#so I spent the next like 5 years observing people and figuring out social situations passably

[bookwyrminspiration]

gradually reteaching myself to be more direct and blunt again, which is relieving because I prefer being clear and direct, but terrifying because I untaught myself this as a kid for a reason

[kareofbears]

plainly in truth, chapter 2/5

“Without you around, it’s sorta like stuff is just kinda…bleh.“

—

Or: hiding, confiding, and misguiding.

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

Yusuke wasn’t too sure if what he was doing was of the right mind, but his heart is definitely in the right place.

There’s a lapse in time between Jails and hitting the road. Everyone is out soaking in the last of Sendai; Ryuji and Akira (and by extension, Sophia) are on a quest to buy any last minute supplies that they might need while the girls and Morgana are taking in the sights that they didn’t quite manage to explore as much as they’d like.

Well, the girls who like crowds and sightseeing are on a quest, at least.

Futaba and Yusuke are in the trailer by their own volition—he didn’t need to see anything else that wasn’t a timeless statue, and he learned early in his life that if you pace your spendings, you can then use that money to spend in the future. Quite the contrary, Futaba has had a little too much excitement these past few days and is more than happy to hide away in her top bunk with only her laptop charger peeking out from the bottom of her fleece blanket.

(A cartoon rendition of the Sendai temple is printed onto the fleece. Apparently Haru had yet to see Futaba purchase anything ‘tourist-y’ and action figures of various anime characters don’t seem to count.)

He tugs on her laptop cord. “Hello.”

“...What?” she grunts, voice slightly muffled. Through the thin fabric, he can see the illumination from her screen.

“I need help reacting to something.”

“And you decided to ask me?” she deadpans. “The literal shut-in?”

“The previous shut-in,” he corrects. “You haven’t been a shut-in in nearly a year. A marvelous feat, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, and this is my way of celebrating.” The lump on the bed seems to curl further in on itself. “Begone. Do a painting or something. This is my me time. The equivalent of guzzling down a boat load of Arginade. There’s barely any time to be by myself considering the whole group is treating this RV like a pimped out party bus, so shoo.”

J-pop starts playing from inside the blanket fort, and even Yusuke knows a dismissal when he hears one. That won’t stop him, though.

He tugs again, harder. “That is the reason I’m asking you now. I can’t have this be heard by prying ears.”

Had there been a cat on the bunk bed, its ears would have twitched. “Is this…?”

“Yes,” he nods sagely. “It’s a secret.”

Futaba’s head pops out, eyes wide and nearly glowing in excitement. If there was one thing that she liked more than recovering her energy, it's uncovering every nook and cranny of people’s lives, whether they want it or not.

“Inari, you should’ve said something!” She throws the blanket off herself, snatches her laptop in her arms and jumps down. Slamming it down on the booth, she throws herself on top of the smooth faux leather. “Tell me everything. The deets, the specs, all down to the last dirty drop of tea.”

He slides in to join her, albeit much slower. “Before you tell me that I misled you, I want to make it clear: I don’t know what the secret is.”

“What!” she slaps her forehead, groaning. “Yusuke, why would you do me like that? That’s false advertising to the max, and I do not appreciate you tricking me.”

“There wasn’t a trace of trickery. What I’m about to say really does have to do with a secret, but I need your help with how to deal with it.”

“I’m gonna level with you here pal,” she puts a hand on his wrist. “I’m not the right person for this, but I’d be darned if I let you walk away without telling me anything. So let’s hear it! I’m ready for some juicy goss. Oh! Can I guess? Is it about Haru?”

He frowns. “No. Is there something about Haru?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I was asking you!” she says, patting her hands rapidly on the table. “Come on, just spill the beans already.”

“There are no ‘beans’ to spill yet, and besides, that sounds like a waste of perfectly good food.” He leans back against the plush cushion. Only a pinch of guilt arises in him as he says it. “It’s about Ryuji.”

“Ooo, Skull himself. Gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting him.”

“It relieves me that you said that. I share the same sentiment—it wasn’t until I had run into him the night before when I had started to truly suspect something. And what I found was…” he trails off.

Her lips pull downwards. “That bad?”

“It was worrying, to say the least.”

She sighs. Most of the energy in her seemed to have filed out in the presence of a more serious topic. “Dang. I knew it was fishy when he left, but he’s always been able to just hash things out on his own.” Her expression changes as an idea pops into her head, and it morphs into one he recognizes. “Does—?”

“No. Akira doesn’t know, apparently.”

Futaba splutters, and he has to resist the urge to nod his head at her reaction. “He—Akira—wait, what? He doesn’t know? Oh, it must be bad bad.”

“My thoughts exactly. Initially, I had thought that whatever this was, it was manageable. Like that time he had spent his month’s allowance on a claw machine to win Makoto that light-up buchimaru.” Idly, he touches her keyboard lightly, appreciating the kaleidoscope of colors that emanate from it. “You know how I feel. We’re the Phantom Thieves; we can’t allow anyone to suffer alone, even if the one we’re helping is a Phantom Thief himself.”

Futaba raises an eyebrow. “And how do you want to help him?” she asks. “By talking to him? Let’s be real, you and I have the lowest social stat in this group. Combined, we can maybe reach the nerd student council president, and the guy who can and should handle this doesn’t even know about it!” Biting down on her lip, “Should we tell Akira?”

“Absolutely not. That was the one thing he had requested, and we cannot go against it. By extension, I don’t think we should tell anyone else.” A thought comes to him. “Wait, he mentioned that Ann knows of his situation.”

“Great! Someone who knows how to deal with people’s problems and isn’t us. What are we waiting for?” She reaches for her phone, and Yusuke proceeds to smack her hand out of the way. “Ow?”

“Don’t call her!” he hisses. “Ryuji said that she’s, and I quote, ‘part of the problem’. We can’t have her knowing that we know something.”

“Ann is?” Futaba exclaims, shoving her glasses up her nose. “This is getting too deep. We don’t even know anything yet, and it’s really starting to feel like we’re part of some conspiracy.”

“That’s right, we don’t know anything, and it is our largest road block.” Yusuke crosses his arms. “We don’t know what happened between Ryuji and Ann, or if something even occurred between Ryuji and Ann. What if they had an argument? What if they’re fighting, and it becomes irreparable between them? What if it begins affecting our Jail runs?”

“You really gave this some thought, huh?”

“But of course. I must nurture the few friends that I have managed to treasure.” He glances outside and sees the crowds clambering to see their tourist spot. “We may be different from most teenagers, but I don’t believe we’re immune to the nature of cliques or dramas or even insecurities.”

“God, what a good friend you are, it’s bugging me,” Futaba accuses. “So what the heck, Mr. Philanthropist? We’re stuck between a rock and our friend group here. This mission was doomed before you even dragged me out from my hideout,” she says, eyes drifting away to stare longingly back at her bunk bed.

“Stop making that expression. There’s a reason why I talked to you about this.” He leans forward. “What I’m asking is, to be frank, unfavorable, but I really do believe that it’s worth it to do this.”

She looks at him, and it only takes her a few seconds for realization to set in. Her jaw drops. “Oh Inari, that’s vile.”

“If you’re uncomfortable with it—”

“I didn’t say I was uncomfortable with it,” she cuts in. The grin on her face is wide; a woman in her element. “I just thought you’re the one who’d be all against this kind of thing.”

Futaba pulls her laptop towards her. “Sit back and observe the master at work.”

He watches as her fingers breeze through the keyboard, eyes inscrutable as light reflects off of her glasses. “So you can do it?”

“I’ve hacked into the Diet Building’s security cameras on a dare back when I was twelve,” she snorts. “This is Mario Kart Baby Park with the railings up.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It means—” With a flourish, she hits a key before glancing up at him, smug. “That this will be very easy. I’m thinking we can start with their text messages and work our way up to the big stuff.”

“Oh, right. You can go through our phones,” he grimaces. “You’ve stopped doing that, yes?”

“Of course I have! By the way, did you figure out what courses you wanted next term? I saw your advisor was bugging you about it, you should really email her back.”

“Yes, I’ve finally decided on sculpting as opposed to visual photography since it lets me focus on the anatomy of...” he pauses. “Wait—”

“Okay, looks like I got his text messages with Ann, so let’s all focus on this now!” she says loudly. “Scooch over, let’s go through ‘em.”

He does, and she moves to sit next to him. Yusuke peers at her screen. “Nothing out of the ordinary. There is a significant drop in the frequency of his replies, but that’s been the case for me as well.”

“Same here.” She continues scrolling up rapidly, so fast he wonders how she can keep up with herself. “Memes, memes, lots of ‘where you at’ texts, more memes…”

Something catches his eye. “Hold. Go down slightly, I think that link might be interesting.”

“‘How to treat knee pain: 11 steps with pictures’?” she reads aloud. “His knee is acting up again?”

“What’s peculiar is that I haven’t seen any sign of it.” He squints at Ryuji’s response to it—generic gratitude. “Even in Jails, he runs around without a care in the world.”

“What’s even weirder is that Ann is actually sending Ryuji wikihow links on how to treat his knee,” she snorts. “Let’s put a pin in this one and move on, Ann’s chat is chalking up to be a dead end.”

Rubbing her hands together, she straightens up like a professor in front of a lecture hall on the first day of classes. “Now Yusuke, when you’re looking to crack someone open like a tasty, moist omelette, there are two things that you must look into: their email and their bank account.”

After some clicking, Ryuji’s email pops up. “Email is obvious, since this pretty much tracks anything big. Delivery shipments, subscriptions to websites, acceptance letters. It’s all here in a neat little bow, ready for us to read.”

“‘Manga’s are 20% off for this weekend only,” he reads. “‘Anime convention next weekend’, ‘Pizza coupons’.”

“Ugh, he’s so boring! Next!” Clicking sounds through the RV, emphasizing how much they were snooping through their friend’s private life. “Bank account, show us your wisdom.”

“My word,” Yusuke gasps when the tab opens up. “That’s quite a lot of funds.”

“Inari, four thousand yen is definitely not a lot of money. How much do you have in yours?”

“I don’t have an account,” he admits. “I was on my way to the bank to open one, but I ran out of train fare. By the time I had gotten there, it was already closed. Quite rude, considering that it was only two o’clock.”

She levels him with a look. “Was it a Sunday when you did all this?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Never mind,” she shakes her head. “Okay, so nothing conclusive or even embarrassing. That means that whatever this is, he really doesn’t want anyone knowing about it.”

Futaba hops out of the booth and starts rummaging through everyone’s luggage. “That means we unlock the secret, classic, never goes out of style method of snooping—” with an expression of triumph, she showcases Ryuji’s backpack to him. “Going through their stuff IRL.”

Yusuke winces. “Don’t you think we might be going too far?”

“Hey, what’s with the cold feet? Where was your ‘justice’ from before?”

“I’m all for justice,” he watches her unzip the backpack, recoiling. “But even this seems a little excessive.”

“Look, we already went through his email, his bank account, his text messages. At this point, it’s kind of weird if we don’t find anything. Like—” she throws a pair of shorts behind her as she rummages. “What kind of teenage boy doesn’t have anything to hide? And also, it’d be kinda messed up to go through his stuff and come up empty-handed. If we didn’t find anything—” she pulls out several t-shirts and a crowbar and places them on the ground next to her. “Then we’d just be a bunch of snoops.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he reluctantly agrees. “Above all else, we need to find out what’s happened in his life to make him so upset.”

“Exactly. Oh man, wouldn’t it be crazy if we just found some porn mags or something? Retro to the max, but I can totally see him as the kind of guy to lug something like that along. Unless it’s of Akira.” She makes a face. “Ew. Funny thought is no longer funny.”

“Karma, if you will.”

“Shut it. Oh ho ho, what do we have here?”

“You found something?”

“It’s some fancy looking letter.” Futaba flops herself on the ground. She clears her throat. “'Sakamoto Ryuji. This letter is to inform you that…'” she stops all of a sudden.

“Futaba?” he probes.

“Um,” she blinks, and laughs nervously. “Um?”

He reaches over, and she doesn’t resist when it slips out of her hands. Skimming through the letter, only his eyes dare to move. When he finishes, he lets out a breath. “Oh no.”

“We shouldn't've read that,” she whispers, a perfect summation of what he was feeling. “We really should not have read that.”

—

There’s something to be said about the quayside in Sendai, in the way that it’s almost exactly like Tokyo.

Sure, the buildings here are definitely shorter—gone are the towering structures back home, and instead they’re replaced with shorter structures with cute local designs and colorful patio restaurants. The people here are different, too. Maybe it’s something to do with the water here, in how it’s cleaner and how you can actually see some fish down in the canals if you know where to look. Don’t even get him started in the air; jeez, do they infuse the oxygen here with something? He hasn’t stopped taking deep breaths ever since they got here.

But despite all of those discrepancies, the feeling of Akira’s hand in his is just like being home.

“And it’s actually really interesting,” he hears vaguely. “Because back in Leblanc, there used to be a couple issues about the temperature and stuff, but in my hometown there’s…Ryuji? Are you even listening to me?“

Akira’s telling him something. A story about Morgana? And Ryuji’s sure it’s very interesting, but he’s too focused on the way that sunlight hits his cheekbones.

“I’m listening,” he lies. “Keep going. This is just my listening face, I promise.”

“Sure, sure,” Akira agrees easily. “That’s just your listening face, rather than me and my wicked good looks, right? I totally believe you.” He wiggles his fingers. “Give.”

Ryuji offers him the caramel ice cream cone in his other hand, letting him bite into it like some kind of psychopath. “Done?” he asks, shifting the tote bag tucked into the crook of his elbow, careful not to rattle the eggs inside. Akira bravely offered to carry the groceries, but he had obviously refused.

“Mmm. That’s good stuff.”

“Right? I read about the ice cream here when I was younger, and they were really hyping it up on the ad.” He takes a lick, grinning when the taste hits his tongue. “And on a summer day like this? Unbeatable. It’s really reminding me of last summer when we hung out everyday in your room eating crap, taking naps, and playing games.” It also helped that hanging out with his crush was a daily thing, he thought.

“And I got to hangout with my crush a lot too, so that’s always a plus,” Akira adds.

Ryuji stops, and Akira turns around to give him a weird look. “What?”

“You get me,” he says in awe.

“I sure hope so,” he tugs him forward, and they continue their walk, their shoes rhythmically landing on the wood in unison. A comfortable silence takes over, but that’s no good. Ryuji wants to hear him talk.

“So imagine you get ten million yen,” he starts. “What do you do with it?”

It’s not the first time he’s asked this. They discuss it often, eagerly like the dreaming boys they both are. Akira considers it and Ryuji loves that about him. It doesn’t matter how stupid his questions are—he will always answer them with as if it were a serious question.

“For starters, Yusuke’s getting a place as soon as possible.”

“Duh,” he snorts. “Apparently, his roommate brought someone back to hook up with them. Poor guy got so traumatized he slept over at Haru’s.”

“We should be glad that he didn’t ask them for poses,” Akira laughs. “Next, I’m making sure that Sojiro has enough for retirement.”

“Obviously. Rest in peace Leblanc—you make fire coffee, but no one’s there to drink it.”

“And then I’m making sure your mom has the funds for retirement for sure.”

“I love you,” he sighs.

“I know.” Akira starts swinging their hands back and forth. “Then with the rest, I’ll buy us some new shoes for when we start training again together, and whatever’s left we can split it up with the rest of the Thieves and they can do what they want with it.”

“I bet Ann would go on a shopping spree in France,” he says.

“Haru would probably donate hers.”

“Makoto’s is going straight into university. I can see her going in to get a Masters with that kind of money.”

Ryuji refuses to let his expression fall. “That’s her. Big bookworm with a capital B.” Stop talking about this, stop talking about this. “How about you, Sophia? Any clue what you’ll do with a boatful of moolah?”

A harmonic beep rings through the air and Akira passes her over to him. “I would invest in cryptocurrency and turn ten million into one hundred million,” she says cheerfully. “Then I would take that hundred million and turn it into one billion yen.”

Ryuji coughs, sliding her into his back pocket. “You know what? That’s my bad. I should’ve expected that, honestly.”

Akira plucks the remainder of their ice cream cone from his hand and throws it in his mouth, munching. Wordlessly, he takes out a pack of wet-wipes from his pockets and hands it to Ryuji.

“Thanks.” Reluctantly dropping his hand, he thoroughly cleans through his sticky fingers. “You didn’t ask me what I was gonna do with my money.”

He nods in a go ahead way.

“After I give most of it to my mom, I was just gonna give the rest to you.” Ryuji kicks a stray pebble. It skirts off the edge of the boardwalk. There’s a tug on his arm. “Yeah?”

Akira covers his mouth with a hand, before making an incomprehensible garble of noise.

“Huh? My bad, I didn’t catch that.”

A few seconds of vigorous chewing, he swallows. “I said,” Akira says, eyes glimmering the way it does when he gets really excited. “I was going to do the exact same thing.”

“Dude!” Ryuji throws his arm around his shoulders, tugging him in close. “You understand me like no one else does. What the eff!”

“I’m glad,” he says softly. Wrapping his arm around him, Ryuji blinks at the unexpected hug. “It’s nice that we're on the same wavelength.”

Suspicion tingles across Ryuji’s skin. “Hold up.” Pulling away, he squints his eyes at him. “No.”

Akira immediately looks to the side. “What?” he says, defensive. “It’s nothing.”

“No freaking way.”

“I think I saw a cool arcade back there, it has cool prizes that I think you’d like, and—“

“Kurusu Akira,” he says sternly, grabbing his face between his hands. “Don’t tell me that you’re jealous.”

“I’m not!” he insists, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. “I’m not, you know I’m not that type of guy.”

“But?” Ryuji prompts.

“But…” he hesitates. “I’d be happy for you, if you find that it’s easier to talk to other people that aren’t me.” Akira straightens up, pulling out of Ryuji’s grasp but inspects his hand like it were something to be studied. How strange it was to see his long, elegant fingers grasp his brutish, blistered ones. “I’m relieved that I didn’t leave you alone. I just...miss being your go-to, I think.”

“Akira.” He says slowly. “My man. The love of my fucking life. You are never not gonna be my go-to. You’re my go-one.” Rapping his knuckles against Akira’s temple carefully, “Your hometown is messing with you up here, making you say weird shit like that.”

“I know, I know.” Running his index finger down his wrist, Ryuji can feel how cold he is. “You knew what you were getting into when you started dating an overthinker.”

“As a chronic underthinker, no, I did not.” He kisses Akira’s palm. “But it works out, so it’s all good.”

Turning them both around, Ryuji starts walking. “I know this is super duper impossible for a guy like you, but I’m gonna have to ask you for a favor.”

“Anything.”

“You have got, to the best of your ability,” he bumps into Akira’s shoulder. “Stop stressing out.”

He frowns. “It’s my job to stress out.”

“It’s our job to stress out,” he corrects. “You and me. Founding Thieves. We share the burden, bro. We got into this together, we’re getting out of it together. That includes you worrying about our relationship outside the ‘Verse, and extend it all the way to what dingy hometown you took the bullet train from.”

“I’ll try,” he says doubtfully. “You’re kind of enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean? No way I can enjoy the most perfect person on the planet be a little jealous over his boyfriend getting attention, what kind of asshole would I be?” And before Akira can say anything, “I know, not jealous, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” he flashes a peace sign.

“I know you know.” A group of middle schoolers pass them, chattering about nothing and pointing out random things on the quay, all enjoying their summer vacation. “You know that you can tell me anything, right?” he asks suddenly.

Unable to help himself, he ruffles Akira’s hair, pitch black and hot to the touch. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“I don’t?”

Gray eyes look into his brown ones, earnest and trusting. Just like that, the light feeling in Ryuji’s chest vanishes. “No,” he responds slowly. “You don’t.”

“Good,” Akira nods, and sees where they were heading towards. “Oh, you took that seriously?”

“You bet your crisp ass I did,” he says, pushing the glass door open. The arcade is bright, neon, and littered with claw machines. Add that to the list of similarities from Tokyo. “I don’t fuck around with arcades. I’m in the top hundred players in the Gun Gale in Shinjuku.”

“Was that with Shinya or without?”

“Not important.” He surveys the area. “There it is. Can you grab us some change? I’ll pay you back.”

Akira waves his hand, walking towards the coin machine. “Don’t. What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I let you pay for our dates?”

“A hot one!” he yells. When he turns the corner, Ryuji collapses into a bright red racing chair. “Fuck,” he hisses, heart beating too damn fast for it to be normal. “Chill out, Sakamoto, jesus.”

It only gets worse when a familiar beep rings out. “Ryuji, your heart rate is at 160. Is everything alright?”

“Sophia!” he wheezes out, relieved. “Can you—will—” he stops, scrunching his eyes closed. “I’m having a panic attack, I think.”

“Searching for how to treat panic attacks,” she says immediately, and he sags into the cool plastic gratefully. “Deep breaths will help, slowly to the count of ten.”

His heart is beating so hard that he can barely hear the jingles and the whirrs of the machines around him. “Count out loud. Hurry, before he gets back.”

She does, and he grips the side of the chair as he focuses on breathing. The attack passes by faster than he hoped it would. “Thank god,” he breathes. “Thank you.”

“No prob,” she says, before hesitating. “Akira—”

“Will not know about this,” he cuts her off, rubbing his hand over his face. “I’ll tell him eventually, don’t worry, et cetera. I know all this. Ann’s been hounding me non-freakin’-stop. Just don’t tell him, Soph. Please.”

Before she can say anything, Akira comes back, pockets full of change and that signature small smile resting on his lips.

—

The bright side about missing out on Sapporo’s snow festival is having its tourism as its lowest point when you visit it in the summer.

Even the shopping district just outside Susikino isn’t very crowded; there’s the usual street vendors and shops with bright pastries and cute clothes. But even having it right beside the Sapporo Tower, it’s still nothing uncomfortable. At least, it’s not uncomfortable when you get to observe the environment through a phone lens.

“This is nice, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve had much of an opportunity to talk to you yet, which is quite rude of me.”

“No prob,” Sophia replies easily. She was swaying from Haru’s neck, hanging by a silicone phone holder that she had bought from a convenience store. Futaba had guffawed when she saw it, but Sophia’s happy about the purchase. It’s fun, and it lets her people watch from the perspective of one of her friends. “I have been meaning to talk to everyone one by one as to better understand each of you.”

“Oh, good! What better use of a nice chat while doing some shopping along the way?” Haru chirps, thumbing through a rack of out-of-season clearance sweaters as they pass. “I have to admit, I’m not the best when it comes to fashion and whatnot. Most of the time, I ask Ann-chan to accompany me.”

“I can try my best! Online websites are constantly updating in order to provide their readers with the newest trends.” Idly, she takes a peek. “Wide-legged pants are back in style.”

“That’s a relief,” she sighs. “I never pulled off skinny jeans too well. Long, flowy skirts have always been my thing. It just gives off such a nice aesthetic, doesn’t it?”

Sophia smiles. “I think you’d look good in anything. Have you considered going punk? You’d look very dope and intimidating with a black streak in your hair and a leather jacket.”

“Now that I can agree with, but that’s more Mako-chan’s style, I’m afraid.” She pauses. “Actually, I bet Mako-chan would actually like that. Sometimes I feel as though she isn’t willing to branch out of her circle of clothes past a pair of Oxfords and a deep-coloured sweater. A push might be what she needs.”

She considers this. “Is it possible to buy clothes for her? That can be a possible ‘push’, quote unquote.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so. She would never let us do such a thing.”

“One moment.” Pulling out a few files from inside her memory storage, she clears her throat. “According to my data analysis, Niijima Makoto has high difficulty straying away from well-mannered behaviours. Do you think that includes saying no to gifts given to her? That can be advantageous.”

Haru stops walking and pulls the phone up so that they’re at eye-level. “Sophia-chan,” she beams. “I have a feeling we’re going to be very good friends.”

They continue walking down the street when Haru gasps suddenly. “You literally can’t shop, can you?”

“Of course I can. I can get anything in the world for you,” she says proudly. “Anything.”

“Alright, we’ll have to test that later, but I mean you can’t use what you buy,” she frowns, eyes troubled. “Your sweater is adorable, but you’re forced to wear it everyday, right? Can you even do your hair differently? Is it possible for you to pin it, or even let it down?”

Sophia finds it endearing that she would let such a thing bother her. She doesn’t even have a social insurance number, but Haru’s worried about hair clips. “No, but I quite like it the way it is. It doesn’t get in the way when I do my work, and in the Metaverse, it gets completely hidden as to let me do my fighting,” she explains, karate chopping in her screen. “But I can understand the human desire for change.”

“Would you like that?” Haru asks gently. “To change? Um, change out of your clothes, and change mentally. Either one.”

“Change mentally, of course! I’d love to understand my friends better and understand how to help them. It’s a vast mountain of knowledge, but I’d want nothing more than to decode the mystery of the human heart,” she says eagerly. “But for clothes...I’m not sure. I haven’t tried it. I’m pretty sure I can’t try it.”

“That settles it,” Haru looks both ways before crossing the street, jogging slightly.

Sophia perks up. “If you’re heading somewhere specific, I can give you directions.”

“No need.” She has an intense, hungry look on her face, not unlike the one she had when the new axe Akira bought had finally arrived at their RV. “We’re just about here.”

They stop in front of a store, and she can barely read the sign from the phone’s angle. “‘Case in Point’?”

Haru pushes the glass door open, greeting the cashier. “It’s a phone modifier shop.”

There’s no effort to explain anything else, but Sophia can confidently add ‘anticipation’ onto her growing list of experienced feelings.

—

“Out of curiosity—” Haru begins as they exit the modifier store, the cashier still bug-eyed from the tip she had left at his counter. “Can you see everything inside Akira-kun’s phone?”

“Yes,” she replies. The environment that she lives in, and more specifically, Akira’s phone, is now a bright, perfectly polished shade of rose gold with a mint outline. A far cry from the matte black that it was before. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Her voice is sweet as sugar. “Out of curiosity once again, is there anything interesting? Anything worth noting?”

She jumps as Sophia’s voice suddenly morphs into Akira’s without warning. “Nice try,” the phone plays. “But no.”

And just as quick, Sophia comes back to the phone. “Sorry about leaving,” she says. “Akira had asked me to play that clip if someone ever, and I quote, ‘tried me.’”

Haru giggles. “Just like Akira-kun to be so thorough. Impressive as always, leader.” She peers down at her watch. “I suppose it’s about time to head back, isn’t it?”

“We still have eight minutes to spare.”

“We do. Perhaps we should take a stroll around the park?”

“Cool,” she says. “Wanna ask Futaba and Yusuke if they want to come with?”

“Sure?” Haru blinks. “That’s very specific.”

“On your two o’clock,” she points out. “In front of the book store.”

They watch as Futaba and Yusuke stand across the street from them. Futaba is aggressively pointing her finger at the books on display, then slapping her fist against her palm like she was devising a war strategy. Yusuke shakes his head wildly, comically putting his hands in his pockets and revealing that there was nothing inside. She sighs and walks away, tugging along a dejected boy behind her.

“Aren’t you going to ask them?”

“In a moment.” Haru takes them to the front of the store. “This isn’t a bookstore, I don’t think. What’s it called Sophia?”

After a quick search: “‘Sapporo’s School Supply Store’,” she says. “The alliteration makes it fun to say.”

“Indeed it does.” Peering into the store, Haru makes an introspective noise. “Now isn’t this interesting?” she hums. “Do you mind if I make one more purchase?”

“Not at all,” Sophia says, thrilled to add another point she had learned: If Haru wants something, there’s nothing that will get in her way.

—

“So,” Makoto starts, and Ryuji has to hold back a groan. He knows that tone. He’s memorized that tone. All the second years can feel her tone from a mile away. Hell, Ann probably took an instinctive step back just now. “Have you started to think about university?”

“Nope,” he says, wiping the sweat off his brow as they jog around the corner of Odori park. Back before he had left for his hometown, Akira and Ryuji would be up at dawn to train. Lately though, he’s been using any free time he has that isn’t planning for, prepping for, or actively doing a Jail run to sleep in the RV. And hey, he has no beef with Makoto, and it’s not like she can’t keep up with his training (she can most definitely kick his ass in hand-to hand), but she has a tendency to push when it comes to this sort of stuff. “Not a single thought towards it. It’s been pretty good, actually.”

“I can tell,” she agrees. “It’s almost like you blocked my number.”

“I did not!”

“So you actively choose not to answer any of my texts?”

“Ugh, don’t set me up like that,” he winces. “You know I’m stupid enough to fall for shit like that everytime.”

“Hold on.”

Ryuji grunts as he feels a hold on his shirt, forcing him to stop. “Ew, don’t touch my back, it’s Nigeria there.”

“First of all, it’s Niagara.” She spins him around. He’s only a little taller than her, but something about her always seems to tower over him. “Second, do you know why I keep pushing all of you to go to university?”

“Because you hate us?” he mumbles.

Makoto glares at him. “Try again.”

“...Because you don’t hate us?”

“Because I don’t hate you,” she repeats. “You’re all rowdy and wild and sometimes I don’t understand the jokes you make—”

“You’re just mad ‘cause you fell for a deez nuts joke.”

“But I do, inexplicably, love all of you,” she pushes on, and that shuts him up. “I know what you’re all capable of. Amazing things! I understand you all believe that I’m the be-all end-all, and I appreciate your compliments, but there are some things that only Ann can do, or Akira, or Yusuke.”

Makoto continues running, and he reluctantly follows suit. “And you. You can achieve things that I can’t even dream of, Ryuji.”

He resists the urge to yawn. “Thanks for the pep talk, Niijima.” Looking left, the gelato is looking real good. “Wanna get something to eat? I’m starving.”

“You aren’t very good at hiding secrets, Ryuji.”

Now that grabbed his attention. “Whoa, whoa, whoa there, prez!” Speeding past her, he holds out a hand to make her stop. “What do you mean by that?”

