#such a beautiful day and I felt so grateful to bake and sing and visit my loved ones. but undergirded by so much grief | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

all1e23 · 5 years ago

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Between the Stars [Pt.6]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death

A/N: Good news! We are finally getting out of the terrible sadness! As a reminder, we are back to reader POV for this chapter. This chapter has a slight flashback from the last night and picks up right where the chapter ends. Thanks to my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky for looking this chapter over for me. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

When Natasha showed up this morning with iced coffee and a box of doughnuts, you were relieved and a little excited -- not just because she got the chocolate fudge one you like. Natasha had yet to stop by since arriving home, and it was nice to see with your own eyes that she truly was alive and back home for good. There was always this unease until you could see a returning soldier in person; really see that they were home safe and sound, so seeing your old friend did settle a tiny part of the restlessness in your heart. And outside of the random visits from Wanda before Bucky came home, you haven’t seen much of your friends and family. It all felt forced when you did manage a visit with them and after a few weeks of exhausting lunches and house calls, you simply stopped answering your door and left your phone on silent. It took too much energy to pretend, and you didn't have that much to spare nowadays.

After caffeine and baked goods, Bucky mentioned he had a few things he needed to take care of, stopping by his mom’s and an errand or two with Sam. Despite having Natasha there, you didn't want Bucky to go. He's rarely left your side since he came home, and there was a sense of peace knowing he was only a shout away. It was nice not to be completely alone, but Bucky couldn’t be there forever, and you knew that. He would eventually get a place of his own, figure out what he was doing with his life and move on.

Just like everyone else was doing, everyone but you.

Sooner or later, Bucky would no longer live in the bedroom down the hall, he would get a new job, and new life, and you would still be stuck, unable to move past the life you lost. So, you let him leave without a hint of hesitation on your part. Natasha seemed to sense something was off because the moment Bucky left, she asked how you were handling everything and, more importantly, how were you handling everything with Bucky. You didn't love her spying on a regular day, but you especially didn’t like it today. What was that supposed to mean anyway? Why would she even bring Bucky into the equation? You didn't ask because you honestly didn't want to hear her answer.

You had enough to deal with.

Natasha caught onto your annoyance fairly quickly and changed the subject, leaving both questions unanswered. She could figure out the answer for herself if she looked hard enough. While the dark circles under your eyes had faded thanks to your nights with Bucky, you saw how empty your eyes looked -- she could solve that mystery without help. You felt bad at first. Natasha was only trying to help, but everyone was “only trying to help,” and no one actually helped. No one but Bucky. He was the only one that made you feel… well, he made you more than the nothing that’s consumed you for months on end. You were less numb when he was around, things felt less empty, and your chest no longer felt as hollow. You felt more like yourself, or whatever new version of yourself you were now. Without Steve, you could never be yourself again, but Bucky made you feel like this version you were forced into wouldn't be so bad.

The ice between you and Natasha thawed the more she talked, and you relaxed some. Your laughs were still forced, and the exhaustion a performance like that brought on began to weigh you down after a few hours. You were grateful when she said she had to go and pick up dinner for Clint -- Pizza and cinnamon twists from the place in town. At the time, you wondered if you could talk Bucky into picking you up some instead of cooking. But now that he was home standing in front of you with what was supposedly your piano perched behind him, all you wanted to do was shove those cinnamon sticks down his throat till he chokes.

“Hey there, Trouble. Sorry, I’m late. I had to make a stop.”

You should have known he wasn’t going to simply drop it, it didn’t matter that it had been months since you sold the damn thing. It’s not in Bucky to let things go. He had to fix things. Bucky stood there, waiting for you were sure was your reaction and when your eyes darkened, he appeared to expect it.

“How fucking dare you,” you seethed.

Bucky took a deep breath and braced himself as you crossed the room, barreling towards him with a look he’s only seen once before in his life -- the night he told you he was joining the Army alongside Steve.

“Who the hell do you think you are? I didn’t ask you to get the damn thing back! I don't want it!”

“Y/n, I know you think you have to feel that way--”

"I’m going to stop you right there, James. You don't get to tell me what I feel now or what I should feel six months from now.”

Bucky took a deep breath, and after a second, he corrected himself.

“I didn’t mean it like that, and I know you know that. I only meant-- All you’ve wanted to do since I met you was play, your dad bought her for you. I’ve spent more nights than I could ever keep track of, listening to you play on the damn thing. This isn’t about Steve. She’s got more than memories of Steve attached to her. You don’t have to keep punishing yourself to be a good wife to Steve.”

You wanted to scoff at the suggestion, but maybe you were punishing yourself. Even if you were it didn’t matter. You didn’t want it in your house. You didn’t need a reminder of all the ways you failed Steve, your marriage, and yourself. You didn’t need to be reminded how off-track your life has become and how sixteen-year-old you would be devastated to see the person you’ve turned into in Steve's absence.

“I don’t want to play anymore, and I don’t want any of the Goddamn memories.”

“Bullshit.”

You narrowed your eyes, but Bucky stood his ground and stared back at you, no hint that he was going to back down. Bucky’s always been different from Steve. Steve would have apologized, told you he could get it out of the house if that was what you really wanted. He may have even followed through with that if only to hide it somewhere until you came around, but Bucky wasn't going to do that. Yes, he was gentle, softer with you than with anyone else, but in moments like this, things were different. He wasn’t afraid to push back a little, to challenge you if he had to.

“You’re a stubborn ass, you know that?” you snapped back.

“I’m a stubborn ass?” Bucky challenged, brows raised, and a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Have you looked in a mirror, sweetheart?”

You weren’t in the mood for some cute verbal sparring match. You were exhausted, and you ached all over. All you had wanted from the moment you woke up this morning was a quiet night with Bucky, maybe watch some trashy movie that allowed you to forget for a few hours and possibly allow you to get some sleep, but none of that was likely now.

“Get the damn thing out of my house, and you can go stay with Sam. I don’t care. Just get out and leave me alone.”

You turned to head back upstairs, but your anger quickly resurfaced with each step towards the stairs, you swiftly swung back around catching your second wind and stomped towards him and Bucky was still standing there as if he expected you to do exactly what you were doing. You wanted to hate him for knowing you that well.

“You know, you have no right, Bucky. I am grieving in my own way, and I don’t… I gave it away, okay?! I don’t want it, and you’re an a-asshole for bringing it b-back and forcing me to relive it a-all.”

Bucky stepped forward when your voice trembled but kept an arm’s distance between you. He could reach out and touch you if he thought that was what you wanted, but he wouldn’t until he was sure it was okay to do so.

“You about done? Get it all out?” He asked, much softer this time around.

That soft heart of his always found its way back at just the right time.

“Yes,” you spat back, it didn’t come out angry as you hoped. You sounded tired.

You were just so tired of everything.

Bucky slowly reached out and took your hand, pulling you towards the dreaded instrument in question. You let him drag you towards the bench and didn’t fight him when he gave you a playful nudge towards the keys. You rolled your eyes but let your free hand land on the keys, one following the other as the notes consumed the stale air of your living room, you never admit to his face, but you already felt a little better. Bucky let go of your hand, and you stepped closer to make sure it was, in fact, yours -- not that you thought Bucky would ever lie to you or try to trick you like that.

He cared about you far too much to hurt you like that.

Bucky broke the tautness between you with an easy smile and filled you in on some of his trip. “You'll be happy to know the little girl I bought it back from said my hair looked dumb.”

You snorted.

“It does look dumb.”

Bucky grinned at your playfulness. That’s been showing up more and more as of late, and he was more than willing to encourage it.

”Now, you’re just being mean, Trouble. It takes a long time to grow it out. What am I supposed to do, huh?”

You looked up from the white and black keys, grinning as your fingers played on their own accord. No real thought to the rhythm, but it was clear it was one they have memorized.

“Fine,” you conceded with feigned exasperation.”"You look handsome. Happy?”

“Handsome, huh?” Bucky mused, that self-satisfied grin on his face as he toyed with your words in his head, and you couldn’t help but get annoyed. As if he didn't know.

“Oh, shut up. You know you're good looking.”

Bucky laughed suddenly, surprised by your words, and it made you smile. You’ve always liked that laugh, the one he gives when he’s caught off guard; his eyes light up with that spark, his nose scrunches up, and his smile is so big you’re sure his cheeks hurt.

“I ain’t denying it. Just didn’t think you thought so.”

Your fingers faltered, and A sharp was hit by mistake, piercing your ears and Buckys from the grimace he made. It’s been a long time since you thought of Bucky in that way, not that he hasn’t always been attractive, and he’s only become more beautiful as he aged, but standing in front of him now made you feel shy and uncertain for some reason. How had he not known you’ve always found him beautiful? This wasn’t something you should be thinking, let alone saying out loud. You shouldn’t see Bucky that way or anyone for that matter.

It was unfair to your marriage and to Steve.

Bucky shook his head as if he was annoyed with himself because he was thinking the same things you were, and he lifted his dusty black boot towards the bottom of the piano to change the subject or maybe to clear the uncomfortable tightness that returned to the room and forget their moment of disloyalty.

“Come on.”

You followed Bucky without protest; both of you slipped under the piano lying shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the unpainted wood on the bottom where your initials rested next to J.B.B. You ran your fingers over the slightly faded marker and smiled.

“That was a long time ago.”

Bucky hummed in agreement. “Another lifetime.”

“When you wrote that…” You dropped your arm onto your stomach and turned your head to meet Bucky's eyes. “Did you know this is where we would end up?”

“No,” Bucky opened his mouth again but quickly snapped it shut. He obviously wanted to say something, but some part of him, his head or his heart you weren’t sure, were telling him not to.

“No, Trouble. I didn’t know we would end up here. I thought-- I knew you would always be in my life, but I didn't think we would ever be here.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder and held your hand out, which he took right away. Your fingers laced together, and he brought your hands up to rest on his chest. Quiet settled over you, and you laid there, staring at the aging Sharpie markings. Things were so different then. If you could go back and ask the girl who scribbled her initials next to Bucky’s if she knew where she was going to end up in the next few decades, she would have told you with absolute certainty, laying right here next to Bucky.

She was ignorant and so naive, and maybe a part of you still was because for just a few moments it felt like everything would be okay, it would all be okay as long as you stayed here under your piano, holding Bucky's hand.

“Play for me?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence with a gentle whisper.

That wasn’t a strange request, and it’s one you’ve heard fall from his lips a hundred times before. When you were young and foolish, Bucky used to ask you to play for him all the time, and usually, you were happy to oblige. This wasn’t about that, though. There was a question in his voice that said he wanted to know this was okay, that what he did was okay and that you were okay because if you weren’t and you really hated having it back, he would get rid of it.

“What do you want to hear?”

You didn’t mind having the piano back, and it was only right that Bucky was the one that brought it home to you.

“How about the song you liked to play from that movie. Shit, what was it? Swallow. Eh, no. Shallow?”

“I hate love songs.”

Bucky smiled.

“No, you don't.”

You smiled despite yourself and whispered, “I want to.”

Bucky placed a kiss to your forehead and whispered against your skin, “No, you don’t.”

It was unfair how well Bucky knew you. He knew nearly everything about you. He knew you hated to be told when you were wrong when you knew you were absolutely right. Bucky knew when you were lying and when you were throwing up your walls to hide the more delicate side of your heart, only a few have seen. You pretend to be tough by saying things like that, so no one could see how gentle you really were under it all. It was infuriating and comforting to have someone who knew you inside and out, but it often made it hard to keep the broken parts hidden.

“I’ll play for you, but I just wanna lay here a little bit longer, okay?”

He knew most of your secrets; you only wished he would trust you with some of his.

“Okay, Y/n, We can stay here as long as you want,” Bucky promised.

“And then order a pizza?”

Bucky chuckled and gave the hand he was still holding a soft squeeze.

“If that's what you want, Trouble.”

You grinned but didn’t say a word, simply closed your eyes and let your head fall into the crook of his arm. Things were less scary when Bucky was around, so it was okay to let your guard fall for a short while. He would brave the dark with you if he had to, help you figure out what your new normal was and what parts of your past were okay to keep.

It made you feel as if maybe one day in the near future, everything would be okay again. At the very least, there would be pizza and Bucky, and that was enough.

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#bucky barnes x reader #past!Steve Rogers x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #alternate universe #military au #tw: military death #tw: death of a spouse #tw: character death

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deobienthusiast · 5 years ago

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a special day

• pairing: kim younghoon (the boyz) x reader

• word count: 1,567 words

• genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst

• warnings: none whatsoever

• notes: this was for our precious bread boy!!! happy birthday kim younghoon! thank you for being the light in deobi and the boyz lives. we love you so much💙

• requested: yes | no @ever1astinglove

You couldn’t pinpoint the first moment you realized just how special August 8th became for you. For years, it was just another number on a calendar that would come and go, and nobody would bat an eye. Maybe it was the day you first saw him, Kim Younghoon.

Younghoon and you met on August 8th. His birthday, to be more exact. You bumped into him while he was out with a boy just slightly shorter than him, as they were looking for a brand new cake. They had been complaining about someone dropping the previous one. They came to the bakery you worked at, and asked for the best cake you had to offer. Of course, in your mind, every delightful baked good in the bakery was the best pastry you could offer someone.

“What’s the occasion?” You had asked, skimming through the books to find “the best cake”.

You hadn’t gotten an answer, making you pause your search as you looked up at the two boys. The shorter one was smiling wide before pointing at the taller one.

“It’s his birthday.” He said, poking his taller friend.

The boy looked at you with a small smile and dusted pink cheeks as he spoke.

“I’m Younghoon.” The boy said, before jabbing his friend that kept poking him. “This is Hyunjae.”

You smiled at both boys, letting your eyes linger slightly on the tall frame of the boy you now know as Younghoon before shaking your head and speaking.

“A birthday? Well then I might just have the perfect cake for you.” You said, pointing at Younghoon.

His cheeks grew darker in color as he nodded. You had learned the rest of the story about their dropped cake from his friend Hyunjae, and also learned more about the both of them as they awaited the new birthday cake. At the time you had met those two, they had mentioned 10 other roommates, band members to be exact, of the very popular boy band The Boyz.

“12 members. Wow. That’s a lot of people in one dorm.” You said.

Younghoon nodded. “No kidding.”

You smiled as you looked at him. “There must always be adventures.”

Younghoon grinned as Hyunjae spoke up, pulling out his wallet to pay.

“You have no idea. So, how much will the cake be?” He asked you.

“No charge.” You said, boxing the cake and tying a pretty white bow around it as you handed it over to them.

“Seriously,” They both said at the same time.

You nodded. “It’s on the house. For the birthday boy of course.”

Younghoon smiled shyly. “Thank you.”

The two took the cake and headed towards the door, before Younghoon came running back in. He grabbed a business card and a pen, writing his number on it before giving you a smile.

That was three years ago. Since then a friendship and then soon a relationship blossomed between the two of you. Younghoon was every bit as attentive and caring as you had imagined. With him came his rowdy and yet just as loveable friends. Younghoon and you were quite the pair, and every birthday you got to spend with each other. This one, however, was different. You were overseas for school, and you knew that your schedule would keep you away from Younghoon on his birthday, or so you thought. This hurt him more than he liked to admit, and despite Younghoon’s constant reassurance that it was fine, it was bothering him a lot as well.

“It’s fine, really.” Younghoon said through the phone.

You shook your head. “I can see how upset you are, Hoonie. I really want to be there, you know I do.”

He nodded. “I know that. And I really want you here, but you can’t be here. I’m okay with that. We both wanted you to go to school. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

You smiled. Younghoon was always so selfless, and it made you feel like the luckiest girl on the planet to know that he was all yours.

“I’m not going to be able to call you tomorrow, big test.” You lied. “So, happy birthday Younghoon. I love you.”

Younghoon smiled as he nodded. “I love you too. Good luck tomorrow.”

He hung up before you could say goodbye, making you frown as you pulled up your text messages.

[3:14 am] my flight leaves at 5. i’ll be in late, but i’ll be there.

[3:15 am] cobi✨: that’s great! he’s really tore up about you not being here. this will definitely lift his mood😊

You smiled at the message as you grabbed your suitcase. Heading to the airport, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. It had been so long since you had seen or even touched Younghoon in person. Now you’d get the chance to on the most important day of the year. His birthday. It was a foolproof plan as long as Eric didn’t run his mouth. A surprise birthday visit for Younghoon was something you had been planning for months on end. You knew you had time off from school and didn’t plan on missing Younghoon’s birthday.

When you arrived at the airport, your flight was already boarding. You quickly got to the gate, scanning your ticket and boarding as you got comfortable in your seat. It was going to be a long flight, but it was all going to be worth it. You let your mind empty as you fell asleep.

You were awoken by a flight attendant as he helped you grab your bag. You exited the plane, walking the terminal as you searched for your boyfriend’s crazy members before getting tackled.

“You’re here! You’re here! Finally!” You heard Q say as he hugged you tightly.

“Thank goodness. Now we can get back to the dorm. Sunwoo and Juyeon have been trying to keep Younghoon occupied since we left.” Sangyeon said.

Your eyes widened. Yeah, you definitely need to get to the dorms. You kept asking questions to make sure the boys didn’t spoil the surprise. As soon as the company van pulled up to the dorms, you rushed out. Hyunjae stood waiting for you, a box in hand with a white ribbon and logo you knew all too well. All the boys looked at you as you smiled.

“He’s waiting.” Sunwoo said excitedly.

You nodded, bringing your hand up to knock on the door nervously.

The door opened, revealing your handsome boyfriend as he took in who was in front of him. He looked at the members before taking in you, standing in front of him, with a box from the same bakery he met you at.

“Y-you, I, you have a test. You-,” He started.

“Happy birthday Younghoon.” You told him.

His eyes widened as he pulled you into a tight hug. Eric was quick enough to pull the box out from your hands before Younghoon crushed it. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, squeezing you as the members piled into the dorms. Sangyeon took your suitcase in, leaving you and Younghoon alone.

“You’re here,” He breathed out.

He lifted his head, and your heart almost burst at the sight. His beautiful eyes were filled to the brim with tears, threatening to spill as he pushed his forehead against yours.

You wiped at his eyes as you spoke. “Oh baby. Why are you crying?”

Younghoon sniffled. “I’m just so happy you are here! I’ve missed you so so much.”

You giggled. “I missed you, too. Come on.”

You pulled him inside as the boys started to sing “Happy Birthday” to him. Younghoon held you by his side as he laughed. The boys handed him the cake as they grabbed their phones to take pictures. Younghoon smiled with a laugh before looking down at you. After all the picture taking, the members took the cake, cutting into it as Younghoon pulled you away from all the commotion.

