#nothing brings me more joy than working on my personal save like it feels so fun and rewarding reimagining the premades and-

[cerubean]

johnny zest but he goes by john landgraab and hasn't dropped out of college and been disowned yet and is also arranged to be married to dina caliente

[lokorum]

what would you say is your favorite jonmichael fic..... im very curious and love to reread anything in that tag

oh but how can i pick only one when they all are so good??? (,,•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ,,)?

aaaaaa can i make the several honorable mentions of the fics that made me scream and roll on the floor?????? pretty please???

scheherazade was one of the first jonmichael fics that i found while going through all of the cher's works because, evidently, they have no fics that are not worth reading!! (i'm sorry if and forty feet down only confirming it!!!)

sleep inertia has one of the best dialogues i ever read!!! the way cruelzy writes michael's lines??? aaaaaaaaa its so delicious and believable and never for a second i thought i'm reading something out of canon?? its just that good. 

carousel is the only one fic (from what i found) that i set in the last season and its adds a lot of layers to that big jonmichael onion that torments my eyes for a while now ldkfjgkdfjg also it's messy?? i mean the whole situation in the fic?? its so humanly complicated and it does not gives you the chance to experience any of the feelings clearly and i love it!! screechfox somehow captured all of the complicated stuff in one fic, blendered it together and for the whole time i just couldn't take my eyes away from it. 

five times michael saves jon's life and one time he doesn't have to - is here to sooth our pain and heal our wounds. i reread it so many times!! the dynamic between jon and michael in it is one to live for!!! sometimes you think 5+1 kind of fics can't surprise you anymore and then the coolest author like paisleycowboys enters the room and proves you wrong. 

to be like super honest, the 100 ways to say i love you series, when i first saw it, made me think im not gonna like it? i love my fanfics long and scary and bittersweet and with a bad-very-not-good-endings, so the title of this one made me go "hmmmmm HMMMMM hmmmmm hmmmm?" but ive started to read it anyway, theres not that many fics on the ao3 for jonmichael, we cant afford to be capricious and gosh GOSH i was so fucking wrong!!! its sweet AND sad AND scary AND awkward (in a best way!!!) AND it made me giggle so many times!!! NeedsCaffeineRightNow can make even the edgiest of us enjoy the soft kinds of fics (its not hard when they are written with so much care and love.)

POSSESSIVE!! MICHAEL!! COMBING!!! JON'S!! HAIR!!!!!! what else do we need from life?

transition, every time i reread it or think about it, makes me painfully aware of how many things should coincide for something to work. it's not one of those fics that completely encompass you; nor its the one that leaves you with new headcanons or in a good mood, no, i think it's the one that leaves you in dissoray, making you want to argue with author, to ask them what were they thinking about, pointing on your weak sides like this?, giving you something precious and then stealing it away? pushing your old bruises? that is to say, i have nothing but deep respect for indefensibleselfindulgence. to write fic that makes you want to engage in conversation? thats powerful 

Our 'Angel' of Static and Bone is written so inexplicably good, that more than once i wondered, how NeverwinterThistle was able to do it? and then i realised they are one of my fave bg3 and dishonored authors phpphp but really, the care, the effort that went into this fic? they are literally visible! you can feel the amount of time and brain juice that went into writing it. and the neighbor character? they appeared like two times?? and still their addition left me speechless with how clever it is, how different!! absolutely amazing work.

adjective noun has jonmichael chapter (11) that destroyed me as a person i swear i laughed so hard i dropped my phone and just kept giggling face-into-the-pillow style!!!!!! its rare for the fics to bring you this childish kind of pure joy; the little in-between moment of forgetting about everything, good and bad, and just have a good time. this chapter is definitely one of those rare things and it also made me wish there would be more jonmichael fics from cuttoth. somehow they nailed everything that should be nailed about this ship and did it in a couple of pages, what a magical work!! 

and well, now here's my fave fic, the one that took my head, shaked it like it's a soda can, and then left it open, fountaining at first and then dented and empty. 

I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying is the work that made me grateful for the fact that i know how to read in english. its....mmmm, you know that feeling when fic makes you go through literally everything? and then, as a bonus, through all stages of grief as well?

first you get hooked up by the beautiful writing style and so you know the fic is gonna be good and you get comfortable and you turn yourself off from the rest of the world and you read. 

you love pov, you love mood shifts, you love pacing, you love when scenes are short and you pause to think about what happened / you love when scenes are long and you get overloaded with the simple things that make you feel complicated emotions, you love it all. 

then you start to wish it would never finish; you look at the scrolling bar from time to time, a little bit too aware of how much there's left to read, a little bit too anxious about it. and at the same time, the fic starts to make you feel safe, confident, that at least it's gonna be alright, its gonna be that one work that will replace the canon events for you. it was the

“Oh. Oh, Archivist, no. That’s not right at all,” you say to yourself as you watch him march into artefact storage, both hands clamped around an axe. 

On a whim, you decide to save him."

line for me for sure uhhh it still hits as good as the first time too 

and then you get to the ending and you just stare at the screen. that hollowing feeling slowly spreading inside you. *sigh* its the best sort of inspiration im sure, but its the worse one too. i have no idea how possessedradios and authors like them are able to write something that kills you, then reanimates you and then makes you sit in front of the tablet drawing hours non stop. ''I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying" is so beautiful its scares and fascinates me, just like the podcast did. hell, better then the podcast did.  i know its silly but i even named my fisrt fanart of michael as the title of the fic 👉👈

ahhhh SO i rumbled again SORRY!!!!!!! every time someone asks something from me its either "i'll reply later" (replies 10 years after) or "tolstoy, hold my fucking beer". but i really hope that fic writers, not only those who are mentioned here but like in general? know how much they affect other people!! how their work creates safe spaces for others!! how they make readers smile or cry, even if those readers (im not pointing finger on myself idk what you talking about pgphpphph) are little gremlins that leaving comments once in a decade....................

have fun time reading!! <3

btw im working on a little fanart rn............. (expressing my deepest grattitude to ao3 johmichael writers 😳🔪)

[ltash]

Forever

Ep-9 "ReUnion" SimonGhostRileyxFemaleReader

Nothing is left in me,

You are my heart, my life are you,

I will live without taking breaths,

But I can't do this without you.

You are the bet that I won yet I lost,

Ghost observed Andrea quietly, his eyes fixed on her, searching for any sign of recognition in hers. After several moments passed, a flicker of realization crossed his mind—a realization that hit him like a ton of bricks. He had been so consumed by the shock of her presence that he hadn't considered the possibility that she didn’t recognize him.

His heart thumped in his chest, the room suddenly feeling much smaller than before.

Ghost's mind whirled with a mixture of conflicting emotions. He knew that the years had shaped him into a very different person, both physically and emotionally. His height, his build, his demeanor—all had changed over the years, shaped by his experiences and the demands of his career in Task Force 141.

He watched her, searching for any flicker of recognition in her eyes. He wanted her to see past the mask, past the persona he had become, and see the Simon she had once known.

He was 6'4", a behemoth of a man, and he wasn't the same Simon Andrea had left at 17. His t-shirt clung to his muscular chest, his dark brown eyes looking at Andrea, searching if she even recognized him a bit—their school life, their prom together, their laughter in the school hallway. The letters they wrote to each other flashed through his mind. But he knew, because of his skull mask, she wouldn't recognize him.

As he sat there, he couldn't help but remember their shared joy and the way Tommy used to tease him about her. From the first time he saw her at school to their prom night, to now having her seated in front of him in his very office, the memories came flooding back.

Ghost, as he was now known, watched Andrea closely. She had transformed from the fierce teenager who always saved him from the bullies into a stunning, formidable young woman. The circumstances had changed her, just as they had changed him. The mask he wore was a barrier, a shield that hid not just his face but the remnants of the boy he used to be.

He decided then and there not to tell her that he was her Simon. It was better this way. He had changed, and the mask was as much a part of his identity now as his own skin. Revealing the truth could complicate things, and in their line of work, clarity and focus were paramount.

"There's more to you than meets the eye," Ghost remarked, his voice carrying a hint of respect masked by caution. "What is it that drives you, Andrea? What brings you to our doorstep?"

Andrea considered his question carefully, weighing her words before responding. "I believe in making a difference," she answered finally, her voice unwavering. "In a world where threats are ever-evolving, I want to be where I can make the most impact."

Ghost nodded slowly, hiding his personal turmoil behind the impassive mask. "In that case," he replied, a subtle nod of approval accompanying his words, "welcome to Task Force 141. We're glad to have you here."

As Andrea left his office, Ghost remained behind, grappling with the collision of past and present. He knew that keeping his identity hidden was the right choice, but the weight of that decision pressed heavily on him. The boy who loved her was still inside him, buried beneath the layers of his current self.

As Ghost watched Andrea walk away, the door closing behind her, a surge of conflicting emotions welled within him. The connection they once had, the memories of their school days together, danced through his mind like a bittersweet waltz. The mask he wore was more than just a physical barrier; it was a shield against the memories of the boy he used to be.

He turned around, pacing around the room, his thoughts in turmoil. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she discovered the truth. Would she still see him the same way? The carefree boy she knew, the one who laughed with her in the school hallways and danced with her at prom, was buried under layers of trauma and duty.

Stopping in front of a small, dusty mirror, Ghost lifted the edge of his mask, revealing a sliver of his face. The reflection staring back at him was a stark reminder of how much he had changed. Scars etched into his skin told stories of battles fought and sacrifices made. The darkness in his eyes contrasted sharply with the boyish light they once held.

"Would she understand?" he murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper in the empty room.

The memories of Tommy's teasing, their shared jokes, and the letters they wrote to each other came flooding back. Those were simpler times, times when the biggest worry was passing exams and planning the next school dance. Now, the stakes were immeasurably higher.

Ghost let the mask fall back into place, sealing away the remnants of Simon Riley once more. He had made his decision. Protecting Andrea meant keeping his identity hidden, ensuring that she could focus on the mission without the added burden of their shared past.

As he resumed his seat, Ghost's thoughts lingered on Andrea. Her transformation from a fierce teenager into a formidable operative was remarkable, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of loss that came with knowing they could never truly go back to what they once had.

He glanced at the closed door one last time, a silent vow forming in his mind. He would watch over her, protect her in any way he could. But for now, he would do it from behind the mask, as Ghost—the soldier shaped by war, not the boy shaped by love.

Captain Price called everyone into the meeting room. Gaz accompanied him, his demeanor serious as ever. Soap also entered, his jaw dropping when he saw Andrea. She stood out in her attire, a blend of combat readiness and an undeniable grace that turned heads.

"Such a bonnie lass!" Soap muttered to Ghost, unable to hide his admiration.

Ghost nudged his shoulder. "Stop it, Soap."

Andrea noticed Soap's reaction and smiled politely.

"Meet Andrea Shepherd, General Shepherd's daughter," Price announced, his voice carrying authority.

Soap and Ghost both looked at each other in surprise. Ghost's eyes widened slightly behind his mask. He had known Andrea since childhood, but he never knew she was Herschel Shepherd's daughter. The realization added a new layer of complexity to their already intricate relationship.

Andrea caught Ghost's gaze, sensing something familiar in the way he looked at her. But before she could dwell on it, Price continued, "Andrea will be joining us on our next mission. She's proven herself capable, and we can use her skills."

Soap extended a hand to Andrea, a broad grin on his face. "Welcome to the team, Andrea. We're glad to have you."

Andrea shook his hand, her grip firm. "Thank you. I'm looking forward to working with all of you."

Ghost stood silently, his thoughts racing. He had more questions than answers now, but he knew one thing for certain: protecting Andrea had just become even more crucial. He would have to navigate this delicate situation carefully, balancing his duty and the lingering memories of their shared past.

"Let's get down to business," Price said, directing everyone to take their seats. As the team settled in, Ghost couldn't shake the feeling that this mission would test them all in ways they hadn't anticipated. But with Andrea by their side, they were undoubtedly stronger.

As Price continued the debriefing, Ghost sat silently, occasionally stealing glances at Andrea, the revelation of her identity still fresh in his mind. The knowledge that she was Herschel Shepherd's daughter added a new layer of complication to their already complex relationship.

Ghost's mind swirled with questions and thoughts, his gaze occasionally shifting from Price to Andrea. He found himself torn between his duty and the memories of their shared past. Each glance at Andrea brought a rush of memories—her laughter echoing in the school hallways, the way she always stood up to bullies for him, their prom night.

Price's voice droned on in the background, outlining the mission objectives and the role each team member would play. But Ghost's attention was divided, the past and present colliding in his mind. He knew he had to stay focused, but the emotions he had buried for so long were now bubbling to the surface.

Andrea, for her part, remained attentive to Price's briefing, her face composed and professional. Yet, there was a subtle tension in her posture, a sign that she too was aware of the unspoken complexities that had suddenly emerged.

"Any questions?" Price's voice cut through Ghost's reverie, bringing him back to the present.

Ghost shook his head, though his mind was still a storm of unresolved thoughts. He knew that keeping his emotions in check was crucial, especially now. The mission demanded their full attention, and any distraction could be dangerous.

As the debriefing concluded, Price dismissed the team, reminding them to prepare for the upcoming operation. Ghost stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. He caught Andrea's eye one last time before turning to leave.

"Ghost, a moment?" Price's voice called him back.

He turned, nodding. "Yes, Captain?"

"Stay sharp out there," Price said, his gaze firm. "We need everyone at their best."

Ghost nodded again, his expression hidden behind his mask. "Always, Captain."

