#i want to do chores and go to the grocery store and job interviews and and and

[cedarspiced]

i'll be honest. i'm not doing well

[ameliaenya707]

We Cry Together

Chapter three - Random Encounters

It’d been a week. A really shitty week. Your friend had let you crash at her place until you figured out your living situation. So much for ‘forever’. Of course you felt bad just freeloading off your friend, you wanted to pay her somehow so you both decided that while you stayed her temporary roommate that you would do some of the chores. Today was grocery shopping while she was off at her office job, of which she was trying to get you an interview. The air conditioned grocery store was a sweet relief from the heat outside. You had the little list folded up in your pocket and your eyes glanced around as you pushed the shopping cart towards the freezer aisle. And you swore that out of the corner of your eye, you caught a flash of red. But you quickly dismissed it as the breakup taking a toll on you. All week whenever you went out you could have sworn you'd seen the familiar tuff of ash blonde hair or the lingering scent of vanilla and lavender that you knew lingered on his work clothes whenever he came home. Of course it wasn't always lavender and vanilla. Sometimes he came home smelling like the ocean. You knew those days that he had probably been patrolling near the water in Fukuoka. God, now was really not the time to be thinking about how your ex smelled, you thought while picking up some frozen meals from the freezers. Dropping them into the cart with a huff before pushing to the next aisle. When you turned into the canned goods aisle to get some soup you froze. There he was, in all his glory. Hands stuffed awkwardly into his pockets as his eyes scanned the shelf. He glanced over at you with a smile.

“Dov- sorry…” He paused, sucking in a breath, “Hey, what a coincidence…soup,” He grinned, holding up a can of chicken soup.

“Yeah…soup…”

You both stood there awkwardly for a few moments before he spoke.

“So…shopping?”

“Um, yeah…” you glanced down at your cart before looking back at him. Dressed fully in his hero outfit…he didn't even have a basket or cart…weird. Wait didn't he always order his groceries onl-

“I gotta get going, bye ba- bye!” He was ever so suddenly in a rush, looking half like he might just fly out. His boots squeaked against the floor of the store as he ran out, making a very graceless exit. Your brows raised as your brain tried to process half of…whatever that was. And did he almost call you babe? You could have sworn he did online shopping. He didn't even buy anything, he just left! The breakup must have hit him hard. You felt a little guilty. You didn't think breaking up with him would fry his fucking brain. You sucked in a breath before shrugging and turning to grab your soup. Soup. You tried to stifle a giggle. Failing to do so.

FUCK. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PLAN?! Keigo groaned as he ran his hand through his hair. Elbows resting on the wood surface of his office desk. A shiny nameplate at one edge, res cursive reading ‘Hawks’. He rubbed his eyes with a sigh. Soup? Soup?! He was supposed to play it off if you caught him, not act like a crazy man! You probably thought he took the breakup so bad he started doing crack. In his defense he didn't anticipate getting caught. Sure he'd come close to it a few times. At the autozone. The McDonald's. Well…maybe every time. But what matters was you didn't look mad to see him. Just a little perplexed. You were living with your friend now. Sleeping on the couch with such a peaceful look on your face. He should know, He was there. Not that you'd ever need to know that. No point in worrying your pretty little head. But he needed a game plan. And fast. He needed you back, no matter how he went about it. Everynight he noticed you and your friend would sit on the balcony of her apartment, drinking tea and just talking. Sometimes about him. Then your friend would go inside, but you? You'd linger for a few moments, enjoying the fresh night air. That. That might just be his one opening.

He let out a groan when he realized he still had to deal with the league. Poor thing, you were so worried when that high end nomu attacked him and endeavor. and he was pissed Dabi even pulled that shit. But he had to stay friendly. Pfft, friendly his ass. It seemed like the only way he was going to get anything out of this mission was if he became Dabi's bitch, seeing as he still didn't trust Keigo.

Get you back.

Somehow deal with the league.

Woe really was Keigo.

Other chapters

[muscatmusic18]

Do you ever interact with a person and just want to scream

[absurdthirst]

Hello I’m looking for advice and it’s not sex related (if that’s okay). I am 22 and I am going to do a virtual interview as a cashier at one of the main grocery stores in the US. It would be my first job and the reason for that is because I’ve had anxiety and depression for a while now and finally have it somewhat controlled/treated I also take medications to help as well. I want this job so I can get out of my comfort zone and make a little cash since I’m looking to work at most 30hrs/week or less as part-time. I haven’t even been interviewed yet and my mind is already spiraling. Will they be able to accommodate my anxiety if I gets to be too much? If so how? Will I be able to have the option to work less than 8 hours? I was thinking maybe 6. What happens if they try to make me work more hours than I’m comfortable with? What happens if I get an unruly/rude customer? do I deal with them myself? How is my home life going to accustom to me working? I still live with my parents and have been a “stay-at-home daughter” and basically maintaining the house. I cook and clean and take care of our pets 90% of the time which is fine since it’s my “part” that I’ve put in since I haven’t had a job or gone to school because of my anxiety and depression. But I fear that if I get the job they will continue to expect me to do the majority of the house work since they’ve been used to it for years now. I tried bringing it up to my mom a few weeks ago when I told my parents I was going to start looking for work and her helping more around the house since she has a job that works 20-25 hours a week. She basically told me that she does enough and if I wanted help with chores then she should just quit. She said she already worked and maintained a house before when we were kids and nobody helped her. (My dad never helped because he’s always worked 15 hrs a day AT LEAST since I was a kid to present day and my brother, who is 20, doesn’t do anything because he was spoiled as a kid and never was told to do chores. The only chores he’s ever had other than cleaning his room is taking out the trash but he only does it half the time. He’s my brother and I love him but he’s such an asshole that he contribute to the house if we ask him to) I understand her but I only asked her to help me, not to take the whole load. I haven’t talked to her about it since and now that I have this job opportunity I keep thinking Idk if I can handle keeping up the house and a part-time job. Especially because it’s all so new and nerve wracking to me. I want the job but all of my anxious thoughts and worries make me want to back out. Do you have any advice you could give me on my dilema? And if any of your followers have advice I would really appreciate it. Thanks!

Oh hun, it doesn’t haven’t to be sex related to ask for advice!

Well, the best thing that I can tell you is that it helps to write out a generalized schedule. You can write everything down that you realistically feel like you can do if you are working 6-8 hours a day.

I know it’s incredibly difficult, but it will be a learn as you grow experiences. Sometimes it will be uncomfortable but it will also be incredibly rewarding to establish a bit of independence outside of the home.

Just remember to take it a moment at a time.

[cravingmarvel]

Kill All Your Friends - Chapter One

Bucky Barnes AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Just some swear words I think

Word Count: 2700

Summary: You loved so many things about your boyfriend Steve. One thing is his passion to help people! But what you don’t know is that the person who needs his help would become your pain in the ass. Bucky Barnes is stubborn, selfish and messy! But as Steve is whisked away on a business trip, both of you are stuck living with each other for the weekend. 

But, what you both come to find out, is that you have more in common than you think. Bucky wakes something in you, that’s been missing for years… 

A/N: So this was unexpected hahah It seems to me that this story just came running out of my head. It’s so fun to write something that’s not necessarily revolved around angst and death lmao. I just hope you guys love it as much as I do and if you do, please let me know! Feedback is always greatly appreciated as you know! 

Have Fun!

You took another spoonful of cereal stuffing it into your mouth, while lazily scrolling through Instagram almost uninterested by the posts your friends and mutual connections uploaded. Steve stood in the kitchen making breakfast for himself. Nothing like cereal would be found in front of him at breakfast, he believed in a balanced breakfast. Sometimes you wished to be as disciplined as Steve, then maybe you wouldn’t be hungry two hours after having eaten Breakfast.

You’ve been dating Steve for almost four years now. Meeting him on your first day of your move form Utah to Brooklyn. You were clueless, helplessly trying to find your way to your job interview. He really saved the day not only telling you where the building is that you couldn’t find but walking you there himself. You really hit it off from the get-go and both of you have been inseparable from that day.

Steve’s phone started ringing and he didn’t hesitate to answer the caller, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Looking up from your bowl of Froot Loops, you could see Steve still standing in the kitchen, in one hand a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon and in the other his phone held to his ear. His eyebrows furrowed together; the concern strong on his features. You couldn’t make out what he was saying, but your food wasn’t your top priority anymore regardless. Eventually, Steve hung up and sat down next to you.

“Is everything ok?” You asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. It couldn't be anything family related; he would’ve been out the door already.

“It was my college friend Bucky. He just lost his job and can’t pay his rent.” Steve looked up to face you. “I agreed to let him stay with us in the guest bedroom until he found something again, is that ok?” The apologetic looks on his face made you melt. Steve couldn’t resist helping people, even if he hasn’t heard from them since college. You have never heard Steve talk about Bucky, but you heard that name pop up once or twice before.

“I’m happy that we can help him out. When is he coming?” You removed your hand from his shoulder and looked down at the bowl in front of you with soggy Froot Loops now swimming happily around.

“Today. I think about five PM.”

As you closed the door behind you, you saw Steve sitting on the sofa, next to him another man his back facing you. It was clear that this was Bucky, so much you could guess. As Steve laid eyes on you, he stood up and the man you presumed to be Bucky did too.

He turned and you were a little taken aback by his appearance. Not that he looked bad, not in the slightest. His slightly messy, dark brown hair reaching his shoulders were pushed back a little and suited the overall vibe of him. His Black shirt, a little roughed up made to look like as if it has lived through some decades. His dark jeans and chunky boots completing the outfit. But what is even more mesmerizing are his eyes. Sure, Steve has blue eyes too, but Bucky’s are strikingly different.

He walked over to you, smiling a little as he held his hand out for you to shake. You felt the rings on his fingers and the firm grip. “I’m Bucky. I’m really sorry I’m invading your space.” He laughed at his own words, letting go of your hand.

“Oh no it’s no trouble, Bucky. I’m Y/n.” You looked into his eyes, smiling right back at him.

“Ok, I think you should unpack your things, make yourself at home, Buck.” Steve stood awkwardly behind Bucky and you just now realized he was here.

Bucky disappeared into the guest room down the hallway connected to the living space. You took your coat off and hung it beside the door.

“I’d never imagine you to be friends with someone like that.” You found yourself wondering what connected these two people together. You walked over to the kitchen area to make some dinner for everyone.

“Believe me, we get that a lot.” Steve walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you close, kissing you softly. You chuckled a little against his lips, wrapping your arms around his muscular torso.

Everything was fine… really. Until Bucky got a little too comfortable. Both you and Steve made great efforts to include Bucky in the household chores, but he just didn’t seem to care. It got even worse when he started to come back to the apartment late and crashing on the sofa. Not once did he clean up after himself and the headaches started for you in the mornings. Finding plates stacked on the coffee table and Bucky passed out.

But it didn’t end there, oh no. Bucky thought it would be smart to get cocky, making his little jokes about how you probably have ocd and then, when he played his music way too loud, he’d be ridiculous as always and tell you that you just have a shitty taste in music. You both got on each other’s nerves, but you wouldn’t let him get away with this.

You fought back hard, pouring water on his head while he slept on the sofa, putting the dirty dishes in his bed and stealing the toilet paper rolls out of his bathroom causing him to shout at you from his on suit bathroom. Not even his shampoo and body wash were safe from your revenge. But you justified it by telling him that, if he can’t clean the dishes, he simply has no right to clean himself.

Not even Steve, poor Steve, could help. He tried, he really did, but you two seemed to have signed a contract to never make this easier for anyone. It was a nightmare. He felt like a counsellor for married couples who seem to have more hate for each other more than love.

---

You flipped your pancake to the other side waiting for it to turn golden brown, as Bucky walked into the room. Steve mumbled a ‘good morning’, keeping his eyes peeled to his laptop. Bucky walked over to the kitchen and with a swift move, took your plate of finished pancakes and walked straight over to the kitchen table.

“Bucky, what the fuck?” You turned around as he sat down at the table, giving you a smug smile. As if that wasn’t enough, he picked one up and bit right into it without cutlery, his smile growing wider.

“Steve, man, I need your car today.” Bucky said, his mouth still full of food.

“Sorry Buck, but I need it myself. You can take Y/n’s if you want.” Steve’s eyes didn’t leave the screen, but he knew exactly the kind of expression you have on your face.

“No!” You turned around quickly, anger striking your features.

“I need to get to this job interview. Don’t you want me off your back, doll?” Bucky pouted devilishly, not at all convincing you to give up your car keys.

“And I need to get to work!” You protested in return.

“Guys, please just stop. Babe, I’ll drive you to work and my buddy Richard can drive you home. Bucky needs to get to this interview.” Steve looked at you with his puppy dog eyes and by the look on his face your features softened too.

“Alright fine.”

­---

After thanking Richard, Steve’s co-worker and friend, you walked up to your apartment, taking your coat off as soon as you closed the door behind you. As you turned around Bucky jumped to his feet at the kitchen table and started to ramble nonsense you couldn’t make a sentence out of.

“Bucky slow down. What happened?” You walked closer to him and even though your consistent fighting, you couldn’t conceal your worry.

“I don’t know what happened. This guy just slid across the street right into me, I couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. I’m so sorry.” As soon as his words left his mouth, your stomach dropped. You knew exactly what happened, he crashed your car.

“What the hell Bucky? How am I supposed to get anywhere? I don’t have a car for no reason!” Slamming your bag on the table you could feel the heat rising through your body.

“Y/n I swear it’s not that bad. I already took it to a mechanic, and he promised me it will be fixed tomorrow.” Bucky’s face didn’t relax as he continued to reassure you that your car will be fine.

“I need to go grocery shopping today, Bucky.” You ran your hands across your face, trying to calm yourself. It wasn’t the most ideal situation you were in, but it was truly not Bucky’s fault and he even made sure it’s being fixed right away. You were more frustrated than anything.

“I’ll come with you.” Bucky’s face softened and you agreed. “I’m truly sorry, Y/n.”

You look up to his face and maybe, just this time, you could forgive him. “We should get going.”

“Yeah hold on a second, I need to get something first.” Bucky sprinted off into the hallway and you exhaled deeply, putting your coat back on.

---

You guided Bucky through the grocery store, him walking closely behind you holding the basket. You looked at the list you made to find a new item to look for and cross the one off you got, handing Bucky each one to put in the basket. Bucky made it his job to mock you for having made a detailed list of all the things you need for each dish you already planned for the weekend to come. You tried to ignore him as best as you could because you know that this method is a million times better than the way he would be grocery shopping.

“You go make fun of my meal plan, but when you sit down at my dinner table and have a beautifully arranged dinner to eat remember why.” You snapped at him. He got the worst to come out of you when you didn’t need his negativity. And anyway, it’s not like you’re not being the better person, you’re defending yourself.

