#this was about my most recent post and Lo and Wash

[sixcrowsbooks]

Oh, this is very sweet to me, thank you :’)

[blsm-m]

It proves that even men with quirky personal style love quality, classic clothing. To say Chris Pine's personal style is a social media sensation would be an understatement. The actor, who once looked like he stepped out of a silicone ice mold in Leading Man, has been photographed for years now exuding an eccentric, carefree energy in his clothes and hairstyles. From bright red shorts paired with colorful thigh-length hippie sweaters to ruffled shirts and velvet blazers, Pine's looks are frequently praised or frowned upon by TikTok users and the fashion media elite. During a recent appearance on Jimmy Kimmel, the host described Pine's personal aesthetic as "eccentric," and mainstay Guillermo showed up in a recreation of the thrift-store soup-inspired outfit Pine wears to Langer's Deli, a pastrami specialty restaurant in Los Angeles. [embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QkWBu5Eog20[/embed] But it wasn't the outlandish outfit that caught my eye, it was the outfit he wore on a recent recording session. Dax Shepard's Armchair Expert Podcast: In a post-interview photo shared with the podcast, Pine wasn't dressed in a motley outfit, but rather in an incredibly classic and casual summer look. Wearing a medium blue denim trucker jacket, a white T-shirt, tucked into puffy khaki trousers, and a brown braided belt, Pine exuded a timeless '80s-influenced look that, with a few tweaks, could look great at any age. This makes sense, since Pine has previously cited 1980s-era Tom Selleck and Harrison Ford as his style heroes. Here, I've recreated the look twice, first with pieces that more closely match what he's wearing, and then with pieces I already own, proving that style inspiration doesn't have to be 1:1 and that putting together an outfit is much easier. Reconstruction: Denim jacket: Levi's (Collage/Worn)White T-shirt: Buck Mason (Collage / Wear) / Amazon (Dollars) Straight/Classic Fit Chino: J.Crew (Collage) / Nautica (Worn) / Double RL Officer Chino ($$$)belt: LLBean Woven Belt (collage) clock: Rectangular Seiko (Collage) / Vintage Timex (worn) / Orient Bambino (Dollars)sunglasses: Hackberry (Collage) / Christopher Crews (wearing) / Amazon (Dollars)loafers: Florsheim (Worn, updated version) Pine's outfit features a vintage-inspired rectangular dress watch. Though the style has fallen out of popularity since the '90s, it has otherwise been worn by well-dressed men with a refined menswear aesthetic almost every other decade. The watch and braided leather strap give the outfit a decidedly '80s/retro aesthetic. It's also something of an heirloom, which is why I chose my late grandfather's mid-20th century Timex for my personal makeover. He also mixes black and brown in this outfit, which I don't have a problem with. It just so happens that my remake didn't feature any black at all. My sunglasses, belt (not braided), watch strap, and loafers are all unintentionally similar browns. A more adventurous guy might want to break it up, but it works just fine as is. Perhaps the most tricky thing about this look is the tucked-in t-shirt, which was a big no-no for anyone who defined their style in the '90s and 2000s, including me. Similar to what I thought about the light-wash denim pieces, as the overall cultural aesthetic becomes increasingly casual, a detail like a tucked-in t-shirt can dramatically change the feel of the rest of the outfit, making it more polished. See how Primer contributor Daniel Baraka styled a tucked-in white t-shirt: You can wear this outfit anywhere in Los Angeles. Tuck in a T-shirt, wear loafers, and you'll feel like the most stylish guy in the room. A denim jacket, T-shirt, and chinos is a smart uniform starter. Switch to brown boots, leave the T-shirt untucked, and you'll go from 1980s polish to casual, laid-back. This isn't a right or wrong decision, but a decision to use small details to augment your uniform starter to fit what you're trying to achieve. I'm personally not one to wear big black sunglasses, so

I recently swapped them for a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses that I always wear when I leave the house. In the Armchair Expert photo, Pine's shoes are not visible. In my current personal style, penny loafers are a decidedly summery choice, given the khaki trousers and "classic" feel of the outfit. White sneakers would also work, but you'd have to check whether they look too bright when paired with a white t-shirt. Suede chukka boots or appropriate sandals would also work well. What do you think? Let's chat in the comments! function loadFBE()console.log('load fb pix'); document.removeEventListener('scroll',loadFBEsc);document.removeEventListener('mousemove',loadFBE); !function(f,b,e,v,n,t, s) if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments); if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0'; n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window,document,'script', 'https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js'); fbq('init', '501747083364621'); fbq('track','PageView') function loadFBEsc()if(window.scrollY>57)loadFBE()document.addEventListener('scroll',loadFBEsc);document.addEventListener('mousemove',loadFBE)

[whats-wild-to-you]

ALL IN (Jay Park fiction)

[Chapter 1]

Back To The Roots

Min Ah

It's been a month since I moved to Korea. Everything was foreign, the food inedible and my social life practically nonexistent. It was work - sleep, work - sleep. Every day.

"I hate it here!" I spat into the phone, chewing on my last bite of toast, washing it down with some coffee.

My sister on the other end chuckled. "You'll get used to it."

"There's nothing I wanna get used to here, Ji Hyun!"

"It'll get better", she doubled down which infuriated me even more.

"You're not helping!"

"What do you want me to say? Pack your bags and come home?"

The thought had crossed my mind. Several times, actually. But I wasn't a quitter. Ji Hyun knew that too.

"You know I can't do that!"

"Then give it time! It'll get better, I promise."

With a heavy sigh I agreed before hanging up. Peeking at the clock, I knew I had exactly 30 minutes left to get to work and I was almost certain I would end up being late. Again. Not that anyone cared if I was late. Half the staff didn't even know I existed and the other half thought my name was Hye Jin."

When I exited the elevator and walked the corridor down towards my office, there was someone who stood in front of the locked door.

"Can I help you?"

"Are you Ms. Song?"

"Yes..?"

"Well, first of all, you're late. We need to talk."

I apologized, unlocking the door and allowing the older male to go in first. "Please, sit."

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

Again, it was my turn to apologize. "I've only been here for a month. There are so many people employed here, I'm afraid it'll take me some time to learn all of the names."

"Don't bother! The only people you need to know by name are the CEO and myself. I'm Lee Chang Wook."

"Nice to finally meet you." I had actually heard a lot about this man. He was a living legend around here.

"I've heard a lot about you, Ms. Song."

"Umm.."

"You were a hotshot lawyer in Los Angeles, your clientele consisted of movie stars and your monthly salary was six figures, I believe. You were regularly invited to the most exclusive parties in Hollywood, too. So why are you here, doing subpar work?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I mean, there must be a reason why you left that glamorous life behind."

"Not really, I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"So, there's no one after you?"

"Not that I know." I said, unable to stifle a laugh.

"Then I have an offer for you. One of our high profile clients requested an additional lawyer and I recommended you."

"High profile, you say?"

"The firm recently started working with him. I can't disclose any details if you don't accept first."

I leaned back in my seat. High profile usually meant more work. And more money, too.

But what if it was some crooked politician?

"Can I answer you tomorrow?"

"Of course. Come find me in my office. And Ms. Song?"

"Yes?"

"Don't be late again."

"I won't, Mr. Lee."

The day flew by fast and by 7pm I put all files away, grabbed my bag and left the office. Like every day, I stopped at the same restaurant on my way home and took dinner to go. It was usually a noodle dish of some sort.

