#no one look at me I’m experiencing immense gratitude and it’s embarrassing

[medievalwitch]

EU visa came back today :,)

[sweetestlamb]

Can You Feel The Love Tonight?

Summary: So-Bong stops fighting their attraction following the King's deception.

Author's note: I'm back and so excited to write a consensual steamy night! This continues from Episode 14 👀👀 enjoy my fellow royal pervs. Thank you to everyone who send me good vibes and positivity after Tumblr decided to wake up and choose violence and delete my first draft. I hope you all enjoy this version too you never saw the other version but I was feeling very good about it and this one just isn’t it so I’m being pretty hard on myself. Comments are always loved and appreciated especially in these trying times LOL. More possibly confusing pronouns but I did write from the King’s POV towards the end so the pronouns stop being too crazy. 

His breath stumbles out in choked tight puffs, saturated air squeezed from So-young's tired lungs. He feels restless, pacing the short distance of the room before he jumps at the door suddenly sliding open. Affection too strong to temper down washes over their body in a thunderous tsunami wave that crashes all his doubts and hesitations about his feelings for a particular monarch. 

"My Queen." The title is stated with all the awe and reverence befitting royalty and before he can second guess himself, he's flying across the room to pull Cheoljong into a tight embrace. The King’s gasp of shock doing little to stop him from holding on tightly, pressing So-yong's face into the thick cord of the King's neck.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I thought she was dead. I really thought you let her die!" Their voice sounds shrill even to Bong Hwan's ears but he can't deny that his emotions are overwhelming, too close to the surface. Still too raw after the heartbreaking ordeal, how dare those bastards even suggest killing a child?

It's not until the King is drawing away, his dark eyes searching her face before his fingers reach up to brush away the tears that are streaming from her eyes. Bong-Hwan feels a tinge of shame in his stomach, embarrassed to be seen this way by anyone but especially the King, but the soft way he holds their cheeks eviscerates all shame.

"I didn't have any time to tell you my plan, I'm sorry I scared you. I would never let anything happen to her, she was just an innocent child and she saved you. I owe her a huge debt."

He allows the King to drag her shaking body further into the room, sitting on the plush bedding, face to face their hands tangled in between.

Listening carefully as he tells them how he placed harmless sleeping powder in the child's cup and in the darkness of night his brother would collect her body and bring her somewhere safe, no one else knew of the plan and would believe the young court maid to be dead.

All of the stress and guilt washes over him again and he breaks down, folding into So-yong's lap as hot tears cascade from her eyes drenching the night dress. The cries ravish her slight body until he's sobbing uncontrollably, finally realizing how heartless this Kingdom and almost everyone living in it was.

Except him.

He'd had no reason to save the young girl, had hardly known her and it did him no favors to spare her life. Yet, he did it because she asked him to. 

I'll do my best. 

"You kept your promise."

"My Queen?"

So-Bong lifts their head, moist eyes locked on the King's face reaching out to stroke his cheeks, trailing down to his strong jaw. The desire to kiss him surging through their veins.

"You said you would save her and you did. How can I thank you?" Gratitude coats each word as So-Bong crawls closer into the King's space, a breath apart now making his intentions apparent.

A slight blush spreads across the bridge of Cheoljong's nose, he looks beautiful in the dim candle light. Truly a sight to behold.

"You owe me nothing my Queen your gratitude is enough to warm my heart for days to come."

But he wants to, this desire isn't So-yong; at least not her alone. He wants the King. There's no denying it now, not faced with his selfless act. Now remembering the way his heart stopped when the King flew off the stage, bloodied on the ground reaching out for them. How desperately he wanted to shove everyone aside and have the King in their arms again. 

Without preamble he grabs the lapel of the King's hanbok, reveling in the look of pure lust that devours his face before their lips crash into each other. He groans at the wet swipe of a tongue at So-yong's lips, opening up immediately to give the King entrance. When a large hand grips the back of her head, he moans deeply licking deeper into the King's mouth, heating scorching through their body like a wildfire.

"Don't get hurt again. Don't leave me." He pants into the King's hungry mouth, grabbing onto him desperately.

Cheoljong pulls away, lips bitten and red, panting now firm chest expanding and compressing.

"I won't. I'll stay with you."

In a move quicker than lightning, the King embraces them before covering her body on the bedding, begging for permission with those seductive eyes at So-Bong's nod he's ravenous, movements wild and disorienting. He tugs the material holding her sleep dress intact and the material falls away, but there are several layers beneath. He skillfully undoes everything, leaving her body bare to his eyes.

"So beautiful." He breathes out, eyes racing down her heaving chest before landing on her jewel, he reaches down to caress her smooth thighs causing goosebumps to raise in the wake.

Without a word he returns the favor, undressing the King with more fervor eager to reclaim the pleasure he'd denied just hours ago. The most pleasure he'd ever experienced in his life.

The King has a breathtaking body, broad shoulders that temper down into thick muscled legs but the thing that catches his eyes, dangles between the space of those marvelous legs. His third leg. It's hard to believe that was ever inside of them, it looks angry and red mushroom like head peeking through foreskin. Precum already oozing and coating the flesh in viscous liquid.

You're beautiful too.

He can't bring himself to say the words out loud, already feeling far too vulnerable.

Cheoljong moves to penetrate, gripping their legs as he crawls forward eyes locked on the prize. And the night comes back to him in a sudden flash, the pleasure had been immense but unfortunately so had the pain. There'd been no foreplay and her wetness had not been enough to thwart Cheoljong's impressive cock. It would be different tonight, it was time to teach their good husband about foreplay.

"Wait."

Instantly the King halts his movement, longing and question in his eyes. He is shaking from his rigid control.

In a move any porn star would be proud of, he brings her legs up locking onto the King’s hips and swiftly rolls them over until they’re on top.

The King gasps in surprise at the sudden reversal but the arousal in his eyes make it clear that he's still on board, the thick cock pressing into her thigh is even more proof.

Reaching back to unbraid her tight braid, he shakes her hair free smirking at the weak moan that falls from the King's lips.

"Like what you see?" He teases, bringing her hair over one shoulder and gazing at the King from under wispy eyelashes, a picture of coy seduction. Cheoljong groans at the action, reaching out to hold her hips and squeezing at the luscious flesh.

"Don't tease me."

He almost laughs at the soft command, having no intention of listening to such a thing.

With a gentle placating smile, he leans down to capture Cheoljong's lips in a peck that transforms into something deeper and wetter. Twisting the King's head to his liking, then groaning at the sensation. While the King's distracted he trails a dainty finger down his body, stopping to caress his hard pronounced abs the tight skin jumping under her fingers. Then he continues his journey until he reaches his destination, without any warning issued he wraps her hand around the King's sword firmly stroking from base to tip, twisting her hand to collect his juices to ease the way.

The King jerks as if he's been struck by lightning in her hold, breaking the kiss to grunt and thrust harder into the grip with a loud roar as animalistic as he'd been their first time. Watching him squirm in pleasure causes more moisture to gather at her center, memories of them thrusting and crashing into each other filling his mind.

"My Queen...what. What in the heavens are you doing to me?

"This is called a hand job. It is a gift a woman bestow upon a man.”

"Like a blessing?" He replies, looking thoroughly dazed as So-Bong continues to stroke and pull at his cock, copious amounts of precum making the motion effortless.

He chuckles at the King's understanding of the word, in many ways a handjob is a blessing.

With her unattended hand he reaches down to fondle the King's heavy balls, distracting him enough to slither down his firm body before he's eye level with the rigid length. Hungry for the burst of salt and skin that will flood her mouth, but still wary at this role reversal. He's received many blessings in his lifetime as a renowned chef he already ever wants for bedroom partners, women typically throwing themselves at him. But face to face with the one eyed beast, he falters tongue heavy in her mouth.

How did I.....do it?

He simply stares at first, at a long vein that cords up the side pumping blood to the thick organ.

Nerves immobilize him before the King finally looks down, helpless stare on his face his bottom lip slightly trembling. He gives a little hump up trying to alleviate some of the pressure and So-bong makes up his mind.

Just start slow. You've seen enough porn and anything feels good when you're horny.

So he starts with a kitten lick barely touching the throbbing organ, unprepared for the bitterness that explodes on his taste buds. It's a new flavor one he’s never experienced before but the King's reaction is enough to make him want to do it again, and again.

Cheoljong stills at first, as tight as the the quiver of an arrow before he breaks free from his stupor and thrusts so hard his cock slides down her throat almost choking them. He's draws off the King, thunderous glare at his appalling blowjob etiquette.

"This is called a blowjob. It's stage two of the hand job, but if you can't control yourself, then I'm stopping."

Immediate panic flares across the King's face and he falls limp on the bedding, staring up with pleading eyes. Looking thoroughly chastised and shamefaced.

"My apologies my Queen. I will accept your blessing. I place myself in your capable hands."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Nothing in his studies could have prepared him for this immense pleasure his Queen is bestowing on him, a serpentine tongue curling around his most private parts. Despite the various rumors of his prowess and the many times he's been accosted, both in his youth and during his time in the kingdom he's never indulged in the passions of the skin but now feeling this exquisite pleasure he wants to curse at himself, has this been what he's been depriving himself of?

He's been a fool of the highest caliber.

Another part of him is grateful that he's sharing this moment with her, he can't imagine sharing this intimacy with any other. Especially the many women at the brothels that he has frequented, preferring a willing partner.

In his laps his Queen is the devil incarnated, swallowing him in short bursts that leave his body feeling equal parts numb and bursting at the seams. Her kitten like licks at his head make his toes curl into the bedding, until pleasure flashes behind his eyelids so intensely he has to twists away before it's too late; barely escaping in time.

He pants loudly, harsh breaths rushing from his lips.

He jolts at the sudden warmth of her hands on his face, bringing his head back to meet her eyes.

She looks at him softly stroking at his cheeks almost.... lovingly. It's too much to consider. That the Queen could feel even an inch of what he feels for her. It's inconceivable.