Both of you left, each one of you carrying a bag filled with groceries. You turned left walking into the direction of your home, but Bucky apparently had other plans. Bucky took off into the completely opposite direction, leaving you to stop and wonder what he’s doing.

Bucky turned around looking at you. “There’s something I need to do. Come on.” He continued walking further away from you, not noticing that you hadn’t taken a single step forward. Bucky stopped and walked towards you, grabbing your hand, dragging you behind him. “I don’t have all day, Y/n.” His grip on your hand wasn’t aggressive, just a little bit dominant.

“Bucky where the hell are we going?” You were tired of his surprises today, but the firm grip of his hand would be impossible to break away from anyway, so you just let him lead you away to wherever he needed to go. Still, you wondered where Bucky would need to go.

You caught up with his pace, but despite in doing so, Bucky didn’t let go of your hand. You just calmly walked around Brooklyn, hand in hand, as if this wasn’t your sworn enemy. As you turned another corner though, he loosened his grip.

“Wait here.” With Bucky giving you the bag, he walked towards an alleyway. A man roughly the age of forty stood against the wall. They hugged and the man pointed to you, smiling warmly.

You stood there, waving awkwardly with a bag of groceries in your hand. You asked yourself why on earth he couldn’t meeting his grandpa friend another time.

Bucky pulled a small plastic bag out of his jean jacket and your jaw dropped right to the floor. He was selling drugs and he took you with him. The other man handed Bucky a stack of money. You nervously looked around yourself as if there would be anyone ready to arrest you. Never in your life did you think you would witness a drug deal right in front of your eyes. Yes, not even in college. Now the answer to the question as to what on earth brought Steve and Bucky together seemed to shift further away from you.

Bucky walked back towards you, stuffing the money into his pocket. He took back the bag and started walking nonchalantly as if nothing happened. “Are you coming?” Bucky stopped and waited for you to catch up with him.

“What was that, Bucky? You can’t just drag me into your dirty ass business!” You asked, trying to make sense of the situation as you caught up with his pace. You weren’t necessarily mad at him, just a little taken aback by the witnessing of a crime. You couldn’t care less about how or where he get’s his money from, if it gets him arrested, it’s his own fault.

“It’s going to pay for your car. And anyway, relax- “Bucky took your hand into his again, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “-Clint is one of my friends.”

It’s not like you didn’t care about the fact that that man was someone random, it was the fact that you were too focussed on him just holding your hand as if it was normal to do that. You stared at your intertwined hands and you were sure there were literal question marks coming out of your brain. One part of you wanted to rip your hand away from his, but the other part didn’t mind.

As both of you arrived at your apartment, you let go of one another and walked into your home, ready to be enemies again, as you saw Steve stuffing his charger into a suitcase.

“Hey, babe, what are you doing?” You set the bag on the kitchen counter, Bucky following your actions, both you and Bucky looking puzzled at Steve.

“My boss needs me to come with him to this really important business trip to Chicago. I have to catch the flight leaving tonight and don’t worry, I’ll be back in like two days.” Steve looked at you with every apology written on his face possible. He knew exactly that this could go just fine or absolutely terrible. You could sense the fear that you and Bucky will basically murder each other. And option two wasn’t that impossible to occur.

Steve moved closer to you, kissing your lips quickly.

“Oh… are you sure no one else could go?” You never want to stand in the way of his career and you never had. It also never really bothered you when he went away for work, but this time, yes, this time you wanted him to stay at all costs. Being alone with Bucky Barnes for two whole days wasn’t your idea of fun. You looked at Steve with pleading eyes.

“No, I’m sorry babe. This is so last minute already. The guy who was supposed to go broke his leg this morning, and I have to get to the airport in thirty minutes so there’s no time to find someone else.” Steve looked down to the watch on his wrist. “Are you two going to be ok here? I would like to come back to see this place still standing and you two still alive if that’s possible.” Steve raised his eyebrows.

Bucky walked forward from behind you to stand next to you, way too closely, putting his arm around your shoulders. “Of course, Steve. Y/n and I will be just fine.”

You exhaled deeply, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Steve smiled sweetly and grabbed his suitcase, kissing you one last time before he disappeared through the door. You looked up to Bucky, who had the most ridiculous, cheesy, evil smile on his face and all you wanted to is throw up. You harshly removed his arm and walked to your room. You couldn’t believe you held hands with him… in public.

Taglist for this series is open!

Chapter Two

[saundraswriting]

Hercules Chapter One

SUMMARY: Slight AU, where everyone has a mark. The marks match their soul-mates in shape, size, placement, color. The team still has the scum of humanity to deal with because having marks doesn't mean that families aren't broken, people aren't vile or cruel. The Team is sent to Portland Oregon to deal with a serial killer that seems to have not set victimology, and a large wingspan. the only connection is a mark in their right heel. Spencer and the whole team not only have to try to find this UnSub but also balance the discovery of some serious news between two of the members.

WARNINGS: None for this chapter

Masterlist // Next

Spencer woke up to an overcast day and wet ground. He rolled out of bed to shower and dress. When done Spencer pulled out a container of cover-up and rubbed some into the crook of his neck. When that was finished the swirly sun with swirly rays was covered-hidden to and from the world. Now dressed and ready to head into work Dr. Spencer Reid left his apartment and headed to the BAU.

     He had plans to finish the paperwork littering his, Morgan, Gideon, and Hotch’s desks. They had been on cases non-stop and with Elle gone the paperwork load has fallen on the others. When Spencer arrived he noticed that he wasn’t the only one coming in on a day off. JJ had a stack of about 10 case files in her arms.

    “JJ! What are you doing here? We have off this weekend.” Spencer said. He gathered the files off Morgan’s desk and put them on his own then tried Hotch’s door.

    “I could say the same thing. I’m trying to rediscover my desk. I decided to organize my office and make our lives easier. What about you?” She asked while handing over two keys.

“I’m doing everyone’s paperwork. I’m the fastest at it and with no social life, the most available so I try to come in every two or three weeks to help everyone out. Why should they come back from a weekend of fun to death and murder? Much better for everyone if it gets done before they come in. Spencer tried the first key and Hotch’s door opened. He darted in and grabbed the files and relocked the door.

“Spence, doesn’t that mean you read them? I get the keys so I can do my job right.” She explained at his funny look at the door.

“Oh. And yes, with my eidetic memory I will never forget what I read in these files.” “Is that why you don’t sleep?” JJ asked.

“Maybe. Maybe. I’m going to get the files off of Gideon’s desk. And then I will be at my desk if you need me. Later JJ.” Spencer walked towards Gideon’s office.

JJ sighed and walked to her own office to begin working. She had a plan to sort these into open cases and need to be closed. The latter went into a box and the former stayed for further separation. The open would get broken down into the type of crime: rape, murder, rape and murder, arson, arson with death, abductions, abductions resulting in murder. Then they got broken down into age groups: children, teenagers, young adults, adults, middle age, elderly. Then they would be put into a priority listing of 1 being the least and 5 being the maximum. She knew she had her work cut out for her but it would help everyone involved. She started her classical music and settled in.

Spencer had gather 21 files from Hotch, Gideon and Morgan. He had 9 on his desk and he knew JJ had at least 5. He settled in: Computer on and several pens ready and a box for completed files. He got to work writing about how the profiled formed, the people interviewed, the raids that occurred, shots fired, UnSub pulled a weapon or not, if the UnSub died or was apprehended. When finished filling that out, they got put into the box for Hotch or Gideon’s signature.

He had gotten through 5 before deciding coffee was needed to get through this chore. Spencer stopped by her office and grabbed her travel mug and made her some too. When he brought it back he grabbed the files for closing and settled back into his desk.

“Thanks Spence” was heard in the bullpen. He smiled lightly and pumped through 7 more before his stomach decided to input its opinion.

“Hey Spencer. Are you hungry? I can get Chinese delivered.” JJ came out of her office.

“Please. Chicken and broccoli with white rice. Thank you.” JJ nodded and Spencer did three more files before lunch arrived.

“How do you do it? Remember everything you’ve read, have three doctorates? I really respect you Spencer. Not everyone could do what you do.” J said. Spencer stopped chewing.

“No one has ever said that to me before. Thank you JJ. I just keep going. I don’t stop to think. I can’t, these words, these images would appear, flood my brain, drive me crazy, if I let them. So I don’t let them.” Spencer explained.

JJ patted his arm. They finished eating in silence. Spencer gave her a weal smile when they finished and went back to their chores.

When 5pm rolled around Spencer placed the 36th file in the box and JJ threw away her last dusty paper towel. They sighed.

“Spencer! I’m done.” JJ yelled.

“Me too. Let’s go home and spend at least one day away from here.” He joked.

“Hey, this box was full. Where did the files go? She pointed to her “closed” box.

“I took them. You were busy enough cleaning you office so I did them for you.” Spencer mumbled.

“Thanks I appreciate that. How do you do this every few weeks?” she asked in the elevator.

“Well, it’s good for everyone. They know that if there is a big load then I come in. Gives them more time with their families and friends or what-have-them. And it depends. Morgan usually slips me some on slow weeks so I don’t catch him up all the time.” Spencer explained. JJ laughed and they parted ways.

Spencer laid his bag in the table by the door along with his keys. He rubbed the cook of his neck thinking of JJ, the beautiful, sharp, wonderful JJ. ‘What if she misses her soul-mate because of this job? When she should run into him at the movie theater and she’s in Memphis, hunting down a rapist.’

  Spencer grabbed a wipe and began cleaning his neck off, slowly revealing the black swirls to the world. He shook off his depressing thoughts and grabbed a few book to calm down. After unsuccessfully reading a few chapters he picked up his phone.

“JJ. How do you handle seeing your Mark every single day and then going to hunt the monsters of humanity? Your soul-mate could bump into you at a coffee shop or grocery store but you wouldn’t be there because you’re wherever.” Spencer asked.

“I just roll with it. I have three bright blue bars that tamper off to points on the inside of my right wrist. I like to think I’m like that. Solid, strong, bright, but with a sharpness to me. I have to think Spence that when I am to meet him or her then I will. No use stopping my life in hopes of meeting my soul-mate hell, I could meet them when I am chasing the scum of the earth. But no one knows Spencer, but we know we will meet them when we are supposed to.” JJ explained. “Spencer what is this really about?”

“Nothing JJ. I was just thinking. Hotch found his soul-mate. He stepped on her toe rushing out of a coffee shop, but she is very understanding about his job. Garcia is looking and Morgan is Morgan. I want everyone to be happy but I don’t understand. In this job why would anyone want someone waiting for them at home? Other people will want to ask questions, bring up memories we try to push down. So-I’m sorry JJ. I shouldn’t-I’m just-bye.”

“Spencer! I understand. But take some time to not question everything. Somethings just are. When you find yours this concerns you have will be taken care of, okay? And to answer your question. We deal with the worst people in the worst situations humanity can give us. People that have been abandoned, abused, broken. Shouldn’t we come home to love kindness, peace, safety? Good night Spencer. Sleep well.” JJ hung up.

“You too, JJ.” Spencer said to the static. Spencer sat and thought. He thought of safety. He thought of muscles and hard ground, arms tightened around him, dragging him downstairs. Spencer sat and thought of dark skin, black ink and crooked grins and deep laughs.

When he went to bed that night, Spencer could only hear JJ’s words rattling in his head. And his decision was reaffirmed

Masterlist// Next

*******************************************************************************************

Well here is chapter one. I have no idea what I am doing.

[iris-writes-things]

To Hell And Back

Read it on AO3, FF.net, or under the cut!

Warning: Major (temporary) character death.

After standing up to Satan himself in the Apocalypse That Wasn’t, Crowley was made mortal while Hell bought itself some time to come up with an extra special punishment. However, as Aziraphale reminded him, mortals are eligible for redemption. And so, the race to redeem Anthony J Crowley begins.

It had been a week after the Apocalypse-that-wasn't when Crowley and Aziraphale heard back from their respective superiors. To say the aftermath of the botched Armageddon had been a wild ride would have been the understatement of the century so far. But with ten more years of said century to go, anything could happen.

Aziraphale’s superiors had been quite pleased with his bravery, and had given him a commendation for standing up to Satan himself with only his sword in his hands and a demon who forgot his loyalties* to fight by his side.

(*This, Aziraphale knew to be untrue, as the angel was well aware that Crowley was only loyal to himself and his friends.**)

(**Which was a convenient shorthand for, and a less desperate sounding alternative to "Aziraphale".)

Crowley's superiors on the other hand… not so much. Not that he was surprised. No, he fully expected them to not appreciate his little revolt. He was, however, surprised he wasn't just discorporated on the spot by a stray bolt of lightning, or simply wiped out of all existence.

Instead, he was demoted. Not even a little bit demoted. No, demoted all the way. Damned to live out the rest of his days as a mortal, human man, stripped of all his demonic powers and attributes, while Hell bought itself some time to cook up an extra special punishment for him when his time did come.

Aziraphale, however, was more optimistic about Crowley's predicament than the man himself.

"Come now, dear. It's not so bad..." Aziraphale said in a tone Crowley knew was meant to comfort him. It didn't.

The angel placed a warm hand on his own and looked a little deeper into Crowley’s eyes than he remembered him ever looking in them when they still had their serpentine look to them. They were a rich, chocolate brown now, and every morning Crowley spent an embarrassing amount of time staring in them through the mirror, telling himself that they took some getting used to.

Maybe it was just the lack of his sunglasses, which he had accidentally left in his flat for the first time ever. The world seemed just that little brighter and more intense without them, but the now mortal demon could not afford to bask in the glory of it. In fact, he couldn't afford much of anything at all.

"What do you mean, 'it's not so bad'?! I can't instantaneously sober up anymore, I can't drive, speaking of which, I have to push the Bentley to the nearest petrol station to get it to run at all, I can't cook and I can't eat at any of my usual places without seriously breaking the bank, and then there's my flat! My ridiculously expensive flat! And my plants! I have to get a job now, Aziraphale! And did I not tell you every single possibility of what might happen to me if-- when I die?!"

"Only in excruciating detail."

"Then why aren't you concerned?!"

"A job just opened up at the boutique next door. Vintage fashion. All unique items salvaged from garage sales and the like, sold for an immense profit. It seemed right up your alley to me, so I told them you'd like to drop by for an interview tomorrow at 2 o'clock." The angel beamed, obviously very satisfied with himself.

"But--" Crowley attempted to self sabotage.

"No diplomas or previous retail experience required. They only want to know if you're stylish and snarky enough for them and I think you've got that covered. You're welcome. As for Hell… You're a human now, Crowley. That means you're eligible for redemption. Just be good, maybe do some charity work and you might not have to fear what your former colleagues have in store for you."

"Thanks, angel." Crowley smiled, full of hope for the first time since this whole ordeal started.

"Always happy to help."

