#how do you trust people again when seemingly honest people just dont care about truth or even hearing someone out like

[latetaektalk]

love of my life | myg

“yoongi was always there for you, was always by your side, was always your rock to lean onto. he was the love of your life, but at one point, you had to come to accept reality and realise that some things come to an end.”

genre: established-relationship!au, heavy angst, fluff that hurts, grieving, pain, a lot of crying

pairing: yoongi x reader

word count: 6.989

warnings: mentions of character death, character death, reader isnt doing well in this, funeral, mention of sick characters, swearing, i dont know what else to tag this so please tell me if there is anything missing!!

playlist: dancing with your ghost - sasha sloan, now that you’re gone - lewis ross, hindenburg lover - anson seabra, just asking - aquilo

a/n: uh, this is a different from what i usually write and ive been trying to figure out how to execute this for months. i dont know how else to write this and im really not sure about the way i executed it, but i dont think i can improve this really? ive been sitting on this for months so i really just need to get it out at this point lol also yoongi and reader call each other toulouse and berlioz from the film aristocats!

The words danced in front of your eyes, bled together and even when you shook your head, you couldn’t decipher them. It was like they were taunting you, playing hide and seek with you and after another second, you gave up trying to read them altogether.

You let the notebook fall shut and land on the counter of the sink. With your hands, you held onto the edge of it. You looked at yourself in the mirror.

A pair of unfamiliar eyes stared back at you and you were about to turn your head to them and give them a smile, a smile that was meant to tell them that it was okay and to not cry anymore, but then you realised you were looking at yourself.

The fluorescent lights of this big bathroom brought out the harsh edges and lines of your face and made you look like a shell of a person. Your eyes were dark, empty and your skin looked grey, ashy almost.

You looked lifeless.

Your throat tightened painfully into a knot and you quickly averted your gaze, settling to stare into the sink instead. A shaky breath slipped past your lips and you could feel a shudder run down your spine. Your knuckles turned white, so white that they almost tore through your skin as you gripped tighter around the edge of the counter.

“Toulouse.”

You would have recognised his voice even if you had been deaf, would have recognised his voice even if the sky came crashing down on you and the world was screaming at you.

Your eyes locked with Yoongi’s in the mirror and almost immediately the corners of your lips started to turn up. There was just something so comforting about simply looking at him, something so calming.

“Berlioz,” you breathed out, blinking at him.

Yoongi was leaned against the wall next to the door of the bathroom and your gaze travelled down his form, admiring the perfectly tailored black suit he was donning. There was something so effortless about him, something so calming, something so familiar. His usual watch was strapped around his wrist and you wanted to tell him just how good he looked, but the words wouldn’t form on your tongue.

Yoongi didn’t seem to care even a little bit that he was standing in a women’s bathroom and that he would definitely get into trouble if he were to be caught. Instead of being warry, he looked as relaxed as ever.

“You okay?”

If you were completely honest, you didn’t remember or notice Yoongi walking in, but you were to blame for it. Your mind was just clouded, so clouded that you barely registered your surroundings anymore.

“Yeah, no, I’m okay,” you mumbled and watched Yoongi tilt his head at you and eye you through narrow slits.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asked and folded his arms in front of his chest like he was questioning you, a deep knit forming between his brows.

“Yeah, of course,” you said a little too fast. It sounded rehearsed and Yoongi noticed, eyes softening at the sight of the tight smile etched onto your lips. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

There was a moment of silence, a moment where Yoongi and you just stared into each other’s eyes and deep down you knew exactly what he was telling you, but you refused to acknowledge it, refused to admit the truth.

“Okay,” Yoongi breathed, nodding before pushing off the wall and walking over to you. When he stopped next to you, you watched him flip open the notebook, finger tracing the first page like he had never seen it before.

“To: Min Yoongi aka Berlioz,” Yoongi whispered, reading out the first line of the page before moving on to the next line. “From: Y/L/N Y/N aka Toulouse,” he read the last line, “Happy Birthday!”

You stared at the letters in front of you, stared at the words you had written down in the notebook many moons ago before you gave Yoongi this notebook as a birthday present and slowly the smile melted off your face.

“Not really accurate anymore, is it?” Yoongi chuckled before flipping open the next page to be only met with your handwriting again.

“You said I could have it,” you mumbled and Yoongi’s smirk grew at your words before he closed the notebook and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. You wanted to protest for a second, tell him you were going to wrinkle his beautiful black suit, but the words died in your throat.

It was just too nice, too comforting to say something and you needed this, needed this hug. And Yoongi knew it before you did.

You essentially melted in Yoongi’s arms and wrapped your own around him, holding him close to you because you never wanted this hug to end, never wanted to pull away from Yoongi, never wanted to let him go.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Yoongi whispered into your ear and you could feel his breath ghost through your hair. Your arms tightened around him at his words and your eyes fell shut as you rested your head against his chest.

“You’re gonna get through this all,” Yoongi continued and his lips skimmed the crown of your head lightly, “I know you can do this, Toulouse.”

“It just hurts, Berlioz,” you whispered quietly, voice breaking when you finally admitted the truth, when you finally admitted to yourself and to him that you weren’t okay. “It hurts so incredibly much.”

At this point, you just wanted to forget, forget the last couple of days, forget everything that had happened. Deep down, however, you knew that it was the wrong thing to do, that you actually needed to move on, but right now that felt impossible.

Right now you felt like your world was burning up, falling apart, crumbling in front of your feet. You wanted to do something, stop it all, but you were beaten and lying on the dirty floor.

Yoongi hummed and placed his chin on top of your head, rocking you back and forth.

“But you know what to do when it hurts, right?” Yoongi asked, his voice resembling a quiet whisper more than anything else. It was so quiet, so quiet like it was barely there.

Your lips formed a harsh thin line before you swallowed and buried your face deeper into Yoongi’s neck because, of course, you knew, but you didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about it for even a second.

“I know,” you said softly, recalling the words Yoongi had said when you had first admitted to him that you were starting to fall apart, that you were starting to crumble underneath all of the pressure, that you were starting to lose yourself in all of the pain.

“You can do it,” Yoongi said and his arms tightened around you like he wanted to give you some strength. “I know right now it seems almost impossible, but trust me, you can do this.”

Tears started building up behind your eyes and you had to bite down on your tongue to stop them from spilling, but you knew it wasn’t going to work out for long.

The pain was just too much, eating you alive, gutting you inside out, leaving you empty and in pain. You didn’t feel human anymore, barely felt anything anymore except for the numbing pain and you knew that a part of you had died, had died the last few days.

“You’re so incredibly strong and amazing and great,” Yoongi mumbled into your ear, words cutting so deep into you that you teared up again and you felt brought down to your knees. “And there’s nothing you can’t do and this is no different.”

“Every day is a new start, an opportunity to get back up on your feet and fight through it all,” Yoongi continued, words slipping off his tongue with ease like he had prepared these words before. “And I know it’s hard and that nothing seems fair right now, but — and it sucks to admit it — that is just life.

“But don’t let life beat you up, don’t let life tear you down, don’t let life reduce you to nothing, don’t let life stop you and hold you back.”

The tears spilled down your cheeks, running down the same path other tears had run down before. You could taste the salt on the tip of your tongue, could taste the pain and hurt on the tip of your tongue and you wanted to throw up.

“Because you’re incredible, Toulouse.”

The walls you had built up, the facade of being okay fell apart right in front of you. It all crumbled into dust, but Yoongi didn’t judge you for it. Instead, he let you cry out your eyes and kept providing you with the strength you were missing.

Yoongi and you hugged each other for seemingly forever and it was only because Yoongi’s phone went off that you two pulled apart. It stopped after just a second—almost like it wasn’t there at all.

When Yoongi checked his phone, you knew, knew he had to step out and call back. He always had to, without fail.

“Always so busy,” you mumbled with a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

You weren’t mad, by now you were used to it, used to work constantly calling him, used to him needing to call back even if it was two in the morning.

“When you’re as smart as me, people are just always demanding for your attention,” Yoongi laughed with a smile and you rolled your eyes at his words.

“Yeah, you’re so smart,” you snorted and Yoongi grinned at you.

“A genius you might even say,” Yoongi continued before winking at you. You almost bursted out into laughter and it felt so good to talk about something else for once. Only Yoogi could ever make you feel this way, make you feel this way when you were on the brink of falling apart, make you feel this way in mere seconds, make you feel genuinely happy.

“Self-proclaimed genius.”

Now, it was Yoongi’s turn to roll his eyes at you, but both of you had grins pulling on the corners of your lips.

“Please, I’m a genius and you know it.”

“God, you’re so arrogant,” you sighed and Yoongi laughed at your words before sighing and letting silence settle between him and you.

Yoongi and you looked at each other and even though neither of you were speaking, both of you said so much to each other in the silence. You knew what he was thinking and he knew what you were thinking.

“I’m so-”

“It’s fine, Berlioz,” you cut in before Yoongi could apologise and placed your hand on his chest, giving it a light pat. “Do your thing. Call back.”

Yoongi looked at you for a moment before he let his lips split into a smile.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said softly, hand wrapping around your wrist before he brought your hand up to his lips and pressed the softest and lightest kiss on your knuckles. “You’re the best.”

And for the first time, you genuinely smiled and it was all because of Yoongi, all because he was smiling at you too.

“Toulouse.”

“Berlioz.”

Yoongi gave your hand one last squeeze before he turned on his heel and walked out to call back work. You turned to your notebook again, fingers tracing the edge of the hardcover.

When you heard the door behind you click open, you whipped your head around. You were about to ask Yoongi if he forgot something, but then your eyes locked with Miyeon’s. Almost immediately you looked away and turned to the sink like you were busy with it.

You could hear Miyeon step inside the bathroom and you begged for her to just go into one of the many stalls, begged for her to walk past you without talking to you, but you should have known now that things never worked out the way you wanted them to.

“Y/N,” Miyeon started and you hated the way she said your name, hated the fact that she was talking to you at all. You were praying that Yoongi was going to come back in, was going to come in again even though this was the women's restroom and just rescue you, save you from Miyeon, but, of course, that was wishful thinking.

