#my coach is the best father figure ive ever had
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islanddboyy · 6 months ago
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hate when my dad calls me kiddo. love when my coach calls me kid
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vmures · 1 year ago
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⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 💕
author's choice! :D
Oof, now I have to pick a thing myself. lol
I guess I'll start with some insight on Hanging On (You're All That's Left to Hold On To).
What I'm not sure I've ever mentioned in any of the author's notes for that fic, but that is probably clear from the themes of the work is that this is largely a fic about grief as well as healing from trauma. Essentially fic as therapy in some ways.
And here're the important bits of personal backstory that really shaped a lot of this fic. One, my relationship with my own father was complicated in much the same way that Stiles relationship with his dad is. My father was an alcoholic and addict, though he did sober up later in life. Up until the point he got sober, our relationship was chaotic and there was definitely some parentification going on. But after he got sober, we managed to get our relationship on healthier, more solid ground. We had about 10 years of this healthier relationship before he was diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer in 2014.
For those unfamiliar with that particular form of cancer. It is one that can be very aggressive. The docs estimated that my dad had between six weeks and three months if he chose palliative care, and maybe six months if he went with more aggressive treatment. He went with palliative care. I flew out to where he lived and spent the time from diagnosis to end of life with him, and my brother eventually joined me. We got about six good weeks and then he went downhill fast. I wrote several poems after his death, but one was just a short little couplet that encapsulated how I was feeling.
I am a bottle played by the wind howling, mournful, and hollow within.
It always felt like it needed to go with something else. Now we move forward several years to February 2020 when I decide to participate in a fic exchange after finally getting back into writing fanfiction. I'd been kicking around this idea of Stiles getting stuck in fox form and Coach Finstock being the one to help him. One of the few things we know from canon is that Coach is a recovering alcoholic (I think it's mentioned in season 4, but not 100% on that). And then I started thinking about all the ways that Coach could help out if he actually knew about the supernatural.
Then I had to figure out how Stiles ended up as a fox. And I realized that if I went with his magic imprinting on the nogitsune a bit and realized I wanted to explore the whole mess of post-nogitsune life that was never explored in the show. As I wrote the opening scene I realized that the couplet above fit perfectly. It really sets the tone for the whole story and how folks are feeling at the beginning of it. The hurt of grief not just from the loss of Allison, Boyd, and Erica, but also the never-really-dealt-with grief that both Stilinskis carry regarding Claudia.
The other potentially interesting fact about the opening scene is that I based Stiles' panic attack and resulting dissociation on my own experience and accidentally gave myself a panic attack when doing that. I was able to get over it pretty quickly, but it was a reminder to try to keep a bit more space between myself and my writing even when I'm trying to hit certain emotional notes. Perhaps even more so when trying to hit certain emotional notes.
All in all, I didn't really plan on writing a ridiculously long story that explored grief and grieving as well as healing from trauma, but that's fully what the story turned into. Parts of it are a love letter to my child and teenage selves who could have used better, healthier coping skills. And some of it is a love letter to my dad in all his complex and ridiculous glory. And some of it is just a love letter to a show that had some great characters but not the best writing.
I ended up deciding to go with song quotes and poems for the openings of each chapter as a result of using that couplet, and I'm glad I did. It is basically the soundtrack of the fic (along with the title which comes from Red Hill Mining Town by U2).
So that's just one thing that went into the creation of that particular fic. Given that it is my longest fic, there is a lot I could say about it, lol. But this has already gotten really long. So I'll cut this particular director's commentary off here.
Folks are welcome to hit me up for more or to ask specific questions about any of my fics. :D <3
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willwedie-justalittle · 3 years ago
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Teen wolf and sounds
Ever since I started watching tv, I noticed that I would be more likely to recognise songs and voices instead of faces. That lead to a game in my household where I would try to remember which characters had the same voices, since the shows I watched were mostly American and needed dubbing. This means that most of the time, a single French guy would be the voice of a lot of different characters. I also spent a lot of time just singing the theme songs or trying to recognise which song was being used in a scene. And when I started TW, I watched it in English. That meant that I no longer needed to listen to the voices to see if they reminded me of another character, I could just concentrate on the sounds the makers of the show decided to use.
When making a cinematographic piece, there are a lot of things to take into consideration. Not only does the cast have to be good, they also have to make sure the visual and sounds serve a purpose. A dialog can be perfectly delivered by the actors, if their surrounding aren’t made to follow along, it just becomes a pretty useless scene. And since I’ve watched a shit ton of Teen Wolf over the years, I wanted to talk in length about the sounds and noises used by the makers of the show to help move the story forward, and how much I enjoy it. I originally wanted to concentrate on the 3rd season, but I soon realised that I couldn’t limit everything to a single season. Everything that’s being said here doesn’t reflect anybody’s opinion but my own. I accept criticisms, and I also recognise that I don’t own kind of degree regarding movies and/or sounds. I’m just a 27-year old who loves cinema and music. Don’t take it too seriously. This is also a disclaimer : I’m French, so there might be some mistakes along the way, don’t hesitate to tell me and I’ll correct them.
This goes without saying, but SPOILERS.
Here’s how I organised this :
I : Introduction to sounds, for the viewers and the characters
II : Wolves and vilain, how they communicate?
III : What if we just talk?
IV : The new world within the new world
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I : Introduction to sounds, for the viewers and the characters
Where it all began
For this story to exist, there is one thing that can’t be taken away : a police scanner. We overhear that a body has been discovered in the forest during the night at the end of August/early September. Stiles, the Sheriff’s son intercept the message on his police scanner and decides to drag Scott, his best friend, deep into the woods to go and look for the body. It is made clear to the audience that listening devices are going to be important, so much so that one of the main character has one installed in his car.
After the search, and an altercation with the Sheriff’s department, Scott gets bitten. In the scene, we see him turning around because of the noises the wolf behind him is making. The scene is dark, and we hear more that we see the wolf attacking him. We hear his feral snarls, and Scott’s screams. And here starts what becomes a very TW characteristic : the presence of a wolf is mostly known because of their sounds. Whether it’s the growling, the running, or the noises that come along the reveal of their shifted form with the glistening of their eyes. It’s a very distinct sound, one that will be kept until the end of the show to signal to the audience of the changing into a wolf of one of the character, no matter their rank.
The police scanner has then been used multiple times, up until the end of the 5th season, when Stiles and Scott hear that a body had been found in the woods, again, the story going full circle when Stiles decided to leave Beacon Hills to start studying in the FBI’s training program. Of course, it wouldn’t be the last time we see Stiles, but it was pretty heart-warming to see that after they passed the torch to Liam and Mason, their story as teenagers was coming to an end.
As my mum would say : should you listen to your music so loudly?
I thought it was interesting how music was used in the series. Not the background musics, sadly I didn’t have the time to go too deep with the interpretation of why a certain song was being used in a specific scene, but rather, how music is being used in the series in regards to the character’s actions, and the sense of false security that comes along with it.
First, let’s talk about Kira. In her first scene interacting with the pack, she overhears a conversation between them; using it to approach them. Sounds here serve as an introduction to the pack for her, since she’s able to become part of it afterwards. The other interesting part is that through noises and sounds, she is able to get a few glimpses into Scott’s world without fully understanding it.
She’s actually the first character that made me realise the importance of music as a tool. In season 3, she comes close to death when William Barrow comes to the school and is ordered to kill her. She has no idea that a serial killer roams around the school and goes to the library after her classes end. When Stiles pulls the emergency alarm; a universal sounds that signifies danger when heard, to evacuate the school, she is unable to hear it due to the music in her headphones being so loud. When Coach finds her and makes her leave, Barrow is shown hiding behind the shelves next to her. If music seems to be a way for her to escape, it it used to trick her into a state of false security.
Then, it Liam’s turn. In s4, this newcomer is bitten by Scott in order to save his life. And soon enough, he begins to change into a werewolf. This is being shown to the audience through music. When being driven by Kira, the music playing in the background overwhelms him, making it as if it was being played at a loud volume, instead of the nice background noise it actually was. It’s a nice flashback to when Scott was still learning to get used to his heightens senses (more on that later). Teen wolf has a habits of making things go full circles and often uses sounds to translate this for the viewers. Even without outright saying it, we are able to reflect on what it can mean. And this sense of false security comes back too. Kira is here pretending to drive him to a party, when she is actually bringing him to the pack to help him control the shift.
Last, I’m going to talk about the bonfire, and how, once again, music was made to lure the wolves into a dangerous situation. In the bonfire scene, we are shown Liam and Malia getting drunk, something that we’ve been told was impossible due to their healing powers.
Scott ends up realising that the music playing for the crowd is being used to disable them to help the killer who came there to cross their names off the deadpool.
The makers of Teen wolf found a universal part of the life of teenagers, something that can help them go through difficult times and decided to use it against the characters, showing the audience that nothing is safe. They all have to figure out a way to navigate through this new life without the help of what was once a source of comfort, and so does the audience.
II. Wolves and vilains, how do they communicate ?
How the wolves use it
Not only are we, as spectator, made aware of their changing, but the wolves themselves gain something from being bitten. Their sense of sight, smell and hearing become heightened, to help them not only hunt, but protect themselves.
Scott is the first wolf we see who is learning how to control his senses. In the first season, Derek tries to teach Scott a way to control and survive the shift. It doesn’t go as easily as Derek hoped, and he has to resort to showing Scott what will happen if he doesn’t try harder. He helps him concentrate on the sounds of hunters approaching them one night, and makes him watch another wolf get killed. From this moment on, Scott is not only able to take this training more seriously, but also use his listening ability to protect himself.
Unfortunately, the hunters are aware of this characteristic and found a way to deprave them from it : they fabricated a device that emits a sound only wolves are able to hear and it was originally used to distract them and lead them to a trap. But as the seasons go by, Chris Argent (whose family is known for hunting werewolves) becomes an ally and helps regroup Boyd and Cora to the school using those emitters. The torture device becomes helping as the seasons progress, along with the relationship between the characters. The noises then become a tool.
Over the following seasons, Scott masters this ability, and is shown using it in a lot of different situations. It helps him when he needs to listen in to conversations in relations with a villain he’s chasing, or when it helps him get closer to Allison on her first day. Funny enough, it is also used to try to befriend Kira when she first arrives after he heard her talking to her father about her lack of friends.
Alphas and packs
Since the beginning of the show, it was showed that wolves can communicate differently. To signal their position, they can howl and while it might not mean anything to humans, other wolves/animals are able to understand it. It is also used to bring someone back from their headspace. Scott first uses it in the first season to bring the alpha to the school. Later, in season 3, when he and Lydia enter Stile’s mind, he howls on Lydia’s advice to help Stiles overcome the Nogistune’s power in his mind. Stiles being part of Scott’s pack is able to hear it and regains control of his mind despite being human. Over the course of the show, we see wolves of Scott packs using it with each other, but they’re not the only one.
In the first half on the 3rd season, we are introduced to the Alpha Deucalion. Leader of the pack Scott fights against, he uses his voice to force terror and submission to those around him. He shatters his glasses when he proclaims himself Destroyer of worlds and tries later on to force Scott to kill Jennifer, making Scott fall to his knees ; his wolf unable to resist the command of an Alpha.
Sounds in this case becomes a way to rally someone to a cause or a pack. But it is a very grounding sound, used to bring either peace of mind, or terror. The viewers are then able to choose a fighter.
III. What if we just talked ?
Phones, man’s greatest invention
Scott realises quickly that something’s happening to him when he hears Allison (on the other side of the school ground) saying to the mother on the phone that she forgot to bring a pen. It helps him get on her radar since he is able to give her one, making him the first person/student Allison talks to when she arrives in BH.
As the story goes on, I’ve always thought that Allison’s relationship with sounds was a pretty important on. As a foreshadow, she gets some mysterious voicemails of a man speaking Japanese when her phone is turned off the night Stiles goes missing in s3. It is revealed that the man is telling instruction to a group of prisoners in a Japanese camp named Oak Creek during WW2. It ends up being relevant, since Kira’s mother summoned the Nogitsune while being a prisoner in this camp. Sadly, it also happens to be the place where Allison is killed.
Still with the Argents, when Kate is brought back to life, Scott says that since he doesn’t have the money to call France where Chris is staying since his daughter’s death, he thought he could text him the bad news. Stiles tells him that it might not be such a good idea to announce something like that over a text. And with money being a big part of the 4th season, the foreshadowing is once again strong in this scene.
Then we have the case of Jennifer Blake, the English teacher/antagonist in s3a. We are first introduced to her through her voice. She sent a text to all of her students, quoting the end of a book they’re going to study, and she reads the last sentence out loud coming into the classroom. And if it can be shocking to see teachers texting their students, it is later used to set up a meeting between her, Derek, Scott and Deucalion. This time, instead of the tool bringing people closer, it is used to put a plan in motion, one that involves death and pain.
Words aren’t just words, they’re tools
I talked about a lot of sounds a wolf can make, but another important thing in a series are the words themselves, the dialogues. In this story, we are faced with a lot of teenagers, and it isn’t wrong to say that at 16/17, it is hard to voice everything that’s going on in the head of a teenager. Everyone relies on a different method, and it builds their characters. Where Scott can be a little shy, Stiles is the loud one. When Lydia is making sure nobody knows how high her grades are, her boyfriend Jackson likes to brag about his successes. We have a lot of paradoxes here, and there are a lot more comparison to do.
Spoken words are loud in this series. Stiles is the sarcastic one, using it to defend himself, and it is quite interesting that Lydia is doing the same thing with her screams. But sadly, the unspoken things are louder. They can break a family apart. Scott is once again a good example. After his drunk father came home after a night out drinking, his mother told him to get out. She then went to Noah Stilinski to talk about it. Stiles overheard everything but never said a word to Scott. But so did Scott’s mother who felt like Scott would resent her if she told him that she was the one how asked his father to leave. Secret are hard to keep and live with, and they gain so much power as time goes by. There is also something to be said about misunderstandings. In that case, Melissa admits to Scott’s father in the 3rd season that he misunderstood her words, saying that she wished that he would still be a part of their son’s life.
Then, we have Stiles trying to get the biggest secret of all off his chest and tell his dad about the supernatural at the hospital. His father has a very specific answer :« I’m listening, I've been listening ». Meaning that as much as he is used to his son antics, he doesn’t want to admit that he is telling the truth. He hears what his son is saying, but he doesn’t want to listen, despite what he’s saying. Listening and hearing are two very different things. Listening means taking into account the words that are being spoken. And when the things he hears go against everything he believed his entire life, and he can’t listen to it any longer. We then find out that he had a moment when his wife died and a young woman told him to go be with his wife, and he didn’t want to obey. As much as he tells himself that he doesn’t believe, he just doesn’t want to face the fact that he missed his wife’s last moments. And it is heartbreaking to see that he needs to be himself close to dying to admit that his son was right. Stiles’ words were true, and not just the rambling of a teenager. He finally listened, after days, even years of dismissing what he refused to believe.
But some words can help bring closure. It is always a regret people have when they can’t say goodbye to their loved ones. But Allison isn’t one of them. On the contrary, her last words are probably the most important ones of the series. Just before her final battle, she made a point of telling her dad that she loved him. She needed to voice it, making sure that no matter what happened, her words would always resonate in her father’s mind. Then, she tells Scott how he’ll always be her first love, and finishes by saying that she has to tell something to her dad. When Chris hears it, he first think of his last conversation with his daughter, but it turns out that Allison needed to tell him something else : she realised how to kill the Onis, and she wants to make sure the pack and her dad are able to use her arrow heads to defeat them. Allison was a powerful young woman, fierce and strong, and as much as she values her relationship with the people around her, she also made sure to voice what was important to her.
Spoken words are on of the most effective ways to bring a story to life, but not everyone is able to speak. The show doesn’t let it stop them, and it brings us to the next subject.
Different kinds of voices
Over the course of the series, we see the pack facing all kinds of villains. Some like to talk and be heard, like Kate, or Peter, but some others use another way to be understood and deeply feared.
Let’s start with the Mute. He is a man (?) without a mouth, a professional killer who decides to kill supernatural beings from the deadpool. He uses a wrist keyboard with a computer generated voice to communicate with his victims. And the fact that he can’t talk but still has a voice coming out of him makes for a great villain, but a scary one at the same time. Because he only uses his voice to invoke fear ; with Sean Walcott to tell him that he killed his family and will kill him too, and with Peter when he tells him that Derek will be the next to die. The sounds coming from him are haunting, and likely resonate in the head of the people lucky enough to survive him.
The Anuk-Ite, who doesn’t use his own voice, found a way to inflict fear as well, with a difference: he uses other’s people voice to make his victims suffer. In the series finale, he uses the pack’s weaknesses’s voices against them to make them open their eyes and freeze them. Most of them give in and open their eyes, but Scott finds a way to go around it. If the Anuk-Ite uses voices, he will use his eyes. And it is such a great power move, because it shows us that while powerful enough to create illusion of the pack’s loved ones or fears, Scott decided to exploit the villain’s weakness against him.
Then we have the Oni, the « Japanese ninjas » from season 3. They don’t need a voice to be feared. The sound effects used to signal their presence is the only thing we need; a weird sound that comes out every time they appear, making the viewers and the character scared for what’s about to happen. And we have to recognise the talent of the people behind those sound effects, because without them, we would need words, and threats from the villains. But given that the only introduction they need is this sound, the scenes come across perfectly. And, except the few information given by Katashi, we don’t need anything else to understand that anyone standing in their way will be killed. Similar to them, are the Rider’s in the 6th season. They are some of the biggest villains the pack has faced, erasing dozens of people from existence without uttering a single word.
Finally, we have one of the most human killers of the show ; Brunski, the Head Orderly at Eichen House. He was a serial killer who killed patients because he believed he was helping them with their pain and recorded it on a tape recorder to listen to it later. In the fourth season, we found out that he murdered Lydia’s grandmother and uses this to torture her by made her and Stiles listen to the young woman's grandmother pleading for her life. And it must have been excruciating for Lydia to know that the last thing she will ever hear of her grandmother was her last moment alive. Once again, sounds and voices are being used against Lydia to torture her further, showing us that this human serial killer doesn’t need any super power to be heard and have his voice used to kill. Worst than this, his use of sounds is so disturbing. He finds happiness in listening to his victims suffer, going even further by recording it to relieve it all over again. He uses the last defences his patients have against them, even beyond their death.
Now that we saw the importance of sounds coming from humans and wolves alike, let’s see who else needs more than words to express themselves.
IV : The new world within the new world
Lydia and other Banshees
When we first meet Lydia, she is as far from the supernatural as one can be. But as time progresses, she encounters Peter who bites her and turns her into… Well something. She starts by following blindly his orders in season 2, but the real progress happens in season 3. Being held captive by Jennifer Blake, she ends up screaming, signalling every supernatural creatures around that something is happening to her. In the previous season, her screams were made to believe she was just screaming out of fear, as humans sometimes do when faced with a gigantic black form sprinting out of a store window. Blake then realises that she’s a Banshee ; the wailing woman, shading lights on so many events in the seasons : why she ended up finding a lot of the bodies in the beginning of the season, or why she would end up at certain key locations. But once again, the makers of the show decided to use sounds to express not only how she felt, but what it meant.
After she sees Peter talking to her mother about hearing, she decides to go to him to learn more about her power. He tells her that the screams don’t give her her powers. They help her calm down enough to quiet her mind. That explains how she was able to find out what was hidden in Talia Hale’s claws ; she screamed and threw them at the wall, allowing her to understand the voices inside it. That’s also how she was able to understand that the flies she was hearing in the William Barrow episodes were actually electricity, which helped the pack realise that Kira was being held at the power plant. After spending an entire day thinking there were flies around her, she finally screamed when Stiles told her to. Lydia has a special relationship with sounds, but they are sadly too overwhelming at first, thus stopping her to understand what’s going on.
During this time, a possessed version of Stiles was taking some medical tests in an MRI machine. Lydia, being so scared for his friend, spent the entire day being hyper sensitive to sounds. She was hearing lockers and doors closing at a higher rate and heard the sound of the machine loud and clear, as if she was the one inside it. She tried to put the music louder but the sounds were all she could hear, and she finally screamed. But no sound were heard in the scene. We only saw her despair and fear. She wasn’t screaming as a Banshee, but as someone who didn’t want her friend to die. The torture wasn’t over though, because Void Stiles took her in Oak Creek and there, she was able to hear every single person who died during the riot. She appears in total distress, not being able to shut her mind from all the pain that roamed around the corridor. The saddest moment however came when Allison was killed. Not being able to stop herself, or help a passed out Stiles, she just screams for the life of her best friend, and it no doubt will be added to cries of the other victims of this place.
Next comes the study in the Lake House. During the party in season 4, she realises that once the door was closed, no noise was able to come through. And as hard as it to make a scene with the proper music and sounds, it is even harder to do when there aren’t any sounds. Here we see how important the absence of noise is. And it becomes so much more relevant when we learn that her grandmother was also a Banshee who was able to predict one death because she heard rain when it wasn’t raining outside. Sadly, it didn’t help, since her girlfriend ended up dying, not able to understand where this warning was coming from. Her grandmother then decided to look for other people like her and here came Meredith. This young woman wasn’t able to understand the voices in her head. The Lake House served as some kind of experiment for her, and here, the sounds are used to show how mad they drove her. If Lydia was able to understand more of her family’s heritage and her power, Meredith bled from her ears in this room. Once again, foreshadowed when the wine bottle breaks on the ground, spreading red everywhere.
As for Meredith, she goes through some rough times during the end of the season when we discover that she was the one who created the deadpool in response of Peter’s thoughts that she was able to hear when he was in a coma after the fire. He kept going on and on about how there should be a list of supernatural people, and that professional killers should be the first one to cross names off that list. Lydia explained that for Meredith, all the time he spent in a coma, it was like she was only hearing his thoughts, like a radio. And so the deadpool was born. And once again, the study in the Lake House was a crucial part of the story since it was there that the deadpool was able to be active, and ended up being destroyed. When the truth comes out, Lydia is the only one able to understand Meredith. And it prompted the saying « Not all monsters do monstrous things ». Lydia is finally able to understand the world around her and herself, recognising that sounds and screams can be used for the greater good.
And it is also Meredith who ends up teaching a lot to Lydia, showing her that her screams can be as powerful as a bullet. From then on, Lydia is able to save Stiles from the Hunt-version of his mother in season 6 for example, help him break free of his imprisonment of the Hunt, or break Mason from The Beast’s possession in season 5. Her screams no longer come from a place of fear, but power.
But it also shows us something important : when the pack was trying to destroy the Beast of Gevaudan, Lydia is attacked by Sebastian Valet and, when she attacked him, he clawed at her throat, making her unable to use her voice, making her powerless. Over time, her screams became a defense, something that she was able to channel to protect herself. And the inability to produce them showed us once again that while it is hard to voice our thoughts and make sense of things while talking, it is even harder to deal with them without the ability to be loud or even just heard.
Eichen House & Echo House
We are first introduced to this place in season 3 when Stiles believes he is trapped there by the Nogistune. He finally decides a few episodes later to stay there to ensure the safety of the pack. And from the moment he walks in, we are surrounded creepy music. The woman tells Stiles that he won’t have any spoken contacts with the outside world for 72 hours, making sure that the isolation is complete. It also means that he won’t be able to be reassured by his loved ones. And as soon as the Sheriff begins to doubt his decision to leave Stiles there, he hears sounds louder, like Lydia earlier ; doors closing, buzzing sounds like in a prison when a cell opens and closes, etc… His mind is unable to concentrate on anything else but the sounds telling him that his son isn’t safe there. And as soon as he leaves, we have proof of that : a man hangs himself from the stairs. Right before that happens, we hear him talking, without anybody paying attention to him, even when Stiles points it out to the nurse. And when he voices his need to talk to someone outside, his request is denied. In this place, there are so many voices and levels of insanity that the few clear sentences that come out of the patients’ mouth are taken as white noise.
Stiles' roommate Oliver then tells him that he is aware of the suicide without having to leave his bed. The other name for this institution is Echo House, because according to him, everything echos there. Which means that the pain and suffering that one patient can experience is voiced and shared with all the other patients. Voices here are a sign of insanity and unsafe environment.
Sadly, all of this was perceived by Lydia earlier in the season. When Stiles went missing, she went to his room to find an intricate bundle of rope all over his bed. When Aiden pinched a string, Lydia heard voices telling her that Stiles was trapped in Eichen house.
The story then comes full circle with Lydia being a patient at Eichen House in the 5th season where she learns all about the strength of her powers. As patients are often physically restricted or tied to their beds, it is significant that Lydia was able to finally scream out her pain. So loud in fact, that she was able to break windows and free herself.
_____________________________________________________________
In the eighth episode of season 6, Blitzkrieg, Noah Stilinski says that they are gathered together (minus Stiles) because his « goofball son » decided to drag his greatest friend in the world out in the wood to see a dead body a few years ago. And this call was the beginning of everything. If Stiles hadn’t been listening, he wouldn’t have led Scott outside, Scott wouldn’t have been bitten, and none of this would have happened. And that’s the most important thing in this show. Without sounds, there wouldn’t be any kind of story.