The following day at 2 o’clock, Crowley went to his job interview. He was hired on the spot on the merit of his amicably judgmental nature and his sense of style. Incidentally, he had also found out where Aziraphale had acquired a substantial part of his collection of tacky bow ties. He made a mental note of it to hide the rack every time the angel entered the shop. Enough is enough.

Unsurprisingly, Crowley began to like his new job. The people who came to the boutique to shop were his people after all. Young, trendy, ambitious. The kind of people he spent the last six millennia nudging and probing, slowly winning souls for his master. It almost made him feel nostalgic. Almost.

Because he could now unashamedly spend time with Aziraphale. It was only a short trip to the apartment over the bookshop next door, where the two more often than not had lunch together, and spent many an evening learning to cook for themselves. Crowley out of necessity, Aziraphale mostly to humour Crowley.

Aziraphale loved having the other around more often. Sure, he was used to not have Crowley around at all times, but he knew, now that Crowley was made mortal, they didn't have much time left. 80 years, if they were so lucky, was only the blink of an eye compared to the 6,000 years they had been friends. That's why he planned to make the most of it.

Once Crowley had reached a level of financial stability both the angel and the fledgling human were satisfied with, Aziraphale decided it was time for Crowley to start doing some volunteer work. After all, if he managed to get the man into Heaven, he could at least visit him after it happened.

Spending time with the elderly at a nearby nursing home, playing board games, going for walks and the like, had been a raving success, but the director*** didn't appreciate how taken the old ladies were with Crowley's charms and swiftly sent the two away. And where Crowley’s snarky sense of humour was applauded at the boutique, it wasn't as welcome at the food bank.

(*** Who strongly suspected that the two had only come to swindle the dementing women out of their pensions...)

Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a much needed sigh.

"There has to be something you're good at that you like doing and will also redeem you." The angel mumbled as he paced back and forth on the hardwood floor of his bookshop, quickly swiping a bottle of wine from Crowley's hands before he could get wasted.

Crowley only groaned.

"Can't I just go to church and confess and clear my name like that?" He suggested.

"Technically yes, but no. You and the priest will be long dead before you make it through the fourteenth century."

"For fuck's sake, that wasn't on me!"

"Dear, please..." Aziraphale urged, shooting the man a sharp glare.

"I like my plants..." Crowley mumbled meekly. All this talk of dying and going to heaven had him more on-edge than ever before, and the last thing he wanted was to snap at his best and only friend. "I'm pretty good with those… And animals. I like animals. Like that poor dove you smothered in your sleeve, at Warlock’s birthday party?"

"I remember." The angel said, a fond, hopeful smile creeping to his features as he remembered the demon breathing new life into the squished bird. "How about an animal shelter?"

The animals at the shelter took surprisingly well to Crowley. The dogs liked his company, and the cats seemed to not hate him. The reptiles and amphibians seemed satisfied, yet ultimately indifferent, while the rabbits and other small mammals cowered in the corners of their respective enclosures the second he walked in the door.****

(**** This was no surprise to Crowley and Aziraphale. Sure, Hell had taken away his snake-like attributes, but old habits die hard.)

The other volunteers liked him decidedly better than the rodents did; after all, he did the chores he was given and did them well. When he manned the front desk, he talked to the visitors and answered phone calls in the same saccharine tone he did to his old superiors, he shovelled poop like nobody's business and, without having been asked, Crowley reorganized and digitized all of the records in such a way that anyone could find anything at any time.

One volunteer had asked out of curiosity where the man had acquired his administrative skills, but laughed it off when Crowley simply answered "Hell".

But, as with most people who lived fast, Crowley also died young. He had been in a heated argument over the phone with a frequent customer of the boutique as he was crossing Oxford Street, overlooking a speed demon in a Corvette that was doing 60 miles per hour. It was nowhere near his own record, but nevertheless, more than his human internal organs could handle in a frontal collision.

And Aziraphale… Aziraphale was devastated.

He wasn't devastated quite yet when he stumbled upon an enormous crowd effectively blocking the sidewalks of Oxford street. He was trying to get back to his bookshop for Crowley’s lunch break, holding a grocery bag in each hand.

"Excuse me, may I pass, please? Some of us have somewhere to be." Aziraphale said as he wormed his way through the crowd. However, when he finally popped out the other end, nearly spraining his ankle as he slipped on the edge of the sidewalk, he realized that this was exactly where he was meant to be.

"Crowley!" He cried before he dropped his groceries and dashed over to his motionless friend, sprawled on the street like a limp ragdoll whose master was done playing with him. Eggs cracked in their cartons and a lone apple rolled across the street. "No, no, no, no..." The angel chanted to himself as he ran, a painful burn spreading through his leg. He didn't care. What mattered now, was Crowley.

Aziraphale kneeled beside him, carefully taking hold of the man's upper body and cradled him to his chest as he ignored the police officers’ protests and the blur of his watering eyes. He had to focus. He squeezed his eyes shut and clung to Crowley’s body, trying to conjure up a miracle. Though, however vast the power of an angel may be, there were certain boundaries to what they could do with their magic, and raising the dead was far beyond that boundary. So when Crowley’s heart didn't start beating again within thirty seconds, that could only mean one thing.

A cry escaped Aziraphale that the angel hadn't thought his corporeal form capable of. It was earth shattering, almost animal and brimming with grief. This entire month he had focused so much on making sure his friend would be okay after his moment came, that he completely ignored his own feelings on the matter.

"No, you can't do this to me, you can't--" The angel cried, finally allowing the tears to spill from his eyes. "Please, don't leave me, my dear..."

Aziraphale gasped when a heavy handed fell onto his shoulder. Through his tears, he looked up at the police officer the hand belonged to. A friendly looking, mustachioed, older gentleman.

"I'm sorry for your loss, sir." The police officer said in a vaguely northern accent.

Aziraphale nodded and looked down, mumbling a small "Thank you". His sad look quickly became a furious glare, however, when he noticed the hands of a coroner prying at his own. He tried to regain the hold on Crowley, but the policeman caught Aziraphale’s wrists before he had the chance. "Bring him-- Give him back! Don't take him away from me! I didn't… I didn't tell him I love him..."

"I'm sorry, but we have to clear the road." The police officer said as he stood up and helped Aziraphale to his feet as well. "That coroner there will take your friend to the morgue, and I will take you there as well for all the closure you might need, but first I need you to come down to the station with me to answer some questions."

Aziraphale nodded. He knew that a few weeks of volunteer work would never make up for six millennia of 'getting up there and making some trouble’, so the angel did all he could; he prayed.

Crowley squinted as he looked up at the towering, cloaked skeleton, standing in front of him in the middle of Oxford street. He slowly lowered his cell phone, not hearing the beeping that told him the signal was lost.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. "What happened? Why can I see you?"

A bony arm extended a bony hand, which extended a bony finger.

Crowley slowly turned around to follow the motion, terrified of what he may find. A hushed, trembling "No" escaped him.

YES.

"No… No! It can't be! I just started to get the hang of this! It's not fair! I haven't gotten the chance to learn to drive, I haven't gotten the chance to redeem myself, I haven't gotten the chance to--"

Crowley froze in place when he saw Aziraphale break through the crowd that gathered around the scene of the accident. He could only watch as his angel kneeled down by his contorted, bleeding form and cradled Crowley's uninhabited body close to his chest. The cry the angel let out would have sent a shiver down his spine, had he still had one.

I KNOW IT IS UNFAIR, BUT SOMETIMES IT'S JUST LIKE THAT.

Death placed a sympathetic hand on Crowley's shoulder. It was just what he needed as the world and everything he had ever loved faded away.

"I'm sorry, Aziraphale..."

When he arrived in Hell, Crowley had been too heartbroken to fully realize the trouble he found himself in.

“Back so soon?”

Oh no. Not them. Not now.

“Not so tough now, are you? Just a soft, squishy, human soul for us to torture.”

“Though it would have been nice if you’d given us some actual time to come up with a punishment more suited to your treason.”

A dark chuckle escaped Crowley as he slowly regained his composure.

"Hastur, Ligur," he greeted bitterly, "I see the antichrist has been too generous to you. Hi, Dagon."

"Hi."

For a short moment, there was nothing. No one spoke, no one breathed, and in that moment, Crowley was sure no one thought, either.

"So, since you have no punishment suitable for my treachery, surely you're here to see me off back to the surface, correct? Let me live out the rest of my days? Volunteer at the animal shelter some more?" Crowley said, still trying to charm his way out of eternity with these tools.

"Make out with your 'angel'?" Hastur mocked. “Don’t think we didn’t know about that. It was obvious to everyone except for you.”

Ouch. That one cut deep.

"No, we're keeping you down here." Ligur continued. "Seeing as you're already well-versed in Hell's bureaucracy, we figured it might be fun for you to catch up on our paperwork."

"The entire twentieth century.” Hastur gestured enthusiastically. Crowley had never seen this demon so excited about… well, anything, really. “By the time you're through processing all those souls, I'm sure you'll be begging for whatever we've come up with."

The worst part of it was, Crowley was sure of that too.

Despite having a hand in designing post-1950s office spaces, Crowley had never been a fan of them himself. (Secretly,) It was a greater achievement than the M25 London orbital motorway, but he hated them with a fiery passion. They reminded him too much of “home”.

There, he sat at a single desk in a dark cubicle with red lighting that made the walls feel like they were closing in on him, typing away at a near-prehistoric typewriter as he processed all ‘new arrivals’ since 1898. It was almost as if his old colleagues, with some measure of foresight, started slacking off on their paperwork in the event that something like this might happen. It was clever, having this kind of back-up punishment lying around. And it’s not like Hastur or Ligur ever gave a care about all of the souls being held hostage in Limbo until some poor sod* would be tasked with getting all of this done.

(*Read: Crowley)

A groan escaped Crowley at what felt like the millionth case. What time was it? How long had he been here? His jacket had been long abandoned on his chair, and even though he hadn’t seen a mirror since he set foot back in Hell, he knew he looked like a mess. He felt it. His usually perfectly exfoliated skin felt grimy, his hair felt more greasy and unkempt every time he ran his hands through it and he felt an uneven stubble growing from his chin. Something he’d long since forgotten wasn’t exclusive to his corporeal form. He stretched his arms over his head, his back and shoulders popped. Crowley was about to ram his face into the keys of the typewriter when he was interrupted by a deep, buldering voice.

“Anthony James Crowley.”

Crowley’s gaze snapped up. In front of his desk stood the last person he expected. The Metatron. Arms crossed, perpetual look of disapproval plastered on their features.

The ex-demon stuttered. “I-I, uh, how-- How can I help you?” He asked, feeling himself sit up straighter.

“We hate to admit this, but we require your assistance.”

“What?” He asked. “You’re the voice of God for crying out loud! What could you possibly need my help for?”

“We will explain on the way.” The Metatron said and snapped their fingers, leaving only a spinning office chair behind.

It had been a year since Crowley’s untimely death, and Aziraphale still wasn’t taking it well.

Not long after it happened, the angel worked up the nerve to call back a few potential customers to tell them that one book they were looking for had just gone up for sale. With the money he raised, he managed to throw his friend a modest funeral to which he was the only guest. No one from the boutique or the animal shelter seemed to be able to make it. It wouldn’t do much good for Crowley, he knew, but it allowed him some closure. And after six millennia, God knew he needed that.

After that, life was mostly just… boring. He had no one to talk with, to drink with, no one to cook or to sing or to dance with, and without a demon around in close proximity, there wasn’t a whole lot of evil to thwart. And so, most of Aziraphale’s life after Crowley was spent drinking alone, lying in bed to wallow in self pity and praying every minute of every hour of every day that someone, somewhere would be merciful to his precious Crowley.

Until that day, a year after the accident, someone was knocking on his front door. Aziraphale hadn’t wanted to get up, and therefore didn’t, despite the persistent knocking. Knocking turned into banging and after a while, it was quiet. But then the angel heard the deadbolt turn.

This alarmed him enough to get up from his bed, rub the tears from his eyes and crept down the stairs, flaming sword in hand. Aziraphale distinctly remembered placing a charm on the deadbolt. Whoever this was, they weren’t human.

Books shuffled from and to the shelves of the shop as if someone were inspecting them and the angel felt the hands tighten around the handle of his sword. As he slinked along the bookcases, he spotted a figure in front of the bookcase by the till. They wore a light grey suit and hummed merrily as they plucked books from the shelves, examining their covers for a brief moment before putting them back. Out of chronological order.

This, Aziraphale decided, was unforgivable. How dare they do this to him in his time of grief?! He snuck up to the figure and pointed his blade at them before shouting:

"Who do you think you are?!"

The turned around, held up their hands and whimpered at the sight of the sword so close to their face.

"Aziraphale, for fuck's sake, put that thing away!"

The blade dropped to the floor. Flames licking at the old, hardwood panels, but never scorching. Never burning.

The angel took one more step towards the intruder, nearly closing the gap between them. Hands reached for the familiar face in front of him. His eyes started to water as he stared into the other's eyes, now a bright blue to rival his own. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, but when the other spoke up, he knew he'd better believe.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Crowley asked. A dull 'oof' was forced from him as a pair of plump arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Don't you ever leave me like that again!" Aziraphale cried into his chest. "Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?!" He said as he pulled back and made a point of it to glare up at the recent reinstated angel.

Crowley glanced away and mumbled. "I have a vague idea..."

"How are you here?" Aziraphale asked as he started to calm down. Tears still flowed from his eyes, but the other bent over to thumb them away.

"It's funny you should ask that." Crowley smiled, all straight white teeth without a single fang in sight. "Apparently your prayers for my sake overloaded all of Above's communications."

"Oh..." Aziraphale mumbled. "That would explain why I haven't heard from them… What happened next?"

"Well," Crowley started, "with all of Heaven's communications on its ass, the Metatron went down into Hell to enlist the help of the one and only you-expert. Me."

"So, what you're saying is… Aziraphale’s prayers for me are blocking everything? Going in and out?"

"That is what we're saying. This cannot go on any longer." The Metatron said monotonously.

"So, what you want to know from me is....?"

"How do we make him stop? How do you stop these little… temper tantrums?" They asked.

‘Temper tantrum’ felt like the wrong wording to Crowley, but he knew he had to think quickly. This was his one ticket out of Hell permanently. A satisfied smile spread across his face as the right words formulated in his head.

"I've found that the most effective way to get him to stop is to simply give him what he wants. I can’t put it any simpler than that." The man said and shrugged casually.

"So you can die again in 80 years and we start this all over again?" The Metatron asked, unamused, raising a single eyebrow. "We shall pass on that."

Crowley winced internally. He was on thin ice, but all wasn't lost yet.

"What if I promise to be really good?" He asked, swaying back and forth on his feet and batting his eyelashes.

"You cannot possibly be suggesting..."

