#for now i will sit and crochet and allow myself to relax

[iliterallydecepticanteven]

So. My car is as good as dead. I took her in for repairs on an oil valve and spark plugs on Wednesday and it totaled to just over $1k in repair costs. Then on Friday, as I was trying to go home from work, the engine wouldn't start. So I got her towed to the same shop that did the repairs on Wednesday and turns out the head gasket is blown. Only one shop in my area will do head gasket repair and that will cost at least $3k assuming they can do it which they won't know until they see the car irl. She won't run so that will be another tow. The shop who did the repairs were very apologetic and are letting me store her at their shop with no storage fee until I can figure out what to do with her. So now I'm looking for a new car (or rather new to me because lord knows I can't afford a brand new car). Combine that with having headaches on and off all week plus work being chaos between a machine going down and delayed shipping of a new machine and this week has royally sucked. I'm currently coping by sitting on the couch with one of my cats, crocheting a Christmas gift for someone, and watching old Mythbusters episodes. Later, to cheer myself up, I'll make myself a latte and write smut. Such is life.

[r3dmooon]

Someone to Take Care of — Wally Darling x gn! reader

summery: Reader gets injured! Don't worry, Wally's there to help you feel better.

tw: Getting hit (by a ball)

a/n: First Welcome Home fic. I feel pretty good about this one! Didn't really knew how to end it tho so oops.

wc: 0.9k

Master List

Sitting on my porch, I crocheted a blanket I’ve been meaning to make for awhile now. It was a beautiful sunny day, bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds rolled overhead. How could I not sit outside? I’d look up from time to time, spotting a fluttering butterfly or bumbling bee. Taking a deep breath, the smell of freshly cut grass filled my lungs. I could hear the faint sounds of Julie laughing and Frank grumbling. A nice day indeed. 

“Well howdy, neighbor,” A familiar voice greeted me. I looked up in surprise, not having heard Wally walk up to me. I met his half lidded gaze with a small smile. He adorned his usual white button up and blue cardigan, and not to mention his iconic rainbow pants. 

“Hey, Wally,” I greeted back, resting my unfinished blanket in my lap. A warm breeze swept through and I felt myself relax at the feeling. “How are you doing?”

“Doing better now that I’m with you,” He replied smoothly, his lazy grin seeming to grow a bit. “How about you?”

“Doing great,” I replied, drawing my gaze over his shoulder, the immense eyecontact making me feel a bit uncomfortable. His head tilted a tiny bit, but he didn’t change his expression. 

“That’s good to hear,” He hummed, his monotonous voice somewhat comforting. “I see you’re working on something, mind if I join you?” I met his gaze once more, and noticed that he seemed to be carrying his art supplies. 

“Oh!” I exclaimed, feeling a bit dumb for not noticing sooner. “Of course! It’s nice to have some company.”

Wally hummed in agreement and sat on my other porch chair. He set up his easel and supplies and I continued on my blanket. The content feeling I had before only grew as now I was in the company of a friend. It was refreshing. It was like that for a while, a comfortable silence settled over us, only the humming of bugs and laughter of friends nearby breaking it. Though for some reason, the feeling of someone watching me made me tense a bit. I glanced over at Wally from the corner of my eye. He seemed to be in his own world, painting whatever it was on his canvas. I couldn’t help but feel curious. 

“(Y/n)!” I snapped my gaze up at Julie as she yelled. She had a worried look and waved her arms erratically. “Watch out!”

I didn’t realize what was wrong until it was too late. I cried out in pain as a ball hit the side of my head. In reflex, I held my head, squeezing my eyes shut. Ow, it hurt real bad, but I’ve been hurt worse. The sound of rushing feet surrounded me as I heard the worried voices of my friends.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n),” Julie cried, sniffling slightly.

“Are you alright?” The low voice of Barnaby asked.

“I told you to be careful,” Frank scolded, what I’m assuming was Julie and Barnaby. 

“Now now,” The calm voice of Wally spoke up. “Let’s not crowd them. Don’t worry everyone, I’ll make sure they’re okay.”

I opened my eyes, rubbing at the spot I was hit. My heart crumbled at Julie’s teary eyed expression. Barnaby still looked worried and I could see Frank seemed slightly worried as well.

“I’ll be fine,” I forcibly smiled, trying to ease their feelings. “Just need some ice and I’ll be right as rain.” 

Julie gave me a quick hug, and I hugged her back. They all waved as they walked off, ball laying forgotten at the bottom of my porch. I’ll have to return that at a later time. 

“C’mon neighbor,” Wally coaxed, hand out towards me. “Let’s get you some ice and a treat for being so brave.”

“I’m not a kid, Wally,” I replied with a small smile, accepting his hand and allowing him to pull me up from my seat. “...but a cookie does sound good right now…”

“Ha ha ha,” Wally laughed, his somewhat unnerving but oddly endearing laugh. “I’m sure Poppy would love to give you some as a get well soon gift.” 

Wally led me into my house, and I was hyper aware of the fact that he hasn’t let go of my hand yet. Having me sit on my couch, Wally leaned down and pressed his mouth to my forehead, his way of giving me a forehead kiss. I felt my stomach flutter as he slowly let go of my hand and made his way into my kitchen. I stared down at my hands in my lap, many feelings overwhelming me. I could still feel the imprint of where his mouth once laid. Do I like him…more than a friend? No, no I couldn’t. Wally’s just being a good friend and taking care of me after I got hurt. I’m just not used to being taken care of. That’s all. That’s what these weird feelings are. 

Wally quickly re-entered the living room, pressing the ice pack gently where I was hit. I still felt a bit shy, glancing up at him from time to time in the corner of my eye. Whenever our eyes met, I felt myself fluster and looked back down at my lap.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wally asked. 

I nodded the best I could with the ice pack pressed to my head, “I’m just not used to being taken care of.”

Wally’s gaze seemed to soften, a seemingly lovesick expression if I didn’t know any better, “It’s nice to know that people care. I care about you, neighbor.” 

I felt my chest tighten, the moment seeming more intimate. I wasn’t sure how to reply. I tried to bite down the smile threatening to overtake me but I didn’t do too well in that effort. 

“I care about you too,” I reflect. Wally only smiled, and I smiled back. I suppose getting hurt isn’t so bad if this is the outcome.

[iamheadcanontrash-deactivated]

hii love, I was reading your other mashups so I thought why don't ask one for myself 🫶🏻🫶🏻 I was thinking on male from acotar

so, I'm 17y, and 5"2'(161cm), also, I'm closer to a midsize girl. I have brown eyes, that almost get close when I smile thanks to my chubby cheeks, I have a big smile and my friends say that I'm pale as a white wall. my hair is brown and very curly, it's just a few inches down my shoulders. I also use glasses (when I remember)

I'm extremely extroverted, I'm entp, I just love talking, and if you let I'll talk for hours. I'm the funny friend who's always making jokes with everyone. I don't know how to apologize properly, so or I ignore and pretend that nothing happened or I'll just tell you that the food is in the kitchen if you want to. I got easily anxious and I feel like I need to keep control of all situations and think on all the alternatives that could happen. I have a bit of difficulty on expressing my feelings and some abandonment issues, i also call it daddy issues 🙏🏻

oh and I also have a lot of trouble in differentiate between the left and right side

I have a bit of all love languages but mostly touch and quality time. (also cooking/baking for the ones I care)

my hobbies are reading/writing, doing crochet, baking, going to the gym and watching car races. and no matter what, I'm extremely competitive, even if I don't have idea of what to do.

and right now I'm pretending to be a history teacher

thanks already, and sorry if there's any mistakes, I'm Brazilian so my English is kinda problematic 💞🫶🏻

Hello, @kylaisra 🖤

don’t apologize about your English, you’re doing amazing!!

I match you with…

CASSIAN ❤️🦇

-oh my, he’d be OBSESSED with your height difference!

-appreciates your extroverted-ness, would find it super easy to bounce off of you—it is because of this that you would be the funniest couple at Rita’s.

-it wouldn’t bother him too much if you have trouble saying sorry; to him, food is plenty enough of an apology lol

-he understands why you feel the need to be in control of different situations, and why you struggle with expressing feelings, and he hopes that he can help you relax and allow him to steer the boat sometimes when it comes to times of stress, he doesn’t want you to carry everything on your shoulders all the time :(

-you both share the love language of quality time! he’d love to sit and read with you, he’d love to be your gym buddy and push you to do your best!

-he’d find your competitive streak a little funny at first until you eventually kick his ass. it wouldn’t be funny anymore after that lol

Thank you for requesting, and I hope you enjoy!!

[pinksoak]

2/4/2023

time meditated: 21 minutes

my sister did this “future you” visualization and i wanted to try this for my next meditation:

“...it guides you back down, once you land safely you are now 10 years into the future and you’ve landed at the home of your future self, think of where you’ve landed and notice the house or apartment or the lawn if there is one, you go to the door and do whatever it is that you need to, ring the doorbell or knock on the door to get someone to come and open it, then future you opens the door, notice what she looks like, her expression, what she is wearing, how she greets you, she welcomes you into her home and you find a place to sit or maybe you are standing, you ask - what is the most important thing that has happened to you in 10 years - listen to her answer - you have other questions for her - ask them and listen to what she has to say. She hands you a gift - what is it? You say goodbye and thank her and exit the home, the beam of light guides you back up through the atmosphere, then into space and then slowly you float back down to where the cord has you safely on earth”

no time box today so i had the chance to ease myself into the meditation, for nearly the first 10 minutes i let thoughts come through, even focused intensely on memories of passion and sharing, intimacy

there were conversations, i had this idea in my head, “don’t worry, i am very patient” and other thoughts of intimacy came through. i tried to start the visualization but i saw myself coming from above, i saw suburbia, houses and it felt wrong. i even recalled a vision i had back in 2015 of a large living room with tall ceilings and i was working on art, i was blonde, etc. and that didn’t feel real either.

thoughts kept going and coming and i lost sense of my body then, not feeling my hands and then suddenly i saw orange. i believed it to be the beating sun and that’s where my visualization began. 

i saw myself in my supreme coat, and the long cream colored skirt, it was summer but i was wearing this winter stuff and i walked through an empty field of grass, where there were lots of clovers and dandelions, smushed and smattered all over the ground. i might have seen something beyond, some white houses, but nothing else. she was there on the ground on a blanket, with headphones and a cassette tape, i saw some markers, strawberries.

she wore wooden sandals, she had a blue and white bike sprawled on the grass. i tried to say hi but she told me just to lay down and relax. she was smiling… wearing a long patterned skirt, looked like patchwork but red and blue with florals. she was wrinkled, and something about her gave me the idea her time was precious. i tried to see that she was wearing a purple top, but it didn’t fit, and i only saw the skirt, the sandals, her long curly hair and red lips. she did invite me over, and it was only then i was allowed to ask questions.

but i barely did. this house was small, but it had a nice green backyard, wooden accents all over and it was warm, she wanted to make something to eat and serve me tea. i got the sense other people lived there, but i wasn’t sure who, then it came to me — she’d be picking up a girl with a sandy brown hair from school soon. there were animals, mostly cats, maybe a lizard too. i knew a black cat…

i got this sense that she was alone, but fully loved, so loved. she didn’t want to stop her roll — she was nervous maybe about a guest she couldn’t face entirely. she was flitting about and i really wanted to know why she was so joyous, and i knew that she was me because she was so warm and embracing and i knew.

i asked the question: what’s the most important thing that’s happened in the past 10 years? she answered: “i became part of the Earth, i saw so much of it, but really i felt the Earth entirely.” i knew what she meant. then i asked for a present, to which she laughed a bit, and she handed me a tiny little key attached to a yellow key cord and a tiny crocheted bumble bee.

i asked what the key was for. she told me “any time you want, just use this to unlock something. anything you want.” i was unsatisfied with this gift and wanted to ask for something else and i didn’t understand what i was supposed to open with it: something real, or not? i kept trying to imagine a locker, a safe, but i felt that she gave me this gift begrudgingly, was she getting rid of something? maybe the need to unlock things?

she didn’t want whatever she was giving me, but she found it funny to give it to me. a joke with my future self

[perksofbeingamaineiac]

February 5, 2024

I haven't made February goals yet, but have been trying to work on my year goals. Which I realized I haven't written here. I need to get on that. It gives me something to look back on. Some goals I know I am working on is seeing my grandparents, I have a lunch planned, and I will need to continue to plan. I am learning a new skill, I started crocheting. It's not as physical as I wanted a new hobby to be, but I do enjoy it. I am reading more than three times a week and also hitting my DuoLingo goals. Which reminded me to do that this morning.

It's about the time I need to leave but I am so cozy on the couch and Braeden is still asleep. There is a bunch of groceries I bought for cat sitting that are in the fridge that I need to pack and take with me. Its Monday, which means the traffic is going to be stupid. I really should get to work before 8.

Being out in the cold is really hurting my knees. The arenas and then outside skating. I wear layers and even brought my blanket yesterday. It's not enough though. I really want to go to the gym on Wednesday and bring my dress for alterations. Which means no hockey, and I will just go next Wednesday.

Braeden and I had to have a chat about the summer and his crazy activity schedule. 3 days in a row of stuff is going to be tough, he's going to try and make it so bowling isn't a weekly thing, but I know he really wants to do it along with Hockey twice a week. Whatever he decides we will figure it out, but I think I forget how busy he was last summer. It was also a little different because I wasn't going to hockey as much as I do now. We would just need to prioritize quality time, which we already have to do.

I have been super emotional and kind of a bitch. I feel like we spend time together, but it's less and less about us. I want to continue to get to know him, I want to have fun and do things that allow us to connect. Sure sitting and watching TV is great, but it doesn't allow us to build our relationship. We're always so caught up in everything we need to do. I want to plan and then execute and even have time to relax. I've tried to explain quality time to him, but I don't know if he doesn't get it or is just trying to poke fun at me.

I have also been letting myself get worked up, where I would have let things go before. I was kinda kicking myself for it yesterday and today I am thinking about how I do need to say how I feel and let him know some things aren't okay. Where is the middle on that though? I need to state how it made me feel, but also let him know that this time it's okay, but please don't let there be a next time. I need to stand my ground without pushing him away. I can use these times as an opportunity for us to grow and learn. Instead, I cry and just get sassy.

I need to remember to communicate my frustrations and keep calm and not blow up, because I can stay calm.