“Hey, what about the cake, and our little party?” You asked as Younghoon pulled you to his room.

He closed the door as he dropped down onto his bed, pulling you down with him.

“I’m grateful for the party, but I haven’t seen you in a couple of months. I haven’t been able to hold you or kiss you.” Younghoon said as he pecked your nose, nuzzling into your cheek.

You giggled. “Well you’re my favorite boy. I couldn’t miss your day. I haven’t missed it since we met.”

Younghoon nodded before looking at you. “I can’t believe you did this for me. It makes sense though. They were all acting off once August started. Especially Eric.”

You let out a laugh as you sat up, leaning over Younghoon’s body as you ran your fingers through his soft, red hair.

“Of course I did this for you. You’re my person, and this day has been so special to me since I met you in that bakery. I knew you were something special, and I was right. And now, until the day you decide to get rid of me, this will always be a special day for me. No matter what.” You told him.

Younghoon grinned as he leaned up to kiss you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for this.”

You nodded. “I love you, Younghoon. Happy Birthday.”

He kissed your cheek. “I love you, too.”

#kwritersworldnet #tbznetwork #deobiwritersnet #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #the boyz younghoon #tbz younghoon #kim younghoon

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your-dietician · 4 years ago

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Billie Eilish and the Pursuit of Happiness

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/entertainment/billie-eilish-and-the-pursuit-of-happiness/

Billie Eilish and the Pursuit of Happiness

210413_ROLLING_STONE_06_1486_v4-billie-opener – Credit: Yana Yatsuk for Rolling Stone

From the outside, the house isn’t terribly different from others on the block: a cozy bungalow in L.A.’s Highland Park neighborhood with an old lilac tree blooming near the entrance. In fact, it’s legendary: the place where a prodigal teenager and her older brother recorded the album that made Billie Eilish Pirate Baird O’Connell the queen of Gen-Z pop.

It’s a location familiar to any Eilish fan, and at first glance on an absurdly beautiful day in April, not much appears to have changed about the house in the couple of years since it became famous, along with its teenage occupant. The O’Connell family’s rescue dog, Pepper, trudges through the backyard, now joined by Eilish’s year-old rescue, Shark, a gray pit bull. Signs of home-schooling linger in common areas, like an old-fashioned pencil sharpener attached to the wall and dingy supplies precariously placed on a desk.

More from Rolling Stone

But look closer, and plenty is different. For starters, contemporary pop’s most famous home studio, set up in the childhood bedroom of Billie’s brother Finneas, is no longer a studio. Instead, the siblings’ mom, Maggie Baird, has taken over the space. “It still looks similar. There’s just no equipment,” Billie insists as she greets me in her kitchen, gathering ingredients and utensils for the cookies she wants to bake. Her mom’s added a blue rug to the bedroom and sleeps there with their cat, Misha. “We kept [the studio] for a while, then we were like ‘We don’t need this,’ ” Eilish says.

Finneas moved out a couple of years ago, settling down in Los Feliz with his influencer girlfriend Claudia Sulewski. He constructed a new studio in his basement, where he and Eilish began recording music last year. Eilish is, at first, cagey about admitting that she’s moved out as well. “I’m secretive about what’s really going on,” she offers conspiratorially, rummaging around the cabinets of her parents’ kitchen like a college student visiting home on a long weekend. “It’s been a couple of years now where I’ve been doing my own thing. But secretly, because nobody needs to know that.”

Story continues

Eilish hasn’t been totally lying about where she lives; she still spends a lot of nights in her childhood bedroom. “I just love my parents, so I want to be around them,” she says, shrugging. Maggie and her husband, Patrick O’Connell, buzz in and out of the kitchen, commenting on the cookie baking and helping Eilish use the old oven. Eilish is sporting her new blond-bombshell look. A 180 from her formerly signature black-with-green-roots ’do, the new hair caused an uproar when she debuted it on Instagram in March. Today it’s damp from a shower, and she’s cozied up in a black T-shirt from her own merch store, along with a pair of matching sweats. On today’s menu are vegan, gluten-free peanut-butter-and-chocolate-chip cookies. She’s reading off an old recipe displayed on a food-stained printout that has clearly been well-utilized over the years. Eilish used to make them whenever she was sad. “It was a therapeutic thing for me,” she explains.

It’s been a while since she’s made the cookies (“You’re seeing history,” she teases). She’s found other ways to process her feelings, namely through writing her second album, Happier Than Ever, which is due out July 30th. The title is no fiction: She has, in fact, felt happier than she ever had before. But like a lot of things in her life, it’s not quite that simple.

“Almost none of the songs on this album are joyful,” Eilish explains, refuting the possibility that her second album is the bright, cheery counterpoint to 2019’s When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? The Babadook-inspired debut conjured up vivid memories of night terrors and lucid dreams over textures ranging from industrial electro-pop to jazzy ballads. Her videos were just as dark, full of spiders and black tears covering her face.

On the surface, Happier Than Ever is a different kind of nightmare. Emotional abuse, power struggles, and mistrust — stories drawn from Eilish’s life and the lives of people she knows — take up much of the lyrics, alongside musings on fame and fantasies of secret romantic rendezvous. The sound is mellowed out from the haunted-house sprawl of her debut: lush, somber, mesmerizing electronic soundscapes trickle down your spine, right along with Eilish’s words.

And yet, even on the darkest songs there are moments of reflection, growth and, most important, hope. This is an album from someone who began to heal long before she wrote it. Or at least tried to.

“Have you ever gotten stung on your head by a bee?”

Eilish mentions she got stung “like 20 times” on a camping trip when she was eight or nine. It’s a story she’s told before. “I don’t know why that popped into my head,” she says. “Why did that pop into my head? I have no idea.”

She posed the question after a bit of mesmerized silence as we watched Shark go to town on an empty can of peanut butter. Eilish doesn’t like silence; she even narrates the cookie baking like a food vlogger. She shows me how to make oat flour (“It’s literally oats on their own; pour them in this thing [a Vitamix blender], full power”) and figuring out the right chocolate chip to peanut-butter-dough ratio. (“Some people like too many. I like too little.”)

“I can’t go to the bathroom without watching something on my phone,” she says. “I can’t brush my teeth. I can’t wash my face.” Over the past year she rewatched a lot of things: Sherlock, The Office “probably like six times,” New Girl “like four times,” Jane the Virgin. There was also time for Good Girls, Killing Eve, The Flight Attendant, The Undoing, and Promising Young Woman “like four times.”

“It’s all on my phone,” she explains. She rarely watches anything on TV, except The Twilight Saga, which she took in for the first time recently, with a friend. “I just watch it while I do anything because it takes my mind off the reality of life. I should go on My Strange Addiction,” she says, coincidentally referencing her 2019 song of the same name (which, by the way, samples dialogue from The Office).

Eilish can’t really go outside anymore. There are paparazzi and creeps waiting for her every move, and some have threatened her safety to the point that she needed a restraining order against them. The instant recognizability of her When We All Fall Asleep-era look — bright-green hair, oversize clothes, saucer-like ocean eyes — helped keep her caged. She grew resentful: “I was a kid and I wanted to do kid shit. I didn’t want to be not able to fucking go to a store or the mall. I was very angry and not grateful about it.”

billie eilish rolling stone cover

When We All Fall Asleep and the image she projected at the time marked her uniqueness from the rest of the pop world. But those things also cemented a view of her she’d love to leave behind. I mention an instruction during a musical challenge on a recent season of RuPaul’s Drag Race where a competing drag queen was told the song she was performing was “very Billie Eilish.”

“What do they think when they think that? Do they think what the internet thinks, which is whispering or whatever the fuck people say? Anytime I see an impression on the internet, it just reminds me how little the internet knows about me. Like, I really don’t share shit. I have such a loud personality that makes people feel like they know everything about me and they literally don’t at all.” She wants people to understand a few things: “That I can sing. That I’m a woman. That I have a personality.” Happier Than Ever offers a statement on all of the above.

“Anytime I hear somebody say, ‘Oh, your songs sound the same,’ it gets me. That’s one thing I really try hard to not do. I think the people that say that have literally only heard ‘Bad Guy’ and ‘Therefore I Am.’ ” Both of those songs feature Eilish’s tendency for muted, moody sing-rapping. These days, she’s channeling the jazziness in her voice, a timbre honed from years of touring, on songs like “My Future” and “Your Power.”

Eilish’s privacy was more precious than she had initially realized. She put a lot of herself out for the world to consume early in her career, when she was an “annoying 16-year-old” (her words) trying to engage with her fandom the way she wanted her favorite artists like Justin Bieber to do back when she was a preteen fan. “It’s sad because I can’t give the fans everything they want,” she says. “The bigger I’ve gotten, the more I understand why [my favorite celebrities] couldn’t do all the things I wanted them to do.”

She struggles to find the right way to frame it. “It wouldn’t make sense to people who aren’t in this world. If I said what I was thinking right now, [the fans] would feel the same way I did when I was 11. They’d be like, ‘It would be so easy. You could just do it.’ No. It’s crazy the amount of things you don’t think about before it’s right in front of you.”

Eilish describes her life as “normal as hell,” and at times, it is. She’s watching Twilight. Going on first dates again, as discreetly as possible. Getting first tattoos (she got a giant black dragon on her right thigh in November and “Eilish,” in an ornate, gothic font, in the middle of her chest the day after the 2020 Grammys). “That’s why it’s hilarious when I see, like, ‘10 reasons why we think Billie -Eilish is in the illuminati,’ ” she says. “I’m like, you know how regular I am, dude?”

She wants to share more details with her fans, but the thought makes her nervous. The songs on Happier Than Ever are buzzing with the fear of “interviews, interviews, interviews,” of the names of abusers or toxic friends being forever tied to her, of her own words coming back to haunt her.

“I wish that I could tell the fans everything I think and feel and it wouldn’t live on the internet forever. And be spoken about and called problematic, or called whatever the fuck anybody wants to call any thoughts that a human has,” she explains. “The other sad thing is that they don’t actually know me. And I don’t really know them, but obviously we’re connected. The problem is you feel like you know somebody, but you don’t. And then it’s like, yeah. It’s just a lot.”

We move outside, to the sole picnic table in the yard, and enjoy the warm, crumbly peanut butter cookies. Shark finds a particularly bright patch of sunlight to lie in. Suddenly, he hops up and runs along the fence, in response to the barks of a neighbor’s dog that he desperately wants to befriend. Eilish is a bit jealous.

“Don’t you just wish that was you?”

billie eilish rolling stone cover

“My mom was saying this yesterday,” Eilish says. “When you’re happier than ever, that doesn’t mean you’re the happiest that anyone’s ever been. It means you’re happier than you were before.”

After an adolescence plagued with depression, body dysmorphia, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts, Eilish started feeling better in the summer of 2019, while on tour in Europe. It was shortly after the release of When We All Fall Asleep, and she was seeing a therapist, had just broken up with a boyfriend, and was joined on the road with one of her best friends (as well as, of course, her parents and brother). “I was thriving,” she says. “I felt exactly like who I was. Everything around me was exactly how it was supposed to be. I felt like I was getting better. I felt happier than ever. And I tried to continue that.”

Early 2020 was a whirlwind. Eilish swept the Big Four categories at the Grammys and started a headlining tour that would have eaten up most of her year. She was more excited than she had been for previous tours, which left her with sprained ankles, shin splints, and chronic pain. She played all of three dates before the pandemic forced her to cancel the rest.

Eilish kind of got to say goodbye to the When We All Fall Asleep era (and the look that helped make her famous) at the Grammys this year, performing the one-off single “Everything I Wanted” with Finneas. Happier Than Ever was nearly complete, but she wasn’t yet ready to show off her new blond look. So she hid it beneath a green-and-black wig. “It was weird,” she reflects. “I was playing this former Billie Eilish with green hair, singing a song from a year and a half prior, while I have 16 new songs that I haven’t put out yet. The fans didn’t really even know that it was a goodbye to an era. That’s kind of heartbreaking but endearing at the same time.”

Recorded as the world went on pause, Happier Than Ever was an opportunity to dig into her personal trauma. “I went through some crazy shit, and it really affected me and made me not want to go near anyone ever,” she says, though she declines to give details.

Like everything Eilish does, the lyrics are sure to spark debate, side-eye emojis, and conspiracy theories as people ponder who she’s singing about. The songs are a mosaic of experience, ripped from her own life and those of people she knows. They juggle deadbeats, secret lovers, emotional abusers. Eilish won’t name names or get into specifics, and she’s quick to remind that this is not just her life she’s talking about. But she also says the stories in the new songs are more honest than When We Fall Asleep, which she describes as “almost all fictional.”

Eilish says she’s letting go of the Old Billie, who would tuck away her own emotions to make others feel better. “There’ve been times where I’ve been really affected by somebody, and I said to them, ‘I need to tell you how you’ve made me feel.’ And they said something that was like, ‘I can’t handle this right now. I just can’t handle this right now. This is going to be too much for me.’ ”

She says she spent so long “being fucked with” and had to realize that while the toxic traits she sings about were often born out of pain, that doesn’t make it OK. “I was talking to a friend about their life, and they told me all this crazy traumatizing shit that happened to them. And I’m like, ‘Oh, right, you don’t have to treat everyone like a piece of garbage, just because you’ve been hurt.’ It’s OK to be traumatized by something and have bad instincts, but also, there’s no excuse for abusing people. There just is not. I feel like everything is excuses all the time. Excuses, excuses.”

Album opener “Getting Older” was particularly harrowing to write. “Wasn’t my decision to be abused,” she sings over a delicately plucking synth beat. By the end, she lays bare what’s on her mind. “I’ve had some trauma/Did things I didn’t wanna/Was too afraid to tell ya/But now I think it’s time.” Eilish recognizes how shocked listeners may be by the rawness of the song. “I had to take a break in the middle of writing that one, and I wanted to cry, because it was so revealing. And it’s just the truth.”

The title track, which starts like a mopey breakup song, then fires off into an electric-guitar-driven rager, was the first thing she started writing for the album, back on the European tour where she felt like she was thriving. The rest of the songs bare different kinds of catharsis, teetering between sexy, electronic beats and warm folkiness, reminiscent of her earliest music. Each song is delicate, sensuous, and balancing naked vulnerability with a bit of self-protective confidence posturing.

Writing about her deepest emotions wasn’t easy for someone who had painstakingly kept the details of her relationships under lock and key. “I’ve been in two [relationships],” she says. “I’ve experienced a lot in what I have done. But I’ve never been in something really real and normal.” The news cycle and fan response to her Apple TV documentary, The World’s a Little Blurry, earlier this year cemented her decision not to name names or get specific about details in the new songs. People are like “ ‘Well, you’re an artist, so when you put something out there like that, you can’t expect people to not dive into it more.’ Yes I can,” she says. “You should absolutely respect me giving you this much information and saying, ‘This is all you get.’ The rest is for my own brain.”

billie eilish rolling stone cover

The most the world has gotten to see of Eilish’s romantic life was in The World’s a Little Blurry, which spanned from the final weeks of recording When We All Fall Asleep in late 2018 through the 2020 Grammy Awards. Eilish wasn’t necessarily psyched for it to come out. “I don’t like to share that part of my life, and I was not planning on sharing that part of my life ever,” she says.

Her ex, Brandon Adams, an artist who performs under the name 7:AMP, played a pivotal role in the film. The World’s a Little Blurry showcases a painful give-and-take between Eilish and Adams, who was then in his twenties. In the aftermath of the documentary, fans went after Adams and his family on social media.

Many have assumed Eilish’s chilling single “Your Power,” which mentions a relationship between a teen girl and an older man, is about Adams. Eilish — who released the song in late April, along with a statement saying, in part, “this is about many different situations that we’ve all either witnessed or experience” — strongly objects to this notion. “Everybody needs to shut up,” she says. The documentary, she insists, “was a microscopic, tiny, tiny little bit of that relationship. Nobody knows about any of that, at all. I just wish people could just stop and see things and not have to say things all the time.”

Eilish describes herself as “clingy,” but since she and Adams broke up in 2019, she’s spent the past two years trying to learn how to exist on her own. “I didn’t know how before,” she explains, “which is ironic because I had never been in a relationship that allowed me to really exist with that person anyway. My emotion always is because of somebody else’s, and that had been such a big pain in the ass.”

She’s still trying to grow out of that. “You heal eventually.”

Eilish and I actually weren’t supposed to meet at her parents’ house. She wanted me to see where she recorded Happier Than Ever, in Finneas’ basement studio. But a pipe burst, nearly destroying the space. “The room had to be completely rebuilt,” he explains later over Zoom. “But my hard drives, synthesizers, and guitars and stuff were all fine. I feel very lucky for that.”

Eilish speaks with relief at how much less draining the recording process for Happier Than Ever was compared with her debut. It was partially due to some peak-mom advice from Maggie early in the pandemic. After nearly a month of lockdown, Maggie suggested that her kids get on a weekly schedule. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, Eilish would drive her matte-black Dodge Challenger over to Finneas’ house. Some days they would write songs. Other days they’d play Animal Crossing or Beat Saber. Every day they would eat good meals: “A lot of Taco Bell, homemade pizza, taro boba, Thai food,” Eilish lists. “Crossroads and Little Pine. Nic’s once. Fatburger once. It was such a reward.”

In The World’s a Little Blurry, the teen’s misery is palpable as she finishes When We All Fall Asleep. Eilish and Finneas had been largely left to their own devices, but pressure still loomed from the label. There were deadlines (the album was due right around her 17th birthday), constant meetings, and an expectation that a star was about to be born, thanks to a couple of years of growing buzz. “I hated every second of it,” she admits. “I hated writing. I hated recording. I literally hated it. I would’ve done anything else. I remember thinking there’s no way I’m making another album after this. Absolutely not.”

This time, there was no pressure. No notes from the label. No meetings. No rush to meet deadlines. “No one has a say anymore,” Billie says. “It’s literally me and Finneas and no one else.” On April 3rd, 2020, the first day of their new weekly work schedule, they wrote “My Future.” Within a couple of months, they realized that they were making an album.

She pulls out a clear acrylic sign holder with the track list written in marker, songs clearly erased and moved around. “I think I’m going to frame this,” she says, smiling. There are some water stains on it, since it got drizzled on when Finneas’ studio flooded.

The 16 songs on the album are the only 16 they worked on. The pair are completists: Once they start a song, they have to see it through with meticulous precision until it’s perfect to them. The way the album sounds is a testament to that, each song a unique, avant-pop soundscape that elevates the baroque trip-hop-ness of her debut.

billie eilish rolling stone cover

“I admire artists that can make, like, three songs in a day and keep doing that over and over,” Eilish muses. She compares songwriting to running, in that it would be “fucking exhausting” to do all the time. “Songwriting is like that for me. I’m pretty good at it, but it takes a lot out of me. I feel like I just ran a marathon whenever I write a song.”