As he walked out of the room, he made a silent promise to himself. No matter the complications, no matter the emotions, he would protect Andrea with everything he had. Their past might be a tangled web, but their present mission was clear: to face the threats ahead with unwavering resolve.

Their mission was to infiltrate Al Mazrah in Iran and capture Hassan. They had a base there and needed to reach it under the cover of night.

Captain Price showed Andrea to her room, giving her some time to pack her necessities. When she came down with her suitcase, her attire was, as usual, designer and stylish. Ghost was already downstairs with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

As she descended the staircase with sheer elegance, her heels making a rhythmic sound against the marble steps, Ghost couldn't help but comment. "Not the perfect outfit choice for your first mission," he said, his voice carrying a hint of teasing.

Andrea stood in front of him, crossing her arms over her chest. Her small stature barely reached his chest, making the size difference between them even more pronounced. Ghost smirked under his balaclava, remembering the feisty side she had always had.

"Are you always like this, Andrea?" Ghost teased, his tone softening with familiarity. He knew her from their teenage years and understood that she had a fierce spirit.

Before Andrea could respond, Soap came running towards them with his duffle bag in hand. "Let's move!" he called out, urgency in his voice.

Andrea glanced at Soap and was suddenly reminded of Tommy. The resemblance was uncanny, and it brought a pang of nostalgia and longing.

They moved out, boarding the transport that would take them to Al Mazrah. The ride was filled with a tense silence, each member of the team mentally preparing for the mission ahead. Andrea's mind wandered back to Tommy. She knew she had to focus, but the memories of Simon's brother and his family and her past were hard to shake.

As they approached their destination, the tension in the vehicle grew palpable. Captain Price briefed them one last time, ensuring everyone knew their roles. Andrea listened intently, her determination steeling her nerves. She was ready to prove herself, not just to the team, but to herself as well.

Ghost, sitting across from her, could sense the shift in her demeanor. He knew this mission would be a defining moment for her, and he silently vowed to watch over her, just as he had done in their school days, even if she didn't realize it was him.

The night was dark and the air was heavy with anticipation as they disembarked, ready to face the challenges that awaited them in Al Mazrah.

As they reached Al Mazrah base in Iran via helicopter, the urgency of the mission demanded immediate preparation. Andrea, donning her SAS uniform for the first time, headed to the armory where Ghost was already waiting. She felt a mix of excitement and nervousness as she fiddled with her helmet and plated vest, the unfamiliar gear making her feel out of place.

Ghost watched her struggle with a hint of amusement, but also a genuine desire to help. He stepped forward, his presence commanding yet gentle. Two strong hands reached for her helmet, adjusting it securely before moving to her vest, tying it with practiced ease.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, but you didn’t have to do that," Andrea said, looking up at him.

"I've always been doing it, Andrea," he replied, but then paused, realizing the potential slip.

"What do you mean?" she asked, curiosity piqued.

"I mean, I always help new recruits," he said, chuckling under his mask to cover his moment of vulnerability.

Andrea studied him, noticing the way his navy blue windbreaker jacket and tactical pants suited him. He looked every bit the seasoned warrior, his presence exuding confidence and strength.

"You look really good in that uniform," she commented, a small smile playing on her lips.

Ghost's eyes crinkled slightly in response, the only visible sign of his smile. "Thanks. But it's not about looking good; it's about being ready for whatever comes our way."

Andrea nodded, the gravity of the mission settling over her. She felt a strange comfort in Ghost's presence, a sense of familiarity she couldn't quite place. She pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"Let's get to it, then," she said, her voice steady with determination.

Ghost nodded, leading the way as they prepared for the operation. Despite the intense circumstances, a silent understanding seemed to pass between them, a bond forged in the crucible of their shared past and the challenges that lay ahead.

As they moved out, the night air was thick with anticipation. Andrea felt the weight of her new role, but also a growing sense of belonging. She was ready to prove herself, not just to the team, but to the memories of the girl who had once saved Simon from bullies and now stood beside Ghost, ready to face whatever came their way.

Andrea sat in the helicopter, feeling the weight of her armor pressing down on her tiny frame. Razor 1 ascended into the sky, the hum of the rotors a constant reminder of the mission ahead. Across from her sat Ghost, his imposing presence hard to ignore. Tall, dark, and undeniably handsome, he commanded attention, and Andrea found herself unable to look away. His brown eyes, visible through the skull mask, seemed to pierce right through her.

"What are you looking at, Lieutenant?" she teased, a playful glint in her eye.

"Nothing. Just trying to recognize you. I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before," he teased back, his voice carrying a hint of familiarity.

"Ummhmm! Maybe you saw me in your dreams," she chuckled, a light laugh escaping her lips.

Soap, sitting nearby, looked on in awe at their exchange. The banter was unexpected, especially given Ghost's usually stoic demeanor. The marines around them sat in silence, trying to suppress their laughter at the light-hearted moment amidst the tension of their mission.

Ghost's eyes crinkled slightly as if smiling behind his mask. "Maybe," he said softly, the word hanging in the air between them.

The helicopter continued its ascent, the night sky enveloping them. Despite the looming danger of their mission, the brief moment of levity eased some of the tension. Andrea felt a strange comfort in Ghost's presence, a connection she couldn't quite explain but deeply felt.

As they flew towards their destination, the camaraderie among the team grew stronger, each one knowing they could rely on the other. Andrea leaned back, her thoughts racing yet oddly at peace, ready to face whatever lay ahead with Ghost and the rest of Task Force 141 by her side.

As Razor 1 reached Al Mazrah, Ghost stood up, the red light casting eerie shadows inside the helo. With his M14 in hand, he moved with purpose, his presence commanding attention.

"Bravo team offloads here. Alpha team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet me in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill," Ghost ordered, his voice firm and authoritative. His British accent thick.

He gestured for Andrea to get up. She followed after him, with Soap close behind. The helicopter's rotors created a deafening noise as they prepared to disembark.

Andrea, feeling the adrenaline surge through her veins, stepped out with Bravo team, her senses heightened. The night air was cool and filled with the tension of impending action. Ghost led the way, his figure a shadowy beacon of strength and determination.

The team moved swiftly, blending into the darkness, their movements synchronized and precise. Andrea stayed close to Ghost, her eyes scanning the surroundings, ready for any sign of trouble. The weight of her uniform felt more natural now, the earlier discomfort overshadowed by the gravity of their mission.

Soap kept a watchful eye on Andrea, ready to support her if needed. He admired her composure, knowing that despite her inexperience in uniform, she had the grit and resolve that matched any seasoned soldier.

As they advanced through the terrain, the sounds of distant conflict echoed in the night. The objective was clear: capture or kill Hassan. Ghost's voice cut through the silence, steady and reassuring, guiding them toward their target.

They reached the rendezvous point, where they had to meet Alpha. Ghost signaled for a brief halt, his eyes meeting Andrea's for a moment. In that silent exchange, she felt a surge of confidence, knowing she was part of a team that believed in her capabilities.

"Stay sharp," Ghost reminded them. "Hassan is close. Let's move."

With a final nod, they proceeded, the mission ahead promising danger and the chance to make a significant impact. Andrea felt the weight of her role, ready to prove herself alongside Ghost and the rest of Task Force 141.

[traumacatholic]

I know you’re going through a lot right now and I feel so ashamed for asking for prayers, but I desperately need it. I live in Canada and the prices are insane. It is impossible to live of one income. Also, getting a job is so hard right now. Can you please pray that I can move out and live alone. I find it so hard to leave my bed and get a job, but I want to leave the abusive house I live in. 24/7 they torment me and then call me ungrateful. I hate it here. Please pray for a miracle, I can’t do this anymore. I need to leave, but I feel so numb and have no support system anywhere.

Please, don't ever feel ashamed to ask for prayers or any kind of help. There is nothing shameful about asking for help or prayers, even if you feel like the person you're asking prayers or help from is going through a lot. Of course, I will keep you in my prayers.

Some prayers you might find comforting are under the Read More. I would recommend picking one (or as many as you think you can handle) and praying it morning and night, and whenever else you need it.

A Prayer in Time of Need

Almighty God, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, come to my help and deliver me from this difficulty that besets me. I believe Lord, that all trials of life are under Your care and that all things work for the good of those who love You. Take away from me fear, anxiety and distress. Help me to face and endure my difficulty with faith, courage and wisdom.

Grant that this trial may bring me closer to You for You are my rock and refuge, my comfort and hope, my delight and joy. I trust in Your love and compassion. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Prayer of Saint Bishop Nikolaj (Velimirovic) to the Most-Holy Theotokos

Waves of passion disturb my spirit, great sadness and anguish have overwhelmed my soul. Embalm my soul with Thy Son's peace, O Most Holy One, and by His Grace drive away every doubt and despair. Calm the storm of my sins that, like a fiery worm, burn me, and quench its flame. Fill my heart with joy, O Most Pure One, and disperse the fog of my iniquities before me, for it confuses me. Illumine me with the light of Thy Son. Helpless is my soul, and everything is cumbersome, even prayer. Here I am, cold as a stone, my lips whispering prayers, while my heart remains immovable, for it is smothered in anguish. Melt the ice which envelops my soul and warm my heart with Thy love.

I rely not on human protection, but fall down before Thee, O Most Pure Sovereign Mother of God; reject me not, but hearken unto the prayer of Thy servant. Sadness has overcome me; I can endure the demonic attack no more. I have no protection; there is no shelter for me, and in this battle I am ever being wounded. I have no consolation, but in Thee, O Holy Sovereign. O Hope and Protection of all who believe, reject not my prayer.

O Most Holy Mother of Christ, Most Pure, Most Blessed Theotokos, Satan is pounding at me like the waves of the sea against a ship, pursuing me by day and tormenting me at night. I have no peace; turbulent is my soul, my spirit trembles. Hearken, O Most Holy One and help me. Intercede before the dear Lord that He may have mercy on me and forgive the sins I have committed. O Most Holy Mother of Jesus, Thy grace is great, and the mightiest opponent to the powers of Hades. Thou art able to save even the greatest of sinners who, having been cast into the depths of hell by unclean powers, should call upon Thee. So too, save me, for lo, Satan will have me stumble and will destroy my faith, but I trust in the Lord. I magnify Thee, Who art more holy than the Cherubim and the Seraphim.

Amen.

By Father Arseny, an Orthodox priest held prisoner in a Soviet Gulag

O my beloved Queen, my hope, O Mother of God, protector of orphans and protector of those who are hurt, the savior of those who perish and the consolation of all those who are in distress, thou seest my misery, thou seest my sorrow and my loneliness. Help me—I am powerless; give me strength. Thou knowest what I suffer, thou knowest my grief: Lend me thy hand, for who else can be my hope but thee, my protector and my intercessor before God? I have sinned before thee and before all people. Be my Mother, my consoler, my helper. Protect me and save me, chase grief away from me, chase my lowness of heart and my despondency. Help me, O Mother of my God!

Prayer for Mental Health

O Master, Lord my God, in Whose hands is my destiny: Help me according to Thy mercy, and leave me not to perish in my transgressions, nor allow me to follow them who place desires of the flesh over those of the spirit. I am Thy creation; disdain not the work of Thy hands. Turn not away; be compassionate and humiliate me not, neither scorn me, O Lord, as I am weak. I have fled unto Thee as my Protector and God. Heal my soul, for I have sinned against Thee. Save me for Thy mercy's sake, for I have cleaved unto Thee from my youth; let me who seeks Thee not be put to shame by being rejected by Thee for mine unclean actions, unseemly thoughts, and unprofitable remembrances. Drive away from me every filthy thing and excess of evil. For Thou alone art holy, alone mighty, and alone immortal, in all things having unexcelled might, which, through Thee, is given to all that strive against the devil and the might of his armies. For unto Thee is due all glory, honor and worship: To the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

Prayer to Saint Brigid of Ireland

Saint Brigid, You were a woman of peace. You brought harmony where there was conflict. You brought light to the darkness. You brought hope to the downcast. May the mantle of your peace cover those who are troubled and anxious, and may peace be firmly rooted in our hearts and in our world. Inspire us to act justly and to reverence all God has made. Brigid you were a voice for the wounded and the weary. Strengthen what is weak within us. Calm us into a quietness that heals and listens. May we grow each day into greater wholeness in mind, body and spirit.

Prayer to Saint Dymphna

Good Saint Dymphna, great wonder-worker in every affliction of mind and body, I humbly implore your powerful intercession with Jesus through Mary, the Health of the Sick, in my present need. (Mention it.) Saint Dymphna, martyr of purity, patroness of those who suffer with nervous and mental afflictions, beloved child of Jesus and Mary, pray to Them for me and obtain my request.

(Pray one Our Father, one Hail Mary and one Glory Be.)

Saint Dymphna, Virgin and Martyr, pray for us.

[linashirou]

WIP Wednesday!

(A little late but still!) This time @fangbangerghoul tagged me and I have to tell you that I'm working on a second ending for the Dragon's Dogma fic. The problem is that I lost a big part, because at some point Microsoftword.exe didn't save it. So I got a little depressed about it (I realized this yesterday), so I will share the beginning of it.

Don't believe people who say: "There's nothing new under the sun".

That's not true.

The most unexpected things can happen.

And that's quite a lot when you consider that I'm just a pawn.

As you probably already know (or suspect), the age of a pawn is difficult to determine. I don't know exactly how many human years, how many Springs I've seen go by, but I can say that I've worked with more Arisen than I can really remember or count.