Rare are the shows and movies who are able to make a complete work without any sounds, or spoken words. But as astonishing as those body of work are, it makes even more important the ones that feature sounds as a tool. Because that’s what they are, in the end. Tools to move a story, tools to understand the characters. Show runners talk through their characters, bring life to words that only existed in their minds. Some put more thoughts into it than others, but I think that we can learn a lot from the person behind a show if we listen closely to the sounds they choose to include in a story. Each character is a representation of a specific idea, and each one of their words represents an important notion a show runner wants the audience to grasp. Are we all willing to listen, though?
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softlyjiminie · 4 years ago
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black swan | one
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⇢ pairing(s): professional dancer!park jimin x figure skater!reader.
⇢ word count: 4.8K.
⇢ rating: 16+, mature.
⇢ genre: angst, eventual smut, fluff, e2l, fake dating!au, corrupted idol!au, dancer!au, figure skater!au.
⇢ summary: a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights... what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.
⇢ warning(s): please read for this chapter! angst, just a lot of vmon fluff, sports injury and mentions of blood!
⇢ author’s note(s): eeeep here it is everyone!! the first chapter of my new series!! ive worked super hard on this so im nervous and excited to share :( i hope you guys love it! feedback is greatly appreciated <3
⇢ series masterlist | next
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alive.
if there was one word that you would use to describe this feeling, it would be alive. from the second the toepick of your skate touched the ice, your body would always come to light, energy surging through your veins as you drifted across the smooth surface of the rink. you belonged here, you were born here. this was was where you felt at home.
although the space was littered with other skaters, you believe yourself to be alone— the music of your heavily practiced routine filling your mind while you ready your position...head down, arm outstretched and fingertips pointed. rolling your shoulders, you clutch your hand to your chest as the chords of your original soundtrack blast through your thoughts, with a half turn you bend at the back, catching your skate while you twist your body into a layback spin— holding your skate to your head. “catch foot,” you whisper, following the notes of the song— butterfly. it was a short contemporary piece composed by your trainer which you had insisted on using for this competition. as the music flows, you release your grip on your skate and allow it to hit the ice, holding your arms out in a poised manner.
gliding across the ice, you dive into your next movement— the cantilever— bending at the knee and leaning backwards, skates out-turned. you know that move after would require the support from your partner, so you skip it in favour of saving it for the eyes of the judges. hydroblades were always a signature between he and yourself. the song hits a climax in your head, piano notes wafting through lost memories, tangled with practices of routines and you tumble effortlessly into the remaining steps like a flowing waterfall that never stops— the triple axel is the jump that comes after, a difficult manoeuvre through the air...but well known in the skating community as only a few have landed it in contest. skating forward, you put your power into the jump, leaping forward with only two and half rotations, saving the third for the competition and breathing a sigh of relief when you land backwards— just as planned. you move with the grace of a pure white swan, silently slipping into every move, spin and jump as you focus on only the sounds of your blade against the ice.
completing another full turn, you head straight into a sit spin— curling in on yourself as your body lowers to the cool surface of the ice. during a spin, you fyour blades dig into the ice as you come to a halt, exposing yourself to the world once again. breathing laboured from exertion, you outstretch your arms once more and imagine the final chords of your musical piece, ending your routine.
your attention is captured by a round of applause to your left, making you whip your head in search for the sound. a sweet grin graced your lips as you recognise the two men clapping away, causing you to skate over and rest your palms on the boarders of the rink.
“taehyungie,” you sing, leaning over the barriers to ruffle at the thick mass of unruly black locks that curl just above his eyes. the boy only laughs as he grabs your wrist and pulls you in for an awkward hug. his body is warmer compared to the ice, bringing you a sense of homely comfort that you recognise as familiar. “i missed you at practice just now,”
taehyung himself rolls his eyes making it his turn to ruffle your hair. “oh please, you hardly need me! you make a two man routine look good on its own!” he rambles excitedly, body leering over the barrier as if the ice is calling him. taehyung’s dark eyes flitter up to meet yours, an amused chuckle emulating from his lips at your jokingly unimpressed expression. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were a solo skater—“
you huff, letting the corners of your lips twitch up into a small smile. “you know that i couldn’t ever do this without you, tae— i need you on the ice with me.” you poke at his cheek affectionately, your body lighting up as you spot namjoon, both yours and taehyung’s coach behind the latter. your skating partner catches the change in your expression, turning around to greet namjoon with a warm hug and kiss to the cheek.
yourself, taehyung and namjoon had known each other for as long as you could remember. you’d met taehyung at your very first skating lesson, in a beginners class when his hair was wild and untamed, a little boy with missing teeth and big bright eyes. as a little girl, you’d thought he’d gotten lost on his way to an ice hockey practice. at the time, namjoon’s father ran the skating company you started under— leaving his son in charge of the beginners class.
the three of you had grown up together; taehyung was your first kiss— promptly realising he wasn’t into girls right after you’d stolen a smooch on the swing set in your backyard after a practice (“yeah...YN, i’m gay.”). and even in high school, the two of you stalking namjoon around hallways as you teased a blushing taehyung about is growing crush on the lankier male. you cradled you’re jubilant friend as he cried when namjoon left for college, his light dimming a bit but you remembered crying harder when the three of you were united four years and a plethora of competitions, medals and skates later.
“well if it isn’t my favourite pair of skaters,” namjoon greets, tucking his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket that proudly shows off the logo of your skating company. “practicing again, YN?”
you see the amusement dancing in your coach’s eyes, he wouldn’t have put it past you to see you on the ice so early in the morning. you’d never relented with your skating, having pushed yourself to win two olympic medals by the time you were nineteen. you were an image of perfection in the skating world, not a scandal or downfall in your entire career— most would find such an achievement quite daunting— losing friends was made easy because of it... but you knew that you had taehyung and namjoon and the love of your family and company, you knew that with that you could achieve anything. “i have to, if i want to be better than taehyung...” you tease and tug on said male’s sleeve. “help me get him on the ice?”
namjoon presses a kiss into the depths of taehyung’s deep ocean locks, sending him off with a whisper that makes him run off to grab his skates before the elder approaches you. “little ice princess, i think i have a gift for you...” namjoon sings sweetly, pulling his phone from his back pocket as you lean over the barrier excitedly.
“you think?”
“i know.”
the elder holds out his device for you to see, the screen lighting up as an unfamiliar caller ID flashes across it. you raise your eyes hesitantly while your coach nods, smile reaching his eyes as you answer the call. a group of beaming faces decorate the screen and your own eyes dance across each and every one of them, recognising them as the boys and girls of moonchild skating company.
“YN!” the skaters cheer, waving excitedly amongst a sea of claps and giggles. “good, luck!”
“thanks you guys,” you whisper sweetly, sparing an appreciative glance at namjoon, you blow kisses to all of your fellow skaters thankfully. you note some of them to be from different ranks in your company; from beginners to juniors and some from different areas of competition— although your heart jumps slightly at the sight of one in particular. “jungkookie...”
“noona!” the boy cheers, scrunching his nose excitedly at the mention of his name. your heart melts as he looks to you with sparkling doe eyes, the younger boy having a special place in your heart— he came to the company bright eyed and shy, there had been a lot of doubt about jungkook’s abilities on the ice because of that. but as soon as he stepped foot on the rink, everyone’s worries drifted away— each of his movements were silken and seamless easily making him one of the best solo skaters in the senior rank, although he was slightly younger than you. you remember catching him after practice one day— he had yet to decide if he wanted to sign up with namjoon and he’d only  stayed behind to watch you run through your routine with taehyung. the bumbling boy couldn’t help but blush when he’d been caught with yourself and your partner yearning for him to join. he did so in the end... because of you, because you had inspired him to pick up skating after you won your first gold medal. it just so happened that little jungkookie was a fast learner. “did you like the surprise? i thought it would help with your nerves— i know you get butterflies in your tummy before you perform! so do i! especially when i see you— uh! i mean!”
jungkook’s ears burn as bright as his cherry red hair, the shade only feeling as your melodious chuckle wafts through the phone’s speakers. “i loved it kookie, thank you.” you hum, batting your lashes at him, despite the presence of the other skaters on the call. you knew he had a soft spot for you, it was hard to miss his longing gazes and the tightening of his jaw when tae put his hand on your waist for lifts. it was sweet. “good luck to you in your regionals as well, you’ll do great... okay?” you’re quick to remind him, as you note taehyung returning from the locker room.
“t-thank you noona! we love you!”
the skaters give you one last cheer and round of applause as taehyung slips into view with a boxed grin and sweet wave. namjoon ends the call, ruffling his lover’s mop of hair before ushering the two of you onto the ice, ready to run through your routine one last time.
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putting together the perfect routine, is like making the perfect breakfast. the eggs you begin with, a sweet yolk dancing on your tongue like the starting moves that give the judges a taste of what you’re capable of. next were the pancakes, drenched in syrup— like light movements through the air, packing a punch with the saucy moves between yourself and your partner to show off your finesse and finally, there was the—
“orange juice.” taehyung’s timbre voice cut through your thoughts like a knife as he place a glass of freshly squeezed juice in front of you whilst disrupting your  mentally mapped out routine. blinking rapidly under his stares, your gaze switched from the piles of food he’d set on your plate, to the amused but scolding glare he’d spared you. “drink it, it’ll keep your sugar and energy up for today.”
“thanks taetae...”
you nod gratefully, leaning forward and taking a gulp of the bitter yellow liquid as if it’ll wash away the nerves beginning to bubble in the pits of your stomach. nonetheless, the skater beams brightly at you before he scoffs down a mouthful of his towering breakfast— as he always did before such events. you, however, couldn’t bare to eat— not with the devious stares of the other female figure skaters who eyed your plates. you knew it was a tactic to throw you off guard, the canteen of the hotel was much like a high school back in the day, with cliques and squads all out to get each other. it was always like this before major skating competition but your mind is too busy being filled with anticipation of getting on the ice and showing off once more.
namjoon appears after taehyung has eaten more than half his plate— resulting in him stealing bits and pieces from your own. “don’t look so nervous, YN,” the elder chides from over his steaming cup of coffee, hand running through his dishevelled purple and blonde streaked locks. “you’ll do great, both of you will.” your coach spares a knowing glance to taehyung, who blushes through munching the rest of your pancakes and so; you can tell by the light bruises on the neck that he and taehyung had a rough encounter in the night before.  
joon was never allowed to mark taehyung above the waist, because the younger loved to wear costumes that glittered and showed off his open chest. you knew from experience that the marks would be below the waist where no one could see— like their own little good luck ritual. glee consumes your skating partner as namjoon nuzzles his nose into his dark hair, the distraction letting you slip under the surface of worry once more.
‘no, you’ve got this.’ you think, flickering your gaze anywhere but your plate in order to clam the race horse of thoughts in your mind. you finally settle on staring at the news report playing on the small digital TV hanging in the right hand corner of the cafeteria. park jimin, arrested for speeding. the report flashes across the screen, images of bright blonde hair and dark eyes hidden by thick black shades passing by with faint sounds of camera clicks.
you shake your head, grateful to never had experienced trouble like that. sure, you’d dealt with reporters and trash paparazzi but, joon and tae— they’d always gotten you through it. it was just nice to not be alone like him...
park jimin.
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taehyung had a mind of brilliance.
you sit in the stylist chair, hair slicked back and curled away from your eyes— the momentum of free hair would have disrupted your skating or thrown you off balance, but god was kim taehyung a miracle worker. he always knew how he wanted you both to look for performances, the makeup artists bidding to his every need. you could even find him helping out with the beginners class performances— adding glitter to baby cheeks and braiding youthful hair.
today, your friend had decided the look you would go for; would be faded baby blue shadow dancing across your lids and blending softly with cloudy whites and silver sparkles. your liner was sharp, winged enough to cut the diamond edge of the gemstones that were dotted at the corner of your eye— taehyung was smart, co-ordinating your makeup look with the pretty silver dress namjoon had scouted out just for you.
the article of clothing itself, is backless with long sleeves that form tear drops at your pointer finger as they fade from silver to a cool grey, much like the skirt of your dress. smaller gemstones and pearls align at your waist and chest, that glistened under the cheap light when namjoon had first revealed the outfit to you. you had cried when you thumbed the flowing layered skirt, thanking your boys endlessly for the beautiful dress but taehyung had only giggled — knowing that it matched his silver to white shirt, tight fitting and glittering with layered sleeves (which he loved so much).
now, you laced up your skates— nerves peaking once more. the white leather sat comfortably against your heal, having broken in the skates amiss your training. you knew that the current pair were already on the ice, eliciting cheers from the crowd so you forced your jitters into lacing up and securing your skates. a double not would suffice.
“you’re both going to do amazing, remember whatever happens out there... i’m proud of you.” your coach reminds with one last dimpled smile before you’re due on the ice. taehyung pecks both of your cheeks and leads you away from your team of staff— who clap excitedly for you while your names are announced.
squeezing his hand, you slide smoothly onto the ice with taehying and close your eyes, breathing in the sharp scent of coolness and fresh air and taking in the squeals of your names. “you look great,” your partner comments easily, smirking as you circle each other on the rink. you open your eyes, noting the white-ish glow the ice gives to taehyung’s honey skin and grin. “we’ve got this.”
“we always do,” you nod back in affirmation, confidence flaring as the announcement finishes (you had always felt more at home on the ice, and tae knew once you were out there, your worries would melt away with the music). you push yourself into position with tae, your foreheads pressed against once another’s, so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face. it’s all for the dramatics but you know that the crowd loves your chemistry. piano chords drift through the air, signalling the start of your routine, your hands roam across taehyung’s body like you’d practiced countless times. when the beat picks up, taehyung twists you in his arms, fingertips reaching just above your head while your own hands follow his to link them.
you begin to pick up momentum, skating with each other in arm as the first verse picks, with hands on your waist, taehyung picks you up gently, holding you off the ice for just a second as he skates into a half spin before placing you down. resuming your movements across the rink, you separate and tumble into your next move— they lay back spin. the pair of you synchronise your moves, holding your skates to your head as you twirl into the lyrics of the song.
‘is it true? is it true?’ the lyrics reverberate in your mind, body following taehyung’s lead into the next steps. his fingertips are  light on your arms to keep them poised, both of you extending your right legs as you glide across the ice. ‘you, you, you...’ your partner lifts you once more into his arms, pushing you into the air for you to fall gracefully into a double salchow— taking off with the back inside edge of your right skate and landing on the outside of the opposite skate. the crowd bursts into applause, making you grin subtly at your partner before interlocking your fingers once more for a partnered arabesque spirals.
your hand grips taehyung’s firmly, letting your bodies move naturally with the music as you hold your legs in outstretched positions. the chorus bursts through the arena as the air below your arms blows away any worries, you fall back into taehyung’s arms once more for a lift above his head— your legs stretched out into a galloping motion before he swiftly prompts you into a death spiral, holding onto your arm as he twirls your body lower towards the ice.
when the chorus ends, you’re back to skating side by side, wowing the crowd with your movements— like namjoon said you would. completing a paired sit spin, movements mirrored perfectly, a feeling of dread feels your stomach. the ice changes beneath your skates— rougher on this side of the rink than others which sends ripples of worry through your veins at what is to come next. a triple axel jump, they were difficult to land and yet a specialty of yourself and your partners. you knew in your heart that if you landed this jump, the competition was yours but the buzzing feeling in your mind knew that something was wrong. to others, the ice carried you gracefully across the rink, but you knew something was out of place. catching taehyung’s eye, it’s as if he feels it too, but you can’t miss he jump... not when it could cost you the chance of a win.
putting your trust into taehyung, the man you’ve known for years— you curl into his chest as his strong hands support you into propelling you into the triple axel jump but to your dismay, the ice catches beneath his toe pick, taehyung misses a fraction of a beat as he forces you into the air. fear spikes in your chest— you weren’t ready, not to land, not for the jump, not for the music to push through with a climax.
and certainly not for the crunch of your bones.
excited cheers die down to fearful gasps and screams of horror, while taehyung picks himself up from the fall. the world is too loud, the lights are too bright and paramedics rush past him as he shakes himself off. wait, paramedics. pupils blown wide the skater rushes to his feet, pushing past men in orange suits with medical kits strewn about— he hears the faint call of namjoon from over the barrier and the announcers up ahead but his focus is on you.
the loudness fades and a ringing sensation builds up behind your ears— the world is black and you can only catch momentary flashes of taehyung’s worried face above your own. you’re confused, you can’t hear him as he mumbles through his sudden onslaught of tears. you cringe as they drip onto your face, an urge to wipe away the wetness taking over you— but when your fingers are brought back to your eyes, you notice the colour of crimson decorating your finger tips.
a muffled cry leaves your small frame as pain shoots through your leg, you can’t find the source but suddenly reality comes rushing back. you can hear the rushed voices of paramedics as they shuffle you onto a gurney, you can feel the stickiness of blood from somewhere on your head trickle down your back— soiling the pretty dress namjoon worked so hard to find, the throbbing pain in your left leg becoming too much to bare as you cry out for anyone, anything.
it hurts, god it hurts.  
“stay with me, YN, keep th-those eyes open for me? okay baby?” you hear as your vision sways, but the voice is familiar— timbre and warm just like taehyung’s. his cool hands cup your face, brushing through your hair as he limps off the rink with your gurney. “p-please stay awake? baby please...” you know that he’s crying and you know that you’re crying too, but you’re too tired, to sleepy to comply with his wishes. the world is still dark, briefly brightening when you see namjoon from the corner of your eye. he’s gone again and the buzzing world is replaced with the scent of disinfectant and hand sanitizer. there’s arguing, yelling but you can’t see from behind closed eyes.
“she needs surgery!”
“what she needs, is us!”
when you come to, one last time you lock eyes with taehyung’s trusting brown ones, watering on the edge of tears. “i won’t leave you, i promise.”
and with that, you slip away again.
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there were certain sounds you liked to hear. like the sound of your skate cutting into thick ice when you landed a jump, taehyung’s sweet singing after a long day of practice or the old romcoms you had playing in your hotel room after a day of competing.
the incessant beeping filling your senses was not a sound you liked.
“it’s my fault, joon. you should have seen her face... it’s like she knew and she trusted me to—“ taehyung cuts through the beeping with a voice filled with worry, his jubilant demeanour having been lost somewhere. your head begins to pound as you remember his skittish sobs, but the memories are blurred still.
namjoon’s voice enters next, interrupting the shaking voice of his boyfriend. “it’s not your fault, how could you have known she’d fall like that? you tripped taehyung, something wasn’t right.”
“but she felt it, we both did—“
“then i’ll take it up with the board, we’ll sue, we’ll— we’ll figure out what happened.” your coach reasoned with his lover, a silence sweeping over the room. you yearned for the comfort you felt eminate between them but when you lift your arm, you realise you’re unable to move— the wires and plugs and breathing machines keeping you strapped to the bed. panic rises in your chest, blocking your air as you struggle to breathe—  taehyung is the first to rush to your side, lifting your mask and cradling you into his chest as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.
namjoon is on your other side, rubbing a large palm up and down your back and out instantly feel comforted by their presence. hot tears roll down your cheeks, burning in your oesophagus as you claw at the base of your throat.
“shhh, little princess it’s okay— we’ve got you.”
a cup of water is brought to your lips which you quickly gulp down, the cool liquid soothing the ache in your throat. blinking, you cling tightly to taehyung’s cable knit sweater— hesitant to speak due to your unused voice. “wh-what happened?” you manage, unsure if your whispers can be heard above the pounding of your heart. “where...where are we?”
“you were in an accident,” namjoon spoke lowly from above you, taehyung instantly squeezing you closer as memories of the incident flashed behind both of your eyes. a low whimper left your childhood friend’s lips at your wince— squeezing you again as if he could drain your pain away. your coach swears he feels his heart break at the two of you hurting, pressing the buzzer for the nurse as tae cradles you and sliding onto your hospital bed to wrap his larger arms around you both. “something went wrong with the ice and, you fell—“
your fingers curl tighter in your friend’s clothes, as you remember the pain shooting up your leg and burning in the back of your skull. taehyung avoids your eyes this time, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “they checked you for a concussion and your leg...” his baritone voice an octave, a cool quiet seeping into the room. “your leg is broken, but with one more surgery and some physical therapy— you’ll be back on the ice in no time!”
your heart plummets in your chest, you knew what injuries like that did to figure skaters. sure you were young, you had time to recover but even the slightest pause in doing so could cost you your entire life, your career. the pair of lovers that surround you share a grim look, knowing the thoughts that are rushing through your mind.
“we have the best doctors for you, YN, with a few months—“
you blink up at tae with fiery eyes filled with tears, resisting the urge to shove him away. “i don’t have a few months, tae! training for the olympics is what i should be doing!” you hiccup, starting to choke on tears you refuse to let shed. “i need to be out there on that ice, or i’m useless, i need to—“
you make movements to step out of bed, sucking in your lower lip as a dull ache rests in your bones. the pair are quick to pull you back into bed, but your hands scold them with slaps as you push them away. you have no right to be angry at them, but you know that they understand. taehyung seems to be calmer now, despite the hurt that tickles his puppy dog features at your resistance, he does his best to comfort you.
but a prominent scowl yearns for the curve of namjoon’s lips, your coach falling deep in thought.
“you’re suspended from skating.”
“wh-what?” you stammer, eyes burning with a fresh set of tears for the third or fourth time that night. this time, your partner stands, looking to his lover in confusion and standing with his hands resting on your shoulders comfortingly.
he speaks hesitantly. “now joon...”
“no, taehyung,” your coach sighs, remaining stern. it kills him to make this choice, but there’s no other way— at least not for now. “LN YN will be suspended from all physical skating activities until she has made a full recovery with a hired physical therapist...” the words pierce straight into your heart, tearing you apart from the inside. you want to scream and cry and kick and protest but you’re too numbed from pain and betrayal to speak or move. “legal action will be taken up with the board responsible for the competition but until then, you will not touch the ice. understand?”
you blink, numb.
“YN, i said, do you understand?” namjoon repeats, steeling his gaze. he hates this, he hates hurting both you and his love.
you nod once, looking away whilst tae rubs circles into your shoulders. his lover mentions something about a coffee before slipping out of the room... and that’s when you breakdown. you cry, heavy ugly tears with a running nose that you’re sure stains your best friends sweater as he rocks you back and forth into the night.
you cry until your spark is dull, you cry until your chest burns and until your eyes are dry. you cry because you’ve lost your purpose in life.
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⇢ taglist ! ( comment, like or dm to be added! )
@periminkle​  @ggukkieland​   @aishots​ @ownthesunshine​ @codeinebelle​ @taeass​ @trviahope @singular-itae @preciouschimine @yoongismykink @idiakh @honeyspillings @kimsdior @chimshoe @cypherft-v @tangledsparkles
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petals42 · 5 years ago
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Coach - Part V
Hello all. I know in my major fics I’ve made Coach and Suzanne not very nice people, but after the latest updates I figured I’d try my hand at writing canon-compliant Coach. This is in his POV so obviously Coach-centric and he is not magically a perfect ally. He’s trying though. 
3.6k; canon-compliant; content warning: homophobia; post- Coach IV
It’s Sunday. Which means Church for Suzanne always and Church for Richard when he has the time. Or about every three weeks when Suzanne starts asking him on Thursday whether he is going to make it this week instead of waiting til the morning-of. It’s his signal to go with her so she can show him off or introduce him to new folks or just re-establish that they are together and happy and she can still make him go to Church whenever she wants. 
Either way, it’s not bad. He doesn’t mind listening to the sermons, even if he’s not quite sure how much stock he puts in all of this, and the music is good enough, even if he’s not one for singing himself. 
He doesn’t even mind the post-Church chitchat. In the fall and winter, the traditional spread of baked goods made by the women of the Church is usually served in the small auditorium. It’s cold when you first walk in and then all the bodies heat it up so that by the end Suzanne will be complaining that if they don’t want to put the AC on, they could just open a window or something.
Richard knows his role in this too. He stands off to the side with his plateful of baked goods, making sure to take the ones baked by Suzanne’s friends and avoid the ones made by anyone his wife is currently feuding with. He chats with some folk who wander over, always polite, but mostly people know him well enough to let him be and wait for Suzanne to finish talking with everyone. 
They have a good system. They walk through the line of food together which is when he puts on his best smile. Then he goes to a corner, she claims she has to use the restroom but takes her plate with her and stops to mill and chat with everyone on the way to the bathroom. She’ll finish her plate before she gets to the bathroom, throw it away, and then talk to many of the same people on her way back. He’ll wait and watch and when she starts looking a little tight around the eyes or flexes her left hand in that certain way, that’s when he’ll walk up and ask if she minds leaving. She’ll say of course, they will make their goodbyes, and that’s that. 
Sunday morning. 
Usually his time in the corner is almost meditative. He lets his eyes unfocus and eats just steadily enough that people can see he is eating and lets his mind drift. It may be a weird place to meditate, in a room filled with other adults, but it works for him. Coaching is a loud job, filled with the noise of teenagers and yelling and grunts and sounds just of working in a high school, really. And then Suzanne is not loud in the same way and he loves listening to her (for as little as he inputs, really he does), but she’s not a still person. She’s light and movement and laughter and she fills up a room enough that usually he is content to just bask in her presence. It’s more joyful than meditative. 