[moonlightdreamzz]

empathetic — woozi

all you want, is for jihoon to care.

you always knew your boyfriend was more of an onion, and not a sunflower. what you mean by that, is that he had many layers to him, and he could not be pulled easily. if you wanted to peel the different pieces off of him, you had to work for it, but quite frankly you think you deserved a lot more than he had given you in the past couple of days.

you considered your body to be strong, but weak at the same time. you caught disease quite quickly such as colds, flu’s, and infections, but you also whooped its ass everytime. oddly enough, one of the things you looked forward to when you finally met your match was having someone to coo over your warm temperatures. a man who would surprise you with warm soups and extra blankets, who would also lay in bed with you no matter what was going on and give you kisses.

lee jihoon was not that man, which you knew, but you had no idea it would be this bad.

you were a mess - definitely not the prettiest sight you could conjure of yourself. you don’t remember the last time you saw your thick hair, which was never tamable on a good day, but especially for this past week had you just not been feeling any of your usual trials and tribulations of trying to figure out what to do with yourself. your bonnet had found itself halfway off your head from your tossing and turning through the night.

if you had the energy, you would crochet your hair. quick and easy timing, but also a cute look. jihoon also appreciated it on you, and you unfortunately lived to please him.

you weren’t dying at the moment, but you did have some concerning symptoms - a cough. so, symptom. of course your boyfriend did not bat an eye whatsoever for the past week as he scrambled through your home silently like the cute little mouse he was.

today is no different, but still your patience has completely ran thin. the penthouse you two shared was large enough so that whenever he wanted to hide from you, he could, and you knew that’s exactly what he was doing at this current moment.

when he finally walks into your shared bedroom ever so quietly, you can tell he was praying you were asleep.

“why are you hiding from me?” you question immediately. you don’t have much on, as you always got hot so easily. no shirt covered your body, just panties, but you and jihoon had been together so long that he was immune to your bare flesh. now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time the two of you made any kind of love. luckily you didn’t need sex all the time in order to be satisfied, but jihoon wasn’t giving you anything at all.

“huh?” he responds quickly - proof you were right. you hated how cute he was, especially when he had what you referred to as his “morning puff”. he always had a chunky, sweet little face, but when he woke up from long nights in the studio, it was extra squishy and normally you would enjoy kissing all over his adorable face, but not today. you were upset.

“have you not heard me coughing for the past week?”

he turns to face you now. you’re sure he had a flashback to the many arguments where you begged him to look at you in your eyes. at least he cared about something you’ve said to him in the past.

“i have.” is all he says. that’s really all he has to say?

“and you haven’t done shit about it?”

“why are you cursing at me?”

“because I’m tired of the non-chalant attitude.”

he sighs out loud. that was his way of telling you he had better things to do. even so, he crawls on top of the bed and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“relax, baby.” he encourages. “what do you want? i’ll order your favorite.”

this is what you referred to as the attempt. a very poor one, but an attempt never the less.

would it be wrong of you to ask for something home made? would that make you selfish? all of the other girlfriends gagged about whenever any minor issues went on with them, how the boys would cater to their every need like they were the queen of the entire world or something. why didn’t jihoon treat you that way? was he too comfortable?

“y/n?” he speaks, knowing you completely ignored his question in exchange for what if’s.

“nevermind.” you mutter, laying back on your California king.

“don’t do that.” he sighs. he’s irritated with you for sure, but what do you care?

“do you even care?” you question. “like seriously?”

“if I didn’t care I wouldn’t be sitting in this house with you. and I just told you I would buy you whatever you want. i don’t know what more you want me to do.”

“i want you to act like my boyfriend of a million years. i want you to coddle me and give me kisses and offer to wash my hair.”

“in what world is anybody allowed to touch your hair?” he questions seriously as his eyebrows scrunch together in completely confusion and irritation.

“does it matter if I would say no?”

he chuckles, but not in a way where he thinks you’re cute. you’re only making the situation worse in his eyes. “do you want the food or not?”

“do you remember when we first started dating?” you stand up promptly, your thighs rubbing together as you get closer to him.

“y/n, why do you expect me to be the exact same way I was when I first met you?”

“why do people have this weird belief that once you start dating for a certain amount of years that love has to slow down?”

“so you’re saying I don’t love you?”

“i’m saying i have been clearly sick for the past week and all you’ve been is cooped up in your studio like a damn crack addict. what I’m saying is, we are in a relationship but you don’t even care to ask me am I okay. i’m not dating you to still feel like I’m alone!”

“you do realize the only person who pays bills in this nice little house is me right? how else can I do that if not ‘cooped up in my studio like a crack addict’” he quotes directly from you.

“do you realize that you’re the one who told me I didn’t have to pay a bill in this house?”

“whatever.”

he tries to walk away, but you know it’s only because he hates to argue, especially recently. it was something about it that really pained him.

“baby.” you lower your tone from all the unnecessary yelling. you touch his hand, but he snatches it away so hard that you flinch and fall to the ground. “baby...” you whisper faintly, hoping that he’ll care. for once in a long time will he just care. but he doesn’t. with his pajamas still on does he snatch his keys and walk straight out of your - well, his apartment. he slams the door too.

you honestly couldn’t recall how much time had passed since he departed from your home. usually when the two of you fought, you could easily find ways to distract yourself while also ignoring your mild heartbreak from his actions. but for some reason, this time, you couldn’t stop thinking this may have been the end.

that was usually the case when you felt like someone was falling out of love with you when you did absolutely nothing to deserve it.

you tried to listen to music. you tried to cook, but you sucked terribly at cooking Korean food and that’s all you had in your possession. you tried to sleep, but with everything running through your mind, that was impossible. so here you were, stuck with your thoughts.

you also still had the terribly annoying cough.

you didn’t have many friends here. the only people who checked on you were vernon, coups, and mingyu. you were expecting to get a call from one of them any second now.

like clock work, your phone is ringing. quite frankly you weren’t prepared to see Vernon’s name pop up on your phone simply because he was the one who called the least, but you didn’t mind. he always got you turnt whenever you were down, and even when you were fighting with woozi he didn’t suddenly treat you like you didn’t exist. he was always a neutral party.

“hello?” you say softly - your voice hoarse from the constant coughing you were doing.

“hey.” his voice speaks softly, “you alright?”

“yeah I’m fine, just not feeling my best. i have this annoying ass cough and it’s not going away and I’m also alone so, just fine.” you chuckle while burying yourself deeper into the bed if that was even possible.

“damn, you been smoking that good?”

“unlike you, I only smoke on special occasions vernon.”

“yeah whatever. how’s woozi? haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”

“he’s fine...I think. he’s been trying to hide from me but that’s been the norm lately if I’m being honest.”

“wait, you said you were alone.” vernon remembers, “we’ve been off all week where is your boyfriend?”

“you know...being himself.” you and vernon may have not spoke as much, but when you did talk to him, everything flowed out. every secret. it should be like this with woozi, but. “maybe it’s my fault.” you sigh, scratching your scalp from outside your bonnet, “i kind of...asked for a lot I guess.”

“like?”

“well, I’m not feeling well. i just felt upset because it seemed like he was purposely trying to avoid me so I wouldn’t have the chance to ask him to do anything for me. and the thing is, I wasn’t going to ask for anything but a lousy fucking hug - a cuddle. the bare minimum. i would have even taken a no but to be avoided? it hurt my feelings and we fought and—ugh. he stormed out the house and I have no idea where he is and I want to call him but truthfully what did I do wrong vernon? lately I’ve been feeling like I’m in a relationship with myself and I know we can be better than this. woozi used to be the sweetest little baby. he may have been hard to others, but he opened up for me. i feel shut out.”

you feel so much better getting all of that out, even though you know your boyfriend may have not appreciated the sentiment.

you know vernon listened to every single word and and would come back with some heartfelt advice.

“just give it time y/n. i can’t speak on jihoon like I am him, but if there’s one thing I know? it’s that you are the only person he truly loves that doesn’t share his bloodline. of course he loves us, but you - he opens up to you. he’s allowed you to see him. maybe there’s something going on. or maybe he just didn’t know what to do. just let him come back to you and see what happens.”

“thank you vernon. forreal.” you don’t know why his words affected you so much and made you feel such a heavy weight of guilt in the part where you held your boyfriend so deeply - your heart, but you did.

more hours had passed, and still no sign of woozi. you even tossed your pride away and called him, only to be sent straight to voicemail. you must have really irritated him, but you still didn’t feel sorry. you didn’t move your pride aside that much.

you did feel somber though, considering how much you loved him even through how he had been acting lately. and without him in your life, there was no reason for you to be here - in Korea. you didn’t want to end things. you just wanted to feel loved.

you still haven’t gotten out the bed except when you needed to pee. YouTube and funny clips had been keeping your company. maybe it was because of boredom, but things began to get darker and darker in your home. you were fading into a bitter sweet slumber. regardless, it’s what you needed. maybe your cough would subdue.

jihoon is quiet as a mouse as always when he walks inside, hands full of multiple things. all day had your words rang through his mind that was already full of so many things. had he really been making you feel so worthless? like you weren’t the most important person for his soul other than his family? actually, you were his family. there was never a day where he felt like he deserved you, but the minute the two of you kissed for the first time did he know that he would do whatever he had to, to keep you forever.

so when did he stop? he kind of knew he hadn’t been his best, but he didn’t know why. it was as if he was doing it on purpose, but not because of something you did. lately, it had just been so hard to keep up with everything in his life. all of the schedules seventeen had. and in between, as he was one of the frequent producers for the group, there were so many deadlines he had to meet he just felt so overwhelmed.

but he heard you coughing, and he was so worried. even so, he didn’t ask you what was wrong. why didn’t he ask you - his baby - what’s wrong? especially after it was day three and the cough was not improving? any other man who would practically rip his limbs off to be with you, would have been catering to your every need. they would have gave you all the kisses you needed, would have given you a full body massage, and offered to wash your hair even knowing that the answer was going to be no.

but he didn’t.

when he left, he was so angry. but not at you, at himself. vernon was the first person he called as he knew that while the two of you didn’t talk often, that he was the one who knew how to get your exact feelings. he hated how much of a wimp he sounded like when he had to bargain a song in exchange for vernon to call you. vernon declined and called you anyway.

to hear you on the phone, telling vernon that you felt as if you weren’t loved. feeling like you were in a relationship with yourself? that broke him. so, he called another one of his members who he knew would guide him into the right direction - mingyu.

“ill order everything, hyung. all you have to do is pick everything up. what you need to do right now, is practice your apology. oh, and pick up some cough medicine for her.”

so he did. his little body struggled to get everything inside, but he figured you would be asleep at this time. when you were bored, you had a tendency to doze off.

his instructions were to set everything up real nice on a table and serve it to you as if you were on a date, but woozi knew you better than that. he knew all you wanted to do was eat in bed and go right back to sleep. and talk.

he walks through the slim hallway that leads into your shared bedroom, and he was right. you were sleeping. the tv shined on your beautiful skin that he loved to place his cheek on whenever he felt any negative or positive emotion. he wasn’t sure what was on the tv. you probably weren’t either. you both loved to put on random movies and shows and talk about how much they sucked.

he approaches you gently - afraid that any little noise would startle you. he places everything on the fluffy sheets; the roses, your meal, your medicine, and the usb with the song he had been saving for you all lined up in orderly fashion. your bonnet is falling off your head as always, so he adjusts it. you had a pet peeve about that.

you were so beautiful. the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire life. and you loved him. you - the brightest star in the galaxy and the sweetest soul chose him out of all of the people you had attempting to steal your heart. he couldn’t let another second go by without fixing this.

“baby.” he whispers. his thumb caresses your ear gently. he always wanted to be this guy. the hopeless romantic, always knew what to do guy, but girls never wanted him. he was always too short, too boring, all of the bad things. you never felt that way though. you always told him he was the perfect size for you. that he wasn’t boring, it was just that people never wanted to take the time to get to know him.

you moved slightly, but he knew he had just only scraped whatever dream you were currently in. he had to try a little harder to return you back to the world. his lips find themselves on your sweet face, just as you do to him every morning. little by little is he painting his love on you until you finally begin to stir.

“are you a murderer?” are the first words you speak.

you were always so hilarious, even without trying. he knew that was a genuine question no matter how funny the delivery was.

“no. i hope not.” he responds.

he can see you recognize his voice from the way you release the breathe he didn’t even know you were holding. woozi expected you to push him off you the minute you realized it was him, but you didn’t.

“hi baby.” you whisper, pulling him into you.

“hi baby.” he repeats, inhaling your sweet scent. it always made him feel like he was in heaven.

you pull back, cuffing his chubby face into his hands. if there was one thing about your fights with jihoon, it was that it wasn’t hard to make up. a simple look in each others eyes was enough to make up for everything. it was such a toxic trait, but it worked out.

“wait.” you breathe out as you notice everything behind your boyfriend. “ji...”

“it’s nothing, y/n.” he sighs, moving back so he can have a full view of you. “it’s what I should be giving you every fucking day. you are my queen. you are the only thing that is keeping me sane with this lifestyle.”

“everyday would drive even me crazy, ji.” you giggle, “you know that’s not what this is about. it’s just, I know how we used to be and I know how we are now. i don’t want us to get so comfortable with each other that we forget why we are together. you know that happened to my parents and I want to be with you forever.”

“i know.” all of sudden he feels it - the feeling he’s been feeling for the past couple of weeks whenever something bad happens. his whole body feels sick. he hasn’t told you about it because he thought it would go away, but it hasn’t. it seems as if this is going to be the worse one as it does involve the love of his life.

“hey.” you sit up, throwing one of his shirts that laid free on the bed. “what’s wrong babe? i’m here. i’m right here.”

you had never seen him like this before. you knew there was no such thing as a person who didn’t have internal issues, but this seemed like something that had been wanting to boil over for a while. you knew what severe anxiety looked like as you suffered from it. this was it.

“i don’t know, y/n.” he breathes out shakily. “this has been...happing lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me? hm?”

“i don’t know. i don’t know anything other than that I love you. and that I’m sorry.” he seems to be calming down from your touch. had he known this was all he needed, all the pain he suffered would have never taken place. he should have known though. you were his angel after all.

“we tell each other everything, baby.” you remind him as you begin to place gentle kisses onto his neck. “never forget that. there is nothing we can’t get through together.”

“i know.” is all he can say - your lips were too much of a distraction for him especially when he hasnt felt them in so long. he always craved you, but the two of you always took a lot of breaks. your relationship was much deeper than your love making no matter how addicted the two of you were to eachother.

you want to get right into it. you want to throw him on the bed, and ride every ounce of anxiety your boyfriend has right off, and then you want to eat your food, take your medicine, and drift into what you know will be the best sleep you’ve gotten in a while. but you two had to talk. everything needed to be squashed.

“ji, what can I do to fix this? i don’t like the way I’ve been feeling. and I know you don’t either.”

“you are perfect. you always have been. it’s me, but I promise I’ll do better. i’ll get everything under control.”

“you mean we will get everything under control. honestly baby, let’s not even use that terminology. we will learn to overcome this. anxiety is completely normal. you just can’t let it control you okay? and we have to communicate. don’t be afraid to show me any parts of you especially when you’ve seen my literal insides.” you joke, just to see his smile. he does, and it’s so bright. your foreheads lean into eachother immediately - natural just like your love.

“i love you.” he whispers.