Still, my memory can only recall two of them: the one who gave me life, and the one who made me feel emotions. Their will, and determination were astonishing. The one that gave me life, my own Arisen appeared to be a decent, reasonable person with an unbreakable will, but he gifted me the most bitter feeling: Disappointment.

Some might say: He was the one who made me a being with feelings, and maybe that's the truth, but, in my opinion, she had something special.

Something strange and inexplicable.

"I like to think that we are like moths drawn to the light; this warm, powerful aura that the Arisen have…"

Today, Hal's words carry a different weight, they're like an echo in my mind, haunting me.

Many Awakenings have come and gone… Different Arisen… Different motivations and wills.

But somehow… I feel guilty

Regardless how much experience I once bragged about…

I never expected anything like this.

We had been together for a long time, I'd say months.

Lina was the one chosen by the Dragon in this dimension as the Arisen, the one who would finish him and free the world from the disaster dressed in Crimson. Hal was always by her side. A skinny, eye-glassed, book-loving pawn, brilliant and creative. At first I despised his lack of courage and his shyness.

Now, in retrospect… I can't ignore his true qualities.

His mental agility and his almost unnatural effort to understand life and people; Sensitive, always looking out for her happiness and that of those with whom he lived, including me and Meryl.

How stupid I was.

Surely, as he mentioned on more than few occasions, my "muscular brain" made me indifferent to what some people call the "intelligence of the heart".

If only I had noticed this earlier… I might have noticed that there was something strange going on from the very beginning…

It's no news that Arisens could bring joy to people.

And envy too.

For some strange reason, the negativity becomes endearingly attractive to minds in despair and uncertainty of the approaching end (perhaps this is something triggered by the Dragon's presence).

That day, a stranger approached the Arisen and begged for help. He pulled out a weird piece of paper that claimed to be a letter from a well-known person.

They were barely readable, asking for help to get home, from Bloodwater Beach to Grand Soren.

A long and complicated journey.

To be honest, I have to make yourself clear that it's not uncommon to receive requests for escort, especially on the road, but…

What the hell was that person doing out there in the first place?

Bloodwater Beach is one of Gransys' most remote and inhospitable places…

Why should we help that person?

These questions weren't asked back then.

And maybe that's why I'm here now...

[paigenoelchas-blog]

Part 2: One Chance

Part 1: Five Years Part 3: Seven minutes

She could feel someone on the bed next to her. She knew immediately that it wasn't Jake. It didn't smell like him, this man smelled of cigarettes and dirt, not cedar and coffee like Jake. His arm didn't wrap around her body making sure that his hand rested on her belly, trying to keep contact with the baby, trying to hold tight to the two things he treasured most. This person, whoever he was, didn't breathe this same, his air sounded ragged and thick, not calm and slow. There was nothing familiar in him.

He touched her in ways that he shouldn't. His hands searched for her most private parts. He was aggressive and sloppy. She pretended to sleep as long as she could, trying to control her breathing and come up with a plan.

Where was Jake and what had they done to him?

Panic began to clench her heart. She couldn't allow this stranger behind her to have the satisfaction of her fear.

Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out...

She tried the mantra and it worked for a while. She had to turn around and face him before he got more handsy with her, but what should she do? Should agree to his plans or fight right from the start? She had the baby to protect and Jake if he was still alive.

She knew that he would have died before he allowed anyone to touch her, to lay in their bed, to hurt her in any way. The two options ran through her head, He was either dead or he had gone. She was hoping that he had run, even though it meant that she would have to deal with this man on her own.

She couldn't think about the fact that Jake may dead. it would do no good. She had to be rational. She had to think like he would, calm and rational behavior was the best way to save them all. Slowly, MC turned to face the man.

He was more imposing than she expected. His hair was mussed, red and greasy. His eyes cold. The shirt that he was wearing strained at the seams, showing off their girth. Though she had been training and was rather lithe and coordinated, there was no way that she could physically overtake him.

He was delighted at her inspection of him, somewhat impressed with her composure in this circumstance. He would rid her of that composure if he had his way. He always had his way. Jake was a fool to have forgotten that fact. George thought to himself. A sinister smile crept across his face. "Hello MC," his gruff voice sent chills down her spine, it was still thick with desire and revenge. "I don't believe we have met. My name is George. I am an old friend of Jake's. I didn't think he could land a woman as beautiful as you are."

She sat frozen, but worked up enough courage to control her voice and hopefully, this conversation. "I have heard of you, " she wasn't going to elaborate on that point, knowing what a cruel person that he could be. "Where is Jake?" she asked.

"Oh, you don't know?" the man growled. "He packed a bag and left you about an hour ago. Must have gotten scared about something." He hackled. George took out a grubby hand and rubbed her cheek with the back of his finger. It felt like sandpaper on her skin and she shuddered despite herself.

"Ahh, there it is. Delightful." He breathed in as if the smell of fear was delicious to him. "I want you to know fear," he contnued, "I want you to be so afraid that you beg me to end your life." He whispered in her ear.

She was afraid, so afraid, but she would not let him see that fear again. She stiffened her chin and tightened her jaw. "What joy would it bring you for me to be afraid? What would come of that?" she prodded.

"When your husband hears of the things that I am going to do to you, the way that you will have suffered, he will never forgive himself. He will wish that he had been through these things instead of you and he will absolutely hold himself responsible. He will never forgive himself, never have a moment of peace, never recover. He will live a life in torture, constantly reliving the choices he made and the way that you met your end." His eyes took on a yellow glow as he spoke, his cracked lips curled up on the sides.

He was right. Her pain would be his punishment. It would destroy him. She couldn't let that happen and she couldn't let him harm the baby. He didn't seem to know about the baby

Why had Jake left? Did he know, was he afraid? Was he trying to protect them? Yes, that must be it, he must have thought that by leaving, he would be keeping George away from them. Why did he have to be so wrong and when did he forget that they were in this life together?

"I have been polite long enough," George's face stiffened. He grabs the hair at the base of her neck and pulls her across the room. "Take a shower, I want to watch before I show you how a real man satisfies a woman." His voice was rising, excitement building at the base of his voice. She could tell that he was already becoming aroused.

She paused. "Get going, we have a lot of exciting things to accomplish today," He said. He grabbed her cheeks and forced his tongue down her throat, causing her to gag.

Sick bastard.

Without any argument, she slowly headed to the bathroom. She couldn't think of any other way to protect the baby. He could do whatever he wanted to her, but he would not harm that child. She would make sure of that. She knew that she would come up with something. Jake had taught her how to think on her feet and adapt to any situation. She just had to find the right opportunity.

As these thoughts flashed through her mind, she noticed a glorious shining object on the dresser. If she could manage to reach it, there may be a way out of this mess.

She only had one chance. Hopefully, that was enough.

[deathbirby]

Sitri and the Others

This topic was suggested to me by @dovehearts-blog! Feel free to suggest your own topics to me.

We're going to look at Byleth's mother, Sitri. Who was she? What was she like? Were there others like her?

Let's unpack!

Creation

I thought that I could regain all I had lost, if only I could revive my mother... And so I tried to bring her back by creating a body, and then burying a Crest Stone within it. A young woman I created...my twelfth try after much heartache...was a failure.

Rhea created twelve vessels in order to revive her mother. She did this by creating a (human) body, and embedding the Crest of Flames in it. All of these vessels were failures as they lacked the conscience of the goddess. And yet, the Crest of Flames would give life to the body. These vessels would come and go in the span of a thousand years. The twelfth one was called Sitri.

Life

Sitri grew up with a frail constituion and was unable to go outside the monastery because of that.

Still, people talked to her. Aelfric and Jeralt were two men who held romantic feelings for her. Sitri did not smile often, but she would always brighten up when Jeralt brought her flowers. The two of them fell in love over time, and Aelfric was willing to watch her walk away, if only she kept smiling.

Sitri and Jeralt wed, and she became pregnant in time. She was so happy during this time, but that joy would not last long.

Death

The childbirth was too much for her and the baby. Byleth was stillborn, and Sitri was in grave danger. Sitri pleaded with Rhea to save her baby.

"My heart... Give it to my child."

Doing nothing would have led to the death of both the mother and child, and so Rhea granted her final wish. It worked. The baby started breathing.

Sitri died, surrendering her life so Byleth's might begin.

Vessels

Sitri and Byleth's names are derived from demons mentioned in the Ars Goetia. Listed in order of sigil, you get:

Bael

Agares

Vassago

Samigina

Marbas

Valefor

Amon

Barbatos

Paimon

Buer

Gusion

Sitri

Beleth

Not all of these names are feminine-sounding. While it seems unlikely that Rhea would create male vessels for her mother, it is not outside the realm of possibility. She never raises any concern about Byleth possibly being male.

There is also the possibility that some names might've been slightered altered to sound more feminine if all the vessels were female.

Or the names could pass off as either gender. It really depends on how you view it.

Soul

One might wonder if the eleven vessels before Sitri had their own souls like she did. I lean towards yes. Rhea doesn't sacrifice lives to revive her mother; otherwise, she would've shanked the apostles and drained all their blood for the Rite of Rising.

I believe that did they have their own souls and that they lived as long as they could because Rhea didn't want to outright murder them. A thousand years divided by twelve gives you around 83 years for each vessel's lifespan. Of course, they were likely frail and had shorter lifespans than the average person, but that still gives each of them a relatively long life.

Nabatean..?

Sitri has green hair and green eyes like Nabateans, but we never see her ears, so who knows. Rhea does say in the Japanese version that she created a human body, but that might be a translation error on my part.

STILL

SHOW ME THOSE EARS

Edit: @randomnameless mentioned that Sitri's body didn't decay. That would put her closer to a Nabatean than a human.

[sweetdreamsjeff]

The Rebel: Patti Smith

--I bring Tim Buckley's unreleased demo of the old folk tune ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ for Patti, and she talks about how the singer/songwriter was a favourite of Robert Mapplethorpe’s back in the early Brooklyn days, and chuckles when she recalls how she and her first partner in artistic crime would neck like high school kids to the Goodbye And Hello album. She was delighted when Jeff Buckley stopped by the recording sessions and added a high, ghostly vocal part to ‘Beneath The Southern Cross’, and even more delighted when he raced home and returned to the studio with an essrage, an Egyptian instrument he used to texture the track ‘Fireflies’.--

---

Ben Edmonds, MOJO, August 1996

To R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe, she is "one of the premier artists of my lifetime – I’ve blindly stolen from her for years." To Bob Dylan, she is "still the best, you know." She is one of rock ‘n’ roll’s true originals, and on her return to the fray after eight years of joy and tragedy lived out of the public eye, Patti Smith grants Ben Edmonds the most revealing interview of her career.

PATTI SMITH IS IN FULL SWAGGER, WORKING THE ROXY Theatre stage in LA with relaxed authority. She takes the stage alone, wearing a shapeless warm-up jacket with hood tightly framing her face, to deliver a fiery reading of ‘Piss Factory’. With each succeeding song she adds band members until her musical complement is complete. Left-hand man Lenny Kaye and drummer Jay Dee Daugherty are Patti Smith Group confederates, while bassist Tony Shanahan has played with Kaye and John Cale (and backed Patti on some solo dates last autumn). This core trio is augmented by Patti’s 23-year-old poetry protege Oliver Ray on rhythm guitar and — seated stage left behind impenetrable shades and cradling his guitar like some old CBGB's bluesman — Tom Verlaine.

Smith has a couple of wild cards up her sleeve as well. She introduces Bob Neuwirth as "the person who encouraged me to sing and gave me my first start," after the legendary personage – Bob Dylan road companion, Jim Morrison babysitter, painter, filmmaker, composer of ‘Mercedes Benz’ for Janis Joplin – has sung a typically wonderful song called ‘I Don't Think Of Her’. "Bobby has a new CD out [Look Up on Watermelon Records] on which I appear," Patti announces. "It's available almost nowhere."

Her son Jackson, 13, appears plugged in and joins the troupe for a romp through – are you ready? – ‘Smoke On The Water’. Jack and guitar stand nose to nose with the amp, noodling noisily as Lenny Kaye sings Deep Purple's stirring lament for the tragic death by fire of recording equipment. Mom makes the most of her vocal cameo, belting out "Fire in the sky-eee" in the most godawful screech you've ever heard. It's a small glimpse of what the future might have held had Patti chosen to become the singer of Blue Oyster Cult (for whom she wrote songs) instead of setting off on her crusade to save the soul of rock'n'roll with The Patti Smith Group.

The band has a homemade, slightly ragtag quality that reminds this audience member of nothing so much as the earliest Patti Smith Group when it consisted of Patti, Lenny and Richard Sohl. That trio "toured" California in 1974 to "promote" ‘Piss Factory’, and you felt like you were watching something invent itself right before your eves. This mini "tour" follows almost exactly the same path, and once again you feel like you're watching something in the exhilarating process of becoming.

They attack a fair number of familiar songs – ‘Ghost Dance’, ‘Rock'N'Roll Nigger’, ‘Dancing Barefoot’ (although, curiously, nothing from Dream Of Life) – with gusto. The 10 shows opening for Bob Dylan last winter seem to have jump-started this aggregation's chemistry, and they're now also capable of moments of transcendence that rival anything Patti's bands have attained in the past. ‘About A Boy’, her meditation on the loss of Kurt Cobain, has grown from humble acoustic beginnings into an oceanic noisefield than tonight is staggering. And their ‘Wicked Messenger’ ranks with the great rock rearrangements of Dylan songs. It's a treat that such a thing remains possible in 1996.

