#everyday I am reminded my taste in men is consistent

[hirayaea]

seiya’s birthday ad in shinjuku, tokyo

so my fiancée went all the way to shinjuku today to livestream me this ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

unfortunately (or fortunately?) since we were on a video call there’s no sound. well that just means you can’t hear me screaming in the background ha ha ha

happy birthday seiya (*≧∀≦*)

[ddarker-dreams]

Fallen From Grace. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

Giorno has given you too many gifts to count.

This benevolent act serves multiple purposes, culminating towards the goal of making your time here better. He doesn’t shy away from the reality of what he’s doing to you, the extent of your loneliness after being displaced. Forcing himself to remember this bitter truth keeps him from getting complacent, striving to make your experience all the better. 

No detail is to be overlooked. In what little free time Giorno has, he molds your surroundings to your liking. The meals that are planned for you consist of high nutritional value, often rotating your favorites with only the best ingredients and chefs to prepare them. Your wardrobe is full of outfits tailored to your measurements and tastes. Rare and ethereal flowers span across the master bedroom you share with Giorno, him creating them with the purpose of soothing you. 

For all this effort, Giorno never has an expectation for your gratitude. He doesn’t believe he deserves it, having stolen you from your normal life. He’s the reason for the tear soaked pillows, the restless nights and detached demeanor you’ve adopted. Whether it’s to ease the guilt that suffocates his heart, or to see your eyes light up for only a moment, Giorno tends to you. 

This custom, handmade journal is one he gave you at the start of your time here. With you receiving limited human interaction, Giorno found it important for you to have a way to express your thoughts. While you were initially antagonistic towards him about the journal, you began to use it. He lets you hide it from him, letting you believe it’s out of his reach for peace of mind. 

Ironic as it may sound, Giorno respected you by never laying a finger on it. The overwhelming temptation of learning his beloved’s most inner thoughts isn’t lost on him. He could read it and place it back to its original spot without you being none the wiser. For months, he made a point in refusing this alluring idea. 

That is, until this very second. 

Sitting on his dark mahogany desk, is the journal that contains your private thoughts and experiences. Giorno’s eyelids flutter shut, a soft sigh leaving his lips. Leaning further into his chair, he gives more thought to the situation. The forbidden fruit lays before him, ready to give knowledge he shouldn’t have. 

There’s a grander reason for this dilemma. When spending time with you, Giorno is keen to pick up every nuance of your behavior. It’s a trait of his that has followed him since childhood. Every twitch of your mouth or hesitation in your voice paints a larger picture. He’s capable of reading you, knowing your thoughts before you even know them yourself. This often works out in his favor. 

But lately, when he speaks to you, something feels different. In a way that doesn’t make sense. You still hold apparent dislike for him, but you avoid eye contact less. There’s a sense of underlying assurance, like you’re privy to information that he isn’t. It gets under his skin, eating him from the inside out. 

No longer do you threaten him with bitter words, detailing your resentment towards him. You seem content to sit in his presence, talking casually about what you’ve done that day and asking him the same. He won’t lie and say he doesn’t like the development. But his gut tells him there’s a malicious intent laced in your new behavior. 

What are you hiding from him? 

The realm of possibilities is few and far between, and Giorno considers every possibility. None of his theories placate a voice in his head, a gnawing that something is very wrong. Talking to you and asking questions laced with hidden agendas has led to no discoveries, options growing limited to discover the truth.

Running his fingertips over the spine of your journal, he gingerly opens to the first page. It’s a dirty feeling to be doing this, invading your privacy behind your back. He’s done worse for the sake of your well being, the justification spurring him to continue on to the next page. It contains your first entry. 

“I didn’t want to write this. Putting the words into paper almost feels like I’m accepting the reality of what’s happening to me, this parody of a life. I don’t have much else to do to pass the time. 

Even my hobbies bring me little joy, knowing who set them up for me like a doll in a dollhouse. Focusing is another thing entirely. How can I focus knowing I’m always being monitored to some degree? Even as I write this, I wonder who’s watching me. 

In the past, when I felt anxious, I’d write. And well… anxiety is the heartbeat of my life now. Everyday I wake up, more numb than the last. All I look forward to is when I’ll sleep next. At least then I don’t have to feel anything, I can just exist without trying. There’s nothing else for me to say.”

He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Giorno’s lips curl down into a frown, his eyebrows furrowing and stomach dropping. Seeing the depths of your pain so tangible, in your own words, kills a piece of his soul. It’d be an insult to you to waver now, he thinks, resolve staying firm. Not wanting to invade your privacy more than necessary, he skims through more entries in hopes of finding any leads on your current behavior.

“It’s already been three months since I’ve begun living here, if you can even call it that. I’ve gotten better at spotting the guards. I like to think of it as a little game. They’re good, I give them that. But when you have nothing to do, living in a house with no noise, it grows easier to listen. To notice things I wouldn’t have before. 

Maybe I’m going stir crazy. I don’t like knowing how I’m being monitored, but I’ve grown accustomed to it. I hate to admit how he was right , when he said I’d grow accommodated to this with time. I don’t want to. I don’t want to learn to live like this. But I can’t stop it. Resisting the inevitable is a pointless waste of energy, which I hardly have anymore.” 

Giorno picks up on your lack of mentioning him by name. In most of your entries, you avoid even insinuating to his existence when possible. It’s a cold sensation, knowing who he loves most omits him at every chance. He understands -- it’s what he deserves after putting you through this isolation -- yet the complex hurt remains prevalent. Every word stingers more than the last.

He soldiers on, searching through more entries. 

“I wonder if they’re allowed to talk to me. When I call out to the occasional shadow, or creak in a room beside me, there’s no response. But I know they’re here, I’ve seen him giving them orders in the past when I pretend to sleep. It’s always in hushed whispers, as if anything they say could surprise me. 

I just want to talk to someone. Someone that isn’t him. Someone that doesn’t avoid my gaze like everyone else here. It makes me feel like I’m a disgusting sight to behold, even though I know why they look away. The guilt from witnessing what they do, outweighed by their longing for money. I hate it. It makes me hate them. At least look at me, like I’m a human. 

They’re spineless cowards. All of them. Disgusting subhumans that take a paycheck over my suffering. I hate them so much, almost more than I hate him.” 

Giorno freezes, noticing small crinkles in the paper towards the end of this entry. Signs that you must’ve been crying, he deduces. God. He wants to tell himself that it’s worse than he thought, but that’d be a lie. All along he’s been aware of the great extents of your suffering, all pointing back to him. 

Running a hand through his hair, loose from its normal styling, Giorno wonders if he should stop now. Every word is like a nail in the coffin of his heart, paining him in more ways he thought possible. Making difficult decisions has come as second nature to him, so he preserves on. 

“Yesterday was my birthday. What a shitty thing to realize. I got a lot of things. More than I ever had gotten before. More offline games, clothes, perfume, shoes, jewelry, and even a painting. By the looks of it I think it’s rare, but who gives a fuck. 

An interesting development occurred. One of my guards, if that’s what you’d even call them, approached me. He had just gotten off the phone, and informed me that my plans for the day were going to be different. Apparently the big boss got held up at work, so he wouldn’t be joining me for dinner.

Am I supposed to be upset about that? Well, I certainly wasn’t. Who cares. Seeing him would just make me feel worse. I hate how out of control I feel like he’s around. I almost find myself forgetting about all he’s done, when he speaks to me so calmly. Just thinking about it makes me feel dirty, like I should shower. 

I didn’t see a point in responding at first. But eventually, I spoke up before the guard could leave. I asked him why he was okay with this, what he sees everyday. He didn’t offer a response. But I noticed something. His breath hitched, I’m sure of it. 

Maybe there is another human being in this pseudo-prison after all.” 

A painful reminder of the past. It did hurt him at the time to have to miss out on an important day with you, even though Giorno was self aware to know his presence brought you little comfort. There had been emergency phone calls over an attack from former Passione members, retaliating for losing drug related income. 

The timing of it was awful, just thinking back to it reminds Giorno of the impatience he felt then. Hours were spent personally dealing with cleaning up what had happened, meaning he wasn’t able to see you as was originally planned. Orders were given back home to inform you of this change, though it’s now evident it impacted Giorno more than you. 

The last section piques his interest. You felt you had noticed guilt in one of the guards? The pool of men that Giorno had carefully sifted through are no strangers to witnessing barbaric acts. Such is the life of a gangster. In your state of heightened emotions, there’s a possibility you could’ve imagined it. 

The journal goads him to continue, unraveling the mysteries of your heart.

“I’ve gotten better at spotting the guards.

I can’t believe something like this is exciting to me, but it is these days. It’s kinda funny in a pathetic way, watching as they shrink back when I spot them. The guard from before is the one I recognize the most. I pretended to be hurt, and he came out of the shadows to check on me. 

I guess he wasn’t expecting me to turn around looking fine after my acting, because he didn’t leave right away. Before he got the chance, I asked what his name is. He sighed, probably relieved that he wouldn’t have to report to his boss about me being harmed. He said his name is Marco. 

At that point, it was my turn to be surprised. I guess he was too, given the slip up. I must confess, it felt nice talking to someone. It’s been so long since I’ve heard another person’s voice. He went to walk away soon after, but I stopped him. It’s not like they can use force to get rid of me, so why the hell not? 

I told him I was bored and wanted someone to talk to. And, for some reason… he stayed.” 

Giorno rereads this passage multiple times, scrutinizing it. So you managed to speak to one of the guards he assigned to watch over you? When he was recruiting within Passione for the position, he made expectations explicitly clear. They were not to interact with you unless an emergency calls for it. And if they felt the situation called for it, they needed to report it back to Giorno. 

Your safety is paramount in his eyes. Regardless of this being a minor grievance, this guard will be punished accordingly for breaking the rules Giorno set. All of them were put in place knowing that if you grew connected to someone and they you, possibilities of insubordination would blossom. 

The dates on the pages are getting closer to the current day, not many more entries left. 

“Marco and I have been speaking more frequently.

He gave me a rough idea of the conditions in which we can talk, only in certain blind spots and times where other guards aren’t around as often. I wish it wasn’t so complicated. In our rushed conversations, I’ve learned more about him. I didn’t really think I would get all that invested in this person, since he’s stood by and watched my situation for a while now.

But now it makes a bit more sense. He told me that his little sister is unwell, having to practically live in a hospital room. That this dirty job is the only one that can cover the full expenses, and that without it she wouldn’t last. I can’t say that I forgive him entirely yet, but… I guess I can sympathize. I wish there was more I could do to help. 

Her name is Lucia. One of the times we talked Marco told me she’s the strongest person he knows, staying dedicated to her studies despite having waning strength. She’s a few years younger than me, but I think we’d have gotten along well. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave this place, but I wish I could meet her one day. 

Having him to talk to is nice.” 

Ah... so that’s what it is then.

Unpleasant emotions rise within, feelings that Giorno long thought were gone. Times before when you were speaking freely with your friends, laughing among them and living your life to the fullest. Those times were he wanted nothing more than to join you, to have you by his side and share in the experience. His position shot down any hopes of that, the possibility of endangering you deterring him. 

It was a painful time. Knowing that what he wanted was close and yet so painfully far, just out of his reach. Giorno wanted you to look at him like that, mirth in your eyes and a smile on your lips. To enjoy outings to the movies like you did with your friends, to have inside jokes and memories to fondly look back on. 

Envy doesn’t begin to describe the hideous feeling that permeates within him. Giorno’s grasp on your journal feels weaker, fingers shaking as he flips to the next page. Predator-like intent shines on his visage, emerald eyes narrowed and grip tightening. Not typically one to dwell on what could’ve been, it’s rare Giorno would feel like this. He makes the most out of every situation, his resolve unwavering and sights set on a single goal. 

