#my great grandma could have just stayed in Ireland

[boofindoopin]

In honor of this silly country I unfortunately reside in’s Independence Day, I will be blasting Best American Girl and Fireworks by Mitski, due to the fact she invented both America and fireworks.

[youremyonlyhope]

Not me legitimately looking up flights to Ireland for a last minute near-mental-breakdown solotrip...

[rainbow-femme]

My grandma on my dads side and an aunt on my moms side both did a ton of family genealogy that I have access to and love going through. I mentioned it to a friend once and he immediately did the “yeah I don’t care about that stuff, I’m not defined by my ancestors I’m defined by me”

And I was just like?? I’m not saying I’m basing my personality on dead distant relatives, I’m saying I like history and there’s something very meaningful to me in learning about the lives of regular people that eventually lead to me existing

Like the guy who was a royal physician but ended up moving to Massachusetts for reasons we don’t know

Or the Union soldier whose letters to his wife we have and they’re very sweet as they clearly miss each other

Or the teenage girl who was sent from Ireland to live with family in the US because she got pregnant, and the assumption was she’d go back home after she had the baby, only she fell in love with an American and married him and he raised the baby as his

Or the woman who lived in Scotland for a time and Ireland for a time but openly and vehemently refused to say which she was born in, and no one knows why that was such an important secret for her because she also wouldn’t talk about anything that happened in either place

Or the man who worked as a chauffeur whose dying wish was to be buried in a suit, because he wore one every day for work but had never been able to own one himself. He also hated his brother in law, but when he died the family couldn’t afford to buy a suit just to bury him in and the brother in law was the only one who owned a suit so he gave it to the dead man who hated him to appease his last wish

Or my great great grandfather who worked on houses and was married to my great great grandmother who always wanted a nice wall papered kitchen, but they couldn’t afford it, so he would save scraps of wallpaper left over from jobs and use that, giving them a kitchen with a hundred different kinds of wallpaper

Or the fact that those two only got married because he was hitchhiking and her sister thought he was cute and let him stay the night in the couch, but he saw my great great grandma come down the stairs the next morning and fell for her and asked their father if he could work on their farm so he could court her

Or how that great great grandmother had 10 pregnancies and 10 healthy deliveries, the last at 48, and the family joke was you could drop her off the Empire State Building and she’d still carry a baby to term

Like those don’t matter because they have an impact on me personally, they matter because they were interesting real people who existed over centuries and they feel so much like normal people today, and there’s something really meaningful to me about seeing that human connection through time and still valuing the things that made them who they were

I mean, can you imagine writing to your wife from a war camp in the 1800s about how your chronic headaches are bothering you again so you’re going to play [I think something similar to soccer? He just called it ball idk] to forget about it and have that be something a descendant almost 200 years later reads who also gets chronic headaches and relates to you specifically through time? Or to have your quirks and idiosyncrasies be things your family still mentions and laughs about because you’re not just a name to them but still you?

I dunno, I just think there’s a difference between people defining themselves by ancestry and having a historical appreciation for people you were related to hundreds of years before, and enjoying all the parts of yourself you see in them. Even if it is chronic headaches because apparently it’s his fault we all get them

[colawithamortentia]

I’m torn between a few men in my life right now. Gonna give them pseudonyms;

Jacob ( because this guy looks like Jacob Elordi)- he’s a model and he matches my freak. He’s stunning to look at, extremely chill and non judgemental and he always makes sure to stay in touch every single day. He’s also kinda expressed interest in hanging out generally speaking outside of the hooking up we do.

Buttt he’s flying to Europe in November for a trip and then he’s most likely moving to Australia early next year.

Jay- the guy I’ve been crushing on. He’s got a great job, he’s the only one of my candidates who’s older than me ( he’s 28) and I feel at peace with him. He literally never uses his phone though and is terrible at texting and keeping in touch but when he does meet in person, he’s totally amazing. But he’s not replied to my text for over a week, not even seen the message and his location shows him as out of town.

Timothee ( cos he looks like Timothee Chalamet)- I have the best sex with him. He’s goofy, talkative , vocal and someone I can really get along with. We discuss tons of intellectual topics, and he even comes from a similar cultural upbringing to me so he understands me. His hugs are warm and we work like a dream when it comes to business plans and stuff like that. But he doesn’t seem to want to take it any further and even for me, there just seems to be something missing. Like I don’t picture me with him somehow.

Ed- He’s from Ireland and the youngest of my candidates. 20. But he’s also the softest from them all, someone who likes old school love and someone who I can explore that with. He also does law like me, and is close to his grandma like I am. We haven’t met in person yet but we go to the same college and I’m desperately hoping we could maybe be a thing if our in person chemistry is good.

[fkyumerica]

this was his abraham lincoln coat

as big as the wall

crown molding

the line

this is her too

she was the corpse bride and he wanted his mom to kill her

and vampira

heres one hers

he raped it on her

these were the 'angels' in their house

lizzie bordens mom

she killed her to do it

carrie, carries daughter

carries mom

diana

and diane

jean and cheryl

then jeffery did and boys

she was barbra bush and looked like a normal old woman to me

she was et and he put her in a dryer

jeffery/vinnie/chipper did "i can buy anyone to be my friend"

to kill her

and he shot her there

ing the house

the ghost wedding dress

that statue got her pregnant and he put his great grandma in it

the victorian hat part of the house

it is mary sues mother

she feels so bad

this face meant i will rape you with infants

she left her relationship and wanted attractive giants to stay to

a group

she was related to them she could do it she thought

and stay safe and alive

his eyes are the same

brian/john cena

brokeback mountain

and he did inbreed

she just said she would give me one

they take down people with a shark everyday

madonna is their family

and has to have hard tits live everyday to show her great grandpa so he leads apes through the country everyday

morning to night keep running

was ireland a name to one family?

it was his name

oh wow lilacs

and them in it

him and his wife

then the rest go in to orgy

they are it

the apes

she is amanda gibson, carrie is

eye contacts

we followed her

all she does is fake a walkie talkie

no im over here

all basketball players too, 11

kid rock mated with her, the grandma

great

amber did too

carrie cut his dick off

then they go wild

anything you say i will send at oyu

farts

they did it

[corndoggod]

$1B Powerball

My last nights in Lincoln are always a grand, packed tour around town. This time I had to visit my Dad, return Max’s headlamp, deposit leftover mushies with Graham, and then pick up Grandma and takeout for dinner.

I went to visit my Dad first and brought a box of personal effects gathered from his upstairs junkyard of an apartment. My first week back in town was spent clearing out his FEMA-level disaster of a hurricane home, swept up in a billion pages of history and literature, dusted with mouse shit and chewings, pollinated with dust and crumbs of an unkempt life. We filled up ten industrial trash bags and boxed a lifetime collection of books for donation, which pained me.

But I took care to set aside a few books for myself, books to sell, and my Dad’s Library of America collection -- his only request (though more would follow too late to act on). I kept a few books with great covers from the 80s, some NYRB books my dad lifted from me, and a few that reminded me of him, like an anthology of Sports Illustrated articles.

Beyond books, we also preserved baseball cards, photographs, letters, and inherited family heirlooms, which amounted to small bits of jewelry and other bobbits. I brought a box of these to him and opened up a velvet-bound memorial record that contained newspaper clippings, handwritten notes and, photographs.

Inside this book I learned where I’m from. I was told I had roots in England and Ireland, but here at last was evidence of my Englishness. An undated news clipping said my great-grandfather and great-grandmother moved from Hansley, England to Des Moines, Iowa in 1912. My great grandma, Emily Louise Moorecroft Goodwin, was 31, just a year older than I am now. She married Ernest from her hometown and together they had four daughters and three sons, one of which was my Grandpa John.

I also learned Grandpa John played basketball and was able to pick him out of a lineup of muscled, white lads standing in a row, the first of which was holding a trophy. He had sharp, hallowed cheeks like me.

It hurt seeing my dad in a nursing home. I found him sitting cross-legged in bed, which was about the only physical feat he was capable of these days, with the evening news megaphoned for his near-deaf ears, dialing a number into his phone. “Hey bear,” I said, a residual habit from romping around grizzly country. “I was just about to call you,” he said. “I figured as much,” I said muting the TV.

I need to remember his life isn’t mine. He’s made his choices, which have landed him with two boxes of books, a handful of shirts, no furniture, and six months worth of savings. But I still feel the injustice of trashing his library. If only I had more time I would’ve liked to comb through his possessions, salvage what family history I could, and organize his collections. But I didn’t have the time nor the patience in the airless June heat to deal with his bipolar fish-lipped troll of a roommate caning about below, jeering “Welcome to the gates of hell.”  

“When will you be back?” My dad asked, as he always does. “Don’t worry, I won’t cry. I barely cry anymore since they got me on these antidepressants. But I miss crying; usually it’s from joy.”

I demurred at first, saying I wasn’t sure and that I’d already spent a lot of money and time off coming to Lincoln. But I mustered the courage to say I’d be staying in New York for Christmas. “I want to start my own holiday traditions with Celina,” I said. “And it’d be nice to be in the city for Christmas while everyone is away.” Life had been fast and I was ready to sit still in my new home. I was ready to think, read, write, play Zelda.

He understood and told me Christmas in New York is a special time. “It really is,” I said.

I gave him a third and final hug. Neither of us cried.

I met Graham at the Old Pub and invited Max and Catherine to join us on 11th. Graham was seated at the end of the bar by a bunch of regulars glued to their seats, donning a newly buzzed head. “We’re buzz brothers,” I said. “Yeah, but I fucked mine up,” he told me. “Looks like Celina fucked yours up too,” and he reached by my ear, as if he were going to magically pull a coin from my ear canal, but then he said, “Oh wait, that’s just some long ass ear hairs.”

I ordered a High Life and we wandered down the bar to some open stools where I started to tell him about the road trip. I didn’t get far. Just to the first day, camping in a spot near Valentine he recommended us, when Max and Catherine walked in.

I hadn’t really refined our four-state journey into a narrative yet. It was more of a long list of things done and sights seen, including an endless scroll of breathtaking scenery and mild/pleasant hallucinations.

Graham had a better story of driving Charles and his dad to the airport at 4am, which was exactly what I had to do the next morning.

Here’s my best attempt at puppeteering Graham: So I’m at the bar with Charles and he asks if I’d drive up with him to Omaha for his 6 am flight so he can go diddle around in France for two months. I’m drunk so I agree. We stay out drinking until the bar closes and I ask if he’s even packed yet. He’s not of course and I go home wondering if this is even gonna happen. But then 4am rolls around and I get a call from Charles saying he and his dad are on the way. He throws me the keys and suddenly I’m driving while they snooze in the back.

This was my first time meeting Charles’ dad and he’s just like him. They’re both wearing suits, snoring like hogs, and I can totally understand why his mom left them. [Jesus Christ Graham, Max interjected.] He’d kill me if he heard any of this, but maybe he should hear it. So anyway it’s 4:30am and I’m driving 85 mph trying to haul ass to Omaha and we luckily make it on time. I’m tired as hell and ready to go home, but his dad goes: I wanna treat you to breakfast. And you know me, sober me, I can’t say what I feel so I say: Sure old man, let’s get a cup of coffee. He takes me to the worst diner ever and then has 35 cups of coffee, hailing down this poor waitress every other minute. We’re there so long I learn it’s the waitress’s birthday. He takes the bill and asks me how much I usually tip. Generous, I say. 25%, sometimes 100 depending. These people make shit for money, you know. Then he gets up to go to the bathroom and I look at the bill to see what he tipped. He left $2 on a $25 bill. Can you believe that? 35 cups of coffee, wearing a goddamn suit and it’s her fucking birthday for Christ’s sake. So I go up to her and give her $50 and say: Sorry about the old guy. I don’t even know him really, just met him today. But anyway happy birthday.

Then Max took his turn: Last time I took mushrooms from Max Taylor, I ate a whole bag, like six grams. [Jesus Christ Max, Graham and I chorus] Nobody wants to look at their phone when they’re tripping, but I loved being on my phone. I was texting everybody, calling friends, sending audio messages. I was battling depression a lot then and this was part of an effort to get out of it. I had just left my job and was about to go to the goat farm in New Mexico. And I think it worked. [Yeah, said Graham. You’re definitely changed. You got those tics now.] I had the Life Aquatic on tape ready to play in case things went south and they did. There was a 30-60min spell where I thought I might have to go to the hospital. But I got through it and then I was like: Fuck yeah! Oh yeah! Bring it on. This shit is fucking awesome. I don’t remember what stuck with me or if it really changed me, but I do say jiminy cricket a lot now. I’d never said jiminy cricket before but I was texting Cale jiminy fucking cricket every minute and now I say jiminy cricket all the time.