This, though. This is just right. His brain is already a little fuzzy from spacing out during the sermon and he’s bored enough that usually he would pull out his phone, but standing and relaxing in a corner is fine. Playing on your phone in a corner is rude. According to Suzanne. And he doesn’t disagree. So he’s a little bored, unable to do anything to fix that boredom, happy to turn the chitchat around him into a sort of gray static he doesn’t have to pay attention to and just… relax.
Of course, this week relaxing is a bit difficult.
He’d been busy in the week he’d gotten back from Samwell. He had booked that flight a bit last minute so it was fly out late, late on Tuesday and then leave Thursday midday to try to make it back for Thursday’s practice because he was the head coach of a football team and, goodness Junior better make it late in the playoffs when there is plenty of time for him to actually go up and see more of the games. 
So it was practice and then cram all the strategy and tape he was supposed to do Tuesday and Wednesday into Friday and game Saturday (a win, but a sloppy one if he is being honest) and it is now, Sunday, as he stands and watches people try to eat while holding a small paper plate filled with too much food, that he is finally able to think about it all. 
About the car ride and Junior telling him that he wasn’t acknowledging his relationship and getting upset and telling him that he needed to know he wasn’t messed up, like Richard would ever think he was messed up but the fact that Junior had to even ask was--
He blows out a breath. Not angry just… annoyed. At himself. And maybe a little but at Junior even though he shouldn’t be and he isn’t, he just--
Sometimes he feels he never got credit for the things he did do. He paid for all those ice dancing lessons even though he didn’t understood a bit of it. And then when it became obvious Junior was good, he paid for that private coach and went online to learn at least some of the terms even though he was never going to be able to give Junior any actual advice on anything. Which had… well, he could at least admit that that had been a bit of a disappointment. He loved teaching and coaching and yes, see, don’t rely on your elbow so much. Power’s in your shoulder-- there you go, feel the difference? He loved being a coach. But with Junior and ice skating… he looked up enough to sometimes manage a weak Remember to pull your arms tight and Junior would look up at him and smile and nod when he was little but he got older and better and eventually he had to stop trying. Because Junior was more advanced than any of the little tips he could find and he had that private coach to tell him what he was actually doing wrong and he didn’t want to look like a fool and certainly didn’t want Junior to get annoyed with him so…
He’d moved too. He and Suzanne. Packed up their house and he’d gotten a new job away from the kids he’d been coaching for years and they never talked about it with Junior, never wanted him to feel like it was his fault but his son wasn’t stupid. He would’ve thought that he made the connection between the bullying and the change of scenery, as it were. 
And then there was hockey, another sport for him to learn enough so he could at least understand what was going on and offer tentative tips, and Samwell and taking out a loan to cover what Junior’s scholarship didn’t and flying up to see at least some of the games and he’s tried to keep things as normal as possible after Jack. Tried to make it obvious that nothing had changed. That he viewed his son exactly the same. But even that hadn’t been enough.
He looks down where he’s holding his paper plate filled with post-Church snacks and realizes he’s crumpling it. But he can’t quite get his hand to loosen. Kids these days. And even thinking that made him feel old but it was true. Kids these days want everything spoken aloud, everything talked about, all mushy, like actions don’t count for anything anymore. It just-- he could count on one hand the number of times his daddy had ever said anything like “I love you” or “I’m proud of you” but he still knew it was true. Of course he knew. His father attended as many of his football games as he could and shook his hand on his wedding day, offered him a cigar when Eric was born...
And, really, he thought he had been being pretty obvious. Right after the Cup, he had started talking about Jack’s goal and his great game and congratulating him and he thought that was clear enough. That if Jack was important to Junior, than he would care about Jack’s sport as much as he could. And then he flew up to see Junior on a week where he could see Junior’s game and they could watch Jack’s game together too. Sure, he referred to Jack as Junior’s friend, but he… he didn’t know if boyfriend was the right word or if they were using partner and, okay, okay maybe it was easier to say “friend”, at least at first. Which, okay, was wrong. But also Junior didn’t even seem to hear the rest of what he was saying. He had gone up there and complimented Jack and Jack’s team and how Jack and Junior worked together and had thought he was being obvious about starting to invite Jack over for Christmas and somehow Junior still ended up yelling at him in the car. 
His mouth twists at that. That had been… not good. Not only because Junior had been hurt and crying, but because he’d been angry and yelled and he was pretty sure he mentioned that he had had to find out through the TV, like some stranger and he…
You weren’t supposed to tell your kids when they hurt your feelings. He knows that. He’s… he’s not allowed to get his feelings hurt, anyway, from the sounds of it. From the reading he’s done in the days he’s been back. The internet says that coming out is a personal thing and everyone makes their own decision and, according to most websites, it’s probably his fault. His and Suzanne’s for not being more openly supportive of people when Junior was growing up. For making him feel like he couldn’t tell them. And he doesn’t-- well, he doesn’t remember ever saying anything blatantly rude like that, he figures he’s usually a live and let live type, but apparently all those little things-- microaggressions, the internet calls ‘em-- apparently those add up. 
So, again, his fault. 
He shifts and swings his head to find Suzanne. It only takes him a moment; his eyes are long used to flicked through a crowd to find someone just her size with that specific hair color. She’s laughing, chatting with Ruby, and from the looks of it, he’s still got a while. Which is fine. He could go find one of the guys to chat with and, as the local football coach, there’s plenty of chatting he could do but he--
He looks as Suzanne and wonders instead. If her feelings are still a little hurt by Junior’s way of telling them. If she feels old and forgotten and replaced by all those friends he’s got up at college. The ones who knew first.
He pops a cookie in his mouth. Feels his stomach twist up as his mind flashes once again to that dumb car ride. And really, how was he supposed to know Junior even cared about his opinion anymore? He had all those friends and Jack and all the Falconers who all spoke out about it afterwards and there had been pictures with Jack’s parents who were there and clearly knew and Eric hadn’t even called them after. Not for hours and hours. 
He can’t help but think it wasn’t right. Suzanne had been beside herself with worry and called him over and over and Richard thought he was pretty okay, but he didn’t like when someone hurt Suzanne. Especially not Junior. Those two talked nearly every day, it seemed to him, and it was a hell of a time for his son to suddenly be so irresponsible with his mama’s feelings. 
He takes a breath. Lets it go. Those two have clearly made up and there’s no point in fighting someone else’s battle especially if they didn’t seem too torn up about it anymore. 
He wishes he had remembered that during the car ride. That he was better at not reacting with anger sometimes. At not getting all defensive. Then maybe the car ride would’ve gone smoother. Maybe that whole mess could have been avoided. And he wouldn’t still feel so embarrassed and guilty about it even though he thinks that maybe he’d finally gotten the message through on his way to the airport. 
Yes, thank God, at least that went well. He’s pretty sure. So Junior’s good with Suanne and good with him and Jack is coming down for Christmas so that’s that.
To be honest, he isn’t quite sure what to do next. Junior seems to watch him to talk and ask about Jack, but the internet said to treat the relationship just like any other and he isn’t sure he had been planning on talking to Junior much about girls except for maybe a quick check that they were being safe and he was being honorable and perhaps a “Is she expecting a ring?” or “Seems about time you went out and got one” talk. That’s about all he and his daddy had done. 
Other things he’s doing now-- reading up about things on the internet and planning to maybe pop over to the GSA at the high school when he thinks the other coaches can run the beginning of practice without him -- those things don’t come up in conversation much. At least not naturally. So there is no way to tell Junior. Not that he wants to. Would sound too much like bragging or trying to get points for doing the basics. Which, again, the internet tells him is bad. 
Watch gay movies (queer cinema, he says in his head, trying it out from what he’d read) is next. He has to make sure he looked completely comfortable with Junior and Jack kissing and the like when they came for Christmas. Luckily, the internet has a list of ones available on Netflix. Though, he’s not sure he’s supposed to talk to Junior about those either. He found one tweet or something in his search that seemed to imply that parents telling or asking their gay children about gay movies is awkward. Like assuming they all know each other. 
There seems to be a mighty fine line between not acknowledging that your kid is gay enough and talking about it too much and making them feel all different. It’s a shame he can’t ask Junior for some advice. But he’s already done enough damage. He’ll have to figure this out on his own. He had spoken disparagingly of parades and rainbows in the car because, sonuvabitch, that seems like a hellish way to spend a Saturday, what with the noise and the heat and people all crammed into a small area like that, but if… well if it would help Junior feel better, he could probably do it. For a couple hours. Maybe. 
He’ll have to talk to Junior directly more, he decides. Not just wait for major updates to come through Suzanne. He’ll have to--
“Hey, hon,” Suzanne says, stepping in front of him. He blinks and refocuses his eyes and wonders what brought her over. He doesn’t think it’s been as long as she usually stays. “You okay?”
“Wha- yeah,” he says. “Why?”
“Just checking,” she says. “You were just looking pretty intense, that’s all.”
“Just thinking about plans and stuff,” he replies. Not a lie. 
“Plans?”
“Football stuff,” now he’s lying. “Game was sloppy yesterday. Gotta tighten up.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she says, patting his arm. She knows more about football than people assume and she can talk strategy with him when he needs to, but she’s not about to do it in Church. Sometimes she gets enough gossip here to last her the week. 
“You ready to go?” she asks.
“If you want,” he replies. “I can stay longer if you want to talk to--”
“No, no,” she says. “You were up at Samwell this week. Let’s head back.”
He nods and accepts it when her path to the exit leads them through the center of the room rather than around the outskirts. There are hugs and kisses on the cheek and he nods and says goodbye when prompted and they are just about out when--
“Oh, the Bittles!” It’s Martha. Her last name escapes him at the moment but it’s not a big deal. He waits for Suzanne to finish her hug and then he leans down and gives her a polite hug as well. “How are you two holding up?”
“Just fine,” Suzanne says. Richard bobs his head up and down in agreement. “Did Todd make it today?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s got that new job so he’s just been busy, busy, busy!”
“Oh well, send him our love,” Suzanne says effortlessly. “And we certainly know what it means to be a bit busy. Especially this time of year!.”
“Oh yes,” Martha says. “It’s always like school starts up again and then suddenly it’s Christmas!”
“With somehow a thousand stressful football games in the middle.”
“Seems the weeks get shorter every year,” Richard adds which is what he always adds during this conversation. 
“And the football games get longer,” Suzanne stage-whispers to Martha where it gets its usual short laugh and Richard shrugs to say ‘What can you do?’ and he’s pretty sure they have a clear shot to the door once they finish this one. 
“Speaking of,” Suzanne continues and here it is, her exit strategy. “This one’s got to get home to plan for next Saturday so…”
“Of course, of course,” Martha says, waving them on. “Good luck!” and that should be the end of it, except Martha leans in one last time to Suzanne, speaks softly enough that Richard knows the comment wasn’t really meant for him at all, and says:
“We’ve been praying for you, you know. You and little Dicky.”
Suzanne’s smile goes a bit off-center but she is turning the lean into a quick goodbye hug already and moving and--
“Praying for Junior?” Richard finds himself saying. His blood has gone a bit cold somehow. “Why?”
Maybe he meant it to come out confused and dumb-like. It doesn’t. It comes out like he actually meant it: accusatory. Barely polite. 
Martha freezes. Suzanne sort of looks at him, her eyes flashing a bit of a warning. He doesn’t know if it’s to not cause drama or to just ignore it but he does neither of those things. He just stands and waits for her answer. 
“Well,” Martha says, glancing quickly around, probably to check who is listening. No one really appears to be so far. He hadn’t actually spoken that loudly. “Well, you know, with the… the… you know.”
“No, I don’t,” he says. Suzanne is definitely glaring at him a bit now.
“We’re not judging,” Martha is saying, voice almost a whisper. “We love Dicky. We do. We’re just keeping him in our prayers while he works through…”
She fades out or at least Richard doesn’t hear if she says more because all he can hear is his son worrying that he is messed up somehow, that he needs to be fixed, that he’s anything less than perfect.
“My son,” Richard starts and it’s a bit of a fight to keep his voice even. He clears his throat and tries again. “My son is the captain of his college hockey team, is graduating this May, and is currently dating someone who makes him very happy. A man. His boyfriend. My son’s boyfriend makes him very happy. He just told me. He is very happy.”
Richard takes a breath. Now people are looking. Not everyone, he hadn’t been talking quite loud enough to cause that, but people near them are looking and Martha’s mouth is sort of hanging open and, actually, Suzanne looks a bit shocked himself and suddenly Richard is very aware that he does not want to be the center of attention anymore. If ever. 
“I- Well I--” Martha tries to start up again but Richard cannot even express how much he does not want to hear it. 
“I reckon you should save your prayers for those who actually need ‘em,” Richard says. “Which doesn’t include my boy.”
He moves then. He doesn’t care what she has to say or what anyone else has to say, and, God help him, he doesn’t even know if he cares what Suzanne has to say, not if it’s something negative or worried about the gossip he just started. He just nods one last time at her because that’s what he does when he walks away from someone and takes a few quick strides out of the room. Then it’s down the hall and hang a left and there.
Outside. 
That’s a bit better. Suzanne is right. It does get too hot in there. 
He’s just sort of standing there, taking deep breaths, calming down, hands on his hips, when suddenly an arm links through his. 
He waits a beat before looking down at Suzanne.
Her grin is blinding.
“You are brilliant,” she says, standing on her tip-toes and that’s his cue to lean over for a kiss on the cheek and he can feel a blush coming on (Junior thinks he gets that from his Mama, but that’s all Bittle). “Brilliant! I wish I had a picture of her face. God, she’s been saying that shit-- excuse my language, Jesus-- that shit for months and I’ve just been ignoring it and you! You just… Brilliant!”
She is bouncing and happy and they walk to the car, arm in arm, like back when they were dating and, alright, let’s not throw a parade or anything, he tells her, well aware that he’s still blushing, but--
It’s a start.  
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wang-yeon · 7 years ago
Text
Fragile Bones| Taehyung
Having  a child had been the toughest aspect of your life however as you meet Tae everything seemed to vanish. Oh how you were wrong, Tae holds a passion with under ground fighting that you cant bear even but whats the damage it could cost. He has been a father like visual to your child for all this time and now he begins to to lose these moments because of his love for illegal fighting. You have the choice to understand his ways or leave him and move along
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Warning: Smut, cursing, violence hunnty, fighter tae!
Genre: Smut angst possibly fluff
Word count: 13K
A/N: Sorry ive been gone ive been taking exams and honey i am stressed but im finished so now i can focus on what more important you guys and BTS beauty also there is most likely spelling errors i wanted to get his up as soon as i could for you guys
I traced the outline of his fragile bones, each holding a defined darkened bruise. Along the busted and bruised skin came along scars of his past markings. Scars that held different reasons of each but all coming together mixing on his body as it was seen as a damage canvas  of injury had been permanently marked on his body without any worry. The opponent had caused the damage as Tae along with his scared body was apart of an underground fighting rink. He had willing done this to his body and he was perfectly fine with it as it was what he loved, somewhere along the line i wish i was fine with his passion too. The top reasons why i had found no interest in the idea was the fact that he would get hurt and that we had a child living under our roof who was frequently seeing the great pain that was relished upon him. It was sore for Dylans eyes especially as when he first laid eyes on his bruised skin he began to grow worried and ask questions but as Tae quickly dismissed that he was a bad guy fighting crime. I smiled upon the memory of my two favorite men in my life. Dylan hadnt been biologically been Tae's son however he saw him like a father and addressed him as one. He never knew his actually father as he left at the tender of before knowing how to walk, even before then Tae had taken the place of his official father figure before he could draw any questions. Even in life we managed to have bruises and bumps but along the way you may meet someone to heal these wounds, however not all wounds are heal able. Tae was living proof of so.
After i finished looking over his back i lightly tapped him signalling. He slightly flinched at the not so gentle touch as i was providing him causing me to usher out a gentle sorry. He let out a shaken breathe as he shifted his body allowing me to get a full view of his slightly tampered face, however it still managed to look as picturesque as usually. I carefully cleaned his face watching him flinch at each wipe i provided him with as well did I. I felt him looking at me with his golden honey eyes not focusing on his own pain rather than mine. It always amazed me how he took in others feelings rather than his hence the reason he started this whole thing. We had been struggling for quiet some time before he decided to partake in this as i was struggling with jobs, till i finally decided to land one. However he still participated in it as he began to realize this small job he did to provided for our family was his true passion that he had to stick with so i sought out my best to follow along his side.
"You dont have to worry about me, Ill be fine and im still fine."
"Your scars speak other wise."
I pressed down on one bruised partially rough causing him to winch showing him that i was right in the situation. I keep on this time taking in a gentle approach on cleaning his face. I still felt his eyes longing for mine however i still continued cleaning his face. I had felt myself becoming suborn however a common trait along with this was that i hadnt cared if i was feeling this way or not. I had felt myself wanting to look at him but i kept on wanting to feel something that would allow me to have a sense of power but in reality it was pointless and I had no reason to do so.
"Please, just look at me."
I felt my orbs look down at him in a glance before looking back at other features of his face. I keep on with my actions before i felt Taes rough hands travel to my cheeks causing my lips to pucker out and create the feeling of my cheeks being big and chubby. I felt him guide my face to his as he let out a victorious smirk before i felt his lips mold with mine causing me to soften from my previous mood. The kiss was light and sweet enough to bring me to the state of the very first moment we had meet and the bound filled emotions I had felt however the moment had came to an end rather to soon still causing a smile to paint itself on my features.
"I can taste the blood on your lips."
"I thought you were into that."
I laughed shaking my head slightly at his words. Even in the mist of his injuries he had managed to make me smile causing his eyes to soften upon my features. He grew out of his pain by seeing the joy off others as he grew in anger seeing the angered words of his opines
He varied in emotions and at times it grew worrisome but he never gave me the reason to be scared of him and i knew i never would
"I could literally watch you smile all day, and definitely in the creepy way. However Now we need to get some rest the both of us, we've had a long day."
"Mostly you."
"What? Are you kidding me, you literally juggle a high end job all while being an amazing mother. You are what the kids call a MILF."
"Milf?"
"Ill explain later my innocent child but for now we have to go to bed."
I felt his hand ruffle my hair while he got up off of the the coach gesturing a hand to lift me off the couch as well. I lifted myself up as he guided me down the hall leading to our bedroom. Tae had been leading the way as we had been approaching our sons door as the door had been peaked open slightly leaving minimal light to travel into his room but just enough to see shadows passing through it. Dylan had seen Taes shadow pass through as he let out an audio able noise to make himself known.
"Dad?"
Tae turned and slightly opened the door allowing for Dylan to see his facial outline as the room was dark while the light attempted to come through in the room. Tae directed his attention to him as i stood besides tae taking in the unfolded scene. I had always been slight envious over their relationship as Dylan always could talk to Tae more than he could with me considering he was a boy himself. However i never let that get in my way as i knew that i rather have them have a healthy relationship.
"Yeah, Dyl?"
"Fighting."
"Fighting."
They proceed to put their fist in the air as Dylan let out a tiny smile before curling back into bed. It had been their own little signal to each other a handshake but something much more significant. It was another from of I love you but held greater meaning as they were the only people they knew who shared a saying like so. Their were thousands of people transmitting this three letter words however they were the only two people ushering these words to each other in such significance.
I carefully walked past his door letting out a small kiss to him as he kissed me back smiling before turning back in his bed to proceed his sleep. As we keep on our way down the hall Taes arm looped around mine as we reached the bedroom ushering me in first into the darkened room. I felt myself collapse against the bed feeling the softened but only feeling more comfort feeling Taes arm back around my shoulders bringing me in for a engulfed embrace. I felt myself drift in and out of sleep before feeling the sleep taking me over completely all while Taes busted and bruised being held me tightly.
The eager morning had been spent with the loud ear shaking alarm and Dylan and Tae racing McDonald toys on the coffee table. The mornings had always been hectic resulting in me providing for everyone's care and not my own however it always managed to work out as i was use to it and it seemed to go smoothly as Tae was in charge of driving us around. Tae had been drumming on his steering wheel while Dylan laid in the back sighting ever word that ushered out of the radio. All while I was displayed in the front seat fitting in my seat adjusting my attire as Tae genteelly placed my thigh telling me everything will be okay however today was rather different as words other than song ushered past Dylans lips.
"All the kids at school make fun of me because i dont have a dad."
The question had certainly thrown us for a loop especially Tae as it was directed to him. He glanced in the mirror at Dylan furrowing his eyes as he sat their oblivious to the claim he had stated. Tae had gotten himself together before he answered his question to the best of the abilities.
"But what do you mean im your dad and im perfectl fine."
"Yeah but you never go to my class thingys."
+I had heard the slight pain in his voice even for his age it had seemed to have a great affect on him causing my heart to tense. I could however tell it had the most affect on Taes behalf as he was the one responsible for his pain. A combination of Taes pain and his sons was the epitome of a chaos mixed pain that he was left with.
"But i know that my dad isnt like other dads hes a fighter!"
Tae smiled it off trying to show that the conversation hadnt emotionally took a toll on him. I could tell in his features it had. Tae was so caught up in his training and fights he had neglected his true passion being his son. He wasnt the one to blame as he was blinded by what he loved but when the light shown through he realized what had actually been occurring.
"You know Dyl pickle has a pumpkin carving event at 2:30 and i dont know maybe we could go, i promise as your parents we wont embarrass you."
I turned my head to Dylan and scanning Tae to see their answers. I had seen Dylan physically beam at the thought causing a smile to commence my lips as well as Taes.I had believed he wouldnt mess this event up as i could see his mood lighten at the thought of actually being able to have a better understand of his son.
"Oh of course you can come just please dont embarress me in front of Jisoo."
Tae and Is eyes bulged at the simple name making us smirk at the name and causing Dylan to tense. Luckily enough we had been at the drop off signalling Dylan to open his door in a hurry and bolted off to school. However he hadnt bolted off quick enough for us to usher one last embarrassing thing past out lips.
"If that Jisoo chick even thinks about breaking your heart tell her your dads a fighter."
Tae smiled at his own comment before rolling the window back up not glancing at our sons facial expression. I had known it had been a mix of embarrassed of emotions all of thee witch probably wasnt the best thing to do in a parental situation however it still remained slightly funny especially the reaction displayed. I let out a stiffed laugh trying not to encouraging his behavior as i knew it was terrible but choose the longer road with Tae.
I felt Tae squeeze my tight as he drove off to my work still humming to the car tunes. The car remained in a bliss filled silence focusing on the drive ahead till my words dawned upon me on what would relay on this evening. One thing was for certain about what was to occur in the next few hours of Dylans school.
"We are definetly going to embaress him at the pumkin carving eveent."
"And if we dont then we already did."
Tae high fived me in a sense of humor. It wasnt that we were trilled that we had been embarrassing our kid but rather that the simple act of parenting is hard and we must pick on our kid to show them how unperfect we truly are and teaching them that its okay. Also having a sense of humor about the whole ordeal. My little son had developed a crush and I had been freaking out inside however i managed to make a joke of it, i knew this wouldnt work in every situation but i aimed to make jokes in the small things to make them lighter. I hope Dylan would endure this gene from me.
Work had been filled with a honor filled dread being piled up with paper work of unnecessary paper work with the occasional sexual glances my boss had thrown my way haddnt been adding to a glorious delight. Things had only gone increasingly worst as i had been waiting outside for a long period of time for Tae. I watched my other co-workers who had been dismissed from their shift at work making me wonder ever more where Tae had taken place. I tried to remember if he had any fights today but nothing had come to mind. He usually tells me about working hours however this time he hadnt said a thing. Possibly he was doing something else besides fighting but i found it hard to believe as this was his only hobby. Either way it hadnt given him an excuses to miss the effort to pick me up as well as missing out on my sons pumpkin craving event. Tae had always been willing to put in the extra motive for Dylan especially since he hadnt been his biological father however i as well as myself see him as his father. I had remembered the first time we had begun to talk before all of this madness had created itself nothing had been going wrong however as i feel the cold breeze pass by me im reminded on how things were as of now.
I felt my hands hover over the phone clicking on Taes contact. As my finger hovered over the icon i looked at the picture displaying three people, more importantly me Tae and Dylan. We all had smiles painted on our face bu one was more ambitious than the most, Dylans. He had been gracious to have both of his parents previewing to be happy in the single photo causing him such joy. I hadnt wanted to give up on Tae and believed that possibly he had been a few minutes late. I hesitantly pressed the call option pressing the phone to my ear looking at the cold breathe coming out my mouth whispering the words that were to come out my mouth.
"Hello?"
"Tae, Its Y/N i know your probaly running just a little lat-"
"Ha! Im just messing with you this is actually my voice mail i got you good didnt I."
I rolled my eyes  at his playful behavior sometimes forgetting that i had been dating a five year old. We hadnt always had our downs in fact rather rarely but when these times came we had always lashed out on each other and i could already feel the hurl our way in a short amount of time.