Back at home, I switched from office attire to comfy home wear and had dinner in front of the tv. I was bored out of my mind but didn't have the guts to get dolled up and go out for dinner and drinks alone. After all, I knew no one in Seoul. I had to admit, all co-workers were nice and polite but no one ever asked me to join them on their daily after-work outings.

"So? What do you say? Should I accept?"

"I mean, why not?"

"I don't know who that client is though."

"Is that a problem?"

"No. Not really."

"Then do it! Say yes!"

"Hmm. I'll probably accept, yes."

I yawned audibly into the phone, which made Ji Hyun laugh.

"You're getting old! What time is it over there, anyway? It's only 10pm, isn't it?"

"Walking around Seoul all day is exhausting!"

"Might wanna consider buying a car."

"Hmmm."

"Alright. Good night sis. And keep me posted on the mystery client."

"Will do. Love you. Good night."

[gingersnappe-9]

Quisiera: Growing Pains (2)

Javier Peña / F!Reader; Post Narcos

Masterlist || Series List || Taglist Form || PREVIOUS || NEXT

1.9K words

Summary: You have a lot on your mind. You never expected Javi to be one of them. But that's nothing a good soak can't fix, right?

Warnings: mention of loss of parent & degenerative diseases, minor depictions of sexual thoughts, minor profanity

A/N: because I'm a major dork, and no one asked, I created the floor plan for the reader's house and my friend @followwhereshegoes designed it in Sims for me. The photos are at the end of the chapter. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Your hair blew in the wind as you drove your work-beaten Ford F-250 home. Papers from a long day of checking up on animals and livestock fluttered beneath your now empty thermos for coffee. Your head bobbed with the familiar bumps and turns of the road as you drove home. The ride wasn��t unlike it had been any other day, but as you pulled into your driveway and peaked to the left and you knew he would be there. You had known for a few weeks now that Javi had been back. On a courtesy visit for Don Jesús -- Javi’s dad -- he had mentioned his son might be returning to Texas soon. That had to have been roughly two, maybe three months ago?

You never thought you would see him again. The kid who always thought he knew best. The one who was so sure of himself and that the world was his oyster. You weren’t surprised that he didn’t recognize you though. That was Javi you grew up with. This Javier was different. It was plain to see that he carried a weight with him. Knowing the things he knew, holding on to whatever he’d done in the back of his mind now and forever. He wasn’t the bright and shiny version of Javi you once knew, but he was still as golden as ever.

As you hopped out of the car and twirled the keys on your finger, you were beyond satisfied at your decision to postpone your reunion with Javi. Crossing the threshold of your house you recalled how panicked he looked. The quick flashes of “oh shit” in his eyes before he masked his uncertainty with precision and a charming smile. To others, he played it off fine, but you knew Javi before he was Agent Peña. You’d practically grown up with him so you were privy to those subtle tells.

Javi’s abuelos moved to be closer to their son and his family. His grandparents and your parents met in English class after they moved to America and the families stayed close ever since. Javi’s family was from Mexico, and yours came from Colombia. Each of your tíos and tías helped watch and raise you and your primos. While most of your blood relatives were still in Colombia, you loved your found family here in the States. All of the birthdays spent in one another’s backyards with copious amounts of candy that came pouring out of piñatas. Big Christmas gatherings with mountains of food like ponche, pozole verde, and dulcitos like your favorite manjar blanco. Above all, you remember the laughter.

You laughed so much as a child. Someone could look at you in such a way and you would have burst out into a fit of giggles and happy squeals. It was a bittersweet thing to recall. Things were just… different now. You grew up. Life changed, you certainly had.

This was the home your parents had built not too long after they came to America. You still felt like a little kid playing house sometimes. Being the sole occupant felt strange after the years you spent growing up with the place bursting with laughter, people, and above all love. But life changed. Your mother had died of a heart attack the year before you finished vet school. Ten years back, your father was diagnosed with early onset dementia and it was left to you to make the hard decision of placing him in a nursing home. You couldn’t care for him with the hours you worked at the clinic, and you didn’t think your heart could bear seeing the man you admired slowly fade away. It made you feel awful to admit, but there was only so much a heart could take. It could’ve been different if you still had your mamá, but it was just you.

Your body hitched a bit as you bent over to pull the dirt caked boots off your feet. Growing up is fun, they said. They never mentioned anything about rapid onset aches and pains once you passed thirty. You loved being a vet, you loved taking care of horses and all manner of livestock; being there for the folks who relied on you, but man alive was it taxing on the body.

As you padded your way into the study just to the left of the front door, you dropped the excess paperwork and lunch pale on your desk; your boots onto the old mat so as to not spread anymore dirt in the house. Trying your best to properly file away your paperwork, billing receipts and lists of future visits, you found your mind wandering back to Javier.

The wonderful way his bone structure had sharpened with age. Yeah he was a good looking teenage boy -- a bit on the thin side, but strong in body and mind -- but this version of Javi was a stud. His skin was naturally tanner than some, but it was even more bronzed by the sun from his time down in Colombia. A man with strong looking hands that wrapped the circumference of the tumbler glass filled with neat whiskey meanwhile yours could only manage to get around halfway. You were extremely annoyed at how he could pull off a damn mustache without looking like a creep. Finding that you were spending far too much time thinking about Javier Peña rather than getting your ass ready for bed, you set off on your nightly routine.

Pushing yourself up and out of the desk chair was more tiresome than you would have liked to admit, but not impossible. You then opened the door that led into your bedroom. It still felt a bit weird to call it your bedroom after all this time.

You had redecorated the place to your tastes. The main bedroom now had a beautiful four post bed with pleated gossamer drapes around the posts. The warm wood bureau and doors matched the deep trim of the window sills and frames throughout the house. You removed your everyday jewelry and placed them in the little wooden dishes you had bought in Colombia the last time you visited. You had just turned twenty two then, and didn’t care to remember how old you were now. Admiring the fine artistry of the delicately carved lines and lacquered scenery of a village always brought back fine memories, summers spent in a home away from home. Peeling off your work clothes proved a bit more challenging now that your muscles and bones had started to stiffen from the wear of the workday. You walked into your bathroom as naked as the day you were born, a small perk of having moved into the main bedroom since it had an ensuite bathroom.

After the long day, a shower just didn’t seem like it was going to cut it. You pivoted to the left and began to draw a steaming hot bath. A few drops of essential oil were splashed into the piping hot water. Your abuelita did always say, “Medicina cuando la necesita, pero los remedios naturales siempre son los mejores.”

Medicine when you need it, but natural remedies are always best.

Once the tub was filled as high as it could go and still accommodate your body, the taps were shut off, and you slipped into the warm bliss. The water worked its magic while you turned on a small radio that sat on the windowsill. It was tuned in to some station based in Mexico that always played música rancheras. You were a self-proclaimed “old soul” and loved your parents' generational music. It was a not-so-guilty-pleasure for you. Even when you were younger, some of the other kids made fun of you for not liking the more modern music. But your mom always reassured you it was because you were un romántico. A romantic.

The soulful melodies and elegant guitar echoed through the steam from the bath as your aches and pains were softly pulled from your bones. The sky outside the window was a dusty pink muddled with orange. The heat from the bath was wonderful. Your mind wandered ever farther as you sunk deeper into relaxation. Tonight was one of those evenings you imagined someone else in the tub with you, it was one of the reasons you’d thrown in a couple extra bucks when you redid the bathroom. You imagined leaning against their chest, them running their hands up and down the inner part of your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you wanted their touch the most.

