#this page is several months old but i had to finish it for my sanity

[gambeque]

tiny

[riceball1759]

Reading Tips from your Hyper Librarian

"So many books, so little time", right? If anyone understands this, it's us bibliophiles and librarians (and publishers) -especially someone like me! My interests are super varied and many times, I'll start reading a few chapters in a book that REALLY REALLY interests me...but then, I have that ADHD SHINY moment and the poor thing is forgotten. Seriously, this is a constant struggle. Being a librarian makes this even more important that I know what I'm recommending. And I do! I just can't get the focus to actually read them>< I'm part of a committee that is assigned reading every year for 3 months (give or take) and -you guessed it- I get that done. Why? It's got a deadline and I churn through them like nobody's business. It also helps that I didn't choose them and they aren't always what I normally like to read. It gives me an edge when helping certain patrons look for something I normally don't read. Not that I don't have an idea already -it's just more cemented than usual since I actually read that particular book. Though I kinda gave you one of my tips in this blurb, I'll rehash later!

A little more on my SHINY moments and then we'll get to my tips! Like I said before, SHINY really takes a toll sometimes on my goals, but it also helps. How? Situation: I hear all this buzz about this upcoming book (debut author/fresh voice/intriguing plotline/etc.). I either miraculously get an ARC or I'm waiting with bated breath, for the dang thing to get shipped to my library so that I can "steal" it for the weekend before it gets catalogued (I tell everyone I'm borrowing it, so don't judge me!). If all goes according to plan, I DEVOUR it within a day and come back exclaiming all the virtues of reading said book. I might even write a glowing review (if I had the capacity at the time). This has happened with a few books in the past years: Stay Gold, Wicked Fox & Vicious Spirits, Ember in the Ashes, Invisible Differences, and a few others, but I can't remember right now. Point: it's super hard for me to get the reading I want done, actually done.

AND NOW, for the star of our show: The Hyper Librarian's Reading Tips!

Please remember, these are things I remind myself of when I'm having a hard time getting through my TBR (the library-books-out-that-are-due TBR). Some lead into or are extensions of others, but being specific is necessary for me. You can adapt them to your needs or or just copy/paste them into your life :)

1) It's ok to DNF. So you gave this book the 'old college try' and just can't do it -it's becoming torturous and you're at risk of going into the dreaded slump... Just stop already and save yourself more grief. Another reason is that you're just not in the mood to finish, so don't. Why torture yourself (again -I seem to like using this word, but it's so accurate at times!) by seeing a book lying close by that you wish was anywhere but? Some of us (incl. moi) have a shelf on Goodreads just for those pesky things. Let's cut the drama and move on! I find it therapeutic as well as final.

2) You are your own censorship committee. We all have that verbal content line where ~once toed/crossed~ our tolerance, belief, comfort level, etc., is compromised to the point where there's no enjoyment because of that one or more 'tidbits' giving you grief. Sometimes, I'll scan several reviews before starting because I want to make sure I don't get any 'surprises'. Most times, I get to that proverbial part that has me slamming the book closed, never to be opened again (dramatic, yes, but sometimes very true!). {{Point}}: you are the only person keeping you from reading something you don't like!

3) Be picky! You are as unique as your fingerprint. Why wouldn't your reading habits follow? If you get a rec that is absolutely not your thing, say no (thank you). It's not fair to you if you're just going to trudge through it anyway for the sake of being polite to friends/family/librarians/coworkers/etc (publishers, I'm sorry). If you like vampires, werewolves, and all things paranormal (like me) don't despair of the current books coming out -look back to the '90s and '00s! Reading is one of the most personal things we experience in our lives. {{Please, for the sake of your sanity}}: read reviews, look for trigger warnings (if that applies to you), verify that historically under-represented voices are portrayed correctly (misinformation is our greatest threat). For example: I won't buy a book about LGBT+ characters without verifying the plot as authentic (i.e. all fluff and no real problems vs real problems with a happy ending). I need to know that the book about that Transgender girl is written by someone who is either also Transgender or very well-informed.

4) Own your reading preferences. Just own it. I read somewhere in a journal interview that the concept of "guilty pleasure" shouldn't exist. So you like SJM's ACOTAR and are all about that fan community life, but are afraid to talk about it even though it's basically a mainstream subculture now? {{Point}}: Stop feeling guilty for what makes you happy! If people judge, that's their problem. I read romance for stress relief and because I just happen to like happy endings. Seriously, people need to stop shaming romance readers and self-shame is a huge part! Don't shame yourself, "SHUN THE NON-BELIEVERS"! (Charlie the Unicorn, RIP in Youtube history)

5) It's ok to read more than one book at a time. If you're anything like me (the Attention Deficit part), you probably have up to 5 books going at the same time: that paperback at home, the ebook on your phone, audiobook in the car, hardcover in your office, etc. (I know that's not 5 -I ran out of ideas!). Point: it's only natural you're in the mood for something different at certain periods of the day, week, or whatever. They'll get finished eventually. Just spare a thought for the 1 or 2 that are a little extra "dusty" cuz that might mean you need to DNF...just a thought.

6) Book clubs are your friend! They can be your enemy, too; but here's what you do: choose one that reads almost everything you want to in a specific genre. I'm not talking the next bestseller (unless that's you). I'm talking genre-specific and something you researched before joining. Online or in-person, this is has the potential for changing your reading habits for the better because you'll actually want to interact and read the books! I decided to join a book club so I could finally talk about a niche genre that is one of my favorites: Christian fiction. No one around me reads this (anymore) and I have no one to talk to (regularly) and trade recs with, so I joined a Facebook group and it's really nice to chat about all these great books and authors I've recently read with others who do the same:)

7) Book journaling. Yes, you may have heard of these things. There are so many ways to journal about your reading: bullet journals, the blank ones where you can let loose your creativity, the ones like from Moleskin where you just fill in the pre-determined spaces (aka: reading log), lined journals for writing your heart out, themed reading planners and TBR journals... Just look it up, the interwebs has you covered. The key is to use them as a tool for expanding and enriching your enjoyment or education (nonfic). I don't journal for everything, but I do like to do it for the ones I know I'm going to review later or for general reflections as I read. I started doing it by chapters, but that doesn't cut it when something jumps out at me from a random page and I NEED to write about it immediately. So, I make note of the page # and we good! I'm very personal in my writing (if you can't tell) and it can turn into tangents, but that's how I roll. I don't do that artsy stuff because that takes away from the reason I'm doing this in the first place. I write about anything regarding my reading -incl my reading slumps. I love it.

Wishing you Happy Reading! Thank you for reading:)

[kyndaris]

A Hero Lies in You

On April Fool’s Day 2019, a video was released showing the latest game in the Yakuza franchise. Many thought it was a prank. The reason why? The sudden change in combat. Gone was the brawler beat-em-up that was associated with the series. In its stead was a turn-based system reminiscent of role-playing games. Characters waiting for their turns before utilising special skills? In a franchise known for its hard gritty storylines about gangs duking it out in the streets of Japan? ‘Haha Ryu Ga Gotoku. You thought you could fool us, but we see right through you. This isn’t our first rodeo and you’re not Square Enix,’ was many a thought when the footage had been viewed by thousands online.

What gamers did not know was that this was no gag. Fast forward several months to August 2019 and it was confirmed that Yakuza 7: Like a Dragon, starring new protagonist Kasuga Ichiban, would actually incorporate turn-based battles. There would even be JOBS! 

As I had just finished playing through Kiryu’s story, as well as Judgment, in 2020 I was eager to see what new protagonist Kasuga Ichiban would bring to the table. From trailers, I could already see how much livelier Ichiban would be in comparison to the more stoic Kiryu. And, in contrast to Yagami, he was definitely more of an idiot. A lovable idiot, to be sure, but an idiot nonetheless.

Yakuza 7: Like a Dragon released in a huge week for video games. While I would have preferred to play it earlier, I had other huge titans to wrestle into submission first. Once I had managed to satiate my Ubisoft open-world needs with Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, I dived head first onto the streets of Yokohama, ready to bust some heads.

The game opens on a play. For a moment, I thought I had somehow purchased the wrong game. But as the lengthy prologue progressed, it was very clear that this was most definitely a Yakuza game. It just needed to set up a little bit of the tale, starting with Arakawa Masumi - father figure and role-model for our erstwhile hero. It isn’t long before players are introduced to Kasuga Ichiban with his trademark ‘punch perm.’ Born in a soapland and raised by those that lived on the fringes of society, Ichiban, rather than being hardened by his experience, is empathetic and not afraid to show emotion. Tasked with collection, he interprets his orders in a way to benefit those that are struggling. His goofball attitude immediately makes him a character one can connect to. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s a bit of a nerd, having played Dragon Quest during his childhood and likening many of the people around him to things in the game.

It’s not long before the plot escalates and Ichiban volunteers to give himself up to the police. Sentenced to fifteen years in prison, he inadvertently extends his sentence when his Patriarch is insulted by one of the fellow inmates. After nearly two decades spent in prison for a crime that he did not commit, Ichiban is released with little fanfare and no waiting convoy. Disappointed, he takes it in stride. The first thing on his order of business: to get his signature punch perm and reconnect with his second father-figure and Patriarch of the Arakawa family.

Along the way, he is dogged by a former policeman: Adachi. At first, it isn’t made clear why Adachi seeks Ichiban for help. After all, Ichiban had supposedly killed another yakuza in Kamurocho, Tokyo. Adachi, on the other hand, was a detective in Yokohama. Why would he have any interest in uncovering the truth behind what had put Ichiban behind bars?

After a few shenanigans are had in and around Kamurocho, our protagonist is shot and left for dead - waking up in a homeless shelter in the heart of Isezaki Ijincho. Climbing his way from rock bottom, Ichiban embarks on a journey to uncover the truth, stumbling upon a series of events and unearthing a vast conspiracy in which he was to serve as a pawn.

Many of the earlier chapters felt a little contrived. In particular was the death of Nonomiya. While it served to move the narrative forward, it was most assuredly a means to an end that didn’t highlight any significant character growth. Poor Nonomiya was fridged just to bring Ichiban into conflict with the Liumang branch of the Ijin Three.

It was only in the later chapters that the story picked up steam - with the confrontations with Bleach Japan and the encroachment by the Omi Alliance. Joined by a menagerie of characters like Zhao, Saeko, Han Joon-Gi, Nanba and Eri, there was a lot to keep track on as the plot barrelled forward at a breakneck pace, connecting Ichiban’s past with his current present and all the while setting up a juicy conflict between two men that could have been brothers. And honestly, the ending with Arakawa Masato and Ichiban got to me. I loved how that Ichiban was finally able to reach his old charge by being vulnerable and finally letting out a little of his resentment at the life Masato led, despite the fact that he could not use his legs.

The characters were superbly written and their motivations were a good reflection of the human condition. The themes of family and finding a home were evident, right from the start, even though a lot of it was glossed over by Ichiban’s desire to be a hero in a video game.

(I also really liked Seong-hui and would love to see her be an actual playable character in possible future instalments. On a side note, Arakawa...you cannot simply say: ‘See you tomorrow, Ichi,’ and expect to walk away. You basically wrote your own name into the Death Note with that line!)

As far as aping Japanese role-playing games go, however, Yakuza: Like a Dragon falls woefully short. While the Tendo twist was a good one - it was pulled a little too early. Worse, there was no world-ending threat. Everyone knows that a Japanese role-playing game MUST HAVE A VILLAIN/ EVIL GOD FIGURE THAT INTENDS TO DESTROY THE WORLD. Yakuza: Like a Dragon was too focused on old childhood rivalries to extend it further afield. I mean, yes, Aoki Ryo hoped to pull the strings of the Japanese government as chair of the CLP, but WHERE WAS THE METEOR HURTLING TOWARDS EARTH? 

Honestly, 1/10 for holding true to Japanese role-playing games.

Other than that, the summons with Pound Mates was amusing. As were the side stories. Honestly, there can never be enough side stories to flesh out the wacky world of the Yakuza franchise. So many old favourites made their return. From Pocket Fighter (now dubbed Dragon Fighter) and Gondawara Susumu with his baby fetish.

Also, I didn’t think I’d be so obsessed with it, but I think they cracked property management this time round. Ichiban Confections, later known as Ichiban Holdings, was a blast to manage and accrue juicy money for.

The bartender of Survive also looked very familiar. I mean...what with the huge scar across his face. My suspicions were confirmed when I searched up Kashiwagi up on the Yakuza wiki page and was awarded with the fact that HE MANAGED TO SURVIVE THE ASSAULT HELICOPTER FROM YAKUZA 3!!

Other than that, my few other gripes involved the implementation of the levelling system and the way area of effect skills were handled. In particular, the pathing for how characters moved around the battlefield proved, at least to me, a bit of a frustration. Often, characters would be blocked by a knee-high fence or a corner. Sometimes they would be able to go around, but other times the game (after several seconds of watching them fail to walk through a solid building) warp to the enemy that I had targeted to launch their attack.

And even though the combat is turn-based, most of the enemies tend to walk around the battlefield - either clumping together or distancing themselves from each other. What truly annoyed me was when there were moves that could be used as an area of effect, with the MP cost to go along with it, but were limited by their effectiveness when the enemy combatants were too far away. Yes, it makes sense, but golly gosh, how much of a pixel measurement does it have to be for it to not hit?

Besides that, the levelling was also a bit of a tedious chore. Were it not for the invested vagrants, I feel like I might have put the game down with how much grinding there was - particularly when it came to the various jobs. The biggest hill to climb was from 20-30. Without the exp (experience point) boosting items, it would have been a torturous slog. I know that in the original Japanese release of the game, the cap for jobs was level 30, but if you change it to 99, please, for the sanity of all the gamers out there, tweak the requirements to make it easier. And maybe give normal trash mobs a bit more experience points for the playable characters to munch on. 

Goodness, imagine having to grind on level 55 Ornery Yakuza and receiving a paltry 1000xp for each battle (when, in order to level up a job, you needed almost a million).

Yakuza: Like a Dragon is a break from the traditional formula that’s been a staple of the franchise for many years. Much like Ichiban, it’s a bit of fresh air to liven up the experience that might have gone a bit stale after I slogged through the whole Kiryu arc last year. With a few tweaks, and a few more Persona 5 CD soundtracks, I’m eager to see how the story evolves and whatever contrivances Ichiban will somehow force him into.

Although, to be fair, is it still appropriate to call this franchise Yakuza when the game literally saw the dismantling of the two biggest clans? Then again, Civilian: Like a Dragon 2 just doesn’t have the same ring to it. In any case, I hope the next one comes soon and we’ll be able to have Seong-hui in our party. I feel like she’d be wielding a gunblade.

(Did I just use a lyric from Mariah Carey? You bet I did! I had been tossing up the idea between this line and ‘I need a hero.’ Why? Well, I think that would be self-explanatory after knowing Ichiban’s proclivities. And it fits so, so, so well!) 

[leam1983]

It’s the end of the work week and, well...

I’m having thoughts on labor culture.

My father was born in 1958. He lived as the son of an absent father of five children who had no ability to truthfully express his love and care, and who instead chose to bury himself in work as a means to display his commitment. My paternal grandfather made and sold mattressees and died quite young of a cancer strain that today would’ve seemed benign. He was described as a hard worker, either up to his neck in his business or wanting just a scant few hours per day to himself. It made an aloof lover out of him and a distant father - who still loved his wife and children to bits but who felt emotionally castrated in a sense, as were men of the era.

The family consensus is that his work killed him.

My father is now 65 and survived a bout of Non-Hodgkinian Lymphoma. The oncologist and anyone with half a brain agreed that stress was the culprit. Early on, Dad had the family as an excuse for his tendency to overwork. He had to provide for us, after all, and garnish my mother’s meagre savings. All she has is her government-issued pension plan, while my father does have his own pension as a retiree of the City of Montreal’s Real-Estate Appraisal service. Considering, he felt obligated to pull a heavier load to bring in more, so they’d have better investment opportunities. Later on, he kept working out of a sense of fealty and attachment to his division, breaking out of retirement during the pandemic to join the work-from-home team. He wanted to help techs and city officials find ways to bring more of the traditionally snail-mail-based parts of the system online so the city’s Land Management service wouldn’t be paralyzed by COVID-19. What was supposed to be a single month turned into four, which turned into twelve.

By the end, they were begging him to stay on the team and to pull longer hours. We’re talking twenty hours per day, in some particularly grueling stretches. That means being logged in by breakfast and scarfing bagels down with Urban Design techs on Zoom instead of your own family, or having supper with your boss because she needs a play-by-play of the situation to stave off her executive anxiety.

Long story short, I didn’t see Dad much during the first wave. His reasoning was that he’d eventually stop, pool all this cash, and chuck it into his and Mom’s Registered Retirement Savings Account - with maybe an extra two thou or so in case the country reopened enough for their postponed trip to Cuba to take place.

Guess what? His zona flared up and he ended up with odd, shingly bumps along his scalp which to this day the local dermatologist grimaces at and tentatively has us dab with cortisone cream.

Mom, though? She’s a retired and registered nurse with a self-negating streak and a chronic propensity to undervalue her own physical ailments. Someone who quite literally understands the pain of busted hips on a clinical level because she was trained in Gerontology - and also someone who refuses to schedule an appointment with her GP and who inexplicably self-medicates with white wine.

As for me, I’m a 37 year-old man with a paycheck I consider massive with its meagre six bucks above the minimum-wage threshold - someone who chose to shack in with his folks until the current crisis ends and who therefore has a history of a single, willingly terminated apartment lease that originally began in the Planned Housing market. The apartment I want is basically a Barbie doll house for adults, a gleaming fantasy I’ll never have enough capital to touch unless I feel like trying my hand with criminal applications of my skills. The apartment I can get right now is a shithole, and I have the audacity to think I deserve a shithole that at least wasn’t someone’s former cockroach den.

Now here’s the kicker: I value my sanity and my health. I know my mental stamina levels and I know from experience that after working seven-point-five hours per day with the occasionally shorter Friday, I’ve found my limit. I could invest more if I worked more, yes, and I’m already in a better position than my parents, retirement-wise. I’ll never be rich, but I’m already set to be comfortable, provided I don’t spend my golden years trying to make it as an unsponsored TechTuber or anything else that’s equally ludicrous.