You screwed your eyes shut for a second, letting your head hang as you drew in a much-needed breath. Slowly you peeled your eyes open and met Miyeon’s gaze in the mirror.

Her face was contorted into what could only be described as pity and you wanted nothing more than to turn on your heel and storm out, but you couldn’t, couldn’t because you were too tired and exhausted to.

“I’m sorry,” Miyeon said and your eyes began to travel down her form in an attempt to distract yourself a little. Like you, she was wearing a simple black dress that ended just above her knees. The sleeves were a little long on her and you knew she had bought it in a hurry, just like you had with your dress.

Her words echoed on the walls of the big bathroom and you could feel them haunt you as they bounced around and filled the air.

“I’m so incredibly sorry,” Miyeon kept going and tore her gaze away from you. Her fingers started to fiddle with each other in front of her stomach and she shuffled on her feet as your silence continued on.

You knew you should interrupt her and tell her that it was fine, that you appreciated her words and whatnot, but you didn’t, didn’t appreciate them and at this point, you didn’t give a fuck about formalities.

“I can’t imagine- can’t imagine how hard this must be for you right now,” Miyeon mumbled and her words were obviously chosen very carefully. “Your dad-”

Before Miyeon could finish her sentence, the door to the bathroom flew open again and both of you whipped your head around to see who it was. For a whole second, you thought it was Yoongi, but then you were disappointed a second time today.

The woman who had just entered looked flustered, almost embarrassed when her eyes landed on Miyeon and you, clearly realising that she had interrupted something.

Miyeon stared at her with big eyes and at that moment, you grabbed your notebook and pressed it close to your body. When Miyeon looked at you to say something, you shook your head and spoke your first words and only words to her today.

“I’ll see you outside,” you mumbled and your voice was barely above a whisper. If it had been just a little louder in this bathroom or if your words hadn’t echoed on the walls, Miyeon wouldn’t have heard you.

You hoped you wouldn’t, wouldn’t have to see her again.

You pushed past Miyeon and the woman caught up rather quickly that you just wanted to get out, jumping out of your way like she was scared you would yell at her if she didn’t move fast enough. The door felt heavy as you heaved it open and it took you seemingly everything to get it to simply budge.

“Y/N,” Miyeon started again, but instead of turning your head around or responding, you let the door behind you fall shut and tell Miyeon exactly what you were thinking.

You stepped into the big empty lobby and your eyes scanned every corner, swallowing heavily as chills ran down your spine. There was just something so uncomfortable, alarming, heavy about this room, about the number of flowers that decorated it and centred around those two big doors.

Frantically you searched for Yoongi and seemingly out of thin air, your eyes locked with Yoongi’s across the room. Unlike the time when your eyes had met with Miyeon’s, you felt relief wash through you and your heart quicken in your chest in the best way possible.

The corners of your lips turned up slightly and you started moving towards Yoongi. Your grip around your notebook tightened as you walked towards him.

Yoongi waited for you, standing in front of those grossly decorated doors . Only a few metres separated you from him when the two big doors got pushed open and you came to a screeching halt.

“Y/N!” your mother called out when she saw you and Yoongi stepped away when she started making her way to you. Without sparing Yoongi much of a glance, your mother walked towards you.

You knew she hadn’t done it on purpose and that the last couple days had obviously been rough on her as well if the circles underneath her eyes were anything to go by, but it still bothered you and certain words danced on the tip of your tongue.

When you were about to notify your mother of Yoongi’s presence, he shook his head at you and gave you a look you knew just how to interpret.

“I was looking for you, darling,” your mother whispered when she reached you and combed through your hair, fingers tucking your curls back into place. “Where were you?”

You were too busy communicating silently with Yoongi to answer your mother and when she couldn’t take your silence any longer, she turned her head around and sighed before looking back at you.

“Honey,” your mother started again and Yoongi nodded towards your mother, telling you to focus on her instead of him. Your eyes flickered to her and she was already staring up at you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Yoongi shove his hands into his pockets and you knew he was going to wait, wait silently until your mother and you had finished up talking.

“Where have you been?”

“I- I was just in the bathroom,” you shrugged and your mother frowned a little. It was then that you noticed just how much deeper her lines had gotten and you knew your father’s diagnosis was to blame.

“Okay, but please tell someone the next time before you just walk away. You scared me,” your mother mumbled and you simply nodded. The words of your mother barely registered in your mind and she knew they didn’t, but she didn’t say anything,

Your mother looked down at your hands and pried the notebook out of your grasp before you could protest. You were on the edge of snapping at her, telling her not to take it from you when she continued.

“Why is it wet?” your mother said, looking at her hand before using the sleeve of her black dress to swipe across your notebook. You quickly took it out of her hand and dried it yourself on your own black dress.

“I put it next to the sink,” you said and held onto it tighter this time, not wanting your mother to take it out of your hand one more time.

“Oh, okay,” your mother breathed and there was this uncomfortable silence hanging between you two. You watched as your mother’s eyes wandered all over your face, but they never locked with your eyes. It was like she didn’t know how to interact with you anymore and you didn’t blame her.

Your mother timidly took a hold of your hand like she was scared you would swat her hand away, lacing her fingers with yours before she tugged on it.

“Come,” your mother started and her voice was barely above a whisper. “We have to get back inside.”

Your gaze landed on Yoongi and when he nodded, you budged and followed your mother. Yoongi smiled at you, assuring you with that simple smile it was going to be fine.

Your mother led you to the two big doors and Yoongi silently followed you two. Again, your mother just walked past him and unlike you, he didn’t mind. He just fell into step with you and stayed by your side as your mother opened the door.

So far you hadn’t walked inside yet and when you saw the room that was hidden by those two big doors, your heart sank into your stomach. A second later, it started to beat out of your chest and you stopped dead in your tracks after barely crossing the doorway. The doors behind you pushed you forward a little when they closed behind you, but you didn’t care, eyes roaming the big room.

There were so many people, so many people you recognised and also didn’t recognise and they were all staring at you, focusing on you. Even though everybody was wearing black clothes like you, you felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb.

A painful knot lodged itself into your throat and you could feel your breath labouring. Your eyes shot from one side of the other room to the other and you struggled to find a focus point.

Your world started to crumble in front of you again, started to go up in flames and you were certain that the pain would rip you apart, crush your heart into dust.

Your mother looked at you through tears and you wanted to yank your hand out of her grasp and bolt and never look back, but you felt too weak to even do that. When you shuffled back, your shoes hit the door and your heart quickened immediately.

Anxiety bubbled up in your stomach and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, felt like there was somebody suffocating you, felt like you were going to faint any second, but before everything could spiral into something much worse, Yoongi intervened.

“Toulouse,” he whispered into your ear, his hand landing on the small of your back. “Breathe.”

You did as he said, took a deep breath and after a few seconds, you started to feel okay, started to feel somewhat fine again. Your mother’s hand tightened around yours during it all and you squeezed back when you felt like you were capable to.

Yoongi smiled next to you before giving you a light push, prompting you to start walking away. Your mother immediately led you to the front, past all of the people.

You knew about half of them and half of that half you would even call your own friends, but right now you were so focused on breathing and surviving this that you walked past them without sparing them a single glance, just like your mother hadn’t spared Yoongi a single one.

It didn’t take you long to realise that your mother was aiming for the front and it was then that you saw the gap in the first bench, obviously reserved for you.

“Come,” your mother whispered before sitting down, hand tightening around yours like she was afraid you were going to bolt.

You sat down on the wooden bench and Yoongi filled up the space next to you, finishing up the bench of people. When you sat down, you didn’t let go off your mother’s hand and instead held it tighter, feeling like you were getting lost again.

Your notebook landed in your lap and finally, you let your fingers slip into Yoongi’s. He wrapped his hand around yours, but his fingers felt cold around yours. Usually, you would have pulled away, but this time you didn’t care.

If you had looked down the line, looked down the bench, you would have recognised each and every face, would have realised that they all had come to pay their respects.

You knew you shouldn’t, but it was hard to resist the temptation. It wasn’t like you had given it. Instead, you had just slipped into it and done it, just turned your head around to study the room.

The room was split in the middle by an aisle and on each side, there were rows of benches, almost all of them were filled with people, people dressed in black on this bittersweet day. The sun poured in from the windows, but instead of giving everybody a warm glow, it casted dark shadows and painful contrasts.

Your eyes wandered to the front and it was then that you first saw it, actually saw it. You had heard people talk about it, debate which one was the right one, but you had always been too exhausted, too exhausted to chime in.

Upon seeing it, you knew it was the wrong one.

The casket was black, a rich black with sharp corners and there was just something so scary about it, something so uncomfortable and wrong. It didn’t do him justice, didn’t represent who he really was to the core.

You tore your gaze away, not wanting to spare the abomination that was the choice of this casket any longer any attention and instead your eyes landed on the picture next to it. When you saw it, your heart cracked into dust and the air was knocked out of your lungs.

You almost doubled over at its sight, unable to look at it longer than for a second.

You couldn’t get it out of your head even though you had ripped your gaze away. Tears blurred your vision, but the picture was very much imprinted in your mind. After all, you had taken it when you had attempted to get into photography a long time ago.

He was smiling and looking to the side. The sun had just begun to set and given him this angelic glow. His eyes had reflected perfectly in the light, but your photo barely captured the light and love and hope that had always sparkled in his eyes.

You didn’t remember what you had done on that day anymore, but you remembered how you had felt, how he had made you feel on that day and every other day you had the pleasure of spending time with him.

Bliss and Love.

Without fail, he had always made you feel the happiest and most loved person alive and words couldn’t even begin to capture how thankful you were.

And so it hurt so much more to see his picture up there. It hurt so much more to know that he was in this casket that was supposed to hold what was once him for the rest of eternity. It hurt so much more to realise that he wasn’t going to be with you anymore.

It hurt so much more to come to the conclusion that it was in vain to hold onto the pieces of him.