You throw all of it into a loop, his normal composure a long forgotten memory. 

“Today I played a game of checkers with Marco. 

I think he was letting me win, but it was fun nonetheless. Apparently one of the normal guards was tending to business elsewhere, so we had more time together. He’s kind, kinder than I would’ve ever expected. When we’re together I just forget about everything other than the present moment. 

For once, I don’t feel like a prisoner all on my lonesome. I don’t notice the heavy ring on my finger, the suffocating air of this villa that I despise. It’s just us, cracking jokes and learning about one another. It’s what I look forward to the most, what I hold onto even when Marco isn’t around. It makes me feel human again. Like I’m not [First] Giovanna, but entirely myself.

Smiling comes a lot more naturally these days. I can even find myself stomaching his presence easier, though I still don’t like when he’s around. As long as he doesn’t find out about Marco and I, I feel like I can get through this. Everyday I change the location of this journal, within the expanses of this mansion. 

I still wish there was more I could do to help Lucia. I suggested giving Marco some of this stupid jewelry to pawn off, but he said it’s too risky. It’s surreal to know even pawnshops in Italy are fiercely loyal to Passione’s Don, and would be too hesitant to purchase his wife’s jewelry in fear of retaliation. 

Having all this wealth surround me feels like a waste when I know there’s someone who could actually use it. As much as I don’t like the thought, maybe I could convince Giorno to help Marco somehow. I have a few ideas but they’re probably all too risky. He does always tell me, ‘If you ever want anything in this world, tell me.’ 

I want to help Lucia. I want to help Marco, who I’ve found myself caring for. 

I’ve never asked Giorno for anything really. I don’t know how to propose it without making him suspicious--” 

Giorno can’t stand to read it anymore. 

Closing the book and placing it down, he steeples his fingers together. It takes a great deal of effort to frustrate him, normal composure melting away. Is it betrayal? Hurt? Jealousy? Everything wraps around his person, the air in his office feeling thick. Loosening the tie around his neck, he takes a much needed deep breath. 

A flash of your smile from earlier this evening at dinner comes to mind. You called him by his name, maintaining eye contact and asking about his day. Lulled into a false sense of security, wanting to believe nothing more than the farce unfolding before him. Of course you didn’t love him back. He was a fool to have deluded himself into believing that. 

At his fingertips is his phone. With a single phone call, he could command the world to fall. To have this guard who failed him tortured in the worst ways imaginable, experiencing hell on earth. Or to even join Passione’s former boss in a never ending cycle of death, that stretches the lengths of eternity. 

So many possibilities. Yet none of them would soothe the agony of his heart. Completely and utterly alone once more, like his earlier days. Requited love was all but an illusion, a fog that has now been lifted. 

Giorno purses his lips, considering. Fingers drum against his desk, the sound reverberating across the empty room. Grabbing a hold of his phone, he calls upon someone who could help him deal with this traitor appropriately. A message must be sent, he thinks, that will set the tone within the organization. It will hurt you to lose this newfound companion, but it’s a sacrifice he is willing to make. It’s not like you need to know the details either. 

The phone rings. Once, twice. Before his second in command on the other line picks up. 

“Yo, Giorno? You’re calling pretty late,” Mista’s voice is chipper as ever, the distant sound of music playing in the background. “Everything alright?” 

Getting up from his chair, he walks over to the window that overlooks his garden. His beloved wife walks among the paths, bending down and inspecting a rose. Giorno remembers when he turned an object into that very flower, how your dull eyes lit up at the awe inspiring sight. 

This is ultimately all for you, he reminds himself.

“Yes, everything is fine. Are you free at the moment? I have a job for you.”

[thedankfaerie]

i am posting this here because i am tired of burdening my boyfriend with my feelings. this is a little nsfw. and this is my call for help. i dont know who to talk to anymore about this.

i need someone to hear what i feel

or at least, a free space to say what i feel 

im in a low place. i feel so awful about myself and my body and i hate this feeling. i hate that this time last year, i was so happy about the way i looked. i was working this awful job that had me so overworked and overtired and poorly treated that i skipped meals and slept through meals regularly... i lost so much weight from stress in just a year and was the skinniest i had ever been. mentally, i was not in a good place being exploited by my managers... but my self esteem re: my body was at a new level i never knew could exist for me.

last year, i felt powerful and confident about my body, and i expressed that through sexuality. i was fucking my ex that i still liked (i grew out of wanting him back, but he never did, and it was nice to have the upper hand). i was also fucking an old fwb that i stayed friends with, that was also recently single, so we reunited again at the perfect time. i was also seeing this one guy (now my boyfriend) so if ever i got tired of the sex i at least was able to calm down and settle down with someone who genuinely wanted to know me. of course, i ended up catching feelings for this guy, and cut off the other two to pursue something more serious (we are now dating and are moving in together next month!) anyways, it was so nice to be wanted. to feel... i guess sexy? sex is empowering. and it shouldn’t be taboo to say that as a woman, or anyone really. i dont want to give off the message that a woman’s validation is fueled by men’s desire - but hey, don’t you feel flattered when someone thinks you’re attractive? desire and lust aren’t everything... but they matter. and they have an impact on how you feel about yourself, whether or not you believe me when i say that is up to you. 

 and i hate that i would gladly put myself through the stress that i did just to feel happy about my body. before the summer ended, i finally had enough and i quit my shitty job. i was jobless for a month, but was able to enjoy the rest of the summer with my new ‘skinny’ body - last year i took my first bikini picture ... a 2 piece! i have never done that. i still think about how happy i was that summer to look and feel good about myself. 

i have struggled with self esteem issues since highschool. i always felt like i was too big. i used to follow all these blogs of pretty people and try to copy their poses to feel pretty and i used to spend hours after school trying on short dresses and clothes to stare at my body in the mirror. i used to starve myself to the point of literally wanting to faint on the daily, until finally i admitted it to one of my teachers. she respectfully asked if i wanted to speak with the school guidance counsellor, and i declined. but she encouraged me to speak up to at least a friend, so i did, and it helped, and for a long time, i was okay. after i graduated that teacher still checked up on me for a few years every now and again.

4th year university was when i realized how much i had let myself go. i was the heaviest i had ever been, it was my graduating year, i was looking for a job and was always worried about my grades. every time i was stressed or every time i needed to study i bought pad thai and bubble tea. a ritual. i didnt realize how much that had caught up to me until i saw old pictures of myself. at this point, i started my (shitty) job, straight out of graduation.

i actively avoided scales, i didn’t like looking at the number because it just made me upset. and i already felt upset looking in the mirror, i didn’t need something else to make me upset. but i did. and i was 20 pounds heavier than i was in highschool - the heaviest i had ever been.

i cried.

i didnt do much about it. i was too busy. my first job out of uni was a brand new daycare and i was head teacher of a toddler class - also i was the only staff on floor since there were not as many kids. there was nobody to train me, at all. i had to teach myself everything. i had no time. 

a little while before starting the job, i met this guy. he was so hot, but such a dick - we had a “thing” but it was so toxic. he started off interested in me, but i turned him down. his attitude changed and he started being a douche, but we became friends because we were seeing each other so often. i didn’t have a car yet. he was driving me everywhere. he lived 5 minutes away. he was the type of friend that would text me “im outside, lets go out”. we hung out as friends at first, we would have “study dates”, until we started hooking up. we acted like a thing but he denied we were ever one - but got mad at me whenever i tried to look elsewhere. but i guess in that time, it was nice to be wanted, especially by someone so attractive. 

but again, a year in that shithole job went by fast. i would stay late after work. i would come in on weekends. i was expected to not only help new kids transition, but train new partners. and given that my supers refused to support me, i watched a lot of people quit due to pressure. i had to keep retraining. and kids kept coming. that never stopped. i can honestly say my class wasn’t settled until december, and i started in september. everyday it was ‘its fine, it will get better’. 

a year in that shithole, with 0 support, and i lost all the weight i gained - and more. i was the skinniest i had ever been. even in highschool. i looked at old pictures of myself from when i started the job at my heaviest. i couldnt believe that was me. and i was so happy looking at myself in the mirror. for once! 

after i quit that job, i started another job that i hoped would be a happy ending.

and it wasn’t. it stressed me out just as much. i also moved out by this point, a month after i started this job. my hours are whack. 7-9, 11:30-6. i woke up early and got home late. i never had free time. my last shift at my old job was 7-3:30 and i had the whole day to myself. im someone that needs social interaction and alone time, and by the time i got home i was so tired, i would just cook, clean, shower, and go to bed. and that was my life. sometimes i would get so tired that i couldn’t cook, i just went and ate out. i tried to make personal time with my friends after work but by the time i reached their house, it was late, and places were closed. and id have to leave early anyways because i had work early the next day... so fast food was the only way to make this work. on top of this, this was the most difficult class that i had ever had. the kids behaviours’ were so difficult and i couldn’t handle it. i would cry in my car 3x a week. i would cry 4 minutes before my shift starts in the washroom and walk out and pretend i was okay. i would have my boyfriend come over as much as i could just so i could cry in his arms. i couldnt leave this job because i had just moved out and having a consistent rent payment was a huge responsibility for me. as well, if you know anything about ECEs in canada, just know we make shit pay. but this job pays me better than most ECE jobs... by a landslide. AND gives me benefits, which is so hard to find. i am still at this job - i was at my breaking point at the time covid started, so i was rejoicing when we closed for covid. i havent worked since march, but i needed that time off so desperately. 

with that being said, i gained the weight back.

not everything, but i definitely could tell i was packing on some pounds.

cue covid.

i havent worked since march. i fell back into a lazy routine of ordering fast food. lying in bed. resting. just enjoying NOT dealing with my difficult class. 

but i gained it all back. and i think im back at my heaviest weight. i picked up all my summer clothes from last year from my moms... half of them dont fit me. my favourite pair of shorts won’t close. i just sat and cried in a mess of clothes on my floor in front of the mirror. this was last week.

im trying to tell myself, ‘you’re in the middle of a global pandemic, go easy on yourself’... but do you know what it’s like to finally get what you’re chasing, and have it be taken away from you? i finally had a taste of what it was like to look AND feel good about myself. something ive wanted since i was a teenager...and it’s gone. it’s my fault and i accept that, so please don’t tell me i did this to myself. i know i did. but i can still be upset about it. i look in the mirror and i try to suck my stomach in and pretend nothing changed but its not the same. i see old pictures of myself, especially that bikini pic. ironically, i captioned it “i will never have the confidence to take a bikini pic again”... and here we are. i look at the clothes i wore last year and remember how fucking good i felt wearing them. i try putting them back on and seeing my stomach bulging and my arms looking fat and my love handles, something i didn’t see last year. and i just take them off and opt to wear something frumpier that doesnt hug my figure.

i try to tell people about how i feel but i cant take those ‘love yourself and all your flaws’ campaigns seriously. i dont think i can listen to another ‘you have to just keep faking it until you make it and if u just tell urself ur beautiful u will feel beautiful!’

because if you’re me, you know you cant kid yourself. if you’re me you can’t ‘love every flaw’. you fixate on them. and you let them define you. and if youre me, flaws are all you see.

i hate myself for getting back to this point. 

i have a very supportive boyfriend that knows about all this, who is trying to actively get me to go on runs with him. we are trying to go for walks more and be out and about. he reminds me of little things, like if we are getting bubbletea he will suggest i go with less sugar. he is trying, we are trying. and i appreciate him so much.

today i complained in my car about this to my boyfriend, again. for the millionth time. and he still was supportive. but i just feel like i cant keep doing this to him. he said something today, which i think was him trying to give me a reality check to show me that i cant just wish i could starve myself and overwork myself to lose weight and call it a day... but it stung. he said “i don’t want to be with someone that’s not healthy. i have standards too” and i realized then he deserves so much better than to fucking babysit my complaining ass. i am 24. and i shouldnt be putting this on him. he is an adult with problems just as real as mine and i shouldnt be burdening him with this anymore. 

im scared to talk to him about how that comment made me feel, because he’s so right, and he has every right to leave me. i would honestly. the amount that i worry and fixate on all my flaws and complain and have crying breakdowns about this is not fucking normal. and it shouldnt be his problem. i just want him to be with someone that doesnt give him this baggage. he met me in my ‘prime’ days when i just started getting my skinny body last year. when we finally started dating, we were super sexually active. and i mean, having sex like 15 times a week. im not kidding. now we havent had sex in almost an entire month. i dont feel sexy anymore and its impacting my sex drive.. he tries to start it with me and i just can’t because i feel like he is probably repulsed by my body. this is a huge huge huge problem, seeing as sex was a huge part of our relationship (we are very emotionally in tune with one another, but sex was a great addon because we both love it so much). i hate the way i look without clothes on. i cant bring myself to do it because it makes me feel like shit about myself.

but we are moving in together next month. and that is a huge step. and i am worried that i will never change, and he’s going to feel like he’s stuck with me because he’s moving 40 minutes away from his hometown to live with me. i almost want us to break up so he can be with someone with less baggage but i also love him and i want to be better for him and for us. 

someone please help me. 