By then we’d slugged a couple long necks and taken a pickle back so big it took three gulps. I wanted to stay for another and Graham said he had brats at home he needed to grill.

But I didn’t stay out til closing time like I used to. It was nearly 9pm now and I still owed my Mom dinner. Seeing Grandma was out of the question, so I called her on the way home to catch up. After Max, Catherine and Graham made their cases for me ordering plato mixto or enchiladas moles at El Chapparo, I gave them two hugs a piece and went on my way, a little sadder than before, thinking how much I love my Lincoln friends and all the long nights and laughs we share.

I might as well have stayed out all night because I couldn’t sleep. A dream taunted me. A dream in which I was scouting a safe spot to set up camp in grizzly country. I was glad to be rid of nighttime spooks in the great wilds, protected only by the thin membrane of a tent. But clearly I hadn’t shaken my bearxiety just yet.

I had a lovely talk with my Mom on our pre-dawn drive to the airport. It’s such a frenzy whenever I come home -- trying to see this person and do that task -- that the hour-long drive to Omaha is often the best time for us to really catch up and have a meaningful conversation. I’ve asked her all kinds of questions then, like why she wanted to be a teacher, how she met my Dad, raising me in her 20s, and how things between her and Dad fell apart.  

She told me how happy I seemed and she was right. I had too many friends, the best partner in Celina, and a good, but demanding job. I was balanced. I said she seemed to be doing well too. She was settling into her new shared home with Neil (read: staging a coup) and traveling all around. She’d visited Florida earlier in the summer, was leaving for the Texas oven on Friday to watch Oppenheimer, booked a Colorado cabin for the fall, and planned to visit me in New York to meet Celina’s family come March. These were small luxuries she hadn’t previously enjoyed, raising two kids on a teacher’s salary.

I’ve landed now. I want to give the city a new lease, my work self a longer leash, and resuscitate my writing and running self. I’m home again.

[departeaaa]

CASSIAN BARAKZAI • DC BIO • 36

i tremble. they're gonna eat me alive...

chara tag ⁂ fic idea tag ⁂ creations tag ⁂ pinterest tag ⁂ ship w/ john c tag

BASICS

Name: Genesis Cassian Barakzai

Nickname(s): Cass, Genesis, Jen

Date of birth: April 1 (She says her life’s a joke from birth)

Star sign: Aries.

Gender/pronouns: Cis-woman, she/her

Orientation: Bisexual, Biromantic

Occupation: former Field Journalist. Currently a ghost-author. Fake psychic who actually knows her shit.

Relationship status: Single, but sometimes seeing J.ohn Co.nstantine. It’s ridiculously complicated.

Playby: V/ita Mi/r

trigger warning before reading further: death, probably other things but idk what exactly.

Tests

INFJ CHAOTIC GOOD

A QUOTE THAT REMINDS ME OF THEM:

“What use is moonlight? I reach into it, fingers open, and my hand is silvered and blessed, and comes back to me holding nothing.”

— Margaret Atwood, from “Sumacs,” in Interlunar

BEGINNINGS

Born In: Unspecified, Russian (Unspecified because Cass' father never told her where) Raised In Location: Unspecified, Ireland (Unspecified because Cass won't tell)

Current Location: Gotham.

Places Lived: Random places. She just lives wherever.

Nationality: American.

Background:

Her biological mother is from Afghanistan and her biological father is from Russia. She never met her biological mother, but her biological father was cool enough to give her her mother’s surname ‘Barakzai’ as a memory to her. Her father was originally going to live in London but he ended up marrying an Irish woman who he loved very much, and during that time, things were alright.

Even with the area in conflict during the 90s, he still made things comfortable and Cass still had a good group of friends to rely on and family she was comfortable with. She also adored her little sister. She was a surprisingly happy-go-lucky girl growing up, to many people’s surprise if they see pictures of her from this time compared to now. During her time in Ireland, she learned magic from her step-mother and was pretty great at it and gifted at predictions.

Thing was, she noticed that magic was a little buggy when her father used it so she always warned him of it. She wasn’t exactly sure why. But when she was seventeen, her parents died performing a spell that they did without thinking of the repercussions and it not only wiped them out but everyone in their small town except for Cass and her sister.

And upon this discovery, Cass and her sister hopped out of town and began new lives. Cass decided not to use magic often, but ended up using ‘fake psychic’ predictions along with real ones in order to make a good amount of money to make it to uni and to afford a place for her little sister to live since they didn’t have any other family to go to. And though she knew her father would roll in his grave, they chose London as the place to stay.

Cass stayed for a while and studied up until a grandma of hers reached out to help take care of her sister, so she could live her life. Cass did not want to leave her sister, but she ended up doing field journalism and occasionally took time off. It was during this time where she met John Constantine and found him to be rather irritating, despite sleeping with him.

The two ended up working together because he noticed some of the fake psychic predictions she made were legit and he also had noticed when she performed street magic for kids she sometimes did actual tricks.

He had warned her to be careful around kids, but then contradicted himself by asking her to help him with something. And she had helped him, and it ended up biting her in the ass and he ended up ditching her. Which led her to be cross with him. The two of them did not meet again, until later on when he’d warned her that her sister had been possessed by a demon. Which caused Cass to not only use magic again, but she was now open to working with John again.

Though she no longer uses magic often, and she uses her party tricks of fake psychic readings for her income and her books, she will occasionally investigate hauntings for people just to make sure what happened to her small neighborhood won’t happen to anyone else’s home or family – though it was not a demon’s doing and her parents’ own foolishness. Cause deep down, despite Cass’ serious façade, she just wants to help people.

[keanureevesisbae]

Protection - Chapter 1

Summary: Mia Makaruku meets her new neighbor, but he isn’t at all what she expected him to be.

August Walker x Mia Makaruku (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident.

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter 

My muscles scream bloody murder, as I trudge through the hallways. Did coach Riley have to be so gruesome today? Goodness me, I don’t even know if I’m gonna make it back to my car. However, when I see the coach standing further down the hall, I quickly straighten my back and ignore the slight dulling pain I feel in my ankle and the rest of my leg muscles. ‘Mia,’ coach Riley says in a stern tone as I come closer to her.

Oh no, I think to myself. I did something terribly wrong. If she uses that tone after the first training of the week, it can only mean I’m in severe trouble. ‘Yes coach?’ I hesitantly ask.

Coach Riley’s looks indicate she is strict. Her blonde hairs are pulled back in a tight knot,  a pair of glasses with a thick black frame rests on her nose and the eyeliner that hardens her eyes. While the indication is absolutely one hundred percent correct, you eventually find out she is a sweetheart deep underneath that hard exterior.

When I first arrived in Chicago five years ago, I had no idea what Thanksgiving entailed and I was ready to spend it alone in my apartment. She invited—correction: forced—me to spend time with her family, because she did not want me to sit alone in my apartment on Thanksgiving.

With my last foster family being everything but a great success, it felt good to be welcomed with open arms into a family. I’ve had my fair share of families and while they were all sweet, the last one was a total nightmare. Being slightly traumatized by the experience, it was good to be hugged by a grandma I had never seen before.

Hugs from grandma’s do wonders.

‘You did good today,’ coach says.

Great, now I know for sure I have severely fucked up. If coach Riley starts with a compliment, she is going to break some pretty bad news within a few seconds. I have trained with her for a little over five years. I know her and her odd and slightly crude way of communicating.

‘Okay?’ I say, waiting for the bomb to drop.

‘However, I want you to take it easy, so next training you’re going to train with Tristan on the side of the field.’

‘Come on, coach,’ I whine. ‘Why?’

‘Upcoming Saturday it’s the second to last game of the year. I need you top fit then.’

‘But I am top fit. Honestly!’

Coach Riley isn’t impressed, but to be honest: when is she ever? If this woman has made a decision, she’ll simply power through, no discussion possible. ‘You take it easy during tomorrows training and you listen carefully to Tristan. I noticed a limp on the field just now.’

‘There wasn’t a limp,’ I say. ‘I swear, it’s nothing to worry ab— Okay, I’ll take it easy tomorrow,’ I quickly say when I see her cocked eyebrow that does not bode well.

She finally smiles. ‘Good. Now scocch, I don’t want to look at your face any longer.’

Just when you think she is finally a little bit approachable and kind, she thankfully does this, because her smile was nearly creeping me out. I can’t stop my chuckle. ‘See you tomorrow, coach,’ I say, holding up my hand as I continue to walk through the hallways.

The closer I get to the exit, the colder it becomes. When I’m training, I somehow forget about the ice cold temperatures. However, when I’m not training, which is the majority of the day, I remember we are nearing the winterbreak and that handling these types of temperatures, is not one of my strengths.

I tense up when I step outside and if my ankle wasn’t slightly bothering me, I’d run to my car. When I reached the vehicle, I quickly step in and start to heat it up. My car, unfortunately, isn’t the most advanced and it takes quite some time before it’s even remotely warm. I shiver in the drivers seat. My phone peeps in my pocket and I pull it out, to check the notification that popped up on my screen.

Reminder to yourself: YOU NEED TO DO SOME GROCERIES. GET YOUR FAT ASS CAT SOMETHING TO EAT.

No, no, no, I forgot. I totally forgot. I curse morning-me for sleeping in today. If I had just done groceries this morning before practice, I could’ve go home now. Why was I lazy and chose an extra hour of sleep over doing something actually productive?

I drive off the parking lot, wave to some of my teammates and go to the nearest grocery store. If I have a clear idea of what I want before I go into the store, I can actually manage to do this pretty swiftly and then go home, so I can curl up on the couch to watch yet another cheesy Christmas movie. I desperately need to buy some food for my cat, some eggs and chocolate and… Do I need more?

This is why one makes shopping lists.

‘You idiot,’ I mumble to myself, as I park the car in front of the store. I get out and walk to the entrance. While I’m strolling through the aisles, to at least get the eggs, cat food and chocolate I do know I need, I hear some girls giggling behind me.

I look over my shoulder to my right and see two young girls standing at the produce section. When they look away, I see a glimpse of their red cheeks and notice they are both wearing Chicago Red Star jerseys. I can’t—and won’t—stop my smile. ‘Hi,’ I say to them, causing them to carefully wave at me.

They shyly wave back. ‘Are you Mia Makaruku?’ one girl asks when she finally found the courage to do so.

I nod. ‘The one and only.’

They look at each other and exchange some excited looks. ‘Can we get a picture?’

This has been my favorite part of the job so far. I mean, sure, I love soccer with all my life, however seeing girls this age cheering me on during the competitions and hearing about how they watch clips of me, so they can learn from my techniques, makes me realize I love that even more. They call me their role model and with the status I have, I can actually be one for them. It’s a job I should take seriously and I do.

When kids tell me they are going to try and watch the European Championship for Women’s Soccer, because I am on the Dutch National Team, I try even harder to be the best player of the competition and be a model for them to look up to. Be someone for them I wished I had when I was younger.

I nod again at the girls. ‘Of course. I love your shirts. Tell me: whose name do you have on the back?’

They start to laugh and turn around, showing the backs of their shirts. ‘Yours of course!’

◎ ◎ ◎

Life hasn’t always been sunshine and rainbows for me. I just barely think about it nowadays, since it only leaves me with more questions than answers and I’d rather not wander in the dark like that. It’s weird to think about the things I do remember and don’t.

I do remember the second we skidded off the road. I don’t remember I had a mother or father or three brothers with me in the car. I do remember eventually taking the officer’s hand and despite repeating my name like mantra, kept asking him if he had heard my name correctly. I don’t remember any bodies on the scene, because there weren’t any and I also don’t know how their bodies disappeared.

It’s hard sometimes, knowing there is a memory inside my head that I simply can’t reach, but also not knowing what I’m missing in life. Did my parents love me? Did I have a good bond with my brothers? Was there a specific reason I wasn’t in the system? Why weren’t there other people with the same last name in the Netherlands who recognized me?

I moved from foster family to foster family, while trying to regain my memories by visiting multiple specialists. I went to a lot of places. To England, Ireland, France and Luxembourg, but no one could help me out. At the age of twelve, they simply stopped trying, because it was no use anyways and there was one family back in the Netherlands who insisted on me staying in one place for a change.

