#it suddenly dawned on me that i never finished posting these pics

[magravenwrites]

Finding a Fellowship: Chapter 2: Trade

Here's chapter 2 of Finding a Fellowship for you! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, but it is a bit angsty so I'm sorry in advance. Chapter 3 is almost finished so hopefully it won't be long before I post that one too, however I do have exams over the next couple of weeks so there might be a delay.

A massive thank you once again to @axe-does-writing for being my amazing beta reader - I couldn't have done this without you!

A reminder that this is my first time writing fanfiction so any feedback would be really appreciated!

Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Finding her mother gone, Killiel must piece together the puzzle to find why her mother left and where she might have travelled to. She must now deal with life on her own and she discovers she has a lot of growing up to do.

⚠️ Chapter Trigger Warnings: Child abandonment, mentions of deceased parent, erm - canon-typical hunting for food... if that counts? (Let me know if you think I have missed any)

(Thoughts are in italics)

Disclaimer: All characters and their stories belong to their respective creators apart from my own oc's and own character plot lines. Pics and gifs don't belong to me - though I did make the moodboard.

Word count: 2132

Killiel sat staring at the door from her place in the dining room, rotating her father’s rune stone in her hand. She hadn’t moved for the past four hours. Just staring at the door, as if she could will her mother to appear through it. She hadn’t left the house all day and night, fearing that she would not be there should her mother come back. It was now the following morning, the dawn light streaming through the window.

She still had not returned.

She was left to wonder what had caused her mother to vanish so suddenly.

‘Was she in trouble? What if she is in danger, does she need help? She might be hurt! What if someone found out who I am? Am I in danger? Did she leave to keep me safe? Was it because of the old feud she had mentioned?’

Thoughts and questions kept swirling around in her head with no end in sight.

Killiel had already scoured the house looking for a note or a clue as to where her mother might have gone. But she had come up empty handed. All that was left was the rune stone.

Now that was a puzzle piece.

She never went anywhere without it, so why leave it behind? Perhaps it was to tell her she had left, and she would come back? Perhaps it was just a parting gift? Perhaps she had simply forgotten it, though that seemed unlikely.

Then another thought crept in.

‘What if she has gone to the undying lands?’

'She had said she wanted to meet my father again, and she was so depressed lately.'

But Killiel hadn’t thought she would go yet, not for some years at least.

Killiel quickly dismissed the idea, stopping the tears before they could fall from her eyes.

She wouldn’t just leave her 14 year old daughter to fend for herself would she? Not for long anyway. She will come back once the danger has passed.

Wherever her mother has gone, she had a lot of growing up to do if she was to fend for herself.

Her gaze moved to the cold rune stone in her hand. She intended to keep it safe. It was the only thing she had of her father’s, and she wouldn’t let it go now she had it.

Taking a deep breath in the hope of calming her racing heart, Killiel stands up from the chair. She put the rune stone in her pocket as she stretched, her joints popping in protest at the sudden movement.

She had been awake all night. She was exhausted. With a final glance at the door she moved to the stairs to get a few hours rest.

Perhaps she could venture out and see if she can find her mother about the town, she had only been gone a day. But first, she desperately needed some sleep.

 

----Time Skip----

 

Two more days passed, and her mother still hadn’t returned. The thought that she might not be coming back kept making itself known in her head, accompanied by a jolt of her heart. She pushed it to the back of her mind.

‘Don’t be silly, of course she’s coming back’ she keeps telling herself.

Killiel still hadn’t worked up the nerve to leave the house. The thought that her mother might come back while she was gone overriding her need to go out and look for her.

However, fate had a different plan today when she opened the pantry door only to realise she had no food left. She would need to go hunt for something.

Her mother rarely ever ate the meat, she mainly ate fresh vegetables and salads. Killiel had found that, despite her love of animals, she needed to eat meat, she guessed it was her dwarvish side shining through.

She always felt guilty when she made the kills, but food was food and she needed to eat. She always said a prayer of thanks and used all of the animal, such as using the bones for arrowheads or for flavour in stock, so there wasn’t any waste.

Going over to the cupboard that stored her bow inside, she reached to grab it. A cold rush came over her as she spots her mother’s bow sitting beside her own. Her mother’s sword was also still propped up in the corner.

She hadn’t thought to look to see if her mother’s weapons were missing. Now that she knew they weren’t, the idea that she was in danger became less of a possibility. She wouldn’t leave without having a way of defending herself.

The accompanying notion that her mother had left for the sea became more likely. Her chin started quivering as she tried to suppress the tears welling in her eyes.

‘She couldn’t have abandoned me. She has to take care of me. I’m just a child. I have so many questions unanswered, it isn’t fair! She couldn’t just leave. Did she not love me enough to come back, to not stay and look after me? Did I do something to push her away? –'

‘-No.’ A second voice sounded above her panicked ramblings. It was firm, cutting through to her. She wasn't exactly sure where it came from, but she was glad it was there. Panicking would get her nowhere. She had to be strong. Just like the voice.

Angrily swiping at the tears that had fallen, she banished the dark thoughts. There was probably a perfectly good explanation as to why her mother didn’t take her weapons. But as she continued to look at them, the doubts started creeping back in. Tears threatening to spill once more.

‘No.’

Snatching her own bow and arrows, she slams the door shut on the weapons.

Sniffing, she turned to walk out of the back door. She shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind. If she didn’t think about it, it couldn’t worry her.

Upon leaving the house, the cool air refreshed her warm face. She decided to stay closer to the village than she would normally venture with her mother. Not feeling as safe deep in the woods on her own.

She managed to shoot a rabbit, making it a quick, clean kill. She went over to it, removing the arrow and picking it up.

She startled when someone suddenly comes out of the bushes watching her. Not many people knew about her existence, other than a few village children.

“You’ve done well to hit a rabbit. They’re easily startled creatures. I’m impressed. Even more so with such a clean kill, and at such a young age.” He compliments.

Killiel just continued to stare at the man, feeling too much like the startled rabbit he was referring to, to reply.

“You could make a pretty penny at the market for good-quality game like that. Especially if you make it a regular thing.” He says, smiling gently.

Shuffling on her feet, she glances down at the rabbit where she had dropped it in her shock, before looking back at him. He seemed like a kindly man. Fair hair, blue eyes, and a gentle smile. But looks could be deceiving. Plus, he seemed to appear from nowhere. Killiel was normally so keen of hearing.

Staying silent seemed like the best option. It was awkward, but she just couldn’t seem to make herself speak. She thanked the Valar that she had her hair still tied over her ears.

“You should be careful not to get too close to the farm on the other side of the woods in future, they might think you are poaching their stock.” He warns, after her continued silence.

Giving a short nod, she picks up the rabbit, quickly leaving to go home, ignoring him.

On her way back, she realised the man probably thought she was homeless and in need of money if her appearance was anything to go by. Messy hair, dirty clothes, tired eyes from staying up as late as possible in the hopes her mother would come back. She needed a bath.

Arriving back home, the realisation she would have to prep the rabbit herself washed over her. Killiel had seen her mother do it countless times before, she knew how to do it. It’s just she had never done it herself before. Normally, she was the one to prepare the vegetables instead.

Putting the bow away, she made sure to avoid looking at her mother’s weapons. Looking to see what veg she had left in the meagre pantry, she stalled dealing with the rabbit. She didn’t know why they even called it a pantry, there was never enough food in it to qualify as one. With just the two of them in the house, they didn’t need that much food. She finds only two carrots left in the basket, hardly enough to make a stew.

‘When had mother last gone to the market?!’

Killiel would have to go and buy some supplies from the market herself. There would be nothing in the vegetable patch with it being too cold to grow anything. To buy some, she would need money.

‘Where did mother keep the money? Had she taken it with her?’

She tried looking in a few draws and in her mother’s room, trying to find a pouch or a box that could contain a few coins. She came up empty handed. She would have to go back out and hunt for something else to trade.

Sighing, she grabbed her hunting gear once more.

Irrationally, she decided to hide the rabbit out of view in case someone came to steal it. She did not want to go out to hunt a third time.

 

----Time Skip----

 

This time she managed to bag a pheasant.

Killiel stood in the market, the sights and smells overwhelmed her heightened senses. She wasn’t really used to all the hustle and bustle or being around so many tall people.

She understood the basics of trading. She wasn’t stupid. But when she got there, all her confidence left her, and she had no idea where to start.

How much money would the pheasant bring? How would she know she’s not being ripped off? Which vendor should she approach to sell it or trade it at? There were so many!

Killiel found the man who appeared in the woods at his own stall. She stood awkwardly off to the side, not really wanting to approach the man. The decision is made for her when he turns and spots her. He waves her over with a wide smile.

“Are you wanting to sell something or are you just browsing?” he asks, as she approaches.

She pulls out the pheasant from her bag.

“I want to sell this.” She told him.

“Ah! She speaks!” He exclaimed with a grin.

She gave him a small smile in return, he seemed nice enough.

“I can sell it for you if you wish. I won’t take a cut for myself; you’ll get all your money.”

“What do you mean by cut?” She challenged, not understanding why she wouldn’t get all her money. It was her pheasant.

“If someone else sells your things for you, they take a percentage of the money - a cut. They may try taking advantage of your youth; they’ll trick you to make more money for themselves rather than giving you what you're owed. I won’t do that.” He explained.

“How do I know you won't do the same? Or not give me all my money?” Trading was way more complicated than she’d hoped. She just wanted to sell the pheasant, was that so hard?

“I have set prices for my stock; I only accept bartering if the stock is damaged.”

Killiel remained quiet. It still didn’t explain how she would know if he would cheat her or not.

“I have children of my own…” He explained when he saw the hesitation on her face.

“… I wouldn’t want to see another one starve because of my greed.”