"Did you like it?"

"Was that not clear? Where did you learn such sinful techniques?" He questions her but suddenly he doesn't want to hear the answer, not in the slightest. Maybe there's a reason why the head of the Justice Department is so obsessed with her, perhaps they had a relationship that was more intimate than he imagined. Maybe....

"Stop."

He stops looking back at her, trying to squash the jealousy boiling in his blood.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop. I've never had...that in my mouth. Or anywhere else for that matter. If it was good that was because of my natural talent. " She rolls her eyes at him, stern look as she crosses her arms across her tempting chest, ruddy dark nipples making his arousal deepen.

He breathes a sigh of relief and satisfaction, trying his best to keep those emotions off his countenance but her raised eyebrow makes it evident he has hidden nothing.

Slowly she crawls over him, straddling him face looming above his and he can't resist stealing a kiss, a burst of salt overcomes his senses and realization dawns on him.

That's me.

It shouldn't be that arousing to taste his own seed on her tongue but the thought of her tasting like him makes his blood boil hotter.

She lets him kiss her, her body soft in his arms as he rubs a hand up and down her side and he deepens their kiss, lips slotting together like matching pieces of an erotic puzzle.

When she pulls away he chases but a small hands on his chest halts the action.

He stares in awe at her beautiful flushed face, lips plush and inviting, the memory of them on his cock enough to make him groan.

"Do you want to make me feel good too?"

He's nodding before the question has fully left her pouty mouth and he immediately begins to position himself at her warm center, thrusting between the folds of her flower. Eager to be connected with her in the most natural way. But again his plan is halted as she shifts away after a quick moment of grinding back onto him.

He groans, "My Queen, what is the matter? I can't take this torturous teasing. You were hardly this coy last time."

His words are true, just yesterday he'd been shoved into the bed and ridden like a wild stallion, she'd sheathed him with no warning her grimace of pain enough to make him consider stopping before she grabbed his shoulders and arched her back in a manner that couldn't be human.

He'd been lost to the waves of pleasure after that.

"I was drunk out of my mind last time, I'd have let you do anything to me."

His eyes widen at the admittance, too many ideas flooding his mind.

"Stay with me, you sex maniac."

He's not quite sure but what a "sex maniac" is but he hardly believes that he's the only one here who is one. He hadn't been the one to seduce the other after all.

"Remember how I told you there are levels? You need to do that to me."

He stares blankly before finally understanding, running his hand from her hips down to the vee between her legs. Soft hair greets him before he pries between the puffy lips, stroking up through the moistness before pressing one finger inside, barely a knuckle but she's so wet that his finger sinks in easily, until he's deep inside her hole.

She breathes out softly, whining in his arms as if to take him deeper. He begins a languid pace, in and out, wanting to take his time and enjoy every second inside his Queen but she has other ideas.

"Another! Harder!"

She's already bouncing on his lap, all too easily accepting another finger, his middle finger now crying out at the stretch from two digits pounding into her core.

He's sure all the servants can hear their coupling, but it does nothing to discourage him as he grabs her hair pulling her in for a wet kiss needing to taste her moans, the vibrations tickling his mouth. His fingers are sloppy wet and their noises are indecent as she quickens their pace into something brutal. He doesn’t care if he keeps the entire kingdom up. 

Always a quick learner, he shoves her down into the bed lifting her legs like a scarf around his neck and after a quick moment of eye contact he dives down to taste her, tongue sliding through her wet pussy with precision and certainty. She wails underneath him, screaming his name loud enough to wake those even miles away. Pride swells in his chest as he licks deeper into her sweetness, using his hands to spread her wider much to her boisterous satisfaction.

He grins when he feels her hand latch onto his hair holding him in place as she uses him, grinding onto his tongue. He's never experienced anything this blissfully erotic, never knew a partner could be this eager. All of his studies have shown women to be rather passive, simply laying as the man gains his pleasure. His Queen his anything but a passive participant.

Before he knows it she's whimpering, twisting and twitching uncontrollably and when she starts to pull away he clamps down harder dragging her back and forcing his tongue impossibly deeper, when he slips in a finger everything is wet, her juices flooding his mouth and he happily drinks it all hungry for more.

He continues to suckle until she pushes him away, hissing at him when he fights her at first.

"Too much."

He gently moves her legs from his shoulder and places them back onto the bedding. She's spent below him, eyes closed and chest heaving powerfully.

He flops down beside her, in a manner completely unbefitting for a King. Not caring in the slightest.

Her breath begins to even out, slowing down and he smiles tightly it seems he'll have to tend to himself. With a sigh he reaches down to wrap a hand around himself but almost instantly his wrist is grabbed.

"What are you doing?"

He turns to face her, almost laughing out loud at the look of offense that mars her face.

"You're spent my Queen, I can care for myself."

She scoffs at him, taking a fortifying breath before sitting up, he watches her lazily awaiting her next move. At first, she merely stretches light popping as she raises her arms over her head. He watches enthralled by the rippling in her taut body, she is a magnificent woman and he's merely a man. Then in a move as fluid as water, she raises to her knees before sliding down onto her arms, then lower onto her forearms. Her body a perfect arch, with her pert bottom in the air.  For his position he can see directly into her wet core, he's moving before the action registers in his brain.

He's seen this before, the cow position but then she looks over her bare shoulder and smirks at him.

"Doggy style. You do all the work and you get a great view."

What an interesting moniker for this position but he can agree that this truly does resemble dogs mating as well. His knowledgeable Queen, he will surely have to add this to his dictionary. 

He walks forward on his knees towards her until his cock is nuzzled between the meat of her thighs, thrusting once making stars explode behind his eyes.

"I must get oil." He sadly states, despising the idea of being away from her heat for even a second but before he can move she's thrusting back onto him, the head of his cock sliding inside with little effort.

This time his moan fills the room.

"I don't need that. Can't you feel how wet I am? Just fuck me already, I know you want to."

"Fuck you?" More new words, these one sounds filthy despite not knowing the full meaning. 

She grinds backwards consuming him the rest of the way, "Yes. Fuck me until I can't walk straight."

He's never been one to back away from a challenge and at her insistence he slams into her, hard enough that she falls forward chest crashing into the floor as her ass raises higher in the air, giving him more access to her sweet wet entrance. He grips her ass pounding harder and harder before pulling her back to her arms. Leaning over her shoulder, he finds a bright red ear.

"Do you know who I am?"

He doesn't give her a moment to reply to his spontaneous question, instead rocking into her again mesmerized watching himself enter her over and over and over.

But after a moment he slows down, barely retreating just slowly grinding into her.

"Who am I?" He demands, bringing a hand around to fondle her breast pinching at the nipples.

"What are you talking about?" She pants out, impatiently trying to get him to return to the frantic borderline painful pace. 

He pinches harder.

"Do you know I am right now? Are you in full control of your faculties? Who is fucking you right now my Queen?"

It's unbecoming but a vindictive part of him needs this, desperately wants confirmation that she wants this and is imagining no other. After all their other misunderstandings he couldn’t stand another one. 

"You petty bastard!"

He pulls out. Completely. Leaving her empty, her hole twitching at the sudden departure. 

"Now, now. Is that anyway to speak to your husband? It's a simple question, who am I? Who do you belong to? "

Seconds drag on and he wonders if he's taken it too far, has he made this uncomfortable? Has he ruined this moment completely?

As fear ravages his mind, he doesn't notice his Queen grinding her teeth before sighing.

She whispers, "My King. You are my King and you are the only one I'm thinking of."

Elation swirls in his heart and he's back inside so quickly she loses her balance, tumbling onto her best again but he gives her no chance to rearrange herself pounding away now, shoving himself as deep as he can go.

He props his strong arms on either side of her thrusting and biting at her neck, marking her for the world to see. Her whimpers are music to his ears as he prays that every man in the kingdom will hear her, and now that she is his woman. No other can have her, ever. Unless they want to taste his blade. 

When her legs give out he rolls them onto their sides, never slowing his brutal place lifting one of toned legs to thrust even deeper. Then he feels her hand where they are joined, looking over he sees her rubbing frantically at a small engorged bead glistening above her hole. Knocking her hand away he begins to stroke the delicate pearl rapidly, grunting when her tunnel tightens around him.

She begins to scream, head thrown back as he chases the light blaring in his mind, the emphatic slamming of skin booming in the room until she bends her back arching away from him and he grabs her hips chasing her over the edge, pounding until he explodes inside her his shouts joining hers both deafening in the room.

Everything fades to black.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He loathes to leave her alone after the night they've had but he must check on his brother and their plan to save the young court maid, so he slips from her enticing heat almost undone when she grumbles at his movement reaching out for him. Her little grabby hands reminiscent of a small child. 

Alas he must go. He's doing this for her after all. They will have much time to discuss later.

And if it leads to circumstances like these, he's not opposed.

By late morning he has dealt with everything necessary for the young girl, her body being transported to another town where they have created a fake identity for her. He knows his Queen will be sadden by the young girl's departure but this is the only way to keep her safe.

He's racing as quickly as he can to get back to her when he hears a voice behind him.

"Your majesty."

He stiffens immediately guilt riddles through him, the royal consort. He'd hoped to avoid her until he figured out exactly what to say to her, he'd yet to tell anyone but the Queen his true feelings for her. He didn't want to hurt the other woman but despite her many requests he would not be warming her bed. His heart was no longer his. 

Slipping on a passive mask, he turns around plastic façade in place.

"Royal Consort, good morning to you."

She immediately closes the gap between them and grasps his hand in her own, he fights the urge to flippantly brush her aside. He knows that would be unnecessarily cruel to do to a woman he'd once been willing to lay down his life for once upon a time. It feels like centuries ago. 

"I've missed you. You have been sleeping alone these days."

He hasn't. At all. He hasn't slept alone in days, the Queen's leg a permanent fixture in his back now but he can't tell her that of course.

But another voice sounds from behind him.

"He hasn't been sleeping alone. He just left my bed this morning."