Where that’s a problem is in the toxicity this is generating. See, I have the gall to slide my daily schedule later so I can start at an hour that fits my biological clock and ends at an hour where I’m at my most creative. That means the folks saw me spending my pandemic mornings on Animal Crossing while Dad was trying to wrangle Excel spreadsheets for non-tech-savvy fellow Boomers while preventing the dog from eating his meeting notes. That means they guzzled vinho verde like it was Kool-Aid after seven while I made sure to find more concrete means to distance myself from work - ideally ones that didn’t involve functional alcoholism.

Naturally, what was bound to happen, happened: Dad soon spent his evenings calling me shiftless or “unwilling to commit”, while I was stuck watching him miss all the cues his stressed-out body were sending him. We already had Trump’s last desperate months and a global plague to handle, I really didn’t want my work to turn into more of a nuisance than it already is. I already love the people I work for and hate what I do (repeating the family cycle, it seems), but I’ve at least decided to give myself ample Me time every single day. 

I’ve paired that with smaller, if consistent portfolio investments, along with a few new habits I wanted to get into to stay saner. Dad pulls crosswords or plays competitive chess in the wee hours, while I usually lay down to meditate around midnight and fall asleep by 1 AM at the latest. I’m half-expecting my father to pull a Tyler Durden and to sneer at me, at some point. “Self-care is masturbation,” he’d probably say.

Looking at classifieds for rentals, it’s obvious that the entire system is predicated on abuse. Work yourself down to the therapist’s office, right down to the fucking bone, and you just might earn a half-decent retirement because nobody’s taught you to invest incrementally. Nope, Society seems to say, you’re supposed to buy, buy and buy some more, until you realize you have ten years left to start from scratch!

I remember Dad’s face on my eighteenth birthday. “Why would you want a Disability Care Savings Account, Brain? You just turned into a legal adult by Canadian standards - you’re in no rush, right?”

I told him the real gift I wanted for my birthday, that day, was a ride to the family’s Financial Investments counsel. I pulled up the PDFs I’d printed out and filled and brought them over. From then on, if I dropped a penny in my nest-egg, Ottawa would drop another one. If my share grew, so did the government’s. In the twenty-odd years since, it’s expanded exponentially.

Dad thought I’d done this to have a big cushion by the time I’d retire. Mom thought I’d done this in case my disability worsened and I started requiring equipment or physical assistance. Honestly, my dumb, if slightly prescient eighteen year-old self figured I’d rather spend my time reading or playing video games than working. I knew I’d need something to help cushion my admittedly low career-related ambitions. I might throw several thousands at a new computer every seven to eight years, but that’s because I’ve saved them up for just as long, little by little. I have no vices beyond what sillicon offers and what you’d find in the pages of a book and don’t exactly need a big ‘ol, stonkin’ humidor stuffed with conoisseur stogies.

I have a shoebox with a poked-out Ziploc bag and a sponge, with a handful of joints and a few Santa Anas I got off of a buyer’s pool from work. Five of us occasional chair-bar goons pooled cash together on Cigar Chief and cushioned prices with a single, shared and massive order. I’m nowhere near rich, but assuming the housing market can catch its breath eventually, I’ll be able to live modestly - with one or two markers of occasional luxury I’ll have chosen.

I have a shittier job than my father has had and I’ve chosen to be happier than him. It’s just sad that the usual response elevates overwork as the supposedly one, true way to leave a mark in society.

No, Dad. I don’t want to die while my own cells eat me alive, I want to die blazed out of my fucking mind, happy because I’ll have had time to enjoy my friends’ company and to finally make some sense out of Kerouac’s Subterraneans or to figure out what the fuck is going on in Joyce’s Illiad. I’ll die crusty as shit and fulfilled as a Pop Culture jockey, because I’ll have either finished Persona 5: Golden in my lifetime or I’ll have watched the entirety of the MCU’s output before Disney finally manages to kill their golden goose.

I want to die decades from now, feeling like I at least owned my choices and didn’t spend my time tethered to someone else’s professional expectations of me.

[alyssabethancourt]

If you only read one of my project updates, make it this one.

It took most of the day to kick in, for some reason, but the price of the Mornnovin eBook on Amazon has finally adjusted to 99¢. It will remain at that deeply discounted price at least until February 26th. I may or may not be persuadable on the subject of extending the sale for an additional week.

So now that the stress of that unexpected snafu has lifted, I can do a proper update.

It's Friday, five days in, and as of posting this the fundraiser is sitting pretty at $821 or 22% funded. We're nicely on track. The next big goal, obviously, is getting to 25% ($925) and I'm confident we can hit that mark easy-peasy before the end of the weekend. Please, keep talking up this series and sharing the link with your friends, family, and followers.

Trajelon is a special book not just because it's mine and I have to say that, but because it explores issues and themes that I don't think we see often enough in fiction – especially not in the sparkly elf magic genre.

I'm going to get real with you for a minute.

I've talked before about how the version of Mornnovin that is now published is the culmination of thirty years and four versions of telling that particular story. What people may not know is that I'd also written Trajelon once before.

In late 1997, I was 18 years old and I'd made some terrible decisions that I was locked into living with for the foreseeable future, both because of the nature of responsibility but also because of pride. People had tried to warn me, and of course being the age I was, I knew everything. I'd been downright insolent about my conviction that I knew what I was doing.

So there I was, miserable, bridges burned, everything to prove, struggling under the load of several massive responsibilities all taken on at once, knowing that I'd made the bed I now had to lie in. I was also trying to pass my first semester of college as an English major. I can't remember now precisely which combination of events led me to come to this conclusion, but I started to feel that although I was reasonably good at academic writing, my creative writing was a clear waste of my time. I actually went as far as deciding to give it up.

I think, now, that I might have been trying to punish myself.

That take makes sense in hindsight because as soon as I'd grounded myself from the sort of writing I actually enjoy doing, two things happened.

One, at odd moments I started doodling scenes that weren't supposed to be part of anything, so I was free from the feeling that they had to be any good or make any kind of sense or fit within a larger narrative. This would come to be important later.

And two, the scenes I was scribbling down without any commitment to story or quality were all about bad things happening to Loríen.

Because writers have to write, even if they've made bullshit nonsense declarations about how they've given it up, a story idea did eventually coalesce out of all of these snippets. And because of where I was, the story was dark. The finished product was horrible, but it was genuine – a savage cry of pain from someone who believed she had no right to it.

Fast forward ten years. Now it's 2007. I'm still living in that hell of my own making, but it's different because I'm ten years older and time does change things, for better or worse. Now I'm working a crappy retail job and it's killing me. To save my sanity, one day, I pull some blank receipt paper out of the cash register and in tiny, cramped letters I start scribbling some scenes that aren't supposed to be part of anything. They're just junk for my brain, something to keep me alive. Because they're not for anything real, I don't worry about them being any good or fitting within whatever other arbitrary writing rules I have for myself. At night, while the household is asleep, I transfer the cramped letters from cash register paper to computer file.

After a while, I realize they are actually starting to make a coherent story, but it's not canon, I tell myself. It's just some cracky Asrellion fanfiction. Just some mindless entertainment. I keep giving myself permission to tell a different kind of story from whatever I imagine canon to be.

By the time I leave that crappy retail job, I find that in my time there I've managed to scribble onto bits and pieces of receipt paper what amounts to roughly twenty typed pages of... something.

Then I realize that what I have on my hands isn't just something, it's the seed of a new version of Book 2. One that actually has something to say besides screaming in wordless agony. The only problem is, this new book that I can see laid out before me is far too good for the terrible most-recent draft of Book 1 that would precede it.

Then I realize that I'm going to have to write this book, which means that I'm also going to have to rewrite the first book in the series in order to lay the necessary groundwork.

That's the story of how I came to begin my ground-up re-imagining of Mornnovin in 2008.

It turns out to be a good thing that I took the time to do that first, because I wouldn't have been ready then to tell the story that I ultimately had in me in 2016 when I wrote Trajelon over the course of six intense months. By then, I had escaped Hell. By then, I was safe. By then, I had some perspective on what it is not just to live through but to survive trauma and depression.

The first incarnation of Trajelon was what I needed it to be when I screamed it up, all those years ago. It was catharsis. I don't blame it for its darkness or its ugliness any more than you would blame a post-surgical scar for its raw appearance. This iteration of Trajelon is what it needed to be. Almost Athena-like, it sprang fully-formed from the brain of its creator. And it's no longer a cry of suffering. It's... a meditation on living with the suffering that inevitably comes along with the triumphs we experience in life. Living with, enduring, growing from. Learning to discard where possible. Drawing into our identity and building off of where necessary.

No doubt this is scary territory for some readers, but that's exactly why I think it's so important to tell these stories. They can't all be about glorious victories on the field of battle. There are more shades to the spectrum of the human (elven?) experience. I so wish this book had existed at a time when I could have drawn strength from it. Now I no longer need to draw on that kind of strength, but others do. I know they do.

So maybe this was a big old heavy update for a Friday evening, but I hope you don't mind the candor. This book is very personal for me, as you now understand, and that would have become clear anyway as soon as you read it. Because I think that's actually its truest and purest strength, I wanted to be up front about it in this fundraiser. I am pitching to you a fantasy novel written by a survivor of abuse, trauma, and depression written for survivors of abuse, trauma, and depression.

If you, like I do, think that's an important thing to have exist in the world, please help me get the word out and bring it into reality.

And thank you for letting me get real.

Help fund TRAJELON on Kickstarter.

[a-sjournals-posts]