I began to shake in my clothing looking at the time below me. It hadnt been that far off from the time the event was to begin. i hadnt wanted Taes choices to effect mine. I had an idea of what he was doing and i promised myself to accept it but with this occurring it certainly had grown tough. The added hobby he had made things into a growing pain, one that i knew had been bad from the start but continued one with it as ambition coursed throughout his veins. However i hadnt wanted this hobby to stick with me as it did with him. Along with this hobby had stuck with visible and emotional pain. His pain being only temporary as it appeared from the outside and others appearing from the outside. I thought about this longing out into the distance already understanding the emotional pain around the concept but not wanting Dylan to feel it as well. Dylan was already hanging onto a tread with one parent but i hadnt wanted it to happen with the other. I looked down at my watch one last time before pulling out change in my pursing counting the change and racing my way to the bus stop nothing but hope in my veins to not inflect a longing emotional pain in my son as well.
My shoes had clinked down the hallway already feeling the tightening in my chest of being late but the slight reassurance of showing up made it worth while. I had understood that showing up late would cause slight embarrassment as the other parents had judged me and i was preparing myself for that. I had been late and also a single parent which wasnt a bad thing however everyone had known I wasnt. Everyone had know that me and Tae had co parented fairly well as Dylan always pointed it out. He always tried to mention Tae in every conversation he held finding anyway to tell people how heroic his father was for being a fighter or a super hero e liked to call it. However his hero wasnt their and he could see that as i entered the class room in a slight huff but still managed to have his evident smile painted on his face ushering the words mommy from his lips. In that moment I had to step up as the super hero as Tae wasnt present.
"Hey sweetheart, i promised i would come."
Instead of responding Dylan provided to push his body more into mine engulfing me fully proud that at least someone had shown up. I couldnt have Tae take the full blame as my job didnt always provide me with free time to spend with my family, it was rather hard but seeing that smile on his face made things worth while. I felt myself wanting to apologize for being late or the simple fact that i couldnt attend these types of things regularly but i felt as if bringing it up would burden things even more. I wanted to focus on the moment that was happening between us the moment being true happiness. I hadnt experience this much and wanted to take i as it was.
Dylan had begun to eagerly drag me over to the his table as i stumbled along smiling upon him as his teacher had greeted us at the table. I took a set as Dylan pulled his seat closer showing his gums as he began to eat another piece of candy before sketching out his pumpkin draft.
"I hope you dont mind but i gave him some candy before you got here."
I looked over to see Dylans teacher Mr. Park displayed in the seat beside him taking the understanding that he had taken the parental place for the night while i wasnt there. I could picture Dylans saddened smile trying to paint itself while he tried to make it better. Candy surely had been a temporary happiness but i was also lucky that he had a teacher to step in while no one else was their making me grateful for a teacher like so.
"Oh yeah thats perfectly fine its not like he'll turn into a gremblin or anything of the sort."
He ushered a small laugh as his eyes crinkled making me smile slightly.I directed my attention back to Dylan as he put detail into his drawing. I gone into a conversation about Mr. Park about my son Dylan and other different aspects of the most random things. Dylan had seemed so focused on his drawing that had seemed to sprout a smile in his lovely face.
"Your son is surely intelligent and he also knows a few things about his chocolate candy."
"Thank you and he gets that from me, we both share that wondrous sweet tooth."
"See ive always been just a fan of kit kats and nothing more."
"With all do respect Mr. Park you need to expand your variety."
We both begun to laugh over the small conversation sprouting. It felt good to have a sort of relationship with your child's teacher however Tae never agreed upon so. Tae never was fond of Mr. Park as he presumed that he used his teachings in order to get closer to me. This wasnt fairy true as he was just telling whats best for Dylan and the support he needs bringing it back to me and Tae but more specifically me. Tae had let the idea sprout to his head that it was a way of flirting which was very absurd however i couldn't hold it past him as he tended to get jealous easily. He wouldnt be very fond o the moment growing between me and Mr. Park especially.  Tae hadnt been so innocent either doing god knows what out while he could have been partaking in this moment rather than Mr. Park. Just at the simple thought i was fuming but decided to smile along with Parks comment trying isolate the feelings i held inside but it grew rather hard as i felt my phone buss notifying me a text from Tae.
[3:45] Tae: Where are you? Im outside your job, are you in a different spot
I rolled my eyes at the test message displayed. He had definitely forgot about the event taking place. It had confirmed everything making me question if i possibly even still loved him. Of course i had i still had affection for him but i felt it decreasing at the fact of his forgetful importance. Mr. Park must have saw my sadden features mixed with madness taking over my appearance as he gave me a questioning look. I knew that only telling him the commotion on what was going on would only increase the mixing chaos however i did have the next to express my feelings.
"You know just parent problems."
He nodded looking over at Dylan and patting his back while covering up his master piece. He hadnt wanted anyone to view it till it was compositely done. Adding all sorts of colors to make it pop. I attempted to glance over at his drawing wanting to see what he conjured up but he managed to push me way making a face at me while sticking his tongue out. As he finished up he asked me to add a detail.
"Mommy you write awesome can you write the words family really big across the bottom?"
I nodded along as he slide the paper to me as i garbed the pencil. I examined the picture. It had been a drawn stick figure picture displaying what i assumed was me and Dylan, however it was just me and him and nobody else. I squinted my eyes wondering why he hadnt bothered to draw Tae as well. Possibly because he wasn't here this moment however he always is displayed in our day to day life, at times. I had known it had been difficult especially for Tae and he wanted to put in an effort but maybe it just wasnt enough as Dylan was already setting expectations.
"Mommy the letter."
"Sorry baby mommy was just looking at your beautiful drawing."
"Hehe, i know."
I smiled and ruffled his hair while drawing the words family on the paper. I looked over it inhaling a sharp breathe feeling my heart tighten at the fact of an invisible Tae displayed on the paper. I could feel Mr. Parks eyes stare upon the paper as well already feeling a stinging in his chest as well. He rubbed my back trying to force a smile to Dylan making sure he hadnt seen my features. I fell into his comfort not knowing how to take the situation at hand. Dylan had already lost his first father and i hadn't been prepared for the next one to go as well. It had already began to take an emotional toll on me as i felt a small stream flow from my eyes drawing concern to Dylan.
"Mommy?"
"Im fine baby, its jsut so beautiful."
I smiled through the tears as Dylan moved in his seat to wipe away my tears with the palm of his hand making my heart coo. He had been an affectionate child making me worry about what was to come for the future. It couldnt be the last time this were to occur making things even harder to pursue for the future. I couldnt focus on anything but Dylan and how things would take a toll on him. I certainly hoped that it wouldnt change him drastically but i knew it would have a few changes to his overall characteristics.
"It will look even better once we crave it into the pumpkin."
"Actually, im sorry Dylan but weve run out of time do work on that. Your drawing looks amazing though."
Dylans eyes began to grow drippy as his teacher hushed those words past his lips. I had reconsider this look however it never displayed on his face as much as he reminded in a happy conundrum for the majority of the time. Possibly it was the whole pile up of Tae not being here or maybe it truly was that he couldnt display his masterpiece on a rounded pumpkin. Whatever it may have been tears had begun to swell in his eyes and panic had begun to set in for me and Mr. Park.
"Hey, Dylan dont cry how would you feel if I let you have th rest of the candy?"
Dylan peaked up at the mention of candy as Mr. Park looked at me asking if it had been okay to which i hesitated but nodded willingly. I witnessed as Dylan got up with glee rushing to the candy before he could making me laugh and the tears go away fully. I had been focused on the moment  of Dylan taking as much candy as he could with his small hands in reach taking in only a portion of the candy. Mr. Park had joined in taking in a handful of the candy putting more into his hand causing an enormous smile to partake on his and my face. My smile began to flatten as i felt my phone vibrate again hesitating if i should even look at the text already assuming who it had been from but i sat it down on the table picking myself up and following after Dylan to help him gather candy. For tonight i wanted my focus to be on my lovely son and the moment partaking between as at this moment. I hadnt wanted to let him down as i was the superhero in this moment and i had been the only one he had seen as his 'family' as of now.
"Are you sure you dont need a ride?"
"Yeah im sure thank you for the offer."
I had been outside along side with a clinging Dylan and and concerned Mr. Park. I had told him that we would be taking the public bus home to which he dismissed by offering a ride. I hadnt wanted to be a burden nor did i want things to escalate that far. I already held a healthy parent teacher relationship with him and i hadnt wanted anything to go beyond that state as it would be strange. Park taking in a ride had crossed that line even if he was being friendly i hadnt wanted to set off the wrong perception even if it wasnt a big deal.My eyes diverted to Dylans as he clung onto my leg looking up at me with the same smile he managed to have painted on his face.
A car pulled up in the mist of the situation as i examined the car i noticed that it had held the same color and car brand as the one me and Tae had purchased. It had been Tae whp was displayed in the car and only confirmed so as the window had displayed Taes boxed smile but soon flatted as he laid eyes upon Mr. Park as his smile soon turned into an evident frown. It sparked slightly at the fact of Dylan rushing to the car struggling to open the door before he gave him a affectionate hug as he was seated behind the wheel.
"Well i suppose i should be going now but before i do."
I felt his hand go to mine placing an item in it before smiling at me and leaving me to go back to my car. As he left i looked down at my hand and examined that he had given me a kit-kat. It could have been seen as childish but i found it enduring making me quickly shake the feeling off as i directed my vision back to Tae who held a hardened glance my way and what had been directed in my palm. I clutched onto the piece of chocolate in my hand making my way to the front of the car and closing the door as i buckled my seat belt taking in the closing tension surrounding the car. Luckily Dylan had been oblivious to the whole ordeal leaving him in the back playing with whatever he could get his hands on.
I felt Taes cold and callused hands wrapped around my thigh giving it a firm squeeze making me roll my eyes at his behavior already feeling himself grow jealous over the situation. It had simply been a piece of candy however he hadnt known that making things worst. Whatever could have been going through his mind certainly hadnt revolved around chocolate.
"What was it?"
"What are you talking about?"
Tae squeezed my thigh slightly harder knowing that i had knew exactly what he was hinting at. I wanted the conversation to end already as he wasnt focused on the fact he had missed Dylans event and others following after that however this one was different. He had promised to go to this event and the smile displayed on his face had confirmed it from earlier but i had hoped to soon something i didnt like to waste often but with Tae it was a regular occurrence by now.
I unwrapped the chocolate from my hand as i place it on his thigh. I had been over the situation already moving onto the one that was more prominent but he didnt seem to take notice. All of his attention had been managed by the small candy displayed on his lap. I could see that he had been getting worked up over small things but he had a temper making this small candy make a big deal out of something that isnt. With this he threw the candy out of the window with a plain expression on his face while i gave him a bewildered look as did Dylan from the unnecessary scene.
"Daddy, why did you through the candy out the window?"
"Daddy doesnt like Kit-Kat's."
Taes eyes had been displayed on the road but glanced at me hinting at who i supposed was Mr. Park. His hand had circled around my thigh again trying to cool himself down as a strike of fear aimed in my heart. I hadnt liked when he got like this, he always had a temper even before he started fighting but it gradually lessened when he begun as he took out his anger even more. I secretly hoped he had been at the fighting place while i was with Dylan so he could have gotten his anger out but even if he did the anger would still mange to build itself back up.
The car ride tension had followed us all the way we had been placed inside the house. I managed to keep my voice down not knowing what could throw him off even more. Tae wasnt always very aggressive when he was angry infact he manages to control it by not actually talking it out and keeping it bottled up which i saw as unhealthy but whatever it took for him not to actually act out on that anger at home was good enough for me. We still held our arguments and disagreements but they never got out of hand and i nor he never aimed for it to. Jealously was a big part in his anger and the fact that the main jealous factor was his sons teacher had set a new form of anger in his veins and it pumped to the point of blood curling anger.
Dylan had tugged on my skirt as i bent down to hear his question. Tae had wondered into the kitchen leaving the two of us alone to our own small conversation.
"Mommy, mabye if i show daddy my picture he'll be happy?"
Dylan had saw that Tae was angry too and seeing the family picture would only increase this. I hadnt known how to shut this idea down as i would see the hope die from his eyes. He had already been through enough and seeing his fathers anger spark from his simple drawing would cause confusion and even more conflict than we needed. I hadnt wanted anything to grow bigger than it already was.
"Maybe in the morning baby, put it in your room and we can show him tomorrow?"
Dylan nodded his head with a small smile in hopes his father would accept what he had drawn. I had hoped so as well hoping it would open his eyes on what was going on in his mind and also what was partaking in what was going on with our family. As Dylan waddled off into his room i sought off into the kitchen where Tae had been seeing if he wanted to talk about the situation on his own rather than me. I hadnt wanted to fuel the anger even more than it already had even as i walked into the kitchen i felt the tension still laying in the atmosphere, feeling the need to squash it but wanted him to let it out on his own.
I felt his stare on me while i went to get some water from the fridge itching to say something but kept my peace. His eyes had been doing the semi talking as they examined me looking for the correct way he could conger up his words until i was on my way out of the kitchen when he found his voice.
"Whats going on with you and Park, huh?"
"Hes our sons teacher, nothing is going on."
"Well you've been getting extra close to him."
"Tae do you hear yourself, hes our sons teacher for fucking hell."
I had been getting heated rather quickly further than Tae and i couldnt control myself. I had been so bent up over what he was made about also piling on what i was made my blood begin to boil. Having two angry people was a whole new level of conflict upon a household and while i was partaking in this anger i hadnt cared about what was to occur as i let the dying question slip from my mind.
"Why didnt you show up?"
"What are you talking about."
"Kim Taehyung you and i both know damn well what im talking about."
I whispered those harsh words hoping that Dylan wouldn't hear them with his small ears. Tae howevr heard it loud and clear as his ears perked up as well as his anger.
"I was out."
"You were out? Taehyung my damn son had something special going on at school and you promised you would go and you fucking didnt. Think before you making priorities especially with my kid."
Taes eyes popped out of his skull displaying his now fully visible anger. I had slightly stepped back not noticing that the words being ushered past my lips had effected him in such a way. I knew my angered words could drive him to harsh things but i felt as if i had gone to far for his comfort zone.
"Your son? Your damn son? I raised him just as much as you raised him and im sorry that im trying to support and protect our family and i couldn't go to his class. I had a lot going on with my mind and maybe im still not use to this life style but im really fucking trying. I wasnt there throughout your pregnancy but i still care about that kid and it pains me that i couldnt see him because i was stuck in a dirty basement fighting my life away."
"So you forgot about him?"
"I could never forget about him hes my damn son just as much as he is yours. So damn what i forgot about his school event but atleast im apart of his life."
"But you promised."
"Okay you promised you would be their for him and sometimes you arent and i have to be the one who takes control of the situation dont you blame this situation on me, Im not like J-"
"Kim Taehyung you know damn well to not say his name."
I had known he was going to bring in my baby daddy from the single syllable he said. I felt myself grow even more irradiated if that was possible feeling the itching sensation to scream at him thinking that it would make things better but knowing in reality it wouldnt. I pushed all the conflicts and problems it caused and focused on my anger.
"And you know what the funny fucking thing is that your acting just like him!"
Taes eyes began to water. I couldnt tell if they were from anger or true sadness or possibly a mix of both but however it hadn't been a good sign. I had never seen Tae cry but the one time Dylan had begun to call him daddy. He was finally begin accepted not only into my life but my sons. Things had been simpler and less bumpy as we had just been starting out a forces on being a family rather than breaking it apart.
"Thats the lowest thing you could ever fucking say you damn well know it! Ive tried my best to be the best father i can be and your making it real fucking hard! I know im not the best parent but atleast im not gonna break you down because of it! You really need to watch what you say cause you dont know how it can effect someone."
The argument had been like one we had never had before. We had never screamed at each other for we had that mutually respect for one another but as of now it felt like that had flown out of our category. We had also forgot about the decently of Dylan possibly being scared and confused on what was going. However as we were in such an unhealthy state we continued on to bicker making things gradually grow unhealthy.
The tension had still been rising as we had been in a breathy state. The last comment had been along the words of harmful things leaving us both feel defeated. I had been fearful after the arguments we had as Tae managed to break a vase but was to caught up in the hostile environment to actual take notice of what had been going on besides me and Tae screaming at one another. Now as the house grew with heavy breathing and the tension still laid there i took notice of the environment and grew fearful of what he could do when he was angry. I hadnt wished i took notice of these things as i felt my head grow bigger of what else he could do sending a struck of fear into me as i noticed his hand was raised as i coward down and flinched as i thought he was going to hit me.
I looked back up to see Tae looking at me with bewildered eyes as if what i had did was out of line and he was confused. He slowly came over to me as i flinched yet again causing his eyes to go soft and he kept his distance.
"Ba-babe you know i wouldnt hit you right, i just went to put my hand on my head."
"I know its just, i dont know i just thought-"
I felt myself grow weak as i felt tears stream down from my cheeks as Tae came over to comfort me. We had both sunk to the floor as audible sobs came from my mouth. I had been over reacting about the situation but the emotions i had been feeling had all been jumbled up and i couldnt control myself as i let it out all on Taes shoulder. I had understood where Tae was coming from and i learned to accept it and i delt with it and i needed to understand it more. However i couldnt stop the tears from flowing as i was overwhelmed with all of the conundrum that was happening and it only added to the fire as i heard the crack of a door and a small crack of a voice.
"Mommy?"
His feet hit the floor in a rush hearing my cries as he began to beat on Taes back signalling for him to get off of me. Taes eyes began to water at the simple action even as he removed himself from my body he still took every blow from Dylan as he let out his own cries and pleads.
"You made my mommy cry!"
"No baby mommies fine, daddy didnt hurt mommy daddy isnt the bad guy."
Dylan removed his hands from Tae as he moved them to mine as he engulfed me in a warming hug. I looked up at Tae looking at him with saddened eyes as he attempted to wipe his tears away trying to make them un noticed however they were visible. Tae never wanted to be seen as a bad guy and with all of this chaos piling up. It had been tough for him and he hadnt known what was going on are what to do as what he was seeing made him only question things even more making it overall hard for someone as young as him.
Dylan began to tug on me to the bedroom as he assumed it was the most safest place to be as i looked at Tae yet again. He mumbled a small 'Its okay' making me smile slightly feeling grateful that even now after all of this we could still get along. I still wished we could have worked things out.
Dylan had been curled up into my side as my hands curled throughout his hair. I had my eyes closed trying not to overthink the situation.
"Mommy why is daddy so mean."
"Daddy isnt mean, daddy is our superhero remember and sometimes superheroes fall but you cant give up on daddy. Promise?"
"Prmoise."
"Good, i love you and you understand your father loves you too right."
"Of course, i love him too. Even if he becomes a villain ill always love him."
"But that will never happen."
"I know, but whatever he does Ill love him."
It warmed my heart that he still loved him no matter the occasion. His love for him truly had been a father son bond even if he hadnt biologically the father, he was more a father than his biological one had been. I had approached him and i couldnt tell him enough of that but i felt like we needed to work on ourselves to really understand what we gain from each other. In Dylans eyes we had both been superheros but if we hadnt gotten ourselves together for the better we would both become villains in his eyes.
Morning had dawned upon us as i woke Dylan up earlier than needed. I had token what i thought to myself last night seriously. I had conjured up the idea of taking a trip to my mothers house and hoping she would be able to take upon the offer of watching Dylan for a couple of days till we work out the environment space for Dylan. She had bee happily shocked as we both walked into her house unexpected but still opened with open hands as well as questions.
"Sweetheart even though its a good surprise as you being here, um why are you here?"
"Well i was wondering if you could watch Dyl for a couple of days, just so i can get the environment more suitable."
"Suitable? Why whats going on, is it because of Taehyung? Did he hit you?"
My mom had her suspicions about Tae but not always. She liked him at the start as he was taking care of Dylan like he was someone of his owns but as she understood what he was doing as a hobby she knew how dangerous it was especially being around a child. Mothers always had their concerns but i was trying to take it into my own hands hints what i was doing as of now.
"Oh no, we just had an argument and i want to try and get ourselves back together before we bring Dylan back into our space."
"I understand, are you sure you dont want to stay as well. Youre always welcomed."
"Yeah im sure mom i just need to figure things out and ill be back."
My mother nodded along directing her attention to her grandson looking up with confused eyes. He probably would wonder why i had been gone for some time but atleast he had his grandmother to take control over him. She had loved him since the first time she laid eyes on him and even acted as a father to him before Tae stepped into our lives. I was very grateful for her and still am.
I moved away from my mother crouching down to my sons size. I ran my hand throughout his hair before holding his hand smiling down at him as he smiled up at me. He had been the light of my life and i couldnt have this light turn dark as i knew that fixing myself and my relationship trying to understand it rightfully so would set things back on track.
"Grandma is going to watch you for sometime but mommy promises to be back."
"Okay, does that mean grandma can feed me whatever she wants?"
"Of course, as long as it isnt candy youll be perfectly fine."
He engulfed me with a final hug as i proceeded to get up before turning around and ushering on last thing.
"And remember what your dad told you."
"Fighting!"
"Fighting."
That giant smile on his face proved to be a sign of improvement and i sought out to keep on with this process even if it was lengthy. I wanted Dylan to not question on what was going to happen in the future with us and if we would be okay i wanted him to know for certain that we would all be okay as a big conjoined family.
I walked into the house closing the door behind me assuming Tae was asleep on the couch still but smelling the fresh breakfast food being cooked that theory had been shot out of the window. I made my way to the kitchen seeing Tae cooking food smiling slightly before placing the food on the table directing me to take a seat as i did ever so hesitantly.
"So wheres, Dylan?"
"Actually thats what i wanted to talk to you about."
His smile had gone serious once i brought up Dylan into the situation. He had dropped his fork and directed full attention to me making sure that i had known that as well.
"I dropped him off to my mothers house because i feel like after the altercation, not just you but also I need to understand whats going on with us."
"Of course I was definitely out of hand, i should not have throw that Kit-Kat out of the window thats one of the best candies."
"Tae, im serious."
Tae raised his hands up in defeat. I knew that it was in his nature to be playful but i hadnt wanted to put in the effort to be today. However i sucked it up and realized that being goofy was a trait Tae brought out in me and i needed that to be known more often now as we had been going through rough patches.
"You know Kit-Kats were my favorite too."
Tae perked up at my comment smiling as he picked up the fork and proceeded to eat however i could still tell something was on his mind. The way he picked at his food and moved it around displayed that something had been worrying him.
"But, I am sorry if i made you feel uncomfortable i never want to make you feel like that."
I felt my hand  travel to his laying on the table wanting to make it known that i had grown past that and was now fine. I wasnt perfectly fine on the concept on how things were but i was fine on how we were and the direction they were taking. I wanted to leave the uncomfortably in the past and focus on what was better to come.
"Im fine now, even better that you shaped the pancakes like little animals."
"Thank you, i thought it was a nice touch. Who says adults cant have fun."
I smiled at him taking in his happy glance at the pancakes and proceeded to play with them as he dunk them into the the syrup and ate them with delight. I always enjoyed Tae cooking as well did Dylan due to the fact that he would add an extra ounce of experience into the cooking. He infact one time threw flour onto use while making a meal resulting in a whole conundrum of experiences. I had wanted to build these experiences back up again and im sure he was willing taes well.
"I was thinking, since i wanted to understand us and well mostly you, can we go to your fighting rink so i could possibly see you fight. I want to understand you and your passion."
Tae had looked up at me shocked from what I had said. I had never shown much of an interest in this hobby as i saw nothing important in it but if i wanted to get to the bottom of this problem i needed to do some serious digging and i was willing to love the things he did. While Dylan was away i want to hopefully partake in the things we couldnt do if he was here hopefully allowing us to grow more of a healthy bond for the both of us.
"Seriously, um yeah. Wow this is great i tell them all about you and Dylan all the time i can wait for you to met the guys theyll love you. They may seem big and scary but their hearts are in the right place."
"I trust you."
My hand reached out for his again grasping onto it with all my might. I could see the small hope in his eyes growing, hoping that this small experience would bring us together again making things right like they once were. Just as i hoped they were. Life filled with less amounts of conflict and more moments filled with joyful noise however i knew it couldnt last like this forever.Due to Taes passion with this type of job i knew conflict was sure to inured but i needed to accept it rather than live with it and not face it, already knowing where that would lead to.
I felt Taes hand squeeze me slightly signalling that he wanted something as i gazed upon his features. He began to lean in slightly understanding what he wanted i began to lean in too as it was what i wanted as well. I felt his lips part against mine taking in my lips with his. It felt like we hadnt kissed in a while even though it was only yesterday with the amount of chaos going on it felt like it had been forever but the kiss just proved that things were sure to grow better. The kiss hand lingered for a few moments feeling with each puncher a new meaning of our relationship was unlocked bringing us back to when times were better.
"I missed you."
"I missed you too."
Tae had showed me to the fighting rink as i took it all in. All of the crummy details it held. It certainly was undercover making me slightly concerned but tried to just follow along with what he had planned for what was to occur. Things had been going smoothly and i wanted things to continue as so so i followed after him happily playing along to the details. I had still been genuinely happy that he had managed to bring me here and actually talk upon his 'co-workers' about me set the worry in my heart aside.
