#my friend has applied to hundreds of jobs over the past 5 months and has gotten like 2 interviews

[nabsthevulture]

I'm going to go feral and start fucking biting people if I don't hear back from a job in the next two weeks

[cidthecoatrack-blog]

This is a place where I can post anything with basically zero (0) concern of the "wrong" someone seeing it, so here we go:

I was let go from my company beginning of June, so I have been on the job hunt. I work in tech, and it's common for recruiters to match candidates to employers (they get a commission based on the candidate's salary if the employer hires them). I have worked with many recruiters, some better than others. Almost every job I have had in my career has been through a recruiter. Nothing against recruiters, in fact I like working with them because they handle negotiations for me (I am wildly non-confrontational). So all in all, no complaints.

TODAY, however, there are Complaints (TM).

Recruiter emails me asking to schedule a time for a call, say they have opportunities that would be a good match for me. This is not abnormal. However, this woman is AGGRESSIVE. I am talking 5 emails in as many minutes. And this is after 4:30 PM. Flag #1.

I sent her my resume and basic compensation expectations. She immediately responds asking for the best number to reach me.

Folks, the number is literally at the top of the resume I just sent her. Flag #2.

She asks when would work best. I say before 1 the next day, because I have other obligations later that day. She schedules a 30 min call at 12:30. Cutting it close, but that's fine.

My dear friends, at 12:26, she abruptly rescheduled it for 4:30 PM that same day. Which, notably, is not in a time frame I said I would be available. Also, this was not asked. No "hey can we reschedule". She just changed the calendar invite without checking. Flag #3

As it turned out, I could make it work. She calls at 4:30. Folks, we have barely gotten through introductions when she IMMEDIATELY launches into a rant about my strong preference for remote work. Like, at least 5 minute rant, if not closer to 10. Saying absolutely no one will hire remote. All employers want in office. Oh, how she WISHED it would be remote, makes her job so much easier, and she "totally understood" why I am not willing to spend my time and money to be less productive, but kept repeating how it was a non-starter for every employer.

Let me tell you something, my dear readers. I have applied to well over a hundred jobs over the past few weeks, the vast majority of which were remote-only. I am deep in the interview process with several companies, all of whom are very aware that I want remote. And who are more than happy to grant it. Even prefer it. For context, one of these companies is Electronic Arts (the video game company). The other is Hewlett Packard. These are not small players. So I know this is complete bullshit she is spewing. Flag #4

I had mentioned when I sent the resume that I was interviewing with several companies, so new opportunities would have to move quickly. I had not mentioned the names of said companies. However, she briefly interrupts her tirade about my unreasonable demands to ask what the companies were. I mention them, notably HP. She then says, "Well, a lot of companies say remote, but then the offer is hybrid, or it's remote and then they switch to in office after a few months. Here, let me google the HP work from home policy. Hmm, this seems to say you have to be in office 3 days a week, and they have a tracker so they know your location, definitely not remote." Lord knows what she was reading. But this was where it dawned on me that she was Negging me. Flag #WTF

Also, for what it was worth, even IF a company wanted to pull the nonsense she described, one of the other companies I am DEEP in the interview process with is based on the west coast, hires all over the country, and wants ONLY remote. So she can stuff it with "no one hires remote" bullshit.

I explain that when I did go into the city (I live outside NYC) for my previous job, it was 2 hours. Each way. She brushes it off. "Oh, I don't live far from where you are, it's more manageable than that." Like, does she think I don't know how fucking TIME works? That somehow when I left the house at 9, I DIDN'T get to the office at 11:15? Still, she starts to look at other places, ones that are a 30 minute drive each way from my house. "These would be 3 days a week in office. And you definitely can't ask for more money. And they won't negotiate on anything." Pardon, but, My Dear Bitch, IT'S YOUR WHOLE DAMN JOB TO NEGOTIATE. Thanks for advertising you are terrible at this. "But you know, these FinTech companies always have lots of good perks and stuff." Huh, notably, you don't mention what any of those perks might be. Is it because you don't understand them, or that you are just making shit up to compensate for your inability to do your job, to negotiate a better salary for me?

Hah, that reminds me: she claimed to "specialize" in FinTech companies. FinTech = Finance Tech. These are your hedge funds, your tech start ups. These things are RIFE with cash, and if you have the skills they want, they will throw a Scrooge McDuck comical amount of money at you. And yet, she was adamant that because of my stated minimum salary requirements, that I would be at the upper end of their salary ranges, and I definitely couldn't get more money. I am a software developer with over 10 years of experience. I have done literally everything under the sun and will pick up new things at the drop of a hat. My minimum salary requirements are me taking a full DECADE to realize how much I am actually worth, and asserting myself that I will not be taken advantage of anymore. And you have the GALL to tell me that a hedge fund owned by whoever it is that owns the Mets (she made a point about that, but she did know his name, I have since forgotten and will not be bothered to google it) can't afford to pay more? And while being "young" and "hip", still subscribe to the ancient practice of Butts In Seats, and not Just Get the Shit Done From Wherever? Flag #What absurd Shakespearean tragedy is this

Oh, did I mention she was cursing left and right? Dropped multiple F bombs casually. Personally, I couldn't give a fuck about language, but it was a certain flavor of Icing on an Unprofessionalism Cake. Kept trying to excuse it as "oh I am old school, I am a dinosaur, I won't sugar coat things. These YOUNGER recruiters will blow smoke up your ass and tell you anything you want, but I deal with reality. I put a lot of people off, they leave to work with someone else, and 3 months later they call me and say I was right all along." Tell me you're a Boomer without telling me you're a Boomer.

Oh, and let us not omit the strange ageism either. "Yeah, so this company sounds up you're alley. Their Finance, young and hip, sounds like you." What, other than Not Sounding Like a Dinosaur, told you I am "young" and "hip"? I am a 33 year old father. I am neither young nor hip. And honestly, in the tech world, I am myself the dinosaur for the most part. But perhaps compared to you, I do possess such youth and vigor.

Strangest and most unpleasant phone call I have ever had.

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 5

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~3,700

Warnings: None

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah sat at a conference table, hands at her temples, groaning. The meeting was going nowhere. There had been so much goddamned bickering in the last hour that Lilah was tempted just to get up and walk out to see if they would even notice. The fucking testosterone in this room was thick enough to choke her.

They’d been arguing on and off for hours, save for a few breaks that Lilah had mandated when the urge to either bludgeon them to death or to pee arose. Every little thing had to be discussed, debated, twisted every which way. Nothing was simple, especially not when it came to the territory assigned to each side.

“Alright!” She yelled, finally having had enough. “Let’s just go over this again.”

Standing, Lilah leaned over the map.  The surface was covered by solid, clear plastic, onto which they were outlining territories with dry erase markers.  The current argument centered around the delineation of land around a fertile riverbed.

“Okay,” she grunted, “We aren’t planting crops, we’re just trying to figure out what land we’re going to be responsible for.” She put her hand over the area on the map, giving her friend a meaningful look, “We don’t need it, Seth.”

Making a derisive sound, Seth held up his hand, “Hold your horses. This river cuts through our liquor supply chain. We need access to the highway over there.”

Brasa shrugged, having leaned back from the table, “No one is saying you can’t import your liquor. Your horses will be safe.”

Lilah felt her eyes roll, couldn’t keep the sigh from escaping her lips, “He wasn’t talking about literal horses.”

Acting as if he hadn’t heard her, Seth barreled forward, “Yeah, but let’s say things get tense between us.  You could cut off our supply just like that.” He snapped his fingers to emphasize his point. “No, we’re going to extend out past the river and over the road.”

“An extra fifty miles,” Brasa drawled, “For an uninterrupted supply chain.”

“Correct,” Seth answered, a smug little smirk on his mouth.

As he eyed Seth, Lilah could feel the barest brush of warmth across her hands. Reflexively, she drew them back, closer to the safety of her body. The heat dissipated as Brasa stood, leaning his weight into his palms as he braced them on the table.

Like the rest of him, Brasa’s hands were large, the fingers spreading wide over the wood. Lilah noted how the gloves he was wearing stretched tight across the backs of them. She wondered, not for the first time, why he wore them.

“Then, I want the desert land here,” he pointed to a swath of empty land, “And here.”

Seth considered it before giving a nod. Lilah marked it out on the map with the coordinated colors she’d chosen before the meeting began.

“Wait,” Seth said, and Lilah’s jaw clenched, “What would you want with a couple hundred square miles of empty land?”

Brasa lifted a brow, “Are we holding more horses?”

“Forget the horses,” Seth bit out with a wave of his hand, “No one willingly chooses to own land like this.”

“Is that so?”

Lilah did not like the way he said that. A question wrapped around a veiled barb, wrapped in ridicule. She glanced at Seth to see if he caught the undertones in the words. He hadn’t. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved.

“There is a group of my people who have made camp there,” Brasa explained lightly.

Seth looked unmoved, “You don’t want us going out there and doing population control.”

Lip curling, Brasa replied, “Is that what you call what you were doing? Looked a lot like chaos to me.”

Without blinking, Seth shot back, “Well, its not our main bag, alright? This shit is new to us, since your people came along and infected my brother.”

And, there they were, talking in circles around the thing that made negotiating such an arduous task. Seth would never forgive Brasa for the hell he’d put them through, for the uncrossable gulf that now existed between him and his brother. Fighting with Richie about it only made things worse, and Seth was resorting to striking out at the only other available target.

“This isn’t the time for this,” Lilah edged, fingers tightening on the marker.

“When is the time?” Seth nearly yelled, “We started out killing them and now we’re marking out territories and writing fucking policies and procedures together.”

Lilah drew in a calming breath, “This is business, Seth.”

She’d explained it to him several times over. They needed the cooperation of Brasa and his people. There were just too many factions, too many rogue culebras to hunt down all by themselves. It would take scouring the land every day for years to make that happen. Brasa had already assured them that anyone getting blood at their sites was vetted intensely. Anyone who broke the primary rule and killed humans without regard for the safety of the group was eliminated.

Seth looked at her with ire, “Fuck business.”

“Yes,” Lilah countered with a sneer, “Fuck business. Fuck ending a war. Fuck peace.” She sat back in her chair with a huff, “You want to keep fighting forever? Guess what? You don’t have forever. He does.” She pointed at Brasa, “He has all the time in the world to wait you out, and he’s offering a solution—now, not later.”

Seth went quiet, jaw working. His fingers drummed on the table, eyes cutting.

Lilah saw the crack in his resolve and kept talking, “This sucks. It all sucks. Ironing out details fucking sucks.” She tapped her fingers on the map, “But these details are going to save lives. Possibly yours and mine. Let’s just get this done so we can get back to shit we used to do, the fun shit.”

There was a heaviness in the air as she trailed off, her expression urging Seth for some sort of compromise.  She was being honest when she said she wanted to get back to what she was good at. Lilah had been itching for a job for months, had actually stooped low enough to snag a pair of sunglasses at the gas station just to satisfy the restlessness in her hands. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to end out figuring out who the richest person in the country was and rob them blind.

Brasa spoke, his voice piqued with interest, “What did you do before...population control?”

Seth cut a look at him that was both suspicious and angry, “We’re thieves. I run point, Richie is the box man, Lilah monitors with tech.”

“That is fortunate,” Brasa said as he sat, with a little smile that was far too easy for Lilah’s taste, “I happen to need a few items stolen for me.”

Lilah leaned her head on her head, motioning for him to continue. She was intrigued by the idea that he would be interested in contracting with them. A job was a tasty idea, at the moment, and found that she didn’t much care that it would be Brasa that would be directing them.

“As you might be aware, relics are often stolen from indigenous people and either put on display in a museum or kept in a private collection. I’d like some of those relics back.”

Lilah’s brows lifted. That was certainly not what she had expected him to say. The idea had some merit, though. Lilah’s favorite jobs were museums. So many pretty things that definitely needed a new home.

Seth considered it, “We’re not a cheap crew.”

True.

Nodding, Brasa simply said, “I have money.”

Definitely true. Every inch of Brasa’s office and the bar adjacent screamed money at her in an understated way. As old as he was, there was no denying that he likely had a cache of assets squirreled away.

Lilah looked back and forth between them, already calculating cost, labor, and expenses. Depending on what he wanted, she could potentially negotiate a hefty profit. And, if there happened to be something else in the museum that caught her fancy—bonus.

“Say we do this job,” Seth began, slouching in his seat, “And you pay us—and, we iron out all these details,” he gestured to the map. “Is that going to be it?”

“It?”

“Yeah. Or, are we going to have a dual relationship, here. Both contractor and partner.”

Lilah was actually a little impressed that Seth not only knew how dual relationships worked, but also applied it to their unique situation. She turned her attention to Brasa, curious to hear his response.

“I can contract others, if you like. But, I like to work with people I know, people that I...trust to have a stake in things going well for them.”

Logical. Practical. Efficient. Lilah was quickly learning how skilled Brasa could be when he wanted something done. He might want whatever these relics were back in his possession, but she wasn’t stupid enough to dismiss the fact that he was creating yet another tie between them, anchoring her nearby with every task they agreed to take on. It wasn’t possible to deny his motivations any longer. Denial wouldn’t do her any good. She was undecided on how she felt about it.

Seth remained silent, watching, waiting.  Lilah was holding her breath.

Brasa’s eyes narrowed, “I will give you the river, and the connecting highway from here,” he pointed, “to here. In lieu of payment, of course. You make take your horses wherever you like within that boundary.”

Mildly offended, Lilah cut in, “In lieu of payment, but you will cover expenses.  Air fare, hotel stays, food, and equipment.”

His attention, when it turned to her, was keen.  Though his expression did not change, there was a twinkle of laughter in his eyes, possibly pride, as well, “Done.”

“What if,” Seth began, “We took this deal, and our horses, and added this area, too.”

He pointed to the desert Brasa had originally bargained for.  It was surrounded by enemy territory, across the river they’d just gained, with no inherent resources. Lilah glared at him, knowing he was needling his opponent. The man just couldn’t help it, consequences be damned.

“Well,” Brasa responded levelly, “I’d say that you might have your horses, but you’d be isolated, alone, and on the wrong side of the river.”

Seth conceded the point with a nod of his head, “Not a fan of sand, anyways. Unless its a beach. Beaches, I can do.”

Unmoved by the sentiment, Brasa simply replied, “I will keep the desert.”

Lilah blinked slowly, and when Seth made no move to argue, she asked “So its settled, then?”

Both of them indicated in the positive, with Seth saying, “There’s one thing I don’t understand.”

“One thing?” Lilah commented, though she didn’t expect him to respond. He’d started on a tangent, and getting him back on track would be difficult.  Better to let him roll through his thought process.

“You’ve got a whole group of culebras that you’re feeding, right?”

Brasa nodded, though his expression had shuttered.

“How are you doing that?”

A valid question that she had figured out not longer after these meetings had started. Lilah cut in, trying to head off any insult he might inadvertently blurt out, “He’s having it shipped in.”

“From where?” Seth asked, hands gesturing widely. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in kind of a food desert, here.  Literally and figuratively.”

Without an answer to his question, Lilah looked to Brasa, brows lifted. She was curious enough about his process to let the question stand.

Cocking his head to the side, Brasa licked his lips, “I run a rather complex medical supplies company. We ship all over the country. Part of that business is blood donation.”

Seth’s mouth thinned, “You’re stealing blood.”

Brasa huffed, “We transport most of it to where it needs to go. Call it a finder’s fee.”

“What about the sick people who need it?”

Where was all this compassion coming from? Lilah wondered. Although far from heartless, Seth didn’t usually care this much about the people he ripped off. Why should this be any different?

“Would you rather we feed on the humans in the area?” Brasa’s voice was low, dangerous. Lilah could feel the offense, as if it were her own.

“No.”

“Alright, then.”

Sensing that the conversation had come to an impass, Lilah gathered up her paperwork, “I’m going to get this all formatted and polished for both of your signatures. Shouldn’t take more than a few days.”

“Great,” Seth muttered as he rose, “Let’s get out of here.”

***

Later, when her eyes started crossing from staring at the computer too long, Lilah shut down her laptop and sat it on her nightstand. Rubbing at her face, she yawned and settled against the headboard. Furtively, she glanced to the side, her hand already reaching for the candle she’d tucked away. After checking that the door was closed (despite having closed and locked it a few hours before), Lilah lifted the lid and inhaled deeply.

Coffee. Caramel.

A little too quickly, Lilah replaced the lid and set it back in its little hideaway. Embarrassed, she crossed her arms and stared at the ceiling.  Lilah was feeling things she hadn’t really ever felt, not since she’d been in high school. And, even then, it was never this intense. She managed to get through their meetings solely because there was always something else to focus on. Every one on one interaction with him left her feeling frazzled and lightheaded. She’d stolen rare artifacts with less trouble.

In this business, Lilah had what most would call a late start.  She’d had a normal childhood, had gone through high school and done the work thing for a bit. Lilah had even sat in a cubicle, bored out of her mind. It wasn’t until she’d met a chop shop owner named Chewie that she’d been introduced to theft.  First, cars, then she’d set her eyes on higher things—art, diamonds, one time she managed to steal a yacht.

It had been a steady rotation of teams that were well-established in their own right, but never did more than a few jobs together before they split to keep the heat down. Lilah had spent almost a decade running in those circles before she’d run into Seth at a dive bar south of the border.  He’d hit on her, laughed when she’d knocked him off his barstool, and offered her a job.

And, here she sat. Hip deep in a relationship she didn’t understand and brokering a deal between her friends and the people they’d taught her to fear. Sneering at the course of her own thoughts, Lilah pushed her feet under the covers and turned off the light. It took longer than she wanted to get to sleep.

***

Oh, fuck, the bed was comfortable.  Lilah turned over, burying her nose in the pillow and kicking out her legs.  With a sigh, she settled back into the mattress that she was pretty sure was more expensive than her car. So comfortable was she that Lilah could be forgiven for taking a little longer than normal to become aware of another body in the bed with her.

She took a few seconds to assess and decide on what she was going to do, which was pretty much nothing.  Eyes opening, she waited for them to adjust to the warm light emanating from the lamp sitting on the nightstand. Cast in shadow, Lilah recognized the slope of Brasa’s profile. His eyes were closed, but she couldn’t tell if he was sleeping.

Her fingers curled with the urge to reach out and touch, her brain a little foggy from sleep. Lips parting, she breathed, lids falling to half mast Lilah let it roll over her tongue. She had to clench her jaw to stifle a pleased moan.