"Oh, but I am. And besides, isn't that a small price to pay for Aziraphale’s silence?" The words felt dirty in his mouth, but it was now or never. Back to Aziraphale or back to Hell.

"Alright, fine." The Metatron huffed, throwing up their arms in exasperation. "Consider it done, just pass on this one message."

"So… they made you an angel and sent you back just to buy my silence?" Aziraphale asked. His eyes narrowed in slight disgust.

This time, it was Crowley who pulled Aziraphale into a hug. "I know, I know. I felt so gross using you as leverage, but I just really wanted to come back to you..."

The smaller angel hushed the other and gently stroked his hair as he returned the embrace. "You're forgiven, Crowley. I missed you..." Aziraphale said. "And I love you. I don't know why it never occurred to me to tell you while you were alive, but..."

Crowley’s hushed "I love you too" had barely been spoken when Aziraphale lunged forward to kiss him. Crowley happily complied and kissed back until Aziraphale pulled away.

"What did the Metatron want you to tell me that they couldn't come down to tell me themselves, anyway?"

"'Shut the Hell up', angel." The angel smirked as he kissed his love again.

[debraofamerica]

#EverydayEB: Morgan & Salim

First legislated by Ronald Reagan and the U.S. Congress in 1984, National EB Awareness Week is recognized annually as October 25-31. It’s a week to increase awareness of EB, promote the need for treatments and a cure, and spur advocacy on behalf of the individuals and families affected by EB.

This year, debra of America is celebrating the diversity of our EB Community with a social media campaign titled #EverydayEB. From now through EB Awareness Week, we will be profiling community members with interviews accompanied by stunning portraits from award-winning photographer Ari Espay. These interviews will provide insight into the unique experiences of those individuals affected by EB and add a human dimension to the way others relate to their personal journeys.

Today, we’d like to introduce you to Morgan and Salim. Laura, Salim’s mom, will be sharing Salim’s story on his behalf.

Morgan, why did you choose to have your photos taken by Ari?

I got my photo with Ari because he asked politely; he explained who he was and what it was about. I was very comfortable as I have had many photos of me taken before.

What are some every day challenges or triumphs that you experience that most people would be surprised to hear about despite knowing that you have EB?

The main challenges would be everyday tasks such as getting dressed, cooking, cleaning, bathing, etc. These are all affected by EB because it always depends on how tired and sore/how many wounds/where the wounds are with how you look after the daily chores.

Triumphs would be getting through these challenges, especially ones that need to be done (bathing, hygiene, walking, etc.) despite how sore or tired you are.

What do you experience that others need to know about?

It would be the awareness of all that this disease encompasses. That it is a life-long disability, and it affects all aspects of life. There are things that most people can do on a whim that we have to plan for or can't do at all (taking off and travelling suddenly, playing sports, etc.)

What do you wish you didn’t have to explain?

That this disease doesn't "magically" go away when you are an adult. When I turned 18 or 19, a lot of my funding and hours were being investigated just because I wasn't a child anymore and I “cost too much money." I don't want to always have to defend why I need the help with nursing and home care that I do, because this disease will not go away as of now, so I still need the same amount today that I will 30 years later, and potentially even more. 

Would you like to send a message to any of the following groups?

Researchers: Please find a cure!

Doctors: Thank you for all you do and please continue to learn more to help us!

General Public: See above answers 1-4.

EB Community: Never give up!

Laura is mom to 4-year-old Salim (pictured above) who lives with Dystrophic EB.

Hi Laura! What are some every day challenges or triumphs that you and Salim experience that most people would be surprised to hear about despite knowing that Salim has EB?

Despite the constant pain from moving and walking, Salim loves to dance! He dances when he gets out of bed in the morning, all day long, and even while brushing his teeth at night! It does cause him blisters and pain, but Salim will not let things like blisters and pain stop him from getting his groove on! :) 

What do you wish you didn’t have to explain?

On a not so happy note... I don't think that people understand how much EB impacts every single aspect of our lives. EB is not just a skin disorder; it is a whole body, internal, external, exhausting, all-consuming, never-ending condition that complicates everything.

Nothing we do is simple. Even little things like getting in and out of the car, getting dressed, taking a nap, or going to the grocery store become complicated and require pre-planning and extra effort. We do our best to enjoy every moment, and I'd like to think that we do a pretty good job. But even at our best, we still have the weight of EB on our shoulders. I am always exhausted from pre-planning and worry about injury and emergencies. It's a dark cloud that sometimes thins and lightens, but never leaves. Nevertheless, Salim is more joyful and loving than any child I have ever met, and I am so grateful. 

Want to get involved this EB Awareness Week? Learn how at debra.org/EBweek!

[sanguisfulgur]

   A LIST OF MUNDANE THINGS           & YOUR ( LEAST ) FAVORITE PART ABOUT IT

                       bold what you love the most & strike what you can’t even look at                  some things appear in multiple places bc people do things different ways                                                & i wanted to account for that

MORNING TASKS — turning off the alarm , getting out of bed , coffee/tea/etc , taking a shower

TAKING A SHOWER — getting undressed , washing hair , washing body , brushing teeth , drying off

GETTING READY — brushing hair , brushing teeth , getting dressed , makeup , styling hair

THE GYM — the ambiance , cardio , weights , the tanning bed , the massage chairs , the smoothies , the pool

THE GROCERY STORE — the ride to/from the store , browsing , actually shopping , checking out , the employees , loading groceries into the car , unloading groceries from the car , putting everything away

COOKING — purchasing supplies , prep work , actively making something , putting something in the microwave , eating the meal , cleaning up

THE DISHES — hand washing , loading the dishwasher , unloading the dishwasher

GOING OUT TO EAT — driving there , waiting to be sat , the actual meal , the drinks , the company ( or lack thereof ) , paying

HOUSEHOLD CHORES — taking the trash out , doing the dishes , doing laundry , mopping / vacuuming , getting the mail

OUTDOOR CHORES — removing weeds , trimming bushes , mowing the lawn , raking leaves , shoveling snow

MOVIES — the pre-movie excitement , buying the tickets , concessions , watching the movie , talking about the movie

LAUNDRY — gathering / sorting clothes , placing them in the washer , transferring from washer to dryer , taking clothes out , putting clothes away

WEEKENDS — leaving work on friday , free saturday , free sunday , church , specific-to-weekend tradition , going to bed sunday night

EVENING TASKS — changing into pajamas , getting into bed , turning off the lights , setting the ambiance , sleeping

JOB HUNTING — setting up your resume , submitting your resume , filling out applications , the first interview , secondary interviews

WORKING — going to work , getting stuff done , going to meetings , talking with co-workers , leaving

tagged by: yoinked from the source  tagging: steal it and tag me in it. 

[aquamoon33]

I can do this! - A Choromatsu One-shot

((Posting this and I don’t care what people say. Italics represent thoughts/flashbacks, bolded represents character speaking in english. Word count: 2460))

He got a job. He cannot believe it. He actually has a job again! Choromatsu dropped the receiver on the stand as he processed the conversation he had with his boss right now.

“After a long discussion, we have decided to employ you, Matsuno-san. You start on Monday.” His boss, Shimizu Jirou, told Choromatsu over the phone.

“I-I… I look forward to working with you. Goodbye Shimizu-san.” The third born stuttered, hearing the man on the phone chuckle with glee on the other side.

“No need to be nervous, Matsuno-san. Have a nice day.”

“Thank you. Goodbye.” The line went dead as Choromatsu still held the receiver in his hand.

All those interviews and job applications really paid off and the green clad Matsuno barely restrained himself from jumping in joy. Now all that is left, is to tell his family-

Oh no! He has to tell his brothers he’s no longer a NEET! Last time he did that, it caused his family to almost fall apart. He shuddered at the memory and hoped that it doesn’t happen again. After all, Choromatsu decided to stay home this time, even though his workplace was far away. His family was a bit low on money lately so being able to rent an apartment wasn’t really an option. “Oh well… I’ll endure it at least for a month or two. I should be able to rent one then” He reasoned with himself. He survived worse, so he could survive a few months.

“Who was that Nii-san?”

Choromatsu turned towards the sound, to see Jyushimatsu tilting his head slightly with a sleeved hand covering his mouth.

“I’ll tell everyone at dinner tonight. I have some news that you want to hear.”

“Did something bad happen?”

“No. Nothing like that. Just wait until dinner Jyushimatsu.”

The fifth born’s eyes became cat like slits meaning that he wasn’t pleased with the answer. He wants to know why his older brother looks like he’s about to burst from happiness. He was about to ask him again, when the front door opened revealing their mother, who has just returned from grocery shopping.

“I’m home, my NEETs! Oh, would you two be so kind as to help me put away the groceries.”

The green and yellow brothers nodded as each one took a bag and carried it to the kitchen. They may be shitty NEETs but that doesn’t mean they’re completely useless. After storing the groceries away, Jyushimatsu got distracted by Karamatsu, who invited him to play guitar with him, leaving Choromatsu alone with Matsuyo in the kitchen. “Might as well tell her now, while we’re alone.”

“Uhh.. Kaa-san. I have something to tell you.”

“What is it Choromatsu?”

“Remembered how I applied for that company that dad recommended?”

“The one that takes you at least 2 hours to get there?”

“Mmh-hm. I got a phone call from them. I got the job!”

Matsuyo clasped her hands over her chest, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Choromatsu wondered if this is where his immediate older brother got his dramatic tendencies from. He was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt arms around him, as he noticed his mother hugging him.

“My little NEET…. I’m so proud of you. But…” She pulled away as she looked into her son’s eyes. “Isn’t it going to be exhausting? The ride there is very long. Are you sure you don’t want me or your father to lend you some money so you can rent an apartment.”

“Kaa-san, I already made the decision to stay at home. Plus I don’t want to rely on you forever. I will probably rent one when I earn some money. But for now I’ll stay here.”

Choromatsu told his mother, trying to reassure her that he will be fine like this.

“When are you going to tell your brothers?”

“Tonight at dinner. I just hope that it won’t be a repeat of last time.” Choromatsu sighed as Matsuyo caressed his cheek.

“You and I both know that Osomatsu worries for all of you a lot. So while his reaction was a bit childish and unnecessary, you have to understand that he took it the hardest out of you all.”

She was right. Osomatsu and Choromatsu used to be as thick as thieves when they were children. It also didn’t help that, during their childhood, Osomatsu was abused by that one lodger they decided to house. He became really overprotective and paranoid after that, constantly counting heads and if one was missing, he’d start panicking. It died down a bit after middle school when they started to develop their own individual personalities, however.

His mother patted him on the head and offered him a small smile. She ushered him out of the kitchen so he can mentally prepare to deliver the news to the rest as she set to make dinner.

“Everyone… I have something to tell you…” Choromatsu mumbled, being barely audible for the rest to hear him.

“What is it Choromatsu nii-san?” Todomatsu asked, feigning interest in what the third born had to say.

“Are you going to tell us about that phone call you had this afternoon, Nii-san?” Jyushimatsu asked as Choromatsu nodded.

“Was it a girl?” Ichimatsu asked, causing Choromatsu to shake his head. Osomatsu couldn’t help but frown a bit.

“If you got a girlfriend before me, I’ll never forgive you Shikomatsu.”

“Who the hell is Shikomatsu and it wasn’t a girl, guys!” the green Matsuno slammed his hands on the table.

“I-I…. I got a job.”

Silence.

Choromatsu expected that. What he didn’t expect was for the eldest to start laughing.

“Nice one Cherrymatsu! You almost got Nii-chan with that joke. Now tells us what that call was really about.”

“I’m not joking Osomatsu nii-san. I’m being serious.”

Osomatsu’s laughter died down as he looked at his younger brother. He really was being serious.

“Congratulations brother! I say we propose a toast on such momentous occasion! After all it is not every day that one of our kin gets a job.”

Karamatsu spoke, trying to lighten the mood, but also getting ready to stop the eldest if he decides to start a fight again.

“Where are you going to work?” Todomatsu asked, ignoring the second eldest and stealthy scooting as far away from Osomatsu as possible.

“In an accounting company, near Shibuya.”

“Will you leave again, nii-san?” the sunshine one looked at the third born, silently pleading him to not leave them again.

“No. I’m staying here. I’ll take the train there every day.”

“Isn’t Shibuya really far? It will take you hours to get there by just a train.” Ichimatsu mumbled. Choromatsu sighed as he nodded.

“It’s almost a 2 hour ride and I start at 7am. I will have to get up at least 4am to make it on time.”

“Brother, are you really okay with that?”

“Yes, Karamatsu nii-san. I can handle it. Maybe once I get paid, I’ll be able to rent an apartment.”

Osomatsu still kept being uncharacteristically quiet. He suddenly stood up and walked over the table towards Choromatsu. The others couldn’t help but watch in fear as to what the eldest would do.

“You know, I would’ve actually preferred if you said you had a girlfriend.” Osomatsu spoke in a low tone, making the rest nervous.

“But I guess nii-chan should be proud of you.”

“EH?” the others yelled in surprise. Who was this and where is their eldest brother Osomatsu?

“Eh, what’s with all the shocked looks?”

“You’re actually glad one of us got a job?”

“Well yeah. Choromatsu is going to earn money and with him staying here that means I can borrow some from him.” The red clad Matsuno smirked, wiping under his nose.

“YOU SHITTY ELDEST!”

“Choromatsu?”

“Yes, Osomatsu nii-san?”

Osomatsu approached his brother on the balcony. They were alone, with the rest being downstairs playing some card games. He put a hand on Choromatsu’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. The younger one could see some relief in the elder one’s eyes.

“I’m glad you’re not moving out.”

“…Well I didn’t want to leave and cause our family to fall apart like last time…”

That was a touchy subject for Osomatsu. He knows he was in the wrong that time, but the thought of not being able to keep an eye on his brother scared him a bit. And Osomatsu hated being scared, so he turned that fear into anger. And we all know that didn’t end well.

“That was mostly my fault as well, so don’t beat yourself over it.”

Hearing the eldest admit he was also to blame, surprised Choromatsu but he couldn’t help but smile a little.

“We are both to blame, aren’t we?”

“Ahahahaha, I suppose we are.”

The two leaned on the fence, looking at the setting sun. It was peaceful, but Choromatsu couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous.

“Hey, you’re going to do great!” The third one felt a slap on the back that almost knocked him over the fence. “If anyone can do it, then that’s our responsible Choromatsu.”

“I- Thank you, Osomatsu nii-san….”

He’s exhausted.

He can barely stand.

He can barely keep his eyes open.

“Maybe accepting this job was a bad idea…”

It’s been 4 weeks since he started and he wakes up more and more exhausted every day.

At first it was fine.