Big and strong hands. Ones that weren’t afraid to leave an imprint, a reminder of their presence. Your cheeks flushed at the thought of them gently pressing and squeezing into your thighs, chest, and hips. The fantasy completed itself when you put a face to this mystery man.

Warm brown eyes, a well-defined jaw, somewhat pouty lips that practically begged you to kiss them with a fucking mustache of all things. You imagined the sound of his voice right next to your ear, whispering dirty things while he continued to paw at your body with confidence. The fresh recall of your most recent conversation made the day dream seem all the more real. It was intimate, enticing. You hadn't had any real boyfriend in a while and with the luscious way the water lapped over your skin, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together unconsciously as his conjured words echoed in your mind.

You feel so soft, Armorsita. Do you like when I touch you here, baby? Oh, you do. I can tell. Mi dama. Tell me. Tell me how much you like it, how much you love being mine. Let me have you, all of you. Let me show you just how much I love touching you right…

Your mind snapped back when your head slipped from its perch on the back of the tub. The room felt steamier than it had before even as the water temperature had dipped to lukewarm.

Was I really just fantasizing about Javier Peña of all people?

It was official then. You needed to get into bed and sleep off whatever delusions these were and come back to reality.

Fully washed and dried, you finished your routine by lathering yourself in your favorite lavender body lotion. Your body felt much better without the thin layer of Texas dust smothering your skin. Something different, however, clouded your mind, or rather, someone. It was a bit alarming how easily Javier permeated your idle thoughts. The encounter suddenly became very clear.

Why did you say goodnight as sultry as you did? Was that even sultry? Why do I keep thinking about it being “sultry”?

Your mind recalled the brief moment your lips touched his cheek. It wasn’t unlike any other time you kissed a friend goodbye. You’d been doing it forever. It was how you said goodbye. You knew that, and so did he. So why did it carve out its own special place in your mind? Why were the sensations so clear and vidid? Why did you so badly want to do it again and again without pause?

Of course your mind would fixate on the person who had just recently come back into your life. It was only natural. Humans are designed to notice differences. It’s a survival technique. To pay attention to possible threats. And you had yet to make up your mind if you considered this version of Javier Peña a friend or foe.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @betti-book @mcueveryday @athalien

[creativeashproductions]

Healed by the Music // Luke Patterson

Summary: After the fallout of reckless behaviour and forced to return back home the reader had rediscovered her love for music. Close with her family once more her band Graveyard Petals receives an offer that could turn around the band’s tarnished reputation. The only issue is not wanting to hurt those close by leaving.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of death, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.3k

A/N: The second and final part to a lovely little series I had grown to love, the first part is Drowning From the Past. I came up with the band name so if you want to use it send an ask and we talk about it. This is set after the first season and Ray can now see them after the whole Golden glow thing.

Part One - Drowning in the Past

Masterlist

In the months you retreated back to Los Feliz the band had grown exponentially bringing in more revenue with merch. The social media followers grew as well with the hope of a new photo posted of you and the band. The most recent teased new music coming.

Speaking of music, it seemed to pour out of your body into two notebooks unknown to both your sister and her band—the band of ghosts that become massive fans of Graveyard Petals when Julie played full-length debut album Dahlia. Luke had even collaborated on a song for your band; his name the first of writing credits.

Now, seven months after the shameful return the band had gotten the offer of a lifetime to open for 5 Seconds of Summer on a world tour. The issue came with talking with Julie, and the guys gave you had shown your father you had healed.

"Hey, what's been up with you lately?" Julie asked, seating herself in the swing right beside you. Her hair pulled away from her youthful face.

Whenever you looked at Julie, you saw Mom with the gorgeous hair and gleeful smile that brightened a room. Even on your mom's death bed, the room flared with that same smile in every picture in albums and on the walls. Sometimes you swore the piano in the studio bath in the warm light brought by the one person that taught you and Julie to play.

"I've been thinking." You simply spoke eyes focused on the park that had been a massive part of your life.

Every year Rose and Ray Molina had brought their three children to the very park the two had met years before. Rose would bring flowers to a specific bench, and every time you asked why she had the same answer.

Little Y/N was a precocious child inquisitive of the world around her held at an arms life by her parents. Skilled at singing and natural affinity for music it worried Rose, in her eldest child she recognized something. The intense passion and talent that a particular guitarist had once displayed on a stage that would have changed everything.

"It a place of absolute joy and acceptance. Four legends came together in front of that very bench."

Rose would never know about the place had Bobby not subconsciously led her there for the first time mere hours after the devastating loss. He had collapsed to his knees, pleading for his best friends, his brothers to return. In broken sobs, he had told Rose that this park, this bench was the first place Sunset Curve played. Band fresh and still unnamed they had gotten confident enough to set up near the bench to start building a following.

Now it was eight years after the first visit with Bobby who started going by Trevor a year after the loss. The fresh-faced boy that had flirted with Rose had changed, and at that time, Rose wasn't sure it was a good or bad thing.

"It was the guys Mom left the flowers for." Julie started following your eyesight to the bench that had a fresh bouquet. A single dahlia in the middle of the flowers for your mother.

"Yeah." You softly spoke, turning to focus on the girl that had healed through music. Seeing how grownup Julie had become hurt your heart. Julie wasn't a child anymore, and you wished she never went through what you did for months.

The two Molina girls sat in comfortable silence with minds thinking the most opposite things possible.

"5 Seconds of Summer is going on tour. We should try and score some tickets when they come to LA." Julie spoke, raising one leg to rest her arm on it. The high waisted light washed jeans with paintings on them.

Your heart clenched at her excitement for a band you both adored for years.

"I know. 5SOS gave Lucy an offer for Graveyard Petals to open for them worldwide. The others are down to join, but if I'm not ready, we won't." You avoided the brown eyes burning your cheek for a second.

Julie's warm hand clasped yours in hers to jog to your car you had bought with your first paycheque. Unable to figure out her state on the possible tour, you quietly drove back home with no sound other than breathing.

"Hey!" Luke beamed as his two favourite girls, came wandering into the studio with pensive expressions and stooped shoulders.

Alex picked up on their moods almost instantly, "Are you okay?"

Your mouth opened before the loud yell of Flynn cut off your opportunity to respond and a slap smack to the back of your head. The sharp cry of pain stumbled from your chapped lips and Flynn's frustration rolling off her form.

"Flynn!" You sharply called rubbing the stinging spot with a glare outmatched by Flynn's fire. The look unlike you had ever seen on the girl with a sharp sense of fashion and unapologetic personality.

"You got asked by 5 Seconds of Summer to tour the world as an opening act!" Flynn elaborated at your confused expression, "Jules texted me. You need to do this! The amount of questions of if GP will return is outrageous! In the last two days, the band's Instagram got five thousand new followers."

The ghostly trio stayed silent as Flynn reprimanded her best friend's older sister with crazy talent. Flynn was your self appointed biggest fan with buying the first album at the store to demanding to wear newly designed merch before the drop.

"I'm enjoying being at home. I'm on good terms with Julie and Carlos, Dad doesn't look like he's gonna drop dead in disappointment when he sees me." You shrugged focusing on the discoloured mark on the ground.

"It's okay to be scared." Alex supplied smiling as Flynn nodded her thanks as the tall drummer stepped in.

After escaping the Hollywood Ghost Club (HGC), a handful of people gained the ability to see them, including Flynn. It was rather refreshing for the girl to finally interact with the guys with Julie being the middle man.