This time he does pull his hands free of Hwa-Jin's tight grip, tighter with the Queen's arrival.

"My Queen." He turns to her apologetically fearing her wrath, imagining his own ire if he'd seen her in a similar predicament with her cousin.

But her eyes are locked on the other woman when he turns, cold eyes and a tight grin. Taking a step forward she stands between them, her back pressed intimately to his front.

Her scent fills his senses nearly making him sway. Sweet jasmine and...cooking oil? Somehow it smells like ambrosia on her skin, intoxicating.

"But I'd hardly say we did much sleeping. There are so many other.... activities. But you don't need to worry about his whereabouts, he is my King after all."

Before he can react to the blatant possessiveness or her jealousy, his hand is taken and he's being pulled away, he only gets to see the affronted look on Hwa-Jin's face for a second before she turns away with moist eyes.

He knows he must deal with this carefully later, but at the moment all he can think of is his arrogant and seemingly possessive Queen dragging him away, shooing away any who dare to approach them. Until after many twists and turns they're back in her room, various plates covering the floor.

"Did you make all of this?" He asks, voiced filled with wonder.

Instead of answering she drops his hand stepping further into his space, instinctively he wraps her up in his arms. Nose nuzzled into her thick fragrant hair.

"I missed you."

She doesn't answer at first then a little hums hits his ear, one of disbelief.

"Yeah you definitely looked like you were missing me holding another woman's hand."

With wide eyes he pulls away, unable to control his mirth now that it's just them.

"My Queen, are you perhaps....jealou-"

A hand slaps over his mouth before he can finish. Scorching eyes glaring up at him defiantly.

"I'm not jealous. Why would I be? You can do whatever and whomever you like."

Laughter bursts out of his lungs and he draws her into another embrace not allowing her to fight him.

"Shhhh, don't be difficult."

She punches in his ribs and he knows asking her such a thing is the equivalent to telling her not to breathe.

He tightens his hold as her squirming intensifies stroking her hair in placating swipes.

"Just as you belong to me, I belong to you."

That makes her still in his arms, arms lifting to finally return his hug but only for a moment before she shoves him away. Inconsistent as always. 

"Okay, okay that's enough. I can't take all this sweetness so early in the morning. Let's just eat. When did I ever say I belonged to you? Sex declarations don’t count.” 

He chuckles but accepts her offer, grinning more when she grumbles how he should feel special and she doesn't cook for just anyone.

He does feel special, having a woman like this is truly a blessing and as he devours her delicious food he knows that he will do everything in his power to stay by her side.

Anything it takes.

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

MILF Fuckers HCS w/ Black!MILF!Reader | The 3 Musketeers pt. I

cw// getting your back blown out by younger cocks bucks eager to prove they're man enough for you, pro hero! aged characters

Shouto

Pro Hero Shouto is reserved, and quiet just like how he was at UA

unlike when he was at UA, it is not a cover for uncertainty, it's his intentional choice to observe more than he adds to inane chatter

so you're able to see the confidence in his eyes when he asks you for your number after he saves you and your baby girl

for a second time in your mind because

even after he stopped your car from being crushed by the rubble of a building destroyed in a fight against a villain

he made sure to stay between you and the rabid reporters eager for a scoop of his success in the fight, and you were sure it was because he noticed the way your daughter flinched at the loud noise of the crowd

So even though he's at least ten years younger than you, you give him his number with a furious blush on your cheeks

He came along to walks in the park and visits to museums, and your daughter liked him right away because of his simple and straightforward way of speaking

There were also dates when you let your mom babysit for the weekend

The first was at a fancy restaurant, and you looked for an equally fancy outfit. You were semi-successful because you found a (clean) jumper that was a soft forest green and a pair of sturdy brown dress shoes.

You weren't used to the stuffy poshness of the restaurant you and Shouto were guided through on the way to the table he'd reserved, and to your immense surprise and gratitude he noticed the way you kept fidgeting and couldn't sit still

Between the whispers and stares and the menu that just looked ridiculously expensive for no other reason than to be expensive, you couldn't relax and enjoy the company of the actually really great guy sitting across from you

"Isn't she a little old for him? She looks like his mother, the fat cow." The particularly cruel words made your sting eyes before you could even steel yourself against them, the skinny bitches at the table closest to yours on the balcony overlooking the city had been eyeing Shouto as soon as you'd been seated. You knew you shouldn't care but you fucking did--

"Come on- let's get out of here, I can't properly focus on my stunning date with all the noise in here." He stood abruptly and held his hand out to you, his calm but firm voice carrying to the other women's table, and somehow you were able to smile after wiping your tears quickly

You took his hand and followed him out to the street, surprised once more when he directed his driver to meet them at the downtown park in a couple of hours

He walked beside you, hand in hand, and you talked about everything and anything until you reached the park- where he fell in love with the way you laughed and called him a "gentle young man" when he offered to push you on the swing set

He handed you his phone and let you order the food you actually wanted to be delivered to the park, and though he teased you, "I'm putting my faith in you, I hope you know" (words that somehow didn't seem to just be about the wine) he let you choose your favorite cheap wine that tasted like juice with sexy in it

You fell a little in love with the way his laugh was warm and rich as you guys had the best second half of a date you'd ever experienced, having an impromptu picnic with his suit jacket laid on the grass for you and his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up.

After that he let you choose and plan your dates, telling you in the note sent along with the flowers to your condo the next day that he wanted you to always be smiling and laughing if he could help it when you two were together

As much as your friends doubted his seriousness because of the age gap between you, he showed you time and time again he was serious about courting you

That meant more than flowers and gifts of books and surprises for your daughter, including a hot air balloon ride with just the three of you

It meant he came over just to talk to you about your days, came to dinner on week nights just because he missed seeing you too

It meant the way he cradled your face between his large hands when he kissed you, as if you were something precious he was scared of breaking

When he came over for your date night one week, a friend of yours (who was quickly becoming in danger of no longer being your friend at all the way she was talking) was still going on about how Shouto was a pro hero, which meant he couldn't be trusted to commit to a single mom with all the women chasing him everyday

"Shouto wouldn't do that to me. Now could you please leave, Kara. I have a date and he'll be here any minute." You pinched the bridge of your nose and you were trying not to curse her the fuck out. This desire was doubled by the way you saw her eyes linger on him shamelessly as she passes him on her way out the door.

"I overheard the end of your conversation, I apologize- I didn't mean to eavesdrop." The polite words made you smile but Sho could see that the conversation with your friend had taken a lot out of you. So he came over to pull you into his arms and murmured softly,

"How about we stay in tonight. Just the two of us, some delivery and everyone and their unnecessary opinions on the other side of the door, hm?"

You smiled and you were honest when you told him you'd like that

And that's how you ended up riding his cock after sharing a shower where his warm and cold hands trailed over your skin with such desire and reverence all your doubts melted away. You wanted him, in your bed, and in your life for the long haul

You were moaning and gasping as you were caught between the pleasure of his thick shaft stretching you open and fucking deep into you, and the sharp stinging pleasure of his tongue and teeth and hands on your nipples and clit.

He was taking Full Advantage of finally having your glorious tits in his face, bouncing with every thrust and drawing him in like sirens at sea

He suckled from you with a hunger that made your pussy throb and clench around his length, and when he slammed up harder in response you swore the tip of his cock kissed your cervix

A guttural moan was dragged deep from you as he did it again, and again until your squirted all over his flexing abs as he fucked you through your orgasm

"That's it sweetheart, give me all of you." Shouto's voice was deep and ragged with need, and it did funny things to your insides when his words were so polite but his tone was pure sex

"I swear if you let me I'd give you another child for us to raise together, keep you full of me, let everyone know you're mine-"

"Sho!" Your nails dug into the skin of his forearms when he couldn't hold himself back anymore and grabbed your wide hips with an inescapable grip and started to lift you up and down his shaft with more power than your shaky legs could produce

"You'd let me wouldn't you? You already know I'm yours, and you'd look so fucking sexy round with my baby-"

"Yes, I-I'll let you, please!" You were babbling, the squelching of your soaking wet pussy taking his cock deep enough he reached your guts was too distant to embarrass you, all you knew is that you never wanted Shouto to stop fucking you. Claiming you.

And that was enough to make Shouto fill your clenching heat with his seed, gripping your hips so hard you were sure you'd have bruises

"Come on, darling, milk me for every drop okay? That's the only way you'll get pregnant." Shouto gritted his teeth as he spoke, fucking his copious load into your cervix.

You were barely able to hold yourself up, resting with your arms around Shouto's neck and your head on his shoulder feeling his cum fill you with warmth

"I love you," was your only response, and in your fucked out cute voice Shouto wouldn't have had it any other way

"I love you too, and I'll love our family."

[puddingheads]

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu.

In which the small things stay with you, forever.

Warnings: Fluff with slight angst, post time skip spoilers

Word count: ~2.4k

Note: I'm finally writing a fluff fic, but I can't seem to tear myself away from angst. It's extremely minimal here though, and there's a good ending! Special thanks to @rollinguuuthunda for inspiring me to write this (since you rEFUSE to read my angst fics >:()!! And yes, I’m bullying Noya in the summary since he’s shorter than me.

—

i.

“Nishinoya, you got hurt again?” You nagged, firmly tugging at his arms to reveal the bruises littered on his skin. They were big and angry and purple; just the sight of them was enough to make you wince.

“They don’t hurt at all, they’re battle scars!” Nishinoya, ever so cheerful and optimistic, beamed brightly at you. In the two years of knowing him, you’d never seen him bothered by the countless injuries his position inflicted on him.

“Sit down,” settling on the floor cross legged, you patiently waited for him to heed your words. There was no room for disagreement, Nishinoya knew perfectly well that you took his well being very seriously.

He never really understood why, though. He never knew why you would grimace at the new bruises on his arms, or force him into his jacket after every match, or ask if he’d eaten his lunch every time you bumped into him in the halls. (Also, he never noticed how you always coincidentally had a protein bar with you when he would say no.)