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, RICCI! You’ve been accepted for the role of MACBETH. Admin Rosey:  How is it possible that you had me laughing and crying in the same breath? You went from “... he’s a sad, kinda pathetic, almost self-sabotaging man who can’t enjoy the fruits of his own cruel ambition” to describing him as a Scottom (please read the app to figure out what that is). But you didn’t stop there, no, you added a whole layer to his backround that had me grinning from ear to ear. There is no other person I could possibly trust more to take up our beloved Mikael and do him justice. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character Alias | Ricci

Age | Nineteen

Preferred Pronouns | she/ her

Activity Level | I don’t think I can be active everyday — I’m a super slow writer and am busy with college, but don’t doubt my ability to dedicate myself to a good RP. I won’t be on often, but I promise to be consistent, and I strive for quality whenever I do have the time to write. Overall, I’d say 6-7 out of 10 depending on my workload!

Timezone | GMT+8

Current/Past RP Accounts | wariest.tumblr.com & disquieters.tumblr.com

In Character Character

♚ Macbeth

What drew you to this character?

♚ Stage actors HATE him. Whenever I write men, one of my favourite aspects of their character is their relationship with masculinity, and I think I have Macbeth to blame for that, or at least partially. I’ve loved his story ever since I read it at fourteen, — and the questions that come with Macbeth’s tragic development are some I carry with when I write male characters, namely: what happens to men when you tie their worth to their masculinity, and what happens when society has tied masculinity to cruelty, violence, and power? I see Mikael as someone that could have been good, because at his core he knows what is right, but because of his insecurities, and because and the environment he grew up in, he ignores his conscience in favor of attaining power. I love morally grey characters. Macbeth isn’t a mustache twirling villain that revels in his own crimes, he’s a sad, kinda pathetic, almost self-sabotaging man who can’t enjoy the fruits of his own cruel ambition. He’s someone who is very aware of his own atrociousness and feels bad about it, but despite his guilt, never once strives toward self-improvement, and while that doesn’t make him wholly redeemable, self-awareness without change is an ugliness that’s jarringly recognizable, an ugliness that I want to explore further. His actions are so monstrous, but his motivations are so incredibly human.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

♚ SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES:  I want Mikael’s development to follow Macbeth’s and take him from mildness and reluctance to full-on ruthless ambition. I think part of the reason why Mikael has remained a soldier is because he has yet to prove he’s capable of real cruelty — his businesses make a lot of profit, but making money hasn’t quite tested his loyalty and how far he’s actually willing to go for the Capulets ( or for his own ambition ), and thus his morals have yet to be challenged. But his capacity for monstrosity is as immense as his capacity for greatness, and with unchecked ambition, he might abandon his conscience and soon become a more threatening player in the games. If an unhinged Macbeth can slaughter a man’s entire family, so can Mikael.

I think for now he’ll want to finally start doing more for the mob because with Alvise’s death, tensions are rising and soldiers like Mikael are expendable. Paranoia will drive him to want protection, for which Mikael will do horrifying acts to attain, and with every triumph, he’ll learn care less about loyalty and more about his own power and individual potential.

Mikael absolutely despises himself, and ambition he sets out to achieve exists because he thinks accomplishing goals would make him hate himself less. Except as his actions stain his conscience, the opposite happens, and with the extreme amounts of self-loathing he’ll soon possess, his mental health will deteriorate, making him increasingly erratic and unstable.

♚ SOUND AND FURY, SIGNIFYING NOTHING: Macbeth is a paradox — his constant attempts at chasing fulfillment only serve to make him feel emptier. In the same way, Mikael exists in a default state of hunger, so unused to being satisfied that he always finds something else to chase after once he attains what he originally wanted. Nothing he does can assuage the feeling of emptiness. After committing more and more atrocities he may come to the realization that he’s the problem — that perhaps nothing will ever make him happy. Once he gets everything he wants, I think he’ll resign to nihilism and come to terms with the meaninglessness of existence.

♚ THE INNOCENT FLOWER:  I want to see someone act as a sort of morality pet. Whether actively or by just being themselves, this character will remind Mikael of the existing good in him, and he will want to change for them. Of course, change, for Mikael, will be short-lived, because in the cutthroat world of mobster Verona, people might place less value on morality, and ultimately Mikael will keep choosing uglier paths to further his own ambitions. ♚ THE SERPENT UNDER’T: In the original text, Macbeth’s nihilistic outlook is finally revealed after Lady Macbeth dies, so perhaps, in this universe, Mikael truly sees no meaning in anything— except his wife. Though he won’t admit it, and maybe he doesn’t realize it, but he’s wholly dependent on her “love” to feel like life has value. Lucrezia is another one of Mikael’s attempts at chasing fulfillment; he thinks he’ll stop hating himself if he can get someone so unattainable to love him, which it why it maddens him that she doesn’t. He wants her with all the desperation of Arctic Monkeys song, but none of the dignity. He pours all of his devotion to her in hopes that he might get something in return, and though part of him understands that all his efforts are pathetic and fruitless, his desire for Lucrezia’s love and approval transcends all reason. Mikael constantly shaping himself into a man Lucrezia might like, or the man Lucrezia wants him to be.

At the same time, wanting Lucrezia is a testament to Mikael’s own masochism. Mikael is never satisfied, so in a twisted way, having someone who never gives in to what he wants is perfect for him, and it’s possibly why they’ve lasted so long. It’s apparent that he’s not enough for her, but he’ll never stop trying to be.

Their relationship is just so unhealthy and damaging on his end, and it’s mostly Mikael’s own  fault for putting her on a pedestal and placing so many expectations on her that he at least partially knows she’ll never fulfill. All I really want to explore is what lengths he’s willing to go to get her to stay, especially now that there’s a deeper wedge and newfound tensions between them with Lucrezia having been promoted to emissary. There are so many directions for their dysfunctional marriage to go and I’m willing to explore all the possibilities. He’s already ruined, but keep ruining him!

♚ MY BLACK AND DEEP DESIRES: The old-fashioned monogamist fool he is, Mikael has never considered cheating on his wife. Except things have changed now, and for as much as he denies it, his marriage is failing. He’s empty, and when he comes to terms with the fact that his wife may never really love him, he’ll find some other way to assuage his deep loneliness, stray to the path of infidelity and disrupt the dynamic the Falcos have, for years, maintained.

♚ THE WAY TO DUSTY DEATH ( trigger warnings: drug abuse ): Mikael’s fall is inevitable. It’s less question of if and more a question of how. Being as overworked as he is, and as desperate for fulfillment, and with his future actions potentially damaging his pysche,  Mikael is extremely susceptible to drug addiction. At the moment, he still carries much self-control, but in the future with his increasing nihilism and self-hatred he might just crumble — more so if someone finds that weakness and exploits it.

♚ BE BLOODY, BOLD, AND RESOLUTE: Being the absolute masochist he is, as a teenager and young adult, Mikael would frequent Measure for Measure for a taste of thrill and triumph. He frequents it less now that he’s older and married and working full time, but part of him still craves being in the ring. With all that stress and anger, who can blame him?

Are you comfortable with killing off your character?

♚ None of woman born shall harm Macbeth. ( Just kidding, yes, but it would be preferable to have someone born of C-section kill him just because it would be so FUNNY. )

In Depth

( trigger warnings: violence )

What is your favorite place in Verona?

Mikael knit his brows together. “What the hell is this for? Buzzfeed” Dark rings hung around tired eyes, which locked their gaze onto the journalist, betraying both exhaustion and annoyance. “When you told me this was for an article, I didn’t realize you were writing Top Ten Travel Destinations For the Overworked Italian,” he snapped, voice high and honeyed with derision. “Okay, edit that out. Try to make sure I don’t sound like a goddamn elementary student. I know I’m not Winston Churchill, but I can pay you good money to make me sound like I am. You’re a writer, you can do that, right?” A sigh escaped him. Mikael rested his elbows on the surface of his desk and hung his head low, thumbs massaging his temples. “I need coffee.”

What does your typical day look like?

“I get up,” he said, ripping open a sachet of Nescafe. “I jack myself stupid.” A surge of self-hatred shot through him as he poured hot water into the lid of his thermos. No sensible Italian would continue to respect Mikael if they discovered his liking to instant coffee, but single-handedly running a corporation left Mikael very little time for himself, much less time to brew himself his own cappuccino. Thus, begrudgingly, he took the sachet and dumped its content straight into the cup, but not before catching his own slip of tongue.

Mikael ran his hands through his hair, frustration simmering within. He sighed to himself. “Sorry, that was just the first thing that came into my head. I don’t know how to be alive before ten in the morning.” Dark eyes fell to the paperwork before him, and Mikael sighed, already resentful at the amount of work that needed to be done. Mikael set the thermos lid aside, barely noticing how it lay almost perilously close to the edge of his desk. “I go to the office, make some calls, keep track of the progress of my transactions, check Cawdor Industries’ stock market value, read some articles about bitcoin to try and understand what the in God’s name a blockchain is, make some more transactions, go home, jack myself stupid because satisfying primal human instincts is the only shriveled flower of joy remaining in life  — don’t put that in the article — and then I tell my wife I love her, and wait for her to not say it back.” For a second, his eyes gleamed with a silent sort of wistfulness, but as he locked his gaze onto the journalist’s, their usual deadness returned. “It’s our thing.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

“Allowing myself to get ejected from the womb,” he deadpanned. “Everything’s gone a little downhill from there.”

Mistakes? Every day was a constant cycle of second-guessing and self-doubt. He’d couldn’t make a single decision without hindsight telling him he could have chosen a better path. Vacant eyes glanced over to the side of his desk, where Lucrezia’s photo sat, and Mikael’s heart rose to his throat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. I got to go to college. I made a name for myself. The business is booming, and I’m married. I have a wife, yes, she’s a real person, and yes, maybe it’s hard to believe but a human female woman took a look at me and agreed to live with my pathetic ass, and according to the law and what she said at the altar, she’s supposed to be in love with me. Sort of. So that’s going great. I’m grateful. I just don’t think I’m…” Happy.