favorite ao3 - all of them now

Booksmart - Amy and Hope: - indefinitely, maybe by freerangeegghead: In which Amy navigates post-high school life and finds something she never knew she was looking for (2 chapters, 16,532 words) - Never Break the Shape We’ll Take by lco123:  Five girls Amy kisses after graduation. (5 chapters, 10,820 words) - homemade dynamite by magnet:  A twelve-year-old Hope moves into the same apartment complex as Molly Davidson. (2 chapters, 26,818 words) - scoring points on and off the field by lover_of_many_things:  Hope is the captain of the soccer team. Amy is her nerdy and activist obsessed self. She and Amy just kind of fall into each other–literally. (one shot, 5,955 words) Fifth Harmony - Camila and Lauren - waterloo by listenup_folks:  Lauren has always known Camila is the most amazing person in the whole world. It isn’t until her senior year that she realizes there’s only one “most amazing person in the world” and that she wants nothing more than for that person to be hers. (10 chapters, 29,825 words) pitch perfect - emily junk and beca mitchell (seen pp2 and missed them) - Fake It ‘Til You Make It by  bmcbapej:  It takes years for Beca and Emily to properly question why they’re so good at making other people believe they’re dating. (one shot, 4,165 words) - to have and to hold (until we grow old) by  moxiemorton:  If their paths crossed before they met at Barden, it would’ve purely been luck. Not fate, not destiny, none of that soulmate crap. Just luck. (one shot, 8,083 words) - Look Into My Eyes And Say You Want Me, Too (Like I Want You) by saturndust:  The first time Beca Mitchell saw Emily Junk was when she met her at HSMUN. Debate was dull as hell and Beca wanted to go home. But then she saw the tall brunette sitting and blowing bubble gum and crap She’s pretty. And then she talks to her and Beca wants the conference to last forever. (one shot, 5,402 words) - hey honey you could be my drug (…all this trash talk make me itchin’) by  sylviewashere :  There’s a new a capella group on campus, and they’re the Bellas main competition for Nationals. It’d be easier for Beca to hate them if their captain wasn’t so cute. (one shot, 4,168 words) - i wouldn’t know where to start (sweet music) by sylviewashere:  Beca’s known Jesse and Emily for most of her life. She never thought of Emily as more than Jesse’s little sister, and then suddenly, they become roommates, and Beca thinking that Emily is cooler than she thought. Maybe a lot cooler. (one shot, 3,666 words) - Can I Get Your House Key? by wherehopelies:  Since they were kids, Emily and Beca always used to joke how they would live together when they got older. Emily never expected those jokes to become reality, but she never expected to fall in love with her best friend since kindergarten either. (one shot, 16,706 words) - I Wish the Real World Would Just Stop Hassling Me by wherehopelies:  “Being a guardian angel is kind of the worst. Especially when you’re designated Human is the disaster that is Beca Mitchell.” (one shot, 3,761 words) - I’m Starting To Want You (More Than I Want To) by wherehopelies: "In the years after, they’ll say it started with a kiss on a stormy night. They’ll say it began with tequila and lust and boredom. They’ll remember hot skin and frantic breathing and the taste of alcohol mixed with new beginnings and maybe just a little bit of we-shouldn’t-do-this.The truth is, it was much more innocent than that.“ (one shot, 5,907 words) - is it cool that i said all that? (is it too soon to do this yet?) by wherehopelies: bemily tattoo au or the one where beca’s a tattoo artist and chloe is the resident piercing specialist and they’re totally into the cute girls who stop by one day. side flirty chacie because i can (one shot, 11,026 words) - like a needle on a record (you fit right into me) by moxiemorton:  She literally just wanted to get rid of a persistent frat boy at the bar. She wasn’t supposed to fall in love, damnit. (3 chapters, 9,597 words) Girl meets world - Riley and Maya: - When the Stars Shoot Across the Sky by TruthandLies: Maya once found her safe place in a girl who loves the stars. When that girl gives her love to someone else, Maya is forced to find a new safe place. Along the way, she and her star-loving best friend discover important things about themselves - and each other. (one shot, 11,289 words) (just makes so much sense still) - drowning (in you) by truthandlies: Lucas has always been Riley’s excuse. Her head-cheerleader-dating-captain-of-the-football-team, straight-girl-in-love-with-straight-boy, normal-normal-normal excuse.Maya is her cataclysm. (one shot, 2184 words) - we only know this light deep in the woodwork by BerryliciousCheerio: “She thinks she could write a hundred thousand pages on it and barely scratch the surface.or: it takes a day and also her entire life for riley matthews to fall in love” (one shot, 8,334 words) juliantina - juliana and valentina - que quieres de mi by unsocial_kid:  Juliana is the stoic bodyguard assigned to protect the youngest Carvajal heir. Valentina is the bratty rich girl who can’t stop teasing her new bodyguard. (one shot, 2,543 words) Legacies - Hope and Josie (and Penelope) - From dusk till dawn by SilentRain91:  It started off as stolen moments when nobody was looking. Soon, it became their little secret. Josie never kept something this big from Lizzie before. (16 chapters, 35,144 words) - Soccer and Sunshine by  misa_pisa:  Josie is asked to join her school’s soccer team, by no other than the captain herself. Josie had always admired Hope from the far and now gets the chance to train right beside her. The two of them start to spend a lot of time together during private soccer lessons and math tutoring. In between looks, talks and jokes the feelings between them start to grow. (6 chapters, 11,523 words) - Have I lost my mind by Knight_of_darkness:  Josie has to question her sanity as she keeps seeing a strange girl in her dreams (2 chapters, 34,035 words)  -  Stealin’ My Heart by Thatoneloser_kid: “I’m leaving as soon as I turn eighteen,” Hope said.“Where?” Penelope asked.“No idea,”“Maybe we could all go,” Josie suggested offhandedly, reclining back on the blanket, both Penelope and Hope mirroring her, Hope hooking an arm behind her head.“Thelma and Louise this shit,” Penelope added with a little laugh.“Didn’t they die?” Hope asked.“Mm,” Penelope hummed, “Went out in a blaze of glory.”  (one shot, 12,931 words) - the infinite curse of a lonely heart by dandelionlighters:  For centuries, he had served as a winged assistant to Aphrodite, doing her bidding and sometimes—when she wasn’t looking—his own. He had been reaching for an arrow from his quiver when it had happened. He had felt a pull at the back of his head one second, and then he had disappeared from existence in the next moment. (2 chapters, 3,325 words) - the game by PosieParkzman:  Everyone knew of Hope and Penelope. Desired by many, heartbreakers by trade. Though not everyone knew that love to them was a game, a game they liked to play. With a new year the game resets and the hunt begins. What happens when they both desire the new girl in town, Josie Saltzman. (28 chapters, 47,079 words) - by summer’s ripening breath by slytherinmayflower: "This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet” (9 chapters, 79,720 words) (I think I finished this in 2 days and I don’t regret any minute of it) - when I kissed the teacher by Little_Miss_Silver:  Josie's failing one of her classes. What happens when the reason she's failing ends up tutoring her? (2 chapters, 4,473 words) Supergirl - Kara and Lena - hope you’ll be safe (in the arms of another) by thistableforone:   Lena Luthor and Maura Isles went to boarding school together. They had a close relationship, and despite the years they find the chemistry is still there. The only difference is, they’re both in love with someone else now. (3 chapters, 13,112 words) - A Ribbon at a Time by abcooper:  After Lex Luthor defeated Superman, after the courts declared him innocent, after CADMUS rose to power, 16 year old Kara Danvers went into hiding. Five years later, a chance encounter with L-Corp CEO Lena Luthor throws her back into everything she’s been running from. (5 chapters, 27, 929 words) - If you don’t love me, pretend (just for a few more hours)… by Khrat9:  where Kara and Lena aren’t friends. One night stands… but like several night per month, sometime more. (5 chapters, 24,817 words) - “Professional” Curiosity by TheSpaminator:  Lena Luthor and Kara Danvers are the CEO’s of their own respective family owned companies. Their families are feuding. Their companies are feuding. So does that mean that by default, so are they? (6 chapters, 17,582 words) - here we are, two helping hands by falsealarm:  A chord of unease vibrates in the pit of Lena’s stomach as Kara sets the folder in front of her and says, “I need to talk to you about something important.” (one shot, 9,016 words) - Surprise Me by Thatoneloser_kid:  Kara is a Barista who is in a band and Lena is a CEO with a child and an ex-husband (one shot, 5,060 words) - the more it’s gone (the more it takes away) by cyclothimic:   A huge part of her was tempted to just leave National City to the wind and go around the globe. But deep down, she knew that if she abandoned the city, that would only piss Lena off more (one shot, 5,273 words) - in black ink my love may still shine bright by PandaPaladin:  On an awfully slow day at CatCo, Kara writes on her desk to complain about her work life to nobody in particular. When she comes back from a break, someone with messy, loopy penmanship writes back to her. (one shot, 11,412 words) (love it so much) - supergirl in training by wtfoctagon: Lena Luthor doesn’t plan to have any kids. Or to get married, even, really. After the revelation that she is actually of Luthor blood after all, she’s quite set on ending the family line with her and not taking the risk of any more drama.Then Lorelai L. Danvers crashes into her life, claiming to be her seventeen year old daughter from the future. (19 chapters, 71,381 words) (just take your time while reading it. It makes everything so much better) - take my hand, take my whole life too by pandapaladin:  “There’s a stone statue in Midvale. A beautiful lady with her hands on her hips, a confident smile on her lips, and every feature on her body looks like it was molded from the corners of space. Her chest has a wide, golden ‘S’ on it, and the locals like to affectionately call her Supergirl.” (one shot, 15,135 words) - now you’re speaking my language by pandapaladin: Lena, wanting to surprise her best friend, learns Kryptonian to make Kara feel at home.During a night out with Kara and her cousin, Lena overhears them speaking in Kryptonian— about how much Kara liked her. (one shot, 7,073 words) - we were mint to be by pandapaladin:  The door to the ice cream parlor jingled to signify the arrival of a new customer. Kara Danvers looked up from her cramped work area, wishing that there was a way she could catch the eye of a certain Luthor, who ordered a modest scoop of mint chocolate every Wednesday morning. (one shot, 17,221 words) - a spoken word is not a sparrow by pandapaladin: Linda agreed to help Kara confess her feelings to a certain friend. She’ll just confess Kara’s undying love for Lena, then they’ll switch out, and Kara will get the girl. It was as easy as baking pie.Except Lena doesn’t believe them. (one shot, 9,045 words) - I believe, you can get me through the night by jazzfordshire: Kara is a sexless housewife in 1969, feeling trapped with nowhere to go. But when mysterious, kind-hearted Lena Luthor moves in next door, hosting swinger’s parties but ignoring the men, Kara’s whole world shifts on its axis. (2 chapters, 21,206 words) - I keep my distance (but you still catch my eye) by jazzfordshire:  Lena and Alex, two strangers recovering from breakups, swap houses over the holidays for a spur-of-the-moment trip. Neither of them expected to find a holiday fling – but what happens on vacation, stays on vacation. Right? (2 chapters, 26,451 words) - love & collecting butterflies by somanyfeelings:  "a childhood au where Lena and Kara grow up near each other and are BFFS and they have pillow fights and hang out in Lena’s treehouse and carve their names into the tree and then as they grow up they go from BFFs to soulmates” (one shot, 3,860 words) - You to Me, Me to You by wtfoctagon:  When Kara sees a vase of flowers on Lena’s desk, she doesn’t get jealous per se– it’s just that she thinks that Lena deserves so much better than a measly, cliche bunch of roses. (one shot, 6,497 words) - we are what we pretend to be by C_AND_B:  After the unrestricted office access, and the flowers, and the surprise visits to Catco, everyone just kinda starts to assume Kara and Lena are dating, and maybe they should let them. (AKA, Lena and Kara really just date whilst pretending they’re fake dating). (one shot, 25,164 words) - Luthor Escort Services by uhpockuhlipz:  Kara needs a last minute date to her sister’s wedding. Luthor’s Escort Services is there to help, but Lena is nothing like what Kara was expecting (one shot, 4,315 words) - let’s make this a reality by spacemanearthgirl:  Or Kara goes back into the past one more time. A fix it of sorts for the last episode. (one shot, 940 words)(found it on tumblr) - Don’t Be A Cliché by BroodyJC:  “I am ashamed of all of you for not letting me know about this.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, shakes her head. “It makes so much sense know.” And she smiles, as if she knows something the others don’t. “So, Kara, are you going to ask her to the game tomorrow?” (3 chapters, 28,240 words) (think I read this one 3 times already) -Sanctuary by SilentRain91:  Lena is curious about a new project her mother has been gushing about without sharing specific details. Wanting to find out more, she sneaks into the restricted area to see what the fuss is about. What she didn’t expect was to find a girl in a cage. (2 chapters, 5,367 words) - the coldest blood (runs through my veins) by AgentJoanneMills: “You know I’d kill for you, right?”Lena laughs, amused, even as her toes curl at the affection in Kara’s voice. “You kill people anyway,” she points out.“True,” Kara allows, “but I’d enjoy doing it more, if it were for you.” (one shot, 2,810 words) - i don’t wanna give you up (so what’s it gonna be?) by statisticallysignificant: it was practically high school code for the most popular girl to end up with the most popular boy at school, the nerdiest girl to end up with the dorkiest boy at school. thank god, the parties in question have different ideas.(3 chapters, 3,167 words) - Scripted Destiny by devschreibt:  On her 17th birthday, her destiny will reveal itself. On that day, the first words of her one true love would mark her skin forever. And when she finally gets the courage to actually see the writing, she cringes, because on her shoulder blade it says, “(mouthed) above us only sky.” Now what? (3 chapters, 18,795 words) - the heiress, the girl of steel, and the man who fell to earth by littlebrother:  Basically, what if Lena found Mon El's pod? (12 chapters, 66,388 words) (this is my favorite. Seriously it made me miss mon el) - The Fifth Wall by Black_Tea_and_Bones: Kara goes to bed with Mon-El, and wakes up with Lena Luthor.But it isn't Kara’s bed, and they’re not in Lena’s apartment, and that is definitely not their baby... Right? (28 chapters, 109,226 words) - For the Things We Lost in the Undergrowth by seabiscuit:  All Kara Danvers wants to do is go to college, solve the crime, get the girl, and secure her beat on the campus newspaper. Unfortunately for her, it doesn't all happen in that order. (6 chapters, 47,479 words) - A Foolish Wit by seabiscuit:  Lena Luthor needs a husband, Clark Danvers needs an easy resolution to his cash flow problem.Unfortunately, the best laid plans often go awry. (3 chapters, 27,890 words) dc’s legends of tomorrow - ava and sara - you make me smile (please stay for a while now) by CoffeeAndArrows and moonlitprincess: "Something about Ava's small smile, about the comforting warmth of her beside Sara, the familiarity of wandering to class together, the way she didn’t seem to look at Sara as though she expected anything, expecting a way of acting and being and reacting, as though Sara didn’t owe her anything. For the first time since she’d walked into school earlier that morning, Sara felt like she could breathe.Maybe, just maybe, this year wasn’t off to an entirely bad start." (35 chapters, 342,035 words) (read it in a month, while working and uni and it made life so much happier) - i just wanna spend the nights with you by moonlitprincess: college au where ava is only MILDLY crushing on campus heartthrob sara lance and can totally 100% be chill with a casual hookup ... until she realises sara has abs. (ft. our favourite ladies being useless gay disasters & plenty of unexpected feelings) (one shot, 8,963 words) - for reasons wretched and divine by Phoebmonster:  AU - Ava is a princess, and Sara is the bandit who's kidnapped her, and together they have an adventure that changes them both, and their world, forever - featuring the rest of the legends as the loveable rogues we know they are at heart. (6 chapters,  20,727 words) - the day before you came by Phoebmonster: "So, the brief is ..." She tapped her fingers on the wheel. "Make your Mom believe you're really gay and give you some peace and quiet next year."Ava nodded, and Sara grinned."Right, I can do that." She said, more to herself than anything.aka the 'i've hired you to pretend to be my partner to annoy my family at christmas but i think i'm really falling for you' AU that Absolutely no one asked for. (6 chapters, 13,566 words) -if only, if only (you were mine)  by Phoebmonster: high school au - ava and sara are paired together to look after a robot baby for their social studies classthey've never liked eachother, so a weekend in close proximity of eachother with a screaming baby can only end badly ... right? (one shot, 10,787 words) - inching close, closer to the edge by JourEtNuit: “But why do we have to pretend to be married?” Sara whines. “Can't we, I don't know, go as friends or cousins, or something. Oh, I know! She could be my secretary...”“It's a couples retreat, Miss Lance," Rip says, tiredly. (one shot, 5,381 words) - see me, feel me (love me) by lexa_lives_in_us:  Sara notices. Of course Sara notices. She’s a former assassin and a vigilante, a really good one at that, she has to be observant and aware of other people’s quirks, to get her job done. So, of course, she notices. It’s Ava who doesn’t notice how closely Sara has been paying attention to her. (one shot, 4,454 words) (i cried through the whole thing) - Not The Way You Plan by plinys:  In which Sara lies about dating a guy in a coma, and might accidentally be falling in love with his sister in the meantime. (one shot, 6,816 words) - painted me golden by lucylikestowrite:  Ava and Sara meet at Ava's sister's wedding. (one shot, 3,914 words) - sleepovers (in my bed) by izziebee: Sara and Ava are not friends. Okay, fine they are friends, but definitely nothing more than that.Or 5 times Ava and Sara sleep together (it's platonic of course) and 1 time they don’t. (6 chapters, 6,633 words) runaways - Karolina and Nico - like or like like by makeitmakesense:  But, she supposes, all great rivalries have some sort of wild origin story to explain the bitter air that surrounds them - what would make her and Nico’s any different? (3 chapters,  37,891 words) - and now she’s so devoid of color she don’t know what it means (and she’s blue) by abnormalhuman:  Nico Minoru hasn’t been able to see color for as long as she can remember. Needless to say, Nico has lost all hope of ever meeting her soulmate and getting to see the beautiful colors of the world again. The chances of ever meeting her soulmate and kissing them is slim to none. It’s a hard concept to grasp, but then again, a world of darkness is all she knows.  (one shot, 10,655 words) - maybe if I told you the right words at the right time (you’d be mine) by  somniatoressinespe: or “they go on a roadtrip and nico spends half the time staring at karolina” (one shot,16,173 words) - the 100 - abby griffin and raven reyes - On the Way Home by hummingbirdswords:  “we catch the same bus home and i always fall asleep, but you always wake me up at my stop” AU (one shot, 5,308 words) bonus - lena luthor and sara lance (yes it’s real) - Stumbling Toward Enlightenment by Selenay: Sara Lance is a yoga instructor. Lena Luthor is CEO of Luthor Industries.They're from different worlds, but they might just be exactly what each other needs. (one shot, 8,992 words) (best one, gays, best one)

[fulcrum-agent]

Something is Wrong

Under a cut, cus long medical thing.

I have been receiving depomedrol shots for my pain issues since late 2013. The first ones I ever got were horrifying because they injected all of the medrol into the SI channel, which led to the SI joints popping out like they were popcorn in a microwave for about two weeks afterwards; since then, they have been done periarticular to avoid this issue. I’ve also had the same interventional pain specialist since my second round of shots.

Three months ago, I had an anomalous incident with the pain shots. Rather than having some sparse numbness right at the site where the injections are done, due to the local anaesthesia used before the deeper medrol injects (usually lidocaine/prilocaine). However, the numbness spread through the majority of my lower back, hips, and upper thighs whilst lasting for about 3 or so days. At the time, the doctor thought that maybe some of the medications from the periarticular injection strayed further than usual, and ended up coating nerves at the hip joint.

Unfortunately, today during the regularly scheduled pain shots, I had another anomalous incident.

The lidocaine/prilocaine straight up failed. To compound matters, apparently my muscles were beyond tense and firm, and the pain specialist said it was more like fighting the muscles of a 20-year-old boy, with the muscle spasms forcing the needle to move far more than they ever have before today. So it was very, very painful. Typically, one or two of the eight shots will make me cringe and use colourful language at my doctor (hey, it’s been 6 years, we get pretty damn colourful with each other for both our sanity’s sake), but today, I was literally screaming with everything that was done.

Although they’re tiny arse needles, the lidocaine/prilocaine shots hurt pretty hard. The installation of the temporary channels used to get the needle between the bony bits it has to go between resulted in mostly loud yelps and clawing at the surgical bed. The actual injections themselves, especially the left SI injection, resulted in screaming and led to about a five-minute pause between each one.

The one nurse assistant that was with us has been in numerous procedures with the doctor and I since I started getting them, and he was confused and concerned by the reactions and voiced such to the doctor. I was utterly exhausted and still in about the same level of pain I was in before we started (around a 7) when normally it drops dramatically with the shots (usually to a 3 or 4).

Even with the last procedure that left me weirdly numb, the procedure itself was all of 15 - 20 minutes, with around 30 minutes of recovery time, and I was capable of walking out afterwards.

This time, I was unable to even sit up for almost 45 minutes, and couldn’t even stand for another 45 minutes, then had to take a wheelchair out of the facility...which didn’t even happen the first time I got the procedure.

Throughout most of the duration in recovery, I could feel the muscles around the back of the hips (likely gluteus minimus, gluteus medius, gluteus maximus, and/or the gemellus muscles) due to them being tight and in pain, and mildly on fire. When the nurse had me try to bend my knees, the left one caused a horrific spasm that left me flat on the bed again for like 20ish minutes.

Concerned, the pain specialist had them try giving me a shot of Toradol, though it was half the strength of the dose I take at home, just to make the pain tone down. It absolutely hurt to get the injection of Toradol; it actually has been hurting more and more each time I give myself the shot, but I figured it was because I was having to give myself the shot and couldn’t get a good aim on it. Nope, it’s something else, because the nurse had a perfect aim, was nowhere near a nerve, and I still ended up squeaking and unable to use my arm for about 10 minutes.

About an hour and a half into the recovery phase, the doc shooed away his staff to have some real talk with me.

He straight up asked me if anyone had ever given me an orange coloured pill with the shape of a demented stop sign recently. He didn’t care if it was a medical professional or plebe that had done so, but he needed to know if anyone had.

He was checking to see if somehow I ended up with Suboxone because the anti-analgesia he was witnessing was almost identical to patients they’ve had that used the medication (both under their guidance and illegally) and subsequently had their body stop processing analgesic medications properly.

I have heard of Suboxone due to the opioid crisis, and the role the manufacturer of the drug had in pushing the drug into frequent use by doctors, along with how dangerous it is even under medical guidance. Despite having borrowed pain meds before, I haven’t had even a mild opioid in half a year, let alone this monster.

This only raised his concern, because that meant I’m literally metabolising analgesic medication at a dramatically higher rate than I already did. My doctors were already to the point of urging me to go through the process to get medicinal marijuana due to a lack of response to even opioid analgesics. The spike seems to be rendering even surgical level anaesthesia ineffective. He agreed that something was seriously wrong and that the system throwing a 5 months wait for endocrinology was dangerous.

He’d bet money on it being some sort of metabolic disorder (in the hypothyroidism spectrum) or another disorder that causes dramatic metabolic changes without being a direct part of the metabolic system.

Unfortunately, due to what speciality he’s in and how this hospital works, he can’t just give me an immediate, emergency referral to endocrinology. He was visibly upset that his hands were tied. The best he could do was “document the hell out of the situation” in his procedure notes, and have me follow up with patient advocacy; he’ll push at them to get me a sooner appointment with endocrinology or at least get me into other departments for more testing.

I was utterly exhausted by the time we were finished, so much so that I didn’t even realise it was after 15:00 EST, and had been chattering at a couple people about things as they were happening, despite it being work hours.

Even after a nap, I’m still utterly fucking exhausted and in pain. And I know for a fact I shouldn’t be, cus 6 years of treatment never has had this shite happen before now. And I saw the imaging for the past several procedures - the doctor didn’t fuck up, nor did he change anything from the procedure.

I am extremely frustrated, and terrified that the system won’t get it’s shit together fast enough, or that I won’t be able to be seen in a timely matter at either of the other two medical facilities due to them needing to transfer and review my medical history...which is a lengthy process (spoilers: it was over 2k pages long without imaging last year when I finished that round of the disability battle).

But something is fucking wrong��and needs to be addressed.

[fearofaherobrine]

Roleplay Server Log #361

“Licht and the Message, Slenderman, Azrael, and Insanity.”

-A bit of a cold wind rattles the shutters on Licht's house as a fog rolls over the sleeping neighborhood. The artifact in the bottom of her closet rattles ever so slightly against the floor. A tiny lizard pauses from scuttling across the kitchen floor to freeze fearfully in a patch of moonlight from the slightly open curtains.

The steps creak under the weight of something unseen and her computer suddenly humms to life. The messenger noise is sharp and she rolls over in her uneasy dreaming state. She feels as if something is whispering in her ears, promising her blue skies, green grass and freedom from all her ills...

The pain is sudden and stinging, meant to wound and wake. -

[Licht] Gasps awake and rolls over searching her room as she fumbles for her gun-

-The source of the pain is a quartet of shallow scratches on her chest. And the computer is showing a small window in the corner of the screen- "new message - sender unknown"

[Licht] Stumbles out of bed and over to her computer, curiosity driving her onwards and she clicks on the message-

- The message is simple-

-A clue for you, I'll see you there. -

-There's also an executable file.-

[Licht] Frowning, she starts downloading the file-

-Prompts-

-Choose a name and password-

[Licht] Hesitates, but she types in her usual combination-

-New account created-

-Shows a downloading bar. -

-There's a sudden noise from downstairs. A door opening and something hard tumbling on the floor of the entryway.

[Licht] Turns towards her door before retrieving her gun and opening the door, listening for any more noise-

-It's quiet apart from the hum of the computer. Everything else is muffled by the fog.

[Licht] Glances at the computer to see it's still downloading and so heads downstairs to see what made the noise-

-The little carved wolf head is laying in the middle of the rug. It looks like something burst out of the closet and trailed a few coats, shoes and an umbrella out as well. But the floor is clear around the artifact.

[Licht] - The hell?- She reaches down and picks up the wolf head, turning it around in her hand

-The surface of the stone is slightly warm in her hand. From the other room the computer finishes and there's the sound of quiet music.

[Licht] Puts the head in her pocket and hurries upstairs to the computer-

-It prompts for the info she chose, and then, new game? Y/N -

[Licht] Selects yes-

-The soothing music continues to play and the computer whirrs louder as the processor spins up and opens a new world. Her avatar dropping into a grassy plain with a few sparse trees under a robin's egg blue sky. -

[Licht] - I don't see how this is a clue...- She moves the mouse a little

-As she turns, a trunk comes into view. -

[Licht] It takes her a moment to get an idea of the controls, but she eventually opens the trunk-

-Inside is a book-

[Licht] Fumbles a little but does manage to get the book to pop up so it can be read-

-There's a bit of movement from her pocket and the computer spins up a bit higher as the book is opened. Only the first page has text. -

“In a square, ring gold round,

a cobble in a dungeon found.