Lashes fluttering, Brasa opened his eyes, his head rolling to the side on the pillow. He looked her over calmly, unsurprised that she’d somehow ended up in his bed. Lilah, however, had questions.

“Is this real?”

His mouth quirked, “Does it have to be?”

She started to answer, and then stopped. Did it have to be? Lilah wasn’t sure which she preferred. When they were together, she felt excited and eager, even when she was outwardly annoyed. When they were apart, she struggled to reconcile the two versions of him that she knew to be true. With barely a thought, he’d eviscerated his opponents, hands tearing them into literal pieces. And then there was the way he was looking at her right now—all softness, all quiet affection.

Lilah’s silence continued, the space between them spreading thin with her indecision. Brasa shifted slowly to his side, lifting up onto his elbow so that he was looking down at her. His body was cut in half by lamplight, eyes too bright to be merely natural reflection.

Lilah’s skin drew up tight around the curves of her body as she worked to keep her gaze on his. Every inch of her seemed to be viscerally aware of him, responding to the smallest movement. Her nerves sizzled with his nearness.

He tilted his head to the side, eyes tracing the contours of her cheekbones, her neck, and shoulders. Lilah swallowed, disconcerted by the scrutiny, but unable to think of any way to break it. He studied her as if he’d never look at her again, memorizing details with tender care.

Finally, when she couldn’t take the silence anymore, she said, “How am I here?”

Brasa lifted a shoulder, “We had so little time together last night. Perhaps we needed more.”

She didn’t know what to do with that. Next question, then.

“You sleep during the day.”

Not really a question, more of a statement, but she waited for his answer nonetheless.

“Sometimes,” he replied, taking her change in subject in stride, “I need less sleep than most.”

“Why?”

He smiled, “I am very old. We need to sleep less, to feed less, as we age.”

Lilah had heard a little about this from Richie, who’d lamented that it took so long to build up a tolerance to going long periods without feeding.  And, she knew Richie only slept a few hours a night. She wondered just how often Brasa would need to sleep, given how much older he was. Lilah was no longer surprised at his efficiency with getting his projects together. If she could miss a few meals or miss a few night’s sleep every once in a while, she could get a hell of a lot done.

“That’s a nice perk,” she commented lightly, “When I go too long without eating, I get grumpy.”

Nodding, Brasa reached out and traced the pad of a finger over her shoulder and down her arm to her wrist, “I will keep this in mind and endeavor to keep you well fed.”

Would she do the same? He hadn’t mentioned that she had taken his blood without giving any in return. Whenever Lilah thought about it too deeply, she always came back to the same line of thought—his bite. She had tried to do a little covert research about the venom, but only found a few vague references to ‘donors’ seeking it out. Venom, it seemed, could be a popular drug in certain circles.

“I’m sorry that we left so quickly,” Lilah murmured rolling her wrist to place her hand over his, “I know that I didn’t...fulfill my end of our agreement.”

Twice. Two interactions in a row, she hadn’t. He hadn’t brought it up, but the disparity between what she’d promised and what she’d done nagged at her. She didn’t like to be made a liar.

Brasa’s brows lifted, “Are you afraid I’ll tell them?”

“No,” she replied quickly, “I just don’t want you to think I’m avoiding it.”

He smiled flirtatiously, “Are you offering now?”

Eyes widening, Lilah’s mouth parted, voice silent as her brain stumbled over forming a reply, “This is a dream. Is—is that even possible?”

He laughed, a real laugh. It made his face, so predisposed to severity, brighten in such a way that he fairly glowed in the dim light. Lilah felt her breath catch in the back of her throat, struck by just how goddamned pretty he was to look at.

“I don’t know,” he breathed, when he was able, “Would you like to try?”

The word ‘okay’ was out of her mouth before Lilah could stop it, her eyes wide, her heart beating hard. Brasa’s smile faded, his eyes focusing on her, the pupils bleeding out into the whites until there was nothing but blackness looking down at her. She drew in a shuddering breath, her fingers curling over his.

Sliding closer to her, Brasa cupped her jaw, tilting it back just a little. He glanced at her face again, checking for her consent. She gave the smallest nod, licking her lips. The motion drew his eyes to her mouth, his body growing hot against her. He leaned down, but instead of hovering over the thin skin of her neck, he moved to the side. The realization that he intended to kiss her came to Lilah in a slow, honeyed wave.

“Yes?” He asked, his breath fanning over her mouth.

“Yes.”

It was so, so slow, this kiss. Light pressure that grew heavier in the smallest increments. Lilah gripped his bicep, trying to ground herself as every nerve in her body screamed to life, reaching out desperately to get more stimulation. He drew back, changed the angle, and kissed her again—deeper, hungrier, tongue running along her bottom lip.

She was too hot, her skin seared by the heat emanating from him. Sweat rose and pooled in the hollows of her arms, beneath her breasts, the crease between her hip and thigh. She heard herself moan, felt her muscles relax as he rolled her beneath him. Brasa pulled away, nosing along her jaw and down to her neck. Lilah surprised herself when her lifted her chin, giving him more access.

The sharp press of his teeth snapped her awake. She sat up, breathing as if she’d been sprinting. Her entire body was shaking, her sheets damp with sweat.

“Well,” she croaked, “That’s new.”

[halberdierminister]

oh boy oh boy is it the end of august already here we effin' goooooooo

1. Write 250 Words Each Day I did not do this. But I did write a lot. I wrote at least weekly. And each time I wrote I wrote a SIGNIFICANT amount of text. So I wrote MORE than the equivalent of 250 words each day. So maybe that's all right. I did a bunch of work on a couple fics, lots of free writing, and some other stuff too. Plus like… the cover letters and shit I worked on. So!! A hefty stack of writing, if not a daily habit. I can do better, but I don't feel too bad, you know? 2. Read 55 Books This Year So this month I read 20 books. Two of those were re-reads of books that I already read this year, so they do not count toward my final total. So what is my current total at for the year? ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN!!!!!! I have read over 100 books this year and I do not think I will stop there!! This friggin RULES, man!! This is like… my ultimate goal from five years ago finally realized! After this year, I can stop setting numbers to reach and just relax from here on out and just read whatever! I do, of course, still intend to read a lot. And I will still make lists and count them. But my goals will no longer be sheer quantity. After all, I beat this year's goal AND 2015's goal. That's pretty damn good if I do say so myself, which I do, because I'm saying it right now.

3. Get A Full Time Job I applied to 27 jobs this month. I had one interview. I did not get that job. I got an email from one job saying that they are considering my resume past the first round, so that is good news. But the REAL good news is that I just got an email today. Like not long ago, a few hours ago, that's what I mean. It seems that the bookstore I worked at before getting laid off due to the plague has an opening again and they wondered if I wanted it. It's only 11 an hour, and it's still retail, blah blah blah you heard all these hesitations before when they hired me the first time. But I'm working part time at 12 dollars an hour for a very inconsistent number of hours. And this WILL have benefits. And I will be able to save up, AND I will still keep job hunting for something better. But to be honest? This counts. It's not official yet, but I might just have a full time job. Again.

4. Move Out Well, I did not. And I probably won't be out of here by the time I'm thirty (19 days??? Is that right? 19 or 20. Counting days is specifically a challenge for me). But I will have a full time job. Be saving up. Which I have already started saving up a fair amount now that I finally have gotten paid the unemployment that I applied for over the last four months. So. I guess I'm working on it. If I get a different full time job, I will be able to work on it even more. But a full time job of any kind is an important first step and hey I'm taking that step again.

5. Drink Less Soda Yep. 6. Get Something Published No new publications this month, but I applied for another fanzine and I feel pretty confident that I'll get in. Also I found a place that accepts unsolicited manuscripts, so I am working on a collection of my poetry. We will see how that goes!

7. Finish Writing A Legitimate Businessman Finished in April! 8. Write More The Revelation of Takaya According to Jin Finished in February!

MINOR GOALS 9. Finish Playthroughs -The Legend of Zelda Breath of the Wild: Finished in January! -Persona 1 Main Quest Good Ending: Didn't do anything! -Pokemon Sword Post Game Plot: Finished in March! -Pokemon Let's Go Eevee: Finished in February and March!

-Persona Q 2: Finished it this month! It sure would be a good game if it wasn't rated M. If it were rated appropriate for teenagers, then I could forgive the easier puzzles and the hamfisted moral and the complete lack of any horror or moral controversy. But nope, still rated M. Meh. I bet it'll be better whenever I decide to do New Game Plus and actually do all the side quests.

10. Record More Ukulele Videos I did not. 11. Record Let's Plays I did not. I might, however, do so if I visit my friend in Johnson Creek. We shall see. 12. Duolingo? It's going okay. I'm in the amethyst league now but I'm not making a lot of progress progress. 234 streak and 236 crowns. That's pretty okay.

This wasn't even 900 words. I will have to write more tonight but come on I'm just pretty tired. It's fine.

[healinghurtssometimes]

The Cycle (Pt. 1)

I’m not really sure where to start, so I’m going to opt for my current situation and how I got here. This blog isn’t meant for attention, but rather a way for me to get my experiences out in the open. Maybe some people will find this, relate, and somehow become my tribe. Let me tell you, I need good people. If you stick around long enough, I’m certain you’ll quickly start to see that. With that being said, I’m going to start with a very rough outline of the past 14-15 months.

For just a brief back story, I got offered the best paying job I’d ever had in January of 2017. A lot of stuff had happened (which I’ll cover another time) and I would have been stupid not to take the job when it was given to me. After 2 years, I got my Real Estate License since the company required it for all Property Managers, and I got promoted. The problem was that we were used to running our office with 3 Admins - one had been taken to fit a different role months earlier and still hadn’t been replaced, and I was the second one to be moved while the company STILL did not make an attempt to refill those roles until AFTER my promotion was finalized. I got stuck doing my job as an Admin AND my new job as a Property Manager with all training put on hold until those roles were filled, while also being expected to heavily assist in training the new Admins they hired since I had been there longer than the last Admin standing and was damn good at my job.

I then spent months filling multiple roles, being asked to train people coming into the new roles (including another Property Manager when I STILL wasn’t trained), and being asked regularly to go out of my way to do things face-to-face with/for my residents that was not being asked of my peers (many of which took up a substantial amount of time, like delivering portable AC units and having to walk through someone’s whole house with our Field Manager for maintenance complaints that I had no authority over). I BEGGED for help getting the new Admin team to fulfill the tasks I was trying to delegate to them, begged for training, begged for clarity on expectations that were never laid out. I begged for help for 6 months, and was consistently met with “we don’t have the resources,” “we aren’t properly staffed,” “there isn’t time,” etc. I was buried up to my nose from the day I took the position, and not one person agreed to help me dig myself out of the dirt. Instead, they buried me and then fired me for not being able to fulfill the role to their expectations (while the other two Property Managers weren’t expected to do ANY of the extra stuff they’d put on me to deal with). That was early September 2019. I filed for unemployment, and my now-former supervisor dug up information from my role as an Admin that had been approved by the District Manager at the time until they both got in trouble for letting me slightly stagger my schedule to make sure I could take care of my kids and be able to pay my rent after a HUGE change in the custody and child support of my children (a situation I’ll cover at another time). I didn’t get the notice letter for the unemployment appeal meeting until after it had taken place, about a week before Christmas, at which point I was VERY depressed, stressed, and couldn’t begin to fathom taking on a multi-million dollar company on my own. I now owe the state almost $900 in “overpaid unemployment benefits” that I have yet to be able to pay back.

I spent the next few months trying to find another job. Hoping to find something still in the world of Property Management, even if it wasn’t the same role or anywhere near the same pay or if it didn’t come with the same benefits. The company I worked for is well-known and very disliked by the ENTIRE property management community in the area I lived in at the time. They’re a very young company that is buying up houses left and right and helping make rent prices SOAR for those that aren’t able to buy a house (or just like renting instead of owning the home they live in for whatever reason) - they make it their goal year over year to increase renewal rates as much as they can get away with, knowing many people won’t do the research, question their numbers, or walk away from their house...they’ll just pay the rent increase and keep moving through their complaints of how high their rent is for the lack of improvements the company makes and their poor excuse of a maintenance department that’s directed to penny-and-dime every vendor and look for any reason the resident could possibly be held responsible for higher priced maintenance items. They’re in 20 different states and their maintenance department for their entire operation runs out of ONE state with a local “liaison” at each office that’s function is only for vacant homes. Hopefully they’ve changed some of this in the past year, but I don’t have any reason to believe they would have made things better for anything outside of their own bottom line. I won’t use their name because I don’t want to get sued, but if you know, you know.

I had to take the name of the company off of my resume, replaced with the word “Confidential,” in order to start getting call backs for interviews with other property management companies...all of which ended up being for apartment complexes where I was used to single-family and the two worlds are vastly different from one another. I had ONE company that actually offered me a job sometime around October/November 2019, and it turned out to be an absolutely awful situation to be in. They lied about what they offered for health insurance in my interview, treated their residents like garbage, their property manager played favorites and treated other staff like they were incompetent toddlers, leasing staff and maintenance weren’t allowed to communicate with each other outside of breaks and absolute emergencies, and operated with a LOT of drama. One situation got brought into our leasing office (while open to the public) where their outsourced IT guy and management proceeded to yell at each other in the lobby, calling each other things like “fucking liars” and just generally making a big scene, which made me incredibly uncomfortable to be around. I was already dealing with not having my much-needed anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications, and the way this company was operated was making my already spiraling mental health WORSE. So after a few weeks, I left knowing that they were not a good fit for me nor I for what they apparently needed. I applied for literally hundreds of jobs, got a few interviews, and never got offered another position.

All this time, I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to pay my rent (my now ex-boyfriend’s parents were paying our $1500 monthly rent and all of our utilities at this point so we wouldn’t get evicted with my kids), how I’m going to pay my phone bill or my car payment, dealing with being uninsured and ashamed of the situation I was in, debt piling up all around me with no way out of it, no health insurance, battling withdrawal from my heavy dosage of SSRI drugs. I know I haven’t talked much about them here, but all of this was really starting to affect my children - who were only 5 & 7 at the time - which was really making the entire situation SO MUCH WORSE to deal with. I was self medicating with marijuana and was high 98% of the time, or in the process of getting high. While weed by itself is not an addictive drug, I developed a dependency on it like I had come to depend on my mental health medications, because it was numbing the reality of the situation I was in and helping keep me somewhat functional and kept me from falling deeper into the darkness as my world crumbled around me.

At the end of January, I finally decided that I couldn’t justify staying in the place I’d lived my whole life anymore. I had lost my job, all of my income, my health insurance...I was on the brink of losing my car, my relationship was failing due to financial strain (though I was also done with the relationship beforehand and started cheating on him before I lost my job anyway and was really only with him at that point for convenience...not a moment I’m proud of by any means), I wasn’t able to support myself or my kids and was no longer able to hide the situation from them for what it was. The only thing I was able to protect them from was KNOWING I was always high, which I’m sure from my own experience with my parents, they’ll end up figuring out when they’re older and weed is legal across the board. So I started thinking “what’s next, how do I change this situation?” 

By January 2020, I’d been back in contact with an old high school boyfriend for a number of months. Not only was he an old boyfriend, but he was also one of my best friends in the whole world. I trusted him with every fiber of my being, he is the only soul that knows me the way he does, and he has stuck by my side through all of the mud trudging I’ve gone through since I was 15 other than our own disastrously messy breakup. He was roughly 400 miles away from my hometown, and was the only viable option for me to ask for help in the form of a roof to look for work and try to get myself back up on my feet. So I took my kids to their dad (who is a very petty and ugly human) because he is/was at least financially stable, packed a few things, and went looking for work 400 miles away. 3 days in, I was offered a menial serving job...but hey, working on 6 months of no consistent job or income, it was better than what I was working with back home. I started that job the end of February. For anyone that’s been alive this year, you know what’s coming next...4 weeks later, the restaurant was shut down for COVID lockdowns, and I immediately started looking for another job to take on once those shutdowns were lifted. So now, I’m 400 miles away from my kids and my family, and I’m also unemployed.

I thought I found one doing leasing with an apartment complex. I got the job offer, the offer letter, was working on finalizing a start date even though some of their requirements were ridiculous (like not being able to how any semblance of a tattoo or piercing not in your ear and only being able to wear black and white on the job). Then I asked what they were doing to protect their employees, residents, and potential residents from COVID. I lost that opportunity for asking questions, because they were the ONLY complex locally that was not observing any pandemic-related precautions, and had referred to a colleague as a “titty baby” for simply asking them to step up their game by providing hand sanitizer and a thermometer for their offices. I opted not to go back to serving over precautions for COVID so I could still go home and see my kids again at my dad’s house, as my step-mom was dealing the return of her Breast Cancer after nearly 2 years in remission and no way of getting treatment until the doctors decided it was safe again for her to be in a hospital or cancer treatment center.

Realizing now that I’ve only gotten to sometime around April/May, I’m going to leave this post for now and come back for a Part 2. If you’re still reading this and are planning on returning for the next installment, thank you for taking this journey with me as I lay my life out one piece at a time in the hopes of healing.

[ghinanotlinetti]

23 lessons I learnt (and am still learning) at 23-years-old

On Thursday January 30th 2020, I turned 23-years-old. I’ve never been one to want to do something extravagant for my birthday, it’d be too much pressure for a single day. I do, however, like to reflect on my year and have a mental check-up on myself to see how things are going. It just so happens that my birthday is in the month of January, the first month of the year, so I keep all my new years reflections for my birthday. I find that I tend to press refresh on January because there tends to be a lot of clutter that I couldn’t clean out from December. This year was no exception; I was working all the way until December at my corporate job, then I left the country to visit my parents for the winter holidays so I had no time to pick up the pieces from that job and my life in the big city of Jakarta. I couldn’t extend my contract when I came back so had to let go of that job, which was both scary and a relief. Life after grad is very unexpected, I don’t think they prepare us enough to deal with the highs and lows. The week of my birthday was also the same the world received tragic news about the death of Kobe Bryant and his daughter Gianna Bryant. I’m not a basketball lover but I did know Kobe Bryant as this dorky geeky guy who was a huge Potterhead, he loved Game of Thrones and The Alchemist and was not ashamed of this side of him at all. I also started feeling ill, then I got the flu and am still recovering from a cough that’s making my diaphragm and back ache so much. On the other hand, I did get to spend this birthday week with my older sister who shares the same birthday as me. We haven’t celebrated our birthday together in years, it’s nice to be together again. In the spirit of me turning 23 this year, I thought I’d share some teachings and advice I’ve picked up along the way. Hopefully it can be applicable to all, especially if you’re just entering life after uni, so here we go!