Finneas saw the change in his sister this time around. She liked writing songs, feeling less tortured by the process than before. “It’s been awesome as a big brother to see her become more confident and feel more ownership and just to be more excited than I’ve ever seen her about the music that we’re making,” he says. “I also just think she has objectively gotten even better. That’s my opinion. If she were an Olympic gymnast or something, she would’ve gotten better. She’d be able to do a higher vault or something.”

Since “Bad Guy,” Finneas has become one of pop’s most in-demand producers, working with everyone from Tove Lo to Selena Gomez. He also has his own solo career that’s taken off, though the studio flood came at the worst time possible for it, as he was working on his debut album. Eilish has found Finneas’ career outside of being her creative partner to be “fucking great” and easy for them to adjust to. “It doesn’t interfere at all, and it’s fun for him,” she says. “He only does what he wants to do. He’s not a slave to it.”

“I scratch a lot of itches working with Billie,” Finneas continues. “I think my primary goal was to just go deeper. This was Billie’s sophomore album, you just . . . you have the opportunity to go further inward and further down in your Mariana’s Trench.”

Finneas says that their process is “50-50” creatively, and he speaks proudly about the gated tremolo and distortion that elevate songs like ��Oxytocin” and “NDA,” two tracks that look at romance and hookups through the lens of a very famous person attempting to have both under the radar.

“Billie Bossa Nova” takes that theme one step further, building a fantasy around the life of a touring pop star. “We have to do a lot of goofy bullshit when we go on tour, where we enter through freight elevators in hotels and stuff, so that paparazzi doesn’t follow us to our room,” he explains.

“And so we acted as if there was also a secret love affair going on in there of Billie being like, ‘Nobody saw me in the lobby/Nobody saw me in your arms,’ as if there was a mystery person in her life during all of that.”

“I write songs with my brother, and we kind of have to plug our ears when we’re writing about desire for other people because we’re fucking siblings,” Eilish says later. Songs like “Oxytocin,” named for the hormone released in the bloodstream due to love or childbirth, has her wondering “What would people say . . . if they listen through the wall?” over a slinky beat. The folky “Male Fantasy” features her distracting herself with pornography, then meditating on the effect porn has on men.

“The thing is, we’re very open about both of our lives, so it’s not weird, really,” she continues. “It’s just fun. It’s songwriting and it’s storytelling. We just have to think about the art of it and not think too hard about [the lyrics].”

As 50-50 as they are, Finneas drives home the fact that everything is under Eilish’s name for a reason. “In many instances we’ve been asked about our relationship as a duo when it’s billed as a solo artist,” Finneas says. “It’s her life. It’s all her world. I’m helping her articulate that, but it’s really her experiences that she lived through, and on this album she let me into it a lot. But I don’t know what that’s like to go through.”

He quotes his friend, the singer-songwriter Bishop Briggs, who says writing is how she copes with everything. Finneas agrees. “Billie making this album was her working through a lot of this stuff.”

When Eilish releases a new song, she can’t listen to it again. It disappears into the universe, only to be heard by its maker if she happens to catch it as it’s played on radio every hour on the hour. “It’s not because I don’t like it anymore,” she explains. Happier Than Ever has become Eilish’s favorite album in the world, but she’s already mourning the loss of it, months before it even comes out. As we talk, it’s a couple of weeks before the first single is even public knowledge.

“I don’t know how to explain this, but all the songs on the album feel like a specific time, because they feel like when I wrote them and made them,” she explains. “It’s so funny that to the rest of the world it’s going to feel like a certain moment for them, and it’s going to be so different than mine. That’s such a weird, weird thing to wrap my head around. And I will fucking love it. I love it. That’s the reason you do this. It’s for that.”

When Eilish and I speak one last time, “Your Power” has been out for a few days. It spurred reflective conversations online, with many women sharing their own experiences with sexual or emotional abuse. The lyrics about an older partner taking advantage of a younger woman struck a particular chord, and Eilish herself is still processing that reaction.

billie eilish rolling stone cover

“I feel like people actually really, really listened to the lyrics,” she says, flopping around her room in an oversize Powerpuff Girls shirt. “I was scared for it to come out because it’s my favorite song I’ve ever written. I felt the world didn’t deserve it.”

She broke her own Instagram “like” record that weekend as well: Her shoot for British Vogue showed her in more revealing clothes than she had ever been pictured in, channeling Forties boudoir shoots. The images were a topic of internet obsession for days: Was it a betrayal of her more “modest”-seeming fashion before? Did she make the decision herself? But it’s not like her body hadn’t been up for debate even when it was clothed: Her baggy outerwear was used to shame her peers, and she was subjected to belittling, fatphobic assumptions from the too-curious. “I saw a picture of me on the cover of Vogue [from] a couple of years ago with big, huge oversize clothes [next to] the picture of [the latest Vogue]. Then the caption was like, ‘That’s called growth.’ I understand where they’re coming from, but at the same time, I’m like, ‘No, that’s not OK. I’m not this now, and I didn’t need to grow from that.’ ”

Like her fashion experiments, Happier Than Ever is not about resetting who Billie Eilish even is. It’s about expanding the definition and range. But like she feared, she stopped listening to “Your Power” after it came out. “I don’t know. Something changes,” she says, still confused by her own habit.

The song has already taken on a life of its own, so she doesn’t have many expectations for how people will react to the rest of the as-yet-unheard songs. She’d like to make a visual for each track, and plans to embark on a world tour at some point.

She has one other wish for her new music. “I hope people break up with their boyfriends because of it,” she says, with only the slightest tinge of humor. “And I hope they don’t get taken advantage of.”

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years ago

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 63: Land of Enchantment

Chapters: 63/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: none Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), What Beautiful Music They Make, Even When Diner Food Is Bad It’s Still Pretty Good, Not Very Healthy Though, Get Thee To A Waffle House

Summary: Loki visits Townsvill, USA

Loki had to admit a grudging respect for the human invention known as the internet. Such lawlessness. Such chaos. Such memes! And the fact that anything, anything at all, could be found there. Including information on the-to Loki's surprise-thousands of species of cicadas. It was one of the great mysteries of Midgard; this grand proliferation of living things. When just one version of something would have been fine, there somehow had to be dozens to thousands of kinds of that thing. Especially among the insect world. Why so many beetles? Why?

In your vast Iowa, there seemed to be almost twenty species, though, aside from size and color, there didn't seem to be much difference between them. They were all shaped like fat teardrops, with lacy, gossamer wings covering, but not hiding, their chubby, pointed abdomens. He did learn some interesting insect facts-there were some that only appeared every decade or so, some even went a full seventeen years without showing up, but when they did...

The word 'swarm' seemed to put it lightly.

Horrifying.

He learned about the singing frogs, and their whimsical names; the Bullfrog, the Chorus Frog, the Spring Peeper.

He researched the crickets, locusts, and grasshoppers.

He found recordings of all of these and more-coyotes, owls, the soft squeaking of bats. The loud, crepuscular Swifts, the equally loud, nocturnal Whip-Poor-Will, a well camouflaged bird named after its signature cry.

He could do something with all of this.

In the times in between doing his princely duties, he had things prepared. Some silk needed to be woven, some wooden frameworks made. It would take a little bit of time, but everyone worked faster when it was at the prince's request.

Once he had the blank 'canvas' on its series of wooden 'frames' he sent it to his favorite painters, with an image he wished for them to reproduce.

All the while he waited, he also dove into the study of your homeland.

Midgard was so very large, and he had spent so little time actually being there, and learning his surroundings. The sizes of countries baffled him sometimes. The United States was one of those countries that seemed to contradict its own existence. While not the largest of countries, it was still so large that its central government could not govern its entirety. Instead, it was broken up into 'states'; great chunks of land, many being so large as to be countries all their own. Each of these states governed themselves, reporting back to the central government. It was an odd arrangement, that struck Loki as woefully inefficient and ripe for rebellion.

In fact, his studies taught him that several such rebellions had occurred in the past, and had the possibility of rising again in the future.

He tried to listen to some of the music common to your nation-sized state, but could not stand it for more than a few songs. Modern Midgardian music was mostly terrible, in his opinion, lacking in melodiousness and refinement. The lyrics tended to be simplistic at best, examples of beginner's poetry.

He found some grudging enjoyment in the unusual instrumental achievements of what the radio stations called “Eighties Hits”, whatever that meant, but he would not be admitting that anytime soon.

The pictures and recordings didn't seem like enough. The music wasn't enough.

He needed to be there.

Loki could not take you to Old Asgard exactly, but he could make illusions to immerse you in the world in which he grew up. But you couldn't do that, you couldn't bring your homeland to him. If he was to understand you better, he would have to go there himself. Surround himself in your land, eat the food, breathe in the air.

And so he began planning a little vacation.

Or was it an espionage mission? No one other than Heimdall could know he was there: He was still very much a persona non grata in the United States. He could not take you with him. He would have to go in disguise. He would have to go at night, while you slept, so that you would not suffer for his distance from you.

Maybe someday he would be allowed back; to take you back to see all your friends and neighbors. Until then, he would just have to bring some of it back to you.

One evening, he kissed your forehead gently, telling you that he had an errand to run, and might not be back until morning. You were tired; it was clear to him. You didn't even question what he would be doing.

As he left the city limits, he let his outline shimmer and fade away, replacing himself with features that would be less likely to draw suspicion. Soon there was nothing but a grizzled old man in worn jeans and a stretched out black tee shirt. Boring. Ordinary. Unremarkable.

All the things he was sure he was not.

Heimdall met him with a sarcastic stare.

“What have we here?” He said in a flat voice. “A lost, Midgardian peasant? I suppose I shall have to send you home.”

In a time past, Loki might have felt bashful, but that was before he had realized that the gatekeeper had a sense of humor drier than the center of a star. Now he only felt grateful about how willing Heimdall was to break the rules.

“I wish to learn some things.” Loki said. “It's for the good of my subjects.”

“Plural?” Heimdall questioned. Loki pursed his lips and looked away. Heimdall twisted the sword.

The light gathered Loki up, and flung him across the sea.

*****

The fields were vast in the dying light, stretching so far on every side, that it was impossible to see their end. The only break in the tall rows was the equally endless road Loki walked. He could smell the green plants as the sun disappeared beneath the corn, and the dust, and the mud in the roadside ditches.

Heat distorted the distance, assaulting his senses, but not as much as the noise.

Everywhere, every cubic inch of the world was the sawing scream of cicadas. It filled his skull, filled his bones, inescapable and omnipresent. How did you sleep in this? How could anyone sleep here?

But as he walked, as the day faded and the night awoke, Loki began to hear the song. The insects cries had a rhythm that rose and fell in rounds, constantly changing as a frog in a ditch puddle sang along, as crickets among the corn roots added their harmonies. The interruptions as something, perhaps himself, disturbed the nearest singers, causing them to fall silent, and change the melody entirely.

The whole world around him was alive, and reveling.

A dome of light on the horizon indicated your town. He would be there soon, an hour's walk at most.

The closer he got, the less he could see the emerging stars, a problem even the smallest of Midgardian settlements seemed to have. There were more vehicles too, several of them stopping to ask if he needed help. These he waved away with a friendly declaration that he was just out for a nice evening walk.

Eventually, there came a break in the cornfields, a wide verge between farmland and civilization. A sea of grass and barely visible wildflowers, closed up against the darkening night. He leaped over the ditch and strode a few feet into it, focusing on the last vestiges of wildflower scent, of the insects that rose into the air, the evening choir all around him.

The flashlight shining in his face, the stern questioning of an officer. The warning to move along. He wasn't even bothering anybody, and still, he was somehow in trouble.

The officer also offered him a ride, but Loki didn't trust it. A ride to the local prison maybe. The fellow was a bit too canny; he didn't seem to believe a thing Loki said.

He finally passed a city limit sign, that boasted of its two thousand residents. Smaller, even than Asgard, yet you'd spent your whole life here. Hemmed in by cornfields, like great, green walls. Lulled by the song of nature. Sick, and starving, and scared, without him.

And for a year of it, nearly alone, surrounded by dead fields, like even greater walls, no word from the outside world. Isolated, endangered, without even a single member of your family to draw comfort from. All because of Thanos. Just like Thor had been, in the aftermath. Just like he had been, after he fell.

But never again. None of you had to be alone now.

For a town, the place was surprisingly empty. There were large spaces between buildings, overgrown lawns and poorly manicured houses. There were churches; though in this country, there seemed to be churches on every corner. There was the grocery store he had taken you from. The memory had grown soft and treasured in his mind. The way you had fallen so dramatically in front of him, like a swooning maiden faced with raw power. The way life had flowed back into your limbs when he touched you, the way strength seized your soul, and you had so adorably tried to break his nose.

All he had felt then was your warmth. The blow might have felled a human man, but he was so much more. And he had since proven that to you. Mostly.

You still weren't ready for further steps into this relationship. That was okay. You had a busy life now, lots to think about. Your days were full of so much more than just deciding what icing to put on the cupcakes.

Speaking of...

Loki wandered the isles of the grocery store, imagining that you had done the same. Day in, day out, up and down these cramped, harshly lit shelves, until it was memorized. He stood outside the bakery section-closed by this time of night-knowing that you had spent years in that very spot. How the work of your hands had been appreciated by everyone who had bought any of the wide variety of baked goods on display, but had never been attributed to you. Every worker in this place wore the same uniform, the same hat, the same color. They were forced into facelessness.

You had worn that same uniform when he first found you. You'd lost your hat in the mire outside New Asgard, and he'd had the ugly, ill-fitted uniform thrown out. Only the apron remained, decorated, bettered, made more worthy of you and what you were becoming.

Loki adored the style of clothing you wore now; a mix of traditional Midgardian forms and Asgardian details-as unique in its position as you were. And you had taken to it so naturally! It would be nice to see you in some purely Asgardian pieces though. Specifically, Asgardian lingerie...

Loki tore his wandering mind away from that alluring subject, lingering instead on the array of presumably delicious baked goods before him. There were confetti cupcakes with galaxy-colored icing, covered in glitter, labeled 'Sayd-cupkakes', and a little photoshopped picture of you with rainbows and sparkles fountaining from your hands. He was sorely tempted to filch it, but he had already stolen something from this place.

On a table next to the cupcakes, there were green iced croissants, slightly unfurled before baking, in order to make them look less like a swirl, and more like bulls horns. These were labeled 'Lossants', and Loki struggled with amusement at the awful puns, and awareness about how inappropriate this probably was, considering all he had done. This would never have gone over in New York. The store would have been shut down immediately.

But your old workplace honored you. And seemed to at least acknowledge the reality of himself. If this tiny town could do that, perhaps there was hope yet.

Loki headed down the street, where it seemed a majority of the local eateries were located, and chose the most rustic looking. This would be the place where the local poor would eat, when they could afford to.

The décor was odd to him-it seemed there was little thematic cohesion, with everything from old signs, to movie posters, to farm animals made of wood or tin affixed to the walls. The false leather of the booth seating was red and cracked, and the yellowish lighting threw a grungy pall over everything.

Even in the guise of a rough old man, Loki managed to charm the waitress, ordering a combo plate of breakfast foods, which he was pleased to find were served all day. These were delicious, but he could see how they would be unhealthy for a human, who burned calories at a slower rate than Asgardians did. But Loki knew that peasants of both species needed hearty fare, to do the work that they did.

Personally, Loki found these 'waffles' to be delightful in taste and texture. Did you like these? Had you sat in this seat, smiled at this waitress, eaten waffles off these plates? Did you like this sublime sweetness known as maple syrup?

Or did you eschew these things in favor of the protein? These heavy scrambled eggs, the crunchy bacon, the sausage that was uncomfortably greasy. Asgardian food had been refined over millennia to provide for the needs of mighty warriors: it would be much healthier for you than this.

But maybe he could have some greasy sausage brought for you sometimes. He knew how you loved strong flavors.

He could feed you little tidbits. You could lick his fingers.

Again, Loki had to drag his thoughts away from such subjects, and concentrate on satisfying his other hungers. He had to pay with Icelandic money, bespelled to look like American dollars, but he would likely not be back this way again, so it wouldn't matter when the spell wore off.

Besides, they could just exchange it, couldn't they? It was the correct amount.

He wandered out into the night, allowing himself to get lost in the streets of your town. It was mostly quiet, but the sounds of music and television sets could be heard inside the houses, and cars ran back and forth infrequently on the hot streets. There was smoke in the air, the sounds of gatherings in backyards, and even here, the cry of cicadas. Loki located your 'High School', and what must have also been your 'Middle School', and 'Elementary School', though he still didn't understand the distinction. But there was only one of each in this little town, so you must have attended at least one. Perhaps you had been selected for the 'High school' due to your intellectual acuity? But then why were you still a peasant among humans?

You were exalted in Asgard now, paramour to a prince. He wanted to believe that it didn't matter, but it was your upbringing. It was what had shaped your personality, and informed your outlook on life. This town, with its run down buildings and overgrown lots, fenced in by walls of corn, it had created you. This was your true maker; it moulded you, and was still a part of you, like the Shining Realm would always be a part of him, no matter what was going by the name of Asgard now.

Loki was not so sure that he really liked this place. For being so flat and open, it still felt hemmed in and constricting. But he liked you, so he liked something of this place.

He walked all the way to the other side of town, and out towards the corn. There was a verge here as well; grass and wild plants between the town and fields, and he lay down there, watching the stars go by.

He must gave dozed off, because next he knew, he was waking to a different song. Birds made up the chorus this time, and he sat up to the rising scent of clover, their little pink and white flowers heated by the light of the morning sun. They mingled with the honeysuckle vine winding along the fence behind him, and-yes those were the flowers you had shown him in the Akureyri botanical garden.

Eager to be gone before anybody noticed, he gathered a bouquet of the cheerful, purple blooms. These he pressed into your hands when you greeted him on his return, as well as a quick kiss on the top of your sleepy head

If you wondered how he had gotten them, you were too drowsy to ask, and he bid you go back to sleep. You could both be late today.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader #Heimdall (Marvel)

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realitiesinpurple · 6 years ago

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Entry #1

It’s ridiculous how uneasy I feel writing here again. I have to convince myself this is just a medium, it has no power over me, and all the negative feelings I used to have won’t come back to the surface just because they’re attached to memories of Tumblr.

Because I used to have a Tumblr, I used to have several actually, and used to be here all the time, everyday. It consumed me.