"I'm not-"You cut yourself off at the disbelief on Julie's face with her arms crossed just as your mother had done, "I nearly lost myself in the bottom of a bottle. I fucked up my relationships and tarnished both mine and the band's reputation."

Luke's warm hand came down on your shoulder in the act of support, the touch a new factor to the ghost. Your hand came to rest on his with a smile of gratitude cast to the dead boy.

"You have healthy coping mechanisms to fall back on. You'll have us to visit with the poofing ability. If you stumble, we will be here for you." Reggie informed you with his toothy grin and kind eyes.

The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place, feeling the wound close up, leaving a scar that had blistered and reopened since last year. The cheers enveloped you like their arms as you texted Lucy and the band your decision.

Dublin, Ireland 2021

"Hello, Dublin!" Your voice amplified in the large stadium of fans cheering for your band—the thud of Iris on her drum kit.

James idly stroking the strings on his dark green teal guitar your band had pitched in as a gift to him. On the opposite side of the stage was Sawyer with their custom-made gorgeous marble green and white colour.

"I hope you are enjoying yourself so far! It is our last song before the real act comes out!" You exclaimed to the boisterous crowd.

Just barely in the wing of the stage waited the band that had quickly become older brothers to you. A band that had given you a chance after the madness of your downward spiral.

"This song came out in 2018 and quickly became one of my favourites. It wouldn't be right to sing it without some friends." You continued as the guys walked onto the stage, "Without further adieu, this is Lie to Me by 5 Seconds of Summer!"

Luke Hemmings along with Calum, Ashton, and Michael ran to join your band as Iris started a sick beat. Calum and Michael already joining Sawyer and James in absolute perfect sync leaving Ashton to rock out by Iris. Hemmings, to not confuse him with Luke Patterson, came to stand next to you with a guitar.

[Verse 1: Hemmings]

I saw you looking brand new overnight

And I caught you looking too, but you didn't look twice

You look happy, oh, mmm

You look happy, oh

Hemmings angled his body to face you but not cut off the fans behind him, creating the vivid story you had done each rehearsal. The blue clashing your own eye colour holding your personalized sparkly emerald green mic.

[Pre Chorus: Hemmings & Calum]

Flashing back to New York City

Change your flight so you stay with me

Remember thinking that I got this right

Only adding backing vocals as Hemmings retreated to jam out with Calum leaving you to jump around the stage. Landing next to Sawyer they beamed with the loud stadium heard even through the in-ear monitors.

[Chorus: Hemmings & Calum]

And now I wish we never met

'Cause you're too hard to forget

While I'm cleaning up your mess

I know he's taking off your dress

And I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

Raising the mic to your lips, you came into your cue returning to the middle of the stage with Hemmings.

"Give it up for Y/N!" Ashton yelled into Iris' personal microphone.

[Verse 2: You]

It's 3 AM and the moonlight's testing me (Ah)

I know that you've been holding on to someone else

And now I can't sleep (Ah)

I ain't happy, oh

I ain't too happy, oh

[Pre Chorus: You]

Flashing back to New York City

I was done, but you undid me

Classic me to run when it feels right

The stage was charged with the chemistry the two lead singers of their respective bands all sharing grins. The cheers growing as Hemmings came closer to share the green microphone, the tech guys skillfully turning Hemmings off; no feedback sounding.

[Chorus: Hemmings & You]

Now I wish we never met

'Cause you're too hard to forget

While he's taking off my dress

I know she's laying on your chest

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

Singing, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie (Yeah yeah)

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

The Australian singer stepped closer to hug you quickly before finding his way to your bandmates too. The crowd all having their phones out in which the hugs would be made into edits, and the shipping would intensify.

"Dublin! You have been incredible to play for. Enjoy the rest of the concert and rock out because I will be doing so backstage." Your voice echoed over the fans with a beaming grin feeling comfortable on stage again.

"This is Easier!" Hemmings shouted as the rest of his band commenced their part of the concert just as they had the last few months.

Watching the guys perform with your own band with you was incredibly bittersweet after touring worldwide for months. The media had eaten up the sudden reappearance of the band with positive publicity increasing the popularity.

"I love this song," Sawyer spoke with a twinkle in their eyes tapping their foot to the beat. James was just barely moving his head to beat while Iris was jumping around uncaring of the people around.

"You love it because we got to collaborate on the song!" James exclaimed, tapping his hip on her thigh. Iris' 5'11 form towered over James' 5'7 height but that never caused issues with them.

James's black hair gleamed blue in the strobe lights tinting his pale complexion as well. Sawyer's hair dyed bright red pairing well with their tawny skin colour with their mocha brown irises. Iris had changed over the break abandoning her past style for a more laidback skater style.

"I'm gonna head to the bus. Grab a shower and change." You informed the band as you started retreating to where the bus was parked.

"See you soon!" Sawyer yelled with their attention halfway back on the band of guys that had given you all a second chance.

Walking down the hall with employees milling around, you barely acknowledged them other than a smile. The performing had taken a lot out of you after a fitful sleep. Carl, your band's security detail and current bouncer to the backdoor, nodded at you.

Carl's colleague would be stationed at the bus as per usual with your routine of catching one song and then leaving. Bea's hardened gaze relentless on scouring the area with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Hey, Bea." You spoke earning a grunt in response from the jaded security detail hired after adjusting back to civilian life.

You didn't have the entire story other than Bea had been in the military, but due to an injury had been medically discharged. Your manager Lucy had been the one to hire her as per the new policy of having two people of different genders on detail.

The bus was quiet as you entered flinching at the sight of your father sitting on the couch with Julie and Carlos beside him. Your mouth gaped at seeing your family after months of only FaceTime and calls.

"Oh my gosh!" You yelled lunging to hug your siblings with wide eyes matching.

Carlos had definitely grown at least two inches since you last saw him, and Julie's hair was pulled back in an intricate style. Her outfit screaming Flynn's advice but her ring was on show that matched your own.

"Surprise!" Ray exclaimed to his eldest child with pride written clear on his face, "I missed you, Mija."

"So, did I!" The cheerful voice of Luke interjected as the three boys of Julie and the Phantoms made their appearance.

Standing further back in a band shirt with Graveyard Petals was Alex's boyfriend Willie with a shy expression. He still felt incredibly guilty of delivering the boys straight into Caleb's hand and often voiced his feelings of not feeling he deserved to be friends.

"Hey, Willie. I like your shirt!" You told the tall skater who sent a shy smile.

"Still weird," Ray muttered having walked in on Reggie towel drying his hair the month before you left for tour.

It had been a very confusing and emotional time for Ray and Carlos to adapt to the new information. After Julie saved the boys and that weird golden glow happened, they had been able to make themselves visible; just no poofing in the vicinity of Ray after he nearly fainted that one time. The details hadn't been worked out yet, but Caleb was out of the picture.

"Did you catch the concert?" You questioned the group tugging on the damp t-shirt you had worn on stage. The fabric was drying after being drenched in the sweat after spending an hour under hot lights and continuous movement on stage.

"We stayed for the one last night. We stayed for your set tonight before we got Bea-"

"-she's terrified by the way," Alex interjected with a grimace on his face at the stoic young woman. The glare at focusing on her scars had truly scared the anxious drummer.

"-to let us on the bus. We wanted to surprise you and congratulate your success." Luke informed the group, "You're insanely talented by the way."

His left hand coming to intertwine with your right hand just as it had before you departed for the world tour. You had grown incredibly close to the guitarist firstly as best friends before developing into a relationship.