He seemed serious. The fact Killiel still looked a mess probably helped make it look like she needed all the money she could get.

Between them, they settle on what Killiel thought was a fair price. It was more expensive than some stock the man already had due to its good quality. She agreed to come back later to collect her earnings.

If he were cheating her of money, at least she would still get a decent amount out of it.

When Killiel returned an hour later, she found he had sold it quickly. He handed over the money, and she bought some vegetables for the stew. She even had a few coins spare to take home.

Now all she had to do was tackle the rabbit.

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[kyidyl]

Not Deer

(This was inspired by that post that was circulating about the Not Deer in Appalachia and the town that I currently live in.  @leftturnat4thandbananas​ I especially thought you would enjoy this little bit of quarantine-induced madness.  You’ll probably recognize some of the things I’m describing.)

“Alexa, stop!,” Macey yelled at the black cylinder sitting on her night stand.  The alarm shut off, and I started packing up my stuff.  I caught her frown as she watched me.  

“What?,” I asked, “It’s almost curfew.  You know how my mom is about curfew.”  

“It’s snowing outside, and it’s dark,” she swung around so she was sitting on the edge of her bed and flipped her long, dark braid back over her shoulder.  

I finished packing my homework into my backpack and stood, “It’s always dark and cold when I go home in the winter.  I’ll be fine.” 

Both the argument and the concern in her brown eyes was familiar.  She was definitely the mom friend in our group, “It’s not always snowing.  People aren’t careful in the snow.”  

“They’re never careful on that road,” we both lived along a back road that wound through farms and woods.  It had a lot of curves, hills, and blind spots - and no sidewalk.  But it was the only way to get home, so it’s the way I went.  She stood up too, following me as I left her room and started down the steps.  

“You can stay the night, you know.  My mom won’t mind.”  

“I know, Mace, but I will.  You know I don’t like getting ready for school here.  All my stuff is at home.  I’ve either got to get up at the ass crack of dawn,” which never happened because we always stayed up late talking, “Or do a walk of shame.”  

I let my backpack down in the hallway with a thunk, and retrieved my coat from their closet.  I’d brought gloves, a scarf, and a hat, too even though I normally don’t.  I was glad I’d grabbed them.  She stood on the bottom step, chewing her bottom lip.  Her parents were out to dinner, so she couldn’t bug her dad to drive me, but I know she would have if they’d been here.  She tried one more tactic to get me to give up on my walk home, “What about your mom? Can she come get you?” 

I shook my head, “Dad has the car.  Listen, I’ve walked home in the snow before.  It’ll be totally fine.”  

She sighed and dropped her arms, “This is what you were talking about earlier, isn’t it.  The worrying.”  

“Yeah, but it’s ok.  I get why you do it,” I gave her a quick hug and hefted my backpack onto my shoulders, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”  

“Text me when you get home?”

“Of course! Later!”

“Later, Apple,” I smiled at her nickname for me and left.  After I closed the door behind me, I heard the lock click into place.  Her parents’ rules: if you’re home alone, you lock the door.  I shifted the weight of my books on my back, and looked around.  

Macey lived on a small farm, and so she had a long driveway between her house and the road.  I started walking, and the sand and rocks of the unpaved drive crunched under the soles of my shit-kickers.  Macey’s dad had salted the drive before they’d left, and the stones glimmered wetly in the moonlight.  It turned out that the snowing had stopped while we’d been hanging out, and the clouds had gone.  The ground was blanketed in a couple of inches of unblemished white.  Just enough to cover the grass, but not enough to get school canceled.  

The moon was out, bright and full, and it illuminated the flat, white expanse of the land that stretched out on either side.  The air smelled like ice and cold, like icicles and sleeping forest.  There was only a little wind, and it blew up swirls of loosely packed snowflakes from the ground.  Everything had that cushioned silence that follows a new snowfall.  

It took a few minutes for me to reach the actual road, and unlike the Romero family’s driveway, it hadn’t been touched by salt, sand, or plow.  Typical.  It probably would be covered until tomorrow morning.  Our little town wasn’t exactly proactive about things like that.  They preferred to suffer, I guess.  I gave an annoyed snort to the empty night,  

I was careful as I turned left onto the empty road, watching for the glow of headlights to give me some forewarning of a car.  None came, and I kept walking.  

Soon, the flat land of the farms gave way to the woods.  Houses, none of them of the new construction that made up the subdivisions further up the road, were set back from the road or behind a screen of trees.  This road had hills, and further along it the side of the road would give way to steep ditches and gullies.  Our here, there were plenty of animals.  My parents have hit deer especially a number of times; my dad even bought these weird things for his hood that are supposed to whistle and chase the deer away.  

As the landscape transitioned into woods, there was an old, broken barn.  Not even a barn, really, more like a two sheds stuck together.  Half of it was beaten, lilting boards and a slice for a door.  The other half was a rusting tin can of a structure, the metal walls little more than rust and the vines that held it together, and a set of open doors that led into gloom.  A barely-there metal roof was slanted over the rested half and pitched over the wooden half, and it was only slightly less rusted than the shed itself.  A useless decaying horse gate was off to the side, slanting drunkenly to the right, and a path into the woods was behind it.  

(picture to break up the wall o text.)

I hated that barn.  

It creeped me out.  The hairs on the back of my neck rose every time I got close.  Even as a little kid I hadn’t been curious enough to overcome that particular fear, and it hadn’t gotten better over the years.  Every time I walked home I crossed the street to avoid walking too closed to it and sprinted passed it.  But tonight, the snow and slickness made it dangerous for me to do either of those things.  My heart rate ticked up and I took my hands out of my pocket.  When it came to fight or flight, I was very much in the fight category.  It seemed like the wind blew a little harder, and suddenly I thought I could hear all kinds of noises that I hadn’t heard before.  

The cracking of a stick somewhere in the woods, almost like a gunshot in the dark.  

The fump has a pile of snow was pushed off of a branch somewhere.  

The flap and tumble of some unlucky bird.  

A barking dog menacing me from one of the homes nearby.  

These sounds were normal, but as I was walking in front of the sad, lonely little structure, they all seemed sinister.  They were living things, pulsing in the darkness when I wanted to be alone.  The sounds of my steps in the snow answered.  Shit kickers aren’t stealthy.  

I walked past that structure as fast as I could, the fear tightening my shoulders more with every step.  I clenched my teeth and my fists, and walked.  The stillness was oppressive now, where moments before it had been soothing.  Fear makes you see things in shadows.  

Which is why, when the winter-bared bones of the bush in front of the shed clacked and scraped together in a gust of wind, I screamed and ran.  Damn the snow, damn fight or flight, I was not looking to fight some supernatural entity tonight.  

Apparently, though, the laws of physics still applied to me.  I ran, but I didn’t get very far before I tripped have a big branch on the side of the road.  My feet slipped in the snow, and I went down face-first onto my hands and knees.  

In case you have ever wondered: snow does very little to cushion a fall onto rocks and rough pavement.  It only makes your clothes wet on top of giving you road rash.  And that ish hurts.  

“Great, Alisha, juuuust great.  Skinning your damned knees like a five year old because of some wind,” I grumbled aloud to myself as I stood and started brushing debris off the now-wet knees of my jeans.  I checked under my gloves, and while my hands stung, the gloves had saved me from the words of the skinning.  In fact, the worst was the throbbing on the back of my head where my backpack had slid up my back and smacked my head.  Well, that and the knowledge that whatever goblin lived in that shed was probably having a laugh at my expense.  

The fall did do one good thing, though.  It broke through the worst of my fear, and I laughed to myself as the adrenaline started wearing off.  I started down the road again, stomping in protest, my cold hands jammed back in my pockets.  

From here, the road got darker as the trees reached overhead.  Even in the winter they blocked most of the light from the moon, and out here in the country they didn’t bother with street lights.  The embankments on the side of the road rose and forced me to walk directly on the road instead of off to the side.  This was the most dangerous part, because this was also where the tight curves started.  I felt my adrenaline spike again, but this time there was nothing supernatural about it; I was alert for headlights bouncing off of the tree branches.  

As I walked, I listened to the world around me, my caution making my senses stretch further.  I heard the same things as before: the cracking of sticks in the forest as some creature shuffled around them, the huffing of a dog that probably just wanted to play, the whispered hush of snow rearranging itself in the trees, and the occasional noise of some small creatures settling in for the night.  They were the same noises I always heard around here at this time of year, familiar as the nose on my face.  It’s funny how the mind plays tricks.  

I found a good walking speed that wasn’t so fast it was dangerous, but wasn’t so slow that I’d be frozen before I got home, and the time passed quickly.  Before I knew it, I was almost at the little bridge before the turn off for my house.  Really, bridge was a generous word for the small overpass that took the road over the little creek.  It was just a flat stretch of road with a thin shoulder and a low concrete guardrail.  On the other side, the road curved out of view.  

(another pic to break up the wall o text.  Both images are screenshots of Google street view edited in PS.)

Here, the trees pulled back some and the moon was able to shine clearly on the flat surface of the bridge.  There, standing in the middle of the road, was a huge buck.  I’ve seen a lot of deer living out in the stix, but this was easily the biggest one I’d ever seen.  I’m 5′2, and this thing looked like its shoulder would be somewhere around my head.  I didn’t even know they could get that big.  The moon painted its orange-brown coat with silver, and threw the shadows created by its twisting antlers into sharp relief.  They were as big as him - thick and heavy, and wickedly sharp.  I couldn’t count the points from here, but it had to be at least twelve.  

Wait...antlers? It was February.  My dad liked to hunt, and even though I’d never gotten into he, he’d taught me a few things about deer.  One of those things was that the bucks dropped their antlers earlier than this, and it was a good time to go hunting for the shed racks in the woods.  This deer shouldn’t have any antlers this late in the season.  