“They really don’t hurt, I’m fine!” Nishinoya said, but still sat down despite the reluctance in his voice. Why did you always have ointment in your bag anyway? Compared to him, you barely ever got hurt.

“They will if the ball keeps hitting them,” You retort, huffing quietly while you rubbed the ointment onto the purple spots on his arm. “Stop resisting.”

For the first time, he decided to take notice of your knitted brows and slight pout. Why did you seem so upset? You weren’t the one getting hurt, he’d already assured you that he was fine, and you didn’t have to care so much about him. The subtle look of concern everyone else gave was already more than enough, why did you have to go the extra mile?

And for the first time, the dots in his head started to connect. Maybe, you were worried for him. Maybe, you hated to see him injured as much as he hated to see you frown. Maybe, you liked him as much as he liked you.

“Thanks,” Nishinoya mumbled, all his usual confidence replaced by demureness.

“You’re welcome,” your voice was as soothing as ever, the immense concentration in your eyes stirring something in his chest.

At that moment, everything disappeared. The ache in his thighs, the leftover adrenaline in his veins, the thumping of his heart; everything was drowned out by the featherlight touch of your fingers on his skin.

At that moment, the weight of his arm limp in your hand and the coolness of the ointment on your fingertips told of the trust he had in you. In the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt his new vow—”I’ll take better care of myself to not worry you.”

And at that moment, all he could feel was your fingers rubbing comforting circles on his arm and your silent plea—”I don’t want you to hurt, ever.”

ii.

After days and weeks and months of the push and pull game you had engaged Nishinoya in, he finally scored a date with you. It was in the middle of summer when you agreed to meet him at the park, where the summer festival was held.

Coincidentally, it was the day of the Star Festival, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all on purpose. Only Nishinoya would choose such a day, the only day Vega and Altair were allowed to meet, to be the day of your first date. (Well, if it was on purpose, you sure hoped that you’ll still see him the next day. You didn’t want the first date to be the last, after all.)

“Noya, you’re late,” you chastised, watching him jog over to you with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Sorry,” he laughed, tugging you along to the stands. Immediately, you were swept up by his antics and found yourself having a blast. It was just like him to easily infect you with joy and laughter, just like him to make you forget all your worries.

Spending time with him always felt like a magic carpet ride, bringing you to new places you never knew existed and making you feel emotions you never knew you could feel. It was intoxicating, and soon you found yourself drunk off the dream-like atmosphere.

After hanging your slip of paper with your wish on the wish tree, you turned to Nishinoya. For a second, it felt like a scene from one of your many dreams was playing right before your eyes. His hands firmly pressed together in a fervent prayer for his wish to come true, his brows knitted in the concentration you only ever saw when he was on the court, his lips pursed in unspoken yearning.

Silently, you wondered what he was wishing so desperately for. What more could he ask for, if he already had everything? What could the wish tree bring that he couldn’t attain with his effort?

(He wanted a lot of things, and all of them were related to you.)

His eyes instantly met yours when they finally opened. As if his wish had already been granted, a brilliant smile spread across his face. He fidgeted a little, hands searching himself for an almost-forgotten gift.

“For you,” he beamed, holding out a single forget-me-not. Some of its petals had already fallen from being jostled around throughout the evening, yet it still stood tall and proud, all its yellow and blue on display.

Taking it graciously, you could barely find the words to express the loud drumming of your heart in your chest. Before you could embarrass yourself with a haphazard word of thanks, a gust of wind blew.

The swaying strips of paper on the tree behind Nishinoya painted a meteor shower around his silhouette, adorning his already ethereal form with an otherworldly halo. Along with the wind was the smell of your shampoo, and almost as if he were one of Pavlov’s dogs, his heart instantly started racing and the tension in his shoulders dissipated.

In the wind was you, and in his lungs was the final push for him to fall down the rabbit hole. In the familiar scent of you was your wordless gratitude—”You give me a reason to smile.”

And in the wind was him, and held tight in your hands was the embodiment of his adoration. Under the full moon and colourful lights of the festival, no words were needed. In the sweet scent of the forget-me-not was his shy confession—”You make my heart pound, yet put me at so much ease.”

iii.

“I’m home,” you called out just as you stepped into your apartment and met Nishinoya’s eyes. Instantly, you recognised the nervous glint in his eyes, one you only saw when he broke something after getting carried away with Tanaka. “What did you do now, Yuu?”

“It’s nothing bad!” He was quick to defend himself, even quicker to unload the bags from your tired arms. Ever since you started officially dating Nishinoya, him being in your house on the weekends became a common occurrence.

Following him into your usually pristine kitchen, shock smacked you over the top of your head and sent you stumbling. It was a disaster zone, the counters littered with broken eggs and flour, and a mountain of dirty bowls in the sink. The oven dinged, bringing your attention to a suspicious mound inside.

“Were you baking?” You frowned, examining the crinkled top of the cake.

“Well, it’s our anniversary, and you like cake,” Nishinoya mumbled, pointedly staring at his creation. It wasn’t that bad, but it definitely made you hesitate to have a taste. “It’s your favourite kind, I’m sure you’ll like it!”

In his childlike confidence, you found yourself sighing in defeat. There was no way you could refuse when he was looking at you with so much hope in his eyes.

“Looks like we have two cakes to eat then,” you smiled fondly at him, pulling out a small box from one of the bags you brought home. “I got a slice from the bakery down the street.”

“We must be telepathic!” He exclaimed, excitedly unboxing the store bought slice and setting it next to his home baked one. The stark difference in appearance and his unabashed pride in his cake was hilarious yet endearing.

Deciding not to judge a book by its cover, you coaxed yourself to taste a fallen piece from the fruit of Nishinoya’s labour. Simultaneously, Nishinoya took a bite of the cake you had bought.

In the sweetness of the frosting and the fluffiness of the sponge cake, all Nishinoya could taste was your bashful devotion—”I only want the best for you.”

And in the saltiness of the crumbly cake(he must’ve gotten the salt and sugar mixed up again), all you could taste was his bold resolve—”I’ll do anything for you.”

iv.

“I want to travel the world.” Your fingers that were deftly twirling his hair came to a stop at Nishinoya’s sudden declaration.

“Do you have the money to go?” You asked, mind starting to wander. You’d always known that Nishinoya was a bird meant to fly, always known that Japan was unable to contain his huge dreams, always known that he would jump at any opportunity to explore the unknown. Yet, hearing it outright caught you off guard and got you worrying.

He was still young, still inexperienced, still naive. You saw these as reasons he should stay, he saw them as reasons he should go; for you were careful and he was carefree.

“I have a plan.” He replied, resolution strong in his voice. The confidence he usually emitted was now unable to reassure you, unable to drive away the darkness called unease from your heart.

“How long will you be gone?” With all your being, you wished that he would laugh and tell you it was a joke, like he always did.

“As long as it takes,” shrugging, he shifted to meet your eyes. In the intensity of his gaze, you knew he wasn’t joking. He was dead serious about it, and nothing you said would make him stay.

It wasn’t the first time you heard about his dream of travelling the world and experiencing everything he could, it wasn’t the first time you felt this helpless, and it definitely wasn’t the first time you feared his departure.

Somewhere deep in your heart was fear—a lot of fear. You were afraid of holding him back, afraid of watching him leave and never return, afraid of being away from him. But the day when you had to stop running away from the fear was bound to come; it was inescapable.

“I’m not breaking up with you, of course,” as if he could hear your fears, he continued. “We’ll keep in contact. We may be physically apart, but I’ll never leave. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

“We are.” You said, mustering all the conviction you could find. Whether it was to convince him or to convince yourself, you weren’t sure.

It took weeks of preparation and arrangements before Nishinoya was able to fly off. You had contemplated if you should send him off, since you were sure to break down in tears once he stepped through the departure gates, but decided to go to the airport anyway. All for seeing him just a little more.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Nishinoya muttered, face buried in your neck as he pulled you in a tight embrace. You hoped the strength in his grip wasn’t due to a hesitance at the last minute.

“I don’t know how I’ll do it without you,” you confessed, not realising the arrows your words pierced through his heart.

In your shaky voice and shallow breaths, he heard your reluctant promise—”No matter how long it takes, I’ll always be right there waiting for you.”

And in his rare moment of silence, you heard his wholehearted oath—”No matter how far I go, I’ll always come back to you.”

v.

Years had passed, both Nishinoya and you had grown more mature, more accustomed to only seeing each other once a year, more familiar with loneliness. But now, Nishinoya’s desire to explore has been satiated, and his journey around the globe has come to an end. He was back.

“Yuu!” The elation in your voice easily drowned out his calling of your name, earning a few glances from the passersby in the airport.

Cupping his cheeks in your hands and resting your forehead against his, you closed your eyes and let out a content sigh. He immediately mirrored you, basking in your presence.

“I’m home,” Nishinoya whispered, pulling away.

“You’re home.” You reciprocated, taking all of him in. He was a little tanner than the previous time you saw him, his eyes a little brighter.

For the first time since you last saw him, everything felt right. With him back, a monotony you never noticed was relieved. With you back, a stability he had forgotten was restored. Being back together brought back memories of the past and gave hope for the future. To be a tad dramatic, you never felt quite as alive when he wasn’t by your side.

Just like the love stories and romance movies, everything around the both of you faded to nothingness. For a split second, it was just the two of you in the entire universe. For that split second, nothing else mattered, since you were with Nishinoya, and he wasn’t going anywhere else.

And in that split second, he decided that it was now or never.

Taking a step away, he fumbled for something in his pocket. As he sunk to one knee, realisation settled in your mind. Oh, oh.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Nishinoya declared, eyes glazed over and smile full of anticipation.

In the glittering diamond seated atop the silver band he held up, you saw his wish hung upon the wish tree—

And in the glimmering tears streaming down your cheeks as you nodded your head yes, he saw your wish hung upon the wish tree—

“Stay with me, forever.”

—

[nepenthelee]

talia.