Astride the top we make a cross;

of red-stone torch for Notch’s loss.

Crown the center, stone from Hell

Say his name and light it well.

For I am Herobrine.”

[Licht] - The hell is this supposed to mean?  And Mr, Perrson's loss?  What has he lost?  Well, other than his apparent sanity...

-Her eyes are drawn to the other name inexorably, it seems familiar also. -

[Licht] Scowls and manages to bring up the menu so she can open her web browser, trying to decipher what is going on

-There is some basic stuff on Herobrine and creepypastas in general. Mostly focusing on people reporting weird griefing, sightings, and the eyes, always the white, staring eyes.

[Licht] Frowns and starts looking up more on the game, trying to see if anything in the book ties into the game-

-There are a few results mixed in for Herobrine summoners -

[Licht] Finds the one she's looking for and looks at what it actually requires-

-The links lead into a wiki style article describing the ways to find the various materials. A cow moo's from the smaller game window. -

[Licht] Looks up ways to get the materials-

-The artifact in her pocket is starting to get rather warm, and it's an uncomfortable lump against her leg. -

[Licht] Pulls the wolf's head out and puts it on the desk, eyeing it warily-

-It's quiet now. But the crudely cut eyes seem to follow her movements with interest.

[Licht] Finds out how to enter creative and returns to the game to see if she can access it-

-The menus are normal and allow her access, a slight drizzly rain falls in game. -

[Licht] Starts grabbing the needed materials and she keeps pausing to check and make sure she's setting it up correctly-

-A pig wanders up and gets in her way a little bit.

[Licht] - Move stupid pink cube

[pig] Dumb look- oink.

[Licht] Finally finishes the summoner-

-The signal pulses outward from the seed-

-The sky overhead throws a bolt of lightning and the sun vanishes under the horizon. The summoner is the only source of light and the wandering mobs flee from it's call, as the carving on the desk rattles and suddenly cracks. There's a quiet chuckle from her speakers and an an icy shiver down her spine.

[Licht] - The hell!?

-There's a quick sensation of pressure on her shoulders and it makes her spin her avatar around to face a pair of glowing eyes nearly filling her screen. They're red rather then white and the Steve patterned face tazes sideways for a moment. Their creepy smile never fading.

[Licht] - What are you

[???] Does it matter?

[Licht] - I was told that this was a clue in regards to the case I'm working on

[???] It is. We are seeking the same thing. Entry to a hidden place.

[Licht] - What is your name?

[???] I can't tell you. You are human.

[Licht] - What does that have to do with anything?

[???] You would not be yourself anymore if I divulged it.

[Licht] - I need to know what's going on!  Is Mr. Persson in a cult?

[???] He has believers yes. Some call him a god.

[Licht] - So he's developed a following?  I'm guessing his old staff is in on it?

[???] Smiles even more widely - He has a whole world of devout worshipers.

[Licht] Scowls and stands up angrily- That fucking bastard!

-There's a sense of tightness in the air around her-

[???] You are angry... do you want to find him...?

[Licht] - Of course I do!

[???] Then we are... in agreement. - There's a sudden constriction around her throat and for a moment she struggles to breathe. The little carving has crumbled to dust, and the sound of neighborhood dogs barking wildly at something echos from outside.

[Licht] Struggles a little- What are you doing!?

[???] Gives a rather lugubrious laugh and the pressure retreats completely. -

[Licht] Rubs her throat- What...  What did you do?

[???] Nothing you need to concern yourself with. - The figure backs off a bit so the summoner is visible on her screen again.

[Licht] Looks at the time- Tch, I need to be getting some more sleep...  Will you still be here when I wake?

[???] Oh yes.... -indicates the summoner- You should make it again. No cheating this time.

[Licht] - If I have the time

[???] whispers- It calls to th- US.

[Licht] - There's more of you?

[???] So many more...

[Licht] Sighs- We can talk more later, do you want me to leave the program running?

[???] If it pleases you. It makes no difference to me.

[Licht] - Just be sure to stick around

[???] Is looking at the lightening sky in game. - I think I will look for water...

[Licht] - Whatever- She heads back to bed

[Slender] His static rolls through the forest preventing the rescue team from calling for help. He'd killed several campers and was now hunting their hopeful rescuers. Normally he wouldn't kill this much, but the stress had certainly been piling on-

[Azrael] Emerges quietly from a shadowed glen and watches Slender impassively, not wanting to disturb his hunt overmuch.

[Slender] Snarls as he catches the scent of a small child, perhaps a relative of one of the original campers he had killed? Either way, he wanted to consume it-

[Azrael] Consults a small life-timer before putting it away again.

[Slender] Teleports to the child, lost enough in the hunt that he rips them from the others and teleports them deeper into the forest, near where he had just left-

[Azrael] Regards his prey- STILL NOT SATIATED?

[Slender] Pauses, his claws barely grazing the terrified child's chest- What do you want?

[Azrael] I WAS MERELY PASSING BY AND YOUR BLOODBATH CAUGHT MY ATTENTION. YOU MUST BE HALF- STARVED TO TAKE SO MANY AT ONCE.

[Slender] Snarls- It's not a matter of hunger, but of stress- He digs his claws into the girl, ripping out her insides and beginning to consume her soul as it tries to escape

[Azrael] Watches the last few grains fall in the life- timer and sighs. -BE CAREFUL NOT TO ATTRACT THE WRONG ATTENTIONS WHILE RELIEVING YOUR STRESS. ARE YOU CERTAIN IT IS NOT INSANITY AFFECTING YOUR JUDGEMENT?

[Slender] - She is most certainly the cause

[Azrael] AND WE BOTH KNOW THE CURE...

[Slender] - That is not why. Do you recall my informing you that she was infecting more humans, but that neither Zalgo nor myself could find them?

[Azrael] I RECALL IT.

[Slender] - She's gathering them for my father, to ensure he will have an army already waiting for him

[Azrael] TO CAPTURE SO FEW?

[Slender] - He is taking no chance of something like this ever happening again. He'd keep the insane infected as spies, preventing any one from getting out from under his control again, including myself most likely

[Azrael] WHILE IT IS OUT OF MY... WE SHALL SAY JURISDICTION? I AM CONCERNED BY THIS. I HAVE WarDs To DEfenD FROm BOTH OF THEM.

[Slender] - She has not spoken to me in at least as month as well, my father must have done something to sway her so firmly to one side

[Azrael] HAS SHE ABANDONED THE ONES UNDER YOUR CARE? I WOULD BE  CONCERNED THAT THEY MIGHT BE TURNED AGAINST YOU AS WELL.

[Slender] - I do not know if she had abandoned them, they cannot hear her. But I do know their loyalty is to me

[Azrael] I WONDER IF YOU ARE ALSO ANGRY BECAUSE THE LITTLE DOCTORS INSTINCTS HAVE PROVEN TRUE?

[Slender] Snarls-

[Azrael] merely smiles as skulls are wont to do. - I rEcaLl thAt thEY haVe BEEn quITe egAr tO HaVe AN AgrEemeNT WitH yOu.

[Slender] - I have no need for it- He takes the child's corpse in a tendril and lifts it high, impaling it on a branch

[Azrael] LiKE FathER lIKe chIlD I sUppoSe. - he gives the smallest chuckle. - I THINK YOU'LL FIND THE DOCTOR IS FULL OF SUPRISES OF LATE...

[Slender] - They are the absolute least of my concerns at the moment

[Azrael] SUIT YOURSELF SLENDERMAN. BUT DON'T UNDERESTIMATE THE CHILDREN.

[Slender] Growls-

[Azrael] Ruffles his feathers a bit- HOWEVER YOU MAY FEEL ABOUT ME, I AM ON YOUR SIDE FAR MORE THEN ZALGO'S OR YOUR FATHERS. I WILL SEE IF THERE IS ANYTHING I CAN Do tO  AssIT. - he departs without fanfare and reforms in darkness. His bare feet disturb the dust of aeons on a meteor far from the rays of Sol. He gestures faintly and the starry blackness ahead tears open to reveal a sunless bog under a smoke-filled sky. He's seeking something both alien and familiar and he doesn't have to go far before finding it.

-The figure is so tall they're almost like a white pillar against the sky. The form is featureless, naked and starkly white. -

[Azrael] Gives a strong flap of his angelic wings and rises up and up to get closer to the titanic beings face.

[???] Sweeps a gigantic hand to swat him away and is suddenly less two fingers. The digits dissolve into smoke long before they hit the ground-

[Azrael] CAn wE Not parLaY? FElloW DeAth?

[???] The words come from nowhere but still ooze menace and hate- THERE IS NOTHING TO DISCUSS INSECT.

[Azrael] I DIsagrEE. YOur peOPle pLaN to inVaDE mY lANd aND hArVesT MY sOuLS.

[???] IT WILL BE A GLORIOUS FEAST.

[Azrael] YoU'rE... Mad... I- he hesitates, unsure for the first time in centuries. He flaps back a little, thinking, and then even farther as the titanic being grips it's head in some kind of painful fit -

[???] Roars and thrashes, grabbing fistfuls of trees and tearing them out of the stagnant and brackish water.

[Azrael] Is gone in a flash, stepping out gratefully onto the familiar sand of the desert of souls. He sighs in relief and settles down in a lotus position on the warm grains to have a good long think.

-On the edges of his hearing however there is a slightly disturbed laugh-

[Azrael] Looks up with as much of a frown as he can muster. - I'M GLAD YOU THINK THIS BETRAYAL IS AMUSING...

[Insanity] - Who says it's betrayal?

[Azrael] Stands up with a flutter of wings- BECAUSE YOU ARE ALLOWED TO CORRUPT A FEW SOULS AS A FAVOR. THAT DOES NOT MEAN IT IS ACCEPTABLE TO ALLOW THEM TO BE WHOLESALE ANNIHILATED. AND YOU ARE NOT TO TOUCH MY KIND. I FOUND A FELLOW DEATH WRACKED WITH YOUR MADNESS. IT IS BETRAYAL.

[Insanity] - I take offense to that. There is a difference between madness and myself

[Azrael] YOU MISS MY POINT ENTIRELY. SLENDERS CONSUME HUMAN SOULS. THEY REMOVE THEM FROM THE GREAT CYCLE. WHY ARE YOU HELPING THEM TO BRING MORE OF THEIR KIND HERE???

[Insanity] - Because the balance is upset. They all used to be able to come here, but once the little Slender's broke the portal, well, that's when humanity began to grow

[Azrael] Is obviously hiding something- YoU HaVe YoUR OpiniOn AnD I HaVE MinE.

[Insanity] Takes a human like form, her body seemingly made of nothing but light.  She's rather small compared to Azrael- You?  Having an opinion?  Careful, you may end up in trouble

[Azrael] IT IS MINE TO HAVE IF I PLEASE. YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO MAKES DEALS WITH MORTALS.

[Insanity] - This is true, but why make deals with mortals when you can make a deal with something more powerful

[Azrael] YOU KNOW NOTHING OF MY AFFAIRS, AND EVEN LESS OF IT IS YOUR CONCERN. SLENDERS ARE TEDIOUS. THEY ARE HIDEBOUND AND OLD. I PREFER HUMANS. THEY ARE MUCH MORE INTERESTING WHEN THEY'RE NOT CONCERENED WITH BEING FOOD FOR NIGHTMARES.

[Insanity] - But that's what makes it fun- She reaches out a hand to touch the angel of death- Your eyes could be so much brighter

[Azrael] Watches as the sand gives under her feet, burying her to the ankles and preventing her from touching him- CAREFUL THERE. THE MEASURE OF SAND THAT HOLDS A GRUDGE INCREASES WITH YOUR OWN MISTEPS.

[Insanity] - They hold a grudge with those I help, not myself directly

[Azrael] Shrugs- MANY WOULD GLADLY CHOOSE MY COMPANY OVER YOURS.

[Insanity] - Then why do so many accept me?

[Azrael] FEAR. THEY FEAR WHAT LIES BEYOND THE SANDS. NOT UNDERSTANDING THAT ITS SHAPE IS OFTEN DETERMINED BY THE SOUL WHO APPROACHES.

[Insanity] Starts to laugh- They've faced you and survived!  It is those you cannot take that I claim as my children!

[Azreal] TAKE? YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND ME. LESSER DEATHS MAY TAKE GRIM PLEASURES IN DESTRUCTION, BUT I AM NOT AS SUCH. KEEP YOUR PETTY SCORES.

[Insanity] Flickers a bit brighter- But I also know that you know the one who has been taking my children from me

[Azrael] AND?

[Insanity] - I will get my children back, and I will take that one as well

[Azrael] Genuinely laughs, it's deep and mirthful, so utterly at odds with everything he is-

[Insanity] - You laugh? Then perhaps I should take one of yours as well

[Azrael] YOU DO AND YOU'LL FIND OUT WHAT I GAVE HER IN RETURN FOR MY NEWLY FOUND INDEPENDANCE.

[Insanity] Scowls- Stay out of my way

-There's a distant rumbling in the distance-

[Azrael] Irritated glance- NOW YOU'VE DONE IT. DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND STAY AWAY FROM THE DOCTOR AND THEIR LITTLE FRIENDS. I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE DEFENDING THEM.

[Insanity] - You think I don't know that?  Xophiel certainly surprised me with his flames in the one childs mate

[Azrael] Looks towards the noise- I ThInK HE's abouT TO suPrisE YOu  AgaIN.

[Xophiel] is in his titanic form and racing across the sand towards them, he's obviously furious-

[Insanity] Starts shifting to a larger form-

[Xophiel] Kicks out with one bare foot and punts Insanity hard into the distance- YOU STAY AWAY FROM THAT SERVER!!!!

[Azrael] From below- HOW MATURE.

[tobns]

                              𝒮𝐸𝒱𝐸𝒩 𝑀𝐼𝐿𝐸 𝒟𝐸𝒞𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅

Jen disappears as quickly as she’d entered, my head falling back against the top of the couch and a sigh leaving my lips. I’ve been dreading this very moment for the last five and a half months, and it’s finally here.

The moment when the loneliness either ends, or really and truly begins.

                           "December days, with my heart like the weather:                                       Cold and unpredictable to me                                            Unpredictable to you..." 

                                                             . . .

                                                   ALEXANDER

“Now that the tour is finished, what’s next for you?”

The interviewer in front of me ever so slightly cocks an eyebrow as she smiles, thrusting her phone back in my direction to capture my answer. I find the gesture intrusive and relatively unprofessional; usually, regardless of the end result’s format, interviews are filmed, not treated as though they’re legal statements being gathered on the steps of a courthouse. Whatever qualm I have with how she does her job doesn’t slip through my façade. I simply rest my hand on top of my ankle, leaning back into the couch.

“Well, I’m headed back home,” I reply after I pretend to ponder her question, my response coming right off the pages of approved statements my publicist has provided me with for interviews. “Spend some time with my family, enjoy being on break.”

She beams, lowering the phone. “You certainly have earned yourself a break, Mr. Ludwig.”

My reminder is gentle in a last-ditch effort to make this whole encounter feel a little more casual than it has been. “It’s Alexander.”

“Right, Alexander,” she corrects. The phone is retracted, and she slides it open to stop the voice memo she’s been recording for the last three minutes. “Thank you so much for sitting down with me, and after your set at that. I know you’re probably eager to get going.”

Not really, I think. Try the exact opposite of that. Who schedules an interview after their concert is over, other than someone who’s trying desperately to delay the inevitable?

Her hand is outstretched, and it takes me a second to realize she’s waiting on me to take it. The handshake I give her is loose and noncommittal, but she doesn’t seem to make any note of it. Probably writing it off as fatigue now that I’m through with the biggest tour of my career, something that she’d deem understandable despite not understanding a single thing about it.

As she leaves my dressing room, escorted by security, I feel myself unravel a little as I slump back into the couch. Touring is not a lonely job, but it evokes a lot of lonely feelings, feelings that I’ve been treading in. As my tour manager, Jen, would tell me, I only do it to myself – I don’t actively try to remedy the loneliness, I just wallow around in it. She’d also tell me that I do a shit job picking my company when I decide that I need it, but I didn’t hire her to point out all of my flaws.

So much as think of the devil and she shall appear, as Jen’s head pops in the door the interviewer has just exited moments ago. “We’re rolling out in fifteen,” she informs me bluntly, her eyes only bothering to meet mine in one short glance. Maybe I’m hallucinating, but it seems like the bags underneath her eyes have grown darker in the last few hours. We’re paces away from reaching the light at the end of the tunnel that has been this tour, which for my team is an uninterrupted twelve-hour sleep in an actual bed.

Jen disappears as quickly as she’d entered, my head falling back against the top of the couch and a sigh leaving my lips. I’ve been dreading this very moment for the last five and a half months, and it’s finally here.

The moment when the loneliness either ends, or really and truly begins.

My dressing room is in total disarray, despite it only serving a purpose for a handful of hours. Water bottles, guitar picks, and spare backstage access lanyards (Jen picked up the habit of simply throwing them at me before each show since she wanted no part in what I’d do with them) are strewn about, three different pairs of shoes scattered across the room and my personal guitar resting up against the wall. I do my best to take my time cleaning up the mess I’ve apparently made – if they’d wanted faster results, Jen should have hired someone to pick up behind me – an anvil sinking lower and lower into my stomach with every step I take.

As I go to put my guitar back in its case, something glints up at me from the velvet lining. The immediate instinct is to slam my guitar down on top of it, close the case, and hand it off to Dayo so I don’t have that blood on my hands. I instead find myself frozen, staring down at a reminder and a death sentence all in one for what feels like an eternity.

The door opens from behind me, Dayo’s voice breaking me from whatever dark reverie I’d fallen prey to. “Dude, you ready to go or what? Jen’s about two minutes away from leaving your ass to hitchhike.”

I turn my head, somewhat startled by the interruption. “Yeah,” I reply, blinking a few times as I come back to. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Before I’ve got time to regret it, I grab the ring out of the guitar case and shove it in the back pocket of my jeans. My guitar goes back into the case, and I slam the lid shut, flipping the locks on it before passing it to Dayo.

“I’m your security,” he laments with an eye roll. “Not a bag lady.”

“Coulda fooled me,” I tease him, lips curling back into a toothy grin as I pass through the doorway in front of him.