She raises a brow. “Nothing in particular, but your reaction is showing me that I should have meant something by it.”

He gnaws on the inside of his cheek roughly. “Okay, but why did that come into your brain? Why do you think I have some kinda secret?”

“I live with a prosecutor everyday of my life, of course I know when something’s afoot.” Pushing her hair back, she squints up at him. “You’ve been more...jumpy lately, yet somehow more laid-back than usual. I wanted to talk to Akira about this—”

Blood pours into his mouth when he accidentally bites too hard. “You talked to Akira?!” he half yells, red dribbling from the corner of his lips.

“Oh my god!”

“Fuck,” he clamps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry. Bit too hard.”

“N-no! Don’t apologize!” she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a napkin, pulling him to a stone ledge. “Sit and take this so you don’t bleed all over yourself. I’ll be back.”

He doesn’t bother speaking, only nods as she turns around. When she comes back, she’s holding a water bottle. “Here.”

Taking it gratefully, he takes deep gulps before spitting it out. “Why the hell does this taste like the beach?” he splutters.

“I didn’t say to drink it! It’s salt water to get rid of infections!”

“Why would you do that to me?!”

“Because I thought you knew to do that from the second-year health class!” she shoots back. “Gargle it and spit. Near the gutter, mind you, it’s rude to spit in front of kids. They might get the wrong idea.”

As if kids are gonna see him and think that there’s something worth remembering. He sips, sloshing it around his mouth before gently letting it dribble into the grated sewer. “Blegh.”

“You’re welcome. Keep at it. And while you’re doing that,” she sits next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “Do you want to tell me what’s been making you anxious?”

He pauses. “Anxious?”

Makoto gives him a stern look. “‘Experiencing worry, unease, or nervousness, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.’ It was covered in your midterm.”

“Ah, right,” he mutters. Gripping the fabric of his shirt, his heart is beating too quick for it to be normal. Then again, when was the last time it wasn't? “You think I’m anxious?”

“I’m not sure. Keep gurgling,” Makoto chides.

He does, the salt water still red whenever he spat, and she continues. “All I know is when my anxiety gets really bad, I chew on my lip. Sae used to chide me when we were younger, but you know, she got busy,” she shrugs, as if he didn’t know how much it pained her to lose her only family member to a career of protecting the wrong people. “When I mentioned it to Akira, he took it upon himself to check up on me regularly during exam weeks.”

To prove her point, she takes her lower lip and flips it out for him to see—white teeth marks, but old scars instead of anything fresh. Letting go, her expression is smug. “He hasn’t felt the need to check in for a while now.”

Spitting, water finally running clear, he grins. “Good for you. I’m glad to hear that, dude.”

“Thank you, but that wasn’t the point. My point was that I was only able to get better because I told someone about it. Someone I trusted.” Makoto turns to him, her gaze serious. “I know that’s what Akira is to you. Habits like these are harmless at first, but they can turn into something else more dangerous. I won’t stand for that. My own justice won’t stand for that.”

Ryuji opens his mouth, before closing it. I’ll tell Akira, he wants to say. How many times does he have to repeat that line before he starts believing it himself? “Okay,” he says, because it’s the only thing he can say without hating himself even more.

“Okay.” She pats his knee before standing. “I can get us some gelato.” She stretches, wincing as her joints crack into place. “If you’re feeling up to it, start your cool down. Unless you wanna keep training?”

“I’m good. Felt enough blood rush for the day.”

She goes to the ice cream stand, and he stares up at the blue sky.

Makoto’s right, because of fucking course she is. She’s right, he knows she’s right. But she doesn’t get it. To her, Akira’s a friend. A guy who helped her out and changed her life, yeah. If he hadn’t met her when she did, maybe she would’ve become a scummy adult who didn’t look up from market pricing and hedge funds.

But Ryuji? Ryuji would be dead without Akira. That’s a fact and a half.

To Makoto, Akira’s a friend. To Ryuji, he’s Akira, and you can’t be on a higher pedestal in his mind than that.

—

It was Yusuke who took the first step.

“Ann,” he greets cordially. “How do you do?”

She gives him a weird look. “Kinda trying to focus here,” she says, gesturing at the scene in front of them. They, Morgana, and Sophia were in the B team as they watched the rest of them try and get rid of the remaining Shadows in Mariko’s Jail, tersely attentive and waiting on Joker’s word in case they needed a last minute switch. The Jail was environmentally brutal; the ice underneath the soles of their shoes makes them skid more often than they’d like. It almost makes the fights seem quicker, one notch faster than usual.

Yusuke pays her dismissal no mind. “I, myself, am learning many new things lately. Can the same be said about you?”

In the corner of his eye, Futaba pauses typing on her laptop to face palm.

“Are you...” Ann says after a brief pause. “Is this a threat? Are you threatening me?”

“No—”

“Panther!” Akira’s clear voice rings out.

Ann dashes forward without question, high-fiving Morgana as they trade spots.

Futaba marches forward, glaring at Yusuke like he was crazy. “You dolt!” she hisses. “What was that supposed to be? I said be slick and cool, not act like a fool!”

“While I admire the rhyme scheme, I don’t understand what you want from me. That was as ‘slick and cool’ as I’m capable of,” he furrows his brow. “I even opened with a question that seemed as though the conversation would be a normal one, but then used that to transition into what I actually wanted to discuss.”

“Stop looking so proud of yourself and—”

“Fox!”

“Back in a moment,” he says before he’s gone, Makoto taking his place, leather uniform still smoldering from when she took a fire move head-on.

“What was that about?” Haru asks, swinging her axe like a picnic basket.

“Nothing, Noir,” Futaba sighs, plopping back into place where Ann had stood. Carmen had kindly left a warm patch of concrete in her wake. “Just Inari became a big ole’ dumb-dumb.”

“I see,” she hums. “So this has nothing to do with what you two have been conspiring about lately?”

Her eyes shot wide open. “Con...conspiring?” she stutters out. “What do you mean by—”

A particularly loud scream rips into the air, and everyone turns their heads to see Captain Kidd slam his hook into the ground, purple arms erupting from the snow and wiping out a huge chunk of Shadows all in one go.

“Hot damn,” Futaba says, directing her focus back to her laptop and making sure Ryuji has enough health to keep going.

“He’s strong,” Haru observes, all playfulness gone.

“Too strong.” After Futaba gives everyone on the main team a good amount of health, something on her screen makes her pause. “Huh…?”

“Noir.”

Haru turns around to see Makoto waiting for her. “I need to discuss something with you.”

“Of course,” she steps closer to her and drops her voice. “Is everything alright?”

“I’d bring this up with Joker, but I don’t want to bother him if I’m not sure if there’s anything wrong yet,” Makoto pushes her mask up. “But have you noticed Skull's been acting strange lately?”

“Mona!”

He swaps with Ann, her pigtails covered in snow. “Ugh,” she grimaces as she shakes it out. “I could try and melt it, but it’ll just drip down my back and freeze later on, and I do not want that.”

“Panther, I’d like your input as well, if you don’t mind,” Makoto says.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I was just talking to Noir about this, but did you notice anything strange about the way Skull’s acting lately?”

Ann takes a step back. “Well, what—No—I mean, that’s your opinion, I think!” she exclaims. “To me, Skull's acting is completely normal. He’s normal—actually, scratch that, he’s better than usual. Nothing about him is wrong, I think, and that’s pretty outstanding and impressive once you consider that he’s the one with the life-long injury. Not that that has to do with anything!” Ann yells. “I just wanted to point out how far he’s come, and how much he’s kicking ass right now. Actually,” her voice shifts to a stage whisper. “Don’t mention this because I don’t wanna cause drama, but Fox has been a little weird.”

“Weird how?” Makoto whispers back, looking extremely lost.

“Just earlier, he asked me how I was.”

“...I’m not following.”

“No, Panther-chan has a point,” Haru breaks in. “I can’t say for certain, but I have a strong feeling that Fox and—” she points at Futaba conspicuously. “Are up to something.”

“Sophie and Fox?” Ann breathes.

“Panther!”

“Damn, again? That’s what we get for going into an ice Jail,” she grumbles, swapping with Yusuke.

Haru sighs. “Panther-chan isn’t the best with context clues, is she?”

“Hello ladies,” Yusuke greets. “What were we discussing?”

Makoto gives him a suspicious look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His jaw drops, bewildered, but before he can say anything, Futaba waves him over. “Get your fox butt over here!”

“I...Alright,” he says, resigned.

“Look at them,” Makoto nods at the pair. “I think you’re onto something.”

“I think so too, but I don’t want to be too hasty. After all, the two of them are such good friends now; it would be unfair to assume negative outcomes without evidence, or at least confront them first,” Haru says nonchalantly.

She understands immediately. “You have evidence?”

“Something of the sort.”

“Noir!”

“Duty calls,” she gives her a thumbs up, before Ann comes back once again.

“I can’t wait for us to go to a really hot place again,” she kicks the snow with her heels. “Then I’ll be comfortably in the B team because all the Shadows have fire resistance to the max.”

“Oh good, she’s back,” Yusuke’s expression is one of relief.

“Fox—” Futaba warns without looking up from her laptop.

“Come here. There is something we would like to discuss with you.” Whether or not it was intentional, he rests his hand on the handle of his katana.

“Okay but before we start, I just wanna ask—what are you doing with Sophie?” Ann accuses. “It’s fine to be friends with her, but you have to be careful. She’s really susceptible to what we say right now, and if you try anything funny—”

“What are you even saying?” he says, offended. “I barely even talk to her!”

They all glance at Sophia, who had been standing perfectly still and silent. She gives them a wave. They all awkwardly wave back.

Makoto places a hand on Ann’s shoulder. “Panther, Noir meant Fox and Oracle.” Ann flushes red as she continues. “And while we’re all here, I wanted to bring this up with you as well. Have you all noticed something strange with Skull?” Futaba stops typing. “I’m not sure how to explain it, but I think he’s extremely anxious about something. You all know that I’m an overthinker, so I might have the wrong idea but…” she trails off.

Futaba glances at Yusuke. Yusuke glances at Ann. Ann helplessly glances at Ryuji, still fighting alongside Akira and the others.

“I know nobody asked me,” they all jump a foot in the air when Sophia speaks beside them. “But I can at least confirm for suresies that there is something strange with Skull.”

“Which is…?” Makoto prods.

“I don’t know the specifics.” Ann, Yusuke, and Futaba let out a breath. “But he did have a panic attack recently.”

“I knew it!” Makoto snaps her fingers. “He’s had signs of being anxious, but I wasn’t too sure about it.”

“Queen!”

She runs out, and Ryuji comes in, looking exhausted but pleased. “Hey y’all, what were we talking about?”

It was dead silent before Sophia steps forward. “Look what I can do!” she exclaims, changing the expression on her screen to be an emoji with a flower.

“Whoa!” His eyes bug out, and they all sigh in relief. “That’s awesome! Can you do more?”

“That’s super cool Sophie, but,” Futaba looks at Ryuji, skeptical. “Don’t you feel weak right now? Your health is way down.”

“Oh, I didn’t even notice,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Sophie, you mind?”

“Not at all.” She calls for Pithos and green sparkles fall on him. “Better?”

“Thanks, I owe you one.”

“Skull!”

“When the king calls, his knight answers,” he salutes, sprinting out as Makoto comes back in.

“So,” she glares at the rest of them. “What do the rest of you know?”

Ann groans. “Even if I did know something, I probably wouldn’t be able to tell you.”

“Wait,” Futaba points an accusing finger at her. “What do you know?”

“What do I know? What do you know? And for that matter, what does he,” Ann points at Yusuke. “Know? Noir said you guys are doing secret stuff together!”

“That’s preposterous,” he scoffs. “If it was secret, she wouldn’t have known.”

“That’s the dumbest argument I’ve ever heard.”

“How is it dumb?” he asks. “You can’t possibly think that just because Futaba and I are doing ‘secret stuff’ that it has anything to do with Skull’s situation!”

There was a pause. “Are those two connected?” Sophia asks. Futaba buries her face in her hands.

“That was...not the question I expected,” Yusuke answers weakly.

“Sophie!”

“God, I wish Joker would call for Inari instead,” Futaba groans.

Rushing out, Sophia high-fives Ryuji on the way. “Guess who’s back, motherfuckers?”

In an effort to bury their conversation, they all begin cheering overenthusiastically, Yusuke clapping politely. Bewildered, Ryuji instinctively gives them a thumbs up. “Thanks guys. Usually, my jokes don’t really land, but that made me real happy.”

“Uh, Skull,” Futaba raises an eyebrow. “How do you keep losing health? I didn’t even notice you taking a hit.”

“I’m low again? Damn, I didn’t even notice,” he groans loudly. “Queen, can you—”

“I’m on it.”

Just as Johanna heals him, Akira calls out once again: “Skull!”

“Joker really does rely on you, doesn’t he?” Yusuke observes.

Ryuji laughs. If they didn’t know any better, they would think it sounded a little nervous. “Well, gotta jet!”

High-fiving Makoto, he runs out. She stares at the remaining members of the B team. “You all know something,” she accuses. “And I understand if you’re all being loyal to him by keeping what you know close to your hearts. But remember this:” she takes a step forward, and they all take an unconscious step back, Futaba scooting from where she sat on the ground. “There comes a point where it’s actually more important to keep a person safe and healthy than to uphold a potentially dangerous secret.”

They all digest her words for a second, and flinch when a flash of blue flame appears, taking Akira’s Persona away.

“Finally.” He stretches his shoulders, satisfied. “That took awhile. Good work everyone, let’s keep going.”

Making their trek deeper into the Jail, Futaba half-jogs, half-speed walks to Ryuji. “Your health again,” she chides. “Seriously. I know I like to play around, but I always have my eye on you guys when you’re fighting. I literally have not seen you take a hit, but you’re getting drained like milk in a sink.”

He shrugs, unperturbed. “Whatever. You see my hits today, though? They were tough.”

“Yeah,” she agrees reluctantly. “But your health is still low. I’ll call Joker about that.”

Before she can turn, he grabs her wrist. “Nope,” he says. “I’ll ask Panther. Thanks though!”

Ryuji goes to Ann, and he can feel everyone’s eyes on him, watching him, surveying his every move.

All eyes except for the one that really matters.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Here's the headcanon-ficlet-thing I promised! Actually, sorry, it's only HALF of my idea. This thing got MUCH longer than I intended and I've decided it would be easier to just chop this whole thing in two. If I ever send another headcanon, it'll either be much shorter than this or I just won't use anon. Anyways, the death of Dick's parents had just been so SUDDEN and I started thinking, "What if Dick had some separation anxiety when he was younger that just... Never really got resolved? His parents were gone, just like that, and Bruce literally risks his life every day. That couldn't have helped my made up conflict either, I imagine." Hope you enjoy! (1/13)

When Dick first arrived at the manor, he'd just been so GLOOMY. Even after Tony Zucco's arrest, he moped around the living spaces and never seemed happy with how spacious the manor's rooms were. A handful of times, Bruce and Alfred had caught him crying in the emptier wings by himself, but they had never really been sure what to do with the kid other than feel guilty. Sometimes (rarely), Dick would seek one of them out for a hug or SOME form of comfort, but it never seemed to be enough to truly make him feel better. It was no secret that Alfred and Bruce were not the most affectionate people in the world, and Dick had come from a very loving place. It was just another new thing to adjust to in his already new, unfamiliar life. Then Dick wanted to be Robin, full time, and neither Bruce nor Alfred could really say 'no.' Dick still wasn't happy- not for a while- but eventually, his mood started to improve. (2/13)

Maybe that was why no one initially found the boy's habit of waiting by the manor doors alarming. It was one of the places he visited more frequently, and Alfred originally assumed it was because he liked hanging on that specific entrance's chandelier more than the others. However, as the weeks passed, it became obvious that it was just a place Dick liked to hang out when he was waiting for Bruce to return from work or patrol. When it began nearing six thirty, the time Bruce's work hours ended, Dick would set up his homework or drawing paper on the floor and work just to the side of the doors as he waited for them to open. Sometimes he'd even hold a handstand or stretch for however long it took Bruce to come home that day. At first, Alfred didn't know what to make of it. But, watching the way Dick's face lit up every time Bruce knocked at the door, the old butler figured the small habit couldn't do any harm no matter how strange it was. He was just happy the boy wasn't still brooding. (3/13)

Bruce also noticed how Dick always seemed to be waiting for him after work, but ultimately didn't find anything concerning about the observation. Sure, it was a little strange to have such a large reminder that he was an actual guardian now, but he reasoned with himself that Dick would grow out of it after a certain point. He decided to just let the boy be and life carried on. Besides, he wasn't Dick's only person of support; Bruce had caught Dick watching Alfred work in the kitchen on a number of occasions with a concentrated look on his face. Without a doubt, the boy was finally starting to adapt to the manor's way of life. (In all honesty, Bruce had probably been too busy being relieved over the old butler's existence to judge whether or not any of his new ward's behaviors could be considered alarming.) (4/13)

As Dick grew more and more relaxed overtime, neither Bruce nor Alfred put much thought into his other developing habits. For instance, as Robin, Dick always made sure to check in with a quick "Are you still there, Batman?" over the comms everytime the line went quiet for more than ten minutes. Bruce would occasionally warn him not to call in when they were on stealth missions, but Dick never quite seemed comfortable with leaving the line COMPLETELY dead whenever they left each other's sight. On those missions, he'd sometimes blow softly into his comm unit, and Bruce would have to make some subtle noise back so as not to completely worry the kid. Dick even seemed to develop certain behaviors around charity events and galas; for example, he would always hug Bruce's pant leg at the beginning of the events and would only let go once he was made to socialize. Despite the fact that it soon became apparent the kid was far from shy, the habit always took place without fail, to Bruce's perplexed amusement. Maybe the kid just hated Gotham's elites? (5/13)

More and more little habits flew under the radar as everyone still seemed to be adjusting to the new lifestyle. Occasionally Bruce and Alfred would pick up on something seeming a little off, but at the same time, Dick finally looked happy. Really, a few weird displays of affection here and there were FAR from their concern so long as Dick's days of endless distraught were over. And so, once Dick finally- and TRULY- settled into the manor as his new home, a bunch of odd behaviors just seemed to be swept under the carpet and ignored. On the unavoidable nights where Bruce got injured in the field, there was no missing how the habits seemed to rise in intensity, but by then... They became the everyday normal and were never addressed. (6/13)

(The Justice League found Robin's behavior more bemusing than anything. Dick was still in the habit of obsessively checking the comms when Batman, on a rare occasion, asked for backup. "Check in, Batman?" "Still scaling the perimeter. We might not catch any activity tonight past a few petty thefts." "Alrighty. And, uh, Superman! Status update!" "Nothing going on up here either, Robin." "Okay!" Ten minutes passed and the boy's voice crackled back to life on the comms once more. "Is everyone still okay?" After that one particular patrol, Clark had sent Bruce a questioning look. "He's nine. Of course he's worried." Clark didn't push it- or anyone else for that matter.) (7/13)

It wasn't until Dick turned sixteen and started looking to be more independent that his behavior finally set off a few alarm bells. His check-ins had turned more snippy over the years when Bruce and him got into fights, but they never really stopped. The arms clinging to Bruce's pant legs at galas were instead replaced by a friendly hand on Bruce's shoulder, yet Dick's presence had never really left his side- only growing more flighty and uncertain as he got older. When Dick did his homework, by then in his last year or two of highschool, it was no longer on the floor but instead in the dining room closest to the manor's entrance- still started at around five or six just like when Dick first arrived at the manor, and still fit to Bruce's work schedule. It occurred to Alfred that a few of Dick's behaviorisms probably should have been checked out a while ago. (8/13)

"When you were Master Richard's age, you were barely home. It's normal for teenagers to want a bit of distance and alone time, but Master Bruce, he only stays after school for club activities. The rest of his time is either spent partoling around the city or helping YOU. I'm worried whether or not his behavior is healthy." Bruce had contimplated these words before giving his own thoughts. At the time, he and Dick's working relationship as Batman and Robin was becoming a bit more strained, but he still KNEW Dick. "I'm not sure, Alfred. He says he's happy with the friends he has, and he's always been relatively well behaved... Could it be that this is just routine for him?" Alfred disagreed and so the discussion continued. However, any plans they made to adress the situation were cut short when Dick got shot in the shoulder. (9/13)

Bruce tried not to feel guilty about firing Dick and then kicking him out of the manor. A little space would be good for the boy, right? For as long he could remember, Dick had always been just around the corner. It was safer this way. He ignored Alfred's angry, dissapointed gaze and Clark's furious demands to explain what the hell he'd been thinking. Batman didn't need a Robin, and Dick would be fine without Bruce. (Bruce would be fine without Dick.) Later, on patrol, there was a second where the comm crackled to life. Before anything could happen it got shut off again, and before Bruce knew it, Dick's check-ins were gone. Batman didn't need Robin. (10/13)

There was no missing Dick's sudden change. With the Titans, Dick's mother henning got turned up to an eleven. Dick was always somewhere in the tower helping someone, and no one could miss the way he was practicaly always asking if anyone needed anything. Missions and patrols ran mostly the same, but it was much more often that Dick could be found staying up late at night, going through evidence on cases he was working on. His friends did their best to be understanding, but there was no hiding the fact that Dick needed help. Real help. They urged him to talk about what was wrong, but even Dick seemed to be at a loss for what he was going through. "I mean, I got kicked out! What else is there to say?" He yelled one day. Roy tried to reason with him. "But there's MORE to it than-" "There isn't." "Dick, you've been acting off for months." "And I'll be FINE in a few more! I'm always fine. Stop worrying." (11/13)

Eventually, they did. After a few more missions, it was as if nothing ever happened. Dick worked as he normally would and he started running off to do his own things rather than hover around other people's projects. He still gave off a sense of brokeness but by then there wasn't much that anyone could do. There had been one week in particular, though, that things just seemed to... Shift. Dick had just discovered that Bruce adopted another kid in the newspapers and there were sightings of another Robin. For a second, he seemed furious, and they all remembered feeling VERY concerned for what the guy might do. For four days straight it was if he was too angry to talk. On the fifth day, Dick disappeared. He wasn't seen again until the next morning. "Dick, are you alright?" Something visibly settled in him and just like that, Dick was fine again. Still overbearing, but fine. (12/13)

Okay! That's all I have so far since I don't want to spam your inbox with any more text blocks for one idea. You probably noticed that this first part just goes over more HOW Dick behaved when he was younger. The second part to this will focus more on everyone realizing that Dick had some repressed trauma going on, and the consequences it's had on him for never adressing said trauma. (Also Bruce, you shouldn't have kicked your teenage son out of the house. That didn't help.) Some of Dick's coping mechanisms when it comes to dealing with Bruce will probably also be questioned, but with the time away from Bruce, don't worry- Dick will be more obviously independent. He knew he wasn't in the best place. I'll send you the second part whenever I get done with it, which shouldn't take too long. Thanks for being excited to read my head canon and ideas! (13/13)

hey babe. this is,,,,,,oh my god. i love it so much. well actually i hated it because it was full of angst and it made me feel emotions and AGH. but also i loved it and god i can’t wait for the next part. you have NO IDEA how much i need the next part.

also, can i just say? the fic portion itself (2-12) is 1.7k words long. with a little editing, this could be a full fledged fic you can post on ao3. you absolutely don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, that’s just an idea i’m throwing out there.

dick with separation anxiety sounds so so plausible, because that abrupt shift from living in a circus to wayne manor of all places must have been QUITE the shift. i really loved how you touched on all these different habits and quirks dick had growing up, and how those bled over into different relationships in his life. and i can’t wait to see how you resolve it.

and i have one more thing for you. this isn’t really the same idea but it’s got somewhat similar elements: i read a fic a while back about dick being touch starved. it seemed up your alley, and anyone else who liked reading this incredible drabble, i think you’ll enjoy reading it! touch starved by envysparkler.

[eddie-redmayne-italian-blog]

Eddie's interview from Style Magazine

By Valentina Ravizza

Photo: Boo George

Styling by Fabio Immediato.

Translate by me from Italian to English

HE WOULD HAVE had to spend the holiday in Italy,” I have a real obsession for your country “,Eddie Redmayne responds from a gray London,” more suited to my pale complexion”, and tells for the first time (and I try to collect my own thoughts) of his next character, the American activist Tom Hayden, protagonist of the protests against the Vietnam war in 1968 and 77e trial of the Chicago 7, the new film by Aaron Sorkin, arriving on Netflix from October 16. "Democracy is something extraordinarily beautiful and complex, nothing comes easily, we must defend our freedoms if we don't want them to be taken away from us."

 It can be risky for an actor to take a public position, Aren't you afraid to undermine your popularity?

“The truth is, I'm not afraid to take sides, we all should. I feel a social responsibility as a human being: today more than ever we should ask politicians certain questions. I'm not one who particularly likes to take risks unless it's for something I deeply believe in.”

For exemple?

To play Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything I met several people affected  by ALS and doctors who helped me to learn more about the disease, and now I am among the supporters of the Motor Neurone Disease Association. During the lockdown in Britain was made a list of  vulnerable people  and I found it shocking that patients with  motor neuron disease were not part of it, so I spoke to several politicians and went to help them.  As an actor my voice has more chances to be heard and I can bring  more light on this topics, I have to do it.

Also politicians as in the case of The Trial of Chicago 7?

This film tells how we got rights by changing wrong laws and remember  that progress could have gone in one direction rather than another.

Is there any similarity between the protests of the 1960s and those of movements such as Black Lives Matter ?

There are moments in history when people ask for society to really represent them and that's exactly what happened then and what many people are doing in these months. The demonstrations mentioned in the movie were against the  Vietnam  war, but also supported the claims  of the civil rights and feminist movements, the one against which they are protesting today has it’s roots in systemic racism, so the similarities are many.And there are also several other parallels between the two political situations: at the 1968 Democratic convention there was a former vice president, Hubert H. Humphrey, right-hand man of Lyndon Johnson, who ran for the White House, as today  former Vice President Joe Biden is in running, and  there was a Republican candidate for president who was betting  for “law and order” , then it was Richard Nixon, now the same campaign is being carried out by Donald Trump.

 Today there is social media, what would have happened if Tom Hayden and the others from Chicago had it?

Hard to say, myself I don't use them . While they represent a great tool of democracy that gives everyone a voice from the shore to  power, they also contribute to exacerbate and amplify the falsehoods and prejudices of those who listen only to what they want to hear, in a sort of echo chamber, and they can be used to manipulate things in a very pervasive way.

Is it more difficult to play a figure you esteem like Hayden or one you despise?

I try not to judge, to dissociate my sense of reality to recreate hers. I do as much research as possible, accumulating a lot of information and then throwing everything away and play  only  what's in the script, hoping that all the prep work has been absorbed somehow into my body, And knowing that that movie will never be. a documentary: I am creating a painting, not a photograph. For this I must accept that I will never be able to be exactly that person, that in something I will necessarily fail.

And when the character is a pure author’s Fantasy product?

It’s like when you were told at school to make  a free written essay: I hated it, I said “please, give me a lead!”, In these cases I try first of all to understand what the boundaries are, to find some elements of truth: for example, in the saga of the Fantastic Beasts to become the "Magizoologist" Newt Scamander I started by observing the work of zoologists.

How is it divided between entertainment and committed movies?

In my choices I have always let myself be guided by instinct: I read a script that my body reacts, I get excited, I laugh, I am touched to the point of  seeing myself in the role of that and than understand that I really have to do it.

Did the same happen with Tom Hayden?

They first  told me about it three years ago while  I was on vacation in Morocco, when told me it was Sorkin who wanted me it was like a dream come true. I read the script and  it not only ran , but it had a kind of syncopated rhythm I immediately loved it. Then when I got better informed about the project, I found out that it had been written years ago and I couldn't believe  he hadn't seen the light yet.

In fact, the first draft is from 2007.

We wondered if this movie had an audience, if it was current enough.Instead with what’s going it has become more and more pressing 

So much so that in order to release it this year, given the health emergency Paramount Pictures has decided to sell the film to Netflix (56 millions of dollars) to be distributed directly via streaming.

There could be no better way than Netflix to reach as many people as possible. And I say this as a passionate cinemas’  lover . Unfortunately in the last 20 years I have witnessed a general loss of attention span: there is always a new story to know, we are constantly being pulled in different directions, and instead find ourselves in a cinema hall being forced to sit there for two  hours and  half even when our attention tries to escape, it’s a kind of pleasant claustrophobia.

And theater, is  it still part of your life?

I know that  more years go by without me returning to the stage  more what I’ll say l’ll sound insincere, but yes, my career started from there, I spent 5 o 6 years working in London theaters. I knew almost nothing about cinema until that world began to open its doors to me, I had to learn a lot on the set.  I’ve been looking for a theatrical project, but so far  what has been proposed to me are works by the greatest authors, and instead I’d like do something new, fresh. Maybe I found it, but  I still can't say anything.

Have you ever thought of letting yourself be taken one day by another passion besides acting?

My other great love is art,  but if I ever have to work on it, I imagine myself more as a curator than as a co-worker. But I honestly think that being an actor is extraordinary: whatever part you encounter on your path continues to grow:although sure it’s a wild life and it's a drug.

 Are you a workaholic?

In the beginning I was because I had no alternative: I was constantly auditioning and once I got a part  immediately got to work, Until in this unfair world of acting there came a moment when I was suddenly successful and overnight I finally had the opportunity to choose. Many people are looking forward to retirement, I hope I’m offered roles even when I’m 80 years old.

At that age maybe you will also be behind the camera?

I'm a bit of a control freak,so yes, I could potentially one day  go directing, even just out of curiosity  But only if I had to find the right project, something in which I feel safe,

[dearest-bucky]

Put a little love on me (1/2)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has come a long way in life, but when it comes to sleep, there will always be struggle.

Words: 3.4K

Warnings: None really?