I stopped in my tracks, and as I did, it whipped its head around to look at me.  There moonlight was a sharp little blade in the dark eyes of this thing as it stared at me from the other side of the river.  It stared, and stared, and as it did, the same fear grabbed hold of my guts and scratched its way across the nerves of my skin.  My heart was pounding, my muscles clamped tight.  This was nothing like the fear I’d felt while passing the shed.  It seemed like a cozy little refuge, now, as I started down this deer.  

I couldn’t understand why I felt this way - it had done nothing but be big and not shed its antlers yet.  That logic didn’t matter.  I wasn’t getting a single step closer to that thing.  I ground my teeth as I stared at it.  I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.  Right now, my actions were being guided by a part of my brain that kept my ancestors alive.  

Predator, it screamed, that is a predator!

It made no sense.  It was a deer.  Sure, they’d eat meat sometimes if it was around.  They looked at gut piles like they were treats this time of year, but they didn’t kill and eat humans.  That was another thing my instincts were saying - hungry.  This thing was hungry.  I still couldn’t say why or how I knew any of this, but I knew it down to the red marrow of my bones.  

It was strange - the longer I stared down that deer, the more of a tug I felt to keep walking.  To cross the river.  But the terror was useful; it kept me from following that impulse.  The deer huffed, and its breath didn’t fog in the cold.  My brain filed that detail away automatically with the height and the antlers.  The animal sounded frustrated, although it shouldn’t have been possible for me to identify that emotion so clearly.  

Then it started pacing.  I watched in fascination horror as it moved with an awkward, stuttering gate.  It didn’t seem to know how to place its hooves, and it swayed back and forth, all while not taking its too-intelligent eyes off of its prey.  It didn’t know how to move properly, and I remembered that my dad had told me of an illness.  Chronic Wasting Disease - mad cow for deer.  He told me how to spot one, and to steer clear of it.  He told me it was neurological; that it made it hard for them to move.  

But this wasn’t that.  No, this deer moved like it was something else wearing the skin of a deer.  Like it was new to that body and didn’t know how to use it.  Its fumbling reminded me of the way a toddler moved - wobbling and unsure of what its muscles should do, but enthusiastic about being up and walking instead of crawling.  It was like that, but with far less innocence and far more jerks and twitches in its movement. It almost looked like it was adjusting its deer suit as it paced on its side of the river.  

It huffed again and then growled.  Not like a tiger or a dog would growl, more like a cat growling if that cat had the vocal cords of a high-pitched cow. I screamed in surprise and covered my ears at the sound.  

Come.  Here.  I could feel its anger and frustration pressing in on me, looking for purchase, looking for a crack in my terror.  

There was none.  It was all-encompassing.  It was terror of the sort that fueled strength.  Terror that sharpened your mind, that made time slow so you could think faster and survive.  It was the same kind of terror that had saved the earliest of my kind on the savannahs in Africa.  It was terror that whispered to me with a small, comforting voice, do not cross the moving water.  

Of course - it hadn’t even attempted to cross the stream, pacing back and forth over where the edge of the stream was rather than where the edge of the bridge was.  It couldn’t cross the moving water.  

As soon as I had the thought the creature’s growling was honed into a scream.  It stood on two legs, making it tower over me.  It was trying to be more threatening, but I knew now.  I knew as long as I stayed over here I was ok.  

“No,” I said, my voice stead and calm.  I wasn’t loud, but my voice carried in the snowy stillness and into the moon-bright night, “I won’t cross.  You can’t have me.”  

It screamed at me again, eyes narrowing in an almost human expression of incredulity.  Inside my clothes, my skin was hot from the anger coming from the not-deer, sweat trickling down my spine, but I planted my boots and fisted my hands and would not move.  I could taste ice on my tongue, and I took a deep breath through my mouth, letting the cold soothe me.  

Then, there was a sound.  High pitched and clear, it came from somewhere in the woods or fields around us.  It was sweet, and some of the heat of the not-deer’s anger seeped away from my skin.  Its had flung around awkwardly towards the sound and it went back on all fours with a loud thud.  It snorted and pawed the ground, but it hesitated.  Then, the call came again, louder this time.  With a final, angry look at me, it took off into the forest away from me and the road home.  

I stood there on that road waiting, too afraid to cross, until I was sure that I couldn’t hear it crashing through the bushes anymore.  Then I took off like a shot, snow be damned.  I ran across the creek, my feet sliding as I took a sharp right onto the road that led to my house, down that road and up to my house.  I ran straight in the front door, locked it behind me, and pounded up the steps to my room.  

I texted Macey when I got my backpack off, but I knew it was going to be a long, sleepless night.  

[its-the-love-shot-exo-writer]

Kim Kai Fluff

@theloveinkimkai 😏😳😈😎 enjoy ❤❤❤

There was something wrong with your eyesight that was your first thought when you saw the blurry blown up stalker pic of the man you were currently dating.

It was so absurd at first you didn't even recognize the place or the person in the picture. We never really get a far away look at our life unless someone deliberately tries to encapsulate moments in the form of photographs and those are taken consensually.

This was not consensual. This was a rude, crude, and an undoubtedly cruel breach of someone's privacy and you couldn't believe people could be capable of such injustice and harm living in what we call civilized society.

The worst part was that you started to think about the girl in the picture next to her celebrity date and after a while it dawned on you who it was and why she looked so damn familiar.

And no matter how hard you tried for the next fifteen minutes to try and erase that information from your brain, you couldn't do it because holy gods in heaven that was you. In the picture. In the midst of a secluded street you were absent mindedly sharing an ice cream with… none other than Kim Kai, the person you were on a date with the previous night.

How could they have gotten these pictures up on that stupid website so fast? When you still have a hangover from all the wine you drank the previous night?

Let's face it, this wasn't your first time on the site. You went there occasionally to keep up with the life of your favorite people and though it frequently bothered you to see these stalker pics, you had to admit that you were guilty of seeing them too quite a few times. Something that you were about to swear off of now because before today it had never quite hit you how terrible it was to distribute those pictures and the accompanying vicious articles. Karma was a rotten bitch.

It was the first time that happened to you and it dawned on you just how inappropriate and screwed up it was to invade people's private lives for a few hits to your site. The people who did it didn't think twice clearly but you were miserable.

You don't even know why you continue to read the post below those pics.

And maybe you're a glutton for punishment because why else would you do that to yourself? Reading the contents of the ridiculous, inciting viewpoint of the author that basically makes you sound like another one of Kai's conquests.

Kai isn't exactly a virgin and that's why you like him. He doesn't have all these pretenses. With Jongin you get what you see and even though last night you were certain you meant something to him now you weren't so sure.

Because suddenly you were being called words that weren't suited for an intelligent conversation. They were calling you a whore and you didn't know what to do. Should you just ignore and pretend nothing was wrong?

Just then you get a phone call from a number you don't recognize. Thinking it might be Kai, he checks in with you frequently even when he's in locations where there's no reception on his phone so naturally you pick it up. “I know you're his current slut,” a woman's voice said. “But he's had way better. What was Kai doing going out with someone like you?”

Before you can even get a word in, the woman speaks again. “My friend used to go out with him you know,” she began. “And she's a popular idol, beyond beautiful, and still got dumped when he was done with her. That's what he does. He doesn't care about you. That innocent idol appearance is all an act. You're not seriously buying it you're not that naive are you?”

The woman continued to speak and say vile things and you don't know why you couldn't just hang up. Because there's a part of you, that insecure, negativity ridden part that says she might be right. “He could go out with anyone in the world and he chooses you? Stop kidding yourself, Y/N.”

Saying your name out loud was the last thing you expected from her but there she was doing exactly that.

“You must be wondering how I know your name,” she said. “I have contacts in the industry. If you go out with someone like Kai expect your personal details to be outed. For your worst mistakes, the ones you've forgotten about, will come out as well. I suggest you take some time to think and then make a decision. There are going to be endless sacrifices for an outsider like you. This community has never been patient.” Saying that she hangs up.

You're left standing in the middle of your living room with no idea what your next move should be. All you want is to talk it out with Jongin but he's in rehearsal and you don't want to disturb him. That's not the kind of person you are. So you decide to spend the rest of your day organizing your kitchen.

But soon you start getting attacked by more phone calls and this time some of them leave you mean texts. And the subject of every single comment is the same: leave our oppa alone. Leave our idol alone. You even get one from a reporter asking you to give a statement and offering you a load of money in exchange for a juicy story.

All this keeps piling up until you feel like there's no more space in your head for any more and you feel a little heavy in your chest and on the verge of throwing your phone out the window. You have somehow managed to stay away from the stalker pic site and at least that's something you tell yourself. You can do this. It won't last forever. But no matter how much you tell yourself you can live through this those texts keep coming and they keep getting angier.

When the doorbell suddenly rings you almost jump. And when you've settled down a bit you answer the door and the sight of the man standing in front of you makes all those emotions you were holding in, burst.

And you're suddenly a crying mess like you've never been before and you feel Jongin’s arms around you tighten and his worried voice is the same soothing and kind as always. “Are you OK, babe?”

And suddenly it dawned on you that you are standing in the foyer.

At least you can finally stop crying now.

Kai closes the door and locks it and you notice the shopping bag in his hand that he places on the breakfast bar. The second his hand is free he comes back to you and hugs you again even harder this time.

In all your confusion and anger his arms give you the strength you need to finally broach the subject with him. But before you can speak he pulls you away gently so he can look at you and gaze right into your eyes. “They said terrible things about you, didn't they?” Jongin says.

You don't want to cry again so instead you try to say something positive. “It's not that bad” why would you even say something like that? When you feel like a mess inside?