The small acoustic shows and guest spots she's done sporadically over the past year have been tentative in tone and occasionally awkward. She is not – nor does she have the slightest inclination to be – the punk tornado who ripped through this room 20 years ago, when the Roxy was LA's premier showcase club, hosting legendary engagements by Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen and Bob Marley, and live recordings by Frank Zappa, Talking Heads, Warren Zevon and others. But she has certainly regained every bit of the belief that the space is hers to command.

The sold-out house is evenly divided between the older soldiers who served in the rock revolution Patti Smith heralded in the early '70s and those who wish they could have been there, having heard their own heroes like Michael Stipe say that were it not for Patti Smith he wouldn't exist. The R.E.M. singer has been all over MTV News this week, quoted as saying that Patti's show at the Wiltern Theatre a few days earlier had been not simply the greatest concert he'd ever seen, but one of the greatest emotional experiences of his life. *

THE PATTI SMITH RESUME: ARRIVED IN NEW YORK FROM New Jersey in 1967 and wrote herself a new identity in concert with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe; wrote plays like Cowboy Mouth with Pulitzer Prize winner Sam Shepard one line at a time, pushing a battered typewriter back and forth across a Chelsea Hotel tabletop in a game of attitude chess; published small press volumes of hallucinogenic verse inhabited by James Joyce, Johnny Ace, Jesus Christ, Harry Houdini, Joan of Arc, James Brown, Georgia O'Keefe, the Paragons and the Jesters, Picasso and Rimbaud and Bob Dylan's dog; wrote poems, profiles and record review reveries for Creem and Rolling Stone; put her big ideas into embryonic practice at her Rock'N'Rimbaud readings accompanied by guitarist Lenny Kaye at St Mark's Church, New York's new poetry nirvana; released ‘Piss Factory’ b/w ‘Hey Joe’ in 1974 on their own Mer Records, now regarded as one of the first shots fired in the punk/indie revolt (though at the time it was a shot barely heard in the next block); released in 1975 a debut album Horses, a parable in spoken word and song for the declaration of self that adolescents itchy to slip their skins will probably respond to for generations to come; sounded a clarion call with her amped-to-the-teeth Patti Smith Group that has been answered only in part by punk rockers, alterna-nerds and riot grrrls; fell from a Tampa, Florida stage in 1977 to a concrete floor 14 feet below, breaking her neck; came out of traction and back into action with ‘Because The Night’, a hit single co-written with Bruce Springsteen, yet always gave equal time to noisy improvisational epics like ‘Radio Ethiopia’ that were unplayable on any radio format (and guaranteed to scare the living piss out of anyone attracted by her Brucie ballad); announced her retirement from public life in the shadow of her biggest-selling album (Wave); and immediately following her biggest concert ever (85,000 in an Italian football stadium on September 10, 1979) quietly married former MC5 guitarist Fred 'Sonic' Smith in 1980, and moved to an unassuming Detroit suburb to raise a family. In the next decade she raised her head above the parapet only once, with her 1988 album Dream Of Life.

Since 1990, Patti has suffered the loss of four of her closest comrades. Her best friend Robert Mapplethorpe was claimed by AIDS. Her piano player (and, after Lenny Kaye, longest-serving musical ally) Richard Sohl succumbed to heart failure. Then in late '94 her husband, soulmate, and hero of so many of her best songs (‘Because The Night’, ‘Frederick’, ‘Dream Of Life’), Fred 'Sonic' Smith, suddenly passed away, a shock compounded by the death of her brother and crew manager Todd Smith only a month later.

The release of a new album, Gone Again, and a limited return to live performance is part of a plan she and Fred had mapped out before his untimely passing. Yet there's no denying that these activities have now become, at least in part, a memorial to all her fallen comrades. This mission was launched in earnest last December when, at the personal invitation of Bob Dylan, she opened 10 of his shows on the East Coast, a pairing he dubbed The Paradise Lost Tour.

"A lot of girls have come along since Patti started," Dylan told a Boston audience the first of many times they duetted on his song ‘Dark Eyes’. "But Patti's still the best, you know." Then he kissed her. *

DRIVING TO PATTI'S HOUSE, I WAS THINKING ABOUT something she had told me recently. The subject was her desire to play only those places where she'd been treated well. I wondered, then, what places this might disqualify.

"Detroit," she said without hesitation. "They've never been that supportive of our work. I don't think Fred got the support from the music community that he was entitled to. The radio stations knew who he was and what he'd done, and they should've tipped their hat to him. I guess I feel somewhat bitter about that. Not for me. I don't care; but it hurt Fred deeply."

Patti will soon be moving back to New York. This move is not unexpected. Detroit was where she came to make her life with Fred. It was his town, his family, his roots, and there's probably no place she can turn here and not be confronted by a reminder of her late husband.

This has got to be especially true of their home, which they bought, furnished, and within which they created a family. Patti and Fred even saved it together, sandbagging the place when torrential rains and a rising lake very nearly flooded them out. Because the family was so reclusive, all sorts of rumours circulated about their domestic refuge. One had them living in a sumptuous lakefront estate, another pictured them in utter sub urban tract home anonymity. Neither turns out to be accurate.

They're not on the lake, though they could most certainly see it if there weren't so many other houses in the way. They live in a normal middle-class neighbourhood where many of the smallish homes sport obvious additions to accommodate expanding families, resulting in houses that are a little too big for their modest plots but never quite big enough to contain all the kids' stuff which litters the porches and short driveways. Yet there's no doubting which is the Smith residence. It's easy to spot, being the only castle on the block. A small castle, to be sure, really no bigger than most of the surrounding homes, but a towered and turreted castle all the same.

Seen from the insight, the tower contains the winding staircase that leads to the upper floor. The house is sparsely though comfortably furnished, in casual boho. The usual family stuff is posted on the fridge and scattered about; handmade birthday and Mother's Day cards, postcards, school meeting notices. If it weren't for the guitars and amplifiers in the living room, you'd never know this was the lair of musicians. Where you might expect to find a portrait of some revered family elder hangs a picture of honorary uncle Allen Ginsberg.

Once past the idea of amps in the living room, the closest we get to rock'n'roll excess is an extravagant selection of teas. Oliver Ray brews some camomile for Patti, whose stomach is acting up.

At 48, Patti Smith's hair is unashamedly lashed with gray and worn in simple braids. Her interview demeanour is pretty much as it's always been. She considers each query carefully and answers at length, not looking at her interviewer but staring at some private point beyond the opposite wall, a safe place she always returns to. Though Patti is never at a loss for a forcefully expressed thought or opinion, whenever the conversation touches on her late husband – which is frequently – her voice falters and she has to bear down hard on her words to get them out.

I bring Tim Buckley's unreleased demo of the old folk tune ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ for Patti, and she talks about how the singer/songwriter was a favourite of Robert Mapplethorpe’s back in the early Brooklyn days, and chuckles when she recalls how she and her first partner in artistic crime would neck like high school kids to the Goodbye And Hello album. She was delighted when Jeff Buckley stopped by the recording sessions and added a high, ghostly vocal part to ‘Beneath The Southern Cross’, and even more delighted when he raced home and returned to the studio with an essrage, an Egyptian instrument he used to texture the track ‘Fireflies’.

You find yourself wanting to somehow crack the fog and get her to smile. During the second of our two interviews, conducted at her Michigan home, it is her eight-year-old daughter who unintentionally provides the cue. Patti is expounding on the divine bliss of parenthood when Jesse, who's been yakking to a friend in the other room, suddenly calls out, "Mommy, can I have a cellular phone?"

"No," Patti immediately shoots back, rolling her eyes at the cosmic timing of this interruption, and then dissolving into the best laugh I'd heard from her in a very long time.

In the words of one of those Irish poets, "the healing has begun." *

This album is unique for you in that it has so many solo songwriting credits.

Fred was giving me guitar lessons. He had taught me some chords, basically so I could write songs. We studied song structure and things I didn't know a whole lot about. He taught me enough on the guitar that, after a lot of practice, I could write simple songs. When he passed away...I just…um… I used to spend a lot of time by myself at night with the acoustic guitar just making up little songs. A lot of the songs on the record – ‘Farewell Reel’, ‘About A Boy’, ‘Raven’, ‘Dead To The World’, ‘Wing’ – were written that way late at night. They're all in waltz-time, 3/4, which is the only time signature we worked on so it's the only one I know.

The version of ‘About A Boy’ you played at the Roxy is already far beyond the album version.

That song has really grown in performance. It's the closest thing to anarchy – controlled anarchy – that we have right now, because we let the song completely open up at the end. I always like having a piece where everyone goes out but then returns. That was the beauty of John Coltrane, and what separated him from the noisemakers and indulgent jerk-offs. He would go out there and stay out there as long as he could, but he always returned. That's what we strive for.

When Kurt Cobain took his life, Fred and I were extremely disturbed about that. Both of us liked his work. We thought it was good for young people. I was happy that there was a new band I could relate to, and looked forward to watching them grow. He had a future. As parents, we were deeply disturbed to see this young boy take his own life. The waste, and the emotional debris he left for others to clean up.

I was also concerned how it would affect young people who looked up to him, or looked to him for answers. I guess that's the danger of looking to anyone else for answers, but I perceived that he had a responsibility. To himself, to the origin of his gifts, to his family, to the younger generation.

So I wrote the song for two reasons. One was as a well wish, even after what he did, that his continuing journey be beautiful. But it was also written with a certain amount of bitterness. The chorus says "About a boy/beyond it all." One way of looking at it is that he's beyond this particular plane of existence. But it's also a wry statement, a frustrated refrain. It relates to my sorrow for the various boys we've lost. Whether it be Jim Morrison or Brian Jones; any of these young, gifted, driven people who do feel they're beyond it all, that they can completely ravage and ruin their bodies or have no sense of responsibility to their position and their gifts. We all were pioneering some kind of freedom, but I don't think what's been done with it is all that constructive.

When you were that age how did you deal with those feelings?

All young people feel sometimes that they can't take it, that they'd rather die than get up out of bed. But there was always something that reminded me, it could be anything. The handiwork of man. I could be feeling totally desolate and then look at a beautiful prayer rug or a Picasso, and that would be enough to make me want to live. That's what other people's work did for me. When I say that The Rolling Stones got me through this, or Bob Dylan got me through that, they did. That in itself is a motivation for working. The act of creation is a beautiful thing. That belongs to the artist; he's got that moment of illumination, when a kernel of an idea erupts and blooms. But after he creates it, it ceases to be his. It's really for other people.

What brought you back to New York to record?

I love Electric Lady, which is where we cut Horses; it's intimate but highly developed. It's right on 8th Street, so you can walk out at three in the morning and there are people on the streets. It's a good energy. I don't require privacy and silence when I'm recording. It's the first recording studio I was ever in. The first time I ever went there was also the first rock'n'roll party I'd ever been to. Jane Friedman invited me to this party for Jimi Hendrix because he'd just opened the studio up. I was so excited because I'd never been in a recording studio before. But when I got there I was too nervous to go in, so I sat on the steps. Then Jimi came up the stairs. He was incredibly beautiful; tall, very... he was Jimi Hendrix, y'know? A great-looking man. But really shy. He came up the stairs and I was sitting there so he sat down next to me and just talked. He asked me why I wasn't going down and I told him I was too nervous. He said, "Me too, I'm too nervous to stay." Then he told me some of the things about the studio, and how he wanted to work on a more global kind of music. He said that he was going to London, but that when he came back he was gonna go up to Woodstock with new musicians and then bring them into Electric Lady to record. But of course he never came back from London... That was a great moment for me. So when Robert Mapplethorpe gave us money to do ‘Piss Factory’, even though it was not much money I had to go to Electric Lady.

The equipment has been updated, but it's got a lot of the same things – the late '60s psychedelic paintings and bad murals of Jimi Hendrix playing right-handed. It didn't really occur to me how cyclic it was until I was in the middle of it. I was standing by myself in the hallway looking at those murals, when I remembered standing in that same spot in 1975 and Robert Mapplethorpe taking a picture of me and John Cale. Lenny came out and stood next to me and said, "Amazing, isn't it?" It was like he could feel what I was feeling. The first time we were back in the studio, just hearing those Lenny guitar tones and Jay on the drums, it was so... from the subconscious. It triggered so many memories.

How was this one as a recording experience?

This album was both joyous and heartbreaking to do. We were 80 per cent done with the record and I had to stop. I couldn't take it any more because... I just really missed Fred. It was so difficult, and I was so emotionally depleted. So we stopped for a while. When we did that little mini-tour with Bob Dylan I was supposed to be finishing the record, but I still couldn't face it. But I got a lot of energy and positive feelings from the Dylan experience, and then we went in and completed the album. Those dates gave me my confidence back.

Do you know what made Bob reach out to you?

What I gleaned from Bob is that he felt it would be good for me to come back out, that he thought people should see me. I wouldn't presume to speak for him, but he has been so highly influential that he knows probably what it tasted like to be influential and then get shuffled around somewhere. I guess he felt I could use some encouragement.

We weren't prepared, but I wanted to do it so badly that we prepared ourselves practically on stage. I think we had about five hours of rehearsal. But all of us had pretty much played together, and we all pooled the things we could do. The first night was pretty shaky, but after that I felt like I was back in familiar territory. My mission on that small tour was to crack all the energy, crack the atmosphere and set the stage for him, to get the night as magic as possible, so that when he hit the stage – 'cos he hits a lot of them – that maybe it would feel a little more special. I think we did a pretty good job and I know that he was happy.