Misfortune gripped the moment within a split second — as Mikael leaned over to reach for the photograph, his elbow struck the metal thermos and knocked it over, scalding water spilling from its mouth.  “SON OF A BITCH — ” Mikael rose from his seat, sending the swivel chair sliding outward, and as fury overtook him, his leg swung forward to kick the side of his desk, but as his foot collided with wood, the thermos lid toppled from the surface and spilt Mikael’s instant coffee onto his velvet office chair.

Almost all at once, his feature cycled through every existing expression, every existing emotion. Grief. Frustration. Resignation. Mikael palmed his forehead. “I’ll send you an email when my shit brain finds a better answer.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

It was possible to believe that Mikael was as honest as he was crass. But his apparent tactlessness drew one’s attention away from much realer vulgarities: the truths Mikael kept within. Kneeling before his office chair, he took a wet rag and scrubbed at the stubborn coffee stain. Not meeting the journalist’s gaze, he mumbled, “Hell if I know.”

Everything was difficult. If anything worthwhile came easy, nothing would feel rewarding. The Falcos had clawed their way into the top, not resting for even a single second. And Cawdor Industries was born of their strife and struggle, but Mikael didn’t feel right merely inheriting it. No path felt valid if it hadn’t come with hardship; he moved mountains to turn the business what it was today. His parents gave him a kingdom. Mikael built an empire.

Except it had been thirty years and Mikael had yet to know what rewarding should have felt like. Every accomplishment only lent him a fleeting sense of triumph, and the satisfaction was quick to dissipate. What remained, instead, was poison. Cawdor Industries didn’t just design weapons — it sold them, less often legitimately than not, and most of the time, Mikael had turned a blind eye on all the casualties his business caused. Until he couldn’t.

Once, he could not recall how long ago, an anonymous sender delivered a video into Mikael’s inbox. It was apparent at first sight that it came from a protester, one that didn’t agree with Mikael’s line of work. At times, Mikael wished he had stopped himself from going further once that realization had been made, but curiosity was a hunger that begged to be sated.

“The most difficult task?” Mikael laughed, low and derisive. The video remained in his mind — the broken bodies of his weapons’ victims, lives destroyed for the business Mikael had worked to hard to build. He flung the rag, and it slammed hard against his desk. “Getting rid of this stain.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues? Mikael was a soldier. Just a soldier. That meant even for all the profit he produced the Capulet family, he was not entitled to their protection, nor could he rely on it. If Mikael had a choice, he would leave them be.

But there were stronger forces at bay. Was it unreasonable to question an outsider’s motives when Mikael himself was being interrogated and probed? If it were, it hardly mattered. Distrust was his birthright. The Falcos found wealth, but they never lost the beggars’ nature. What they passed down to their son was more than riches; Mikael inherited his mother’s relentless hunger, and his father’s habit of sleeping with one eye open.

Mikael leaned forward, dark gaze locking into the journalist’s, eyes leering with quiet hostility. “That’s none of your business,” he said, low and furious. “Get out of my fucking office.”

In character para sample:

Lights illuminated the waters, the gold of the street gleaming bright against the black of the river Danube. Perhaps, once, Mikael would have said Budapest at night was the captivating sight he’d ever witnessed, but that was before he met Lucrezia. Mikael hardly believed in magic, but in this moment, he thought it perhaps it existed, and it was this moment, an undeserving man standing by a river under the stars, blessed enough to witness the best of God’s creations. It was a type of awe that nearly brought him down on his knees. He knelt, one hand scrounging his pocket for the ultimate sign of his devotion, the promise of surrender. “Lucrezia.” The softness with which he spoke her name betrayed how unworthy he felt of it, like he doubted it could ever belong to him. “I’m not good with words. I’m not good with a lot of things, and sometimes that makes me scared to try anything new.” His heart skittered against his ribs. You’re rambling. Stop wasting her time.  “And I don’t know if I’ll be good at this, at,” the words his lips wished to form felt so foreign to his tongue. “At loving you.” Mikael took Lucrezia’s hand and pressed it gently between a palm and closed fist. Every selfish ache surged through his body. Guilt followed, for the hunger of his heart could barely be restrained, and nothing of him was worthy of this, nothing of him deserved the light Lucrezia radiated. “But for the first time, I don’t think I’m scared to try. I want —” Mikael paused. What did it matter what he wanted? What right did he have to ask anything of her? “I want to be good to you. Please,” Mikael’s voice remained soft, slow, but all deep longing and desperation was evident in the way his words cracked through his throat. He unfolded his palm, and the ring resting on it caught the light of the moon. “Let me be good to you.”

Eyes fluttered open. His phone buzzed against the bedside table, and the jarring sound of its vibrations sent a wave of annoyance surging through Mikael’s skin. As the real world reformed around him, the dream-memory shattered, leaving a bittersweet taste in its wake.

Nothing much had changed. Same life, same woman, same relentless emptiness. Legs slid off the bed, and Mikael sat upright, palms on either side of him. With one slow, lethargic motion, his hand reached for the buzzing phone on his bedside table, the faint glow of its screen bright against his tired, barely woken eyes. His face contorted into a scowl upon reading his alarm label: WAKE UP YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT. Mikael groaned. He shut it off, slammed the thing lightly against the table, but as he turned away, his eyes caught sight of his wife’s sleeping figure. He looked at her, and his anger quieted.

The sheets had shifted when he woke himself, so Mikael pulled them over her body, willfully gentle as not to wake her. “I love you,” he said under his breath, and a certain sort of sadness consumed him. His heart rose to his throat. It ached with a stupid, childish fantasy: that if he said and breathed and lived those three words enough, he would one day deserve to hear them returned.  

Mikael did not blame Lucrezia for not wanting him. How could she? When he looked at the mirror, there was no part of himself that he did not despise. Men like him and the monster blood they carried — they were hard to love, hardly worthy of love. This was the routine he deserved: to every day pray that their hearts’ hunger be sated, to every day have their prayers met with suffocating silence.

If emotions governed people, what a tyrant love must have been.

Extras:

♚ Mock Blog: regicidios.tumblr.com

♚ Cawdor Industries is a mix of several businesses, namely transportation, construction, and weapons manufacturing, which are all a legitimate front for Mikael’s Dirty Mobster businesses: smuggling, money laundering, and arms trafficking. Like the capitalist pigs they are, they’re primarily concerned with making money and use their close connections with the Capulets for networking and intimidation purposes.

♚ I read a lot on Riz Ahmed before writing this app, and out of love for him I just want to respect his background as a second-generation immigrant and write Mikael as a second generation immigrant as well. Falco isn’t a Pakistani surname, so I headcanon that his parents had their blatantly Muslim Pakistani surname changed in order to be recognized with more legitimacy in the Italian business ( and mobster ) world. Isn’t their background a little like the immigrant narrative anyway? People who came from nothing build themselves a better future with nothing but unbridled ambition and determination to forge a better life for their children. And of course, they’re typical Parents Of Colour, who constantly remind their child of how much they’d sacrificed as a way of saying: you owe us. That, and the generational gap between them, with Mikael no longer being familiar with Pakistani customs and traditions as a result of growing up in Diverse-But-Decidedly-Not-South-Asian Verona, drive a wedge between Mikael and his parents, and them not fully connecting is one of the many contributing factors to Mikael’s decision to send them away.

♚ This is me rambling but maybe a crass, clinically-depressed, overworked, caffeine-addicted hopeless ‘romantic’ nihilist-in-the-making is a little far off from how you originally envisioned Mikael but I’m going to stand by my portrayal because I firmly believe that the Thane of Cawdor Who Shall be King Hereafter is whatever the hell the polar opposite of Big Dick Energy is and m a n  he’s literature’s finest and funniest example of just how AWFUL toxic masculinity can get… I mean there’s an actual scene where Lady M tells her MacBitch he sucks at sex and then Macbeth proceeds to go on a murder-regicide rampage for four whole acts to redeem his manhood,  do you think someone that insecure will ever have the cool, self-assured swagger of ( the disgustingand horrible ) Michael Fassbender of Macbeth 2015 dir Justin Kurzel? No! Riz Ahmed is the love of my life but all his resources have him look like he’s either paranoid or dead inside or both, which is perfect, because that’s just quintessential Macbeth, everyone’s favourite Scottom ( Scottish Bottom ).

♚ That all aside, he’s an irredeemable bastard and I love him, please take us both.

[gracewithducks]

“Learn to find the Lord in the everyday ordinary life.” - Josemaria Escriva (Romans 12:1-2 MSG)

This spring, I picked up a book on a whim… and it was the kind of book that wormed its way into me, as books sometimes do. It’s a book by Barbara Mahany called, “Motherprayer: Lessons in Loving.” Mahany shares, with beauty and honesty, how the ordinary stuff of being a mom has informed her understanding of God, and love, and faith, and grace. I highly recommend this book to you, and I especially encourage you to look up the chapter called “Sacramental Supper: On Holy Communion at the Kitchen Table.”

 She writes: 

 “It was the sort of day-after-hubbub when quiet invited me in for a long, slow visit. Nothing rushed about the day. A day to breathe deep, breathe slow. To fill my lungs with quiet prayers, the prayers of lavishing love on the ones so dear to me, the ones who deserve nothing less than the very best dinner I could chop and stir and taste-test along the way. And while I’m at it, why not take it up a zany notch? Just because there’s never enough oomph in an ordinary day. And what day, really, deserves to be plain old ordinary?

“By suppertime… Before I’d said a word, the stovetop’s incense was deep at work. The house was filled with something holy, for what else can you call it when you claim a whole long day to aim for higher?

“To say in smell and taste and temperature and touch what words alone just might not say: “You are worth it to me to spend a whole day cooking just for you. I’ve not lost sight of my holiest calling, to carve out a hallowed space here in this place of walls and windows and creaky floors and solid roof, to be the one reliable source of all that’s good, that’s edifying. To fill you with warm spoonfuls – as much as you want, there’s plenty here. And I’ve made it beautiful because you are, because beauty speaks to the deep-down whole of us. And you so richly deserve every morsel I can muster.

“The day was chilly brisk. I did what I could to make the kitchen glow, the holy light of heaven here on earth. And to fill those who came to the chairs at long day’s end.

“Far as I can tell, that’s a sacrament, a sign of the sacred. With a flat splat of butter drooling off the plate.”

  I wager, friends, you’ll never look at a beef stew the same way again.

 We’ve been spending time this fall with some of the superstars of the faith – with saints, with men and women who’ve stared down injustice, who’ve founded schools and changed governments and rescued children and faced martyrdom. And while it’s been inspiring, I hope, there are also times when these men and women can seem so far removed from our own lives – like they are larger-than-life heroes for Christ, who kept the faith and persevered in pivotal moments, while I’m just over here trying to make sure my kids don’t punch each other and that they eat a little protein and maybe even a vegetable before they pull the M&M’s out of the cupboard.

 Most of us aren’t trying to figure out what to do with an inheritance of millions. Most of us were never kidnapped into slavery, trying to forgive our captors. Most of us have never been imprisoned because we spoke up against apartheid; and I don’t think any one of us has had to try to figure out how to praise God and love our neighbors in a concentration camp.

 Does that mean, then, that our lives are any less important? Does that mean that the stuff we do doesn’t matter?

 I don’t think so. I really don’t. Because that’s not how God works; that’s not how the kingdom of God works. The God who called fishermen and tax collectors, the God who fed crowds with a sack lunch, the God who talked about the last and the least and mustard seeds of faith, who took water and bread and wine and made them holy – that’s a God who values ordinary things, and ordinary people, and ordinary lives, and who uses them – uses us – to do extraordinary things.