"I wouldn't dare to give you those--" I sighed, hesitating for a split second, indecisive about telling her or not. I pursed my lips and closed my eyes as I thought it through. She warmly embraced me with the arms that I have always treasured, and she put them underneath my shirt. The lovely arms that I am so fond of, with writing them tales and pithy poems of the buried memories we once shared. The feelings that were present in moments of reality turned into a conflation of verses, seemingly fictitious but definitely something experienced by two lovers.

But some people could never fathom a love so earnest and ferocious. And so I hugged her back.

She placed her head on my shoulder. Her slow and warm breath hitting my neck. Our hearts beating too loud for our comfort.

"Go on. Tell me everything you know," she muttered softly. Fuck, she is too gentle to be here in this tainted world. I will protect her at any cost. Even my life. Even everyone else's lives.

I smelled her hair. A nice feeling. Warmth.

"--distant platitudes people tell their lovers," I told her with immense passion and emphasis. She retreated from our hug with her warm hands still touching the imperfections on my back, watching every move of my facial expressions, and slowly touching my wet cheeks with her warm fingers. The most beautiful touch I have ever received, by the sweetest soul I have ever known.

She looks so meek and pulchritudinous, I am utterly dazed with the sight in front of me. It is so inviting and warm to the touch, the more I have it, the more I crave it.

"What do you mean by that, baby?" she asks with distinct curiosity in her eyes, fucking glorious, I can stare at her until she tells me to stop, I swear. I want her to know every part of me. I want her to destroy me and kiss me until everything falls apart. But she just wouldn't, would she?

I smirked. She frowned upon that. Sweetheart, don't do that, it hurts my heart every time you disagree with me, even with the littlest of things.

I maintained my posture and started telling her the things I have always wanted to tell her. I already have, but they were always expressed in the wrong ways, wrong words.

There was nothing I regretted more than using the improper terms at the supposedly right time. Heck, regrets were not my thing back then, back when I did not know her. Back when everything in the world was bleak and uncomfortable.

"Say, for instance," I prepared myself in case of frequent stutters. I hate it every time they happen. Why can't I just say things faster and more eloquently? I want to be good enough for her.

"'I shall swim oceans and climb mountains to express my gratitude and passion for you, you are the epitome of beautiful, inside out. I will love you for the rest of my life.'" I chuckled at the cliché sentences I sarcastically said. I could never say such inconsistencies to my baby. She knows what I meant but she still looks puzzled.

"Why would you say that? Love is love. No matter how shallow or deep and you should never laugh at that," and just like that, I hugged her again. I love everything about her. Especially her warmth. The birthmark on her shoulder. Her smile. Her opinions on certain matters. I could go on and on for as long as I can take. But more important things should be said.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. But hush first, baby," I moved my head down and pecked her cheek while the other one rested on my shoulder. So soft.

I took a smell of her hair again and smiled at her. I looked at the sky full of amazement and childish envy.

Why does it have the stars and the moon and the sun and the clouds? Does its profound celestial beauty make it so unreachable? Or is it only the inability of people to reach such high lengths? Is it the combination of the two? No one ever knows. And no one should. Because just like that, mystery is beauty.

I felt her cheek muscles rising up. She smiled back, "Okay."

And just like that, I am happy.

"Because sweetheart, how I would put it into words is-- I desire to capture this moment," shit, I forgot the sentence. I thought about it real hard and clenched my jaw.

She felt that and she kissed it, "It's all right baby, you can do it."

"T-To engrave this memory of us in my heart," I sighed devastatingly. Fucking idiot.

She pulled my hand and held it out to massage it, "Sing me songs, baby, your favourites."

With that, I grinned, "Sweetheart, you are my favourite song."

"Silly, you're so cheesy," fuck, even her laughter is beautiful.

"Not just a song, but the masterpiece of a god," I continued with a proud smile plastered on my face. We both laughed and I felt love in its unison.

I eventually sang and we danced underneath the moonlit street's embrace, with the city lights illuminating all over the horizon. The sight of the buzzing metropolitan faced us as we ardently waltzed, with her head on my shoulder. The drizzle woke me up to reality, I had to tell her the things I have always wished to say.

"This memory of us slow dancing in the rain," I said. She looked at me and completely broke the hug. Damn, I wish that lasted longer. But this could not wait.

"With me singing to songs we are both enamoured with. Because nothing is more heavenly than our love, and anything beyond it is irrelevant," I held her hands up and tenderly kissed one of them.

"You loved me when I knew nothing of the world. I am fortunate at a profound level, to be completely bestowed with your love," and I kissed the other. I put her hands back slowly and collected the courage to look at her in the eyes.

"I was a horrible person beyond society's expectations and comprehension, indifferent and apathetic, but you went through with it, to help me become a better person that actually feels things, and for that I was already grateful," she hummed and held my hands, squishing them with her own. We communicated with our eyes after I said that.

Sweetheart, please say something.

She closed her eyes and lowered her head as she understood, "Yes, you were. It was never too late to change, and you should actually give yourself more credit for that," She looked at me as she said the last sentence with glimmer and hope in her eyes.

I pursed my lips as I nodded, if she hadn't been in my life right now, at this moment, I don't know what sort of trouble I'd be in, but I digress, "The people who truly knew me, recognizes the fact that I was not able to establish proper relationships with them, but they knew I cherish them. Some people don't. It was just then that I understood, I can be misunderstood. I am also human. You made me very aware. And I am thankful again," she kissed the tear flowing through my right cheek, just like the way I kissed her precious birthmark. With a certain affection only us can comprehend.

"Because of you, I came to the realisation that people had disparate definitions of love. No matter how big or small one's thoughts are, to be able to express them clearly, is a gift. One should never underestimate them," I think that's very beautiful. Again, I stuttered. Fuck this shit.

"You're still stuttering, after 8 years of loving me and 7 years of being together?" She wondered as she cupped my face. I chuckled as I thought about it.

Slightly deviating from the original plan I had constructed so precisely yesterday, I said, "I prepared myself last night to tell you this albeit knowing I might slip up because I knew I would be a stuttering mess when I'm in front of you."

"After years of being in love with you," she tightly put her hands on my neck as I pulled her closer to me, "You have never, not even once, failed to make me feel fainthearted and bold at the same time," I kissed her lips softly as we closed our eyes to hold this moment captive in our dreams.

"For that, I adore you," I opened my eyes just to see hers slowly meeting mine.

I stopped speaking for five minutes as I struggled to imprint this comely sight in front of me into my soul. After five minutes of complete silence and exchanged stares, I finally spoke to her soul, "I am sorry for being verbose, and having an eccentric, spiritless choice of words sometimes. I know you know I do this. But still, I apologise," I bit my lips in embarrassment. Her cheeks were covered in crimson as she tries to recover from those minutes of silence and tranquility.

She chuckled as she said the exact words she told me whenever I apologised for stuttering too much, "You don't need to apologise, silly. I understand you."

I smiled. We are the only ones here in this realm that can truly understand each other. I am happy.

The words "I am in love with you" cannot possibly suffice these emotions I feel whenever I am near her, or even far from her, for she always appears in the visions of my daydreams. But she knows and she feels exactly the same. She loves me as I love her. Undeniably and unconditionally.

amor fati,

                                                                                    comet

[evestaylors-blog]

new years stream of conciousness

This was the most difficult year of my life. I don’t know how to express the extreme intensity of the pain and emotions that I have felt and that still stick with me. I didn’t know that it was possible to feel the amount of pain that I’ve felt. I grieved the loss of so many aspects of my life, which caused me to completely spiral into an incredibly dark and unhealthy mental and physical state of being.

I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom as hard as I possibly could have, and that I’m slowly rebuilding my shell and gradually healing my soul. There’s a new sense of strength and permanent change that comes with that.

The only way I’ve known how to handle things during this time in my life has been to simply make it through each day; I felt unable to do anything more than that. Even without feeling any motivation, energy, or hope, I somehow faced fears and put myself in vulnerable situations that I never thought I could. Some are seemingly simple things, like buying a writing journal, attempting to learn new instruments, continuing to work hard at my school/job, and going through trial and error with seeking professional help. Others were scarier things, like taking singing lessons, trying out a scare-actor position at a haunted house, taking an acting class with a new teacher who didn’t see eye-to-eye with me, failing at an audition, and getting on an airplane by myself to live in Europe for a month – all while in my worst physical/mental state.

I genuinely have such gratitude for those amazing experiences. I credit them for all of my growth and strength. I absolutely benefited greatly from it all. Despite that knowledge, I noticed that I can see, hear, understand, and realize the validity of words of wisdom and recognize the beauty of the world around me… but I could never fully feel it. Advice from smart and meaningful people in my life have made perfect sense, but it couldn’t fully reach me to a point in which I could truly emulate it.

I remember staring at the Eiffel Tower this summer – something I never thought I would be fortunate enough to do and that I’m truly so amazed and thankful to have experienced – and seeing the beauty of it, recognizing my privilege in witnessing it, but still feeling completely broken.

I absolutely love Paris, love Europe, love traveling, and love my best friend who I got to do it all with. Looking back on my trip, it is one of the best things I’ve ever done in my life, and I look back with immense pride, joy, gratitude, and an itch to travel again. As knowingly lucky as I am to have this incredible life, the wisest of words and the most stunning of sights somehow could not pull me out of the deep, dark hole that I spiraled into. They did, however, absolutely shape me and give me life experience and personal growth that I’m so thankful for. Depression did not allow me to fully feel it, though.

I couldn’t relate to the “roller-coaster” analogy for a while – the concept of having “good days and bad days”, “ups and downs”? Nope. Day after day was miserable for a long time, despite my efforts. I’m only recently starting to find genuineness in my smiles and laughter again, starting to feel the joy that spending time with cool people brings or beautiful places feel or good food tastes…etc.

This post will not have a set “happy ending”, victory, solution, full-circle-epiphany… because I’m still going through it; It’s still a current experience – not a beginning-to-end story from the past. I’m still healing, growing, learning, re-building from everything.