Kai looks at you and knows you're lying. “Do you know how many times I've been called ugly on some post or comment? I've been called everything from stupid to untalented. For one art is subjective. Even the art god made in the form of us. You know how they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder? It's a fact. Ugly people see ugly things because it's nothing but their own repulsiveness being reflected. That's why you can't take a person's views about any of these things seriously.”

You try to smile but it's not easy.

“OK, tell me precisely what it is that's bothering you?” Jongin wants to know.

You hate it but you also know that you have to get this off your chest or it will bug you forever. “I'm not the only girl you've dated,” you finally let it out. “It doesn't bother me but I can't help but think maybe what I feel for you is way more than what you feel for me.”

“That's not true, Y/N. Yes, I've had plenty of experiences and that's why I'm able to know the difference between real and temporary. Between lust and love. And what I feel for you isn't just lust. I've known you for months now and every day I feel like I want you even more,” Jongin pauses and kisses you gently. “I love you, Y/N.”

Suddenly you feel flustered. “Why are you saying that? If it's because I'm upset--”

“Do I sound like the kind of person who has to resort to saying that to get what I want?”

Of course not.

You don't know why you even said such a thing. But then you realize just what he's done. Kim Jongin just confessed to you that he loves you. And he's not done, because out of nowhere Jongin’s lips press against yours, gently, and you feel that rush you always feel when he gets that way.

There's no one else in the world who can make you feel that way.

When he finally breaks off he stares at you. “Isn't there something that you'd like to confess?”

You bite your lip.

There's only so many seconds a man like Kim Kai can wait patiently for your response. So his impatience makes you forget about everything that was bothering you and all you can do is grin. “I don't think so,” you say playfully knowing full well it's going to bug him.

“You know what,” Jongin says. “I wasn't going to play the Baskin Robbins card but you're forcing my hand. If I don't get a reply to my artistic confession then I will have all the ice cream and eat all the take-out.”

So that's what the fragrance was. Delicious, delicious, food.

“You can't possibly finish all of that before I steal your dumplings,” you retort.

Suddenly Jongin can't stop laughing.

If he was gorgeous before his laughter basically devastates you in every way. Whatever seriousness you were currently holding on to is gone the second you see him laughing like that. Innocent. Beautiful. All heart. Mine.

“You can steal all the dumplings you want after I get my confession!” Kai groans.

This time it's you who's laughing.

You're still smirking when Jongin grabs you by the shoulders and jokingly pushes you on the bed. When he's on top of you he kisses you again.

“Not fair,” you say without much conviction and he knows he's won.

“Say it,” Jongin says. “Or you'll get to spend the rest of the night right under me and I can't promise what might happen.”

You realize that for once in your life you feel happy. This man makes you feel like you are wanted. He makes you feel everything you craved to feel. Desire. Warmth. Comfort. Loyalty. And now…love.

Which is why what you say next comes so naturally you don't even know how it happened.

“I love you, Kai.”

Why do you feel so emotional right now? You don't want to cry so you try to smile.

Before you know it, Kai kisses you again. “You can have the dumplings but I need the sugar.”

You jokingly try to push him away but you can't stop laughing. “Could you be more corny, Kai?”

“I could be if I tried,” Jongin says. “But I have to warn you. My superior corny might not be something you can handle.”

“Two can play that game,” you say responding to yet another kiss.

Kai goes silent and looks at you. “I meant what I said before. I love you, Y/N. I really really love you.”

You bring him closer. “I love you too, Kai.”

[starsandsupernovae]

Some kind of a dream part I

aka Jay had a dream and I had to write it. based on this post by @smarterest Summary: Tony didn’t mean to like that three month old shirtless picture of that blonde artist.....but maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing

Tony yawned as he swiped further down Instagram. He knew he should go to sleep, it wasn’t that he wasn’t tired, because god knows he was barely thinking straight, but he wasn’t sleepy. So here he lay, in bed but unwilling to put the phone down and be alone with his thoughts. He was looking through random pictures, just idly scrolling before he suddenly saw something that made him scroll right back up. It was an art post, something ridiculously american and patriotic, a bald eagle with an american flag and for some reason he couldn’t quite discern; perhaps the vibrant colors, possibly the attention to detail, the light and shadows, it just caught his attention and wouldn’t let go. He tapped the username above it justanartistfrombrooklyn, and began looking through the other artwork posted, getting lost in the sharp shapes and smooth colors until one post made him stop and really stare.

It was a picture of the artist presumably, looking like he had just finished working out, sweat gleaming on clearly defined muscles. His blond hair was all messy and he looked flustered, cheeks red under bright blue eyes. Oh and he was shirtless. Very very shirtless. Tony let his eyes trace over tight abs and biceps that looked like they could pick Tony himself up no problem. He stared at this picture for a while, smirking slightly at the caption: “It’s not about perfect, it’s about effort.”

Easy to say when you looked perfect. Which this guy definitely did.

He was still staring as Jarvis jumped up on his bed looking for attention. In his quest for recognition, the most important thing in the cat’s world at that moment, he ran up to Tony, pushing on his arm, pressing his finger against the screen and making Tony turn to him and laugh a little at his offended expression.

“Hey, Jarvis.”

Jarvis meowed in reply, as though reprimanding Tony for being awake at the late hour.

“You’re up too, you can’t judge me.”

Jarvis merely looked back at him unimpressed, and Tony waved him away.

“Go look for some mice or infiltrate the NSA or whatever it is you do when I’m not watching.”

Shooting him one final look, Jarvis stalked to the bottom of the bed, leaving Tony to look back at his phone, and see what he had pressed. Which was the like button. On a post which was, according to the time stamp, posted almost three full months ago.

A million thoughts flew through Tony’s head, all of them panicked and none of them full or even somewhat logical. Before he knew what he was doing he smashed his finger into the messaging button, typing out a quick message

manofiron-It’s not what you think

He wanted to type more, try to explain what had happened, but instead dropped the phone on the floor next to the bed. Which left him two choices. Expend the energy to get up, out of bed, and retrieve the phone, or he could remain in bed, pass out, and just leave the strange justanartistfrombrooklyn with nothing but a like on his shirtless picture from three months ago and a vague message. When he thought through it in his mind the choice was obvious.

It was late morning when Steve actually checked his phone. He had woken up late, a major lapse for him, and in between his run, grabbing a quick breakfast, and rushing to teach his art classes he had never managed to actually check anything but his texts.

“Hey Steve.” The science teacher came over to where he was sitting in the teachers room.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve didn’t even look up as he sat next to him.

“What’re you looking at?”

“Instagram.” he replied, brow furrowing a bit. “Some guy messaged me.”

“About your art?”Bucky leaned over to view the screen for himself. “It’s not what you think” he read out slowly before looking up questioningly.

“Well he liked my post.”

“So he didn’t mean to? He messaged you to tell you he didn’t like your art?” Bucky looked ready to attack.

“I’m not sure. It was three months old. And it wasn’t my art.” Steve held his phone to show Bucky the screen.

“Well can’t really blame him for liking that.” Bucky laughed a little. “That was a good picture.”

“Yeah but it’s three months old. Do you know how much I’ve posted since then? Besides, the message?”

“Well who is this guy?”

Steve pressed on the username, reading the bio before moving down to the pictures below.

Man of Iron

Tony II Engineer II New York

I build shit and I have the money to pay for it.

The pictures beneath were actually quite captivating. It was an odd blend of sparks on metal, alcohol, and what seemed to be party scenes, very dark, very

“Aesthetic.” Steve remarked, scrolling down.

“I thought you didn’t like ‘Aesthetic’ accounts.” Bucky remarked as Steve pressed follow.

“I don’t. Generally. But I’m curious. And it’s not that bad, I kinda like it overall.”

“So are you going to message him back?”

Steve paused, looking at a picture of a glass of whiskey on a wooden table, the light on it making the surface gleam just so.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I will.”

Tony woke up slowly, feeling strange and not quite knowing why. He rolled over and reached out for his phone before remembering that he had left his phone lying on the floor. He stood up groggily rubbing at his eyes, which widened as he took in the time on the clock next to the bed.

“Two thirty?!”  

His voice awoke Jarvis who stared at him, tail waving for a moment before going back to sleep, deciding not to waste his time on the human who hadn’t even bothered to feed him this morning, instead leaving Pepper to.

“I slept for ten hours.” Tony muttered in wonderment. “Wow. Is this what being well rested feels like?”

He got dressed slowly, replacing the Black Sabbath shirt and jeans he had fell asleep in with an AC/DC shirt and a pair of identical, ridiculously expensive jeans.Yawning, he picked his phone up, feeling a sense of satisfaction as he noted that it had charged wirelessly during the night. He picked it up and pressed his finger to the small button on the bottom slowly, unwilling to go through all of his notifications. He scrolled through them quickly, ignoring emails, leaving texts unread until he stopped short, on his way out of his room to get coffee. There was a notification from instagram.

“No…..” Tony muttered slowly, horror dawning on him. “That was a dream!” He swiped at the notification waiting while the app loaded. It was some kind of dream right?

Wrong. He had indeed found himself in the most awkward situation ever (or at least, the most awkward situation in the past week, but press stunts didn’t really count)

But that wasn’t even the most surprising thing. What was the really surprising was that justanartistfrombrooklyn had answered. He opened his messages to see the reply tentatively.

justanartistfrombrooklyn- Oh?

justanartistfrombrooklyn- So it’s not you scrolling through several months of my posts just to catch me shirtless?

Tony stared at the messages, for a solid minute, a slight smile coming to his lips as he replied.

manofiron- I was looking at your art!

He paused an additional second before adding

manofiron- That pic was just an added bonus.

This time he saw that his message was received almost instantly

justanartistfrombrooklyn is typing….