I grew here, healed wounds, understood the world and met myself for the first time in what felt like centuries. I was still a child, and I grew up with the belief each and every one of us seem to have: I am special.

And the truth is that, yes, we are special. All of us. We’re unique and similar in so many ways. We’ve all been broken and judged. We are valid.

I think, in many ways, Tumblr, or the community at least, made me feel like I belonged. Like I wasn’t as messed up as everyone had me believe. But I crossed a line here as well, which is why I left: I allowed myself to believe I couldn’t be held accountable for my misfortunes.

Because it’s so easy to blame that one friend who betrayed you, or the dad that abandoned you, or the boy who broke your heart. It was really comforting to come here and have others validate my victim-hood and tell me that it was okay to continue to self destruct instead of grow up. It was also really easy to ignore those who told me I did, indeed, need to grow up, because a stranger on the internet agreed with me, so I must be right. But if someone criticized me, I was being oppressed, and they didn’t understand because they had never walked a day in my shoes.

And to be completely fair, I needed that. I needed to hate the world to stop hating myself. Sometimes, I still do, because, again, it’s so easy. You see, seeing the bright side is hard. Getting up every day being grateful that you’re alive is hard. But it does get easier with practice.

Before Tumblr, I was under the belief that I was not worthy of love. That all the bad things in my life were my fault and that I sometimes did not even deserve to be alive. My little sister is the age I was when I used to have these thoughts, and the thought of someone so young feeling this way breaks my heart. I look back at my younger self and I want to promise her everything is going to be okay (spoiler alert: everything turns out fine, and she’s happy!). But I suppose, I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t been that person to begin with. That sad little girl in too much pain for her little body to handle.

Then Tumblr came along and I was... I was real. I don’t know how to explain it, but meeting all of you, reading your stories, watching your shows, laughing at your jokes... I felt alive. Better yet, I felt worthy of being alive. And it wasn’t instantaneous. It took me a while to get there, and look at myself in the mirror and realize I was beautiful. It took some convincing to realize it’s okay to like girls AND boys?? My mind was blown.

But you see, I still had a lot of hatred and a lot of pain and a lot of bitterness. And I had to forbid myself from hating myself if I wanted to survive. So instead I hated all the people who had contributed to my pain. And the people who had contributed to other people’s pain! I had so much hate to share with the world, I bullied complete strangers because they had somehow hurt my friend’s feelings, instead of letting my friend fight her own battles.

And when someone was depressed, like I was, instead of encouraging them to fight through it, to get better, I approved of their self destruction. Sleep deprivation and unhealthy habits were just coping mechanisms, right? It’s funny because we’re all depressed here! Haha!

Because admitting they needed help meant I needed to admit... I needed help.

It was so much better to romanticize the toxicity I shared with the world. Forgiveness and love were weakness. Punching your way through life was the right way to go.

And don’t get me wrong, I needed to punch as hard as I could. I had no agency in my life and I needed to feel something, and if it was anger and resentment, so be it. It was better than being numb or depressed.

But then I grew up. I know, shocking. Suddenly I was an adult. I still can’t believe it. I had to leave Tumblr when I realized not only was I surrounding myself with toxic people. I was a toxic person.

No longer was this a place to empower myself. It was a place to excuse my behavior. It was an open door to hate.

And to be completely honest with y’all, hate is exhausting! No wonder I was tired all the time!

And yes, I still have depression, I’m not neurotypical at all lol

But I’m better. I’m not 100% and I’m not earning gold medals for being the greatest human to ever live. But I apologize when I mess up and I try not to mess up. I’ve found “judgy” friends who call me out on my bullshit and I love them so much for taking care of me in such a sassy way instead of telling me the world needs to revolve around me.

I’ve realized love is not something to be disgusted at or to fear and it’s honestly not as scary as I thought it could be.

I realized I can be funny without hurting others in the process. And that sometimes it’s okay to be a little “offensive”, too. (Yes, little sister, you are correct in saying you shouldn’t have bleached your hair and I’m not gonna tiptoe around the subject trying not to hurt your feelings. If you don’t like it, find a way to fix it. And I agree, I don’t like it neither!)

I also learned that after having a really negative experience with one religion, later becoming a stubborn atheist, and slowly starting to become a little more spiritual, it’s really not that silly to believe in something you can’t see if it makes you happy and helps you get through your day.

I learned to tell the difference between needing a mental health day and being lazy. Yes, I still take mental health days! But I also work my ass off on days when I have the potential to have high energy. I force myself to do one dish and end up cleaning the whole house and feel so proud of myself! But I don’t belittle myself when I can’t get out of bed, because I know that if I really can’t get out of bed, I need to stay in bed and recover, so the next day I can get shit done.

Also I flirt now, which is weird/new. Sometimes just for fun, sometimes with a purpose. Sometimes I flirt with myself, which I highly recommend everyone do because it is incredibly empowering!

I pay my bills on time and I treat myself without feeling guilty. Though to be completely honest with you, I was blessed with a job that I love, that pays me more than enough and rewards my hard work and competitiveness, so I’m always making extra when I earn it. But I know when to stop taking those extra shifts to have a family day, or go out, or simply lie in bed and read. Yes, I don’t have it as hard as most of you. But if I look back at 3 years ago, I was begging for Paypal donations just to survive. So I have to say, it does get better.

I live in an apartment I could have never even dreamed of, and it’s still a little empty, but I get excited over the smallest things. Like getting a new dish rack! Or new purple towels!

And against all odds, I’m actually happy going back where it all started. I visit my family and I tell them that I love them, but I don’t let them hurt me anymore.

I say no when I need to. And encourage myself to say yes to trying new things.

I wear colors now, even if they don’t match, and I wear sneakers on high heel days. I follow a skincare routine, even though I was one of those girls who would judge and envy girls with skincare routines. And I’m trying to eat healthier.

I lost weight and I cook now. I sing at the top of my lungs to the great disappointment of my next door neighbor. And I dance in my underwear even though my other neighbors can see me from the building across the balcony (I still haven’t bought curtains). Seriously, no regrets.

So, Victoria, you may ask, now that you’re doing better, why are you back? Nostalgia? Regret? To rub your stupid happiness in our faces?

To be completely honest, I’m here because it’s where I have to be. It was part of my journey all along. And I owe it to my younger self.

Do y’all remember that famous post about that person saying that when everything was okay, they would bake a cherry pie? And then they posted a photo of the cherry pie?

This is my cherry pie, I guess. This is me telling myself and any of you who may feel the way I used to, that it gets better. And I know younger me used to get so tired of hearing it. “Believe in yourself! It gets better! You’ll get there!” And it sounded like the biggest bullshit in the whole world. I had never actually met anyone who got better, to be honest. All the people who were saying it gets better were people who were just as depressed or worse than I was. We were all just trying to convince each other to believe in something none of us believed in.

Well, you know what? I’m glad you guys told me it would get better. I’m glad you pushed and pushed until I believed it. Because it’s the friggin truth. I’m the living proof that it gets better. And the more you believe that you can somehow tell the universe that you are ready to get better, to be better, to feel better, and that the universe will listen, the more it listens. I kid you not.

And I’m not even done getting better. I’m just getting started...

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ariel-the-rebellious · 7 years ago

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For Want of a Nail [2.18/19 REM]

Summary: In which there exists a perfect world. One where Athena Triton never died, and everything is perfect... or so it seems.

Trigger Warnings: None

Ariel woke up on her seventh birthday to her Mother tickling her stomach. Every birthday, for the six years prior to this one, her mother had woken her up with kisses and cuddles and raspberries blown onto her stomach. And then Daddy raced in and joined, scooping her up like she was nothing as Mum laughed, and Ariel got carried around the house.

Every birthday was a celebration. Every year, every girl got her birthday to be special, just for her. And for Ariel, that meant Attina and Mum baking cookies, and Andrina being dragged away from her computer long enough to entertain her youngest sister with jokes and games. It meant the twins dancing around with her to music in their living room and Aquata putting in the minimal effort necessary by watching a t.v show while Alana painted Ariel’s nails, despite Ariel’s constantly wiggling toes.

It meant time spent with her family, and Ariel drank up every minute before rushing off as fast as she could to spend time with her friends, Feivel and Kiara and Bambi, and many more, too. She’d get back and end her birthday with her mother in the pool, discussing things with their hands and splashing one another, happy.

Not every day was Ariel’s birthday. Some days dark clouds hung heavy over her family and her sisters didn’t get along. Daddy yelled. Mum went off to visit family, and Ariel entertained herself with her dolls and knicknacks, most of the more odd ones gifted to her by Uncle Scuttle.

One day, it did not seem like enough. It seemed like her whole family was so quiet, like the calm before a storm. Her father looked sad and conflicted and locked himself in his study while her sisters whispered in hushed voices or didn’t leave their room at all.

Athena always returned. After so long, Ariel stopped clinging to her leg every time she left, but she always begged to be allowed to go with her. Sometimes, she did. Sometimes, they took trips out as a family.

Most of the time, however, they were here, in Swynlake. With sunny days and cloudy ones. Days when Ariel would play tag in the lake with her sisters and days where her Mum would have to break up fights if she wasn’t involved in a fight of her own with one of them.

There was a lot Ariel wanted out of life, as she got older. A lot she wanted to do. Her mother always told her the world was at her fingertips, so long as she was safe and responsible and considerate enough to keep her father from blowing a gasket every week. Ariel liked to test those limits, liked to sneak off and do dangerous things.

Ariel fought with her father, a lot. She fought with her sisters, too, as sisters do. She even fought with her mother about colleges and career options, because a lot of what Ariel wanted to do required a voice that she did not have.

Ariel learned how to play the guitar. She learned how to make music without her mouth. She thought it might be enough, but her father told her she needed to decide on a career that would be realistic and attainable as she neared the end of her secondary school days.

One night, she came home late after a date with Jim, and her and her father fought like never before. (Daddy was still Not Happy about Jim, the older guy Ariel had recently begun dating. But Mum had told him to at least give the guy a chance as long as the rules were respected by each of them. Namely: Be respectful and do as you’re told, and always be home on time.) And fair, she had broken that rule, but it wasn’t fair that he could scream, and yell, and it made her so frustrated, having no voice to do the same, that she finally flipped him the bird. Daddy didn’t like that one bit, and he looked about ready to blow before Athena stepped in.

“Enough!” she shouted, and the room fell silent for just a moment before Ariel was moving her hands wildly and Daddy was trying to argue again. “I said enough!” Her mother silenced them both once more, and this time, Daddy huffed and Ariel tucked her hands into her armpits with a scowl.

“You need to be more responsible,” she scolded Ariel, wagging a finger at her daughter. “We love you. We care about you. We just want to know where you are. If you’re okay. That’s all you have to do, is tell us where you are and if you’re okay. And if we ask you to come home, come home. It’s not that hard. We do a lot for you. We do everything for you.”

Ariel’s anger melted into shame and guilt tugged at her chest. She gnawed at her bottom lip. Her mother was right. But-

“And you,” Athena turned on her husband, then, and crossed her own arms over her chest. “You need to stop losing your temper. How many times have we discussed this? Hold her with an iron grip, and she’ll only struggle more to break free. She’s almost eighteen. She’s a young woman. Maybe if you tried talking to her instead of yelling all of the time, she’d actually listen.”

Both Jeff and Ariel Triton swallowed down their pride, ashamed. Athena looked between them, and they both almost wanted to argue, again, but she added, “You two are so alike. Too alike. Can’t you see that? You’re both too stubborn and hardheaded for your own good. So would you knock it off?”

Her father grumbled and Athena shot him a look that made him sigh. “Fine,” he growled, “-but she still needs to learn a lesson,” he pressed, and Ariel sucked in a deep breath and held it.

“She will.” Her mother turned to face her, stern. “She’s grounded, for a week. Until the weekend before her birthday. No going out after school, and no internet or social media. She can spend some time with her family and if she’s behaved herself, she can have that party she asked for.”

Daddy looked ready to interject at that, but her mother held up a finger and rose a brow, looking between them both. “Got it?”

She would take no other answer, and so, Daddy grumbled an agreement and Ariel signed Fine with a roll of her eyes as he left the room in a tizzy. Athena rolled her eyes, too, and cradled her daughter’s face in her hands. “You’ve got to start taking responsibility for your actions, little mermaid,” she hummed, and Ariel sighed as she nodded, leaning into her touch.

Her mother was right, she did need to take responsibility, and she would. She’d be on her best behavior. She promised her such with a curl of her pinky.

“Now, off to your room. Bed time. You’ve got school tomorrow.” Athena Triton kissed her daughter’s forehead and Ariel smiled, feeling warm, before heading upstairs to her room.

Ariel woke up the morning of her eighteenth birthday just like she had woken up every year prior. The smell of bacon (meant for her non-vegan sisters, not for herself) and coffee filling her nostrils, and the sound of her family singing happy birthday as they brought her breakfast in bed the first things to occupy her thoughts. Her mother kissed her on the head as she tickled her stomach and Daddy followed, and then a couple of her sisters even stayed to eat breakfast with her in her room, laughing and talking about their plans for the day. (Well, they talked. Ariel signed with her hands and mutely groaned about having to go to school on her birthday of all days.)

She had to go to school, of course. Part of the deal. Her birthday was on a school day this year, but that was okay - they had already done most of the celebrating the weekend directly prior to today, thanks to Ariel being responsible for once. Tonight, she would spend some time in the lake with her family and then, later, they would go out to dinner. Which was all Ariel really wanted after the small party with her friends she had convinced her parents to let her have just this past weekend. And she had gotten to spend Valentine’s day with Jim, which had made Daddy huffy, but Mum had convinced him to agree as long as Ariel followed some ground rules. (Which, they did, this time.) So tonight was all about family, and Ariel couldn’t be happier.

Her mother kissed her cheek, and then Ariel kissed her father’s cheek as well, before she was out the door to start another day.

Feivel gave her a present the second he spotted her and refused to stop taking pictures all day. That was the best part of school, any day - seeing her friends. They were all so kind and a few of them had even learned sign language over the years to be able to communicate with her, and it made Ariel nothing but grateful. And then, after the final bell rang and she was finally free, she came home and her mother was waiting with a large smile, ready to go down to the pool and hop right into the water with her.

Ariel loved being a mermaid. She also loved being a human. She liked bits and pieces of each world, because this world? This world belonged to her mother and her father and her sisters, and all of the family they went to visit each year. (The ocean was so beautiful, she loved every chance she got to see more of it.) And then there was the world of the mundus and other magicks on the surface that held so much mystery and offered so much more knowledge than Ariel’s head could ever hold.

The entirety of Earth was always at her fingertips, and she counted herself so very, very lucky.

All of these thoughts were swimming through her head as Ariel herself swam through the path leading from the Triton household to Atlantis lake with her mother. Athena Triton, beautiful in human form, was even more magnificent under the surface of water. It was like being in her true form enhanced every single bit of beauty in her pores. Noticing how quiet her daughter had become, Athena slowed in her gentle, elegant strokes through the water.

“What is it, dear?” she asked in Mermish, part hand movements and part sound, and Ariel felt herself fill up with love, heart glowing.

I don’t know. I just feel really, really lucky today, she signed with her hands, and the small redhead’s face softened as she reached for her mother’s, holding it tightly as they crossed through the hole that lead into the lake. Her mother squeezed her hand softly right back, and started to hum Ariel’s favorite lullaby as they made their way to the sand at the bottom of Atlantis, searching for any new treasures that might have been dropped by their fellow Swynlake natives.

It was peaceful. Calm. And then, one by one, they were joined by Daddy, and Attina, and Andrina, and Arista and Adella, and Aquata, and Alana - until they were all together, the whole family, swimming in the lake.

For a moment, Ariel briefly wondered what life would have been like without her family. If the Tritons were to lose a single person, she thought, none of them would ever be this whole again.

Oh the waves roll low, and the waves roll high...

Ariel awoke with her mother’s voice in her head, clear as day. She gasped, and all at once, her world came crashing down around her as her eyes struggled to focus on bits and pieces of the guest room in Jim’s house she’d been occupying for the past few days.

Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach.

And so it goes, under the bright blue, endless sky...

Ariel’s heart completely fucking shattered. No. No, her mother was dead. Dead. Everything- Everything hadn’t been real. Just- What? Just a fantasy? A- A dream?

She opened her mouth to call for Jim, and no sound came out. She tried, again and again, and started to get out of bed in a panic when her voice didn’t return to her- where she noticed the broken vial from the sea witch on the floor.

Waves try to measure the days that we treasure...

Ariel would have sunk to her knees right then and there if she hadn’t heard the door open behind her. Instead, she turned, and saw Jim with a bright smile and phone in his hand. What was most likely a cheery greeting fell from his lips along with his grin at Ariel’s panicked expression, and she crossed the room and grabbed his phone from his hand, opening up the text chain with her sisters she’d started the day after leaving the Triton household.

No. No. No, no, no, no, no! This wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to be a dream, it was supposed to be real!

Her mother was supposed to be here.

Wave hello, and wave goodbye...

#oneshot #drabbles #i'm in pain #/lays down

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rufousnmacska · 8 years ago

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Cloudberry Jam

Just some nessian after acowar.

Nesta picked listlessly at the food on her plate. Every now and then she took a bite. But it was only to indulge the occasional looks from her sisters. Laughter echoed through the dining room as Mor and Cassian took turns telling a story about Rhys from their childhood.

Nesta had tried to look interested at the beginning. But the first time Cassian took over from Mor, he’d looked to everyone for a reaction to his joke. Everyone but her. He'd ignored her completely. As he'd been doing since they'd survived Hybern. She’d stopped listening then, thinking only of why she'd bothered to come here at all.

The Inner Circle ate many meals together but they'd designated one night a week for a family dinner. She and Elain, having moved into a small townhouse of their own, had been included and were expected to attend. Nesta agreed only because of Elain. Unlike herself, Elain needed to be around people. Despite the horrors of the past months, her sister was beginning to thrive in Velaris. And Nesta would not jeopardize that.

But tonight. She couldn't bare it any longer. This room. The laughing. The joy. As the noise crescendoed, she stood from her chair, setting her napkin next to her plate. Feyre glanced at her and Nesta forced a weak smile, nodding to the corridor that led to the guest washroom. Her sister smiled back, quickly returning to the story. No one else noticed her departure.

Nesta passed the washroom, continuing to the large foyer and the door that opened to the winding stairs leading down to the city. The commotion in the dining room receded and finally, she was outside, breathing a sigh of relief. It was a lovely late summer night and as she descended, she forced herself to stop every now and then and take in the views. The Rainbow was lit up, people jostling through the narrow streets as music lilted through the air. The harbor was full of ships, their bobbing just visible in the moonlight.