For now, my victory is that I am starting to relate to that “roller-coaster” analogy – that I have seen better days after losing hope in seeing them. My victory is that DESPITE not being able to say that I’ve fully “found the light at the end of the tunnel” or DESPITE not being able to fully feel the beneficial power of those wise words or stunning sights or amazing experiences, I’ve still seen so much, accomplished so much, faced so much, and I’m still here with wonderful friends and family by my side who I love and appreciate wholeheartedly and can’t thank enough for sticking by me.

Emotions, situations, thoughts, feelings, people, etc. don’t change or go away or get resolved purely because it’s almost the end of a calendar year. The end of a calendar year does, however, give me inspiration to reflect on where I’ve been, where I’m at, and where I’m going. I still don’t know where any of that is. But I can still plan to keep going, to keep learning, and to just keep being in this next year. I can plan to continue the seemingly impossible journey of finding self-love and to challenge myself to experiences that terrify yet excite me. Even though I’m not at a place where I’ve fully learned or fully grown or fully healed from anything, I have started to see the possibility and notice the change that I’ve gone through and the strength that I possess.

Despite the nostalgia and the anxiety that this time of year gives me, December 31st isn’t necessarily an end of anything and January 1st isn’t necessarily a beginning of anything – 2017 began and ended while this process and journey is ongoing. But it’s a reminder that I’m still here, still going, still seeing, still being.

[I always feel silly and embarrassed for making long/sappy types of posts about my life, because, like, who cares? I don’t want the type of attention that it will get me, and I don’t want to be looked at as some superhuman just for being myself and writing about how I feel. BUT, I also feel a sense of inauthenticity when I only post pictures that make myself appear happy all of the time and make my life look perfect, but I do it anyway (although I found myself unable to for most of this year), which I also question why anyone should care about, and it also gives me attention that I suppose I must crave, but don’t really like the concept of or feel deserving of. So, since I already share the good stuff (which I do NOT think doing so is a bad thing, because optimism and putting positivity out into the world is good!), I might as well also share the reality that might be relatable to others.]

[12-99-30]

Unorganized Thoughts from April

*Warning: contains a lot of unnecessary quotes. It’s the 2012 Tumblr in me that can’t escape*

Each month I feel like I’m a different version of myself than I was before. I’m tracking progress where there are days that I’m excelling, and days where I feel like I’m exactly where I started. I don’t realize how fast time is moving, and how much I’m growing with each passing day until I find myself in a different spot with a different mindset than before. 

April was the first full month of experiencing quarantine lock-down. Most mornings, I start off by listening to The Daily podcast and try to wrap my head around this new normal. We probably won’t get to experience “normalcy” until at least another year, and that’s generous. Even with the production of a vaccine, there’s the issue of mass-production and mass-distribution. We also need to consider priority to people who are most vulnerable. Even then, the virus will still be spreading. I’m mourning the lost luxuries of everyday life (*sighs*). 

The first two weeks of April in lock-down were therapeutic. I’m privileged enough to look at this quarantine as a time to slow down, pause, and invest in things I’ve been putting off. I know many families in the world can’t experience that right now. This is a financially stressful time for most, and a period of prolonged anxiety and fear. I’m sorry if this post offends anyone. 

Being inside protected me from the outside world. Somehow, the idea of the world stopping put a cap on how much of my worries could grow. I wake up with assurance that my mom will be sitting on her blue exercise ball, greeting me with a warm “Good morning, darling” as she does her work in the kitchen. My dad will be sitting in his dining room chair, on the phone yelling at his coworker who he refuses to acknowledge as a friend. If it’s past 10 AM, N-- will be playing Animal Crossing on the Switch or “working”.  Y-- will be comfortably sleeping in bed after a night of playing Fortnite until 4 AM. There is always an aroma circulating around the house - baked banana bread, chocolate oatmeal cookies, brownies, or even dumplings. In quarantine, I’m able to control the things around me to maximize my time and well-being. I am grateful to have so many things to celebrate during this time. 

But like all things of this earth, it leans towards corruption. As the weeks inside passed, my indulgence in anxiety-ridden, thoughts became overwhelming.

My 83 year old grandma got COVID-19. I was never close with her, so I had this guilt sensation that I should’ve been feeling more worried, scared, and saddened, when I didn’t. Instead I felt weighted by the sight of my dad feeling helpless.  The “strongest” man of the family suddenly transformed into a man of anger, tears, and a man desperate to make up for lost years. It’s times like these where you learn to apply everything the church is teaching you; to not live in fear, to love thy neighbor, and to seek God fervently. I attest that it’s so much easier said than done. 

As a person popped into my life for a passing moment, I felt like a girl ready to ditch her antibiotics just because the symptoms were being relieved. But J-- C-- (of course lol), sent me this piece of wisdom:

5 Better is open rebuke

    than hidden love.

6 Faithful are the wounds of a friend;

    profuse are the kisses of an enemy.

As the cheesy, Tumblr, teenage, coming-of-age, film quote states: “We accept the love we think we deserve.” Since tasting the love of God, I realize I deserve so much more. I deserve a friend who is honest, who values me, who won’t make me feel like I’m a choice out of convenience. A friend who comes clean of all things the first time. If this is him, trying to sweep the guilt for the pain he caused me under a rug, I don’t want it. If this is him trying to hold onto to two worlds, I withdraw from this game. I am slowly learning how to die to myself. To not let my emotions rule, and submit to the wisdom of Jesus. I’m working through forgiveness, but texted-apologies are empty unless there is action. Action has continuously proven to me that selfishness will continue to rule. 

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them.” - Maya Angelou

I believe what I saw. I believe what I continue to see. Until God takes hold, I refuse to fall into quicksand again. 

But even understanding these truths, there were many days where I slipped. It felt like I was chained to the thought of them, weighing me down and disrupting my peace of mind. There continued to times where I got vivid memories of everything. How it felt to read those texts that they were in NOVA, to see the location and know she was there, to have to take an exam with a hole in my gut. I feel chained to this embarrassment and shame that I was so ~stupid~ to miss him while he was in Richmond, DC, and her apartment. To convince myself that I was somehow on his mind. To not feel like a failure in all of this. I’m reliving these things over and over and I just want to escape. But God is calling me to remember it all. To remind myself to not be foolish. To put up a guard and draw closer to Him. 

I reread 2 Corinthians 4 many times this month, each time with a new reason (and sometimes the same). 

“8 We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9 persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;” 

 “ 16 So we do not lose heart. Though our 17 outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.  For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, 18 as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”

Light and momentary compared to the eternal weight of glory. 

The mourning of COVID-19 and my own heartbreak feels like forever. But in this life - it’s so short. It’s passing. There is a Forever with God to remind me that this pandemic, this grief, and this anxiety will pass. The spiritual transformation that God intends for us through our struggles is to make us more like Jesus. This is an invitation to let God do deep work in us. To strip us down of everything and turn us into something beautiful. Suffering is one of the few things that can turn us into the image of Jesus, but only if we let him. Only if we have the capability to be honest with ourselves to say that we want to surrender our whole life to Him. Live like God is among us, because He is. 

“Aim at heaven, you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth, you get neither.” - C.S. Lewis 

I get to ~proudly~ say that I’m not perfect by any standards. But I am working on the person I am becoming, and focusing less on the final product of my character. Pastor D.L. puts it plainly: “The secret to life is your life in secret”

Our public failure is always preceded by private failure. Success as a married person is your success as a single person. I am striving for success in all realms of my life. A heavenly mindset that everything in this life is temporary, but the person I am is the person that will meet the Father one day. I am working on patience and care within my family, the people I take most for granted. I want to be a person who everyone can rely on to be consistent. It starts within a home. 

A Moment of Gratitude: 

Despite being alone for most of quarantine, I’m thankful to never feel lonely. I’m thankful that despite church not meeting physically in-person, we’re able to continue to meet and cultivate faith in our own homes. I’m thankful for my friends who continue to hear me list the same problems time and time again, and reaffirm me that they are always walking beside me.

I’m thankful for this momentary affliction. It reminds me I’m human (lol), and I need God. People come out of suffering - in spite of the bitterness, devastation, and loss - as better people. They come out as the best of people. I’m starting to see resilience being built in my family and myself. A new definition of love. A holy mixture of patience and hope. 

I’ll end this post with a snippet of quarantine life: 

We gather around the family sofa, rewatching childhood videos. I could feel all our eyes glued to the screen; the room echoes with reminiscent laughter and immense warm gratitude fill our chests. The videos of raw scenes of sharing coco puffs in the morning seemed exciting. Walking around Georgetown was an adventure. To anyone else, these are poorly edited videos with no climax. But to us, it reminds me of where I’m rooted. That no matter what I’m doing, where I am, everyday is exciting when you’re surrounded by the people you love. Thank you, Dad for capturing the ordinary moments. I hope to share these videos with someone who finds beauty in these intimate videos. Who will feel what I felt and see what I see. 

[theologyinplay]

Wrestling, Playing & Reverence: wading through the dynamics of relating to the divine

When you think of your relationship with God, what descriptors come to mind?

Throughout my life I could section off who God was for me and how I related to that God in those times. Early on in my childhood, God was big, distant, kind of like a boss but more cosmic. Certainly not anything intimate or relatable. And even dragging that a bit further into my youth and adolescence when I would attend youth retreats and whatnot, God remained that big, distant cosmic boss, looming over all of creation but quite the embarrassment. Growing up a Christian and going to church on the weekends wasn’t something I was freely advertising.

And then there was the season when I consciously chose to become distant. God wasn’t something or someone that I knew, cared to know or even knew I could know. God was this ethereal, separated thing but remained simply a concept that I couldn’t understand nor would have known how to even begin to understand.

But there were a whole lot of things I was taught about this God that formulated what I “knew” about this God. I didn’t have to know God as much as know about him and what he was like. So, in effect, he was allowed to stay distant and I could remain in the dark.