[hokkaidodo-blog]

there’s snow business like hoe business

In my life so far, there have been many things that I have started to do. Many things that have interested me greatly and captured my intrigue and thus,  I have made it my mission to accomplish said things. This process usually includes equal parts of both impulse buying tat from the Internet that I am convinced will be beneficial to me in some way for my new hobby and also developing slightly obsessive behaviours with regards to the aforementioned new hobby and putting every second of my spare time into it. This undoubtedly all occurs before the dawning realisations that I was, in fact, unfortunately born with the attention span of a goldfish and that either 1) I’m bored shitless of my new hobby and can’t believe I was ever interested in it in the first place,  or 2) I have a huge tantrum because I’ve started something new and difficult for 10 minutes a week but somehow I’m not automatically a pro at it immediately. The third step is the abandonment of my new hobby never to be seen, mentioned or eluded to in any way, shape or form for the rest of my fickle existence. My current list of personal pathetic pursuits includes – but is by no means limited to – the following things:

Learning German. Ask me what I ate for breakfast and as long as it’s cereal or an apple, I can tell you in German.

Dance aerobics classes. Lol.

Intricate adult colouring books. My eyes go fuzzy after colouring one leaf and my friends think I’m mad when I turn around and “hey guys, look at this cool art-nouveau squirrel I just spent three hours colouring in 47 shades of brown.”

Going to the gym. Cried for two weeks solid when I pulled a toe muscle and then was appalled and disgusted when I didn’t wake up the next day after one mild workout with a toned tummy and arms like Popeye.

Eating healthier. People who say they prefer a green smoothie over a share-bag of pretzels and a pot of cheese and chive dip are fake. Steer clear and do not trust.

THIS BLOG. Somehow, it’s been two months since I last posted my last post which ALSO started out similarly by saying something along the lines of “omg lol how has is been so long since I’ve written?!” lol.

Anyway, this time I present to you another smattering of pictures and verbal diarrhoea (is this still verbal?) digital diarrhoea and stories and stuff and a bunch of I-don’t-even-know-what from the past two months.

To start with, the season here turned faster than my stomach when sometimes I would get home from a terribly draining and emotionally tiring day at school of playing with poster paint and lentils in GSCE Art BTEC and ask Mum what we’re having for dinner, to which she’d reply with the dreaded: “mackerel salad”.  One day I was still in my T-shirt and jumper, walking to campus wading through piles of golden foliage and then suddenly two days later and I’m skating to school on sheet ice covered in bruises from spectacular tumbles and a good three feet of snow on either side of me. A lot of my friends in sunny Spain or France or even Tokyo say to me (whilst surprising smug giggles) “how’s Sapporo, Ross? Enjoying the snow?” to which I adamantly reply, “It’s not that cold!” and then rummage for a third pair of socks and my thermal undies. It’s beautiful though and I don’t regret a thing!

Snow business like hoe business, amirite

As for Christmas, – and no I am not a Scrooge – I am not feeling at all Christmassy this year. People still work and have classes on the 25th - which is gross for me - but there are still decorations and huge light displays up until midnight on Christmas Day, when as soon as it is over every trace of the festive season is torn down and everybody gets ready to welcome in the New Year.

“can you take a picture of us, we’re a couple”

This being said, I will definitely miss getting plastered with my Grandma on Christmas eve by glugging a bottle Amaretto and then waiting for her to request that the entire family sings “O Come Let Us Adore Him” in five part harmony whilst accompanied by Grandpa on the stylophone; sitting around in my pajamas on Christmas morning, laughing for thirty minutes because the puppy gets present opening priority and then Mum gets the black bin-sack out because he’s covered the living room in wrapping paper confetti and glitter; and then also eating Iceland out of their entire supply of frozen duck spring rolls, mini pizzas and garlic mushroom bites on Boxing Day, before complaining about how full you are yet still continuing to inhale a quarter pound of the leftover turkey, half a block of cranberry Wensleydale (with pickles), some coleslaw, a pile of bubble and squeak and some Mingles whilst the same annual festive episode of Top of the Pops lulls you gently to sleep with Fairytale of New York and Slade.

OTARU

I didn’t realise how much I missed the ocean until I hadn’t seen it for a couple of months and the sea was longer than a 15 minute drive from my house. Luckily, the seaside town of Otaru is just a train ride away from Sapporo and it felt so good for my soul to be back by the water. (Hippie child alert.)

Otaru is a picturesque little town famous for glassblowing and its beautiful canal which is lit up with candles every year for it’s winter festival. Ironically (yet gruesomely hilarious to me), after visiting the aquarium which is apparently super famous, and admiring all of the fab fishies and strange creatures, we went to a seafood restaurant and had some of the best sushi and sashimi that I have eaten so far. In other news: the demolition of a seven-tier soft-serve ice cream that left me questioning my lactose tolerance; the discovery of yet more face-cut out standees that left us all with a questioning outlook on Japan; and a two-storey shop stocked full of music box pieces. Who knew the demand for that was so high?

“Hey guys, can one of you Google whether or not you can die from eating too much ice cream because I don’t feel all that hunky dory right now”

A bear in his pants holding tissues! Japan!

Yes! It’s meant to be a penis! Awesome!

Why is it that when it comes to telling people about what you’ve been up to that your brain just turns to porridge and you can’t help but reply with the bog-standard “Oh the usual; you know, not much”.

RANDOM THOUGHTS

So, three months in (eek) and what are my thoughts on Japan? Well…

1)      Japanese people (in general) seem to be very organised and structured. Take for example, the rush hour on the underground. In London it wouldn’t be unusual to have an unwashed armpit of a local hipster thrust under your nose on your morning commute whilst a lady next to you gossips loudly on the phone to her girls about the chlamydia disaster that happened with Tony last night. This may or may not be accompanied by the gentle pitter-patter sound of some 90s trance music seeping out from underneath some headphones somewhere; twelve people standing on your foot; a distinctive scent wafting from the gentleman opposite you who forgot to eat breakfast so decided to delight everyone with his loud munching of a Lamb & Mint from The Traditional Cornish Pasty Company; and occasionally the fleeting anxiety that comes with frantically patting yourself down and hoping that you haven’t dropped your wallet.

The Japanese subways are deathly quiet, however. Sometimes it’s peaceful in the morning, and sometimes it’s unnerving. You’re awkwardly scared to breathe in case it tickles someone’s neck and you’re all in a line facing the same way and you daren’t get in the way of the station attendant with the big wooden shield who squeezes you in so the doors can close. There’s no crazy rush or crowd on platforms, just two neat lines and an unsettling calmness for someone who is used to (and who quite enjoys) mild chaos and hecticness.  

 2)      Went to the Asahi Beer factory; the most lit class field trip ever. With free beer. 10/10 would recommend.

3)      Japanese staff in restaurants, ticket offices, libraries etc absolutely will NOT speak Japanese with a non-Japanese person. It’s incredibly frustrating. As someone who’s main focus here is to improve my language skills, it is tough to do so when you struggle to get natives to treat you like anybody else. Whether some Japanese people just assume that there is categorically no way that a non-Asian person could become conversational in Japanese, I have no idea. For example, you will order in a restaurant in near-perfect Japanese to which you are just started at blankly. The waitress turns to my Japanese friend who repeats word-for-word and accent-for-accent exactly what I just said, and everything is fine. This usually continues for a few minutes and each time leaves me questioning my intelligence, my language competency and my foreigner-ness, and also just what do I need to do to try and win over the Japanese? (Video link)

I think that’s it for now. I’m sure I had more thoughts so I’ll try and write them here more often when I remember them (part 2 of me saying that). Nothing much is happening in the next few weeks, it’s that kind of winter jaded-ness that happens every year. BUT – everything is beautiful, I’m still smiling and I’m still in Japan and very lucky to be alive. I’m looking forward to January where things will kick-start again, and I can start travelling and exploring some more. Just got to finish 2017 with as much love as possible and give it a good end.

BONUS PICS: Some pretty skies at the Hokkaido Historical Village and me riding a humpback whale at the museum. You’re welcome.

Every single typewriter stamp from an old Japanese printer press.

I'm putting on my shades to cover up my eyes, I'm jumping in my ride, I'm heading out tonight ;)

[mulder-isms]

Musings over pizza - (Thorcid fanfic)

A\N: Hi *coughs because of the dust*

This fic was first inspired by this prompt I’ve got from anon:

Since they've known each other for so long, I'd love some sort of throwback about Thorgy and Acid knowing each other and then Acid seeing Thorgy becoming more and more popular and creating a scene in Brooklyn

also this adorable feedback:

Call me vanilla but I'd literally read anything you wrote like you could write 5000 words about Thorcid eating pizza on the couch and I'd be down.

And you need to know some things in advance:

1) Watch Thorgy playing the piano cardboard performance 

2) In a recent interview (7:13) Thorgy talked about his early adventures with Aja, so yes, Aja is in this fic COME THROUGH SEASON 9

3) Also this pic

4) This happens in the thorcid novel universe, but you have to ignore The birthday series lol and remember what happened in Twilight Time 👌  

5) Smut for your nerves!

PS: feedback is the wind under my wings, so help a bitch to still be inspired 💋

*

“It’s always Shane doing his Shane-nigans!”

The voice of his father echoed and hit the back of his head. It was his cousin’s birthday. Shane was 7 years old. The energetic little boy thought it was a cool idea to open one present. But then he wouldn’t stop after the first one and ended up opening all of them, consumed by his curious nature.

Every time he would do something crazy or reckless, or just existed being his unusual self, people’s reaction was always the same: a heavy sigh accepting what it was unchangeable. Shane was a force of nature. Wild and unpredictable, nevertheless still pure.

The year was 2006.