You had to let go.

“Honey,” your mother whispered into your ear, shaking you a little to rip you out of your thoughts. You snapped your head around and stared at her with big eyes. “It’s your turn.”

When your mother nodded to the front, you realised that you had missed it, missed all of the other people speaking, missed half of the service already.

You let go of your mother’s and Yoongi’s hand and swiped across your cheeks, catching the tears that had almost spilled. You held onto your notebook that was burning through your dress and into your legs, leaving scars on your skin and it hurt so much, but you couldn’t let go of it, couldn’t even if you wanted to.

Your mother gave you a nod when you turned to her and when you looked at Yoongi, he smiled at you and mouthed a single word.

Toulouse.

You wanted to return it, say your part, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it quite yet.

With shaky legs and buckling knees, you stood up and made your way to the front with your notebook clutched close to your chest like it was a shield.

When you reached the front and put down your notebook on the podium and looked into the audience for the first time, you thought you were going to collapse. Your heart had stopped beating all together after it had pounded so quickly and with such force that it couldn’t catch up with itself anymore.

Your eyes scanned the audience and you swallowed heavily. Maybe it was because you hadn’t slept properly in days or maybe it was because tears were brimming your eyes again, but all of the faces started to blur together.

The second your gaze met Yoongi’s, however, you were brought back to reality. You noticed the eerie silence and you knew everybody was waiting for you to say something.

Somehow you managed to flip your notebook open, fingers tracing the edge of the first page as you read the words you had written down before giving this notebook to Yoongi as a gift.

It was stupid because you knew the words by heart, but you needed to read them just once more before starting, needed to read them to yourself like a mantra before you would start speaking.

When your eyes flickered to Yoongi for a second, he knew. He knew what you were looking at and he gave you a smile. Only you two could recognise the importance of those lines.

To: Min Yoongi aka Berlioz. From: Y/L/N Y/N aka Toulouse. Happy Birthday!

With a shaky breath, you turned to the page you had bookmarked a few hours ago when you had written all of this down in the middle of the night after forcing yourself to.

Unlike the last time when you had looked at the words, they weren’t dancing in front of your eyes anymore, weren’t bleeding together anymore, weren’t playing hide and seek with you anymore. You could read them, decipher them now.

With another heavy and shaky breath, you opened your mouth and looked up from your notebook.

“I’m going to be honest I don’t know how to do this, how to eulogise.”

Yoongi and you locked eyes.

“Usually, I would have asked him how to because he was the smart one out of us two. God, he was so smart. Truly the smartest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Tears threatened to build up in your eyes and a lump started to grow in your throat, but you swallowed it all down.

“Around him I always felt a little dumb, but I think everybody did.”

A quiet laugh travelled through the rows and people nodded, but you kept your gaze on Yoongi, not wanting to look away for even a second.

“He was always, without fail, the smartest person in the room. Somehow, he always knew everything about anything, always knew what to say. He always knew best, knew better than anybody else.”

It was then that you realised that you didn’t need to read the words. You already knew them because they came from your heart.

You kept staring at Yoongi through tears, but even then you could see him clearly. You noticed the angelic glow around him, noticed how the sun complimented his beauty and his beauty only.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that Yoongi was still the most beautiful person amongst this crowd of people, wasn’t fair that he was the only one with an angelic glow around him, wasn’t fair that only his beauty was highlighted by the sun.

It wasn’t fair how ethereal and surreal Yoongi was.

“He was truly a genius.”

Yoongi smiled at your words, but at the same time, you could see the tears build up in his eyes.

“I always liked to say that he was only a self-proclaimed genius, but I think everybody knows that he was definitely not. So please, don’t tell him I called him a genius. He’d totally get a kick out of it.”

Another quiet laugh.

“And because I don’t know how to do this, don’t know how to properly eulogise and I cannot ask him, I’m going to ask for everybody's forgiveness because this will not be good. We all know he would do a much better job at this than I am- I ever could. We all know he would find the right words because he always did, always knew what to say.

“I promise everybody here that this will be awful, the worst eulogy- attempt of a eulogy, attempt of doing him justice anyone of you will ever hear because admittedly I am not quite ready.”

Your voice cracked as you struggled to form the next words, as you struggled to bring yourself to say them. And it took you an eternity to force yourself to continue.

“Not quite ready to say goodbye.”

Yoongi swallowed and the tears started to almost spill, run down his cheeks.

You knew that Yoongi was probably only crying because it pained him to see you on the verge of tears, pained him to see you say goodbye to him, pained him to see you have such a hard time letting go of the last pieces of him, pained him to see you come to the realisation that he wasn’t real, that he was all in your imagination, that he wasn’t here anymore, that he had left earth almost a week ago. Nevertheless, you liked to think that your words brought him to tears, liked to think that you could touch him with your words in a way he usually only managed to touch you.

“But I am going to try, try to say goodbye, say goodbye to him because I know that was what he’d want me to do. I know he wouldn’t want me to hurt, hold onto the pieces of him. I know he would want me to move on.

“So, I will try, will say goodbye to him with this.”

Yoongi started to choke up and so did you, but you fought through it, hands gripping the edge of the podium as you desperately tried to keep it together.

Your eyes continued to bore into Yoongi’s as you fought the hardest fight in your life.

“25 years or 300 months or 9125 days or 219000 hours or 788400000 seconds or simply put, all my life. I’ve known you all my life, spent practically every second of my life with you and, God, I loved every second of it. If I could, I’d wish for more, more time for you, for us. I’d wish for a lifetime for you, with you, a lifetime together so I can love you longer.

“I want to spend every second of the rest of my life listening to you play the piano until you’ve perfected the sonata you’ve been working on for ages, spend every second watching you attempt to make breakfast for us without burning down our kitchen in the morning, spend every second laughing with you until our stomachs hurt and tears brim our eyes and our laughter dies in the silence of the night as we grow tired, spend every second sighing as you go to answer the next work call, spend every second binging ‘Aristocats’ with you until we can both recite every line."

A shaky breath slipped past your lips and Yoongi let the smile fade away and be replaced by a thin line as he tried to swallow the tears and silence the sobs threatening to tear through his throat.

Your voice was weak, barely above a whisper, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter because only he was supposed to hear.

This was for him and for him only.

“I want to spend every second of the rest of my life loving you.”

Yoongi screwed his eyes shut and you could see him try his hardest not to cry, not to break.

“Because every second I’ve had the honour and pleasure of spending with you, you’ve made me feel just that, made me feel so incredibly loved, loved so deeply that I never knew what to do, loved so unconditionally that I could never thank you enough for it.

“And I want to love you, love you until I can only remember how to love you, love you until my numbered days come to an end, love you so much that I outgrow, outlive my own capacity to love you.”

You paused, biting on your tongue as you swallowed the thick lump that had lodged itself into your throat. It hurt, hurt you so much to do this, but you knew you had to, knew that this was the right thing to do.

“Because you’re incredible.”

Yoongi peeled his eyes open to look right at you and you felt gutted, beaten as you looked into his beautiful eyes.

You let out a breath, sniffling a little before continuing.

“Because you’ve taught me how to open up, how to share, how to empathise, how to be patient, how to listen, how to speak up, how to live.

“But most importantly you taught me how to love.”

A strand fell into your face and you tucked it away, eyes digging further into Yoongi’s.

“And at the same time, you taught me how to dance with tears in my eyes, how to smile with pain ripping through me, how to speak with sobs tearing through my throat, how to live when my world is falling apart, how to buy a notebook and fill it with my own pain, how to be there for my dad through his battle with cancer.

“And I want to promise you my life, want to promise you every little piece of me, but you already have it all. It’s all yours already.”

Even with tears blurring your vision, you could see Yoongi clearly in front of you, could see the pieces of him you were holding onto.

“So, instead I’m going to promise you that every day I will get back up on my feet and fight through it all.

“I’m going to promise you that I will remember all of the lessons you’ve taught me, remember all of the things you muttered quietly in the middle of the night when I couldn’t fall asleep again, remember the words you whispered into my ear when the pain was threatening to rip me apart and consume me whole.”

You licked your lips, voice breaking as the tears continued to roll down your cheeks and stain the pages in front of you. But you didn’t care.

“You can do it. I know right now it seems almost impossible, but trust me, you can do this.”

Yoongi’s teeth sank into his tongue as you recited his words.

“You’re so incredibly strong and amazing and great. And there’s nothing you can’t do and this is no different.

“Every day is a new start, an opportunity to get back up on your feet and fight through it all. And I know it’s hard and that nothing seems fair right now, but—and it sucks to admit it—that is just life.”

The corners of Yoongi’s lips turned up into the tiniest smile as you continued to speak, not needing a single second to think about what to say.

“But don’t let life beat you up, don’t let life tear you down, don’t let life reduce you to nothing, don’t let life stop you and hold you back.”

Your hands tightened around the edge of the podium and you knew if you didn’t hold onto it, you would collapse, your knees would just buckle underneath you.

“Because you’re incredible.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you finished reciting Yoongi’s words. He looked at you with this smile on his lips, this bittersweet smile, and you could only mirror it, mirror it because with every word, with every sentence you could feel yourself let go more and more.

There was silence for a few seconds as you caught your breath and pulled yourself together. And if you had looked away for once, if you had taken your eyes off of Yoongi for just a second, you would have realised that everybody else was sobbing already, that you were keeping it together the best.

“You once told me that the average person can remember 10000 faces and recall 5000 of those and if I were ever to fall down the stairs and get amnesia like every girl does in the soap operas we loved to watch and laugh at,” another quiet laugh rippled through the rows, “I will promise you that I will still remember your face. And if my 5000 faces become only one face, it will be your face.”

Yoongi was sobbing alongside the others and you could feel yourself weaken, could feel yourself start to break apart more and more, turn into a weeping mess.

“Yoongi, Berlioz, you might not have been my first kiss or even my first love, but, trust me, you made all of the people before you irrelevant because no one compares to you. You were the only love that truly mattered, you were my one true love, the love of my life.”