Had you been in touch with him over the years?

No, not really. I met him back in the '70s, before we even had a record deal. It was at the Other End on Bleecker Street in the Village. I was told he was in the audience, so I made a few obscure references that I knew the crowd wouldn't get, but would let him know that I knew he was there. It was kinda presumptuous, but that's the way I was then. I was thrilled that he was there, but I wasn't gonna let him know it. When he came backstage I was kinda snotty. "Any poets around here?" he said, so I said I wasn't into poetry anymore – Poetry sucks. Can you believe I said that? But he was very gracious, and even put his arm around me to have our picture taken. The next week it was in the Soho Weekly News, right on the cover, and seeing that was definitely one of my best moments ever. But it also made me kinda sad, 'cos I knew I hadn't treated him well and I felt like I'd kinda blown it, y'know?

A little while later, I was on 4th Street and I saw him walking toward me. I tried to shrink but he saw me anyway. And he was really nice. He pulled out that picture and said, "Who are these two people? Do you know them?" And he gave me this beautiful smile, just to let me know it was all right. So he's been incredibly generous and understanding toward me from the very beginning.

I've admired Bob Dylan since I was 15 years old; he's been an important part of my life for two-thirds of it now. So to have someone like that give you encouragement is... beyond words. [On the tour] we sang ‘Dark Eyes’ almost every night, and singing with him was just like being in heaven. I was so happy. I kept thinking…sometimes it made me think of Fred, because Fred really liked and admired Bob too. He often said that there were only two people that would be able to pull him out of his self-imposed retirement, Keith Richards and Bob Dylan. He'd say, "Now if Keith or Bob call and want me to play with 'em, I might have to come out." So how could I not answer the call? It was a great experience.

Do you still regard Bob with a fan's awe?

Meeting him again, I can't say I'm in awe of him. The way I relate to him at this point in my life is that he's a man that has a fine presence, a very noble presence. He's an extremely attractive man. When I talk to him I still feel sort of like a schoolgirl, but also like a friend and a colleague.

After Fred passed away, the record I most listened to for solace was Bob's album World Gone Wrong, which is all those great old blues and other songs from the trove of his knowledge. I listened to that almost continuously. Once again he helped me through a difficult time with his music. And then to have him reach out to me as a human being... I'll be forever grateful.

And this gave you the confidence to finish the record.

We'd pretty much recorded everything; most of the vocals on the record are the live vocals. It was just a question of pulling all the threads together and presenting the record. But I just... I just needed time to think about everything. We had pretty much everything cut except the title track ‘Gone Again’, which we did right before we came out here. That was Fred's last music and...um...I just wasn't able to...write the lyrics. And finally I…I marshalled my energies and did it. Lenny had a lot to do with making certain ‘Summer Cannibals’ and ‘Gone Again’ came to light. We had a lot of cassette tapes with Fred playing acoustic guitar or chanting or giving some direction...to me, 'cos he often made tapes like that so I could write lyrics. Lenny had to lovingly piece those songs together.

So many people haven't yet discovered Dream Of Life, which I think is your best album after Horses. People are going to be discovering that album for years.

I hope so, because it's the only real document we have of Fred's range, though it's still only a partial account. It's pretty much his album; I look at Dream Of Life as his gift to me. He wrote all the music, arranged everything, a lot of the song titles, the album title, the concept of the songs, especially ‘People Have The Power’, were all Fred's. I told him we should call it by both our names but he wouldn't. But he had promised me that on this album he would sing on it and we'd put both our names on it. So I was really looking forward... I thought this was going to be a great album because people would see his face, hear him sing, and he was getting interested in performing live again. But...ah...it didn't happen. Which has been the heartbreaking part of making this album for me.

There was one thing released under both your names: the atmospheric piece ‘It Takes Time’ that you did for the Wim Wenders film Until The End Of The World in 1990.

Thank you for remembering that one! I love to hear it, because Fred's reciting poetry. Again, that's almost entirely his piece. Not only did he write the music and some of the poetry, he actually dictated how he wanted me to read my parts. Oh yeah, we had some friction, some healthy friction, in the recording of that song. He was the suggester in the family. He was clearly the boss, although he liked to pretend that he wasn't...

How did you first meet him?

It was March 9, 1976, and we met in front of the radiator at that hot dog place, Lafayette Coney Island, in Detroit. The Sonic Rendezvous Band was opening for us, but I didn't know anything about him. Lenny introduced me to this guy. I heard that his name is Smith, and my name is Smith. We just looked at each other and I was completely taken by him. I had no idea who he was or anything about him until afterwards when Lenny told me. Lenny introduced me to him and said, "He's one of the great guitar players." I said, Perhaps you'll want to play with us tonight. And he said, "Maybe so." Then he left and I asked Lenny if he was really any good, and Lenny said, "The best". So I was playing with him that night, and I had a lot of bravado in those days. I didn't have respect for anybody. But I totally submitted to his reign. He came on the stage and started playing, and after a while I just set my guitar down and let it feed back. I just let him take over because I felt that I had met my match, that I had met the better man.

As I understand it, the original plan you'd developed with Fred called for you to begin re-emerging now anyway.

Yes. This would've happened. It was according to plan. A couple of years after Dream Of Life, Fred wanted us to go out with just a percussionist, Richard Sohl, him and I. It would have been more spoken art, more poetry with them doing interpretive things behind me. Fred really wanted to do that, but then Richard died suddenly. It really broke his heart, 'cos Fred was really close to Richard. So we withdrew from that idea.

Then, after a time he really felt it was time for me to walk back on stage. In his own way he had a somewhat competitive nature, and he was watching how the arena of female artists has really widened. The girls have done a great job. Now, I don't consider myself a female artist – I'm just an artist – but Fred had that bit of competitiveness. He wanted me to take a stand, I think. I actually was the one who was reticent. He felt it in me before I did.

We were gonna do pretty much what we're doing now: do a record, do dates in the summer, do things when we could. But he was... actually (her voice slows down)... looking forward to…that. So…

Are any of the songs from that period on this new album?

Two. I didn't do a lot of them, just because I couldn't. It was just too painful. Even doing those two... They're two rock songs. Fred really wanted me to do rock songs again. For all the knowledge and sophistication that Fred had acquired over the years as a musician, he always said there was always room for one more great rock song, and he never stopped trying to write it. It's just so happened to work out that the pivotal rock songs on the album are the two that Fred and I wrote together.

It's funny, but I really always wanted him to go back out. I would've been happy staying at home taking care of the kids. I really wanted the world to see him. I really loved his work, and I do regret that people didn't get to see his full range. But he was his own man, he did what he wanted. He wasn't a guy trapped in a family situation. He wanted a family deeply, and he committed himself to his family... to a fault, I think. He was a great father.

One of the main reasons that I'm able to feel no guilt, nothing but pride when I'm performing, is that I know he wanted me to do it. I never regretted my decision to stop performing. I spent the '80s studying and writing, and becoming a far more facile writer. I learned quite a bit about everything from sports to cooking, whatever I needed to learn at any given moment. And I really treasure those years. I didn't yearn for or regret the past. I didn't even think about it. I was too wrapped up in our present.

What I often did was to wake up early and write from five to seven or eight when the kids got up. I always allowed myself a time, and continued the work ethic that I had developed with Robert Mapplethorpe. No matter what was happening, even when we were sick, Robert and I always worked. Every day. It was sort of a pact we made, and I've kept to that.

I've learned that I don't need to smoke pot all night and then at three in the morning write my poem. I had to learn a whole different system of creation. If I have from five to seven to do my work, then that's when I'll do it. I've completely grasped the fact that it comes from within me, and I take it wherever I go. Whether I'm in a prison in French Guyana or in my laundry room. You don't have to be the victim of inspiration. I learned a lot of things from Fred...

The recent Mapplethorpe biography painted you as a prisoner of Fred's tyrannical whims.

Oh, please... I made a decision about the kind of life I wanted to live. I made it, and I have never even once – never! – regretted making it. I mean, I missed my friends, I missed the camaraderie of the band, I missed certain things. Even though sometimes it was difficult, to me it was a privilege to be with him. I only regret that he's gone. I don't regret nothing else.

It was a treat to see Bob Neuwirth at your Roxy show.

I met Bobby around 1969 at the Chelsea Hotel. I was still kinda hoping to be a painter at that time, but it was beginning to become clear to me that it wasn't my beat and so I was writing quite a bit. I was in the lobby of the Chelsea and I had a notebook. "Hey poet," I remember him saying. "Well, you look like a poet. Do you write like one?" Defiant, very challenging. I thought, Whoah, Bob Neuwirth! He was in Don't Look Back. That's his leg on the cover of Highway 61 Revisited! So I gave him my notebook, and he read it and actually thought about it. He took me under his wing. He was a bit older than me, and really like a brother. He was very kind to me, but tough too. He taught me a lot, and helped me start to develop some sense of myself as a writer. At the same time he introduced me to a world that I hadn't been privy to. He introduced me to all kinds of people – Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead – and introduced me in a way that they treated me respectfully.

After that I met Sam Shepard and he was the same way. He really felt that I was a good writer. He encouraged me to the point of conceit, nearly. He really made me feel good about myself, and made it seem important that I keep writing. He and Bobby did a lot to instill in me not only the desire to keep writing, but they made me feel that I was a writer. That's an important step. I had always felt different from other people, a misfit and an alien, but I never really gleaned myself as being special. Other people seemed to pull it out of me, whether it was Robert Mapplethorpe, Sam Shepard or Bobby Neuwirth. I've been very lucky in my life to have people perceive something in me that I didn't always perceive in myself.

When I called your hotel in San Francisco, you were out and they told me that Todd Rundgren had come by with his kids to pick up yours. That seemed like another nice full circle.

Yes. He was very important to me in those early New York days too. I think it was Bobby Neuwirth who introduced me to Todd. And Todd had been so good to Jackson. He let Jack play this beautiful Gibson of his on stage, and then let him take it on the rest of the tour. Todd's another person who really encouraged me. Todd actually thought I had a future as a comedian. I did too.

You mean we almost had Patti Lee Smith in stand-up comedy?

I had that daydream for years. I used to pretend that I went on the Johnny Carson show. He really liked me, and then he got sick and asked me to take over the show until he got better. And I did so well that when Johnny retired he gave me his show. It was one of my favourite daydreams. I still make use of my Johnny Carson studies, as you've probably realised. All the sparring I do, being able to take what hecklers dish out and one-up them, is from years of studying Johnny.

I wasn't really a '60s person. I had lived a fairly sheltered life in South Jersey. I came to New York in 1967, but I lived with Robert Mapplethorpe in Brooklyn. I spent that time working to be an artist or supporting Robert, and I really didn't go through all those '60s changes. I wasn't really involved in the political scene. I was frightened by the '60s, really. The masses of people and all the assassinations and the drug culture and the war in Vietnam...I found all of this overwhelming.

The one positive thing is that I did get a sense of the collective, that there was some sort of unspoken unity thing happening. Even though I was chronologically the same age, I felt younger because I was a bit behind. So I observed it from a slightly different perspective. What I like about it was how it produced its own networking tools, whether publications like Crawdaddy, Creem and Rolling Stone, or underground radio. Number one, of course, was the music itself, which was something new. Generations before us went wild over Benny Goodman or Frank Sinatra, but they didn't necessarily say anything. But our music was in concert with who we were.

So I did learn some good lessons from the '60s. I looked at the best of it, and what I thought would happen is that the '70s would come along and be even better. But then what I saw was the people losing interest, becoming more self-oriented, and I was very concerned. I was sort of disappointed with my own people. I didn't like what I saw, and that inspired me to do the kind of work that I did.

I understand it was Lenny and your brother Todd who helped you through the desolate time after Fred passed away.

Between Lenny and my brother, they wouldn't let me get too deep down. The minute Fred passed away, my brother got on a plane and came out. He devoted the rest of his life – which only turned out to be one month – to getting me back on my feet. Todd was one of those workaholic types who work around the clock and never take vacations, but he left work immediately and came and stayed with me.

Then at Thanksgiving we all went back to my parents', and I was having an extremely difficult time. We always went back to New Jersey for Thanksgiving, and this was the first time without Fred in 16 years. I could hardly even rise in the morning. So Toddie came in and said, "C'mon babe, get dressed," and he made me get in the car. He rolled down the windows – he actually had a car where you had to roll down the windows! –and put on a cassette of the Natural Born Killers soundtrack. Our song ‘Rock'n'Roll Nigger’ is on that, and he turned it up as loud as he could get it, and we drove around to all our old hangouts and the places we used to play when we were kids.

Todd really loved that song, and he played it over and over, singing at the top of his lungs. He was going, "You're gonna be all right. You're gonna get back to work. Fred wanted you to and you're gonna do it and I'm gonna help you do it. Even if I have to quit my job to go on the road with ya, we're gonna pull everything up." He was so full of energy and love and enthusiasm that he made it difficult to disbelieve him. I wasn't familiar with that soundtrack, and he said, "There's another little song on it you'll like." So we parked in front of Hoedown Hall and Thomas's Field where we used to play, and this song came on. It was Bob Dylan singing "See the pyramids along the Nile..." [‘You Belong To Me’]. Fred used to sing that song to me, and I sat there and cried listening to Bob sing it. We had been talking about Dylan and how great he was; again, Toddie would have loved being a part of that tour.