"We did explore Dublin for the morning. I'll forever be in Lucy's debt for sending the tickets for us." Ray happily sighed, thinking of the lovely woman that had helped Ray guide his daughter back to herself.

"I'll just hit the shower quick." You swiftly jogged to the back of the tour bus where the shower was situated near the five came rooms. The entire band each had one room and a spare for the driver.

Los Angeles, 2021

Your hair pulled away from your face you sat beside a willow tree in contemplative silence with only your guitar and notebook. You knew that in a few seconds Luke would appear for another writing session.

"I love you." Luke breathlessly spoke as he ran up to you with a great big smile.

The awe at his words blinding your thoughts from the hope you had been feeling for the last week. Luke's hazel eyes glittering in the sun and the smile bubbled onto his face.

"I love you too." The words slipped quickly off the tip of your tongue as the guitarist tugged your form into his body. Supple lips quivering on the skin of warm neck all Luke felt was gratitude.

Luke leant back to brush his calloused fingers on your cheek, "Julie got a call. Someone little birdie sent in a demo to a label."

"I wonder who that happened to be." Your smirk revealing just precisely who had sneakily grabbed the freshly recorded demo.

Lucy had always had an interest in Julie's talent in music but tabled in during the period that Rose died. The grief stealing Julie's voice and leaving behind stage fright hadn't been something Lucy would chance. The manager had always hoped Julie's voice would return.

"You gave Lucy the demo, and she passed in on to the Red Bedroom Records!" Luke was quick to tug you into his arms with a huge grin, "Julie and the Phantoms are getting signed! The owner is personally flying over on Monday to go over the contract and sign it!"

Your words muffled by his chest, "Lucy informed me about that, and she offered to manage you as well."

"Lucy is the best. She gonna mentor and give Flynn an internship to still work with the band. Thank you so much, baby." Luke whispered against the warm skin of your forehead.

"I just decided to speed up the process. Can I tell you something?" At Luke's nod, you continued, "I'm thinking in a few years to open a label of my own. I was hoping you guys and Julie would be interested in doing that with me?"

"I am so down to do that. We're gonna hire an investigator to make sure what Trevor did isn't able to happen at our label." Luke was already passionately thinking of what the hypothetical future label.

"That's perfect!" You beamed, "We could give a workshop to aid songwriting too! I thought that we could name it A Rosie Sunset. My dad called my mom Rosie most of my life and Sunset for your first band."

"I didn't think I could love you more than I did a minute ago. You proved me wrong." Luke breathless laughed before humming when your lips made contact with your own.

The warmth that had been missing the year after you mom passed away had returned, and sometimes you swore the sun shone down on you. You had no doubts it was your mom's way in heaven to hug her children. You and Julie had come to the conclusion that your mom had sent the boys into your lives.

Rose Molina, even in death, did her best to make her children happy. The three remaining members of Sunset Curve the absolute best part of her two daughters lives.

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[rq-s]

Title: Lucid Dreams - Chapter 1

Word Count: 2680

Warnings: Mingyu is featured heavily in the first few chapters and is directly involved in significant plot events. Due to recent events, I understand if reading these chapters may make you uncomfortable, but be aware that you’d be missing core story elements by skipping them. (Details)

Lucid Dreams Masterlist

Prologue | 

It was an hour after dawn, the streets were busy with students and workers on their commute. Yn gazed out of her apartment window, forlornly missing when she would do that. Why wasn’t I doing that? I should still be in college, worrying about scores and my social life.

She was still slowly waking up, with unfocused eyes and bad balance, as she sat at her desk. She shifted in her chair and faced her journal again, with two blank pages staring up at her.

It started as a school project, but it turned into a habit that Yn kept through her youth.

Yn stood and left it open without having written anything, frustrated with herself. If she had dreamt last night, it was long gone from her mind, and she had nothing else to write. There were more days like this lately. Update-less, absent days.

Eventually, Yn left the apartment complex with her phone and wallet and walked the familiar path. For weeks she had been going on walks around town, and she’d always somehow pass by the same peculiar store. She found herself lingering there, wanting to go in just to have her questions answered, but something within herself always stopped her. Online searches turned up very little. Just some patents, an under construction website, a local news article, and a few social media postings by previous customers. Everything she found only made her more curious.

The town seemed quiet, though it wasn’t ever busy. It made the journey to Dream Store a peaceful one, even as Yn's nervousness began to bubble.

She arrived a few hours before noon, the sunlight warm and shining brightly past the cartoonish and fluffy clouds. The well-tended potted plants, power washed sidewalk, and neon sign all had a strangely comforting feeling to them that welcomed her. Even the grey layered siding was sweet, despite how it clashed with the surrounding architecture. Yn stood on the sidewalk, facing the front patio, and hardened her resolve. Today would be her first time seeing what it was like inside; she refused to put it off anymore.

Yn approached the door in quick strides and read the print on the window before entering. “Dream Store | keeping hold of our hearts.”

Her breathing went still as soon as she pulled the door open. It was more spacious inside than the exterior led on, having a pastel pallet and being well lit. It felt like the door way was more then just the entrance to a business.

The first thing to see was the bar. A fairly long one, taking up most of the far wall, yet was still tucked in the corner. From the left wall towards the center were eight different taps, and on a counter behind the bar were two large blenders, a sink, and a small ice cream station with five flavors.  A small Bluetooth speaker on the end of the counter was playing instrumental lo-fi, and somehow the air itself felt light and bubbly against her skin. On the wall above the bar was a large LED menu with what appeared to all be beverages in narrow-necked glass bottles. On the little space that was left against the far wall was a freezer, decorated in stickers and notes. So it’s a juice bar? The tweets just mentioned ice cream. There was a hallway by the fridge, presumably leading to bathrooms and the staff area. In front of that and against the right wall were wood tables and chairs with mismatched cushions. There were similar tables meant for two on the left side, with what seemed to be medium sized square lockers, and two vending machines full of those same bottled drinks from the LED screen. It all felt surreal, it was too perfect.

“Excuse me?” Yn’s attention was brought back to reality by the voice of man, one she hadn’t even seen standing behind the bar until that moment. His fingers were intertwined and rested gently on the bar while he leaned forward, as if he’d been calling her for a while. Once he saw he had her attention, he stood upright and smiled sincerely.

“Welcome to our Dream Store!” It was as if the entire scenario was a prank, he was an actor and this business was a set. Everything was still and quiet, with nothing and nobody in existence but this store and the two of them.

Finally, Yn approached the bar.

Instead of a name tag, the name Mingyu was sewn onto the collar of his white dress shirt. He was very tall, and his uniform was clearly tailored for to fit him perfectly. His smile was kind and courteous as he spoke to her.

“Is this your first time here?” He asked gently, but with no less energy in his voice than before. Yn nodded.

“Gotcha, let’s find you a table then.” He chirped, and walked around from behind the bar, grabbing a physical menu from somewhere behind the register. “Do you like to sit by the window, or in the corner?”

“Anywhere that lets me see the exits, please.” She answered softly. Mingyu didn’t seem phased by her request and tapped his chin in thought while looking around. Only then did Yn notice one of the benches by the hallway was taken, where two teenage girls were fast asleep. It wasn’t uncommon to see college kids or overworked employees taking powernaps at cafés, but seeing them sleeping so peacefully while hunched over the table was something Yn found odd. Are those pillows matching the seat cushions?