 And that’s the message that today’s saint, Josemaria Escriva, is remembered for. Escriva dedicated his life to the idea that everyone – laity and clergy alike, everyone is called by God, everyone is called to live a holy life, and even ordinary lives are holy ones.

 And compared with some of the stories we’ve heard this fall, Escriva’s is a relatively unimpressive one. He was born in Spain the second of six children, the son of a merchant. When his father’s business went bankrupt, the family moved and his father took up a job as a clerk in a clothing store. Young Josemaria began to feel that he was “chosen for something” and, with his family’s blessing, studied and prepared for leadership in the church. And while praying, he “saw” his life’s work, in equipping all people to live holy lives, no matter what shape their life might take. He is remembered as a humble, energetic leader, a man who embraced each present moment, expecting to find God there.

 Josemaria Escriva said, “Either we learn to find the Lord in the ordinary everyday life or else we shall never find [the Lord at all]…. God is calling you to serve Him in and from the ordinary, secular and civil activities of human life. He waits for us every day, in the laboratory, in the operating theater, in the army barracks, in the university chair, in the factory, in the workshop, in the fields, in the home and in all the immense panorama of work... Understand this: there is something holy, something divine, hidden in the most ordinary of situations, and it is up to each one of you to discover it…”

 There is something sacred in every day – because God is there; in every day, we have an opportunity to love God and to love and serve our neighbors. The trick is learning to see it: to recognize God’s presence, to recognize the opportunities that are before us, and to believe that there is no such thing as an ordinary day any more than there is an ordinary person – every one matters.

 Over my years of ministry, I’ve had the opportunity to sit with many families as they celebrate the lives of their loved ones. And more and more, it’s affirmed in me that there is no one way to live a good and faithful life. I’ve stood surrounded by medals and trophies; I’ve stood in rooms full of people in suits with titles and in rooms full of children with scuffed knees and runny noses; I’ve celebrated lives of men and women with more letters after their names than I could remember, and men and women who never finished high school, because life got in the way… I’ve celebrated war heroes and business owners and teachers and moms… and I am reminded, again and again, that it’s all holy, and it all matters: whether we’re establishing foundations and building legacies or whether our legacy consists in years and years of beef stew and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches… when it’s done with love, it all matters; none of it is wasted, and nothing we do, for the sake of our love for God or our love for others, nothing is empty, or ordinary, or lost.

 In just a few weeks, we will be celebrating All Saints Sunday: we will be pausing to remember the saints of this community, the people who’ve impacted our lives… and they’ve done so in many ways. And at the same time, on that same day, we’ll be bringing our own commitments, our pledges, to serve God and love our neighbors in the coming year. And I hope that you’ll remember, that we will all remember and believe, that every life, every offering, every little bit really does make a big difference.

 Your time matters. Your gifts matter. Your life matters. You are more powerful than you might ever know.

 In our scripture for today, Paul writes to the Roman Christians, and he says, “Here’s what I want you to do, with God’s help: Take your everyday, ordinary life – your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life – and offer it to God.” This is the same letter that has given us our theme for this fall: We are all “beloved by God and called to be saints.” Because a saint, after all, is just someone who loves God and loves others, as best they can, every single day, over and over again. And through our lives, faithfully lived, hope is shared, and the world is transformed.

 It all matters. May you learn to recognize God’s presence in all your ordinary moments: may your everyday be an expression of persistent and patient love; may you truly believe that it all matters.

  God of our waking, God of our resting, God of our work, God of our play, God of our big days, God of our everydays, be with us through it all. May our lives be a living, daily expression of our faith in you; in Christ’s name we pray. Amen.

-----

Barbara Mahany’s amazing book is available many places, including here:

https://www.cokesbury.com/product/9781501827273/motherprayer/?rank=2&txtSearchQuery=motherprayer

[beautiful-bau-beau]

The Proposal Part 6

The Proposal Masterlist

THE LONG AWAITED PART 6! I'm so sorry it took so long, but if you've been a long-time follower of mine you know this happens from time to time. I thank the lord that there is an undo button because as soon as I finished writing this I deleted it all and almost broke down.

Contains: fluff, angst.

Disclaimer: I have never seen the prequels of Star Wars/ Star Trek so don't attack me.

------

The next week and a half was strange. You would invite Spencer to do things with you, and most times he would politely decline, saying he had plans. You weren't sure what he was hiding, but it was definitely making you and Spencer grow apart... You were often alone, closing the restaurant or spending time with your dad. The leaves started turning different shades and you were anxious for snow even if the idea seemed a few weeks away.

But then there were the times he stayed. The evenings filled with talking, the ones that ended too fast, the nights that left you hungry for the time you would spend with him in the morning.

"Y/n...." Spencer whispered. He lightly shook your shoulder and you grumbled, just like when you both were on the plane of the journey over. Except this time Spencer made sure to hold a pillow over his chest, ready to lift whenever you decided to wake. After a few more minutes of failing to get you to a state of consciousness. "I have coffee..." He tried to persuade. His eyes lit up when you reached your hand over to grab the mug and start to sit up.

"There are donuts downstairs." He mentioned, and you groaned, standing up. "Why didn't you say that before?' You rubbed your eyes and yawned. "Why are you waking me up this early?"

"Thinking about it now I realize I could've just left a note." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, making you chuckle deeply, your voice was still waking up along with you. "I'm heading out to spend the day with someone..."

"Oh..." You paused, trying to sound like you weren't disappointed. You knew that he didn't have to spend his mornings with you, but he did, and it just felt right, like it was second nature to wake up every morning with him beside you. You started walking away when he lightly touched your arm, making you screech internally.

"Are you alright?" He asked, studying you carefully. You smiled trying to through him off. "I just woke up, of course I'm not alright." He seemed satisfied by your answer, letting you go so he could get ready.

You made your way past the kitchen with your coffee, picking up the box of doughnuts and taking them with you as you headed to the main house to spend breakfast with your father. Who was currently at the coffee pot, checking to make sure your mother wasn't approaching him as he started to brew himself his own cup of coffee.

"Busted." You called out, smiling when he jumped, his face twisting into a frown. "Dad, let me just make you breakfast. You know mom would have a conniption if she knew what you were about to do." You worried about his actions when no one was around. He may be accepting in his fate, but you'd like to spend as much time with him as you had left.

"What is this?" He asked, lips pursed in a straight line as he slowly chewed the bacon you placed in front of him. "This is not bacon, and don't try to lie to me either. Real men know what real bacon tastes like." You shrugged, looking at the wrapper of the greasy strips.

"It says....Turkey Bacon. C'mon, it can't be that bad." You encouraged, taking a bite from his plate shrugging once more. "It's okay..." He gave you a look and you held your hands up in surrender, chuckling. "Tell you what, I'll eat the same things you do, to make it fair." You are freed much to his shock.

"You remember you said you wanted to watch a movie right?" Your father reminded you and you winced. Movies with your father usually consisted of a lot of sugar and carbs. He saw your look and smiled in a fatherly way, rubbing your head. "How about your diet starts tomorrow? Besides you don't need one anyway, you look perfect."

You and your father talked for a while, although it was killing you that you couldn't tell him how you were really feeling. Stupid, naïve, foolish and just terrible. The guilt was just about killing you and the longing you actually felt for your fake fiancé was physically making your heart ache. This delusion of the two of you was definitely just feeding the sick ideas of your fantasies.

"Alright dad, let's get captivated in the story of one faithful boy and his plight against his father...." You moved to the couch, junk food everywhere around you and a bowl of popcorn in your hands. Your father wheeled in beside you, trying to take a bite of a donut when you gave him a wary glance. He returned your gaze with a reassuring one and you relented, for now.

"Just the true 4, 5, 6, and 7 right? None of that CGI crap from the first one?" You waved off the comment, nodding. You saw something out of the corner of your eye moving. Spencer passed by the room, stopping once he processed what he saw. Your eyes widened in surprise when you saw him, willing your heart to stop beating like you were a young, immature girl with a crush. "What happened to your...plans?"

"They fell through. Just as well, because now I can spend time with you- you guys. You know that much sugar isn't-"

"Good for me? Phft, now you sound like my doctor." You teased.

"You know I am technically a Doctor y/n." He reminded, trying to suppress as a smile and you rolled your eyes and shoved sugar-filled gummies into your mouth.

"Not the one that counts." You patted the seat next to you inviting him to join. "What are we watching?" He asked, sitting comfortably next to you, looking over the Star Wars paraphilia you wore. You sighed knowingly, giving a 'can you believe this guy?' look.

"Oh I know you Spencer Reid. Do you want to leave? Because the exits are over here, here, and here." You pointed to each door as you spoke, trying to suppress a grin at Spencer's confused look. Your father helped fill the doctor in, chuckling. "We're a Star Wars family, as the newest family member you have to respect that. For y/n, that means Star Wars is better then-"

"Have you ever watched it?" Spencer cried out, turning to you violently. "Surely you had to have watched the cinematic masterpiece that is Star Trek!!?"

"Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Han Solo." You declared, a trump card if you will, as if those three names were sufficient enough to prove that this sci-fi was better then his.

"Kirk, Spock, Bones, shall I continue?" He pointed out and you rolled your eyes back as you leaned your head on the couch cushions.

"C'mon Spencer...."

"It's difficult because they're both so amazing...." Spencer admitted and you offered a bowl of popcorn as a peace offering. "Then why fight it Spence?" You asked and he sighed loudly.

"We're putting this argument on hold." He said disbelievingly. You nodded sarcastically, eyes wide and stuck on the screen as the familiar music came on. You didn't even realize that during your debate your father wheeled out of the room.

-

Every day you found yourself wondering where Spencer was going, and most importantly, who he was going with. You wanted his attention all to yourself as pathetic and jealous as it seemed.  So, you had asked to meet whoever he was with, praying that it wasn't a woman, although the voice in the back of your mind filled you to the brim with doubt. Spencer agreed, but you still didn't know when you would meet this mystery person.

You had been sitting in the guesthouse living room, reading while your father took a nap when you heard an all to familiar giggle. Spencer called out your name and you hesitantly waked to the front door. You didn't imagine your heart to brake at the sight you saw. You couldn't believe it. You seemed so hyper aware of everything that was going on yet you still couldn't believe it. Your eyes drunk in her cat-like claws holding onto his hand, another one protectively holding onto his arm, staking her claim. He looked from her face up to meet your eyes and you felt like someone had just shot you.

Mattie Noel, the girl who stood with your crush was the girl who tormented you every day of your miserable high school life. Spencer not being present for the high school years, since he had moved to California to attend Cal-Tech meant that he couldn't have known but it still hurt.

She didn't just abuse you emotionally, with everyday teasing and belittling, she had a bit of a punch to her. You can remember being stuck in your PE locker and punches to your stomach.

"Look at the little piggy. I wonder, will anything hurt her when she so clearly had layers of fat to protect her?" The memory was still so vivid in your mind.

Why was a selfish bitch like her given someone so special? She clearly would never understand what you would give to be holding his hand like that. She would never understand the bond that you had with him since being a child. She probably wouldn't even give a crap about Spencer's mother or anything that went on in his life.

You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything, walking away. You heard Spencer whisper something to her, and chase after you into your bedroom. "What's wrong y/n?" You barely heard him over your groaning as you flopped into the comforting pillows.

"Are you serious? You're a profiler, figure it out." You mumbled, voice muffled by the cushions. "Do you even know anything about her? Why of all people would you spend your days with her?" You asked angrily, lifting your head from the comforting blankets.

Spencer seemed taken aback by your sudden irate attitude. It's not like your life was falling apart because your fake fiancé that you had to please your dying father was dating your high school bully. Nope, everything was fine. Peachy keen. "Y/n you need to talk to me." He tried to keep his cool. "I know that she's confident, outgoing and very successful."