1. You’ll never make it if you don’t face it.

So you might be familiar with the phrase “fake it till you make it” which might work for some people, but in the long run it might not be a realistic approach. Of course we all have dreams and want to achieve them, however not everyone is willing to work for their dream. If you’re one of those people like me who have no problem is working hard towards their goals, then you might struggle with the next thing I want to bring up which is: patience.

2. Be patient, be patient, be patient.

I was not that willing to wait for my dreams to come true as I was when it came to working for it. I definitely love working on my writing and the hustle felt rewarding to me, however I was impatient which is quite odd because I’m also young and have years ahead of me. Maybe it’s a millenial thing to be daunted by the what if’s but it’s so valid; what if I don’t make it until I’m 40 something, settled for stability and never took a chance on my passion? I find peace in accepting that I don’t have to know these things because I trust in the universe and I believe God always has a reason.

3. Believe in yourself, over and over and over again.

As someone who struggled with low self-esteem I thought all my insecurities would vanish the moment I felt confident. Instead it’s a whole process that can’t be done overnight. It takes weeks, months, years but if you’ve been able to believe in yourself before you can certainly do it again.

4. It’s okay to not have it all figured out.

Because everyone else around you doesn’t have it all figured out!

5. Generosity can get you far in life.

Helping others is the best way to network and form meaningful relationships at the same time! It’s not worth it to be alone in your hustle, because at some point you’ll need people for a plethora of reasons.

6. Collaboration > Competition

Realistically, you can only really be an expert in a few things, maybe one or two things and that’s completely okay. Because what this means is that there’s opportunities to collaborate and create with others great things.

7. Be kind to yourself.

In order to be kind to others one mustn’t ever forget to be kind to one’s self. Simple.

8. Lead with faith, not fear.

There have been so many times when I’ve done something out of fear and thought it was necessary, but then I felt so anxious I didn’t know what to do about it. I realise now that leading with faith makes me have less panic attacks; it’s not that I’m not scared at all but more so that I’m just calmer because I’ve accepted that I don’t need to have an existential crisis every time I make a decision. So, I’d go with faith.

9. Reclaim your narrative, and stay grounded.

There’s so many labels and stereotypes that I’ve have to deal with and never asked for simple because of who I am. It’s a lot of judgement from all sorts of people and communities (and I thought I was promised one day of judgement?), so I simply refuse to be defeated. I’ll rise above and reclaim my story which demands to be heard.

10. Everyone has talent and is smart, but not everyone is authentic, kind, reliable, etc.

I thought that in order to stand out I had to have a loud, big, and bold persona, which worked fine with other people but that just wasn’t me. On the flip side, I found that most people, be it employers or friends, would value qualities such as authenticity and reliability more than what you could bring to the table.

11. Become the things you want to become and you’ll stop desperately wanting it.

So for a really long time, I’ve always wanted to be a writer and I thought I’d have to wait for that to happen. But then I’ve always been writing, therefore I already am a writer. I think this can be applied to most passion projects and everyone deserves to take a chance on their passion project no matter how absurd or crazy it might be.

12. Just try whatever it is (an interview, application, class, etc.) and at the very least you’ll have one foot in the door.

I’ve got quite an active imagination; I tend to think a hundred steps ahead, mind-wandering in places I probably shouldn’t, so sometimes I won’t do things if I can’t commit 100%. Overthinking has become tiring for me and I want to make more choices out of faith. Most often than not there’s really no harm in trying, so just give it a go.

13. Don’t suffer in silence.

I suffer in silence in the past way too much. As a result I’ve distanced myself from really good friends of mine without any clear explanation. Can’t do that again because I value my friends and they deserve better.

14. Create the art that you would want to consume.

Be your own target audience. Most people don’t actually know what they want until it’s there in the market, so you’d be waiting a long time by asking other people what they want. Just start now.

15. Rest should never be compromised.

Often when I feel like giving up, I don’t actually mean it. Sure it’s frustrating but I don’t want to quit. I just need to rest. Please rest, and make sure to get the best quality of rest.

16. It’s okay to grow out of things and people too.

In the past I’d be needy for closure, but then it became tiring. Sometimes not getting an answer is the same as getting an answer. Let go.

17. When people show you who they are, believe them.

Yes, I think everyone has made excuses for their buddies, and I’m over it honestly. This one for me isn’t about my present circle of close friends, they’re lovely and I’m really lucky to have them. It’s more for people in my past, and it’s out-of-the-blue when it happens. I hate when it happens but then I can’t just pretend it never happened.

18. You matter, block out all the noise and have a moment to listen to your own voice.

If I ever feel lost or out of touch, I know it’s time to put just a little bit of distance from myself and the world for a little while. When I get to this point I’m usually investigating around my emotions, not investing myself in them, just observing patterns and signs and then find out what it means.

19. Unlearning and healing takes time, just make progress no matter how big or small.

So I’m in my twenties and I thought by this age I’d have everything figured out. Turns out I was very wrong. The amount of unlearning and relearning I had to do and am still doing... wow. But as long as it’s not a regression and a motion forwards, even if it’s just baby steps, it’s so worth it.

20. Life is just as much of a journey backwards as it is forwards.

As someone who’s always been spiritual, this is something that I find comfort in especially in times when I feel like I don’t know where I’m going. I’m a third-cultured kid, I’ve never had a home home for so long, and that’s fine. Nothing is a given, not even tomorrow. Life is about eventually returning to the Creator; it doesn’t matter how far you’ve come, what matters is what you make of this crazy beautiful dunya.

21. Close some of those tabs once in a while, it’ll be fine!

Ties into the next one which is:

22. Relax.

I’ve been dealing with anxiety for so long, my mind is somehow on panic mode by default, even when I’m meant to be off duty. Still trying to find that balance which works for me, between work, family, friends, mental health, leisure.

23. You’re not as special as you think you are, but on the bright side it means that you’re not alone! No more pity parties for one!

No more feeling sorry for myself because it’s disgusting! There’s so much out there to explore and discover for me, and that’s worth getting excited over. Here’s to more adventures, travelling, self-discovery, friendships, love, and everything in between!

[sheepsandcattle]

Chapter 5

When his parents split up, Curly wasn’t really at home for most of it - not as far as he can remember, at least. He doesn’t even remember crying over it at any point after that one time; the day they sat him down at the kitchen table to explain it all.

He remembers his dad crying though; remembers him smoking in the garden even though he’d never seen him do it before. Remembers spending some time with Brandon, probably to keep him away from the brutality of his old man packing up his things and leaving his home.

He can’t remember how long it was that he stayed with his best friend, but there were countless nights spent whispering under covers, giggling past bedtime and dozing off before they could even say ‘goodnight.’

He remembers forgetting about the things happening at home.

One night at Brandon’s house, Curly had found his mind drifting for the first and only time during his miniature-break down the road, to his parents and their home and the office that was his dad’s and “what will we do with it now? What will we put in there? Where will he go?”

“It’s quite fun, you know,” Brandon had said. “My dad’s house is better colours than mum’s.”

Curls had sighed. “My dad might get lonely.”

Brandon had sounded so sure - had frowned as he said, “no he won’t," like it shouldn’t have needed to be said at all.

“Why not?” He rubbed his eyes; far past their bedtime again, and the heat they’d trapped under the blanket was making him even sleepier.

Brandon shrugged. “Same reason I don’t get lonely,” he explained and placed a hand on Curly’s shoulder that made his friend seem more grown-up than he was a few seconds before.

Brandon smiled like he was too shy to say any more, but he didn’t need to. Curly wasn’t too shy (never was), leaning over to wrap him up in a hug.

***

A few months melt into one another. He’s not sure where a few of the weeks go. Maybe he was sleeping; his body and his brain becoming mutually exclusive for a while.

The ‘being more careful’ thing he promised to Dean isn’t going great due to unforeseen circumstances.

He doesn’t have his rubbish job anymore. Doesn’t like to think about it too much because it makes his head fog up and his jaw ache. That’s what happens when he gets stressed, he’s discovered. Smoking helps calm him.

His manager was kind enough to pay him a week’s notice when she fired him at the beginning of December, even after weeks of coming into work absolutely steaming after late nights, and leaving early when his highs just didn’t wear off right.

She’d said, “enjoy the holidays, Curly. You’ll be alright,” and hugged him goodbye.

He is alright as well. He’s making okay money and he’s brought his mum some bits for her kitchen for Christmas because she has a boyfriend now and he doesn’t love the orange and green theme she has right now.

Curly’s selling all sorts; drugs that even he hasn’t tried and some more that he’s tested for the sake of knowing what he’s talking about. Some he’s dabbled in more than he planned to.

Regardless, it’s all under control, all in the name of a good time and good money and, when Christmas does roll around, he spends it with his mother’s parents, almost perfectly sober with just a little pot in his system to take the edge off.

He applied for some jobs but he hasn’t heard off any of them. Yet. It’s been two weeks since he gave up.

His mum asks if he’s feeling okay when she catches him staring across the table at nothing in particular, but he’s always gotten overwhelmed at family dinners like this, so it’s easily excusable. His grandparents don’t seem to notice; they only used to see him two or three times a year when they’d visit England, so he’s not sure they even know what his natural state is.

He wonders if that’s just what happens when you don’t see a lot of someone, even if you trick yourself into thinking you’ve some kind of unwavering blood-bond with them. He wonders if his grandparents feel a little bit awkward around him just like he does with them, or if it’s different because they’re older and cherish him in a different way entirely.

He wonders if that’s what it will be like with Genie as she continues to grow up without him.

“Gosh, Elliot,” his grandma would say every time they’d meet again. “You’re so handsome” and, “you’re still growing!” He’ll never forget her face when he tried growing stubble just after high school and how she’d said, “oh stop! Stay young forever!”

Now he’s clean-shaven and his skin is as bad as it was when he was fourteen, and his grandmother doesn’t say that he’s handsome today, just that he looks older. He doesn’t feel very handsome; sleepy and achey. Looking older doesn’t feel as good as it used to. It feels like dry skin and shooting pains, cramping jaws and headaches.

He’s with his family though, and he’s happy nonetheless. They look happy too, so it’s all fine.

It’s all fine.

His mum’s buzzing because, thanks to Curls, she’s got a kettle again with a toaster to match and insisted that everyone had a brew after dinner, so his grandparents are in the lounge now, watching the telly with a cup of tea each. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, his mum gives him a haircut -shorter at the sides, neater on the top- whilst Curly chats to her new boyfriend about The Cure. It turns out Dom has great taste and is an all-round really nice guy.

He doesn’t feel so bad now for missing so many of his mum’s calls.

As he walks back into the lounge with his new haircut, his grandma says, “very handsome,” and he feels a bit less trodden down and a bit younger again.

***

And then January is slow and dull and he doesn’t get out of the house much really unless he’s dealing drugs or buying more fags.

He’s not sure when he got so caught up with Jules’ and Oscar’s shit. Not sure when this thing started where he trails behind them while they do deals of their own, or while they huddle in parks and fields and alleyways with dodgy people he doesn’t know to share a hit of whatever it is they fancy that night.

He gets sad sometimes. Lonely like he used to be. Heroin helps; makes everything in the world feel fine. Only in dire situations, though.

Still, January has him caught up in the half-there place. He forgets a lot. Jules gets frustrated because he’s always forgetting the daftest things he says when he’s high. He makes promises he can’t remember when he’s sober, but his roommate is kind - kind enough to let him off the hook for most of the things he owes him these days.

Drugs and money, that is. A few apologies here and there too, after nights cut short thanks to Curly’s weak stomach or empty skull or whatever else it is that demands he goes home immediately.

***

February.

What a blur it is. A girl tries to kiss him outside a club that he doesn’t manage to sneak into because he’s too young or too far gone or a combination of both. He feels shy and weird and says, “sorry love, I’m just a bit drunk,” because he feels too guilty to simply say ‘no.’

Fooled, the girl calls him a gentleman and gives him her number on a receipt but he loses it on the walk home - can’t even remember taking it out of his pocket. Can’t even remember walking home at all. Jules says he tried to smoke it which Curly thinks is fucking hilarious but doesn’t remember it and therefore decides he’s talking bollocks.

February. A Valentines party in his apartment.

Turns out ‘party’ means the usual five-man circle (together again) drinking and smoking and pretending they have an excuse to do it. They’re still laughing about the girl at the club last week, Oscar says, “maybe you’re gay,” but it’s only a joke. He remembers more laughing and drinking and having a good night until Jules offers him a line of coke for free, to sober him up a bit. Jeff says “don’t,” says “slow down,” says “take it as a sign to stop,” but he does anyway. It’s free. He doesn’t remember losing track and overdoing it.

He remembers waking up in Dean and Jeff’s apparent with sick on his top the next day.

Still February. His birthday.

Calling his dad in the morning is hard. Speaking to Genie and crying in his bedroom for some daft reason isn’t nice either. She’s forgot about a World War II project she was meant to do, is breaking her heart about it.

Spending a few hours on google and writing five-hundred words for her and figuring out how to send it in an email because the thought of her standing in front of her class with nowt to say kills him. She says there’s loads of spelling mistakes but she loves the bit about the Spitfires and he’s “the best brother in the world.”

Crying again when he gets off the phone because he’s a mard-arse apparently and he just misses her, alright?

He forgets to call Brandon - again.

He remembers going to a party and flirting with a boy called Robbie. Doesn’t realise he was flirting until he’s remembering later… Almost kissing him, feeling shy and weird, telling him, “I’m sorry love, I’m just a bit drunk,” because he feels guilty - again.

Robbie says “me too, I don’t mind,” but Curly does, so they don’t.

He remembers meeting Jules in the bathroom for another hit that night, hearing two men yelling in a cubicle of a club he cannot remember getting into, and then watching one of them storm out. The guy looks at Jules, dark brows pinched as he drags a hand through near-white hair and says, “the fuck are you looking at, red?” Then he rucks his denim jacket back over his shoulders and shoves past them on his way out.

He doesn’t remember taking the hit, blacking out.

He remembers waking up in Dean and Jeff’s apartment again with a black eye this time. They don’t wanna hang out with Jules anymore. He doesn’t ask why ‘cause he doesn’t wanna know.

The three of them spend the next day together and it finally all slows down.

They watch Trainspotting because Curly hasn’t seen it in ages and Jeff and Dean haven’t seen it at all. Curly remembers that day more than any other that month.

They just talk after the film - no more telly, no music, nothing. They just talk and talk about daft things they’ve all done and said. Silly stories and memories that Curly thinks are happy until he says them out loud and they all seem to make him feel sad.

“You miss England,” Jeff tells him like it’s something Curly really needs to know. He supposes he’s forgotten to acknowledge it recently.

“I miss my family,” he says. Brandon too - misses having a friendship that feels unconditional.

They get weed-high in the evening and all get ‘choose life’ tattoos that same night - Curly’s on his knee, Jeff’s on his shin and Dean’s on his bicep. Curly does Dean’s for him because he can’t get the angle right himself. He panics because it’s wonky but Dean says “it’s perfect.”

“Can I borrow it?” Curly asks, handing the tattoo gun back to his mate.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Jeff answers for Dean, who laughs and adds, “I’ll have to teach you first.”

Curls says, “mint,” because yeah, he supposes it sounds like a better plan than jabbing the needle in and hoping for the best.

Trainspotting is their favourite film now, even though Jeff and Dean struggle to understand the accents and think it’s an ‘inaccurate representation.’

Of Britain or addiction, Curly’s not sure. How would they know, anyway?

Jeff drives him home a little before midnight and Jules is passed out on the sofa with a bag of frozen peas on the ground beside him. His arm hangs over the edge of the couch and his knuckles are bruised but Curly doesn’t ask why because he doesn’t wanna know.

Oscar’s in the kitchen and he says “oh, you’re back,” and pours three mugs of coffee.

“Course I am,” Curly replies and they both hear Jules groan in the living room. His eyes dart towards the door and then back towards Oscar again and he whispers, “have we fallen out?”

Oscar chuckles, shakes his head. “It’s not you, man. Jules just gets like that. Don’t cry ‘bout it.”

He doesn’t know what he’s not crying over, but he nods anyway and, after that, nobody talks about whatever it is that happened the night before.

That evening he calls Brandon and they both (pretend not to) sulk over the phone. Brandon isn’t lonely - says he’s met a girl, and Curly is jealous but he’s happy for him. He doesn’t tell him how lonely it gets here, just tells him the best parts that make Brandon say, “mate, I’m so jealous, but I’m so happy for you,” but it doesn’t sound as sad when Brandon says it as it does when Curly thinks it.

He remembers saying he’s tried, but he can’t remember falling asleep.

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 5

I dropped my fork. “I’m sorry, I must have heard that wrong, because it sounded like you just asked me to become your employee.” Luke’s brow lifted.

“No, you heard it absolutely correctly. I did ask you to come work for me. For Prosper. Initially as Tom’s social media manager, and when that’s squared away, as Prosper’s social media director.” So many things I wanted to include in my reply instantaneously flooded my brain, but, as usual, it was miles ahead of my mouth and lord knew what would come out if I spoke. I decided taking another bite of my cannoli while they fell back in sync was the best course of action. Chewing slowly, I looked back and forth from Tom to Luke, then swallowed. I chose my words carefully, hoping to not be offensive.  

“Luke, I’m incredibly appreciative, but normally my role is to provide plans for social media managers and directors, which they in turn implement while working one-on-one with their clients. Direct client management isn’t really something I’ve done in a number of years, and I’m not sure it’s something I’m interested in, or even capable of doing again.” He fished some papers out of his bag and pushed them across the table.

“Anne Rice says you’re capable.” I snatched them up, holding in my hand a copy of my resume as well as an email from Anne, singing my praises. It appeared to have been sent earlier in the day. I laughed softly. Client testimonials were usually all anyone cared about, but I kept my resume posted on my website just in case. I didn’t think anyone had ever even looked at it, never mind taken the time to contact my former employers.

“Nice detective work, Luke. I’m impressed. But not only was that more than ten years ago, Anne doesn’t count. She has to say nice things…she’s a friend of the family.” He looked puzzled. “My parents owned a home right down the street from her in the Garden District of New Orleans. When she got wind of my new business venture she volunteered to be my guinea pig.”

Tom leaned forward, scrutinizing me skeptically. “You’re from New Orleans?” I nodded and slipped into an exaggerated southern drawl.