“i love you.” you repeat. the two of you tried your best to not add too, to that sentence, as it meant in exchange for the other ones love and that’s not what was going on here. no matter what, the two of you loved each other. even if one stopped.

woozi goes back to buisness immediately, knowing you two were better now. his hands remove the covers that covered your body, and his tounge finds itself on your neck - his favorite place that’s not inside you.

“you feeling better?” he questions, still attacking you.

“i think this will distract me for a bit.” you giggle

“i’ll make it it all go away. you know I will.” are his final words before he lays on top of you, sliding his shirt off of your body with ease.

you were in for a long night. and the two of you still were in need of a conversation about what he was going through, but you knew what the both of you needed in this moment. you needed to feel each other again.

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 14

Trigger warning: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), drinking (comes up late in the story) just a lot of trauma, angst, smut

Word count: 3407

Chapter 14 - Sharp Edges

Sharp edges have consequences

I guess that I had to find out for myself

Sharp edges have consequences

Now every scar is a story I can tell

His mother was staring at him in disbelief.

"What the fuck was that, Rowan?"

He blinked at his mother, she had never cursed at him before.

"What do you mean?" He got defensive. "I think I'm allowed to be upset if my boyfriend doesn't tell me what he's been up to for the last, however long."

His mother's eyebrows shot into her hair. "Wow, Rowan. Wow."

She grabbed her box from the bag and left Rowan to stew in the living room.

---

Lorcan was laying on his floor, bleeding on an old towel. He was finally numb after a couple hours. All he could feel was the sting in his arms. His head was a little fuzzy.

There was a knock on the door.

"Lor, can we talk? Please?"

Lorcan closed his eyes and ignored the man he had been wanting to see for months. Things weren't going the way they were supposed to. So much for being proud of himself.

++++

It was the next day and Rowan still didn't understand what the big deal had been yesterday. He hadn't seen Lorcan all day and he was getting frustrated. Rowan was only here for a week and they were wasting time over this.

So, Rowan called Aelin. He needed to vent. He didn't feel like he was being unreasonable. But apparently, he was being an asshole. Aelin cussed him out and told him he was a stupid shit. Aelin had gotten Elide on the line, and she also ripped Rowan a new one.

"If I were there, I would slap you. You are ridiculous. Lorcan found a hobby using your dad's old tools and made you something. He wanted to surprise you and your mom. Why on earth do you think you have any right to be mad at him?! Lorcan probably thought he was being sweet! And for the record, he was!" With Aelin defending him, Rowan knew he was in the wrong, but he still wasn’t grasping why. He was pacing in his room.

"Yeah, Ro. I did that with Manon, I learned how to crochet without her knowing and made her a scarf. She was so excited when I gave it to her." Elide sighed. "Rowan, what made you so upset anyway?"

"Fuck, I don't know. It made me feel like I don't know him.” He ran his hand through his hair as he continued his pacing. “That he could just do so much without me knowing."

"Are you saying you don't trust him?"

"What? No!"

Silence.

"Really, guys?"

"Well.." Elide was holding something back.

Aelin chimed in, "He's been through hell, he's only ever felt safe around you. He went to you when he got out of the hospital after he almost died!" The last word was overly emphasized. "Can't you understand that he probably just wanted to feel confident in something before he told you about it. He probably didn't want to be hounded about his progress. This is the first thing he's done for himself, Rowan! Let him have this thing!" She was basically yelling at him at the end.

He didn't know what to say. Especially since Aelin was on Lorcan’s side. She hadn't ever really liked the boy.

"You are being selfish."

He was. Fucking Hel.

"You're right. You're right. Gods damn it. I need to go."

They both said bye and hung up.

He walked over to Lorcan's door again.

"Love?" He knocked. Nothing. "I was an asshole. A selfish asshole. Can we please talk?"

He heard the bathroom door behind him open and turned to see Lorcan behind him. He was wearing one of his ratty old hoodies that had been too big for him before and a pair of sweats. His face was blank, not a hint of emotion.

"You're a prick." He pushed past Rowan and shut his door in his face.

He stared at the door. "I guess I deserved that."

His mother walked by him to the stairwell carrying a basket of laundry. "Give him some time and maybe cool off a bit more yourself. Come help me with lunch."

He looked back at Lorcan's door with a sigh as he followed his mother to the kitchen.

---

Lorcan laid curled up in bed. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. After rebandaging himself, he had found Rowan at his door. The desire to filet his arm flooded his mind. He just called Rowan a prick and shut himself away again. He couldn't handle it right now.

It felt like all the progress he made was just reversed. Here he was floating yet again in his own ocean of despair.

There was a soft knock on his door that interrupted his thoughts. "Lorcan, dear?" It was Barb. "I brought you some food."

He got up and opened the door. She gave him a sad smile.

"Can I have a hug?" His voice was no more than a whisper.

"Of course, love." She hugged him and he cried on her shoulder. Her hand made soothing circles on his back.

They stayed like that for a while. Lorcan finally pulled away, wiping his face with his sleeve, he said, "I'm sorry I got your shirt wet."

"Nonsense. Come here." She shut Lorcan's door and went to sit on the edge of his bed. Patting the spot beside her. Lorcan obeyed, looking at his hands on his lap.

"Rowan has had trust issues for most of his life. The few boyfriend's he's had have cheated on him or ghosted him. So, I assume he thinks that since you didn't tell him about this, that you won't tell him other things." Lorcan's brow furrowed. "You had every right to keep your new hobby a surprise. Rowan overreacted. Sometimes, he's a little selfish." She gave his knee a squeeze.

Lorcan thought back to Solstice break when Rowan tried moving too fast for him. He sighed. Selfish indeed.

"I know you're upset, love. But I do think you two should talk. He's only here for a week."

Barb got up and left. The door clicked shut.

++++

Rowan didn't know what to do. Lorcan wasn't talking to him, he had already done some chores and worked out for an hour. So now, he was standing in the kitchen stealing cookie dough out of the bowl.

His mother hit his hand as he went for more dough. "Out! I'm tired of your moping! I don't want to see you again until you two make up! Go!" She shooed him and his semi-permanent frown away.

He decided to go outside. The fresh air should do him good. He wandered around the backyard. The trees were blossoming, the flowers were blooming. It was a beautiful sunny spring day, but he felt hollow.

After several minutes, he found himself in front of his dad's shop. The light was on and the door was cracked. Pushing open the door, he found Lorcan hunched over a piece of wood with a carving chisel and mallet in his hands. He had headphones on, completely oblivious to the world around him.

Lorcan blew on the work in front of him and wood chips flew. The chisel met the wood again. Rowan just watched him work for a while. It was relaxing. His boyfriend looked like he belonged here. Honestly, it reminded him of his father. Gods he had been so fucking stupid yesterday.

Waiting until Lorcan was brushing away wood chips, he knocked on the door frame. Lorcan looked up. His lips pressed into a thin line. Any emotion he had had while carving, left his face the moment their eyes met. It made Rowan’s heart drop to his stomach.

"Hey," Rowan said tentatively.

Lorcan just set the chisel and mallet down then took his headphones off after tapping the pause button on his phone, and set them next to his work. He lowered his eyes. It hurt that Lorcan didn't even want to look at him. Rowan took a deep breath as he took a couple steps into the shop.

"I'm a huge fucking selfish asshole. I was stupid and immature and wasn't thinking of you. Aelin, Elide, and Mom told me I was an idiot. And they're right. You were right to call me a prick. I let my insecurities get to me. I had a gut reaction to assume that maybe I wouldn't be able to trust you in the future if you were going to keep things from me. But I realize that I'm being stupid. Aelin ripped me a new one for thinking that as did Elide. And I totally deserve it.” He took another deep breath.

"Honestly, I don't feel like I deserve your forgiveness. But I hope-" He swallowed, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I love you and I'm so fucking sorry." Tears were falling down his cheeks now, Lorcan always made him more emotional than he felt he should be. Lorcan still sat frozen, staring at the workbench. Rowan roughly wiped his tears away before continuing. "I really am proud of you for finding something you enjoy and those boxes you made.. they're fucking gorgeous." He wiped his tears again and sighed.

It felt like ages before it looked like Lorcan would acknowledge him. But then, he shifted and Rowan saw the white knuckles of his fists. He was obviously digging his nails into his palms. Rowan wondered how often he did that.

"I'm-" Lorcan took a deep shaky breath. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel right now." He finally looked up at Rowan, his eyes were shiny with tears. "Do you trust me or not? Because if you don't.." His face started to crumple.

"I trust you. I trust you with my life." Rowan's feet finally moved forward, his heart breaking at the hurt on Lorcan's face. "I just let my past relationships control my feelings yesterday. And I'm so sorry. You are nothing like any of my past boyfriends. Nothing. You are the best thing that has happened to me, Lor. I promise." Rowan hoped to the gods that Lorcan believed him. He really wanted to touch Lorcan, but wasn't sure if it would be welcomed.

There was a long pause. The silence was deafening.

Lorcan just nodded. "Do you want to see what I'm working on?"

Rowan sighed in relief and nodded. He knew that was Lorcan's way of forgiving him. Lorcan had never been good with verbalizing words.

The rest of the afternoon he watched Lorcan work. It was really nice hanging out in the shop again, though it made him a little sad that he wasn't watching his father work. He was amazed at the talent that his lover had after only a few months. Lorcan was working on an intricate Celtic knot carving. The way he held the chisel and the small mallet, the way his muscles moved on his forearms, the way his… scars. So many scars. Rowan’s eyes roved over the dozens upon dozens of scars across both of his forearms.

Rowan felt like Lorcan forgot he was here. He had pushed up his sleeves. He never pushes up his sleeves. And now he knew why. How had he not noticed them when they were intimate? The insides of his arms were covered in scars and there were matching bandages on both. Fuck.

Tears instantly welled in Rowan's eyes. His throat tightened, so his voice was higher than it usually was. "Lor?"

Lorcan jumped. He had definitely lost himself in his work. He slowly set the chisel and mallet down. Looking at his arms, he realized what was happening. He pulled his sleeves down and over his hands. He started trembling, he wouldn't look at him. Rowan set his hand on the table in front of Lorcan, palm up, inviting him to stay, to trust him.

---

He wasn't ready for this.

Lorcan had lost himself in his work. It was so easy for him to do. He liked working with his sleeves pushed up, the fabric got in the way otherwise. But he forgot Rowan was there. And now, Rowan knew. He knew. Lorcan wanted to disappear.

Now what? Rowan wasn't running away from him, if anything he was asking him not to run away. Rowan had set his hand on the table, palm up, waiting. Patient.

He was shaking. He released a shaky breath as he grasped the hand waiting on the table. Rowan finally breathed. They just stayed there for several minutes.

Rowan finally broke the silence, "When?" He must have been talking about the bandages. Lorcan dropped his head in shame and embarrassment. He had let his emotions run high and take over last night. He hadn't thought, he just did.

"Did I-" he sucked in a breath. Rowan's voice shook, "I caused those… Oh, gods, Lorcan. I'm so fucking sorry." Rowan's hand tightened and his other hand covered his face as he did his best to hold in his sobs.

Lorcan turned to him, shocked that Rowan blamed himself. He stood and wrapped his arms around Rowan's shoulders, pulling them tight together.

His voice was quiet, "Hey." Lorcan reached up a hand to gently pull Rowan's away so he could see his face. "Hey. Rowan, please don't blame yourself. I let my emotions take over last night. I'm sorry." He placed a kiss on his forehead. "It's not your fault."

"Yes it is." His eyes were so sad. It made his heart ache. "It is. It is." They rested their foreheads against each other. "Can you forgive me? I.. I feel like complete and utter shit. Gods, you shouldn't forgive me. I- fuck.." Rowan's eyes shuttered and tears fell.

Lorcan just wanted him to stop talking. He knew Rowan was sorry, he knew it wasn't Rowan's fault. All he wanted was for Rowan to be happy, that's why he made the damn box in the first place. But right now, he wasn't sure how to fix it. He was terrible at talking. So, he just did what he would want.

He kissed him. Softly. He tried to put his emotions into it, to let Rowan know that everything would be okay. Everything would work out. They would work out because there was no one else for Lorcan.

A moment passed when Rowan didn't return the kiss and Lorcan felt his heart sink, but then he was being pushed up against the wall, open mouthed kisses pressed to his lips. The passion emanating off of Rowan felt like he could reach out and touch it.

They were just a tangle of tongue and lips, hands everywhere, anywhere. Moans and whimpers, their names said as prayers.

Rowan moved to Lorcan's neck and he leaned his head to the side to give the man more access. He needed Rowan. The last two days had been Hel. Lorcan had missed him so much. Having felt so far away from his lover even though they were in the same house was killing him.

Lorcan rolled his hips against Rowan's and the glorious sound that rumbled against his neck, oh, he wanted to bottle it and save it for later.

"Rowan, please." He didn't know what he was asking for. He just wanted more.

Rowan stopped, he whined. His lover's hands cupped his face, looking into his eyes. "Lorcan Salvaterre, I love you more than anything in this world. And I am so incredibly sorry that I caused you pain. And I am so amazingly grateful that you still want to be with me and have me in your life."

Lorcan pressed a soft kiss to Rowan's swollen lips. And another. "You are mine." And with that Lorcan claimed his mouth. His fingers curled into silver hair.

++++

"You are mine."

Rowan's toes curled at the authority in Lorcan's voice. He was at Lorcan's mercy. Somehow, he was against the wall now. Strong fingers were tangled in his hair, their tongues clashed as Lorcan fought for dominance. Rowan let him have it.

As he exposed his neck, it was covered in kisses and licks, grazed by teeth. He shivered, it felt like he couldn't breathe. Lorcan's hands were slow as they caressed his body. They wandered under his shirt, brushed against his nipples, he gasped. Then, they slowly moved down. Down. Farther.

There was the softest caress at the hardness in his shorts. He moaned loudly as Lorcan pressed his hand against him. He sucked in a breath and held it as he rocked his hips against his lover's hand.

He felt Lorcan smile against his neck before an open mouthed kiss was pressed to his burning flesh. "Lor.. love, please."

Lorcan's hand moved up, causing a whine to escape his lips at the lack of contact. But then, strong, calloused fingers slid under his waistband. He paused, a question. "Please."

His hand touched bare skin no one had ever touched before. And it felt so right for it to be Lorcan. He didn't go straight to his cock and that frustrated him, until he realized Lorcan was relishing in the feeling of his skin.

Dextrous fingers fluttered over his hip. Was he breathing? After those beautiful fingers had taken their time memorizing his hip, they then skated slowly down his Adonis belt to where he needed him.

"I love you, Lor."

---

Lorcan's nose brushed up his neck and then he breathed on his ear. "I love you, Rowan." He gripped the hardened, velvety flesh of his lover and watched as his head fell back against the wall as he groaned. His thumb caressed the head of Rowan's cock and hips thrust forward on their own.

"You're so soft." A smile in his voice. Rowan whimpered and melted into Lorcan at his words. "You feel good in my hand." Lorcan claimed Rowan's lips and he stroked the man at his mercy, slow at first, taking his time, enjoying how the taut skin felt against his fingers. Enjoying the noises coming from the glorious silver haired man pressed to the wall in front of him. His green eyes were blown wide with lust. He was sure his looked the same.