Yoongi and you looked at each other and with quivering lips, Yoongi mouthed a single word.

Toulouse.

You smiled.

Berlioz.

Yoongi’s lips split into a bittersweet and painful grin at your response and you remembered it, imprinted it into your mind before you spoke up again,

“I love you, Berlioz.”

You blinked a few times before you closed your eyes. A deep breath filled your lungs as you prepared yourself for it. You whispered the last words and you knew he heard them nevertheless, you just knew,

“Thank you for everything, Yoongi, Berlioz, my genius.”

When you peeled your eyes open again, Yoongi was gone, but that was fine, fine because you got to say your goodbye to him.

You sat down with your notebook close to your heart and this time you didn’t leave space for Yoongi. And when you raised your head, you looked at the picture and saw him.

The love of your life.

→  links don’t work, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts/feedback! i’d love to hear it!

[dyxnamicart]

my stupid highschool oneshot thing

look im not a writer, (I used to be when I was fourteen, haven’t done it since then so ya know, you dont use it you lose it lmao)

Anyways this has been highly requested that I post it, im a bit mad because its not exactly how I wish their dynamic was, I’m not great at writing banter (or anything i’m an artist now plewse) but ya know Also DISCLAIMER: This is a piece of fiction, it in no way reflects real life Dan and Phil (In fact my au switches up their personalities a fair bit) and do not tag them okAY P E O P L E They dont wanna see it and I dont want them to see it (Even if this isnt a particularly shippy piece lmao people are getting very angsty as of late) I also don’t have an editor so sorry for any mistakes  Anyway here ya go heathens 

Dan didn’t notice the opposing teams jock barrelling towards him, not until his leg had swept under his own, causing him to fly through the air, ball no longer in his possession. 

In fact it all flew by in a matter of seconds. Dan didn’t really have time to process exactly what was happening until he felt the shock of pain that travelled up his wrist and down his arm as he landed heavily onto it, crying out as he rolled once or twice before coming to a stop… He couldn’t really tell. There was a whistle blow, but the bustling around him seemed dull in comparison to the loudness of the pain in his wrist. 

He hissed as he was righted, pulled up and put steadily on his feet, being ushered to the benches, it only felt like five minutes before the game was back on course, bar Dan to be left on the sides, a few claps on the back from his teammates as he let his head come down from the spinning it was doing. 

The nurse on staff did a pretty shoddy job of bandaging, but to her credit she did ask if he wanted an ambulance. If his dad knew an ambulance was called because he hurt his wrist... he didn’t even want to imagine the searing look of disappointment he would receive. 

So he just declined. 

The game was one of the final ones of the season, they were playing against the local private school, which had a surprisingly amount of suspiciously beefed up kids, though with private school money Dan wasn’t surprised they probably had some ins with the law and extra ‘help’. 

He really wanted to play in the final, in fact his coach had even been considering him for the team, not that Dan was amazing at football, but he wasn’t the worst. He was passable at best, probably why his parents weren’t here right now to witness the semi, something he supposes he should be counting his lucky stars for now he had an injury as mediocre as a sprained wrist, but now there was a nagging pull in his gut of his own disappointment. 

He waited out the game on the bench, figuring he should at least be there for his team for the results, even with a sprained wrist he didn’t want to run away without at least talking to a few of his mates afterwards. 

-

Phil didn’t see the tumble. 

He was perched up in the bleachers, trying to ignore the way the mild and darkening sky had began to stew whipping winds that tore right through the threads in his sweater, by sketching insurmountable things he could see. 

He didn’t usually go to games, not only was it not his scene, but he would either end up insanely bored or find his eyes following Dan Howell’s god damn limber body. But this was the semis, and he totally wasn’t here to occasionally glance at a certain panting number 91, he at least wanted to show his support for the school. It wasn’t his fault this game was boring and his sketchbook looked far more inviting. 

He only looked up when there was a big murmur and gasps coming from the crowd around him, and he couldn’t see who it was at first, but there was a boy sprawled on the ground. 

It didn’t take long to figure out it was Dan, and his eyebrows furrowed deeply, closing his sketchbook and shoving it into his bag. He ended up walking down a few rows in the bleachers, just trying to see if the daft idiot was okay, and he sat down again much closer. The nurse did an awful job at bandaging his hand, he could see that from here, and he would have to fix it after the game. Well.. he didn’t have to, of course, but he figured Howell was too much of an airhead to fix it properly and as much as the other grated on him he at least wanted him to be comfortable. 

When it came to the end of the game, Phil’s school lost, and there was a brief celebration for the other school as they paraded off the field, while Dan’s team just huddled around to talk to the coach and then walk to the locker rooms, obviously trying to act casual even if they had essentially just been eliminated from the finals. 

Looking around, a lot of the families and students were milling out, many of them disappointed by the outcome of the game.  

This was their star team, and there had been a surprisingly large turnout for the event, to have it all end this anticlimactically felt a bit wrong, if he was being honest, even if sports definitely weren’t his thing. 

Phil headed down towards the locker rooms, some of the boys were already heading out, chatting and bumping into each other as they walked. Boys were talking, over half of them shirtless. He tried to avoid looking at them, while Phil had come to terms with his sexuality internally, he wasn’t out to his school, despite the obvious digs lots of the jocks and ‘cool kids’ would make. He wasn’t exactly subtle. 

Dan hadn’t noticed him, he was sitting on a bench and chatting to a teammate, but some of the boys closer to the entrance had. 

“Ay! It’s Danny’s little bitch, what’s new Lester?” A boy Phil knew as Jason laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulders, leaning heavily on him. 

Phil grunted, and shoved him off. “I’m not anyone’s bitch. Especially not Howell’s.” 

There was an ‘oo’ that rippled through the boys, and it was safe to say that Dan had noticed him. He furrowed his eyebrows, and stood up. 

“A teacher told me to help Dan.. carry his stuff with his hand like that.” He faltered off, because that half baked excuse really did make him sound like someone’s bitch. But by this point people were beginning to lose interest and ended up either packing up to leave or going back to chatting amongst themselves about a hot girl or something Phil honestly couldn’t care less about. 

Phil walked towards Dan, throwing on a mastered look of indifference and annoyance.

“What are you doing back here?” The brunette sighed deeply, running his good hand through his hair. “As if I don’t already get clowned on enough from seeing you during actual school hours.” He said dryly. 

Phil rolled his eyes. “I saw that sad excuse for a nurse ‘wrap’ your hand. I’ve seen children under the age of 4 wrap toilet paper around themselves better.” 

Dan groaned as he fell back to his sitting position on the bench. “Good deed Lester huh? You aren’t a guardian angel you know.” 

“Are you going to turn down actual help with that wrist, Howell. Seriously.” He dropped his bag on the ground, and knelt down, ignoring the few whistles he got from the people still in the room. 

Dan rolled his eyes as he looked down at Phil, arched eyebrow and holding his injured wrist with his hand, like he didn’t trust him. “Fine.” He sighed, setting his hand down on his leg, looking down at Phil with a suspicious and unless he was imagining it, flushed face. 

Phil carefully lifted the brunettes injured hand, frowning at the small pang of guilt he felt when Dan hissed in a sharp breath, quiet, as if being a little louder would shatter his reputation in one fell swoop. 

By now the locker room had basically emptied out, Dan’s mates sauntered away, hefting their heavy gym bags over their shoulders as their voices echoed down the hallway and slowly faded into the cool night air. 

Dan and Phil sat in silence for a few moments as Phil examined the bandage. Dan seemed to relax a little, and he allowed the feeling of calm to wash over them now there was no eyes examining their every move. The indifference and hostility seemed to drain from the air.

He didn’t know if it was the late night game or the lack of people, but he felt as though he was back before highschool, back before their fall out. Before their life became a series of quips and tension seeping into the fond memories he once had for the boy in front of him. 

“Why do you play, when you end up hurting yourself like this?” His question was genuine, none of the concealed fire that was usually behind his voice when he talked to Dan. 

Phil used his other hand to unroll the bandage. He had seen the first aid kit it came from, the contents being the single bandage, two band aids and a single cotton swab. Not the most ideal for a sport like this, hands on and physical, but their school wasn’t really known for their state of the art resources. 

Dan looked unsure of whether or not he should give a witty response or answer seriously. In the end he seemed too exhausted to spit out a clever one liner. So he opted for the truth. 

“I don’t know..” Dan huffed a breath out of his nose, like he was out of practice with talking about his emotions. “The guys are cool.. people like a jock you know?” He pauses for a moment, like he was struggling with whether or not he wanted to continue. “And I kind of want my dad to be proud of me? You know my dad. I want him to think.. I’m one of the lads. One of the boys.. not a royal screw up son.” He snorted, good hand rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to play off his words as ridiculous. 

But Phil didn’t laugh. 

“Proud of you?” He repeated, slightly quieter as he slowly started to wind the bandage around Dan’s stiff wrist. 

Dan shrugged, looking away and seemingly focusing on a spot far across the room, like he was trying to be anywhere but here, talking to a friend who had been distanced by time and change. 

But Phil remembers, he remembers his curly brown hair bouncing around when he was excited, when he was jumping around playing cops and robbers, he remembers his loud and boisterous laugh and the way his cheeks dimpled and filled with colour. He remembers a time when he knew the boy in front of him more then he knew anyone in the world. When he thought Dan was his forever friend and that nothing would ever change that. 

Guess something changed. 

“You know I’m proud of you,” He continued, not looking up from bandaging. He could feel Dan’s eyes on him now, he could feel the incredulous and doubtful eyes bore into his skin, see into his soul. He didn’t seem to have expected an actual answer in response. “I’m proud of you when I see you play piano. When I see your eyes light up and when you lose yourself in the keys. When you recite dumb Shakespearen poetry and when you are on stage commanding the spotlight, when the only person who matters is you. That’s what I’m proud of. That’s what makes me think, THIS is Dan Howell. THIS is who he is meant to be. Not a shallow jock with a sharp tongue and attitude. I’m proud of the real you.”