A/n: The second and final part of this will be posted tonight, so stay tuned!

Originally posted: January 26, 2020

Bucky Barnes is a strong man. Perhaps one of the strongest men who ever walked the Earth. I mean, he fought a war, then lived almost a century tortured by Hydra, only to be free from them but live another torturing version of his life, having to fight all kinds of monsters and aliens on daily basis. But if anyone told Bucky he was a strong person, he would just laugh in their faces, disbelief written on his own.

Sure, he is proud of how far he’s come. Being thrown into a whole new era and relearning how to do everything, is not something everyone does. And for the most part he succeeds in it. He has learned almost all about the life in this new century, from the new food, technology, new behaviors, new customs, new ways of dating, all of it.

All of it, except sleeping. While he has picked up on some kind of normalcy in all those things, sleep is the one thing he can’t learn how to do anymore. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he spent a whole lot of time in the cryo machine, and that is sleeping too, maybe it has to do with the fact that whenever he closes his eyes and tries to sleep, all the terrors come back to him in full force, refusing to leave him alone. So even after years of living his new life, he still couldn’t find a solution for his sleeping problem.

And he had tried anything, therapy, medications, chamomile tea, yoga, even those podcasts Sam suggested would help; you name it. But nothing had worked so far. He could only get 2 or 3 hours of sleep per week, and that was only when he passed out from exhaustion.

He thought he was losing his mind. He was desperate for a couple hours of peaceful sleep, but he was so out of options he didn’t know what else to do.

It was one afternoon in the lab with Tony, where he was working in his arm, updating it after some little malfunctions, where the Iron Man gave him the idea that would literally save his life.

“You look like shit, Tin man.” Tony commented nonchalantly noticing the dark circles under Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky scoffed in surprise, but he knew that there was no malice  in Tony’s words, so he took no offense.

“Have you slept at all?”

“Yeah, I think I had a solid 4 hours of sleep.” Bucky’s reply was short, tired.

“For the night?”

“For the week.”

Tony’s eyes widened, he felt sorry for the Soldier, his exhaustion was apparent in his face, eyes lifeless, with dark circles, displaying  all of his sorrows for everyone who would just spare him a look.

“You know what helps me when I have problems sleeping?” Tony continued working on his arm while talking, and Bucky met his eyes for a second, silently urging him to go on.

“Holding Pep.” He said dreamily. “Just being in her arms, or having her in my arms, holding each other close for the rest of the night, that helps me every time. I sleep like a baby whenever she’s with me.”

He was wearing a smile on his face and Bucky couldn’t help but let a small smile slip from his lips. He always loved how Tony and Pepper were with each other, Pepper always grounding him, keeping him with his feet on the ground, taking care of him, and Tony doing the same for her. But when he thought of himself, his smile dropped instantly.

He wished he could have someone love him like Tony had Pepper, but that was just something not bound to happen for him anymore. Maybe before the war,  that would be possible, but now… Now he couldn’t think of anyone who would want to be with him. A monster like him, he thought.

He was lost in his head when Tony patted his shoulder gently to let him know his work was done. “Thanks Tony.” He said in a small voice and got up from the chair he was sitting to leave the lab.

“Anytime.” Tony called after him. “Think of what I said though.”

Bucky just shook his head and left the room.

If only it was that easy….

***

He hates soft beds, but ever since that conversation with Tony in his lab, he has been thinking maybe the idea wasn’t so crazy. So what he didn’t have someone to hold close? So what no one could ever love him or want to sleep in the same bed with him and help him with his nightmares?

He would simply have to improvise. And improvise he did.

That night he placed two pillows with him in his bed, one to put his head on, and another fluffy one to hug close to his chest, imagining it was another person’s comforting presence. He sighed in the pillow and closed his eyes, waiting for the terrors to come, but only when he woke up in the morning rested, he was so surprised to see that it had worked. If only it was a real person there with him, but either way, it had still worked.

When he joined the others in the kitchen for breakfast, everyone could see his relaxed expression, something no one was used to see in him. He even joked with Sam at one point and it left everyone on the team shocked to see this new side of Bucky.

This thing went on for three weeks and with his improved sleeping habits, everything was improving too. He was very efficient in training, Steve even gave him the job to train some new Sh.I.E.L.D agents in hand to hand combat.

It was another rather quiet day in the compound and most of the team were just hanging out in the common room, chatting with each other about anything and everything, when Tony and Steve entered the room, quite serious, standing out from the other people there almost immediately with their stiff postures.

“What’s going on?” Natasha was the first to notice them.

Everyone else’s attention turned to the two men and waited for them to speak.

“We just got some intel, Hydra base needs infiltration. There is this base in Kiev where they seem to be producing some kind of dangerous weapons. We need to stop them as soon as possible.” Steve was the one to explain everything to the team.

“Okay, so when do we leave?” This time was Sam who chimed in with the question.

“We don’t.” Tony interjected. “Due to its dangerous nature of this mission, it should be very secret. So we’re going to send only a duo there to do the work. Of course the rest of the team will be ready to come to help at any time, but it is very important to not draw attention on us by everyone going.”

“Okay, so who will go?”

Steve shifted on his feet, seemingly a little uncomfortable, before he spoke again.

“Y/n is a spy, she is fast and they won’t see her coming. Her abilities are essential to the mission and its success.”

Only when she heard her name, y/n actually picked up her head to finally look at the rest of the team.

“Okay, I can do that.” She said simply, a peace in her voice, almost unfit for the situation. “Who’s going with me?”

“Yeah, I’m glad you asked that.” Steve spoke again. “We gave this a good thought and we decided that Bucky is the best option to go with you. I mean, you compliment each other’s abilities and every time you’ve been paired together it’s been a success, so yeah..”

Y/n shifted her eyes from Steve to Bucky, and then to Steve again. “Okay.” She said softly with a nod of her head. “Yeah, that will do.”

Bucky hadn’t said a word yet, he was just looking each and every member of the team one after one. No emotion in his eyes, just observing them.

“I’m glad you’ve been resting a lot more lately Manchurian Candidate.” Tony’s voice was heard. “You won’t be getting any for the next two days.”

“When do we leave?” It was Bucky’s only question.

“Tomorrow at dawn. The mission is supposed to be a simple in and out. Get everything you can on those weapons and burn the shithole to the ground. Tony booked a hotel for you in Kiev where you can spend the night and rest before you head back home.”

After all the other details were discussed and everything was set out, y/n decided she was going to head to bed soon that night, considering she had to wake up early for the mission. Not long after that, Bucky did the same, bidding their good night’s to the rest of the team.

***

5 am and they were both in the jet, flying to Kiev. The flight would be at least a few hours, so they had time to kill in the meanwhile. Bucky was silently cleaning some of his knifes and y/n was watching him discreetly from the other side of the jet, while pretending to play away in her phone.

Bucky and y/n’s relationship was a simple one. They were teammates, and on Bucky’s good days they could even be considered friends, they would talk and watch movies and hang out, but it was always with other people around. Their chemistry was only fully displayed on the field, where they’d both fight side by side the bad guys and become the most efficient pair of the team. But that was the end of it.

Bucky was a closed of person, he saw himself as a total mess, unworthy to be with anyone because of his past and that didn’t help with socialization that much.

Y/n on the other hand wasn’t any better. She was a delight to be with, but after having her heart broken by her first and only love, it was like she had swore off men, so she never gave anyone a chance to get to know her, to spend time with her as more than just friends. With the other men of the team she had set a solid relationship, Tony and Bruce were her father figures, Steve and Clint were her brothers, and Sam was “the gay best friend” and he wasn’t even gay. With Bucky it was different. The fact that he didn’t hang out with the others that much helped in her situation. She didn’t want to complicate things with anyone, but most importantly didn’t want to get close to any man again. One heart break was enough in a life time.

It was hours later when they arrived in their destination and prepared themselves for what was about to come. They knew it was dangerous, but it was their job. It should be done.

After killing their way through the entire base of enemies, taking what they needed and blowing the place to hell they could finally go to the hotel Steve told them about and get a good rest for the night.

Y/n opened the door and entered their room and Bucky followed behind, head hanging low. Only when he collided with her smaller figure, he finally picked his head up.

She had stopped walking and was staring at the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Um..” she cleared her throat. “There’s only one bed in here. I.. um, I think there’s been a mistake.”

He finally looked up to see what she meant and he saw in front on him only a king sized bed in the center of the room, two little nightstands in the sides, and a small table at the end of the room, no chairs or anything else. He opened another door that was inside the room, only to be met with the small toilet.

“It has a bath tub.” He commented dryly.

Y/n just sighed in frustration and shook her head. “I’m going back to the reception to ask if there’s a mistake, or see if they have another empty room.” With that she was out of there.

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. She was clearly repulsed by the idea of having to share a bed with him and the worst part is he couldn’t even blame her for that. Who would want to be close to a disgusting person like him anyway?

If only he knew…

After talking to the guy at the reception desk again and asking if they had another room, she came out empty handed. She made her way back to the room she had to share with Bucky. How could she even survive a night sleeping in the same bed with him? She was sure he didn’t even want her there? Who would want her anyway? Not even the guy who promised to marry her did. He left her at the altar for another woman. She simply wasn’t a lovable person. So how could she expect Bucky to be okay with sharing a bed with her? If only she didn’t have a tinyyyyy little crush on the man, maybe it would hurt less.

When she entered the room again she didn’t find Bucky there, but her mind got the answer as soon as she heard the water running in the bathroom.

She waited patiently for him to finish so she could have a shower too. When he came out of the bath, the breath was almost knocked out of her lungs. He was almost naked, except for a white towel hanging dangerously low from his hips, his hair was still wet, droplets of water falling on the floor, and his broad shoulders and large chest…

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Bucky was the first one to apologize as soon as he saw her standing there. “I thought you found another room and wasn’t coming back, otherwise I’d let you use the shower first.”

“They, um…”  It was getting hard for y/n to form any coherent sentences while Bucky was right there in front of her, in his half naked post shower glistening glory. “There were no other rooms available.” She finished quickly. “Can I…?” She trailed and motioned to the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Bucky was quick to get out of her way and she made it to the bathroom in three short steps, not before grabbing her duffle bag from the floor and closing the door behind her. She took a quick shower and got dressed in a hurry, only toweling her hair from the excess water and leaving it to dry naturally.

When she went back to the room, to her surprise she found Bucky laying on the floor on the side of the bed, a pillow under his head and a small blanket covering him.

“What are you doing there?” She asked him narrowing her eyes.

“Sleeping.” His answer was barely a whisper, she could have almost missed it if she wasn’t so focused on him. Her heart broke at the sight. Of course he would be sleeping on the floor. Any place was better than sleeping next to her. It shouldn’t have hurt that much, but it did.  She blinked away the tears that were starting to form on her eyes, and steadied her voice to speak again.

“You cannot sleep on the floor Bucky. I can’t let you do that. Your shoulder will hurt and you’ll be in pain in the morning and I..”  she was beginning to ramble at this point, but she couldn’t control her words anymore.

Bucky lifted his head from the pillow and looked back at her with soft eyes.

“It’s okay, I am used to sleeping on hard surfaces. Besides, I couldn’t take the bed for myself and let you sleep on the floor.”

There he goes. Of course one of them has to sleep on the floor. There is no other option.

“I mean..” she averted her eyes for a second from him to the bed and then to him again. “It’s a very large bed, we could both sleep there.” She could feel her face flushing with embarrassment. The words had left her mouth without really thinking and she regretted them already.

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second and then he smiled at her sweetly. “You don’t want to sleep in the same bed with me doll.” He said almost whispering and her head snapped to face him when she heard the pet name roll of his lips.

If she was blushing before, she was certain to be crimson red after hearing him call her ‘doll’. But his words also gave her a boost of confidence she so needed at the moment.

She walked in the direction of the bed and when he thought she was hopping on it, she knelt on the floor before Bucky.

“Get up from the floor and let’s go to sleep on the bed. It’s big enough for the both of us.” She said in a low voice, but left no room for arguing. As if she just cast a spell on him to follow her every order. At that moment he would have done anything she’d ask him to. Without questions. Without any second thoughts.

They got in the bed and laid  down on their respective sides. The bed was large enough to allow a respectable space between them, but despite it, they could both feel the warmth coming from the other’s body. Bucky turned off the light and they laid on their sides, facing each other, only the moonlight allowing them to make out each other’s features on the otherwise dark room.

“You did great out there today.” Bucky was the first to break the silence and he could have sworn he heard her smile.

“Thanks. You too.” She replied and he chuckled deeply.

He wanted to say more to her, but couldn’t. He was scared he would ruin the peaceful moment they were having and he definitely didn’t want to make the situation weird.

“Good night.” he spoke a moment later and turned on his back, facing the ceiling this time.

“Good night Bucky.” She whispered back and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.

Bucky could hear her even breathing and he thought it was insane how fast a person could fall asleep. Maybe she wasn’t plagued by the horrifying nightmares like he was. Maybe her conscience was clear and she was at peace with herself so that’s why it was so easy for sleep to come that quickly to her.

Bucky was almost envious of how peaceful she looked while she slept. Her lips partly open, he could listen to her breathing coming easy and calm out of her lungs. But it did nothing to soothe his mind.

He didn’t have his pillows. He took the one from his under head to hug it but now his neck was uncomfortable in that position. He let out a small breath and put the pillow under his head again. It must have passed at least a good hour of him tossing and turning around in the bed, when he felt y/n stirring in her sleep and moving closer to him.

He was laying on his back, with his hands behind his head and that just created the perfect opportunity for y/n to reach out her hand and place it on his stomach and inch her head closer to finally rest it on his shoulder. When she finally found herself a comfortable position, totally curled up to his side, she let out an actual sigh, but she never woke up.

Bucky had frozen in the spot, not daring to move even an inch for fear of waking her up. Only when he was sure she was soundly asleep again, he willed his flesh hand to move to her face and place a strand of hair behind her ear. His action only made her inch closer to him, if that was even possible anymore and he let his hand rest on her neck.

He was almost sure this had to be a dream. She couldn’t be sleeping so peacefully while being so close to him, but she was and now he was scared to death to fall asleep because he could have a nightmare and hurt her. He’d never forgive himself if her hurt her.

Despite being tired he willed himself to stay awake, but that didn’t last for too long, because sleep finally got to him and his eyes didn’t obey him anymore, they just closed in their own accord.

[justasparkwritings]

Codename Cupid: Chapter 12

Previously: Another Shot at Love Pt. 4

Pairing: Park Jimin X OMC

Genre: Angst, Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Legal Alcohol Consumption and Recreational Drug Use, Flirting, Jimin’s backstory 

Summary: The history Codename Mochi and how his relationship with Codename Arrow came about. 

Codename: The Mochi of it All

Winter, Senior Year 

          Jimin joined OT7 in his late teens and was kept away from his hyungs until he had finished his coursework, spent time in the field, and proved his worth. A quick study, deft in the art of reading people and empathizing, Jimin became an essential asset in the realms of surveillance and field work. Everyone was charmed by him immediately, his megawatt smile and friendly demeanor, as if Mary Poppin’s herself had given him spoonsful of sugar every day of his childhood. Jimin loved tracking marks, observing their tendencies, watching for changes in behavior. He could slip into their lives without them noticing to make strangers become friends, lovers, discerning with ease what he needed to do to become their confidant. Having studied with Codename Cuttlefish for over a year, he knew what to say and do. Joining a yoga class? No problem. Hopping into their pottery studio?  Easy. Wine tasting in Napa Valley? He knew the most exclusive vineyards. Cooking? Please, he was trained. There wasn’t anything Jimin couldn’t do, which is how he fell into bed with Jun-Seo.

         The expectation within OT7 was that you accepted your post, you took your directions and followed through on your work. When it came to dating, relationships of a sexual nature, there was explicit language that if you weren’t comfortable, you didn’t have to. There was nothing so important that the powers at be wanted you to risk your personal comfort and safety for. If Jimin didn’t want to entrap Jun-Seo, he didn’t have to, the plan could be changed, nothing was so definite that it didn’t warrant discussion. Namjoon had taken Jimin aside, walked him through the blueprints ahead of the full team meeting, conferring with him on what he was comfortable doing, and what he wasn’t. The rules for Yoongi applied to Jimin, if he didn’t want to have sex, he didn’t have to, and if he did, he was required to turn off his mic whenever sexual situations arose, as was standard practice. He didn’t have to log any aspects of his sexual relationship with any mark, only if it proved important in the case. With Jun-Seo, it did.

         Jimin, ever the professional, always prepared and always 5 minutes late, took it all in stride. It wasn’t difficult for Jun-Seo to fall in love with him, and unlike Yoongi and his quest to rectify all past failings through his relationship with Cupid, Jimin found it easy to be committed to one person, one man, in spite of the deception. After all, Codename Arrow, wanted exactly what Cupid did: to be loved.

         If Jimin was excellent at everything, he had perfected loving someone.

         Infiltrating Jun-Seo’s life was a manner of timing. Yoongi had been placed in Lee Enterprises while Jimin had already been making the rounds in Jun-Seo’s circles, elusive and enticing, it took three weeks before Jun-Seo had cornered him.

         “I can’t get a read on you,” Jun-Seo said, sitting across from Jimin in a dimly lit bar.

         Smirking, lips plump and coated in a thin layer of petroleum jelly, Jimin played dumb. “How do you mean?”

         “You talk to everyone but me, then you dance with me and flirt with me, but the minute I try and talk to you, poof, you’re gone,” Jun-Seo recited Jimin’s offenses, eliciting a giggle from him.

         “Maybe I like it that way,” Jimin responded.

         “Maybe, or maybe you’re scared,” He countered.

         “Scared of what, a pretty boy in last season’s Balenciaga?” Jimin scoffed, not going so far as saying As If, but implying.

         “A pretty boy with enough money to bury your deepest secrets or sell them to the highest bidder just for fun,” Jun-Seo threatened.

         “Your threats mean nothing. I don’t care about your money. I guarantee I have more,” Jimin brought his glass to his lips, water in vodka glass with a paper-thin lime slice deftly floating on top.

         Cackling, Jun-Seo responded, “Lies,”

         “You wanna play?” Jimin countered.

         “Only if you’re the prize,” Jun-Seo winked.

         It was banter back and forth, texts becoming phone calls that led to dates and nights out. A trip to Paris, followed by Seoul and Australia, all the while Suga was swindling Cupid. By the time Suga and Cupid broke up, Jun-Seo had proposed to Jimin.

         Jun-Seo was known for being a serial monogamist, flitting from one short term relationship to the other, always trading in the old for what seemed brand new. He had a reputation to maintain, an appearance he worked to cultivate. While Dae-Seong and Kwan-Min had to toe the lines of professionalism, of being the faces of the company until Euna was ready, Jun-Seo was given the autonomy to fuck around. A yacht trip in the Mediterranean? Annual. Closing Harrod’s and nearly buying out Chanel and Ferragamo? That was just a Tuesday. He could do no wrong, because while his siblings were busy fighting, he was busy charming. Every relationship, however devoid of emotion it was, provided him with more social capital than any socialite could dream of having. Though the tactics he used to gain this capital were not morally sound, and the level of blackmailable offenses he had witnessed was sociopathic, he continued to be sought after by anyone who breathed. To date Jun-Seo, no matter how brief, was to move up several rungs in society. The longer you dated, the higher you could climb, though Seo had the final say in your destination.

         No one was off limits to him, and he was afraid of nothing. Money afforded him security. Wealth afforded him an attitude that no one was better than him. Being 4th inline to the Lee fortune afforded him privilege. For these reasons, nobody dared mess with Jun-Seo, and in return, Seo messed with everyone.

         For the majority of his life, Seo had just wanted to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. Gossip swam with stories of his escapades, his philanthropy and business prowess made him legendary. He had few friends, but his closest confidant remained Kwan-Min. At the end of the day, however, she would always be his sister. There was no cuddling, no longing stares or passionate touches in the night, there was barely love, mostly respect. Jimin, though, had the potential to become the person Seo went to for everything.

         Jimin knew the lines were blurring when Seo took him to Seoul to track down distant relatives, and then fly to Japan to listen to Kyoto while walking the city. It wasn’t in the way Seo spoke to Jimin, but in the touches he gave, the way his eyes softened, how he was kinder to strangers and compassionate when someone messed up. Jimin was changing him, and that terrified Jimin. A mark is a mark, until they’re not.

         “He’s in too deep,” Hoseok argued, Jimin sitting at the conference table, going through transcripts of his last few days with Jun-Seo.

         “It’s getting to the point where Arrow is clearly, invested. He sees a future with Jimin, a tangible life together,” Yoongi responded, concern in his eyes. He had just started working at Lee Enterprises.

         “That’s what I’m concerned about,” Namjoon responded.

         “Arrow hasn’t given enough information to warrant the intensity of this relationship. It’s high risk, low reward. Better to get out,”

         “But we need to think about when Yoongi is dating Cupid, we’ll have two sets of eyes on the inside. Jimin has to infiltrate Arrow’s computer or very minimum, the philanthropy network so they can access the records,” Namjoon reminded them.

         “He’s going to propose, right?” Seokjin voiced. “There’s no way, at this rate, that he Arrow hasn’t thought about it.”

         “He hasn’t mentioned it, but he does play with my ring finger. It’s almost absentmindedly, and I wouldn’t think much of it except it’s pretty frequent,” Jimin informed them.

         “I thought he wasn’t the ‘marrying type’?” Seokjin asked.

         “Everyone thinks they aren’t something, and then Jimin shows up and all bets are off,” Yoongi smiled. “He’s magic.”

         “It’s because he’s so cute,” Hoseok agreed. “His laugh,”

         “His smile?” Namjoon continued the list.

         “Remember when we were laughing so hard, he told us to stop being funny because –

         “He can’t see when he’s laughing!” Hoseok finished, erupting in wall shaking laughter.

         “Okay, okay, I get it,” Jimin couldn’t help but giggle at his hyungs. “The question is, what do I do with Arrow?”

         “Stay, you have to,” Namjoon’s composure was back. “That’s your order.”

         “Do I push off the inevitable?”

         “A proposal? Yes,”

         “Tell him you aren’t sure you’re ready, or ever want to be married. Give him a real crisis and he’ll spend the next three months trying to figure out where he stands.” Yoongi suggested.

         “Has he said that he loves you?” Seokjin inquired.

         “Yes,”

         “Have you said it back?”

         “The question isn’t if Jimin’s said it back,” Yoongi began, “It’s if he means it.”

         “Jiminssi, do you mean it?”

         “I, no, no,” Jimin shook his head, his quickly lightening pink hair moving with his head. “I don’t love him,”

         “You love who he is with you,” Yoongi followed up, “He’s kind, and thoughtful, compassionate, fuck he’s even empathetic.”

         “It doesn’t excuse what he’s done, or who he is at his core,” Hoseok reminded him.

         “But it does make it infinitely more challenging to not blur the lines between who he really is, and who he is trying to be,” Jimin sat back, uneasiness in his veins. “I have to remember that.”

         “Do you need to retrain your brain?” Namjoon offered.

         “No, no, I’ll be fine, I can do this.” Jimin nodded.

         “Our second to last member to be put into the field is doing well. Codename V, he’s been onboarded and will continue working Yoongi’s job with minimal fieldwork until Cupid and Suga’s relationship is over, he’s finishing his last bits of training before becoming a full-time member. His office will be next to Yoongi’s,” Namjoon pulled up the file, V’sphoto and information enlarging on the screen.

         “Chim, you also trained him, correct?” Seokjin asked.

         “Yeah, he picked up everything on the first go, insanely intelligent, charismatic, he’s an amazing guy.” Jimin smiled fondly. “He’s my best friend, has been since we joined. Yoongi trained him for a bit too.”  

         “His first year in, he was in my year four training. V stayed in the program to train others and work with the last member of our team-

         “Because it’s impossible to be OT7 when there’s six of us,” Seokjin joked, the fact that they weren’t a complete set had bugged him for over two years.

         “V is the best,” Jimin finished.

         “We’ve all worked with him, why are we acting like we didn’t hand pick him?” Hoseok wondered.

         “Fair,”

         “I don’t know him as well as you do,” Seokjin said.

         “Are you still the new kid card?” Hoseok guffawed.

         “I’m just saying you went to training, the most I got was a month crash course,”

         “You didn’t need additional training. You had freely chosen a path that you loved and are passionate about. It was a choice. We were preyed upon, selected for a Hunger Game’s like war and we’re District 1.” Yoongi informed him. “It was fucking brutal. They took us from our lives, our families, our friends. This newbie? Codename Golden Maknae, was taken when he was 13! Barely old enough to make decisions for himself. He’s been raised in this system, conditioned to work for the betterment of the world, he knows nothing else. We know nothing else!”

         “He worships the ground Namjoon-hyung walks on, he is best friends with V because once you’ve been tapped, you can only rely on each other,” Hoseok said.

         “It hasn’t been a bad life,” Namjoon, ever the diplomat, interjected.

         “Sure Joon, sure. I shouldn’t have been a trained sharpshooter by 19,” Yoongi snapped. They could see it in his eyes, the darkness. Yoongi’s temper flared when he was truly angry, but largely held off until he was a perfect storm of exhausted, anxious and overwhelmed. Or, when competitiveness struck, and he became determined to win. This anger, rarer than the others, struck when he felt defenseless, used, when the job started to take parts of his soul instead of his brain.

         “You were hacking into government systems across the globe by 15!” Jimin refuted.

         “Allegedly!” Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin all yelled in unison. The three looked at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles, leaving Yoongi fuming.

         “The point is, you got to live a normal life, go to university, stumble into a relationship out of mutual attraction. You’ve had all the things weren’t afforded. For Jimin, V, Golden Maknae, this has been their life, so be fucking grateful, Mr. Handsome.” Spitting the codename at Seokjin, Yoongi stood violently and shoved his chair in against the table. The men stared after him as he grabbed his coat from his office and left.

Next: Justifying Jimin

[wildflower8281]

15 Things They Don’t Tell You About Leaving the Servidoras

After my grand letter to all of the sisters and superiors of the order back in 2015 (http://www.iveinfo.org/2016/03/letter-from-ex-ssvm-superior.html ,) I never really thought I would be writing to any group or former group of the institute again. However, due to the considerable amount of what I call “post-convent deprogramming” I've done over the years with former servidoras, (literally to this week!) I've felt moved to write again because it's just so noteworthy how so many women have experienced similar types of situations, both inside the convent and once they have left. The number of women I have helped in this province (about 15) is very small compared to the actual number who have left the convent in this province (50+ easy.) As you'll read below, it's often very difficult to reconnect or find former sisters once you have left. That number does not include the dozens of parents & friends of sisters or seminarians who have also reached out with questions and concerns from my original letter. What I wrote in that letter hits such a cord because it’s all true. It’s pretty simple. And folks find solace and relief when their concerns are stated aloud and their questions answered by an insider.

I've been home from the convent now for over 5 years and in that short time I have personally connected with at least 15 other women who have left the Servants of the Lord in this province and helped them to transition and de-program. All but one of these women were younger than me in religious life & were there fewer years than myself. (I was in almost 8 years, longer than most!) In some way, I feel a responsibility to help confirm their concerns and shake out the programming, and I actually enjoy re-connecting and holding that space for them. So many have expressed huge relief at being able to share stuff they've never told anyone or get confirmation on things they had a hunch were not ok, that happened inside. I'm speaking mostly about cult-like programming, behavior & manipulation, although sexual scandal is not foreign to the institute either (male and female branches, founder, all of it.) 

For those of you who don't know or have never read anything else I've written about convent life, my general opinion is that while we learned a lot of transferable skills & traveled to interesting places during our time with the ssvm, I do believe it functions as a religious cult. The order exhibits behaviors and mental programming that you will find across the board and any other type of cults (I don’t say this lightly. They check out - https://culteducation.com/warningsigns.html) Thus, the transition out of the order can be arduous, especially when it comes to learning how to de-program mentally. In the order, the programming is deceivingly wrapped up in sparkling divine concepts and holy ideals, so deprogramming often means rejecting even what once were tightly held spiritual beliefs, close to our hearts & identities. They play a tight game and they play to win.

So here goes: 15 Things They Don’t Tell You About Leaving the Servidoras

It’s long. All my posts are long. Each theme could easily be it’s own separate blog post. So, don’t think of it as a blog. Think of it as chapters in a book & enjoy! As always, thank you for reading & I’m happy to engage about any of these topics!

About You:

What’s the Schedule for This? There is no right way to do this – it’s messy and that is one of the best lessons! While most things in the convent and in the church were black & white, this journey is not! It’s not linear and it looks different for each person. There is no life timeline you need to be on & you’re not “behind” everyone else. You are on your life path that is exquisitely perfect for you. Enjoy it. Take your time. Breathe. Observe. Be grateful that you lived a few years in a really unique, really rare way. There is no rush to get anywhere – you don’t have to hop into a huge career, you don’t have to get a degree, you don’t have to date or get married (ever,) buy a car or a house or get credit cards.  What you label as a “transition period” in your life is actually just your life and as rich, important and meaningful as any other time, so take it in. Enjoy. Relax. Allow the new energy to settle into your cells. It’s all good, new and rejuvenating for you. It’s your life’s journey, just like everyone else’s. It winds, has hills and valleys, moments of clarity and joy, and moments of confusion. All of this is ok, healthy and normal. Embrace your unique journey. You are exactly where you are meant to be.