He quickened his pace. But only enough to push him just to the edge. Lorcan had been rocking his own hips against Rowan's thigh. He wanted them to come together. And he wanted Rowan's touch to bring him to climax.

He whispered against Rowan's lips, "Touch me." Shock flitted over his face, Lorcan just nodded.

Warm hands gently found his waistband and brushed his skin, he closed his eyes and dropped his head to Rowan's shoulder. He stopped all other movements to focus on Rowan's first touches. Fingers wrapped around him and he let out a guttural moan, it was almost primal. This feeling was nothing like what he thought it would be. It was so much better. He felt Rowan's cock twitch in his hand and he almost was undone right there.

Rowan placed a kiss on his temple and slowly started stroking him.

"Ro. Rowan." His name was just a breath of air as it left his lips.

He started his ministrations back up and brought his lips to Rowan's. After several heated moments, they broke the kiss, foreheads together. They were both close.

"Lor, come for me. I love you so much, I want you to come in my hand."

They were breathing heavily.

Lorcan managed a chuckle as he said, "Only if you come in my hand, love." He pumped his hand faster. "Come for me." Rowan's eyes rolled back and he started spasming as he crashed over that edge. Watching and feeling his love in front of him coming in his grip had him finding his own release shortly after. They milked each other until they were both spent and trembling.

Lorcan collapsed against Rowan. It felt like he just ran a marathon. His legs shook and he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. But fucking Hellas was that worth it. Rowan’s hand on him felt so much better than his own.

He pressed several, slow chaste kisses to his lover's mouth.

"That was.."

"Yeah." Lorcan was on cloud nine. "Yeah." He buried his face in his lover's neck and inhaled the scent of home.

____

Thanks for reading!

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire @tanvee1231

[zrtranscripts]

Home Front, Mission 14: Sam’s Recipe for Success

Full of Beans

~

SAM YAO: Hello, listeners! Sam here, coming live from Abel's kitchens. We're going to kick off another workout in a minute, so while I'm talking, why not do a little warming up? Dance about, or jog on the spot, something light and fun. Now I'm not usually allowed in the kitchens because of a little... incident with some marmite shortbread which I thought was a brilliant idea but Janine said was a waste of resources, especially after it caught fire in the oven.

But anyway, as some of you may know, we've had a bit of luck with the giant super horde besieging the countryside. A landslide hit the horde's east flank, scattering a huge chunk of the zoms, so we've got a little window to send runners out with supplies. Dozens of small communities were cut off by the horde, and we're sending care packages to everyone. It's been all hands on deck in the kitchens prepping the deliveries, and we're almost ready to go.

[paper rustles]

So to celebrate, today's first exercise is one I've really started to like. The instructions call it dead bug walking, but I like to think of it as happy puppy flailing. Just lie on your back with your arms and legs in the air, then walk them up and down as fast as you can for one minute, like an excited Labradoodle on its back. Ready? And go! Okay, that's 15 seconds down. Keep those paws wiggling. And that's it, halfway done. Yeah, I-I really think this is a good sign. You know, the horde weakening. A few more natural disasters and it-it could be gone. That's 15 seconds left. Yeah, not-not that we want natural disasters, obviously. Just little disasters. You know, zom-only disasters. And that's it, you're done!

Feel that Labradoodle energy. Okay, yeah, I'm gonna scoot the last crate of eggs and flour down to our dispatch runners, then I'll come right back. Meantime, I'll play some music. You can relax or keep flailing. I've borrowed Runner Seventeen’s latest good times mix, so this song should be perfect for keeping up the good vibes.

~

SAM YAO: All right, that's the last load of supplies delivered to our runners. They'll be leaving any minute. Now I tell you what, Runner Forty-Three has been baking some great treats for each package. You should see the cupcakes! It's amazing what Forty-Three can do with an egg and some scavenged Nutella.

Actually, I've been using the lockdown to work on my own baking. Yeah, well, first it was crochet until we ran out of yarn. Then it was photography, but Maxine wanted the last camera. So Forty-Three has been helping me practice recipes instead, by miming them to avoid wasting supplies. Janine made me promise not to get in the way in the kitchens today though, so I've mostly been carrying cans and crates out to the runners, which gave me the idea for our next exercise, running with cans.

So find yourself two cans or any two objects about as heavy that you can grip, and take one in each hand. But if you're not absolutely sure you've got a solid grip, put each one in a strong bag with a good handle, hold them like that. Then run on the spot, swinging your arms to get your heart pumping, okay? Yeah, let's try one minute of that. And go! Now that's 15 seconds down. Okay, 30 seconds left. Like Forty-Three always says, practice makes perfect. 15 seconds left. Actually, Forty-Three tends to say, that's weird, practice usually makes perfect. Cooking lessons could be going better, to be honest. And you're done. 60 seconds.

Time to rest, unless you want to keep running through... [device beeps] Uh, hold on one sec. Oh... okay. Um, just got an urgent message from Janine. Better take this off the air. I'm gonna cut straight to the next music break, okay? Dance along or run some more, if you fancy it. I'll be right back after this.

~

SAM YAO: Um, hello folks. Uh, I've uh... I've got some bad news. You might want to keep can running to distract you. Really wish I didn't have to say this. Apparently, we're not the only ones who decided to take advantage of the weakened horde. There was this group of runners in New Canton, vigilantes going against orders. They figured this was the perfect time to fight the zoms, rounded up a bunch of people, charged at the horde's weakened flank with guns and bombs.

Only well, the zoms got scattered by a landslide, didn't they? So loads of them were buried under rocks, which this lot charged right over. Zom hands came reaching up from the ground, scratching and pulling. Some of the vigilantes went down, some bombs went off early. Zoms got freed from the rock while the rest of the horde honed in on the noise. Basically, it was a bloody mess. And now the horde's as strong as ever. So no supplies going anywhere today.

Well, I know you must be feeling frustrated, listeners, because I am. But, but I've got another exercise that might help channel that. Yeah, uh... [paper rustles] Ah, yeah. Well, this one's pretty simple. Bicep curls. You need weights. Take your cans or whatever you were running with and if you haven't already, put them into bags, one per bag, and make sure each bag has a good handle you can hold. For heavier weights, add more cans. Then press your elbows against your flanks with your hands by your sides and your palms facing up, one hand holding each weight. Bend your elbows to bring the weights up to your shoulders and then down again, okay? Yeah, we'll do 60 seconds of that.

Ready? And go! That's it, 15 seconds down. [laughs] You know, Runner Twelve, stuck in a pub with a pinball machine? He swears this exercise helped him to top the high score. Ah, unless he was tilting it. That's it, halfway done. Concentrate on those weights. It must have been that. That would help, actually. 15 seconds left. And done. Now I hope that gave you all something else to focus on for a bit. Uh, I'm gonna play some music now, do a few curls myself. Because honestly, I've got a lot of frustration that needs channeling here.

~

SAM YAO: Uh, welcome back everyone. Yep, I've just had final confirmation from Janine. No one's going out anytime soon. [sighs] I feel sorry for those vigilantes, I really do, but how could they be so stupid, charging a super horde like that? Now they've gone and made things worse for everyone, [sighs] because they couldn't stand staying in and feeling useless, I guess. I get it. Yeah, I mean, I-I want to be doing more too, but we can't go off half-cocked, not when the stakes are this high. It's like Maxine says, right? The Z-virus is a medical problem and medical problems need patience. [laughs] I know it's a really bad pun, but it's true.

Anyway, in case anyone out there wants to reinforce their barricades now that the horde's been strengthened, we're going to do an exercise that's good for lifting furniture: squats. I bet most of you know this already. Stand with your arms at your sides and your legs hip-distance apart, then squat down like you're sitting on an invisible chair. Make sure your knees don't come out further than your feet and your bum is sticking out. And we're going to go for one minute of those. And go!

15 seconds down. Imagine you're lifting a sofa. 30 seconds down. Get that barricade reinforced. 15 seconds left. Just a couple more cabinets to lift. And done. Good job, everyone. I'm gonna play some more music for anyone who wants to keep going, but remember, you need to look after yourselves as well as your barricades, so don't be afraid to stop and rest.

~

SAM YAO: You know what, listeners? I always try and look on the bright side, but the truth is this is, um, this is getting to me. Yeah. I really thought it was going to be a good day, and then you know, wham. Janine's checked with the settlements we were going to deliver to and they've all got enough supplies to last a while longer, so... so that's something, at least.

I've uh, I've actually been secretly baking something for Janine. Banana bread based on Runner Forty-Three’s lessons. It was going to be a surprise to celebrate the deliveries. Guess them being cancelled doesn't make a difference. Come out all burned and blackened anyway, like that shortbread.

Oh boy. Ah. I think I need some cheering up here, listeners. I'm um... spiraling a bit. Tell you what. Yeah, there's this one exercise, it always looks sort of silly picturing loads of people doing it at once. Well, it'd put a smile on my face. It's called doing high knees. Just march really fast on the spot for one minute, pumping your arms and bringing your knees all the way up to your waist with each step, like something out of the Ministry of Silly Walks from Monty Python. Ready? And go!

15 seconds gone. Keep those knees up. Halfway done. Honestly, I don't miss a lot of Monty Python, but did you hear Runner Thirty-Four's radio reenactment of Holy Grail last night? I's brilliant. It was brilliant. 45 seconds, almost done. And that's one minute! Okay. That, that did make me feel better, imagining you all doing that. I couldn't help joining in towards the end, I admit it. [timer dings] Oh, and uh, yeah. That's the oven timer. Right, I'm gonna get my blackened, burned mess, listeners, but it's okay. I'm feeling more like I can cope with it now. You guys rest or keep marching to the music until I get back.

~

SAM YAO: [laughs] Right, you're not gonna believe this, listeners! I mean, I don't believe it. The banana bread, it's-it's perfect! The top is all nice and brown, and the inside's soft and spongy, and it has that delicious banana-y smell, and it's-it's just... perfect. Possibly thanks to Runner Forty-Three, who left a note on the oven saying set to 180 degrees, not 300. Guess you caught my secret project, Forty-Three. Couldn't have done it without you.

Or you, listeners. You really helped me today. I know this lockdown's tough, but we have to keep reminding ourselves the one thing we can do without going off half-cocked is just... be there, even at a distance. Be willing to help each other past dark days. And we can share the little victories that help us through, like Maxine's photos or Thirty-Four’s radio plays, or banana bread. Because if one of us scores a win, and we're all in this together, it's a win for all of us, isn't it? No matter how small it seems.

Now I'm gonna take this banana bread to Janine. She won't admit it, but it will cheer her up. And I'll put the recipe on ROFFLEnet in case you want to try it! Well, if you don't, that's okay, because exercising is a little victory too, so you're already winning today. We'll get through this, everyone, I know it. And maybe after, we can have some banana bread together. Until then, stay safe. I'll be back on air soon and I promise I'll share all my little victories and I'll cheer for all of yours.

~

[strayedspirit]

Spirit Kid’s Hogwarts Script #1

Healing Reality Hogwarts Version 

so background: I wanted to make some calming and chill realities to help me with my mental health and this one is in Hogwarts. 

First name: To be decided

Middle name:  To be decided 

Last name: To be decided 

Species: Human

Sexual orientation: Queer

Ethnicity: Indian

Stereotype: That weird hippie who says weird things and you don’t know if she’s serious or joking but she’s nice so people leave her alone

Parents: CR Parents

SAFE WORD:  Anthony (my spirit guide’s name) take me home

Age: 11

Height: my height at 11

Weight: lighter than my weight at 11

Body: petite

Zodiac sign: cancer sun, scorpio moon and cancer rising

Habits: stimming but no running, doodling, randomly singing and making a lot of kpop references

Skills: amazing dancer, amazing singer, decent academically and exceptional at healing spells, potions and herbology, good rapper (need practice), not camera shy and a good influencer, really good writer 

Hobbies: making videos and learning kpop dances and writing

Scent: roses and a good smell of wherever i hang out (like library or the quidditch pitch)

Landscape: hogwarts landscape

Music genre: current genres i really like

Time period: 1990s but modern day technology and media . Muggle politics is absolutely ideal and good, it’s only the wizards that are backward, help hermione set up SPEW. Things get better for all of us then. And become ideal.

Likes: kpop, writing, books, dancing, singing, vlogging, kids, activism 

Fears: bullies, people not liking me, getting in trouble, teachers

Desires: to be special, to feel loved, to love myself, to be a children’s storybook writer and dancer and love life, to find happiness and a place where I belong

Motivation: i don’t want to make the people around me who care about me sad

Important memory:  Receiving my letter and receiving my wand and getting sorted

Health: good physical health though i do sprained my ankles a lot because I am clumsy but it’s endearing (Neville and I are disaster buddies)

Mental health: Healing, growth mindset

Addictions: lowkey addicted to coffee that even my friends notice

Ability’s: i am a better learner, may not get it in the first go but i will get it eventually, to be able to shift with ease. Master shifter. I am good at divination

Strengths: i see the good in everyone, i am extremely adorable and lovable, i am a hardworker, i am good with the muggle occult things like astrology, tarot and the likes of that. 

Weakness: i have low self esteem and same weaknesses as here (I overcome them eventually), clumsy

Powers: i am a witch and have slight seer abilities, can channel and draw guidances easily 

Occupation: student:

Backstory: my family moved to england when i was 10. got my hogwarts letter at 11, same family environment. Elder brother had already been attending hogwarts then. I don’t have a lot of friends cause I was always quiet and shy and weird. 

Other stuff:  I become good friends with Neville regardless of whichever house I will be sorted into (I will get properly sorted when I arrive at Hogwarts) Eventually I also get close to the Weasley Twins and I can tell them apart. I also become close to Percy Weasley because he helps me with my schoolwork when I start falling behind because of my bad mental health. He is a very nice listener and doesn’t invalidate my feelings of being overwhelmed because I am in a lower year so “what do you have to be stressed about freaking first year” and I listen to him rant too sometimes. He is still very pompous and proud and huffy but he is also very brotherly and the overprotective sibling and eventually learns to relax. He becomes a healer instead. (Though he still has a strong interest in politics as he was the one who smuggled me books on politics and made me a raging gay leftist also Perciver is canon) 

I am best friends with Sanya and Alexandra (OCs) and also friends with some girls and boys in my house. I am very good friends with Neville and Luna and Ginny. In 4th year, the members of the CPOP group Boy Story join Hogwarts in their respective years and I become good friends with them too.  Snape is his sassy self and scary but actually cares for students wellbeing. Severus Snape has a heart and is bisexual. He got over his love for Lily and isn’t a bastard unlike canon snape. Professor Lupin is the best teacher ever and gives us mental health days off. Harry got taken from his relatives when he was 4 and is raised by WolfStar. Neville is confident cause i keep praising him and defend him against bullies, in turn the twins look out for neville too. Also my brother is happy and has good friends and a good partner if he so desires. Eventually a day will come when all of us siblings will be happy and close. My sister has her friends and is happier and in a good state of mental health. She wasn’t for a while but we helped her a lot. She is better now. I am super tight with the weasleys and at some point my siblings and I are lowkey adopted by the weasleys. My brother is super close with Bill and Charlie and moves away to live in the Netherlands. My sister is close to Ginny. Ron and I are god friends too and we play fight a lot. The twins help and sabotage Ron.  I get my own sweaters from mrs weasley every year cause I am friends with legit every weasley child at hogwarts.