Everything has thinned out, very few people left to bump into on my way out to the venue’s garage. True to Dayo’s word, Jen is waiting impatiently by the bus door, arms folded over her chest as she glares at me. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you were late to your own damn funeral,” she tells me, voice scathing. I roll my eyes as I brush past her, pulling the handle on the door open.

“Lucky for you, you’re rid of me the minute we get back to New York.”

I board the bus with Jen and Dayo right on my heels. I’ve accidentally left the television on in the living area, the low sounds of the The Hurt Locker menu screen humming throughout the room. It goes ignored as I beeline to the backroom, not in the mood to deal with Jen now that she’s clearly on the downhill slope or to attempt to conjure small talk with Dayo. Neither of them follow me either, leaving me be. The two of them know, I’m sure, what my own mood’s decline is attributed to.

I sit from the couch opposite my bed, forehead pressed against the glass as the bus stirs to life and I watch Nashville grow farther and farther out of my sight. The lights outside are dimmed by the dark tint of the window, white line dividers rolling underneath the bus in a film reel that stretches for miles and miles and has only one ending in sight – not the happily ever after kind either, I’m sure. Jen and Dayo’s voices are nothing but murmurs, background noise as they discuss god only knows what without me and pierce the bubble of silence surrounding me. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Jen’s more than ready to be relieved of her Alexander duties. Dayo, unfortunately, never gets a break.

On the windowsill, I spot my phone lighting up with a new notification. Picking it up and tilting it in my direction, I can see it’s an email notification from Mark, more than likely a group email with thanks he forgot to hand out and a few post-tour reminders. Post-tour. It’s a chalky pill to try and swallow down as is; add in the dry mouth the thought of tour’s ending continually gives me and my body’s rejection can’t get much more black and white.

The background of my phone strikes a chord of pain down through my heartstrings, and I instantly feel bad for having dreaded this moment for days, weeks, even months. I keep trying to force the pill down my throat that it is back to reality for me as I unlock my phone, tapping on the message app.

It takes a few moments to formulate words, and it takes a few more moments after that to pick and choose which of those words will give me the least amount of grief.

ME: I’ll be home tomorrow.

There’s no response, but I’d only be setting myself up to be severely disappointed if I expected otherwise.

                                                        ISABELLE

I genuinely do not know which is more taxing, chasing after a six-year-old or chasing after Jack Quaid, both of whom are hopped up on a sugar high.

“Jackie, can you please come collect your fiancé?” I beg, leaning up against the kitchen counter as the heels of my hands drag down the side of my face. “I can barely handle my own child, much less when yours decides to join in and encourage bad behavior.”

Red hair slices through the air as my best friend tears her sight away from the laptop where her recipe is pulled up to shoot me a look riddled in exasperation. “Honey, don’t you think if there was a way to control him, I would have figured it out before I let him put a ring on my finger?”

I’ve known Jackie since my freshman year of college – we were roommates at Columbia, product of the one good stroke of luck I’ve ever had in my life. I’d been a bit apprehensive about letting the randomizer pick for me after I’d gotten my building assignment in Furnald (there are no two-in-a-row miracles, I have since learned) and discovered I’d gotten a double, but it worked out better than I ever could have hoped. We were each other’s lifelines at school, both not knowing a single soul in the city. Jackie and I were thick as thieves by the time the second week of classes had ended, and we were going home with one another once fall break rolled around. She’s been my best friend ever since; roommates every single year until I got married, a bridesmaid at my wedding, the godmother to my child, and the source of all my sanity, Jackie is the person I cannot imagine my life without.

Jack, her fiancé, is an entirely different story. We didn’t meet him until we were sophomores and he was a junior, living four doors down from us. He was also the only person on our hall who understood statistics, meaning that we practically lived in his room so he could keep us from falling prey to mental breakdowns and try to make sense of what may as well have been another language. He’d seen us at our breaking points, and that sort of bonding pretty much solidified our friendship with him. He and Jackie didn’t start dating until she was a senior, despite me telling her over Christmas break sophomore year that they were meant for one another. While I consider him something like an older brother, Jack I’m sure I could live without, especially on the days when he does nothing but exacerbate my child when she’s hyper.

“It’s not too late to take it back,” I offer up hopefully. “I can retract my blessing.” Jack had been very diligent before proposing, making sure he had both Jackie’s dad and my blessing before he got down on one knee. The gesture was sweet, but it’s moments like these that plant tiny seeds of regret.

Jackie snorts, rolling her eyes. “Over his dead body.”

“That can be arranged too.”

She goes back to the mixing bowl, index finger trailing down the screen of the laptop to figure out what ingredient goes next in her fourth batch of cookies. “Just take a breath, Iz, you aren’t gonna have to deal with either of them for much longer. I’m the one who’s gonna have to put up with the sugar high and the subsequent crash.”

“And I get the alternative,” I mutter, glancing down at my fingernails.

The mood around us quickly shifts, Jackie's voice dropping a little as she speaks. “What time is that arriving?”

I shrug. “Dunno. Sometime this afternoon, I didn’t get a specific time of when the plane landed.” Looking past Jackie, my eyes flit over the digital clock on top of the oven before falling back down towards the floor. “Any minute now, I guess.”  

Jackie sets down the measuring cup with a dull thud, both hands flat on the surface of the counter as she turns to look at me. “Are you sure you don’t want me or Jack to stay with you?” she asks solemnly. “Or you can just leave with us; I can dump this in the trash, we’ll get out of here before he even hits the city limits, won’t be the wiser.”

I shake my head, still avoiding her gaze and focused intently on the hardwood's pattern. “No, it’s okay. There’s not much more avoiding to be done at this point.”

One of her hands leaves the counter, resting on my shoulder lightly. “It’s gonna be okay, Belly,” she tries to reassure me, a hopeful glimmer of a smile on her face when I dare to look up.

Forcing my lips up into a grin, the only optimism that I can conjure up to appease Jackie cheap and plastic. “Yeah, it’ll be alright.” I don’t know if I’m trying to convince either her or myself with this statement, but I do a terrible job of selling it regardless.

“It will be,” Jackie repeats. ��But, we said we weren’t gonna dwell on it until it literally lands on the doorstep. Now hop in here and help me resume your stress baking.”  

I’d known that this day was lurking on the horizon for weeks now, the anxiety building with every passing mark on the calendar. Me trying to be proactive, I had put Jackie and Jack on reserve for today, knowing that their company would be the only thing preventing me from flying off the handle – Jack could entertain my kid (logic that I’m now starting to question) and Jackie could keep me occupied until there was no more avoiding the inevitable. The stress baking, however, had started somewhere around four am when I concluded that sleep was simply not a possibility and a person could only stare at the ceiling for so long before driving themselves out of their mind. I needed to keep myself busy. If I was busy, then I wasn’t thinking, and not thinking is a lot safer when it comes to certain things in my world.  

Jackie had been all too happy to team up with me in the kitchen, and Jack had been all too thrilled to start taste-testing.

Taking over for Jackie at the mixing bowl, I feel a little bit better once I put my hands back to work. Jackie goes back over to oven where our most recent batch of brownies is baking, pulling them out to stab a toothpick through the center. We’ve really outdone Betty Crocker, clearing through several batches of cookies, brownies, cupcakes, and anything else that I have the ingredients for. The only thing we didn’t make was lunch, putting Jack to work and sending him to go pick up our takeout order.

For the most part, the kitchen is quiet, save for the occasional noise coming from the other room every so often. Jackie and I just orbit around one another wordlessly as we work. There’s never been much need for words when the two of us are around one another, seeing as how we’re usually on the same wavelength. Entire conversations have been had before just in our locked eyes alone.

I’m scooping out vanilla chai sugar cookie dough from the bowl with a tablespoon and transferring it over to the same cookie sheet I’ve been using for the last few hours when our kitchen’s bubble of silence is pierced. The sounds of laughter grow louder, footsteps heavy and rapid as they approach.

“Momma, momma!” Like a stray bullet, my six-year-old daughter comes careening through the kitchen with Jack hot on her heels, dark hair fanning out behind her and the ribbons I’d tied in her French braid pigtails already unfurling down her back. She bulldozes straight into my legs, giggling as she positions herself so I’m now standing between her and Jack. Jack has absolutely no interest in going through me to get to her; if anything, he’s only chased her in here so he can swipe another one of the pumpkin chocolate chip cookies that haven’t been out of the oven for twenty minutes yet.

“What, baby?” I ask, giving Jack a look. He simply shrugs, wicked grin snapping onto his face when he spots a small head peeking around my waist. She erupts into another fit of laughs. “Have you not worn Uncle Jack out yet?”

“Of course not,” Jack finishes for her. “There are no quitters; I just came in here to get a little recharge.” As though he’s trying to prove his point, he takes a large bite out of the cookie. His eyebrows raise in question. “What about you, Noelle? Tired yet?” he sings.

I swivel my head around so I can get a glimpse of her, still hiding behind me. “Nuh-uh,” she replies, both rows of teeth bared as she grins. Just looking at the smile on her face is enough to ease my nerves a little, a wave of serenity brushing over me for a split second. Noelle has always been the eye of any storm I find myself trudging through – all I need is one look at the little girl with freckles splattered across her cheeks, minty eyes and a straggled grin that calls me Momma and there’s nothing in this world that can get under my skin.

“I thought you still had a nap time,” Jack muses teasingly, giving Noelle a look as he continues finishing off his cookie. A shrill noise of outrage comes from behind me, and when I look down, I see that she’s got her tongue stuck out.

“Nuh-uh!” she repeats, much more insistently this time. “I’m a big girl now, Uncle Jack.”

He nods slowly. “Right, ‘course you are.”

“Uncle Jack’s just jealous that he doesn’t get cookie dough,” Jackie interjects, moving closer to me and Noelle with her hand extended, a ball of cookie dough that she swiped most likely for herself out of my mixing bowl while I wasn’t looking pinched between her thumb and index finger.

Noelle’s eyes light up as she quickly looks at me for approval, and my lips inch into a smile as I give her the slight nod of my head. The only thing that could possibly make me happier than seeing my own child happy is seeing Jack sulk in the corner at the traitorous actions of his fiancé.

Naming Jackie and Jack as Noelle’s godparents was one of the decisions I've had to make that required no second thought. They’ve always adored her like she was their own flesh and blood, and ever since Jackie found out a few years ago that children of her own will never be a possibility, they pour all the love (and money) they have right into Noelle. It's certainly a reciprocated feeling; Noelle simply cannot get enough of her godparents, and having them around more frequently over the past couple of months has been like celebrating Christmas every single day for her.

“That good?” I ask her, and she nods eagerly. “I bet Aunt Jackie could use your help putting the rest of them in the oven if you asked her.” Jackie beams at the sound of her name, her eyebrows lifting in invitation.

There’s suddenly a knock at the door, an unfortunate interruption to a happy moment that echoes out into the silence that suddenly floods the room. Jackie, Jack, and I all exchange similar glances – it’s a death omen if we’ve ever heard one, and we’re all about to face our executioner.

Noelle untangles herself from my legs faster than I have time to comprehend and catch her. The words to call her back die in the back of my throat, because I know that she knows who’s standing on the other side of the door, and stopping her is futile. All Jackie can do is squeeze my wrist in a show of succor.

My eyes are already burning, heartbeat taking off like a helicopter inside of my chest. I hear the door open, the sound of bags dropping on the ground as Noelle’s delighted shriek rings out through my apartment.

“Hi daddy!”

[marisa-writes]

3, 6, 9, 15

RJ, you sent me these about a million years ago and I never got around to them because of life, I’m so sorry! But I’m gonna answer them now!

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

I tend to write chronologically, but I’ll never shy away from writing a scene ahead of time if the words come to me. Sometimes my brain has such a clear image that I’m afraid if I don’t write it down right then, by the time I’m ready to approach the scene, the words will be gone. But yeah, most of the time, I write in order. 

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

Probably the pace of the first several chapters of They Sang Hallelujah. Editing and reposting Remembrance and This Christmas has been relatively easy because the changes I’ve made have been small - sentence structure, mostly, but in TC, I’ve changed up some scenes in terms of dialogue and whatnot. With TSH, however, there is so much I’d want to improve that the idea of even considering it is exhausting. 

For those who weren’t around for my illustrious (ha!) Jonas Brothers fanfiction career, TSH centers around Noelle, who is, at the beginning of the story, at the hospital with her mother. To take her mind off of whatever is wrong with her mother that doctors have not quite figured out, she asks her mother to recount the love story between her mother and the father she’s never known - the father who doesn’t know she exists - Joe. It’s a tale of a young woman who finds a home in the heart of a young man who has everything life could offer him but still feels a bit empty, but young love is misconstrued as carelessness, and things are ended abruptly, but with a lingering, soon-to-be-loved result: Noelle.

The first several chapters of the story are filled with flashbacks as Halle retells the story of how she and Joe met and loved and how Noelle came to be, but as Noelle hears the story this time, and considering her mother’s state of being and what that could possibly mean for her, she begins to really long for her father for the first time, and sets off to find him.

I love the story, Noelle, Joe, and Halle with all of my heart, but I feel like the pacing at the beginning is off. I dragged out some things too long, I think. Chapter thirteen, if I remember correctly, is the sweet spot of the story for me, and I feel like if I had the time and the energy that I might have Noelle’s story start in a different place, or that I would consolidate some of the earlier chapters or the flashbacks or something, to help the story move along a little better. It would take a lot of reconfiguring, though, with all of Joe and Halle’s history, so I know it’s an undertaking I’ll probably never take on. Which sucks, considering I never got around to finishing the story in the first place, never posting past chapter eighteen (though I think I have the majority of chapter nineteen hanging around in a Word document somewhere). I knew exactly how it ended, even have the notes in the document, but alas. The best-laid plans. 

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Lately, I’ve been reading romance novels like crazy. They get such a bad rep, people thinking it’s nothing more than smut or shitty writing but that’s the same thing people think about fanfiction, you know? Over the past few months I have immersed myself in some pretty great romance novels that feature women of color and that is EXCITING for me! (And I have you to thank for that, by the way.)

Music is also a place that I draw inspiration from, or from reading the works of others around here (like Kaia and CEO Niall are at least partially at fault for sangria, tbh). Hell, sometimes just TALKING about writing makes me want to write things.

15) why did you start writing?

Escape. Writing took me away from the feelings inside that felt too big, too terrible, to form words. I didn’t really know or understand what depression was and didn’t understand how I could feel so depressed losing my grandfather when it wasn’t (in my thirteen-year-old mind, mind you) comparable to losing some like, say, my mom or dad, but his death was devastating for me and I didn’t know how to deal with that devastation. So, while I told everyone I was fine, inside I knew that I wasn’t, and to deal with the mess of my mind, I wrote. Journal entries, poems, songs, stories about my friends - essentially, my earliest fanfiction pieces because I’d throw people like Justin Timberlake in there for good measure.

Eventually, I found that I really enjoyed it. It became more than escapism. I felt powerful, being a writer. The words were mine, and I felt like when I wrote them, they couldn’t be denied. The way someone can tune you out when you speak, you couldn’t ignore my words when they were there on the page, not to me. I think I found a lot of confidence there, and these days, it’s probably the one thing in my life that makes me truly feel confident in myself.

So I started writing, I think, to find myself and my strength and my sanity in the midst of having life as I knew it turned upside-down, and in the end, I think my writing journey has played such a huge part in who I am and who I am becoming - or at least, I hope so. I can’t imagine never caring this much about writing, about the characters I create or read about. Sometimes I think about how lost I was without my words after I graduated from college - I’d taken a break from writing for a year to finish my studies, and my writer’s block was terrible - and to have them back now means everything. And to think about how my love of writing has carried me through three different fandoms and given me the courage to share my writing on a wider scale than I ever imagined and has brought me more kindness and friendship than I can even think to truly measure - THAT means more than everything. That, to me, is infinite.

[thaliasbooks]

Stand-off (Review)

Title: Stand-off

Series: Winger (Book #2)

Author: Andrew Smith

Publication: 2016

Rating: ★★★★

Summary: It’s his last year at Pine Mountain, and Ryan Dean should be focused on his future, but instead, he’s haunted by his past. His rugby coach expects him to fill the roles once played by his lost friend, Joey, as the rugby team’s stand-off and new captain. And somehow he’s stuck rooming with twelve-year-old freshman Sam Abernathy, a cooking whiz with extreme claustrophobia and a serious crush on Annie Altman—aka Ryan Dean’s girlfriend, for now, anyway.

Equally distressing, Ryan Dean’s doodles and drawings don’t offer the relief they used to. He’s convinced N.A.T.E. (the Next Accidental Terrible Experience) is lurking around every corner—and then he runs into Joey’s younger brother Nico, who makes Ryan Dean feel paranoid that he’s avoiding him. Will Ryan Dean ever regain his sanity?

Review: I am finally reviewing a book I actually read this year! However… I finished it in May, so here’s to the (almost) last shorter-than-normal review. I borrowed a copy of this book from a teacher, so I don’t have any notes or ability to flip back through it and remember my thoughts better; I’ll still give this my best effort at detail, though!

As you may remember, Winger was one of my favorite books. It’s not a book that someone like me typically goes for as Ryan Dean West is not typically the type of character I enjoy reading. However, something about Andrew Smith’s ability to craft him as this realistic, perfectly imperfect guy just struck a chord with me. Winger also ripped my heart out unexpectedly, which always scores points with me.

When I discovered that Winger had a sequel, I had to read it right away. Fortunately, the teacher I was working with let me borrow it, and I got to reading right away. I got through the first third no problem, but then it took me several months to pick it up again. When I finally did, I binged the last part in a day or two. I worried that I had outgrown Ryan Dean, but I was delighted to discover that Andrew Smith still had the ability to make me laugh out loud and cry within mere pages of each other.

Stand-off explores a lot of themes related to grief and especially avoiding grief. Ryan Dean goes through a lot of things he can’t quite explain, and this book is about him trying to understand himself again and dealing with the fact that he doesn’t want to be miserable for the rest of his life. I completely empathize with NATE (the Next Accidental Terrible Experience) because I experienced the same thing after one of my friends passed away in high school. I thought this novel was excellently crafted, and it is a great follow-up to Winger. However, it lacked the same sparkle, and I found myself missing that all-encompassing enthusiasm for the book. It had an overly-satisfying ending, in that everything wrapped up with a pretty, little bow, and the resolution seemed forced to me. After the unexpectedly world-shattering ending of Winger, I could have stood an ending less-than-ideal than this one. It felt like Smith really wanted to end this story, and he wrote out a resolution that would leave no room for speculation or further wondering. I loved the ending of Winger without the idea of a sequel, so having a sequel that perfectly wrapped up the story I’d loved so much was fairly disappointing.