God was big, loving, jealous, angry, vengeful, and the great judge. Like, God was the one who had the final say on everything which didn’t seem very fair to me since I didn’t even know this God but evidentially he knew me enough to judge me when everything was said and done in my life. As I grew older, those descriptive qualities boiled down to no more than just a petty God I didn’t care much about. Even if he was going to judge and be angry with me or require whatever from me, I simply didn’t care anymore.

There was a long season where God was the greatest irrelevancy to me. I was trying to find myself (as we all do) through all the things surrounding me, and God wasn’t on that list. There was nothing intimate or worth knowing about God.

When the “finding myself” turned to a period of depression, hopelessness, emptiness leading to self-mutilation, which in turn lead to years of drug addiction, I found myself in the middle of the night, in the middle of an abandoned parking lot in downtown Syracuse, out of my mind, wanting to kill myself.

I cried out. Through tears and singing some song out loud from back in the days of youth retreats, I cried out the cliché “God if you’re real, I need you right now!” Through the hazy, slow-motion condition my brain had me in (the doctors would later describe as temporary insanity), my mind cleared and the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced happened: I could physically feel arms wrap around me. And in the depths of my soul I heard “It’s ok”. Immediately the hopelessness and wanting to die disappeared.

Believe me, I realize how cliché this all sounds. It is what it is, though. It was a very personal experience that won’t let me write off this love that won’t let me go. Even if initially I still had no idea who this God was, I was finally convinced whoever he was, he loved me immensely.

From that point on, my understanding of God evolved and transformed tremendously. I moved to Maryland to help a friend plant a church of which I became the children’s and youth pastor of alongside my wife. I went to school to be a pastor and began plans to plant my own church. God was God and he didn’t look much different than I knew of him growing up, except for that intimate love I couldn’t escape. If it wasn’t for that experience as the bedrock of my searching, I don’t believe my faith would have survived.

I was having breakfast with a pastor friend recently and we were discussing the dynamics of the Jewish, Muslim, and Christian faiths. He said that Jews view their relationship as wrestling with God, he described his as playful and a Muslim would describe theirs as very reverent. For example, I asked him if he thought our mutual Muslim friend would pray to God in the car while driving to work. He paused and thought for a moment and shook his head saying he didn’t think so because of their 5 prayer times a day. They viewed their prayer time more reverent than that and wouldn’t flippantly pray in the car like that.

There was an even longer pause before I broke the silence telling him I believe my relationship with God consists of all three. I’ve wrestled with God, I certainly have my fair share of play with God, but I also hold a dear, sacred reverence simultaneously.

Over the course of my life, my understanding of God has shifted and changed radically. How I understand sin, judgement, grace, the atonement and incarnation, spiritual disciplines, prayer, the trinity, all the typical doctrine hot points, have evolved so much since the early days of hearing of this God. I’m not even sure it’s the same God anymore.

To close, what I have come to love about my faith and relationship with this God is that he is a God that desires the wrestling; the figuring out sincerely who he is so we can discover the depths of how loved we are. This God, because of the dynamics of this other-giving love between Father, Son and Holy Spirit, has invited me into their playtime. I love what the late Robert Capon said, “Creation is the pillow talk of the trinity”. It is within their relationship with each other that I find myself right dab in the center of the dance, enjoying all of God and all of humanity in union and play.

But it’s also precisely because of that wrestling and play that I often find such immeasurable joy in the reverence as well. The reverence of reading scripture and seeing more and more of this Gospel unfold. The reverence in praying through prayers written hundreds of years ago by old Anglicans and still breathing in so much Holy Spirit inebriation through its pages and words. The reverence in quieting myself every morning in centering meditation, praying through my gratitude for what my life is and what it is made up of.

I absolutely love this about my faith: my wrestling, playing and reverence. It’s what makes up my relationship with God, through Jesus, together with the Holy Spirit. There’s no longer any distinction to where he ends and I begin. It’s one big reverential dance, wrestling match and playtime.

What’s yours like?

Grace + Peace

[mrasheedcartoons]

Awakening the Atrophied Eye: INITIATION

It's embarrassing to see the date on the last entry in this series. lol Paradoxically, those five years have flown by even as September of 2013 somehow seems like a lifetime ago, and indeed, I have experienced what has often been considered a sort of rebirth.

The concept of 'correct meditation,' as described in the lore of spiritual science developed by the ancients and recorded on the granite stele at Saqqara in Egypt, was the intended point of the blog series. I had ventured to chronicle my own attempts to build up the habit of meditating every day with the hope that at some point my diligence would be rewarded with the opening of the UDJAT Wisdom Eye, initiating me into the enlightened state of the 'Followers of Second Sight' (called 'Shemsu Hor' in the well-known Greek and 'Shemesu Heru' in Ancient Egyptian, the latter which I prefer and have titled myself with).

To be clear, the practice of correct meditation with the hope that the third eye would open is completely separate from the third eye opening. I point out that distinction here because, on Sunday, July 1, 2018 at approximately 6:15am, my third eye opened for me, and the drill of correct meditation was the furthest thing from my mind at the time.

I will describe the event itself, but I will hold the content of what the Wisdom Eye showed me close, because it was very personal... pregnant with meaning for me to meditate upon and extract knowledge for my own path... and I do not care to share it. So unless the prophet Joseph (peace be upon him) magically steps forth to offer aid in deciphering the content for me, I am uninterested in the opinions of others on that narrow topic. To even a well-meaning outsider, the content very well may quite reasonably seem mundane to the extreme – even to the point of provoking an instant "That's IT?! So what?" type of response – and I am in no mood for all of that since I'm still very protective of the experience in general.

Although I initially started not to share that part either, I will share my experience of what actually happened around what was shown to me though, since I believe it is the duty of all of us to record an accurate account of any and all spiritual experiences we have to add to the body of human literature. It's important. Contrary to the empty opinions of the secular, it is precisely our spiritual experiences that have humanized us, enabling us to build our civilizations. (I may end up writing out a detailed description of what the third eye showed me anyway and hiding it somewhere, to be found after my death. Then y'all can make fun of me all you wish when I genuinely really, REALLY won't care a damn.)

On the morning of 01 July, shortly after I had finished uploading the political cartoon of the day, I found I had about 30 minutes to kill before my alarm went off to get ready for work. So I decided to lie down and get a bit more sleep, but I noticed as I got in the bed that I was keyed up for some reason. Similar to the caffeine-induced "UP!" feeling when I've had my one cup of coffee during the day. Since I hadn't had any coffee in almost 24 hours, I expected the feeling to go away once I got comfortable, but it didn't.

I squirmed around for a few minutes until I finally noticed that the feeling was getting progressively worse. All by itself it wasn't a necessarily unpleasant feeling – this building excitable sensation – just wildly inappropriate considering my intention was to actually fall asleep. It felt like a strong 'bzzzzzzzzz' feeling building near/around/through me, and I remember that at its peak I began actively worrying as to whether it was one of the symptoms of a heart attack.

And then the third eye opened.

Suddenly my entire field of vision was filled with the darkened imagery the eye was showing me, but in the fovea focus area, there was a jagged 'hole' where a portion of that same imagery was quite bright. When I looked around, the scenery shifted, but the 'hole' stayed in the same place, and it didn't take long at all to notice that with my will alone, I could zoom closer to stuff, see stuff behind the darker areas and pull them up for better scrutiny in front of the 'hole.' I also noticed I wasn't really allowed to focus too much attention on one particular thing in what was shown to me; there was a level of zoom-in and detail it wouldn't let me achieve. This experience was clearly intended as a 'big picture' glimpse of something. All while this was happening, I noticed that the 'bzzzzzzzzz' energy feeling was retreating/dropping/defusing, which gave the very strong impression of a countdown. Then sure enough, once the 'bzzzzzzzzz' sensation stopped, the 'hole' in the veil closed. For precious fractions of a second, I could still see the imagery behind the now even darker veil, and then there was just normal darkness.

I continued to lie there, stunned and amazed and humbled beyond belief. I started praying, thanking Allah for gifting me with this great blessing. And it was absolutely a blessing! I felt an immense gratitude that my path had led me to the literature I had read gobbled that enabled me to recognize what was going on at the exact moment it started; I had no doubt or confusion as to what I was seeing. I replayed the event over and over, teasing and probing my memory for every precious bit I tried to take in during what seemed to be a few seconds.

I've thought long and hard about this event over the last few days, and I have some speculations regarding the how and possibly even why it may have happened for me that I'd like to share.

The Holy Qur'an 42:51 — It is not fitting for a man that Allah should speak to him except by inspiration, or from behind a veil, or by the sending of a messenger to reveal, with Allah's permission, what Allah wills: for He is Most High, Most Wise.

THE HOW I wasn’t meditating at the time I had my third eye experience and in fact, I hadn’t meditated in quite a while. So how was I able to experience this wonderful thing if I wasn’t engaged in the technique of ‘correct meditation’ that was specifically designed to trigger that third eye experience?

Well, obviously an accurate answer requires a necessary adjustment in my understanding of ‘correct meditation.’ The third eye experience that I had was the truth; my understanding of what I needed to do to create that experience was wrong. Based on what ‘correct meditation’ actually does —

uses a specific rhythmic breathing technique to get your body's natural N,N-Dimethyltryptamine (DMT) levels up, corresponding to the rise of the 'Serpent Fire of the Universe' energy ('Sekhem/Chi/Kundalini') on the other side

trains you to comfortably focus visual concentration into the area the Wisdom Eye opens at for up to an hour at a time

encourages you to begin the drill while well-rested and generally healthy

...it’s now clear to me that the point of the technique is to set a stage. You are by no means 'activating' the eye to open, but instead, you’re creating a physical scenario that we believe should be ideal-optimal to invite the third eye to open… to make things easier for it to open for us should the forces that direct it decide to do so.

And that’s it. That’s all it does. The technique of correct meditation is a hopeful invitation to the unseen to pleeeeeeeeeeeeease open the third eye for us.