And the sky... She'd never seen so many stars. Like brilliant diamonds tossed across the indigo black of night. They were beautiful. And they made her feel so small. So insignificant. Her throat bobbed and she started back down the steps. Nesta did not look skyward again. No need to reinforce the bleak thoughts that always threatened to pull her under.

When she reached the turn to her street, Nesta saw someone waiting on the front steps. Her heart fluttered, until the figure rose. No wings.

Feyre held Nesta's shawl in her hands, a strained smile on her face. "You left this."

She reached for it and walked past Feyre to her door. A part of her wanted to say something. To explain how she couldn't stomach being around so many people. So much happiness and... family. But the pity in Feyre's eyes sent ice coursing through her veins.

Nesta could imagine the thoughts running through her sister’s mind. The questions she probably wanted to ask about Cassian. As if there is anything to ask about. She almost laughed at the thought. But when she spoke, all she could muster was a thank you.

"Next time, please let me know if you're leaving," Feyre said softly. "I could have winnowed you here. And we wouldn't have been worried about you."

A retort flitted through her mind but she bit it back. She didn’t have the energy or the desire to start something. So she just said, "I will."

Nesta turned and went inside, not bothering to tell her sister there would be no next time.

The following weeks went by in a haze. Nesta barely left the house. The few times she did were to visit a book shop just around the corner. Then she’d head home, go straight to her room, and start on the new stack of books.

The dinners had continued as usual but she hadn’t returned. The first time she'd made a flimsy excuse. But after that, she’d stopped. Whenever Azriel came to fly Elain to the House of Wind, whether for dinner or some other gathering, she would try to get Nesta to come along. But a firm no was enough to send her sister on her way.

The sole bright spot was the cloudberry jam.

Very early one day, Elain knocked on her door calling, "I have a surprise for you."

Nesta cringed at the sing song tone of Elain's voice. She loved her sister more than anything, but her hatred of mornings outweighed even that on occasion. Before Nesta could rise, Elain came in carrying a tray. Whatever was on it smelled amazing. She perked up a bit, causing Elain to grin.

"I knew you'd like this," she said. "Fresh muffins and cloudberry jam."

"Fresh jam?” She sat fully upright. “You made it?"

Elain's expression turned sheepish. “Just the muffins I’m afraid. The jam was left on our doorstep. Along with some berries that look like they were picked recently.”

When they'd first been brought to Velaris and the House of Wind, Nesta had been wary of the food. She’d insisted on bland meals, leaving the spicier and more colorful dishes untouched. Cassian had chided her about being a snob.

But then one morning, her oatmeal had arrived with a small bowl of golden jam. It tasted like nothing she'd ever eaten before. Sweet but not overpowering, with the barest hint of tartness. Like honey and sunshine. From Cerridwen she'd learned the berries were hard to come by and had been preserved from the previous year’s harvest. After that, she’d slowly started experimenting with the Night Court food. And the more she tried, the more grateful she was for that first bowl of jam, the catalyst for her expanding palate.

Now, Nesta greedily reached for the tray. The bowl of orange-red berries gleamed in the early morning light. Frowning, she asked, "But who left them Elain?"

As she turned to go, Elain said, "The jar is the same as those Nuala and Cerridwen had in Feyre’s townhouse. I saw them in the pantry when they were teaching me how to bake."

Nesta thanked Elain, a spoonful of berries already in her mouth. Feyre was probably hoping to persuade her to rejoin their dinners. Her little sister was certainly cunning. But even the jewel-toned confection wasn’t enough of a bribe to get Nesta to go back. She was quite satisfied with spending her time reading, quiet and alone.

The day after her third missed dinner, Nesta’s door thudded as someone’s fist pounded against it. She shot up in alarm, dropping her book, and spun to find Amren standing before her. A hand against her pounding heart, Nesta opened her mouth to ask what was going on but Amren spoke first.

“Nice to see you are still alive.”

The scowl on her face was a bit frightening, even with her now commonplace fae eyes. Nesta returned the look and sat back down.

Amren came around to face her. “You’re through with your training then? Hybern is defeated and you think you can sit back and do nothing?“ When Nesta didn’t answer, the tiny fae went on. “Or is this about that overgrown bat? His insecurities are not your problem, girl.”

She stayed silent, her eyes on the book but not really seeing anything. Her anger swelled to a point where she thought smoke might pour from her skin.

“Nesta.”

The tone had softened. And, Amren had never before used her name. Hearing it now, seeing Amren’s worried expression... The fire that had been building within was snuffed out. Nesta sank back into her chair.

“Your enemy is dead and you believe you no longer have a purpose,” Amren said. “Or is it the brutality you witnessed in the war that’s bothering you?” With growing annoyance, she added, “What did Cassian do?”

Nesta gave a humorless laugh and met Amren’s eyes. Her new eyes. So plain compared to the beautifully swirling silver storms she’d had before. “He’s done nothing.“ Amren’s eyebrow raised, as if repeating the question.

“It’s not about him,” she said. It was a partial truth, but far enough from a lie that she felt confident in saying it. Because ultimately, it wasn’t about him.

“Then what?” Amren asked.

Nesta sighed. It almost turned into a sob as she waved her hand and said, “Everyone has forgiven him. Made him out to be a hero. They’ve just gone back to their lives like everything is normal and he never... Never left us. Like he hadn’t abandoned us years ago.”

“Your father.” Amren looked angry at herself for not realizing it sooner.

“I know he came for us in the end. And he brought help. He even apologized. But...” The memories seeped through her mind as she stared out the window. Her father watching as his wife wasted away. Staking their future on a risky investment that ended up ruining them. Years and years of doing absolutely nothing as they starved. Passing on his failings to his eldest daughter, who’d been too angry and afraid to care for her sisters. Her father’s neck snapped by the King of Hybern.

“I watched him die and all I can think about is what that queen from the continent said. He’d been like a father to her. Lucien called him a great man.” She looked at Amren, tears burning her eyes. “How dare he be a father to some stranger after neglecting us for most of our lives.” Her voice was so filled with hate, Nesta almost didn’t recognize it. “What’s wrong with me? They’ve forgiven him. But I can’t. I can’t forget all those years of nothing. All the ways he failed us.”

Amren took hold of Nesta’s wrist, hard. “Only you decide if he’s worthy of your forgiveness. No one else. And from all that I’ve been told of the man, you have every right to withhold it. Death does not redeem him. Your feelings may change with time. Or not. Either way girl, they are yours and no one can shame you for them. Including yourself. Understood?”

Catching a quick silver flash in Amren’s eyes, Nesta nodded. When Amren released her hand and stood, she said, “I have some business to take care of for Rhys, but you will begin training with me again next week. Every morning at my loft. Your powers may have changed without the connection to the cauldron, but that doesn’t mean they are gone. Or diminished.” She leaned close towards Nesta’s face and whispered, “You have no idea what you are capable of.”

Then, before Nesta could say a word, Amren was out the door. The tiny, fierce female had come and gone like a summer thunderstorm, completely upending her life.

Cassian sat at his desk looking through the endless lists of supplies waiting to be restocked. He hated this part of commanding. Sure there were underlings and lower ranked soldiers to handle the details, but he gave the final approvals. He wanted to know everything that happened, he just didn’t need all the paper work that came with it.

Out of nowhere his door burst open and Amren strolled in.

“Shit,” Cassian exclaimed, sliding a long dagger back into its sheath on his leg. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Is blissful ignorance your new life philosophy? Or does it only apply to Nesta?”

Cassian frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Amren huffed a laugh, as if his question answered her own. “In deference to your current outlook, I will ignore the fact that there are feelings between the two of you that need to be addressed.” He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off with a nasty look. “I will ignore the fact that you are Illyrian and, through no fault of your own, have inherited their fragile male ego.”

Cassian stood. He really didn’t have an argument against what she was saying, but damn the cauldron if he was going to let her keep going.

Unflinching as always, Amren stalked forward and pointed a finger in his face. “But I will not ignore the fact that Nesta needs our help.”

“She has her sisters. She has you,” he replied. The words practically dripped with shame. With the admission that he was the last thing she needed.

“Right there is your problem,” Amren said. “If you are her friend, then she does need you.”

He shook his head and sat back down. “You think she’d open up to me?!” He barked an incredulous laugh. “If she won’t talk about her problems to her sisters, why the hell would she speak to me?”

Amren sighed and closed her eyes, clearly frustrated with him. “Just get off your ass and quit pretending she means nothing to you.” She looked at him again, her gaze hard and cold. “She is drowning.”

The words hit hard. As he was sure they were meant to. He’d failed Nesta when she’d been turned into a fae. He’d failed to save her father. And now, he was failing her again.

“You are one of the bravest fighters I’ve ever seen Cassian. But we all have fears. If you don’t fight them, for her, for yourself, you will regret it.”

He sat in silence, processing her words. Her compliment. They had a contentious relationship but he’d always respected her. Knowing she respected him... He felt honored.

Solemnly, Cassian nodded his thanks.

Amren turned and headed for the door. From over her shoulder she sang, “If you tell anyone that I said you were brave, I will give you something new to fear.”

As the door shut, Cassian threw his head back and laughed.

The berries continued to appear on their doorstep early each morning, along with a jar of jam. Nesta had sent Feyre a message thanking her for the daily gift only to learn that she and Rhys had been gone for a while, visiting Tarquin in the Summer Court. Nuala or Cerridwen must be leaving them, she'd thought.

Determined to thank them personally, Nesta dragged herself out of bed earlier and earlier each morning, hoping to catch them. But each time she opened the door, the cloudberries were already there. After the fourth failed attempt, she decided to stay up overnight to be sure she didn’t miss them.

Curled up in a chair reading, Nesta looked at the clock on the mantel. Almost 4 in the morning. Her eyes burned and her lids were growing heavy. Heading to the kitchen for something to drink, she heard a noise outside. She was at the door in an instant and pulled it open.

Only to find Cassian, bent over a basket he’d placed on the step, head up, eyes wide in surprise.

Nesta froze. Then sputtered, "You? You... What are you..."

Cassian rose slowly, unable to meet her gaze. He'd definitely not planned on getting caught. Absently running a hand through his hair, it got tangled in the small bun knotted in the back. He swore and pulled it out, his hair falling loose around his face.

Nesta finally managed to speak. "What are you doing here?" The words did not have as much venom as she'd wanted. In fact, she sounded breathless.

Cassian finally managed to look her in the eyes. "They have a short season. I knew you liked them. So..." He trailed off.

"How? How did you know?"

"When you were still living in the House of Wind." With his still, tense body as a backdrop, his fidgety hands drew her attention.

Nesta realized she’d never seen him like this before. He was nervous. Nothing of the arrogant, swaggering male she was used to.

"That doesn’t answer my question," she said.

His eyes flicked away and back again. When they met hers, and held, her heart skipped a beat. She stared into them, trying to decide if they were brown or green or gray. It was still dark out and she was too far away. Before she could stop herself, she stepped closer.

"Where did you get them?" she asked. She almost winced at the sound of her voice. Why the hell couldn't she catch her breath?

Cassian grinned, the nerves suddenly gone. "They grow in the tundra, near the Illyrian Steppes. Most people think it's desolate and not worth the trouble to go there. But it's actually quite beautiful."

There was something about the way he was looking at her that made Nesta wonder if he was talking about that place or her.

He bowed his head towards her, and with a low, gravely voice said. "I could show you.”

"I... I can't," she said. "I'm busy today." At the hint of a frown on his face, Nesta hurriedly added, "I'm meeting Amren. To learn more about my magic. Learn how it’s changed. Training."

Shut up, she told herself, flustered and wondering why it was any of his business. Though, he hadn’t even asked.

Confused by her own reaction, and the way he was looking at her, she just stood there, mouth open, no words coming out. The smirk that spread slowly across his face brought her anger to the surface. But before Nesta unleashed it upon him, she was struck by how much she'd missed seeing that smirk. It had been... how long? Weeks since she’d even seen him? Longer since he'd dared to look at her. And that brought her confusion back.

"Why are you here?" Finally, her voice matched her sentiment. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms for good measure.

Cassian only said, "Tomorrow morning. 5 AM. Dress warm." The next second, he was in the sky.

Nesta blinked, stunned by all of the emotions roiling through her. Dammit, she thought as she grabbed the basket and slammed the door. Now I'll never get to sleep.

What the hell was he doing?

Cassian tied his hair back and then took it out. Tied it again.

And why the hell was he so nervous? This was idiotic. She probably wouldn’t even come outside to meet him.

And why should she with the way I’ve treated her, he thought.

He’d avoided her since the battle with Hybern. Since he’d admitted his feelings for her. When he’d expected to die. When he’d wanted to die. How many times was he going to let her down? The already too-long list had grown rapidly with each day that he ignored what had happened.

And that first time she’d left dinner without telling anyone... Despite Rhys and Amren’s reassurances, Feyre and Elain had nearly panicked, afraid the cauldron had somehow taken Nesta or lured her away. But when Feyre returned saying Nesta had simply left and walked home... He knew then how deeply she was hurting. Which only reinforced his opinion that he should stay away.

Even with his concern and ever growing desire to see her, Cassian had stayed away, thinking she could get on with her life more easily if he was not directly in it. But then he’d overheard Elain telling Feyre what was happening. Nesta hardly left her room, barely ate. Any time Elain suggested going to the theater or strolling through the Rainbow, Nesta would give her the same reply. “I’m perfectly happy right here.” Nesta might be comfortable in solitude, but Cassian knew it was a bullshit excuse.

That’s when he’d begun leaving the basket each morning. Something he hadn’t shared with Amren when she’d come to kick his ass. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to confront Nesta. Getting caught in the act though... that had accomplished what Amren’s pep talk could not.

He landed in front of her door a half hour early. There were no lights visible and he wondered if he should wait or just leave. She was probably still in bed. As he turned to sit on the stoop, the door opened.

Cassian spun around to find Nesta, dressed in Illyrian leathers. He tried to keep his breathing steady. Hell, she could probably see his heart thumping in his chest. He felt overwhelmed, as if he’d been stunned. Not just because of the way the leathers emphasized the curves and lines of her body. But also because they were something of his people. Like Rhys and Az, he hated many of the backwards aspects of their Illyrian culture. But, it was still his, still a part of him. And seeing her in them sparked a tiny hope that if she deemed them worthy to wear, perhaps she might see him as worthy too. He didn’t know where this hope came from, but he couldn’t bring himself to stamp it out.

“Will this be warm enough?” She ran her hands down her sides, her expression uncertain.

“You’re perfect.” The words just slipped out. Her eyes widened and before she could say anything, he extended his hand. “Shall we?” She examined him, as if deciding whether or not to go through with it. He dipped his head and gave her some incentive. “This is probably the last day to pick them.”

Nesta did not give him the smile he’d been hoping for, but she took his hand. When he lifted her up and she placed her arms around his neck, he felt how at ease she was. Nothing of the sneering ice princess from the first time they’d met. As he took off into the sky, he let loose the breath he’d been holding and headed northeast towards the steppes.

They flew into the dawn. Clouds hovering low in the sky reflected the rays of light peeking above the horizon. All too quickly, the bright pinks and purples of the rising sun overtook the deep, dark blue of night.

Cassian kept an eye on Nesta as he flew. She was in awe of the morning scenery. Knowing he’d played a small role in bringing that expression to her face brought a smile to his own.

They were silent for much of the time. As they soared over the steppes, he pointed down to a large herd of tundra elk. When he saw her curious reaction, Cassian flew lower so she could see them better.

“Great herds travel between the mountains and the tundra each year. They eat the moss and lichen to survive.”

“Are they hunted?” Nesta asked. She twisted in his arms to watch them pour across a small river.

“Yes,” he answered, then added, “but not with magic. Illyrians hunt them with the bow. There are other kinds of fae who live in this region. They keep small herds for the meat and hides. And milk.” Her head snapped up to see if he was joking. Cassian laughed and said, “The cheese is quite good. There’s a vendor who sells it at the Palace of Hoof and Leaf.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, still unsure if he was being serious. He winked at her. Then, his voice all exaggerated bravado, said, "I make a sinfully delicious cloudberry cheesecake.”

Nesta stared at him and then burst out laughing.

Cassian grinned, thinking her laugh was more beautiful than any music Velaris had to offer.

When Cassian landed and set her down atop the spongy vegetation, Nesta held on to his arm for a few steadying seconds. She was stiff and sore after the long, chilly flight. With a snap of magic, Cassian held two baskets. Giving one to Nesta, he gestured for her to follow a worn path through the expanse of green. Orange and yellow-gold fruits were sprinkled across the surface of the low lying bushes like gemstones. An unripe red berry poked out here and there.

“You made this path,” she said.

“I picked my way in,” he replied. "Cloudberries are a delicacy. It would be sacrilege to step on them. I don’t think anyone outside of the herders knows about this patch. I ask their permission every year.” He knelt and extended his arm as far as he could reach, pulled it back and deposited a handful of berries into the basket.

Nesta stopped as everything came together in her mind. That first appearance of the jam in the House of Wind. The jars in Rhys and Feyre’s pantry. The jars on her doorstep. “You make the jam.”

Cassian looked up at her and shrugged. “For a few weeks in late summer the camp cooks would trade with groups of herders to get the berries. Those were the only times growing up that we had anything other than gruel for breakfast.” Returning to the bushes, he said, “As the high lord’s son, Rhys could have them year round as jam. When his mother saw how much I loved them, she taught me how to make it.”

Rising, he laughed. “I thought it was ridiculous at the time. When the hell would a bastard Illyrian grunt have time to make jam? But she’d insisted. She said learning to cook was a survival skill every warrior should have. She’d dragged Rhys into the lessons too. But it went in one ear and out the other with him.” He continued down the path to a section that was still untouched. “By the time Az came, I was helping her with every dinner.”

Nesta watched him, marveled by his... everything. By him. By what he’d been secretly doing for her all this time. She thought about what he’d said to her when they were on that battlefield. She’d assumed his avoidance of her afterwards was because he had regretted his words. Had felt guilty for speaking them in the heat of battle without actually meaning them.

But his story about the jam reminded Nesta that parts of his upbringing roughly mirrored her own. The details of their abandonment and the ways they’d reacted were different. But the fact remained that both she and Cassian were products of unpleasant childhoods. And both were drowning in the shame they felt as a result. He still considered himself nothing more than a bastard Illyrian grunt. And she was a hateful failure of a sister.

“Let’s see who has the most,” he said, suddenly standing beside her. Cassian frowned down at her empty basket. “Uh... Did I fail to mention that berry picking is a competitive sport?”

Nesta only gazed up at him.

“Nesta?” The playful expression disappeared from his face.

“Did you ever know your father?”