We talked and talked, and he stayed for another couple of days. He wouldn't let me not feel good; it was his mission. He said, "We're gonna spend Christmas together and we're gonna get back on our feet." Todd went back to Virginia, and right after that he suffered a stroke and passed away. Which isn't at all uncommon on my side of the family. It was really terrible, but after the shock of losing him I found that he had made me feel so good, and had brought up my spirits so much, that I made a decision. Since his last mission in life had been to get me feeling good, I wasn't going to have his mission be in vain. So even now when I feel... you know... I just think about that.

You have to let your loved ones go, even as you cherish their spirit as you move forward. Which is difficult, but very important. Then, because of the kind of person I am, I also feel it is my mission to do something in their honour. Like I keep working and collaborating with Robert. [The Coral Sea, her tribute to Mapplethorpe featuring many of his photographs, will soon be published by W.W. Norton.] I have many things to do for Fred, not only in terms of work but of course the lifelong mission of watching over our children. With my brother, my mission is to feel good, be happy and do my work. So in those ways…as deeply as I miss all of their earthly presences, they're still around. Very much around.

"Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine" is a line that will forever be associated with you. How do you view it now?

I wrote that line when I was 20 years old. A lot of people misinterpreted it as the statement of an atheist, somebody who doesn't believe in anything. I happen to believe in Jesus. I never said he didn't exist. I only said that I didn't want him to take responsibility for my actions. Because I was young, I perceived myself as an artist, and the artist as a sort of cerebral criminal. I wanted the freedom to pursue all the things I imagined. Things within my art, not in life. In my art, I wanted the right to be misguided, misdirected, slightly criminal, utterly promiscuous, even a murderer. Within the realm of my work. I didn't want to be weighed down with such a conscience that I couldn't trample the earth, every junkyard and every cloud. I wanted to be free of conscience. I wanted free rein.

Over the years I got into studying Christ, reconsidering Him in Pasolini terms: Christ as revolutionary, a person who felt akin to our people. I found, as I got older and studied deeper, His roles, His ideals, His philosophies a lot more interesting. To the point that at our last show in Florence in '79, which was the last time I did that version of ‘Gloria’, I sang, "Jesus died for somebody's sins, why not mine?" I probably would not sing that original line now. Not because I think there's anything wrong with it, just because I don't identify with it now.

You always operated from the belief that rock'n'roll was a force for good. With all that's happened in the culture, do you still think that? Or has this belief in some way been perverted?

Well... I think everything gets perverted. But I'm not really concerned with how it gets perverted up in the mainstream, because that's business. I don't have the time or energy to pioneer against big business at this point in my life. Young people can do that.

I like the way young people are interacting globally. I like the alternative networking they're doing. I'd like to see them develop that, and start seeing what they can do collectively to better our situation on the planet. This planet is in deep trouble. What are we seeing? A resurgence of communicable diseases like tuberculosis, we have AIDS; the whole planet is becoming very viral. I'm not saying we can stop it, but only we can reduce all of these things.

Is music the same energy source for kids today that it was for us, or is it even possible that it can be?

I think there's so much stuff now. Look when we grew up. When I was a kid TV was black and white and there were three stations. They only had cartoons on Saturday morning. The records would come out, it's a big album, you have a big record player, you go home and put it on the record player, you sit and listen to it and really digest what the music’s saying. It was its own experience.

Music is still a powerful force – if you have a powerful individual – but I think it's a lot more convoluted now, if that's the right word.

You and Fred talked about not doing anything for personal gain, that it would have to benefit someone else. How do you reconcile that with everything that's happening now?

With this little tour we're not making any money; we're pretty much breaking even. We did a benefit for an AIDS hospice in San Francisco, and benefits will continue to be a big part of our agenda. I have to get back on my feet, truthfully. If it starts building and things go well, I look forward to a time where I never have to take a cent for hitting the stage. I'm watching people in rock'n'roll make millions and millions of dollars. I see a lot of my friends who've gotten extremely prosperous, and I think they should be doing a lot more. I don't mean giving an autographed guitar to charity. I mean, if you already have $20 million in the bank, take 10 million and find the people that are doing the strongest AIDS research and just give it to 'em. I would encourage performers to take the money they make on stage and give it to the people who need it.

When you first came around the mission was to keep alive and free a certain rock'n'roll spirit. Is the mission this time about this different, though related, spirit? The responsibility that comes with freedom?

I think so. A lot of the things we attempted to do in the '70s were accomplished. Like T.S. Eliot said, each generation translates for itself. I done what I was supposed to do when I done it. It's not my place to do it now. I wouldn't even know how to. All I know is that the planet is full of hands needing to be helped, and I'm trying to see what I can do to get things motivated in a new way. I still think it has to be revolutionary. We still need to redesign stuff.

People are making comeback tours and farewell tours, they're going on Unplugged and they're picking up their lifetime achievement awards. But what are they really doing? I think we've gotten way too cute with all these tons of awards we're giving to each other. Too much bullshit, too much cute stuff. The Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame. It's another money machine. I did appear at one of those to induct the Velvet Underground. I did that out of respect to the Velvets, and because that recognition meant something to them. But I feel about the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame pretty much the way Fred did: that we should be ashamed. The spirit should be the museum.

‘Piss Factory’ is still one of your more resonant works. But those women you described with such disdain – "these bitches are just too lame to understand/too God damn grateful to get this job to know they're getting screwed up the ass" –with all you've lived since, I'm wondering how you'd regard them now?

Oh, I'd be a lot more compassionate now. Not necessarily for their stupidity, because some of their rules and codes I would still rail against. But being hard-working women... maybe their husband's dead, or their husband took off and they've got six kids to look after. So yes, much more empathy, compassion. Much more respect.

When I was younger, I really felt completely there for the misfit, the person outside society. Artists, and people on the fringes, whether because of their philosophies or sexual persuasion or politics. And I still feel akin to those people, 'cos I'm still one of them. But I've been through so much... life – being a mother, being a widow, being a laundress, all the things I do – that I definitely feel more empathy, a more common bond with people. When I was younger I had so much intensity that it got to the point where I felt I was in a whole other realm. I don't feel that so much – I feel a lot more human these days.

© Ben Edmonds 1996

Michael Stipe on Patti

UNLIKE THE OTHER GUYS IN THE BAND, WHEN WE started I didn't have any particular understanding of the standard history of the pop format, so I pretty much learned as I went along. I had virtually no musical background. I pretty much ignored music until I was about 15 years old, and at the high school that I went to – which was in Illinois in the very heart of middle America – heavy metal ruled. My parents listened to Gershwin, Mancini, Wanda Jackson and the soundtrack to Dr Zhivago. That's all I heard.

I accidentally got a subscription to the Village Voice when I was 15. Right about that time – middle to late 1975 – they were talking about this thing that was going on in New York with Television and Patti Smith and the Ramones and CBGB's. I distinctly remember the November 1975 issue of Creem magazine. Someone had left a copy in study hall under a chair. It had a picture of Patti Smith, and she was terrifying looking. She looked like Morticia Addams. And I think it was Lester Bangs or Lisa Robinson writing about punk rock in New York and how all the other music was like watching colour movies, but this is like watching static-y black and white TV. And that made incredible sense to me. I read about those bands before I ever heard them, and it just sounded so amazing.

Horses, the first Patti Smith album, came out soon afterwards and it pretty much tore my limbs off and put them back on in a different way. I was 15 when I heard it, and that's pretty strong stuff for a 15-year-old American middle-class white boy, sitting in his parents' living room with the headphones on so they wouldn't hear it. It was like the first time you went into the ocean and got knocked down by a wave. It killed. It was so completely liberating. I had my parents' crappy headphones and I sat up all night with a huge bowl of cherries listening to Patti Smith, eating those cherries and going. Oh, my God!... Holy shit!... Fuck!... Then I was sick.

© Michael Stipe 1996

[gashface]

When things are bad, it's good to remember the happiest days.

Hey guys,

Welcome to the final week!~ This prompt we wanted to challenge our contestants by requesting 3 photos, all separate days and just overall learn that last bit about them all. Before we get to the results, as this is the final week;

I will also be including the final results for the competition in a post following this one <3

Now onto the results!

Charline Morel by @cyazurai

“What are the three happiest days of my life? Oh, wow… what a question. You know when you get asked these kinds of these suddenly you can’t remember a single happy day? It’s the pressure, haha. I promise I have had happy days. Oh wait, actually, I know the first one! It was the day I told my parents to- well. I told them I wasn’t going to listen to them anymore and I was going to live my own life. They were trying to get me to apply to Juilliard or something, and I had no desire to go, you know? I don’t even know if they take singers, I never cared enough to check. Anyway, they were telling me I needed to stop beating around the bush and get to filling out my applications, and I’d had enough. I just lost it, and told them where they could go. I’d been saving up money to get out of that abusive household, and I just up and left that day. It was the most freeing, best feeling I’ve ever had. Sure, later I regretted doing it so suddenly because I left my sister behind, and I didn’t have anywhere to go for a while, but I didn’t regret actually leaving.”

“My second happiest day has to be the day I got my first tattoo. I was still just living off of the money I’d been saving from the allowance my parents gave me - rich kid privilege - and while I was looking for a job, I decided, you know, I wanted to do something more to stick it to my parents. In case I ended up giving in and going back to them on my hands and knees, at least I’d have something physical on my person that would rebel against their obsession with appearances. Though it did hurt and I felt, uh, a little faint. I don’t like needles, never have - but the artist was really nice and helped me get through my initial queasiness. I dated him a little bit after that, too, but it didn’t work out. Oh well.”

“And, well… my most recent favorite day was the day I got my first modeling gig. It was nothing big, it was just for a small internet store that was trying to get off the ground. Since they couldn’t afford anyone with experience, they gave me a chance, and I decided that being in front of the camera is one of the best feelings. It’s kind of freeing - I could be whatever, whoever I wanted to be. Maybe I’m just really narcissistic and like modeling because I know I’m pretty, but I like to think it’s just because I can really express myself this way. And I’ve never really been able to do that before.”

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 10/10

STORY: 10/10

EXECUTION: 9/10

STYLE: 9/10

Dillion Carter by @mewo-ita

Can’t believe it’s really the end… personally, think the theme is real fittin’. For this one, figured I won’t bore you with the things you already know bring me happiness and I’d tell some new things bout’ myself. I’m gonna make this easier by goin’ in chronological order. One of my first happiest days was when I was just a teen— fifteen, specifically. My family had to go on a trip to Japan for work and at first, I hated it. But then I met this boy a year older than me, Suzuya. We were pretty close by the end of the trip and I figure that’s why he asked me to go to the summer festival with him. Who would I be if I said no? Even if Japan is still not my favorite place, it looked just gorgeous then; the yukatas, festivities, and the bright stalls. Suzuya laughing and grinnin’ at me when he picked me up to watch the fireworks. We still kept in contact, but even if I am not able to see him and Japan personally again— the pure joy I felt that night I’ll always remember.

For the last happiest day, I would say it was during my first ever job. I was a young nineteen and lifeguard of this one beach— it was honestly perfect since I’ve always loved to swim. It wasn’t a very serious job and I was free to wear whatever as long as I wasn’t nude and I had the colors red and white. So I wore my favorite shirt whenever I went to always get these girls that kept going out really deep in the ocean despite me saying NOT to go. Sigh, anyways, wouldn’t trade that first day for the world. Had the time of my life.

I was an absolute mess in junior year of high-school. So naturally I took up a hobby to distract myself from the drain of it all— spray painting. I was first invited to paint with couple of boys in my year that Thursday night and when the time came, I had felt so free. My first tag was horrendous since I’m not an artist, but the idea of just leaving your mark somewhere and the bright colors is so compelling. The adrenaline rush I got from it while ducking authority figures was also irreplaceable. It was reckless looking back, which was why I eventually ended up being chased by the police after the boys left me. But even then, I just couldn’t stop myself from busting out laughing. Despite everything I would never take it back. I would definitely call it one of my happiest days, and if I had to name that day, I would call it “Smells like teen spirit.”

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 10/10

STORY: 8/10

EXECUTION: 10/10

STYLE: 9/10

Now those are some memories, and I feel like I learnt so much about the models. Thank you for the effort put into this week, I know it was a challenge but I wanted to see three different sides of your sims through their life. It was informative and I am so proud of the creativity you both have!! <3

TIME TO TALLY THE RESULTS OOOOO

Thanks guys x

- Buddy

[sol-consort]

I have no idea what Elcor are but that's the cutest thing I've seen in a while, I wanna gently place them into my pocket.

Also, I just got Mass-effect. Is there anything I have to brace myself for? Gameplay or story elements wise?

AAAA ilyyyy I'm so EXCITED FKNWODJWKS <3333 PLEASE TELL ME ABOUT YOUR PROGRESS AS YOU PLAY.

and eclor are the most adorable thing there is! They're like elephants and their speech is so cute! They use tone indicators before talking because their voice is monotone and they don't want the humans to feel like they're not being genuine

So for example if they're happy or grateful they won't just say "thank you" instead they're say:

"With great joy and sincere gratefulness: thank you"

My advice hmm.

First

You get different companions to take with you on missions and they each have different and unique dialogue on the said mission. You can take anyone anywhere on any mission so pick your favourite!

And if you want more lore, pick the ones that make the most sense for the mission. Like if you're going to X character hometown then bring X character with you.

Second thing

Ignore the main quest for as long as you can get away with. Whenever you get a side quest or a side mission, let it take priority over the main quest. I realised too late that mass effect let's you gun it from one main quest to another without nothing stopping you or any indications of the "point of no return" and side quests expire without warning too.