Mingyu decided to seat her at one of the tables for two, the one closest to the taps on the bar. She could observe the whole store there, and had a clear view of the front door and the hallway, while sitting snugly in the corner by the vending machines. Yn sat down carefully as Mingyu set the menus in front of her. Sitting down brought her attention up, making her notice the peculiar ceiling with exposed beams, cords, pipes, and ducts, all painted white to match the ceiling itself. Something about the unconventional look of it was comforting for Yn, as if the establishment itself was being laid bare for her.

“First, thank you for coming in, we really appreciate your interest,” He smiled awkwardly for a moment before continuing, “I’m going to get someone from the back to watch the register for me, feel free to look at that menu in the meantime.” Mingyu lowered his head a tiny bit then swiftly headed down the hallway.

Thank you for visiting our Dream Store! All the staff here are proud of our beverages, passionate about our purpose, and excited to give you a safe, enjoyable experience when you spend time with us. We believe that we offer your community something special, not only with our drinks, but with our potential to give each visitor a unique and individualized experience.

Mingyu came back before she could read further, with another tall young man behind him, who promptly went behind the counter and washed his hands after smiling in acknowledgment to her. He seemed familiar, but she didn’t know why or how. Mingyu sat himself across from her with a sigh, feeling very nervous and struggling to act like he wasn’t.

“Alright, sorry about that. Did you get a chance to look at the menu?”

“Only the first paragraph.”

“Okay cool, the way the menu explains it is kind of weird, so it’s better that I do it.” Yn only grew more confused. She watched as Mingyu glanced over towards the other man, she wanted to look back to see what was going on, but didn’t. Instead, Yn watched as Mingyu squinted, shook his head in confusion, and then silently gasped in realization, all within a few moments. Mingyu swallowed and nodded to himself before redirecting his focus back to her.

“Is it alright if I know your name?”

“Uh, sure? It’s Yn.” He nodded formally and put on awkward smile.

“It's nice to meet you, I’m Mingyu. Like I said, thanks for coming in today.” He failed to fight the cringe on his own face and hurried past it.

“Essentially, we can offer you different kinds of drinks: juices, sodas, and smoothies. They’re all made by us, with our recipes, and you can either have them made for here or to go, or even from the coolers right here.” He leaned over and patted the cooler that had a variety of colored drinks in sturdy glass bottles.

“Why do you need to explain that to me?” She asked without thinking, having already picked up on the fact that this was a place that sold beverages. It was a selling point that they concoct them themselves, and that they can do all this seemingly without a big brand to fund them, but she doubted that it required introduction to every new customer. Yn heard the man behind the register chuckle, then try to hide it with a cough.

“I was getting there.” He stammered, his face flushing a soft red.

“If you’d like to have something here, there’s the option to make it a sleep aid. We call it a Sleepy. With those, we prepare the drink as we usually would, but instead of the liquid sugar we usually use, we use a mix of liquid sugar and drowsiness medicine. We’ve been able to use that in a low volume but effective dose to allow our customers to have a refreshing drink, followed by a recharging nap.” Yn watched him cringe again as he tried his best to explain it without making it sound as bizarre as it was. He continued as soon as she tried to comment, eager to get it the introduction over with.

“You don’t need to worry though! When a visitor picks one of our sleepy drinks, we give them a key to their corresponding table, and that key opens one of those lockers. You can put your things there beforehand so you know they’re safe while you sleep. We have cameras in here and outside, and there’s always at least one member of staff on duty who's trained to handle altercations of any kind, and all of us are trained in first aid and emergency procedures like CPR.” There was another chuckle from behind her, and he didn’t even try to hide it this time. Mingyu glared at him, and this gave Yn her opening to speak.

“So you take safety seriously, that’s good…” She was at a loss of what to say, having been bombarded with information, all of it outside of what she’d expected. She wasn't sure what the odds were leaning toward: him having a scripted yet speedy and thorough defense to any worries or questions she’d have, or that he’d flounder as soon as she asked for details.

“Of course we do. We know it’s a risk to just take a nap at a café. Especially one run but a bunch of young adult guys. But we’re trying something new that no one else in the world is doing, and we really believe in it.” Mingyu’s sudden sentiment was sincere, and his nervousness looked more like vulnerability now. Something compelled her to trust him. Maybe what he was saying about having something completely unique wasn’t true, Yn had no clue, but it might as well be for a town like theirs.

“You’ll notice that we have 13 distinct drink options available right now, each one named after a member of the staff.” Mingyu  opened the menu and flipped a few pages till Yn could see depictions of each of the drinks. They were colorful, and beautifully presented on the pages, with descriptions of each one. He stopped on a page of cool toned drinks.

“Let’s say you come in and decide to order a Sleepy Mingyu, that’s this one,” He pointed to the deep purple iced drink and tapped its picture fondly. “It’ll come in a medium glass bottle, with a straw and napkin of course, along with a locker key that corresponds to whatever table you pick. While we’re making it, you can put your stuff in the locker, and inside the locker will be a small pillow, but you don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. We switch the covers after every use and wash all of them each night, so don’t worry about that either. You can decide to keep the key with you, or give it to whoever’s at the register for safekeeping.” He began to ramble again, wracking his brain to make sure he mentioned everything Yn could possibly need to know while to keep himself from growing too embarrassed. She sat there patiently, listening as he helped her understand. He seemed to grow more uneasy with each word.

“You’ll probably want to wait at your table till the drink is done, it usually takes less than five minutes. We’ll bring it to you.”

Mingyu paused and took a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek in thought, picking his words carefully. He hadn’t looked at her since his sentiment about safety and now it seemed like he was actively choosing not to look up at her.

“The Sleepys only come in medium because the drowsiness medicine is fast acting, and we try to make sure that you’ll have enough time to finish it all before you fall asleep.” He looked to the man behind the counter, and this time Yn dared to look at him too. But he only looked at Mingyu, giving his coworker an encouraging, albeit aggressive, thumbs up. Mingyu shook his head.

“This is really weird, Jun. How do you guys explain this kind of thing without seeming creepy?!” He seemed deeply upset, frustrated and on the verge of tears. It suddenly felt like Yn was intruding on something private.

“Take a breath, okay?” The man came around the counter and spoke gently to his colleague, kneeling to the ground like a father would when speaking to a child. He was close enough now that Yn could read the name on his collar as Junhui. He put his hand on Mingyu’s knee and squeezed it a few times, urging him to relax. Then he turned to Yn.

“Once you finish your drink, you’re gonna fall asleep, and we’ll watch over you while you do. You’ll have a great dream, and we’ll wake you up at whatever time you told us to when you ordered, or after you’ve been asleep for 2 hours.” Junhui stood back up, and patted Mingyu’s shoulder while still looking at Yn.

“Mingyu is a really great guy. He cares a lot about people and about what we're trying to do here. And if you ask me, his drink is one of the best.” Junhui’s smile was warm and his tone of voice was calming as he praised his friend. Mingyu still couldn’t look at her, facing away from her entirely and looking downtrodden. Yn didn’t know what to say and instead decided to read the blurb about Mingyu's concoction.

A sweetly rich concord grape flavored soda! Mingyu’s soda brings one’s imagination to life, while remaining proud and inspired.

“I’ll try it.” She spoke casually, trying to imagine what such a drink would taste like. It had been so long since she’d had a grape flavored drink of any kind, and something carbonated sounded great in that moment.

“You don’t have to.” Mingyu said pitifully, assuming she chose his drink to help him feel better.