He clipped the bandage pin on the end of the roll, now safely locked on Dan’s wrist, and he went to pull his hand away but was stopped by a hand placed over his. 

Dan’s eyes were how he remembered, not in way they were for the past two years, glazed over as he tried to cram his way into a puzzle he didn’t fit into, but filled with an unfathomable tenderness and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on 

They didn’t need to exchange words, the soft smile Dan gave him spoke a thousand words, making up for time that felt lost before now. 

He stood up, finally dropping Phil’s hand and grabbing his jacket off the bench. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” 

-

Their silence was welcoming as they walked down the hall towards the exit. The last few years had been full of quips and jabs, fast insults and banter that sometimes toed the line as not quite friendly. This silence, it was new, but it felt right. Dan couldn’t quite understand, but there was a shift that felt comfortable. 

Dan had known Phil a long time, longer then anyone in this god forsaken school. He was quiet and reserved and he enjoyed painting and drawing. He was creative, and he didn’t care what people thought of him. He was unapologetically himself, and that was something that he only wished he could be. 

For the longest time it was him and Phil. Dan and Phil against the world, playing Mario cart and watching shitty movies, always at each other’s houses like they belonged together. 

Then high school happened.

The desire to fit in hit Dan like a ton of bricks. While Phil was content to remain a Mario kart loving geek, Dan couldn’t stand being the butt of the joke. He couldn’t stand his dad being disappointed whenever he brought Phil home to do something nerdy. As the years went by it became a sort of crutch for him and Phil to make snide remarks at each other as they passed in the halls, glaring across the halls and that’s how it stayed. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loved to see Phil riled up. He loved to see his eyebrows furrow together and his eyes roll. His arms crossed and his posture unimpressed. If anything that was his favourite part, the way his voice flooded with heat and passion, as he stared at him with the intensity of a bonfire. He loved to tease him and play his surprisingly short temper like a fiddle.

But he wasn’t attracted to him. No way. Phil wasn’t a pretty girl. He did NOT find his eyes pretty and the way his hair sometimes fell into his eyes and his hands didn’t itch to run his hands through it. 

He was straight. He had to be. 

His heart dropped a little, and he couldn’t explain why, but he looked over at Phil, who was walking beside him. 

They were outside now, and it was raining, not too heavily but enough to get you fairly wet. Despite the fact Phil was wearing a sweater and long overalls, he could see him shiver, the fabric of the sweater probably allowed the biting wind to nip tight through it.

He shrugged off his jacket, and gently wrapped it around Phil’s shoulders, forcing them to stop momentarily. The street light cast a soft light over them, and his eyes met the other boys, and for a moment they stared at each other, Dan watching as raindrop followed the contours of Phil’s face, a drop following his cheekbone and the slope of his jaw. 

He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck again as he started walking. “Okay okay, lets get you home, Lester.” 

“Are you sure you aren’t cold?” Phil enquires inquisitively as he sped walked a bit to catch up with him. 

He shrugged. “Still running on adrenaline I guess.” It was a lie, he was slightly cold. But it felt right, and he continued to walk with him in silence. 

Phil was holding the jacket around himself as they approached his house, and they stopped just under the porch, the light flickering on to illuminate his face. 

Dan stuffed his good hand in his pocket, and he clicked his tongue as Phil went to shrug off the jacket to give back. “Nah, wash it first, don’t want your nerd germs on my clothes.” Despite the insult, he found himself smiling warmly, and Phil too just chuckled. 

“Alright, I’ll give it to you on Monday or something, Howell.” 

Dan saluted as he turned to walk away, and he could feel Phil staring through his back as he walked back into the rain. They were only a street apart, but he knew that was going to be one long walk. 

[haonqq]

30 Day Yinro Challenge: Day 1-9

All of this ended up longer than intended so its 9 days under the cut lmao

1. the basics: introduce us to your watcher!

You enter the walls of Caed Nua, met with the sight of milling guests and locals alike, small market stalls lined up. It almost appears akin to a small village, people going about their business, be it building, shopping, watching the speech in the foyer you can’t quite hear from your distance, or perhaps attending worship in the small, homely church. It certainly wasn’t what you’d expected from all of the ghastly descriptions of the place from merely a year ago. You peel your eyes from the sight and make your way towards the Great Hall, but as you approach, looking like one to proposition the local thayn, a guard stops you. “You won’t be findin’ him in there.” She gestures behind her at the large door, cracked slightly but seemingly empty. “This time a’day he’s usually out by Brighthollow, working in the garden or cookin’. If he hasn’t been stolen off to help out with some other chore.” What she’s saying doesn’t quite make sense, and you aren’t inclined to believe her, but follow her directions back towards this ‘Brighthollow’. Passing through a few groups of gossiping locals, you find the building matching her description and look around. Nobody seems to be in the garden, though it does seem recently tended. The kitchen seems to be your next stop, but as you make your way towards the door, you hear something like a curse above you. Squinting up into the afternoon sky, you manage to spot a shingle as it slides off the edge of the roof, managing to move out of the way just in time to avoid it landing on you. You look up again to see an elf. You blink again, having not believed the rumors of a pale elf being the new thayn and owner of Caed Nua. “Oh, gods, sorry! Did it hit you? I should have been more careful, slipped right between my hands!” He looks as apologetic as he sounds, wiping a wrist along his forehead, thin locks of strawberry dusted pale hair sticking to the sweat on his face and neck. “Here, let me just-” And within a moment he’s down the ladder and in front of you, checking you over carefully before wiping a fleck of dirt off your shoulder, then clapping his hand there. “There we go, good as new!” It was harder to hear from above, but its clear he isn’t from the Dyrwood. Rauatain, if your memory is to be trusted, but he speaks Aedyran clearly enough. He smiles as he looks you over, crow’s feet wrinkling at the corner of his eyes and it’s only now you notice their striking pink color. “Ah, my apologies, Yinro Manaaki, Thayn and Lord of Caed Nua at your service. I take it you’re here to speak with me?” He starts out maintaining eye contact with you, but as he continues on he squats down to pick up the bits of broken shingle from the ground before standing again. You nod your affirmation, though you’re not sure what to make of him. He seems genuine enough, and the name matches. He smiles again, so genuinely you can tell everything he’s telling you is the truth. “You have excellent timing, I was just finishing up fixing the roof.” He disposes of the shingle pieces and wipes his hands on his pants, already dirty from previous wear. Then he gestures forward and takes a step towards the Great Hall, waiting on your before moving along, keeping at your pace. “So, what is it I can do for you?”

2. appearance: what race is your watcher? what do they look like? any scars, tattoos, or markings?

(photo by @riessene because its just,,, so good im cry)

I touched on a few things in the fancy dancy intro but! He’s a pale elf with strawberry blonde hair(though its on the lighter side) and of the lighter blue skin variety. Naturally, he’s covered in those white freckles because i love them He has two prominent scars, both on his face

The first is the scar on his mouth, which crosses both lips. While in a,, disagreement fight with his older adopted brother Branwen, there was always some shoving and punching and the like, but Branwen got a solid hit on him and Yinro managed to catch his face on something sharp and it just sliced through his lip and its healed but never really gone away,, The other is on his cheek, down to his jaw and he actually got this one when he met Aloth! Unable to talk the drunks down, Yinro assisted Aloth with taking them out for their safety and managed to catch one of the weapons on his cheek since he’s an idiot and doesnt use weapons when he fights and with everything going on with lack of sleep and all its unlikely it healed to full capacity and so it will remain for all his days

(im debating on one over his eyebrow at the beginning of Deadfire but that depends on how That starts exactly also debated on a tattoo but lbr i forget his scars all the time im good lmao)

3. personality & alignment: give us a look into your watcher’s personality! you can use theirmyers briggs type, d&d morality alignment, or just describe their motives and quirks.

As a start, Yinro is bordering the Neutral/Chaotic Good alignment, sticking closer to the Trying to keep lawful, but also following his own moral compass as to whether the Law is truly Good. He is however a supremely good person and tries to remain as honest as possible without putting someone in danger that doesnt need to be. While he is, as Eder put it, the type to “get involved”, in cases where the punishment seems deserved he won’t step in. However, while he does genuinely try to be good and make good decisions, part of it is attempting to make up for past wrongs and trying not to dip back into bad habits. He also has problems, because of that and misunderstanding teachings, avoids his anger. He used to let his anger pretty much control him, back when he was first adopted, and made a lot of trouble for people who didnt deserve it. He was supposed to be learning to control his anger and work with it and not let it control him, but ended up suppressing it in the long run. (which is going to be a primary Personal Conflict in Deadfire cause BOY is he pissed). But ultimately he’s a benevolent person and believes the best of everyone and believes that anyone can make up for their mistakes in the long run if they’re willing to try.

4. sexuality & gender: how does your watcher identify? is this important to them, or have they never given it much thought?

Gender hasn’t really been much of a focus for Yinro and he’s never really given it much thought. He probably thought about it a bit when literally soul searching provided his previous life was a woman, and if he didn’t already view gender as more of a biological thing than a soul bound thing or important at all, he’d probably be more fluid but he’s comfortable identifying as a man in this life.

Yinro is strictly attracted to men, both romantically and sexually, and is pretty important to him. While I dont think Rauatai in particular is against same-sex relationships, I think in his mind considering before being moved there he only lived with his mother and didn’t really interact with much anyone else he probably heard a lot about het relationships moreso thank gay ones and so when he got to a romantically interested age, he had that barrier of ‘but I SHOULD like women’ when realistically he was repulsed at the idea. It was a big part of realizing who he is and is much more important to him than gender.

This being said, he is a very touchy person (touchy being like. Physically touching peple, he enjoys physical contact) and isn’t opposed to being as touchy with female friends as long as they’re aware theres no romantic inclination there.

5. background: what’s your watcher’s culture and background? tell us a bit about their life before traveling to the dyrwood!