“Born and raised. Even rode on some Mardi Gras floats.” I shrugged and switched back to my regular dialect. “I never had a strong accent, and I’ve lived in New York nearly as long as I did in New Orleans, so it’s faded almost completely.”

Luke pointed his index finger at me. “You should know that not only did she reply to my email immediately, she gave me her number so we could speak. We talked for a good twenty minutes, and she told me she credits you with all of her social media success, including the idea for ‘People of the Page’.  She said you were the only one who managed to help her not only understand, but embrace the technology that allowed her to form deeper connections with her legion of fans. And, she wishes she could have held on to you forever, but she didn’t want to keep you from your dream.” He paused for a moment. I made no comment. “According to your resume, you’re also proficient in website design, graphic design and photography, which are additional assets you’d bring to the company. I’m assuming you do your own site?”

“Correct.” I opened my laptop, started Firefox, pulled up Prosper’s website and grimaced. “Who does yours? It’s…it’s…how do I do put this nicely?” I raised my eyes skyward in thought. “Nope, I can’t. It’s awful. You’re redirecting people to your social media instead of having an actual site. It’s all lowercase, and the italic version of your font is hard to read. There’s a generic, single email as a means of contact. I don’t see a phone number. And that black background…I just can’t even.”

Luke began rubbing his temples. “Admittedly, we’re lacking in that area at the moment.” I snorted. “Maude, this is exactly why I need you. As far as PR goes, I’m exceptionally motivated and skilled.” Tom coughed. Luke shot him a chastising look. “Quiet, you. I lighted out on my own because I know I have something unique to offer…genuine bespoke, personal publicity. What I didn’t account for is the amount of time and effort the social media aspect of it would require. Events, interviews, red carpets, networking, I can handle all of those things with very minimal assistance.” He frowned.

“Unfortunately, I’ve found that all too often I put social media on the back burner because I can’t keep up with it, and as a result I feel like I’m not delivering what I promised to my clients. A few months back I determined it was time to seek outside help, but not a single applicant met my expectations. You, however, exceed my expectations.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Luke, I always appreciate an ego boost, but let’s keep in mind that I didn’t apply for anything.” I put an elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand. “I did agree to an initial consultation, and since you attended my seminar you know where things are supposed to go from there. Translation – not here.” I leaned back in the chair and linked my hands behind my head. “But, this is where we’ve ended up, and I would be remiss if I didn’t entertain your offer, however briefly. So, what the hell. Lay down the details. Especially the ones pertaining to compensation and benefits.”

************************************************ I stood staring out at the horizon as the waves hit my shins, wiggling my toes in the wet sand underneath the water. Finally, beach. Warm, breezy, sunny, quiet, beautiful beach.

After learning that Tom had no prior knowledge of Luke’s plan to hire someone as his social media manager, I excused myself so they could speak in private for as long they deemed necessary. That’s what I told them, anyway. In truth, I really just needed to get the hell out of there so I could attempt to process all this insanity… which I knew wasn’t even remotely possible until I was alone. Part of me hoped that ‘as long as they deemed necessary’ turned into several hours. Or days.

Luke had proposed an initial annual salary of one hundred thousand dollars while I was working with Tom, increasing to one hundred and twenty-five thousand upon assuming the role of Social Media Director of Prosper. I’d be issued a corporate credit card and expense account, and the company would cover all travel expenses. I currently grossed around forty thousand more than that a year on my own, but being stuck covering all my own travel costs made it a negligible difference. When I factored in the lack of income stability that goes hand-in-hand with self-employment, I’d probably come out ahead financially if I opted to accept the position.

When I pressed him to define my duties and responsibilities, he’d shaken his head and imparted that I was the expert, not him, and therefore I should implement whatever strategies I would have included if I had drawn up a proposal. Though I’d technically be an employee, he preferred that I handle everything on my own and retain complete creative control for the duration of my time as Tom’s personal social media manager. We’d step back and re-evaluate things when I was ready to take the directorial helm.

My spot near the water was becoming popular, with several children running amok carting floats, balls and a slew of other things ankle biters enjoy that destroy peace and solitude for the rest of us. I was walking to the opposite side of the property from Luke’s room where it was less crowded when the gravity of my situation overwhelmed me completely and began to literally pull me down. I sank to my knees on the sand, then tried to shift to a sitting positon as gracefully as possible and without flashing everyone on the beach. Again.

I rested my ass on the back of my calves, listed to one side using my arm as a support, lifted my hips a little, extended both legs at the same time, then pushed myself upright. Not pretty, I’m sure, but I had managed to keep my legs closed. I crossed them at the ankle just to be safe and began to mull over my options. “Okay, Maude. Crunch time. Don’t fuck this up.”

When I first started out, I loved every minute of my ‘job’ and had a burning desire to share my knowledge. Maude Gallagher, LLC was everything I had aspired to do and be. I ate, slept and breathed it like oxygen. I never stopped working, always a phone call or an email away from jumping on a plane. But over the past few years, it seemed that my interest in my own company was steadily waning. While I constantly updated my lectures, the material remained essentially the same and what I used to find fun had become work. Every proposal I presented to a client was unique, but at its core it was identical to all the rest. I still put forth 100%, and my ‘phoning it in’ was akin to someone else’s ‘gave it my all’, but something inside me had changed. What was once my life had become just a job, and that prompted me to consider that I might have missed out on actually living along the way. I kept on truckin’, as they say, because the money was so damn good and the idea of having a boss was horrifying after so many years of answering to no one but myself.

Now here I was, sitting on a beach in Kaua’i, wearing a dress and trying to ignore the sand working its way between my thighs, faced with the daunting task of deciding what the fuck I wanted to do with my life…keep running in place, monotonous but comfortably familiar? Or race off in a new direction, intriguing but entirely foreign?

My proposal for Luke would have advised him to have a website created, marketing materials designed, the existing social media accounts revamped and new platforms established with all of them monitored intensely. I also thought it best that Tom have his own photographer/videographer who’d travel with him to shoot on set, at events and in ‘normal’ situations when deemed permissible. He would have had to hire three or more individuals to meet these specifications, but if I signed on he’d only need me. When I thought of all the types of work involved, how it would be different every single day, that I could be creative again…there was no way I could deny that it sounded pretty fucking spectacular. But something was holding me back, making me hesitate instead of screaming ‘yes, I’ll take it!’…and that something was Tom. Though we’d just met a few short hours ago and I didn’t know him at all, I felt…well, I had no idea what it was, only that is was THERE and that it scared the living shit out of me.

************************************************ I was picking up handfuls of sand and watching it sift through my fingers over and over again when I noticed the long shadow to my left, growing ever closer. Khaki cargo pants followed. I looked up…and up…and up. The sun was almost directly behind us, bathing him in an ethereal glow. So, so beautiful. I licked my lips and wished he’d lose the T-shirt already. He squatted beside me, elbows on his knees.

“Hi.” The corner of his mouth curled in a half smile.

“Hey.” I wiped the remaining bits of sand on my dress. He gestured towards the ground.

“May I?” I nodded. He sat, crossing his legs Indian style, which I wouldn’t have believed possible if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. “Luke and I just finished chatting.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks for coming to let me know.” I started to get up, but he put a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

“I…erm…there are a few things I’d like to say before you go back to see him. If you don’t mind hearing me out, that is.” I shook my head.

“Nope. I don’t mind at all.” He ran his hands through his hair and met my gaze.

“Thank you, Maude.” He swallowed. It crossed my mind that he appeared nervous, but I dismissed it because I didn’t want to consider what that meant. I frowned, turning to look towards the ocean. I heard him inhale deeply.

“First, I want to apologize for losing control of my emotions and acting like a tit. My comment about social media being a waste of time and effort and doing nothing but spreading hate was uncalled for, and I in no way meant to devalue you or your work. All of the feelings I entombed broke loose and I’m so very sorry you had to bear witness to my little crackup.” I turned to look at him and patted his knee.

“No worries. Everybody loses their shit to some degree at one point or another.” He pointed at me, brow raised. “Yes, even me. But really, this was nothing. I once had a client scream ‘this mother fucking social media bullshit has ruined my fucking career and my cunt of a wife fucking left me and now I’m going to have to pay her a fuck ton of alimony and it’s all your fault, you stupid fucking fat piece of shit’ in my face.” Tom’s mouth was closed so tightly his lips were a tiny, thin line. “He was so inept that he accidentally posted a photo of his girlfriend sucking his cock across all his accounts instead of sending it directly to her phone. Best part was that he took the shot in the mirror so his face was clearly visible.”

He put his hand on mine. “Tell me who it was and I’ll happily beat the living shit out of him.”

“Thanks, but not necessary. I handled it. By slapping him three times. And telling him that if I ever heard even a whisper of him saying another derogatory thing about me I’d hunt him down, rip his nuts off with my bare hands and feed them to him for dinner.”

Tom’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “You did no such thing.” I laughed.

“Oh, but I did. And then I fired his sorry ass. And then his band fired his sorry ass. Last I heard he was broke and filing for bankruptcy. Karma, Thomas. She is indeed a wicked bitch.” Before I knew what was happening he leaned in and enveloped me in an embrace. Time came to a grinding halt and I was frozen in place. He rubbed my back for a moment and released me before I even had a chance to hug him back. He remained close, his face only inches from mine.

“Maude, you are an amazing woman. And absolutely beautiful.” I blinked. It was the only thing I was physically capable of doing. I considered telling him that being called fat was a common occurrence for me, though it did happen less now that I was a size 14 instead of a 24…and that it really never got under my skin. Because, fuck that. I had never been lacking in the self-esteem department no matter what the scale said. Or my mother said. I had just come to the conclusion that I’d save that particular tidbit for you know, never, when I felt something under my chin. It was Tom’s hand.

“Shit, sorry, I got lost there for a bit. Woolgathering.” He smirked as he slid his fingers and thumb along my jaw and slowly backed away. He put his hand over his heart.

“Second on my list of things to say… I’m afraid I have a confession to make.” I made a get on with it motion with my right hand. “Earlier, at Talk Story, my requesting you specifically to assist me may not have been entirely a happenstance of fate.” I raised an eyebrow.

“When I walked in, the desk was completely deserted so I wandered off to see if I could locate someone to help me. After coming out of a side room I glanced back at the desk, saw the lovely girls in their Loki shirts, realized they were all staff members, and admittedly panicked a bit. Not because they were fans, but because I had very little time and I knew they’d want a few moments with me and I just couldn’t squeeze it in. I’d worn the ugly shirt and cap so people would be less apt to recognize me for that very reason.”

I poked him in the chest. “You know you have to go back there, don’t you? That adorable girl Alani will die of heartbreak knowing that you were in the store and she didn’t get to meet you.” He grinned.

“I absolutely will. And I’ll ask for her by name. But, on with my confession. So, there I was, caught like the proverbial deer in headlights. And then I saw…you. You had two books in one hand, and a several spread out on a table. I heard your phone alarm go off, and I saw your lips move but couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. I watched you gather them up as if they were precious treasures, and I sneakily followed you as you returned them gently to their proper places. I saw someone with a very obvious love for books, who happened to be a gorgeous woman, a ray of light shining through the early morning fog.  It seemed logical that you were an employee, or perhaps the owner, but…here’s the confession part… I honestly didn’t care whether you were or not. I just had to meet you, and my book reservation was the perfect cover story in the event my logic was flawed. I hesitated when I was finally directly behind you, and when you turned around I almost lost my nerve, but when you looked into my eyes I knew it was now or never. ” He took a deep breath, and I noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. I reached out and took one in mine.

“I thought you may have recognized me, and was waiting for you to out me. I really was. Instead, you marched up to that desk, got my book and brought it to me even though you didn’t actually work there. You paid for the damn thing. And when you called me Indy, the fact that you not only picked up the reference but played along…” He shook his head and put his free hand on top of mine, sandwiching it between both of his.

“Which brings me to the third thing on my list of things to say. And it’s the last. On the street, when I said I wanted to find out who you were, and that I had never wanted to discover anything else quite so badly? I meant that, Maude. All the way down to the depths of my very soul.” I was speechless. Completely, utterly without words. He leaned in to meet my gaze.

“I don’t understand why, or how, or what the fuck it is exactly that I’m feeling…but what I AM certain of is that I’ve never felt it before and it’s glorious and incredible and terrifying all at once. And whether you decide to take the job or not, I still want to KNOW you, Maude. I NEED to know you.”

I smirked devilishly, hoping to add some levity to the situation so I wouldn’t totally freak the fuck out.

“Like, biblically?”

He threw back his head, laughing so loudly people down the beach turned to look our way. I started giggling, which turned into guffawing, and then the snorting started. He laughed even harder and soon enough we were both weeping and holding our sides, trying to catch our breath. I was wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand when he whispered in my ear.

“Yes, Maude. Biblically. As often as humanly possible, preferably.” He pulled back so he could see my face, trying to analyze my expression to determine what I was thinking. I smiled softly.

“I want to know you too, Tom. In every way imaginable.” He grinned, then stood, offering me a hand up. I took it. “Let’s go see a man about a job, shall we?”

************************************************ Luke was overjoyed at my acceptance of his offer and after we all had a quick dinner he broke out the bottle of champagne he’d ordered. He placed a glass in front of me and began to pour. I held up my hand in protest.

“No thank you…none for me, please.” He cocked his head to the side. “Do you have any tea lying around? I’d love a cup if you do.” He went off to see what was in the kitchenette. Tom was pacing around outside, phone up to his ear, his free hand gesturing wildly. He’d just gotten word that Michael Keaton and J. K. Simmons had pulled out of Skull Island. I saw him tap the end call button and he walked back into the room just as Luke came in to tell me he hadn’t had any luck finding me some tea. He set the phone on the table.

“Well, it looks like the shoot’s been postponed until early 2016.” Luke shrugged.

“It happens, Tom. I wasn’t thrilled with either of them being cast, to be honest.” Tom sighed, then grinned at me.

“On the bright side, this gives us lots of time to get things up and running on the social media front.” I yawned. We still had a ton of details to work out as far as how we were going to proceed, but I was exhausted and needed some time alone to get in the zone for my two long days of seminars. Which would be my last, at least for a while. Knowing that felt…delightful, as much as it pained me to admit it.

“Gentlemen, I hate to be a party pooper, but I have two insane days coming up and need some rest so I don’t muck things up too badly.” They both awwweeed but I got up from my chair anyway, slinging my bag over my shoulder and picking up my shoes. “We’re still on for the museum’s hula class at five on Wednesday?”  

They nodded, and Tom rose from his chair, grinning like a fool. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. May I walk you to your room?”

I rolled my eyes. “If you must.”

He took my elbow and walked me to the door. “Oh, I must.”

I waved at Luke. “Goodnight, Luke…and thank you. If you need something, call.”

“Goodnight, Maude. And thank you. This is a game changer for Prosper, and I appreciate you being on board. I couldn’t make it happen otherwise.” He closed the door behind us.

Tom stopped out in the hallway. “Where is your room, exactly?” I headed for the stairs. We walked in silence, just basking in each others presence. I stopped in front of my room, found my keycard in my bag and opened the door. He pointed to the number.

“Oh, 203…you’re right above Luke.” I just stood there and watched his face, waiting for it to dawn on him. When it finally did, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, finally spluttering “Right above. Luke. Your room. Is.”

It was my turn to grin like a fool. “Yes, yes it is. If you take another run in the morning you may want to look up periodically. You never know, I just might forget to close the balcony doors again.”  

[perfectlyfine-notfineatall]

confessional post

Taylor said she is a confessional songwriter and she thanks us for reading her diary for this long. I have grown up with Taylor and she has gotten me through more dark periods than I realized. If Taylor can release her life story, so can I. I hope it reaches her. My life goal is to thank her in person someday.

When I was 10, I had a cousin named Allen. Allen was 5 years older than me. We grew up together. We colored, watched movies, built blanket forts, shared snacks.-a normal cousin bond. Until one holiday, it all changed. At our aunt’s house, Allen told me to meet him by the laundry room. He asked if I wanted to play a game. At this aunt’s house, us and the other cousins always ran around with Nerf guns just being silly and annoying the adults. So, I figured he wanted to map out a way to scare everyone or something. By the time I entered the laundry room, he told me to duck down from sight of anyone. He said he watched a game on Nickelodeon and wanted to show me it. He gently pushed me over to the floor, and he put his entire body weight over me, rubbing up and down across parts of me I knew were not okay to be rubbed on. I knew it was something sexual; I was somewhat unsure, but I knew. This happened a few other times in upcoming holidays, until I completely decided to not go near him. Unfortunately, for even longer, he had been doing the same thing with my twin sister, too. She did not know what was going on. It turned into a police report once everyone discovered her story. Mine went undiscovered, and I watched my parents suffer too much pain to even fathom telling them it happened to me too. They do not know I was his victim too, to this day.

When I was 12, Taylor’s first album came out. All of her songs about feeling alone and lost, were me. I was connected instantly. I fell in love and finally felt so understood. By 2008, when Fearless arrived, I was a total fan. I quit playing violin, taught myself guitar, and learned T’s album, as a form of therapy. Fearless was out and I was about to experience life.

When I was 14, I met a boy. His name was Justin. He was obvious trouble. We met at a pool party before high school began. I was awkward, overly-skinny and scrawny, and attracted no one, but him. I felt happy—some boy finally liked me—finally! It wasn’t long until we began dating and I learned he was addicted to drugs. The longer I stayed, the worse it got. I gave him hundreds of dollars so he can buy drugs, so he would stay with me. When he got mad, he would tackle me to the ground, throw me against walls, push me around, etc. He many times locked me outside so he could use, then let me back in and claimed to love me. We did this for 2 years, on and off, on and off. Until one day, I told him “I deserve better” and he decided to beat me in school. Sitting on a staircase my freshmen year at 16, he came up running with a pack of friends calling me things like “faggot” “bitch” “c*nt” (the usual) and profusely kicked me while he had me cornered against the walls. It took all my adrenaline to push away and run to the nearest bathroom to call my mom. We were minors, so all that came from it was he was suspended and sent to a mental institute during his suspension. This was the end of us, but a long remainder of high school being bullied by all his friends. We had secret teachers and admin constantly watching to make sure we would no longer interact. High school was a crime scene, a war-zone, a place I desperately needed to escape from forever. I did nothing in high school but go to classes and go home. Speak Now was out, and all of the songs applied to transitioning my life around. Songs provided closure that no one else could grant me. I was given an electric guitar the same morning I bought Speak Now, and I spent that week learning every single song.