"Oh please you just think she's hot." You sighed exasperatedly, sitting up and holding a cushion to your stomach.

"Y/n, please," he scolded. "Do you know anything about her? You two might actually get along. I really like her y/n." His comments irked you.

"You seem to go for any girl just because she gives you the attention you never got until you became a profiler!" The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them, and that was all Spencer could take before he exploded.

"You know I did what you wanted to make you and your family happy! I'm pretending to marry you aren't I? Maybe if you weren't so cynical all the time you wouldn't have to pretend you were getting married and actually finds somebody who cares.  Why can't you just let me be happy?" He cried and you couldn't think of anything to say except the thing you had wanted to say ever since you realized your feelings. I love you. He took your silence a different any and stormed out of the room.

"Spencer!" You shouted, running after him. You had almost reached the door, watching him walk out to her car when a hand held you back. Your heart raced as there could only be one both those cold eyes belonged to.

"Oh hey y/n." She smiled, sickly patronizing. She still seemed to chew the same gum she was forced to spit out everyday and each time her lips smacked together you felt like you wanted to throw up.

"Mattie...." You grudgingly acknowledged her. "Smelling skanky as always, oh I'm sorry, I meant looking." You mumbled. You may still not be completely confident in your life but you had gotten over her a while ago.

"You know, you may have everyone fooled, but trust me, Spencer's mine. I wonder how awkward it will be when he breaks off your "engagement" and starts dating me? Sounds like every relationship you've ever had.' She snickered. "Don't try to piss me off, you're still the same little bug you were in high school, remember that. I can blow your whole cover." She strutted back over towards Spencer who stared at you with folded arms.

The worst thing was watching him walk away with her. For a profiler he was so stupid! Why couldn't he see that you ached to be with him? That you longed to be in his embrace instead of hers? But it seemed too late.

You would never be her and the thought and words you both exchanged repeated as you cried.

----

"Oh my, it's absolutely stunning." Your mother marveled as she viewed an eloquent dining hall from an actual classy hotel. Sure Las Vegas had its gambling, rough cities, gambling, women of the night, and gambling, but it also had a prestigious side.

"Well it's set up for a business meeting now but I'm sure you could imagine white tables and dimmer lights." The guide, Roger pointed out, gesturing at the large dining hall. Unbeknownst to you, this was a surprise for you that your mother would give to you to relive you of the stress to plan a wedding.

Your mother stopped, staring at the sight before her. Roger noticed something was wrong and followed her gaze to a handsome brunette man with slight curls, kissing a blonde woman in the window of the restaurant he was just mentioning. He knew something had to be iffy so he hesitantly questioned, "Someone you know dear?"

"That's the- no... That's-thats the groom!" Your mother  answered, swallowing thickly. "K-kissing some tramp!"

"Guess you won't be paying that deposit then?" The man tried joking but was met with the medusa-styled glare from your mother. This was going to crush you, her baby girl. Your mother didn't know what to do but she knew she had to tell you.

-

@crowleyshellhoundproductions  @xinhaleredveinsx @clairese1980 @nerdaspe @valynsia

[newssplashy]

I may not have a doctorate (or a bachelor’s degree,) but I HAVE been having copious amounts of butt sex for the last decade, so I'm here to answer all of your sex and relationship questions.

Hi, everyone! I'm Asa Akira, and I’m officially now an unqualified sex and relationship columnist. This is the fifth installment of Ask Asa, my column for Men's Health.

I may not have a doctorate (or a bachelor’s degree,) but I HAVE been having copious amounts of butt sex for the last decade, so I'm here to answer all of your sex and relationship questions.

If you have any questions for me, shoot them to Men's Health on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagramwith the hashtag #AskAsa. Don't hold back - I certainly won't.

I’ve been super shy my whole life (I’m 35 now). I think every girl is out of my league. What advice do you have on breaking the shyness? I’m getting older and want to have kids and get married!

I grew up really shy, and at the core, I still am - so I understand how unhelpful it is when people say, “Just get over it!” or, “All you have to do is gain confidence!”

For me, a trick that’s worked is when I just think of socializing as my job. When I’m in a social situation, I actually pretend I’m being paid to be there and talk to people. It weirdly takes the pressure off of getting rejected, or “failing” to be engaging. Because if those things happen, oh, well, I still did my job.

Of course, the goal is to be engaging; and if there’s one thing everyone loves, it’s talking about themselves. In the beginning, when you’re still getting acquainted with a new person and warming up, ask a ton of questions about them: What do they like to do for fun outside of their job? What kinds of things make them laugh the hardest? If they could only eat one food for the rest of her life, what would it be? It’ll show them you’re interested in who they are as a person, and more importantly, it’ll give you insight into whether or not they're ultimately a good match for you.

Does pineapple juice actually change the taste of your semen? Have you tested the theory?

I’ve tested the theory so much, I’m practically a scientist.

No, but seriously: while I have not found that pineapple juice specifically can alter the taste of semen, most men's health experts agree that your diet affects the taste of your semen, and any sugary or acidic foods can cut down on its naturally bitter taste. That includes lemon, cranberries, and yup, pineapple.

In my own personal experience, I have found that the healthier the diet, the more inoffensive-tasting the jizz; the unhealthier the diet, the worse it tastes. In fact, I am proud to say that once, upon sampling one gentleman's seed, it tasted so bad that I gently recommended he go to the doctor to see where his insulin levels are. The doctor reported he was, in fact, pre-diabetic, and through an improved diet and exercise, he was able to avoid a lifelong disease. To this day, this is still one of my proudest moments. 

 How do you deal with the stigma attached to shooting porn?

I deal with it by reminding myself of my own morals, values, and ethics. Personally, I don’t see anything wrong with me shooting porn - I am having safe sex and fulfilling my fantasy of being watched by eager and horny viewers. The career choice has afforded me self-worth, a comfortable lifestyle, and the kind of sex life that most people can only dream about. If there are people out there who think that’s bad, then so be it; I’ll be orgasming all the way to the bank.

Porn has given me self-worth, a comfortable lifestyle, and the kind of sex life that most people can only dream about. If there are people out there who think that’s bad, then so be it; I’ll be orgasming all the way to the bank.

What's your advice for keeping a relationship alive?

The last time I spoke on relationships, I got divorced (for the second time in my life) a few months later, so my first piece of advice is to take my advice with a grain of salt.

That said, I’ve found that as cliché as it is, the keys to a healthy relationship are honesty and communication. And therapy.

I cannot express how wonderful couples' therapy has been in my current relationship; we started sessions early on, and it has been a truly educating and infinitely helpful experience. I’ve learned so much about myself, my own insecurities and weaknesses, and how to avoid falling into the same patterns I’ve been repeating with other relationships throughout my entire life. It’s given us the vocabulary to communicate clearly and efficiently, and it’s allowed me to be intimate in a way I have never experienced. Every conflict is now an opportunity to grow closer, and in turn, I am having the best sex of my life because my guards are all down.

So final answer, after two failed marriages and and dozens of toxic breakups: Get professional help.

"Porn has given me self-worth, a comfortable lifestyle, and the kind of sex life that most people can only dream about. If there are people out there who think that’s bad, then so be it; I’ll be orgasming all the way to the bank."

Is it bad to want to have sex everyday? Should I hold out and find a partner who feels the same, or accept the fact that I'll never find that and settle for less?

If wanting sex everyday is wrong, then who would want to be right? Seriously, though, there are definitely women out there that want sex every day naturally. (Hello, me.) In fact, contrary to the stereotype that men have inherently higher sex drives than women do, some studies have shown that women not only desire sex just as much as men do, but that they're turned on by a wider range of stimuli.

Most importantly, many women are capable of wanting sex every day - it’s just up to you to consistently make her feel that way. Many studies have shown that the most reliable way to turn a woman on is to make her feel like you're turned on by her, and this is absolutely true: personally, I feel the horniest when I’m feeling hot and sexy, so the more you remind me of that, the more I’ll actually want to have sex.

So find out what turns your partner on, and do it often. Keep in mind that it's not really realistic to expect to have sex every single day, as there are a lot of real-life factors - work stress, having kids, etc. - that get in the way. But know that yes, there are tons of women out there who are just as horny (if not hornier) than you.

 How do I last longer in bed?

I don’t have a penis, so I can’t speak from personal experience. But I am a woman, so I can tell you from my perspective: sex is not all about penetration. If you keep us satisfied, we are never going to complain about how long you last in bed, and there are so many ways to do that without relying on plain old penetration.

If you are more on the minute-man end of the scale, mix it up! Go down on your partner, use your fingers, use toys, engage in a lot of dirty talk, etc. If you're having sex and you feel like you’re getting close, take a break and go down on her - that is NEVER going to go under-appreciated. I love a man who uses variety way more than the one-trick pony who just wants to have straight-up vanilla P-in-V sex for 20 minutes straight.

 "If I want to have sex with a consenting adult for money, it's silly that the government won't allow me to do so. I hope we are soon living in a world where we are all horrified by the way things used to be."

Do you think that the future of porn is activism?

We have seen a huge rise in political action from the porn industry in the last few years. Performers and producers like jessica drake, Julia Ann, Jiz Lee, Connor Habib, and so many others have been on the forefront of big issues like the fight for marriage equality and the battle against Measure B, the law that would have required performers in porn to wear condoms on camera. I think this will only continue to rise.

I would also love to ultimately see all sex work legalized. As a porn actor who primarily shoots in California, my work is legal, but that is not the case for escorts or other women who make their living selling sex. Violence against sex workers is remarkably common: in fact, the mortality rate for female sex workers is much higher than that of women in pretty much any other profession.

To me, it's obvious that the very thing that makes prostitution dangerous is the fact that it operates behind closed doors, where it can't be regulated. If we could legalize prostitution, we could finally implement procedures like regular STD testing and background checks. If I want to have sex with a consenting adult for money, it's silly that the government won't allow me to do so. I hope we are soon living in a world where we are all horrified by the way things used to be.

via NewsSplashy - Latest Nigerian News,Ghana News ,News,Entertainment,Hot Posts,sports In a Splash.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

My Favorite Places to Shop Vintage in New York

http://fashion-trendin.com/my-favorite-places-to-shop-vintage-in-new-york/

My Favorite Places to Shop Vintage in New York

My closet is almost entirely secondhand. I nearly always travel with inconvenient vintage luggage (it has rapidly accumulated in my bedroom since the release of Moonrise Kingdom), despite my boyfriend’s gentle reminders that “there’s a reason luggage has evolved.” My shower rod is constantly draped with my drying vintage dresses because I don’t trust washing machines with them. A vintage wardrobe can be cumbersome, but it’s also environmentally friendly, relatively inexpensive and irreplaceable.

Within my first 24 hours of moving to New York, I had already Googled the closest vintage shops to my new apartment. I dropped pins on my maps app, eager to explore New York’s offerings of tulle dresses and high-waist jeans. What I did not know at the time was how the vintage shops of New York (and the people who run them) would provide me with so much more than gorgeous collections of clothing to sift through. In this sprawling metropolis, vintage shops have served as my oasis of comfort, proving that delicate things can be beautifully preserved and passed on between the strangers that inhabit this wild, wonderful mess of a city.

My archive of vintage havens has grown to the point where it can no longer fit inside a mental note, so I finally decided to write it all down in one place. Keep scrolling to read about my personal favorite places to shop secondhand in New York, and tell me your favorites in the comments.