Yinro spent the first 20 years of his life in The White That Wends living a nomadic life with his biological mother. His father was still alive, but the relationship with his mother was purely to produce a child for her. She was a hunter, and decided clan life wasn’t for her, and so that was where Yinro grew up. An unfortunate accident after being ambushed by slavers hampered her mobility, and ultimately resulted in her death in an avalanche. This left Yinro travelling alone with no hint as to where a clan may be or really anyone at all. He lasted alright, knowing how to hunt and survive there, but that didn’t prepare him for the slavers catching up, trapping him and ‘escorting’ him to Rauatai for selling. He didn’t spend long in servitude but it was enough to twist his sorrow from losing his mother into an anger that would permeate the next 10 years of his life. Naturally when he managed to escape servitude, he was a scourge of the streets. Petty theft, shakedowns, anything to get by. After he was picked up by a kind dwarven woman with a knack for picking up troubled youth and adopting them named Vianna Manaaki, this behavior continued until he met his mentor. His mentor really kicked him a new one, but became almost like a father figure to him, even if he was temporary. After that, Yinro began to shape up and make amends for his previous wrongs and becoming a role model for his younger siblings and gaining some semblance of a normal siblinghood with Branwen, though the resentment for the trouble Yinro caused his mother was still there. He began making amends to a local tavern owner by washing his dishes, steadily becoming more and more interested in cooking while watching him in the kitchens. Over time, the owner began working with him to the point that Yinro was a full fledged assistant chef. Once the management changed, Yinro decided that was his time to set out and find somewhere he could really call his, always feeling a bit outcast. He set out for the Dyrwood after hearing about cheap land, hoping to find an inexpensive place to live and settle down and make a living off cooking. Then we find him with the caravan and WELL,, chefing didn’t work out.

Due to him spending a majority of his life in Rauatai, I went with the Rauatain Laborer background, though he does still follow some TWTW culturally, he’s more in tune with Rauatain (initially he was a drifter but ultimately didn’t fit with his bg)

6. family: who does your watcher consider family? do they place more importance on blood relatives or found family? do they keep in touch after traveling to the dyrwood?

Yinro always considers his birth mother family, but considers his adopted family (even Branwen) just as much family as she was. (guess who’s got nine fucking adoptive siblings, though two are older than Yinro) And while he does consider his companions family as well, there’s a different context, familial but definitely more on the ‘found family’ variety, whereas adoptive family are basically blood relatives in his his eyes. He was doing well keeping in contact with them on his way and at the beginning of the trip, but as things got more hectic and he got more tired, he didn’t want to worry them so he sent one final letter reassuring them that he was just getting busy and wouldn’t be in contact for a while. He has since resumed regular contact post-game.

7. stats & class: give us a rundown of those sweet, sweet base stats. do they line up with how you envision your watcher from a roleplay standpoint, or are they more gameplay based? do they line up with your watcher’s race and class? how did they begin training in their chosen class? (bonus! will they be multi-classing in deadfire?)

Not technically the stats i used in game, since these are from one of the replays with the laborer bg and more context to what the stats actually do. I try to stick closer to a roleplaying form rather than gameplay, but try to keep a clooose balance between the two, making it possible to do the things I want Yinro to be able to do as well as keep close to how he actually is. I think he is not nearly as perceptive or smart as the average elf assumedly is, he’s a lil bumpkin with no formal education but he’s not stupid either. I thinkkk its pretty good Monk stats though (okay he DOES have perception but he’s too much of a dingus to do anything about what he sees) I briefly touched on it in the bg question, but! (okay im changing how they met right now because i just came up with a better idea here we go lmao) Yinro was shaking some people down late at night, when his master(monk master/teacher is what i mean by master in this story) walks by. Of course, being in this part of town for a while he’s heard of Yinro, little shits got a rep. He waps Yinro over the back of the head with a his staff, knocking him down and dazing him, letting the two he was shaking down go but turning back to Yinro is able to recognize the pain and and anger behind his actions. Gives him two options: get turned over to the guard(again), or become his pupil and move past this. Yinro, conflicted but also WANTING to change and grow, took him up on the offer. And so for the next couple years he trained him in both combat and discipline, and Yinro stopped being so much of a little shit.

The plan IS for him to multiclass, but I’m not sure if I want him to be a Shadowdancer or a Brawler,,

8. fighting style & gear: what weapons and armor does your watcher use? are there any talents/abilities that they favor in combat? are there any that they refrain from using, for moral reasons or otherwise? (bonus! will they choose a sub-class in deadfire?)

A good portion of the game I had him in medium armor, but realistically he’s more likely to wear light armor(aka basically,, regular clothes,, with maybe a leather vest, MAYBE) He also didn’t use any weapons, depending purely on his little gay hands, though come Deadfire he’s realised that,, maybe he should,, use weapons and right now I have him using a sword/sabre in his main hand and dagger/stiletto in his off hand but thats subject to change depending on subclass and how viable monk is Debating on the Shattered Pillar subclass for monk, but Im not sure about a multiclass subclass (maybe avoid a subclass for one for simplicity’s sake)

9. reputations: what are your watcher’s dispositions? do they line up with how you envision your watcher? what are your watcher’s reputations? do they work to maintain any reputations, either good or bad?

Remember how i said Yinro was a good boy? When have I EVER lied to you?? I will say I didn’t play with dispositions on so a lot of the stoic options (esp the Hiravias one with the raw meat. Also Yinro would eat raw meat just not That Part) I was playing off for comedic effect which is. Really funny if you consider Yinro just being bad at jokes

Reputation wise he didn’t explicitly try for anyone to like him besides the Crucible Knights and that was so he could get into the peace talks since they seemed the closest Law without consorting with criminals or,, u know the Dozens,,, neither of which he was a fan of (he had some drawbacks with the knights ofc but less than the others) Which is probably why he ended up with some places only seeing him as a hero rather than a champion And some places,, not liking him much at all

[jess-oh]

Reflection

In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you now I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth I’m everything that I am because of you

i have a senior banquet meeting in about two hours and im hoping to at least start writing my philosophy paper at this point. hopefully i can finish it! and then tonight i can code my website a little bit more and start researching for my IP Conflict class.

Sigh.

I’m conflicted.

I met with Joy by chance today and she invited me to eat lunch with her which was really nice and I was touched. I’m making active efforts in making Movement a better community, even if I don’t get to experience it. I think I’m just really tired. I was definitely much more physically tired while we were talking but for some reason, I just decided to vent everything and confess everything. She was really good at listening and it was nice just being able to talk without worrying I was talking too much or not doing a good enough job. Especially because she’s a freshman, I want to do my best to serve her and invest into her and be there for her but I do think part of the reason I’m so miserable and feel like I can’t rely on Movement as my community is because I haven’t let them. I never reach out to them for help. I just try to do my best to be there for them and let them vent to me and have them rely on me but honestly, I haven’t been the most honest with them either. It’s not fair for me to blame them when I definitely could’ve been more honest and open with them as well.

The night that Jason told me the things people had been saying about me and what I should be more aware of, I cried. A lot. I wasn’t necessarily hurt because I knew those things weren’t words from him and he told me out of place of care and I took those things to heart and made active efforts to change. And I did and I am still constantly looking for more ways that I can do better. But I think I just became so paranoid after that night of always maintaining a certain image but never just being able to be myself. And I’ve been increasingly more tired and burnt out recently so my true colors have been coming out and I am having a lot more genuine fun this way but idk. I think I just don’t trust the Movement community enough to tell them my problems without them feeling like theyre in a position where they have to take care of my problems all the time but are uncomfortable with telling me what theyre going through when i am here to serve them. I do genuinely care for them. I do. But I’m just so tired of serving and seemingly getting nothing out of it. 

I kind of just want to go home for a couple months and rest there and not have to think about anything and to just be with people I know definitively do genuinely care for me and I never have to worry if they lowkey dont like me or disapprove of how i handle some situations. Sigh.

I’m just really tired is all.

I can’t believe it’s already almost April and time for the summer. For my friends to graduate and leave me behind. They’re moving on to bigger and better things and I’m excited for them. I just gotta reprioritize and adapt to the new situation now. I was able to do well this past year. Hopefully I can do it again. I’d love to see them again and for them to come and visit. I do really love them all, a lot. Sosososososo much.

I also feel bad saying no if people tell me to do something bc I know technically I could help but it’d be easier for me not to. I would have more free time and time to relax and be free if I didn’t take it. But technically, I could do it so I don’t want to say no. Earlier today, Wookie messaged me asking if I could be the official admin person for VS this term and be in charge of scheduling, finances, etc. And technically, I could. I do enjoy doing administrative work and I’m good at it. But that’d just be another thing for me to worry about on my plate.

I also think I partly brought this upon myself. I’ve been trying so hard to prepare myself and properly equip myself for to return to Turkey to serve the Kurdish people for a year by the time I graduate and as a result, I’ve been hyper equipping myself and making incredibly fast progress to challenge myself to do better and have more self discipline and set goals and accomplish them. I’ve been filled with so much determination to do better but I’ve gotten so caught up in doing this that I lost sight of the reason I started doing this in the first place. I want to invest into the local church so that I have a better understanding of what it means to truly love someone/something and not caring at all the sacrifice it takes on your part because you love them so much. I’ve been expecting something in return instead of just loving them with all that I am. But love doesnt have to be so one sided. It can be open. If I’m willing to be open and vulnerable with them. If they genuinely care and want to know how I’m doing as friends, then I should let them instead of being so closed off and having a me vs them mentality. It has been lonely but it’s also because I’ve been digging my own grave. I don’t want to serve in InterCP just to have Christian friends that genuinely care for me and are also centered in Christ. I don’t want to serve just because I feel like I need to in order to best prepare myself for the mission field. I want to serve because I want to use it as an opportunity to lift up the next generation of missionaries and pray over them because I know that God will use them in such an incredible and mighty way. I want to serve InterCP because I care about how it’ll spread the good news and the hope of Jesus Christ. I want to serve for that. And honestly, right now that isn’t the case. It might’ve been at first and idk how I got sucked back into serving but I did and now here I am. I need people to rely on and that I know genuinely care for me. And people that I can genuinely care for too.