When I was just 17, (J ended at 16) I got a job and focused on making money so one day I could move so far from here. I went to class, to work, to sleep, and did it every week of every school year following. Eventually, I began actively seeking out people to play music with, and met a boy named Nathan. He played the drums and he was so cool; he was a senior and I was about to be a junior. We were total opposites but embraced music together and began dating that December. For the first few months, he continued to pressure me into a sexual relationship that I did not want with him yet, and I remember one day in my basement he kind of just went for it. I did not know how to say no, so I just let it happen. I figured he would leave if I said otherwise. Ever since, the relationship was full of up’s and down’s, and he ended it a year later, once he found another girl. During this, Red was out. EVERY.SINGLE.SONG. applied to this chapter in life. It DESCRIBED our relationship and my development as a young adult. 

When I was 18, I graduated high school early to get foot surgery. We found a birth defect in my bones and walking was becoming difficult. Tey needed to cut some bones and do fusions; this required 2 months of NO walking, and 2 additional months on crutches/scooters. I was lonely but I managed. When I was going on 19 (end of senior year), my best friend decided to advance towards me. He was my dream man. Handsome, intelligent, bright, well-rounded…I won’t say his name ever again. But, we ended up going to prom together and fell in love. We went to 1989 tour in Chicago together. I loved him. He broke me. We will call him C. We dated for 3 consecutive years. We planned out our house, our kids’ names, our careers, everything. We just needed the ring. Well, C had a troubled home life, and it engulfed him. After 1 year together, he became this depressed, narcissistic asshole. We fought about everything. He screamed at me. Got in my face. Made me cry. Insulted me. Belittled me. And then, we would try again. We were so toxic to each other but had too much pasison to walk away. It was breaking both of us. At this point, I was diagnosed with a chronic disease called Lichen Sclerosis. Basically, all my skin began attacking itself, cutting open, and scarring over in thin-skinned areas. He made me out to be faking it for attention. The more stress he made, the worse the condition got. I could no longer have a sex life ebcause my skin was too damaged. We did this whole process for another year. Our third year, we went on a cruise. However, he withheld $1,300.00 from me, leaving me totally bankrupt with college bills to pay. So, I started working a full time night job cleaning with a bunch of empowering women, and I loved it. He hated it. He found another girl, began using drugs, hanging out with bad influences, and ultimately had another life without me, while I was trying to make a life for us. 1989 was full of truth and hope. It made everything make sense. Our fights grew so severe that I started seeing him less. I watched him beat on his mother. I watched him make his father cry. I watched him torment his little brother. I watched him fall apart. I tried to save him and us, until I realized there was no me left to save anymore. I was constantly debating my life. I told him endlessly I wanted to separate, and he never complied. One day, I sent him a message and blocked him. I began talking to the man I am dating now, Kyle, as he basically made me feel like myself again. He understood my past and wanted to see my life get better. He helped me in any way possible.

C did not like it. C hacked into all of my accounts. He put trackers on my accounts to watch my every move. He sat in my neighborhood at night to monitor when I left and came back. He hacked into my email accounts. He posted every and any insulting thing about me online, everywhere. All our mutual friends turned on me. He tried driving Kyle off the road. My reputation was never worse. I discovered he made a dating account in my name, with all my personal information, down to the most identifiable details. In IL, this is a class 4 felony. This had all been going on for 5 months. I knew I needed to save myself. I went to a domestic violence shelter so we could restrain him from all access to my life. In court, with 6 testifying witnesses, we won. 5.19.17 saved my life.

Then, reputation came out. I instantly learned every song on guitar again. I became someone again. I found someone that likes me for me. I found myself. We attended the reputation tour together. We love each other. He is everything I ever needed. I survived and I love myself.

I am 23 now. I survived so many things. I am indebted to Taylor infinitely because each album was all I ever had to develop and grow with. I think we all grew up with her in our own special ways. I just wanted to share mine. I am strong enough to tell my story. @taylorswift @taylornation

[0ompa-loompa]

Assignments, final projects, try-outs, mock weeks, finals, college applications, these are what senior year is made of. Naturally, it’s the period of time when you most feel the urge to jump off a cliff. From the first week of school, I could already see the differences senior year brought to my school mates. People were starting to realize that they had to receive great marks, they had to get accepted into good colleges, they had to do this and that as ways to an accomplished future.

Over the years of being a high school student, every time there was a free period, or just any studying-free moment at school, we would watch movies, gossip, or simply be on our phones for hours. Now in every free periods, my classmates would take out these heavy-ass books that can be used comfortably as pillows and actually study. Or re-write their notes. Or revise a subject for next week’s quiz. Anything to keep them working (just curious, do these symptoms apply to all senior year students around the world?).

Since junior year were pretty traumatizing for me (thanks to student government), I had been planning all holiday to give my 110% for senior year. Long story short, I hit it off since day 1 and came out alive six months later. Although it resulted in me spending 3 days sleeping in after end-of-term exams were over, I’m really happy for having been very productive this entire term. I know there’s still 6 months left and the worst parts are yet to come, so I decided to share a few tips exclusively coming from someone *glares at myself* who did remarkably awful the previous year and somehow found a way to crawl back from death

1.       Know Where You’re Going

Getting to the very last year of high school, this is the MOST important part of surviving. Without having your long-term goal, it would be like taking down hundreds of obstacles without having a destination in mind. You don’t know where you’re going, but more monsters keep showing up on your path. Trust me, you’ll eventually get tired and stop trying midway. Losing motivation when you’re in the most vital part of your study can’t be a good thing.

Do research on the degrees you’re interested in taking, from their passing grades to job prospects. Make sure you actually enjoy the subjects needed for those degrees. For example, if you can’t stand Biology, better if you don’t consider attending medical school, and the same goes to other subjects as well.

2.       Maintain Productivity

The amount of school work you’re getting can be overwhelming, that is why you have to do them as soon as possible to prevent them from piling up. You don’t have to finish them all in one day, it’s impossible and careless. At least try to do them bits by bits until the night before due when you can go over what you’ve done and fix a few imperfections or cross-check your answers. Try doing this to multiple assignments instead of focusing on one or two assignments the entire week.

I usually bring unfinished assignments to school so I can get to work when I have free time, usually before after-school extras, or while waiting for an extra course. This way instead of going on Tumblr for hours, I’ll be figuring out math problems and (hopefully) have the homework done by ½ when the course starts.

3.       Gather Motivation

Take a look at that magnificent building, I will build tens of those once I become an architect. Have you seen the latest VSxBalmain collection? I’ll someday be working alongside Olivier Rousting .

It’s very important to keep being productive and use every free time wisely. While you’re at it, make sure to keep your motivate-o-meter at high level. Motivation and inspiration can come from anyone, anywhere and it doesn’t even have to come from anything relevant to your life goals. I usually get a boost of motivation after watching a couple videos of my favorite Youtubers (which has no correlation whatsoever to being an engineer), and I recently  got a huge inspo from reading Crazy Rich Asians. It seriously motivated me to work my ass off and be rich.

4.       Don’t Stop ‘til You’re Proud

Catch up on things you don’t fully understand. If you had a problem with certain subjects or materials, find the answers right away, don’t wait until the day before quizzes or mock tests when you will desperately need answers. Ask teachers, your friends, or our most trusty friend the internet. You can also download several applications to help you study, like Khan Academy and other similar apps. Once you put one problem out of sight, it will become easier for you to put more aside . This is what happened to me last year, I had problems understanding Chem but I refused to actually figure them out, thinking I would learn the materials later. 10 laters later, I got a 7 for end-of-semester test while my classmates received 9s and 8s.

So you have studied for this particular test and still got a bad mark. Shit happens honey, tough it up. Even while I’m writing this, I fully understand that the theory of ‘picking-yourself-up’ is much easier said than done. Give yourself some time to breathe, and start with “okay, where did I go wrong?”. Figure out the errors to make sure you’re not doing them the second time. Consider it this way: the subject has betrayed you and you’re getting a revenge. I planted this idea the very first day of senior year, the thought has driven me to never quit trying. It’s almost like Elle Woods to Warner, but instead it’s me and Physics.

5.       Get A Rest.

Senior year doesn’t mean you lose all hope of going on shopping sprees, watching the latest movies, or taking care of your Tumblr blog. If anything, I’ve watched more movies with my friends this year than I did previous years, simply because we have little time to relax so we made the most of one when we had the chance to. As long as you keep track on your to-do-list, stay discipline on your schedule, a little catch up on KUWTK won’t hurt.

Don’t push yourself to the point of falling down. Read books, paint, dance, even play games (Mobile Legend is the hype these days it’s getting annoying), anything to keep you sane and motivated. Never let the pressure of GPAs and prestigious colleges take positivity away from you.

6.       Don’t Over-Rest.

Yes, hun, I was just telling you to enjoy your senior year and now I’m telling you to not over-relax your way. Maintain a schedule, make agreements with yourself and stick to it. “At 8pm I will start on Math homework, and the rest is for tomorrow”. “I will work my butts off from 8 to 10 am then I can go on Tumblr”. “I will start on my History papers and take a rest after 2 pages”.

I’m not telling you to work 24/7 because that’s not healthy, I’m ALSO not telling you to spend all your weekend in bed and procrastinate because it would defeat the whole purpose of learning to be productive. Once you let yourself procrastinate, It’ll be easier for you to do it for the second, third, and fourth time.  Sometimes you just need to gather your will, get up and face those text books.

Well, there you go. These are all the things I have been doing to not only survive, but to do well in high school. I have been doing all these tips religiously for the past 6 months, it’s almost impossible not to feel tired or even want to just cut it off. But studying routinely makes me feel in control of what’s happening currently, what’s going to happen next, what I want to be doing in the future. So get up and let’s kick asses together.

[halberdierminister]

July Monthly Goals Check-In

1. Write 250 Words Each Day Well, I started out very faithful to this. But sometime around the middle of the month, I got pretty choppy. I honestly don't know exactly how many days I skipped. I'm gonna try to write a fair amount today when I can and hope that it is enough to make up for it. Which is fine. It has been an otherwise very productive month in many other ways, so I cannot be too upset about it. I may start running a wordpress blog with a friend of mine, and if I do that may keep me more on track with these.. We shall see. We shall see.

2. Read 55 Books This Year I finished reading 55 books in May! Last month I read 10 more books. THIS month, however… I read 31 books. That brings me to a total of 97 books read for the year!!! A lot of them have been VERY short books. Lots of poetry collections, manga volumes, graphic novels, etc etc etc. But not exclusively!! I was hoping to get to 100 books by the time I wrote this but the last couple days, I have not been able to make the magic happen. But that's fine! That's TOTALLY FINE. This will be a very significant get, but I have months to get over that hump. By the time you hear from me on this goals check-in next month, I will undoubtedly be decently well over 100 books, and I can talk about why that personally feels so good then!

3. Get A Full Time Job I did not get a full time job this month. BUT. I applied to 38 full time jobs. Got a bunch of rejections. HOWEVER, I have scheduled EXACTLY ONE JOB INTERVIEW so far so that is good news! And that would be a VERY good job if I were to get it! Some of these jobs are actually pretty exciting things and I feel confident for the first time in a while that I might actually find a good job IN MY CAREER PLAN!!!! Also I almost lost my part time job but the library director was able to convince the village to let me stay on as a substitute, and it has paid off surprisingly well. I've been working two to three shifts a week on that, which is more than any of us expected. So I guess what I'm saying is I am making good progress again and I hope I can have something positive to report by the time I'm thirty. Eugh.

4. Move Out Speaking of being almost thirty. I really do not want to be here. If I get the job I interview for, I would be able to move in with my friends in Milwaukee just about as soon as possible. So that is good news. Every day it gets more tempting to just say "screw it" and live down there. But that won't help me find a job. And the job really is the important thing.

5. Drink Less Soda I mean yeah. Occasionally, I drink-a the soda. But not too much. I am good at drinking less soda than I did last year or the years before that. That's because I would have several sodas each day, to the point where it worried some of the people I know.

6. Get Something Published Just found out that I'm getting something else published today! So that is one new poem published this month! I also had my fic in the Lalonde Zine come out, but it turns out that the Lalonde Zine was more of a shared Google Drive folder than an actual zine. Maybe I should offer to compile the zine into one document? I should do that. That would be a good thing to do and it would give me a lot of experience with doing that, something I haven't really done in a while. So the practice would do me good! And then I would feel better saying that I got published there too. But yes so besides the Lalonde fic, I have had two poems published in zines, one poem published in an online literary journal, and one fic published in an online fanzine this year! If you include the articles I wrote for school newspapers, I have gotten at least one thing published every year for the past fifteen years. If you don't count the articles (or the Lalonde fic yet), I have had 30 pieces of fiction and poetry published since 2005! That's pretty neat! I want even more though!!!!!! I found a publisher's website that accepts unsolicited manuscripts. I'm going to try to put together an honest to god actual collection of my poetry, one bigger than either of the two digital chapbooks I have made. I have a friend who is a professional editor -- not of poetry, mind you, but I might be able to convince her to give it a shot -- and I would honestly hire her at full price to take a look at it. I actually will need to seek a lot of feedback from a lot of people, so if you want to read a document full of a bunch of my poetry, lemme know and I will show you what I've got when I've got something.

7. Finish Writing A Legitimate Businessman Finished in April! No new news. But just because I completed this goal doesn't mean that is the end of it! I do still have the sequel to work on, even though I haven't done any of that this month. And one of these days I am going to get around to sitting down with the printed copy and a pen and editing the shit out of it so that I can write draft #2! I think I'll probably throw draft #2 up on wattpad (why not?? I've been curious about that website and know absolutely nothing about it) and maybe I'll make a nice looking e-book out of it that I can distribute on noisetrade or itchio or something! I wonder if I could get it printed on demand or something. Obviously not for profit. But like, maybe I have friends I want to send a nice printed copy to.

8. Write More The Revelation of Takaya According to Jin Finished in Februrary! No new news. A friend of mine has offered to bind a copy of it when he has access to the materials, and I think that'd be dope as hell. I ought to work on compiling it into a nice document. I don't know if that's what he would need. He would probably want to do that work himself. Sometimes I think about the concept of making an illustration for it? I don't know. I can't draw. But I might not need to draw for the thing I have in mind. Really I should be consulting with him on that. Ah well. Either way, I hope that ends up happening. That would be so friggin cool.

MINOR GOALS

9. Finish Playthroughs Of 1. The Legend of Zelda Breath of the Wild: Finished in January! 2. Persona 1 Main Quest Good Ending: I didn't do anything on this whooooops. Getting into the second half of the year without once having touched it. I ought to get back to this. 3. Pokemon Sword: Finished in March! 4. Pokemon Let's Go Eevee: Finished in February and March! 5. Persona Q2: I have finished the fourth dungeon and gotten to The Twist!!! It's weak. This really is the kids' version of a Persona game. Minus like… the fact that it's still rated M for partial nudity. There was exactly one moment of horror and even that was like… just a bit scarier than The Nightmare Before Christmas. But I did some of the side quests and those are actually decently fun. So I have the final dungeon left. I just wanna sort of power through this. I'll worry about completion when I do new game plus, whenever that might be.

10. Record More Ukulele Videos I did not do this. I want a new microphone. These are not inherently related things, as I do have a microphone already. I have everything I need to do this. I just haven't done this. And I would like a new microphone. Also, an amp for the uke would be nice. I should text my old coworker, see if he still has one to sell.

11. Record Let's Plays Neither did I do this. How could I? My parents think video gaming is the Devil's Lettuce. And they are always home. They would notice if they heard me talking to my computer. And that is assuming that I had something I could play on my computer that anyone would want to watch. I need a better computer. A gaming computer. An editing computer. I'm lucky that these are the same thing.

12. Duolingo? I was SUPER gung ho in the end of June and the beginning of July, but before too long I petered out. I've used a couple streak freezes and have really been doing mostly the bare minimum to not drop out of the emerald league. But I've got a streak of about 208 days, and that is nothing to sneeze at! Do I feel like I'm learning? I dunno. But I am at least interacting with Spanish just about every day so that… that's got to be helpful, right? right?

This was over one thousand five hundred words. Wait! Sixteen hundred exactly.

[notgoingtohappen]

Revenge, Interrupted (Part 21)

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20

A/N: *Waves* Hello! Sorry for the super long wait, but the good news is here! I’m finally in a position to write again, this is the longest chapter yet, and it has something you guys have been asking for for ages!! I really hope you still like the fic lol enjoy!

Caroline hadn't gone for a proper party since the string of wild bashes that had happened to celebrate college graduation. Needless to say, she was excited. And the extrovert in her was delighted at the opportunity to meet some new people in this city.

She, Bonnie and Elena crowded around the fairly big bathroom mirror, applying finishing touches to their makeup and carefully styling their hair. She had to admit, they looked hot. Bonnie wore a tiny, flimsy black dress and had her hair falling in waves, Elena wore a sheer crop top with super short shorts and her brown hair in a long ponytail, and Caroline had on a glitzy off-shoulder top paired with her plain old cheerleading skirt that was so tiny she almost threw it away, but it looked good and she was celebrating. She deserved to de-stress.

There wasn't a particular reason she was putting this much effort into her appearance or anything, she thought as she flat-ironed her hair straight. She had been ignoring the nervous ball of energy in her stomach all day, which Stefan's declaration of love had only intensified. She knew it was for Damon's benefit, obviously, but she couldn't help the feelings it stirred up.

She just had to focus on having fun in the last few days of this stage of her life. Soon, she'd start her job, and everything would be different. She was going to get over this mess.

"Care, wear the red lipstick," Elena's voice interrupted Caroline's stream of thought. "It looks like, bomb on you."

"And maybe some smokey eye?" Bonnie asked, eyeing Caroline's soft glimmery eye makeup.

Caroline looked at the clock and saw they barely had fifteen minutes. She turned to them suspiciously. "What's up? In high school you usually suggested I tone it down."

"It's just, this is a rave, and your first party with your perfect new boyfriend, we want you to look perfect. Not that you don't already look stunning." Bonnie said.

"Aw, thanks you guys." Caroline smiled warmly at her best friends. "You both look fantastic too, by the way."

Fifteen minutes later, the girls were ready to go. Caroline grabbed her purse and followed them out of the apartment, where the boys waited near the lift. Stefan did a double take when he saw her, and she beamed with satisfaction on the inside.