Cassian didn’t flinch at her question, but his brows furrowed, wondering where it had come from. “No. I searched but was never able to find out who he was.” His hand brushed hers. “Why are you asking?”

She turned to look towards the distant mountains. “I knew mine. Or, I thought I did. Apparently he reserved most of his fatherly behavior for people other than his own daughters. Well,” she faced him again. “He always favored Elain, but I didn’t mind that. She deserved his favor.”

“You deserved it too,” he said softly, hoping his words wouldn’t push her into silence.

“No,” she said matter-of-factly. “I never hid my disdain for him. I never felt guilty for it.” Nesta clenched her jaw and swallowed. “And I know I should now. After... after what he did. But...” She trailed off, dipping her head to wipe away a tear that was about to fall.

Cassian recalled her father’s death. How he’d professed his love for Nesta and had not wanted her to beg Hybern for his life. He remembered Lucien’s tale about how the man had helped the cursed, human queen and gathered a fleet of soldiers to save his daughters. He wondered now if Nesta was fully aware of all her father had done to get back to her and her sisters.

“It took me a long, long time before I wanted to know who my father was,” he said. “And even then, a big part of me hated him. Part of me still does.” He took a deep breath and said, “But, maybe if I had known something about him, been able to talk to people who knew him... Maybe it would be easier for me to feel worthy of my family now.” She was staring at him again, her storm gray eyes wide and shining. “Maybe I would feel worthy of you. And would not have left you to deal with this grief on your own.

“It’s ok if you don’t forgive your father Nesta. He had a lot to make up for. But you may want to consider talking to Lucien about him sometime. I don’t know if it would change your opinion of the man. But it might give you closure.”

He ran a finger down her cheek and brushed her hair behind an ear. “Whatever you decide to do or not do, know that you will not have to face it alone.”

Nesta sniffed and wiped her nose with her hand. He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and gave it to her. With a small laugh she asked, “What else is hidden in there?” The instant the words left her mouth she cringed.

Cassian bit his lip, but he couldn’t stop the smile that broke across his face. “We should head back. Soon it will be too hot out here for these clothes.”

Nesta glared at him. He raised a hand in defense. “I only mean the leathers are good protection for flying in the early morning but not for the full sun of day.”

Reaching across him into his basket, she took a handful of cloudberries and ate them.

“No. That is not ok,” Cassian said. “You didn’t even pick any. And you want to eat them all before we get home?”

A corner of her lips curved. Quick as a rabbit she grabbed another handful and had them in her mouth before he knew what had happened.

“Dammit Nesta! There won’t be any left.” He swung the basket around so it was behind his back.

But she must have kept one. With a sensual smile that sent heat rushing through him, she rolled the berry slowly between her fingers. They held each others gaze as she brought it up, inches from his mouth. Cassian’s heart thrummed and for a split second, he wondered if she knew what she was doing. What this innocent teasing could mean under different circumstances. As his lips opened to take the offering, she popped the cloudberry into her mouth and walked away.

By the cauldron... Cassian closed his eyes and took an extremely long, deep breath. This woman would be the end of him. And there wasn’t a damn thing he was going to do to stop her.

Cassian magicked the baskets away and approached to take her in his arms for the flight home. But Nesta stopped him with a hand on his chest and looked up into his hazel eyes. They actually looked a little blue. The color was drawn out and accentuated by the bright sky framing his face.

“You are more than worthy Cassian. For your family. And for me.”

He stared at her for a moment then dipped his forehead to rest on hers. With a gentleness Nesta was no longer surprised by, he drew back and lifted her chin. His lips were full and soft as they met hers. She fell easily into the kiss, into him. When his tongue unexpectedly flicked out across her lips, she pulled away in shock. A pleasant, thrilling kind of shock that left her body buzzing.

Cassian smiled and said, “Mmmmm. You taste like cloudberries.” He scooped her into his arms and held her tightly against him. “Did you know that I make an exquisite cloudberry cheesecake?”

Laughing, she said, “I’ve heard some unreliable rumors. I’ll believe it when I taste it.”

That cocky smirk reappeared and Nesta had to admit to herself that she kind of liked it. Liked the brightness in his eyes that accompanied it. And the devilish twist of his mouth. Aspects that she’d noticed were reserved for when he flashed it at her, and her alone.

“Luckily for you I have some waiting for us at home.”

Nesta kissed his cheek and said, “I am very lucky.”

(Head canon that Cassian is an awesome cook and whenever someone is sad or sick or stressed out, he makes their favorite food. He takes berry picking very, VERY seriously. He got in trouble once as a boy for sneaking out of camp to find a cloudberry patch. That prompted Rhys’s mom to teach him how to cook. Rhys was pissed at him for a while because of the extra lessons. He keeps his jam-making skills secret outside of the inner circle. All of Velaris would be hounding him for it if they knew. But the inner circle houses are all stocked. When he slipped that first bowl of jam onto Nesta’s breakfast tray at the House of Wind and found out she LOVED it... That was it. He was hers. And when they accepted the mating bond, they simultaneously offered each other a spoonful of jam to seal the deal.)

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rilenerocks · 5 years ago

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Okay. I promised myself when I started this blog on January 1st, 2018, that I was not ever going to censor myself. As an adult with lots of life experience, I should have known better than to make promises like those. Right now I’m waging an internal struggle about censorship regarding what I want to be expressing in this forum. I’m not ready to be done with that inner conversation. But the need to write is big. So instead, I’m going to write about one topic which might offend people but isn’t personal. At least not to me. I also have a few other items to share that are mostly neutral. So here goes.

I’ll start with food. I really like food. I like it just as much as anyone does, especially eating it. In fact, I’ve probably always eaten more than I should. I think that got started because my older brother and sister were colicky babies, fussy and cranky about what went in their bodies. I guess they kind of drove my parents nuts. By the time I came along, my brother was eight and my sister was almost six. For mom and dad the advent of me was like starting over. They were certainly more mature than the 20 year olds who found themselves up to their elbows in diapers. Apparently, I was a really easy baby. In the beginning I liked to eat and I liked to sleep. My mom told me she always worried that I might be dead because I slept a long time. She also confessed that when I didn’t want to drink as much as usual, she snipped the ends of the nipples off my bottles and just poured the milk down my throat. That confession came as an apology well into my adult life when she was sorry that I’d had weight struggles. She felt guilty. As I grew up I learned that there were rewards in cleaning your plate and being the easy to please kid. And as I said, I really liked food. I didn’t spend a lot of time cooking as a young kid but I watched my mom and grandmother a lot and when Michael and I started out together, I had a decent repertoire of dishes and was the primary chef of our household.

But Michael really liked food too and by the time we’d been together about 20 years, he’d turned himself into a vegetable and herb gardener, a canner and a recipe fiend. He wanted to learn to make the foods he loved from our favorite restaurants, like deep dish Chicago pizza and Greek saganaki. He loved grilling and had all these special tools for doing vegetables and fish and even a massive grill for multiple slabs of ribs. As time went by, I did most of our holiday celebration cooking and he took over daily meals. Truly delightful. His meals were tasty and big on beautiful presentation. It worked for us.

When he got cancer, especially during his worst treatment times, that lifestyle changed. I was back in the kitchen, scrambling for recipes and tempting ideas and feeling like a failure when my concoctions were clearly subpar compared to his. I was grateful for the kindness of friends who started food trains to give us a hand. As he neared the end of his life, he’d sometimes just look at me and say, “what’re you going to eat when I die?”

I’d say Raisin Bran and cottage cheese with fruit and tell him not to worry about anything. And I meant it. I completely lost interest in cooking and made do with things that were more like snacks than meals or otherwise went out to eat or threw myself on my son-in-law’s mercy. My daughter’s not big into cooking either.

Before he died, Michael made an elaborate menu with both of our special recipes included. I could barely remember the last times I’d have mine. I guess you could’ve described him as a foodie although he’d never have been one of the people who posted photos of his dishes on social media. He really hated that. I don’t hate it but I’ve never quite understood the need to show what you ingest to all your friends. I admit that I did put up a video of a pot of bubbling matzo ball soup because I thought it was miraculous that I’d actually made it again after a long time. And I once posted a picture of two gorgeous orange sweet potato pies because they looked like art to me.

And then there was my snotty post of a Whopper just to be obnoxious. But mostly I didn’t do that kind of thing because I just didn’t see the relevance of it. Maybe some people are food voyeurs. Maybe others are fascinated by new recipes. As I said, I just like eating. But I’m going through a new thing right now. I realized that some of my fondest memories are of the special meals prepared by my mom and grandmother when the whole family came together to eat, sing, socialize and share. For so many years, well into my twenties, those traditions were the treasures that I stored away in my memory.

I took over a lot of the big family events when I was thirty and kept it going up to and including the darkest days of Michael’s sickness. But as soon as he died, I bailed on all of it. I just felt done. My mom stopped cooking after my dad died, too, perhaps setting the role model for me. I think she made a few efforts to do a couple of meals but as she aged, she lost her touch. I realize that whatever years are ahead of me are far fewer than they used to be. What homey memories will my grandchildren have of me? Fruit snacks and Twizzlers? My kids have memories of their favorite foods that I made which were ultimately eclipsed by the sheer volume of recipes that belonged to Michael. But they have some. And my eldest grandson, who I cared for during his first three years, still says he loved the special oatmeal I made him for breakfast, filled with applesauce and golden raisins. My whole matriarch thing has begun to feel like a big glob of words with no fragrant smells or tastes that will evoke the kinds of memories I have of the women in my life. I still smell my grandmother’s hallway as we all trundled up the stairs to gorge ourselves on her food. And my mom’s desserts which were, yes, literally to die for. So I figured I should pull myself off the couch and get it together before there’s no time left to establish those things for my crew. I think that starting out as an older parent and grandparent has some disadvantages but if I can swim every day, the least I can do is make a meal. So this week, I’m diving headfirst into good action.

Today I decided to try Michael’s marinade for salmon. I remember exactly what it looked like but being myself, a person who prefers to throw food together in the same non-scientific way that I garden, I took a wild stab at making what I thought was a good flavor blend and popped the salmon into it for a good soak. In Michael’s honor, I did wear his goggles that he always used when grating onions. I always thought he looked ridiculous but they worked very well. The fish was delicate and didn’t dry out. That was good enough for my son and me.

Tomorrow night, everyone is coming to my house for a traditional although late Rosh Hashanah dinner. I’ve included a photograph of my sweet and savory brisket which simmered fir hours tonight in my mother’s ancient pot. I remember her spicy baked chicken which cooked in there along with a fabulous fricassee that had little meatballs and chicken wings and a gravity so savory you sopped up all you could get on eggy, buttery challah bread. Makes me mouth water. My five year old grandson has tasted my matzo ball soup before and now says it’s his favorite. I’m making progress already. I don’t expect to go back into any full time cooking mode for the future. But at least they’ll remember me for some comfort food when I’m no longer here.

On to the next topic. Last week I spent about 15 hours driving in just a couple of days. My obsession with clouds on bright sunny days was a constant distraction. I also love looking at farm animals in the same way I used to when we were little, driving through Iowa to go visit the family in Chicago.

I had to stop to photograph the Mississippi. I’ve seen it so many times but it’s romantic for me because of books and history. I try not to think of what’s going on it biologically speaking.

And then there are bridges. I can’t get enough of a good bridge. And, oh, the wind farms. I always expect to see Imperial Walkers from Star Wars strolling in between each separate wind turbine. They are truly enormous. I saw lots of semitrailer trucks with room enough only for a single blade on their flatbeds. I do worry for the birds navigating those places.

Lastly, there’s my little phenology study of my yard. I think I’ve seen my last monarch this year, on September 30th. I still have plenty of painted ladies and sulphurs, but I’ll miss those monarchs. I hope those orange and black beauties with their white spots are safely headed to southern climes to go through their multiple breeding processes so they can return next year. Butterflies were my sustenance this summer and I had a great season.

Now I can hear bird chatter picking up in my garden. Some are migrating through and others are returning to spend the winter near all my feeders. They know a sucker when they see one. Oh, and I didn’t get a single tomato off my vines this year. All gotten by squirrels and rabbits. They’re getting my apples too.

Seasons coming and going. I can’t find a way to get Michael’s physical self to return so I’m making do with the mysterious strength of us that still permeates me and all my nature buddies which I’ve cultivated with great intensity. Great intensity is my thing, apparently. To close this random blog, I include a few photos of the architecture of my town. I’m still thinking about how to wrestle myself away from my censorship issue but at least I’ve found the way to release the deluge of words that gets backed up in my head when too many days go by without writing.

Food, Memories and Travel Mashup Okay. I promised myself when I started this blog on January 1st, 2018, that I was not ever going to censor myself.

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passionate-baker · 6 years ago

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Monthly Musings: August

Hello friends!

I’m so happy you’re here for yet another monthly musings post. Wow, didn’t summer just fly right by? I feel like I just got the hang of this whole surviving-in-the-heat thing and now the days are starting to get just a touch cooler. Oh well.

How was July for you? We spent a lot of time with our families over the last month as, coincidentally, both mine & Boyfriend’s mothers underwent knee replacements. Watching my mother go through the recovery phase of the whole thing has me awe-struck at how strong she is. It also leaves me feeling pretty grateful for my functioning knees that carry me around without much protest.

We also spent a lot of time eating donuts this past month. Krispy Kreme is located conveniently close to the National Orthopaedic Hospital, and amen for that.

The offering for the month ahead is below, and generally it’s pretty easy going. I get so much out of writing these posts; something about being able to look back over the last month and planning a few things for the one to come calms me. These have fast become my favourite posts to share, and I hope you find some solace in them also.

Enjoy!

I’m entirely fascinated by the whole knee replacement malarkey that my mom is going through - I can barely take my eyes off it. With the help of an epidural, she was awake for the 2-hour surgery, and she was out of the hospital within 4 days. As of today, she’s two weeks past the surgery & one day away from getting the 20 staples holding her knee closed taken out. She is 100% braver than me and I can only hope to be as strong as her when my already gammy knee gives out in the future. I found this guide very informative.

As a surprise for our anniversary last month, I decided to push the boat out & book us a trip abroad. We haven’t been out of the country since last October and I felt like we deserved it.. so we’re heading to Berlin this coming Friday! We’ll be in the city for four days & I’m already salivating thinking about all the food we’re going to eat and all the beer we’re going to drink. I’ll be posting more on my Instagram stories if you’d like to follow along!

Enrique, our eldest chili plant that we grew from seed, is truly flourishing in this hotter weather we’ve been having! I mean, he is a serrano chili plant that came to us by way of Mexico, so he obviously loves the heat. On my last count, there are 15 gorgeous little chilies waiting to ripen. It is just the most satisfying feeling!

Related: remember when I mentioned last month that we have a newly discovered little patch of soil? I’ve 97% decided that I’m going to plant some rhubarb and I’m so excited about it. This website has so much helpful information about planting fruit and veg!

I know I promised you a recipe for Sourdough Maple Blueberry Brown Butter Crumble Muffins last month. I also know that said recipe hasn’t been posted yet. I have good news! The post is finished now and will be hitting the blog later this week - and thank heavens for that. Stay tuned!

I found myself alone in the house for an evening recently, and I can’t tell you how much I truly enjoyed it! I danced wildly around the kitchen listening to 90s music (Fairground by Simply Red was especially wonderful to bop to), I treated myself to a couple glasses of white wine, & I re-watched some early Gilmore Girls episodes and found myself laughing out loud within the first few minutes. Living my best life!

Our trip to Kilkenny last month was bonkers awesome. The beautiful city just seems to get better & better each time we go. The food, the ambiance, the adorable little pubs, everything is so lovely there! I’m working on a blog post about our visit at the moment, so more on that soon, but... let’s not forget the real reason we went there: to see Bob Dylan and Neil Young! The concert was amazing. We sang our hearts out from beginning to end & loved every second. And obviously, Bob was the clear winner for us, duh.

We had Boyfriend’s sister & brother-in-law over for a belated birthday dinner last week and we went all out by serving a mini dessert plate. I whipped up a batch of my Extra Fudgy Brownies - that are literally always a treat - and a small bowl of white chocolate mousse, all served with a dollop of lightly whipped cream and a drizzle of raspberry coulis, respectively. Pop a candle into the birthday girl’s brownie & you’re winning!

The bad news: I finished reading all of the available books in the Harry Bosch series. The good news: the latest Harry Hole book came out exactly when I needed something to read! It. Is. Amazing. Perhaps my favourite of the whole series!

This Dave Matthews Tiny Desk Concert has been playing in my mind lately. Two particular highlights for me are the inter-singing banter and the unintentionally hilarious faces he makes when he sings.

I have my eye on a new pair of Birkenstocks. They’re the classic Arizona style and I’ve been having shoe envy at heaps of strangers walking past me for weeks. I’m heading into town this week to try them on, wish me luck!

I haven’t been baking a whole lot recently, but I’m going to make a conscious effort to get back into the kitchen during the month to whip something up just for me, not the blog or Instagram. What should I make? I'm currently leaning towards Christina Tosi’s Crack Pie.

Have a great month, friends!

Let’s catch up all over again in September, okay?

Hugs,

Vicki xo

R E L A T E D P O S T S

2019: July // June // May // April // March // February // January

2018: December // November

#monthlymusings #august #monthlymusings2019 #2019

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aupairadventures · 6 years ago

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Making Magical Memories in Copenhagen, Denmark:

Our story begins several months ago, on a rainy February day. What the weather was actually like that day is debatable, but in my memory, the sky was gray and rain was pouring dramatically from the sky, perfectly matching my emotions. That was the last day that I would see my friend Karoline, an au pair from Denmark, before she left Nantes and returned home to finish her studies. That day, I was thinking about all the wonderful moments that we had shared together since we met last September and replaying them in my head. Whether we were strolling through antique markets, baking macarons at 2 am in my host family’s kitchen, dancing or laughing uncontrollably, knitting and watching “Skam” together, or driving in my car and singing along to Christine and the Queens, we never failed to create beautiful memories together.