Thankfully they did, however I only stayed with them for four years, before I moved to my final family, that was a hell to put it mildly.

Finally, for the first time in yearsI wasn’t going from one specialist to another and there was one place where I was always—despite the family—welcome: my soccer team. In all those years of me visiting specialists, there was always one thing I looked for: a ball to kick around. Soccer was my love, my passion and the only thing I started to care about.

And now I have managed to not only make a name for myself in the USA, but also worldwide. When I was nineteen, I debuted in the Dutch National Team during the European Championship and my performance there was what caught the attention of the Chicago Red Stars. I could leave the small SC Heerenveen in the Netherlands behind and go to the USA. I had seen the American National Team. They were exceptionally good and now I got to play alongside some of them.

My first World Championship was when I was twenty one and the Dutch team was in the finals against the USA. Despite my two goals, the USA was too good and beat us with 4-2. Sure, I was disappointed, but still I was very pleased with the fact that the Netherlands became second and it was such a highlight in my seemingly short professional soccer career thus far.

I managed to overcome all these things and still be the person I am today. Since I can’t remember my past, I made it my mission in life to make the most of my future.

Don’t ask me how, but I managed to come back from the store with three full bags. Apparently, if you wander through the aisles long enough, you’ll find tons of excuses to buy crap you didn’t even need in the first place.

I’m finally back at my apartment building and the automatic doors slide open as I reach them. I walk towards the reception and I say with a smile: ‘Hello Harold, how are you today?'

Harold, the clerk behind the reception who is nearing his pension, greets me with his signature smile and I see the two familiar dimples form in his cheeks. ‘Hello, miss Mia, I’m doing splendid this Monday. How was your training today?’

I simply shrug. ‘It was okay, but I have to take it easy now.’ I can’t help but to roll my eyes. ‘According to my coach, I was “slightly limping” and she needs me top fit this Saturday.’

He scrunches up his nose. ‘But my dear, I think you are incapable of taking things easy. Isn’t your coach aware of that?’

I can’t help but laugh. I always like to talk to Harold, it’s so easy to strike up a conversation with him. ‘I think she just wants to bully me. Is there by the way any mail for me?’

‘There certainly is. Three envelopes for you. Almost makes you seem like a very important lady.’ He sends me a playful wink. ‘Oh, before I forget: I told you about the apartment next to you being sold, right?’

I nod. ‘Does this mean Mystery Person is finally moving in?’ I ask.

Harold nods. ‘He moved in today.’

‘Ah, it’s a man. Is he hot?’

He shrugs. ‘He is pretty stuffy and a bit authoritarian looking. I was hoping for someone as radiant as you. I think we need more people like you around here, not a copy of miss Thornhill.’

I throw my long brown hair over my shoulder. ‘Well, what can I say?’ I chuckle. ‘Not everyone is a ray of sunshine like yours truly. Is there mail for him as well? I can bring it to him.’

‘An envelope did arrive, indeed. I don’t think he will go down here to pick it up. We barely made eye contact today. I hardly even know if he is aware there is a reception, let alone that I’m the clerk.’ He hands me the other yellow envelope and says: ‘Are you sure you want to do this, miss?’

‘Absolutely positive. It might be nice to get to know my next door neighbor. Let’s hope he is not a gigolo. I really can’t use sleepless nights anymore. I have two important games coming up, I need my rest.’

‘Mister Toriello was quite the man,’ Harold laughs. ‘Thank you, my dear, for doing this.’

‘No problem, Harold. See you later!’ I walk to the elevator and hold my card in front of the scanner. The doors slide open and when I get in, I press button number nine. I look at the name on the envelope. It’s actually addressed with a sticker, no handwriting, which I find so impersonal.

A. Walker

A. Walker is probably the most generic name I’ve ever heard. This man could be anybody. Would he be bald, have a beer belly and burps all the time or would he be young, attractive and actually a chance for me to leave my forever alone status behind?

While that would be nice, Harold did say that the man was quite stuffy and authoritarian looking.

As someone with barely any date experience (none at all, actually), I’d say stuffy and authoritarian looking isn’t really my type, but never say never right?

The doors open and I step out on my own floor. I walk through the broad hallways and stop in front of apartment number 943. From behind the door, I can hear someone dragging furniture around the apartment and an occasional male grunt. I knock on the door and just hope that he can hear me. I don’t want to start banging on the door like an idiot.

Thankfully, he did hear me, because footsteps approach the door and when it swings open, my eyes widen.

The man standing in the doorway, does not match the generic sounding A. Walker name at all. He is tall, with broad shoulders and the shortsleeved shirt he is wearing, totally accentuates his muscled biceps. I mean, the body is a total A+ (I don’t think I have ever seen someone this buff, while still being proportionate), his face on the other hand… I mean, he does have a beautifully sculpted face and it looks rather perfect, don’t get me wrong, but he looks so angry with that deep frown between his brows and the mustache isn’t really my thing either. Kinda ruins his entire face, if I’m being honest. ‘Who are you?’ he asks, his voice monotone and already bored.

That is not a good start.

‘I’m Mia,’ I introduce myself with a smile, because smiles make people comfortable and this man does not look comfortable. ‘I live next door, in apartment 944. I brought you your mail.’ I extend my arm, so I can hand him the yellow envelope. ‘Thought it would be nice, since we’re neighbors after all.’

He rips the envelope out of my hand and is actually inspecting the seal on it. I am deeply offended. Why on earth would he think that low of me? As if I would snoop through other people’s mail.

After his thorough inspection, he looks at me again. His eyes take me in and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest. The shirt has a slight v neck and is that a tiny bit of chest hair I detect?

I’m almost expecting something condescending leaving his lips (he seems like the type), but A. Walker doesn’t say a word. He simply stares at me and now I kinda regret bringing his mail with me.

He looks and acts like an utter asshole.

‘What’s your name?’ I carefully ask him. Despite him looking like an absolute dick, I do think this is a man you might want to have on your good side. After all, he is my neighbor, I don’t want him to hate me, especially since from the looks of it this man can break me in half with just his pinky, which is intimidating on its own.

‘August Walker,’ he says, tilting his head, as he seems to scan my entire face. ‘Aren’t you that soccer player?’

Before I can even stop it, a smile breaks out on my face. I always like it when people acknowledge the fact that I’m a soccer player. I worked really hard to get where I am now and when people recognize me as that soccer player, it makes me happy. ‘I am,’ I say with an even brighter smile.

Maybe he isn’t so bad after all…

‘I hate women’s soccer.’

I’m dumbfounded. Why on earth does he have to be so rude? What on earth did I do to him to deserve this? What a fucking dickhead. I can’t believe I was actually trying to make a good impression on him. Maybe I don’t want him to be on my good side. Maybe I sort of miss mister Toriello now, with his late night adventures with very noisy female customers. At least he was nice enough to bring me cookies every now and then, to apologize for the noise.

I highly doubt August Walker knows how to bake cookies, let alone buy some of them to apologize for the inconvenience, whatever that may be.

‘Why?’ I ask, as my expression falters.

‘It’s stupid,’ he simply states. To make it even worse, he adds a shrug, as if it’s a well known fact and not just some stupid opinion. ‘Not as advanced as male soccer.’

I frown, as I try to cover up the fact I’m deeply hurt. ‘Well, that’s okay. To each their own,’ I say to him. ‘If we are being frank here: I think your mustache is pretty stupid.’

He simply raises his eyebrows, while his eyes still look bored and annoyed. ‘You do?’ he asks me. ‘Why is that?’

‘I don’t know. It makes you look like a pedophile, really. Have a good day, mister Walker.’ I walk towards my own door and barge inside.

Who gave mister August Walker the right to be this rude to me, someone who he barely knows? What a piece of shit.

My big orange cat Bobo walks up to me and he starts to meow, pulling me out of my racing thoughts.

The hairy companion makes me instantly forget about my new neighbor. ‘Hi, Bobo,’ I say with a chuckle. ‘I missed you too, little fella.’ I place the bags on the floor, before I lift him up, to press tons of kisses on his head. He purrs in my ear. ‘I bought you some food, so that means you can finally stop putting your head in my bowl and be a decent cat from now on.’

‘Meow.’

‘That’s what I thought.’

[old-school-butch]

RIP Alix Dobkin

With Grace And Strength She's Shining Through, May 19, 2021Journal Entry by Loren Dobkin — 13 hours agoYour messages, memories, photos, and the outpouring of love and admiration have carried us through these difficult weeks.  We have felt you with us and hold you close.Alix came home last Saturday night, and was resting comfortably with great care from a hospice team, as well as from family and friends. She faded out with the grace and strength she showed all through her amazing life. In the early morning hours she died peacefully with Adrian and Chris by her side.We love and gratitude,Adrian and familyObituary by Liza Cowan.**********************************************************************

Alix Dobkin, Head Lesbian.“There are only two responses to freedom. One is trying to control everything. The other is to be creative and take risks.”                                                                                            Alix Dobkin, 1994 Alix Dobkin, singer, songwriter, and the face of the iconic “The Future is Female” t-shirt photo, died peacefully in her sleep, surrounded by family,  on May 19th from a brain aneurysm and stroke. She was 80 years old. Born in 1940 into a loving Jewish family in Philadelphia, Alix spent her early years listening to the music of Paul Robeson - who once visited her family - Pete and Peggy Seeger, Leadbelly, The Red Army Chorus, and her much- loved songs from Broadway musical theater. Alix’s parents were members of the American Communist Party until they quit while she was a teen, but from them she gained a passion for civil rights and social justice.Alix spent her college years studying painting at The Tyler School of Fine Arts / Temple University, but her love for music was paramount. After graduation she picked up her guitar and headed for the folk music clubs of Philadelphia and New York.

As “Miss Alix Dobkin” she performed with a very young Bill Cosby, and became Bob Dylan’s favorite “girl singer.”At the New York City folk club The Gaslight Cafe, Alix met her husband, Sam Hood, who ran the club with his father. They soon left New York to start the Florida branch of the club; later, in 1970, they opened The Elephant, a folk venue in Woodstock, New York. That summer Alix and Sam’s daughter, Adrian Hood, was born. Soon they left for New York City, where Sam produced the shows at Max’s Kansas City, while Alix stayed home to take care of the baby.Later that year Alix’s life pivoted when she became aware of the nascent Women’s Liberation Movement. As she lay in bed one night, listening to a radio interview with Germaine Greer on WBAI-FM, she realized that this would be the cause of her lifetime. She joined a Consciousness Raising Group, separated from her husband, and struck out on her own. She picked up the guitar once more, and wrote a letter to the producer who had done the interview which had so inspired her, asking if she could perform on her program. The night they did the live on-air broadcast, Alix and the producer, Liza Cowan, fell in love, and soon moved in together, along with 11 month old baby Adrian. Alix was now a capital L Lesbian. Alix’s genius was in realizing that she could perform her music for audiences of women, and she became the founder of the genre now known as Women’s Music. She soon met classical musician Kay Gardner, and together they started the group Lavender Jane. No record label was interested in investing in someone who wanted to perform only for women, so Alix formed her own production company, Women’s Wax Works, and produced the first recorded album of Lesbian music, Lavender Jane Loves Women, in 1973, with an all woman team, from performers, to the sound engineer, and even record pressing. The  cover was an illustration Alix drew, which a group of friends spent several evenings gluing to the cardboard sleeves.Inspired by her decision to write for women, Alix wrote many dozens of songs, now known for their rousing and often humorous lyrics and engaging rhyme schemes. Calling on her roots in folk music, Broadway musicals, and the vocal traditions of Balkan songs,  Alix’s compositions were based on storytelling, recalling moments not just in her own life, but accounts from stories told to her on her travels. One of her most famous, and most popular, is “Lesbian Code” in which she recites the code words that Lesbians use to name their own. She  collected the many code words during her world travels, often in the middle of a concert, to the amusement of her audiences,  who would call out their favorite words while Alix took notes in a small spiral notebook. She said she was doing Lesbian Anthropology.Another famous song is her reworking of A-- You’re Adorable (The Alphabet Song)  to A --You’re An Amazon. When a fan told Alix at a concert that her uncle had written the original, and that he was gay, Alix was thrilled. She closed every show with Amazon ABC, and always told that story.As Alix’s music evolved in the 1970s and 1980s, so did the Women’s Music genre, with feminist coffee houses, clubs, music distribution companies, women’s bookstores, publishers, recording companies, and festivals created throughout the United States. Alix appeared at all of them, and became beloved as “The Head Lesbian.” She recorded five more albums over the next several years, and regularly toured the US, Canada, Australia, England, Wales, Ireland, New Zealand, Italy, Denmark, and Germany, always performing to large audiences of women. She was known not just for her songs, but as a humorous raconteuse (which she pronounced, tongue in cheek, as “racontoozie.”) Although folk music was her default genre, Alix was always eager to explore other musical forms, from Yiddish tunes, to Pop, to Disco to Rap.As the women’s movement changed, and as Alix aged, she continued to perform, but devoted much of her time as a steering committee member and co-director of Old Lesbians Organizing For Change (OLOC), an advocacy group. In 2009 Alyson Books published her memoir, My Red Blood, recounting her early years growing up as a Red Diaper Baby in a communist family, and the early days of her folk music career.Alix spent the last half of her life living in Woodstock, New York, raising her daughter along with former husband Sam, leaving only to tour. In her later years,  she spent her days working for OLOC, performing rarely, and helping care for her three beloved grandchildren. While living in Woodstock Alix was well known as Grandma Alix. Her local Woodstock community cherished Grandma Alix and will miss seeing her walking through town listening to her walkman, singing, playing guitar and slinging pizza as the favorite Lunch Grandma at the Woodstock Day School. Some fortunate few were even lucky enough to see her perform Boogie Oogie Oogie at a recent school event.She leaves behind her daughter, Adrian Hood, son-in law Chris Lofaro,  grandchildren Lucca, Marly and Sammy, as well as her brother Carl Dobkin, sister-in -law Pat Dobkin, her sister Julie Dobkin, two nieces, as well as her former partners, and a host of friends and fans.