Overall: As with Winger, I don’t recommend this to younger readers. Ryan Dean West may be fifteen years old, but I doubt I’d let my kid read it at fifteen. Use discretion because there is a lot of language and Ryan Dean West is a teenage boy who thinks like a teenage boy, but, unlike how I usually feel, it all contributes to the characters and the story overall. Stand-off wasn’t as brilliant as Winger, but it’s still worth reading if you loved the first book.

[ingridgovaninsights]

The Charlotte Chapters- Part 5

When Elliott arrived at my parents’ house, we idled for a few minutes in silence. But unlike so many of our silences, this one wasn’t comfortable. There were so many unspoken words between us that probably wouldn’t ever be said.

“I love him,” I said.

“No, you don’t,” Elliott said. “You’re afraid of being alone so you’re settling. He’s not good for you, Charlotte. Hell, I was more there for you than he ever was, and you called him your boyfriend.”

I shook my head. “No, Ross is good. He just… he got confused. I’ll just explain to him. He’s a good guy, Elliott.”

“Don’t do this, Charlotte, please,” Elliott begged me, and I swear I saw tears in his eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” I said, trying for a smile. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

When I got out of that car, for a fleeting moment I thought maybe I was making a big mistake, but I shook it off as quickly as it came on, and I headed for the door.

Part Three: Blissfully Unaware

Things sort of went way too fast with Ross once we got to talking again. My parents had been skeptical, but after we chatted for a bit they concluded they just wanted me to be happy, so if that’s what I thought would make me happy, go for it.

I met with Ross for coffee that afternoon, and I tried to look my best, carefully choosing a new shirt and nicely fitted jeans, even a splash of makeup. I sprayed maybe a little too much perfume. I stared at myself in the mirror and thought, I can do this.

Ross looked just about the same as he did three months ago, except he was also wearing a new shirt. When he saw me, he waved, but his face was pretty neutral. I felt happy to see him. A flood of good memories came back into my mind, and I became a little bit obsessed again, like when we had first met.

He was quite handsome, even without his nice smile. He was already seated at the coffee shop, sipping on a hot chocolate because he never liked coffee. Once again, I was becoming lost with the feeling of lust, the feeling of infatuation, completely forgetting all of the red flags I’d seen when I had distance.

“Let me just order a drink,” I said, my voice slightly shaking. It had been three months, which isn’t a long time if you think about it. But I was still scared, like I was on a blind date with someone that was “out of my league”. I just felt inferior, intimidated, but my body wanted to chase that feeling. Why did I think Ross was so special?

I ordered a double double, and grasping the paper cup with sweaty palms, I took a seat across from him. He looked at me with big, blue eyes.

The silence wasn’t long, because I knew Ross couldn’t stand long silences; he didn’t think there was such a thing as “comfortable silence”.

“I miss you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” I said automatically. “How are you? How has life been?”

Ross sighed, took a sip of his hot chocolate. “To be honest, not that great. I just… well, I don’t want to sound too creepy or emotional.”

“No no, go on,” I urged. At that time, I needed to hear what he had to say. I just had to be fed all the bullshit. Maybe I liked the attention. After all, it’s glorious to feel wanted. To feel needed.

“These past three months have been hell,” he admitted. “I was a wreck. I was depressed. I mean, I tried to move on, I really did, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I tried to go on dates… some were nice, I even really hit it off with a couple of people, but it just wasn’t the same.”

In the back of my mind, something was screaming at me to remember how he treated me, to remember that he was never there for me when I needed him, and that he probably never would be. Something was trying to shout that this was a trap… that I wouldn’t ever be truly happy this way. But I pushed the thoughts aside and they started to fade out…

“Things haven’t been great for me, either,” I said, “at all. I didn’t know what to do without you. I couldn’t sleep, I drank too much… I even tried weed, which is not like me at all. I just wasn’t the same.”

I made myself cringe. I sounded like a fourteen year old girl with her first “real” boyfriend, back in high school when there was no real understanding of what love meant. Was I really still that naive in my twenties?

We talked for an hour or two and caught up. We laughed a lot, exchanged new stories and reminisced on old times. Recalled inside jokes that gave us a false sense of warmth. But somewhere, there was still that lingering problem between us. I knew what Ross would want- for me to drop Elliott as a friend. And for some reason I felt guilty, like I had to, to “clear my conscience”.

We ended up sitting in Ross’ car so we could chat privately. He said he had a few things we “needed to discuss” in order to “work things out”. Elliott was in the back of my mind, reminding me that this was probably a bad idea… but once again, I put that on the backburner and nodded along.

“I have a few conditions I’d like to go over, if we’re to have a relationship again,” Ross said carefully, almost threateningly. He made stern eye contact with me.

My stomach churned. Conditions? I didn’t like the sound of that. But I urged him to go on anyways. I was going through with this.

“The first one is, and this is probably going to be an obvious one, I don’t want you to be in contact with Elliott anymore. I just think it’s a terrible idea, and I’m not comfortable with it at all. So if you want to be with me again, we have to be on the same page with that.”

I thought I’d try to be honest. “I didn’t do anything with him that night,” I told him. “You made that story up.”

Ross raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? There must have been some intent there. Come on.”

I thought about it. Up until Ross started interrogating me about that night, I had never thought of Elliott as more than a good friend. Ever. But Ross had a way of making me question my sanity. Maybe there was intent? After all, how do you prove intent? It was so long ago… I couldn’t remember.

“Maybe,” I said shakily, “I don’t remember that well.”

“See?” he said. “And you probably don’t remember because you were drinking, and because you want to forget that you did a horrible thing. You really messed me up, Charlotte.”

What did I do? I thought, desperately going through that night over and over in my head, play by play. I was getting all muddled up. My thoughts were graying and blurring and I couldn’t distinguish what was real or fake, what was right or wrong.

“Maybe… I don’t know,” I said.

“And I don’t understand why you would be anxious if you weren’t guilty,” Ross went on. “If you have nothing to hide, why are you so nervous?! Is there anything you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. My mind was racing.

“Why can’t you answer anything with certainty? Why is it always I don’t know with you?”

I started to cry. “Okay, maybe there was some intent there. I don’t know why. I don’t know, okay? I won’t talk to him anymore.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said quietly. Then more loudly, “I don’t even want so much as to hear his name, okay?”

I nodded robotically. He went into the other “conditions”, one of them being I needed to take my medication every single day, at the same time every day, or this would result in an “immediate break up”. He continued to use that term- “immediate break up”. This really scared me, at the time I felt like I would do anything to make sure that didn’t happen.

And as quickly as we had broken up three months ago, we were back together.

***

I sent Elliott one final text message that I would no longer be in contact with him, and that it was for the best. I had a guilty conscience I needed to clear; I had sins that probably couldn’t ever be forgiven. What those sins were, I don’t know.

Elliott tried to bring me to my senses, but I wasn’t listening. I was long past listening to reason. He texted me several times, and when I think about them now they make a lot of sense, but my brain couldn’t distinguish what made sense and what didn’t. My brain was telling me that Elliott was bad, and talking to him was criminal. I needed to get away.

I blocked him on every social media platform I could think of. I went out of my way to “keep the bad away” and “prevent myself from sinning”... I blocked even his family, some of his close friends, too. Just in case. I did this robotically, without a second thought. I had to do it for Ross. I loved him, after all. You make sacrifices for those you love.

Ross was quite satisfied with this, and Elliott was a forgotten piece of the past. Ross and I were getting along quite well; it felt like our relationship was starting anew, like we were in the “honeymoon” phase again. Nothing else seemed to matter.

Only a couple of weeks into our newfound “happiness”, Ross reminded me that he would be finishing his college program soon.

“I will most likely need to move to the city to find a decent job,” he said.

The city. Ugh. Somewhere I enjoyed exploring, but I didn’t want to live. There were far too many people and it just made me extremely anxious.

“If I move away for work… I don’t know what this means for us,” he went on.

“It’s only an hour and a half away,” I tried to reason. “You drive- you can come visit on weekends, right?”

He gave me a look. “That’s just a bit inconvenient, don’t you think?”

I started to panic. So what was he saying, then? Why start all of this up again if he was just going to tear it down in a matter of weeks?

That’s when I had a brilliant idea.

“Take me with you.”

Ross laughed, then he looked at me seriously. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course,” I said without hesitation. Again, sacrifices.

“Well, maybe… maybe this could work. And it might make more sense financially. I can save some of my money this way. And of course, we’d be living together, so that’d be nice.”

It was a big step, even for “normal” couples that had a steady, healthy relationship. Add the fact that we had just been broken up for three months to the mix and you get a really big leap into what was probably going to end in a disaster.

But I kept my nodding my head like I was some sort of bobblehead. There was no question about it; you gotta do what needs to be done.

Even if it means leaving your entire sense of identity behind.

***

Our big move to the city was not an easy task- moving is never easy, nevermind moving an apartment’s worth of furniture nearly two hours away. We rented two trucks, and Ross’ parents helped us; my parents were quite hesitant to provide the assistance. After I’d told them about my drastic plans, they were a little distant with me. I think they were sad, and maybe disappointed. My father even seemed a little bit angry. But what were we supposed to do, break up?

Ross drove the first truck with me in the passenger seat, and his dad drove the second one with his mom tagging along. His parents were lovely people, but his mother was a bit on the controlling side- I can remember when we were dating in college, his mom would have Ross always text her on his whereabouts. When he was leaving somewhere, when he got somewhere, who he was with, what he was doing… I always found it a bit odd, but those kinds of things mothers grow out of, right?

Not Ross’ mother. She was freaking out about her son leaving the nest for the first time. I mean, he was twenty-one now; she’d have to face this at some point in her life. My mother was not nearly as emotional- that being said, I’d already moved out on my own before, but even the first time she was only a little upset. Who knows, maybe some mothers are better at hiding it.

We chose a basement apartment in a town just outside the city, because the places were cheaper and Ross could just drive the rest of the way in maybe fifteen minutes. There was nothing there for me… well, except for Ross, of course. It was a town of factories and warehouses- what was I supposed to do with that?

The house was nothing to ogle over- it was a pretty standard bungalow, if not less than standard. The lawn was uncut, the front screen door was broken and the roof was falling apart. But hey, it was a roof over our heads.

When we stepped out of the truck, Ross’ parents were arguing.

“I told you, you were going way too fast,” she was rambling on, “this is why I don’t like being in a car with you. Who taught you how to drive?”

“I was driving the speed limit,” Ross’ father protested. “You’re just a nervous passenger.”

Great, so both of them were in a mood for the big day. That is just what we needed when we’d be having a stressful few hours trying to fit large pieces of furniture through doorways and down stairs.

“Thank you so much for helping us, guys,” I offered, trying to keep the peace.

Ross’ mom rolled her eyes, not doing a great job at hiding her annoyance. Since neither of them were willing to be civil for the time being, we waited for our new landlord in awkward silence. He ended up arriving twenty minutes late.

Our landlord was a tall, slender man in his late forties, of some sort of Asian descent, with a casual, sporty look to him. He wore an American Eagle T-shirt that would better suit a young adult; beige cargo shorts; and sunglasses not over his eyes but resting on his head, as if it were just a fashion statement. He was probably the type of dad that all the kids thought was “cool”, but only up until about age eight, then he was simply lame.

He looked a bit flustered as he approached us, extending a hand. “Hello, everyone. I am so sorry I’m late,” he said with a Chinese accent. “Ross, Charlotte. Hi. And these are… your parents?”

“My parents, yes,” Ross spoke up, firmly shaking his hand. “Mom, Dad, this is our landlord, Sean.”

His parents, disgruntled, introduced themselves. Sean didn’t seem too bothered by their attitudes, but perhaps he was trying to remain polite. He pulled out two sets of keys from the pocket of his cargo shorts, and handed them to us.

“I hope you enjoy your new home,” he said warmly. “If you need anything I am a quick call away on my cell phone. I don’t live too far from here.”

“Thank you,” Ross said; he did all the talking.

And just like that, Sean drove off and left us on our own to get settled. Except it wasn’t that settling; it was quite stressful with his parents being the way that they were.

“Cal, you need to tilt it a little!” Ross’ mom shouted as Ross and his dad attempted to get an armchair through the side door. “Are you deaf? I said that already.”

Cal sighed. “Tara, I’m trying, okay? Can you relax a little?”

“Oh, don’t tell me to relax, Cal. You know I hate it when you say that.”

Ross rolled his eyes, and Tara was quick to pick up on it.

“What was that, smartass? You have something you want to add?”

“No, Mom.”

“Maybe you should be a little more grateful for all the help we’re giving you two. We didn’t have to do any of this- we’re taking the time off work, we’re driving back and forth… you two have barely been back together a month! So you’re welcome, Ross.”

I mean, she had a point, but that didn’t make it any less awkward. I stood just outside the doorway, unsure what to do with myself. So they didn’t exactly “approve” of us, either. Was I surprised?

Finally, they managed to get the armchair through the doorway. I could only imagine the struggle it would be getting the goddamn couch through there…

***

When Cal and Tara finally left, it was dark out. Far past supper time, but his parents were too stubborn and upset to eat dinner with us.

We didn’t have much unpacked so we just ordered a pizza and drank Coke straight out of the two litre bottle. To make things more fun, the doorway didn’t allow us to fit the couch through so we ate our pizza on some upside down boxes, because Ross insisted we eat in front of the TV.

It had been an awful day, but at least we had each other. And that’s about all I had at that point. After eating we decided we’d get some sleep.

The bed frame wouldn’t get through the door, so we slept on a mattress on the floor.

[im-too-old-for-bts]

Instincts (Taehyung X Reader Oneshot)

Pairings: Taehyung X Reader

Genre: Smut, bit of angst i guess

Word Count: 3670

Summary: While Jin seems oblivious to your attempts at flirting, someone else has definitely taken notice...

AN: To the fellow noona who requested this particular topic: why do you hurt me so? Please have some consideration for my poor nerves. Seriously though, thank you so much for this request! This was such a nice topic and seeing as my patronus is Kim Taehyung I had no choice but to start with this one. I hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Masterlist

“It’s in my room. You should come see it.”

Your eyes widen at Jin’s words, the knife in your hand frozen above the fruit on the chopping board on the counter before you.

Sitting on a stool across the counter from you, Jungkook pauses with a chip halfway to his mouth, his eyes darting to yours.

On the couch behind him, Jimin’s head whips around to look at you and out of the corner of your eye Taehyung emerges from the fridge, a bottle of water in one hand and an amused look on his face.

Was it finally happening? After months of flirting, was Jin finally making a move?

Your eyes shoot between Jungkook’s open-mouthed stare and Jimin’s look of disbelief. Behind you, you can feel Taeyhyung’s gaze boring a hole into the back of your head.

The three of them were the only ones who knew about your feelings for Jin.

Well, to be honest, the three of them were the only ones who were unashamed to openly speak to you about your feelings for Jin. To your embarrassment, everyone else seemed just as knowledgeable about your feelings – everyone, that is, except Jin.

“Noona, you have to be a little more…” Jimin had said one day after you had tried particularly hard to catch Jin’s attention.

“Aggressive,” Jungkook had finished promptly.

“Aggressive?” you had repeated, awkwardly lowering yourself down to the couch, your tight dress not leaving much room for anything other than the occasional breath. “Look what I’m wearing. The only way this could be more aggressive was if it transparent.”

“Noona, I don’t know why you don’t just ask him out,” Taehyung had said  as he had settled down next to you on the couch.

“Oh, my sweet, beautiful child,” you had sighed, reaching up to run your fingers lovingly across the smooth, warm skin of his cheek. “So young. So naïve.”

“You’re only a couple of years older than us,” Taehyung had said, trying to bite at your hand. “The truth is you’re just too scared to ask him out, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you had admitted, pulling your hand away from Taehyung’s snapping teeth. “So I’ll just do what I always do: stare at the person I’m attracted to until they become uncomfortable.”

“Just be yourself, noona” Jimin had said, trying not to smile. “I’m sure he’ll realize what’s going on soon enough.”

That had been pretty solid advice. The only problem was, over the past two years that you had gotten to know the guys you’d only ever been yourself. You had first met them after you had moved into their apartment building.

You had been working as an au pair for the family that lived next door to them and you had seen them several times around the building.

The first few times had been incredibly harrowing. At first you had only seen Namjoon and Jin. The two of them alone had been enough to set you on edge. By the time you realized there were seven of them wandering around, you were barely clinging to sanity.

How were you supposed to concentrate on work when you kept bumping into seven unfairly attracted men as you begged a screaming three-year old not to pee on someone’s welcome mat? Luckily, they had all turned out to be incredibly friendly. And since you were all so close in age, you had instantly gotten along with all of them. You had made friends with Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung first, mostly due to Taehyung’s uncanny ability with children. It was thanks to him that several urine-related disasters had been avoided.

But Jin was the one that had caught your eye. He had been especially easy to get along with. It only took two conversations and one movie night with the guys for you to dive headlong into a crush. At first you had attempted to ignore your attraction to him. But as time passed and your friendship with the guys grew, so did your attraction to Jin.

When you had finally made a concentrated effort to start flirting with him, it had been a train wreck.

“Painful to watch,” Taehyung often said. “Just painful. Both of you are so inept. It’s like a train wreck happening on top of another train wreck.”

“And then a giant boulder falling on the two wrecks,” Jungkook had helpfully added.

“Yes, thank you,” you had said tightly to them. “Now that we know what it looks like, how do we make it better?”

The three youngest were the only ones you felt comfortable enough to talk to about this. It was difficult to feel embarrassed around them, given their boundless enthusiasm for just about everything. Jungkook and Jimin were especially eager to help; Taehyung less so.

He would often just sit and listen to you speak, an amused look on his face. He was also always ready to dole out wildly unhelpful advice.

“You make it better by scrapping the whole thing and moving to a new track,” Taehyung had said with a shrug. “New track, new train, new possibilities.”

“No, don’t listen to him,” Jimin had said, shooting Taehyung a look. “He’s just being funny.”