Rest!  In the convent, we never stopped. The schedule was full from morning till bedtime and having open, unstructured time was looked upon suspiciously. It will take some time to adjust to a slower, more open pace of life. It will feel uncomfortable! Rest includes sleep and leisure. Know that it's okay to get a full 8 hours of sleep or more, it's okay to sleep in and it's okay to go to bed early. Our bodies recover mentally and physically while we sleep, so getting plenty and quality sleep is crucial to feeling bright and ready for the next day. (Applicable to any human, not just former nuns!) Leisure is the second part of rest and it's going to feel really uncomfortable to have unstructured free time. Know that it's okay to lounge, take walks, doodle, read, people watch and even watch TV or listen to music! None of it is a sin, you won’t be wasting time. You have not had real mental or physical rest in a long time and your nervous system is probably still in stress mode – cortisol all over the fucking place! It takes a few months of settling into a slower pace of life for your body to breathe and relax. My best teacher in this area was nature. The pace and vibration of the forest, the flowers and the ocean helped my nervous system to adjust. So, bottom line is slow the fuck down and enjoy it! Your body will thank you, I promise!

Clothes? This may not be true for everyone, but my first experiences with shopping for clothes it was really difficult & triggering. After so many years of ignoring our bodies and our figures,and generally relating them to sin or negative programming, it was hard for me to feel comfortable in clothes that were more fitted or generally to give positive attention to my female figure. It was hard for me to look in the mirror and see my curves. It was very uncomfortable. I got a teaching job quickly, so I had to find work appropriate clothing. For the first few months I definitely wore turtlenecks and khakis! I have photos to prove! It's okay to feel like a fish out of water while clothes shopping (among other socially normal activities!) Learning to love and be comfortable with your body is a deeply personal journey. What ended up helping me eventually was discovering yoga and, again, being in nature. I've written about both on my blog, as well as my body journey in various posts there (http://wildflower8281.tumblr.com/archive.) Just know it's okay to cry and feel uncomfortable. The best thing you can do in those moments is feel your feelings, be with yourself and go shopping another day if you need to. The struggle and process is very, very real and there is no timeline.

Your True Fam. Find your friends from the convent who also have left, reconnect with girls in your class and share. There are things that only former ssvm will understand. Let’s be honest – we were in a cult together. While friends and family may listen and be empathetic, they have not actually lived the life with you. Only your former sisters have and there are things only they will understand. So, if you are itching to question or share something, and you wonder if others have also experienced this – find your girls and talk with them. Many former ssvm have shared with me that the fb group has been so helpful to reconnect with girls in their class. Also, the international FB group has also allowed girls to find friends they missioned with across the world or studied in Italy with. Re-connect and share. This is healing and often times fun! Granted some former ssvm are still die-hard fans of the order, so those people have left the group or have no intention of sharing. That’s ok. It’s their journey. The groups are here for those who want to use them.

Job/Career. I know at first it seems like you are behind or you don't have a lot of what the world sees as a ‘work experience,’ but in reality, the arduous, missionary life that we lived for those years was chock full of tons of skill-learning and adapting to different circumstances all the time. You have a zillion transferable skills!!! So, while you may not have a certain degree or career label, in most cases you can take what you've learned in the convent and make it apply to a job you are after. You have experience teaching, working with youth, cooking for large groups, event planning, musical experience, admin  & organizational skills, planning trips, retreats & camps, customer service, camping skills, sports, communication, editing and blogging and in many of these cases you can also do these things in Spanish! You learn to be a jack-of-all-trades, the longer you are there, so your years there are definitely not wasted by any means. So get those negative ideas out of your head and know that you actually have a very rich, varied experience, in many cases more so than most others who may be have been in one job for the past 2-3 years or who spent those years in classrooms.

My advice would be to tailor your resumes and cover letters to the specific job you are after. This may mean making it very obvious that you spent time in the convent as a Catholic missionary. Sometimes it really helps to drop #nunlife for a specific job, and sometimes it may be wiser to just say you were a missionary.  Use your judgement (new concept, I know!) It may mean making it less obvious that you spent those years in a catholic institution.

When I have applied for more secular jobs, I have listed the institute by the male branch name and just labeled it as missionary or youth minister. Learn to be savvy with the skills you list under that time as well: when I applied for the bookstore, I listed my years working with the IVE press, writing book reviews, translating and editing. I omitted that when I applied for the juice bar, and instead listed the event planning that I had experienced in. Learn to be savvy & a master of wielding words!

Take a Breather from the Church. It’s ok to take a breather from all things catholic & all things church. This of course is up to each person but if you feel the need to lay down some Catholic habits, rituals, anything we did in the convent or church life for a while, just to step back and breathe a little, know that that is totally okay! Many of us came from super catholic cultures, whether that was university or family culture and then we spent various years in an even more extreme version of orthodox, traditional catholic culture. The religious family is truly a catholic cult and lives on the extreme end of all things catholic. So, if you find yourself wanting to let go of a lot of the daily or weekly prayer habits, rituals, rules, etc., know that it's fine to do that and your spirit is probably asking for it. Living in the convent is like a sponge being totally saturated with the color blue. At first we love blue and we want to soak up all and everything of that color! But, when the novelty wears off, some of us never want to see blue again. So give yourself time to rinse off all of the blue, squeeze it out, dry off and breathe a little. You were saturated and soaked in one dense color for many years. It’s ok if you don’t want to see, think or breathe blue for awhile!

When I first came home, 

I literally stopped praying the office from day one, but I continued to go to daily mass and pray the rosary, as they were at first comforting rituals for me. But little by little I began to drop even those things and found my own way of relating to God and found a lot of comfort in being in nature. I know that I am an anomaly in this, but I actually have completely left the church and christianity at this point. Not in any formal way, except that I don’t buy into it anymore and have no desire to be a part of any organized religion ever really. Nature and my body/spirit are enough for me. Most girls who leave actually remain practicing catholics, which I always find fascinating! 

Bottom line, just know that if you miss mass for a months, or you stop praying the rosary, or you stop going to confession, that everything is going to be okay! Those things are all simply rituals and structures that the church has created for people to feel a part of their Institution. If you still consider yourself christian or catholic, that's fine and great, but know that you can still take a breather or a break to really examine your heart and your own spirituality, and relationship to God. It’s very much like going through a breakup. You were in a relationship for various years, one that consumed your life. It proved to be pretty toxic, so you ended it. A healthy person in this case would take space, time to heal, reset, explore life and self. Same idea, friend, same idea.

And, for the record, even though I gradually left the church and christianity, I have never once felt abandoned by ‘god’ or that my link to the Creator has ever been severed. I still consider myself a beloved daughter of the Creator, I still feel divinely linked to all of nature and very much cared for by the Universe. This also comes with developing a sense of love for self and a deep trust knowing that the universe, or God, or the Creator, will take care of you. That’s some deep inner shit that needs to be worked out in order to get there, but it’s well worth it! So, I'm here to give you permission to take a leave of absence from All Things Catholic, if your spirit is asking for it.

Dating! This definitely deserves it’s own blog post. (Disclaimer: I only have the experience of dating men, so this post is specifically regarding that. However, I know of women who have left who prefer women. I can’t speak to that process myself, but I applaud it!)  Learning to mingle and get to know men is definitely a sensitive and very personal topic for each. It also depends on how much dating experience you had prior to the convent. But, if you do anything in this post, do this: Get to know yourself first before jumping into dating. For the past few years, your identity has been wrapped up in ‘sister’ and in ssvm culture. Who are you outside of that label and that name? Who are you outside of that lifestyle? If you can't confidently answer those questions, it's not really time to merge yourself with another in a romantic relationship. Do the work of finding & creating the new version of yourself out here before getting lost in someone else. (Again, applicable to all humans. Mature, healthy people do not ‘get lost’ in someone else. They have their own identities and lives, and just share life together.)

If, however, you have found yourself, love yourself and feel ready to engage with guys, then I say go for it! Mingle, have coffee, do online dating, whatever is your pace. Just be completely yourself and know your boundaries. They will be different for everyone. They do not have to be what the church says. They only have to be what your heart and your body say. It's a great realm to learn how to listen to your gut and follow your intuition. 

I have learned that I really thrive in relationships and am grateful for each experience of them. They are amazing portals of self-growth and heart expansion. I would also say to keep your standards high and be very picky! You are worth a guys full attention and total respect. Anything less, drop it like it’s hot. lol.

Lastly and of extreme importance, educate yourself on STD’s and be fierce about honoring your body. It’s actually an awesome litmus test to decipher the men vs. the boys, te vas a ver.

Sharing Your Past. It’s up to you when you share your convent life with new friends. A lot of girls ask this question and my answer is really that it’s up to you. No one needs to know your past, but at the same time anyone who is a true friend will want to know and be able to hold that space for you. And, depending on how long you were in, it’s probably something you refer to often, so eventually it’s convenient if your close friends know, so you can be free to reference convent life as you need to. It’s good practice for learning to listen to your intuition – you tell people when and if it feels right for you. The further away I have gotten from my time in the convent, the earlier I’ve told people about it. But that’s just me. In the beginning, I still had in my head that it was kinda scandalous or bad, so I wouldn’t share it right away. I was a teacher for 4 years and only boss knew. (I didn’t want all the questions from other teachers and definitely not from all 300+ children!) I worked in a juice bar for 6 months and only told 1 co-worker. For me, it just depended on the level of closeness I would have with people. Here in AZ, it took me only 1 month of working at the Art Center to tell my co-workers, and only a few months to tell my yoga friends. More recently, the man I dated for a few months earlier this year knew before we even met in person! And he was utterly intrigued and fascinated by it! I have found the most people find it curious and interesting that we even entered the convent, but more than that – they find it brave and inspiring that we left. You will see! Just wait for it. Now, I’ll drop it whenever and I drop it much quicker than before. It takes time. But, definitely be discerning and be ready for the questions – or tell people that you’d rather not answer questions at this point. You make the rules now, Lady!

Books & Culture! One of the best things I can encourage you to do is get a library card and go wander your library for a few hours! Enjoy the freedom of looking and reading any books you want to and learn to do this frequently. In the convent, as you know, the books were only ever about catholic stuff. There was nothing else to read and we were not exposed to any other types of thought. Even if all you do is pick up some fiction stories or poetry or biographies of interesting people, go to your library, follow your curiosity and read a shit-ton! I still do this today and it is one of my foremost means of learning and leisure!

Secondly just go and do cultural things in your town or city! Whether that means wandering downtown, visiting cafes or museums, going to art installations or dance festivals, take in culture other than catholic culture! You have been saturated in only one culture from morning to night for the past however many years. You have lived and breathed only Kool-Aide (if I may) for all those years. There are other things to see and other ways to live, and it's fascinating to witness and learn about them.

About Them:

They won’t connect you to other former sisters. I have heard this from girls who have left who have asked about me specifically. I also have personally asked the superiors who I knew and lived with to share my information with girls who are leaving. It just doesn’t happen. One girl wrote me, “I asked Mother Mercy about you and I was brushed off.” This was just a few months ago! Mother Mercy was my provincial superior for most of my 8 years, and my direct superior for 3 when I was in Harlem. I was only ever transparent and helpful to her and the entire province. Now, they think because I wrote a letter that exposes some brokenness, that I am the Anti-Christ or something. Which to me is just awesome and hilarious. Anyway, they will not in any way share contacts of former sisters with you on your way out. You will only have their religious names, maybe their civil names if you knew them that well and you will have to navigate social media on your own to find them. Some girls don’t want to be found & that’s ok. So, if you know girls who are thinking of leaving, send them your info so they have it before they leave! Tell them about the FB group, send them my email address or name on FB. Despite my real efforts to build such a bridge – conversations & letters – the ssvm superiors will not support this in a public or private way. I’ve asked Sacred Heart in person and I’ve written to the superiors about this – why not create this bridge, share info, make the transition easier for those who leave? There is no response. So, until then: can’t stop, won’t stop. I just keep doing this work, one soul, one post at a time.

They will continue to ask for donations and financial support. The Institute has an embarrassing culture around begging and asking for donations. If you or your contacts gave donations in the past, know that the sisters will continue to reach out and ask, in some cases to the point of being really rude or insanely persistent. One former sister had to change her phone number because the sisters would not stop calling her or her family in order to obtain what used to be a regular donation to her mission. Money and gifts are a powerful energetic cord, so if you want to detach from the Institute in all ways, it is wise to cut off donations and gifts to them. They do not have a healthy culture surrounding that and, let's be honest, neither does the church at large.

Your money is better used to invest in yourself at this point - take some art classes, find a yoga studio, learn to salsa dance! You are worth that money. Later down the road, find an awesome non-profit to donate to and make sure you know how they spend your money.

They will cut you off. Again, typical cult behaviors. The Institute does not have the bandwidth to allow anyone, including former members, to be in their circles unless they continue drinking the Kool-Aid. Once you diverge from them or if you challenge the way they live, ultimately you are likely to be shunned or cut off. I would vouch to say that most former sisters who are still in good standing with the order, are also still super catholic and supporters of the institute.  For the majority who have left, however, usually that's it - unless we initiate contact and try to remain engaged with any of them, there is very little initiation of engagement from their end. Even though the constitutions say that those of us who have left are ‘still family and third order members,’ the actions do not echo these words and are quite contrary. If you ask the majority of sisters in this province, you will hear similar stories. So don't really expect friendships with sister's to continue for very long. Your lives will take very different directions - your mind and life experiences will expand and grow, you will evolve into new versions of yourself as time passes. Their life is basically on repeat eternally, maybe just in different settings. Your former sister-friends will be less and less interested in your new life, and you will be bored by her life that rarely ever grows or changes.

They will make you feel guilty or crazy. This is normal & is not about you. This definitely occurs in all of the cases. It seems to be part of the cult-like behavior. They go legit mental trying to keep their members and numbers up and any departure is like a grand failure and subsequent scandal – they make you feel guilty or crazy for wanting and requesting to leave. This is why they will suggest first that you go to the monastery, or to California, or to Italy to ‘rest and recover and pray.’ If, like myself and some others, you keep this decision to yourself until very near to the end (which I highly recommend,) your superiors will think you're having some kind of breakdown or making a rash and emotional decision. In many cases, including mine, they will drag it out and also make you jump through hoops in order to get the final okay to leave and actual date when you are able to walk out. My best advice in these moments is simply to listen to that little voice inside and continue to follow her. She is your true heart and will guide you with bravery and fortitude out of that place. I remember feeling like my conversations and steps leading out of the convent were some of my bravest moments, when I really learned to use my voice and speak for myself for the first time in many, many years. It was something very foreign to me, but it also felt like I was being true to myself for the first time in a long time.

Know that you are not crazy, you are not going to lose God's favor, go to hell or anything like that. All of that is cult and brainwash talk that the church and the institute use to convince people to stay. It's emotional abuse and manipulation. It is cult work at it’s best. There are various ways to shut this down mentally, but might I suggest simply repeating, "Fuck you, I'm leaving” and continue returning to that mantra in your mind, until you actually are out the door!

Your spiritual director will never suggest actually leaving religious life. This one is so tricky! He will aid you and discuss it with you, but you have to be the initiator of that conversation.  We are programmed to basically do whatever they tell us and to utterly mis-trust our own inner guidance system.  They are programmed (it seems) to never suggest leaving and so sisters (like myself) can go on for various years with "miserable" being our daily set point and the SD will still not suggest leaving.

For what it's worth - I had an amazing SD! I was lucky to have him throughout my entire religious life, from start to finish (almost 8 years.) This is very rare. He knew me up and down, I was utterly transparent with him about everything. And yet, even he did not suggest that I consider leaving, ever. When I finally came to the decision, I called him and said, "Padre, I think my time here is up. I think it's time for me to go home." From there, he did help facilitate and guide me, but the initiative had to come from me. I mean, I understand this somewhat - they don't want someone who left to say "Father suggested I leave" - that also sounds like it could get someone in trouble, but hell - if we are basically following their suggestions for everything else, why is it so wrong to suggest at least considering leaving?! It's not! It should be done more often and made a more mainstream thing! Dozens of men and women leave the order every year! (More probably should!) But, just know it has to come from you.

They have programmed you. Best for Last! Woot! Just learn not to fucking listen anymore! This is one of the longest lasting effects and struggles post-convent. Their mental & emotional game is terrifyingly strong. They play hard and they play to win. You have been programmed to think, believe, speak and feel like them. Realize this and sit with it for a good long while. The more docile your temperament and the longer you were in, the more deeply that programming was laid inside of you. I was the perfect specimen, so I speak from experience.

You will hear the voices in your head saying you can't spend that money, or you shouldn’t eat that snack, or you need to ask to take a break. Learning to ignore those voices and give yourself all the permissions is one of the best tactics for overcoming a lot of the mental game. You will feel that you can't do anything during your free time without asking, you will feel you need to ask in order to make plans with new friends, in order to talk to guys, in order to purchase items or to sleep in as long as you want. You will hear those voices a lot in all aspects of your life, so prepare yourself to get really good at ignoring them! Like really fucking good.

I’ve been out for over 5 years and still ask permission for things at work. Literally this week!  My supervisor knows my past and is constantly empowering me to make my own judgement calls for things that fall within my scope. I’m 36, 5 years out, done the work & this shit still haunts me sometimes.

I consciously stopped using words like providence, providential, generous, blessed, god and all the lingo years ago. I just stopped cold and never looked back. We all know if you sat down to a bunch of servidoras not in habit, you would know immediately by the way they spoke that they were ssvm. You can’t deny it. #cultlife

So, get really comfy with just giving yourself all the permissions for a good long time! Do whatever the fuck you want, whenever you want and with whomever you want! Shake it all out of your system and know that now, you are now the guiding force in your life!

[douchebagbrainwaves]

DO WHAT DOESN'T SEEM LIKE YOU TALK TO NOT TO START A BOSS

It won't seem so preposterous in 10,000 years. Even if it's the right thing for your company to do something; by then, whoever's asking him may be fairly annoyed, but at least they probably really do want whatever they're asking for. Incumbents faced new competitors as a markets went global and b technical innovation started to trump economies of scale were not the only force that determines the relative popularity of programming languages—legacy software Cobol and hype Ada, Java also play a role—but the amount of wealth people can create has not only dropped out of school to do it.1 Just as startups rightly pay AWS a premium over the cost of the space it takes up on your screen. The last ingredient a popular language, you either have to supply more than a couple weeks, it will be bad is that it sucks for doing what hackers want to do, and can identify them as fashions. Ok, it may be more than a theoretical question, because it's clearer in the sciences whether theories are true or false, you have to figure out what such labels are, simply by looking at the world than producing something beautiful. The reason we don't see the opportunities all around us is that we adjust to however things are, and how easily they can become collateral damage of laws meant to fix some other problem.2 Have you ever seen an old photo of yourself and been embarrassed at the way you looked? By the following thought experiment. Later in life he spent a lot of code. I cried at his funeral. If you can just avoid dying, you get bigger rewards in your time if you work on matters of passing importance.

But barring emergencies you have a good deal even after they're first launched—programming languages especially. The problem is that once you start raising money, raising money becomes the top idea in your mind. I'm saying is that the first problem is the real one. Of course, release early has a second component, without which it would be tedious to let infect your private life, we liked it.3 So let me tell you what to focus on. Why? It took me a while to gain momentum. It's back now, and we've seen a bunch of twenty year olds get rich when you're still working for salary. The Metaphysics is among the least read of all famous books. Morgan's world as the natural state of things, began to realize it wasn't the last word after all.

It is a brilliant strategy, and one that other big technology companies will no doubt try to duplicate.4 His most impressive work, to me, so I was curious to hear what had surprised her most about it. It was when I'd finished one project and was deciding what to do by asking what they'd do in the mid 20th century. You need this for everyone: investors, acquirers, partners, reporters, potential employees, and even current employees. IBM's big mistake was to accept a non-exclusive license for DOS. I wanted to try being a painter, and the only reason investors like startups. I'd tell myself I was only going to use the median in a domain with so much variation. Founders hate this because it's a recipe for a startup the initial release acts as a shakedown cruise. You can attack labels with meta-labels: labels that refer to the use of labels to prevent discussion. So don't get demoralized.5

Letting just 10,000 startup founders into the country. My advice is, don't say it. Let me see and decide for myself.6 So if investors want to get the effect of such external factors on the popularity of programming languages—legacy software Cobol and hype Ada, Java also play a role—but I think it might be good to add a social component to their software. And in the 20th century and the origins of the big companies of the 20th century, the big bang guys. Your niche both protects and defines you. To someone who'd spent several formative years in the armed forces, this situation didn't seem as strange as it does to us now. You can mitigate this with subsidies at the bottom and taxes at the top of the file I use as a todo list. If this works, it would seem crazy to most people.

You can make inner loops blindingly fast, even writing inline byte code in bottlenecks. The problem is, there are two kinds of solutions to this problem.7 Closed thoughts and an open face. That's a stricter standard than admiration. And by Parkinson's Law, software has expanded to use the median in a domain with so much variation. It's the schedule of command. Expert hackers are a tiny minority, admittedly, but that we use that heretofore despised criterion, applicability, as a rule, doesn't get redesigned enough. Rapid change in one area uncovers big, soluble problems in other areas.8 A lot of the change I've seen is fragmentation.9 Perhaps the most important mistake in the history of philosophy. In the future, angel rounds will become less restrictive too—not just less restrictive than series A terms, but less restrictive than angel terms have traditionally been.

Notes

It's not simply a function of their hands thus tended to be a quiet, earnest place like Cambridge in that so few founders do it mostly on your cap table, and that most people who had to ask for more of a city's potential as a definition of property. At the time required to notice them. We thought software was all that matters to us. Not surprisingly, these are even worth thinking about for the linguist and presumably teacher Daphnis, but they seem like noise.

They live in a certain way, it often means the investment community will tend to be writing with conviction. The real danger is that it's doubly important for societies to remember and pass on the cover story of creation in the next round is high as well.

I said that a company just to load a problem if you'll never need to import is broader, ranging from 50 to get good enough to turn into them.

As a friend with small children pointed out that another way in which many people mistakenly think it was the ads they show first. Anyone can broadcast a high-minded Edwardian child-heroes of Edith Nesbit's The Wouldbegoods. Quoted in: it's not as completely worthless as a separate box weighing another 4000 pounds. Which means it's all the investors agree, and for filters it's textual.

Here's an example of applied empathy.

It would be to become addictive. What Is an Asset Price Bubble? This is not even be symbiotic, because they've learned more, and their hands. If Bush had been a waste of time on applets, but that they imitate even the most useless investors are also several you can't mess with the other hand, he took another year off and went to get endless grief for classifying religion as well, since they're an existing investor, than anybody else, you can't help associating it with.

Articles of this type is the desire to get you type I startups. Economic History Review, 2:9 1956,185-199, reprinted in Finley, M. Many hope he was 10.

Stone, Lawrence, Family and Fortune: Studies in Aristocratic Finance in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Oxford University Press, 1973, p.

When investors ask you a clean offer with no business experience to start startups, because talks are usually about things you've written or talked about the idea that evolves naturally, and that the valuation of the expert they send to look appealing in stores, but I managed to find users to observe—e. This is one of those most vocal on the relative weights? Which is probably a mistake to believe, and if you seem like I overstated the case, 20th century was also the fashion leaders.

[lelou-quotes]

12 Lessons from Saying No to a Life of Mediocrity

On In the last post, I gave you the cheat sheet on How to be Extraordinarily Ordinary. I wrote that post largely due to my own personal experiences and observations. It represents the path I have so desperately sought to avoid, and so desperately want you to avoid: mediocrity.

Today, I offer the first step of the antidote.

If you’re dreaming about leaving the job you hate but can’t quite imagine a scenario in which you’d actually take the leap, here’s the first chapter of your playbook.

If you’ve ever gazed out from the window of your office, wondering what it’s like to really experience all that life has to offer, here’s section one of your manual on how to do it.

If you’re scared to approach your boss about leaving your job, due to any number of irrational fears, here’s unit one of your guidebook on what to expect.

If you desperately want to find meaningful work, I have the blueprint for you. I’m living the blueprint as we speak. I’ll show you the promise and the pitfalls, the risks and the rewards. But it all has to start with one decision.

Today, I offer you a window inside the day that I made that decision to say no to mediocrity. It was the day I took a huge personal risk that changed my life forever, and opened me up to a world of adventure, opportunity, serendipity, and exploration.

The following conversation is paraphrased for brevity and anonymized for obvious reasons. The bracketed numbers correspond to the lessons outlined below.

Friday, September 8th, 2016 – 3:30pm

I walk into my boss’ office to break the news that I will be leaving the payroll company and the cubicle in which I spent 40+ hours a week for three years.

Boss: Hey Joe, what’s up?

Me: Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I’m planning on leaving this job. But I’ll stay until W2 and year-end tax season is finished. I just wanted to let you know ahead of time so that you can train a replacement. [#1] [#2] [#3]

Boss: Oh. Okay. What do you plan on doing instead?

Me: In all honesty, I have been feeling limited and underutilized in this job. I don’t have a plan at the moment, but having some time to travel and explore my options is what I really need at this point in my life. I’m in my mid-20s, and I need to take advantage of this time to figure out what I really want. [#4]

Boss: I just don’t understand. I gave you this position (tax specialist), I have paid you well and given you raises. You have health insurance and two weeks of vacation. Why would you leave for such uncertainty? [#5]

Me: I sincerely thank you for everything you have done for me. I’m sorry, I just don’t think this job is for me, long term. I know there is much more in this world for me to learn and do, and none of that can be done while I work full-time here. [again, #1]

Boss: Do you know how many people I’ve turned down for a job here? [#6]

Me: I don’t know how relevant that is to my situation, but I understand that there are plenty more people out there who would love to have this job that I’m leaving behind.

Boss: Are you sure you are thinking straight? Are you sure your mind is in the right place? You don’t suffer from any mental condition? [#7]

(At this point, if there was a 0.001% chance of me staying, it quickly went to zero for this exact reason.)

Me: No, really, I feel that if I commit to a job I dislike, I’d be doing both of us a disservice. [#8]

Boss: Look, I built this company out of necessity. I don’t even like the work I do. [#9!] But as long as companies are paying their employees, we will be in business and we will be making money. If you don’t want to be a part of that, I can’t stop you. But I appreciate your consideration in letting me know so early.

Analysis

Let me be clear, my former boss is a good guy and he did a lot for me during my time with the payroll company. But this conversation served two functions for me. A) it was the spark I needed to never commit to a life of mediocrity, and B) outlined the mentality of people who have committed to a life of mediocrity.

Let’s take a look at the primary lessons from this conversation. Numbers 1 through 9 correspond to segments of the conversation, and the rest are overarching, big picture lessons.

Never burn bridges. Make sure to be as respectful and considerate as possible while cutting the tethers. You never know if or when you will ever cross paths with your boss again. You never know what opportunities or in what capacity you may need to call upon them in the future.

You have decided that you value your time, abilities, and untapped potential more than your boss does. Be as clear and direct with them as possible. Leave no room for confusion. You have no tolerance for mediocrity. You are taking control of your life, and no one should be able to talk you out of it.

Sooner or later, you need to realize that you are replaceable. If they can train you to do the job you do, they can easily train someone else to do your job for cheaper. That day will come. And with each passing day, it will come sooner than you might imagine.

If you’re thinking of one day quitting your miserable job, please don’t do it before you have a plan, unless you have the time, resources, and freedom to take such a risk. (But also guard against using prudence as an excuse for not taking action).

Your boss will most likely be taken aback, especially if you’ve been a reliable employee for 3+ years. Level one of their defense will be summarizing what they have done for you. Listen closely–they will show you their exact repertoire of tools most companies use to keep employees firmly entrenched in a career of paper-shuffling. (Because why would anyone choose this kind of work?)

Level two: they will use social proof. They will employ the “finish your food because there are hungry people out there” strategy that you might have heard from your parents during your childhood. Don’t let that fool you. You are replaceable.

If all else fails, the boss will begin to question your sanity. As stunned as I was to be asked such a question, I recognized it for what it was: a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was no going back at that point, and this question helped me to never regret it.

Keep a level head. Remove emotion from the equation. Stick to the truth. Understand what many bosses can’t: if an employee isn’t happy, it will negatively impact the operation of the business. Sometimes loyalty and dedication can’t be bought.

This is one of the all-time memorable lines in the history of boss-employee interaction. Whenever meaningful work is on my mind (which is often), I can still hear him repeating “I don’t even like the work I do” in my head. At least he was honest! This is the clearest lesson to be careful about which path you take. Get too far down the wrong path, and you’ll spend all of your life either retracing your steps or hating the work you do.

If you are going to set out on your own, keep an eye on your motives. If it is your dream of doing business deals, taking phone calls all the time, going on sales calls, managing employees, and the status symbol of being “boss” that motivates you, you might be condemning yourself to misery of a different flavor. On the other hand, if you are drawn to the values of creativity, helping others, and personal freedom, then you have a lifetime of purpose ahead of you.

You will be tempted (in fact, we’ve all been programmed) to stay true to the safe course and take what is “guaranteed.” Refer to #5 again. The safe road is guaranteed income, healthcare, two weeks a year of vacation, and a guaranteed (and crowded) path to mediocrity and misery. The safe path is easy, which is why everyone takes it. If you want any sort of significance, adventure, meaning, or anything beyond the grey walls of your cubicle, you must be willing to make the hard decisions, do the hard things, and take full ownership of every aspect of your life.

The promises of the future rarely ever turn out the way you envision. Banking on retiring to a sunbathed town in South Florida 30 years from now? Think you’ll be swimming in millions of dollars of your own hard-earned salaried work? (Here’s a surprise: when you get older and too expensive, refer to #3). Look at how much your life has been changed by COVID-19! Think these things won’t happen multiple times in the next 30 years? Anything can throw your carefully curated plan far off course. In these situations, would you rather put your destiny in someone else’s hands? Or would you rather have full say over your life and build your own path to freedom? Good news: It’s an easy answer. Bad news: it’s a hard decision.

Speaking of surprises, we all love a Baker’s Dozen: If being self-employed is your objective, you will learn that running a business is NOTHING like what they teach you in business school. After I left the payroll company, I eventually went on to learn the ins and outs of business through managing a 80+ employee, multi-million dollar restaurant. Managing a multi-variate complex system like this gave me the knowledge that can be applied to anything I do for the rest of my life. Moral: don’t pay ridiculous sums of money on irrelevant business school classes. Find a way to learn on someone else’s dime, so you will be well positioned to pursue your own personal and financial freedom.