So unless you want the game to end in 3 hours, do the side quests. Most of them are very important and aren't just filler.

Here is a guide for the mission and quest order for all of the three games that has no spoilers! I personally used it.

Number three

Dialogue choices are important. They aren't just for immersion and aren't filler you gloss over, they can make or break a mission.

Don't stress over them. The game puts the "pragon" choices at the top while the "renegade" choices are the bottom. This order never changes but they might change from left to right.

Paragon depends on charm points. You're an optimistic who want people to work together and try to save as many lives as you could. Basically diplomatic and merciful.

Renegade depends on intimidation points. You're brutally honest, it's your way or the high way. Kinda of a human supremacist and always look for your own personal benefit and respect. This can make you lose people so sometimes you have to pick paragon options just to continue a conversation then switch to Renegade.

Save often before conversations or inbetween missions, you can't retract like in baldur's gate and the options you pick aren't always clear.

There are also options in the middle between the top and bottom. They can be neutral ones or inquiry ones that lets you ask a question to understand a situation better and then pick paragon or renegade.

In the second and third game, you gain charm and intimidate passively through your normal dialogue choices in conversations.

But in the first game, you have to level it up alongside your actual combat powers. You get a lot of points dw but I recommend prioritising the charm and intimidating over all other skills.

This is is a fps afterall, the only skill that matters is your aim.

Sometimes you get in conversations and realise you don't have enough charm points to pick the paragon option so it gets greyed out. And you miss out on looking cool :(

So save before conversations and if you don't have enough points then move along and postpone the conversation until you do. Even if it meant doing main missions.

Fourth thing

Your romance is very limited by your gender. If you like a character, consider looking up what gender they date.

Fifth

The game is pretty easy and forgiving in combat, decent armour gets you far and your teammates are better used for support than offence so prioritise yourself when it comes to upgrades and weapons first and give them your hand-me-downs.

Sixth

Modding really isn't that hard and fixes so much, especially the save filer editor because sometimes you realise you missed a very important decision in the first game but you're already in the third game and you don't want to replay the whole trilogy just for that one thing that's blocking your progress in the third game mission.

So save editor lets you edit your save file as easily as checking a box to make the game think you did do that important thing in the first game and now you don't feel like you missed out.

If you have any questions about modding, feel free to ask me. Even for a guide I'd happily oblige.

Seventh

There are different starting classes. They depends on how you like playing shooter games. They don't matter in the first game but they matter a lot in second and third when combat gets serious.

So experiment a lot. Some classes are built for short range knives or shotguns, others for snipers. Keep track of what works for you and note which class does what.

I recommend infiltrator. You have a sniper and become invisible and get a dmg boost.

There are also points and powers, put your teamates on auto leveling at the start if you want and only focus on your own character. The first game is very forgiving and it's best to understand your powers first then worry about your teammates in the second or third games.

Eight

Please import your character from game one to game two then to three. Trust me it is so worth it and an option ingame! So many things depend on your previous choices!

Ninth

In the first game, when you land on a planet in the car rover for a mission, Don't just head straight to the mission marker but also explore around! You find so many things and that's how you get the money for the armours and weapons by finding ore viens.

Same in the second game but instead of on foot exploration, you'll send probs to planets you scan. So scan the planets you come across for money.

Lastly and number 10

Have fun! Mess up! Level the wrong things and pick the wrong options. It's okay.

Explore the world, enjoy the beautiful views and interact with things. Touch everything you wanna touch despite the salarian scientist threatening to call the human embassy for your behaviour! Talk with everyone you wanna talk to.

Pick the armour that looks best even if it has bad stats, pick the decision you like even if it's a renegade one.

And if you ever like a character or want to request them <3 I am here and I am all ears.

[notasapleasure]

No Offence S02.02,03,06 (2017)

Another police procedural!

Episode 2

Sgt Keith Pankani is here and he's here for three episodes!

With my apologies - the channel 4 player leaves a big fat play symbol in the middle of the screen when you pause it.

Keith is working the nightshift at the custody desk in whatever Northern place this is that is experiencing Crime. The drunk girl who stole a cockatoo and describes herself as 'epileptic, schizophrenic, Catholic' is my favourite person so far.

I guess the uniform has to be tight so miscreants have nothing to grab on to, hm?

Scar on his lip that you don't normally see with the stubble :')

Also: arm scar!

Please don't ask me about the plot in this it's as over the top as every other soap. But Alexandra Roach from Utopia is one of the coppers, so that's fun :)

Standard police procedural problem: Nora the gangster is about a million times cooler, sexier, more badass and more relatable than any of the cops.

Well ok, Sergeant Keith does know how to flirt his problems away.

Cockatiel girl: *is annoying*

Keith @ mc, Viv: pls empty my cells and I will give u kisses

Viv: :)))) Best do as he says! your problem Becky!

Becky from Utopia but not Welsh: noooo but I already jailed so many people today

Keith: *hides his smirk badly and pushes a file towards her*

The girl who stole the cockatiel is still the best person here. She doesn't deserve jail or passive aggression from cop lady, Becky from Utopia or not >:(

Aaaaand she's dead! Becky pushed too hard!

This is the lady cops making disastrous errors of judgement show I guess.

Episode 3

It's not often i'd day this but ladies you all need to take off the leather jackets and go touch some grass

Channel 4 describes this as 'outrageous' and I think it's a bit too proud of that as a description. It veers wildly between obtuse silliness and po-faced drama.

Oh my GOD peak copaganda: we can save this man's life with a taser! :|

I still love Nora Attah and her deaf lawyer!!

Meanwhile we've brought in the autistic behaviourist so. Strike that one off your bingo cards! She does like Nora too though: "Stonking STONKING villain! She's ace!"

All right, take the one thing I'm enjoying with no sign of Keith yet this episode and be narratively self-aware about it 🙄

Oh here he is! Rolling his eyes and tutting in the background of the 'comedy relief' scene where one of the cops apparently doesn't know you can't arrest someone for impersonating a paramedic, claims never to have heard of 'de-arresting' people and promptly gets a complaint put in against him.

Is this show actually trying to undermine confidence in the police service?

Keith is very protective over his jail cells >:3

Episode 4 - I shouldn't even have been watching it because no Sgt Keith again until Episode 6 fml

There's a strange old techie man called Miller in this show and he's oddly compelling. I'm already annoyed Viv's pool stunt was actually so sexy, but she IS right too:

Joy: "Can he access all our computers?"

Viv: "He can access cheese on toast..."

Literally makes no sense but it IS a mood. Mind, Viv is a workplace sexual harassment case waiting to happen.

"A kick in the Jackson bollocks" is his catchphrase, he's an absolute creechure.

I feel like the Manchester tourism board didn't have much of a say in this show.

Joy making her useless druggie boyfriend cry was kind of great though. And then......Viv made a Guantanamo joke.

Fucking hell. And the inept cop who didn't know about de-arresting people is there being inept.

Right, enough of that, Episode 6, Sgt Keith where are you?

Nora is raising money to end FGM and tackle it in the immigrant community and I?? Fucking love her. Let her sell her drugs! She's a legitimate business woman!

Also the police department act like they just don't care about bringing the person committing FGM to justice anyway because they're so blinkered by anger at Nora.

*sigh* I think the problem with this is it might just be too accurate a depiction of the police and their attitudes.

There are many beautiful and scrunkly people in this but they're all so fucking awful and still not a hint of Sgt Keith :((

I think imdb lied to me again :|

The end! I’m not watching episode 5 to make sure because it sounds like they’ve made Nora’s son (the actual big bad probably) into a gay sex offender just to go full house on the awful stereotypes bingo card. And I’m not watching episode 7 just to be sure because this is where I draw the line, Chook! If you were playing a character with anything to do I might have bothered, but if I’m missing out on one more desk shot with procedural speak I’ll just have to live with it.

Rating

Dead? Nope, but frankly who’s paying attention

Evil? All the cops in this seem to routinely break the rules, and he’s happy to obstruct defence lawyers so yeah I’m not keen

Affects the plot? *snort*

0.5/5 tragically pointless! The flirting with Viv and the complaining about the cockatoo was cute though.

[eraseur-a]

i never vent on main but this month has been so hard. tws covid, dysphoria, sex, self harm

in the past month:

i broke up with my fiance who id been with for 2 years. he was my best friend. i talked to him every day. i miss him.

it felt like i lost my entire future. i have no plan or goals anymore. i had something concrete and am now just lost.

there's nothing i care about and nothing that brings me joy. i feel like im shoving my brain full stimulation just to get by. i have no passions or interests or projects or ideas or desires or goals. ive always had projects and creativity but i just have nothing.

ive been fucking up so much at my job and its stressing me out so much i feel like im a terrible manager and didnt deserve this promotion and im freaking out and its so weird learning new social rules and watching everyones level of respect for me change. and god fuck being at work and having to talk to everyone is making me hate myself like why cant i talk to my coworkers like everyone else can. how are they having these conversations with each other and building relationships. i dont understand fuck i hate not knowing social things

and ive been seeing a new man who i like a lot but hes neurotypical and im so scared to meet his friends and family because he told me im "weird" and i also just cant allocate the energy to be around normal people i dont have any capacity or desire to do so

this has also given me major dysphoria and so much stress about my gender and sexuality. im realizing how dysphoric i actually am -- or maybe its just how dysphoric being around him makes me. this guy is amazing why do i have to be fucking weird and broken. why cant i just have sex like a normal person. i want to be with him but being with him makes me hate myself but also i should just stop hating myself right.

and then just now lost a vibrant and special community of people that shared the same interest as me that has consumed my life for 4 months. close friends. who, more than anything, i admired immensely as artists and creators and who inspired me so much. im not going to pretend like im not devastated to have lost friends and inspirations. i miss you and im sorry. all this this also means ive lost a sense of safety and faith.

and my mom got covid. and i live with her. so im terrified of my mom dying and every time i cough im convinced im gonna die. this is making my ocd so much worse, so im doing all my ocd rituals more intensely, but then shit keeps going wrong, which makes me feel like i cant even have faith in that, and if i cant have faith in that then what next will i turn to to save me. what do i shove in the emptiness

and i relapsed with self harm like... 3 times this month. i regret it so fucking much and that isnt making it easier.

it's just so much. im always okay, but... im starting to worry that maybe im not actually okay.

i dont want to talk about any of this really. i dont want attention or sympathy. im so tired of having conversations. i just needed to vent and just... share where i'm at. thinking about anime superheroes is the closest thing to enjoyment this brain has been able to get the past few days. and im terrified to admit that i am human and need a support system and am maybe not okay.

[beneathashadytree]

Hey there!!!!! I just love love love LOVE your writing🤭🤭 But I have writings that I want to post, however I'm afraid of it not getting attention!! I want to start making money off of my art also, but none of my post have been getting attention...><..Do you anything that could help me (to be honest it might just be the way I write...→_→)

Hi nonnie! Thank you so so much for the lovely compliments. That’s very sweet of you to say!

I’m gonna be honest with you, I myself struggle with interactions—very much so. Save for a few posts that blow up a little, the majority of my fics on Tumblr have little to no notes. But the amount of traction you receive should not be indicative of your skill as a writer, and it certainly should not stop you from enjoying it!

At the end of the day, fic writers are hobbyists and artists. They willingly write stories and pour their hearts into them, and it brings them joy to write them. While attention is certainly a wonderful thing, and the lack of it can sometimes be rather discouraging, remember why you chose to write. It was because you were passionate about it, wasn’t it?

I think one formula that always works, though, is choosing an active fanbase. The more active a fandom is, the more likely will your posts receive interactions. For example, a fandom like Attack on Titan is far more active and massive than the Yuumori fandom, for instance. Posts under the AoT tag tend to find their target audience more easily.

Post the links to your work everywhere—Twitter, in DMs, to your friends, on other websites; do anything to spread the word that you’re an active writer! There’s nothing wrong with shameless self-promos.

Another thing that helps a lot is using the appropriate tagging system. This makes your fics easier to find by interested people, and categorized better. For example, “#hinata shoyo smut” will lead you to all smut fics of Hinata Shoyo of Haikyuu, and “#william moriarty x reader” will lead you to a more general collection of x reader fanfics starring William Moriarty of Yuumori.

One thing I wish I could stick to is this: consistency. The more regularly you post, the more frequently you will show up on your followers dashboards, and the more likely you are to appear at other people’s dashboards. You’ll find yourself interacting with like-minded individuals who love your work in no time!

Personally, I haven’t been successful at all in making money off my blog. Though I am in desperate need of money, so far I’ve made literally $00.00. I believe we both need advice on how to earn cash from our work, don’t we?

Keep your head up, nonnie! Being a writer might feel like a tough business at times, but at the end it all boils down to how much you enjoy doing this. As long as you do, then you’re on the right track!💗💗

[thecalmdaisy]

How to Kick Depression in the Face Gracefully.

" Don't let your mind control your reality."

Here are some ways that helped me overcome my depression. Also, if you have any steps to help others in our depression community, please share on your own personal platform. You never know who might have needed your advice.

1. Only You Truly Understand Who You Truly Are as a Person.

Those of us who have been through the dark path of depression know how challenging it can be to combat negative energies. This is because our minds are constantly thinking of negative things that have happened in our lives in the past or currently happening in the present. Now trust me when I say I know it's hard to just let go and be positive about certain situations. But, if you want to improve mentally, you can't ignore it. This was literally the first step I had to take to start the process of getting back to the person I had lost due to the worries and fears I had created within my head. When it comes to battling these negative energies, you must tell those negative thoughts, “You do not belong to me or with me, and I know who I truly am”. Do not let negative energies overwhelm you, and remember, no one can judge you more harshly than you can judge yourself.