“The picture looks really pretty, I wanna see if it really looks like that.” Her bluntness stunned him, and he wondered if she was bluffing. Even so, he resolved to grin and bare it, standing up from the table. Junhui stepped back and smiled, leaving silently as Mingyu went back behind the counter.

“Alright… Let’s get it ordered then!” He bolstered, ready to reaffirm himself in the form of a fancy looking grape juice.f

[alexthedrummerboy]

first line challenge

tagged by @moony221b and @ruzek-halstead to share the first line from my last 20 works!! 

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!), see if there are any patterns, choose your favourite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

so my past 20 fics aren’t all jatp so i’m going to do first line from all my jatp fics, then a few from my jatp wips, and if i still have space (which i will), i’ll do the most recent couple fics on my ao3!! 

idk who to tag so i’ll just say if you’re reading this and wanna do it, go ahead!

1. piss off your parents (date me to scare them)

"Shit."

2. i can get by the days just fine (but the nights)

There was only one problem with working the graveyard shift at Covington Coffee Roasters. It wasn't the lack of sleep (Alex was used to that by now) and it wasn't the customers either. He could deal with the occasional stroppy suburban mom - he'd had to live with one for the first 17 years of his life.

3. i need to forget you

The studio is cold when Alex walks in. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised, it’s barely five in the morning and everyone is asleep.

4. darkest before the dawn

It starts when he’s seven. He’d invited Bobby over to his house after school to play, not knowing that his dad had come home from work early. They’re sitting at the dining table, drawing with Alex’s new 36 pack of crayons when he hears it.

5. crash into me 

Alex was good at many things.

6. pretty boy

The sound of Willie’s laugh is quickly becoming Alex’s favourite sound in the world. There’s something about the way it bounces and shines - there’s not a creature on earth that could resist that laugh, he thinks.

7. loml

“Julie?”

8. untitled rival soccer teams au (WIP) - honestly this might be my favourite but i think i’m biased ‘cause it’s my newest baby

It was a well-known fact, or rather an indisputable law, that the Los Felix High Phantoms and the Belmont High Tigers did not mix. In fact if Alex were to even suggest something involving the Tigers that didn’t have to do with ‘toilet paper’ and varying degrees of legality, Luke would no doubt throw a temper tantrum. 

9. untitled bobby daddy au (WIP)

None of them expect it - that much is clear. They all just stand there… staring at it, wondering if it’ll just magically go away. 

10. untitled teachers!willex au (WIP)

Alex straightened his tie in the mirror, wrinkling his nose. It was perfectly tied and he knew that; he’d known how to tie a perfect Windsor knot ever since he was nine-years-old (his father had insisted on him learning how to tie his own ties for church every Sunday). His shirt had been washed and ironed two days ago too, out of nervous anticipation. There wasn’t a stain, wrinkle, or stray hair in sight.

the remaining 10 of my most recent fics are glee fdsjkfsdjl so i’ll put them under the cut if anyone wants to read them but if not, have a nice day!!

11. a pinch of salt

The year was 2015. ‘Babs! The Barbra Streisand Musical’ had just opened at the Lunt-Fontanne on Broadway, starring Rachel Berry in the title role as Barbra Streisand. The buzz around the show was unmistakable. Unfortunately for the entire cast, Babs closed after just 32 performances, leaving hundreds wondering… what happened to Rachel Berry? Well folks, we have finally gotten an answer.

12. hold you up

Kurt Hummel was a good cheerleader. No, scratch that, Kurt Hummel was an excellent cheerleader. He was smart and strong and flexible, damn it. He definitely wasn't the type of cheerleader who got so distracted to the point of personal injury.

13. android blaine

I think you're cute, my name is Blaine and I work at the computer store.

14. tangled in the sheets

Blaine is three years old when his big sister Rachel brings home a friend for the first time. Her friend's name is Kurt and he's in Rachel's second grade class with her and he is perfect. Well... as perfect as a three-year-old can comprehend.

15. bd_anderson responded to your question sticker

When the feature gets introduced, Kurt doesn't think much of it. It's a sticker that you can put on your Instagram story, prompting followers to type in a message in the little box that he can read and post. Kurt sees it and forgets about it almost immediately. He doesn't use his story for much other than live-posting about The Bachelor and promoting his new posts.

16. when are you gonna sing for me?

The name 'One Three Hill' has been on the forefront of the music scene since the band's first album in 2015. Their debut single 'Underestimate Me' skyrocketed to number 1 in the pop punk charts, solidifying their place as frontrunners in the competitive and cutthroat music industry. The band's most recent album, 'Clueless', was released in 2018 to wildly positive reviews but since then, fans have been left wanting more. Well, the public was not disappointed.

17. i scraped my knee falling for you

"Mr. Anderson, I-I'm so, so sorry!"

18. coffee flavoured kisses

Kurt Hummel had heard the words 'I'm breaking up with you' three times in his life. All three times, Blaine Anderson was there with a cup of coffee and a kind smile.

19. between the lines

Blaine had never expected his life to turn out this way, working at his parent's book shop instead of performing on a Broadway stage. He didn't particularly mind it, though. His parents paid him alright (nepotism, he thinks) and he got to play his playlist quietly over the speakers most days, so it definitely could've been worse.

20. tug at my heartstrings

He isn’t usually there. That was the first thing Kurt thought when he saw the man playing the violin while walking home after work.

[mrsluthordanvers]

Will you share you and your friends curly hair findings with the class? 👀

I can share some stuff! I don't know how helpful it may be depending on your hair type. My friends and I all have varying degrees of thick hair with looser waves than tight curls. I would say we are all in the 2B-2C range.

I would say of the three of us I have the softest hair and the loosest curl pattern. The suggestion was made that I drop products with oil in them and add more hold products. My friend who is in the middle pretty much has her hair routine figured out, I believe she does a lo-poo or co-wash with a good conditioner and uses a custard for hold . And my third friend has the thickest hair is just starting out in learning products. Her hair is REALLY dry so we recommended she up her conditioner from dove to shea moisture to go with her leave in conditioner and add something with hold in it bc she wasn't using anything after her leave in conditioner. I don't know both their routines super well but I put mine below!

I have tried a bunch of shampoos, the most recent being Pantene's complete curl care sulfate free shampoo with jojoba oil. And it's just too much for my hair. My hair is pretty normal, I don't usually need a lot of help for moisture so the oil was just heavy. I have had better luck with using head and shoulders or marc anthony strictly curls, and then I recently switched to shea moisture conditioner in moderate amounts (I usually use whatever conditioner matches the shampoo I am trying).

For looser waves/lazy days I scrunch in my conditioner after washing my hair and let it sit while I go about the rest of my shower, before I hop out I turn my hair upside down under the water and scrunch it out. I turn off the water (head still upside down) and I scrunch a couple extra times to remove a bit of excess water. I use a t-shirt to scrunch out a bit more water so my hair is still really wet but not quite dripping. Then I use John Frieda dream curls mousse, a dollop in each palm and glaze it over my hair until everything is coated and then scrunch it in. I will then use another t-shirt to scrunch my hair again and let it air dry. When it is dry I scrunch out the crunch from the mousse. Sometimes I trade up mousse for a lotion, but I keep my products really light.

The waves I posted today are completely new! This was the first time I tried this particular combo and got my hair THAT wavy.