While I felt so happy and excited for Karoline that she would be returning home, I still couldn’t shake a feeling of sadness. As we stood next to the tram tracks in Commerce and hugged goodbye, part of me worried that this might be the last time that I ever see her. Little did I know what the Universe had in store…

Fast forward a month later to March 12, my 19th birthday. After spending an incredibly lovely day in Nantes celebrating with my friends, my host family surprised me with dinner at a delicious restaurant in Vertou. Halfway through dinner, my host dads handed me a little green envelope labeled “Indice Numero 1” (“Hint Number 1”). They explained that there would be a different picture inside each envelope, and every picture was a hint. Based on the hints, I would have to guess what my gift was. (Or else, they warned, if I didn’t guess correctly, there would no gift.) However, as I opened each envelope and looked at each picture, I only grew more and more confused. The first picture was of a cookie cutter in an indistinguishable shape. I stared at it and flipped the paper around, trying to view it from as many angles as possible. After a thorough inspection, I concluded that perhaps the cookie cutter was in the shape of the Virgin Mary. (Why I thought this, I honestly have no clue. It’s just what the shape looked like to me!) This miscalculation led to quite an embarrassing language error. While I was trying to say, “C’est la vierge?” I accidentally said “C’est la verge?” without realizing what it meant or what the difference in pronunciation was. (I’ll let you all Google Translate that one. Hint: It’s not something you want to say loudly in a crowded restaurant.)

After my host dads’ fits of laughter quieted down after my unfortunate error in pronunciation, I moved on to the next envelopes to discover pictures of a cinnamon roll, a painting of a castle, and a painting of some kind of fancy-looking gate. No matter how hard I racked my brain, I had absolutely no idea what all of these seemingly random things had in common. I had no clue what in the world the answer could possibly be!

Finally, after it became clear that no matter how hard I tried, I would never guess correctly, my host dads took pity on me and handed me the final envelope. When I opened it and read what was written on the piece of paper tucked inside, I nearly burst into tears of happiness. In total disbelief, I clasped my hands over my mouth, totally overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of my host family.

On the paper was written: “Pack your bags, Shanti! You’re going to Copenhagen to see Karoline!”

The words “excited”, “happy”, and “grateful” don’t even begin to describe the emotions that I was feeling that night. I felt absolutely overjoyed that I was going to see Karoline again soon and that I would have the incredible opportunity to travel and explore a new place with her. I also felt completely overwhelmed by the love and kindness that I had received that day from all of my loved ones. My heart was glowing brighter than every star in the sky and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world to have been blessed with so many incredible people in my life. I felt so grateful towards my host family for everything that they have done for me, starting with them choosing me to embark on this adventure with and allowing me to become a part of their family. I was so thankful for their beautiful gift, which means more to me than they’ll ever know.

After I came back to reality, my host dads explained to me how all of this had come about. They explained that before Karoline had left Nantes, they had found her contact information by scrolling through my list of friends on Facebook. They then reached out to her to organize a time where I could fly to Copenhagen to see her. The three of them were in cahoots and forming an elaborate, top-secret plan, the whole time! When I hugged Karoline goodbye in February while saying, “But what if I never see you again?!” and she told me not to worry, she had good reason to say so. When I told my host dads that I was feeling down because it had been Karoline’s last day in Nantes and they said, “Ne t’inquiete pas, ça va aller,” they also knew exactly what they were talking about. Looking back, they all did a remarkably good job of keeping everything secret; I suspected nothing!

I think that I said “Merci beaucoup” to my host dads about a thousand times that night, and hugged them both at least a hundred times. I couldn’t shut up about how happy I was, even though no words exist in neither French nor English to sufficiently express the extremity of my happiness or gratitude.

After weeks of excited anticipation, the moment for my reunion with Karoline finally came on Tuesday, May 7th. When she came to pick me up at the airport, seeing her face in person, rather than on my phone screen, made me so incredibly happy. I couldn’t wait for the three days that lay ahead of us and all the memories that we were about to make.

From the airport, we took a short metro ride into the city center, during which we talked excitedly, thrilled to be reunited. Our first destination was the former meat-packing district of Copenhagen, which is now filled with tons of cool restaurants. Here, you can find almost any kind of cuisine imaginable. For lunch, Karoline brought me to one of her favorites: a Mexican restaurant called Hija de Sanchez for some deliciously spicy tacos.

Although it rained while we were eating and just after we left the restaurant, a beautiful burst of golden sunlight began to shine through the parting clouds as we made our way into the city center. I immediately fell in love with Copenhagen: Whether I was looking around the little streets filled with funky, colorful boutiques and cool cafes, or the grandiose buildings and impressively beautiful palaces and royal residences, I loved everything that I saw. One of my favorite parts of the city was Nyhavn, the port in the center of the city that’s lined with vibrantly colored buildings. I especially loved the way the sunlight and the colors of the nearby buildings reflected on the water, making it look like a swirl of watercolor paints.

After relaxing in a cafe housed in one of these colorful buildings, we set off to find the statue of the Little Mermaid. (As it turns out, that picture of the cookie cutter was actually in the shape of a mermaid! How I confused a mermaid for the Virgin Mary, I have no idea.) Along the way, we found some Lime scooters and hopped on them, in hopes of making the journey a bit quicker and easier. While we definitely had a lot of fun racing through the streets, my experience on the scooter has made me realize a few things: One, I have a fear of speed. Two, I have terrible balance. And three, are we sure that these things aren’t dangerous at all? When we reached the Little Mermaid statue, I fell in love with the view of the sea and the way that the sunshine sparkled on the bright blue water.

For dinner, Karoline took me to one of her favorite restaurants in Copenhagen, called Mahalle Lebanese kitchen. After having the most incredible meal, I decided that this is officially one of my favorite restaurants in the world. Out of all the delicious things that we tried, our favorite dish was the flatbread “pizza” topped with hummus, olive oil, halloumi cheese, avocado, pomegranate seeds, and spices. For anyone traveling to Copenhagen, this restaurant is a must-try! We had a lovely time at dinner, using the moment of relaxation to talk, laugh, tell stories, and catch up on everything that’s been going on since we’ve last seen each other.

After dinner, we took the metro to Karoline’s parent’s house, where we would be staying. We entertained ourselves during the long metro ride by me trying (and miserably failing) to correctly pronounce the names of each metro stop in Danish. When we finally arrived at our stop, I got to meet Karoline’s mother and brother, both of whom were so incredibly sweet and absolutely wonderful hosts!

On Wednesday morning, we started off the day perfectly by going to a nearby traditional Danish bakery to pick up some pastries and bread. When we got back to the house, Karoline put together a delicious breakfast of tea, bread with cheese and blueberry jam, orange juice, and cinnamon buns. After we finished eating, we set off for another day full of adventures. First, we visited the Kronborg castle in a town called Helsingør, which is actually the castle that inspired William Shakespeare’s Hamlet. One of my favorite things about the castle was that it stood right on the edge of the sea and that across the water, you could see the coast of Sweden. After we finished exploring the castle grounds, we strolled around the adorable streets of Helsingør, which were lined with lots of cute shops and old half-timbered houses. Next, we took the ferry and popped over to Sweden. Yep, Denmark and Sweden are so close to each other that getting from Helsingør, Denmark to Helsingborg Sweden only takes 20 minutes by ferry! We spent several hours in Helsingborg, where we got lunch at a great restaurant called Cafe Mezo and then walked around in a lovely flower garden. So, even though it was just for a bite to eat, now I can add Sweden to the list of countries I’ve visited!

After we returned to Denmark, we visited the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art in a town called Humlebæk, which was a really cool and interesting experience. The museum and its grounds, which stood at the edge of the sea, were absolutely beautiful. There were tons of intriguing expositions, interactive installations, and impressively creative artwork everywhere I looked. One of my favorite expositions was one of Yayoi Kusama’s infinity rooms, called “Gleaming Light of Souls.” The dark room was lined with mirrors that reflected the many colorful, glowing orbs that hung from the ceiling, making for a surreal, disorienting, and beautiful sight. I absolutely adore Kusama’s work, because I love the way that she creates these fascinating worlds where the viewer can fully immerse themselves in her artwork. I absolutely loved this museum and highly recommend it for anyone interested in art.

Shortly after we returned home, we ventured back to Copenhagen to go out to dinner with Caroline's mother and brother. Karoline found a great organic restaurant called BOB Biomio Bistro in the meatpacking district. This restaurant is perfect for vegans and vegetarians, as it offers many delicious meat-free or animal product-free options. I don’t even remember exactly what I had or what it was called, but I do know that it was absolutely delicious and that I would highly recommend it! This restaurant is perfect for any vegan or vegetarian travelers looking for healthy options. As we ate dinner together, I really enjoyed spending time with Karoline and her family and felt so grateful to the three of them for welcoming me so kindly into their home and making my experience in Denmark so magical.

On Thursday, my last day in Denmark, I woke up feeling sad to know that I only had a few hours left with Karoline. But, at the same time, my heart felt full and happy as I thought about how wonderful this trip had been and all the new memories that we had made together. After another delicious breakfast, we drove into Copenhagen, listening to our favorite Christine and the Queens songs the whole way. We started off our last morning in Copenhagen by grabbing some hot chocolate (and another cinnamon bun, of course!) at a cute cafe called the Coffee Collective Cafe. Next, we braved the rain and walked around the Nørrebro neighborhood, which is known to be loved by hipsters, artists, and students. Also located in the Nørrebro area was the Assistens Cemetery, which is the burial place of many famous Danes, such as fairytale writer Hans Christian Andersen and philosopher Søren Kierkegaard. As the rain came down, we strolled through the surprisingly beautiful and peaceful cemetery. I’ve realized that while this is not true of many other cities, Copenhagen is a city that works in any weather, even in the rain. The dark gray skies make the bright orange and red brick buildings stand out, making this city look even more gorgeous in less than ideal weather. So, if the weather forecast for your trip to Copenhagen looks bleak, fear not! You’re sure to fall in love with this place, rain or shine.

Our last destination before we headed to the airport was the French Bookstore and Cafe, or Den Franske Bogcafe in Danish. This shop was absolutely adorable and was the perfect place to seek shelter from the rain and find some gifts for my host family at the same time.

Saying goodbye to Karoline at the airport was difficult, as I know that it will most likely be quite a while before I see her again. However, I was so happy and grateful that have been given such a beautiful gift that allowed me to see her again, spend time together, and make so many new memories with her in such a magical place.

Karoline, thank you so much for everything! Thank you for being the most incredible friend, Danish language teacher, and tour guide. I can’t wait for you to visit the US with me one day and to show you all of my favorite places!

#Denmark #copenhagen #au pair #travel

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superchicalonelyviking · 8 years ago

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Hello everyone! Thanks for visiting and here is the first post! We're currently on a train from Ungheni in Moldova to Moscow in Russia via Ukraine. As we were eating our hearty breakfast (a cereal bar) a Moldovan man called Oleg came over to chat and I think thought we were quite funny tourists and gave us boiled eggs and beer, and the man sleeping near us gave us some slices of this circular bread with cheese in the middle, a lot of home made cheese, some tomatoes, cucumbers and cherries and later some vodka so all in all we are totally full and a bit drunk. The first week of the journey has been fun, we first got the megabus to London, walked over past Buckingham palace (said farewell to the queen) to Victoria coach station where we got a coach to Munich. This was our first experience of long distance coaching and though not the most pleasant way to travel it was surprisingly alright. After a fairly rough night's sleep we arrived in Munich and got a train to Budapest. The train route passes through Vienna and some hilly areas in Austria, and had excellent service (we went to the dining car for dinner and had ghoulash and frankfurters, which were both very cheap and very tasty, and we met a very nice German man called Charlie who told us about his mother who did the trans Siberian railway in the 80's. He also gave us some biscuits, so we really couldn't have been more happy). There was also a lady on the train with a cat on her shoulders the whole time. I don't know if that is a thing in Germany/Austria/Hungary. We arrived in Budapest at twilight and it's a really beautiful station, the traditional architecture is really impressive and then there is a new metro which is immense and spacious (to the point of looking quite empty), we stayed there with a lady we found on air bnb who had very kindly posted our train tickets to us!(they're a fraction of the price if you collect them in Hungary) in her beautiful old apartment, it felt quite 'art nouveau' style (as art GCSE taught me) with this huge ornate entrance hallway and courtyard full of plants. It also had really cool mezzanine level in the bedroom with a ladder up to it (I would like to build one in our house but we suspect it wouldn't be structurally sound)- they're apparently quite traditional here where the flats all have really high ceilings. Around 9 hours later we were leaving the beautiful city and on a train to Cluj Napoca in Romania. The train route passes through the mountains in North Transylvania, and you begin to see haystacks and wells in the countryside between the cities which are full of big crumbly apartment blocks. Cluj was a lovely university city which felt very quiet and relaxed despite being quite busy, we stopped here in a courtyard beneath an obelisk with angels and eagles commemorating a state visit in the time when Cluj was in the austro-hungarian empire. A lot of the old town has survived here (in most of the other cities a lot more buildings were demolished to make way for Ceaucescu's new apartment blocks of the 70's, which are now looking quite crumbly and wonky) and there are some impressive churches , in particular we liked 'Bob Church' pictured here!: Next we boarded a night train to Iasi and had a fairly pleasant-if a little hot on the top bunk of three-night's sleep before arriving and meeting Suzanne at Iasi Nord station. It was so great to see Suzanne again!! We spent the day exploring Iasi and it felt things were really improving in the town with lots of new restaurants and shops and renovations to old buildings. We saw the beautiful university and medical school and even got to experience a Romanian hospital when Suzanne had to go to see a doctor there (Very impressive waiting times, she called the doctor himself after a friend who had just been to an appointment him gave her his number and was seen in 15minutes!). We also got to eat a Kurtoz (or chimney cake) - this amazing Romanian cylindrical cake baked around a big metal stick and dipped in almonds, sugar or coconut. Suzanne had a Dutch man called Jurie staying with her who had come to teach the kids in Costuleni and the surrounding area to play Korfball, i'd never played it before but it's a kind of more modern version of netball (korf is the name of the basket). So we've spent a bit of time watching and playing korfball this week, we also taught the children how to play a rhythm with a cup (Suzanne gave us the idea from a song called 'cups' which was quite famous a few years ago) the children showed us their traditional songs and folk dancing and we had a Rainbow Party one day with colourful balloons, sweets, fruit, nail painting and face painting and more singing and dancing. Casa Lalelelor is the name of the children's centre where Suzanne has been working for the past year or so (on and off for longer ) with Romanian teachers Cristina, Mariana, Mihaela and Irina and Lulia who helps with the cleaning and running of the place. It was looking great and you could tell the kids really loved going there. One day we did some painting to smarten up the outside and repaint the signs (see in the picture). After we had literally painted until the cows came home, the lady Michaela living next door showed us her cows and even how to milk them! Turns out milking a cow is quite tricky. It took us so long to milk half a litre that even the cow was getting bored. Michaela invited us in after for some fresh milk and cake, it was very nice! One day we made an English Sunday roast for Suzanne and Jurie and the ladies that run Casa Lalelelor with their families. We took all the food round to Irina's house and ate outside in her garden. I think it went down quite well (though we were slightly ashamed by the standard of the Yorkshire pudding ). It was a really lovely evening with beautiful weather, a beautiful setting and very nice people of all ages (even grandma and baby Sophia's nanny came along too) and also very nice home made wine and cherry tsvika. And lovely to see everyone and catch up again in the summer time- it was very different there in December! On our last day we attended a church service for the day of the heroes (who had been killed at war) on top of the hill at the graveyard. The school children were there, a lot of whom we knew from Casa Lalelelor , and did some songs and readings. A lot of the service was sung by two of the ministers who had really incredible singing voices. Offerings of food and wine are given and put on the graves of the fallen heroes. After the service cakes are shared and you have to say 'boda proste' which means something like 'he is risen'.... but I'm not really sure- it is really impressive how well Suzanne manages with all the routines and the traditions all in Romanian and happening almost constantly! (every week it seems like there's some kind of national day or celebration) After the service we had games and korfball and English class at Casa Lalelelor and later went over to Lulia's house where she made us traditional Romanian coffee with a pastel cake (a pastry cake with cheese , sugar etc) more wine and biscuits and fresh cherries and showed us the garden which is basically a small scale farm that they run completely by hand and grow a lot of their own vegetables and fruits. It's really impressive how much they do themselves, from the wine to the milk to the vegetables. Most people have chickens too, one time Suzanne's next door neighbour took us into her barn and lifted up a blanket and underneath was a large mother hen sitting on a brood of chicks! So this brings us to yesterday evening when Suzanne took us to say goodbye to everybody before we drove out to the border. The plan was to drop us off and we walk over the border and get a taxi to Ungheni where the train station is but we found out on arriving that you can't walk over the border, you have to drive or be on a bike - so we were very grateful that Suzanne drove us over there and got us into Moldova and after about an hour of Border queueing and confusion we finally managed to get a Moldova stamp on our passports and over to the train just in time for the night train to Moscow. We had such an unforgettable time in Romania once again and would love to go back. The work that Suzanne is doing there is truly inspiring, the charity aims to help the children to learn and to broaden their horizons. If you would like to donate to Casa Lalelelor you can do so via the Sansa! (Charity running it) Website : http://www.sansa.info or if you would like to help in any other way I'm sure Suzanne would love to hear from you!

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auskitty · 7 years ago

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Bucky Barnes is an Ass. Part 3: Thinking Out Loud.

Song Prompt #3 Playtime by Lukas Graham; Shape of You and Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran

Yana looked good, really good, as her hips swayed to the beat of the music. Singing quietly under her breath as she gently slid the cake into the oven, deftly twisting the knob on the timer before dancing over to the stainless steel counter top to work on the fondant flowers she was creating in various shades of purple and green.

“She said when I get off its play time; I’ll show you how to go a late night; I led her off into the bed right; oh baby I’m gonna make you beg right…” You watched as she swayed and sang along, grinding her hips to the song, a sexy little number by her current favourite band. This wasn’t the usual light hearted pop that she blasted in her creative hours, but the soft sultry tones of a sexually charged song. You loved when she got into this zone, the music fuelling her movements around the kitchen.

It had been six months since Barnes had last tried to get in touch with her, six long months of watching her surreptitiously as she went about her daily activities. She started baking earlier this morning; leaving her usual visit to the main kitchens to encourage the apprentices and lend a hand whenever one of the other chef’s needed it. Her easy manner and ready smile made her a welcome visitor wherever she chose to go. You watched as she made her way back from whatever private hell was in her head and she flourished again.

Watching Yana sing and dance in the kitchen was one of your guilty pleasures. The sensuous and lithe movements of the voluptuous young woman were something that had you regularly palming your crotch through the day. You wondered wistfully what she would feel like pressed against your body on the dance floor, surely if she danced like this alone, pairing off for a slow dance would be pure carnal bliss.

You often wondered if she knew you were watching her, there were times that you could swear she was flirting with you via the video feed. Muting the sound you went back to your work and tried not to glance too often at the screen showing her busily preparing for Clint and Laura’s upcoming anniversary party. The delicate sprays of purple flowers twined around custom made arrows and sat perched in foam blocks as she added more blooms to each of the shafts.