It was his first time performing out of the campus in an actual bar. He felt silly with his platform shoes and crazy make up, no padding, no body or a hint of glamour.  But all his friends were there to support him. He took a deep breath. This is what he wanted. To be free of conservatory rooms with perfect acoustic. He wanted loud and bad music blasting on his ears. He needed the chaos.

“Shane, you’ll be up in 10 minutes” an older queen warned him backstage. He started jumping to warm up and relax his tense muscles.

His dorm neighbor friend spotted a very well-known face strutting among the crowd, “Oh my god Acid Betty is here!”

Shane heard about Acid Betty but never saw her in the flesh. She was a vision with a huge blonde mohawk and an eyeliner that would go all the way to her forehead, cutting the dancefloor like a fierce goddess.

“She is fucking amazing” his friend mouth dropping admired, but his expression was changing by the second. “Oh shit she is coming this way!”

Their eyes met and she winked at Shane. He peered behind checking if it was really for him. But she was really going into his direction. She stopped being out of focus to be inches in front of them, an explosion of colors and a very luring presence.

“Good luck, kid. Hannah told me it’s your first day. We surely need a dance off to pop your cherry and spend that tip money” she spoke loudly and her voice was deep and matched her persona in a weird way.

“I don’t guarantee the tip money but the dance off and embarrassment is for free” he replied surprisingly fast and staring too much at all details of her outfit. He wondered if she noticed and was going to make fun of him. She was quite terrifying.

The facade broke when she laughed throatily in a dorky way and left them behind. Shane’s friend was still starstruck. Shane felt like he was possessed for some seconds, her strong presence taking over his body lighting his fire to kill that performance.

Drag was beautiful.

Maybe he would be that beautiful one day.

*

Jamin lungs were filled with the thick air, the mixture of perfume, cigarettes and the nauseating sweetness of fog machines. It’s been months since he was in a gay bar. Months since all his Acid Betty attires were hanging on his studio, lifeless. He didn’t want to touch it anymore. Acid Betty was dissolving from his skin every day.

He had a regular job where he could still be creative. A regular boyfriend by his side. Some people still recognized him and he pretended to care about them and smiled politely. Bar 4 had terrible lighting, and the stage was, well, there wasn’t one. They sat in a table next to it and his boyfriend was complaining about the noise. There was a painting decorating the black wall of the performance area. Just a blast of watercolors splashed on the canvas.

He used to be that.

A blonde tall queen entered the stage. He heard of her, people talking about how funny and witty her performances were, Brooklyn drag was going in all directions. Thorgy Thor. He had recollections of meeting her few years ago. He remembers her fire dancing by his side on the dancefloor. She had a different name. Something goofy.

The performance was a voice over, and she was playing a character that was that typical I’m-an-actress-singer-dancer L.A rejected type. He felt a strange connection. She had beautiful legs under the light blue tights and she was acting like she was in an audition.

“I guess everyone is a drag queen nowadays…” his boyfriend bitched taking a sip on his drink. Jamin didn’t care and kept staring at queen hypnotized.

“Actually, I’m Thorgy and I would love to audition for you!” the blonde queen pleaded in response to the voice over.

“Well, you gotta a cute look. What can you do?” the other voice on the recording asked.

“I’m an excellent pianist, and I can kick my leg really in the air like this!” and then she demonstrated throwing her leg high and people in the bar were laughing. Jamin chuckled and his boyfriend threw him a judging glance. “And I really can suck a great-

“Uh-huh!” the voice interrupted and everybody was cackling loudly. “Well, play away!”

Jamin observed Thorgy playing on the cardboard piano with all the feeling and intention in the world. He thought she was great and creative. He felt inspired. And staring at her endearing smile he couldn’t help but wonder if she really could suck a great dick.

“I’ve heard she actually plays the violin and other instruments”

He overheard someone commenting behind their table. He glanced at Thorgy again and that painting on the wall. People are full of colors.

*

After a couple of drinks and a lot of bitching Chris wasn’t feeling well and Jamin left him home. He was starving and decided to stop in his usual pizza place. It was open until very late and it was the favorite place for dawn stoners and starving drag queens post gigs.

He sat in his booth, ordered a large pepperoni one with nothing to drink since he was on a diet. He was drunk, tired and drained of Chris’s negative energy the whole night long. He heard a loud cackle coming from a group of queens that were eating and laughing on the balcony.

“We’re leaving, girl. It’s fucking 3 am how are you even still eating. We’re outside for a smoke, we give you 10 minutes”

One of the queens said to Thorgy that was devouring a piece with both hands and no napkin. The other queens left and Thorgy continued engaged in her piece. Their eyes met across the room. Jamin wasn’t sure if she was going to recognize him, although they’ve met a couple of times out of drag. He waved coyly and Thorgy squinted her eyes trying to recognize him for a few seconds.

She opened a smile with a half full mouth, got out of her stool and was on her way to join Jamin in the booth. He regretted the decision immediately as she was approaching holding her pizza.

“Acid Betty on Joe’s! What an unexpected encounter!” she chanted sitting in front of Jamin.

“Hi” he replied putting his pizza down. “ It’s the only place open after you spent hours tucked and hungry and that people won’t judge you”

“Yeah, but you’re not tucked or hungry”  Thorgy noticed eyeing him curiously biting her lower lip. Her make up was smudged and her gray blue eyes were popping out because of the blonde wig and navy headband.

“I’m drunk and pissed, and these make me hungry” he replied quickly making Thorgy laugh. It was an unarming sound.

It was funny how they would have this brief encounters with fiery witty conversations.

“I was at the Bar 4 with my boyfriend. I really liked you performance” he remarked grabbing another piece.

Thorgy looked at him for a few seconds surprised with the compliment, her mouth curling into a half smile feeling her heart suddenly beating faster.

“Um…I was kinda feeling like shit when I recorded. Thank you” she replied looking down and playing with the plastic fork that was on the table.

“I overheard you actually play the piano and the violin. You should do it in drag”

Thorgy scoffed. The idea of playing her violin in the middle of drunk people banging on the walls to Lady Gaga was at least scary. They would throw tomatoes at her.

“Listen to your heart. Fuck other people.”

He answered her unformulated question and Thorgy was quite stunt by it.

“I’m afraid if I start listening, it will never shut up and I already have enough voices in my head” she confessed. Acid analysed her with curiosity, as if she was something to be discovered. It was an enticing look.

Thorgy was afraid of the randomness of everything. That the people that could be important to you, that could read you like a pleasant book, might just pass you by. We can never know what they really mean to us. There’s no soulmates signs on their foreheads. There’s no sign of “keep me” popping out of their heads.

They both stood in silent and Thogy noticed her friends outside making gestures for her to hurry up.

“Chris was asking about your name and I never asked you about it.” Jamin recalled chewing and noticed Thorgy staring at his mouth.

“My middle name is Thor”

Jamin raised his brows surprised and chuckled.

“I’m Shane Thor Galligan”

“Thor-gee” Jamin concluded before she even finished and Thorgy just nodded. “You have the fierceness, the viking dreads, but you’ll need the hammer at some point, girl”

Thorgy smiled and got out the booth making a gesture that she needed to go.

“For now I don’t even have a car” she shrugged squeezing Jamin’s shoulder before leaving him with three remaining pieces. Jamin observed her fading inside the crowded car into the night through the glass of his booth. ‘Until the next random pizza sharing encounter’ he thought.

*

It was one of those weeks where getting out of the bed was a struggle. An unseen force would pull Shane down, would break his spirit. Hours wandering around the house. Rearranging the closet that was already arranged. Alvaro was worried about his friend, and if a life long friend is worried about you something must have been really wrong.

Some people paid him a visit, and he wasn’t expecting Aja to appear on his door at all. She was a cool Brooklyn chick, fresh blood and full of energy. He once was like this. He too thought he was the new cool drag that everyone was talking about. Aja was around with her group of friends and she had all figured out like all millennials. Bursting into parties with fake ID and turning on the dancefloor.

Right now in front of his door it was just Jay, with a box of pizza and a bottle of wine. He was wearing a jeans jumper and a ripped t-shirt, a backpack on his back.

“Bitch why you cancelled yesterday. It was amazing at the metropolitan. Now I’m officially legal to drink”

“Officially legal to die drinking you mean” Shane remarked. “Girl, what are you doing here?”

Shane was walking into the living room indicating that Aja could come in. He sat on the couch embracing his legs as Aja opened the box of pizza.

“This is a cheap ass wine that I use for some cleansings. And speaking of that…” he observed Shane and the apartment that was unusually tidy. “The energy of this place seems a little off. And you girl, where are your ‘woos!’ storage?”

Shane shrugged defeated. He went to the kitchen to pick up some glasses for them. “I guess I’m out of it”

“I’m here for a little magical intervention. I owe you girl, you’ve booked me to all these gigs last month. I want to read the cards for you and get rid of whatever is giving me chills right now” he said shrinking and brushing off the invisible force. Shane laughed shaking his head.

“You’re a cuckoo witch”

*

Aja put some Kanye on while Shane protested but after a few glasses of wine and some conversation about Aja’s crazy dates and adventures he was feeling lighter. When he started sorting the cards on the coffee table Shane was having his second piece of pizza.

She pulled The wheel of fortune at first.

“This too shall pass” he started mysteriously. “Whatever you’re feeling right now, remember, everything vanishes. Also a huge change is on the way about your career.”

“Well, after listening to this record I’m quitting classical music officially” he drunk stated taking a big gulp on his glass.

“It’s funny, because my mother read the cards for me this week and it was my first too”

Shane was observing Aja’s painted nails going through the cards and his head already spinning with the possibilities. He picked out another one.

“Lovers” he scoffed rolling his eyes showing the cards of two identical hearts together. “You’re a gemini. That’s your official card. It means it’s time for you to stop whoring around and pay attention to love. The good type, ya know? From Nicholas Sparks books and shit. You need to open up the possibilities that you can be loved” then Aja stopped talking and looking at the wall behind Shane. He widened his eyes scared. Was he seeing something?