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 30 Pt 3

She got three hours before he had to wake her. He rolled her to the mattress gently and covered her body with his, his body weight soothing her as she woke. Soft kisses pulled her from sleep, warmth, and a familiar scent, Gustaf. She weakly let her hands find him, her body relaxed beyond belief. She cupped his face tenderly and brought him close to kiss him.

“Welcome back.” He smirked.

“I’m so sorry, I just passed out.” He said softly.

“With everything I did to you, that’s what you were supposed to do.” He growled.

“Shit! What’s the time, we need to get the kids.” She said alarmed, her eyes going wide at the realization.

“It’s only five. I’ll go pick them up at six and when we get back we can decorate the tree.” He brushed his fingers through her hair, content just being here with her. “You feeling ok?” He asked. “Sore, stiff, tender?”

“Just really relaxed, like I have no skeleton, relaxed.” She giggled.

“Good.”

“Thank you.” She said, her voice quiet.

“For tying you up and fucking you into oblivion?” He asked, that mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“Well that, and making my day happy again.” Her kiss was pure love, it flooded into him curling his toes.

“Fuck I love it when you kiss me like that.” He breathed out.

“I know you do. I’d love to stay right here but I need to pee.” She said and tapped his arm to move but he stayed there.

“I love you Sildie.” Those words that were once so difficult for him to say flowed like fine wine when he said them to her.

“I love you too.” Her smile was everything to him as he kissed her tenderly, rolling off so she could get up.

Dressed and somewhat coherent she made her way out of the bathroom, the bed had been made, her sweater on the chair folded and waiting. He took care of her in the sweetest ways.

They made their way next door and with a quick kiss, Gustaf was off to collect the kids. She noticed the boxes of ornaments stacked by the tree, he’d found the time at some point to hunt them out of her storage unit in the garage. No doubt Brendan had helped. She sat at the table and watched the slide show of Quinn and Dana, she was sad but wasn’t overwhelmed with grief.

“Maybe being tied up and having someone fuck my brains out was all I needed.” She scoffed and chuckled, knowing the grief would be back at some point. Five happy faces greeted her when the front door opened, even Lily who was beyond tired came to her with a chirpy mum mum.

“How was your party.” She asked the boys as they started chattering and jumping around all excited that they were decorating the tree tonight.

“It was great.” Brendan said as he opened the first crate of ornaments. “We can start right?” He hesitated before opening another box.

“Of course. Decorate.” She said happily.

That was the smile he was after, happy, carefree, zero stress. If it only lasted for the remainder of today he didn’t care, at least she’d had a better birthday than last year. Gustaf stayed in the background, content to let the five of them heal and grieve, but a tiny hand grabbed his and pulled him into the fray.

“You have to decorate too.” Finn said quietly. Gustaf got down on his level and studied the shy twin.

“And why’s that?” He asked with a smile.

Finn wrapped his arms around his neck tightly and squeezed catching Gustaf slightly off guard. “Because you’re the only dad we have now silly.”

Gustaf’s heart lurched and stuck in his throat. What the fuck did he say to that?

“Just like Ama is the only mum we have now.”

Gustaf held the kid to him, there were no tears, just an acceptance that life was different.

“I love you Finn.” He said quietly.

“Love you too.” The kid grinned. “You need to help, we can’t reach the top.” He giggled.

“I think I can help with that.” He winked at the kid and picked him up. “You tell me where you want them and I’ll get you there ok?” Finn nodded and pointed at the box of bright Christmas red and gold balls. Gustaf resorted to sitting Finn on his shoulders and holding the box, handing the kid one at a time as they decorated the top part of the tree.

Sildie sat back a little, watching Gustaf with Finn and recording some of it. She needed these memories, for the both of them, for the family they were becoming. She helped Lily with some ornaments, the tiny girl mesmerized by the twinkling lights that Gustaf had already strung on the tree and the sparkles from the crystal snowflakes sending rainbows of color everywhere. Gustaf had wanted to get video of Sildie and Lily and looked over to see Brendan had it covered. The kid grinned at him and waved Gustaf’s phone at him once he was done.

“Ama who puts the star on this year?” Liam asked.

“It’s Lily’s turn.” Brendan said quietly. “She was still in hospital last year.”

“I think it’s Lily’s turn too.” She smiled at the teen and felt the tears well in her eyes. “What do you think boys?” She asked the twins drying her eyes quickly.

“Lily’s turn.” They said in unison, without even looking at each other.

Gustaf put Finn down and took Lily from Sildie, he was the only one that was going to be able to reach with her. Sildie opened the old worn box. The hand cut crystal star winked back at her. It had been her great great grand mother’s from Ireland. Quinn and Sildie would take turns every year placing on top of the tree. It would have been Quinn’s turn last year and their unborn child’s this year.

“That, is stunning.” Gustaf said as she handed it to him.

“And old.” Her voice wistful. Six generations, she thought, six generations had touched that star at one point in their life.

He held it out for Lily to touch carefully, talking to her explaining they had to be gentle. The boys stood around Sildie, the twins hugging her at her legs, Brendan around the shoulders. She slipped an arm around them and watched as Gustaf placed the star atop the tree and secured it.

“Piddy.” Lily squealed, Gustaf couldn’t help the chuckle.

“Yes sweet girl, pretty. It’s very pretty.” He kissed her neck and she giggled before wrapping her arms around him for a hug.

“Piddy.” Lily yawned, she was so tired.

“I hate to cut it short boys but it’s late and you have school tomorrow.” Sildie said softly. “Showers and bed, don’t forget to brush your teeth.” She kissed each of them and they went without fuss.

“Lovely lady you’re upset.” He said gently and brushed the tear from her cheek, but she shook her head.

“Not upset, just a little sad.” She shrugged and wiped the rest of the tears away.

“Tea?” He asked.

“Sure, I’ll make tea if you can get Lily down, she’s almost there as it is.” She chuckled at the drowsy girl in his arms.

“I can do that.” He murmured, cupping her at the back of her neck he kissed her, tenderness and love swamping her system. “I would love to hear about that star.” He said gently.

“I’ll tell you over tea.”

Gustaf managed to get Lily down with little fuss, the overtired child already halfway there. With the boys showered and in bed, Sildie said goodnight and made their tea. She smiled as Gustaf walked past the hall door to check on the kids before coming to sit with her.

She told him of the star, about great great grandma Onora who had the star made as a birthday gift for her husband who was born Christmas Day. They decided that the star would be handed down through the eldest male child. It would go to Brendan eventually and the tradition would live on. She told him stories of the few Christmas’s she’d had with her grand parents, her own parents before it became just her and Quinn. He smiled when she yawned.

“You’ve had a pretty monumental birthday my love.” He chuckled.

“It certainly panned out better than expected, especially after the way it started.” She wouldn’t think on the nightmare that had brought on the panic attack, that was behind her now.

“I know it’s early but you need solid sleep.” He said gently, he didn’t want to push.

“I do and I need to be on my game tomorrow, I’m in court.” She finished the last of her tea and went to pack up.

”I’ll get them. Go take a shower and hop into bed, I’ll be there shortly.” He tugged her hand for her to step closer to him. “I’ll come snuggle in a bit.” He kissed her slowly, sweetly.

“Thank you for today, for everything.” She said quietly.

“I love you Sildie, and I’ll move the world for you if I have to.” He kissed her again quickly. “Go on, shower, teeth, and bed.” He gave her ass a gentle swat as she walked away without even thinking.

“Yes daddy.” She murmured seductively and glanced back to see him gaping at her, jaw on the floor. Her chuckle was nothing short of wicked as she sashayed to her room.

He stared at the space she’d just vacated and blinked, not sure if she’d hear her correctly. Did she just call him daddy? His cock was suddenly very hard and very twitchy. He had not expected that from her, at least not yet. “Fuck me.” He growled and continued to sit there until his control had snapped back into place. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to hear her scream that endearment one day as he fucked her, when she came.

She was teasing him and had caught him off guard which in all honesty wasn’t an easy thing to do. It was her own term of endearment, and after today it seemed fitting. She was going to wait, but him bossing her around like a child before bed time and the swat to her ass was an opportunity that wouldn’t present itself again. He took care of her in the most deeply loving way she’d ever experienced.

She showered and felt her energy drain with the full day she’d had, her body aching from exertion. She had planned to tease him a little before bed but crashed out as soon as her head hit the pillow. It had been the best birthday in a long while, given to her by a man that adored her so completely.

He smiled as he shut the bedroom door, his woman sprawled across the bed and out cold. Mission accomplished, he thought, breathing a steady breath out. He’d hoped he’d exhausted her enough that she wouldn’t dream tonight. Her panic attack this morning still haunted him, he knew that feeling of being unable to breathe, the feeling you were having a heart attack. He lay beside her and stroked a hand along her back, she was so asleep she didn’t so much as twitch. Curling into her he passed out quickly.

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

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea

[whatsortofschoolisthis]

Name: Hecate Maran Ames

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Birth Date: October 31, 1972

Species: (Human, Lycanthrope, Metamorphmagus, Vampire, ect): Human

Blood Status: (Pureblood, Half-Blood, Muggleborn): Pureblood

Sexuality: Straight

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Ethnicity: English/Irish

Nationality: English

Residence: North Devon, England. Was born in County Kerry, Ireland and lived there until she was ten years old.

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ISFJ- The Defender

THE MAGE

1st Wand: Acacia Wood

A very unusual wand wood, which I have found creates tricky wands that often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner, and also withhold their best effects from all but those most gifted. This sensitivity renders them difficult to place, and I keep only a small stock for those witches or wizards of sufficient subtlety, for acacia is not suited to what is commonly known as ‘bangs-and-smells’ magic. When well-matched, an acacia wand matches any for power, though it is often underrated due to the peculiarity of its temperament.

2nd Wand: Silver Lime

The reasons for these wands’ desirability lay not only in their unusually handsome appearance, but also because they had a reputation for performing best for Seers and those skilled in Legilimency, mysterious arts both, which consequently gave the possessor of a silver lime wand considerable status. When demand was at its height, wandmaker Arturo Cephalopos claimed that the association between silver lime and clairvoyance was ‘a falsehood circulated by merchants like Gerbold Ollivander (my own grandfather), who have overstocked their workshops with silver lime and hope to shift their surplus’. But Cephalopos was a slipshod wandmaker and an ignoramus, and nobody, Seer or not, was surprised when he went out of business.

Animagus: Black and White cat.

Misc Magical Abilities: (Legilimen, Seer, Parselmouth, Obscurial, ect): Seer. Somehow linked with inherited Legilimens abilities but its not certain how or why.