Waking up at 4am was no problem. He got ready and left the house at 4:30, and went to the train station where he boarded the 5am train to Shibuya. The ride was calm and relaxing, but Choromatsu tried to stay awake, in fear of missing his stop, or getting mugged while he slept. After the ride all that was left was a few minute walk towards the building he worked at. He finished working at 3pm, and boarded the train back to Akatsuka Ward, coming home at around 5pm completely tired and exhausted that all he did after, was eat, go to the bathhouse and go to sleep at 9pm.

He barely talked to his family now, seeing them for only 2-3 hours a day. Waking up early was a chore now and he almost missed his stop the previous day.

It also didn’t help that he barely ate and drank, being way too busy to do even that.

It wasn’t until he almost passed out one day when they were on the way to the bathhouse that they staged an intervention.

“Choromatsu. Sit down.”

Osomatsu ordered, as the addressed one sat opposite of his brothers. The others looked at each other, nodded and turned towards Choromatsu.

“We had a discussion…”

“ and we decided…”

“ that you, our dearest brother….”

“should quit your job….”

“before you die.”

Silence.

“What? Why?”

“Choromatsu nii-san, this job is killing you, to say it bluntly”

“I agree with Totty. We barely see you nowadays, nii-san.”

“You have darker circles under your eyes than me.”

“You look so thin Choromatsu. Are you even eating properly?”

Choromatsu was taken aback. He shook his head. He’s fine! He’s doing just fine. There’s nothing wrong with him. It’s just part of having a job. It’s normal for employed people to get exhausted every once in a while. They get used to it.

“Choromatsu. I know I said you can do it, but there’s a limit even for you. Karamatsu is right, you lost a ton of weight, you’re about to pass out from sleep deprivation and we never see you when you come home. If this continues you really are going to die.”

“No! I CAN DO THIS! I NEED TO DO THIS! THIS IS MY OPPURTUNITY TO BE A SUCESSFUL MEMBER OF SOCIETY!”

“CHOROMATSU!”

Osomatsu’s yell startled everyone. Said brother stood up and walked towards his exhausted brother, lifting him up by the collar of his suit so that he can look him in the face.

“What point is there of you being a successful member of society if you end up in a hospital, or worse. What if you end up dead!”

Choromatsu felt Osomatsu’s hand starting to tremble. He focused on the eldest’s face, noticing that Osomatsu is trying his hardest not to shed a single tear.

“Stop rising for once and think of your own well-being!”

“…Nii-san. Please. I know I can do it. This is just a phase. Everyone gets tired at the beginning.”

“That’s bullshit, Choromatsu Nii-san. I worked before and I’ve never gotten this exhausted.”

“My job isn’t comparable to yours!”

“Enough!”

Everyone turned at Jyushimatsu. His head was cast down and his frame appeared to be shaking.

“Please, stop fighting.”

Karamatsu approached the fifth born, putting an arm over his shoulders as Jyushimatsu leaned closer to his older brother.

“Choromatsu…” oh no he was serious. His usual cool guy voice was nowhere present. “We all beg you to quit. Todomatsu is right. No job should be this draining. If it leaves you this exhausted then something is wrong.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… Kusomatsu has a point.”

Choromatsu looked at each brother, noticing that everyone had the same worried face that was begging him to stop.

“You guys really think I should quit?”

“Either you quit, or we’ll make you get fired, now pick.” Ichimatsu threatened.

“Now, now Ichimatsu. Threatening him won’t help. Now Choromatsu, take your pick.” Osomatsu spoke, glare still present on his face. “Will you continue working and get yourself hospitalized? Or will you quit and stay alive and healthy?”

The eldest let go as he turned away  and gestured for everyone to leave Choromatsu alone in the room, so he can choose the option he think is the best for him.

Said brother sunk to his knees and thought about this whole conversation.

“They’re right. Stop fooling yourself. You’re tired, starved and dehydrated. Look what your current state is doing to your brothers. They’re worried sick for you. You really want them to become quintuplets? No. I thought so. So be smart for once in your life and stop while you can.”

With his decision set in stone, he stood up and walked towards the house phone.

“It’s a shame Matsuno-kun. You really were a worthy asset to our team.”

“I’m so sorry Shimizu-san. It all became too exhausting for me. I hope you understand.”

“It’s alright. I respect your decision. Well then, it’s been a pleasure working with you. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Shimizu-san.”

He dropped the receiver on the stand. He did it. He quit. All that was left were some formalities to be taken care of but otherwise he’s back to being a NEET. He dragged his feet upstairs as he entered their bedroom, causing five faces to look at him.

“I’m home.”

“Welcome back, Choromatsu.”

((On a scale of 1 to Burn this with fire, how sucky is this writing? The intervention is actually based on my internal debate, with the brothers representing my logic and intuition, while Choro’s stubbornness represents other people’s expectations of me (such as my parents who wanted me to keep working).  I also worked in a factory instead of an accounting office, but it wasn’t the work that left me exhausted, but the ride there and back home. Also while this is based on my personal experience, I’ve thankfully never come close to passing out, but I was starved and dehydrated a lot (having only eaten lunch at work and dinner at home, and drank a total of almost a litre of liquid a day). Also I’m not the best at geography. Also the moment when you can’t even write your favourite character. Please tell me what you think of this so I know what I can do to write better next time I decide to write something.))

[passionate-hedgehog]

Wine pt 2

  A/N: I really didn't think I’d make Wine into anything more than a blurb to gert my mind to stop racing at night. I’m so glad you guys liked it! Thank you for all the kind words!

I’m not sure how long this is going to be but for once I know exactly where I want this story to go. I’m excited about it!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my postings! Enjoy the fruits of my labor and the works from my heart!

Tagline: @reiding-and-writing @sassygeek77

    Spencer’s name lit up Hannah’s phone screen for the umpteenth time one night, a week after they met. They had decided to get to know each other, because the other person was worth it, and talked over lunch. The deli in the grocery store had been a favorite place for the brunette to eat. The agent had mentioned that he had never tried it, so she made it her mission to show him how great it was. They had gotten to talking, and they clicked. It wasn’t as if they had so many things in common, but their personalities fit so well.

   Hannah had just laid her daughter down for the night when she heard the text tone go off. Their conversations had been constant and diverse. They rarely stayed on the topic longer than a day, and if they did, it was because they were just so interested in the other person. The single mother couldn’t remember the last time she felt like that.

   Swiping her finger across her screen, Hannah opened the most recent text and giggled quietly, so she didn’t wake Chloe. What had appeared on her screen was a picture taken from Halloween of Spencer scaring the living daylights out of one of his coworkers. Someone had captured it on their phone and sent him the picture.

   That’s Derek, right? The one that’s like a big brother to you?

   Hannah sat the phone down to put a load of laundry into the washer and set the machine. After she had picked up a full basket of clean clothes, she grabbed her phone and made her way to the living room. She set the basket down and read his reply.

   Yeah. I do it to him every year, but he never learns.

   She gave another giggle. Apparently not. Is it just him that you try to scare?

   It’s a long running thing between us. We had a prank battle a year or so back.

   Is it what you imagined having a sibling would be like when you were younger?

   Sorta. If I had a brother, I mean. I don’t think I’d want to play jokes on my sister if I had one. I don’t actually know. I picture what I’d want as far as having siblings, but I’m not sure if it’s a real concept? I hear too many stories about older siblings being terrible to their nerdy younger brothers and sisters.

   Yeah, I guess. But what if it were the other way around, Spence? What if you were the big brother? What do you think you’d be like?

   A reply didn’t come as fast as the others. When Hannah set her phone down to attempt to get actual folding done, she was surprised at her phone’s ringtone going off. She accepted the call. The phone was cradled between her head and shoulder as she continued with her chore.

   “Are your fingers tired from typing on your dinosaur phone, Grandpa?”

   “I’ll have you know that my phone has a higher chance of surviving a trip to the floor and a smaller chance of getting stolen. So there.”

   She raised an eyebrow at Spencer’s voice inflection. “Did you just stick your tongue out at me over the phone where I can’t see you?”

   “I guess you’ll never know.”

   “Oh, real mature. Maybe I was wrong about the ‘Grandpa’ comment. You’re more like a toddler.”

   The two ‘adults’ shared a small laugh, and then there was a comfortable silence between the two. They didn’t say anything to each other, just listened to the sounds around them and what they could hear through the phone. Spencer was the one to break it, though.

   “I missed your voice. That’s why I called.”

   The woman put the shirt she was folding in her lap and bit her bottom lip, giving a silent smile.

   “Hannah? Was that too much? Too forward? I’m sorry if I just made that weird. I wasn’t sure if-”

   “Spencer!” She called his name to get him to stop rambling, even if it was cute. “Sweetie, it wasn’t too much. It was...endearing. And if I were to be honest, it gave me the sweetest kind of butterflies. Thank you, for not finding it annoying.”

   “Never! It calms me after a long day at work. I just wish I could hear it more often. Thank you for being my very own mug of chamomile tea.”

   Hannah was conflicted. She craved to be for Spencer what he was implying, to be able to see and talk to him more, but she wasn’t sure. She knew she couldn’t get too deeply involved with him until she was sure he’d stick around. When Hannah first started dating after Chloe’s dad, she made some mistakes. So Hannah let some people into her and her daughter's lives who didn’t deserve to be there. Yet, she felt she had to do a better job with it.

   “That, for sure, just set some alarms in your head. That’s the longest you’ve gone without responding. I’m sorry if I said something wrong. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable. I value our friendship very much.”

   “It wasn’t you, Spencer. I just… It’s complicated.” Hannah played with the loose threads on the old shirt still sitting in her lap, unfolded. “It’s never you. You, my dear, treat me very well.”

   “If I can ask, what happened? I know you said that there was a bad experience you had. I just want to make sure I don’t make any repeats.”

   Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Hannah closed her bluish green eyes. “I lost someone very close to me. We got into this massive fight that we were never able to come back from and now we can never mend our relationship. I just don’t want to make the same mistakes that he and I made. Our friendship means a lot to me, too, Spencer. You’re imperative to me, and I want to keep it like that.”

   “Well, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

   “Yeah,” Hannah replied softly almost as if she wasn’t sure she believed it.

   “Hey, I need to head to bed. It’s getting late, and I can already feel the large caseload for tomorrow. I’ll text you when I can, okay?”

   “Yes, of course. I have an appointment with the elementary school in the morning, but I’ll be free after that.”

   “You got the interview?! Hannah, that’s great! We’ll have to celebrate when I get back into town. I’m so proud of you!”

   “Whoa there, Cowboy. It’s just an interview. I don’t have the job.” Rolling her eyes, Hannah gave a soft chuckle.

   “But you will. They’d be moronic not to give it to you.”

   “Thank you, Spencer. The confidence boost means a lot. I’ll tell you about it as soon as I can, alright? Now get to sleep. You have a long day ahead of you.”

   “You’re right. I’ll be good and go to bed. Goodnight, Hannah.”

   After giving a soft “Buona notte,” Hannah ended the call and released a heavy breath. Spencer was proving to be an excellent man and a viable friend, but she was still unsure about telling him everything. She was worried about Chloe and her getting too close to someone that would leave and break her like Alec had broken Hannah.

- - -

   The next day came and nearly left without a word from Spencer. At almost midnight he sent a text letting her know they indeed had a major case in a city many miles away. They had worked their butts off that day and didn’t catch many leads. It was exhausting one of his texts had read. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like doing what he did. Somehow, though, he still found the energy to give her a surprise call before she fell asleep for the night.

   “I thought you’d want to get some rest as soon as you could, given your day. Is everything okay, Spence?”

   “Hmm, yes? No? I don’t...”

   Hannah sat up in her bed at that response and gave her full attention to her friend on the other end. “What’s wrong?”

   “This case. I can’t stop thinking about these kids. They’re so young and little, and this guy is just tearing them into pieces like they’re some toy he’s throwing a tantrum with. I can’t get it out of my mind wondering what they could be thinking about in their last moments.”

   “Oh, Lord. Spencer, that’s terrible. In pieces??? Like… their arms and legs?”

   “It’s horrible, Hannah. There’s no way these children have done anything to deserve it, and I don’t know. I want to be there for them. Kid’s cases are always the hardest. They probably aren't even aware that there’s this kind of evil in the world. They couldn’t of have been warned. And to make it worse, they didn’t have a family.”

   “Orphans. Were they homeless or foster kids?” Hannah got out of bed and walked down the hallway towards Chloe’s bedroom.

   “Both.”

   His voice indicated he was on the edge of hysterics and Hannah wished for nothing more than to be able to hold her friend and will all the bad things away. She wanted to run her hands through his hair like she did when her daughter had a nightmare and tell him he was safe with her.

   “I wish I could make it go away, Spencer. But you will. You’ll find this guy and stop him from going for other children.” She silently opened her daughter’s bedroom door and watched her sleep, taking comfort in knowing the three-year-old was right where she was supposed to be.

   “I want to save them. All of them. It’s so hard to see their faces and know that we didn’t do anything to stop it.”

   Hannah closed the door as quietly as she opened it and stepped away. “But you are! And you guys will save them.”

   “If they had families, they’d be safe. If they had reliable foster parents or if they were adopted.”

   “Are you saying you’d want to do that, someday?”

   “I don’t know, maybe?”

   The brunette held her breath and let Spencer think.

   “Yeah. I would, I do. I want to be someone that they can rely on for more than police protection.”

   “That’s very noble, Spencer. I hope you get your wish. You’d, at the very least, be a great big brother.”

   “What about you? Being a mom?”

   She smiled at her daughter’s door and walked back into her room. “I think it would be the most important thing I could ever do.”

   “Would you foster? Or adopt, even?”

   “If I had the means to, I would. If I can give all my love to a child that doesn’t know what being loved is, then I would do it without regrets.”

   “Thank you.”

   “For what?” Hannah slid back into bed and put the covers back over her.

   “For answering my call and letting me talk. It helped. I agree with my earlier sentiment about you being like a cup of chamomile tea. You relax me like no other and bring me back from some terrifying places.”

   The man never ceased to make Hannah feel good about herself. “I’m glad I could help. Now, get some sleep so you can save those kids. I’ll see you when you get home. Don’t be afraid to call me when you feel like you’re drowning.”

   “Hannah, I...thank you. Sweet dreams.”

   “Buonanotte, Spencer.” She ended the call and laid her head down after she put her phone on the nightstand.

   If there was anything about Spencer that she was positive of, it was that he was quickly becoming her best friend and confidant. She swam in the amazing feeling she got knowing he trusted her with his hardest days and toughest feelings.

   Spencer Reid, I think you may be getting in under my skin, and I don’t want you to leave.

[torturedwarrior]

Ed Gein:

        Who is Ed Gein? What where is his crimes? How did Gein die? What did the police find in his home when they searched it? What was Geins childhood like?  Ed Gein was an American serial killer whose gruesome crimes gained worldwide notoriety and inspired numerous books and horror films. “When I see a pretty girl walking down the street, I think two things. One part wants to be really nice and sweet, and the other part wonders what her head would look like on a stick.” -Ed Gein, “I had a compulsion to do it.” -Ed Gein.  