*d*y* (someone I love a lot and want to protect their privacy) is in the twin’s year. She is friends with them. She is in the house she would’ve been sorted into in this current reality if she had gone to hogwarts. She is a lot happier and finds a purpose and meaning in life eventually. She also pranks with them and Lee Jordan.

I am friends with Draco Malfoy and the silver trio. He is a good person and lowkey abused and we help him through it after he gets disowned by his family.

 I have a blurry memory of here  i know that i shifted but not strong memories and *d*y* is the strongest memory i have. i am immune to dying in my desired reality. I know how to tie a tie and my fashion sense is amazing. I can style my outfits amazingly well. I am amazing at makeup. I teach myself through tutorials and stuff and I am a natural. I learn how to be confident in myself and love myself and love life through my experience.

Voldemort’s threat is almost non-existent and he never succeeds and there is never a war. Each time horcruxes are destroyed. Adults do it and not endanger kids’ lives.

 Universe will fill in the gap for me. I will not miss my cr. I have high pain tolerance. When percy’s mental health gets particularly bad, I tell Oliver and I tell the twins since I  am close to them. That’s when the twins really start noticing Perce more and then they notice my health too and their jokes and pranks become sillier and more ridiculous to make us laugh but mindful and don’t hurt anybody. Then when they graduate they make the trio keep an eye on me.  Good music with the same vibe as what i like here. I am a good kpop dancer. I will become stronger through my experiences there. Things may not be extremely easy but i will learn and love and live. Also house differences are super chill. Nobody really cares if you sleep over in other houses and be friends with people of other houses. House based prejudices are non existent. I meet *d*y* in year 3. Nobody allows me to diet. We always look out for each other, all of us, even me. I notice someone not eating, i pile food onto their plate. there are lots of vegan options. Animals are humanely treated. Animal abuse is non existent. The house elves are super chill and are very happy when hermione and i try to liberate them. I know how to crochet. I am amazing at crocheting. Mrs weasley and hermione knit and i crochet while also learning how to knit and we make clothes for the house elves. Slavery is non existent. Friends with the trio.Malfoy and I are study buddies too and his silver trio. They are super chill and i look out for them too. Kpop exists as it is and same vibe as the current kpop. I love kpop a lot. And jpop and cpop and tpop. No transphobia and homophobia. If someone even dares we will have them expelled. No prejudices against race, gender, sexuality or anything, people are usually very open-minded and accepting at hogwarts. World problems exist on a very lighter note. Not at all as bad, super duper light. But it gets better every year and we are moving towards the ideal and better and more equal world for everyone. When my mental health gets bad and i find myself throwing my life away, hermione sits with me and studies and helps me and when percy was there he would help me and so does draco and his trio. Xandra and sanya too. Xandra and sanya and everyone else help ground me. I will be much happier, there will be a mental health support system for everybody. We look out for harry when memories from when he was abused come up. I am immune to dying. Periods don’t exist.

 On my First Day:

I wake up in the hogwarts express when Hermione wakes me up and tells me to wear my robes. I was sharing a compartment with Neville and Hermione. I am super excited for hogwarts. I feel my apPrOpRiAtE eMotIoNs that one would feel when they’re on the way to a magical boarding school. Also Ron recognizes me because my brother had been friends with Bill and Charlie.  I allow the universe to fill in the spaces with nothing but good things and fun learning experiences.

[tinkeringwithcannabis]

The First 90 Minutes- Episode 14

Strain: The Evelyne

Dispensary: Sira Naturals

Dispensary Agent: Ian

Hello to all my cannabis loving and canna-curious friends. Today I am going to talk about another awesome strain I purchased at Sira Naturals in Somerville, Ma called The Evelyne. According to Leafly, this Indica-dominant hybrid is known to some as “Norther Buckeye”, as it is a cross between Buckeye Purple (GDP x Gorilla Grape) and 1989 NL5. With THC levels of 18.7%, it is said to have strong Indica effects, which are noticeable in body and mind. Unfortunately, I have not been able to locate much information regarding the exact specific effects of this strain, outside of its reported body and mind effects, and the reported scent and flavor profiles of deep wine, and in some cases, “rotted fruit funk”, both reported on Strains.io. So, let’s light up, sit back and relax, as we see what this strain can do!

Starting with the smell test, I can definitely smell a pungent wine scent, similar to a sour grape aroma. The taste test reveals a similar profile, of an earthy, sour wine flavor. The buds for this strain are pretty big, and one bud will give me roughly two joints, or roughly three to four medium bowls. For this test, I will be smoking this bud using a glass bowl. I am starting my medication session at 8:36 p.m., taking two hits. At 8:40 p.m., I feel a slight cerebral tingling, but not much else in respect to the effects of this strain. At 8:50 p.m., the effects are really starting to kick in. The cerebral buzz is kicking in, making it difficult to focus. My mood is mellowing out, and I can feel the body effects starting to burrow its way deep down into my muscles. My mind feels relaxed and very drifty, which is accompanied by a slight lightheaded feeling. I feel my anxiety and stress starting to fade away, and my mind is becoming very calm. I feel like my mind is fading into another mental dimension, as I am currently losing myself to some music, and feeling my body become heavy. In the midst of the losing myself, I am finding that my mind is also taking a creative turn. I do not feel that I would be able to function well enough to perform any specific creative tasks, but my mind is leaving me with many ideas, which I am noting and plan to follow through with once the effects of this strain have worn off.

At 9:10 p.m., the body pain I had pertaining to my medical issues has faded. I have been under some extreme stress, and I have felt my mood dipping to a very low place, which also causes my body to suffer from immense pain. Currently, the tension seems to be releasing from my muscles more and more, and my body feels numb to the pain and stress I was suffering from. My mood is continuing to increase, and the floaty cerebral effects have continued to drive my brain into a stress-free zone. I feel very calm in both body and mind, without feeling an overwhelming sense of couchlock, or any overly stimulating effects. I will say that the lightheaded feeling continues to persist, which does make it a little difficult to get myself motivated. Without this effect, I think I would be able to function better on this strain, but the most important aspect I was looking for was pain relief and improved mood, which this product continues to provide me with. This strain has also helped slow the racing thoughts I was experiencing, allowing me to organize my thoughts in a more effective manner. This has helped me to manage damaging negative thoughts, as well as to calm the mental overload I experience with a racing mindset.

At 9:40 p.m., hitting the one hour mark, my attention feels very low, but I have found that I can utilize low energy creative projects, such as drawing, crocheting, or wire wrapping to occupy my mind and lose myself in an enjoyable activity. Continuing to listen to some upbeat music, combined with these types of creative projects just adds to the effectiveness of this strain. My body feels stress and pain-free, and my mood feels extremely uplifted. I do not feel particularly couch locked, but I am still not overly motivated to get things done, outside of relaxing and losing myself in low-energy & low-thought projects. As we roll into the 90 minute mark at 10:10 p.m., I feel the effects of this strain mellowing into a nice balanced effect. My mood has significantly improved, my thoughts are rolling at a normal pace, and the body relaxation combined with the uplifted mood has made it easier to function as the effects of this strain wind down. I feel like I have moved into a much better place than I was when I began this medication session.

Now to jump into my final thoughts. First, I feel that this was a great choice for my depressive episode, but I can also see it as being a great fit to bring me down to a level point when I am in a manic episode. Generally, I tend to be sensitive to strong Sativa and strong Indica strains, but with this product I found that the level of balance in both body and mind really helps with depression, anxiety, stress, and pain. I also could see this strain being a great choice for those suffering from insomnia, due to its strong relaxation properties. Throughout using this Indica-dominant strain, I found that it helped me balance my mood, stop the immense crippling pain I experience with my depressive episodes, and allowed me to feel more level and productive as the effect wound down. Throughout this medication session, I was in dire need of slowing my thoughts down to a normal level and lifting my mood to a more positive note. Once the bodily effects started to kick in, relieving some of the physical pain I feel associated with my illness, I was able to find myself moving into a more positive direction. Ultimately, this strain has left me in the level place I had hoped to achieve in order to be able to function properly and feel like myself again. The only negative I experienced with this strain is a feeling of lightheadedness. This is not something new for me, and I tend to find that strong Indicas and Indica-dominant hybrids tend to make me feel this way. Overall, this product has allowed me to overcome the extreme depressive low I was experiencing and has left me in a much better place than I was before medicating. Sira, this strain is a ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ product, and I truly hope that you keep this in stock for people like me, who suffer from crippling mental illness and bodily pain. Great job guys!

Thank you all for joining me for today’s episode of The First 90 Minutes! Please join me next time for a whole new strain and a whole new review!

Disclaimer

*****Please remember, this blog is an account of my personal experience with this strain. Not everyone has the same experience with every strain, and that’s okay. I always recommend taking one to two hits at the most, and waiting at least forty-five minutes to see how the product effects you. Go low and slow, you can always take more if needed. ******

Also, please help me get the word out to other patients by liking and re-blogging this post! Thanks!

[wiym]

MY BIRTH STORY

Trigger warning/s: Birth trauma and postnatal mood disorders

Less than a quarter of healthy, low risk, first time parents will have a normal birth in an Australian hospital. With the recent release of Birth Time: the documentary in Australia and New Zealand, I felt that revisiting my birth story was timely.

It’s a clichéd adage but it’s true: for me, the birth plan went well and truly out the window. In fact, it was never let into the building.

EST. READING TIME: 5 minutes

In my early twenties, I used to avoid making eye contact with the family planning section at the chemist. These days I have an emergency stash of tests in my bedside drawer. I’m not even late - my period tracker says it’s due today - but I have a nagging feeling that won’t go away.

I pee on the stick, and there’s only one line. Oh well. I shrug, insouciant, throw out the test and go about my day.

Until four in the afternoon, when I sit bolt upright on the couch and realise that I, generally a rule follower, hadn’t waited for that result. In fact, the box tells you to wait five minutes. So much for sitting on the couch with an egg timer.

 I dig through the bin and in my shaking hands is a positive pregnancy test (note: those trying to conceive affectionately refer to this as a BFP). I test again, and again. I can’t wait, I race in my car to Victoria Park where my boyfriend of two years is working, with three BFPs sitting in the cup holder.

And so begins the uncontrollable for the Type A control freak.

In a pandemic, there are already things I can’t control. I’m redeployed to a different unit at my work and can no longer take potential COVID patients.

I’m anxious, exhausted and most of all - experiencing morning sickness that will turn into hyperemesis. Then, I have to take extended time off work.

As I do with most things, I jump straight into the deep end of pregnancy world and obsessively research. I avoid the foods you’re meant to avoid, and I buy all of the pre-baby accoutrements. Birthing ball, new yoga mat (and maternity yoga pants to boot), and the books. Oh my god, the books.

I do the hypnobirthing classes and listen to birthing stories while hiking with my dogs.

Being pregnant is simultaneously my new persona and hobby. I honestly still wouldn’t change a thing now, in spite of what I know, because even through vomiting for 7, nearly 8, months; I love being pregnant with all my heart.

I neatly type up a birth plan, beautifully formatted and fonted. Natural, natural, natural. No episiotomy. No pain relief. Don’t even offer it to me - I’ll ask. No interventions unless necessary. Delayed cord clamping. Immediate skin to skin. Quiet, low lighting, music. To me, this was a covenant between myself and the computer. Absolute, resolute and set in stone.

By the third trimester my partner and I have the hospital bag meticulously packed, nursery ready, and the big waiting game to do. Eager for our little family to be complete.

At my 38 week appointment, our obstetrician informs us that baby isn’t showing any signs of coming any time soon. I take that as a challenge and research a litany of labour-inducing old wives’ tales.

PSA: none of these actually work. If you are healthy with no complications, your baby will come when ready. Don’t rush. Even when you feel as if you can’t possibly be pregnant for single millisecond more. Your baby isn’t term until 40 weeks.

But here’s the kicker; the impending threat of an induction and/or caesarean looms overhead. I’m told I am a small girl. He appears to be a big baby. His head isn’t engaged at all. And that the clock is ticking.

Now I wonder what might have happened had that idea never been put into my head. If I had been given the space to accept my birth as it would come. Real birth. Normalised.

The pitfalls don’t just lie with mainstream media. You are being sold something. The expensive classes will tell you that having a natural birth without medication is possible, if you buy our book. The private obstetrician will tell you that you need an induction, an epidural, a caesarean; pay us.

At 39 weeks, the Friday before Christmas, my baby is showing signs of coming. What follows is 9 days of latent, or prodromal, or pre, or (my least favourite term) false labour.

On the Monday we go into hospital. With contractions 3 minutes apart, we are told my cervix and uterus aren’t agreeing. Simply put: head isn’t engaging, cervix isn’t dilating. And that I’ll know it when I’m in real labour.

During the week that follows I try exercises from Spinning Babies to get some relief from the round the clock contractions, Jack gives me massages and on one night I even give a glass of red wine and a bubble bath a go.

Websites that want to sell me something tell me that it’s because I’m too stressed for the labour to progress. Try our tea. 

Why are we capitalising on something so sacred as birth?

 I walk with one foot on the curb and one foot on the path - and I do this for kilometres. Through King’s Park in 30-degree heat. Along the coast. Around the neighbourhood.

On Christmas Eve, I can’t sleep, speak or move through the contractions and we wait as long as possible. We camp on the fold out bed in the living room (those without air conditioning throughout improvise), the birthing playlist quietly crooning and candles burning. I do my breathing and mantras; relax, relax, relaaaaax. And the contractions stop as abruptly as they started, 20 hours later.

I cry. Low keening, animalistic sobbing. I don’t understand what is happening to me. I don’t feel confident in making the choice whether or not to go to the hospital anymore.

They tell you the hospital is the safest place to birth and in the same breath tell you to avoid the hospital unless you’re damn near crowning.

I’m new to this. It’s my first time. I feel scared, unsupported and alone. I’m in so much pain.

I just want to meet my baby.

 Barely two days later, I shake Jack awake. I’ve got a Miss Clavel feeling. Something is not right. Instinctively I know that after nine days of exhausting labour that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, I will be too tired to push.

I call the hospital and ask if I can come in.

Have you just had enough? A voice asks on the other end.

So I don’t take the Panadol or the shower or the bath. We roll into the birthing unit and I’m put on the monitor. Like the High Striker at a fairground, I get the sense that the rolling peaks on the screen need to reach acceptable heights before I’m taken seriously.