Boggart Form:  

Pre-Hogwarts- 1st year: The Hidebehind.

2nd-4th year:The Dullahan. She saw him once before her grandad died.

5th year- onward: The Dullahan as Rakepick standing over her friends dead bodies

Riddikulus Form: The Hidebend turns into a monkey symbol toy. The Dullahan flees as her friends bodies turn into bars of gold.

Amortentia: (What do they smell like?) Pumpkins, Hot Chocolate, and the seaside.

Amortentia: (What do they smell?): Old books, Tea, and broom wood (Andre).

Patronus:  Dapple Grey Stallion.

Patronus Memory: Her older sisters taking her, Sean, Bryn, and Jacob to feed the ducks.

Mirror of Erised: Depends. As a child and 1-5th year its her family together again. Later its herself, secure in her relationships with those that love her and not needing the ones that don't.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Incendio: Hecate likes fire more than she should.

Bombarda: See above explanation.

Alhmohora: Hecate is like a cat. If a door is closed, she wants in.

APPEARANCE

Faceclaim:

Adult/Teen- Molly Quinn

Voiceclaim: Christen Mooney

Game Appearance:

Height: 4 ft 10

Weight: 94 pounds

Physique: Wiry build.

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Copper Red

Skin Tone: Light

Body Modifications: Gets her ears pierced and that's it.

Scarring:

Long Thin Scar on her hand from devil's snare in her first year.

Claw scar on her shoulder from her duel with Chiara.

Scars on her arms from where the Giant  Spider grabbed her.

Deep ugly scars on the back of both her legs from the Horntail.

Inventory: (what do they carry on them?): Wiggenweld Potion, Epilambanein Potion (a potion meant to treat Seizures),  an Adder stone she got from her sister Fiadah, creature treats, and a photograph of her and her friends.

Fashion: Really loves robes. When she has to wear Muggle clothing its usually either boring and practical or overly girly.

ALLEGIANCES

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Affiliations/Organizations: Circle of Khanna, Hogwarts, and her family

Professions:

-  Becomes a Quidditch Commentator alongside Murphy McNulty after graduation.

- Teaches Herbology after Retirement.

HOGWARTS INFORMATION

Class Proficiencies:  Flying, Charms, and Transfiguration.

Astronomy: T

Charms: E

DADA: AA

Flying: O

Herbology: E

History of Magic: P

Potions: A

Transfiguration: E

Electives:

Divination: T.

COMC: AA

Quidditch: Chaser alongside Skye Parkin. Later becomes a commentator alongside Murphy McNulty.

Extra Curricular: Quidditch, Sphinx Club, and Frog Choir

Favourite Professors:

Professor Flitwick: Hecate really looks up to and respects him. Cares a lot about his opinion, maybe even more than McGonagall's, and is afraid to let him down. One of three adults she trusts at Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall: Respects and fears the woman, has never lied when asked a direct question. The second of three adults she trusts at Hogwarts.

Professor Kettleburn: The man is, without a doubt, barking mad but he is sincere in his love for animals and for teaching. Hecate respects that.

Professor Trelawney: Doesn’t like her much at first. However she does help Hecate learn to manage her seizures and understands how hard Seeing can be. She reminds Hecate of her Great-Grandma.

Least Favourite Professors:

Professor Binns: He's so boring. Hecate learned more from Rowan, The House Ghosts, and the entirety of Ravenclaw House than from Binns.

Professor Rakepick: Distrusts her instantly. Hecate only does what she says so she can keep an eye on the woman.

Relationships:

Brother: Jacob ‘Danny’ Ames.

Misc Siblings: Sean Ames (Twin), Rubin Orn, Wren Ames, and Fiadah O’Faud.

Father: Henry Ames

Mother: Saoirse Ames (Maiden Name: O’Malley)

Love Interest:

Murphy McNully: Dates briefly for a month before breaking it off- Mutual loss of interest. They stay friends.

Andre Egwu: They both admire each other mutually and become good friends. They go on TWO DATES but don’t really realize they’re in love until Duncan Ashe is forced to explain it them, much to his chagrin.

Best Friends:

Rowan Khanna

-Ben Copper

-Liz Tuttle: They knew each other before Hogwarts. Liz was Rubin’s neighbor and they used to play gobstones together through a gap in the fence and they would explore both of their gardens together. Became much closer over their mutual love of animals. 

-Skye Parkin: 

-Murphy McNully: 

-Bill Weasley and Orion Amari

-Charlie Weasley: 

-Tulip and Tonks

Rival:

Merula Snyde: Mostly at the Slytherin’s insistence. Hecate is over competing with her and just wants Merula to be better.

Diego Caplan: He will Not Leave Hecate Alone Ever. 

Enemy: Rakepick and R.

Dormmates: (Who’s in your MC’s dorm with them?):

Rowan Khanna/ Skye Parkin after Rowan's death.

Chiara Lobosca.

Tonks.

Pets: A tabby named Freddie, a Europeon Horned Owl name Persephone, and a crup named Pagur Ban.

Closest Canon Friends: Yes.

Closest MC Friends: Robbie Donavan @amerrymystery

PERSONALITY:

- Loves Animals. 

- Good at thinking on her feet but is generally bad at planning. Better in the moment.

- Stubborn and overly blunt.

- Good at putting herself in others shoes, even if she doesn’t like them.

- Gets frustrated with her physical inability very easily. 

- Is a bit of a smart aleck and is very sarcastic.

- Blames herself for everything that happens after the first vault is opened.

- Teaches herself new things all the time and learns by doing.

- A hard worker and tends to be a workaholic. Like so:

- Well aware of her limits. Can and will ignore them.

- Brave. Isn’t afraid of anyone or anything even when she should be.

MISC

- Is closest to her older sisters and Bryn

- Originally wanted to be a Herbologist (Since Magizoologist and Keeper for the Holyhead Harpies were both out of reach due to her epilepsy) but fell in love with Commentating. Decided to do Herbology after she either retired from commentating or got sick of it, whichever came first.

- Jacob calls her Pip or Mouth depending on his mood. Fiadah calls her half pint. Rubin and Wren call her Redbird. 

- Wasn’t allowed to have her own pet growing up. Her Grandma (who lived with them up until her death in Hecate’s Seventh Year) had a pet spider named Shelob that HATED children and would often terrorize Danny, Sean, and Hecate.

- Adopted as many pets as she could when she got to Hogwarts, because her mother made the mistake of telling her she could have as many animals as she wanted once she got to school.

- Hecate’s great-grandmother invented the Epilambanein Potion specifically for the Ames family, as seizures after waking visions had been quite common for centuries.

- Hecate’s waking visions are terrifying and usually end in an epileptic  fit. Additionally, she often has nightmares. Fortunately, those do not end in a seizure.

- Pangur Ban can sense when Hecate is about to seize/have a vision and alerts her so she can take the potion.

- Joined Frog Choir because she thought there would be frogs. Merula teases her about it mercilessly.

Credit for the profile goes to @hogwartsmysterystory​

[shon-ha-lock]

Sweater Weather (harry/niall)

It’s that time of year! I had a blast participating in this year’s 1D Secret Santa. @silveredsound i hope you like my gift! 

It was a super cheap flight, in Niall's defense. A real deal. So what if the connection was in a tiny regional airport? In Wisconsin. Three days before Christmas. In the middle of a week of record low temperatures and snowstorms. 

Okay. In retrospect, maybe he should have expected something to go wrong. 

Niall's plane is the last to touch down in Chippewa Valley before it starts rerouting its incoming flights to airports not currently being blasted by the polar vortex. This is also, of course, when it grounds its outgoing flights “indefinitely”, leaving him and around one hundred other travelers stranded.

The whole airport has just two gates, with one shared, cramped waiting area. A line has snaked itself around that entire space, leading up to the customer service desk, where everyone is waiting for a chance to yell at a single beleaguered United Airlines employee about their flights being cancelled. 

Niall contemplates joining the line, but he’s more the type to wait until he can vent his anger by giving the lowest scores possible on a ‘how did we do?’ survey. And besides, just standing near the desk for a few minutes gives him all the information he needs to know, on repeat. 

“We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience this is causing our loyal customers,” is the current opener every time someone storms up to the little old lady working the desk. Her reedy voice is placating and increasingly nervous as she assures everyone that United is “currently working with Chippewa to arrange accommodations for anyone whose flight has been delayed by the storm.” 

This is comforting until Niall realizes that this means they don’t currently have hotel rooms set up for travelers with missed connections the way larger airports do. No shuttles, no vouchers, not a goddamn thing. 

They’re only twenty minutes outside of the little city of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, which probably has at least a few hotels with vacancies, but the odds of finding an Uber driver to brave the storm and get him there are slim to none. 

Niall’s not really the type to just stand around in a crisis and twiddle his thumbs, but if he’s being honest with himself, he hasn’t a goddamn clue what to do right now. He flies relatively frequently but he’s never actually had to deal with a flight being cancelled because of the weather, and he’s struck by a childish urge to call home and ask his mother for advice about what to do. 

At the moment, it’s looking like he might actually need to call her anyway, because she’s expecting to pick him up from Albany International in five hours, and that’s definitely not happening now. God, he hopes he’ll make it back to New York at some point within the next three days. He’s never spent a Christmas away from home in his twenty six years of life, and he doesn’t want to start now. 

He’s well on his way to an anxiety spiral when he notices that there’s one other passenger besides him not angrily crowding around the service desk. He looks to be around Niall’s age, and he’s pawing through a backpack with a resigned expression on his face. After a minute, Niall figures that he must be searching for warmer clothes to put on; the man’s short sleeved shirt is well-equipped to show off all the strange tattoos on his arms, but isn’t exactly appropriate for December in Wisconsin. 

Niall, by contrast, is dressed and packed for two weeks of winter in upstate New York. He looks down at his own backpack, aware that it’s stuffed with four different Aran sweaters, and makes a decision. It’s the season for doing good deeds, after all. Making a stranger a little less miserable surely counts. 

“Hey there,” Niall says as he walks over to the man, who’s given up looking through his luggage and is now sitting forlornly on one of the waiting area’s cheap plastic benches. He looks up, and Niall’s breath -- well, it honest to God catches in his throat. This guy must be some kind of model, because he’s got just about the most gorgeous face Niall’s ever seen. Green eyes, red lips, the works. 

“Hi?” the guy ventures after a few seconds of Niall staring down at him like a lunatic. 

Niall can feel himself go red as he hurriedly unzips his backpack, feeling around until he grabs a fistful of wool.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a sweater at random and basically throwing it at the guy’s head. 

“You looked cold, so.” He shrugs. He watches this ridiculously good-looking stranger hold out the sweater to examine it, smiling widely for a second before his expression shifts to concern. 

“Oh, this is hand-knit, isn’t it? I couldn’t possibly take this,” he says, trying to hand it back to Niall, who takes a step backwards and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Really, I insist,” he says. “Seriously, you’d be doing me a favor. My grandma still thinks we live in Ireland and makes one for me every year; I’m drowning in the things.” This seems to make the guy only more determined to hand it back to him, but Niall perseveres. 

“I’d feel guilty just getting rid of them, but if I tell her I passed one on to a chilly traveler I’ll be grandson of the year, so.” 

Niall narrowly avoids pumping a fist in the air in victory when this makes the guy giggle, bite his lip, and finally, reluctantly pull the sweater on over his t-shirt. It’s a sea green that matches his eyes perfectly, which is great, because what Niall really needed was to be even more distracted by a random person’s good looks. 

“I can’t thank you enough,” he says once it’s on, his chin-length hair now attractively rumpled. “I was worried I was going to freeze solid the second I went outside.”

He holds out a hand; Niall takes it. Soft palms, manicured and painted fingernails -- this guy might really be a fashion model. 

“I’m Harry,” he says. He smiles wide enough when he says it that his cheeks dimple. Niall’s heart is in some serious trouble now. 

“I’m Niall,” he replies, letting go of Harry’s hand a second later than is probably appropriate. 

He’s not sure how, but he wants to keep the conversation going somehow, just so he has an excuse to look at Harry’s face for a little longer. Before he can come up with something, an ancient intercom crackles to life and makes them both look around.

“Attention, travelers. In two hours, the storm is expected to dissipate enough to start offering shuttles into Eau Claire. Chippewa will be providing vouchers for the following lodgings.” 