2. Be Positive and Express Positivity.

(Speak Affirmations Daily)

Speaking positively about yourself and your life can boost your motivation for every day. When I wake up in the morning, I thank God for another day, smile at myself in the mirror, and I tell myself I AM beautiful and that I AM going to have a wonderful day. As long as you know and believe you are in control of your happiness, nothing or no one can steal it from you.

3. Sweat It Out in a Healthy Way.

For some reason, when I sweat, I feel so good afterwards. Many times, I don't just go to the gym. I actually go outside into nature and enjoy the beautiful world God has created for us. I break a sweat by riding my longboard, roller skating, or just going for a stroll along a nature trail. I don't know what it is, but something about the blue sky, fresh air, and green trees can really put your mind at ease. Well, at least for me, it does. But whatever works best for you in a healthy way, go for it.

4. Take Up a Hobby You Love or Explore a Hobby You Have Always Been Curious About.

Every person usually has at least one hobby they enjoy immensely, and if you don't, I believe it's time you found your passion. Having a hobby during such a tough time is a great way to get your mind off of things, and it's a great way to bring some type of joy into your life. I know when I went through depression, I couldn't find joy in anything, but after I cleared my mind of those negative energies, I began to go out more again and found a piece of joy in the process. In my case, it was longboarding, and I have been addicted ever since. It allows me to feel free, like a bird with no wings, and yes, I realize that sounds strange, but for me, that's the way it feels.

5. Cut Out Negative People.

Hold on. Let me grab those scissors for you, because it's time to cut out those negative people in your circle. If anyone in your life treats you disrespectfully, drains your energy, uses you for their personal gain, or abuses you in any way, IT IS TIME to cut them completely off. They are only holding you back from your true potential. So, save your time and energy by moving on to people who are better vibrational matches. There are people who want to see you succeed; there are people who care about your well-being; and there are people who will be there to uplift you and not judge you. After you cut off all that excess weight from your life, you will feel so much lighter. When I looked back at my journey, I realized how much I had allowed people to use me for their own personal advantage. Please remember to listen to your intuition because disregarding it will only hurt you.

6. Pamper Yourself.

Do something kind for yourself from time to time. There is nothing wrong with taking some time out of your busy schedule to pamper yourself. I understand how life can be busy and hectic sometimes, but there always has to be a bit of time in your schedule JUST FOR YOU. My own work schedule is crazy. However, I always find at least an hour to start a new TV series, do a facial mask, listen to my favorite music, dance, and any other thing that makes me feel good.

7. Food Choices Make a Big Difference.

Consume greens, fruits, fibers, and proteins to boost your energy. At one point in time, I ate burgers and fries faithfully, and yes, they were delicious, but I realized the effect it had on me. As a result, I lost a lot of my free time to sleeping, feeling sluggish, and unmotivated. Make sure you stay as healthy as possible. Occasionally having your favorite cheat meal is fine but not every day to help your body and mind out.

8. Pray Often.

While I was experiencing depression, I didn't pray as much as I should have. In the beginning, I was ashamed of who I was, and I didn't know if God would forgive me for all the sins I had committed over time. But as time passed, I realized this is exactly what the enemy wanted me to believe. If you do not already know it, the enemy loves misery, and you can either stay in that misery, or YOU CAN move forward into your greatness. People were not created to be perfect, and God knows that. Always remember, God will forgive your sins, but that does not mean you should continue down the same path. It means you should try to be a better person by exchanging your bad habits for positive ones. Also, remember to meet God halfway because God can only do so much behind the scenes. Therefore, it is crucial that you continue to take the steps needed to help yourself, and don't forget to call upon your guardian angels. They are always surrounding you, ready to help you whenever you are ready to allow them into your life so that you can reach your fullest potential.

By: "V"

[probablymystories]

[retrieved 2]

I will never be twenty five again

I am blessed, and I am grateful growing up and never losing my inner child, my inner spark and most important of all my ugly laughter of joy.

2022, You have been so kind and gentle to me from the beginning to the end. I am nothing but with immensity of gratitude. This year feels like gentle breeze, gentle waves crashing and splashing with tons of sunshine. The first time in many long years I feel at home once again in my own body.

I still can recall the torment of 2017, took my first step into 20s and lost my loved one who was all along three quarters of myself. With both my grandparents gone, my world was torn apart and I was lost to pain to the point of retorting to medication for saving. I needed saving. Support system matters, kind words heal, but know when to seek professional and medical help if things really go south. It's terrifying to acknowledge that our thoughts do take forms. I did not even have enough conscience to worry that if i dwell, I will lose my future after all the things I have worked so hard for. Sadness has no bound, and it consumes you whole. With everything slowly comes together and I once more feel the life inside the veins and belong to myself again, it's a relief to finally put all the torment behind the veil.

It was a tough year, and years that followed were periods of healing. Some days were sunshine, and others were thunderstorm. "I never wanted to die, but I no longer wanted to live." was best described my grief. I spent my entire childhood with my grandparents, and with their passings, it was not just the fully grown me that suffered, but my whole happy memories of being a kid and carefree was shattered into tiny fragments. I made it each day collecting and retaining the piece. It is a work in progress. I'm not lessening the importance of others I still have in life, but when a person grieves, they lose all the big picture.

During those difficult months of covid, I came across a line from the internet 'living everyday with gratitude.' So I explored further, giving thanks to every little things in life, people who matter, and people who make you see you matter. When you were stuck at home with limited access to have fun, you spent more time with yourself. Saying this as though my entire life, I haven't already spent time with myself more than with anyone else. It definitely wasn't the best period of life or the proudest accomplishment to be remembered, but without the pandemic I wouldn't have had all the time in the word to dig within, reconnect and get to know my inner self this much. I discovered what brings me peace and what brings me pain. For certain, to put astray all the things and people that hurt. Leave them on the page we already flipped through and progress forth. I do not do the forgive-forget ceremony, I just carry on. Similarly to people who walk the grief, we don't move on, we move forward.

Being grateful for all the things that went right, people that did our heart good, and moments we were so happy that the heart inflated has been a healthy way to cope and live abide, rather than lingering over the sour experiences that wear us down. My way of seeing and living in the world has been altered as I used to be so clouded of worries and insecurities. I still have tons of them, but they cannot affect me as much. Metaphorically and of personal observance, for a plant's life, all energy are gathered and sent to that part of a new growth. Then the sprout begins to make appearance and forms another healthy stem. Very similar to the human mind, we grow thoughts we focus on. My concentration has shifted from loathing myself for everything that goes wrong, to appreciating and being grateful for every small thing that goes right. I am less heavy and I am free. Somewhat, we all want to keep having more sprouts that grow into a healthy plant.

This year, I have learned to understand and accept not only myself anymore, but all things. I learn to embrace and honor my vulnerable traits which I have been advised to work on, change, adapt, so I can become 'better', reach out and reach within, practice gratitude, learn the art of indifference, open up and connect. A child of dreams and fantasies, I continue to have faith.

It all started with a scribble from my gratitude journal:

I am idealistic and a dreamer, but for certain, I am capable of weighing opinions and decisions. I wear my heart on my sleeves, and I have done plenty of embarrassment of myself for being vulnerable and breaking down in public. I am highly sensitive and empathetic since birth and the traits seem to grow stronger as I age, but without them, I will lose the very core foundation of what makes me, me. I soften and I will continue to soften in a domain that teaches "if you want to survive, you need to toughen up".

I cry so often, and I get hurt very easily, which I despise very much because it makes me undependable and weak. But at that very same time, it allows me to fully understand and experience the fragility of life. I aspire to be nothing of great importance, but to grow old with grace and compassion.

I am grateful for everything now and for everything that will be.

You cannot really accept anyone if you haven't already accepted yourself. I am beyond words when told that around me, they feel safe. Being the harbor for others when I didn't get to have the harbor myself, that is perhaps my life's greatest milestone.

Never an act of following the bandwagon of trends or attempting to have them worn as accessories or mimicking someone of idolized figure, regardless. I just shut out the chatters and listened to the little voice from within, so i went to get my first tattoos at twenty five. The tiny drop of ink is a healing mantra. I feel light, connected and whole. It's an important takeaway, sometimes all healing we need is to listen to ourselves. We live on a borrowed time, so we might as well just do 'it'. The it can be diverse to all of us, but as long as it does not cost anyone's harm and their peace, and it makes you happy,

do.

Allow people to feel joy because being happy is a true luxury.

Learn to love and see yourself as you are, so you can do the same to others for who they are beyond the ugly, the discreet, the unwanted we all try so hard to conceal.

After all, in the vast cosmos, we're only specks of dust.

There are words from books I have picked quite a while and got to finish this year that have helped me stay afloat. I'm grateful to have have crossed those beautiful lines, experience and wise words of advice.

The beauty of what remains

Stoicism and the art of happiness

The empath survival guide

You are psychic: the art of clairvoyant reading and healing

Chatter

Attitude of gratitude

It's ok than you're not ok (my absolute favorite. a book understands me more than anyone could.)

Farewell, 2022. Farewell, twenty five.

In the years that will come, I hope to laugh just as much.

"the longer I know you, the more I don't know you"

How do I respond even. Same goes for me.

31.12.22

[excitingpropertychronicles]

09-27-23

This journey has been an amazing ride so far.. no matter how long M and I last on it. Our plans got changed on this night. I was supposed to spend all night in being used and hurt and serving M at his place. But we ended up having to reroute that. We went to his place and dropped off my stuff. Where I got to see his place for the first time. First time at his place. First overnight. Some of the firsts are amazing some overwhelming. His space is really amazing and I would be honored to serve him in that space very often. It's very unique and kinky and creative. We stopped at his place where I was ordered to strip. Then he proceeded to use my body and treat me like the good fuck toy I am. Which helped me ride the start of the night out in subspace. We then gathered ourselves and went out. He invited me to this goth club. And I hesitantly agreed. The place was nice. The people were nice. The space felt safe. I just didn't very much enjoy it and I felt overwhelmed. Even with noise reducing ear plugs in. And I loved how self aware of that he was. And how we stuck to the timeline we talked about. And I was able to maintain and take care of myself without being attached at his hip which was nice. I need to be more proud and give myself more credit. I made it through something that was a hard no prior. I didn't freak out or cry or have a panic attack. I hope one day I can work up to enjoying being by his side representing him as slave, in the capacity of well maybe this event or instance or scenario is uncomfortable but I'm doing it to serve my Master. And that gives me purpose and the warm fuzzies. It's a big transition, but there is nothing in the world I would rather be doing then serving this man. As scary as it is, nothing has felt more right for me in years. This chemistry is some of the strongest and most instant chemistry I've ever experienced. We got pizza before. He stopped and let me get snacks after. Got home we both snacked. Spent time in his cage. Which I loved. Being in just underwear locked in his cage while he set up his space and toys. It felt right and gave me great joy. Thinking about Gerald's game didn't help though lol it made me a little anxious. The idea of being chained or caged or restrained and him having a medical emergency is very much unrealistic lol but scary. He used me a lot more. I got to kneel at his feet. We stayed up really late. Got into bed. He used me more. I'm getting better at taking his cock already. 😈 I'm such a good toy. My favorite sex him and I have had so far was him fucking me sideways in his bed last night. So deep and amazing. I got to wear his dress collar out last night locked. And he also put a beautiful black and purple consideration collar on me for in person visits. I didn't want it to come off. Which is a healthy sign I'll like his permanent collar. 😈 I know I'm still under his consideration even at all the moments in between. Like right now in my bed the next day writing this journal after a 3 hour or so nap as I wait for food. The collar is a decoration. I just find myself often being clingy to collars and what they mean. One of my favorite memories to date was him washing me in his shower after using me multiple times in the morning. The intimacy of being his property and him hand washing every inch of me was simply beautiful. More beautiful than anything I've experienced in a long time. The deep connection in that M/s space I may like just as much as the sexual intimacy of when he uses me. He had been using changed verbiage, mainly calling me his slave during play last night. And it took me a bit last night but responding with Yes, Master felt so good. And now it just feels so easy and right. I'm not sure if he wants me to use Sir overall and then Master in person when I serve him in that collar. I'll have to bring it up to him.

I just typed like 20 mins of extra stuff and submitted it. And it didn't save and I'm so fucking pissed and crying. It said Internet issues try again or something. And I'm so wiped. I can't retype all of that word for word. I feel so defeated. Now I have to defer eating so I can try to do my best to retype pouring my heart out to M.

I was writing about struggling with the social aspects but being enamoured by our connection. And having never found anything quite like this. And how I loved his space and would be honored to wake up naked next to him often and in his bed chained to it.

I'm incredibly overwhelmed and overstimulated but one of the incredible things I wrote that got wiped was my therapist told me that it's okay to want step 8 which in our case is M/s but recognize and enjoy being at step one or two. I also had written how I don't think either of us desire or possibly could find specific flow and dynamic of M/s with someone else. It's right because it's with him. For him. And I'm so incredibly lucky and blessed that it's him. And I really hope this consideration period leads up to step 8. My therapist also told me it's ok if people are at different social capabilities. And sir is very receptive. And I don't think that he would not consider me as his slave if I kept trying. Leaving early or needing to regroup isn't failing.