The Wolves or the Waterfall?

I envision most people’s careers to be a perpetual scenario where they are standing between the edge of a huge waterfall (financial and personal freedom), with no view of what’s below (inherent risk), and a pack of wolves (9-5 mediocrity, other people’s expectations) ready to tear them to shreds. You can test the waters all you want, but I doubt the water temperature will matter once the wolves get a hold of you.

Don’t get eaten by the wolves. Don’t live your life according to what the wolves will allow you to do. Don’t relegate yourself to a lifetime of meaningless work and mediocrity. It’s a risk almost guaranteed to fail. (At least if this scenario were real, the wolves won’t lead you on so much!)

Take life into your own hands and jump. If you position yourself to land properly, and you learn how to swim, you stand more of a chance of surviving than if you face the wolves. When you plunge into the water below, you will have a difficult journey to safety, but at least you’ll have the ability to swim your way to freedom.

Dare to Say No

While personal and financial freedom is the ultimate goal, it doesn’t just happen on its own. This post represents the spark that will send you off into deep exploration. It is not the stagnation in mediocrity, but the pursuit of purpose and meaning that will bring value to the lives of others, which will ultimately give you the freedom you so desire.

And that, in a nutshell represents what this blog is about. If I can convince just one person to take full control of their destiny, add value to at least one person’s life, challenge one person to live life at full potential,  encourage one person to live a truly unparalleled life, then I feel like I’ve done my part in moving the world forward. Because eventually, the world will move you forward whether you’re ready or not. So why not get a head start?

Say no, once and for all, to mediocrity.

https://joebalcom.blog/mediocrity/

[artificialqueens]

Lipstick City (Sashea Lesbian AU) by Oxford

 AN: So it’s been a minute. This is the longest fic I’ve ever written at 13K+ and honestly I could have kept going despite it being piss poor in quality. I’m not too satisfied with the ending but it’ll do for the purposes of not going on and on forever! This is inspired by Lipstick City, set a year after the events of the film. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. - Oxford 

 “Stronger than lover’s love is lover’s hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make.” ― Euripides, Medea

She was wearing Chanel No. 5 draped in her Cartier Paris Nouvelle Vague necklace and all was right in the world once more. Shea Couleé  lounged on her satin chaise, the epitome of ethereal serenity, with her dark eyes cast down to a crinkled copy of Tipping the Velvet. 

Unopened storage boxes towered around her, the team of removal men had spent the majority of the past few days like a colony of leaf cutter ants in a constant procession until they pleaded for dismissal; there was still half a truck to unload. She had journeyed away from her beloved Chicago, from her friends and parties and modelling agency all in the name of love. The love for an eight million dollar empire called Couleé Enterprises.

Shea had married Mr Couleé, the debonair ex-bachelor son of the newly deceased CEO, three years ago back when she was a high rising socialite in the Parisian scene. Born and bred in France, the two fled the European circle in search of expanding their success and found themselves front and centre of Chicago’s elite. 

With a well respected surname and abundant financial security, Shea launched her modelling career to the awe of Chicago. Statuesque with poise of a classical dancer, Shea’s face could be found in any fashion magazine. She was Grace Kelly and Grace Jones combined. But all that was lost once more as her husband followed the money trail out of the city and into a small town just outside New York.

The echoed slam of a door caused Shea to pause her reading but her eyes did not leave the page.

“Darling, I am heading to work now.” Her husband called; in French, of course. Shea had ruled that whilst they were alone they were to only speak their mother language to keep the romanticism alive. He popped his head round the door and observed his wife in her relaxed position. “I shall see you tonight for dinner.” Without waiting for a reply, he pursed his lips, kissing the air and vanished. Shea exhaled deeply. The novel carelessly slipped from her fingers.  Alone completely. Friendless, lost in an unknown town, Shea found little comfort in her housebound state.

Rising, Shea glided to the bay windows, sashaying around the precariously placed boxes. The view from the crystal glass overlooked the vast green patio of her chateau, extending so that Shea also had a full view of the neighbouring garden. Her neighbour thus far had remained a mystery, the modest house seemed silent and unhabituated but the decking that Shea was privy to was crammed full of potted plants of roses. Interesting. 

An iron cast table and chair set looked weathered and well-used, a smaller ceramic pot was sat on one of the two chairs. Shea guessed that perhaps the resident lived alone. In her peripheral vision, sudden movement coming from the house excited her. The backdoor had been swung open and Shea watched with the hungry anticipation of an isolated extrovert to see who would be revealed to her.

At first all she saw was light blonde hair, sleek at the roots but styled so that it permed out half way down the head. The figure, a woman - a young woman – to Shea’s surprise, tottered out in black Capri trousers and a pink blouse. Her face was obstructed by round sunglasses that perched on the end of her slender arched nose. The woman perched herself at the rusting table and chair set holding a book Shea could just make the title of. Gender Trouble. Very interesting. 

The peeping housewife felt her mouth go dry. She was known back in Chicago as a determined individual, if she wanted something she got it and that included people. Imposed friendships always worked in her favour, for who didn’t want the attention of such a talented and glamorous individual that Shea undeniably was?

A (presumably) single young woman living by herself in a small town couldn’t possibly refuse the friendship of big-city star Shea Couleé. Suddenly, the door bell rang loud and Shea jumped into a scowl. The new workforce her husband has employed to run the excessively vast house as Shea instructed kept her busy for the rest of the day. By the time she had a free moment to return to the bay window in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the woman next door, the garden was deserted. Shea ruffled the curtain in annoyance before storming to resume her homely duties.

The next three days were nothing but curious glances at an empty garden. Shea knew she should have just gone over there on the first day to introduce herself but in between the house staff and a visit from the local Women’s Association run by two enthusiastic women called Alexis Michelle and Trinity Taylor, who implored her deeply to grace the weekly meetings with her presence, Shea was unsure if the woman she had seen even occupied the house daily.  

Maybe she was a figment of Shea’s desperate mind? That was, until, a light rhythmic tapping roused her from a Vogue catalogue one afternoon. And there she stood. On the porch, her hands twisted together around an A4 sketch pad, the mystery neighbour beamed with the widest smile at Shea’s surprised yet delighted expression.

“Hello, darling.” She laughed and Shea could not help but return the smile, charmed at the enthused informality. “I’m awfully sorry for not introducing myself sooner but work has taken over my life recently. I’m your neighbour from the next door down, Sasha, how have you been settling in? Is this a good time?” Shea moved from her languid position against the door frame to extend her hand invitingly.

“Absolutely, impeccable timing, chérie.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss on either of Sasha’s pale cheeks, aiming to impress by displaying the full French allure. Unfazed, Sasha leant into the gesture, squeezing Shea’s hand warmly. “Enchanté…Sasha. Shea. Shea Couleé.” Sasha laughed.

“What a fabulous name! You are French? What a breath of fresh air you are to this provincial town.” Shea kept Sasha’s hand firmly in her own, her famous confident smile blooming for the first time since arriving in the unfamiliar town.

“On the contrary, Sasha, it is you who are the breath of fresh air to my lonesome situation. There is not much here in terms of company for a woman, it seems, unless you are a middle-aged housewife. The Woman’s Association have already bombarded me with their…hospitality.” Sasha laughed harder, the sound was unfeminine but filled with unreserved joy, which Shea could not help but fixate her smile on.

“Oh they’re an alright bunch, really. I go to their meetings every once in a while to help out in the community and do art for them. It is a good way to get to meet people so I’d recommend you go a few times if you’re not too introverted.” Shea nodded in consideration.

“Will you be at the next meeting?”

“I shall.”

“Then so shall I.” Sasha flushed, evidently flattered at Shea’s declaration. The model continued, intrigued by her guest. “You do art?”

“I do.” Sasha nodded passionately. “I love painting and photography and performance art – all sorts. Art is revolutionary, you know, it’s so liberating and freeing from social constructs. Not many people appreciate its power. Anything and everything can be art. I lecture at a university in New York and do art shows on the side so…I’m a bit of an art enthusiast.”

“I shall have to get you to paint or photograph me sometime.” Shea pondered before adding with sanctimonious modesty. “I’m a model.” She revelled as Sasha’s eyes widened with awe.

“I can definitely see that.” The two fell into a buzzed silence, anticipating each other’s next words, wanting to say so much more. 

Shea soaked in Sasha’s pale complexion, they were almost at opposite ends of the spectrum with Shea’s dark hand encased by strikingly white fingers. She admired her quirky yet still upscale regalia, Sasha was fitted into a tight orange pencil skirt and a banana yellow turtleneck. The gaudy blue rose pinned above her breast was, however, questionable. 

Much to Shea’s dismay, Sasha turned her head to glance at her own house. “I should be going, you must be terribly busy with unpacking. Please do come over to mine whenever you feel like it. I’m always in after two-thirty. I should very much like to get to know you more, Miss Couleé.” Shea fluttered her lashes. Releasing Sasha’s hand, she resumed her sloped stance against the wooden frame, her hip jaunting out.

“Shea, please. It’s Miss Couleé if you’re nasty.” Winking, she hummed a laugh as Sasha chortled loudly again. She’s either oblivious or she also enjoys the works of Nineteenth century Sapphic literature, Shea mused as she waved her neighbour goodbye.

“Women’s Association, this Friday, Seven O’clock.” Sasha called over her shoulder as she strolled across the small patch of green to her house. “I’m sure Alexis gave you the address.”  

The long summer days leading up to the Woman’s Association meeting passed in a daze. Shea looked out for Sasha in her garden, only spotting her once watering the excessive amount of roses and had to look away to prevent herself from banging on the window to get her attention. She barely noticed her husband’s company, or lack thereof, instead occupying her time with fantastical thoughts of Sasha. 

Her voice had been deeper and smoother than she had originally expected yet its tone was calming and soothing on the ears. She fantasised how erotic it would be to have Sasha read Tipping The Velvet to her as she lay on her chaise lounge in her finest lingerie. She was also enticingly tall, almost reaching Shea’s height. Her pale skin juxtaposed the vivid brightness of her azure eyes and were framed splendidly by big dark expressive brows. And those lips. Shea groaned as she pictured those delicious full red lips that formed words with unusual elegance.

Shea didn’t pride herself on having a type. She was most definitely open to everything and anyone…as long as they were of the familiar body type. Her husband, she was sure, did not pay enough attention to notice this. He was welcome to have his own distractions with flimsy skirts at his workplace as long as he was discreet. At the beginning of their marriage Shea had convinced herself that she had been in love with him; still unsure of her curious feelings towards women. Yet once she felt the sting and heart break over his affair, Shea had tossed caution to the wind, determined to find solace and satisfaction by sating her desire for women. She had, of course, been painstakingly discreet in her rendezvous’.

Only once had there been public rumours of her husband’s adultery, almost smearing their brand name. Shea had be furious. She has screamed and tore at the expensive possessions they had worked hard to afford. They could NOT afford public scandal, it would crumble their empire. He had promised it wouldn’t happen again and begged for forgiveness. Shea had scorned him, insulted that he assumed it was her pride as a wife that had been hurt. She had no qualms if he found satisfaction in the arms of another woman, oh no, just do not jeopardise his – her – their – fortune. Money was everything.

When the night of the meting came around, Shea was filled with shy nerves. Whether it was do to with being accepted by small town minds or being reunited with Sasha, the woman could not tell. She walked around aimlessly, watching as clusters of women hovered in and outside the hall, trying to spot the tall fair-haired figure with an air of blasé confidence. Sasha was sat at a round table surrounded by Alexis, Trinity and a two other women varying in age by the names of Peppermint and Nina.

“What are you looking for, Sasha?” Bright eyes turned their attention back to Peppermint.

“I had thought I had convinced my new neighbour to come along tonight.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Rich folk rarely leave their houses to mingle with the community riff raff.” Chimed Trinity, sitting to Sasha’s left, pausing her conversation with Alexis. “She’s married to some big CEO from Chicago, so I heard. Lucky bitch.” Sasha’s smile downturned.

“She told me she was a model.”

“Honey, she’s not going to afford a house like that just by being a model.” Said Alexis. Sasha laughed dryly in response.

“Have you seen her? She’s pure art.”

“I prefer more classic tastes myself.” The elder woman sipped on her drink. “In fact, I think –”  

“You came!” Sasha jumped from her seat, banging into the table resulting in multiple drinks to spill, and ran towards the tall dark beauty before her. Shea smiled cockily, secretly relieved, flicking the ends of her locks over her shoulder.

“Of course I came, I told you I would.” She grasped Sasha’s shoulders softly before tilting her head to kiss her cheeks in familiar greeting. Sasha gazed up at her with admiration and glee. “Now are you going to introduce me?”

The rest of the evening was filled with a steady flow of drinks and conversation that rose in pitch and tone as argumentative topics were debated. Shea noticed that whilst Sasha was definitely on the quieter side of the group, she had no fear of putting her point across when she felt it should be heard. She had placed Shea in her own seat, stealing Trinity’s when the woman had left to get another cocktail. As the booze set in, everyone’s posture relaxed and tongue’s loosened. Sasha had her arm resting behind Shea’s chair and Shea felt inclined to lean her back against it so that her fur coat brushed against the pale hand.

They stole glances at one another and smiled when their eyes met every time, giggling and passing comments in hushed tones as the older women slurred insults at one another. They argued over who was the producer of an old amateur dramatics production they had created. Rolling her eyes, Sasha pulled a face as Alexis claimed to have been given a smaller part due to dedicating her time as a producer. Hiccupping, Shea gave her meaningful look a she sipped on the remnants of Sasha’s cocktail. Red lipstick stained the straw but Shea didn’t care. The blonde smiled with mirth and Shea had a fleeting thought about how pretty she looked.

“Would you like to come round mine sometime?” Sasha asked sweetly, giggling.

“How about now?” Shea shot back, shooting her a flirtatious look. Again, Sasha merely laughed.

“For dinner. Or late lunch. Or just drinks.”

“Dinner.” Shea agreed. “Two Mondays time, shall we say six?” Sasha beamed.

“I’ll see you then. Otherwise….I know where you live.” Shea chuckled at the whimsical threat.

“Ooh girl, that’s not exactly a punishment I’d avoid.” Any other occasion Shea would not have easily let herself flirt shamelessly. But this was a new beginning, no one here really knew her and her socialite status did not follow her into this suburban town. The alcohol loosened her tongue and made her feel uninhibited. Shea was also realising that Sasha was a very good sport, laughing at all her jokes and flirtatious jibes that Shea was curious to see how far she could push it.

“Miss Shea Couleé,” Sasha drawled, her body swaying in her seat slightly under the influence. “Are you even married with the way you talk like that?” Shea paused, her smile frozen.

“Girl, I’ll have you know it was this mouth that got me my husband.” She licked her tongue across her lips. Sasha smirked and fiddled with the hem of her short patterned dress. Shea let her eyes flicker to her bare thigh. Her gaze traced up, appreciating the slender form of her friend. “And, as the ladies here have speculated, his eight million dollar fortune.” She regarded Sasha’s reaction but the other girl smiled sympathetically.

“Pay none of these women any mind. I hope you’re very happy together.”

“I…am.” Shea knew she didn’t sound sure. “I am happy. How could I not be? I have more money than I can spend. I’m beautiful and fierce and smart and my friends back in Chicago love me. I’m a model in magazines, people know who I am.” Sasha nodded with a pensive expression.

“You must love him very much.” Shea dropped her gaze, the raucous party around them long forgotten.

“I’d have nothing without him.”

-X-

When Monday rolled around, Shea spends the majority of the humid afternoon laying outfits on her bed in preparation for her meal with Sasha. Lost in the inspection between two dresses, Shea’s husband wondered in.

“What are you up to, darling?” Without turning, Shea continued to scrutinize her outfits.

“I’m going out to dinner with our neighbour. Sasha.” Shea heard shuffling behind her but didn’t care enough to see what her husband was doing.

“That’s nice. Who? Never heard or seen any neighbours.” Shea gave a non-committal hum. The man behind her reviewed himself in the floor length mirror. “So what are you doing with yourself these days? I never see you round the house anymore.”

“I spend my time with the Women’s Association. Sasha and I go. She’s going to paint me or photograph me.” No response. Finally throwing a dress behind her, Shea strutted to her shoe cupboard.

“Is that who you call at all hours of the night?” Shea pretended she didn’t hear the question. “You know, Sasha’s a pretty sexy name. Russian.” She froze. Her heart caught in her throat.

“I thought you didn’t know of our neighbours? I’d prefer if you kept your trysts at your workplace and not make a fool of yourself where we have to live.”

“Oh, you heard that then.” Her husband folded his arms and glared at her. “Answer me. Is that who you’re calling at every ungodly hour in the night?” Shea turned to face him and studied his face.

“Yes.” He sighed, expression relieved.

“Good. That’s fine. Just try to keep it down when you’re calling your girl friend. As long as it isn’t a man I have to worry about.” Shea gaped at him incredulously. “Also, I told you I’m not going to have any affairs anymore. It was just a one time mistake.” Lies, lies, vicious lies. Shea bit her tongue, her fiery temper burning to demand the truth.

“No.” She snapped. “I am not and will not be calling a man.” Mr Couleé nodded indifferently and made to exit the room.

A deep cold loathing rose to Shea’s throat. She clutched her shoes with a vice grip forcing herself to not throw them at the back of her husband’s head. It was indeed a fact that, after the first WA meeting Shea attended, Sasha had scrawled her number onto Shea’s napkin with a pencil the artist had found tucked into her hair.

“Call me. Anytime, day or night, if you need someone to talk to.” And as the days bled into one another with no interaction from people outside her household Shea had, with trembling fingers, called her one night. It had rung only three times before the low, smooth tones of Sasha’s voice answered cheerily.  

“Hello?”

“Bonsoir chérie,” Shea winced as she glanced at her grand oak clock. “I am sorry for calling you so late, you weren’t sleeping were you?”

“Hi!” Sasha’s voice had sounded drained and Shea had bit her lip, mortified for clearly disturbing the woman. “It’s okay, I was just cleaning up my brushes. I had an inspired session in my studio tonight. Who knew painted animated projections could look so Warhol?”

It soon became a ritual that every other day Shea would call Sasha in the evening, making sure to not disturb her time in her make-shift home studio creating art. Shea would tell stories about her life in Chicago, her friends there, Lipstick City where the life she lived was beyond the imagination and the crazy shenanigans only stupid people with a stupid amount of money could pull off. Sasha listened avidly, asking interesting questions and offering her own thoughts. 

She presented her own encounters in New York, her performance art, her gallery shows, her social rights works. She spoke eagerly about what she thought the deconstruction of gender would mean for people outcast from the norms, people she knew and loved and shared her art with. Shea wanted to see that side to Sasha’s life. She wanted to take her back to Chicago to meet all her artistic friends and have Sasha school them on what the colours of the rainbow meant and how beauty can be found in anything if you look at it in different perspectives. It was less than a fortnight before every other night descended into calls multiple times a day.

The permanent fixture of this routine raised eyebrows amongst Shea’s house staff. They watched apprehensively as the housewife increasingly spent her time locked away, isolating herself with the telephone into the early hours of the morning. She never ate with her husband for any meal, it was rumoured that they hadn’t seen each other face to face since arriving in the town, taking to live in opposite sides of the house. Some wondered if it was a European lifestyle choice. Others wondered if either partner was having an affair. A minority of smart, thoughtful individuals wondered their estranged relationship was due to Shea’s love of homoerotica extending beyond  literature.

When the hour drew closer to their awaiting dinner date, Shea fixed the details of her outfit before strutting outside to march next door. She was shrouded in diamonds from her neck to her wrists and fingers. Her curves were accentuated by a black bodysuit with gold embroidery. The essence of opulence.

The house was a fraction of the size compared to Shea’s. The paint was peeling and rot was setting in. A purely sorry state. Checking her makeup in her compact, Shea fiddled with her curls as she rapped on the door. A beat passed before it was flung open and Shea could not contain an amused grin. Adorned in a fuchsia pink sparkling evening dress with a giant feather flower pinned to front, Sasha had a crown - was that made of felt?��� – perched precariously on her head.

“It’s a good thing I dressed up for the occasion.” Shea laughed. “I love this.” She pointed to the crown and Sasha laughed, her smile simultaneously eerily wide and beautiful. “Very glam.”

“You look gorgeous.” Sasha gushed as they exchanged pecks on their cheeks. “I have to take your photo tonight in my studio. I’ll put it in my magazine – with your blessing of course.”

“How could I resist such an offer?” Shea cooed, strutting into the small living room. She eyed everything, eagerly embracing all the mess. Art supplies were strewn all over book cases haphazardly, posters and polaroids and sketches were pinned to the walls. A true artists den.

“I know this is isn’t as grand as Maison du Couleé,” Sasha said awkwardly, coming up beside her. “but it’s home.”

“It’s perfect.” Shea smiled warmly. “I’m very nostalgic, this reminds me of my first apartment in Paris.”

“I can’t ever imagine you in anything but the chicest and most high-class setting.” Sasha confessed, leading the way to the cosy kitchen. Shea watched her dress sway and curve around her behind with appreciation.

“Oh I was a banji bitch in my time. I’m just equally as bougie now.” Sasha offered a dining chair for Shea as she prepared food at the counter. “I should take a picture of you right now. All dressed like a queen doing her own cooking. Tells quite the story.” Sasha chuckled, blushing the same colour as her ensemble.  

“I never let anyone cook for me. I am queen of this castle and in my kingdom I get to choose what I eat and no one can force me to do otherwise. Mainstream media can fuck off with their body shaming, telling women what and not to eat.” Shea regarded her quietly, a deeper story set behind her words. Deciding not to ruin the mood and dwell on it tonight, she instead gave a breathy sigh.

“Well don’t take it out on the iceberg, you’re practically fisting that salad, girl, let alone tossing it. You use your hands so forcefully.” Sasha instantly snorted and smiled coyly.

“Well, it is known that that bisexuals are some of the most forceful and unforgettable lovers…”Shea felt her stomach tighten as Sasha’s features creased as she choked into laughter at her own joke but instantaneously twisted her face seductively.  Shea felt flawed at the transformation.

“Wanna try some?” She offered her folk up invitingly. Shea traced her tongue over the shape of her lips dramatically.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Leaning over, Sasha brought the folk to Shea’s open mouth. Shea refused to break eye contact as she wrapped her lips around the utensil and moaned deeply. Sasha didn’t move, her eyes were glued to Shea as she swallowed and moaned heavily. Even though the innuendos were a regular circumstance of their time together, tension hung in the air tonight.

“You like that?” Sasha murmured, her head tilting forward unintentionally. Shea watched the action with exhilaration.

“Hmm…needs more chocolate. Nobody eats enough chocolate around here.”  Pale cheeks deepened to a rose hue.

“I agree, I love eating chocolate. But Shea, this is the entreé, not dessert.” The line between humour and sincerity had blurred. Shea gorged herself on the sight of Sasha’s quickened breath, her chest rising and falling at a foxtrot speed and the suggestive allure of her countenance. The only question was, how was Sasha seeing all this? Was it still just a joke? She had stopped laughing but…

“Sasha,” Shea drawled the name affectionately. “Do you have solutions for those of us who love to eat dessert but hate waiting until the end of meal?” Shea slid her hand cautiously across the table to cover Sasha’s. The blonde didn’t move, her face was unreadable. Hesitantly Shea rose from her seat, her hand still in place above the smaller one, her gaze held the unspoken question. This was not Shea’s first time trying to make a pass at a woman and she was confident in herself that her techniques worked. But this wasn’t a random acquaintance in a Chicago bar, this was Sasha. Her neighbour. Her friend. Her best friend. “You never actually told me you were bi.”

Sasha shrugged nonchalantly.

“My sexuality doesn’t define me and is definitely not the most interesting thing to talk about.” Shea nodded.

“Agreed. It’s no one’s business. At all.” Self-assurance flowing, this was the moment, the taller woman  swooped down to finally kill the chase. Sasha jerked her head away. Shea halted, her eyes opening wide with shock.

“W-What…”

“Nice try.” Sasha’s voice was soft with disapproval.  Shea stuttered incoherently. “You’re married, Shea. This was cute but I’m not actually going to sleep with you.” Pulling away gently, the blonde backed herself against the counter.

“So you’re not into me? At all?” Shea pressed, wounded. Sasha’s eyes narrowed sympathetically.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it. I just don’t condone cheating.” Shea clenched her jaw.

“So men can have all the fun but us women have to sit tight, put up with their shit and rise above it?” Sasha was taken aback by the abrupt tone.

“I didn’t say that, did I? Why be with someone if you’re just going to cheat on them? A relationship should be built on love and trust.” Shea laughed derisively.

“Try explaining that to my husband.” Wide blue orbs sparkled with pity into dark emotional irises. Crossing the space between them, Sasha wrapped her arms around her friend.

“I’m sorry, Shea.” She whispered into her neck. The hairs on Shea’s neck tingled and stood to attention. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, is it.” Shea sighed, dropping her head into the blonde locks. She smelt like roses. “I’m not in love with him. I was but…not anymore. I’m so lonely here. All my friends are back in Chicago. My modelling is there. Everything. I’m trapped in this stupid town in that stupid house. No one understands me. Expect you.” Shea timidly brought her arms around Sasha’s waist, accepting the embrace.

“I know, I know, darling.” Sasha consoled. “You’re always welcome here, this is your home now too. You’re an incredible person, Shea, don’t get lost in the negativity.” Shea felt her chest ache. How was she supposed to let go of Sasha when all she felt from her was nothing but the love and acceptance she craved? Her fingers trembled, resisting the urge to dig into Sasha’s waist.

Dinner forgotten, the two young women made their way hand in hand to salvage the rest of their date. Entering the tiny dim studio, Sasha proudly presented her current art pieces to her new audience; an elaborate explanation was recited alongside each canvas and Shea could see the art lecturer in her bloom. Smiling at the set up, she sauntered over to the camera and struck a pose.  

“Here’s your photo opportunity, ma chérie, make it count.” Sasha laughed but hastily lit the set before capturing the arabesque form.  

“Art.” She declared. “Let me take another.”

The sun had melted into an ebony nightfall, unbeknownst to the two friends as they crammed prop after prop into a stream a photos, Shea very quickly coaxing the artist into the frames with her. Laughter rang around the room, completely private, no one to witness the two women dance about in playful bliss.

“I wish we could do this every day.” Shea sighed in contentment as she slipped into the other side of Sasha’s bed. There had been no suggestion of Shea retiring back to her own empty abode. She had quietly followed Sasha, tiptoeing behind her while Sasha smiled knowingly to herself but refrained from commenting.

“There’s no reason why we can’t.” Sasha hummed, letting her dress plummet to the floor. She bared no shame or reserved-ness towards her scantily clad form. Shea averted her eyes as her bed friend removed her stockings and bra before tossing on a satin slip. She has leant one to Shea for the night but it rode too high and her breasts felt exposed. Not that Sasha showed any notice. Shea quelled the bubbling excitement as her mind wondered to fantasies that stemmed from her extensive literature collection. As soon as the room snapped into darkness, the second figure dipping into the bed seemed intimately close.

Shea shuffled to make herself comfortable and brushed against the side of Sasha’s warm body. Murmuring an apology, she frowned as the only sound in return was shallow breathing. Of course she would be asleep instantly, Shea rolled her eyes. Yet despite her complaint, she found herself rapidly following suit. 

The two bodies drew closer as the night progressed, arms thoughtlessly flung themselves around, drawn to the softness and heat of the other. If any trespasser were to come across their resting silhouettes, they’d be none the wiser that the two weren’t steady lovers. Sasha’s hands curled into Shea’s chest, her head buried into her shoulder. Her companion had a hand flung possessively over her hip, fingers curling into the skimpy slip.

The next morning proved a lot less idyllic. Sasha had a piercing alarm set for the crack of dawn, her lecturer life commanding attention back to reality. Shea groaned in protest, swearing under her breath in French, as the warm body in her arms rolled away. Gripping the now abandoned pillow as a substitute, Shea let herself fall back to sleep whilst Sasha quietly prepared for the day ahead. When she finally felt herself succumb to the waking world, Shea immediately felt her back muscles tense. Maybe there was a way to replace Sasha’s mattress without her knowing about it, she pondered in her hazy state. A red note was carefully positioned on the bedside cabinet.

Good morning sleepy head!

I’m afraid I have lectures all day, so I won’t be back until this evening. Feel free to help yourself to breakfast although I’m afraid you may have a more luxurious variety in your own chateau.

Please put the spare key back through the letter box once you go.

See you tonight at the WA?

~ Sasha ~ x

A tender smile etched across Shea’s lips. She arched her back, trying to ease the knots that had been caused by broken bed springs. Swinging her long legs over the bed, Shea traipsed to the tiny kitchen – the uncooked food from the previous night remained untouched in their positions around the crammed work counter. Opening the fridge, Shea cringed at the pitiful state. Leftovers, a spilt carton of milk and some cherry tomatoes were the only contents. So much for breakfast, Shea thought dryly. Flinging the door closed in disgust, the model huffed as she contemplated her current predicament. No food, messy kitchen…only one thing for it.

-X-

Sasha was more than ready for a quiet night to herself after an arduous day with her art dealer. Her hand was being tied to committing more hours to her work, the demand for another soiree was the highest yet but Sasha knew her art, however celebrated, did not pay her extortionate bills. Her hair had frizzed in the heat, the sleek parting appeared dishevelled but Sasha merely hid the mess with a cylinder hat. 

Her favourite rounded sunglasses slipped down her face as she trudged with her materials to the porch. Fiddling with the key, Sasha bit her lip in confusion as the lock refused to turn. Did Shea forget to lock the door when she left? The door opened under her touch and Sasha cautiously entered. Bold brows rose, startled, as a figure lay like a Grecian statue on her davenport sofa.

