Hahaha man I have no idea. But I do know that Vintage Revivals always going to be about projects and paint and trips to Home Depot. But if I’m creating that content with love, awareness, and perspective-I believe that it can create a deeper connection and that is what the whole point behind all of this is. To know that none of us are alone in our bad bathroom tile, or in our imperfect lives.
If you’ve made it this far you get 10 Vintage Revivals points and a huge heartfelt thank youuuuu! Thank you for letting me share about where I’ve been cause man, what a lonely and crappy place that is. And thank you for letting me figure this whole thing out. You are wonderful!!
If you would like to learn more about the LDS 12 Step Addiction Recovery meetings, you can get more info for meetings in your area here.
If you’re interested in receiving a free copy of the Book of Mormon, I would love to send you one! Shoot me an email at [email protected]!
Love your guts guys!!
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via Mandi at Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition via Jeff Donaldson’s Blog Real Life Story Update 2018 Edition
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