We had walked in hand in hand into the place with a smile on both of our faces and just as we walked in Tae had already been eager to introduce me to one of his friends. While we begun to walk over i examined the the brick wall with pealing wallpaper. There held shelves upon the naked walls shelf's filled with awards that were polished as they were the most prized possession forgetting about everything else placed in its way. There had also displayed a rink where i assumed where most of the fighting took place. From where i stood i could make out the small blood splatters around the rink as people hadnt bothered to clean it up. I couldnt help but wonder if Tae's had been mixed in there as well but diverted my eyes before i thought to much causing more problems.
"This is the girl ive been telling you about."
Tae had smiled brighter than before as he introduced myself as i shook the his hand, eye display still remaining around the place. He held a strong grip and as i glanced upon him i could see his different colored tattoos each telling a different story. I could tell they held a meaning as some of them had peoples names and some signs stating the phrase 'R.I.P' telling a story of loss. I had been memorized by his tattoos sending me into a state of curiosity as i keep  on looking at them.
"I see you like my tattoos."
"Yes, theyre very beautiful. I can tell them mean alot to you."
"Yeah, i like this girl already."
He proceeded to give Tae a handshake of approval as he brought me in for a hug after words. I could tell that he truly cared about Tae and his choices. I remembered Tae talking about him being his trainer along the car ride displaying that he had been there with him even before he joined this business. He helped mentor him into the man he became today, a brother he sees him almost so meeting him was surely a big deal on my part.
"My names Jay Park by the way. Its certainly nice to meet you Y/N. Tae goes on and on about you it often gets annoying but anything to see him smile, i guess."
I blushed and cooed at Tae as he tried to play it off secretly cursing to Jay Park making me find the moment even more better as i clung onto Tae. He held his arm around my shoulder deciding to make best of this moment of showing off our relationships it was beginning to be at its prime.
"Ah, you guys surely in love but you should have seen him when he was younger. Big ole ears along with these big glasses. I might still have pictures."
I additionally perked up at the thought of seeing Tae in such state making my way over to Jay Park as Tae had pleaded not to let this secret be spilled of his past. I had eagerly wanted to see what had come from these pictures and if they would bring up any embarrassing memories and judging from his facial expression it held more than memories but a highly mindset of a smaller version of himself that i was eager to see. Tae had prepared himself as he backed away and looked at our facial expressions rather than the actual pictures.
Once Jay tapped on a picture displaying Tae as a teenager i couldn't help but cause a small giggle to come from my lips as Jay let a whole cackle lose not afraid. I looked at Taes face as it held straight and bored by our expressions. I couldnt help myself as the picture was slightly funny seeing Tae in such a state i handt seen him before, however he still was the Tae i learned to love.
"You still look good to me babe."
"Thats my girl, sticking up for her man."
Taes hands circled around my waist bringing me in for a small kiss before joining back in a conversation with Jay as i held small conversation with them as well. Understanding that they had meet through mutual friends who they had recently stooped hanging out with but still stuck together showing how strong their bond together was. They truly were brothers as they could with stand anything. I had liked that i was understanding that Tae hadnt only come here just for fighting but also for his family and to check up on them. It was nice he had someone to check up on and have someone to check up on him.
"Tae your preforming soon, we need you back stage."
Tae turned to us mostly being me as he smiled softly ruffling my hair telling me he would see me letting along with saying he would be okay knowing how much i worried. I nodded softly already feeling the worry fill my veins however i wanted to trust him even if i felt the dread slowly consume me. I needed to put my trust into him as it would help us grow stronger and also help him win this up coming battle.
"Let me introduce you to the rest of our family."
I turned my attention to Jay, i could tell he had felt my anxious emotions as they were radiating off of me and he aimed to fix this. He wanted this place to be filled with good vibes and prosperity besides the blood curling on the floor he wanted this place to feel safe. I could tell by the simple fact that he refereed to us as a family and i was eager to meet Taes family. Any family of Taes was welcomed to be a family of mine.
The last hour and couple of minutes had been spent of me circling around the basement meeting different members understanding their stories and what all lead them here. They each shared laughs and cries and along the way i shared these emotional boundaries with them as i already felt an emotional connection with them. One person had took out to me the most his name being Min Yoongi and telling me his struggle with anxiety and depression and finding a passion in fighting to help calm it down as well most importantly the family he had meet up with. His story had been one of the many that caused small tears to fall from my face but as we grew closer and he told me how he grew close with Tae and the rest of the family my heart had lightened and we begun to laugh instead of cry.
"Yeah i actually have a daughter around your sons age too."
"Really whats here name?"
"Jisso, shes very beautiful little angel inspires me every day."
"Kids just seem to do that to you dont they."
Yoongi seemed to have a soft spot when he talked about his daughter but anything else he seemed to put a guard up and not really dive into the topic. He hadnt been embarrassed by his daughter and i respected that and his ability to follow his day to day struggle. He found a way to tam thing struggle but still manged with it. He was strong along with the rest of Taes family and i was lucky enough to call them my family.
I had cooed at the pictures Yoongi had taken of him and his daughter making me think of my own son and wondering what he had been doing at this moment. I heard the shutting of the door making me come from my thought as someone asked me to follow to as i diverted my eyes to Yoongis apologizing for cutting the conversation short to which he waved off. I followed the person who i hadnt known or meet. She held long black hair and showed me to what i assumed was Taes dressing room. She had displayed me in the room leaving with out a word as i went to Tae who was seated on his bench with panic in his eyes.
I sat across from him on the bench picking up his face in my hands. I looked at him in his eyes trying to see what was wrong as throughout this whole day. Something must have been bothering him deep inside to affect him this much and i held a few ideas but nothing lived up to what actually was occurring.
"Whats wrong, you werent like this earlier today."
"I honestly dont know, maybe its the fact that Dylan isnt here and i just feel as if he thinks of me in a bad light now. I do this for him and it would break my heart if he thinks of me as the bad guy."
My heart had tightened at the fact that he had thought this in his mind. I wish he had known that what he was assuming hadnt been right. Even if he was bad Dylan would still find a way to love every aspect of him, that was how much Dylan had fully loved him. He could never turn his back on anyone let alone Tae. Tae had been his father figure and had saw everything he wanted to be through Tae. It was one of the many reasons i had fallen in love with him. The strong connection he held with my son had brought me to tears.
"I know that im not his biological father but i see him as my son and i dont want him to think bad of me."
"He doesnt and he will never think of you in such away."
"How do you know."
He was partially right. How would i know but i did have a way to find out. Taes eyes looked down while i searched through my pocket to retrieve my phone. I dialed my moms phone number before reaching the number and simply asking for Dylan to be on the phone. Before i could even hear his voice i placed the phone against Taes ear as he looked at me confused before he heard the enthusiastically 'Hi' from the other line. His boxy smile formed as small drops of tears fell from his eyes as he counted on a conversation. I had tuned it out wanting to have their own moment tuning the noise down and read through facial expressions. Tae still held that stupid smile on his face sometimes changing expressions where Dylan told hims something interesting he did or learned. He truly was a great father and he didnt need to see it himself to actually believe it but other people around him including my son. Dylan well knew that Tae was the best father he could ask for and he was well proud of him and his journey. The conversation gradually came to an end but Tae still held that big smile on his face.
"Fighting."
"Fighting."
With that the call had been ended and he handed me back the phone. I looked over his features as he know had a blank expression on his face showing no emotion not sure how to deal with this new one. He had been happy that he had gotten to speak to his son but also had been struggling with his own issues and if he hadnt fixed himself then he would be able to share this connection with him. In order to get pumped for a fight he needed to understand these actions that he caused and he needed to act out on them in the rink.
"I want you to focus on the fact that you have to talk to your child through a phone and not through face to face. You let your own problems get in the way of seeing your kid and you let it effect him in a small amount he doesnt even know but possibly when he grown up hes going to know. You dont want to be one of those fathers who miss everything their kids does and you know people are expecting this from you so prove them wrong, prove me wrong. I want you to go out there tonight and dedicate every punch to the people who proved you wrong. I want you to dedicate every punch to Dylan, me and your whole family. You have to fight for everyone including the people who doubted you. Can you do that?"
I looked at him as he still sat on the bench huffing with his shoulders slugged over. He seemed rather heated and focused on every word i said taking it within noticing every detail and how it effected him on a great level and he decided to go with it and make it right with every punch he could conger.
"Im ready."
The bell had rung as Tae stood in his corner as i meet with him with eager eyes. I knew he would meet beyond the expectations however things had only grown more surreal seeing his figure doused in confidence and bare knuckles preparing for the inevitable. He stood pacing around in the ring as i stood on the side lines along the comfort of Jay Park. He had known that my reactions certainly would be mixed about the situation but still knowing that i had wanted to see what was going to take place. With my emotions all mixed he hadnt known what actions i was going to partake in as he stayed in a comforting distance making sure nothing wrong were to happen.
I felt myself shaking in my bones as they had begun throwing the first punch. I had flinched slightly back seeing as Taes knuckles clashed in with his cheek even from the distance I stood i could hear the faint sound of cracking down. I hadnt found the sound so enduring but i knew for Tae it did, driving him to his next move.
Tae had managed to let out a couple of punches one after the other striking his opponent with all of his might. He had been hitting each punch with aggression and speed with enough willpower to not get hit in that amount of time however the streak had came to a painful end as the opponents fist had locked against his jaw. I felt myself perk up and look at bewildered eyes seeing the pain he had inflicted on my man. The fear had drawn from my blood being replaced with anger finally understand the Adrenalin Tae had gained from this.
"Hey listen hes okay trust me. The kids been doing this for quit a while now. Just try and keep your cool."
Jay had pulled me close trying to whisper the audible words to me. I had nodded off to what he said still gazing upon the match ahead of me. They had each been receiving plenty of blows to the abdomen making sure to dismiss the head but occasional scathing a piece of skin displaying the facial features. The crumbling bones of Tae had sent a shaking sensation in my soul telling me to scream out the anger but i listened to Jays sounding words trying to follow with them as they were words that I could follow through.
I grabbed onto the rope as my knuckles began to whiten from the anger coursing through my veins remained unman aged. I wanted to drag my attention to something else rather than that main reason i had been hyped up. The heavy breathes the chanting crowd and the loud impact upon each others bodies they had endured surely had been a reason why i couldn't tear eyes away. I tried to make things manageable but the more i stood back the more i saw Tae get more injured. He had still managed to throw punches but i had managed to focus more on the blows his opponent was taking on him as it had effected Tae the most as well as me. Every punch sent to his abdomen upper half and his whole being had sent the shock of fear into my body. I looked at Jay taking in his words before looking back at the scene before coming to face a substance fall from Taes lips. This substance had been the color of the deepest red tasting of metallic as it escaped his mouth it pondered against the rinks mat. It had mix with the dried blood previously laying on the floor causing an unthinkable amount of anger to flow throughout me, leaving Jays words out of the window.
"What the fuck you just made him bleed! What the fuck is this!"
"Its underground fighting, please control her Jay!"
The referee had stepped in trying to silence my screams all while Tae had slight glanced over before punching his in his torso causing him to fall down but to his luck bouncing back up. The referee had guided back to the fight at hand as Jay had pulled me further into his comfort. He had known i wasnt a little girl and had knew how to take control of myself however he knew as of now i couldnt take care of my actions. I held onto the rope steadily watching every blow already hating the impact but oddly finding an enchanting feeling from it.
The fight had been going on for a lengthy time each throwing in each effort into their punch. The fight had conjured up a good fight surely each spurting out a good amount of work. Now as they stood with each other and the referee announced the winner. It hadnt come as a shock to me that Tae had won as he sported a small smile showing his gratitude as the audience had clapped for him. He faced his opponent shaking his hand along with a brotherly hug as if the whole ordeal was put behind them. I couldnt contain myself feeling as the happiness had spread to me as well as i proceeded to climb over the rope besides Jays protest and went to hug Taes side. I made sure to do it rather carefully not wanting to harm himself however he had pushed that idea to the side as he hugged me tightly ignoring his winces feeling the warm embrace as he hugged me ignoring the happy cheers from the crowd and focusing on us.
"You guys surely have a connection, dont let that die. You put up a good fight even better with your girl here."
Taes opponent had patted him on the back in apprentice as he put his arm around me displaying a huge smile. I sported the same finally understanding what he had lived for making my heart swirl.I wanted to be by his side fully to support what he had loved because seeing this smile on his face surly had made things worth while.
I had been cleaning up the scratches displayed on Taes face as i had been on his lap while we were displayed in bed. The first aid kit had been displayed besides me as i manages to fix the small minor scratches on his face. I noticed that the small cut that i had stitched up last time had managed to damage itself to the point of busting back open. I began dabbing it with the cloth causing him to flinch slightly. He clutched onto my wrist not liking the pain causing me to laugh slightly due to the fight he had previously fought and he was beginning to flinch only now. I grabbed ahold of the needle holding his chin feeling anxious to put the needle through hi lip before he flinched and grabbed tightly onto my wrist causing me to stop.
"Wait, i cant do it im to scared."
"Come on you just got finished with a fight how can you be scared of a little needle."
"Can you just kiss it better?"
He looked at me with a pouted lip and puppy eyes that i usually melted over. I gave in as i parted my lips and met mine with his. I tasted the metallic of his blood. Focusing on his tongue being traced over his bottom lip in attempt to make him feel better as well as myself. I felt him grab the needle from my hand placing it on the bed side table before moving his hands to my ass. As we kept on with the warming kiss i felt his hands move apart my underwear signaling for something more than just intimate kissing.
"Tae, you know we cant youre hurt."
"Then well just have to be gentle."
His face had been serious wanting to feel my gentle touch. I had been hesitant at first but proceeded as i begun to take off my shirt feeling his eager palms take my naked breast in hands. I carefully slide my underwear to the side as well as helping him slide out from his shorts. He had winched slightly as i stopped myself before him hurrying to proceed my actions. I felt myself lower on him looking at him with a bliss filled expression as he met with the same expression. He held onto my hips guiding me making sure i hadnt been as rough.
His lips had gone to my neck marking me with his love bites causing moans to fall from my lips. I felt my breathe go heavy as well as his following with the soft skin slapping against one another. We hadnt had the time to properly have sex since we had another body to take care of and having time to ourselves surely had been comforting. We couldnt have gone to comfortable to it as we knew we had to come to terms with reality. We wanted to enjoy the euphoria as we kissed each other in a breathy moan feeling ourselves come undone as our foreheads were rested against another.
"Do you accept me and what I do?"
The question had surely been questionably after what we had done however i understood. After the emotional connection we had just shared he had wanted another answer after what had occurred. He needed to understand how i felt about this whole ordeal and if i hadnt he possibly could keep on with this. I knew I had fallen in love with the surrounding people who worked along with him and i certainly needed to accept what he loved.
"Of course baby."
I was proud of him and what he had become in such a little amount of time. I knew that being himself had been hard and I needed to remember that instead of putting to much expectations for him. We certainly werent a normal family as we had extra qualities added to us. I hadnt accepted what we had as extra baggies completely hinting at Taes job. I had loved his environment but not what he gained from it, that being scars and brutal bones.
"Please just promise me, when things get tough you leave that place. I cant see you end up dead."
I knew i was probably being dramatic when i let the word dead fall from my lips and knowing that this most likely couldnt happen. I still needed to voice what i felt as i feared for what could commence from what he loved.
"Of course baby."
He smiled at my softly bringing me in for a hug as his head rested against my head. I felt his heart beat against my ear banging like a drum. I knew he had added false truth to it as he knew even he couldnt give up when simple times had gotten difficult. It was a wondrous trait to have however at times like this it couldnt. What could happen if he couldnt come back from what he himself had caused on himself or maybe someone else he had loved. I knew that it couldnt end happily but as for now things seemed as if they were on the path to this. I wanted to just focus on this but i knew as time came along it couldnt possibly be this way. I had hopped Tae would play his cards right and stick by his family as they would have his back however sometimes not everyone can protect him.
Not even himself
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camilliar · 7 years ago
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fic? post???
@stultiloquentia said I liked fics about the decline of man so here’s some crazy shit I’ve been writing for @tomato-greens where they’re all teenage runaways, maybe I’ll “finish” this “story” one day? pg13, eventual zimbits but not in this part, ~3k, I’d say “enjoy” but
I.
Eric hadn’t begun to fathom just how large Jack was—how tall, how broad—until Jack reared up and bellowed in his face, “This isn’t a game!”
“I wasn’t playing.” Eric tried to straighten up, but he was only five feet.
“Either get with the program or go home!”
And, well, that sure hurt—Jack must have known Eric couldn’t go home, right? Wasn’t that the whole point? What else did Jack think they were doing out here? There wasn’t any home, not really, except this one, here and now.
Also, until Jack yelled, Eric wasn’t sure he knew English. Eric had only ever heard him speak in French before. So that was a revelation.
“What’d you do?” Shitty asked, as they were waiting to steal into the gas station bathroom on Moreland—the Shell, not the Chevron. Less foot traffic at this one. Fewer passersby.
“Nothing,” Eric swore, starting to waggle. He really had to go now. “I gave him a plant, is all.”
“A plant?”
“Yeah, you know, a little plant. A Christmas cactus.”
“A what?”
“Christmas cactus,” said Eric. “They’re pretty when they bloom. My mama used to have one—used to, she probably still does, oh boy, I can’t wait to get into the bathroom—what do you think is taking him so long in there?”
“I bet we don’t want to know,” said Shitty.
“Well, you’re probably right, I suppose—I was thinking I could water the cactus here, or Jack would—you know, if he took it from me—”
“She.”
“—if he took it from me, we could walk over here with it and just get it a little water, nice clean water like from the tap—don’t make that face at me, mister! I’ve been holding it all night.”
“You coulda got me up, you know.”
“Nah,” said Eric. “Nah, and destroy your beauty rest?”
“Nothing pretty about me,” said Shitty, and he grinned to show off his pointy canines. It made him look feral. Eric agreed he didn’t look pretty, though he was sure better-kempt than the rest of them. To that point, when the door flung open and Eric rushed inside, Shitty filed in after and, kindly, took a moment to lock the door. He had his dopp kid until his arm; it was his most prized thing. It looked about a thousand years old, like something from a fairy tale. Shitty put it on the edge of the sink and began removing little cannister, old film containers and pill bottles. Being brazen, sometimes Shitty would sneak into the bathroom of a nice restaurant and fill them with lotion, or soap. Sometimes he’d do it in a Target, just pumping shaving gel into an old film cannister. Why not steal the whole bottle? Eric had asked him once. It was something about that not being right, some code. He had a razor blade and he was shaving with it, carefully skirting his mustache. He was impeccably well-groomed for a bum, Eric thought.
One day maybe I’ll be able to grow a beard and then I’ll be impeccably well-groomed, Eric thought. He was only 14; maybe he’d be tall one day.
Or maybe he’d never find out. Was this temporary? He’d only been in Atlanta for two weeks. Had it only been two weeks? Don’t think about it, he reminded himself. Do your business. Don’t look.
He was still doing his business, his semi-hard cock in hand, when Shitty stuck an old Mortin bottle under his nose. Eric had never gone to high school, but he knew that smell; some of his daddy’s team used to smoke after practice, when they thought Coach had taken Eric home for supper.
“No thank you,” he said, shocked, clumsily stuffing his prick back into his pants, still wet at the tip. He would fret about that all day.
II.
Eric was confident that if he has access to his kitchen, he could make Jack feel better. The one time he’d seen Jack smile—really smile—was when Shitty’d brought him a Happy Meal with chicken nuggets and an apple pie for dessert.
“You know,” Eric had said, trying to be all casual-like, “McDonald’s pies aren’t very good.”
Jack had looked up; having shoved most of the thing into his mouth, his cheeks were bulging.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” Eric had continued, “I can make an apple pie that’s a lot better.”
Having a mouth full of food hadn’t stopped Jack from trying to say, “Well, what good does that do us? Where do you think you’re gonna bake one?” Of course, with all that pie in his mouth, not to mention the weird accent, Eric hadn’t managed to make out what Jack had said exactly. But, that was the gist of it, Eric was certain.
“You don’t have to try to make her like you,” Shitty explained. They were walking down Moreland; Larissa had reported that, on the way into town with her mother, she had noticed that someone had left a big box of stuff on the curb up on Briarcliff. Eric had never been to the other side of Ponce, and he was nervous-excited. “Just rich people over there,” Shitty had explained, “real bougie fucks.” Eric didn’t know what bougies were, but they were going to check it out.
“You think there’s any kitchen stuff in that box?” Eric asked. Waiting to cross Freedom Parkway took an eternity.
“Oh, yeah.” Shitty rubbed his hands together, like he’d realized this was a great idea. “That’d be good, if it’s vintage we could try to sell it at Highland Antiques, get some cash. Or is that one of those antiques malls where you have to rent a booth?” He began to stroke his chin. “I wonder.”
The light changed, and Eric scurried across in Shitty’s wake. “Nah, I mean like, we could hold onto it, use it to cook something.”
“Like over a fire,” Shitty agreed, “real old-timey hobo-like shit. Make some beans.”
“I was just thinking since Jack liked that that awful pie from McDonald’s, maybe he’d like my award-winning apple pie, which is much better.”
Again, at North, they had to stop and wait for traffic.
“You can cook a pie over a fire?”
Eric had begun to notice that Shitty was more difficult to deal with right after he’d smoked some pot, which was just about always.
“You cook a pie in the oven.”
“I doubt there’s gonna be an oven at the end of someone’s driveway,” Shitty said. “When rich people get a new oven, the Best Buy or whatever hauls the old one away.”
“Well,” Eric said, consoling himself. “Maybe there’s a pie plate. I shoulda brought mine. That was pretty darn stupid of me, huh?”
Shitty put a hand to Eric’s back, as if to usher him across North Avenue. “Listen, kiddo. It’s nice of you to want to do something sweet for Jack and all, but you gotta let her live with her choices. Junkies get a little junk-sick sometimes, you know?” As they got to the other side of the street, he paused. After a moment, he added, “Let’s go to the Borders sometime and steal you a copy of Naked Lunch.”
“Naked what?” Eric asked. He was only able to half-focus on Shitty’s explanation, too busy hoping beyond hope he’d find something pretty in that box on Moreland to bring home—such as it was home—for Jack.
When they got there, to Eric’s disappointment, the box had already been picked up by the garbagemen.
“Fuckin’ DeKalb County,” Shitty mused. “Fuckin’ yuppie assholes.”
Eric had no clue what he was talking about, none whatsoever.
III.
Borders didn’t have a copy of Naked Lunch, or anything else by the author. “Fuckin’ capitalism,” Shitty complained. “This whole place is full of garbage, not books. Who needs any of this?” He picked up something on a display of mostly stationery, a plastic deer figurine in pink glitter. Eric thought, well, the store is full of mostly books? He did like that sparkly deer. He wished Shitty would steal it for him, but Shitty had a twisted code about stealing things Eric might actually like. “Come on, we’d better go to Whole Foods, see if there’s free tortilla chip samples.”
But at the door of the Whole Foods, a staff member stacking handbaskets looked at them funny and said, “Excuse me.”
Shitty paid him little heed, just said, “Hey, bro,” entered anyway.
Eric had never been in a Whole Foods before. It was dark, not bright like a Publix. And not for lack of light—there were overhead lights. It was just yellow, washed-out, dingy. It didn’t feel clean like a Publix; it felt less clean than Kroger.
“Oh, good,” Shitty said, dragging Eric by the arm. “Guacamole.”
It wasn’t guacamole, though, it was pineapple salsa.
“Bullshit,” sad Shitty, “total bullshit. But, here, eat this anyway.” He had somehow managed to pile it only about four chips at once. “Beat off the scurvy.”
“You think there’s anything here Jack would like?”
Through a mouth of tortilla chips, Shitty said, “There’s nothing anywhere Jack would like, because Jack only likes two things: narcotics, and feeling sorry for herself.”
Eric wasn’t sure he liked what these chips tasted like; they shimmered under the yellow lights with a glean of oil, like they’d come out of a deep-fryer. Sometimes at UGA games Eric’s father would take him to his buddies’ various tailgates, and some of those guys had deep fryers, and, well, Eric knew what flour tortillas in corn oil tasted like. He preferred Tostitos, with their dry, clean starch—but he realized, now that he was eating, that he’d been hungry all morning, truly hungry. He’d been hungry for so long that he forgot he was hungry until he had some food.
“See, the thing with Jack is,” Shitty started to explain, but the same employee who’d been stacking baskets approached them.
“How’re you boys doing?” he asked.
Shitty had tortilla chip crumbs in his mustache. “Thanks for asking, bro, we’re fine. When does the guac come out?”
Eric wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.
Shitty’s question wasn’t answered.
IV.
It was easy to lose track of time, Eric figured, when day after day was the same and you had nowhere to go and nothing to do. It felt wrong when he thought of it: he had things to do, didn’t he? Wasn’t he supposed to be looking for a place to stay? But Eric was no closer to affording an apartment than he had been upon arrival in Atlanta, and some kind of gravity, or lack of inertia, kept him spinning in circles. The highlight of his week became Larissa’s trip into the city on Saturday mornings; she would take a walk in the park with Shitty while her mother did errands. Sometimes, out of pity, Mrs. Larissa’s Mother gave Eric a few dollars.