***

“The audio from this feed has been muted Yana, please feel free to talk at any point.” The disembodied voice of FRIDAY the AI made Yana grin. Lightly spritzing the last wreath of flowers with a sugar spray to seal the colour, she continued dancing seductively as she tidied the last remnants of fondant away. The anniversary cake was ambitious- a four tiered confection; each layer a different flavour and finish with a surprise piñata center in the topmost layer for the children.

It had been difficult keeping the cake a secret as Clint would often drop into the kitchen to catch up with Yana when he was in the tower, however getting his and Laura’s opinions on the different styles of cake and finishes had been easy. Clint was always happy to take a cake back to the farm for his family to enjoy. The feedback had her ecstatic that she could have four unique tiers without compromising on size or quality, while still remaining small enough to be intimate. Thanks to FRIDAY she always had the exact ingredients required whenever she went to experiment; something Yana would be eternally grateful for.

Yana turned the volume up on the speaker dock as the music changed to her favourite song. She let her inhibitions go and sang along, gyrating her hips and mimicking sexual moves like she saw in the dance videos she watched with Wanda. The sweat started to bead on her forehead and she stripped out of her chef jacket and pulled her hair out of its messy bun and hair net.

“We push and pull like a magnet too, although my heart is falling too, I’m in love with your body. And last night you were in my room, and now my bed sheets smell like you, everyday discovering something damn new. I’m in love with your body…” flicking her hair over her shoulder saucily Yana winked at the camera over the sink as she rocked and gyrated to the beat, hoping that he was watching.

***

Yana was on her way down to the communal level with the first two tiers of the anniversary cake on a service trolley when FRIDAY alerted her to Clint, Laura and the children’s arrival at the helipad several hours early. “FRI, you need to take as long as possible to get them to the communal level. I don’t care what you have to tell them; just don’t let them know what’s going on. Oh and could you be a love and tell Tony that they are here and I expect him to stay reasonably sober tonight?”

Pushing the trolley out of the elevator to the lavish spread of food Yana had spent the last few days preparing she situated the first layer of the luscious confection at a specially placed table before sinking the second tier’s supports into the pre-set holes and gently slid the second tier into place. Double checking the position and making sure the finishes weren’t damaged she turned and rushed back to the elevator FRIDAY had thoughtfully kept on her level. Tony was such a drama queen, he had rigged a curtain up to drop and reveal the cake at a specific time so the couple would be just as surprised as the rest of the guests to see it.

“Miss Yana, Tony and the other Avengers have been notified of The Barton’s arrival, and I have also contacted Agents Coulson and Hill at SHIELD; they are all on their way to the common level.” Yana sighs and rests back against the cool wall of the elevator, soon she would have to face Sergeant Bucky “I’m an ass” Barnes and his no longer unrequited love Steve “I love the dumb ass” Rogers. It’s not that she disapproved of the relationship, as far as that went she was happy for both the men; they both deserved to be happy after everything life had thrown at them. No her reticence at seeing them was in her memories of when Bucky looked at HER like she was the only one in the world.

Silently stalking over to the counter that held the two final cake tiers, flower sprays and arrows Yana steadied her breathing so she wouldn’t rock the trolley and damage her last week of hard work. Making her way back into the elevator Yana smiled a little sadly at the camera in the far corner, tilting her head to the side and addressing the AI as though it were a human person. “OK Fri, last trip before all hell breaks loose. Do you think I made enough of everything to cover everyone? I know the Barton’s were inviting a few civilian friends as well as others from the tower, I just hope that the labels on the finger foods don’t get messed up. I worked bloody hard to get this together.”

“Miss Yana, I assure you that the quantities you have catered for will be more than adequate, you did after all cater for a minimum of fifty unenhanced humans, four super soldiers and Thor.” She could almost hear the laughter in the AI’s voice pattern, she was sure that if FRIDAY had a sense of humour, it was similar to her own.

***

The party was in full swing when Yana finally gave up trying to keep order on the food tables, the absolute havoc caused by seventy five guests from the ages four to 94 was more than she could bear to watch. Mr Lee, the owner of Clint’s favourite comic book store, complimented her pigs in blankets heartily as he slipped several into his pocket “before that rascal Clint eats them all.” Yana laughed; she enjoyed the elderly gentleman’s company for some time before wandering over to the bar to get a drink. Just as she arrived she saw Bucky slip something into a glass of champagne before handing the flute to Steve. His eyes darted around the room before landing on Yana as tears sprang silently from her eyes before she turned and ran.

Fleeing to the kitchen was the only thing she could think to do, the communal floor’s kitchen was the perfect hiding place. It was still a part of the party area, but she wouldn’t have to lay eyes on that unmitigated ass Barnes or his too-beautiful-to-be-true, soon to be betrothed. As she stood at the refrigerator staring blankly into its open door, she could hear Bucky proposing a toast to the happy couple, wishing them many more years of familial bliss. As the cheer went around the room Yana closed the door and rested her head against it, letting the tears fall as the party went on without her.

Somehow Tony had wrangled a private performance by Laura’s favourite singer for the couple as a gift. After a few songs Yana felt hands on her hips, without looking back or moving her forehead from the refrigerator door she placed her own hands over them, pulling them closer around her waist, relaxing into the warm embrace. “I know it shouldn’t affect me, but this is supposed to be Clint and Laura’s day, not his. How can he be so bloody selfish?”

The warm arms tightened as Ed Sheeran began singing ‘Thinking Out Loud’ and then turned the young woman around to cradle her against a solid chest. “I mean, really, proposing at your friends anniversary party, how fucking inappropriate. I’m happy for them, but seriously, is Barnes even thinking with his head?”

The warm hands moved up to tuck her head under his chin, her face still turned down and away from the face sadly smiling down at her. Slowly their bodies began to sway gently, Yana’s slotting perfectly against her dance partner, her arms slowly snaking up around his shoulders to play with the silken strands at the nape of his neck. “When did you work out I was in here? Did FRIDAY tell you?” Yana asked quietly not really expecting a response.

“Saw you leave Stan and go to the bar. That’s when I saw Bucky and I knew you’d come hide in your safe space.” Planting a gentle kiss on the crown of her head he continued swaying, tracing a knuckle down her cheek to her jaw before scooping the finger under her chin and lifting her head to face him. As Ed sang sweet and low, he looked into her eyes and slowly lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was everything she dreamed it would be and then some.

His lips were warm and soft yet firm and his breath whispered across her lips as they parted. “Yana, you know it may be like Ed says, maybe we found love right where we are.” Yana rolled her eyes and smiled softly at the gentle brown eyes looking down on her before kissing him again as Tony slammed his way into the kitchen.

“I can’t believe the audacity of that man… Yana, he wants YOU to make his fucking wedding cake! Can you believe it! First he proposes to his bloody boyfriend in front of Clint and Laura AT THEIR ANNIVERSARY PARTY and then invites all of us to the shindig and expects the woman he…WOW, woah woah woah now…” Tony stuttered to a halt in his tirade, jaw dropping as he took in the sight of his best friend and Science Bro slow dancing with his favourite chef, their eyes sparkling and bodies closely entwined, totally ignorant to the world.

#song prompt

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envirotravel · 8 years ago

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Exploring Penang: Southeast Asia’s Melting Pot

So, while I’m still catching up on my ridiculously delayed 2016 travel recaps, I just can’t wait to start sharing my big trip (thus far) of 2017. So I’ll be jumping back and forth a bit again. Apologies for any confusion, my friends!

Penang, Malaysia. Not only is it one of Southeast Asia’s most historically interesting, artistically relevant and food obsessed cities, it’s also one of the most commonly visited by expats in Southern Thailand for various visa services. Which makes it just about crazy that it took me until this year to finally take a proper trip there. It was, in true form, for all the cliché reasons — to tag along on Ian’s trip to process his Thai work permit, to eat, and to check out the capital’s infamous street art scene.

The last time I was in Malaysia in 2009 I was so broke I stayed in hostels that legitimately could have been used as the sets for horror movies and was so painfully picky of an eater that I very likely could have starved… and so I was looking forward to this being a very different kind of trip.

As soon as we landed in Georgetown I felt obscenely grateful for three small luxuries. One, a direct flight from Bangkok. Two, the most affordable Uber rates I’ve encountered anywhere in the world. Three, the fact that we’d booked a modern Airbnb with an absolute luxury of space after a chaotic four day festival. I’d looked at a few centrally-located hotels that made my heart skip a beat, but in the end we couldn’t resist using a chunk of my Airbnb credit instead. (Want $30 off your first booking? Click here!)

Penang is a food mecca and so we didn’t have many plans to use the kitchen; that said, we did an obscene amount of laundry — festival dust happens — and watched an entire HBO miniseries from the couch, so I’d say we absolutely made the right move renting an apartment over staying in a hotel.

We’d been a bit concerned about not staying right in the hub of Georgetown, but in the end we were only about a twelve minute Uber, and the rates were insanely cheap. I should probably apologize in advance for how often I’m going to rave about the price of Uber in Penang, but let’s just get onboard with that now to make life easier for all of us. Literally, for four days of Ubering around the city, including trips to and from the airport, I paid less than $20USD.

I kind of winced at renting a two bedroom for just two people, but at $84 per night we couldn’t complain. While the shared gym and pool weren’t quite as luxurious as we’d hoped and the bathrooms were a bit of a disappointment, the rest of our unit was beautiful and you simply can’t beat ocean views.

We were so happy camped out in our high rise that we actually barely left for the first two nights, just ducking out briefly to drop off Ian’s work permit paperwork and to dine on deliciously cheap Indian food. It felt so good to just catch up on a bit of work and unwind alone together after a big hectic week of festivaling with friends.

On our third day in Penang, we finally felt prepared to, as we say, “do tourism.” We kicked off our morning heading straight into Georgetown for breakfast at Mugshot Cafe.

Valentine’s Day had been about a week prior and my gift to Ian was researching the Penang eateries I thought he’d love the most and presenting him with homemade coupons for a meal at each. Normally Ian gets me the best gifts ever and I give him the equivalent of a kid’s fingerpainting halfheartedly presented to mom after day care — and Ian usually reacts with the same level of undeserved gratitude — so I kind of knocked this one out of the park and I’m not mad about it.

We literally drooled over our order of bagel sandwiches, homemade mango and walnut yogurt, and coffee for Ian and grape smoothies for me. Can you say died and went to hipster breakfast heaven?

After, we wandered over to Ian’s visa processing agent to see if his paperwork had been approved, which was really just an elaborate ruse to kill time until we could eat more. Georgetown was one of the most photogenic cities I’ve ever seen — in four days we didn’t really do enough to justify more than a one-post word count, but I had so many photos I loved I couldn’t force myself to cut down to much less than a hundred.

While this 113sq mile island has much more to it than it’s capital, tourism is certainly centered around the UNESCO World Heritage Site capital, Georgetown. We had big plans to go hiking in Penang National Park and go to the beach and other hilariously ambitious ideas that got sidetracked as soon as we experienced the joy of sitting on our Airbnb couch, but just wandering the streets of Georgetown turned out to be more than enough to entertain us for a large majority of our four-day stay.

Pretty dang soon it was time for lunch at ChinaHouse, one of Penang’s trendiest galleries-turned-eateries with multiple venues in one building.

Penang is literally filled to the brim with insanely tempting baked goods — a serious departure from almost anywhere in Malaysia’s neighbor to the north, Thailand. As a certified sugar addict I couldn’t resist the chance to gorge myself on baked goods that didn’t taste like cardboard, and rather than fight the dessert-loving seven-year-old inside of me, I just went full childhood fantasy and ordered cake for lunch. How do you say “why not?” in Bahasa Malaysia?

ChinaHouse lets you order half slices, which meant I got to try two — passionfruit coconut butter and pear ginger. Both were out of this world. (Ian ordered normal lunch food like an adult, in case you were wondering if there was anyone chaperoning.)

After lunch, we hopped in an Uber to explore two of Penang’s most well-loved tourist sites, Kek Lok Si temples and Penang Hill. First up was Kek Lok Si, the largest Buddhist temple in Malaysia and a cornerstone of the Chinese Buddhist community in Penang.

Our driver dropped us at the very top of the multi-level temple, and we strolled around before taking a cable car down to Ban Po Thar Ten Thousand Buddhas Pagoda, which Lonely Planet Penang described at “Burmese at the top, Chinese at the bottom and Thai in between,” an apt metaphor for the multi-cultural melting pot that is Penang.

After eight years of traveling through Southeast Asia, I consider myself pretty tough to impress when it comes to temples. This one, however, was a jaw-dropper. It really doesn’t matter where you’ve been or what you think you’ve seen — you need to come to Kek Lok Si.

We were lucky enough to have our visit coincide with a service, so our silent wanderings around the grounds of the temple were soundtracked by a chorus of hundreds of Buddhists singing, chanting, and ringing bells. Combined with the fact that we had the place more or less to ourselves right before closing, it was magical. Best of all? Admission and cable car combined for both of us cost $2.25.

While it was hard to imagine that the views could get much better than the ones from Kek Lok Si, we were in the area anyway, and so we took a quick Uber over to Penang Hill. Used as a retreat from the heat during the British colonial period, today the hill is still a top destination for escaping the sticky humidity at sea level — it’s almost always a full ten degrees cooler at the summit. We paid about $10US for one standard adult ticket and one student ticket (looking like I’m still 18 is annoying when getting carded in bars, but fabulous when offered student discounts.)

There in the refreshing air nearly 2,700 feet above George Town, we found amazing views across the island and over to the mainland — we even spotted the high-rise apartment our Airbnb was in, teeny tiny in the distance! Also at the summit was a fancy British restaurant, some gardens and displays and your standard kitschy tourist trappings, but the real attraction here aside from the views is the funicular ride itself! It was so fast and steep it almost felt like a thrill ride at an amusement park. It was a brief but brilliant way to end our day Penang.

Stay tuned for Part II!

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thismountainoflight-blog · 8 years ago

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Holidays

Merry Christmas and Happy 2017! I remember a year ago being so sad 2015 was ending, and now 2016 is gone too… sometimes I wonder how time can’t just stop, but it means each year in passing overflows with blessings and light. So, what can I share from the ending of 2016 here in Honduras?

Some highlights include a whirlwind of visitors we had from the end of November through New Years. The first week of December brought our Navidad group from the States to put on a Christmas camp for the kids. This was a beautiful week, watching the kids interact with the group and share in the season of esperanza that Christmas brings. We had baked goods overflowing from the kitchen, more craft kits than maybe even Michaels’ holds, and 60-something stockings to fill. My personal favorite was that the first carols I experienced of the season came from singing around our tree, rather than a radio station back in early November. Learning new songs and looking around at all the smiles, as some were standing and swaying, others snuggling up close to one another. Above the traditions we took part in, I felt like I gained nine new moms this week in this visiting group of women. Some have been a part of MdL for many years before me and I appreciate their perspective on just how far this organization has come throughout various changes, celebrations, and mostly watching the kids grow up. They took Christy and I under their wings to provide extra support in this journey of volunteering, several listening ears and words of encouragement and love. For that I felt extremely blessed this season.

In various ways I’ve discovered MdL to be a hybrid of cultures, being completely supported by the States. We’ve combined traditions from both Honduras and back home to create a rich Christmas for the kids. The group brought down presents that sponsors sent and it was up to Christy and I to decide how the kids would encounter them… would it be as simple as waking up to presents under the tree, or could we spice it up a bit? Instead we created Capture the Presents, like capture the flag but with all of the presents as flags. We bagged each child’s gifts, sealed them shut, numbered them all and hid them. We split the teams, divided the entire grounds in half, designated a jail for each team, and we were ready. The game was a huge hit and I appreciated seeing the kids care about all aspects of the game, not just tunnel vision for presents. When everything was captured we could distribute them by number and it was sweet seeing everyone receive something they asked for.

It made me think about how thankfulness is a learning process we are all constantly asked to engage in. Some occasions are more obvious than others, like receiving a gift, while others we aren’t as used to looking at through this lens. Seeing another day, being invited to walk alongside these kids and staff, engaging in a new way of life, feeling alone and isolated, to learning from new friends. It’s a lot harder to say “thank you” when routine feels monotonous or isolation feels encompassing, but we’re all at different stages in learning to be grateful. I trust God is using the baby steps I celebrate, together with the challenges for something bigger than the moments directly in front of me.

Back to the holidays, we celebrated appropriately with a Christmas dinner for the kids and a separate one for employees. Those who have family members in other parts of the country are able to spend the few weeks around the holidays with them, and the others spend the holidays with staff and their families. Because Christy and I wouldn’t be traveling home, we had the privilege of hosting Marlon for four days around Christmas and four around New Years. This felt like the perfect gift when the opportunity arose early December. While I had no other plans, I have wanted to stay all along. What were we going to do anyways? It didn’t matter; I just wanted something different from what I’m used to. Through Marlon I’ve seen God using my availability I’ve set aside for Him.

Marlon has this spirit about him that I just want you to know him immediately. His mix of Spanish and English phrases in a mix of ridiculous voices and facial expressions is enough to wonder where in the world he gets it. Yet he keeps everyone laughing constantly. He’s learned all the words to direct the “driver” of his wheelchair, being escorted around MdL or Nueva Esperanza. “Pick me up” and “put me down,” he requests as he’s yelling, “we are coming for you!” Christy and I usually hide out in our “office area” at work until we’ve had our cup of coffee each morning, but if we don’t get moving fast enough, Marlon will likely get someone to push him and come find us. To say the least, it was a privilege to host him for the holidays. While there isn’t necessarily a lot to do after our typical games wear out, we made the time worth it. And I’ll remember this Christmas.

The actual celebration felt like a blend of New Years Eve and the 4th of July. Only the 24th is celebrated, but the festivities go well into the night with hugs, dancing, and fireworks at midnight. We spent the night with Belkis and her family. Belkis is the psychologist at MdL and graciously invited us to celebrate with her family, some of whom were visiting from Columbus, OH. This story felt like all sorts of stars were aligning… Amy was technically the first long-term volunteer at MdL, present on various trips when the actual home was being constructed, and then later staying for a couple years as a volunteer. She witnessed and helped construct the very roots of the grounds we work on, literally and figuratively. She was there before antiretroviral medications came to save several lives, and she was there to be woken up every morning by a few of the kids who are some of our success stories today. I’m talking about Amy because during this time she married Belkis’ brother and they now live in Ohio with their two little boys. They came to visit this Christmas, so all in the span of a few hours I’m speaking English with kids who are growing up similar to how I did while here in Honduras, while ensuring Marlon is well entertained, and being a bit star struck by Amy and God’s ability to cross our paths on this day in Belkis’ backyard.

Giving thanks for the moments God used to shine his light this past season.

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