“What bitch?” he asked nervous and looking behind.

“The image of something related to a new year came to me…like a sunrise?  A sunrise after a New Year’s eve party?”

As Aja was speaking Shane got chills on his spine. The memories of that unforgettable New Year’s Eve with Jamin emerged from the depths of his mind.

“I don’t know, sis. This wine is cheap as fuck and the mushrooms of this pizza” Aja speculated organizing the cards again to put in the case again.

“That’s it?” Shane grunted still curious.

“I’ll write you some things you need to do. You’re going to have the bath of your life”

After finishing the pizza, Aja left some notes for teas and a bath that involved milk as an ingredient, so Shane could snap out of whatever was going on is his busy mind. The image that he conjured was still haunting.

He also wondered what changes could happen to them. Everything seemed so still, like the world wasn’t moving around, and gravity was sinking his feet. He felt like nothing could change. Aja was still young and vibrant, and maybe her visit was a reminder that he still had it too.

*

The auction was going well. People were buying Acid’s iconic attires and wigs but somehow Thorgy felt defensive about it. As she was watching Jamin talking to audience, she didn’t want to see those outfits go. They were part of Acid’s history, and so of her too. She never minded auctioning her stuff because they were most from thrift stores. But these were made by Jamin’s beautiful hands. And they would become just a disconnected piece of an incomplete look.

After the gigs, they all went to Jamin’s house to hang around in his studio to have some drinks. Alotta was there and Shane questioned how this friendship bloomed. Jamin was part of the Brooklyn scene again and he couldn’t be more happier. After all the queens left, they ordered a pizza.  Since he didn’t have the intention of staying, forbidden by Jamin that said he needed to organize the place, he just took a shower and put on a purple jersey he had on his bag for weeks and nothing underneath.

Jamin was on the couch of his studio just browsing through his phone, no shoes, feet on the coffee table. The pizza box was closed waiting for Shane. He was still wearing his checked suit and Acid Betty’s t-shirt.

Shane came in the room analyzing the whole place, checking some of his paintings and toys. He held a sweet smile, like this place was the core of Jamin. He picked up a troll doll that was on the shelf and stroke the blue hair. Jamin glanced up and down aware of his presence, and then he looked up again locked with the vision of Shane with that oversized jersey, no shoes on, the hairy legs in all their glory and the dreads half loose in a bun. His complete weakness.

“I’ve never seen a jersey so out of place in my whole life” he pointed out checking his body and he approached to join him in the couch. Shane just shimmed and sat by his side putting his legs over Jamin’s with no ceremony and lying down. His arm reached for a piece of pizza that he shoved into his mouth still laid.

The Jersey was barely covering his crotch and Jamin side looked down at him still holding his phone, placing his elbows on Shane’s legs.

After some seconds in silence eating his pizza and observing his boyfriend Shane felt like talking but he paused. He noticed the lines on Jamin’s forehead. His perfect lips wet by the red tomato sauce of the pizza. His black hair fading away with the memory of the first time he saw Acid out of drag. Blonde and skinnier.

He loved this version if front of him more than any memory of their long history of brief encounters. At last, found in translation.

“I was bothered to see all your stuff go. I don’t know. I’m kinda sentimental about outfits. The wig that you were wearing when I first met you was there. You make everything you wear. I felt like I was seeing little pieces of you being taken away by strangers”

Jamin stopped typing on his cellphone and sighed looking at his boyfriend, he rubbed his legs and laid by his side, hugging Shane by the waist, putting a leg over him. He started nuzzling on the hollow of his neck and Shane continued eating but started giggling with the ticklish sensation of Jamin’s stubble.

“Don’t bother, Thorg. They’re just outfits. Sometimes you need to get rid off the old stuff so your mind can see things without dust on it. I’m creating plenty of new stuff.” he reassured him whispering on his neck. Shane wasn’t still very convinced. He reached out another piece and handed it to Jamin that devoured it quickly.

“We’re on that stage. We’re eating pizza laid down with onions falling on our faces and we don’t give a fuck” Shane realized disgusted but accepting the reality.

“And we’re going to have sex smelling like pepperoni” Jamin added and Shane raised his brows with a smile curling on his mouth.

“Are we? I’m not staying over. You were the one kicking me out saying that you needed to organize your studio” he recalled playing difficult and prompting himself to a sitting position brushing off all the pizza remains that were on top of him.

“Well, you appear naked wearing a goddamn purple jersey you leave me without options” he defended himself pulling him back by the waist but he fought back. But not much since Jamin started kissing his lower back sending shivers to his spine.

He got back to the couch and Jamin was on top of him and their kiss was deepening. His stubble was scratching faintly at his skin in a way that was making him tingle all over. Shane’s hands were exploring Jamin’s back, going south to grab his ass and pushing his hips further between his legs. Jamin’s cock was hardening and rubbing over Shane’s belly, his pants becoming small and uncomfortable.

Jamin positioned himself on his knees so he could remove his suit. Shane was watching him still painting and flustered, legs locked around him, throbbing with desire.

“Take off your pants and lay on your back” Shane ordered before Jamin could even decide what to do. He laughed getting out of the couch so he could remove all his clothes and Shane followed him.

“You’re such a jock with this jersey” he teased Shane that pushed him to lie on the couch where he collapsed. He was on top of him in seconds with Jamin’s cock in hands, licking the head as if it was his favorite popsicle. Jamin could feel Shane’s cock squeezed between his legs and he rubbed making him moan in pleasure. He took him to the whole and the vision always made him impressed. Shane grunted in appreciation as Jamin’s hips were rising against his face.

Shane was so dedicated to this task, it was clearly he was relishing every second. He suddenly stopped and changed position, making Jamin open his legs and he lowered himself, kissing the inside of Jamin’s thigh and he shivered, both at the touch and at the loss of the pressure of his mouth.  

He was rapping his hand around Jamin, resting the thumb on his tip, smoothing the precum that was forming. Jamin’s fingers were raking through his dreads while he moved lower, licking his balls to find his entrance.

“Fuck Shane…” he pleaded overwhelmed with the stimulation. Shane laughed watching him with eyes closed, his stomach going up and dowm. Shane was grapping his hand around his cock pumping him firmly and slowly, up and down, with a mischievous grin. He slid one of his finger slowy inside him, licking the place to make the move smoother.

Shane’s mouth and finger work in tandem was too much. Jamin was fighting the urge to push his head further inside him, but instead of that he pulled him to stop. Shane was already kissing his stomach, slowly going up, his tongue swirling on his nipples.

Jamin pulled him for a kiss and softly chuckled holding him onto his chest.

“You are so horny today” he stated still short of air as Shane removed some pubic hairs from his mouth giggling . “I thought you were still sore from yesterday” Jamin was still painting looking down at Shane, his cheeks all rose and lips swollen.

“Well…I am…” he realized as if he was aware of that only in that moment and numb the whole time with desire. “But I want you to fuck me. Really hard. Like, now”

Jamin’s eyes widened and he cackled scared of his urgency.

“Get the lube” he gave up trying to make some sense into Shane’s head.

“Ugh” Shane complained. He was perfectly nested on Jamin’s chest and he didn’t want to get his purse inside the apartment. He eyed the bottle of olive oil on the table and wiggled his brows.

“Are you serious?” Jamin was incredulous as Shane reached for the bottle over Jamin as if he was a rug, pressing on his lungs.

“Come on, bicth” he ordered again. “It’s an oil. Smells great and it’s edible.”

Shane laid on his back and Jamin put some olive on his cock and on Shane’s making him giggle.

“You’re paying to wash this couch” Jamin complained but he was extremely turned on with the whole thing. Shane pulled him by his neck impatiently.

“Shut up and fuck me already” he whispered inside his mouth. Jamin’s stomach tensed in anticipation as he slid one finger inside Shane, preparing him, making him moving his hips up and moan.

He placed himself inside him slowly making Shane ache with the urgency, their gaze locked. Shane removed his glasses and Jamin’s and put on the coffee table so he could cup his face as Jamin’s hip was going further in and out of him. Shane could feel the energy radiating from his body, and his breathing quickened, his stomach fluttering with anxious desire.

They were kissing as Jamin went faster, placing himself on his knees and putting Shane’s legs up over his shoulder. Shane started pumping his cock but Jamin took over, and kept thrusting, Shane’s butt cheeks burning with the pounding. Shane’s cock was glistening with precum but Jamin didn’t stop pumping him.

Their bodies slapped wetly together, and he grunted as he held Shane’s hips still, his cock savagely pounding into him. Shane’s thighs were shaking, and he knew that he was on the edge. He kept moaning non stopping incoherence mumblings.

Shane’s breathing hitched as he felt her orgasm building. “Don’t stop,” he panted breathlessly, as his body began to convulse, the knees tightening, his core arching forward. Jamin continued his assault as Shane was still pulsing around his cock, their moans matching in intensity.

Shane was curling in pleasure as he stroke his cock feeling the other orgasm hitting, spilling his cum all over his stomach. Jamin followed him right after, removing his cock and shooting over his stomach too. He felt the waves of pleasure spreading all over his crotch and legs and he collapsed over Shane reaching for a languid kiss. They were just breathing heavily and nuzzling their noses. They were feeling the hot liquid between connecting them like glue. The sensation was quite funny.

“We’re like a very disgusting pizza” Jamin whispered, his head resting under his chin. He observed Shane’s purple jersey on the floor.

“I think there’s olive oil even on my hair” Shane touched the top his head grabbing some dreads.

They stayed there entwined by olive oil.  Shane paid for the couch cleaning but Jamin decided that it needed a new fabric. It was dirty again with paint and make up two weeks later.