“Don’t blow it all in one place,” Shitty chided. He was about to head off with Larissa toward Inman Park. What would they do there, and where would they go when the weather got too cold to spend it outside? Eric thought for a few minutes about other places Shitty and Larissa could walk to, but then Eric realized Shitty’s walks in the park were the least of his worries.
When Jack woke up that afternoon he wasn’t in such a bad mood, so Eric felt like it was safe to ask him: “What do we do when it gets cold out?”
Jack blinked his eyes open, slowly at first and then all at once, like the question caught him off-guard. “I don’t know what you’ll do,” he said, “but I’m staying here.”
“In Atlanta?”
“Right here.”
The thought was so disturbing that Eric wandered down the street until he remembered he had three dollars in his pocket. He was a block down from the Zesto, and found himself walking toward it until he was pressed up against the window, looking in, reading the menu over the counter. A sundae was a bit over three dollars. Feeling determined, Eric began to inspect the sidewalk and then the parking lot, hoping to find anything: a nickel, a dime, a quarter. Anything would help.
A pair of ladies holding hands were walking down McLendon toward the corner, on the other side of the street. Feeling bold, and determined, he jogged toward them.
“Hi, ma’am,” he said. “Ma’ams.” Suddenly, Eric was grateful for how long it took the light to change before a person could get to the other side of Moreland. “How’s your day?”
One of them was wearing aviator sunglasses and a poofy skirt that sat high up on her waist. She was big-chested and had on a patterned V-neck T-shirt. She let go of the other woman’s hand and said, “Okay.”
“I was just wondering—” now Eric felt solidly deranged “—if you would be so kind, do you have a couple cents on you? A sundae at the Zesto is three-twenty-nine, and my friend Larissa only gave me three bucks, so I was hoping—”
He didn’t have to finish his sentence before he got a dollar along with the question, “Aren’t you too young to be panhandling?” But, mercifully, they didn’t wait for Eric to answer.
On one hand, if Eric sauntered back leisurely, the sundae would begin to melt; on the other, if he ran, truly hustled, he might spill it. He tried to split the difference, and spent the walk daydreaming of all the things he’d buy for Jack one day, if he would only afford it: a beautiful old razor like his grandfather had owned; a Kindle, so Jack could read all the books he wanted without having to fret about going to the store; new yellow sneakers, fresh as they were vivid as they were hideous.
“What’s that?” Jack asked warily, when he saw Eric approach with something in hand.
“Just a sundae, from Zesto.” Eric paused. “I thought we could split it?”
“I don’t want to share a spoon.”
“I got two spoons.” Eric squatted, careful not to rest his weight on Jack’s blankets. “You like hot fudge, right?”
Jack only grunted.
“These nice ladies gave me a dollar,” Eric explained, removing the lid from the sundae. “You know, I had to really screw up my courage to ask them, but it wasn’t too hard once I put my mind to it. They seemed real friendly, but they asked what I was doing panhandling, said I was too young to be doing that. I don’t think I’m too young, do you? I think I’m just about the right age for things, I mean, we all gotta learn to put ourselves out there at some point, I guess.” He sighed, digging his spoon into the melting soft serve. “I’m still worried about what to do when it gets real cold out.”
Jack, who had already been eating the ice cream, had white on his lips. He licked them, slowly. “I used to worry about it too,” he said, before helping himself to another spoonful.
“What made you stop?”
Jack swallowed his ice cream. “Heroin.”
Eric had nothing to say to that, so he kept eating, perhaps a little too quickly, given how thoroughly he wanted to savor things. Then again, the sundae was melting, so.
Suddenly, Eric was deeply, depressingly aware of how rare this moment was: Jack was being honest, and he didn’t seem sick, and he didn’t seem angry. Eric was midway through helping himself to another bite of ice cream when he got a bizarre urge not to feed himself but to offer his spoon to Jack instead.
And Jack accepted, which was weirder.
It made something in Eric start to burn, start to fill his chest with—god, some emotion, some strong tug from his throat to the pit of his stomach.
Eric cleared his throat, to get Jack’s attention. “Listen, Jack, can I ask you something?”
Jack looked up. “I guess,” he said. “For the ice cream.”
“Why—” It was hard for Eric to get it out. “Why does Shitty call you ‘she’?”
Their nice moment was over.
“He shouldn’t,” Jack said, drawing his arm up, to shield his face. “Does he? He shouldn’t.”
“Well, I was just wondering—”
“Stop wondering.”
“But—”
Now Eric felt awful stupid.
“Never call me that. She doesn’t exist. You’ll never get to meet her, so don’t ask.” Jack put his face in his hands.
“But who’s ‘she’?”
“She’s nobody, so shutup.”
Eric was good at that—shutting up. He merely put a hand at Jack’s back, felt him trembling. “You want some more ice cream?”
Jack looked up, pushed himself to his feet. The plastic spoon from Zesto clattered to the pavement. “I gotta—” He found something, dug it out of his blankets. “I need the bathroom, don’t follow me.”
It had been months now, so Eric knew Jack needed the bathroom the way his mother needed her alone time: to do something she really ought not to have been doing, that was, behind closed doors. Eric had seen Jack crush pills in his fist and rub them into his gums, that night he’d probably thought Eric was sleeping and couldn’t see it.
In the plastic bowl their sundae was a puddle of white streaked with brown. Eric might have gotten a C+ in eighth-grade English, but he knew symbolism when he saw it.
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amadisonfxo · 4 years ago
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Sixteen
In so many movies, books and songs, so many people speak so highly of sixteen. I think they’re right, let me tell you, whoever you may be, a little bit about my experience with the infamous 16. You’re in the sweet spot of being a teenager, you are not supposed to be grown yet, you’re old enough to know better, you’re able to start to maybe get your shit together, to an extent. you know??
First of all, You can drive? (Maybe not well but, I can drive) Like alone and shit, oh? Last time I checked I was literally 12 but cool! Personally never thought I’d see this day, considering I got pulled over at age 14, all while smacking the curb, Dad had no license on him and neither did i, very on brand for us. I am quite literally my father in the form of a female. I Didn’t start learning how to drive until about 2 months before my road test. the day of my test on july 2nd 2019,  my mom convinced me that I ruined her life, and the day before I spoke to child services about my home life for the second time in my life, how traumatic! I Hit the curb on my parallel park and missed the turn for my hill park and never even ended up doing it? it was a 4pm road test so Brent or whatever his name was probably was tired and wanted to go home so he passed me even though I don’t think I met the good driver standards but, I for one, am not complaining! getting my vehicle was pivotal. I’m not even being dramatic, pivotal. The amount of falling in love and falling apart that has gone on in there over the last year?? A little embarrassing to say the least:) I wouldn’t love my life like I do without it, or have made it through some bad, hard times. Including! A global fucking pandemic?? School was cancelled, boyfriend Deadass broke up with me just about 2 days before, Double wtf??? Honestly what happened?? and that’s for real. that was my biggest thing when I turned the big one six was that I could finally finally, listen to whatever music I wanted, as loud as I wanted because lord knows, Shelley didn’t quite appreciate “teenage dream” at a blast, at 8am, as much as I did. i appreciate every small drive, the ones to school, to dance, to work, to the rink, to the gym, i always make the perfect small soundtrack for my drive. especially through the beginning of covid and a breakup, it was a life saver, i may have gone actually insane if i couldnt speed and and scream down every empty long road i could find after every long day of nothing.
 i pay for my own vehicle, every month a chunk comes out of my account, that is something i pride myself on, i cant wait until the day that im able to be completely self sufficient, even now, for the most part, I am. 
16 consisted of a lot of finding myself and realizing who I am in my relationships, with my family, with my friends and with my boyfriend. i am able to fully say that I am nowhere near, at all, the perfect best friend, or sister, daughter, step daughter, girlfriend, student, dancer, and all that. But everyday i dreamed up ways i was able to be that for the people around me, its been slow, but i’ve been making progress. as much as everyone drives me up a wall for throwing rocks at every move i make, they might be right, so i cant help but try to chnage and be better all the time.
 i realized my family is not the same as me, and as dumb as it sounds, i HATE being told i cant do something or that i HAVE to do something, i hate people who cant go with the flow, people who don’t trust me (cough cough mom) although, she has many valid reasons to not trust me, i still don’t like that she doesnt trust me,. my least favorite thing in the world is being told no. i really hope i navigate that flaw before i get a taste of the real world.
 i learned that i live to scream music, for a night out with my friends, for laying in the sun and that reading gets me through my hardest hours, writing is my therapy, dancing is my therapy. when i am happy all i wanna do is keep doing fun things. Reading, dance and my other forms of therapy never seem necessary until I am having a tough time. which is fair i suppose but i wish they were a daily habit.
 my whole year of 16 i spent falling in love, trying to get out of it and then navigating a new relationship, all with one person, which is all ive ever wanted. ive always wanted to find somebody that I love and that I can give everything I have to. everyone is different, some people like to give to themselves, others like to be in love and have help, love, be taken care of and build a new form of family, a best friend. i find i am that person. and i love it so much.
 i loved, i lost, i literally got to my lowest ever but then came up and learned every piece of my soul, that sounds painfully dramatic but its so true. i truly believe i am so incredibly strong, but so loving and soft.i finally fully believe i am enough, i am worth and deserving of everything i want and need, just like everybody else. i am my favorite person. nobody can replace me, I will always be here for myself, i always try to give myself the world. i learned that at 16. the beginning was hard, i thought being weak and being a pushover was just who i was and that crying every night was cool and that it was just how my life was gonna be, but you truly are everything you set your mind out to be. if you believe you are the absolute hottest bitch on this planet, Guest what??? you'll start to act accordingly. it feels good, to finally understand that you have to be so happy and confident on your own that being with somebody is just that much better, its tough, but so perfect. 
some cool things i did at 16, bought my vehicle, sorry to flex again. paid off a whole ass greece trip, that got cancelled eventually. missed out on my second and my second last dance competition season. started coaching figure skating. learned a hip hop dance (nice)  got my first solos, something ive been waiting for since the dance moms days. the first song i listened to in my car while driving alone was “american teen” by khalid. learned my brain. loved my life fully. learned how to get through hard days. slow danced with the loml in my living room. went camping with mans. created a little life of my own with cb. ill never get over how sweet and caring and smart. he is. i justv love my life, my friends and myself. so much. 
16 was something ive been waiting for. I have huge dreams. 
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hastalamiana · 7 years ago
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Father’s Day 2017
Fathers Day... A Day dedicated to all the exceptional fathers in the world... Also a Day Ive struggled with for as long as I can remember. I didn't grow up with my  dad... I didn't even have a dope father figure to guide me along. It was always just me, my mom and my brother and occasionally other family members who needed a place to transition to the next phase in their life. It was not until 2011 when I was going through a divorce (yes I was 21 going through a divorce... Life happens) 
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when I realized the impact of not having a father in my life had really done to me. I never had a good example of how a woman should be treated. I never did a Daddy-Daughter Dance. I never had a Dad to give those annoying handmade gifts they have kids make at school each year. I never had a dad attend school events and award ceremonies. I never had a dad pick my up when I fell or when a boy hurt my feelings... Nah none of that, so how in the Hell was I supposed to know that I should never let a man treat me less than a Queen? How was I ever to know the self-esteem boost you experience when you get non sexual male attention? How was I supposed to know what it feels like to feel safe and secure? My mom did a hell of a job raising me but she could never show me those things, nope that is a dads job... 
Needless to say, Fathers Day is a little sensitive for me. Now its not so much about me as it is my kids. My daughter is older now, so not having her father in her life is hard on her... subsequently making it hard on me. I do my best to comfort her when she asks why her dad doesn't love her and ensure that she knows us not being together is not her fault, but there is only so much I can do to help her. I keep it as real as I can, at an age appropriate level for her, and I work my hardest to ensure she has positive male role models in her life. This takes me to my next point. 
As I have grown to accept the impact of not having a father/father figure while growing up and heal the best I can, I have begun to celebrate the men in my life who are exceptional fathers. Because life is what it is, I cannot force my daughters father to be in her life but I can ensure that she has an abundance of examples of what a Father should be doing and what its like to have positive, non sexual male attention. 
My daughter has the BEST God Father in the entire world. He is a great husband to his wife (she said it so it must be true), he is strong in his faith, he is a mentor, coach, brother, friend and so much more. I cannot thank him enough for loving Milan and treating her like the little princess she is. I know without a shadow of a doubt that if anything ever happened to me Her God parents would love on her like their own. Words will never be able to express how Grateful I am she was fortunate enough to get such an awesome role model in him. 
Then there are my friends... my village! I’ve been working on this thing for a while now. Like intentionally focusing on having a strong community of friends that become family and comprise my village. Some are friends Ive met on my own, others became a gift when marrying some of my girlfriends, regardless I am so grateful for the awesome men I know that are killing it as fathers! Milan has been blessed to be loved by so many of my guy friends, who are not only awesome to their own kids, but show her love each and every time she is around. Not only are these men good Dads, they are good husbands too! I cannot stress enough how important it is to expose your child to healthy functioning relationships. Kids need to see that and I am fortunate to have so many wonderful friends providing the example I have not been able to provide thus far. From giving her hugs and piggy back rides to telling her she is smart and beautiful to letting her hang with you and your kids, I am so grateful and words will never be able to express what it means to me. Y'all are the shit and we need your continued presence in our lives and the world. 
So yeah, now for Fathers Day my focus is on celebrating all the exceptional Fathers in my and my kids lives. One of these days when my bank account is set up a little differently I'm getting everyone something nice to show my appreciation. Im so grateful to know so many Black men who are present and active Fathers, God Fathers, Uncles, Brothers, Cousins, Mentors, Coaches, Friends and just overall dope individuals. Thank you so much for all your contributions to the team and community. Thank you for loving on your wives and significant others (because kids need to see that too) and thank you for sharing a piece of your lives with me! I am forever grateful!
And a very special Thank you to my Sons Dad! Im so glad we have you! 
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rockwell-rocky-blog · 8 years ago
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Lucas ‘Rocky’ Rockwell | 25 | The Calamity 
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Hi what is up my doodz??? My name is Hailey, I’m 21, and this smol dog is my Rocky. Now sit back and let me tell you a lil sum sum about my boi
Basics.
I feel like Rocky is going to be a really easy person to get along with. He’s not going to be like super nice and cheery or something, but definitely not the kind of guy to just dislike people from the start. He needs a good reason to be a dick to you, and he will if given the need.
That’s why I call Rocky an asshole, because once he decides he doesn’t like you, it’s just like that for life. He doesn’t just dislike people, he hates with every fiber of his being. He’ll throw a punch without a second thought or rip you to shreds with just a few words.
I chose ‘the calamity’ because wherever Rocky goes, trouble follows. He doesn’t look for trouble, it just finds him. He has a history of drug abuse (which you’ll see below) and it ultimately destroyed his family. I see him as a person who frequently fucks up and has to figure out how to fix it.
He’s in love with Molly Mattinson, the mother of his three boys who have yet to be named at this very moment. He’s probably still going to flirt around and has been around since their break up a few years ago, but I don’t think there’s ever going to be anyone else for him in the same way he loves her.
That’s about it??? idk what else to say about his personality because I haven’t figured it out yet but yeah HMU IF YOU WANNA LOVE ON THIS BABE??? 
Childhood.
TRIGGER WARNING: PHYSICAL, SEXUAL, AND VERBAL ABUSE MENTIONED
His full name is Lucas James Rockwell III., but he exclusively goes by Rocky. It derives from his last name, and he chose to ditch his first name when he was adopted at fourteen. His father wanted to pass on the family name to his oldest son, but he didn’t stick around for very long. 
When Rocky was eight, his dad walked out on them and he never saw him again. After that, he and his three siblings were left to fend for themselves, as their alcoholic mother was no help at all. When she wasn’t passed out drunk or out on some bender she would verbally, physically, and eventually in Rocky’s case, sexually abuse them every chance she got. 
His mother, who Rocky refuses to address as anything other than ‘Tina’, began to force intimacy on him shortly after he turned ten. It became so routine, that whenever she’d get home, Rocky would just become physically ill and begin to throw up. Just the thought of his mother caused a reaction sometimes, and even to this day he still feels sick when she crosses his mind. 
It all came to an end when Rocky was in the 7th grade. He was changing out of his clothes in gym class and the coach noticed a large, painful looking bruise on the back of his thigh. Soon after, the investigation started and the Rockwell siblings lives changed forever. 
He and his older sister was placed in separate group homes, while his elementary school aged siblings were placed into foster homes together, and soon adopted by loving families. While he was able to keep contact with his sister, he hasn’t spoken to his two other siblings in years.
After living in several different group homes, Rocky was lucky enough to meet Monica and Harvey Carlin, the two people he would eventually learn to call mom and dad. They were volunteers his group home, and Harvey took a special interest in the young man. He was nearing his fourteenth birthday, and Harvey saw a lot of himself in the kid. He, too, had been abused by his parents and ended up in the same Seattle boys home he was helping out in now. He decided to be a mentor to him, teaching him things a father should teach. It was nice for him to finally have an adult in his life who seemed to care.
After about a year of being in his life, Harvey and Monica asked Rocky if he wanted to join their family. They welcomed him in with open arms, and the adoption was finalized with a party of over 100 new family members to welcome him home. 
Adolescence.
TRIGGER WARNING: DRUG ABUSE 
While Rocky was still in foster care, he met the wonderful Molly Mattinson and took almost no time falling in love with her. It took him nearly a year to officially ask her to be his girlfriend, because she was perfect and he didn’t want his past to ruin her. He was afraid that after everything he’d been through, she would decide he was too damaged to even bother. Molly became the most consistent thing in his life, and to this day he feels like he will never be able to fully thank her for that.
When he was sixteen, their worlds became intertwined forever. Rocky and Molly were having a baby. He was terrified to tell the Carlins, the family who had actually chosen him. He didn’t want to make them regret ever taking a chance on him, only two years into being under their roof and he was already knocking someone up. Of course, the ever-loving Harvey and Monica were anything but regretful. While they definitely weren’t happy, they did their best to support the young couple in every way they could through the pregnancy.
Knowing he couldn’t rely on them forever. He tried to both work and go to school, but when the baby finally came, he knew it was hopeless. It wasn’t like he was ever going to go to college, why even bother graduating? He dropped out before junior year started and began to work full time to support his family.
 About a year later, Molly was pregnant with their second child, and that is when everything started to go downhill. Between being a father and working full time, things became a little too stressful for Rocky. He was just seventeen and already paying for an apartment, a car, groceries, a baby, and now he had another one on the way. He just needed a little something to take the edge off. 
During Molly’s second pregnancy, Rocky started down the path that would eventually lose him his family. After first, it was just weed. It was always around, he’d smoked before and it wasn’t a big deal. But then it was pills. Then it was both at the same time. And then eventually he was just never sober. But hey, he had it under control, right?
After their second child was born, everything just got worse. He started getting into heavier and heavier things, his drug of choice being heroin, but eventually there wasn’t a drug he hadn’t tried. 
His first OD was when he was eighteen and the boys were still too young to remember, but it definitely wasn’t the last. In total, Rocky overdosed six times between the ages of seventeen and nineteen, all from a mix of heroin and morphine. The doctors kept warning his family that he needed to get help, and he refused treatment under any circumstance. He did not want to get better, but he knew he was losing Molly. 
In a last stitch effort to save his little family, Rocky planned the pregnancy of their third child. In his state, none of his decisions were good ones, and that included lying to his girlfriend about pulling out and soon baby number three was on his way, but it couldn’t save the relationship. 
Rocky’s last overdose happened when he was twenty one and the boys were five, four, and two, and it happened when everyone was home. He stumbled home already messed up, and quickly locked himself in the bathroom to take himself completely over the edge. It wasn’t on purpose, but two days later he woke up in the hospital with an IV drip and the news that he died that night. He had a heart attack and he was technically dead for three whole minutes. That was his wake up call. That was it. He’d finally it rock bottom. He’d almost taken a father away from his kids because he was so selfish. It was then that he knew he had to finally take care of himself. He let Molly check him into rehab the next day, and so began his road to recovery.
Adulthood.
After his three month stint in rehab, Rocky was shocked to find that Molly took their kids and moved away. He figured her lack of communication was just due to her wanting to focus on the kids and let him get better on his own. But by the time he was out, he couldn’t even blame her. He knew what he’d put her through, what he’d put their children through with his addiction. If being away from him was what she thought was best for her and the boys, he couldn’t blame her.
Rocky has been completely drug free for two years. He fell off the wagon a few times, but hasn’t touched a single drug since May 2015, and has put all of his focus on being a better person, and a better father.
I’m not proofreading any of that, I just hope it makes sense LMAO
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ciciandaquill · 5 years ago
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Chapter 1
The blaring sound of the alarm to warn citizens of the upcoming threat suddenly become so insignificant to me. All I could think about is the house, my little cottage home, as I run towards it. It’s the only thing I have left of him. Up above, the German aircraft swarm like insects in the sky, about to unleash bombs from its carriers. My anxiety increases as I hasten, silently praying that my humble home will be spared.
“Emma!” His voice is urgent and loud, as I hear him follow me. “Emma stop!”
“No!” I said, looking over my shoulder ever so slightly and ran as fast as I can.
My legs betrayed me as I falter, falling on my knees breathless. I noticed something fell from my pocket as I kneel; its the necklace my father gave to me before his passing. I held it in my hand and hold it tight. When I look up, my house appears to be just a few meters away when suddenly, something fell from the sky towards it. The pendant begins to feel warm in my hands as he ran towards me. As soon as the bomb hits the roof, the explosion pushed me backward and everything went black. Humans have always been a slave to gravity, hence the feeling of weightlessness feels so unfamiliar. It’s as if time itself stopped and slowed down for me at the same time, even just for a little while. When my body hits the ground, my consciousness succumbs to darkness. A flash of events from my past begins to flood my eyes. Beginning from my formative years down to the recent events. My humble abode once boasts a happy family inside, now crumbling in clouds of dust and wood along with the destroyed relationships its very walls have witnessed. A once place of haven for me and him until it isn't anymore. I woke up with tears rolling down my temples. Sometimes, despite pushing the painful memories away, it will eventually seep even in the tiniest of crack. As I open my eyes, tears began to fell. It’s been a while yet, the mere thought of him feels as though someone squeezes my heart in pain. Time has yet to help me with my agony. I almost drown myself in self-pity and sorrow when I suddenly hear the sound of a door opening. Afterward, a figure of a woman came into view, hovering me with concern delicately painting her pale face. Realizing I have finally awakened, she breaks into a smile.
“Hello, I’m so relieved to see you awake at last.” She began. She took a stool and place it next to the bed I’m laying on, and sat upon it. “My name is Elizabeth Grey. I have found you by the forest not far from my home the other night.” There’s something about her that appears different. When I didn't respond, she continued. “Can you tell me your name, Mistress?”
Her eyes, the darkest of brown I have ever seen, survey my face as she waits for a reply. Seeing more of her now, noticing the details of her clothing, posture, and her manner of speaking puzzles me. Despite my observation, I decided to play along and try my hardest to show gratitude to my savior. “E-Emma Sutton..” I said, having difficulty speaking as if I have been silent for a while. “W-where am I?” I asked as I pushed myself up from the bed.
She helped me set my pillow in my back for my comfort before smiling. “York, Mistress Sutton.”
It is then I suddenly hear the frantic noises outside. However, the noises I hear only cemented what I fear. Looking on my left side, a small window, and what I saw sends panic in my heart. I have done it, whatever father has done in the past, I have done it. Only that I’m not sure how it is even possible. “I will arrange for your bath, Mistress,” Elizabeth said as she stands up.
Before she could leave the room, I called on her. “Thank you for your kindness, Lady Grey. I’m indebted to you.”
Her smile is sweet and wide, kindness is oozing out of her smile. “It’s only Mistress Grey. I’m only a merchant’s wife.” With that, she smiled once again and take her to leave. Upon closing the door, I slowly try to get off the bed and noticed how filthy I am. My whole body is covered with dirt and perhaps smoke as well as my hair smells like one. No wonder why she must have thought I badly need a bath. Despite the filth, I see no injury or cuts in my body, except for a little pain around my back. Realizing the pain is manageable, I walk towards the window and see the peculiarity or rather the truth I initially thought not possible— Yesterday, I was in York April 29, 1942, but I have gone back sometime around the 15th Century and I don't know how or why. Having Constantine around to teach me since I was young, he has taught me of the most important events in history that have proven useful at the moment. Base on the banner I see from the outside, it bears the white rose of York. There are only 3 York Kings in history: Edward IV; Edward V; and Richard III. Knowing which one would be a little complicated. I might have to go outside to determine. When Elizabeth came back, she ushered me to my bath and helped me get into it. I feel relaxed upon submerging myself in the warm water, however, as soon as I lean back I felt a sharp pain around my shoulder and back. I try to look over and see the reason for it only to see a massive discoloration around my shoulder and I can only suspect that the bruising is the reason why I’m experiencing back pain. After washing up, one of Elizabeth’s help gave me a hand getting out of the medieval bath and dress me appropriately. Thankfully, corsets are not of this century but I have completely forgotten about the bodice. Constantine has always been more interested in Italian history especially in the renaissance period or perhaps it has been a shared interest between the two of us that I have forgotten about the minute details of this century outside of Italy. I was unable to suppress a groan of pain when Winnifred is helping me lace my bodice. “Forgive me, Mistress!”