Yet, when I had my third eye experience, I was not breathing in a measured, rhythmic way. I was just breathing. lol My DMT levels were not already elevated, thus when the unseen forces elevated them for me to the levels required to rip a third eye ‘hole’ into the veil between realities, it was very noticeable to me in those moments as an intrusive, alien sensation.

When I had my third eye experience, I was not focusing my visual concentration into the fovea spot. Far from it, as I was looking around, semi-annoyed at the excited energy sensation I was feeling that was preventing me from falling asleep.

When I had my third eye experience, I was not well-rested either. Although I am generally healthier than the average Black American male of my age/peer group, I’ve been getting less sleep than normal for the last few months in order to stay committed to my on-going project of producing one political cartoon per day. I do walk around tired, enough to require that one cup of coffee during the day so I’ll be alright.

So the man-made understanding of the ancients' conclusion of what should be the most ideal conditions for the Wisdom Eye to open were not met when I had my experience, but that doesn’t mean that the optimal conditions that it DID require weren’t in place. Obviously they were. As a Muslim, I’m analyzing this from an ‘Islamic Theurgy’ position. In the Qur’an, there are very specific things Allah commanded (or even just softly advised sometimes) the believers to do in order for them to be “prosperous in this world and in the next.” I am a practicing Muslim, and other than not yet performing the Hajj (the pilgrimage to Mecca), I have made the sincere effort to keep up with the ritual core pillars of my faith, as well as other items that in my research into scripture I felt were related in some way and should also be adhered to as a believing seeker of truth. Here are the practices I did leading up to my experience:

1.) I had just finished fasting the month of Ramadan. It is well known that the act of fasting is a spiritually rejuvenating practice, and in my case I successfully completed the full 30-days of one of the most intense forms in the world.

2.) I pray to the One God of Abraham in the formal ritual five times a day, during which I pointedly ask Allah to strengthen me with His spirit and teach me that which I know not. I’ve been asking for that for about 8-9 months now.

3.) Allah said that those believers who will prosper are the ones who seek His help with patient perseverance and prayer, “for Allah is with those who patiently persevere.” I believe this requirement is being met just by my commitment to my one cartoon a day project. No matter what, I make sure I get up and make that cartoon before I start the day, and God is with me for the sincere effort.

These three bullets, combined with my goal to win paradise by being a good person in general as described by God in scripture, puts me in the optimal state for receiving a spiritual breakthrough. Make no mistake… the phenomenon known as the UDJAT Wisdom Eye of Heru is absolutely a Sign of Allah. Therefore, if one holds hope of achieving an authentic third eye experience (or repeating it), one must be minimally purified according to the criterion of the One God of Abraham, the all-powerful Supreme Creator of reality. I believe my own sincere efforts, especially within the last year or so, to adhere to God’s minimal requirements for the believer are what enabled me to achieve the state favorable for the coveted third eye experience, this being far more powerful than the mechanical techniques of ‘correct meditation.’ This understanding aligns to the truth of God’s core message to humankind in scripture regarding that which the Lord our God wants us to take away from our spiritual study.

THE WHY According to Clesson Harvey’s research, the first 2 or 3 third eye experiences will guide you in a specific direction, with subsequent experiences enabling you to explore the unseen realms through the Wisdom Eye within a more self-directed, quasi-independent state. It is in my best interest—as I do indeed hold hope that the Wisdom Eye will open for me again—that I maintain this optimal state for it to do so. Indeed, since the rewards and punishments of God are merit based on a tiered system, I obviously need to try even harder in my spiritual walk and work to do more than the base minimal requirement as a believer.

Basically this wonderful, initiating third eye event happened in order to assure me that I was on the right path, and I must continue and even strive for better if I wish to have another. The technique of correct meditation then is but a communication tool and although I do plan to continue my quest to personally build up that skill (I'm very motivated now! hahaha) , I understand that it is the righteous behavior of the believer in good standing with God that is the true way towards having that amazing, supernatural experience.

Peace.

Very respectfully,

M. Rasheed, PMP®

Cartoonist | Socio-Political Commentator | Graphic Novel Serialist | Shemesu Heru Second Sight Graphix www.mrasheed.com

[fashiontrendin-blog]

On Grieving the Loss of a Father, and Learning Along the Way

http://fashion-trendin.com/on-grieving-the-loss-of-a-father-and-learning-along-the-way/

On Grieving the Loss of a Father, and Learning Along the Way

For All of the Lights month, a commenter said they’d like to read something about “how people we love become lights in our lives… and what happens when the lights go out.” My best friend lost her father in June 2015, a month before her wedding. She was 31; he was 67, kind, generous, a belly-laugh of a man, healthy, full, alive, and then not. Below, her as-told-to story about that loss and how she plans to carry his light forward. –Meghan

Losing him

My dad had a brilliant mind. He had a wonderful sense of humor. He was my go-to. Any question I had about life, any consultation, he was right there. He was so supportive of me, and I of him. He was an ever-present father. A safe space. After he died, I remember thinking about how the world felt less safe for me. In his absence, I felt more vulnerable.

A few weeks before my dad’s death, he had chest pains that were unusual for him, being a healthy, active guy, so he went for a checkup to make sure it wasn’t serious. The doctors performed an angiogram and he stayed at the hospital overnight. I called him the next day, the day he was released. It was the last time we spoke. I was walking to work and we were laughing. He was joking about the hospital, how tedious it was, how happy he was to be going home. We were talking about fittings for my wedding dress, and he was saying how ridiculous it is that dads aren’t allowed at fittings. We decided he’d come with me for the final one the following week. I remember saying “I love you” and feeling immense relief that he was okay.

I woke up to a phone call from my mom the next morning telling me my dad had died that night. When she told me, I just froze in time and space. I had no ability to process what she’d said. My fiancé woke up and I told him that I needed help. I just remember saying “I need help” over and over again.

The wedding

Because our wedding was a month later, we quickly had to decide whether to postpone. When we talked to my mom and brother and my brother said, “Well, I’m obviously going to walk you down the aisle,” that was kind of the pillar. Like, the fact that he felt emotionally able to take that on meant we could all get through this together. It was the first of many decisions we had to make together as a family about how to move forward. We decided we wanted to welcome friends and family, to cherish this relationship we had built. And having all of those people close to us for the wedding was healing.

My mom talks about it as offering us some joy in a dark time. My dad had been ruminating on his speech since the engagement. He would always joke about wanting to tell all my most embarrassing stories. He was so excited to host the biggest, grandest fest for his daughter. My mom and brother ended up writing speeches so they could stand up and represent our family. At the wedding, it was so painfully obviously that he wasn’t there, but love and celebration still gave us something light to hold on to. I was living in this incredible dichotomy: balancing the worst pain and sorrow, and having one of the most beautiful, happiest days of my life. I don’t know how, but I found a way to experience both.

Grieving him

I was grieving, actively, for the better part of a year. In the initial weeks and months, the grief felt all-consuming. I couldn’t see clearly; I couldn’t think clearly; I was totally bound by it. It was a physical pain. I’d never experienced anything like that before. It was shocking to me how much I couldn’t stop it. Someone told me grief feels like a boot pressing on your chest. At times, I got so sad it was hard to breathe. I had to learn how to identify when sadness becomes hysteria. I learned to talk myself through my body: Relax your jaw. Breathe. Your feet are on the ground.

I had an intense need to talk to people who really knew me and who would allow me to just be in that grief. My fiancé was incredible. He was a rock. There’s this quote attributed to Alice in Wonderland — “When you can’t look on the bright side, I will sit in the dark with you” — and that was what he offered me. He never once tried to fix it, or fix me, or pull me out of it. He just held me in that dark, dark space. Grief is a very lonely and personal process regardless of who you are surrounded by. I didn’t grieve the way my mom or my brother did, and we had to learn how to hold that space for each other and appreciate the different ways we moved through the loss. At the beginning, there was a lot of denial, a lot of “Why him?” — just expelling my emotions, letting them wash over me so I could move into a moment of peace. The work for me has been slowly learning how to accept the loss, to carry it with me, to live with it. And to trust that he lives on in me and my brother.

Finding gratitude

When you lose someone, it helps to think about what you’re grateful for. I feel so fortunate to have had a significant period of time to be friends with my dad. There was a shift in my early 20s. I started to see both my parents as people separate from me and to relate to them as friends. So to learn from my dad, to experience life as he saw it, to engage with him on those different levels — I feel so fortunate.

People always called him the truest of true friends. A mentor. Someone who could walk into a room and make everyone feel comfortable. He was curious about other people and other cultures. I have distinct memories of him coming home from countless work trips and smelling like the airplane, which we always teased him about. He’d bring us home strange things, beautiful things. He was always exploring. He wanted us to do the same, to be connected to this big world, to have a big life. I think about him a lot when I consider how I treat people or when I’m making decisions, and I navigate based on that. He taught me to look at situations from every angle and to make my own choices, not just follow what might be easy.

Keeping him close

That’s a huge part of what keeps his memory alive for me: figuring out how he influenced me. The best compliment anyone can give me is, “You remind me of your dad when you say that.” To relate me to him. My mom does it often — “Gosh, you sound like your dad” — and it’s a wonderful thing.

Those first few weeks and months, I literally looked for my dad, for a sign. I was looking at animals, the wind, listening for his voice, for the potential that he was communicating with me. And it was just a deafening silence. To go from full life to nothingness — I was thrown into this hunt for his presence.

Now, every summer on the anniversary of Dad’s death, my brother and I come home to be with my mom. We swim in the ocean together, where we scattered his ashes. I walk out alone, and I talk to him a little bit. I do it very intentionally. The ocean is my way of bringing him closer.

My husband and I want to start a family one day, and I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how to bring my dad into our children’s lives. I’ve been talking to my mom about that too. It’s so important for me that my children know him. One idea we have is to tell bedtime stories where he is the central character. I know when I have children, I’ll feel his loss differently. It will come back to the surface. I’m expecting that. But we’ll find a way to keep his spirit alive.

Feature illustration by VCG Wilson/Corbis via Getty Images.