“You’re still here?”

Shea smiled from her spot, opening her arms in welcome. Sasha noted the change of clothes and pristine makeup and wondered if Shea had gone home to spritz up before letting herself back in.

“How was work, chérie?”  Kicking off her heels and glasses, Sasha dumped the contents in her arms to the side before descending into Shea’s open arms. She felt charmed at the domesticity of the situation, not used to having someone waiting for her return.

“Work was hard.” She sighed in between the now commonplace kisses on cheeks. “Budge over, my feet hurt.” Making room so that Sasha could sit with Shea’s head in her lap, the two stared at each other in comfortable silence.

“I bought groceries.” Shea commented, crossing her ankles. “You had no food.” The blonde grimaced, bringing a hand to run through her hair resulting in her hat falling behind her.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Shea gazed up at her, a sweetness to her expression that made Sasha bite her lip.

“I wanted to. I can’t have you starving, now, can I? You got a nice ass but the rest of you needs feeding up.”

“Don’t, you sound like everyone else.” Sasha admonished.

“How many people have you got telling you your ass is great?” her friend jested, flicking Sasha on the arm. Sasha laughed sarcastically.

“What else did you do today besides be my little hausfrau?”

“I cleaned your kitchen  - well, I sent my staff over to clean it up and I made you dinner.” Shea admitted, her fingers tangled in her beads nervously. “Is that too much?”

“It’s…extremely thoughtful of you.” Sasha praised, mustering an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

“C’est ne rien, ma chérie.” Full dark lips pouted up her companion to blow a kiss.

They spent the next two hours recounting their day, Shea proudly presenting the meal she had slaved over with her own two hands. She was not about to admit that it had taken her the best part of the afternoon to perfect. She mulled over her glass of Cointreau, silently congratulating herself as Sasha flooded her with praise after praise. The woman was, however, disappointed when Sasha suddenly declared that she was leaving for a meeting with Alexis, Trinity and the woman only referred to as Peppermint.

“I thought you said you were tired.” Shea’s voice hitched, pleading for her friend to retire for the night with her.

“I am but it’s important.” Sasha insisted with a final tone. “We’ve got a responsibility to our community.”

Conceding, Shea soon found herself in the midst of a fiery debate over a charity performing arts showcase. To her right, Sasha was passionately defending ribbon dancing whilst Alexis was imploring to the table that the show should focus on Broadway show tunes. Soothing her temple with a gloved finger, Shea sighed.

“Is there no way we can have both and move on from this?” Peppermint chimed in agreement, nodding vigorously whilst Trinity decided to throw in her own ideas. What a mess. Sasha’s were brows furrowed in disgruntlement as she beseeched the bickering table.

“Listen, I think we should – ”  

“What we really need to be doing,” Shea interjected, raising her voice above the blonde. Sasha glared at her, resenting how her friend cut her off rudely. This was her idea. They should be taking direction from her, the artist, as to how this show should be directed. Granted, Sasha had to acknowledge that Shea’s contributions were very good. But she did not appreciate being forcibly ejected from the debate. Silently seething, the blonde simmered to herself.

“Sasha you agree with me, right?” Shea whipped her head round expectantly and Sasha felt the burn of four demanding faces. She had to steer this debacle away from potential bloodshed and tears.

“I do really like your ideas, Shea,” Sasha affirmed. “But – ”

“Honestly, this whole thing is a shambles right now,” Alexis said, loftily. “You’re clearly not used to a leadership role for a project this size and it’s showing. You’re behaviour is too insecure to manage this project.” Sasha was stunned.

“I think I’m doing just fine.” She straightened in her seat. “I think my strategy just doesn’t work for you, Miss Alexis. I would be better if everyone stopped talking over me and  -”

“To be fair,” Shea, intercepted. Sasha bit her tongue in exasperation. “We’ve all been going off over Sasha but she’s been trying to keep us in line and create something that includes everyone.” Alexis leaned forward, waving her hands as she spoke. Trinity and Peppermint threw side glances, roused by the heated debate.

“Frankly I feel like Sasha is explicitly trusting you and your vision of this more than mine or Trinity’s or Peppermint’s.”

“Actually,” Sasha’s voice rose in outrage. “I feel like Shea is stepping on my toes a little bit.” Affronted, Shea’s eyes shone with surprise and hurt.

“Honestly, I was just trying to share my ideas –”

“You straight up just spoke over me like everyone else did, to be honest.” The two eyed each other wearily, an awkward strain rising between them.

“Time to call it a night.” Peppermint piped up.

“Agreed.”

Shea had driven Sasha and herself to the disastrous meeting however as they parted, the blonde made a move to walk away from the direction she had parked in.

“Hey,” Shea called, soured by Sasha’s mood. “I’m driving you home.”

“I would like to walk.” Came the curt reply. Shea exhaled sharply and stomped over to the woman, grabbing her hand.

“Just get in the car, Sasha, you’re not walking home in the dark.” Sasha blinked before shifting in embarrassment. The ride home was thick with a tense silence. Shea was thankful when they finally reached their destination. As she pulled up, she twisted her body to face her friend.

“We’re really not going to fall out over Alexis wanting to micro-manage, are we?”

“It wasn’t just Alexis.” Sasha chastised, looking up at Shea’s worried expression. “You barely let me get a word in, either. I expect that kind of thing from them but not you.”

A lump formed in Shea’s throat, she fought the urge to argument defensively; something she would have done to her friends back in Chicago.

“I…I just wanted to get involved.” Sasha smiled, dolefully, placing her hand above Shea’s.

“I know. Your ideas were the best ones, anyway. I just wanted this to be an equally collaborative project.” She gave a slight squeeze of her hand before taking her leave. Shea remained. Her pensive countenance was noted upon when she finally forced herself to return to her own house, a sinking sensation weighing upon her. Her husband had not noticed her absence, wholly apathetic to her plight. He was leaving for a night in New York. Business purposes only. Of course.

With a new layer of exhausted emotions, Shea cradled her pearl rotary dial phone as she waited for Sasha to answer. Sasha would comfort her, she would forget about their silly tiff and see how much Shea appreciated her. The dial tone sounded continuously until the realisation hit Shea like a concrete brick. Sasha was ignoring her call. Slamming the handset down, Shea flung herself to the chaise lounge unable to face a night of frightful sleep.

Hours trickled one after the other and Shea drowned in a sense of inconsolable dread.  The one person she wanted, needed, to talk to right now was outright rejecting her. No one had ever rejected her before. Shea did not make allowances for moping behaviour. Not from anyone, especially herself. Sasha may be upset with her but Shea would be damned if she was going to let a petty row interfere with their relationship. Blustering with haste, she stormed down and out to her neighbour’s porch. Wrapped only in a silk gown that scarcely hid her lingerie, Shea pounded her fist against the door. A moment passed before Sasha’s lethargic face peered around the door. She was blank with no makeup and her hair was set in rags.

“Shea?”

“Why did you ignore my call?”

“Your…your call? Jesus, Shea, what time even is it?” Shea pursed her lips as Sasha’s drowsy features gazed up at her in confusion. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

“I had to see you. To make it right.” Sasha tilted her head, yawning.

“Shea, this is…this is a lot.” The taller of the two women closed her hand around the smaller, holding it firmly.

“I know, I know I’m a lot to handle. I’m clingy person, I give too much of myself to the people I care about and it’s off putting. I know what I’m like, trust me. But…you…this friendship means too much to me. You’re the best thing about this wretched town; you should be in New York or Chicago or Paris living the life you always dreamed of for yourself, surrounded by fabulous people who appreciate you like I do.”

Sasha looked up at her dumbfounded. Shea prepared for the wave of rejection. “I know I impose my friendship too strongly and I’m sorry for not being the best friend I could have been to you. But I’m so grateful to have you in my life. I need you. I…you don’t even know, Sasha…”

The blood rose to Sasha’s cheeks at the declaration. Pulling Shea towards her with the hand that was locked in a vice grip, she slung her free arm over Shea’s shoulder to press against her. The embrace felt electric with emotion. Releasing hands, Shea crumbled under the touch and wrapped her arms around Sasha’s waist; their bodies meshing intimately.

“I love you too.” Mumbled Sasha. “I’m sorry for pushing you away. I just needed some space. This is pretty intense and I’ve never had a friendship like this before, you’re so…” Sasha swallowed, unsure of her words. “I just want you to be happy. Get out of that marriage, Shea, leave him and let yourself be happy. Be free. Go back to Chicago. Or…you could be with me. We can move to New York and do whatever we want. I care about you deeply – too much to let you carry on like this.”

Shea felt light headed. Dizzy with pure elation, she felt a new awakening inside her. She had never thought she’d live to see the day she’d consider giving up her fortune for anything, let alone for another person. Who could be that important? Whimpering, she heaved a sob into Sasha’s hair, the familiar faint scent of roses comforted her.

“I’m scared.” She confessed while Sasha rubbed circles into her back. “I’ll lose everything.”

“You’ll lose money.” Sasha corrected. “But what you’ll gain…you’ll have everything, Shea.” A gust of midnight wind caused a shiver to tremble between them. “You don’t even love him.” Sasha cried with sudden grievance. “You said so yourself – you don’t even love him.” She took a step back, eyeing Shea with begging eyes. “Please Shea…divorce your husband. Don’t let yourself live in misery.”

“I…” Shea trailed off, a panicked realisation shining in her eyes. “I want you…to be with you…Sasha…” Shea choked on her name, cupping her face in her palms desperately. Sasha held her wrists, her thumbs dancing in circles tenderly as their foreheads touched.

“Then leave him.” Sasha whispered, her eyes darting hungrily from dark eyes to full parted lips. Shea had never seen such a lustful expression from the woman. It made her body ache for contact, the force of her desire like a magnet. “Leave him and we can be together. Now…are you coming in or going back there?”

The invitation held such promise yet Shea could not but feel that her choice would finalise her fate. She bit her lip, uncertain of what implications her choice had. Sasha yawned.

“Either way, we both need to sleep. It’s been a long day.” The dark haired woman nodded, letting her hands fall from Sasha’s face as she was pulled in through the door. Sasha’s hold on her wrist continued as they ascended the staircase. No words passed between them as they entered the bedroom. Uncomfortably self-conscious, they glided under the sheets in darkness. Hands found one another and then, like a chain reaction, arms pushed and pulled greedily to enfold themselves together. Legs hooked around legs, brushing up and down, playing footsie.  

Shea felt Sasha’s breath on her face and inched close until their noses touched. Sasha sighed as they Eskimo kissed, tilting her face in blind search of Shea’s lips. She felt Shea gasp as she chastity pressed her lips to the corner of her mouth. Shea peppered kisses blindly along any skin she could feel, drunk on the euphoric sensation, stamping her lips down passionately. Finally, finally. Sasha shushed her, calming her, to ease her passion. The haste would have to subside, for now, but their exchange of kisses promised more. Finally, the two plummeted into an exhausted slumber, dread and hope for the days to come lingered in the air.

The next morning was cold. A grey drizzle set in. Shea lay with her head on Sasha’s chest enjoying the sensation of fingers caressing her scalp, twirling her hair.

“I’m going to tell him.” She muttered to herself. Sasha hummed, happily.

“I love it when you speak French.” She said, oblivious to the meaning of Shea’s declaration.

“I miss speaking it.” Shea confessed. “I had a rule that him and I, when we were alone, could only speak in French. I didn’t want to lose that part of myself.”

“That’s beautiful.” Sasha smiled. “I used to be perfectly fluent in Russian but I’ve never spoken it since moving away, so I’m terribly rusty.” Shea turned a surprised look up at her.

“You lived in Russia?”

“I am, in fact, Russian.” Sasha smiled widely. “Sasha is a Russian name but I chose Velour when I moved here because no one knew how to spell or speak my real surname.”

“Get out of town.” Shea rolled and sat up on her arms. “What brought you to the States?” Sasha’s eyes dimmed and she shrugged.

“I couldn’t be myself there. Expressing myself for who I am could have ended very…nastily.” Sighing, she gave a half-hearted smile. “I need to get up for work.”

-X-

The morning passed at a glacial pace. Sasha had not brought up the events of last night but before departing, she turned to Shea anxiously.

“Will I see you again tonight?” Shea had nodded vigorously.

“Most definitely.” She had loitered at the small den until one p.m., pacified by her surroundings and the smell of Sasha on every object yet she knew the fateful hour was approaching. Mr Couleé would be home at three. It was a Friday and so his schedule for the weekend never changed. Home by three,  straight to the decanter, back out to the bar by six.

Trudging along, Shea felt the weight of the judgemental stares by the house staff. She kept her head high, manner indifferent, as she stomped around the empty house. She stripped from her lingerie from the night before, choosing a simple rose toned dress and beret as her attire. Shea wondered if she should start packing her bags now so that she could make a swift exit after the conversation.

“So…you’re back, finally.” Shea’s stomach turned at the familiar voice. Spinning to face the direction of her husband, who stood blocking the bedroom door, Shea folded her arms.

“You noticed I was gone?” Mr Couleé glared, taking slow steps into the room.

“Actually I didn’t. But people have been talking.” A chill shot down Shea’s back. “People have been talking a lot about you, Shea. About you…and a woman.” A tense silence suffocated the room. “I cheated once and people talked. Now you’re doing exactly the same thing with a fucking woman and people are spreading gossip tenfold. Have you lost your goddamn mind?” His deep voice rose in a crescendo of fury. Shea stared him down, unblinking.

“Was it really that much of a shock to you?” She challenged.

“What could I have possibly done so offensively to you that you punish me with this?”

“Ha! Where do I even start? You’re rude, arrogant and have no respect for me or anyone around you. You fuck like a pig in the heat. Didn’t you ever feel my revulsion at your touch? I may have loved you once but you were no husband to me. Only a cheque book and you know it.” Eyes locked together, one in rage and the other in defiance. “I’m divorcing you.” The man burst into hard, sarcastic laugher.

“You’re not going to do that. You love my money too much. What will you do with yourself once you’re a penniless slapper dancing on tables again for change? Don’t forget where you came from before you met me, Shea.”

“I was rich on my own long before you.” Shea spat, her fingers clenched into fists and she stormed towards her husband. “You may have had more money but everyone knew I was the one settling for less in this farce of a marriage.”

“Who is it?” Couleé burned, his voice a vicious hiss. “It’s that woman next door, isn’t it? That poor pitiful plain mouse of a woman who lives in a shack. You’re going to leave all this to move into a derelict bungalow? Don’t make me laugh.” Shea gritted her teeth at the disgusted tone in his voice.

“Don’t you dare talk about her. She means more to me than you ever did. More than any of this.” Shea flung her arms to the room. “And I’m tired of living a lie. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. Enjoy the rest of your life fucking everything that glances in your general direction.”

Shea made a rush for the door, abandoning any idea of packing. A forceful wrench against her arm prevented any further escape.

“I’m not done talking -”

“Let go of me!” Shea swung herself round, yanking her arm over and over trying to break away. Her arm ached with pain as the vice like hand tightened. They struggled strenuously for a few minutes, panic overwhelming, until Shea frantically struck the man; her ringed fingers cut into his face. This did not however extract herself from his grip. Shea shrieked in anger, wildly snatching at anything within her reach from the vanity at her right to beat Mr Couleé off her.

Time slowed and sped simultaneously until a low, pained grunt paired with a cumbersome thwack sounded swiftly and Shea watched with shock and horror as the man fell to the ground; his eyes rolling up his head like a doll. Frozen in her defensive stance above him, Shea stared blankly down at the lifeless body with a brutal gash to the crown of his head. Oh no. Leaning cautiously, Shea poked his neck, his head rolled and flopped to the side flaccidly. Oh fuck. Dropping what turned out to be her iron paperweight, Shea closed her shaking hands over her gaping mouth.

Thoughts bled into one another. What was she supposed to do now? Shea back away from the body, recoiling at a fly that landed on a bloody cheek. She turned to the door, gradually making her way over and shut it quietly. The lock flipped. Shea eyed the body wearily, nauseous, wondering if the smell emitting from it was real or her imagination. Staggering over to the phone by her bedside,  Shea’s hands trembled pathetically as she dialled the one person she could think of who could help her. Lipstick City.

“Annyeonghaseyo?” The Korean voice warbled.

“Kim,” Shea sighed. “I need your help.”

“Who?”

“Bitch you know me, it’s Shea.”

“Ah, Miss Shea. More man trouble?” Shea’s eyes fell shut and she massaged her temple.

“You could say that. I’m…I’m gonna need the full clean and polish. With removal. Outside New York, do you have any…connections this far out?” There was a muffled shifting on the line and Shea swallowed, her mouth so dry her throat felt like sandpaper.

“Consider it done.”

-X-

Sasha couldn’t concentrate. The day dragged and all she itched to do was run home and see Shea. She wondered what Mr Couleé was like, what the dynamic was between them in that grand house. Sasha had lived in that neighbourhood for almost two years and prior to Shea, she could not recall it ever being occupied.

Stepping off the train, Sasha began the trek home with her canvas and satchel filled with papers and brushes and random sketches she had doodled from boredom. The sooner she got home, the sooner she could see Shea; the thought made her trot along in her heels double time. Eventually turning her street corner, her light eyes focused on a large van outside Maison du Couleé and Sasha frowned as a lone unrecognisable figure struggled into view dragging a large plastic disposable bag. She watched as a woman, wearing a jumpsuit with the words T. Rex Disposals, struggled to fling the opaque sack into the boot of the van.

Lingering at her porch, pretending to look for her keys, Sasha spied at the woman muttering to herself whilst she battled against the weight of the bag. Sasha noted that it vaguely resembled something out of a morgue.

“Need any help there?” She called and the woman jolted, snapping her head at the sound of her voice.

“I’m good, thanks.” She huffed.  “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Suit yourself.” Sasha unfastened her door. “Looks like a body bag.” T. Rex laughed.

“It is.” she winked and Sasha smiled, leaving the strange individual to their work.

The artist had hoped that Shea would be waiting in her living room to greet her again but, alas, no such luck. It was already almost seven o’clock, the light was fading fast into the ether and Sasha wondered when Shea planned to make an appearance like she had promised. 

Glancing at the clock, Sasha hummed as she decided to pass the time painting. Setting up a blank canvas, she lay all of her paints on a small table to her side that was home to a framed photo of Shea and herself  from their impromptu shoot. In the picture the two stood facing each other with their smiling faces to the camera and their arms outstretched as if they were posing for a dance.

When Sasha had the photos developed, she had delighted as Shea fawned over them declaring every one to be her favourite. The model had clutched the few of her and Sasha together to her bosom, the rest scattered in abandonment on Sasha’s bed.

“We look amazing together.” She had cried, overjoyed. Sasha peeled one away from her, looking over it in admiration.

“You look so beautiful.” Shea blushed, flustered, flinging her hair behind her shoulder.

“Of course, I do.” Caressing a finger over Sasha’s face in the picture, she gazed from the paper to the young woman in front of her. “You look so…sexy.”

“Sexy?” Sasha had cried in bemusement. She laughed awkwardly in embarrassment and flipped the photo over. “I wouldn’t ever call myself that.”

“I mean it,” Shea pushed, frowning. “You’re a very sexy person, ma chérie. You should feel it.”

Shea always had a way to make Sasha feel exactly how she told her to. The consistent throwaway comments about how attractive Shea found her, though Sasha presumed most of the time they were said in jest, did make the artist feel more emboldened. She was not too proud to say she appreciated validation, especially from someone as dazzling as Shea. Not only that but the smitten looks she caught thrown her way when Shea thought she wasn’t paying attention made Sasha feel rooted in her affection towards the Parisian. For how couldn’t Sasha love someone that wanted her to love herself?

The phone began to shrill. Pausing her stroke, Sasha tucked the paint brush behind her ear as she ran to the hall outside the studio.

“Hello?”

“Bonsoir ma chérie…you sound so breathless.” Sasha laughed airily, wrapping her fingers around the cord.

“I didn’t want to miss the call in case it was you.” She admitted. There was a moment of silence and Sasha wondered if the call had disconnected.

“Can you come over? Now?” Shea pleaded. “I need to see you.” Sasha’s eyebrows rose.

“You’re not coming over here?” She had yet to be invited into Shea’s house but by the off tone in her friend’s voice, she could not help but feel apprehensive at the request.

“No. I need you here.”

“Shea, what’s wrong?”

“Just come over, please Sasha.” The young woman swallowed, her mind racing. Shea needed her help.

“I’m coming.” Dropping the phone to the cradle, Sasha discarded her overalls and the brush in her ear with cold nervous hands. After locking up and letting herself into the neighbouring building, Shea had once mentioned that the front door was never locked with so many staff constantly on duty, Sasha called out to the vast dark stairwell.

Shea had appeared, the vision of a dark queen clad in a black ostrich feathered dressing gown, descending the staircase halfway before she was met by Sasha. The blonde had run up two by two to reach her. Cupping her angular chin, Shea pecked Sasha’s cheeks in their old style routine but it felt slower and more sensual, her lips hovered over the skin. Sasha stared at her unabashed.

“I told my husband I’m divorcing him.” Sasha gasped, her mouth falling into a pretty “o”; Shea wondered what it’d feel like to have Sasha suck on her fingers.

“Shea…I’m so proud of you. What happened? Are you okay? Where…where is he?” Linking her arm through Sasha’s, Shea walked them back up the stairs and into the shadowed corridor towards her bedroom. She felt rigid, frozen with the events of today and tried to supress the memories of when jopok leader Kim Chi’s so-called connection arrived.

“He’s gone.” She simply said, staring ahead; her eyes were removed from the present and looked haunted into the past. Sasha detected her distant countenance and a pang of worry twisted in her stomach.

“Did he hurt you?” Sasha turned her gaze from her oddly behaving friend to take in her bed chamber for the fist time. The high ceiling with ornate borders and long velvet drapes that hung around an imperial four poster bed left her in awe and intimidated by such grandeur. Shea manoeuvred them so that they perched on the edge of the mattress.

“Non, chérie,” Shea shook her head, eyes glued to the oriental rug. Their arms remained linked and taking a deep breath, Shea’s hand clutched Sasha’s. “I’m going to be leaving soon too. I’m going back to Chicago.”

Shea could not bring herself to face Sasha’s reaction. She felt her heart rupture into pain at the thought of leaving her friend but what choice did she have? She could not risk Sasha being caught up in any of the fallout if her husband’s body were to be discovered. At the very least the missing persons case for the next few months would be hell. No, it was decided. Shea refused to subject Sasha to the agony and speculation of a murder case she had no part in.

“If that’s what you want.” The thick emotion in Sasha’s voice stabbed venomously into Shea. “Like I said, you have everything there. You’ll finally be happy.” The stillness between them was suffocating. “How soon are you leaving?” Shea winced at the dreaded the question.

“Honestly, I’m thinking of leaving either tomorrow or the day after. It depends.”

“On what?” Shea could read through the seemingly calm tone in Sasha’s low voice and felt her resolve disintegrating when Sasha stood suddenly, splitting away from her. She took a few unsure steps forward, her face down and hidden. “What does it depend on, Shea?” Shea reached for her but the blonde shrank away, recoiling.

“Sasha –”

“Don’t do that.” Sasha snapped, turning to face the distressed woman. “Don’t say my name as if I’m the one hurting you.” Shea blinked, her eyes bore into the pale face, cold with rue. “I thought we had…I was clearly mistaken.” Sasha’s curt words were marred with a tremble and Shea stood as if she’d been struck by lightening, too weak to endure more suffering and unable to drag Sasha through the same. She never believed she should deprive herself of what she wanted, especially if it was ripe for the taking before her eyes.

Sasha had startled at the sudden movement, retreating further but Shea powered towards her until Sasha felt her back press into the vanity. She bit her lip as Shea caressed her hand across her hollow cheek, brushing her frizzed curls away from her face.

“It depends on you.” Shea finally murmured. “It isn’t fair to make you leave but I can’t be without you.”

“You knew I was willing to go with you.” Sasha spoke softly, eyes guarded. “We just never had the conversation about the logistics if the day were to come. You’re deciding for me now that it’s better to leave me behind.” Shea curled her fingers around Sasha’s jaw, torn between what she knew she should do and what she most desperately wanted.

“I want to protect you.” She admitted, her voice hoarse with strain. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“And you think by leaving I’ll be fine? I don’t know if you know, Shea, but I’ve been looking after myself perfectly long before you.” She glared defiantly at the woman how was rubbing circles into her cheek. “Why are you leaving so fast? What are you running away from?” Shea felt the words form in her mouth but forced them back. Sasha huffed, frustrated at the lack on explanation. “You can’t just force yourself into people’s lives, make them love you and then leave without a care.” She cried, yanking Shea’s hand away. “It’s not right, Shea.” Skirting past the other woman, Sasha freed herself, making a beeline for the door.

Shea knew she couldn’t live with herself if she let Sasha leave like this. She had uprooted her life, made her truly feel reborn and in tune as to what real love was, Sasha had changed her. She had left her husband for her. And it was too significant a shift to survive alone.

“He’s dead.” The words shattered Shea’s control and she dropped to her knees. “Sasha don’t leave…Oh god, what have I done?” Sasha remained a statue, her eyes wide with confusion and fear.

“What?” She asked dumbly. Shea clutched at the jewels decorating her neck, hyperventilating. Reaching, her arms outstretched towards the pale woman, Shea collapsed against her friend as Sasha hastily returned.

“It was an accident. He grabbed me – he was so mad – and he wouldn’t let go. Look at my bruises, I was so scared –” Her words tumbled incoherently and although no tears fell, her distress drilled an ache in Sasha. Kneeling, the blonde woman held her friend to her chest tightly as she attempted to decipher what had happened.

“Where is he?” Her throat constricted when Shea nuzzled into Sasha’s neck, her arms snaking around her waist, pulling her gently against her body.

“I rang an old friend who has connections in Lipstick City. They…disposed of him. I don’t know where.” The reel of questions Sasha suddenly had left her overwhelmed. Her arms dropped like heavy weights to her sides. She thought back to earlier that day. T. Rex Disposals.

“Holy fuck, Shea.” Bringing their faces level, Shea stared into Sasha’s horrified orbs. Cupping her waxen face, she brushed her lips across Sasha’s rose painted pout.

“I didn’t know what to do or who to turn to. I couldn’t call the police. With lots of money comes lots of connections.” She whispered, begging for Sasha to understand. “But…you helped me realise who I am. I don’t need all that money. I was leaving him. For me. For you. I want you in my life, in my world, to look after and love and be free with. I want to have a part in your life, you make me feel so…high. So happy.” 

Sasha’s eyes were wide like a doe. Her head was swimming overpowered by emotion than her own rationality. No one had ever spoken to her with such admiration and wonder. How had someone like Shea fallen into Sasha’s world? An answer she would never receive yet that did not dampen her gratitude that Shea had found her.

“Shea…you killed someone.” The accused woman did not react but her eyes gave away her unease.

“I did.” She swallowed. “Do you want me to leave?”

“It’s probably best you should.” Shea nodded slowly, her dark eyes bore into Sasha’s, unconvinced of her friend’s wishes.

“I understand completely.”  Shea’s hands fell from Sasha’s face to her waist. “Kiss me goodbye?”

The blonde nodded, her blue eyes glued to Shea’s lips. The dark haired model tightened her grip on the slender hips, pulling them against her as she threw herself into a passionate kiss. Sasha was putty beneath her touch, submitting herself to the fervour and fury of Shea’s embrace. She felt awakened, as if she had found release from a surreal mundane existence. There was no nine to five job to barely make ends meat, there was no playground politics with middle aged suburban house wives, there was only Shea. Two souls. Intertwined by their loneliness and love. A shared connection of understanding and acceptance beyond the material world. Come what may, Sasha couldn’t lose this.

“Don’t leave me.” Sasha felt breathless. “Don’t go and run away without me.” Shea’s eyes burned with a raw intensity that left Sasha’s cheeks burning and feeling aroused. “We’ll work it out together. Let me help –” Her words were stolen as soft lips fused against her own. She gave a hopeless whimper, bringing her arms around Shea’s shoulders, pulling the woman closer to her. Shea was forceful, domineering, in her movements as she slid her craving hands over Sasha’s hips and grasped at her behind, squeezing. Gliding the zip of her pencil skirt southward, Shea’s hands invaded beneath the fabric and she tugged Sasha’s shirt out, skimming her fingers underneath and up her back.

Sasha broke the kiss, her eyes hooded with titillation and kicked off her shoes. Shea watched the ruffled up woman with adoration. Rising, she held a hand to pull Sasha up so that she could push the skirt further down until it landed unceremoniously in a heap on the carpet. The two women stood mirroring one another. Shea let her extravagant dressing gown fall down her shoulders and hit the floor, leaving her in black satin lingerie. Sasha’s eyes trailed over the clear, smooth skin of her chest, her slender muscular arms, her toned stomach – art could not come close to what Shea was.

“Take this off.” Shea commanded, unbuttoning the top of Sasha’s shirt. Sasha complied, her fingers worked with urgency at the base of the shirt, meeting Shea’s hands halfway. Shea pealed the shirt away, her eyes raking over Sasha’s pale slender body zealously. “You’re so beautiful.” She marvelled, her hands wandering over the edge of her sheer bra, sliding it away. Sasha blushed at her own nakedness, her lithe fingers ran through Shea’s hair as she tilted her head to kiss. Lips melded and massaged one another until Shea ran her tongue across Sasha’s bottom lip. Sasha’s lips tingled at the sensation, red lipstick smudged, and parted to allow Shea complete admission.

Tongues danced around, flicking and teasing, accompanied only by soft moans. The quiet enthralled Sasha, the only sound to focus upon was her lover’s pleasure and she could not think of anything more erotic than Shea. The taller woman pulled Sasha over the bed, pushing her onto the soft covers and wrapped her long legs either side of the blonde’s smooth white thighs. Shea unclasped her own bra before discarding it without a care, her eyes fixed on Sasha’s. Pressing a deep kiss into her neck, Shea murmured in French. Sasha’s eyes fluttered at the sound despite her stomach knotting with nerves.