         Ed Gein (Edward Theodore Gein) was born in La Crosse County, Wisconsin, On August 27, 1906. He was the second of two boys of George Phillip Gein (1873-1940) and Augusta Wilhelmine Gein (1878-1945). Geins older brother whose name is Henry George Gein (1901-1944). Gein left his family farm to go to school but outside of school Gein would return to the farm to work his chores. When Gein was a child he was known to be shy and his classmates and teachers remembered Gein has having strange mannerisms like randomly laughing for example like he was laughing at his own personal jokes. The worse of his childhood was every time he would make friends his mother would punish him for it.

Death in the immediate family; April 1, 1940, Gein’s Father George had died from heart failure that was caused from his alcoholism. George was 66 years old when he passed. Henry and Gein then worked odd jobs around town to help cover the living expenses and they were considered from the residents in the community that they were reliable and honest. Henry began dating a divorced single mother of two and planned on moving with her. Henry began to worry about his brother, Gein and his attachment to their mother and often spoke of her illness around Gein who responded with shock and hurt. May 16, 1944, Henry and Gein were burning away marsh vegetation on their property and then the fire began out of control. The fire drew the attention of the local fire department and by the end of the day when the fire was out and the firefighters were gone, Gein then reported that his brother Henry was missing.

A search party was formed and set out to look for Henry, whose dead body was found lying face down but he had been dead for some time and it appears the cause of death was heart failure since he was not burned or injured by the fire. It was said later in a biography by Harold Shechter; of Ed Gein ‘Deviant’, that Henry had bruises on his head. Shortly after Henry’s death, Augusta, Geins mother had a paralyzing stroke which Gein devoted himself to caring for her. Later Augusta had a second stroke that landed her health deteriorating rapidly, she then on December 29, 1945, died at the age of 67. After his mother’s death, Gein became very devastated and his words in the author Harold Schechter, Gein had “lost his only friend and one true love. And was absolutely alone in the world.” -Ed Gein.

         Gein was hanging on to the farm and earning money from odd work. He boarded up his mother's quarters, including the attic, parlor downstairs, and living room, keeping them intact; while the rest of the house was exceedingly squalid, these areas remained untouched. Gein stayed next to the kitchen in a small room. He was involved around this period in reading pulp magazines and stories of adventure, especially those involving cannibals or massacres by the Nazis. Gein was a handyman who earned a federal government farm subsidy from the beginning of 1951. Occasionally he worked in the area for the local street team and crop-threshing workers. He also sold an 80-acre (32 ha) parcel of land purchased by his brother Henry sometime between 1946 and 1956.

         November 16, 1957, A Plainfield hardware store owner, Bernice Worden had disappeared and a resident in the community reported that a hardware store truck had been seen driving out from the rear of the building around 9:30 am in the morning. Worden’s son who is a Deputy Sheriff named Frank Worden; he entered the store at 5:00pm and discovered the cash register to be open and blood steins on the floor. He also noticed a sales slip for a gallon of antifreeze was the last receipt written by Worden the morning she disappeared. That evening Gein was arrested at a west Plainfield grocery store and then the sheriff began to search Gein’s farm. Waushara County Sheriff’s Deputy searching Gein’s property discovered Worden’s decapitated body in a shed on Geins property, hung upside down by her legs with a cross bar at her ankles and ropes at her wrists. Her torso was ‘Dressed out’ like a deer and she had been shot with a .22-caliber rifle, also the mutilations were made after her death.

Searching the house, authorities found: Whole human bones and fragments, A wastebasket made of human skin, Human skin covering several chair seats, Skulls on his bedposts, Female skulls, some with the tops sawn off, Bowls made from human skulls, A corset made from a female torso skinned from shoulders to waist, Leggings made from human leg skin, Masks made from the skin of female heads, Mary Hogan's face mask in a paper bag, Mary Hogan's skull in a box, Bernice Worden's entire head in a burlap sack, Bernice Worden's heart "in a plastic bag in front of Gein's potbellied stove", Nine vulvas in a shoe box, A young girl's dress and "the vulvas of two females judged to have been about fifteen years old", A belt made from female human nipples, Four noses, A pair of lips on a window shade drawstring, A lampshade made from the skin of a human face and lastly Fingernails from female fingers.

When being questioned by investigators Gein told them between 1947 and 1952, he made as many as 40 nocturnal visits to three local graveyards to exhume recently buried bodies while he was in a “Daze-like” state. 30 of those visits, Gein said he came out of his daze while being in the cemetery and had left the grave in good order and returned home empty-handed. On the other occasions he would dig up the graves of newly buried middle-aged women who resembled his mother which he took back to his house where he then tanned their skins to make his paraphernalia.

         Gein acknowledged stealing from nearby cemeteries from nine graves and guided researchers to their positions. Allan Wilimovsky from the State Crime Laboratory was involved in the opening of Gein's three test graves. The caskets were inside wooden boxes; crossways (not lengthwise) were running through the top boards. The tops of the boxes in sandy soil were about 2 feet (60 cm) beneath the surface. Shortly after the funerals, Gein had robbed the tombs while the tombs were not finished. The test sepulchers were exhumed because the authorities were unsure as to whether the slight Gein was able to dig a grave on its own during a single night; they were just as Gein described: two of the exhumed sepulchers were found empty (one had a crowbar instead of the body). One barrel was empty; one-barrel Gein had failed to open when he misplaced his pry bar; and most of the corpse had vanished from the third grave, but Gein had recovered rings and parts of the body. Thus, Gein's confession seems to be corroborating.

         Shortly after the death of his mother, Gein started to construct a "girlfriend costume" so that "... he could become his mother — to practically climb inside her skin. “Gein denied having intercourse with the corpses he exhumed, explaining:" They smelled too horrible. Gein even confessed to the shooting death of Mary Hogan, a pub owner who had been missing since 1954 and whose head had been discovered in his room, but he later denied memory of details of her death. One 16-year-old young boy whose parents were Gein relatives, who engaged in ball and film games with him claimed that Gein kept shrinking heads in his home that Gein identified as Philippine artifacts and sent them from a cousin who served on the islands during the Second World War 2.

         During the police investigation, human face skins were determined and deliberately taken out of the corpses and were used as masks by Gein. In many other cases for Wisconsin, Gein was also identified as a suspect, including Evelyn Hartley, a babysitter from La Crosse, missing in 1953. Waushara County Sheriff Art Schley allegedly attacked Gein during the interview by smashing his head and face into a brick wall. The first confession of Gein was therefore ruled unacceptable. In 1968 before Gein's proceeding, Schley died of a heart failure at 43 years of age. Many of those who met Schley said they had been traumatized by Gein's horror, which, with the fear of having to give testimony, led to his death (especially on Gein's assault). One of his friends said: "He was a victim of Ed Gein as surely as if he had butchered him."

         In Waushara County Court, on 21 November 1957 Gein was arraigned on a first-degree charge of murder, where he pleaded not guilty for insane reasons. Gein has been diagnosed and found mentally incompetent and therefore not suitable for testing. He was sent to the Criminally Insane State Hospital (now Dodge Correctional Institute), Waupun, Wisconsin to provide a high-speed security unit, and later transferred to Madison, Wisconsin, Mendota State Hospital. In 1968, the psychiatrist decided that Gein "mindfully had the possibility of listening to the lawyer and taking part in his defense." A doctor testified that he did not know whether Bernice Worden's death was deliberate or accidental. Gein told him the gun went from, murdered Worden, when he checked a pistol in Worden's shop. Gein revealed that he released a bullet after trying to fire into the weapon. He said that he had not targeted Worden's rifle, and that he didn't remember anything else that morning.

         Gein's trial was carried out without a jury at the behest of the State, presided over by Judge Robert H. Gollmar. On 14 November Gein was sentenced by Gollmar. A second case concerned the health of Gein; after testimony from doctors for the prosecution and defense, Gollmar ruled that Gein was "not guilty for insane reasons." Gein lived in a mental hospital the rest of his life. Judge Gollmar noted "Gein was convicted for one murder — Mrs. Worden's, with prohibitive costs. He agreed that Mary Hogan would also be murdered."

Gein died at the Mendota Mental Health Institute on July 26, 1984, at the age of 77, due to secondary respiratory failure due to lung cancer. Souvenir hunters chipped bits from his gravestone at the Plainfield Cemetery over the years until the stone itself was stolen in 2000. It was found near Seattle in June 2001 and placed in storage at the headquarters of the Waushara County Sheriff. The tomb itself is now unidentified, but not unknown; Gein is interred in the graveyard between his parents and brother. Ed Gein's narrative has had a lasting effect as seen in his various performances in film, music, and literature on American popular culture. In the fictionalized version portrayed by Robert Bloch in his 1959 horror book, Psycho, the story first came to widespread public notice. In comparison to Bloch's 1960 feature, Psycho, by Alfred Hitchcock.

                                            Work Cited:

         “Ed Gein.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 2 Jan. 2020, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ed_Gein.

        Inspiringquotes.us. “Top 3 Quotes of ED GEIN Famous Quotes and Sayings: Inspringquotes.us.” Inspiring Quotes, https://www.inspiringquotes.us/author/7075-ed-gein.

Jenkins, John Philip. “Ed Gein.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 23 Aug. 2019, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Ed-Gein.

[avaquet]

The: No-one asked for this but I’m doing it anyways cause I wanna

This is all from the: The Ultimate Relationship Tag meme I rbed last night.

Yes I’m about to answer all of them, and yes it’s Ev and Bull

I hope the read more works fine because this post be longggg

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?: Ev will more than likely do this cause she can get really emotional. Though she will catch herself and if she doesn’t she gets the feeling of guilt and apologizes profusely afterwards. (She never like, screams or full on yells, it’s just her voice does get louder when she’s emotional) Who threatens to leave but never actually does?: Eh, neither. Who actually keeps their word and leaves?: They’d leave the room and come back to talk after calming down, but unless its a huuuge thing (which doesn’t happen) neither will leave the relationship over an argument/disagreement/debate. Who trashes the house?: Neither. They’re not violent in disagreements. Do either of them get physical?: Hell no. The only thing physical in an argument is after the argument when they make up/get common ground and hug or some shit. How often do they argue/disagree?: Not that often, or maybe it’s more than that but the disagreement is over so quickly/civilly that they don’t count it.

Sex:

Who is on top?: Depends on their mood. Who is on the bottom?: See above. Who has the strangest desires?: Both at this point. They’re both full of fantasies and into a wide variety of kinks. I HC Bull with a dragon kink (if that’s not already canon). They’d never label their kinks as strange though. Any kinks?: It’d be easier to say the ones they don’t have. Who’s dominant in bed?: They’re both switches with a preference, and it compliments. Bull is usually the dominant one. Is head ever in the equation?: When is it not? If so, who is better at performing it?: At first, Bull since he’s had a shit-load more experience than Ev, but over time Ev is more attuned to Bull so in the later stages of the relationship they’re pretty equal. Ever had sex in public?: Yes, but not directly.  Who moans the most?: Bull definitely makes the most noise. Who leaves the most marks?: Bull. Who screams the loudest?: When Ev gets to that point, she’s usually the loudest. Who is the more experienced of the two?: Bull is by default. But like I said above, they both get more attuned to each other as they learn and as time goes on. Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?: They do both. They do tend to ‘fuck’ a lot more, though. Rough or soft?: Usually rough. How long do they usually last?: However long they need. They can be quick, or make a session last half the day. Of course long sessions like that require a lot of build up and a lot of cool down and are tougher to do, but they can and have. Is protection used?: At the beginning of their relationship, yes, but after a while they stopped using protection with each other. Does it ever get boring?: That’d be the day Thedas doesn’t need help. Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?: As of right now? On a freshly slain dragon that they both killed.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children?: Nope. But they do end up with a baby dragon. If so, how many children do your muses want/have?: N/A Who is the favorite parent?: Well, a baby dragon imprinted on Ev so I guess her. Who is the authoritative parent?: N/A Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school?: Probably Ev tbh. Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around?: Bull, I guess. (can’t keep answering N/A for all of em) Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children?: They both would. Who goes to parent teacher interviews?: Both would. Who changes the diapers?: Look, they both gotta clean up the dragon shit at least once. Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby?: Ev does cause the dragon finds her. Who spends the most time with the children?: They both love the dragon. Who packs their lunch boxes?: I guess Ev? When the dragon goes out with them she packs more like treats than anything. Who gives their children ‘the talk’?: Uh... I don’t think you teach a dragon how to fuck. Who cleans up after the kids?: Well, everyone sees the dragon more as Ev’s dragon so, she’s usually stuck with that duty. Who worries the most?: Both would at times. Especially considering dragon hunters. Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?: N/A

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?: They both enjoy it immensely. Who is the little spoon?: Ev, usually, if they can spoon at least. Bull’s horns usually get in the way. Most of the time, actually, it’s Ev spooning Bull while he lies on his back. Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?: They both have a tendency to do that, and the other usually allows it. Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?: Bull absolutely adores holding Ev/her hands, and Ev loves it just as much so... both How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?: Ev is restless, but she tries because she enjoys it. If it’s out of the blue, the max is around half an hour, if it’s after vigorous activity or sex they usually fall asleep cuddling. Who gives the most kisses?: Bull. What is their favorite non-sexual activity?: Bull loves to hold her hand or kiss her, Ev likes cuddles/hugs/sitting on his lap. Who is more likely to playfully grope the other?: Bull. How often do they get time to themselves?: This is hard to answer, but when they want to be alone they respect each other’s wishes.

Sleeping:

Who snores?: Neither, but Bull is good at pretending to be asleep by lightly snoring. (I HC he’s had to learn to be a very quiet sleeper) If both do, who snores the loudest?: N/A Do they share a bed or sleep separately?; Share. If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?: When they fall asleep, they’re cuddled. When they wake up, unless it’s a short nap, they’re far apart. Who talks in their sleep?: Ev does every once in a while. She more likely moans a lot when she sleeps, especially during intense dreams. What do they wear to bed?: Usually nothing. Sometimes Ev will be wearing panties, and if they’re spending the night someplace she’s usually in a short silk dress. Are either of your muses insomniacs?: At this time, no. Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?: No. Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?: Wrap. Who wakes up with bed hair?: Ev has long ass hair, Bull is shaven/bald. That answers itself. Who wakes up first?: Bull usually does. Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?: It’s not something that they do a lot, but once in every great while they will. What is their favorite sleeping position?: Bull doesn’t have much choice but he’s usually on his back throughout the night. Ev falls asleep on her stomach and wakes up on her back. Who hogs the sheets?: Neither really does. In fact they usually both kick off the sheets. Do they set an alarm each night?: During the Inquisition, they sorta had to. (AU) Can a television be found in their bedroom?: (AU) Yes. Who has nightmares?: Both do. But Ev gets the more intense ones (shes a dreamer so) Who has ridiculous dreams?: Both usually do. They’ve seen some shit. Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?: Ev. Who makes the bed?: Whoever is up last. What time is bedtime?: Sometime late at night when they can sleep. Any routines/rituals before bed?: If they can they usually clean themselves before bed. Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?: Definitely Ev.