Joy asked me today when I feel the most relaxed and like I can just rest. And I really couldn’t think of any examples or moments or people where that’s true. I’m always slightly on edge. Maybe with my roommates but even with them I act like I have it more together than I actually do. I can think the most clearly when giving them advice and I’m not so confused or afraid of the weight my words will carry in what I say and how it’ll influence/impact them. 

I feel like I’ve worked really hard to gain the trust of my community and I don’t want to lose it because I was confused and said something stupid instead of taking the time to really think it through and give them the best possible answer. But I also think just being there, in the moment, and really present and attentive and intentional is enough as well.

Sigh. idk.

im pretty lonely. 

i do trust pjosh but i want concrete advice on what to do instead of having to figure out myself all the time. but i guess thats pretty selfish and unrealistic to ask of for anyone. i can rely on other people to always make decisions for me. i gotta do that by myself. or more importantly, with God in mind and how to best serve/glorify Him.

sigh

i just really need to rest dude, haha.

im really tired.

anyway, thanks for chatting with me journal.

i pray this all in your name,

amen.

[xottzot]

2018-20(MAR)-25th--Sunday (Early afternoon--rain forecast then no rain but heat then rain and uncertainty about anything as almost usual.

2018-20(MAR)-25th--Sunday (Early afternoon--rain forecast then no rain but heat then rain and uncertainty about anything as almost usual.

I had to go to the corner shop and get some milk for dear Sam & dear Max and myself, just so could have some plain cornflakes or something like that to eat. They alwaya need milk because of their growing bones in their massive dog body's. And of curse I need milk too even though nobody sycj as dear Fliss or Cath doesn''t seem to now ever care about me. And I do mean that. It's part of my being in utter hell.

My own brother doesn't care about me and wishe me dead dead dead forever exepcially so Can never tell anyone the truth. Especially any truth about him.

Fliss alwasy understood that about me and loved me for it, being a truthful person, as well as our love for each other. I still love you dearest Fliss and I will love you even after I am dead dead dead. Dear Fliss I want to be with you, I truly do. Please let it be so. I am being driven insane without you.

This is not just another loves-lost message dear reader, never ever assume that. We are couple who loves each other and has been so for over 10 years but have been ripped apart by dear Fliss's physical and mental ailments. which I never ever blamed her for desite what others may think, but her own parents tell nobody abut the ailments dear Fliss has because they are so utterly destroying and how they parents (especially dear FLiss's mother alwasy said to me via Fliss herself, 'She just wants back the daughter she once knew, but that daughter is never coming back to her again no matter how much she tries. I' myself for better or worse, most people say it's the worst.......'

Then saying such to me, dear Fliss would break down in utter sorow for many hours and sob and cry and wail. And I comforted her and of course I loved her. And of course I believed her, even before and afterwards for how she was so very very harshly treated by her own semi-estranged interstate mother and her own family and relations. This is yet another reason dear Fliss was always with me ad relied upon me so much. Dear Fliss considered me the ONLY person she could EVER tell the truth about ANYTHING.

And this lonely sad person that I am trusting and honest, sincere, truthful and gentle, was as Fliss herself in her own word would constantly say to me, "I tell people you're the wall at my back and the wall in my face. You (she would use my name) support me in everthing I do but stop me from doing anything stupid that I do. Espceially anything that's liable to get me into trouble. I ma not liek it at the time and I kick up a stink and a fuss, but you stick by me....and THAT'S why I'm getting better. You're there with me at my worst times. All the stuff NOBODY KNOWS ABOUT and nobody cares anyway. I don;t care what they think. I love you. Please don't ever leave me or give up on me!"

And I'd alwasy promise I wouldn't, and I NEVER EVER HAVE......

And for all of that I have been made out by unkowing uncaring others to be all just utter lies and deceit, a fool, an exploiter, a person who abuses her (NEVER!!), a person who cause(s) dear Fliss to have mental break downs (NEVER!!!), a person who asaults dear Fliss (NEVER EVER EVER!!!!!).

And on and on and on and and on.......

It was a hell of its own kind. Only dear Fliss and I ever knew of her despair and everything. She REFUSED TO TELL ANYONE ANYTHING real or truthful, even her dearest friend(s) Cath of Queensland who now was across on the other side of Australia from us, a fact which despaired dear Fliss tremendously. And which was also part of her first breakdown and all others.

I thought yesterday that I had gotten a personal email (or like) from dear Fliss yet again, but when I went to search for it later I could find no trace of it having existed. That is how dear Fliss often operates in real-life. I always gently berated her about doing that but she alwasy felt she was being persecuted and constantly 'watched'. - Truly. It was something that we were having to constantly deal with. And I never knew if anything was real or not about all that.

When I seriously brought this up with Fliss's own physicatrist, (a seemingly inept physicatrist working here in Midland that dear Fliss cherished), I was told it was all 'nothing' and not to ever worry about it all.

Many years later I told another physicatrist of the same company (now existing not in a ramshackle giant old house across from the Midland Police station, but now in a brand newly built concrete and brick multistorey building around up the road and around two corners from there.) ...... and he thought nothing of dear Fliss at all,not even though she had been a patient of their company and a fellow physicatrist still working there at that time. (dont; make the mistake they were al frinedly to each other....they were adversarial to the extreme, not to least was gathering and harvesting and holding on to patients whom they considered 'forever income' to forever keep exploiting in any way they could. And they thought more of always forever getting and keeping any money than of any patient themselves. - Truly.

And dear Fliss thought so too over her time there.....years.

Dear Fliss ws kind about it all and respectful. But becase dear Fliss as she refferred to it as, "I've played all their games before....I know the rules far better than 'this lot' even does! - I could be a better physicatrist than them!....and I'd be rich and wouldn't have to keep working as a slave like I have to do forever for peanuts and a pittance as I do now!"

That would lead to her being angry, and again I would have to work with deaest Fliss to calm her mind down. She would be becoming frantic. Self-detructive yet again, Utterly secret about any and everything she did. She would confide tiny selective snippets to unknown others.....

And I would ALWAYS say to dear Fliss not to do all that, for her to etll teh truth abut any and everything and not be lying by selcting what bits of truth to sting togther to make a lie-of-truths. It was damging to them, damging to her and most damaging of all was damaging to us because of how it was doing to her.

She would laugh it all away. (literally) and then launch into yet another diversion....diversions which would somhow drag me into because I had to oncreasingly keep and watch upon her. (I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE! dearest Fliss) more than anone else wants to accept. They think it is just simple love, or that I was only out to us her for myself (NO, NEVER EVER THAT!).

And so FLiss and I would have verbal arguments and people once again assumed I was 'going crazy' and just atatcking her for no reason, they made up in their tiny minds ANYTHING thay could to explain why I would be arguing with dear Fliss....and Fliss herself ecouraged all this! And NEVER WOULD CORRECT THEM! -- It was part of dear Fliss's self-defensive mechanisms she had learned years before she and I had ever met. And of course I had known nothing about.

Sorry! - I've just right now caught sight of my hands and seen how gaunt they are since dear Fliss has abdanodned and let me years ago here at this hellhole, whislst she fled back to her parents once again lying so much all thw way. THEY TOO because of all that utterly despise and hate me and wish me utterly dead. And they stop any and all communications with dear Fliss and I that we have tried over the years. - This 'total micro-managing control aspect' is how they had been manging dear Fliss even long before I had ever known of or met dear Fliss on the oher side of Ausralia from me here.

And of course all this mental and physical mental/physical maladies that aflicts dearest Fliss I knew nothing of but THEY did. But even THEY had cut her off and partly away from their family contact....perhaps hoping she would get better as if it was just a common flu cold?

Dear Fliss and I came here to Western Australia and we started a new life together, and everything was fine for several years....until Fliss suffered major mental breakdowns and mental assaults upon her through frst through employment conflicts and disasters and also through being exloited by others (NEVER EVER ME!) who were constantly "AT HER" and alwasy trying to not only exploit dear Fiss for their own ends, which were often vicious and cruel, but they wanted her out of the way so they could exploit ANYTHING & EVERYTHING. -- Truly, it was vicious.

NOBODY has any idea of it all. Wehenever I've tried to anybody ANY part of ANYTHING about ANY of it, they instead just can't understand AT ALL, and BLAME ME! - Andor they dismis from ever getting involved with anything about dear Fliss and myself. - It was more than if a bomb exploded in dear Fliss's faces and my own. It destroyed businessness (MORE THAN ONE!), employess lives (including Fliss's!) and including my own including trying to destroy our very relationship and life existing together.....

Can you see now why dear Fliss often said to me crying and sobbing, "My life is cursed....CURSED I TELL YOU! - EVERYTHING I DO ONLY HURTS OTHERS! - EVERYONE ONLY ENDS UP GETTING HURT! - THEY SHOULD CONSIDER THEMSLEVES 'LUCKY' THAT THEY ONLY LOSE THEIR JOB....THEY COULD END UP LIKE ME INSTEAD AND WANT TO DIE AL THE TIME! - I DESERVE NOT TO HAVE CHILDREN! - I'M NO GOOD FOR ANYONE OR ANYTHING! - I'VE SHOW THAT THEY'RE RIGHT! THEY MUST BE RIGHT! IT KEEPS HAPPENING! I ONLY WISH YU WEREn"T INVOLVED IN ALL THIS CRAP....YOU DESERVE BETTER.....YOU DESERVE SOMEONE GOOD......"

"You ARE GOOD Fliss!"

"I MEAN SOMEBODY 'NORMAL'....I'M NOT NORMAL......I'M DAMAGED GOODS! - IF ONLY I HAD NEVER TRIED TO HELP ON THAT TRAIN THAT DAY LONG AGO..!!!!! - OH HOW I DESPISE THAT DAY!!!! AND WHICH IT HAD NEVER EVER HAPPPENED!!!!! - IT RUINED MY LIFE!!!!! - IT'S RUINED YOURS! - IT'S RUINED EVERYONE'S!!!!!! - KILL ME NOW, PLEASE KILL ME!!!!!!"