The midwife is watching for decelerations, which don’t happen, but also doesn’t see any accelerations. My baby is tired, and I don’t blame him.

And then I am asked the question.

What do you want to get out of being in hospital today? Do you want to have your baby?

I nod, because yes. So comes the new plan. Break my waters and start the syntocin drip tomorrow. Temazepam and Panadeine Forte tonight. So quickly everything I imagined for my birth is going out the window, but I’m desperate.

The next morning we waddle into the birthing suites to start my induction bright and early. I feel robbed of the moment my waters break as it is cracked with something that looks like a crochet hook on a glove. With a gush and then a steady trickle, all the amniotic fluid keeping my baby safe and sound floods out. My obstetrician tells me it’s meconium stained, the paediatric RN in me fleetingly panics. But it is all systems go. I race from active labour to transition. I can only focus on the contractions.

I want my mum.

I’m offered the epidural I’d refused the day prior again but I shake my head. Not in the birth plan. Gas and air only, please. I end up screaming into the Entonox mouthpiece every 2 minutes and throw up all over myself before I allow myself the grace of an epidural. Which only works for about fifteen minutes before I’m once again writhing and screaming, one leg ice numb but the rest of me on fire. Intense pressure between my legs, the urge to push. But it’s only been a couple hours.

My mum arrives in the hospital. On the birth plan, she was meant to be waiting outside. She stands near me now, in the birthing suite.

I’m making noises I am not proud of and inform my midwife of my need to push. Oh, it’s too soon? Pardon me. Before the midwife’s assessment I steel myself to be told I am nowhere near, after a week of disappointment and being nowhere near.

Oh. You’re having a baby.

I ask if we need to wait for the doctor when she tells me she’s calling my obstetrician.

No, she laughs. You don’t have to wait.

With my knees to my chest, I’m told to stop pushing and so I stop. Afterwards, my partner tells me that our son was getting distressed despite my best efforts to get him out and the obstetrician was pulling back on the cord that was tight around his neck. And my poor tired baby’s heart rate drops dangerously. I’m given a deadline to push him out, but I can’t and I’m given the episiotomy I had expressly verboten on my birth plan. He is vacuum assisted out. He is safe.

I’m handed a small, beanlike baby covered in blood and vernix. I kiss him and end up with blood on my face. He doesn’t cry.

He’s taken off my chest and it feels like the longest pause before he lets out the best scream I’ve ever heard.

My mum looks at me. He’s beautiful, she mouths. Is he okay? He’s okay.

My partner cuts the cord. No delayed cord clamping, breathing is more important. Oliver is soon enough placed back onto my chest.

And he is beautiful.

What starts days later as the baby blues progresses into postnatal depression and anxiety. It took me a long time to accept what happened was birth trauma. That my birth story is ridiculously common, even amongst my group of friends, and that’s not due to our failure as the birthing parent. I can’t tell you how long I felt I only had myself to blame for having false expectations. And how much value I put into my ability to birth the “right” way as a direct translation of my ability to mother. How I felt that my son’s birth complications were my fault (it wasn’t). Too many Australian birthing parents are made to feel this way.

So I write this birth story once more, and I let go of what happened for my own sake. I didn’t fail. My son is beautiful, and worth every second of the agony it took to get him here.

A previous version of this post was published on my friend’s blog Mummy Neutral as ‘Type A and the Uncontrollable Pre-Labour’ in January 2021.

Please check her blog out as she posts some really raw and beautiful insights into pregnancy, birth and motherhood.

If you’re feeling distressed about anything discussed or about your own birth experience, please click the life ring symbol at the top of my blog for some helpful links. Call Lifeline on 13 11 14 if you need immediate assistance.

Birth Time: the documentary is showing in select cinemas now. You can visit the website to find out more and if you have birthed in Australia in the last 5 years, you can complete a survey about your experience.

[boluwatifs]

Hair as homecoming: how becoming my own hairdresser helped me build a rhythm of self care and mental health

I am multitasking as I write this.

I have Solange’s ‘Don’t touch my hair’ playing on full volume as I use one half of my brain to type and the other half to re-twist my locs – perhaps for the last time. I am contemplating shaving my head for the first time in my life, the only reason being that I feel like it.

I remember there being a period of time when the thought of having no hair on my head would have terrified me. I was attached to my hair because of its external value. Hair was about beauty, it was about comfort in conformity. Now though, when I look back on the somewhat sentimental journey that my hair has taken me on, I realise that it became so much more than it first was. It became about self-care. Doing my hair became a restorative, therapeutic exercise – it grew in length and it grew in meaning.

I think I am finally starting to get the gist of what Solange means when she sings poetry about hair. ‘It’s the feelings I wear’ ‘It’s the rhythm I know’. As ridiculous and ‘fake-deep’ as it might sound, she is right. In the past few years of my life, my hair has been one of the ways I have been able to give rhythm to self-care and mental health.

There was a time in my life where hair had nothing to do with self-care. In childhood, the only function my hair had (that I knew of) was to be pretty. The only reason I got it done and re-done every three to six weeks was to be prettier. It seemed almost inevitable that I would inherit the thick, black, fast-growing hair that runs through my mother’s side of the family. From about age 5, it was chemically straightened and almost always tied down in tight cornrows with colourful plastic beads attached to the ends. Hair was competition. It was never a formal contest, but to me, each glance at another girl’s hair was a challenge – like what boys did with Pokémon cards or Beyblades. Whose is the best? Whose is the longest? Having long relaxed hair seemed, at that time, to be the epitome of prettiness. The longer the hair, the prettier the girl, the more jealous of her other girls would be. Girls with shorter hair seemed to move around with explanations taped to their tongues; ‘my hair used to be down to here but then my mum cut it’, they knew that the ability to grow long hair was the standard of beauty.

Hair was superficial – I didn’t think about it deeply enough for it to have anything to do with self-care. It was something that was done to me and decided for me. As a girl child growing up in Nigeria, in a middle-class family, having your hair done was a requirement rather than a luxury. Loose hair meant untidy hair and untidy hair was criminal. At the primary school I went to, among polished black shoes and crisply ironed uniform, it was a requirement for girls, at all times and under all circumstances, to have their hair plaited into cornrows or Calabar braids. The only freedom I had was choosing between intricately named styles; all-back or patewo, suuku or two-step. Oftentimes on special occasions like graduations or prize-giving ceremonies the school would put out a formal request for all the girls to synchronise their hairstyles. My hair wasn’t mine, it was uniform.

When I was old enough to get my first set of hair extensions, I did. I remember my grandma taking me to get my first ‘pack and gel’ �� a slicked down ponytail with a synthetic hair piece attached tightly to it with a needle and thread. I was about eight-years-old, and this particular ‘pack and gel’ hung all the way down past my back. With this hair I was Beyoncé and Rihanna combined – I would walk around my grandma’s house flicking my head side to side making sure that my ponytail swung as I walked and that everyone saw it. Hair styling was just as much a punishment as it was a reward. Combs were torture instruments and hairdressers might as well have been executioners. The sight of little girls writhing and blubbering under the hands of unperturbed hairdressers would look like an act of abuse to anyone unfamiliar with the rituals of black hairdressing. As part of this ritual the hairdresser would cock my neck back and forth, I would cry loudly, my mum would threaten to shave my hair off if I continued, at which I would immediately pack it in – new episode every three to six weeks.

Looking back, I am aware that there was also a time in my life when feelings I was having towards my hair were damaging to my self-esteem – paying too much attention to my hair became the opposite of self-care. This this time came in my mid-teens when, amongst a plethora of physical anxieties that had begun to take shape, my hair became a problem. After years and years of my hair being a thing that was done to me rather than a thing I was in control of, the baton was suddenly passed to me. I was clueless. This period started off gleefully, I browsed through the endless styles of braids and weaves on the internet. I had graduated from all-back and patewo to jumbo braids (with blonde highlights of course) and Marley twists down to the middle of my back. I no longer cried at the hair dresser’s, instead I would sit patiently, clenching my jaw for all six hours it would take for her to transform me. There was a thrill that came with being able to re-invent myself every six weeks. One day shoulder length braided bob, the next day purple bum-length Senegalese twists that made me look three years older.

It looked good on the outside, but soon my hair was dry, brittle and breaking in places that made me feel ugly. I had no idea what to do or how to take care of it when it wasn’t wrapped in synthetic hair, so I watched it fall apart. Putting my hair in braids became a way of running away from it. Thinking about it made me sad. Every hair appointment, the hairdresser met me with raised eyebrows and a question mark; ‘what happened to your hair?’ ‘but it used to be so long?’. Paying too much attention to my hair became an exercise in self-loathing. I added it to the list of body parts that I tried hard not to think about. I got weaves to cover up the broken sections – the more I did this, the more it broke. I covered it up well enough for no-one to notice. I went from one set of braids to the next in a matter of hours, never letting my natural hair see any light except whatever came from the fluorescent bulbs of the hairdresser’s shop.

I finally decided to break this damaging cycle by starting from scratch. It was weird how hard it was to part with hair that I had never cut even when every strand was damaged to the core by heat and chemicals. I had to ignore all the bones in my body left over from childhood that were telling me that long hair was essential to beauty. I vowed never to let my hair see a chemical again and after a couple of months I cut it off. This was perhaps the first time a decision about my hair was more than superficial. Though I didn’t know it then, this was me drawing the first few inches of a line that directly connected hair to mental self-care. It was a hard but necessary step. All the excuses I had previously given for hanging on to dead weight on my head instead of going natural consisted of complaints that it was time consuming. When I cut my hair off, natural hair became exactly that; time consuming. And so it turned into a ritual. It forced me to consume time with myself. I watched youtube videos religiously. I re-twisted my hair for a morning twist out every single night (yes, I was crazy and enthusiastic). Amidst the hurricane of almost failing A-Levels, worrying about if universities would accept me, having fewer and fewer people to talk to everyday, and my health taking a left turn, doing my hair gave me a centre. It was the red light at which I stopped to think about myself – and to forget about myself if I wanted to.

Doing my hair became meditation. I would sit cross-legged in my bedroom, under a warm light, in front of a floor-length mirror for an hour most nights. It became a necessary silence. Sometimes it was an opportunity for reflection, other times it was the time that allowed me to become an empty space – focusing only on the texture of my hair under the coconut oil as I twisted. It might have been vanity, but maybe vanity is beautiful when you have been taught to be angry with yourself. Doing my hair became much more than just about my hair being healthy or looking good, it was an icecap I could float on when everything around me felt like it was melting.

I experimented with low tension styles that I could easily learn and do myself; crochet braids, mini-twists, yarn braids. Hair went from being a thing that was just on my head to being a thing that was a part of my life. It was so much different from waiting impatiently under a hairdresser’s hands, paying in money and pain for a new version of myself – it was a calm self-customisation, it didn’t hurt because it taught me how to be easy with myself. It allowed me to build a much-needed trust in myself. I followed instructions on how to braid or twist or give myself an undercut from youtube videos, never being entirely sure what I was doing or how I would look on the other side but the freedom and power over myself was in my hands. Doing my hair myself taught me to be okay with myself. There was no-one to push the blame for terrible styling on, so it forced me to be okay with whoever I was and however I looked.

Spending so much time with my hair has also made it easier for me to take the decision to let go of it if ever I want. It is no longer the symbol of a beauty standard I am trying to meet, neither is it a burden. My hair has been knotted down into eighty locs for about a year now, for no other reason than the fact that it seemed to fit nicely with where I have been at in life for the past year. It is low maintenance and I still get that moment of stillness every few weeks where I get to breathe through my hair.

I am still not quite sure where the sudden desire to shave my head has come from. I have put my hands in my hair enough times and done enough to it to know that sometimes how it makes you feel is more important than how it looks. It seems that the period in my life that I am currently entering calls for drastic boldness and a search for freedom, maybe that is where this desire has come from. My hair has always found unintentional ways of being a practical reflection of who or what I am on the inside – it changes when I change, it is somehow the only fluctuating constant. Caring for it has become caring for myself.

It is two minutes past midnight now. I still haven’t finished re-twisting my hair and the pre-hook to ‘Don’t touch my hair’ is playing again because I have had it on repeat. Solange is singing in her soft-mellow voice. ‘They don’t understand what it means to me, where we chose to go, where we’ve been to know’.

What a perfect way to poeticise a hair journey.

[leoninapelliolovesconchitawurst]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION (Scott Rand)

LT1 Startalk Interview at the Bristol Hotel 25/01/20

with Petra Stumpf

https://www.lt1.at/sendungen/stars_society/ich-bin-ein-sehr-sexueller-mensch/

https://youtu.be/FAw2HtQQhx0

That was back then, Tom Neuwirth alias Conchita Wurst, a diva who won the Eurovision Song Contest for Austria in 2014.

And this is nowadays. Wurst, fetish look and electro pop. With his third album Tom has freed himself. We meet the Upper Austrian in his adoptive home Vienna at the hotel bar in the Bristol next to the Opera. What hasn't changed is that the star is punctual to the minute.

Petra Stumpf: Welcome to LT1 startalk, my guest today - how do I address you Conchita, Tom or Wurst, which do you prefer?

Tom: It's up to you, I use to say at the end of the day it's always Wurst (it's all the same to me). With a certain look I feel more like a woman, whatever that means and in certain looks I am more masculine, whatever that means and at the end of the day I don't care. One cannot generalise, of course for many people their identity is important and how they see themselves. I realize more and more that gender should be completely irrelevant in a society.

P: I was very curious in which look you would turn up today, blond, bald, long hair, short hair, at the moment everything is possible when it comes to you. Does it depend on your current mood or is it calculative if you turn up as a male or female?

T: There are concerts and events where I know I want to wear an evening gown and release my inner Mariah Carey, on other days I have no concept at all and put up what I fancy at the moment. Some things need a certain preparation, when I want to bleach my hair, I can't decide it on the spot and two hours later I'm blond and the story about the bald head was, that I wanted to express - I did't want to express anything with the bald head per se - but I had joined the Opera Ball to advertise the EU elections and when I shaved my head, I hadn't even known yet that I would go to the Opera Ball. In retrospect it had been destiny and was supposed to happen exactly like that and to answer the question, I seldom reflect, sometimes I fancy something but if something else comes up that is more in line, then I change my mind.

P: Your impact on me is that you feel very liberated since this transformation, is that true?

T: I started to reconsider rules I don't even know who made them and to discard them and find out what makes me happy instead of saying: I have to be the president's wife, that's what people expect and what sells, I'm also in the priviliged situation to say, I don't care, I do what I want and feel but during the process I develop and reconsider so many things and I don't know if everyone thinks it's funny, but I always say it's essential to learn how to read and write. It's important for communication, but how needs spelling?

P: Seriously?

T: If I understand what you want to tell me, for example if you write an essay in German full of blooming imagination and there are twists in the story and it's interesting to read, and then you have 5 spelling errors and fail to pass the exam.