I try my best to smile at her to ease her. “It’s quite alright.”
“What is going on?” Elizabeth said, suddenly coming inside the room. She went inside and walk towards my back. I was about to say that it’s nothing, however, she sweeps my hair from my back to my shoulder and traces the bruises. I gasp in pain as she did so. “Forgive me. This is a terrible bruise. I wonder how you got it.”
As Winnifred continues to help me get dressed, I can only recall the explosion pushing me away. I don't remember anything else. However, I suddenly remembered something rather peculiar during the explosion. I remember thinking about a portrait of a woman whom I have seen in different museums but has appeared to be the subject of paintings about beauty. Despite my fondness for paintings and sculptures, the manner of which I remember the painting is somehow enthralling. As the explosion pushed me, the very thought of the painting itself is pulling me in and I went in like a moth to a flame.
After joining her to tea, is when I later learned that I’m currently living in King Edward IV on his second reign. One thing I remember from my history lessons is that the second reign has brought about peace between the warring clans of England, at least until his death in 7 years after ruling for 13 years.
“Do you remember the events before your loss of consciousness?” Miss Grey said as she sets her teacup down the table.
Sipping mine, I try my best to conjure and keep my story more believable. When I set the teacup down the table as well, I was ready. “My father and I live in the outskirts of York when he decided he wishes to travel to Florence to visit my mother’s relatives.” I set the teacup down on the table and place my hands conveniently on my lap. “While we’re on our way, a group of men robbing stopped us only to rob us of our things. My father willed me to go as he tries to protect me from the men but I ended up being beaten by some of the men thinking I carry some things of value.” Looking down, though feeling awful with my lie, I fidget my hands as I go on. “And then when I wake up, I’m here.”
I heard her gasp as she hears me. “Oh dear, what a dreadful experience! However, when we found you, we could not locate anyone else but you.”
I look up at her with a sullen look. “I fear what they have done to my poor father.”
She extends her hand to mine, consoling me. “Dear, whatever you need, you only need to ask.” She said.
“How kind of you, Mistress,” I said, smiling bitterly at her.
Upon learning of my prior plans to travel to Florence, Elizabeth was willing to let me travel with them to Florence. I still feel guilty lying to her but I know that if I tell her the truth, I would only be accused of witchcraft. Suddenly, I remember what my father did when he traveled in the late 15th century. He has mentioned his lies he had to come up to blend in with the time. Despite wanting to see her for the first time, I have never thought I’d be doing the same thing as my father once did. The journey for la Bella madonna. I have not taken into account how lucky I was to have met Elizabeth who coincidentally will travel from York to Venice. They have given me a ride in their coach until I made it to Florence. Standing there by the gates of the city, I look up at the Dome of Florence in its regal stance, holding a promise and hope for me.
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thegloober · 6 years ago
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I’ve Transformed My Body and Mind
It’s Friday, everyone! And that means another Primal Blueprint Real Life Story from a Mark’s Daily Apple reader. If you have your own success story and would like to share it with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I’ll continue to publish these each Friday as long as they keep coming in. Thank you for reading!
Hello Mark and the Primal Blueprint community! I usually don’t do stuff like this, but like many others who have discovered the Primal Blueprint path, it’s changed my life in such a positive way that it’s hard not to share. Growing up I was always athletic – trim, quick, and agile. I excelled in every physical activity I was into, without much effort. Karate, soccer, skateboarding, snowboarding, surfing, even golf came easy for me. Within my group of friends, I was the guy that was better at everything than everyone else (at least in my mind LOL). It seemed like I could maintain this level of health and physical ability forever.
Then of course life happens. In my late 20s I meet the love of my life. We get married and in short order, our first son is born.  As a parent, you know how life-changing that event is, and being still in our 20’s, my wife and I went into daily survival mode and did our best. I never thought much about eating right or exercising, being one of those people who could (and did) eat anything under the sun and come out (seemingly) unscathed. Fast food, chips, pizza, ice-cream, candy, processed food from boxes, you name it. And it wasn’t just what I ate, it was the time in which I ate it. I never gave much thought to pounding huge meals late at night, or right before bed-time. In fact, it was like I had a “second” dinner every night. And of course, this was all the usual SAD stuff; tons of bread and grains, corn, fried foods, processed sugars, the usual suspects. I ate like this through my 30s.
As I reached my 40s, however, I noticed that I was getting fatter and slower, and had developed a severe case of IBS. I was always fatigued, irritable, and always had a constant feeling of dis-ease and malaise. Though I was still physically active playing soccer and bike commuting religiously, it seemed like I was always pulling a muscle, or getting injured. My reflexes seemed slower. I didn’t sleep well and my head was always in a cloud. I experienced my first panic attack and developed severe anxiety. I was always getting sick, and never had any energy to really play with or interact with my son.
When our second son came along, these symptoms became compounded. I was miserable, and felt ground-down by the pressures of life as a husband, father and sole-breadwinner of our family. I thought what I was feeling was just life happening, and that it was just a part of getting older.
Being now in my early 40s, I was feeling like crap, looking like crap, and had no idea what to do about it. One day I looked at myself in the full-length bathroom mirror (with my IBS, the bathroom was my second home), and I realized I was at a crossroads. Like Tracy Chapman sang, “leave tonight or live and die this way,” I decided it was time to leave my current unhealthy state and go on a new journey; one towards teaching myself how to be a Fat Burning Beast. Through Mark and the ever expanding Primal/Paleo community, I’ve reclaimed my health and fitness. I’ve discovered and use Intermittent Fasting as another tool, and read Mark’s Daily Apple daily for knowledge and inspiration (and dark chocolate recipes).
I’m also being mindful of things like chronic cardio, stress management and finding time to “get wild.” I’m constantly trying to figure out how to implement the Primal philosophy into the choices I make, not only with nutrition, but with life in general. My six-year-old son is now one of my Primal coaches (even though he doesn’t know it). He loves his “Primal” wrestling sessions with daddy, and being used as daddy’s weight lifting equipment. He also likes joining daddy and mommy in our family burpee sessions before dinner.
So, in about a year’s time of living the Primal/Keto life, I’ve transformed my body (and my mind). I’ve cured myself of IBS, and feel great overall. My head is clearer, I sleep better, my energy level has increased. Somehow, I feel more optimistic. My anxiety has lessened enough that I can enjoy coffee again (yay!)
What’s also cool is that through my enthusiasm for this path, my wife is also now onboard the Primal/Keto train (it was hard doing it alone, especially since she does all the cooking for the family). After only a few months, she is looking and feeling great herself, and enjoying more energy than she’s ever had. It hasn’t always been easy of course, but overall, being on the Primal path has been an incredible epiphany in my life. I have co-workers, friends, and family wondering what the heck happened and how I did it.
Thanks Mark for all you’ve done and continue to do. How great it must feel to be helping so many people improve their health and well-being. Congrats on being a game-changer and positive force in the world.
 Sukho V
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lazytacomoon-blog · 6 years ago
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Finding out what insurance company a business uses?
"Finding out what insurance company a business uses?
My vehicle was at a business sitting inside their garage area and while it was there the stereo was stolen, speakers, amp and front grill. There were also some parts taken off of the motor. I had the sheriff department come out, filed a report, they took photos and even dusted the truck for finger prints. I have spoke to the business owner and told them it is only fair that they either pay for it or file it on their insurance policy. They have refused to do either. Is there a way I can fin out who their insurance company is?
BEST ANSWER:  Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://financeandcreditsolutions.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr 
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My vehicle was at a business sitting inside their garage area and while it was there the stereo was stolen, speakers, amp and front grill. There were also some parts taken off of the motor. I had the sheriff department come out, filed a report, they took photos and even dusted the truck for finger prints. I have spoke to the business owner and told them it is only fair that they either pay for it or file it on their insurance policy. They have refused to do either. Is there a way I can fin out who their insurance company is?
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My vehicle was at a business sitting inside their garage area and while it was there the stereo was stolen, speakers, amp and front grill. There were also some parts taken off of the motor. I had the sheriff department come out, filed a report, they took photos and even dusted the truck for finger prints. I have spoke to the business owner and told them it is only fair that they either pay for it or file it on their insurance policy. They have refused to do either. Is there a way I can fin out who their insurance company is?
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My vehicle was at a business sitting inside their garage area and while it was there the stereo was stolen, speakers, amp and front grill. There were also some parts taken off of the motor. I had the sheriff department come out, filed a report, they took photos and even dusted the truck for finger prints. I have spoke to the business owner and told them it is only fair that they either pay for it or file it on their insurance policy. They have refused to do either. Is there a way I can fin out who their insurance company is?
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My health insurance is provided by and paid for by my employee. They are changing insurances effective Sept 1st; I'm scheduled for surgery on Sept 8th through the other company. How does this work? Do my deductibles that I've paid roll over?
Can my fiance add me to his insurance plan?
and is it more convenient than individual? (insurance through his work)
How much would the insurance cost for a 16 year old in tx driving a dodge challenger?
With a good student discount and a defensive driving course. Also how much would it be for a charger
""Progressive auto insurance wants me to show proof of health insurance, what do I send?""
I signed up for Medicaid (Michigan) a couple weeks ago and picked a health plan, but I won't get my health plan card until June 1st. I just got Progressive auto insurance today ...show more""
Which car is best for a new driver with cheap insurance im 25 and a female?
Which car is best for a new driver with cheap insurance im 25 and a female?
Finding out what insurance company a business uses?
My vehicle was at a business sitting inside their garage area and while it was there the stereo was stolen, speakers, amp and front grill. There were also some parts taken off of the motor. I had the sheriff department come out, filed a report, they took photos and even dusted the truck for finger prints. I have spoke to the business owner and told them it is only fair that they either pay for it or file it on their insurance policy. They have refused to do either. Is there a way I can fin out who their insurance company is?
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/birmingham-alabama-cheap-car-insurance-quotes-zip-35242-lisa-lowman/"
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shg11 · 7 years ago
Link
The basketball legend and social activist who counted Ali and King among his contemporaries discusses Colin Kaepernick, LaVar Ball and Trumps America
Tumblr media
Like all people my age I find the passage of time so startling, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar says with a quiet smile. The 70-year-old remains the highest points-scorer in the history of the NBA and, having won six championships and been picked for a record 19 All-Star Games, he is often compared with Michael Jordan when the greatest basketball players of all time are listed. Yet no one in American sport today can match Kareems political and cultural impact over 50 years.
In the 90 minutes since he knocked on my hotel room door in Los Angeles, Abdul-Jabbar has recounted a dizzying personal history which stretches from conducting his first-ever interview with Martin Luther King in Harlem, when he was just 17, to receiving a hand-written insult from Donald Trump in 2015. We move from Colin Kaepernick calling him last week to the moment when, aged 20, Kareem was the youngest man invited to the Cleveland Summit as the leading black athletes in 1967 gathered to meet Muhammad Ali to decide whether they would support him after he had been stripped of his world title and banned from boxing for rejecting the draft during the Vietnam War.
Kaepernick, the former San Francisco 49ers quarterback who has been shut out of the NFL for his refusal to stand for the US national anthem, is engaged in a different struggle. But, after being banished unofficially from football for going down on a bended knee in protest against racism and police brutality, Kaepernick has one of his staunchest allies in Abdul-Jabbar.
At the Cleveland Summit Abdul-Jabbar was called Lew Alcindor, for he had not converted to Islam then, and he became one of Alis ardent supporters. When Ali convinced his fellow athletes he was right to stand against the US government, the young basketball star knew he needed to make his more reticent voice heard. He has stayed true to that conviction ever since.
Were talking about 50 years since the Cleveland Summit, wow, Abdul-Jabbar exclaims. We were tense about what we were going to do and Ali was the opposite. He said: Weve got to fight this in court and Im going to start a speaking tour. Ali had figured out what he had to do in order to make the dollars while fighting the case was essential to his identity. Bill Russell [the great Boston Celtics player] said: Ive got no concerns about Ali. Its the rest of us Im worried about. Ali had such conviction but he was cracking jokes and asking us if we were going to be as dumb as Wilt Chamberlain [another basketball great who played for the Philadelphia 76ers]. Wilt wanted to box Ali. Oh my God.
Abdul-Jabbars face creases with laughter before he becomes more serious again. Black Americans wanted to protect Ali because he spoke for us when we had no voice. When he said: Aint no Viet Cong ever called me the N-word, we figured that one out real quick. Ali was a winner and people supported him because of his class as a human being. But some of the things we fought against then are still happening. Each generation faces these same old problems.
The previous evening, when I had sat next to Abdul-Jabbar at the Los Angeles Press Club awards, the past echoed again. Abdul-Jabbar received two prizes the Legend Award and Columnist of the Year for his work in the Hollywood Reporter. Other award winners included Tippi Hedren, who starred in Alfred Hitchcocks thriller, The Birds, and the New York Times reporters Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey who broke the Harvey Weinstein story two months ago. As if to prove that the past can be played over and over again in a contemporary loop, we saw footage of Hedren saying how she would not accept the sexual bullying of Hitchcock in the 1960s just before Kantor and Twohey described how they earned the trust of women who had been abused by Weinstein.
Abdul-Jabbar explained quietly to me how much of an ordeal he found such occasions. He was happiest talking about John Coltrane or Sherlock Holmes, James Baldwin or Bruce Lee, but people kept coming over to ask for a selfie or a book to be signed while, all evening, comic references were made to his height. Abdul-Jabbar is 7ft 2in and he looked two feet taller than Hedren on the red carpet.
The following morning, as he stretches out his long legs, I tell Kareem how I winced each time another wise-crack was made about his height. I can tell you I was six-foot-two, aged 12, when the questions started, Abdul-Jabbar says. Hows the weather up there? I should write down all the things people said when affected by my height. One of the funniest was at an airport and this little boy of five looked at my feet in amazement. I said: Hey, how youre doing? He just said: You must be very old because youve got very big shoes. For him the older you were, the bigger your shoes. Thats the best Ive heard.
In his simple but often beautiful and profound new book, Becoming Kareem, Abdul-Jabbar writes poignantly: My skin made me a symbol, my height made me a target.
Tumblr media
A group of top black athletes gather to give support to Muhammad Ali give his reasons for rejecting the draft during the Vietnam War at a meeting of the Negro Industrial and Economic Union, held in Cleveland in June 1967. Seated in the front row, from left to right: Bill Russell, Ali, Jim Brown and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Standing behind them are: Carl Stokes, Walter Beach, Bobby Mitchell, Sid Williams, Curtis McClinton, Willie Davis, Jim Shorter and John Wooten. Photograph: Robert Abbott Sengstacke/Getty Images
Race has been the primary issue which Abdul-Jabbar has confronted every day. In another absorbing Abdul-Jabbar book published this year, Coach Wooden and Me, he celebrates his friendship with the man who helped him win an unprecedented three NCAA championship titles with UCLA. They lost only two games in his three years on campus as UCLA established themselves as the greatest team in the history of college basketball and Wooden, a white midwesterner, and Kareem, a black kid from New York, forged a bond that lasted a half-century. Yet, amid their shared morality and decency, race remained an unresolved issue between them.
Wooden was mortified when a little old lady stared up at the teenage Kareem and said: Ive never seen a nigger that tall. Even though he would later say that he learnt more about mans inhumanity to man by witnessing all his protg endured over the years, Woodens memory of that encounter softened the womans racial insult by saying that she had called Kareem a big black freak.
Abdul-Jabbar nods. He would never see a little grey-haired lady using such language. When it doesnt affect your life its hard for you to see. Men dont understand what attractive women go through. We dont get on a bus and have somebody squeeze our breast. We have no idea how bad it can be. For people to understand your predicament youve got to figure out how to convey that reality. It takes time.
Abdul-Jabbar made his first high-profile statement against the predicament of all African Americans when, in 1968, he boycotted the Olympic Games in Mexico. After race riots in Newark and Detroit, and the assassination of King in April 1968, he knew he could not represent his country. Dr Harry Edwards [the civil rights activist] helped me realise how much power I had. The Olympics are a great event but what happened overwhelmed any patriotism. I had to make a stand. I wanted the country to live up to the words of the founding fathers and make sure they applied to people of colour and to women. I was trying to hold America to that standard.
The athletes Tommie Smith and John Carlos took another path of protest. They competed in the Olympic 200m in Mexico and, after they had won gold and bronze, raised their gloved fists in a black power salute on the podium. I was glad somebody with some political consciousness had gone to Mexico, Abdul-Jabbar says, so I was very supportive of them.
Does Kaepernicks situation mirror those same issues? Yeah. The whole issue of equal treatment under the law is still being worked out here because for so long our political and legal culture has denied black Americans equal treatment. But I was surprised Kaepernick had that awareness. It made me think: I wonder how many other NFL athletes are also aware? From there it has bloomed. This generation has a very good idea on how to confront racism. I talked to Colin a couple of days ago on the phone and Im really proud of him. Hes filed an issue with the Players Association about the owners colluding to keep him from working. Thats the best legal approach to it. I hope he prevails.
Over dinner the night before, he intimated that Kaepernick knew he would never play in the NFL again. We didnt get that deep into it, he says now, but he has an idea that is whats going down. But hes moved on. He hadnt prepared for this but he coped with different twists and turns. Some of the owners in the NFL are sympathetic, some arent. Its gone back and forth. But he appreciates the fact that kids in high school have taken an interest. So he got something done and this generations athletes are now more aware of civil rights.
Tumblr media
Abdul-Jabbar is proud of Colin Kaepernicks stand. Photograph: Michael Zagaris/Getty Images
Kaepernick has been voted GQs Citizen of the Year, the runner-up in Time magazines Person of the Year and this week he received Sports Illustrateds Muhammad Ali Legacy Award. Considering the way Kaepernick has never wavered in his commitment, Abdul-Jabbar writes in Sports Illustrated that: I have never been prouder to be an American On November 30, it was reported that 40 NFL players and league officials had reached an agreement for the league to provide approximately $90m between now and 2023 for activism endeavors important to African American communities. Clearly, this is the result of Colins one-knee revolution and of the many players and coaches he inspired to join him. That is some serious impact Were my old friend [Ali] still alive, I know he would be proud that Colin is continuing this tradition of being a selfless warrior for social justice.
In my hotel room, Abdul-Jabbar is more specific in linking tragedy and a deepening social conscience. I dont know how anybody could not be moved by some of the things weve seen. Remember the footage of [12-year-old] Tamir Rice getting killed [in Cleveland [in 2014]. The car stops and the cop stands up and executes Tamir Rice. It took two seconds. Its so unbelievably brutal you have to do something about it.
LeBron James and other guys in the NBA all had something to say about such crimes [James and leading players wore I Cant Breathe T-shirts in December 2014 to protest against the police killing of Eric Garner, another black man]. They werent talking as athletes. They were talking as parents because that could have been their kid.
If the NFL appears to have actively ended Kaepernicks career, what does Abdul-Jabbar feel about the NBAs politics? The NBA has been wonderful. I came into the NBA and went to Milwaukee [where he won his first championship before winning five more with the LA Lakers]. Milwaukee had the first black general manager in professional sports [Wayne Embry in 1972]. And the NBAs outreach for coaches, general managers and women has been exemplary. The NBA has been on the edge of change. I was hoping the NFL might do the same because some of the owners were taking the knee. But theyre making an example of Colin. Its not right. Let him go out there and succeed or fail on the field like any other great athlete.
Abdul-Jabbar smiles shyly when I ask him about his first interview with Martin Luther King 53 years ago. As a journalist I started out interviewing Dr King. Whoa! By that point [1964], Dr King was a serious icon and I was thrilled he gave me a really good earnest answer. Moments like that affect your life. But my first real experience of being drawn into the civil rights movement came when I read James Baldwins The Fire Next Time.
Tumblr media
Muhammad Ali, then Cassius Clay, with Bill Russell and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, then Lew Alcindor. Photograph: Bettmann/Bettmann Archive
Has he seen I Am Not Your Negro Raoul Pecks 2016 documentary of Baldwin? Its wonderful. I saw it two weeks after the Trump election. It was medicine for my soul. It made me think of how bad things were for James Baldwin. But remember him speaking at Cambridge [University] and the reception he got? Oh man, amazing! I kept telling people: Trump is an asshole but go and see this film. Trump doesnt matter because weve got work to do.
In 2015, after Abdul-Jabbar wrote an opinion piece in the Washington Post, condemning Trumps attempts to bully the press, the future president sent him a scrawled note: Kareem now I know why the press always treated you so badly. They couldnt stand you. The fact is you dont have a clue about life and what has to be done to make America great again.
Abdul-Jabbar smiles when I say that schoolyard taunt is a long way from the oratory of King or Malcolm X. If you judge yourself by your enemies Im doing great. Trumps not going to change. He knows he is where he is because of his appeal to racism and xenophobia. The people that want to divide the country are in his camp. They want to go back to the 18th century.
Trump wants to move us back to 1952 but hes not Eisenhower who was the type of Republican that cared about the whole nation. Even George Bush Sr and George W Bushs idea of fellow citizens did not exclude people of colour. George Ws cabinet looked like America. It had Condoleezza Rice and the Mexican American gentleman who was the attorney general [Alberto Gonzales] and Colin Powell. Women had important positions in his administration. Even though I did not like his policies, he wasnt exclusionary.
Look whats going on with Trump in Alabama [where the president supports Roy Moore in the state senate election despite his favoured candidate being accused of multiple sexual assaults of under-age girls]. You have a guy like him but hes going to vote the way you want politically. Thats more important than what hes accused of? People with that frightening viewpoint are still fighting a civil war. They have to be contained.
Does he fear that Trump might win a second term? I dont think he can, but the rest of us had better organise and vote in 2020. I hope people stop him ruining our nation.
Abdul-Jabbar also worries that college sport remains as exploitative as ever. Its a business and the coaches, the NCAA and universities make a lot of money and the athletes get exploited. They make billions of dollars for the whole system and dont get any. Im not saying they have to be wealthy but I think they should get a share of the incredible amount they generate.
In Coach Wooden and Me, he writes of how, in the 1960s, he was famous at UCLA but dead broke. Yeah. No cash. Its ridiculous. Basketball and football fund everything. College sports do not function on the revenue from water polo or track and field or gymnastics. Its all down to basketball and football. The athletes at Northwestern tried to organise a union and thats how college athletes have to think. They need to unionise. If they can organise they can get a piece of the pie because they are the show.
The legendary Michael Jordan never showed the social conscience of Abdul-Jabbar and other rare NBA activists like Craig Hodges. But Abdul-Jabbar is conciliatory towards Jordan and his commercially-driven contemporaries. I was glad they became interested in being successful businessmen because their financial power makes a difference. I just felt they should leave a little room to help the causes they knew needed their help. But Jordan has come around. He gave some money to the NAACP for legal funds, thank goodness.
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President Barack Obama awards the Medal of Freedom to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar at the White House in November 2016. Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo
Abdul-Jabbar defines himself as a writer now. As he reflects on his LA Press Club awards he says: To be honoured by other writers is incredible. Im a neophyte. Im a rookie.
He grins when I say hes not doing not too badly for a rookie who has written 13 books, including novels about Mycoft Holmes brother of Sherlock. Yeah, but I still feel new to it and to get that recognition was wonderful. I was very flattered that the BBC came to interview me about Mycroft because the British are very protective of their culture. Arthur Conan Doyle is beyond an icon. So I was like, Wow, maybe I am doing OK. When I was [an NBA] rookie somebody gave me a complete compilation of Doyles stories. I went from there.
People were amazed because I always used to be reading before a game whether it was Sherlock Holmes or Malcolm X, John Le Carr or James Baldwin. But that was one of the luxuries of being a professional athlete. You get lots of time to read. My team-mates did not read to the same extent but Im a historian and some of the guys had big holes in their knowledge of black history. So I was the librarian for the team.
I tell Abdul-Jabbar about my upcoming interview with Jaylen Brown of the Boston Celtics and how the 21-year-old has the same thirst for reading and knowledge. While enthusiastic about the possibility of meeting Brown when the Celtics next visit LA, Abdul-Jabbar makes a wistful observation of a young sportsmans intellectual curiosity. Hes going to be lonely. Most of the guys are like: Where are we going to party in this town? Where are the babes? So the fact that he has such broader interests is remarkable and wonderful.
Abdul-Jabbar acknowledges that his own bookish nature and self-consciousness about his height, combined with a fierce sense of injustice, made him appear surly and aloof as a player. It also meant he was never offered the head-coach job he desired. They didnt think I could communicate and they didnt take the time to get to know me. But I didnt make it easy for them so some of that falls in my lap absolutely. But its different now. People stop me in the street and want to talk about my articles. Its amazing.
Most of all, in his eighth decade, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar loves to lose myself in my imagination. Its a wonderful place to go when youre old and creaky like me. I see myself working at this pace [writing at least a book a year] but its not like I have the hounds at my heels. Since my career ended Ive been able to have friends and family. My new granddaughter will be three this month. Shes my very first [grandchild]. So my life has expanded in wonderful ways. But, still, we all have so much work to do. The work is a long way from being done.