------------------------------------------------------------------

Because what I have written above of that conversation has happened so many times, that in myself writing the above for teh worl to know (YET AGAIN BCAUSE NOBODY AND NOTHING CARES!), especially all that conversation parts is JUST like dear Fliss is here herself. I can hear our voices and our crying, and her wailing, and our poor dear dogs howling and scrabbling to get outside, or the dogs always trying to comfort dear Fliss but getting ushed away from her and yelled at which they could never understand.....

And once AGAIN I have revealed to the uncaring, unfeeling world that does NOTHING AT ALL to get me and dear Fliss back together, and I know I will again without being with dearest Fliss have terrible nightmares about it all....just as our dogs do all the time without us being without dearest gentle Fliss....and we live in a perpertual HELL of which NOBODY & NOTHING is ever made of to get dearest sweet innocent Fliss and I back together again.

It's dark and colder.......that is NOT an analogy but could very well also be one.......

I need to go outside with poor Sam & poor Max before it rains so they can do their doggie ablutions again.

I KNOW there is no mail in the mailbox from dearest Fliss (I've checked already)

-------------------------------------------------

Shortly afterwards.....................

I have taken dear Sam & dear Max outside.....Max was DESEPRATE and did massive ablutions and Sam was too he decided he'd betetr do 'somthing' after Max. Or vice verse I have no idea becase they both did it all out of my sight. I was ready to whisk them inside throuh the back door safely because it KEEPS sprinkling rain as it has been all day, is always overscast, yet NOBODY (not even the official weather department) makes a forecast EVER applicable to reality even for the very day or a few hours beforehand....NOTHING is APPLICABLE AT THIS HELLHOLE AREA..........it's been hot then cool, too-warm then cool.....cool then horrible and cool-but-overhumid.....and that's in the space if a few hours let day after day after day after day....

The criminal aboriginals have been running AND around ON the roads at fatguts criminal housheold and PLEASE do NOT ever believe I'm racist or ANYTHING LIKE THAT. I AM NOT NOR HAVE I EVER BEEN! - Dearest Fliss herself she was alwasy telling me tis herself, she is aboriginal she was always keeing silent of it to all others. She told me she would otherwise not be hired for jobs or would be discrimnated against. I don't know how true any of that was, I am only repeating what dear Fliss always told me and promised me to keep secret which I did, as so MANY things you even know never know she made me promise NEVER to tell anyone.....

The Western Ausralian Police early this morning did a flying. momentary 'look' at the place and the area there early, why I have no idea. Probably for any andor all the usual criminal reasons, but they simply did as they alwsy try to do....the least amount of time about there as possible, and they left as quickly as they could. (NOT with any speeding off or sirens sounding and lights flashing though that as is what usually is constantly the case sometimes.

THIS IS A HELLHOLE LIKE NO OTHER......

So many abo feral kids have been also been on the roads and roaming all about.....ALSO as still OTHER adult abo's have been coming and going from s many other places in Koongamia and elsewehere. AND THAT's just in the times I have happened to dare look and see.

-------------------------------------------------

(my internet is crashing and totally stopped for no reasons AT ANY TIME......AGAIN).....

-------------------------------------------------

I want to be with you dearest Fliss just as you promised me and yourself. Please. And dear God please allow it to be. PLEASE.

WITHOUT BEING WITH DEAREST FLISS, I WANT TO BE DEAD AND NEVER EVER BORN EVER AGAIN, NOT EVER.

I have to go now and give poor Sam & poor Max something to eat again, something small, and perhaps eat soemething small/tiny in amount for myself. I have no desire to eat or live without being with dearest Fliss.

[dandelion-parachutes-blog1]

10 Country Do's and Dont's

What takes after are 10 lessons from my "now I know better" accumulation. Maybe these lessons took in will facilitate your move from the city to wild.

1. Know thyselves. On the off chance that you are a couple who squabbles over which approach to hang the bathroom tissue roll, don't purchase crude land.

The way from crude land to indoor pipes is loaded with hundreds, if not thousands, of choices. In the event that you can't pull as a group over the seemingly insignificant details, in what manner will your relationship survive choices like where to sink a well (that one can be worth, gracious, $20,000), where to put the kitchen, do we purchase or lease hardware, do we construct a log house or paste it up out of egg containers? We assembled hte log house to make our Bed and Breakfast dream work out as expected.

We have a few folks (one of our neighbors included) lounging around our region in the midst of their half-completed undertakings without anyone else's input in light of the fact that the little lady couldn't deal with it and kept running off mid-development. Then again, we have another neighbor couple who realized that they weren't equipped to deal with the house building process. They purchased undeveloped land and put a mobile home on it. Spare your marriage (or whatever) and purchase a house.

2. Know thy neighbors. You might be under the false impression that since you are moving from more swarmed to less swarmed conditions that you will have more protection and that neighbors matter less. Contrarily.

When taking a gander at rustic property, you will wind up driving down numerous an earth street. On the off chance that there is more than one home on that street, it is an area, similar to it or not. Take a gander at the homes and occupants on that street. On the off chance that your home bursts into flames or you hack your leg off with a cutting tool, do you want to rely on upon them to offer assistance? Luckily here on our street up to the Fish Creek House, we have the best neighbors that'd bail you out in the notorious New York minute

When we were looking the considerable wild for our fantasy property,we drove down some country streets that really set off the subject from Deliverance in the back of my cerebrum. Discover some reason to go visit up a portion of the neighbors before you purchase. Present yourself and ask them how terrible the winters are, whatever, simply figure out the people you may need to trust with your life and property.

3. Know thy garage. I seldom observe this subject talked about, yet in the nation, the length of your garage can represent the deciding moment the entire experience.

Then again, our garage is a winding 700 feet long. We can't see the street. We adore it. In any case, we likewise inhabit around 3000 feet and see a great deal of snow all winter. This approves of us since we have great furrowing apparatus and 4-wheel-drive autos.

It likewise cost enormous cash to put rock on that much carport, which is important in our general vicinity on the off chance that you need to utilize your garage year-round. We have a neighbor who has been around here for quite a long time who needed to stop toward the finish of his garage a large portion of the year because of the snow and mud until simply a year ago when he got a 4-wheel drive. A long carport is awesome for protection and air quality, yet in the event that you really need to utilize it, it will cost you.

4. Try not to share. On the off chance that you are in such a rush to move, to the point that the main way you can bear the cost of it is to "go in on" some property with another purchaser, don't. This is a formula (absolve the play on words) for fiasco.

5. Execute a few trees. We are tree-huggers who moved to the forested areas. As we meandered around gaping at all the pretty trees, we chose where to construct our first building, a 24 x 40-foot shop. At this point, we were unified with the trees and couldn't stand to part with any of them, so we sited our shop where we could take out the least trees.

The trees were glad however now alongside Fish Creek going through the property, we have a nursery for our naturally developed deliver, a stable for our stallions, round pen and field. So visitors are welcome to bring their equine buddies.

6. Do the wave. In the city, evading eye contact can be a basic instinct. Congeniality can get you shot, or in any event, begged.

Not so in the nation. Over here, the wave is the essential social cash. Wave at everyone, regardless of whether you know them or not. On the off chance that you see a person remaining by the street holding a hatchet dribbling with blood, grin and wave merrily. He may butcher a deer and may impart some to you. On the off chance that you don't wave, you could be Mother Theresa and everybody will think you are developing something unlawful in your storm cellar. Which drives me to . . . .

7. You will procure a notoriety. The notoriety is an interesting idea that no longer applies to the solid wilderness. You can be any sort of scuzzball you need in the city and nobody cares. Actually, a few people believe it's cool and they'll presumably give you your own TV appear.

Around here, you will gain a notoriety whether you are a loner who just turns out once like clockwork or the leader. You can think about it or not, but rather in the event that you ever need to work together, or whatever else besides, your notoriety will go before you, so consider how you need to be known. Know that anything you say will be held against you and it will likewise be spread all over town.

8. Firearms are a piece of the way of life. Firearms are uproarious. In rustic America, individuals have firearms and they shoot them. You may no longer have expressway commotion in your room, yet it could seem like the Battle of Gettysburg in chasing season.

One of the more up to date occupants on our street is a conservative tree-hugger-weapon hater.We're in awesome chasing domain and even have a shooting reach where our inhabitant NRA educator who likewise tests firearms and gives shooting facilities. Individuals make a trip far and wide to go to these and also to exploit having gunsmithing administrations accessible . In the event that you can't live with that idea in a country territory, you may be more joyful either nearby, where everybody needs a tissue allow to you-realize what, or on a street with (shiver) codes and contracts. At any rate you know then that your neighbor won't raise hoards on the property line and shooting them at three in the morning.

9. Pets—the great, the awful, and the terrible. Around here in the hinterlands the term pet sustenance has an entire distinctive significance. Indeed, it's extraordinary to live somewhere where Fido can run free, however simply recall, so do the Fido eaters. Let's be honest, a large portion of us city transplants experienced childhood with a TV eating regimen of expressive, sharp looking creatures. Be that as it may, truly, cougars, coyotes, bears, and even substantial savage winged creatures are all watchful for a huge Fido or dumbfounded feline to nibble on. While the possibility of Yogi Bear pick-a-scratching on my creature is excessively grim a picture for me, making it impossible to engage, I've been here sufficiently long to realize that the hazard is a piece of the common existence of creatures.

10. Power is not an unavoidable truth. It is the result of pure chance.

We provincials, particularly we of the forests, are the beneficiaries of intermittent telephone and power interferences. Trees fall on lines, outsiders separate them with against matter bars. The utilities can even go out for no evident reason amidst summer. Possibly it's only a bore. On the off chance that you have enormous, full coolers and no reinforcement, you will have one hell of a steak bolster that night.

Accept the way things are, is the name of the diversion when you're carrying on with the nation life. Luckily at the Fish Creek House, we offer a mix of extravagance with an essence of the rough outside.