The announcer rattles off a list of local hotels before repeating the entire message over again. This announcement seems to renew the stranded travelers’ agitation, and they start swarming the service desks with complaints about the wait. Harry and Niall both stay where they are, clearly on the same page about not bullying the elderly. Harry doesn’t seem any happier than the people yelling, though.

“I didn’t manage to sleep on the plane because I was so nervous about the weather and the turbulence,” he confesses to Niall. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out before that shuttle actually gets here.” 

“Where are you coming from?” Niall asks. They’re making small talk! Success! 

“Well, I started out in Italy thirteen hours ago,” Harry says ruefully. “Then I had a connecting flight in Boston, and from there, I should have gone all the way out to LA, which is where I’m spending Christmas. But I had to book last minute, and the only flights left had an extra connection. So I took a chance on this one, and of course now I’m stuck here.” He pouts as he says it, and it should make him look immature but instead he just looks like he’s posing artfully for Covergirl or something. 

“So we’re heading in opposite directions,” Niall says. “I’m coming from LA, and I’m on my way to New York.” 

Harry’s eyes light up at this.

“Oh my god, do you live in NYC? I love spending time there, it’s one of my favorite cities in the world.”

Niall sighs and shakes his head in mock-disappointment. 

“Everyone loves NYC so much but they always forget about the actual capital of New York.”

When Harry just stares at him blankly, Niall relents and laughs out, “I’m from Albany. My whole family immigrated there from Ireland when I was six months old." 

Niall feels a bit awkward at first, talking about his life with someone he just met, but he quickly learns that Harry is the type of old soul who loves to make conversation with strangers. And by the time the shuttles start actually arriving he can't say that the two of them are strangers anymore. 

He learns that Harry's lived in LA his whole life, and so traveling anywhere that's cold knocks him off his feet. Niall's only lived in California since he started attending UCLA (at first as an undergrad and now for post-graduate work) but it turns out he and Harry have several mutual acquaintances, which delights Harry to no end, and he seems more interested in Niall's classes last semester than Niall was, asking questions about what he learned and whether the professors were cool or boring. 

He's in the middle of a rant about early morning lectures when the intercom starts announcing that they'll be able to start shuttling people into the city soon. Which of course means that the two of them are going to have to go their separate ways. 

Harry starts fussing with his luggage again, seeming almost shy now, and thanks Niall again for the sweater.

Niall scrambles for something else to say to forestall a goodbye. 

“How did you know it was hand-knit?” is the only question he comes up with, but it's effective.  

"Oh!" Harry exclaims, going all smiley again. 

"The pattern was really detailed, and I could see how tight the stitches were. Didn't seem likely that a machine made it," he says. 

"Wow, you've got a real eye. Do you work in fashion or something?" Niall asks, wondering if his initial impression was right after all. 

"Or something," Harry says, seeming embarrassed for some reason. "I um, do modelling work sometimes. Shoots for Gucci, mainly, but other brands too. It's why I was in Italy, actually." 

Holy shit. There’s an actual Gucci model wearing one of his grandma’s sweaters right now. What a thought. His mom is going to flip when he finally gets to New York and tells her all about this. 

"That's really cool," Niall tells him, scrambling to think of a segue into asking for his number that doesn't come off like he's just trying to hook up with a model.

As luck would have it, Harry provides one for him - by asking for his grandmother’s phone number.

“Or even just her mailing address,” Harry rushes on when Niall bursts out laughing. 

“I’d like to personally thank her for making such a pretty sweater that’s doing such a good job of keeping me warm.”

“Well, I’m going to be seeing her for Christmas in a few days, if the weather calms down. You could call me and I could just hand my phone over to her.” 

It’s not particularly subtle, but luckily Harry doesn’t call him out on it. In fact, his face goes a bit sly, and he looks Niall up and down for a moment.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Harry says, and then whips out an honest-to-god gel pen from nowhere to physically write his phone number on Niall’s hand. 

“Text me when you get a chance, and we’ll have each other’s numbers that way,” he says cheerily. 

A few minutes later, they go their separate ways - Niall with Harry’s phone number written in bright green ink on the back of his hand, and Harry with a signature Grandma Horan sweater to keep him warm. 

As he passes the service area, Niall cheerfully plucks a survey card from the desk. Seems like he’s going to give United a glowing review after all. 

[flirting-with-psychology]

REFLECTIONS Answer the following questions:

What is the single best thing that happened in the past year?

2015:  The beginning of the fall semester when I grew a lot more confidence

2016: Studied abroad

2017: Graduated

2018: Moved into the B Flat

2019: Got a boyfriend

2020: Got a car

2. What is the most challenging thing that happened to you in 2015/16/17/18/19/20?

2015: Getting over Marble maybe

2016: Getting over Hawaii

2017: Making my 4500 film

2018: The music videos I did

2019: Deciding whether to date my now boyfriend

2020: The entire pandemic

3. What thing did you learn the most from this year?

2015: Hawaii and Marble

2016: My film class

2017: Also my film class

2018: My film jobs and internships

2019: Starting a relationship

2020: I guess the pandemic

4. What is the kindest thing you did this year?

2015:  I don’t think I’m the one to ask, you’d have to ask people who perceived kindness

2016: Same

2017: Same

2018: Same

2019: Same

2020: Wore a mask

5. Did you lose any close family member this year?

2015: Nope

2016: No

2017: No

2018: My great aunt died

2019: No close ones, but my grandma’s dementia is getting so bad she doesn’t remember who I am

2020: No

6. Pick three words to describe 2015/16/17/18/19/20.

2015: A learning experience

2016: Single, senior, band

2017: Senior to graduate

2018: Almost an adult

2019: Another year older

2020: Covid, long, stagnant

7. What did you do in 2015/16/17/18/19/20 that you never did before?

2015: Got further than I ever had in my love life

2016: Studied abroad

2017: Moved into a house with roommates

2018: Moved in with male roommates, did an internship

2019: Got a boyfriend

2020: Bought a car

8. Did you keep last year’s resolutions? What were they?

2015: Here we go. Put one happy moment from each day into a jar: YES. Go to the gym regularly: Doing better but still could use improvement. Get a summer job: Yes. Make an effort to eat breakfast: Haha nope. Make an effort to look pretty: About the same as last year. Talk to people more and appear more confident: Yes. Find things to be excited about: Not as much as I want. Find a boyfriend: NOPE. Write more: Not really. Read more: Maybe a little. Have adventures: Some, but not as much as I would like. Initiate things: Yes. Use “I” more: Yes. Be less mean to myself: Yes. Overthink less: No, still working on that. Be proud of myself for trying my best but accept not being perfect: I guess. Take responsibility: More. Be positive and enthusiastic: Still working on it. Carpe diem: Not enough.

2016: I can’t remember lol

2017: I can’t remember what I wrote. Here’s what I’ll do: write my 2018 resolutions so that when I reblog this next year I will know:

2018: Be more adventurous: Maybe? Overthink and strategize less: HA not really. Get a film job: Yes. Eat more vegetables: Maybe a little but still not enough. Go to the gym, like, ever: Yes. Read more: Kinda. Finish my Harry Potter spellbook: Not yet.

2019: Get a boyfriend: Finally did! Be more spontaneous and adventurous: Kinda? Sometimes? Lose weight and eat better: Nope. Read more books: Nope. Finish my Harry Potter spellbook: Not yet. Learn how to work hard: Not really. Spend more time with my friends: Kinda. Love myself, and be someone I love: Not really. Carpe diem: Sometimes. Keep doing the moment calendar and journal: Yes. Earn more money than I spend: Nope. Travel: Yes. Discover new music: Yes. Try new creative things: Yes. Believe in myself: Not really. Learn to be a leader: Nope. Watch more movies: Some. Think about other people: Tried to. Learn how to make mistakes: Kinda.

2020: Get a new job: No. Lose weight and fit into my dresses again: Noope, the opposite. Read more books: A couple. Spend more time with friends: Haha, nope, although I did zoom with them some. Go on dates: Not really. Keep doing the moment calendar and journal: Yes. Try new creative things: Yes, I tried dice making. Take risks even if they cost money: Yes, again the dice making. Make more money than I spend: Actually yes with the stimulus. Make jewelry: Some, and opened and etsy page. Get back to people in a timely manner: So-so. Be more punctual: Nope. Finish my harry potter spellbook and keep up with my character book: Nope. Learn new things: Not enough. Be the kind of person I wish I could be: No. Be more open to ideas: No. Post more pictures online: No. Don’t be such a control freak: Not even a little bit. Worry less about what people think: Kinda. Laugh more: No.

2021 resolutions: Get an interesting job. Get my own apartment. Get a covid vaccine. Lose weight. Keep doing my sticky notes and moment calendar. Be less hard on myself. Survive. 

9. Did you travel to any interesting places in 2015/16/17/18/19/20?

2015: Went to Las Vegas for my birthday and California with the band and Kentucky to see Paul McCartney.

2016: Went to Italy, went on band trips to California and Texas

2017: Went to London with my mom, went to New Orleans for my cousin’s wedding and hooked up with my 6th grade crush, went to Wyoming for the solar eclipse

2018: Went to Las Vegas for a film shoot

2019: Went to Israel

2020: Went to Harry Potter World in Orlando with my boyfriend

10. What would you like to have in 2016/17/18/19/20/21 that you lacked in 2015/16/17/18/19/20?

2015: A BOYFRIEND HAHAHA

2016: Still a boyfriend lmao fml

2017: Still a boyfriend but one that I feel satisfied with. I’m not sure if I’m there with Guacamole. Also he’s not even my boyfriend yet

2018: Still a boyfriend lmao

2019: An interesting job (finally got the boyfriend!)

2020: A job, an apartment, and a vaccine

11. Do you even believe in new year’s resolutions? Why or why not?

2015: I think they are a good idea, for reflection as much as goals.

2016: Maybe. Idk

2017: Yeah it’s a good idea

2018: It’s always good to try to better yourself and it gives you motivation to do it

2019: It’s a good idea for goals

2020: It’s good to make goals and remind yourself what to work on

12. Do you believe that 2015/16/17/18/19/20 had an reoccurring theme for you? If so, which theme and why?

2015: No more than any other year really

2016: More like my entire life has a recurring theme of being single af

2017: Not really

2018: Boys I like having girlfriends

2019: Macy’s

2020: Covid

13. Do you feel like 2015/16/17/18/19/20 went by too fast?

2015: No

2016: It went a little fast, especially now that I’m about to graduate

2017: Not really

2018: Not really, but maybe my youth went too fast

2019: It went by too fast for how much I accomplished

2020: It went by way too slow

14. Did you fall in love with any new artists during the year 2015/16/17/18/19/20? List them.

2015: I fell back in love with Taylor Swift

2016: Collabro

2017: Anastasia the Musical cast, and Hamilton is growing on me

2018: A bunch of musicals

2019: My musicals playlist on spotify has Rent, Dear Evan Hansen, Legally Blonde, Galavant, Hamilton, A Star Is Born, Frozen 2

2020: Fell more in love with taylor Swift, and Come From Away

15. Brag about two of your accomplishments in 2015/16/17/18/19/20.

2015: I made a couple cool music videos, and I lost some weight after increasing my gym attendance.

2016: I made a short film, Pancakes, with a full crew. I got straight A’s in the spring.

2017: I graduated and I made another short film

2018: I worked on two film shoots and I got promoted at work

2019: I stayed in touch with friends I made on a film shoot, and I got a boyfriend

2020: Bought a car and was the costume designer for a TV pilot

16. What was your favorite movie that came out this year?

2015: The Martian

2016: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

2017: Coco

2018: A Star Is Born

2019: Rocketman

2020: None of them were really memorable

17. Fill in the blank: In 2016/17/18/19/20/21 I will ____________.

2015: Get the confidence back that I had in the fall

2016: Graduate college

2017: Start looking for film jobs

2018: Find myself

2019: Find a new job

2020: Survive, please

18. If you could fly anywhere in the world in 2016/17/18/19/2021, where would you go?

2015: Italy, and I plan to!