*

The Metropolitan bar was full. Everybody was excited for the new episode of season 9. Thorgy was in the dressing room almost ready to come out with Aja fixing her orange suit and skirt. She looked like a futuristic secretary from the 60’s. Thorgy was listening to “Que sera, sera” from Pink Martini on her phone as Aja was finishing her make-up.

“Girl, did you take that bath that I prescribed to you years ago? Oh my god, I’ve never asked you about it!”

Thorgy was wearing his curly brown hair wig and fixing it with a comb. She stopped trying to remember what she was talking about.

“Pfffff, I lost the paper and probably ate the ingredients” she scoffed fixing her Thorgy t-shirt looking at the mirror.

“And how about the new year party thing?”

She just shook her head trailing off the subject. Aja was the real deal and the younger queen took her silence as a confirmation.

“Sis, I told ya. Wheel of fucking fortune.”

Then Aja posed to the mirror sending a kiss to her own image. Thorgy thought that maybe her witch friend could win. Maybe the wheels were still rolling.

[thelazyperfection-blog]

<strong>United NYC Half Marathon Race Recap</strong>

My newest post has been published on http://thelazy.me/2018/05/16/united-nyc-half-marathon-race-recap/

United NYC Half Marathon Race Recap

It has been almost two months since I ran the United NYC Half Marathon and I have been avoiding writing this post. I think I was sitting around waiting for the perfect words to come to me to describe this race. I’ve decided that that will never happen so I better just write my thoughts– eloquent or not! Prepare yourself– this is a long one!

I entered the lottery for this race two years in a row and got a place last December. It turned into a road trip with a few friends and a couple of strangers (who turned into friends!). I began my training on a high note in January before attempting to fight off some shin splints in February, going on vacation in March and forgetting to exercise at all, and then just kind of not caring about running after returning home from said vacation.

I was still so excited to run this race regardless of the outcome because I truly love New York City. I’ve been there many times and the city holds so many unforgettable memories including so many of my dad. I never actually went to NYC with him, but I remember texting him a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge on my old flip phone when I was there with my mom. He loved the hustle and bustle of people everywhere and every time I visit NYC I think of him.

Before the race, I started to get a little panicky as I thought about how slow I might be, but thanks to my friends reminding me that I needed to look around and enjoy it and stop stressing, I was able to change my mindset.

Saturday morning we headed to the race expo where they had volunteers ready to take your pictures. How awesome is that right?! It would’ve been more awesome if any of the pictures had been in focus but then what kind of memory would that be? There are probably 20 blurry group shots… 0 clear ones!

Race pickup was mostly a breeze as we got our bibs and shirts. Somehow my bib scanned that I already picked up my shirt and I got a little annoyed as I told the guy, “I literally just came from there 10 seconds ago. How could I have gotten a shirt?!” I love that Cathy captured this exact moment.

The night before the race ended up as a slight disaster as I realized that it was going to be really cold and I only brought shorts and a tank to wear. Don’t worry though, I brought a backup outfit of a second tank and another pair of shorts–lol! Saturday night at 8PM had me trying on everyone’s clothes– and I mean everyone’s! I ended up wearing one of the guy’s long sleeve shirts over my tank top and Cathy’s headband because I didn’t even pack one of those. I am usually an excellent packer and this was the first time in as long as I can remember that I didn’t make a list. That will never, ever happen again. I was a hot mess, I tell you!

Race morning began with some instant oatmeal, coffee and a banana at the literal crack of dawn. Maria, Michael & I were running and needed to check our bags by 6:50 and get into our corrals by 7. Taking off my sweatpants and passing in my bag was a really sad moment because I couldn’t believe how cold it was! (My face is just ridiculous in this pic…I have no words)

I’ve run some decent size races, but nothing like this one. Only the runners were allowed near bag check and then we had to go through security including metal detectors surrounded by police officers. There were helicopters circling above and honestly, I was really impressed with how seriously they took the runners safety.

I lost Michael and Maria and headed to my corral where I stood shaking like a leaf for an entire hour. I waited in line for the porta potty and wanted to hide from the wind until the start, but thought the rest of the line wouldn’t approve of that choice. I stood as close to the strangers around me as I could without seeming like a creep as I tried to warm up. Time inched by slower than I knew possible as every part of me went numb. I was pretty sure I shook all my energy out before the race even started!

In true form, I was in a porta potty when the gun went off for my corral which made me laugh. I took my time and headed out across the line down the streets of Brooklyn. (I’m to the left centre with the shorts and bright knee socks!)

It didn’t take me even one kilometre to realize that I changed all my settings on my watch to something really weird. I had turned off the elapsed time apparently and instead had it beeping every 1.4kms and then beeping again after 3 minutes but never showing how long I had been running. The buildings instantly interfered with my pace so my hot mess standing was still going strong!

I knew my pace wasn’t going to be awesome anyhow, so I laughed and stuck to my plan to enjoy the race.

And boy, did I enjoy it.

As we ran over the Manhattan Bridge,  I looked to my right at the Queensboro Bridge and to my left at the Brooklyn Bridge with the Statue of Liberty off in the distance. In the centre of the bridge there were police officers high fiving runners and cheering us on while keeping their eyes moving as they watched everything around us. It was such a beautiful picture to me that my eyes welled up with tears for the first time that day.

As we ran down the other side of the bridge and into Manhattan I couldn’t believe I was running here. It felt like such a privilege and I found myself saying aloud, “This is the best thing I’ve ever decided to do!” (I realize it’s probably actually not, but in that moment it really felt like it!)

I tossed my gloves somewhere in Chinatown and regretted it not too long after as the momentary sun decided to hide again. We ran along the water for awhile before making a left turn toward Times Square.

When we made that turn in my head I could hear my friend, Lisa, reminding me to really look around and enjoy every moment so I did the opposite of what you’re supposed to do in a race: I stopped. I put my head up and did a full circle taking in the skyscrapers, the water, and the sky before looking straight ahead and starting to run again.

The crowds grew even larger the closer we got to Times Square and then we got to run through Times Square on our way to Central Park where a huge screen was displayed showing us running by.

Central Park was as hilly as I remembered but I love Central Park so I tried to enjoy the beauty of it since it was my only chance to see it this trip! The volunteers in the park were my favourite because they were ridiculously encouraging. They weren’t half-hearted in their cheers as they told you exactly how far you had and that they knew you could do it. (I hate those people who say “You’re almost there!” when you have like 8k to go! Liars, I tell ya!)

As we got close to the finish the sides were lined with flags and throngs of people! There was no arch for the finish so it felt a little strange as I wondered if it was really the end, but I spotted the President of the New York Road Runners across the line so I figured the race had to be over. I gave him a high five as I headed to collect my medal, mylar blanket and snack bag.

I dug out my phone which had been on airplane mode and facetimed Anson for a few minutes. I was on the phone for five minutes as I walked when it suddenly shut off. I knew I had a terrible battery but since it said I had 80% I thought it would be okay. I left it for a few minutes as I collected my bag from bag check and then turned it back on again. I needed to try to find everyone else and knew my phone was a necessity!

My phone turned back on and had a mere 10% battery left. I saw a ton of messages flowing in as I walked as fast as I could out of the park. It was at least a kilometre to get out of the exit chute from the race and I still couldn’t feel my legs from the cold, so it took a little while. I headed for the Starbucks across from Columbus Circle but as soon as I got there I knew there was no way any of my friends would bother trying to get in with the hoards of people crammed inside! I saw a text come in from Cathy saying they were in the mall so I went in the closest entrance to see if I saw them. I didn’t and decided to head back to Starbucks and stand outside. I sent a text to Cathy that said, “I am outside Starbucks,” but as soon as I hit send, my phone shut off for good. I had no idea if the text went through. I remembered seeing another text that said something about being near a statue so I headed back across the street to see if they were by those statues. My texts had been coming in fast and furiously in random order with some messages from days earlier appearing so I really wasn’t sure what was actually relevant!

I made my way over to the statues near the Park and stood on the curb to try and get a little taller so I could see. There were tons of people and it wasn’t long before I realized I was never going to find them even if they were there! I asked a couple near me if they had an iPhone I could borrow so I could text one of my friends. As soon as I asked, it dawned on me that I know about one phone number total and texting my husband in Canada wasn’t going to be super helpful. Then I realized that for the first time ever I had written an emergency contact on the back of my race bib and I had chosen Cathy’s number to write down. I unpinned my bib, turned it over and used the borrowed phone to text Cathy. She told me that my Starbucks text had gone through miraculously so I headed that way to meet her. I might have done everything wrong for that race, but writing someone’s (who was actually with me!) number on my race bib was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done!

I went to greet Cathy with a huge smile on my face and I’m pretty sure shocked her with how much I loved the race. We headed over to the mall to meet the rest of the group where we snapped some pics and I put on some warmer clothes.

Then we all headed out on the longest journey ever to find brunch. We mistakenly went into an extremely healthy restaurant for a few moments. I was not thrilled with what I was I was seeing as I looked around. Thankfully, we left and found a diner with what I consider to be real brunch food.

The NYC half marathon was my second slowest half time ever, but my favourite race by a huge margin. I appreciated each moment and the fact that I was able to be there! I looked around and truly took in my surroundings and for the first time in a race, I did not have one negative thought about myself while running. My only regret is that I neglected to bring warmer clothes but hey, it all worked out!

P.S. I would recommend this race to anyone. Everything was so well organized, the volunteers were amazing, the hydration stations were well marked and plentiful on course and while it was rather hilly–the course was fantastic! Huge thanks to the New York Road Runners for putting on a fantastic event. Thank you also to Cathy and Erik for all these pictures! I really do get by with a little help from my friends!

[clownmovieblues]

Bloomin Mud Shuffle (6)