Williamsburg 197 Grand St, Brooklyn, NY

Every time I watch Sex and the City, I am inspired by Carrie’s commitment to dressing fabulously, even when she’s home alone. I find myself daydreaming about becoming the type of woman who wears vintage slips and long strings of pearls while lounging solo in my apartment. If you, too, have these sartorial fantasies, Le Grand Strip is your spot. It’s a lot like how I imagine the dressing room of a burlesque show might look: full of giant gold-framed mirrors, peacocks, chandeliers and other fancy delights. Whether it’s a cotton shift dress, a lace teddy or a double-breasted suit that makes you feel like your best self, this place has all the feel-good outfits perfect for wearing both inside and out of your apartment.

Williamsburg 223 Bedford Ave, Brooklyn, NY 

Amarcord is known for its sublime window designs, which never fail to make me smile on my commute home. Fortunately the inside lives up to the outside, offering a highly curated collection of the best in jewelry, accessories and clothing for women and men. Their sourcing is based in Italy, and the list of labels they carry includes Gucci, Prada, Chloe, Dior, Oscar de la Renta and Diane Von Furstenberg, to name a few. Amarcord’s owners have an acute sense of current trends and know how to style their vintage wares to match them. You can often find the shop’s co-owner, Marco, manning the store. He is passionate about Amarcord’s collection and gives great styling advice. While photographing his shop, I discovered a sweet pair of eggshell Salvatore Ferragamo sandals in my size. Marco told me that “there is nothing as classy as vintage Ferragamo,” and I couldn’t disagree. I purchased them.

Williamsburg and Greenpoint 132 N 5th St, Brooklyn, NY, with one other location at 688 Manhattan Ave

Awoke is the holy grail of vintage basics. There are piles of denim, floral patterned skirts and a range of T-shirts. This is the place to go if you’re looking for layering staples and comfortable, everyday pieces. They also carry a few statement items, like the mint green suit I purchased a while back that is both comfy and makes me feel like Cate Blanchett. What more could I ask for from an outfit?

Thriftwares at the Artists and Fleas Market

Williamsburg and Soho 70 N 7th St, Brooklyn; other location at 568 Broadway St., New York

Thriftwares has two locations, both of which are permanent merchants in the Artists and Fleas markets in Soho and Williamsburg. Thriftwares has everything from classic white blouses to your dream Gatsby party dress. They also have a variety of unique outerwear and summer “It” bags I haven’t seen anywhere else. I purchased a vintage Burberry blazer there a while back, and my mother literally screamed in delight when I wore it home last week.

Although Thriftwares’ aesthetic varies from piece to piece, everything is both unique and well-kept.

Williamsburg and Chelsea 135 N 7th St Brooklyn, NY 11249; other location at 24 W 26th St

The majority of Crossroads’ wares are from secondhand contemporary brands. It’s one of those places that requires some scavenging, but the payoff can be huge. My best find so far was a Ganni sweater I had been eyeing online. I purchased it for a fraction of the retail price.

Greenpoint 285 N 6th St, Brooklyn, NY 11211

10 Ft Single by Stella Dallas consists of one large room of secondhand goods and another large room of genuine vintage goods. Next door, there’s Stella Dallas Living, which carries vintage fabrics, carpets, a wall full of buttons and some of the store’s finer vintage dresses and shoes. Everything is well-organized and reasonably priced.

East Williamsburg 320 Graham Ave, Brooklyn, NY

Known to Man carries dresses that range in formality from casual picnic lunch to swanky cocktail hour. The last time I went to this shop, my mom was in town and generously gifted me the most amazing vintage beaded backless dress I’ve ever seen. I wore it to an event in the New York Botanical Gardens, and it was possibly the highlight of my life:

The owner, Giselle, has a keen eye for knowing which items will pair well together, like these blue silk pants and this ‘60s beaded top:

East Williamsburg 137 Montrose Ave, Brooklyn NY

Olly Olly Oxen has the feeling of a well-loved home. There’s an old desk filled with vintage magazines and cassettes and dried flowers hanging above the entrance. It is also home to a collection of unworn 1971 India Imports of Rhode Island designer wear from Woodstock. If you’re looking for a unique outfit to wear to a summer music festival, this is your place.

Bushwick 232 Varet Street, Brooklyn NY

Risk is physically impossible to miss if you happen to walk by. It’s basically Barbie’s chic apartment, complete with Marilyn Monroe pillows out front, a spiral staircase adorned with beach hats and walls covered in spectacular art made by the owner herself, Lindsay Risk. Inside, there are contemporary goods seamlessly sprinkled among the vintage gems. If you’ve ever watched Uptown Girls and craved Molly’s wardrobe/accessories/apartment, Risk will easily satisfy those cravings.

Union Square, Park Slope, Bushwick and Greenpoint

A thrifting expedition would not be complete without a stop at Beacon’s Closet. When it comes to finding a good deal, this place takes the cake. Each of the circular racks is conveniently color-coded and chock full of vintage and consignment goods that vary in style, size and time period.

Bushwick 117 Wilson Ave, Brooklyn, NY

Based on the outfits of Worship’s clientele, it’s clear this is a favorite store amongst vintage connoisseurs — no surprise since the racks are constantly replenished with an abundance of statement pieces. From vintage couture to label-less handmade garments, everything is perfectly curated.

Bushwick 16 Wilson Ave, Brooklyn, NY

Collections looks like your quirky aunt’s hypothetical beach house and has the clothing to match. Whether you’re taking a weekend away from the city or just want to feel like you are, Collections has the goods to put you in vacation mode. The shop is an alcove of serenity, perfect for a leisurely browse.

Locations all over New York (favorites on 143 W 17th St, 157 E 23rd St and 130 Crosby St)

Housing Works is full of well-kept secondhand wares from a multitude of well-known brands. I once got a great deal on this white Armani dress:

It’s the perfect vintage stop for office-appropriate outfits, a dinner party dress or a pair of shoes from a brand you already know and love. If you’re in the mood to spiff up your apartment, Housing Works also carries home goods, furniture and artwork. Proceeds go towards fighting AIDS and homelessness.

West Village 240 W 10 St, Manhattan, NY

Madame Matovu is a quaint, tasteful and cozy gem located in the heart of the West Village. The curator and owner, Rosemary, is as warm and welcoming as her shop. Rosemary fills every surface with dainty knick-knacks, so although the shop is small, the sheer volume of uncommon items tucked inside make it well worth the trip.

Lower East Side 5 Delancey St, Manhattan, NY

Procell specializes in ’80s and ’90s streetwear, including rare T-shirts. The store has a clean layout and a deeply curated collection of contemporary vintage. If you’re not the type of vintage shopper who enjoys scavenging, the modern space with simple displays will help you narrow your search with its curated edit of collectables.

Lower East Side 204 1st Ave, New York, NY

No Relationship is your classic secondhand “jeans and T-shirt” spot. It’s perfect for anyone in search of an Official Hot Guy Shirt, a pre-loved jean jacket, a neon windbreaker or denim cutoffs.

Union Square 111 E 12th St New York, NY

Cure Thrift Shop is a massive two-floor collection of vintage and thrift clothing, as well as some antique and contemporary homewares. The shop has a similar vibe to the Friends apartments and has the outfits to match. Whether you’re a Rachel, Monica, Phoebe, Chandler, Joey or Ross (no judgment), this place has effortless ensembles to fit your standards. There’s plenty to sort through, so set aside a good chunk of time for this one. All proceeds benefit Type 1 Diabetes Research and Advocacy.

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What are your favorite places to shop thrift and vintage in New York? I’m always adding to my list.

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Photos by Starling Irving. 

[sporadicstudentinternet-blog]

And Help Your Health At The Same Time.

On today's episode, Ways to Overcome Sugar Addiction & Cravings", we're speaking about the fact behind sugar dependency, yearnings & what you can do to conquer them! Likewise, plant reminders in your environment (refrigerator, office, cars and truck, and so on) which strengthen your dedication. So, when you eliminate the main substance upon which a person has actually ended up being dependent to feel normal or good (alcohol), the brain screams to get that relief from other substances (carbs and caffeine, nicotine and sugar, pot, etc.). Caffeine likewise increases serotonin concentration in the brainstem. Initially, the body reacts quite in a different way to various calories, even if the protein, fat and carbs (and taste) are precisely the very same. When you rock your cravings, you're doing the very same thing - it's a psychological practice of holding" or containing your feelings with a warm, attuned, thoughtful presence. Ceylon cinnamon is the real kind of cinnamon and it is widely considered the best for blood sugar level control and slimming down.

Galic MA, Persinger MA. Large sucrose intake in female rats: increased nippiness" during durations of sucrose removal and possible oestrus periodicity. The primary step in breaking a sugar dependency is deciding to stop consuming it totally for a minimum of 4-7 days (the longer the better ), and sticking to it. While I normally recommend making dietary modifications gradually, sugar has the unique ability to inspire cravings which are refueled each time you give into them. When a specific eats sugar the brain produces big levels of dopamine (the reward chemical), likewise to the way the brain reacts to ingestion of substances like heroin and cocaine. The fact that they consist of no sugar also makes them amazing for usage in a ketogenic diet.

Lucky for me, my sis just took a class and was licensed with the essencial oils. Fill up on these foods, and eat a range of foods to stay satisfied. And ladies who try to do the ideal thing by drinking diet plan sodas in fact drink twice as much as those who consumed regular sugar-sweetened sodas, since artificial sweeteners are more addictive than regular sugar. I've attempted pleasing them with a handful of fresh blueberries and some chocolate-covered espresso beans that I discovered in the back of my desk drawer. This psychological development is how you move from both poles of a sugar fascination - bingeing, sugar addiction and overconsumption on the one hand; and fear, avoidance, and obsession with never ever eating sugar on the other - into the middle, nurturing a conscious, serene, and conscious relationship with sugar. She composes routine posts on the causes, signs, and treatment of Candida fungus, and has assisted thousands of Candida albicans sufferers recover their health. If you're afflicted by strong sugar cravings, getting your body moving may assist deactivate them. Mozaffarian, D. New England Journal of Medicine, June 2011. So, if you're wishing to produce healthier eating habits in your children you have to first start with yourself. BUT, 'enjoyment centres' in our brains also illuminate when we pet cats or young puppies, pay attention to our favourite song (or podcast), and when we see people we love. Thus, the impacts of fructose-containing sugars on blood lipids remain inconclusive and will require additional research study to resolve. Intake of fructose-, however not glucose sweetened beverages produces an atherogenic lipid profile in overweight/obese men and women. In addition to the immediate tiredness and emotional issues, sugar also triggers numerous long-term illness. Enter your email to get your Wild Quick Start Guide and 7-Day Meal Strategy ... on the house! Type 4: Depressed and Yearning Carbs-- Sugar yearnings triggered by your menopause, andropause, or duration. I am also a believer of the holistic method, so I began looking into important oils. The only method to feel the same high" as in the past is to duplicate the habits in increasing quantities and frequency. It is essential to be clear on what you desire most in life ... in this case, good health or the approval of others and/or pleasing the minds of others (notification I stated minds" and not souls", huge difference). Often, sugar yearnings might be from something as easy as taking in a lot of processed carbohydrates regularly and not getting adequate protein and fats. Attempt your best every day and keep in mind why you're getting rid of sugar in the very first place: so you can be healthier, better, and more. fit to deal with the difficulties in your everyday life! Use a natural creamer in your coffee that does not include added sweeteners. A handful of nuts, a few slices of cheese, sunflower seeds, or an avocado spread over whole-wheat toast can each make an exceptional snack to help lessen your cravings for sugar. You've just greatly increased the area of each of those particles. Using a similar design, other detectives reported that consuming fructose- compared with glucose-sweetened drinks led to increased postprandial TG concentrations which these impacts were more noticable in overweight/obese topics than in normal-weight subjects and more noticable in guys than in ladies (17, 18 ). Rada P, Colasante C, Skirzewski M, Hernandez L, Hoebel B. Behavioral anxiety in the swim test causes a biphasic, long-lasting change in accumbens acetylcholine release, with partial compensation by acetylcholinesterase and muscarinic-1 receptors. In healing circles this is referred to as dependency to volume of all foods" or merely volume dependency." weaning off sugar addiction A common method of food abstaining is committing to specific foods for each meal in advance, and determining and weighing as a method of assuring right part size. A serving of any alcohol-- beer, white or red wine, or a shot of booze-- will lower the blood glucose load of a typical serving of starch by roughly 25%. You might not understand it, but you could effectively be a tension eater. It increases the amount of blood that is sent out to the brain, releases dopamine, and supplies a momentary sensation of bliss.