  “Let’s go have a look,” Jin says, climbing to his feet.

Your thoughts snap back to the present and you put the knife down as calmly as possible. You ignore the thrilled look Jungkook shoots Jimin and you follow Jin down the passage and into his room.

You’re grateful that Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi aren’t here to witness this. Any of the three of them would probably have been able to tell you exactly what to do to grab Jin’s attention. But they were too respectful to just butt in with unsolicited advice, and you were too embarrassed to ask them about it.

Who keeps a cookbook in their room? You wonder, excitement beginning to bubble in your stomach. Surely it was just an excuse to get you alone? What would he do when you got alone? Make a dramatic declaration while pushing you up against the closed door?

Your mind cycles pleasantly through the many scenarios you had envisioned happening between the two of you. Jin throwing you on the bed and ravishing you; Jin ripping your clothes off and pushing you onto the floor; Jin’s naked body as he-

Your unfocused gaze ambles up to Jin’s face where he gives you an impatient look from the doorway to his room.

“Quickly,” he says softly and your heart skips several beats.

When you get into the room Jin closes the door with a snap and gives you a serious look, his back to the door. Your mind begins to fog over as he steps closer to you. You can see the fine hair of his eyelashes and your lips part slightly in anticipation of the coming kiss.

Oh god, it’s happening.

“I need to hide it from Yoongi,” Jin mutters, stepping around you and kneeling before his bookshelf.

“Yes,” you breathe, your eyes fluttering closed.

Wait, what?

The foggy, tense excitement you’re feeling melts away and your eyes fly open just in time to see Jin pull a large cookbook out from the bottom shelf and take it to the bed.

“He’s a really good cook and if he gets his hands on this he’ll threaten my reputation as the best chef in the house,” Jin says, setting the book on his lap and patting the bed next to him. “Come see. This book is amazing.”

You move slowly to the bed and sit down stiffly next to Jin. Heat floods your face, but Jin is too absorbed in the book to notice. He moves half it onto your lap so you can get a better view.

“Okay,” he says, starting from the beginning. “Look at this. It begins with a little story about the author.”

Twenty minutes later you walk out of Jin’s room with your face still pink and a feeling of hopeless mortification slithering through your body.

Of course he wasn’t taking you to his room to have his dirty way with you. He really did just want to show you that stupid cookbook.

The only reason you had managed to escape the room was to tell him you needed the bathroom. Considering how slowly he had been paging through the book and how excited he had been to show you all the recipes, you would probably still be awkwardly sitting there several hours from now if you hadn’t made an excuse to leave.

When you had said you needed the bathroom Jin had responded with an absent, “hmm,” his full attention on a new recipe he had come across.

“I can do this,” you had heard him mumble under his breath when you had left the room. “I’ll need to check the ingredients and see if…”

You had closed the door softly and had taken a deep, rattling breath as you stood staring morosely down the passageway.

You didn’t want to return to the kitchen, not yet. You’d have to tell Jungkook and Jimin about what had happened and you could already see the barely-contained laughter on their faces.

Instead, you head for the nearest open door and collapse onto the bed before you. The room is neat and there’s a familiar, pleasant smell in the air but you can’t place it. You roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling. “Fuck me,” you whisper to yourself.

Clearly there was a lot about this situation that you needed to re-evaluate.

“Noona?” You lift your head slightly off the pillow and see Taehyung enter the room. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Dying,” you respond bleakly, your head lolling back against the pillow and your gaze back on the ceiling.

Taehyung closes the door quietly and moves to lie down next to you on the bed, the pleasant smell suddenly becoming much stronger.

“That bad, huh?” he says, his gaze on the ceiling too. “Was it too much spit? Hyung looks like he’d be a spitty kisser.”

“No,” you say with a sigh. “I mean, I don’t know. He could be a spitty kisser. But I didn’t get a chance to find out.”

“Just went straight to business?” he asks, looking surprised. “I would not have guessed that from Jin-hyung.”

“Not that either,” you mumble.

Taehyung stills. “Are you telling me he actually showed you a cookbook?”

“Yes.”

“Wow,” you can hear from Taehyung’s voice that the amused look is back on his face.

“I’m just going to leave it,” you say, closing your eyes. “It’s just not meant to be. He’s the wrong tree and I’m definitely the wrong dog.”

“Jungkook and Jimin are going to try to convince you to keep going,” Taehyung says. “They’ll say you just have to try a little harder.”

“No, fuck that,” you mutter, turning your head to look at him. After a second he turns his head to return your look. “You’re not going to try to convince me, though?”

“Nope,” he says, giving you a smile that could melt a glacier. “I never thought the two of you would make a good couple.”

“I thought we did,” you say miserably. “Right tree, right dog. Turns out…”

“Wrong tree, wrong dog,” Taehyung finishes, amusement back in his voice. “Don’t worry, your tree is out there and it’s closer than you think. Too bad you don’t have the best instincts when it comes to romance or you might have found it by now.”

“How dare you,” you say, reaching up to flick his nose. “I have the best instincts about all the romantic crap.”

Taehyung catches your hand as you move it back down to your side.

“I don’t think so,” he murmurs, bringing your hand up to his mouth and kissing the back of it.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the goose bumps that erupt over your arms at the feeling of his soft, warm lips against your skin.

You needed to pull yourself together. Taehyung was just being is normal, flirty self and you were being oversensitive.

“Is that to try to make me feel better?” you ask drily. “Because even a kiss from a prince charming like you won’t magically transform this awkward situation.”

Taehyung chuckles, his mouth still close enough to your hand that you can feel his lips brush softly against your skin. “So dramatic,” he says. “I wanted to show you how bad your instincts were.”

Your brows furrow together. “How does that sho-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Taehyung’s mouth leave the back of your hand and he takes one of your fingers and slowly slides it into his mouth.

Your mouth falls open as your body leaps to respond. The feeling of Taehyung’s warm tongue slowly sliding over your finger makes the muscles below your waist reflexively clench and the neat little room suddenly feels very hot and small.

“Taehyung,” you begin your voice slightly deeper than normal and a slight note of panic in your voice. You clear your throat lightly and try again, your eyes glued to the way your finger emerges wetly from his mouth.

“Tae,” you say, only this time your voice is even lower and instead of more words coming out of your mouth, your tongue darts out and you lick your lips, staring at his lips until your fingertip emerges slowly from his mouth.

Yes, noona?” he asks, shifting closer to you.

“We should…” you trail off as Taehyung leans forward, his nose rubbing softly over yours and his mouth almost painfully close to yours.

“What should we do?” he asks, his lips pressing softly against yours.

“Not… like…”

“Not like that?” he murmurs, pressing his mouth harder against yours. “Like this?”

The tip of his tongue teases its way between your lips and when it slowly slides it into your mouth you give up all rational thought and throw your arms around his neck, propelling yourself forward and tighter against his body.

Taehyung rolls you onto your back and stretches out on top of you, his mouth moving hotly over yours. After a few moments he sits up suddenly, breaking the kiss and causing you to let out a small noise of protestation.

“Do you like kissing me, noona?” he asks, looking down at you while he unbuttons your shirt.

“God help me, yes,” you say breathlessly. Taehyung’s fingers brush against your stomach as he undoes your shirt. “You’re undressing me,” you say, blinking up at him. “Why?”

“Right tree,” he says with a smirk. “Right dog.”

“Tae,” you whisper, reality biting at you. “I just got massively rejected by someone. If we do this, it will be like I’m taking advantage of you. Like I’m desperately looking for any sort of… anything… from anyone.”

“I’ve spent the last two years desperately looking for any sort of anything from you,” Taehyung replies softly. “If anyone’s taking advantage of what’s happened, it’s me.”

His fingers pause on your buttons. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your eyes stay locked on his and you hold your breath as your mind races through the possibilities of what was about to happen.

“No,” you eventually breathe, colour seeping back into your cheeks.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Taehyung sighs, leaning forward to bury his face in your neck. “I knew from the first moment I saw you that if anyone was going to be with you, it was going to be me.”

He finishes unbuttoning your shirt and his hands move slowly up and down your torso.

“I kept hoping Jin-hyung wouldn’t notice you flirting with him,” he whispers into your neck, his hands cupping around your breasts. You sigh at the feeling of his long fingers grazing softly over your nipples. “And he never did. I’m glad I’m the one that gets to see if my theory is true.”

“Theory?” you breathe, your skin starting to tingle as Taehyung’s lips begin to move slowly from your neck and down to your chest.

“Theory, yes,” he says, nuzzling your nipple through the thing material of your bra. “My theory is that you are someone who is very loud in bed.”

Taehyung’s tongue begins to lap slowly over your nipple through the fabric of your bra. “Am I right?” he asks, his tongue hot on your breast. “Are you loud?”

“No,” you sigh, your fingers lacing through his hair.

Taehyung suddenly clamps down on your nipple and you cry out, your back arching slightly.

“Such lies,” he says with a tut as he reaches under you to unclasp your bra and deftly pulls it off. He leans forward to run his tongue directly over your peak. “I’m going to make it very hard for you to keep quiet and I’m going to enjoy watching you struggle.”

Taehyung lifts his head and meets your eye, a mischievous look on his face. “Remember, noona, Jin-hyung is in the next room.  Don't scream if you don't want him to find out.”

Taehyung’s attention turns to your other nipple and you wrap your legs around his waist. “You think quite highly of your skills if you think you can make me scream,” you observe, your eyes closed as you savour the feeling of Taehyung’s mouth on you. He bites down on your nipple and this time you’re prepared, only letting out a muted groan when he does it.

“Very sneaky,” he murmurs, sitting up. He shifts away from you slightly to tug his shirt over his head but you stop him.

“Let me,” you say, sitting up. Taehyung’s grip on his shirt immediately loosens and he slips off the bed, pulling you to your feet with him.

For a second you feel self-conscious standing topless before him, but he leans forward and kisses you softly and electric desire pushes all other thoughts out of your mind. You pull his shirt over his head and immediately pull him back into a kiss, eager to feel his warm chest pressed against yours.

Your hands move down his body to his belt where you slowly begin to undo it. You pull away from the kiss to look down at your hands. It was like unwrapping a gift. Excitement begins to build feverishly in your body as you undo his belt and undo the button of his jeans open.

When you fingers secure around the zipper you look up at him, holding his gaze as you slowly pull it down. Taeyhyung’s breathing is heavy and a dark, heated look is on his face.

You move your hands to his hips and slowly push both his pants and underwear down. He steps out of them and you move your hand to slide slowly down his stomach and over his erection.

He sucks in a breath and watches as your hand flutters over him. His body is wiry and hard and your hands roam over his warm skin, tracing along his abodment and circling around his back to press him against you again.

His mouth is immediately back on yours and you push your hips against his, eager to feel his dick near your sensitive core. With his mouth still on yours, Taehyung pushes down your skirt and underwear and you kick them hurriedly away before rocking your hips against his.

Taehyung’s mouth moves up to your ear and you use the opportunity to press his dick between your legs, letting it lie heavy against your core.

You moan softly as you begin to rock against it, feeling his hard shaft just about rubbing against your clit.

Taehyung’s fingers dig into your hips and he moves you back to the bed, settling heavily on top of you.

“I can feel how wet you are,” he whispers into your ear and you angle your hips up to give him better access as he continues to massage your clit with his dick. “I bet I can make you come like this.”

“I’ll take that bet,” you respond breathlessly, your fingers pressing into his back and your eyes closed. “But you can’t use your fingers and you can’t go inside me, not yet.”

“Deal,” he murmurs. “Now what will I get if I win?”

“What do you want?” you ask, your toes starting to curl.

You knew you were going to come, but you had to at least try to make him work for it. Although, if negotiations took any longer the deal might be over before it even began.

“You,” he responds, biting at your earlobe. “You go on a date with me.”

“What?” you say, your eyes opening and your hips stilling. Taehyung’s hips stop moving too and he pulls back a little to look at you.

“A date,” he says with a shrug.

“Really?” you ask in disbelief. “A date? With me? Really?”

“Yes,” he says, amused. “Deal?”

When you don’t immediately respond Taehyung rolls his hips against you and the head of his cock slips deliciously over your clit.

“Ah, fuck,” you gasp, already resigning yourself to it losing this bet. “Yes, it’s a deal.”

“Good,” he says with a grin, his hands slipping down to your thighs to open your legs wider.

“Okay but what do I get if I make you come in the next minute?” Taehyung asks, his dick slipping away from your core as he looks up at you.

“Taehyung,” you groan loudly and he chuckles.

“Yes, just like that. See, I knew you were loud in bed. So if I make you come in the next minute you not only go out with me but scream my name as loud as you can, okay?”

Your disagreement is on the tip of your tongue but just as you’re about to say it, Taehyung’s hips roll hard against yours and his dick slides over your clit at just the right angle.

All thoughts evaporate from your mind and all words except one – a name – disappears from your vocabulary as white-hot pleasure crashes almost painfully through your body.

Our Masterlist :)

[jonasjjackson]

Dream Kitchen Remodel

Ursula Carmona of Homemade by Carmona transforms her dysfunctional kitchen into a culinary dream! With the help of The Home Depot, she takes on a kitchen remodel that exceeds her family’s needs.

Dream Kitchen Remodel

The kitchen should be a wonderful space that both inspires and enables a cook to dream up delectable dishes and execute culinary masterpieces. In my mind, the kitchen is where culture is celebrated, comfort and love are baked into goodies, and magic is made daily!

My kitchen was as far as could be from that dreamy space I envisioned. Maybe it was the pipes that were always leaking, or the dysfunctional appliances that didn’t work half the time, or the mouse family that moved into the lower cabinets, but I was not cooking in that horror show.

It was time for a change, and I couldn’t be happier with the results! Today I’m excited to share the process with you, and hopefully provide some tips for your kitchen remodel or renovation along the way!

Kitchen Inspiration, Design & Planning

The first thing I did was sit and make a list of high priority needs for my kitchen. As basic as it sounds, making a list of what you do in your kitchen, what you would like to do, plus everything you store there is an important first step. Later you’ll be glad you made a list.

Then you can start collecting inspiration. Save a collection of products and inspirational images on Pinterest that grab your attention…but be picky, only keep the ones that you really love. What about those pins speak to you? For me, these products really got my imagination flowing.

I knew I wanted something dramatic and moody. The deep blue cabinetry and black stainless-steel appliances really got my heart pitter-pattering.

After drafting an overview of what I needed, I headed to The Home Depot to meet with a kitchen designers.

The great thing about having professionals to come out to measure your space and working with a kitchen designer is they can make practical recommendations based on experience and expertise that will help accomplish all of your kitchen remodel goals.

Even though I thought I knew exactly what I wanted in style and function, it turned out the kitchen designer had an intricate understanding of details I would have overlooked. I met with the kitchen designer at my local Home Depot at least a couple times. Together we crafted a 3D floor plan that helped bring my vision to life!

Selecting The Right Finishes

The really fun part was selecting finishes and all the bells and whistles with the kitchen designer.

I knew I wanted Midnight hued cabinetry on my lowers, and Dove white on the uppers, but I had no idea there were so many other awesome features and options to choose from in the Kraftmaid product selection! We perused designs of the cabinet face, to texture and finish options, to hinge details, and more!

My kitchen designer even recommended some really incredible cabinet features that would help keep my family organized. I think all the drawer divider options and cabinet pullouts are my favorite.

We went with the Mandara Champagne gold knobs from Liberty, and a stunning champagne gold faucet by Delta that has a handy touch feature. They really pop against the dark cabinetry!

Cabinet finishes and hardware aren’t the only magical parts of the kitchen…did you see the quartz countertops? Swoon worthy, and practical!

After doing a lot of research, I determined that Silstone natural quartz really was the best choice for my family. With three girls who cook daily, I needed a durable, low-maintenance surface that holds up against scratching and the inevitable scorching.

Hey, I’m a busy, homeschooling mom who also runs my business out of my home, so I was completely sold when I heard Silstone quartz was maintenance-free and didn’t require sealing or any special cleaners to keep it beautiful. My time is very valuable to me.

There were a ton of amazing Silstone color options and textures, but once I saw the Calcutta Gold and it’s gorgeous veining, I knew that was the one for me.

When it was time to install the countertops and backsplash, the team did an amazing job and was in and out in a day.

The All-Star Appliances Lineup 

Often we have an idea of what we want our remodel to look like, so our time and research is spent on the selection of cabinets, counter tops and hardware, only to neglect the products that have the ability to make our cooking better and our lives easier.

Whatever you do, do not neglect appliance planning! Appliances are the stars of your kitchen, helping you craft your culinary genius.

Here are the appliances I chose, and why:

Samsung 27.9 cu. ft. Family Hub 4-Door French Door Smart Refrigerator

Fingerprint Resistant Black Stainless: This was an important feature to me since…well kids. But the black stainless blends SO well with the dark cabinetry. You’ll notice I chose to have all my appliances in this stylish finish.

4 Door + Flex Zone: Holy cow, the two freezer compartments can be turned into refrigerator space if needed! Flexibility equals perfection for all the big holiday gatherings at my home. Plus, I am a HUGE fan of the french doors instead of the freezer drawer…we don’t have to dig to find anything, it is all very organized and civilized.

Smart Hub Screen: Having what amounts to a computer in your refrigerator door is incredible! When we need to look up a recipe, there it is. We keep organized by syncing our family calendars and events. But my kids love that you can draw, listen to music, or even watch while making breakfast.

Samsung 30 in. Electric Steam Cook, Flex Duo Wall Oven Speed Cook Built-In Microwave

Flex Duo: They had me at flex… you can essentially have three whole ovens!! The main oven can be divided into two so you can cook two dishes at different temperatures. Plus, the incredibly spacious microwave turns into an actual oven!

Wifi Connectivity: I love that you can control and monitor your oven from your smartphone. When I am inviting someone over after church, I can turn my oven to warm so the food is ready at arrival!

Samsung 24 in Top Control Tall Tub WaterWall Dishwasher

Lower Energy & Water Usage: Well I’m practical, and with 5 people in the house consuming energy and water usage like there is no tomorrow, this means a lot to me.

Digital Leak Sensor: My last dishwasher overflowed several times and ruined the subfloors, so the fact that this dishwasher can shut itself off if it detects a leak even as small as 1 oz is amazing.