P: I agree about that, but it repels me if someone writes to me on Whatsapp and there are 1000 spelling errors. That's awful.

T: It doesn't matter to me, as long as I understand what you mean.

P: Since you say it is Wurst to you, you recorded your new album as Wurst, finest electro pop, it is autobiographic and was a kind of therapy for you, is that true?

T: Yes, the lyrics and music were written by Eva Klampfer, Lylit, an Upper Austrian and it was produced by Albin Janoska, who is the electro guru in this country. In this triad we made this great album. Eva spent many hours with me and learned a lot about me and I often repeat it, I'm not sure if she wanted to know all of it. But when one doesn't write the lyrics oneself, one can only achieve an authentic piece of music when I'm candid and all of these titles are of course metaphors of all the things I experienced and I know what each song is about and considered if I should explain it or write it into the booklet but then I thought, it's nobody's business and I want to keep it to myself and don't want to impose to the audience what to interpret into those songs. I love to make music videos, I can't write songs, but I hear music and see pictures and I can convert that, that's my essential part and I love to do it but with it I already open a world that indicates a certain direction and emotions, but it's too much fun to miss out on it.

P: I have to show the booklet and for example this picture, videos and booklet are very revealing, very erotic with fetish outfits, did it take you a lot of effort, because your parents and your granny see it too.

T: I'm a very sensual person and I'm not shy with my family, they know me so well, they have known me when I still wet my pants. I don't have to pretend what I am and sometimes I think it will not be her favourite topic for my granny in her crochet round but I am what I am and that's the result of their upbringing. My parents have no reason for complaining about my liberalness or that I live my life in the public, I am the person I am because they raised me that way.

P: Did your parents teach you the facts of life or was it your grandmother, sometimes the grandparents do that.

T: Funny that you address this topic. No, it was my aunt, she's awesome and during Christmas one discusses everything. My aunt is responsible or was a good deal involved in my fashion aesthetics. Listen, my aunt took me to the first musical I have ever seen, Rocky Horror Picture Show, imagine I was about - when is one admitted into such a show, I think 12, and I remember my aunt asked me: "Do you know what a virgin is?" and I replied: "My Mum was born in August, so she's a Virgo." and then there was a talk with my mother if she was allowed to explain it to me and she did and then I came into this show as a 12 year old gay boy and was amazed. What, one can do this, this is allowed? And everyone thinks it's awesome, she revealed a whole new world to me and I still remember what she wore, a transparent Woolford body that only covered the breasts in the shape of a lava lamp and Yoko Ono flares with slits at the sides that where overlapping, so when she walked her bare legs were displayed. My aunt is a fashion icon and that's where my liberty comes from, I think nobody was surprised.

P: You don't often come to Upper Austria, where your family is, but on 12th March you will come to the Posthof in Linz because you are on tour with the new songs. This home game in Linz is something special for you?

T: I'm totally looking forward to it. Linz is always special for me. I have a tour, there will be some concerts in Germany, I'll be in Poland and will also be in Austria and Linz is magic, I can't describe it, it's also the audience that likes to experience music and there are people who are not my fans per se, but who are interested in new music. That's so cool, I'm not always that open-minded, I think rock is not my cup of tea, but okay I'm going to listen to it. People in Linz are totally relaxed and I'm looking forward. And it will be different with my live band and it will be awesome.

P: You are a fantastic live performer, I've often seen you and take my hat off to you. Back then in Linz, international fans had come completely dressed in Conchita outfit. How do they deal with the transformation, do they go along with it and come now with short hair?

T: It's exciting you mention this, I love my fans and they are crazy in an affectionate way and travel from everywhere around the world and then sit there and listen to this concert for the 14th time and are still enthusiastic and have fun to ponder, ah there he didn't know the lyrics, he has forgotten them again and that's so cool, because it's simply the truth. Without those fans who come regularly, I wouldn't exist and without them I wouldn't be able to shine in certain situations, because sometimes you come to an event and notice, ah maybe they don't find me that awesome but there are always people present I can rely on and who say I don't care what happens behind my back, I'm here because of you and I celebrate you so much and then it spreads. It's exciting how such a relationship we have after all develops, particularly because of the different look and music and there are many who sighingly say, I want to hear the ballads and I understand that, I also love the ballads, but there's a time for everything.

P:  Variety is that extra something.

T: Absolutely. It's a challenge for me and a whole different vocal field, suddenly it's about voice colours and textures and not how long can I scream this note, and I can hold it for a long time.

P: Will you play none of your ballads on this tour?

T: Not at the moment. I have the occasional concerts with an orchestra, the next ones will be in Sydney and I'm thrilled to go back to Australia after many years, the current situation there is everything else but delightful but I'm very content not to let this orchestra programme die either, because it's so much fun. Also From Vienna With Love I recorded with the symphonic orchestra is a gift for me and then retrieve it a year later and say: I still can do it! That's cool, you know.

P: We are in Vienna today and not in Upper Austria, as you hardly come to us anymore.

T: Don't emphasize it that much, it's like that at the moment, I will come back.

P: On 12th March at the latest he'll be there at the concert. But we are now at the hotel Bristol in Vienna and you also have a special connection to this place.

T: I have a deep attachment to this hotel, one of my all-time favourite photos was taken by Mrs Ziegelböck, who also comes from Upper Austria. There was a fashion photo shoot for Rondo and we are often here and everytime I give interviews we get support from the staff and they provide us with these awesome suites and catering and we are pleased to see each other, there's appreciation and it's such a traditional building, rich in history and I was allowed to work abroad, but when I come back home, I love Austria, I love Vienna so much, in my opinion it's the coolest city in the world.

P: It was ranked the most livably city too. And the most unfriendly one.

T: If you allow to be insulted, I'm above that.

P: I continue with the word rap.

Question: Do you prefer to be man or woman?

T: We already discussed, I don't care.

Question: I can imagine having children one day.

T: That's tough. I've considered how I would raise a child, what values I would convey and what it would mean. But I'm not ready to have children, because I'm so egocentric and have some interhuman deficits. You wanted a short reply. I have no idea.

Question: I like to sleep...

T: For a long period of time and you want something provocative. I sleep in the nude.

Question: What are you not able to do?

T: I'm bad at waiting and I sometimes get bitchy. My friends who work with me know me well enough to know that when I start giving curt replies.

Question: Your favourite place?

T: My apartment, my nest. After a period of travelling a lot, one's own bed is priceless.

Question: I learned most things from...

T: All people I meet. I recognise afterwards when one sits together during the holidays, I have it from you that I always run around half naked.

Question: The inscription on my tombstone should read.

T: I hope I won't have a tombstone. I'll be cremated.

P: But there has also to be a place for the urn. Maybe in someone's cupboard at home.

T: If I want to annoy them I'll write into my will: You have to place me beside your television. I want it to be stagy, get cremated and scatter the ash around.

P: Then one cannot visit you anymore.

T: You don't have to. That's overrated, everyone shall carry me inside their hearts.

P: No grave of honour in Vienna?

T: The dress from the Eurovision inside a showcase is sufficient.

P: Thank you, it was very funny.

T: What a great interview.

[fe14festivalofbondstranslations]

Hoshidan Festival: Opening

I’m...pretty sure we haven’t done this yet? Kiyoshi asked me to do the opening scenes ages ago, but I had to work on it slowly because I was busy. Now I finally finished the one for the Hoshidan festival! It’s not all that long, but sitting down and getting it done was difficult.

I’m still trying to get a little crochet business off the ground, and have now moved (temporarily) cross-country to stay with my brother who is more able to help me with that. (He’a also encouraging me to brush up on my skills and promote myself as a freelance translator and writer/editor, so....we’ll see... The mere *thought* of all this exhausts me, lol.)  I had to leave my computer behind when I moved, but my bro bought me a laptop! He’s awesome! His place needs a lot of cleaning, though, and I’m slowly getting it done... I have a really nice desk here, much nicer than what I have at home, so it’s easier to work on the computer.

At any rate, get ready for Anna (the merchant) to do a lot of fourth-wall breaking, because that’s what she’s here for, right? These are technically two conversations, but they occur back-to-back, so I put ‘em together. Next up: the Nohrian festival opening! (Aiming to get that one up next week.)

(Opening Scene)  This features a female Corrin, but the dialogue is pretty much the same if Corrin is male. The only notable changes would be that Felicia would replace Jakob, and Corrin’s title would be “Lord” rather than “Lady.”

Corrin: “Hmmm...? What is this place...?”   

Merchant: “Hello there! Welcome to this Outrealm's Hoshidan Festival!”   

Corrin: “...Huh? Outrealm? Hoshidan Festival?”   

Merchant: “That's right! This is the grand annual festival you've all been waiting for! Go and spend lots of money! ...I mean, go and enjoy yourselves to the full!! Corrin: “Oh, well... Actually, you see...”   

Merchant: “Oh? Wait. Did you, perchance, arrive here on accident? That happens every once in a while. Is this place really THAT complicated? Well, whatever. Let me explain explain things for our foreign visitors. This is an Outrealm. It's a world different from the one you're from. ...And it just happens to look a lot like Hoshido.”   

Corrin: “...I see.”   

Merchant: “Today we're holding a festival where people make wishes for the health and growth of their children. If any in your group have children,  it would be nice for them to join in. Of course, there are many stalls around here, too. You can have lots of fun eating goodies and hanging out with us!” 

Corrin: “Oh my! It really does sound like fun! Since we're already here, I suppose we could participate.”   

Merchant: “Thanks! So then, I'll show you around. First let's go this way...”   

Jakob: “We have a problem!”    (T/N: Jakob will be replaced by Felicia if Corrin is male.)

Corrin: “What's wrong, Jakob?”   

Jakob: “It appears as though the festival is under attack from brigands...!”   

Corrin: “Are you serious!?”   

Merchant: “Whaaat!? And on a day like this!? I need to get everyone out of here! You too, hurry and find a safe place...”   

Corrin: “No, please, allow us to fight.”   

Merchant: “What...?”   

Corrin: “You've put so much effort into this festival, right? I want everyone to enjoy it. And... I've had my fill of seeing festivals destroyed...”   

Jakob: “! Lady Corrin...” 

Merchant: “...Lady Corrin? Is that your name?”   

Corrin: “Yes, it is. I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself sooner. My name is Corrin. I'm commanding an army in another world. We're accustomed to fighting, so I'm sure these brigands will be no problem for us.”   

Merchant: “W-W-WOW!! I'm in the company of Lady Corrin and her army!? You should have said so earlier!!”   

Corrin: “Pardon me? You know about us?”   

Merchant: “Of course I do! I've heard rumors about you. I've even thought about sending you a formal invitation to come here. However, for some reason the descriptions of you vary in all of the rumors, so... You may not know it yourselves, but you're quite famous in this world. Recently we even held a popularity poll.” (T/N: She's talking about the description of Corrin's appearance. Since Corrin is customizable, each Corrin would probably look a little different! ...And be a different gender, too.)   

Corrin: “A...popularity poll...?”   

Merchant: “And I went ahead and made kimonos to suit the image of each of the poll winners.”   

Corrin: “Kimonos? Like the one you're wearing?”   

Merchant: “That's right. Should one of the winners wear one, I can then sell it at a much higher price... I mean, everyone would love it! So be sure to try them on later.”   

Corrin: “I-I see. Understood. We'll be off to fight, then.”   

(Corrin leaves.)   

Merchant: “Thanks. I'll guide the other visitors to safety....... I never imagined that Lady Corrin and her company would come here of their own accord! It's too bad that brigands came, but... What amazing luck! Anyway, I need to prepare those kimonos, and hurry over to the shrine! I've got the kimonos for the poll winners, and...a couple of special extras...” 

(Battle Begins)   

Corrin: “Wow... So these are the festival grounds? There really are a lot of stalls to visit... Once the fight is done, I'd like everyone to relax here. This time for sure, I'll protect the festival from--”   

Merchant: “Helloooo! This is the  merchant!! Can everyone hear me!?”   

Corrin: “Wh-what's with that voice!? Where in the world is it coming from!?”   

Merchant: “Oh, did I startle you? I'm sorry. This is a new item from us Anna merchants: a magical tool that amplifies our voice. When I use this, everyone on the festival grounds can hear me, so... It's useful for explaining attractions, making announcements about lost children, things like that. By the way, my voice is coming through those magic devices over there*.” (T/N: This simple little phrase gave me more trouble than most in this conversation, lol. I don't know why. She's clearly referring to speakers and a PA system.)   

Corrin: “Th-that seems very useful... I wish I had that in my castle. Anyway, why did you get our attention using that special spell?”   

Merchant: “About that. Remember that I told you about the popularity poll we had in this world? Well, I have something special prepared for the four children who placed highest in that poll!”   

Corrin: “Those who placed highest in that poll...?”   

Merchant: “Simply put, it means that they're liked by a lot of people! Those who won should think of this as an honor. Although... Depending on the route you chose and other circumstances, it's possible that some of the winners may not exist... But we'll cross that bridge if we come to it.   

Anyway, allow me to announce the winners! First, the child-generation males who placed highest in the poll are...   

Forrest.   

Dwyer.   

And the child-generation females who placed highest...   

Nina.   

Ophelia.   

The afore-mentioned four are the ones who have something special waiting for them. If they would just come out this way... (Camera pans to the shrine.) 

Come here and select the “Wait” command, and something great will happen! By the way, this is only for the child-generation characters who placed highest in the poll. For the parent-generation winners, something special is waiting for you at a different festival ground!” 

Corrin: “Child-generation...? Parent-generation...?”   

Merchant: “Don't worry yourself over these little details, OK? ...Oh, yeah. Besides the four I just named, I've prepared something for two others. Who are those two? Well... It's a secret! Anyway, once you get your stuff in order, come see me at that shrine. I'll be waiting, so don't dawdle!”   

Corrin: “So, um, what just happened...? For now, I guess I should just communicate all this to everyone in my company. We'll rout these brigands and reopen the festival!”