[hauteseeker]

Seven days in the Southwest solo. How can I describe my experience?

Unexpected. Exhilarating. Fulfilling.

There is so much to cover, so I am breaking down my time spent between the two different states and ten various cities that I visited in two parts.

Let me first start off the introduction to New Mexico by saying this; God made this area. You can see it in the landscape. It’s hard to be in this part of the country and not fathom that a higher power created such a beautiful scenery. My three-day stay in Santa Fe also consisted of travel through the cities of Albuquerque, Madrid, Cuerellos, Abiquqi, and Ojo. During my stay in New Mexico, I was able to experience various parts of this unique ecosystem along with art, people, and individual towns that are indeed one of a kind.

Day One: Albuquerque

The official day of my road trip started on Wednesday, October 10th. I took a late flight out the Tuesday before with the goal of arriving at a decent hour to my Airbnb in Albuquerque. That was not the case. I got about 4 hours sleep at the Airbnb( which was a waste of money) and quickly had to make my way to the festival grounds in time enough to catch a balloon ride.

Let’s backtrack just a little. I went to Albuquerque to attend the International Balloon Fiesta. I stumbled across the festival a couple of years ago and thought it looked amazing and knew I some point in my life I just had to go. It is recommended to get to the fairgrounds early. I didn’t realize I how soon until I hit the entrance. Boom. Traffic. I knew I was not going to let the lack of a ride ruin my trip when my goal was just to be apart of the unique experience anyways.

Waking up at the crack of down to see beautiful balloons rise to the skies was fantastic. During my time there I met some wonderful characters who had a long-standing history with the fiesta. One older woman shared some incredible insight with me. “What other sport in the world can you find that an any and everyone can participate in,” she said. It was true! Men, women, young, old, were walking the festival grounds, refereeing the balloons, and even navigating them that day.

Even though I did not make it into a hot air balloon, just being there was totally worth it. My biggest advice when attending this event is for sure to dress in layers. It is a bit cold that early in the morning in the area. You should also stay a couple of days for the festival if they can, at least one additional day to attend evening events, as well as explore other parts of Albuquerque.

After the balloon fiesta, I had plenty of time to kill before my Airbnb stay in Santa Fe, so I decided to drive the scenic route of Old Route 66 and the Turquoise Trail. The trail is a 50-mile drive along Highway 14 that encompasses small mining towns, authentic restaurants, and eccentric art communities. My first stop was in the city of Madrid. An older artsy community full of land art, small boutiques, and of course, turquoise jewelry. When visiting this town, be sure to stop at some of my favorite little shops:

Shugarman Little Chocolate Shop

Connie’s Photo Park

Ghost Town Trading Post

Jezebel Glass Studio and Sculpture Garden & Soda Fountain

Collaboration

Crystal Dragon

Next, I stopped at the tiny, almost ghost town of Cerrillos. Stop by the Casa Grande Trading Post Museum and Petting Zoo for low-priced raw turquoise and other jewels and gems, One of the last stops where you can find the unique gems for a really good deal before entering Santa Fe. Before departing the town of Cerrillos, I made my way to a saloon and bar with a modern take called Black Bird, a very modern restaurant compared to the others I had seen along the trail. I met the owner and indulged in a delicious Angus burger called the ‘Black Jack Ketchum’, topped with a gun-powder rub, gouda cheese, onion, cilantro, bandit sauce which was some smokey flavor that reminded me of almost a sloppy joe type of taste all served on a kaiser roll. The perfect meal to keep me moving on my way to Santa Fe.

The ride through the Turquoise trail was amazing. I was I had one of those Google cars so I could have had a video of the area around me. It was amazing! So much land art, random bits of it everywhere. If you have time, be sure to stop by the After a long day one, I decided to grab some fast-food grub and chill out the rest of the evening at my cozy Airbnb residence.

Day 2: Ojo and Santa Fe

Day two of my trip kicked off pretty early. I had a spa appointment North of Santa Fe. Before hitting the road I Yelped a spot to grab a quick breakfast burrito. I learned, unlike maybe Chicago’s brunch only burritos, that the compact version in New Mexico is an everyday “thing” there. I stopped at El Chile Toreado and grabbed a breakfast burrito full of mixed meats(polish sausage, chorizo, and bacon) along with potatoes, cheese, and peppers. It was simple and fantastic.

About an hour outside of Santa Fe is Ojo Caliente and it’s well known natural hot springs. The springs at Ojo Caliente feature the only hot springs in the world with four different types of mineral water. The spa waters range between 80 – 109 degrees and are sulfur free. Before diving into the enchanted waters, I first indulged in a lovely spa service. My services included a included a 50-minute Essence of Ojo Custom Massage, a Native American Blue Corn and Prickly Pear Salt Scrub, and reflexology foot therapy all performed by Chris, my therapist for the day. After my fantastic treatment, I made my way to the hot springs and spent the remainder of the afternoon soaking and savoring the majestic surrondings.

Before making my way into the city of Santa Fe, I took a brief detour to the Santa Fe Opera House. Unfortunately, it wasn’t open, but I managed to find a way in and peruse the grounds. The space is absolutely beautiful, I can only imagine what it would be like to attend a play or show here. Also, the views from the opera house on the lustrous hilltop neighborhood are awesome to take in as well.

I made my way back into to town to grab a quick nap and conduct my next moves for the evening. In New Mexico, the traditional and notorious eats contain chile peppers. They are literally everywhere you go. For dinner, I made my way to La Choza, a favorite among locals for its traditional New Mexican cuisine. For dinner at this colorful and casual eatery, I chose the combination plate, which contained a blue corn burrito, carne adovada, and chile relleno, served “Christmas style”( red and green chile). It came with side pinto beans, posole( hominy never had it, but it was great), lettuce and tomato with a side of Sopilla, a puffed bread that essential soaks up the heavy chile sauce. It can also be enjoyed plain or with honey as well. The summary of this dish was heavy and very, very spicy. If you don’t like spicey, get the chile sauce on the side.

During dinner and over a separate drink at a hotel, I had the pleasure of meeting two very interesting fellow travelers. One was a teacher from Indianapolis who used to live in the Chicago area, the other, a producer from L.A in town working on a film, who I met at the trendy LA Posada Hotel during a nightcap. It’s amazing the type of people you can meet over food and drinks when traveling solo. During our conversations, we talked family, creative careers, and of course, Chicago. A great way to conclude my second day in Santa Fe.

  Day 3: Santa Fe

My third day in New Mexico was spent seeking out the art scene in Santa Fe. The first stop was a tour of Museum Hill, a combination of five different museums. I made my way to three, International Folk Art, Museum of Indian Art and Culture, and The Wheelwright Museum of American Indian. Each offered its own unique aspect of history and relevance to the New Mexico area. My favorite out of all three had to be the International Folk Art Museum. It was definitely the most culturally mesmerizing and relatable space that I have ever been too! The museum featured everything from a special exhibition on Tramp Art to global Folk Art in all of its various forms.

After hopping to various museums, I made my way back into the center of town to check out some the iconic Canyon Road and its many galleries along with The Plaza. Canyon Road has 40+ galleries that feature both local and global artists. My favorite was the contemporary ones that featured distinctive and conversational pieces. Some of my favorites that are worth checking out are:

Intrigue Gallery

Corazon

Rockaway Opals 

Santa Kilm

Turner Carroll Gallery

Jim McLain

Mark White Fine Art

McCall Fine Art 

Canyon Road Contemporary 

Pippin Contemporary

Dark Bird Place

Poetic Threads

Robert Nichols Gallery

While along the Plaza, be sure to not only to check out the higher end shops for inspiration but definitely barter for handmade goods with local merchants who hang out outside of the shops at as well. Get a little dose of architecture by checking out the historical churches, Loretto Chapel( climb the staircase if you can I did not have a chance to) and the Cathedral Bascialla of St. Francis Assisi.

  I needed to refuel before making my way to Meow Wolf, so I had dinner in the neighborhood at a spot called tune-up cafe, recommended by my Airbnb host. Tune-up Cafe is a modern take on New Mexican style food. While there, I dined al fresco and watched the sunset on a truly beautiful day and took in my surroundings. The restaurant was full of young families and couples that were composed of a more hipster-ish crowd.

For dinner, I decided to try out their version of Chile Relleno. I had read the reviews beforehand and noticed and just had to try the El Salvadoran Pupusa as an appetizer. I went for the steak flank as a filler.This was my first time having the pupusa and it was fantastic. Light and flakey in taste with killer filling. The steak was well seasoned and contained just enough spice. My main dish of chile relleno was also very good. It was hearty but not too heavy. Very well seasoned and just enough to keep me full as I made my way to my next destination.

Meow Wolf was a completely unexpected experience. It is something that a person has to try out for themselves to get the full experience. It’s one of that artistic endeavors that is made for any and everyone to understand and participate in. No need for Master level analysis, its really about immersing yourself into the art itself. Be sure to check the events calendar for Meow Wolf, as they constantly have some form of live entertainment happening weekly.  While I was there, I had the chance to vibe out with the locals and enjoy some West Coast Hip-Hop artists from around the area, such as Zion I, Wakeself, DJ Element, and Def-i, whose lyrics touched on everything from love and unity to racial injustice and Indigenous oppression.

It was by far my favorite part of the trip and a great way to end my last night in Santa Fe.

Many people questioned me about my trip to New Mexico. “Who goes there?” ” There won’t be any black people there” What’s there?” “You are going along.” All of these questions came to mind as well for me, as well as “who cares?” The whole point of traveling is to experience places you never knew existed. It was an escape from my current reality. It was a look into someone else’s reality. It was a taste of a reality that includes happiness and fulfillment, something that I am still seeking.

Getting to that point of living my best life takes some self-evaluation. During part one of my Southwest trip, I addressed some of the things I have lost sight of. One was realizing how important my independent is and how is. I’ve become attached to certain people I’ve met since living and Chicago and that attachment has made me very comfortable. Being comfortable has made me complacent, a little lazy, and stuck. No more of that. This trip also made me recognize how much I love planning and researching, and if I can do this for myself, I can do it in a career. It affirmed how easily it is for me to strike conversations with people and throw bashfulness to the wind. It reminded me that I cannot depend on other people to bring me happiness or fulfillment.

It reminded me that I have to continue on to my next journey, and not get distracted by dumb stuff. No matter how attractive it looks from a distance, I have to make it to my next stop.

  Albuquerque to Phoenix: Seven Days Seeking the Southwest Pt.1 Seven days in the Southwest solo. How can I describe my experience? Unexpected. Exhilarating. Fulfilling. There is so much to cover, so I am breaking down my time spent between the two different states and ten various cities that I visited in two parts.

[hirayaea]

…this is my fiancée

everyday i am reminded my taste in men is consistent

/

note: he knows who Lumiere is!!! he’s just being petty ugh