Main photograph by Austin Hargrave/AUGUST
Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2017/dec/08/kareem-abdul-jabbar-kaepernick-trump-interview
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trendingnewsb · 7 years ago
Text
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar: ‘Trump is where he is because of his appeal to racism’
The basketball legend and social activist who counted Ali and King among his contemporaries discusses Colin Kaepernick, LaVar Ball and Trumps America
Like all people my age I find the passage of time so startling, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar says with a quiet smile. The 70-year-old remains the highest points-scorer in the history of the NBA and, having won six championships and been picked for a record 19 All-Star Games, he is often compared with Michael Jordan when the greatest basketball players of all time are listed. Yet no one in American sport today can match Kareems political and cultural impact over 50 years.
In the 90 minutes since he knocked on my hotel room door in Los Angeles, Abdul-Jabbar has recounted a dizzying personal history which stretches from conducting his first-ever interview with Martin Luther King in Harlem, when he was just 17, to receiving a hand-written insult from Donald Trump in 2015. We move from Colin Kaepernick calling him last week to the moment when, aged 20, Kareem was the youngest man invited to the Cleveland Summit as the leading black athletes in 1967 gathered to meet Muhammad Ali to decide whether they would support him after he had been stripped of his world title and banned from boxing for rejecting the draft during the Vietnam War.
Kaepernick, the former San Francisco 49ers quarterback who has been shut out of the NFL for his refusal to stand for the US national anthem, is engaged in a different struggle. But, after being banished unofficially from football for going down on a bended knee in protest against racism and police brutality, Kaepernick has one of his staunchest allies in Abdul-Jabbar.
At the Cleveland Summit Abdul-Jabbar was called Lew Alcindor, for he had not converted to Islam then, and he became one of Alis ardent supporters. When Ali convinced his fellow athletes he was right to stand against the US government, the young basketball star knew he needed to make his more reticent voice heard. He has stayed true to that conviction ever since.
Were talking about 50 years since the Cleveland Summit, wow, Abdul-Jabbar exclaims. We were tense about what we were going to do and Ali was the opposite. He said: Weve got to fight this in court and Im going to start a speaking tour. Ali had figured out what he had to do in order to make the dollars while fighting the case was essential to his identity. Bill Russell [the great Boston Celtics player] said: Ive got no concerns about Ali. Its the rest of us Im worried about. Ali had such conviction but he was cracking jokes and asking us if we were going to be as dumb as Wilt Chamberlain [another basketball great who played for the Philadelphia 76ers]. Wilt wanted to box Ali. Oh my God.
Abdul-Jabbars face creases with laughter before he becomes more serious again. Black Americans wanted to protect Ali because he spoke for us when we had no voice. When he said: Aint no Viet Cong ever called me the N-word, we figured that one out real quick. Ali was a winner and people supported him because of his class as a human being. But some of the things we fought against then are still happening. Each generation faces these same old problems.
The previous evening, when I had sat next to Abdul-Jabbar at the Los Angeles Press Club awards, the past echoed again. Abdul-Jabbar received two prizes the Legend Award and Columnist of the Year for his work in the Hollywood Reporter. Other award winners included Tippi Hedren, who starred in Alfred Hitchcocks thriller, The Birds, and the New York Times reporters Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey who broke the Harvey Weinstein story two months ago. As if to prove that the past can be played over and over again in a contemporary loop, we saw footage of Hedren saying how she would not accept the sexual bullying of Hitchcock in the 1960s just before Kantor and Twohey described how they earned the trust of women who had been abused by Weinstein.
Abdul-Jabbar explained quietly to me how much of an ordeal he found such occasions. He was happiest talking about John Coltrane or Sherlock Holmes, James Baldwin or Bruce Lee, but people kept coming over to ask for a selfie or a book to be signed while, all evening, comic references were made to his height. Abdul-Jabbar is 7ft 2in and he looked two feet taller than Hedren on the red carpet.
The following morning, as he stretches out his long legs, I tell Kareem how I winced each time another wise-crack was made about his height. I can tell you I was six-foot-two, aged 12, when the questions started, Abdul-Jabbar says. Hows the weather up there? I should write down all the things people said when affected by my height. One of the funniest was at an airport and this little boy of five looked at my feet in amazement. I said: Hey, how youre doing? He just said: You must be very old because youve got very big shoes. For him the older you were, the bigger your shoes. Thats the best Ive heard.
In his simple but often beautiful and profound new book, Becoming Kareem, Abdul-Jabbar writes poignantly: My skin made me a symbol, my height made me a target.
A group of top black athletes gather to give support to Muhammad Ali give his reasons for rejecting the draft during the Vietnam War at a meeting of the Negro Industrial and Economic Union, held in Cleveland in June 1967. Seated in the front row, from left to right: Bill Russell, Ali, Jim Brown and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Standing behind them are: Carl Stokes, Walter Beach, Bobby Mitchell, Sid Williams, Curtis McClinton, Willie Davis, Jim Shorter and John Wooten. Photograph: Robert Abbott Sengstacke/Getty Images
Race has been the primary issue which Abdul-Jabbar has confronted every day. In another absorbing Abdul-Jabbar book published this year, Coach Wooden and Me, he celebrates his friendship with the man who helped him win an unprecedented three NCAA championship titles with UCLA. They lost only two games in his three years on campus as UCLA established themselves as the greatest team in the history of college basketball and Wooden, a white midwesterner, and Kareem, a black kid from New York, forged a bond that lasted a half-century. Yet, amid their shared morality and decency, race remained an unresolved issue between them.
Wooden was mortified when a little old lady stared up at the teenage Kareem and said: Ive never seen a nigger that tall. Even though he would later say that he learnt more about mans inhumanity to man by witnessing all his protg endured over the years, Woodens memory of that encounter softened the womans racial insult by saying that she had called Kareem a big black freak.
Abdul-Jabbar nods. He would never see a little grey-haired lady using such language. When it doesnt affect your life its hard for you to see. Men dont understand what attractive women go through. We dont get on a bus and have somebody squeeze our breast. We have no idea how bad it can be. For people to understand your predicament youve got to figure out how to convey that reality. It takes time.
Abdul-Jabbar made his first high-profile statement against the predicament of all African Americans when, in 1968, he boycotted the Olympic Games in Mexico. After race riots in Newark and Detroit, and the assassination of King in April 1968, he knew he could not represent his country. Dr Harry Edwards [the civil rights activist] helped me realise how much power I had. The Olympics are a great event but what happened overwhelmed any patriotism. I had to make a stand. I wanted the country to live up to the words of the founding fathers and make sure they applied to people of colour and to women. I was trying to hold America to that standard.
The athletes Tommie Smith and John Carlos took another path of protest. They competed in the Olympic 200m in Mexico and, after they had won gold and bronze, raised their gloved fists in a black power salute on the podium. I was glad somebody with some political consciousness had gone to Mexico, Abdul-Jabbar says, so I was very supportive of them.
Does Kaepernicks situation mirror those same issues? Yeah. The whole issue of equal treatment under the law is still being worked out here because for so long our political and legal culture has denied black Americans equal treatment. But I was surprised Kaepernick had that awareness. It made me think: I wonder how many other NFL athletes are also aware? From there it has bloomed. This generation has a very good idea on how to confront racism. I talked to Colin a couple of days ago on the phone and Im really proud of him. Hes filed an issue with the Players Association about the owners colluding to keep him from working. Thats the best legal approach to it. I hope he prevails.
Over dinner the night before, he intimated that Kaepernick knew he would never play in the NFL again. We didnt get that deep into it, he says now, but he has an idea that is whats going down. But hes moved on. He hadnt prepared for this but he coped with different twists and turns. Some of the owners in the NFL are sympathetic, some arent. Its gone back and forth. But he appreciates the fact that kids in high school have taken an interest. So he got something done and this generations athletes are now more aware of civil rights.
Abdul-Jabbar is proud of Colin Kaepernicks stand. Photograph: Michael Zagaris/Getty Images
Kaepernick has been voted GQs Citizen of the Year, the runner-up in Time magazines Person of the Year and this week he received Sports Illustrateds Muhammad Ali Legacy Award. Considering the way Kaepernick has never wavered in his commitment, Abdul-Jabbar writes in Sports Illustrated that: I have never been prouder to be an American On November 30, it was reported that 40 NFL players and league officials had reached an agreement for the league to provide approximately $90m between now and 2023 for activism endeavors important to African American communities. Clearly, this is the result of Colins one-knee revolution and of the many players and coaches he inspired to join him. That is some serious impact Were my old friend [Ali] still alive, I know he would be proud that Colin is continuing this tradition of being a selfless warrior for social justice.
In my hotel room, Abdul-Jabbar is more specific in linking tragedy and a deepening social conscience. I dont know how anybody could not be moved by some of the things weve seen. Remember the footage of [12-year-old] Tamir Rice getting killed [in Cleveland [in 2014]. The car stops and the cop stands up and executes Tamir Rice. It took two seconds. Its so unbelievably brutal you have to do something about it.
LeBron James and other guys in the NBA all had something to say about such crimes [James and leading players wore I Cant Breathe T-shirts in December 2014 to protest against the police killing of Eric Garner, another black man]. They werent talking as athletes. They were talking as parents because that could have been their kid.
If the NFL appears to have actively ended Kaepernicks career, what does Abdul-Jabbar feel about the NBAs politics? The NBA has been wonderful. I came into the NBA and went to Milwaukee [where he won his first championship before winning five more with the LA Lakers]. Milwaukee had the first black general manager in professional sports [Wayne Embry in 1972]. And the NBAs outreach for coaches, general managers and women has been exemplary. The NBA has been on the edge of change. I was hoping the NFL might do the same because some of the owners were taking the knee. But theyre making an example of Colin. Its not right. Let him go out there and succeed or fail on the field like any other great athlete.
Abdul-Jabbar smiles shyly when I ask him about his first interview with Martin Luther King 53 years ago. As a journalist I started out interviewing Dr King. Whoa! By that point [1964], Dr King was a serious icon and I was thrilled he gave me a really good earnest answer. Moments like that affect your life. But my first real experience of being drawn into the civil rights movement came when I read James Baldwins The Fire Next Time.
Muhammad Ali, then Cassius Clay, with Bill Russell and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, then Lew Alcindor. Photograph: Bettmann/Bettmann Archive
Has he seen I Am Not Your Negro Raoul Pecks 2016 documentary of Baldwin? Its wonderful. I saw it two weeks after the Trump election. It was medicine for my soul. It made me think of how bad things were for James Baldwin. But remember him speaking at Cambridge [University] and the reception he got? Oh man, amazing! I kept telling people: Trump is an asshole but go and see this film. Trump doesnt matter because weve got work to do.
In 2015, after Abdul-Jabbar wrote an opinion piece in the Washington Post, condemning Trumps attempts to bully the press, the future president sent him a scrawled note: Kareem now I know why the press always treated you so badly. They couldnt stand you. The fact is you dont have a clue about life and what has to be done to make America great again.
Abdul-Jabbar smiles when I say that schoolyard taunt is a long way from the oratory of King or Malcolm X. If you judge yourself by your enemies Im doing great. Trumps not going to change. He knows he is where he is because of his appeal to racism and xenophobia. The people that want to divide the country are in his camp. They want to go back to the 18th century.
Trump wants to move us back to 1952 but hes not Eisenhower who was the type of Republican that cared about the whole nation. Even George Bush Sr and George W Bushs idea of fellow citizens did not exclude people of colour. George Ws cabinet looked like America. It had Condoleezza Rice and the Mexican American gentleman who was the attorney general [Alberto Gonzales] and Colin Powell. Women had important positions in his administration. Even though I did not like his policies, he wasnt exclusionary.
Look whats going on with Trump in Alabama [where the president supports Roy Moore in the state senate election despite his favoured candidate being accused of multiple sexual assaults of under-age girls]. You have a guy like him but hes going to vote the way you want politically. Thats more important than what hes accused of? People with that frightening viewpoint are still fighting a civil war. They have to be contained.
Does he fear that Trump might win a second term? I dont think he can, but the rest of us had better organise and vote in 2020. I hope people stop him ruining our nation.
Abdul-Jabbar also worries that college sport remains as exploitative as ever. Its a business and the coaches, the NCAA and universities make a lot of money and the athletes get exploited. They make billions of dollars for the whole system and dont get any. Im not saying they have to be wealthy but I think they should get a share of the incredible amount they generate.
In Coach Wooden and Me, he writes of how, in the 1960s, he was famous at UCLA but dead broke. Yeah. No cash. Its ridiculous. Basketball and football fund everything. College sports do not function on the revenue from water polo or track and field or gymnastics. Its all down to basketball and football. The athletes at Northwestern tried to organise a union and thats how college athletes have to think. They need to unionise. If they can organise they can get a piece of the pie because they are the show.
The legendary Michael Jordan never showed the social conscience of Abdul-Jabbar and other rare NBA activists like Craig Hodges. But Abdul-Jabbar is conciliatory towards Jordan and his commercially-driven contemporaries. I was glad they became interested in being successful businessmen because their financial power makes a difference. I just felt they should leave a little room to help the causes they knew needed their help. But Jordan has come around. He gave some money to the NAACP for legal funds, thank goodness.
President Barack Obama awards the Medal of Freedom to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar at the White House in November 2016. Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo
Abdul-Jabbar defines himself as a writer now. As he reflects on his LA Press Club awards he says: To be honoured by other writers is incredible. Im a neophyte. Im a rookie.
He grins when I say hes not doing not too badly for a rookie who has written 13 books, including novels about Mycoft Holmes brother of Sherlock. Yeah, but I still feel new to it and to get that recognition was wonderful. I was very flattered that the BBC came to interview me about Mycroft because the British are very protective of their culture. Arthur Conan Doyle is beyond an icon. So I was like, Wow, maybe I am doing OK. When I was [an NBA] rookie somebody gave me a complete compilation of Doyles stories. I went from there.
People were amazed because I always used to be reading before a game whether it was Sherlock Holmes or Malcolm X, John Le Carr or James Baldwin. But that was one of the luxuries of being a professional athlete. You get lots of time to read. My team-mates did not read to the same extent but Im a historian and some of the guys had big holes in their knowledge of black history. So I was the librarian for the team.
I tell Abdul-Jabbar about my upcoming interview with Jaylen Brown of the Boston Celtics and how the 21-year-old has the same thirst for reading and knowledge. While enthusiastic about the possibility of meeting Brown when the Celtics next visit LA, Abdul-Jabbar makes a wistful observation of a young sportsmans intellectual curiosity. Hes going to be lonely. Most of the guys are like: Where are we going to party in this town? Where are the babes? So the fact that he has such broader interests is remarkable and wonderful.
Abdul-Jabbar acknowledges that his own bookish nature and self-consciousness about his height, combined with a fierce sense of injustice, made him appear surly and aloof as a player. It also meant he was never offered the head-coach job he desired. They didnt think I could communicate and they didnt take the time to get to know me. But I didnt make it easy for them so some of that falls in my lap absolutely. But its different now. People stop me in the street and want to talk about my articles. Its amazing.
Most of all, in his eighth decade, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar loves to lose myself in my imagination. Its a wonderful place to go when youre old and creaky like me. I see myself working at this pace [writing at least a book a year] but its not like I have the hounds at my heels. Since my career ended Ive been able to have friends and family. My new granddaughter will be three this month. Shes my very first [grandchild]. So my life has expanded in wonderful ways. But, still, we all have so much work to do. The work is a long way from being done.
Main photograph by Austin Hargrave/AUGUST
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albertcaldwellne · 7 years ago
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Productivity Hack: 7 Tricks to Steal From the World’s Top Performers
Imagine this: you’re training a champion athlete or an actor to be the next Marvel superhero. Each day they arrive at your gym and have a killer workout, followed by the perfect post-training meal. Their productivity is envy-inducing. 
Then they go on vacation.
They fumble around the resort gym trying to figure out exercise replacements. Eventually, they give up and return to the pool bar for a round of margarita’s to ease the pain and embarrassment of failure.
The former is an environment built for proactive high-performance. The latter describes a reactive scene of struggle and loss.
Similar scenarios play out everyday in your quest for high-performance at work, in your writing, and for your coaching business.
If you are proactive, plan ahead, and follow the playbook of a high-performer, you can crush the competition and dominate every day.
But if you get soft and lazy, wing it, and wake up unproductive and reactive, you’ll struggle, kill your momentum, and end up joining the New York Jets down on Loser Street.
I’m here to save you and your clients from that fate (although sorry, we can’t save the Jets… I’m not a miracle worker).
Follow these 7 rules of high-performers so you don’t miss out on a single day of making massive progress towards your big goals and dreams.
1. Harness Your Champion Mindset
We’ve all been champions at one point in our lives. You might have been a state champion, a top bodybuilder, head of your fraternity or sorority, star of your school play, or the valedictorian of your class. Maybe you’ve had an amazing ‘before-and-after’ transformation or simply married out of your league.
Somewhere along the line, your plan came together and you rose to the top. That means you already have a champion mindset installed inside of you. Now, to get to the next level in life, you simply need to harness the power of your championship principles.
The winning principles in life are simple. I’ve seen them work time-after-time in many different industries for my thousands of coaching clients. I call them the 5 Pillars of Success:
i) Better Planning & Preparation Than Ever Before ii) Professional Accountability (your ‘coach’) iii) Positive Social Support (your ‘cheerleaders’) iv) A Meaningful Incentive v) The BIG Deadline
When you have these Championship Principles in place you can win the CrossFit Games, write your first book, or build a 7-figure coaching program.
Go back to a point in time where you had incredible success in life, look at what you did right, and apply those lessons to your life today.
2. Make Time Magic
If you’ve read my book, The Perfect Day Formula, you’ve heard the phrase “Magic Time.” This is the two-hour block of the day where you are three times more productive than usual. For many, like myself, magic time is in the morning.
Case in point: I wrote this 2000 word article in one shot between 4:05 and 6:15 a.m.
But at the Fitness Business Summit 2017 (FBS), John Romaniello challenged me on this principle. He said, “Screw Magic Time. Ignore Craig Ballantyne. Forget Bally the Dog.” Okay, he didn’t mention my dog (he’s not that cruel), but Roman did say that Magic Time wasn’t as effective as the power of a deadline.
At first I seethed with anger. Seethed, I tell you, seethed. (If you’ve never seen a Canadian seething with rage, just picture Mel Gibson in a 1970’s era hockey fight.) But after reflecting on what John said, his argument helped me modify, and improve, my Magic Time formula to make you an even more effective high performer.
There are multiple times of day when you can “trick” your body or your mind into performing at a higher level than you thought possible. It might be in your “Magic Time”, or it might be when you give yourself a hard deadline with consequences.
I still believe in the power of Magic Time. You need to find it in your day, and ruthlessly foster it and protect it from all the time thieves in your life.
And yes, as effective as Magic Time is, there’s nothing more powerful than a deadline.
I agree.
A deadline helps a high performer to get stuff done in record time for three reasons:
First, it spurs us to overcome the initial inertia.
Second, it keeps us going through the middle of a tough project knowing that we’re on the homestretch.
And third, it gets us to work faster and push harder the closer we get to the finish line.
3. Corollary: Make Time Your Bitch
“It’s not about the hour you get up, it’s about what you do with the hours that you are up.” – Craig Ballantyne
I don’t care what time you get up.
In fact, I don’t want you to get up at 4 a.m. One of the reasons I get up early is to avoid other people. So go back to bed and leave me alone!
High performers don’t worry about the clock. They focus on the concept of time and bend it to their will, owning their day and controlling their life. Let’s look at two extreme examples.
I get up at 3:45 a.m. seven days a week. It’s essential that I start writing at 4 a.m.
On the other hand, my good friend, Joel Marion has spent the last nine years dominating the online fitness and supplement industry working between the hours of 10 p.m. and 4 a.m. He clocks out when I clock in.
The actual hours don’t matter. Forget where the hands are on the clock. What matters is that high-performers take complete control over time and operate on their own time.
We snub the convention of the world and work when it works for us. We make the world operate on their clock, not the other way around. If you want to work from 11 p.m. to 3 a.m., then so be it. 
4. Today’s To-Do is for Tomorrow
One of the biggest mistakes potential high-performers make is waiting until the morning to create a to-do list.
But if you are making your to-do list in the morning, you are already too late. The list needs to be done the night before so you can wake up and get right to work.
Here’s a two-step plan for finishing your day correctly and starting tomorrow with a big win.
First, at the end of your workday, grab a scrap piece of paper and do what I call “a brain dump.” Write down all the crazy thoughts running through your head, such as all the things you want to do the next day, all the people you need to contact, and all the obstacles in your way.
Next, organize these thoughts into your to-do list. Prioritize your action items. Script your day. Cut what doesn’t matter. Insert your most important work tasks into clearly defined and defended blocks of time.
There you go. Tomorrow has been conquered today.
Planning ahead is a high-performers secret to success.
“Nothing wins more often than superior preparation. Genius is usually preparation.” – Kekich Credo #73
5. Feed Your Brain Rocket Fuel
This section isn’t a lecture on protein intake, organic foods, or staying hydrated. Gwenyth Paltrow can tell you how to do that. (Seriously, her Goop.com is one of my favorite reads.)
Besides, you most likely know physical nutrition inside-and-out. Instead, we’re going deeper and darker, and pushing the envelope with an edgy approach to fueling your mind.
You see, high-performers need a little extra. It could be caffeine, or it might be bourbon at 11 p.m. as you settle into a writing frenzy. 
Now I’m not suggesting you go full Hunter S. Thompson mode where you start your day with a line of cocaine at 4 p.m., but you need to give your mind whatever it needs to crank out content.
I initially resisted this idea. My father was an alcoholic, and it made me never wanted to become dependent on any substance in life.
For example, I would never go more than two days in a row consuming caffeine. I know you coffee drinkers can’t believe this. But I’m serious.
However, a little self-reflection made me realize that my best writing days were enhanced with a little rocket fuel for the brain (i.e. caffeine), so I loosened up and my performance went through the roof.
Keep in mind this is a calculated dose of rocket fuel, and you’re not being given permission to dose yourself willy-nilly.
Identify your rocket fuel. Dose accordingly. 6. Create an Insanely Clear & Concise Vision
High performers do this for every aspect of their lives; they create an insanely clear and concise vision of what they want. 
In my workshops and at my retreat, I take my coaching clients through an extensive two-hour vision creation process. It eliminates the clutter in your mind, and it gives you complete clarity on what matters in your life and how to achieve exactly what you want.
Once you’ve created your vision, only then can you start putting in place your daily high-performance habits that will bring you faster results in every area of your life.
Just like you can’t design a killer training program without knowing your client’s goals, and just like you can’t build a house without blueprints, you can’t get what you want without a vision.
7 . Model Other High Performers
This is not a definitive list of the rules that high performers follow, but it’s a good place for you to start so you can own your days and take back control of your life.
When you put these high performer habits in place, you’ll triple your productivity and start attracting more success and opportunity into your life. It’s a proven equation for domination.
But frankly, there’s so much more you need to install into your life in order to be the ultimate high-performer that you know you can be.
After working with over 5,000 coaching clients, I still see the need for greater self-confidence and techniques to overcome self-doubt, as well as better systems for eliminating temptations, obstacles, and external negativity that are likely holding you back in the first place.
That’s why I’d like to invite you to my Perfect Life Retreat on November 9-10th in San Diego.
You’ll join me, John Romaniello, Lewis Howes, Jason Ferruggia, Tucker Max, Bedros Keuilian, and over 200 other high performers across dozens of industries (from Hollywood actors to female entrepreneurs to The New York Times bestselling authors).
Over the two days we’ll do a deep dive into installing the Habits of High Performers into your life so you can finally achieve the success you deserve.
But this isn’t another seminar where you sit through lecture after lecture and leave with 40 pages of notes that you never end up implementing.
Instead, after we create the roadmap (vision) for your life, we’ll spend the rest of the time working through concrete action plans so that you leave with most of the work done-for-you and the snowball of success rolling down the hill and your momentum picking up speed.
At the end of our time together, you’ll walk away with a crystal clear action plan to achieve exactly what you want in life.
Plus, our team is doing something for you that you’ve never experienced at any other event.
As a recovering introvert, I know how difficult networking can be, even when you’re in a room of positive high-performers. That’s why our team is spending dozens of hours making your connections in advance.
We’ll give you a done-for-you list of who you need to meet (and why), so that you can make big-money connections easily and automatically. If even a fraction of the 100+ events I had attended in the past would have done this, I’d be exponentially more successful than I am today.
If you want to be a high-performer, if you want to install your champion mindset into every area of your life, if you want to meet the writers, coaches, and speakers that you’ve looked up to for years, and if you want to get a proven blueprint that gives you faster results, then you can’t miss out on the 1st ever Perfect Life Retreat.
Last thing… Roman’s twisted my arm and made me keep open my BOGO (buy one, get one) offer for his readers. That means when you register today that you get to bring a high-performer friend for free.
Click here to take advantage of this deal today.
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