[booknerd405]

all the soft asks! all of them! i love you so much!!

ily Kate!!!!!!!

honey: what’s your favorite memory you made this year?

tbh there were a lot so imma just name a few of them: 1) that night that you, Libby, Em, and I were at Libby’s house and we were all on one bed and just kept tickling each other 2)playing at carnegie hall & that one moment when i hit the gong correctly for the first fucking time and Mr. S looked so happy it was gr8 and 3) tonight i got pho with my boys and then we went to like 4 different parks and just fucked around and ate too much junk and trespassed on a lot of public property just to chill and it was everything 

sunshine: 3 things you do to relax

1.)  take extra long scalding hot showers with depressing/mellow music (this is gonna kill me not to be able to do properly in dorms fuck)

2.)  take my dog for a walk or walk with my dad at night

3.) let myself go brain dead for a few hours and just watch youtube videos and crochet till my fingers hurt

rain: put your music on shuffle and give a 5 song playlist

Nocturne No. 5 in F sharp major Op. 15 No.2 by Chopin, played by Rubinstein (because i’m a ho for chopin)

That Green Gentleman by Panic! at the Disco 

Mr. Watson by Cruel Youth

Bad Liar by Selena Gomez

Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean 

lace: what’s your favorite piece of clothing?

right now it’s probably my 2 gentlemen of verona shirt but i’m changing my answer literally every 2 minutes in my head so idk (i’m hoping that if i ever actually crochet the cape i bought a punch of supplies for, that it’ll be my fav lol)

flowers: what’s your favorite outdoor activity?

does sitting and staring at the scenery count as an activity? if not, then going to parks with idiot boys 

roses: what’s your favorite perfume or cologne?

my favorite perfumes are Mariah Carey’s Luscious Pink and Flowerbomb by Victor and  Rolf but my favorite scent on earth is the cologne Play by Givenchy i literally spray that on my stuffed animals so that I can smell it as i sleep

sunsets: give 3 movie recommendations

1) The Intouchables (except ur literally not allowed to watch it the 1st time w/out me i need to watch this french movie w you even if we have to do it over skype)

2) Rush Hour (maybe even Rush Hour 2, but the 1st one is the best)

3) the original 3 Indiana Jones movies (i know that’s more than 1 movie, i dont care)

blankets: what’s your night routine?

brush my teeth, put on my prescription acne medication, try and fail to convince my dog to sleep with me instead of my parents, give up, write a sentence in my 10 year journal and tell myself that i’ll clean my pen out tomorrow, tell myself that i’lll start packing for university tomorrow (i wont), read some fanfic (usually Kurtbastian or Tododeku with a bit of Victuuri sprinkled in), then go to sleep

thunder: what’s your favorite instrument?

i feel a bit obligated to say piano cuz ive been playing it for over 10 years for a reason, but aside from that, i’d say my fav instrument to play is a 3 way tie between gong, suspended cymbals, and timpani, and my fav instrument to listen to other than piano is the cello

ink: favorite thing you’ve written?

lmao i haven’t written anything i’ve liked in a long time (i haven’t written anything in a long time cuz im afraid to lbr) but id say maybe the poem i wrote in middle school that was kinda experimental called Alone, and all the random scenes i wrote for the book i was writing all through middle school called Afflictions (i made the mistake of reading through them an now i wanna start writing it again fuck)

heartbeat: who’s your best friend?

it would actually be impossible for me to choose between Kate and Frederick so i will combine the names to make it 1 best friend: Katerick Frate Karick Frederate 

sunrise: kisses or hugs?

hugs :D

fairy lights: who was the last person you talked to?

my older brother, about pumpkin spice beer

sugar: what’s your favorite snack?

bananas!! (especially if they’re covered in nutella ;P)

wind: what’s your favorite season?

im a basic bitch who loves autumn

trees: favorite thing about your hometown?

there’s a lot of things but probably the best thing about it growing up was that our public schools are so big and the environment is very inclusive so cliques were never rly much of a thing? like there were definitely different groups of ppl but they intermingled so much that it didn’t rly matter? nothing was weird about the captain of the football team being friends with a marching band kid

smiles: who do you go to for comfort?

my dad

skyline: the sun, the moon, or the stars?

the stars!!

lavender: what color do you find most comforting?

almost any shade of brown will usually do the trick but beige and tan are especially nice (basically look at my aesthetic side blog @mercurialaesthetic and that’s ur answer lol)

[mell-bell]

how can I live without you (when it makes me feel as if I lost a part of myself)

aka First time you and Cassian are separated for 5 months

THIS IS PART OF A SERIES. IT WILL MOST LIKELY MAKE SENSE BY ITSELF BUT JUST A FOREWARNING.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8

AO3

Cassian x Reader

Words: 2389

Series Summary: Cassian and Reader Firsts – from meeting each other to the first time, first kiss, first fight, first “I love you”, to their (first) last breaths (maybe…that might be too depressing)

Time Cassian and Reader have known each other: 1 year

Chapter: 9/20

Prompt: Anonymous- “firsts” for cassian x reader please?!? (like first date, first kiss, first fight etc) :-))

Author’s notes: Being away from someone you love is shitty. Like really shitty. Also I think I read this like 7 times today so I may have missed a spelling mistake or grammar or something so feel free to point it out. But I hope you enjoy!

A five-month mission.

You still couldn’t believe it.

Ever since you had left you had felt off.

You wanted to message Cassian, but you weren’t allowed to. Communication had been forbidden during this mission.

You had always hated missions like this. Ever since you had trained new rebels to do your job, they had been taking all your easier missions. You didn’t mind at first, because those missions had always been slightly boring and unadventurous. However, once you realized that stuck you with all the insanely long and difficult missions, you were begging for the boring ones. 

But you weren’t given them.

Instead you were given a five month long undercover mission.

You’d only ever been undercover once. And it hadn’t turned out too well. So you were surprised when Draven sent you and not one of his intelligence agents.

You were sent to infiltrate an imperial military base to find another undercover agent. She had been undercover in the empire for three years. The rebellion needed her out, but had no way of communicating with her.

So you were sent. You would find her. You would get her out. You would bring her home.

Cassian planned to tell you how he felt when he arrived back at base.

He knew that he had taken long enough and he was ready to be yours. He had been planning and planning. He had even made a list of all the different ways he could ask you out. He’d shoved it in his drawer before he left. He didn’t want you to accidentally find it especially since you lived together now.

As he left his ship he didn’t see you. That was weird. You were always there waiting for him. So where were you?

Maybe you were in a meeting and couldn’t get out? Maybe you had fallen asleep? Maybe? Maybe?

He arrived at your room only to find it cold and stale. Half your things were missing. He knew something was up. However, before he could begin searching, there was a knock at the door.

It was Mila, one of your trainees from months ago. She had graduated your number one student and was now one of the best bounty hunters.

She looked solemn.

And Cassian knew.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“On a mission.”

Cassian relaxed. But Mila didn’t. He grew worried.

“Is something wrong? It’s just a mission?” Cassian questioned his brows furrowed.

“No, you don’t understand Y/N is on a long mission. An undercover mission. A “not going to be back for another five months” mission. Maybe even more. We’re not exactly sure. We had no information. We still don’t have information. Y/N went in blind.”

Cassian’s heart dropped. Five months. He quickly thanked Mila, bid her a goodnight and all but shoved her out the door. She nodded in understanding.

Cassian shut the door. He felt empty. The room felt wrong. Part of him didn’t even want to stay there. However, he knew without a part of you he would go crazy. Your room was all he had left of you right now. 

Before he realized it he had picked up his comlink and clicked on your name. It rang. And rang. And rang. But it didn’t connect.

He was just about to hang up when he heard a faint ringing in the room. He began to tear everything apart until he found your comlink buried in the blankets.

He couldn’t message you. Even if he could…. what would he even say.

You missed Cassian.

You missed his smile. His eyes. His laughter. His hugs. The way he would cuddle you close at night. The way he would grab your hand when walking down the hall, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The way he would make you laugh until your chest hurt. The way he would look at you.

You just missed him. You weren’t used to being alone anymore.

All you had to remind yourself of him were a few shirts you had stolen out of his drawer before you left.

Almost three months into your mission you were finally able to successfully infiltrate the Empire as a politician from a far off planet.

You had been looking for a sign of the undercover rebel, but you couldn’t seem to find her anywhere. All you knew was that she was female. Draven hadn’t given you her name, her picture or even her undercover job. You were flying in blind.

One day you were walking through the imperial base and accidentally bumped into a woman. When you looked into her eyes you just knew. It was her.

She reminded you of how yourself. How you had been before. Before you met Cassian.

She looked broken, but still resilient.

You mumbled an apology quickly followed by the contact code Draven had given you. The woman shot back against the wall as if she had been shocked.

You threw up your hands and she looked at you for a moment before relaxing immediately.

You quickly moved her out of the public hallway and into a side room.

“You’re going to get me out of here?”

You nodded and she smiled. 

You both knew it was going to be a while until you were able to get out. It wouldn’t easy to leave. It would take careful planning. And if anything went wrong you could end up leading the Empire back to your base.

But you both had hope. Hope you would get home in one piece.

You and Nei, your fellow rebel, began to hang out in public places. You knew it would be weird to be seen with her every single day so you staggered your meetings. You had to act as new friends would. After a few weeks you were certain that nobody would suspect anything so you and Nei became roommates.

You also became quick friends.

At first, even though you and Nei seemed to bond fairly quickly over plans of your escape, you didn’t share anything too personal. You were both still cautious around each other, because you were strangers. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks into living together that you shared something private.

“You really love them, don’t you?”

Your head snapped up and you shoved the picture you had been looking at under your pillow, “Love whom? What? I don’t love anybody. There’s no one. Nope. Nada. No one.”

Nei laughed stretching her hand out towards you, wiggling her fingers, “Y/N we have been rooming together for weeks. You look at that picture every night. It has to be someone you love. Trust me. I know what love looks like. I can see it in your eyes. You love them. So gimme. I want to see.“

“I do.” You said softly, “I love him.” You said out loud for the first time, your heart sinking slightly, thinking about how much you missed him. 

Nei nodded in satisfaction, “Tell me about him.”

You blushed grabbing the picture from underneath the pillow and looking down at it once more before handing it to her.

The picture was of Cassian. One of your favorite pictures of him. It had been a normal day. Cassian had been sitting next to your ship waiting for you to finish up your work. He was sprawled out against a crate wearing the crochet hat you had made him. It was ugly. But he loved it. You don’t remember what you had said to him. But it made him laugh. He looked so carefree and happy in the moment that you wanted to capture it forever. So you did.

Nei smiled slightly and looked up expectantly at you.

“He’s my best friend. He’s wonderful. So pure and passionate. He cares so deeply and loves like no other. He pulled me out of the darkness when we met. I was in such a bad place and he helped me find my strength. I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s my everything.”

“But you haven’t told him.”

You shook your head, “How could I? If he doesn’t like me back I could ruin everything. Even if he does like me, do I really want to risk adding romance to our relationship?”

Nei snorted handing the picture back to you, “But see that’s the thing. There’s already romance in your relationship. You just haven’t talked about it yet. You love him and it’s positively clear he loves you back.”

“I’m not so sure. “

 It wasn’t until a few weeks later that you actually believed her.

You had slowly been making your way through Cassian’s clothes. You couldn’t sleep well without them. It wasn’t as good as having the actual Cassian, but it was better than nothing.

But that night when you reached into your bag to grab one of his shirts something fell out of it. You quickly put the shirt on and reached down to grab whatever had dropped.

A piece of paper?

What was that doing in Cassian’s shirt?

You unfolded the papers and froze.

Your eyes scanned back and forth 10 times.

“What have you got there?”

You jumped, dropping the paper. Nei reached down and grabbed it. You let out a squeak and tried to take it back, but she held it out of your reach.

She pulled it close to her face, her eyes squinting.

“AHA! I knew it! I told you. I’m a genius! I call being in your wedding!”

Cassian was sitting in his workshop trying to figure out what had been on the list of plans he had written for asking you out. He swore he had put it in his drawer, but he couldn’t find it anywhere.

However, if he wanted to ask you when you got back he had to start brainstorming again.

Cassian’s List of Ways to Profess his Love to Y/N

1. Put something in Y/N’s favorite cake (the probability of Y/N eating and/or choking on the note would be above 90% -Kay)

2. Scavenger hunt around the base…. without anyone finding out?

3. Buying Y/N’s favorite book and writing posting a note on the inside cover

4. Baking Y/N a pizza (Cassian last time you tried to bake you set fire to the base’s kitchen –Kay)

5. Decorating the inside of Y/N’s ship somewhere to set up a nice dinner (Y/N’s ship isn’t even here –Kay)

6. Singing Y/N a cheesy song that I wrote (with help from the droids singing backup)

7. Just tell Y/N you idiot -Mila

As Cassian reread his list his brows furrowed at number 7. He didn’t write that.

“So when are you professing your love to Y/N?”

Cassian jumped whacking his head against the wall, “Fuck Mila. Shouldn’t you be writing a mission report? ”

“Language! And hey don’t change the subject. Answer my question.” 

Cassian shrugged trying to hide the paper before Mila could see it, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mila sighed loudly dropping down to sit beside Cassian, “Cassian. I literally saw you writing your list. I wrote on your list. Y/N. Love. Professing. Do it. Now.”

Your mission was finally over.

You and Nei were able to get back to Yavin 4 in one piece. It hadn’t been easy and you had to fight your way out, but you were finally home.

The second you landed you were out of your ship and racing to your room, leaving Nei behind, who was screaming, “good luck!”.

As you reached your door you realized too late that you didn’t have your access card.

So you did the only thing you could think of. You started banging loudly on the door.

No answer.

You started kicking it letting out a frustrated groan. 

Still no answer.

Where the fuck was he?

It was four in the morning. He had to be there. He wasn’t on another mission. You had checked. He had to be there.

You slammed your fist into the door one more time and turned ready to go search the rest of the base, when you heard the groan of the door opening.

And there stood a perfect, yet exhausted looking Cassian. You could tell you had woken him up. His hair was ruffled. He was aggressively rubbing his hand across his face. And he looked grumpy as fuck.

He was also only wearing pajama pants and you weren’t able to pull your gaze away from his chest until you heard his voice.

“What the fuck? Someone better be dying.”

“Well. Not dying. But I mean I have a pretty important question to answer. If you’d only do the asking part?”

Cassian’s head shot up his eyes blinking hard. You stood there silently watching him try to piece together that you were actually there.

“Y/N? You’re here?! When did you get back? Are you alright? Why are you covered in blood?!” His voice cracked.

You glanced down at yourself in surprise. You had wanted to see him so bad that you hadn’t even bothered to clean up first.

As you opened your mouth to reply his eyes shot down to the piece of paper you had crumpled in your hand. And it finally hit him what you had initially said. You had his paper. The paper he had been using to try and ask you out.

“Oh. Oh.” He took a step forward, “So does that mean you have an answer for me?”

You rocked back on your heels, blushing slightly, “Don’t you have something to ask me first?”

Cassian beamed running a hand nervously through his hair, “Y/N, will you-“

But before he could even finish the question you shot forward knocking the breath out of him.

You arms were tight around his chest and you buried your face into his neck.

“Y/N?”

You squeezed him a little tighter and then tried to pull back, only to have Cassian’s arms tighten around you. You chuckled shoving him back a little. Your hands reached out to touch his chest feeling his racing heartbeat. One hand slowly rose up until it was cupping his face. You brushed your thumb across his cheek and he sighed.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something your other hand shot up grabbing his hair and pulling his face to yours.

The second your lips touched his, you felt complete.

Author’s notes: THE LOVEEEEEE IS BEGINNING I’M SO EXCITED CAN YOU TELL?! YOU’RE GETTING ALL THE FLUFF THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS

Tagged: @ly--canthrope @misswinchester221b @heyjess-marie

Next up: I knew the second I saw you (that you were meant to be mine) aka First official asking out

PART 10