"Wow... you look..." Stefan cleared his throat, looking serious again. "Great." He seemed unable to tear his gaze away until Damon punched his arm.

"Stefan is very taken with you, Caroline, but none of us wants to be witness to this ogling session going on."

Caroline looked away, blushing, a smile on her lips, and Stefan seemed to turn slightly red too.

Was his reaction real? Or just some brilliant acting?

Ugh, she was too exhausted to try and figure this clusterfuck out. She just wanted to relax. Feeling annoyed at this Stefan situation and simultaneously optimistic now that the awful cloud of her mother's illness was no longer hanging over her head, she grabbed Elena's purse and took out the small flask of vodka and took a long swig.

Bonnie and Elena burst out laughing while Enzo and Stefan stared at her in mild shock.

"Woah, slow down Blondie, let's at least get to the rave first."

"I'm fine," Caroline muttered, draining the flask, which made her head swim. "College increased my tolerance by like, a twenty-fold." She thrust it back into a now speechless Elena's hands, and tried to walk to the lift but stumbled and was about to hit the ground when Stefan caught her instantly, his arm securely around her waist, his deep eyes looking down at her intensely like... some kind of green fairy pool.

"Stupid heels." Caroline sighed, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

Stefan took her hand in his and helped her up, and then wrapped an arm around her back, propping her up just in case. "You okay?" He seemed concerned.

"Yeah, let's go!"

"Caroline, do you want to sit for a bit?" Bonnie asked, looking a bit worried.

"You shouldn't have downed that on an empty stomach," Elena said, exchanging glances with Stefan.

"I'll be okay, don't worry you guys. I just want to have fun."

She was aware she was being unreasonable and acting out of character. It was like a switch had been flipped in her, and she felt free and euphoric, all of her apprehensions and past anxieties dissolving. She wasn't even sure where this was coming from. Looks like she had been a lot more stressed than she'd let herself realise, and with all the change going on, she'd unconsciously been longing for the careless days of uni. This was her chance to unwind, and she was determined to take it. It really wasn't a big deal, she wasn't going to go out of control or anything.

"I'm not high school Caroline, Elena. You've both been off having fun together for the last four years, well guess what, so have I. We don't know each other as well as we used to, but I can handle myself now." She shot back, and pulled away from Stefan, walking into the elevator without stumbling. "I'm already sobering up." She said, carefully enunciating every word.

"Care, where is this coming from?" Elena asked, looking hurt.

"It's fine, let her have fun this one night before reality catches up with us again," Damon interjected.

She grinned at him. "Thank you. I knew there had to be something good about you."

Damon clutched his chest in mock emotion. "I'm touched."

Stefan followed her into the elevator, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he stood beside her silently, looking like he was a statue cut from marble. She wondered if he knew how beautifully chiselled he was. As she gave him another once-over, she realised that of course he was well aware. Guys who looked like that had girls fawning over them all the time. How hadn't it gotten to his head like Damon? Was this an act? It couldn't be, she chided herself. Stefan Salvatore was annoyingly sincere and noble.

"Chill, Stefan. I'm fine. Let's all have fun." She said to him.

"Okay." He said, still looking serious. The rest of the elevator ride passed in dead silence.

The fresh air outside cleared her head more, and as she walked behind the group with her boyfriend the guilt of what she'd just said to her best friends hit her. She knew where it had come from; she'd felt super excluded the first few months of college knowing her best friends were having fun without her. She'd always been insecure about her friendships and the situation had just magnified the FOMO. Even when she'd made peace with it and adjusted to her new life, she felt pangs of it sometimes when she saw their Snapchat or Instagram. She'd been elated when they moved to the same city, but there were moments every day she felt left out. She did her best to ignore it, but the alcohol had made her vocalise it in a way she would never have done before.

It wasn't fair of her; it wasn't their fault. They were always good friends to her and had best of all, they understood her. They'd always tried to make sure she’d feel as little of her trademark insecurity as possible. She caught up to her best friends and slung an arm around each of their shoulders from behind.

"Hey guys, I'm so sorry. I lashed out, it wasn't fair. I'll be in control for the rest of the night, I promise."

They moved to the side, making space for Caroline to walk in the middle, and threw their arms around her too.

"It's okay, babe. We don't realise sometimes how it must have felt for you to watch us spend all those years without you." Elena said, smiling apologetically at her.

"Yeah, we forget sometimes that you had a whole different life in college and don't know what we're talking about," Bonnie added.

"We're together now," Caroline grinned as they came to a halt in front of the cars.

"I have an idea! Let's divide into guys and girls for the ride to the warehouse." Bonnie said.

"Yes! Quality time." Elena said happily as Enzo tossed her the keys to his car.

"Sure, as long as the Salvatores don't bite each other's heads off at the red light or whatever."

~*~

It was a fun journey, with them blasting hits from their high school days and singing along at the top of their voices. Caroline was pretty sure Elena was sexting Damon from the back seat because of the picture she'd caught her taking when she had turned around... good for her and her relationship, she supposed.

She stared at the warehouse once they pulled up at the rave, listening to the music pounding in the distance. It seemed promising. "This better be like Aiden's blacklight rave at that Hale loft," she muttered as she made her way to Stefan and entwined her fingers with his.

Upon entering, they were greeted with the sight of hundreds of bodies packed closely together, moving to the deafening music. Caroline's spirits instantly lifted upon seeing the drinks glowed, as did the paint on people's bodies.

"Well, you got what you wanted, Caroline," Enzo said, looking around.

"It glows." Stefan finally spoke, the corners of his mouth twisting up a little.

"Let's hit the bar."

They found the massive bar with no problem, and she turned to one of three bartenders. "Let's start with shots. Keep 'em coming." She said.

"For us too." Elena gestured to the group.

After the first two rounds, they drifted off into couples. Elena was showing Damon something on her phone and giggling, and Bonnie and Enzo were making out against the counter. Caroline looked away and her gaze landed on Stefan.

She herself hadn't been very love-y towards him that day, what with blanking during the "I love you" in front of Damon in the morning and brushing Stefan off and barely speaking to him in the evening. Emboldened by the alcohol and registering the need to prove their relationship to her friends, she threw her arms around him, revelling in the feel of his hand on the small of her back, holding her close.

"Did I tell you I love you?" She said, loudly enough for them to hear.

"I love you too" he gazed at her in his broody, intense manner.

She noticed his second glass lying untouched and raised her eyebrows.

"No more for me, thanks. Someone has to be sober."

"Who says? Enjoy your youth, Stefan. Come on."

Stefan looked unconvinced, conflict brewing in his eyes.

"Or do I need to break out the weed? I'm sure this place is crawling with dealers."

Stefan's face broke into a smile, and Caroline grinned back, warmth spreading in her chest.

"You should smile more, you're hot."

He gulped down the shot and signalled for another round. "Thank you." He said, sounding slightly cocky. Well. That was a side of Stefan she hadn't seen before.

She ordered another round.

"Just one more," Stefan said.

She rolled her eyes. "Ignore him," she told the bartender. "We deserve some fun, Stefan. When was the last time you let go?"

He nodded. “Okay, you’re right.”

After a few minutes of drinking and laughing over how brilliantly they were playing their friends, just like the first night they had met, and slipping furtherer and furtherer away from sobriety, they saw Bonnie and Enzo making their way towards them.

"Shh, they're coming!" Caroline hissed.

Without missing a beat, Stefan pulled her to his chest, holding her close as he cupped her cheek with a hand and kissed her.

The addition of alcohol to Stefan kissing her passionately made Caroline feel the most incredible high. It was like liquid fire had spread to every nerve in her body. She melted into his strong arms, wanting to savour the moment forever, and was interrupted by the sound of Enzo clearing his throat.

They pulled away, but Stefan didn't move his arm from her waist or his hand from her cheek.

"Ahem, mate, we're going to dance. Catch you later." Enzo said awkwardly.

"I have my phone if you need to reach me," Bonnie added.

"Don't worry, we aren't getting out of here until morning light," Caroline replied.

"Let's just leave whenever we want, couples-wise. See you in the loft." Stefan said, his voice delightfully hoarse, sending a wave of desire shooting through Caroline.

"Sure"

Caroline grabbed the neck of his T-shirt and pulled his lips to hers, resuming their slow, electrifying kiss that sent thrills down her stomach.

Suddenly, the music blasting from the massive speakers registered in her mind. "Wait, this is my favourite song. Come on!"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the crowded dance floor.

"Hey!" A girl with a large number of piercings grinned at her. "Want some body paintings?" She asked, holding up a handful of paints.

Caroline glanced around and noticed everyone had some form of glowing artwork on their bodies. She even saw Bonnie and Elena dancing a few meters away with some patterns that shone on their arms and legs.

"Yes, oh my god!"

"What would you like?"

"Um... a butterfly on my cheek, and some swirly patterns on my chest and torso."

The girl looked at her questioningly. "Your top kinda covers that, sweetie."

"Oh, that? I wore this bra for this very reason." She grinned, taking her top off in one quick move. Her bra glowed as blue.

It had been a genius buy from three years ago. It brought out her eyes, and it was perfect for parties like these.

Stefan seemed unable to tear his darkening gaze away from her as the girl painted her body with the shimmering colours. Once she was done, she stepped back to review her work, and Stefan stepped in.

"I think you missed a spot," he said, taking one of the brushes from her can and dropping to his knees before Caroline, gripping her side with one hand and beginning to glide the cool paint against her burning body in smooth strokes, making her shiver.

"So you're painting on me now?" She asked, trying her hardest to sound unaffected but failing as her voice came out in a husky tone.

"You'll like it." He gripped her more firmly, as the brush moved all over one spot on her side, and Caroline tried her hardest not to tremble.

"Done." He said, and moved to blow over it to dry the paint. It was too much for Caroline and she dropped down to him, hands gripping his hair, and kissed him desperately. His hands moved from her waist to her face, and she welcomed his pull, moving closer to each other until there was no space between their bodies and they were just making out on the floor. The rush was exhilarating.

"Uh, I'll leave you to it then." The girl's voice floated down from somewhere.

Stefan pulled away. "No, wait. One more painting, please."

The girl looked at Caroline's face and laughed. "Looks like you took care of her cheek."

Caroline whipped out her phone and stared at herself in the reflection. Instead of the butterfly she wanted, there were three streaks of ice blue paint from Stefan's fingers. Surprised, she turned to him with a smile. "I like this better."

Stefan smirked.

"Wait, what did you paint?" She remembered suddenly. Her mind had completely blanked once Stefan's hands were on her. The girl held up a mirror and Caroline saw a perfect star on one corner of her waist, glowing blue among the pink swirls.

"You shine." He said simply when she looked at him questioningly.

Damn it. Even when they were drunk out of their minds and he had just been painstakingly teasing her, he was romantic. He really was the perfect boyfriend. She was so unlucky.

"I didn't mean her," He turned to the girl, and took his shirt off.

It was Caroline's turn to stare.

After the girl was done painting flames down his back and onto his torso and shoulders, she handed Caroline the brush. "I'll leave you to it." She muttered, walking away.

"Thank you, they're beautiful!" Caroline called out at her retreating back.

She turned to Stefan and ran a hand across his muscled torso, making sure her touch was soft and fluttering, and then slowly, deliberately, delighted in his laboured breathing, painted a blue symbol on his side, right where her star was.

The moment she was done and began to blow on it, Stefan yanked her up and started kissing her neck, making her eyes fly shut and her breaths come in sighs.

"Stefan," she whispered. No response.

"Stefan." She said louder, and he pulled away at once, looking at her curiously.

"Come on," She grabbed his hand and pulled him further into the dance floor. No way was this night going by without her dancing.

She spent what seemed like hours dancing to her hearts content, with Bonnie and Elena, with Enzo, with strangers, with Liam and Nadia, until her back suddenly crashed into something hard and warm and she felt a strong arm snake around her. 

“Stefan,” she breathed.

“Caroline.” was his simple response.

They started swaying to the pulsating music, bodies pressed closely together, and she grinded closer to him. The skin-on-skin felt amazing, and their hands were all over each other. They seemed to be hypnotised, her body rising and falling, his hands teasing, their hips rocking, breaths uneven, and eyes widening with desire. Aching lust ran through her body and Caroline never wanted to stop.

The ever-present voice of caution in her head was nowhere to be heard, and she doubted she’d listen to it even if it was. They had been too intoxicated the whole night by the lights, the music, each other, and their feelings of lust and desire, to think of their relationship or feelings or policy of distance.

“What did you draw?” His breath was hot against her ear.

“An S,” She replied. “The symbol on your ring, and also your superhero hair.”

His seductive smile melted into one of those intense, burning stares, and he pulled her into him. Once their lips met, it was over. They managed to stumble to the stairway, but the narrow space just had them crashing into each other again, until Stefan was sitting on one of the stairs and Caroline was straddling his lap as she kissed him, burning pangs of desire coursing through the pit of her stomach, making her grind further into him as he let out a curse, followed by a desperate moan of her name which nearly drove her off the edge.

Somehow, they found a bare, empty room upstairs with a single mattress, and spent the night away in pure ecstasy, finally, after dancing around it for what had been too long.

[guillemettekaylee]

Lesson 15, Task 2: What has influenced me?

     In all of my years of high school, the other children used to make fun of me because I had an IEP (Individual Education Plan). My parents always told me that letting go of toxic people in your life will be your biggest step in loving yourself. They laughed at me because I’m different, but I laughed at them because they're all the same. I am Kay-Lee, and here's the story of how I overcome my challenges and stopped thinking about what my purpose in life was, but simply realized that all I needed to do was value what was right in front of me. My life is full of experiments and achievements. I have got success many times, and many times I have failed. I've learnt that I am not my mistakes, and that everyone makes mistakes, has struggles, and sometimes even regrets doing things in the past, but there's no limit to what you can do or accomplish except the limits you give yourself. I believe that our challenges are what makes life interesting and overcoming them is what make life worth living. I'm addicted to hustling, and I get depressed if I feel like I’m not being productive. I continue to update myself to be a better version of myself. Some days tend to be better than others. We all have a dream. But in order to make these dreams come true, it takes an awful lot of determination, dedication, self discipline, and effort. I say follow your instinct and let your dreams come true, we all have our own unique destination, don't let the pressure of others determine how to live your life, you are the only one who has to access it. Some may say it's crazy, but anything is possible in life. If you think of it, it will come your way. It is the willpower and positive thinking that will bring blessings. I did not just learn this from reading a book, I have been thrown through a lot of obstacles in life, but they've made me realize that for self achievement you need to distance yourself socially to improve in yourself mentally, and to always keep a positive mindset. 

     I was born and raised in the city, but my parents grew up in a small town called Sturgeon Falls. That means that all my relatives were up north. I'm a single child, who was given three incredible half siblings. My parents got divorced when I was around the age of one, it was a blessing because I now have a stepfather, who has stepped up and took the role of taking care of me. He has a huge impact on my life and decision that I've made till this day. He always encouraged me to work hard for the things I want in life and to never give up or take things for granted. Within the last three years, things have changed a lot. We sold our house in Mississauga and moved to a small, country farm town called Alliston. This really prompted my isolation. A lot of my friends started to lose contact with me, because we no longer stumbled upon each other in the hallways anymore. Moving to a different school was hard due to the fact that I was the new girl. When you grow in a small town, you usually have experienced a childhood with most of your friends, so accepting a new person to the group was very unlikely. I’m not saying that I didn’t have friends, I can consider them an acquaintance. School hours were the only time they would talk to me, meaning when I got home my phone wasn’t blowing up with texts, asking to hang out. I really only kept two close friends with me throughout grade 11, and with this all this extra time I had on my hand, I scored myself a position as a junior banquet server at the nearby Golf course across the street from my neighborhood. Let me tell you, that was definitely an amazing experience. I met and worked with the best group of people, this made my time go fast and mostly everyday we worked together to serve functions for business parties, weddings, birthdays & etc. Everyday I would see a handful of new faces and new foods, but would work long exhausting hours on the weekend, this one time I worked a 12 hour shift because someone called into the sick and they just simply forgot I was still there. The problem with this job is that it was inconsistent with weekly hours, you never knew the exact time you would be going home. So making plans in advance was foolish. Most nights I would come home at two o’clock in the morning and had no time for anything else. This stopped quickly due to the Covid-19 pandemic. I lost my job, because of social distancing because people were not booking in events anymore, therefore there was no source of income. I applied for unemployment benefits and this really sparked my creativity to come to mind. The beginning of March break, I took a visit to my fathers house in Sturgeon Falls, and thought of being closer to my siblings and cousins, and the factor of having no ‘true’ friends, I decided to move. 

     I knew this was going to be a super big step to take, but I was afraid that if I sat around and did the same thing everyday, that I wouldn't get nowhere in life. Choosing this really opened me up to new advantages, because I was no longer the new girl. I have been coming here almost every summer since I can remember. I applied to No frills, and thankfully I got the position as a front line cashier. Now, this might sound over dramatic, but being a cashier in a grocery store is honestly one of the most stressful jobs I have ever had, and that’s even considering my previous job, Chuck E Cheese. Where loud children were screaming and shouting all over the place and the guilt I had because I knew the eggs arrived in bags, instead of cartons. As soon as summer ended, it was when things started to get hard. I choose to work full time, while doing remote learning. I would have on average 35-40 hour a week, and teaching yourself after coming home from a 9-5 shift on a beautiful day to just sit in my room was very stressful. Not only that, I lived in a household of six, so it was always chaotic and someone always had a friend over bothering me. There were so many things distracting me from handing in assignments and reviewing lessons, but one of the major reasons was how depressed I have gotten. 

      I mentioned before, my parents are divorced. My whole life, my family has been constantly covering my fathers mistakes to save me from getting hurt, but having the chance to live with him, showed me how someone can be so persuasive but manipulative at the same time. I never knew my father had depression, nor did I know of his addiction. We always had a good relationship, but a distance one. Conversations were not consistent and sometimes we could go months without communicating. It's sad to say, but I’ve witnessed and confessed about his issue and he is constantly in denial. Do you know that saying, no matter how hard it gets, never turn on family? Well, I say this is full of bullshit. I am an extremely forgiving and mindful person, I always put the well being of others before myself. Although on November 29, 2020. Is where I snapped into reality, and now know that I can not trust no one but myself. The reason for this is because I spent so much time thinking about what I want to do with my life that I came up with an extraordinary idea to move to Australia for a year. Just for a new experience, I have never been out of Ontario, not even to Quebec. So in 2022, in October, I was going to leave and go on an independent study to capture the insights of Australian beauty. I was extremely close to my goal of hitting 10,000, before I got robbed in my house, and lost 1848 hours of hard working money. 6,000 was stolen from my room, and the only one to blame is my father. Sometimes people can’t stand to see you thrive, so they sabotage in hope it will bring you down. The last thing he told me about that situation, is that “it was your fault for leaving it here”. 