2016: London, and I plan to

2017: Scotland or Ireland, and I don’t have any plans to

2018: Maybe that Israel birthright thing

2019: Maybe Ireland or Amsterdam

2020: Wherever has the least amount of covid. Of course that probably means they wouldn’t let me in

19. What was your biggest regret of 2015/16/17/18/19/20?

2015: Worrying about the future when I had something good rather than just enjoying it

2016: Not trying enough in making friends and making the most out of it

2017: Maybe not getting quite enough out of college

2018: Forgetting or never quite learning how to work hard. That and not asking a cute guy out in time

2019: Not buying that moonstone necklace

2020: Gaining weight

20. Do you think you’ll be having a better 2016/17/18/19/20/21 than 2015/16/17/18/19/20?

2015: I hope so

2016: I hope so

2017: I hope so

2018: I hope so and I think so

2019: I sure hope so

2020: I fucking hope so

21. Did you make any new friends this year? Lose any friends?

2015: I got closer with some friends :)

2016: I made some new band and film friends. One of my friends from freshman year died.

2017: I almost lost a friend but now we seem to be friends again. I also made some new ones

2018: I made some new ones, and kinda stopped being friends with some of my old roommates

2019: I think I got closer to some friends

2020: I met a few online playing among us, and I probably lost my roommates

22. What was the biggest adventure of the last year?

2015: Hawaii, I think

2016: Studying abroad

2017: Moving out and starting to adult

2018: The film shoots

2019: Dating my boyfriend

2020: Harry Potter World

23. Did you get cake on your birthday? Presents? What you wanted?

2015: Yeah I went to Vegas which was cool! Got cake and alcohol and presents

2016: I did not get cake but I got IHOP. I got presents, and the football team won the game that day sending us to the PAC 12 Championship

2017: I got pancakes, presents, and maybe I’m starting to get what I wanted?

2018: I got chocolate mousse and presents and I didn’t even know what I wanted

2019: I got cake and presents including one thing I wanted

2020: I got bundt cake and a few things from my wish list

24. How much did you change this year? What’s different about you?

2015: Not too much has changed but I think I’m prettier, more confident, braver, and value bravery more.

2016: I’m lazier, gained back the weight that I lost last year, and lost some of the confidence from last year. Wow…

2017: I’m not a student anymore

2018: I maybe lost some of my hope in my love life and felt more set in my ways

2019: I don’t have as much FOMO but I’m also getting more frustrated with my life

2020: Gained weight, got more anxiety

CONFESSIONS

Bold the statements that are true (2015) and cross out (2016) and italicize (2017) and I’m running out of formats so CAPS (2018) and *star (2019) and ~tilde (2020)

In the year 2015/2016/2017/2018/2019/2020 I confess that I….

KISSED SOMEONE I HAVE NEVER KISSED BEFORE. ~*DID SOMETHING I REGRET. *Painted a picture. *Dyed my hair. Got a new haircut I thought I’d never get before. Wrote a poem. Graduated from High School. Graduated from College. Applied for Graduate School. RAN A MILE. Ate much healthier. Ended toxic friendships. ~*GAINED A NEW FRIEND. Gained a new best friend. *Visited a foreign country. ~*LIED. ~*HAD A FIGHT WITH MY PARENTS. *HAD A SECRET/KEPT A SECRET. Realized my homosexuality. ~REALIZED MY BISEXUALITY. (OR AT LEAST QUESTIONED IT) Realized my pansexuality. Realized my asexuality. ~*Broke a promise. *Slept under the stars. ~*STAYED UP TILL SUNRISE. ~*PUSHED SOMEONE AWAY. ~*Got in a fight. SLEPT WITH SOMEONE OTHER THAN MY SIGNIFICANT OTHER. ~*ATTENDED A PARTY. Got dumped. Got a new piercing/tattoo. Learned that I wasn’t cis gender. Drank underage/used illegal substances. *ATTENDED A CONCERT. *ATTENDED A MUSICAL. ~*TRAVELED TO ANOTHER CITY. *Broke someone’s heart. *Hiding something from someone. ~*MADE SOMEONE’S DAY. Cheated on a test/homework. Physically cheated on my significant other. ~*Emotionally cheated on my significant other. ~Quit a job. GOT A NEW JOB. Learned to hate someone I thought I never would. Learned to be more patient. Saw the supermoon. ~SAW THE METEOR SHOWER.

[dismembermentally]

Info dump time! Ethnicity v nationality in america

Ok so I saw someone asking (criticizing??) How Americans know what part of ireland they're from more than actual Irish people in Ireland

The answer is quite simple! It's all about segregation. When talking about segregation, most people think of the more obvious parts, but it extended far further, including segregation based not only on skin color, but also by what country at all you were from, what part of that country, what wave of immigration, what social class, what port you arrived at, what languages you spoke, hair color, hair texture, what you ate, literally everything.

!!! (I am not at all trying to minimize what people of color have and do go through, this is just supposed to be an explanation of how and why ethnicity is viewed the way it is here. This is an explanation based on immigration of people who came here of their own free will, mostly from Europe and Asia.)

In early america, immigrants tended to stick together. If you were from Italy, you would probably want to stay somewhere everyone also spoke italian, italian food was common, and the social structure was familiar. Some people, like my great-grandpa, just choose to get on a train and get off whenever to see where they would end up. This was not common, and was usually a bad idea.

Hundreds of social structures functioning next to each other+the unstable nature of america resulted in the chaotic society we have here today.

The reason Americans still call themselves by different nationalities is that immigrants were expected to give up their identities, and so, these titles and traditions became very important. This was made especially so by the danger immigrants were in. What jobs do you think immigrants were forced to do? Who was given the dangerous careers?

Again, this is only about these immigrants specifically. Obviously there's also everyone forced to be here, slavery, and all the injustices faced, this is simply the vague context for why many people in america still identify with the country their family came from. America doesn't have one single culture, it depends on whoever your family were and the situations they were in.

Americans aren't trying to be rude if you are from Ireland and they say they are also Irish. It just means that their family is from Ireland, and so they were raised in a prominently Irish immigrant area that still holds a strong cultural identity. Americans often hold very strictly to these old traditions, and the American contexts that shaped them into what they are today.

For example, clashing traditions in my family: my papaw had a close friend who helped on the family farm. The farm is now his daughter's, who's only child is also a girl, and they are both collage educated. The friend's family acts like it is theirs because of this, and the traditions of the country they are from. My family disagrees, but there's much less of us. They are in for quite the shock when they get kicked out. To my family, they are extremely rude. Most of it is cultural differences, but some of it is them being one of the wealthier families in the area.

Example: in my family, holiday dinners were formal, but still very fun and friendly. Large meal, china, actual silver silverware, everyone at the table. This was important not as a status thing, but to show respect. The dishes? Great Aunt painted them. They were passed down, and no one in the family was ever wealthy, so they were gifts from the beginning.

The friend's family? Holiday dinners are casual, people split into groups, sit on the couch, watch tv while eating, you can just get something from the fridge if you want.

Honestly I can't fucking stand them- do that if it's Christmas at your house, not ours. I don't care that grandma re-married let me keep the traditions that are important. We're supposed to all talk and not leave people out, and the food was just awful. You could tell that there's no effort into making it, they could've just gone to fucking walmart. But that's what's getting more common, and what happens when the cultural ties disappear (interesting that it happened when they got money-) THOSE PLATES WERE THE PRIDE OF A WOMAN WHO ESCAPED CRIPPLING POVERTY AND ABUSE YOU ASSHOLE–

Anyways that turned from culture to me hating rich people. I'm not letting them on the farm when it's mine, I'm turning it into something useful like a community garden to help the hundreds of kids in crippling poverty in the town, not catering to those fucknuts. Like seriously, they just ignore the fucking kids who're getting the farm and act like it's theirs?? I try to be fucking friendly but oh nooo I'm trans and scary- fuck off. Transphobes don't get nice things. I'm fucking them over in a few years and I don't give a damn

[letamreviews]

Top of 2019

With 56 films watched and 27 favorited in 2019, I composed a list of my top. By pure happenstance, the list is almost an exact third (18) of the total films watched. Be aware that I don’t have as much to say about some of these because I took no notes after.

Because I’d be biased towards them, I don’t count the National Theatre Live plays.

Since the list is likely to be altered between now and the end of February (to accommodate for films missed), check the Lettboxd list later on to see an up to date listing, but be aware that it intentionally lacks the details provided here.

EDIT (01/04/20):

Woke up this morning religiously re-reading this and caught some grammar errors. It’s almost like staying consistently well-rested is actually beneficial. While I’m at it, Blind Rating (BR) is how worthwhile the film is watching “blind” (or knowing nothing). The scale is 1 (worth it) to 5 (you must). ‘Eh is essentially a 0.5.

1. Midsommar (USA)

Saw the original and Director's Cut in theatres and discussed them with a group immediately after both times. I’m somewhere between really liking it and loving it. Still unsure. Hell of an experience with a lot to notice, debate over, and pick up on during the second viewing. Don’t even get me started on the Christian/Dani matter. Dat tension, tho. Blind Rating: 4/5

2. Us (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I’m digging the allegories and the way (I think) it reflects on society. Dem reveals, tho. Blind Rating: 4/5

3. Toni Morrison: The Pieces I Am (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. Two things probably play a huge hand in this not being atleast 3 spots lower: my demographic and the fact that her older self constantly reminded me of my grandma and a certain middle school teacher. Regardless, it’s an entertaining, interesting, and lively documentary with its many personalities on-screen all giving their take on matters along with Ms. Morrison herself. Glad they managed to finish and release this 1.25 months before her death. Blind Rating: 0/5

4. When They See Us (USA)

Saw on Netflix over the course of a month. Y’all, this one hurt too much to watch again any time soon. Admittedly, part of the reason why it hit me so hard is because I could easily have been one of them. Dat ending, tho. Don’t forget to watch the Oprah followup When They See Us Now after. You’ll ball (again). Blind Rating: 3/5

5. Parasite (South Korea)

Saw an advance screening in theatres and watched a live post-film Q&A. I really like it. This hit me in such a way that it’s one of three films I’m writing an essay on. Planing on watching it a second time soon so I can finish with a sense of accuracy. This isn’t one that I would recommend looking at images for. There are some that will spoil the experience of the second half. Seriously, block the “Parasite” tag from your feed if you can. Blind Rating: 3/5

6. Luce (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. This was is so~ good as a thriller and especially in regards to being Black in America. Wanted to watch it a second time but never managed to squeeze it in before it left theatres. Dem performances, tho. Dat tension, yo. Dat score, bro. Blind Rating: 1/5

7. Them That Follow (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with someone immediately after. I love it. Blind Rating: 1/5

A drama influenced thriller about a religious and somewhat self-isolating community that's effectively blanketing a realistic romance. (snip) —Letterboxd review

8. The Souvenir (United Kingdom)

Saw in theatres (partially because so many movie peeps were shitting on it). I love it, but I didn't fucking love it. Was tempted to see it again, but didn’t get the chance. Dat ending, tho. While it was a movie peep telling me the whole plot that caused me to gain so much interest in it [Cabin in the Woods (2011) all over again, amiright?], I must say that the less you know the better. It’ll make for... a more immersive experience. Blind Rating: 3/5

9. After the Wedding (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I thought I really liked it, but I love it. This was a trip down unexpected lane, le'me tell ya. The trailer is a spoilerful lie, but the Landmark's description is very accurate. People's experiences will have a heavy hand in how they react to it and feel about certain characters. The way they made this feel like a constant thriller was excellently done. Dat cinematography, tho. Go in knowing nothing more than what the previous link provides. Blind Rating: 1/5

10. Joker (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I really like it. Blind Rating: 1/5

(slight spoilers)

This was difficult to watch at times, but hella captivating throughout. Arthur's reasoning is believable, his sanity is questionable, and his life is indeed one hell of a joke. Like watching an extreme example of what happens when people on the lower end lose access to social programs. This can very easily be taken as a commentary on mental illness kept unchecked. More than that, it's a story about a guy who accepts his "crazy" and transcends poverty, circumstance, and societal bullshit... at everyone else's expense. (snip) —Letterboxd review

11. Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I really like it. Captivating documentary in a very similar style to Toni Morrison: The Pieces I Am, but with Mr. Davis never joining the “talking heads” (as people like to call it) and instead being heard as a constant narrator of his own biography. Regardless of how I feel about him on a personal level, this shit was a great watch and the ending hit hard. Still need to get his autobiography, though. There’s a nostalgic factor for me here since I was partially reminded of my grandpa while watching it. Blind Rating: 'eh

12. Queen & Slim (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with someone immediately after. Fuck yeah, I enjoyed this one. Dat soundtrack and cinematography, bruh? 👌🏿 The throwback soundtrack, main characters’ racial group, and fact that they went to New Orleans definitely play a hand in why this one’s not atleast 1 spot lower. Blind Rating: 1/5

13. Dwelling in the Fuchon Mountains (China)

Saw in theatres during festival and attended discussion days later. I really like it. Was long, but in a good way. Similar to Ash is Purest White (2018) in that I kept thinking "please end here," but would be glad it didn't later. It's beautifully slothy and has absurdly long tracking shots. The cinematography during walking conversations is notable. Dat trick, tho. Blind Rating: 'eh

14. A Girl Missing (Japan)

Saw in theatres during festival and discussed with a group immediately after. Bruh~, this is a hell of a personal trial. Didn’t expect it to go the places it did. Blind Rating: 1/5

15. Dutch Angle: Chas Gerretsen & Apocalypse Now (Netherlands)

Saw on MUBI on phone. I love it. This goes over his childhood (for 8 minutes), career paths, photography of 9/11/1973's Chilean coup d'etat, the 6 months he spent on-set photographing Apocalypse Now (1979), and him as a person. What I didn’t expect was how much he would get into the details of things happening during that film’s development. Along with those details are interesting photos presented excellently in a way that’s reminiscent of manga at times. I like the way the photos take center point and are treated like the foreground. It’s like the director and editor forced themselves to remain aware that the documentary was showcasing 15% of the total slides housed in the Nederlands Fotomuseum’s archives in Rotterdam and that most of his Apocalypse Now photos were never seen. Dat score, tho [Ex Machina (2014) vibes]. Blind Rating: 0/5

BTW, it had its official (Dutch national) release by EYE Filmmuseum on 12/19/19 in the Netherlands, so maybe it’ll come to the USA soon. 🤷🏿‍♂️ Forgot to mention it’s been added as a special feature to the 40th anniversary 4K blu-ray disc of Apocalypse Now: Final Cut (2019).