Work:

Who is the busiest?: Ev as the Inquisitor is. Who rakes in the highest income?: I guess technically Ev?? She is kinda Bull’s boss so I mean?? And then Bull becomes her boss later but with her being the Inquisitor (ex) she might still get more than him. Are any of your muses unemployed?: Nope. Even after the Inquisition is disbanded, Ev joins the Chargers. Who takes the most sick days?: N/A Who is more likely to turn up late to work?: N/A Who sucks up to their boss?: They’re both each other’s boss for a period of time and they’ve both sucked each other so I mean What are their jobs?: Ev-> Inquisitor, then the main mage with the Chargers. Bull-> Leader of the Chargers Who stresses the most?: They both stress a lot, but Ev can really overstress Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?: Ev hated the Inquisitor position, grew to like it just a bit and then ya know, it disbanded. She loves her position with the Chargers. I HC Bull loves his position with the Chargers throughout the whole thing. Are your muses financially stable?: Yes.

Home:

Who does the washing?: They share chores and alternate them. Who takes out the trash?: See above. Who does the ironing?: Ev “cheats” with her magic so she’s more inclined to do it. Who does the cooking?: They alternate depending on what sounds good. Ev can’t bake very well, but Bull can. Who is more likely to burn down the house just trying?: For baking? Ev, but she can easily put out any fire. Who is messier?: If they’re both in the kitchen you can expect the biggest mess ever. Who leaves the toilet roll empty?: They both appreciate toilet paper too much to let that happen. Too many times out in the wilderness... too many times. Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?: Ev. Who forgets to flush the toilet?: Neither???? Who is the prankster around the house?: Both. Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?: Ev forgets to take shit all the time so her. Who mows the lawn?: Neither. Who answers the phone?: (AU) Whoever is by it. Who does the vacuuming?: See above. Who does the groceries?: They both do just to make store puns okay Who takes the longest to shower?: Ev because of her hair. The only reason Bull would is because Ev decides to join. Who spends the most time in the bathroom?: Ev usually is.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem?: No. How many cars do they own?: They each have a horse. Do they own their own home or do they rent?: Ev ended up owning a home. Two actually. Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside?: There’s a cottage by the coast. Do they live in the city or the country?: House in each, but they prefer the one by the shore. Do they enjoy their surroundings?: Yes. What’s their song?: I got a playlist because I can never choose just one What do they do when they’re away from each other?: Continue on I guess? When they’re apart like that though, they talk a lot/send letters. Where did they first meet?: Storm Coast dfasldfhasjkldf How did they first meet?: I n q u i s i t i o n Who spends the most money when out shopping?: Bull. Who’s more likely to flash their assets?: I’m not entirely sure what this means but if it means like flashing their body then it’s Bull. Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?: Bull does because Ev is usually fine. But since Bull has issues with his ankle, Ev’s automatic response is to worry. Any mental issues?: They both have PTSD. Ev has heavy anxiety. Who’s terrified of bugs?: Neither. Ev eats the damn things if she can, otherwise she frees them. Bull gets creeped out but he’s not scared. Who kills the spiders around the house?: If they’re not edible, Bull will squish em. Their favorite place?: The ocean/shoreline. Who pays the bills?: Ev. Do they have any fears for their future?: They worry about the other one dying prematurely a lot. Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?: Fancy isn’t their thing, but Bull surprised Ev once. Who uses up all of the hot water?: Ev. Who’s the tallest?: ...Bull Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?: They’ve both done it, but Ev does it the most. Who wanders around in their underwear?: Ev, because Bull is usually naked. Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?: Ev. But Bull would join in. What do they tease each other about?: Small things they both can laugh about. Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?: Ev cringes the most. Do they have mutual friends?: Yup. Who crushed first?: Ev, but Bull was the initiator. Any alcohol or substance related problems?: Bull drinks a lot, but he’s not a full alcoholic. Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?: Bull can hold his drink and has a large tolerance, so I guess Ev in this case? Who swears the most?: Ev, surprisingly.

[austinpanda]

Letter to Dad

13 May, 2018

Dear Dad--

I'm having an acceptable weekend! I'm pleased to report that I'm not in the middle of any crises at the moment, and things at my casa are nominal. I really like weekends when I can do nothing but a few chores and a lot of listening to audio books. Today I'm going to start a Nelson Demille audio book, one I've read before, but not in a long time, Plum Island. That's the start of a series of five "John Corey" books, including Plum Island, The Lion's Game, Night Fall, Wile Fire, The Lion, The Panther, and Radiant Angel. I hadn't even heard of those last two until I looked them up just now. 

Most of my spare time in the last week has been spent in anticipation of moving to Spokane, some 10 months (or so) in the future. A few things I've discovered: Rent is still ridiculously cheap there. And although weed is legal, a lot of jobs drug test you for it anyway. I think this is pernicious and stupid, but that's no surprise. I think it makes sense to drug test a potential employee if they're driving a school bus, or manning a missile silo, but not for most people, for most jobs. If I want to get a job writing for a local newspaper, e.g., do they really care if my biggest sins are smoking pot and reading too much Washington Post? I think not. I'm not carrying the nuclear briefcase for the President, fer chrissakes. Lighten up, you damn inconvenient puritans. 

As I've probably mentioned, the prospect of pulling up stakes and moving to a whole different corner of the country is scaring the hell out of me. Interestingly, though, by the time I get there, I'll be 50. I don't expect I'm going to feel any large "CLICK" when I turn 50, representing the sound of all my old white guy privileges snapping into place, thus giving an instant boost to my self confidence, but I'm considering pretending that that's going to happen. I think it'll just be a matter of repeating to myself, as often as needed, "I'm 50. Just shut up and do what I'm telling you, please and thank you." I'm hoping this will come across in my job interviews. You don't need to know about the last time I handled an angry interaction with a customer, interview person. Just shut up and give me the job. It'll be okay. Trust me.  ;)

Interesting: I just watched 2001: A Space Odyssey yesterday and today I find out it's the movie's 50 year anniversary. I've watched that movie A LOT. I've also read about it a lot and looked at lots of pictures of the movie while it was in production. When I watched that movie as a kid, I always wondered why the shots with the monkey people looked like they were filmed inside when the background indicated clearly that they were outside. Now that I'm a grownup, I know the answer. The monkey people looked like they were inside because they were inside a sound stage, and the backgrounds were projected onto a reflective screen behind the monkey actors. Now that I have the movie on BluRay, I can actually see the pattern they used to apply the super-reflective material to the screen the actors were standing in front of. And I know how they did all the other special effects. Lo, I am a sci-fi nerd!

Everywhere I go on the internet this morning endeavors to remind me that it's Mother's Day. I was at the grocery store early this morning, and the entryway was choked with forgetful losers who still hadn't bought the flowers or balloons or chocolates or whatever else they'd forgotten to get for their moms. Procrastinators! I smirk at you! *smirk! smirk!*

Here are some other quick updates. File this one under Stuff That Excites No One But Me--I've had one flavor of incense in the house for the past year, and I've finally ordered a variety pack from Amazon. My apartment will have more than one smell! I'm getting more and more hummingbird visits, but I've abandoned my plan to feed them on a regular schedule, because fuck that noise. I seem to prefer feeding them at my leisure, every couple of days. I've seen several excellent documentaries lately, but I can't recommend any of them because they're all depressing as hell. (As an example, one of them is about guys in Syria who rush to areas that have been bombed and dig the civilians out of the rubble. The main character dies in the end. Wheeeee!) I'm still watching the TV series Westworld, and I have to say, I think it's some of Ed Harris' best work. And he's a very talented guy anyway.

I will, of course, have more to offer next weekend. Stay safe!

[jakehglover]

Bringing Balance to Your Work Week

By Dr. Mercola

If you are an American working 50 to 60 hours a week, a study1 out of Australia may give you pause. Researchers at the Australian National University (ANU) suggest 39 hours to be the ideal work week to ensure you maintain life balance and good health. The study asserts working those who have domestic chores and caregiving responsibilities should trim their work schedules back to just 34 hours a week. The upper limit for those spending less time on domestic work was suggested as 47 hours.

According to USA Today,2 Americans spend about 47 hours a week, on average, working. Brits clock in at 37.5 hours and French employees a little less, at 35 hours a week. While it’s well known Americans work longer hours than many of our counterparts around the world, how often do you stop to consider the effects those extra hours are likely having on your health and well-being?

Long Work Hours Drain Your Mental and Physical Health

The research3 mentioned above was based on data drawn from about 8,000 adults, ages 24 to 65, as part of the Household, Income and Labor Dynamics in Australia survey. Lead researcher Huong Dinh, research fellow at ANU’s research school of population health, asserts, "Long work hours erode a person's mental and physical health, because it leaves [them] less time to eat well and look after themselves properly.” According to Dinh, reducing the number of work hours seems particularly important for women. She says:

“They spend much more time on care and domestic work. Given the extra demands placed on women, it's impossible for women to work long hours often expected by employers unless they compromise their health. Despite the fact that women, on average, are as skilled as men, women … have lower paid jobs and less autonomy than men, and they spend much more time on care[giving] and domestic work.”

Some of the study highlights published by Dinh and her team are as follows:

While longer work hours are not necessarily bad and do not have a uniformly negative impact on your mental health, there is a distinct tipping point when the hours worked do begin to affect your mental health

Due to constraints related to caregiving and domestic chores, if you are a woman, you are perceived to have a lower threshold when it comes to achieving work/health balance

Australia’s current system of work-hour regulations and expectations appears to be negatively affecting women's health in that country

To encourage men and women to equally share caregiving responsibilities, work hours would need to be reduced

Working More Than 55 Hours a Week May Negatively Affect Your Heart

Research4 conducted by the European Society of Cardiology suggests it might actually be possible to work your heart out. Based on a study of 85,500 men and women over a 10-year period, researchers observed a negative tendency with respect to the relationship between work hours and heart health.

Specifically, individuals who worked more than 55 hours a week were 40 percent more likely than those working a normal workweek (35 to 40 hours) to develop an irregular heartbeat, or atrial fibrillation (AFib). The correlation between longer work hours and increased risk of AFib remained even after scientists adjusted for risk factors such as age, alcohol use, gender, obesity and smoking. Lead researcher Mika Kivimaki, a professor in the department of epidemiology and public health at University College London, said:5

“Nine out of 10 of the atrial fibrillation cases occurred in people who were free of pre-existing or concurrent cardiovascular disease. This suggests the increased risk is likely to reflect the effect of long working hours, rather than the effect of any pre-existing or concurrent cardiovascular disease.”

The current study seems to support previous research linking long work hours to an increased risk of stroke. Kivimaki states:6 “These findings … could be one of the mechanisms that explain the previously observed increased risk of stroke among those working long hours. Atrial fibrillation is known to contribute to the development of stroke, but also other adverse health outcomes, such as heart failure and stroke-related dementia."

Another very important factor to consider with atrial fibrillation, though, is exposure to EMF, just as cell phones, Wi-Fi, portable phones and sleeping in a bedroom that has the electrical power turned on to it. The heart has a high density of voltage gated calcium channels and is highly susceptible to EMF and one of the primary symptoms are cardiac arrhythmias like atrial fibrillation.

Other Reasons You Might Want to Cut Back on Your Work Hours

Data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics7 reveal nearly 15 million Americans work full time on the evening shift, night shift, rotating shifts or other employer-arranged work schedules considered “irregular.” According to 2010 U.S. health interview data, nearly 19 percent of working adults are on the job 48 hours or more per week.

More than 7 percent logged 60 hours or more each week. The risk of heart disease and stroke are not the only reasons you might want to cut back on your work hours. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention suggest when your work overtime, you put yourself at risk for:8

Alcohol use

Higher rates of illness, injury and death

Smoking

Weight gain

Edward Hitchcock, Ph.D., supervisory research psychologist and deputy chief of the organizational science and human factors branch, National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health, stated:9 “There is currently a lot of scientific evidence showing that shift work and long hours of work are associated with significant health and safety risks. Scientists believe these risks occur due to disruptions in sleep and circadian rhythms associated with these demanding schedules and strains on social life.”

Hitchcock also noted the disruptive effects lack of sleep and inconsistent sleeping hours can have on your body. He said:10 “The human body cannot naturally adjust to sleeping during the day or at irregular hours … consequently, many shift workers do not get the seven to eight hours of good quality, restorative sleep that most of us need.” A nearly two-year-long experiment in Sweden involving nurses working six-hour days instead of traditional eight-hour days at an elder-care facility revealed several benefits of shortened work days, including:11

Being less tired and retaining more energy for home-based and free-time activities

Demonstrating better attitudes and work behavior while on the job

Getting an average of seven hours of sleep a night versus the less-than-six hours of sleep nurses working a traditional schedule achieved

Providing higher quality care to their patients

Taking fewer sick days than nurses working a longer shift

Five Tips to Help You Create a More Balanced Life

If you are in a job situation that is upsetting your work-life balance and detracting from the overall quality of your life, it may be time for a change. I believe you will find it worth your time to talk to your employer about possible options to help you reduce stress, be more productive and achieve greater job satisfaction. It’s important to remember that working longer hours does not necessarily mean you will be get more work done.

In fact, I imagine if you are routinely unhappy or stressed while on the job, you will actually be less productive and the quality of your work may suffer. Everyone wins when you feel good about the work you do, there is balance in your schedule and your stress level feels manageable.

Regardless of whether you are able to make changes related to your job, there are several areas you can address in and outside of work that will go a long way in helping you create a more balanced life. I recommend you choose at least one of these areas to begin working on today. (Over time, I believe you will be helped by addressing all five areas.) Some tips to help you create a more balanced life are as follows:

1. Create a support network: Isolation and loneliness can be a major source of stress, so it is important that you make a point to connect personally with people around you. Particularly if your work environment is filled with difficult, or even toxic, people, you’ll need to create a support network outside of your job.

Even a quick chat while you are sitting in a waiting room or standing in line at the grocery store can help you feel connected to the world around you. You might also consider attending community events, meeting friends for coffee, taking a class or volunteering.

While you may think you are connected to others through email, social media and texting, that type of connection is not the same as personal, face-to-face contact. If you are unsure of the extent to which you use technology as your interface to other human beings, keep track of how much “face time” you have during the next week. The results may surprise you.