     After this I immediately moved back to my mother’s house, as an alternative to being sad and all crooked up in my bed. I dived into thinking “what makes me different from everyone else” and why this situation had to happen to me. They say that life throws the hardest challenges at those who can deal and cope with it, and I can proudly describe myself as being a very strong independent young lady, who has no idea how to cook. I like to tell people I know how too, when deep down, it is a big fat lie. I love trying new dishes and meals, and hate keeping it plain. My mother and I tend to make a lot of pastas, salads, dough's and soups. Also a lot of desserts, but for some reason I have a huge passion for baking but no stomach to eat it. Everyone has certain characteristics that make them unique from each other. Mine include, my beauty marks on my nose, my baby blue eyes, my fat fingers and my super addictive and loud personality. My special talent is doing a lot of over thinking before I go to sleep, I play scenes in my head. I practice the things I want to say. I make plans for the next day. I think about all the people I miss, I think of the ones I hate, I just ask myself a lot of questions. How do you explain to someone that you sometimes get sad for no reason and that you don’t even know the reason for your sadness that keeps you constantly up at night, I just can’t get things straight throughout my head. Sometimes the worst place to be in, is in your head, I've gained an understanding that my constant overthinking has just led to negative thoughts, so instead of forgetting about it, I’m just creating problems that weren’t there in the first place. I now take the time to deliberate and let it flow naturally and this has helped me discover my hobbies. 

     I have a strong love towards music, I cant play any instrument but I sure know every lyric in my playlist on Spotify and that is over a hundred of songs. Music never stops playing, I connect to it so much because the artist has no boundaries or limitations and they freely just speak about anything. People are always challenged by the fact that no one understands them or no one knows how they really feel but music allows them to capture these emotions and have the opportunities to share with people who may be going through the same thing, but is too afraid to open up. Music is my escape, but not only one. I've gained an interest in fashion recently, and went out and bought a sewing machine, and a full size body mannequin. I also went out and bought all the necessities to become a producer in clothing. I only started a month ago, but I've seen major improvement by just educating myself more on the type of snitches and just by searching up new techniques. I have a problem with painting, within the last couple of months, the color of my room has changed over six times. I feel like it just helps me become less anxious and allows my inner personality to stand out. Anything along the lines of crafts, sports, and just trying out new things, and exploring new places will attract me. Throughout my life I will continue to develop new hobbies and just find new ways to distract myself, from the society we live in. Looking at myself six months ago, I can say that I was not in a good state of mind, and was really just overthinking the littlest things. I've criticized myself over and over again, instead of rewarding myself. This is my biggest problem. I just need to believe a little more in myself. Nobody is worth stressing about, move forward. It's okay to leave people behind. Go make yourself the number one priority, and see where life takes you. 

[inkyardpress]

The 2017 Book Nerd Gift Guide

We guarantee we have the perfect read for everyone on your holiday list

1.       For the fantasy addict – The Black Witch by Laurie Forest

A new Black Witch will rise…her powers vast beyond imagining.

Elloren Gardner is the granddaughter and absolute spitting image of the late Black Witch, the most powerful mage her people, the Gardnerians, have ever known. Yet while everyone she meets expects her to live up to Carnissa Gardner’s formidable legacy, Elloren is utterly devoid of power in a society that prizes magical ability above nearly all else.

When she is granted the opportunity to pursue her lifelong dream of becoming an apothecary, Elloren joins her brothers at the prestigious Verpax University to embrace a destiny of her own, free from the shadow of her grandmother's legacy. But she soon realizes that the university, which admits all manner of people-including the fire-wielding, winged Icarals, the sworn enemies of all Gardnerians-is a treacherous place for the granddaughter of the Black Witch. As evil looms on the horizon and the pressure to live up to her heritage builds, everything Elloren thought she knew will be challenged and torn away. Her best hope of survival may be among the most unlikely band of misfits…if only she can find the courage to trust those she's been taught to hate and fear.

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2.       For the hopeless romantic – When It’s Real by Erin Watt

Under ordinary circumstances, Oakley Ford and Vaughn Bennett would never even cross paths. There's nothing ordinary about Oakley. This bad-boy pop star's got Grammy Awards, millions of fangirls and a reputation as a restless, too-charming troublemaker. But with his home life disintegrating, his music well suddenly running dry and the tabloids having a field day over his outrageous exploits, Oakley needs to show the world he's settling down-and who better to help him than Vaughn, a part-time waitress trying to help her family get by? The very definition of ordinary. Posing as his girlfriend, Vaughn will overhaul Oakley's image from troublemaker to serious artist. In return for enough money to put her brothers through college, she can endure outlandish Hollywood parties and carefully orchestrated Twitter exchanges. She'll fool the paparazzi and the groupies. She might even start fooling herself a little. Because when ordinary rules no longer apply, there's no telling what your heart will do.

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3.       For the activist – All Rights Reserved by Gregory Scott Katsoulis

In a world where every word and gesture is copyrighted, patented or trademarked, one girl elects to remain silent, rather than pay to speak, and her defiant and unexpected silence threatens to unravel the very fabric of society.

Speth Jime is anxious to deliver her Last Day speech and celebrate her transition into adulthood. The moment she turns fifteen, Speth must pay for every word she speaks ("Sorry" is a flat ten dollars and a legal admission of guilt), for every nod ($0.99/sec), for every scream ($0.99/sec) and even every gesture of affection. She's been raised to know the consequences of falling into debt, and can't begin to imagine the pain of having her eyes shocked for speaking words that she's unable to afford. But when Speth's friend Beecher commits suicide rather than work off his family's crippling debt, she can't express her shock and dismay without breaking her Last Day contract and sending her family into Collection. Backed into a corner, Speth finds a loophole: rather than read her speech-rather than say anything at all-she closes her mouth and vows never to speak again. Speth's unexpected defiance of tradition sparks a media frenzy, inspiring others to follow in her footsteps, and threatens to destroy her, her family and the entire city

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4.       For the Healer – If There’s No Tomorrow by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Lena has Sebastian on her mind, and has for as long as she can remember, but before their relationship can become anything more than friendship, a terrible accident leaves Lena filled with grief and wondering if she can ever get past the guilt she feels for what happened.

Lena Wise is always looking forward to tomorrow, especially at the start of her senior year. She's ready to pack in as much friend time as possible, to finish college applications, and to maybe let her childhood best friend Sebastian know how she really feels about him. For Lena, the upcoming year is going to be one of opportunities and chances. Until one choice, one moment, destroys everything. Now Lena isn't looking forward to tomorrow. Not when friend time may never be the same. Not when college applications feel all but impossible. Not when Sebastian could never forgive her for what happened. For what she let happen. With the guilt growing each day, Lena knows that her only hope is to move on. But how can she move on when tomorrow isn't even guaranteed?

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5.       For the adrenaline junkie – Firstlife by Gena Showalter

Tenley "Ten" Lockwood is an average seventeen-year-old girl…who has spent the past thirteen months locked inside the Prynne Asylum. The reason? Not her obsession with numbers, but her refusal to let her parents choose where she'll live—after she dies.

There is an eternal truth most of the world has come to accept: Firstlife is merely a dress rehearsal, and real life begins after death.

In the Everlife, two realms are in power: Troika and Myriad, longtime enemies and deadly rivals. Both will do anything to recruit Ten, including sending their top Laborers to lure her to their side. Soon, Ten finds herself on the run, caught in a wild tug-of-war between the two realms who will do anything to win the right to her soul. Who can she trust? And what if the realm she's drawn to isn't where the boy she's falling for lives? She just has to stay alive long enough to make a decision…

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6.       For the foodie – North of Happy by Adi Alsaid

His whole life has been mapped out for him…

Carlos Portillo has always led a privileged and sheltered life. A dual citizen of Mexico and the United States, he lives in Mexico City with his wealthy family, where he attends an elite international school. Always a rule follower and a parent pleaser, Carlos is more than happy to tread the well-worn path in front of him. He has always loved food and cooking, but his parents see it as just a hobby.

When his older brother, Felix—who has dropped out of college to live a life of travel—is tragically killed, Carlos begins hearing his brother's voice, giving him advice and pushing him to rebel against his father's plan for him. Worrying about his mental health but knowing the voice is right, Carlos runs away to the United States and manages to secure a job with his favorite celebrity chef. As he works to improve his skills in the kitchen and pursue his dream, he begins to fall for his boss's daughter—a fact that could end his career before it begins. Finally living for himself, Carlos must decide what's most important to him and where his true path really lies.

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7.       For the dreamer – Daughter of the Burning City by Amanda Foody

A darkly irresistible new fantasy set in the infamous Gomorrah Festival, a traveling carnival of debauchery that caters to the strangest of dreams and desires. Sixteen-year-old Sorina has spent most of her life within the smoldering borders of the Gomorrah Festival. Yet even among the many unusual members of the traveling circus-city, Sorina stands apart as the only illusion-worker born in hundreds of years. This rare talent allows her to create illusions that others can see, feel and touch, with personalities all their own. Her creations are her family, and together they make up the cast of the Festival's Freak Show. But no matter how lifelike they may seem, her illusions are still just that--illusions, and not truly real. Or so she always believed…until one of them is murdered. Desperate to protect her family, Sorina must track down the culprit and determine how they killed a person who doesn't actually exist. Her search for answers leads her to the self-proclaimed gossip-worker Luca. Their investigation sends them through a haze of political turmoil and forbidden romance, and into the most sinister corners of the Festival. But as the killer continues murdering Sorina's illusions one by one, she must unravel the horrifying truth before all her loved ones disappear.

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8.       For the squad – The Gatekeepers by Jen Lancaster

Multi-New York Times bestselling author Jen Lancaster’s YA debut features a seemingly perfect small town that is rocked when one student’s suicide becomes a suicide cluster and students form a watchdog group called the Gatekeepers—named for the patrolman on the Golden Gate Bridge who prevented more than two hundred suicides—to prevent more tragedy. For readers of Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher, My Heart and Other Black Holes by Jasmine Warga, and I Was Here by Gayle Forman.

Anyone passing through North Shore, IL, would think this was the most picture-perfect place ever, with all the lakefront mansions and manicured hedges and iron gates. No one talks about the fact that the brilliant, talented kids in this town have a terrible history of throwing themselves in front of commuter trains, and that there's rampant opioid abuse that often leads to heroin usage.  Meet Simone, the bohemian transfer student from London, who is thrust into the strange new reality of the American high school; Mallory, the hyper-competitive queen bee; and Stephen, the first generation genius who struggles with crippling self-doubt. Each one is shocked when lovable football player Braden takes his own life and the tragedy becomes a suicide cluster. With so many students facing their own demons, can they find a way to save each other—as well as themselves?  Inspired by the true events that happened in the author’s home town, THE GATEKEEPERS is a moving story that offers an unflinching look at the pressures teens face and the hope that tragedy can be prevented.

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[researchpapertopics380]

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Did Musician Tommy Lee Write This Open Letter To Donald Trump? Everything is digital, nevertheless it wasn’t all the time digital, so I determine different individuals have a lot of photographs that they want scanned, shared with household,and so on. I’ve been spending hours and hours scanning my mom’s household pictures from the past. I actually don’t have the time to do it, however want to make sure they are scanned before they're misplaced, put away, taken, or damaged. Nice article here, and I think you’ve given your readers some worthwhile issues to contemplate. Also, instructing programs and delivering on-line studying via video, particularly… is an effective way to construct digital property that can pay off perpetually. It’s as much as you need data you are happy to share. All in all this has been a time consuming, headache inducing approach to spend the final two weeks. Every free moment has gone into “making further cash” and the only thing that has come out it is having my privacy invaded and my ID shared all over city. I’m so much joyful to come back throughout this list of concepts, however my drawback is that if it will actually work for me here in Nigeria. I would love to strive a few of them, like tips on how to promote my pictures and earn cash. I am undecided you’ll be able to participate in surveys as you might be solely 14. I think babysitting at your age is a great idea, in addition to starting to write. Can you make a list which is universally accepted? You can turn a depreciating asset — your automotive — into an earnings-producing one by turning into a driver for a ridesharing service like Lyft or Uber. We have a tendency to think of things in yearlong cycles of fifty two weeks, however it doesn’t should take a full 12 months to earn $5,000. You can do it in lower than 12 months by working an additional few hours every week — and even sooner than that if you dedicate extra time to it. I assume for most individuals, affiliate internet marketing like you recommend is one of the best, easiest and quickest way to do that. The majority of these don't generate a one hundred a day because the title reads. To many bloggers are getting articles from different blogs an giving it slightly twist to call it there own. If you prefer one thing a little extra sedentary and predictable, you can try picking up a work-at-residence job. While there are lots of sorts of this kind of distant work, a number of the most common are customer support and virtual name heart gigs. A entire host of gamers out there will allow you to flip the photographs on your smartphone into money. So, I imagine, lots of the sources are still alive. So, the chances of incomes through them are still fairly shiny. Some of these methods work from everywhere, like running a blog and promoting pictures. You also can work as a VA from anywhere or create on-line programs. I do mention that it takes a year to make $50 with Nielsen, and you can read every little thing in regards to the privacy coverage on their website earlier than you take part in it. Carvertise is a similar service, but they usually pay solely about $one hundred a month. Once you’re wrapped, you simply drive your regular commute in your automobile. Drivers receives a commission by the mile based mostly on a visibility method that components in time of day and areas of heavy traffic that you cross by way of. Like nearly all of the stuff you talked about only work for the US, UK, and Canada. I being an Indian can not put much of this listing to use because the companies usually are not prolonged to different international locations. Blogging and few surveys work however I wish to know when you have any concept/opinion on this. Dead drop splendid concepts to earn cash I have ever seen. Like your links a lot,they're so helpful to many people. Many individuals have complete houses full of stuff they no longer need, need or use. While you possibly can’t fairly maintain a storage sale every week at your own home, you can start with one massive sale and see how far you get. As a common rule, you should have a automotive that’s no more than 10 model years old to work with any of those providers. The final 5 articles I read on this subject have all had the same information. I even have a friend who works in India and has started a blog and he or she is kind of profitable. By utilizing Pinterest she has a giant American viewers with means she will be able to apply to US affiliate programs. Really enjoyed studying the article and I must say you’ve listed out the factors intimately and have explained them beautifully on making 100 dollars.

[unfolded73]

This Graceful Path (10/19)

Summary: Emma has just moved in with Mary Margaret and started working as a deputy in the Storybrooke sheriff’s department when she meets Killian Jones, the town’s introverted harbormaster. When a prominent Storybrooke resident is found murdered, Emma tries to juggle solving the case with new friendships, parenthood, and romance. A Season 1 Cursed!Killian AU.

Rating: Explicit per CSBB guidelines (violence, sex); more of an M on unfolded73’s scale. The sex, when we get there, is not extremely graphic in nature. Same with the violence.

Content Warning: This fic contains two major character deaths, one canon and one not. (You’re already past them.) Content warning for sexual content in this chapter. As with the show itself, there are consent issues involved with cursed people having sexual relations, so be warned.

Total word count: ~ 75,000

Acknowledgements: Thank you to @j-philly-b  for betaing this monstrosity. Thank you to @caprelloidea for all of the read-throughs and cheerleading; not sure I could have written it without your excitement early on. Thank you to @teruel-a-witch for the original prompt on tumblr which sparked this fic. Thank you to @pompeiiablaze for the wonderful art which accompanies Chapter 3 and 9 and one later chapter. Thanks to the CSBB mods ( @sambethe in particular, who had to look at my check-ins) for your support and for enduring my neuroses.  

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 – AO3 Link

Chapter 10

“N… nothing here, Madam M… mayor,” the man said fearfully, and Regina imagined ripping his heart out and crushing it just to stop his annoying stutter. She rolled her eyes.

“So find another clear spot and dig again,” she said through clenched teeth, her voice loud in the muffled stillness of the snowy forest. Was this one Bashful? Or Dopey? She didn’t recall and frankly, didn’t care. She didn’t bother to learn their cursed names, and she certainly wasn’t going to try to remember their names from the Enchanted Forest.

Several of the dwarves wielded shovels, while another was operating a metal detector, moving it over the freshly fallen snow that blanketed the forest floor. Tree branches heavy with snow hung low around them, the lower ones dropping their burden on the ground in huge clumps as they were disturbed by the searchers.

Regina wasn’t sure that the Dark One dagger would even set off a metal detector — was what it was made of technically metal, or was it some enchanted element that had no equivalent in this realm? — so she was having the dwarves dig in an ever-widening circle away from the site of the murder. She stamped her booted feet against the cold. Probably best to go back to her warm office and wait for news.

“So, of course, when I get a call from a citizen saying there were strange men digging in the forest, I should have guessed that you were involved,” a sardonic voice said from behind her. Regina swung around to see Emma coming toward her, gray beanie shoved down tight over her head and shiny sheriff’s badge at her hip. Regina sneered.

“Well, someone has to look for the murder weapon since your office is doing such a miserable job of searching for it,” Regina sneered. “You and that charming deputy of yours are worse than useless.”

“You’re out here disturbing a crime scene,” Emma said, her breath visible in the frosty air.

“It’s been two and a half months,” Regina responded. “If you haven’t finished investigating the crime scene, then you’re even more incompetent than I thought.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “So you’re going to dig up the whole forest?”

“If I have to. This is town property, Ms. Swan, and I have every right to do exactly what I’m doing.”

“Why?”

“Anything to get justice for poor Mr. Gold.”

“Why do I doubt that you give a shit about Mr. Gold?” Emma asked, her arms folding across her chest.

“I ‘give a shit’ that there’s still a murderer on the loose. A murderer that you seem to be dating if the town rumor mill is accurate.”

“Killian’s not the killer.”

Regina narrowed her eyes, surprised that Emma didn’t offer even a token denial of the relationship. “And how do you know that?”

“The killer stole Tom Clark’s car and followed Mr. Gold out here, and Killian doesn’t drive,” she said, ticking off points on her gloved fingers. “The killer would have gotten blood on his clothes, and Killian was seen by his next-door neighbor not long after the murder, looking normal. Also, I’ve found no fingerprints in the car or in Gold’s cabin that match his.”