Flextray Racks: We all have different dish needs, and when hosting guests, we want our dishwasher to be able to handle any type of dish we throw at it!

 Samsung 36 in. Induction Cooktop and Wall Mount Range Hood

Touch Controls: Both the cooktop and the hood vent have touch controls with helpful features that making cooking easier. Such as the power boost and simmer options on the cooktop. I have never boiled water faster or more safely in my life!

Remote Monitor & Sync: I love that you can monitor your cooktop from your smartphone, and even sync the cooktop and range hood so it turns on automatically when the burner turns on.

Cooktop Flex Zone: Again, all things flex are a great thing! Having a flexible burner that can handle any size, shape, or number of pots I use is truly fantastic!

I hope all my research and focus on features we find helpful will be helpful for you as well.

The Renovation Process

You’re seeing all the gorgeous after shots, but wait! You can’t fully appreciate how magical it is until you see the process it went through to get there. Renovations can be both exciting and frustrating all the same time.

My renovation was rather extensive since I had damage to my subfloors, and the bubbling wood panelling on the walls had to be removed. It was thrilling to see all the old ugly things get ripped out of the space and a fresh new space slowly appear.

I also did some structural work to help open up the kitchen into the previously unused dining room. This increased function of the space. Adding an island allowed plenty of room between the kitchen and dining room to seat guests in one space.

Because we were eliminating a wall where cabinets and a pantry once resided, it was important to make sure we not only reclaimed, but increased the amount of storage. My kitchen designer ensured that was taken into account when we created the new arrangement of the cabinets and island.

The Key To A Positive Reno Experience

My renovation was going to take longer than most (at months as opposed to weeks). I quickly learned quite a few sanity saving tricks to help get us through a stressful period without our kitchen.

Honestly, every trick in the book doesn’t compare to having a team of professional people you trust to get the job done right, and in as timely a manner as possible.

I shared in my Insta Stories some of our misadventures as they occurred. The Home Depot installation teams and even the delivery teams kept my spirits high. We laughed, joked, and they patiently answered every question I had, while offering a solution to every problem we encountered. I even snapped pictures together with some of the crew when it was all said and done. We even had high fives all around once we solved what felt like the unsolvable! Guys, I actually had a blast…it made the unexpected obstacles and months without a kitchen tolerable.

Still, I am relieved it is all over now.

Cooking In My New Kitchen

I can hardly believe it is finally finished and that this is my kitchen! I feel like I stepped into the pages of a magazine, or won the lottery.

All the careful planning and optimal appliance selections really payed off in a beautiful and highly functional kitchen. Every cabinet is designed to best store every small appliance, food item and other cooking gear in a neat and organized manner. Plus, our main appliances have enriched our cooking experience, making meals a breeze, and dinnertime the right kind of adventure!

To start designing your dream kitchen, check out The Home Depot’s Kitchen Design Services. For more kitchen inspiration, follow the The Home Depot blog.

The post Dream Kitchen Remodel appeared first on The Home Depot Blog.

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Dream Kitchen Remodel https://ift.tt/2PEfR51

Ursula Carmona of Homemade by Carmona transforms her dysfunctional kitchen into a culinary dream! With the help of The Home Depot, she takes on a kitchen remodel that exceeds her family’s needs.

Dream Kitchen Remodel

The kitchen should be a wonderful space that both inspires and enables a cook to dream up delectable dishes and execute culinary masterpieces. In my mind, the kitchen is where culture is celebrated, comfort and love are baked into goodies, and magic is made daily!

My kitchen was as far as could be from that dreamy space I envisioned. Maybe it was the pipes that were always leaking, or the dysfunctional appliances that didn’t work half the time, or the mouse family that moved into the lower cabinets, but I was not cooking in that horror show.

It was time for a change, and I couldn’t be happier with the results! Today I’m excited to share the process with you, and hopefully provide some tips for your kitchen remodel or renovation along the way!

Kitchen Inspiration, Design & Planning

The first thing I did was sit and make a list of high priority needs for my kitchen. As basic as it sounds, making a list of what you do in your kitchen, what you would like to do, plus everything you store there is an important first step. Later you’ll be glad you made a list.

Then you can start collecting inspiration. Save a collection of products and inspirational images on Pinterest that grab your attention…but be picky, only keep the ones that you really love. What about those pins speak to you? For me, these products really got my imagination flowing.

I knew I wanted something dramatic and moody. The deep blue cabinetry and black stainless-steel appliances really got my heart pitter-pattering.

After drafting an overview of what I needed, I headed to The Home Depot to meet with a kitchen designers.

The great thing about having professionals to come out to measure your space and working with a kitchen designer is they can make practical recommendations based on experience and expertise that will help accomplish all of your kitchen remodel goals.

Even though I thought I knew exactly what I wanted in style and function, it turned out the kitchen designer had an intricate understanding of details I would have overlooked. I met with the kitchen designer at my local Home Depot at least a couple times. Together we crafted a 3D floor plan that helped bring my vision to life!

Selecting The Right Finishes

The really fun part was selecting finishes and all the bells and whistles with the kitchen designer.

I knew I wanted Midnight hued cabinetry on my lowers, and Dove white on the uppers, but I had no idea there were so many other awesome features and options to choose from in the Kraftmaid product selection! We perused designs of the cabinet face, to texture and finish options, to hinge details, and more!

My kitchen designer even recommended some really incredible cabinet features that would help keep my family organized. I think all the drawer divider options and cabinet pullouts are my favorite.

We went with the Mandara Champagne gold knobs from Liberty, and a stunning champagne gold faucet by Delta that has a handy touch feature. They really pop against the dark cabinetry!

Cabinet finishes and hardware aren’t the only magical parts of the kitchen…did you see the quartz countertops? Swoon worthy, and practical!

After doing a lot of research, I determined that Silstone natural quartz really was the best choice for my family. With three girls who cook daily, I needed a durable, low-maintenance surface that holds up against scratching and the inevitable scorching.

Hey, I’m a busy, homeschooling mom who also runs my business out of my home, so I was completely sold when I heard Silstone quartz was maintenance-free and didn’t require sealing or any special cleaners to keep it beautiful. My time is very valuable to me.

There were a ton of amazing Silstone color options and textures, but once I saw the Calcutta Gold and it’s gorgeous veining, I knew that was the one for me.

When it was time to install the countertops and backsplash, the team did an amazing job and was in and out in a day.

The All-Star Appliances Lineup 

Often we have an idea of what we want our remodel to look like, so our time and research is spent on the selection of cabinets, counter tops and hardware, only to neglect the products that have the ability to make our cooking better and our lives easier.

Whatever you do, do not neglect appliance planning! Appliances are the stars of your kitchen, helping you craft your culinary genius.

Here are the appliances I chose, and why:

Samsung 27.9 cu. ft. Family Hub 4-Door French Door Smart Refrigerator

Fingerprint Resistant Black Stainless: This was an important feature to me since…well kids. But the black stainless blends SO well with the dark cabinetry. You’ll notice I chose to have all my appliances in this stylish finish.

4 Door + Flex Zone: Holy cow, the two freezer compartments can be turned into refrigerator space if needed! Flexibility equals perfection for all the big holiday gatherings at my home. Plus, I am a HUGE fan of the french doors instead of the freezer drawer…we don’t have to dig to find anything, it is all very organized and civilized.

Smart Hub Screen: Having what amounts to a computer in your refrigerator door is incredible! When we need to look up a recipe, there it is. We keep organized by syncing our family calendars and events. But my kids love that you can draw, listen to music, or even watch while making breakfast.

Samsung 30 in. Electric Steam Cook, Flex Duo Wall Oven Speed Cook Built-In Microwave

Flex Duo: They had me at flex… you can essentially have three whole ovens!! The main oven can be divided into two so you can cook two dishes at different temperatures. Plus, the incredibly spacious microwave turns into an actual oven!

Wifi Connectivity: I love that you can control and monitor your oven from your smartphone. When I am inviting someone over after church, I can turn my oven to warm so the food is ready at arrival!

Samsung 24 in Top Control Tall Tub WaterWall Dishwasher

Lower Energy & Water Usage: Well I’m practical, and with 5 people in the house consuming energy and water usage like there is no tomorrow, this means a lot to me.

Digital Leak Sensor: My last dishwasher overflowed several times and ruined the subfloors, so the fact that this dishwasher can shut itself off if it detects a leak even as small as 1 oz is amazing.

Flextray Racks: We all have different dish needs, and when hosting guests, we want our dishwasher to be able to handle any type of dish we throw at it!

 Samsung 36 in. Induction Cooktop and Wall Mount Range Hood

Touch Controls: Both the cooktop and the hood vent have touch controls with helpful features that making cooking easier. Such as the power boost and simmer options on the cooktop. I have never boiled water faster or more safely in my life!

Remote Monitor & Sync: I love that you can monitor your cooktop from your smartphone, and even sync the cooktop and range hood so it turns on automatically when the burner turns on.

Cooktop Flex Zone: Again, all things flex are a great thing! Having a flexible burner that can handle any size, shape, or number of pots I use is truly fantastic!

I hope all my research and focus on features we find helpful will be helpful for you as well.

The Renovation Process

You’re seeing all the gorgeous after shots, but wait! You can’t fully appreciate how magical it is until you see the process it went through to get there. Renovations can be both exciting and frustrating all the same time.

My renovation was rather extensive since I had damage to my subfloors, and the bubbling wood panelling on the walls had to be removed. It was thrilling to see all the old ugly things get ripped out of the space and a fresh new space slowly appear.

I also did some structural work to help open up the kitchen into the previously unused dining room. This increased function of the space. Adding an island allowed plenty of room between the kitchen and dining room to seat guests in one space.

Because we were eliminating a wall where cabinets and a pantry once resided, it was important to make sure we not only reclaimed, but increased the amount of storage. My kitchen designer ensured that was taken into account when we created the new arrangement of the cabinets and island.

The Key To A Positive Reno Experience

My renovation was going to take longer than most (at months as opposed to weeks). I quickly learned quite a few sanity saving tricks to help get us through a stressful period without our kitchen.

Honestly, every trick in the book doesn’t compare to having a team of professional people you trust to get the job done right, and in as timely a manner as possible.

I shared in my Insta Stories some of our misadventures as they occurred. The Home Depot installation teams and even the delivery teams kept my spirits high. We laughed, joked, and they patiently answered every question I had, while offering a solution to every problem we encountered. I even snapped pictures together with some of the crew when it was all said and done. We even had high fives all around once we solved what felt like the unsolvable! Guys, I actually had a blast…it made the unexpected obstacles and months without a kitchen tolerable.

Still, I am relieved it is all over now.

Cooking In My New Kitchen

I can hardly believe it is finally finished and that this is my kitchen! I feel like I stepped into the pages of a magazine, or won the lottery.

All the careful planning and optimal appliance selections really payed off in a beautiful and highly functional kitchen. Every cabinet is designed to best store every small appliance, food item and other cooking gear in a neat and organized manner. Plus, our main appliances have enriched our cooking experience, making meals a breeze, and dinnertime the right kind of adventure!

To start designing your dream kitchen, check out The Home Depot’s Kitchen Design Services. For more kitchen inspiration, follow the The Home Depot blog.

The post Dream Kitchen Remodel appeared first on The Home Depot Blog.

Ursula Carmona

[sarahburness]

Sensitivity Means Passion, Not Weakness

“The fact that you’re struggling doesn’t make you a burden. It doesn’t make unlovable, undesirable, or undeserving of care. It doesn’t make you too much or too sensitive or too needy. It makes you human. “ ~Daniell Koepke

A while back, during one of my therapy sessions, I became acquainted with the word “dysthymia.”

I was puzzled at first, but as my therapist dug deeper into the subject, I realized that complex-sounding term was, in fact, a birth name to the grizzly monster that has been shadowing me for years. It’s more commonly known as persistent depressive disorder.

I can’t exactly remember the onset of an extended period when I felt lower than usual. It might have sneaked in unnoticed in my early teens and grown out of proportion since then. It might have been born with me. I have no idea.

All I know is, I’ve had a pervading sense of hopelessness long enough to convince myself that something was wrong. It’s only natural for a child to feel threatened by the world around them. At least that’s how I felt, day in and day out.

I was told it would only be a matter of time until I grew out of it and became a self-assured woman. Well, I’m twenty years old and this day has never come, and I’ll tell you, the old times were paradise. I was lucky to have my parents’ back in every situation, and the thought of loosening my grip on their protection with the passing years was a scary prospect.

Inevitably, I grew up and things didn’t get any easier.

My generalized fear mingled with an endless hunt for the meaning behind words, people’s actions, and even life itself. The existential nature of these questions made it impossible for me to get concrete answers, which overloaded my brain with the untold possibilities, thus fueling an anxiety disorder.

Being an avid gobbler of pills and a depression sufferer herself, my mother suggested that I went to a psychiatrist. As expected, at sixteen I left the doctor’s office with an antidepressant prescription in hand, as I doubted both my sanity and worth.

In a different session, I can recall my therapist drawing a chart of sorts, in order to illustrate my situation: she traced three parallel horizontal lines and named them “euphoria,” “neutrality,” and “depression,” from top to bottom.

She then drew a squiggly line with stable highs and lows, yet mostly focused in the area between depression and neutrality. What that means is I’m bound to feel down most days, with the occasional bout of gloom and/or cheerfulness, depending on the situation. The mood sways aren’t fickle; they’re usually curbed into the same spectrum, but still, sometimes I wish the ups would last longer.

“Don’t worry, that is very common in highly sensitive people,” she said to me. “Now that you’ve named that feeling, it will become easier to deal with.”

At the time, that wasn’t helpful at all. Why did my personality have to be built this way? Would I have to deal with this for the rest of my life? That’s not what I came here for!

I developed an unhealthy habit of comparison, as I envied the life of every extroverted and confident person I knew, even if that meant scrolling through their social media pages (which, let’s face it, makes everyone seem at the top of their game on a daily basis).

For months on end I tried to stick to a fully positive lifestyle. Spoiler alert: I was doing it wrong. It took me a while to recognize that I didn’t have to be happy all the time nor rebuff my icky moments in exchange for a phony, dimmed spark of sunshine. I felt something was missing.

I was in denial. I was rejecting myself, whom I’ll have to spend the rest of my days with whether I want to or not. Little did I know, refusing who I was wouldn’t do anything for me; it would only hinder the process of acceptance.

All I had to do was skew my perspective, bit by bit. And I did, with the help of unexpected sources and events.

Sensitivity Means Passion

During a recent conversation with my brother, I came to the slow realization that I might have underrated what can prove itself to be a powerful attribute.

His girlfriend had broken up with him, and his devastation was painful to watch. However, his main objection was that he felt guilty for “feeling too much while she felt way less.” I could identify with him at that moment.

He would beat himself up and judge his past actions, wishing he could go back and suppress the excess emotion he poured into the relationship. Anyone who’s familiar with him would advise him to never change for a girl, and that the right one would see this supposed “defect” as a major quality.

Being his twin sister, of course we’d share some traits– besides in appearance. And that’s it: we feel too much. Too much of everything, whether it be the pain of a heartbreak or the delight of succeeding at something, for instance.

In discussing life’s matters, we’ve both agreed upon the fact that oftentimes we may be taken up entirely by emotion, to the point where even gazing at the stars opens our minds to an immensity of otherworldly interpretations. How amazing is that?

Besides, we’re eager seekers of beauty in the little things and lovers of kindness. That depth in our mindset is what allows us to express everything so thoroughly, especially through writing and other kinds of art.

What was supposed to be a wallowing session ended up giving us a different view of ourselves. Needless to say, we finished the conversation feeling way better than when we started it.

See It for What It Is: Just A Trait

About three years ago, something interesting came in the mail. One of my aunts resides in England, and she sends gifts every so often. This particular time, she had a special present for me.

It was a book, but not just any book. It was a self-help book called The Highly Sensitive Person, written by Dr. Elaine N. Aron. It had highlighted passages and comments scribbled all over it, as if Auntie wanted me to pay special attention to them.

I might have rolled my eyes at first, but that’s part of my proud nature. Also, never in my seventeen years had I read a self-help book, so I decided to give it a reluctant try in case she asked about it later and I had to whip off a review. I started reading, and to my surprise, it felt like staring at a mirror.

The book, first published in 1996, promotes the de-stigmatization around sensitive people, often mislabeled as weak, shy, and even antisocial, to name a few labels. It has offered me the best advice I’ve been given, from someone who has been through similar struggles.

It counts on interviews with hundreds of people like me—perhaps like you, too—who have offered their experience as HSPs. Their stories prove that we are not alone and that being sensitive makes us unique in our own ways; we just have to make an effort to see that amidst the haze of society telling us we’re somehow abnormal.

I can relate to my aunt on many levels, especially because we have strikingly similar personalities, which is always a recurrent topic during family reunions. At some point in her life she had the same doubts I do now—she felt unfitting and lost. She gets me, and she made sure I had that in mind by giving me that book.

“Think about the impact on you of not being the ideal for your culture. It has to affect you—not only how others have treated you but how you have come to treat yourself.” ~Elaine N. Aron. Ph. D.

For the first time in a while, I accepted my wholeness. I felt an overdue relief in being myself, comforted to know that being dysthymic and highly sensitive by no means indicates than I’m worse than everybody else.

I’m still coming to terms with my fragile essence. I haven’t left therapy or the medications, and I may need them for the rest of my life, who knows? Even so, in researching alternative ways to cope with my anxiety I stumbled across several posts that swore by meditation, so I decided to give it a shot—and it worked like magic!

I meditate for at least ten minutes daily, and the practice has helped diminish common anxious and depressive symptoms, such as a fast heartbeat and racing thoughts. This happens due to meditation’s scientifically suggested power to positively modify our brains—yes, it’s possible! If combined with consistent daily activities such as exercising or anything that sparks creativity, it becomes a strong healing method.

The good news is, my sensitivity has ceased to be a problem. Whenever it wants in, I won’t slam the door, I’ll just invite it in for a cup of coffee instead. Maybe acceptance is all it needs to rest cozy in my chest.

About Laila Resende

Laila is a Brazilian Portuguese/English student and full-time dreamer. She holds a deep passion for writing and aspires to make a difference to those who feel detached from this crazy, yet wonderful world we live in. You can find her blog at thoughtinventory.home.blog.

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