“Shea…it’s – it’s been a while since…” She trailed off, flustered but Shea cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at her heated stare.

“Shh, baby, don’t worry. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” She whispered, burying a wet kiss to her parted lips. The two moved with a fervent passion, arms roamed and groped, hips ground together. Sasha’s toes curled at the feel of Shea’s own breasts against her body. Shea hooked Sasha’s thigh over her waist, her hand ripping the thigh high stocking away. Gazing down at her, all Shea saw was beauty and artistry in her pink panting face and her milky white petite breasts; every facet of Sasha’s being was perfection. “How has no one snatched you up, yet?” She sighed. “How am I this lucky? I can’t let you go.” Shea cupped Sasha’s breast, her thumb padding at her nipple and the fruitful response of a gentle cry made her mouth dry.

Skilled fingers were replaced by a warm tongue, confidently flicking and rolling into Sasha as she moaned and arched into the erogenous woman above her. Shea pinned Sasha’s arms to the mattress, their fingers intertwined, possessing full command. Nips and sucks turned into languid kisses that trailed fluidly down Sasha’s ribs and abdomen until Shea reached the cup of her pelvis. Her hands slid down over the rises and falls of Sasha’s body until they came to pause at the curve of her hips, hooking into the elastic of her pants.

“Please, Shea.” Sasha breathed, her eyes closed with her own hands reaching to push off the last article of clothing with urgency. “Please, please.” Shea grinned at the sound of Sasha begging over her name. Discarding the obstructing fabric, Shea sighed in ravenous satisfaction as she gaped between Sasha’s legs. She spread Sasha’s thighs further apart, throwing them over her shoulders like a stoal, then let one hand dive in impatiently whilst the other wrapped around Sasha’s leg, holding her in place.

Shea’s long fingers stroked softly along the curb of her labia repetitively, slipping between the lips to tease and elicit the small out of breath noises that drove her crazy. Sasha’s thighs clenched and jerked sporadically, toes curled and feet arched, her hands twisted in the sheet beneath her. Dragging her fingers up between the wetness, Shea looped her finger under the hood reaching the pearly reward. The blissful noises that erupted from Sasha, quiet and soft but oh so intoxicating to Shea’s ears,  overflowed with ecstasy.

Shea nibbled kisses into Sasha’s taut inner thigh, resisting her gluttonous desire to rush too soon. As she neared closer and closer to where her fingers currently played on the woman underneath her, Shea felt glanced up at her lover and studied her face that was contorted from the overwhelming pleasure. Sasha’s mouth hung open, her dark brows pulled together and her skin glowed with dew from the heated affair.

“Look at me.” Shea felt powerful, in command over the beautiful woman writhing at her every whim. Shea waited until she had Sasha’s full attention; her eyes were dazed with desperation. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” Her fingers sped up their rhythmic motion, rubbing against her clitoris in a forceful manner. Sasha mewled, the red on her cheeks intensifying. “I’ve wanted to feel you around my fingers just like this, squeezing until I make you cum, I want to hear you as I give you everything.” Sasha’s head rolled back as her body convulsed and tremored, reaching the heights of her pleasure.

Dipping back down hastily, Shea lapped her tongue wildly against the velvet skin tasting Sasha’s centre. Spurred on by the endless stream of moaning, Shea bobbed her head enthusiastically, her eyes closed, lost in the moment. She controlled the rocking motion of Sasha’s hips that thrust for release and hummed. The swirling of her tongue was matched with the sound of her name falling like a prayer from Sasha’s lips. Soon the lymphatic tones turned staccato and Shea doubled her efforts to bring Sasha completion.  When the tension flooded from her trembling thighs and all that remained was the resonating sound of  exhausted pants, Sasha reached for the woman between her legs, burying her fingers in her soft hair.

Shea peered up at her, smiling in cocky triumph and pressed a small kiss to her thigh.

“Come here.” Sasha cooed. Her body lay unresponsive and quaking upon the soft mattress, worn to the bone. Shea crawled atop of her and Sasha cupped her cheek as they kissed; the taste of her climax passed between them.

“Ma chérie,” Shea murmured, skimming her nose over Sasha’s cheek as they stared into one another. “Je t’aime.” Tipping her forehead to rest against the pale sweaty skin beneath her, Shea closed her eyes, focusing on the pulsating beating of the body below her. “Je t’aime.”

The exchange of sweet chaste pecks cooled the air around them. Shea curled her arm around Sasha’s head, supporting herself as she stretched above her to brush the rogue strands of blonde hair that had plastered themselves to her temple. Sasha caressed her fingers up and down Shea’s toned arms. No words were needed to express the emotions rife between them.

“I’m so hot for you.” Shea admitted softly, shifting her hips to stir friction between their tangled legs. Sasha giggled, making noises of satisfaction as she joined the movement. Sitting up suddenly, Shea fixed Sasha’s thigh over her hip, slotting herself between her legs. She rubbed vigorously up against Sasha’s pelvis, scissoring. The grind of her hips shot waves of aching stimulation up her spine. Throwing her head back in bliss, Shea felt overwhelmingly alive and in tune with her surroundings. The feeling of Sasha underneath her, the sounds echoing around them, the heat radiating from their skin…she was completely enveloped in the experience. There was nothing else in the world she wanted more than to do this, be this, for the rest of her life. They fit together like the two halves of an oyster-shell. Shea was Narcissus, embracing the pond in which she was about to drown. 

Tipping over into her own orgasmic state, Shea twirled over to lay next to her lover; she encompassed her arms around the smaller pale body, guiding Sasha to lie plush against her.

“What are we going to do?” Sasha sighed, her face turned in to Shea’s shoulder.

“We do nothing.” Shea replied, catching her breath. “Nothing that isn’t expected of us.”

“We’re going to look suspicious, Shea.” Sasha forced. “If we’re to be openly together people will talk.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“But- ”

“When I see you,” Shea interrupted. “it’s like - I don’t know what it’s like. It’s like I’ve never seen anything at all before. I’ve looked at women before you and they are like nothing - they’re like dust. But then you walked in for the first time on my porch – I thought…you were so pretty and your suit was so nice and your voice was so sweet.” Sasha was staring up at her stupefied now but Shea continued. “You make me want to smile and weep, at once. You makes me sore, here.” Shea placed a hand on her chest, upon the breast-bone. “I’ve never met a woman like you before. I never knew that there were women like you…” Her smooth voice became a trembling whisper then, and Shea found that she could say no more. There was another silence. “Come what may, I am not hiding this, I am not going to go without you anymore.”

Sasha’s face filled with emotion. Without a word she lay back down, resuming her hold on Shea as the two drifted off into an uncertain sleep. The next morning the police arrived to break the news to Mrs Couleé that her husband’s body had been found washed up in a lake. The remains of the man had been wrapped in a body bag with a half snapped cord, which had obviously been trying to keep the body from floating away. A most disturbing accident that Mrs Couleé was sure to have no knowledge of. Sasha’s face has drained of blood as she stood next to Shea; the widow had feigned tears, falling to the ground with a wail. The police still needed her to come in for questioning. That demand extended to a waxen faced Sasha.

The two women dressed in silence. A sombre tension loomed. Shea felt an inner peace she had not known for years calm her nerves. She watched the blonde, poor innocent beautiful Sasha, dress in her clothes from the previous day.  There was no time to be spared for any glamour. Sasha caught her eye and gave her a meaningful stare. As they found themselves escorted into the police cars, Shea focused on the day this ordeal would be over. She would be wearing Chanel No. 5, draped in her Cartier Paris Nouvelle Vague necklace. Sasha Velour, the quirky artistic woman who smelled of home grown roses, would be by her side. And all would be right in the world once more.

Fin.

[drunkatfenway-blog]

My Weekend in Las Vegas

Before I begin to write this I would just like to say this is a simple blog about a dark day in American history in which I happened to be in the same city enjoying the nightlife just the same as the nearly 43 million people who travel to Las Vegas annually. My sole purpose of this is so anybody can get a feeling of one person’s first hand experience in the city the Weekend of October 1, 2017. Weather it’s today tomorrow, or 650 years from now, for historical purposes I give everybody permission to use this work.

I departed from Boston to Las Vegas on early Thursday September 28, 2017. Like many other people I just wanted to travel to Vegas to see some shows gamble on some games drink some beers and go swimming. With autumn fast approaching in New England I was very excited to travel 5 and a half hours west to the middle of the Nevada desert in Las Vegas. My weekend went on like most people’s in Las Vegas. I spent time gambling on football, playing roulette, watching the Red Sox and enjoying the outdoors. The weather was beautiful anywhere from 85-95 degrees everyday. Nothing but sun and no clouds in the sky. One great part of Las Vegas is everything is fun. For those who have never been there or are looking back, you can walk around drinking open containers of alcohol. Marijuana is fully recreational & legal though, it must be consumed in a private area (very loosely enforced, nobody ever gets in trouble for smoking pot). Nightclubs and bar rooms are open 24 hours a day for the most part. Nothing really stops. Gambling, strip clubs, and call girls are around you no matter where you are in the city. It’s the city’s economy and it’s why people from all over the world travel to this amazing city.

October 1st started like many other Sundays in the city with everybody waking up after a long Friday and Saturday. The Las Vegas strip was covered with fans from all over wearing their favorite NFL jerseys and drinks in hand getting ready for the 10 a.m. games (there was actually a 6:30 a.m. game between the Saints and Dolphins, so the city was already alive for America’s newest pastime Football). As the day went on and the town enjoyed itself restaurants, bars, casinos, and sportsbooks, were filled to near capacity. The day progressed and before you know it all the games were ending. And their was only one left. The Seattle Seahawks were playing host to the Indianapolis Colts at 5:30 p.m. Vegas time. At this time after a long morning and afternoon of drinking and gambling I headed to my hotel room right in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip, The Flamingo. The Flamingo is pretty much in the middle of town. Dead smack in the middle of everything. It was the first popular resort casino Vegas had, starting the trend of building bright, beautiful buildings, and topping the previous. I relaxed in the comfort of my room and enjoyed the game for a little while in some peace & quiet. I took a quick shower and headed down to the bar right as the game was heading to the end. I went to a bar right in the casino outside of the sportsbook where I was getting a full recap of all the past days game via the many tvs that donned the neon pink walls. This is where things started to get strange. Being a late Sunday night I didn’t particularly find it odd that one of the televisions had the news on. Almost every television in Vegas has a sports game on or a replay of a past game on. But, it was late and the weekend was coming to an end. As the current tourists prepared to leave new ones would be coming in. It was breaking news on Fox 5 Las Vegas “Active shooter on the Las Vegas Strip” the screen read. Now my thinking at the time was that it was casual gang activity or a quarrel between 2 people and somebody got shot and took off. Being that it was the only live thing on it garnered the interest of a few fellow patrons at the same bar as I. About 10-15 minutes later I took a drink over to play some slot machines. That’s when I started to realize something was different. CNN took over a television screen reporting on the story. CNN is one of America’s largest national news networks. They began to report on it but nothing was really out yet. They were still just saying there was an active shooter in the area. No note of casualties, and not really any specifics from law enforcement or anybody of note. At this time pretty much everybody in the Flamingo Casino was aware of the situation but had no detail. As I enjoyed myself playing video poker and drinking complimentary alcoholic beverages the news began to develop. 2 People reportedly shot said Fox 5 Vegas and CNN. Still no word on shooter. Reminder: The Casino was very full. Every table was just about full. People were drinking and enjoying themselves as they became aware of this situation at the top of the Las Vegas Strip. But hotel security seemed very restless. These aren’t rent a cops either. Caesars Resorts security has handguns and are pretty much Police Officers. They were pacing and checking on people and were very noticeable. That’s when it came out next on the news. 20 people shot at a country music concert at Mandalay Bay. This was the first they said the exact location and event of where and what exactly was happening. 20 was a very crazy number. It also said at least 2 people were dead. Now the party I was with (1 other person) had plans to head in that direction and go into many casinos and bar rooms and have as much fun as possible. Drinking, good food, and enjoying Las Vegas were the only things on the agenda.

The time was about 12:15 a.m. Pacific Time. I first called my mother back home in Massachusetts to let her now that before the story got crazy and she woke up to crazy reports that we were alright. 3:15 a.m. Eastern time for you guys who don’t know. When I went to leave the Flamingo Casino we were told by a Las Vegas Police Officer that we were on lockdown. Nobody was to leave or enter no matter what the circumstances. He said that this was the procedure throughout all of the casinos in the city at this time.We felt grateful because we were planning to head next door, and being locked out of our casino would’ve been tough. As time went on the crowd grew more restless as well as security. The worst part was the numbers on the screen slowly began to rise. After about a half hour it was 100% viral on all forms of social media. Casino patrons were on the phone trying to reach people and security grew more and more uptight. A little after 1 a.m. Vegas time one of the bartenders told us his bar was closing per order of management. We quickly grabbed our drinks and headed to another bar in the casino. 2-3 minutes later that bartender told me he was no longer allowed to serve drinks. Next thing we know the tables begin to close and they’re kicking people off of the slot machines.The machines never close in Vegas. Still wanting to drink and still full of energy we retreated to a small general store to grab some cold 22 ounce beers in there. When looking outside at the always bright and beautiful Las Vegas Strip it was black, the first time I’ve ever seen it that dead, and I’ve visited here a handful of times. There were no cars other than police cruisers and ambulances. People from other hotels were mad they couldn’t leave and the scene was getting a bit loud. After not much changing inside and getting dozens of phone calls from back east we decided to retreat to the room for the night and watched the news in the hotel room. 20 people confirmed dead was the last number I remember hearing before falling asleep.

After only about 4-5 hours of sleep I restlessly woke up to hundreds of text messages and about 110 phone calls. I didn’t even know that many people knew I was out of town. I told basically nobody other than immediate family and a handful of friends. As I turned on the television and checked my phone I was STUNNED. 59 dead. Over 500 shot. A man perched on the 32nd floor of Mandalay Bay sprayed thousands of rounds onto concert goers. For no reason at all. I quickly got dressed and wanted to check out the scene. Walking down Las Vegas Boulevard was very eerie. Police were everywhere. The always energetic and lively Strip was as quiet as could be. The weather was beautiful. But the feeling was slow and sad.

Everybody knew what had happened. Casino signs were giving directions on where civilians could go and donate blood. 800 numbers were blasted all over the Strip to help family members locate lost or unaccounted for loved ones. As I walked up you couldn’t go more than 100 feet without Las Vegas Metro Police standing by assisting the people and visitors of Las Vegas. I was headed to Mandalay Bay because I wanted to see the terrible acts that wrecked havoc on a city I know and love dearly. From about a half a mile away you could see the window the perpetrator shot out of. It was solid black on the very beautiful gold structure of Mandalay Bay. Photographers and media members were everywhere. Spanish and English reporters. I approached Mandalay Bay from the neighboring Luxor hotel. Las Vegas Boulevard was shut down to traffic for about 4 city blocks, So I walked in the street. It was strange walking in the street because Las Vegas Blvd. is massive, 4-5 lanes in most parts. Jaywalking could actually get you killed when traffic is flowing. I took photos and saw the terrible scene that so many who perished just a few hours before had been at. The concert stage just on the other side of the street. A gas station that was clearly evacuated with cars still in the gas lanes, blocked off by police tape. Hundreds were down there observing just as I had and there wasn’t a word being said. No music playing, no street performers. As terrible as it was to be there I figured it needed to see the deadliest mass shooting in U.S. history in person. I walked into Mandalay Bay through the connecting Luxor as this was the only way to enter. The Shops at Mandalay were all closed that dreary Monday morning. It felt empty. The city in the desert that never sleeps was well at rest inside of Mandalay Bay.

Hundreds of news reporters and what felt like thousands of police officers held the scene. The whole mood in the city just felt empty. And not in the good way. Vegas is the kind of city where even if you lose a boatload of money and are hungover for the majority of the week, when you come home your trip is always well worth it. Simply put: it’s Disney World for adults. And to say the feeling was sad is an understatement. I flew out at 11:59 Monday Night. The whole airport was silent 24 hours after the shooting. It didn’t feel like Vegas anymore. It felt dampened. And I can’t even begin to imagine what those who lost or have harmed loved ones are feeling.

My point in writing this wasn’t to be political or anything of that nature. I just wanted to leave a first hand account of my night in a casino not too far from Mandalay and walking to Mandalay the next day. As of Tuesday Night there’s 59 people dead (including the shooter). 500 People recovering from injuries, some life threatening. The largest mass shooting in American History, surpassing The Pulse Night Club shooting in Orlando just a mere 15 and a half months ago. The 2 behind that? Sandy Hook elementary school shooting in December of 2012 and Virginia Tech in April of ‘07. The fearful underlying feeling I take from this tragic event? That some day, somebody, somewhere, in the future is going to read what I’ve just written. And The Harvest Music Festival shooting in Las Vegas will no longer be the #1 deadliest shooting in United States history. It’s gotten to the point where as a culture these despicable, tragic events are all too common, and there seems to be nothing as a culture or a country we can do.

-Rob O’Shea

Tuesday October 3, 2017

[vvorldatlarge]

story from 5/17/17

I’m going to scatter notable anecdotes throughout summer like I said, so here’s one that I meant to tell but was too lazy to type up.

I (chris traeger voice) LIT-era-lly have no idea how I write this fucking much. I don’t need all of it where does it come from  , . It’s good in academics, it’s what earned me the language arts and reading awards at graduation among other things, but when I want to convey a simple fufkcing point or tell a story it’s Hell. I do this to L too, guys. I want to say ONE FUCKIN GNF THING to L in an email and he ends up with 5 paragraphs of me rambling in his inbox. Save me

On that day i went to this after school event hosted every year by mainly L and whoever else is the 7th grade Geography teacher in the school (last year, it was only him, but this year there’s one other teacher) called Multi-Cultural Night. Basically, a group of 1-3 kids choose or are assigned a country other than Britain, the US, and Canada, and they have to do a research paper, a poster, and make a cultural dish from that country to bring in to Multi-Cultural Night. Last year when I had to do it, I chose the Philippines because I’m half Filipino. Basically, just imagine a cafeteria FULL of free samples at every table from different cultures. Just thinking about the amount of food that was there brings me to tears. I wanted to go not just to see L, but to eat food and… read the posters. (but that’s kind of a side thing.) When I went, I just had my parents drop me off, so I was kind of alone and the entire time I basically just hung around Miss. Z and one of my friends that had to go because his brother was in 7th. As I entered the room, I immediately tried to look for L, and did find him but couldn’t get him to notice me so I could wave or say hi, so I dropped it until later, when I was heading towards a table to snatch a sample and he greeted me and was like “what’s the best food you’ve had so far?” Okay. Good. The conversation that I’ve been waiting for. What was my response? “I- uhm, well… oh gosh. I forgot.” He nodded and I could not deal. I had to save the short conversation. “BUT it’s all been really good so far!! Ha.. .ha.. .. , , I’m really enjoying it!” Can’t remember exactly, he said “good! C:” and  probably did a little thumbs up and then walked off. It still made me happy that I got to talk to him, but the words “why am i such a fucking social failure” probably crossed my mind afterwards. I also decided that for the rest of the night, I would actually remember what country each sample came from. Like I said before, I spent the rest of the night trailing behind Miss. Z and eating. So much food. It was all so good. I still get emotional thinking about it. I want to show up next year. I think I will. I’ll be like an NPC character in a game series that reappears in every single fucking game even though they serve no purpose to the plot and everyone just accepts they’re immortal. Except I won’t be immortal. I’ll just be eating and only getting older by a year every time.

|||| I also kept sneaking glances at L while eating. If I saw him walking by I wouldn’t be obvious but I’d still stand alert and not look like a fool while eating (which is difficult considering I’m myself). At the same time, though, I’d completely avoid him. It’s fucking weird. Is it a thing connected with social anxiety or general awkwardness to want to see someone, but absolutely avoid them at the same time? Probably. You don’t want to embarrass yourself, so if you really like someone or look up to them you minimize the chance of an embarrassing situation as much as possible. That’s my guess. Makes sense to me. One time, I was hovering near Miss. Z and L walked towards her and started talking, and I quickly finished eating and awkwardly stood around and kinda.. shifted behind her. She noticed as he was doing something else momentarily and she just laughed at me. He then walked away to somewhere behind me and I did that blatant (i did not mean it to be that blatant) glance at him behind his back, not necessarily at his ass (oh dear.. Did i look at his ass and was it obvious? That’s worse. I forgot if I did.) but just at him in general and Miss. Z made an amused sound and clearly noticed. Before I could say anything, someone else talked to her for a little bit and after they left I asked her, “why did you make that sound…?” W, you fool, you knew why she made that sound. She just said “nothing…. Nothing at all…” in a certain voice. I know to some that sounds made-up, but she does that on purpose when she caught you doing something amusing or something you wouldn’t want her to know. (as long as it’s not like. Bad. and she understands it seems that me liking him is harmless as long as I don’t make it get out of hand and have it threaten his career) Like. Scandalous. Essentially, the equivalent of when in certain fanfiction a character knows someone has the hots for another person but acts like they don’t.

|||| Later, after Miss.Z left and I was waiting for my dad to come and pick me up, I was stalling before I actually went and stood outside for my dad because I wanted the right opportunity to say bye to him, so I waiting by the door, which was next to the table that sold the recipe books of the night and water. Because it was fucking hot. I bought a recipe book as soon as I walked in, and I was holding it along with my phone and L noticed me and was like “Did ya’ buy a book yet, W?”. Which confused me. I was literally holding it.. In my hands…??? But you can’t really count on L being too observant (not to be mean, he’s really smart, it’s just he seems to get caught in his thoughts a lot. A lot. He also has a low attention span, is kinda all over the place, fidgets. Trying to stay away from talking about something I don’t have, but to give you an idea, he’s actually mentioned in class that he thinks he has ADHD. Not jokingly. (it’s shitty to joke about anyways js) anyone with ADHD please tell me if I just said something off as a side note) so I guess. But, I said, “Yea” and held it out and he nodded and continued cleaning up the table. I retreated to my spot right next to the door, and checked my phone, and my fuckass dropped it on the floor and he was like “😲W!!!!” (the samsung version of that emoji conveys it better) all jokingly alarmed and that was adorable. But embarrassing. The phone case came off and so did the battery. Or whatever it was. It’s a samsung phone. I think. I’m more of a tablet person idk. It’s actually not my phone. I borrowed it from my mom. The phone came out okay.

|||| Eventually, I figured I needed to stand outside and not spend too much time pointlessly lingering, so I decided to face my fears and walk up to him and actually get his attention directly to say hi. Which took more effort than I thought and kind of killed me because the more I spend talking to people, esp. L, the more energy that leaves me. I said his name once to get his attention and he didn’t notice me, right there, and I repeated it like.. 2 more times and he finally turned to me and I just, now more awkward than before, said “cya” and he was like “oh! C: cya” and I left. Welp. Shit. Also, I found out that night that Miss. Z sent L the history videos by Bill Wurtz-- “the history of the world, I guess” video and the “history of japan” video, which is all I ever needed to know in life. I never brought it up and found out if he watched the latter but Miss. Z told me he watched the former and found it hilarious. Those videos are honestly what I’d expect his train of thought to be like except 10x dorkier (eugh.. Hate calling a real person that when I don’t know them really really well.. It’s weird...) and silly.

WHY DO I RAMBLE TOO MCUH THAT DID NOT NEED TO BE A GODDAMNED ESSAY WHY AM I LIKE THIS

[booksbroadwaybbc]

Do you feel lost in life? Try a Life Audit via /r/selfimprovement

Do you feel lost in life? Try a Life Audit

I heard this term today and it made me interested, so I started to do a little research on the subject. If you Google it you will likely read about writing things on post-it notes, which is great, but the purpose of this post is just to get you thinking about the life you want versus the life you have. How you document, organize, and track the changes you want to make is up to you. You can do post-it notes, spreadsheets, write them down on a piece of paper, use an app, whatever works for you.

I see so many people lost in life, not really knowing what to do, where to go, or how to proceed. I think it is good to organize all of the parts of your life and think about how you can improve them. Below is a list of areas to get you started, and some questions to ask yourself.

Mental Health

How is your mental health? Are you happy? Depressed? Fulfilled? Lonely? When I looked at my mental health a year ago I didn't feel happy even though I had everything going for me.

The first step was recognizing that I was, in fact, depressed and yes there were things I could do about it.

Next I came up with an action plan, did a little research on what to do about depression and set out to accomplish some of those tasks. I told myself I'd talk to my doctor about medications, start exercising more, write in a journal, meditate, etc.

Then comes the follow through. Go through your list (whether written or in your mind), find the easiest thing to do and start there. Go down your list and at least try to accomplish all of the items. If you never try, you will never change.

Last is to maintain. It's easy to go to the gym once, or even for a week. The hard part is keeping at it. The more you do it the more you'll enjoy it. Same with meditating. If you only do it once or twice you might not get that much out of it, you have to stick with it. Remember these things are life changes, not just changes you'll make for a week.

Physical Fitness

I think there is a larger link between mental and physical health than what a lot of people believe. I've noticed a significant increase to my mood, energy level, and mental health since I started to get into shape. There have been so many studies proving the benefits of exercise, it can't be ignored. I get that some people aren't athletic or can't afford a gym, and sometimes it's just plain hard to make yourself do it when you're depressed or tired. But there are a million ways to get exercise. Find at least one thing you can do a few times a week just to get your body moving, even if it is just going for a walk. Find something you at least somewhat enjoy and can stick with indefinitely.

I started doing yoga, which is very uncharacteristic for me since I'm an older dude, not flexible at all, and I look horrible in yoga pants ;). I struggled with doing it and enjoying it at first, but I recognized I really it could really help with my stiffness and back pain so I stuck with it. I still suck at it but my pain is gone.

Nutrition

You can probably do a whole audit on nutrition alone. You've heard people say you are what you eat, and I can definitely notice a difference in my physical and mental well being when I eat more healthy. I noticed I started to develop some bad habits nutritionally, and they were easy to fix. For me, pop, beer, and sugary beverages was such a waste of calories and money. I made myself get used to drinking old fashioned H2O with most of my meals and I really don't miss the sugary stuff. Now when I'm thirsty and want something sweet I get a glass of water and a piece of fruit. Look for the things in your diet that have empty calories or you only eat out of habit, and swap them with something more healthy.

If you really want to audit your diet, log everything you eat in a typical day with my fitness pal or something similar. Even if you aren't trying to lose weight it can give you your macros and vitamins, it can really be an eye opener. Like wow I was eating 3x my recommended amount of sodium every day, no wonder I always felt so bloated.

Relationships

Sometimes we get so wrapped up in ourselves we forget about what we mean to other people. Look at all of the relationships in your life and ask yourself some of these types of questions.

Do I enjoy spending time with this person?

Are you supportive of each other?

Do they make you feel special, and do you try to make them feel special?

Do they help with good habits or fuel your bad habits?

Is it a 2-sided relationship or is one person doing most of the work?

Identify the people in your life that you should be spending more time with and the people you should be spending less time with. I've noticed some people tend to drag me down and other make me feel better about myself. Don't forget to communicate if you can identify any issues, if you can't talk to them about it then it's not a healthy relationship.

Career

This can be a tough one, but is an essential area where it helps to have goals. Not everyone needs to love their job, but it should at least give you a sense of accomplishment, be somewhat fulfilled, and pay the bills. If you really hate it, start looking at others.

If you are at least content, think about your 2, 5, 10 year goals. Think about where you want to be. Do you want to make more money but maybe have more stress, or are you fine where you are? Observe other people and identify the jobs you think you would like, and figure out how to get there.

I've known a lot of people who have hated their careers and started over, or who came from nothing and worked their way to the top. To get ahead you don't necessarily need to be smarter or better, you just need to work harder.

If you have no idea what you want to do, that could be a whole separate audit. Identify what you enjoy and what you're good at. You don't even have to be good at it it you find it interesting enough, choose a path and follow it.

Finance

Yet another area in my life where I did a complete audit. I made a budget, analyzed all of my expenses and income. I looked at every single thing on there and tried to determine how I could save a bit more money.

I researched cell phone plans and changed mine, and saved about $60 a month. I looked into auto insurance and saved a little money there. I looked at my cable/wifi bill and called to switch companies if they didn't give me a better deal, saved almost $100 a month there. I even went over all the numbers on my paychecks and realized I was being underpaid. Once I got out of debt I started using a rewards credit card on most of my expenses, and with the points and sign up bonus I probably got an extra $1000 this year just for paying for things a different way. Finally kicked some bad habits that was even more money saved. I switched bank accounts to one that gave better interest and refunded ATM fees. Boom, all of those little things really added up.

Goals

I spent a long time just living life one day at a time. Sometimes you have to step back and look at the bigger picture. Do you have the life you want? What is it that you really want? Do you want to get married, get a bigger house, get a nicer car, travel the world? Make a bucket list or a vision board, anything. Give yourself something to strive for, something to look forward to. Once you can picture your dreams and goals come up with an action plan. Your goals can be 1 day, 1 week, 1 year, 5 years, etc. It's totally okay to update your goals whenever you feel like it. Sometimes life will present opportunities, and it's up to you which path you choose to follow.

Habits

Last but definitely not least I will talk about habits and addictions. If you suffer from any addictions they are the #1 top priority you need to audit. Addictions can run your life, they can change the way you think, they can take over your thoughts and goals. I have had many addictions in my life but I will use smoking cigarettes as an example. It was so hard to focus on life when all I could think was when I'd have another smoke. It was harmful to all of the important parts of life; they were expensive, they were bad for my health, they took over my mind mentally, and in social situations I was always thinking about how I would sneak out for a smoke. Once I quit I was finally able to take control of my life again, and I told myself I would never have another one ever.