“And do they match anyone else?” Regina asked.

Emma looked chastened at that question. “I’m still trying to work that out. So far I haven’t found anything that didn’t match Mr. Gold himself in the cabin, or Mr. Clark and his friends in the car. But we’re still investigating it.”

“So he could have had a glove on.” Regina looked back at the men digging in the forest. “We’re going to find that dagger, Ms. Swan, and when we do, you’ll have to accept the fact that your new boyfriend is a murderer.” And the Dark One, she thought to herself.

“Why are you so insistent that Killian did this? I can tell when someone’s lying, and he’s telling the truth.”

Regina pulled herself up, standing ramrod straight and staring down her nemesis. “I know the history of the people in this town that you cannot begin to understand. If you think he’s telling the truth, then you’re blinded by his pretty face.”

“Whatever.” Emma turned to head back the way she’d come. “Have fun out here in the cold.”

Regina watched Emma go until she’d disappeared from view, seething internally. She stomped her feet, her toes numb inside her boots. She swung around, furious. “Keep working!” she shouted. “I won’t abide any laziness. And call me as soon as you find anything!”

Back in her car, Regina turned on the heat full-blast and then noticed that she’d left her Blackberry sitting on the passenger seat. She had a missed call from Kathryn Nolan, David’s wife.

If what Regina suspected was correct, then despite her best efforts at intervention, that damned Snow White and her peasant husband had found their way back into each other’s arms. That kind of happiness was exactly what the curse was supposed to prevent. She pressed a button to call Kathryn back.

“Hello, Kathryn, you called?”

“Hi, Regina. Thanks for calling me back.”

“You sound sad; is everything all right?”

“No. I just had a long conversation with David. Our marriage is over.”

“I was headed back to my office. Can you meet me there? We can talk.”

Regina’s hands clutched the steering wheel as she drove back into town. She would stop this. She couldn’t allow Snow White to be happy, that would defeat the whole purpose, the whole reason for Storybrooke’s existence.

Pulling into her accustomed parking space at town hall and leaving the car, she marched into the building, thinking about what her play should be. If Snow White and Prince Charming were together, she would have to do something to tear them apart. Was there a way to frame one of them for Mr. Gold’s murder? Doubtful, not with David’s familiarity with the case as Emma’s deputy. But if someone else died, or went missing, and if sweet little Mary Margaret was the prime suspect…

Regina sighed; she really could have used a toadying minion like Sidney Glass to help her deal with this problem, but he’d proven himself so useless when it came to unseating Emma Swan as sheriff that he’d required punishment. She supposed she’d have to do everything herself. As usual. No one could be counted on, in this world or any other.

Kathryn was already sitting on a bench outside Regina’s office. Regina pulled her into a hug, every inch the supportive friend. “Come in, Kathryn, and tell me everything.”

They sat down together on the pristinely white sofa. Regina handed Kathryn a box of tissues, but she seemed to have herself under control. “David confessed to me that he’s been cheating on me with Mary Margaret.”

Regina didn’t have to fake her anger. “That complete and utter asshole.”

Kathryn shrugged. “At least he was honest. He’s in love with her, not with me.” She sighed. “To be fair, I don’t know if I’m in love with him either.”

“That’s awfully generous of you. But you are his wife and the two of you took vows. That can’t be undervalued.”

“I know, but it’s never felt right.” Kathryn stood up and began to pace, her heels loud against the marble floor. Regina’s mind whirred as she focused on the upside down image of Kathryn in the reflective shine of the black and white marble under their feet. “It’s never felt real<, me and David. Even before the coma. I don’t think we were meant to be.”

Regina stood as well, walking over toward one of her decorative end tables. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror, a hundred tiny, fractured versions of herself in each of the beveled edges. “So what are you going to do?”

“I considered running away to Boston; I was thinking about applying to law school and getting a fresh start. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Storybrooke is my home. I don’t have to leave it if I don’t want to.” As she talked, she turned to look out the window. Regina picked up a heavy vase from the end table and stole up behind her. It didn’t matter what Kathryn said. If she turned up dead, it wouldn’t be hard to focus the blame on the woman her husband was having an affair with. “Yes, it will be hard to see David and Mary Margaret together, but I’m strong. I can deal with it.”

Regina raised the vase.

There was a loud knock on her office door.

Just managing to get the vase set down before Kathryn turned from the window, Regina pasted on a forced smile. “What is it?” she called, her voice sharp.

The door opened to reveal Killian Jones.

“I was wondering if we could talk, Madam Mayor,” he said.

“I’m in a meeting,” Regina almost snarled.

“It’s okay, I need to run some errands.” Kathryn reached out and squeezed Regina’s hand, her face kind. “Thanks for being a good friend, Regina.” Regina watched as her ticket to making Mary Margaret miserable walked out the door.

“This was bad timing, Cap— Mr. Jones.”

“So was the — writer, was it? — that you sent sniffing around the docks this morning.”

Regina glared at him. “When the sheriff has done nothing to solve this horrible crime, I’ll take any help I can get. Even bohemian writers.” She knew who August was; he wasn’t writing any book, at least not one he planned to publish. As the only other person in town who knew the origins of Storybrooke, she either needed to make an ally of him or eliminate him. For now, she was electing to try the former.

“Emma has worked night and day—”

“Yes, well, you aren’t exactly unbiased when it comes to Miss Swan, are you? Nor she with you. Which is a bigger problem.”

“Why are you so convinced that I killed that man?” Killian asked, his voice rising with a little bit of desperation. “I swear on all that’s holy that I didn’t.”

“You and anything holy are about as far apart as two things can get,” Regina muttered. She knew Hook probably believed what he was saying, thanks to the curse, or thanks to however the Dark One was manifesting itself in his cursed brain. But the fact remained that he was the Dark One, she was almost certain of it, and she needed to get possession that dagger before the curse was broken, or who knows what would happen when he realized who and what he was.

“I just thought the guy seemed dangerous,” Killian said. “Unconcerned with following the law. A man like that might do anything in pursuit of a story.”

“And what are you suggesting I do with him? If he’s so dangerous, perhaps you should tell your girlfriend, the sheriff?”

“How about start by telling him I’m no murderer!” Killian shouted.

“Or what?” When he didn’t respond, Regina walked over to her desk and picked up some papers, stacking them in what she hoped was a dismissal. “I’ll be sure to keep your input in mind. Was there anything else?”

~*~

“I’m headed out,” Emma said to Mary Margaret as she descended the stairs from her bedroom. She’d rushed home from the station to freshen up. Lately, she'd been so busy, she’d hardly spoken to her roommate.

Mary Margaret looked up from the stove where she was stirring a sauce. “Where’s Killian taking you?”

“He’s doing what you’re doing for David; cooking dinner.”

“Ooh, romantic.” Mary Margaret smirked at her. “Do you think you’ll be back tonight?”

Emma flushed, biting her lip. “Let’s just say I’m prepared for the possibility that I won’t be. I promise I’ll call if not and give you ample warning.” Emma gathered up her purse and keys. “Listen, David told me about him and Kathryn; I’m really so happy for you two.”

Mary Margaret’s face broke out into a full grin. “Me too. I know it’s still going to be difficult, and he has to get through the divorce, but Kathryn really couldn’t have been more understanding.”

“I guess they both knew they weren’t right for each other.”

“You know, David gives a lot of credit to both you and Killian for setting him straight on telling Kathryn the truth.”

Emma was surprised to hear that. “I didn’t realize he and Killian talked about personal stuff.”

“Yeah, they’re really getting to be good friends. Oh, we could double date!”

Wrinkling her nose, Emma opened the door. “Yeah, because we’re teenagers in the 1950s. I’ll see you later, Mary Margaret.”

She drove the short distance to Killian’s apartment, her heart in her throat. The last time they’d been together, she was fairly certain that if Mary Margaret hadn’t come home, she and Killian would have ended up in bed together. Now they were going to be alone in his apartment with the whole night ahead of them. It didn’t matter how many people she’d slept with in her life; the idea that tonight might be the night with Killian was making her more nervous than she’d felt about a guy in a long time.

When he opened the door for her promptly after she knocked, she could see her own feelings reflected in his hopeful expression.

“Hey, come on in.” He helped her off with her coat, hanging it in a small closet by the front door. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

If she expected to see chaos in his kitchen, she was disappointed. The oven was on, something obviously cooking inside, and a salad sat on the counter. All the dishes involved in preparing the meal had been washed and put away. The table was set with two place settings, and there was even a single rose in a beer bottle. She smiled.

“I know my apartment isn’t much, but…”

“It’s fine.”

They stared at each other awkwardly. Killian scratched behind his ear, glancing over at the oven timer, which still had four minutes left on it.

“Can I get you a beer?” Killian asked.

“Yeah, sure.” The process of getting beer out of the fridge and opening them took about a minute, and then they were back to uncomfortable silence.

“Sorry, I probably should have prepared some topics of conversation. I’ve suddenly forgotten how to use language,” he said, flushing to the tips of his ears.

“It’s the sex thing,” Emma said.

She watched him swallow, his hand coming up to scratch behind his ear again. “I’m sorry?”

She set her beer down on the kitchen counter and wiped her palms off on her jeans. “You know, the sex thing. We’re both wondering if we’re gonna have sex tonight. It’s making things awkward and weird.”

Killian’s eyes blinked a few times. “Right. So are we? Going to have sex?” He bit his lip, which she thought looked like a fantastic idea. Sinking her teeth into his bottom lip was definitely a thing she wanted to experience first-hand.

Shrugging one shoulder, she smiled. “It’s not just up to me.” She took a couple of steps toward him. “But I’d like to cast my vote for yes.”

Killian hummed, his smile bringing out the dimples in his cheeks. “Well, it’s unanimous then. That’s lucky.”

They sort of swayed into each other, drawn in by an invisible pull between them. “Lucky,” Emma agreed, letting her body come to rest against his, touching legs and chests and fuck, he smelled really good.

When they kissed, it wasn’t tentative or slow; she opened her mouth and so did he and their tongues were touching, wet and slick and perfect. Emma reached up and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close so that her breasts crushed against the firm plane of his chest.

The oven timer sounded and Killian ignored it, his mouth busy against the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

“Oven,” she rasped out.

“Don’t care.”

Emma pried him away, enjoying his lazy, lust-filled expression. “Your dinner’s going to burn, and we should probably eat so that we have enough strength for the other thing.”

Killian spun around, twisting knobs to stop the beeping timer and to turn off the oven itself. Taking a casserole out, he set it down to cool and turned to her. “Or we could do the other thing now, and have dinner after.” His hopeful smile made her laugh, so she kissed him again.

“Okay,” she mumbled against his lips.

“Okay?”

She reached around and squeezed his ass, pulling him up against her. “Okay.”

What followed was a clumsy, stumbling walk to the bedroom as they continued kissing and Emma went to work on his shirt buttons. She paused in the doorway of his bedroom to take her boots off, tossing them in the general direction of the front door, before joining him by the bed, neatly made like the first time she’d been in here, when she’d searched his apartment.

“Undressing another person is awkward, don’t you think?” she said as she untucked his shirt from his jeans so she could finish unbuttoning it.

Killian chuckled, pulling her close, his hand roaming down her back and over the curve of her ass. “Would that I had some kind of magic to whisk our clothes away.”

Emma took a step back, pulling her sweater over her head, and then they were both rapidly yanking their jeans off, sitting down next to each other to finish the job. Noticing that he’d removed his underwear at the same time, Emma reached behind her back to unfasten her bra, then pulled her own underwear off, and wow, she did not expect to be getting naked this early in the proceedings, but here she was, completely bare in Killian’s lamp-lit bedroom.

He kissed her while she reached back and fumbled with the bedding, and then he was pressing her back onto the pillows and Emma let herself be pressed, enjoying the fall and the weight of his body over her. His shirt was open but still on, and she wondered if he was uncomfortable about his prosthesis and what lay under it. She hoped he’d grow more confident with time, and it struck her like a thunderclap that she wasn’t just about to have sex with someone. She was assuming this tumble into bed would be the first of many. She was thinking like this wasn’t a one-time thing. She blinked her eyes, amazed.

“You all right, love?”

Emma reached up and caressed his face, enjoying scraping her nails through the stubble on his cheek. “I should be asking you that. You sure your ribs are up for this?”

He smiled softly. “I assure you, I’m tip top.”

Running her hand down his back and up under his shirt, she pulled him down, opening her thighs and cradling his in between, gasping at the intimate press of his cock between her legs. Then they were both lost, mouths meeting and hips rolling against one another, all breathless moans and grinding, panting desire. She was already so wet, could feel it in the slick drag of him against her, knew she should ask him to get a condom or run and fetch one from her purse, because she was so ready for this, ready for him to push inside her and fuck her and make her come.

He slowed things down though, moving over to one side and running his hand over her chest, cupping her breast and brushing his thumb over the nipple. Emma gasped, grasping the sides of his face and kissing him again, arching against his hand. He slid it down, brushing his calloused palm over her abdomen, and she rolled her hips, hoping he would take the hint and touch her where she was desperate to be touched.

When his fingers finally slipped between her legs, Emma bit down on his bottom lip, her hand tightening in his hair. She felt like a coiled spring; like her body had been waiting for this since the moment they met, since the moment she turned in the bright sunlight and saw him there on the docks. They groaned together as he slid a finger inside her. He alternated between gentle thrusts in and out, and more focused touches to her clit, winding her tighter and tighter as she lifted her hips and panted into his mouth.

“Condom?” she murmured.

“Yeah.” He rolled over, pulling open his bedside table drawer and taking out a foil packet. Emma took advantage of the fact that he was on his back, sitting up and moving astride him, taking the condom from his hand. She’d always had an easier time coming when she was on top, and she grinned at him as she tore the package open with her teeth. He met her gaze with one of lust-filled amazement, like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

Emma rolled the condom on, stroking him and lining her body up and sinking down and oh. There. He filled her, the delicious stretch of it making her whimper as she leaned forward and started a slow pace, her hands clutching the bed on either side of his pillow.

It took a few thrusts for them to find a rhythm together, his hips not quite rising in sync with hers at first, but they adjusted to each other and she couldn’t help moaning at how good it felt. “Fuck, Swan, yes,” he chanted with every rise and fall, every slick meeting of their bodies. She could feel it building, grinding down onto his pelvic bone as hard as she could, chasing her pleasure and feeling the sensation of an orgasm ahead, nothing stopping her, nothing in the way between her and that best of all possible feelings. She dimly heard Killian cry out just before her own orgasm hit, everything clenching and pulsing with perfect bliss.

Emma took a few seconds to rest against his chest before carefully dismounting, making sure he had a grip on the condom so they didn’t make a mess of things. Killian got up to clean himself up while she collapsed onto her back, her chest still heaving.

“Ready for dinner?” he asked when he returned to the bedroom, a cheeky smile on his face.

She shook her head back and forth on the pillow, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of his body. “That would require me to be capable of standing up.”

HIs resulting expression was full of pride. “I could stand here and throw food at you if you prefer.”

Emma heaved herself up, fishing around on the floor for her underwear. “I guess I have worked up an appetite.” Killian pulled his jeans back on, but Emma decided to only bother with the underwear and her sweater, leaving her own jeans and her bra on the floor.  

Having sex first was the best idea he’d ever had; all the awkwardness from earlier had drained away, and as she ate almost-warm-enough forkfuls of Killian’s hamburger casserole, she thought she had never laughed so much over a meal.

They lingered at the table over cups of coffee and shared a piece of store-bought cheesecake, Killian’s blue eyes sparkling in the light of the dim bulb over his cheap, laminate table.

“What?” he said, and it made her realize that she was just sitting there, staring at him, her foot hooked over the rung of her chair, her bare legs slightly chilled.

“Nothing, I’m…” She took a second to interrogate the way she was feeling, expecting to find apprehension that she’d moved too far, too fast, gotten too close. But all she found was joy. “I’m just happy.”

He reached across the table and took her hand, his expression open and warm. “Me too.”

Later, they found their way into bed again, her sweater still on but panties flung enthusiastically across the room, and she looked down her body at the erotic sight of his dark hair between her thighs. She’d told him he could take off his shirt and prosthesis if he wanted to, and in the dark bedroom, he’d agreed, vulnerable and trusting.

Now he worked her over with his tongue and fingers, his focus only on her pleasure, and she gave herself over to it, rocking against his face and gripping his hair and muttering don’t stop, don’t stop until she came with a strangled cry. She was vaguely aware of him still between her legs, watching her as she shuddered with the aftershocks. As soon as she could make her limbs cooperate, she pulled her sweater off, collapsing naked and sweaty back onto the sheets.

Emma made a half-hearted motion toward his drawer with the condoms before Killian crawled over her to retrieve one himself. She sat up enough to kiss him as he fumbled with the wrapper.

“This okay?” he asked against her mouth.

“Uh huh.”

There were more sloppy kisses as he lined himself up, and then he buried himself to the hilt inside her. She wrapped her legs around him, telling him to let go, telling him to fuck her hard and he did, a glorious snarl on his face and the cords of his neck standing out. She gripped his biceps, loving the way his muscles felt under her hands. He didn’t last long, a strangled moan issuing from his throat as his orgasm hit. She combed her fingers through his hair as he came down, feeling exhausted and satisfied and wonderful.

He pulled her into his arms as soon as he returned from cleaning up, his nose brushing against hers in a not-quite-kiss. They settled against each other under the sheets, legs entangled. There was a gentle intimacy between them that was filling her heart, almost bringing tears to her eyes with how perfect it felt. Holding each other close, they both drifted off to sleep.

~*~

Emma woke up to the sound of his voice, but it was all wrong. Before she was even awake, the hairs on her arms were raised with gooseflesh.

“I’ll see you die,” he muttered between clenched teeth. Emma sat up in bed and looked over, seeing Killian still asleep in the light from the moon, now shining through the window and illuminating the bedroom with pale white light. He tossed and turned, lost in a nightmare.

“Dreamed of this day for so long,” he said, followed by more muttering she couldn’t understand. He flung his arm out, and it came to rest across her lap. Emma looked down at his tattoo, clearly visible in the moonlight. At the heart, and the name, and the dagger with the curved blade.

Curved blade.

“Your life is mine, Crocodile,” he said clearly.

Crocodile. He’d said that before, in the interrogation room at the sheriff’s station.

Emma carefully extracted herself from underneath his arm. Her mind a haze of panicky, swirling thoughts, she gathered her clothes from around the room, pulled them on, and fled into the night.

Chapter 11