16. Receiver (Ireland)

Saw on MUBI on phone. I really like it. A very interesting short film in three odd segments. First was disturbing; second was about activism, protests, and politics; third was about the person I assume the film was made for. All compose what I took as a film about the importance of having reliable sound and hearing. Needs to be watched alone with good sound quality (for immersion). Blind Rating: 'eh

17. Bacurau (Brazil)

Saw in theatres during festival. I really like it. This was some Most Dangerous Game shit with a hell of an ending. The whole game is an allegory of civilized people's obsession with hunting wild animals for "sport". I really like the portrayal of history here and enjoyed the racial matters it lays bare. I can only imagine someone watching this without knowing a thing. Kinda wish I didn’t even read the description beforehand. Digging the soundtrack. Blind Rating: 1/5

18. Little Women (USA)

Saw on 35mm and discussed with others on separate occasions. I really like it. This was just warming and sad. I felt for the main characters and actually felt satisfied with the way it ended. Considering the type of film, there are handful of typical things for me to complain about. That being said, the movie earned its stars back. I mean, did you not see their attic performances? Shit was dope. Blind Rating: ‘eh

[wetookanoath]

ooh what are your headcanons for the coco au?? 👀

Well, right now I have…

TW: Racism, implied homophobia and transphobia, sexism, way too many languages in one tiny family, necessary Major Character(s) Death(s), this is not a fanfic but a way too elavorated AU lol, Trans Male Character, trans pregnancy.

S/O to @faequill and @impossiblevvings for educating my ass by sharing his experiences as a trans parents. And also S/O to @from-one-fandom-to-the-other for making THIS and THIS wonderful art and talking about this AU with me. And also S/O to this anon for asking.

Set in the 30s, I’m thinking in maybe Baja California or Guadalajara. During this time, Mexico is still getting together after the Mexican Revolution left tons of deads and shattered states. In this time, the Golden Age of cinema flourishes and singers like Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete become famous. Enter the music theme of the story.

That said, Mexico has a long history of having good relations with european countries such as Germany, Ireland, Austria and Poland. During the Colony, tons of people came to Latinamerica because there was work, commerce and land (I mean, stolen land– you know how that goes), so entire families would come with the hopes of a better life. 

During this time, chinese people build a China Town in what will be Mexico City later (still stands and is a wonderful place), japanese people will came in their own commercial ships to either work or be with their families, since samurai getting jobs as big names spaniard’s bodyguards, and soon other business people came with their families.

I’m saying all this to then say that,

Ryan’s family has always had it bad because they are mixed. His father’s grandpa decided to move to a small community where most people is mixed near the principal city of their state, yet not so close. This is so they can all live in peace.

Ryan’s grandfather gets out the country, builds a life in the States where he meets Ryan’s grandma, an also mexican woman who went to live in the States. Years later, Steve, Ryan’s dad, meets Linda, daughter of immigrants too, and they build their own family.

When Ryan is a teenager, his parents understand he is trans and caliming economic problems, Steve decides to take his family back to the family’s ranch in Mexico, where they can protect their kid, so no one knows he is trans and they know him only as Ryan. They grow up learning from all their cultures and speaking very accented english and spanish. Ryan and Jake also talk a broken japanese their mom is always cheering. They cook strange stuff that convines all three cultures and people think they are weird, but it works.

To their little town comes a group of immigrants from Poland, men are there to work in the energy plant near the Bergara’s ranch.

Ryan and Jake met Shane then, he’s older than them and Ryan gets irritated at his funny spanish, but finds himself talking to him daily until Shane starts to work, too.

So, every day, Shane and his brother walk in front of the Bergara ranch and he can always see Ryan at the window with a guitar or just asleep. He always waves at him and soon, Ryan finds himself waiting for the boy to pass by his window.

There’s a lot of Ryan insulting Shane in either spanish or japanese, to what Shane always answers with polish and both look at each other like ¬¬

They fall in love eventually.

Both families get along well, it’s then when Linda and Sherry start to notice something between their kids. It’s unspoken and like a known secret, and only once did they tried to talk about it but, like it happens so often in remote places of Mexico, no one said a word.

Ryan’s family is well known, names move sea, dirt and sky in Mexican societies, and so life goes on– of course, leaving the santity of their small town means dead and treats, and so none go.

Scott and Jake both leave eventually, it is known then that Ryan will take the ranch. When he’s already an adult, Shane and his mom move to the ranch after his father dies and Scott leaves.

Later in life, Scott gets married in the ranch, and they are all such a funny and curious mix of a family.

They have a few happy years where Ryan and Shane are together, dream of music and suddenly, something changes.

When Ryan realizes he’s pregnant, he’s worried shit will go down. Shane is actually pretty happy and excited, and after the initial shock, both feel good about it. With his mother’s support, he is able to tell his father, and to his freakin’ surprise, he’s happy. 

Ryan has to stay in the ranch to protect himself and the baby, seeing the struggle, fear starts flourishing in Shane and instead of saying something, he keeps it all in him. He needs an actual job, not just his music delucions, and he needs to do better and make sure nothing ever happens to Ryan and their baby.

They have a girl, they name her Alejandra, and she grews up listening to her parents sing together and even with economic struggles, they were happy.

Then Shane leaves.

When Alejandra was little, Shane met bitch ass Ernesto who used to listen to him at the local bar where he sang with Ryan and other pals they had. Shane originally didn’t want to become a singer, but he wanted to keep writing songs, Ernesto made him believe they could be both singers.

Note: Mexico has a big time problem with colorism and favoritism of whites™, but when it comes to music and so, especially at that time, the mexican public wanted to the men who sang to be the stereotype of a Strong Mexican Man™, like Jorge Negrete and Pedro Infante (this doesn’t mean they weren’t talented and amazing at their art, because they sure as hell were). A man like Shane would had never find fame and acceptance at that time, so this bitch ass Ernesto fooled him deeply.

Ryan doesn’t like Ernesto one bit, and feels him fake as shit with his “support” of their family when Shane is idiot enough to tell him the truth. This causes their first big fight, since Ryan didn’t want a man like this bitch to know about him and that Ale is their biological daughter.

Fights start to become terrible, and finally Shane tells Ryan he wants to try this and if it doesn’t work, he’s coming back right away. If in six months he hasn’t done shit, he is coming back. 

Ultimately, Ryan believes in Shane’s talent and lets him go. At first, they write to each other constantly and Ryan always reads part of Shane’s laters to Ale.

Eventually, the letters stop and a year later, Ernesto is in everyone’s TV and Ryan tries his best to find out what happened to Shane. When he finds out he was murdered, Ernesto tells him some story about being mugged and what not, and in his pain he believes it.

In the back of his head, there’s always the tiny voice that says this is not true, but the pain and his pride are stronger, and so he decides to keep going.

He makes the ranch prosper with his bare hands and the whole family helps, as years goes by, they can mantain themselves with the ranch’s production of meat and leather.

Note: totally not based on my own ranch, lol.

Ryan dies later in life, having his daughter carry his name when he decided to change her name to take away Shane’s (because we mexicans are petty and this was super common. Your husband left you? Change your kids’ name to yours– my name should be Rivera, guys, but my great grandma said fuck you to his father, and changed her name to León -her mom’s name- and here we are…) and the ranch.

~ The After Life ~

Shane is there before anyone else. He could be send to his polish family, he could find the other Bergaras, but he is not sure of what to do. His situation as someone his family has decided to forget mantains him in the streets with the ones without a family, which is bullshit because he knows his family must be somwhere.

His first years, he forgets about the Día de los Muertos tradition, among other traditions, and is only worried to find a way to know if Ryan and Ale are okay, and soon he’s hit with a newspaper from a maxican lady that has hear his story of having his family in Mexico, she reminds him of the bridge that opens on November 2.

That’s when he starts trying and when he’s told his family doesn’t put a picture of him, that breaks his heart and spirit more than he cares to admit. He gives up after.

Years later, re-animated by the fact that he needs to let Ale know he loves her more than anything in the world, he keeps trying. This is when he recognizes Ryan for the first time.

He is an emotional mess, trying to reach him and when he sees he is with their entire family, he is a rying mess. But then, Ryan looks at him and there’s complete silence– it’s unspoken that Ryan is kind of the family’s head, so the others wave at him but don’t do much when Ryan finallly turns around to cross the bridge without saying a word to Shane.

His heart is shattered to not repair that night and on.

Shane concentrates then into getting to the Human World to see Ale. His parents and other family members would talk to him from time to time, and at least he gets to know his daughter grow well, but also gets to know Ryan had it bad for a while and will take him time to accept him back.

He tries to tell Ryan about Ernesto more than once. He courts him, and sings, and does all he can until Ryan is tired of him and finally tells him he doesn’t want excuses, he doesn’t want to see him and he should go right now.

Shane is not sure anymore if there’s more heart to break, but it hurts all the same.

Ryan, when in the After Life, woke to his family and only accepted to himself to be disappointed of not seeing Shane there. He finds out later about his situation, and for a while decided to not search. It’s better this way.

When he hears Ernesto has died and it’s there among them, he tries to find Shane, and maybe clear things once and for all. But he finally drops the idea and lets it go.

His no-life goes on, and when he sees Shane for the first time before the bridge, all he wants is to slap the idiot and kiss him, but his pride is stronger and so he turns around and leaves.

He cried all the way to the Human World.

When he realized their great-great grandson was a lot like Shane, a lot like both of them, he couldn’t help but smile.

After Ryan finds out the truth, Shane’s picture is put on the Altar of their family and he goes to no-live with them in the Land of the Death, they have a long talk about their lives and cry together for having found their way to each other again, no matter what.

Both feel guilty for a while, though. Shane for leaving and never finding a way to let Ryan know what happened. And Ryan for closing himself and not believing in Shane’s love for him and Ale, and for their family forgetting him for such a long time.

Eventually, they can heal together. They have all the time in the world now.

At some point, Ryan looks up at Shane with a smirk and goes, “See? Ghosts are real” and Shane wants to die again.

When Ale dies and she reuinites with her parents, there’s a crying fest. 

It hurts Shane that he didn’t get to see his Alejandrita grow up, and that she thought for a long time that he decided to leave them and was selfish enough to never look back to his family.

But seeing Ale’s happiness to see him again and all the love of his family, helps him slowly heal. Now they can all be together.

Shane’s first Día de los Muertos is so funny to everyone, because he doesn’t know what to do and still gets all ?? with some tradition, but he enjoys it all the same.

Life goes on in the Human World, their great-great grandson grows up, he gets married and has his own children than still put their picture in their Altar, and like that, things are okay.