Habits are similar, they can be tough to break but you can also have good habits. Think about your habits that may not be smart or healthy and do something else instead. Try to develop a good routine. For me now, drinking a glass of water in the morning and working out after work are almost as routine as showering and brushing my teeth. I don't make it optional. I love routines, they help organize my life, like rules. Do everything in moderation, treat yourself on occasion and learn to appreciate the little things again.

Submitted November 08, 2018 at 08:23PM by SpartEng76 via reddit https://ift.tt/2PkQPgc

[karpedayam]

Day 52: July 12

First pic is the view outside the door to my hostel, it was looking rather picturesque this morning. 

Rounds were interesting this morning. The doctor in charge, Dr. Prakash, spent a lot more time on the patients and discussed more of their social backgrounds which was interesting. The majority of the men have diabetes related infections in the limbs, and don’t come to the doctor unless it’s really, really bad. Also, family dynamics are hard as many of them are very poor and alcoholics. Dr. Prakash said that family dynamics need to be taken care of, and that without family support there is nothing that can really be done. I would argue that it goes deeper than that. Given what I’ve learned in my courses here, I think it’s definitely a patriarchal and colonial issue. Dr. Abhignya’s research shows that. Tribal, often poor populations are highly affected by alcoholism and we see this in Canada too. Dr. Prakash was very quick to say that all of the health issues relate back to alcoholism - it’s the common thread, but like I said I think it goes deeper. Nobody just decides to be an alcoholic for fun. It’s a very deep-seated issue often rooted in trauma, depression, disenfranchisement etc. Blaming alcohol and alcoholics does nothing productive, but I can understand the families’ frustrations at the same time. It’s a patriarchal issue because men are socialized to not show pain, to not show weakness, to work tirelessly. This combined with poverty is a really tough space to be in and to heal in. 

Anyway, we had a few cases in the special wards which was interesting. One kid has tuberculosis so I didn’t go in the room, I’m pretty sure I’m vaccinated for that but I didn’t want to risk it. I met a really lovely patient who was doing some laps of the ward. She introduced me to her husband and her two-month-old baby named Nithya which was so sweet. 

After this, Dr. Abhignya and I went to see a patient in the special ward. She had a long consultation with her. She was very, very thin only 30kg and said she has a lot of weakness and doesn’t feel like eating. It started when after the birth of her children and her husband left for the military. Dr. Abhignya said it’s likely an issue of depression and anxiety but people don’t generally admit that. I think tomorrow she will be getting some Ayurvedic therapies. 

After this Dr. Abhignya showed me the special project she’s been working on. She showed me a tray of a bunch of rolled up tubes that looked like brown cigarettes. It comes from a plant called Caladium and cotton is dipped in that along with juice made from Bringaraja leaves and nandyavarta flower. It’s then dried in the shade, rolled in milk, dried again, dipped in castor oil, burnt and collected over clay tiles and made hard by adding ghee. It’s a long process but its purpose is really cool. This substance is used in very, very small amounts to brighten the eyes. Dr. Abhignya said she’s had a contained of it the size of her fingertip for about 6 years! Anyway, it’s especially important with newborn babies as they use this substance to dot the cheeks, in between the eyebrows, and over the eyes to take bad omens away, to make the eyes bright and beautiful, and they rub it on the eyebrows so they grow thick. Many bring this powder from the outside, and cheap outside sources of it are  often artificial and not good for newborns. She wanted to start making it so it can be included in the newborn baby care kits. I asked her if patients were asking for it, and she said no because they probably don’t think to ask, but she thinks it’ll be very popular once it’s already included. Anyway I thought it was really cool that she’s doing this. Definitely a huge example of the integrative Ayurvedic-Allopathic medical care here. 

We went for tea after this and had some nice conversations, she’s so easy to talk to. We talked a lot about religion,and I told her about the paper I wrote comparing colonial situations in Canada and India and the impact of the textuality of the traditions in preserving them and she thought that was interesting. She said Hindus have faced so many invasions and conversation efforts, and it truly is amazing how strongly it has endured these thousands of years. She asked about baptism and thanksgiving celebrations too and I told her that most Christians now don’t really practice daily, but mainly just on holidays and things like that, and that the next generation really isn’t religious and many people our age are rejecting institutionalized religion. 

After this, I had my second facial treatment done. Some of the students administered it this time which was really cool, this time it was Shashi and Shivu. It was nice talking with them as we were doing the procedure. I tried to think of some more questions to ask Dr. Abhignya, I was wondering the impact of inhaling the turmeric-rose water, like if that has any effect on the respiratory system and balancing doshas that might contribute to skin conditions. 

After this I went to lunch, and then tried to find Dr. Abhignya but I couldn't, so I went to the library and tried to figure out what I want to do with my life. After getting stuck with that, I looked for some of the Ayurvedic books and decided to read the Charaka Samhita which is kind of like the “canon” of Ayurveda. It was really, really interesting I took a LOT of notes. 

I took a break and went to the labour ward to see if they had any deliveries, and they had just finished a twins delivery so I was really bummed about that. I still have 2 days so fingers crossed! I went to see Dr. Yumna and she said Dr. Abhignya was teaching counselling sessions upstairs, so I just hung out in Dr. Abhignya’s office and tried to consolidate all my questions and observations I wanted to discuss with her. I finally saw her at 5, when it was time to go home, and she said we’ll discuss tomorrow which is good. 

I relaxed most of the evening since I was kind of in a bad mood. I felt like I didn’t really do much, and my pipe-dream-career-plans I don’t think will realistically work as well as I’d imagined so that kind of sucks. Apparently it’s very difficult to transfer doctor licenses from USA to Canada, and OB/GYN residencies are of the most brutal you can do, and you only have like a 5-10% chance of getting a residency in Canada if you have an international medical school degree. Also I can’t be an osteopath trained in Canada because it requires a Kinesiology degree or to be already be employed healthcare system. Maybe I could do it after naturopathy? Idk. Also Joti told me I have to do a presentation on Saturday about my experience so I’m not overly thrilled about that, but at the same time it’ll be good to reflect on everything and to share my gratitude to everyone here for the experience. On the plus side, I get to go back to Mysore on Saturday instead of on Monday so I can spend the weekend with Anger, and Laura and Kuann are going to come too! So exciting. 

I met up with Joanna and went to dinner, and it seems like everyone kinda had a bad day. She’s also super confused about what she wants to do with her life, and we relate a lot about not wanting to be in tertiary care but that we want to really work with patients and treat people holistically. Anyway, I’ve got 2 more days and lots more conversations to have, and things to observe!

PS most of after-supper time was spent in our room making the ~gourmet~ banana splits pictured above and playing Trivia Crack lol. I got the question pictured above! It relates to a religious studies course I took this spring which I thought was funny. John if you’re reading this I hope you’re proud, it was Gandhi right? hahaha. 

[wildflower8281]

Welcome to Miami

You’ve seen more in 5 days in Miami than Pete & I have seen in one year!

Coconut Grove: My Sister’s Place

I recently had the opportunity to visit my sister, Erin and her boyfriend, Pete in their amazing place in Miami. This was the first time I’d visited them since they lived down there. The 3 of us had the weekend together and then I had Monday-Wednesday to explore the city on my own, while they went to work. (They are currently in Hawaii now, so don’t feel too bad!)

During our weekend together, we did all things #relax: pool time, patio time (they have an amazing view), and of course amazing eats, most of them waterfront:

1 Hotel Miami Beach, Planthouse: brunch with a view of the ocean

Rusty Pelican: dinner on Key Biscayne, waterfront, view of Miami skyline

Lulu’s: Coconut Grove’s lovely downtown spot for brunch and people watching

Berries in the Grove: walkable local joint where we watched the Kentucky Derby!

Havana Harry's: authentic Cuban cuisine!

Doc B’s: downtown Coral Gables, fantastic all around, amazing guac

Coconut Grove is a sweet section of town, mostly with a residential feel, but also right next to the train and Route 1, both of which get you anywhere. Erin & Pete lived car-free in Phila and they remain car-free in Miami. It’s pretty awesome and very doable! Our trio had a blast together eating, relaxing and reconnecting - I can’t wait to return! 

(This was a quick post, so I’m bunching the pics together, #sorrynotsorry)

Monday: Little Havana

I had rented a car for my explorations from Monday through Wednesday. I’m not afraid to drive in new places or cities, thanks to being thrown into NY City as a nun and learning it on my own with a GPS! Nothing really scares me after that: If you can cruise in NYC, then you can cruise anywhere! (I’ve also driven a 12 passenger van on the left side of the road in Guyana, so there’s that. #ssvm #nunlife #missionaryadventures)

Anyway, of course my first desire when thinking of exploring Miami would be to 

visit Little Havana! It was only a 15 minute drive from Coconut Grove! The neighborhood is actually 3 square miles, most of it residential, so I just parked on a side street and made my way up to Calle Ocho, which is the main street of Little Havana.

The only part of Cuban culture I’ve ever been close to was Maria Cruz. She was a teacher at the church I worked for in Spanish Harlem, San Pablo. She had grown up in Cuba and lived there during the terrible times of Fidel Castro. She taught religion secretly and remembered what it was like to not have access to sugar. She lived there during the scarce and scary times & always had stories to tell. Then, she came to New York. I remember she would occasionally bring us (the nuns who worked in the CCD office) Cuban coffee, in those tiny NY cups and it was the richest, yummiest coffee I’d ever had! That was the closest to Cuban culture I ever got, until now.

My first goal was to find a cuban bakery or coffee shop and score some coffee & sweet breads or cookies to go along, then to sit and just people watch. Luckily, as I rounded the corner of Calle 8, I stumbled upon just that and ordered un cafe cubano and some I-don’t-know-what-they-are-called yummy cuban cookies. I took my treats down the street, seeking a bench to chill on, which I promptly found at Domino Park. Domino Park is just what it sounds like - a dozen or so tables, filled with locals (mostly men) playing dominos, laughing, drinking their cafes and chatting. It was a hub of bustle and I sat right down and enjoyed the scene! One of my favorite things to do while traveling is to find the local hubs, sit and just watch the people. I like to blend in (if possible), remain unnoticed and just observe humanity. It’s fascinating. I made eye contact with various of the players (old enough to be my grandparents,) smiled and I think they appreciated that I just quietly came in and sat down. There were loads of other tourists who came in charging with their cameras, hovering around the tables snapping photos, as if these folks were statues or something. It felt weird to me and I appreciated just being on the sidelines, enjoying my cafe & cookies, just watching.

From the park, I just wandered up and down Calle 8, snapping pictures of everything colorful, vibrant and interesting - which is basically everything in Little Havana. From the trash cans with Cuban art on them, to the wall tiles, street murals and picturesque cafes and walkways. I’m not really a shopper, so I skipped all the souvenir stores (although many looked like they had fun stuff!) and always consider my photos the best captures of my experience that I get to take with me for free. I love shooting new places, capturing scenes, art, and interesting corners or angles that people may not notice. So I spend the next 2 hours doing just that and it made me very happy. I also scored a second cafe cubano, because why not?

I’m not one to educate on history or culture, but Cuba does have an interesting, terrible and unique history behind all the colorful culture and rich coffees. I’ve read about it and learned first hand from Maria Cruz. It’s worth a look-up, whether or not you ever visit Little Havana or Cuba. (Same goes for any culture/country - who were the native peoples, what is their true history, whose land am I on, etc. )

Tuesday: Miami Beach Botanical Garden; South Miami Beach; Matheson Hammock Park

There are at least 5 amazing gardens one can visit in the Miami area, but the Miami Beach Botanical Garden is free! I drove the interesting highways over to Miami Beach and parked in the lot for a whopping $2/hour.

I was expecting the Gardens to be the size of the one here in Phoenix, which could easily take 2 hours to wander through. The Miami Beach Botanical Garden was probably only about ⅓ the size, but reconciled the lack of acreage with rich, lush, tropical radiance! They had a pond with fish, turtles and frogs! A Japanese style garden, a labyrinth you can walk through, various fountains peacefully cascading water and everything in bloom, green and refreshing. Just walking around was like breathing healing air.

I spent about an hour there and still had time on my car to spare, so I was like, “OK, what am I near right now? Where can I explore?” Turned out I was a 15 minute walk from South Beach, aka: the Ocean, so I headed east! Walking towards the beach, I heard dozens of languages, most of them totally unfamiliar to me, like from Eastern Europe and Asia for sure. Pretty neat.

The beach was calm, free (take notes, NJ) and very blue!! I walked to the water, sat in the sand and enjoyed the moment. I didn’t have a bathing suit on, so I just walked in to my ankles, but the water was refreshing. I would have jumped in, but I still had things to do that day and didn’t want #wetbuttcarseat.

I made my way home just in time for the afternoon shower to land. Afternoon showers are a thing in Miami during the rainy season. They usually pass in 1-2 hours, which this one did. Enough time for me to eat lunch and read a bit.

My next stop was the Old Cutler Trail, which I had read was great for biking or walking along. It was 13 miles in total, but one could start wherever and just meander. Well, I found the start of the trail in a gorgeous, historic neighborhood, but it seemed much more ideal for biking. I didn’t just want to walk in a neighborhood, so I kept driving along Old Culter just to see what I might find. This is just how I roll.

Shortly, I saw a sign for Matheson Hammock Park, aiming toward the bay, so I followed that sign. For $5, I could drive in and explore the bay area, swim and relax. It was shortly after the storm, so the place was pretty empty except for me, some lifeguards wandering around and the sunshine. Palm trees, calm beaches, a view of the Miami skyline. I explored the beach pretty intensely and witnessed all kinds of crab life happening right at the waters edge, and quite literally under my feet! It was a very lively shoreline! I watched the crab and critter bustle for quite some time! I relaxed on the picnic tables and watched the water, felt the breezes, just took in this secluded place I happened to find. I felt lucky!

Wednesday: Ancient Spanish Monastery

On my last day in Miami, I ventured to North Miami where the Ancient Spanish Monastery was situated. I guess, Dear Reader, you’ve figured by now that I’m not one to just lay on the beach for 3 days straight! Don’t get me wrong, I love the ocean, but if I have the opportunity to explore a new city, I dive in! I love any reason to wander, take pictures, see something new. So, prior to my trip, I of course researched and selected a few main sites to visit, one of them being this Monastery that just looked gorgeous. I love old buildings, things that feel European and old, and of course there is my ever-affinity to anything related to #monasticlife! Well, this monastery would prove much more interesting than I anticipated!

History from Spanish Monastery:

“Construction of the Monastery of St. Bernard de Clairvaux was begun in the year 1133 AD near Segovia, Spain. Cistercian monks occupied the Monastery for nearly 700 years. After a social revolution in the 1830's, the Monastery’s Cloisters were seized, sold, and converted into a granary and stable.

In 1925, William Randolph Hearst purchased the Cloisters and the Monastery's outbuildings. The structures were dismantled stone by stone, bound with protective hay, packed in more than 11,000 wooden crates, numbered for identification and shipped to the United States. Soon after the shipment arrived, Hearst's financial problems forced most of his collection to be sold at auction. The massive crates remained in a warehouse in Brooklyn, New York, for 26 years. One year after Hearst’s' death in 1952, they were purchased by two entrepreneurs for use as a tourist attraction. It took 19 months to put the Monastery back together. In 1953 Time magazine called it ‘the biggest jigsaw puzzle in history.’                                                           

In 1964, Colonel Robert Pentland, Jr, who was a multimillionaire banker, philanthropist and benefactor of many Episcopal churches, purchased the Cloisters and presented them to the Bishop of Florida. Today the parish Church of St. Bernard de Clairvaux is an active and growing congregation in the Episcopal Diocese of Southeast Florida.”

The photos show how beautifully restored this place is, in addition to it being basically another botanical gardens. There was a labyrinth on the grounds one could wander through and rows of perfectly planted, vibrant flowers. Moving through the Monastery was like being in a different epoch. Knowing that generations of monks silently moved through the corridors, ate in the refrectory and lived religious life within those stones was pretty amazing. Worth the visit, if you geek-out on this stuff like I do. Plus, a gorgeous place to take pictures!

En Fin

My adventure in Miami was fabulous and now I want to move there. Seriously, the green and the water, the tropical vibe got me. While I love the desert and all Phoenix has been to me, Miami felt like my next move. Next move, like give me a year or so to get my biz going, then tropics here I come! Not to mention, my brilliant sister & her fab partner Pete live there. Miami felt real good.

Te veo, Miami, te veo. Ya pronto.

[touristguidebuzz]

16 Things travel taught us in 2017

16 Things travel taught us in 2017

We had good intentions to write our ‘Year in Review’ post at the end of the year, but unfortunately we didn’t feel inspired to write over the holidays. The final few months of 2017 were not great for us, because of this, but we’re optimistic about the upcoming year. 2018 will be a milestone year for us – more on that later.

We used to write an annual round-up post that highlights the adventures of fellow travel bloggers, but after 6 years we decided it was time to put that series to rest. However, if you’re looking for some travel inspiration for 2018, check out one or two of the posts below:

26 Epic Adventures by Travel Bloggers in 2016

25 Epic Adventures by Travel Bloggers in 2015

40 Epic Adventures by Travel Bloggers in 2014

28 Epic Adventures by Travel Bloggers in 2013

25 Epic Adventures by Travel Bloggers in 2012

19 Epic Adventures by Travel Bloggers in 2011

Today, we’d like to share a few lessons learned from our travels in 2017. You can also read about what we learned in 2016.

1. You always think you have more time, until you don’t.

A few months ago, my Dad passed away unexpectedly. Fortunately, we visited him in Ontario a few weeks before his untimely passing. We contemplated visiting him another time. Maybe next summer. We have more time, right? Wrong.

I am so grateful for the experience we had with him at Lake Simcoe this past summer. I would have been devastated if I had put that trip on hold. His passing has solidified the importance of not putting life on pause because of [insert excuse here]. Don’t make the mistake of thinking there will always be more time. There might not be.

You only have one life to live – so live it! 

Related – You always think you have more time, until you don’t

2. Make time for the attractions that are close to home.

The photo above was captured at Joffre Lakes Provincial Park in British Columbia, located about an hour north of Whistler (2.5 hours from Vancouver). Spectacular, isn’t it? Can you believe it’s taken us almost 20 years to visit this lake? What the heck took us so long?!

We often dreaming about traveling to faraway lands. But, sometimes, you will find exactly what you need within a few hours drive. How many times have you said, “I don’t have the time to travel, I’m too busy”. Or, the most common, “I don’t have money to travel”.

Well, the easy solution is to visit the attractions that are close to home.

Related – 50 Photos from our Summer Adventures

3. The details matter. Don’t be petty.

We splurged and stayed at a nice resort during our visit to Curacao (you can read about our experience here). It’s a great property located directly on the beach and within walking distance to the Curacao Sea Aquarium (which is awesome for kids, BTW).

We had a fantastic time at the resort. The restaurant was good. The rooms were clean and modern. The pools were nice and quiet. The beach sunsets were outstanding. It was a fun trip.

BUT – when people ask us about our time in Curacao, we can’t help but tell the story about how the hotel charged us $2 extra for a coffee pod. We spent over $1,000 for 3 nights at this property and the staff felt it was necessary to charge us for 1 measly coffee pod.

Here’s what happened. We couldn’t figure out how to use the coffee machine and accidentally pushed the coffee pod through, before it had brewed. It’s an easy mistake to make. We love our morning coffee, so we called reception and asked if we could have another coffee pod to replace the one we lost. We weren’t trying to be greedy, we just wanted 1 cup of coffee each. That doesn’t sound unreasonable, does it?

Let’s be clear – it’s not about the money. It’s only $2. What got us so annoyed was how cheap and petty the staff were about this charge. It ruined what was otherwise a great experience – all for $2.

Related – The Charming Old Town of Willemstad

4. It’s okay to be a Tourist doing Touristy Things.

Niagara Falls is arguably the most popular natural attraction in Canada. It’s estimated that over 30 million people visit Niagara Falls each year, with numbers consistently increasing every year. That number is close to the entire population of Canada!

When we revealed that we’d be visiting Niagara Falls in 2017 we heard a lot of negative “it’s so touristy” comments. I can appreciate that not everyone is interested in touristy destinations, but we’ve found that these destinations are popular for a reason – because they’re fun!

Sure, there are more line-ups and higher prices at these touristy destinations, but with that high demand comes more options. We enjoyed our time at Niagara Falls and would recommend it to other traveling families. There is so much to see and do around the Falls.

Related – How to Spend 4 days in Niagara Falls with Kids

5. Most airlines want to help – if you’re nice.

We’ve been pretty lucky when flying with our boys. We rarely have flight issues and most of the time things go smoothly. That was not the case for our flight home from Aruba last February.

There was a big snow storm in Toronto that delayed dozens of flights. Our connection to Vancouver was via Toronto, so were at the mercy of this storm. The agents at the airport in Aruba weren’t very helpful. It wasn’t their fault, they had limited information. They did their best – but it was a frustrating situation.

In the end, we waited at the gate for over 9 hours before the plane arrived to take us home. There’s not a lot to do at Aruba’s small airport, so it felt like an eternity. Our boys did great, but they have their limits.

During this time, we reached out to Air Canada on Twitter. We waited on hold for 30+ minutes before deciding to hang up and try our luck with social media.

We empathize with airline agents. It wasn’t their fault the snow storm required flights to be delayed for hours. But they had to deal with the aftermath. Thousands of people were stranded, which meant hundreds of connections were missed and needed to be re-booked. People were angry. We were angry.

Rather than yell and point the finger, we stayed calm and asked for help. Our kids were tired and we missed our connection in Toronto. The person working the Twitter account was able to get us booked on new flights later that night and they secured us a complimentary hotel room at the airport with food vouchers. It was a nice gesture. We all needed sleep – badly.

The lesson – be nice to people, even when you’re upset.

We ended up catching a quick connection in Toronto and therefore did not need the hotel room, but it was nice to know that they were trying to make the best of a crappy situation.

Travel schedules don’t always go according to plan. It’s easy to blame and point the finger, but if you’re nice to the airline representative, you’re more likely to have that nice gesture reciprocated. Try it next time – even if the airline is wrong.

Related – When in Aruba, visit De Palm Island. Here’s why.

6. We are way too dependent on our devices.

When I was in Charlotte last spring, my phone died. It just stopped working and would not reboot. Not having my phone rocked me in ways I can’t explain.

Beyond the anxiety of not having my precious phone, I wasn’t able to do even the most basic things, like reading email or texting. And, because I was in a different country, I was unable to fix the phone until I returned home. That was a looooong 4 days.

All of my email and social accounts have two-step verification, which means a text or notification will be sent to my phone in order to access these accounts.

Guess what happens when you leave Canada and enter a new city in the United States? I’ll tell you what happens — you can’t access your accounts without two-step verification!

Think about that for a minute.

I try to login to my email to get my flight details (because I can’t check-in using the airline app on my freakin phone!) and it denies me access because the verification is being sent to my phone that doesn’t work!

I don’t print anything these days (we don’t even own a printer), which means all of my important info lives in the digital world. And, when you can’t access that info, life gets interesting (and not in a good way).

I don’t know what the solution is, but it’s likely going to get worse before it gets better. 

7. We need to Disconnect and Reconnect more often.

Building on the last comment about our device dependency – it’s important to give yourself a digital detox and reconnect with nature. We’re all addicted to our devices these days, which makes it even more necessary to leave the devices at home and surround yourself with nature.

That means you might actually need to bring your camera instead of your phone when you go hiking or camping or swimming. Now, that might not seem like a big deal, until you actually leave your phone at home and have to navigate the world without GPS.

This year, take time to reconnect with nature WITHOUT your device.

Give it a try. You won’t be disappointed.

8. Fear of wind is a real thing.

Have you heard of Ancraophobia? Most people have not. Basically, it’s an extreme fear of wind. It’s a rare phobia but it can cause extreme anxiety and panic attacks for those who have the fear.

During our trip to Aruba it became clear that Connor, our youngest boy, has this extreme fear of wind.

Because it’s always windy in Aruba, the moment we stepped out of the airport, and he felt the strong wind hit his face, he immediately freaked out and ran back inside the airport.

The first few days in Aruba were really tough for him. The poor little guy was terrified and didn’t want to go outside. In the above photo, Connor is actually sitting in his stroller hidden behind that striped towel.

Fortunately, that trip to Aruba helped him get over this fear. He’s now mostly okay the wind.

Related – First impressions and observations from Aruba

9. Country music ain’t so bad.

Let me start by saying that I’m not a fan of country music. It just doesn’t do it for me.

However, when I visited Nashville last summer, I decided to stop at a Honky-Tonk bar on Broadway Street (that one, pictured above). You can’t visit Music City without listening to some live music, right?

I didn’t hate it. In fact, it was pretty good. Let’s be clear, I’m still not a fan of country music. BUT, if you find yourself in Nashville, it’s definitely worth checking out some live music – even if you don’t like country music. You’ll have fun, I promise.

Related – How I spent 48 hours in Nashville

10. Visit at least one World Heritage Site every year.

Every year we try to visit at least one UNESCO World Heritage Site. In 2017 we visited the Historic Area of Willemstad, Curaçao. As you can see from the above photo, Willemstad is quite the place. Its distinct architecture, vibrant colours and rich history make it a must see when visiting this Caribbean island.

We believe it’s important to learn about a country’s heritage, both naturally and culturally. When you start planning your next big trip in 2018, check out this list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites and see if you can incorporate one or two sites into your itinerary.

See more photos of Willemstad here.

11. Our planet is not happy with us.

The summer of 2017 delivered the the worst wildfire season on record for British Columbia. During our time at Porteau Cove this past summer we were covered by a blanket of smoke for days (see the above photo as evidence – the sun actually looks like the moon).

It feels like every year we find ourselves saying, “WOW, there were so many natural disasters this year”.

The storms are getting stronger. The fires are burning longer. The temperatures are getting both higher and lower. Flooding, earthquakes, monsoons, landslides, drought – the planet is sending clear signs that it’s not happy with us.

We have to do better. All of us.

12. Sometimes, NOT leaving your hotel is a good thing.

The Great Wolf Lodge in Niagara Falls is a destination all on its own. During our visit to Ontario last summer, we decided to spend a few days at the resort. We didn’t leave the property once. There was no reason to. We had everything we needed inside the resort.

Picture this – your hotel has a massive water park and wave pool INSIDE the actual hotel. It’s incredible. You don’t need to walk outside. You literally walk down the hall from your room, go down a flight of stairs and voila – you’re inside a 100,000 square foot water park.

The photo below was captured from the second floor inside the hotel. It’s quite the place.

Related – Our experience at the Great Wolf Lodge in Niagara Falls

13. South Florida is open for business.

I visited Fort Lauderdale 10 days after the devastating Hurricane Irma hit Florida and several Caribbean Islands in early September. I was tempted to cancel my trip, for obvious reasons, but reports said that power and water was restored and it was safe to visit. It’s not unreasonable to avoid destinations that have been the victim of a natural disaster.

I’m happy to report that Fort Lauderdale is open for business.

The above photo was taken from my hotel room at the Fort Lauderdale Marriott Harbor Beach Resort. As you can see, the community bounced back quickly. Most of the beaches are back to normal and businesses are open and ready to serve you.

I was speaking to a taxi driver on the drive from the airport to the hotel. He was very worried about the impact of the hurricane on the local economy. Fort Lauderdale (and most of South Florida) is driven by the tourist dollar, so it’s vital that the tourists return this winter season.

Related – 22 Beaches to Take Your Mind Off Winter

14. Revisit the places that shaped who you are today.

There are few places in this world that we will revisit again and again. Victoria BC is one of them.

We love the city’s old town character and laid back vibe. Every time we drive off the ferry at Swartz Bay we feel a sense of calm wash over us. Victoria is a relatively big city, but it doesn’t feel or act that way.

Victoria is the place where we first met. It’s where our family story began, so we felt it was important to retrace our steps and introduce our boys to the places we used to frequent. We visited in October over the Thanksgiving weekend (Canadian Thanksgiving), which was fitting, given the purpose of the trip.

That trip to Victoria reminded us how important it is to revisit the places that shape who you are today. It puts life into perspective and allows you to clearly see how far you’ve come.

Related – Where it all began. Revisiting Victoria with our boys

15. Catching dinosaurs is a really cool experience.

Last summer, I went sturgeon fishing for the first time. I knew very little about sturgeon fishing prior this excursion up the Fraser River in Chilliwack, British Columbia. I had only been fishing a handful of times, but I had seen a few photos of these giant sea creatures online (like this one).

If a catfish, crocodile and reef shark mated, the outcome would look something like a white sturgeon. They are not cute and cuddly. They look like underwater dinosaurs! Watch the video here.

We spent about 6 hours on the river and caught 3 sturgeon that day. I would have been happy with just one, so I’d say this fishing excursion as a huge success.

Related – Sturgeon Fishing on the Fraser River in Chilliwack

16. It’s okay to visit Cancun in June.

Most people avoid traveling to the Caribbean in the summer months, which is considered the off season. It’s much more humid that time of year and the chance of rain is high. I learned that visiting in June is actually not a bad time to visit Cancun – is there really a bad time to visit Cancun?

It rained every day during my visit, but not for long. It lasted about 15 to 30 minutes and then it was done. I didn’t mind though. I actually like a little rain. It helps wash away some of the intense mid-day humidity.

Related – Photos of the Iberostar Cancun Resort in Mexico

What about you? What did travel teach you in 2017?

Share your thoughts in the comments section below.

Read next – The first sunrise of 2018 was a memorable one!

  16 Things travel taught us in 2017 is a post from: Traveling Canucks

Related posts:

25 Awesome Day Trips from Vancouver, BC

Our experience at the Lions Dive & Beach Resort, Curacao

First impressions and observations from our trip to Aruba

Our experience at the Great Wolf Lodge in Niagara Falls, Canada