2. Learn to say “no:” Sometimes the stress and strain on your life comes from your inability or unwillingness to set boundaries and limits. When asked to take on yet another responsibility at work, for your children or on a volunteer project, you may feel guilty for saying “no.” If you were raised to say “yes” to almost everything that comes along, particularly because this is the only way you think people will like or accept you, it’s time to rethink the powerful word “no.”

Especially if you feel you are continually busy — racing from one activity or commitment to the next, all day long — from the time you get up until you fall into bed at night, you are a prime candidate for change. Start this week to re-establish some balance in your life by saying “no” to any new request or activity you know will only serve to cause additional stress and imbalance.

3. Look inward: Because you cannot separate your physical health from your emotional well-being, it is important you take time on a regular basis to look inward. Every feeling you have affects some part of your body, so it is important to notice and address the feelings that come up in the context of your everyday circumstances and relationships.

When left unchecked, lingering negative feelings and the emotional stress that often accompanies them can wreak havoc on your health. This is true even if you are doing everything else — diet, exercise and sleep, for instance — "right." Some tools you can use to look inward and explore your emotions include:

Coloring, drawing or painting

Relaxation exercises, such as deep breathing and positive visualization

Yoga

Journaling

Meditation

Prayer

My personal favorite tool to manage emotional stress is the Emotional Freedom Techniques (EFT), which involves light tapping over the major energy meridians of your body. It is a handy tool you can use as often as you need to unload emotional baggage. EFT is quick and painless, and so easy even children can learn it.

4. Nurture yourself: If you live a hectic, fast-paced life, the idea of nurturing and caring for yourself may be a foreign concept. It is a rare person who knows how to practice self-care on an ongoing basis. Sure, you may take an annual vacation or visit a spa occasionally, but do you have a daily practice of nurturing that contributes to feelings of balance, tranquility and wholeness?

If not, it’s never too late to start thinking about ways you can practice healthy self-care. I challenge you to create a list of at least 25 things you can do to nurture yourself.

For example, you might choose to prepare one of your favorite meals, get a massage, go for a bike ride, listen to music, spend time with a friend or take an exercise class. Some of the ways I nurture myself include eating healthy food, doing peak fitness, reading a book, walking on the beach and enjoying an occasional chocolate fat bomb truffle.

I caution you from falling into the all-too-common trap of adopting habits that start out under the guise of self-care but inevitably decline into unhealthy, self-destructive practices. Some of them may include drinking alcohol, eating out frequently, indulging in junk food or sugary treats, spending hours on social media and watching TV. Reliance on these and other unhealthy coping mechanisms will only increase the stress and imbalance in your life.

5. Prioritize activities: Being frequently late or constantly feeling hurried are significant stressors, making it important for you to carefully prioritize your activities. By focusing on the aspects of your day that are truly “must do” activities, you put your energy and time where they will garner the most positive effects.

Prioritizing also helps you identify possible responsibilities and tasks that can be delegated. Furthermore, prioritizing gives you permission to temporarily set aside any task standing between you and some much-needed self-care, because you don’t really need to have a certain task done until next week.

Finally, by making lists of your important activities, you can more easily schedule them into your day and time them conveniently and efficiently. For example, one of the easiest methods to reduce your stress level related to running errands is to group them together by geography. In doing so, you can more effectively run a series of errands on a single day with a prioritized focus.

Final Thoughts About Balancing Your Work Week

Life is short. Time flies. Upon retirement, very few people, if any, say they wished they would have worked longer hours during the many years they spent on the job. In fact, it’s often the people you work alongside and the relationships you forged that make the most impact on you. That said, no matter how close or far you are to retirement, your health and well-being simply will not self-manage.

You need to take active steps every day to balance the needs and expectations of your job with your life outside work and the people in it. Even if you cannot imagine working as few as 39 hours a week, as suggested by the ANU researchers, any reduction at all will be an improvement if you currently work more than 40 hours.

Particularly if you are working upward of 50 hours a week, it will be nearly impossible to optimize your health until you find a way to cut back your work hours and rebalance your life. Start today. You won’t regret it.

from HealthyLife via Jake Glover on Inoreader https://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2018/03/01/balancing-work-week.aspx

[realjamespat]

Courtney, Cuppy, Archie & Carrie

Here is Part 1:

https://jimjax4.wordpress.com/2017/08/21/part-1-of-my-interview-with-yukon-mens-courtney-agnes-girl-power-the-tanana-alaska-way/

  We all have a story.  It doesn’t matter if we think we are exciting or not; all of us have a story.  Courtney Agnes is no different.  People probably see Courtney as a tomboy who is just like one of the guys, but she is much more than that.

Courtney is a self proclaimed “girly girl”.  “I just don’t have any fashion sense” she admits.  Courtney is a good athlete as is displayed by her talents in sports.  She is also a highly skilled artist in bead work and crafting, creating amazing clothing and jewelry.  This skill was encouraged by her grandmother Carrie who always seemed to supply her with amazing material to work with.  How about Courtney’s Native Craft’s for an online store name?  Her love for her culture and the Athabascan way of life is embedded in her heart through generations of tradition and respect for the land and what it provides.  She works at keeping that way of life alive in the future generations to come.

Jim Jax: Describe your relationship with your dad Pat and how has it changed since you were a kid?

Courtney Agnes:

I was always my dad’s baby. I even told mom and dad that they couldn’t have anymore kids because I had to be the baby forever.  From the first moment I had him wrapped around my finger.  He was the one to get up with me in the middle of the night when I cried and he would spoil me rotten.  I am now getting paybacks with my two girls and my husband, Archie.  I find that Cuppy and Carrie pull the same tricks that I used to do when I was their age with their dad and I feel like my mom did back then. Nowadays, I get really upset when my dad leaves town without telling me.  He also really relies on me to help him around the dog yard, or to even ground him in his busy life. We really enjoy doing things together, like planting his huge garden that’s almost as big as the bottom section of my house.

Courtney, Braedon & Pat

Jim Jax: What type of amenities do you have at your house.  I.E.  Television, cable, wifi/internet, running water, electricity, etc…..

Courtney Agnes:

I lived my entire life without running water until I moved out of Tanana.  About half of the homes in Tanana finally got hooked up to the water system in 2006-07. My home has cable, wifi, and electricity; all of the comfortable amenities. The only thing I miss about city life are the readily available fresh groceries. We have to plan for shopping excursions and freeze, dry, or blanch veggies and fruits to make them last.

Courtney Practicing her Guilty Look

Jim Jax: I always think about the normal every day things.  As a teen and a young woman, how hard was it to date with so few men around, and what activities as a young person did you have to do to meet people? 

Courtney Agnes:

When I was a teenager, I was kind of awkward and geeky.  I always had straight A’s and had my nose in a book (I have bad eyesight from it).  I wasn’t really interested in boys; nothing serious anyways; and I wasn’t really that popular.  That really didn’t bother me though. Living in a remote village, it’s kind of common to play sports or travel, or to date someone if you already hadn’t found someone to hang out with in your own village.  Most people are related to each other in our small rural populations, so it’s easier to date outside of your hometown. I always played basketball just to get out of work and chores, so I met new and interesting people that way.

Courtney is all smiles at a dog mushing race

Jim Jax: What is your favorite food to eat that you can only get in Alaska?

Courtney Agnes:

My family and I just got back from a vacation in Hawaii, and I have to admit the girls asked for moose meat as soon as we got home.  Luckily my best friend had moose roast in her fridge in Anchorage while we hung out there for allergy appointments to appease the girl’s cravings.  I’m pretty sure I couldn’t ever live without moose soup either.  The only other food that I couldn’t live without is Yukon King Salmon.  I’m sure it’s because I grew up eating it, but no other salmon compares. All of the people that I grew up with here in Tanana are pretty picky about the salmon that we eat, and pretty much don’t really like any other kind.

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(Above: Some of Courtney’s Jewelry)

Jim Jax: What was your scariest moment while filming Yukon men.

Courtney Agnes:

The scene when I shot the black bear was the absolute scariest moment while filming.  It was slightly raining when I was stalking the bear, and I kept hearing him but I couldn’t identify where the sound was coming from.  We were walking through a small stream, so I had to also focus on being quiet when I moved. It is pretty hard to do with rain gear and rubber boots on. Ryan (camera man) had seen him first and he was headed straight for him, although the bear had never seen us. The instant that I saw the bear, I pulled my gun up to shoot, but he walked behind a huge clump of willows so I had to wait for the shot.  I got him with one shot to the neck and he was only 20 feet from Ryan. So in short, the bear almost ate Ryan.  Although he was packing, it still could have gone way wrong if I hadn’t waited for a good shot.

(Above: Alaskan wild blueberries and kippered fish)

Jim Jax: Your husband doesn’t get to be on camera much; explain what kind of person he is. 

Courtney Agnes:

Archie is a really quiet guy and he’s often gone for his job.  He works on an oil rig up north in Alaska.  He usually works 2 weeks on and then has 2 weeks off, but he has to add 2 travel days to the days he’s gone so we basically get him 12 days per 28 days. He sacrifices so much to provide for us to live here in Tanana.  It’s a really tough work environment that he has to leave us for and we really appreciate him.  He’s an avid outdoorsman like I am, but way shyer than me. He also lives for speed.  He used to race boats in the Yukon 800 race, and now races snow machines in the Iron Dog across Alaska. Both are physically brutal races, but he races them for the physical and mental aspects of it. He’s an amazing dad to our girls, he’s very patient and kind, but he’s also a pushover when it comes to them.

Courtney’s Scarecrow look

Jim Jax: What is the thing you like most about filming Yukon Men and what is the worst thing about filming it.

Courtney Agnes:

The thing that I love most about filming Yukon Men is that I am paid for doing things that I normally do anyway on a daily basis.  I mean, we always have to get food, wood, fuel, and get ready for winter, so it’s kind of easy to just do both at the same time.  It’s kind of like killing two birds with one stone.  The hardest thing about filming is being away from the girls. I’m a pretty hands on mama.  They really have a hard time going to sitters and not being in their own familiar environment, although we do have an amazing support system here in Tanana.

Cuppy, Courtney & Carrie

Jim Jax: With the new road comes a whole new group of people coming to the area.  Do you ever worry that things will never be the same and it may get harder to survive? 

Courtney Agnes:

I really worry about what kind of people the new road will bring in.  There was a straggler in Manley Hot Springs 20 years or so ago, (which is now 50 miles away from us on the road) who shot and killed 9 people and threw them in the Tanana River.

(Courtney is talking about the famous 1984 mass murders by drifter Michael Allen Silka in Manley Hot Springs.  He was a military marksman and he shot and killed 9 people.  One was a trooper who was flying overhead in a helicopter.  After murdering a neighbor he befriended people in Tanana saying he was a mountain man.  He often camped near the one of the docks.  People were impressed with his skills and he said he wanted to make roots in Tanana.  His victims included a trooper, a pregnant woman and a 2 year old child).

My husband’s family also has land not even one mile away from the road, and we worry about encroachment from trespassers. What people don’t really understand is how resilient Tanana people are, and we will fight for our way of life.

Jim Jax: What hobby or personality trait do you have that would surprise viewers of the show. 

Courtney Agnes:

I really hate being idle, so I’m always doing one thing or another.  I really love to play basketball, I grew up playing with 6’ or taller guys who had the mentality that you had to be tough to even try to play with them.  I remember getting elbowed or punched in the face and getting told not to cry when I was like in the 10th grade.  Being pretty short (5’5”) enabled them to practically jam the ball down my throat so I had to figure out ways to shoot and score around them. When playing in tournaments in Fairbanks in later years, teammates would tell me, “I don’t know how you get in there and shoot like that”.  Sometimes a ref asked me why I hadn’t ever played college ball (I was too shy).  The only other thing I can think of is that I really am quite girly.  I love make up but I have zero fashion sense.

Jim Jax: What message do you hope to communicate about your way of life to those that enjoy the show. 

Courtney Agnes: 

When I was in high school, my late Grandmother Carrie used to always tell me to learn to live off the land.  At the time I really did not understand what she was trying to tell me, so I basically disregarded her advice.  It wasn’t until I moved back home and started to hunt, fish, and trap on my own that I learned what she meant.  She was trying to explain a simpler but rewarding lifestyle where she learned intrinsic life values from living off of the land.  This would allow me to be able to care for my family while living off the land.  It is an inherent value in keeping our traditions and culture alive that I will always appreciate.

Jim’s Jamz:

I’d like to humbly thank all of those in the Discovery Yukon Men family for their kindness and trust they have shown me in telling their stories.  Thank you to the fans of the show for their support.  I so enjoy their passion and dedication to the show.  Thousands of people have read these articles and I hope you have enjoyed reading them as much as I liked writing them.

Even with all of the amazing positive feedback I’ve also received negative responses too.  I’ve been contacted by various publications and websites speaking out against me for writing about Yukon Men.  I’m small potatoes I’m sure but there have even been petitions started to stop the show.

First off I’m not naïve.  Most reality shows are extremely faked and staged.  People always say they know that yet they act like it’s real.  Out of all of the shows though, Yukon Men is right up there with being a real as it gets.  Are some of the scenes enhanced?  Of course they are.  Ask hunters how exciting it is walking in the freezing cold for hours looking to hunt something.  They you must ask yourself how real was it for George Roberts to lose his life in a snow mobile accident?  Ask if it was real when a young pilot Seth Fairbanks died after his plane went down?  A while earlier he helped find a stranded Joey Zuray who was slowly being surrounded by water and ice.  While the most popular network shows lie to know end; (yes I’ve talked to some of the actors and behind the scenes people and you have no idea), Yukon Men tries to keep an integrity that is rarely seen anymore on television.

The struggles are real.  And while many crews on other shows stay for short times and move on, the film crews for Yukon Men have spent significant time in the area and have tried hard to win the respect of the communities.

Like I said, I’ve seen petitions to try and cancel the show in the past due to the hunting and trapping scenes.  In reality these are not trophy hunters cutting off heads or antlers of animals and leaving the meat.  These aren’t people laughing and partying after killing an animal for show so they can take selfies so strangers will increase their likes on Instagram or Twitter.  These are people who for generations have respected their surroundings and gratefully used the land to survive in one of the most difficult places in the world to live.

As long as I write about Yukon Men I will continue to send the message that the Athabascan lifestyle tries to teach.  Respect and love for your family, with an appreciation and love for what the land provides and gives you through a subsistence lifestyle.  And lastly the constant reminder to never forget the great skills and pride that has been taught to you through previous generations.  Like I said, we all have a tale to tell so let’s always respect and appreciate where we come from.  And may we always respect each other’s story.

  “Part 2 of My Interview With Yukon Men’s Courtney Agnes; Girl Power the Tanana, Alaska Way” Here is Part 1: We all have a story.  It doesn’t matter if we think we are exciting or not; all of us have a story.