For the tighter waves I got today I did most of what I already said but tried the recommendation my friend said about needing more hold (I already ditched the oil). After I used mousse I used some garnier sculpting gel I had left over and glazed my hair before I scrunched it in. I then plopped my hair in a dry t-shirt while I did my after shower routine. Once I finished I diffused my hair until it was almost dry and then I let it air dry for the last bit. Once it was completely dry I scrunched out the crunch and added a tiny touch of hair spray bc I was going outside and today was gross snow shower day. My waves have definitely softened after being outside in the snow but it's still wavier than my the first routine I shared. So the little changes seemed to make a big difference

[kirstinmaldonado]

CHAPTER TEN 2.0

I had a horrible migraine Monday night. It was one of those that you feel after holding back tears all day, or letting it out all day, it was centered right in-between the eyes on the upper bridge of my nose. My eyes sweltered under discomfort. The icepacks or a cool touch to the head, something my mom would always do (she always has cold hands), couldn’t even console me. I didn’t feel feverish at all, but the pain was sharp and pulsating like a nervous heartbeat, over and over, until I couldn’t concentrate on TV or anything anymore I just had to go to bed and hope I could fall asleep. 

I rarely get those kinds of headaches, that placement and severity. I’m usually fortunate to pass with dull, achey, temple headaches; and even my hangovers are never so pointed and jab-like.

My mom on the other hand, has dealt with migraines for years. I remember her pain as a kid, waking up in the morning wondering where she was, only to find her in the dark in her room, barely able to speak sometimes. I was always so sad to see her in such anguish, all alone in the dark. Silent. Still. While her head throbbed as if a brass band was playing “The Music Man” at too loud a decibel.

We watched a lot of horror films, my mom and I. In contrast to all the Disney films, I grew up on Jeepers Creepers, Scream, Final Destination and all the Freddy, Jason, true horror classics (yes, and all seven billion of their sequels). When she would be in bed, in the dark, we’d joke that she was a vampire needing her rest and that she needed to stay in the dark unbothered, and that lightheartedness to the situation made us smile and contented us.

Monday, Ben asked if migraines ran in my family, and though I told him about my mother’s constant battle with them the last couple years I was hoping mine felt more situational as opposed to genetic. Fingers crossed on that, and kudos to mom and those who get migraines for sticking it out cause they can be a big B-I-T-C-H.

I say situational, because it’s been A WEEK to say the least, with big things and confrontations happening in the public eye and in my own private life. The last two weeks have been incredibly eye-opening, painful, uncomfortable, moving, you name it. An entire rainbow of emotions (Happy Pride, by the way, cuties, I haven’t forgotten about you all).

I feel as if I’ve transformed into a new person with big, wide, new eyes, shedding some old skin that felt a little naive and a little out of touch with how the world, not should work, but how it’s REALLY been working. I’ve been talking to my black friends and fans, talking to my Hispanic family and hearing their stories, and talking amongst my friends and respected mentors. I’ve been doing some soul-searching and digging through memories of my own cop experiences (one, for example, at 17 with two white males [we were pulled over and eventually surrounded by 4 armed cop cars that got us out of the car, surrounded us, and wouldn’t tell us why] and wondering but knowing how that situation could have been if they were black), my jokes of being white-washed or assimilating in to white culture and not focusing on my own, and me coloring my hair blonde and wearing colored contacts not MY brown eyes for so much of my life and wondering what the intention of it all was for. Was it genuine or was I doing it to fit in, did I think it made me prettier, or more likable? Did I think or know that it would get me roles, because many ingenues or leading ladies at the time didn’t look like me?

At a point, at multiple points, all the things I’d uncover or watch in recent news had my stomach hard and in knots. Every new clip made me feel like I wanted to throw up, but I couldn’t stop now that I had SEEN.

I was confused. Hurt. Believing what I’d seen, but needing other facts as if I was missing something completely because it all did not make sense to me. How COULD it?

I apologize for all the reposts and rants, but I hope it’s stayed in line with being something you should SEE, regardless of if its uncomfortable or not, so that you KNOW what is happening, while also trying to call action to addressing the issue but moving FORWARD towards a solution. I don’t want violence on my page. But now it’s hard to turn a blind eye.

The organized BLM LA protest on May 30th changed my life. After the speeches, we wanted to continue marching, moving, using our freedom of speech and combining our white, brown, black, and all colors in-between of voices so that we could be ONE VOICE UNITED to be HEARD. 

I don’t think I went to the front lines because I was white-passing and felt safer, or because I was a woman so could be “less a threat.” I went because my black allies, who I didn’t even know, asked us to because the front was starting to get unnecessarily violent. I went because I had done nothing wrong and planned on doing nothing wrong. I went, in a way, to be an innocent. Because if I was in the front with no bad intention, the people beside and behind me would be okay.

As we walked through the crowds, their hands on my shoulders, their thanks, flared something visceral deep inside of me and I knew I was here to protect and mediate, and in a way, fighting against hate in whatever form as if I was a newborn Avenger. Someone cried out “I love this, this is what this movement is for!” and that has stayed with me as so many lighter-skinned protesters made their way to the front. Because that IS what this is for. Not to divide, but to unite to fight for justice against those that have unnecessarily been wronged.

I’ll never forget one black man that my friends and I urged to stay back beside us in the lines that had pushed to the front. He was angry. Upset. Hurt. Defiled. I’d never understood the pain the black community felt. But as we tried to reassure him, block him from the batons (from THAT COP), bring him back to the safety of the group, when I was hit in the ribs and the face as collateral because he would have been hit so much worse, the last thing he said as we pulled him back was “I want them to hear me.” And suddenly I felt holding him and consoling him was wrong, like I was a part of stealing his voice from him even though all I wanted was to keep him safe. Suddenly I felt so upset, so angry; although, of course, I’ll never even know HALF of that feeling as a non-black person who, to my knowledge, has never been treated differently for their identity.

I’ll never forget the way he said it. With so much hurt and pain, the anger fading in to just pure anguish and loss.

I felt like I’d silenced someone, so all I could do was get back to the front. It was my turn to be silent and let their voices carry behind me.

I’m sure you’ve seen the video going around, the stillness before the cops were ordered presumably to push the line back. While I can have a whole blog post of levels and steps they could have taken before the cop bashed through my canvas sign with his baton, you can look at the video and see for yourself. People getting hit because they were at the front, with no provocation. The man striking me with a baton, honestly probably because I had said openly to watch out for him, because he was showing a LOT of premature violence, because of how quickly he went after the man we were protecting; yet then only pushing the white girl next to me with his hand, even though she unfortunately was struck multiple times from another officer.

All awful!! All taken a step too far. I’ve never been more in shock. Ben was trying to pull me off the floor so I wouldn’t get stepped on. Our friends were hit by rubber bullets. Our other friends on another street running from tear gas.

The tear gas, the rubber bullets, the bruises and the ache have *I PRAY* started to leave Los Angeles as all the protests have started to become more peaceful and more organized. Since, I’ve been to three and they were all just, beautiful, and moving, each one getting better and bigger as the week went on. I carry a sense of pride and love seeing the aerial footage of all the people Sunday, and I think back to what my May 30 experience was compared to June 7th. I heard it was the largest protest yet. And while I felt like a sardine in a can, it was so packed, it was beautiful and it’s a memory I’ll hold forever!

I sidebar to say, I may no longer be cheering at the literal protesting frontlines with you for a while  — I must return to Texas soon for family so must safely quarantine  —  but know the fight for equality, for justice has not ended just because it’s not trending anymore! I think I’m gonna have to shackle myself to my house so I won’t leave, haha, but know there is so much you can be doing from your home! As my grandma said, after the protests which are the catalysts and the calls for change the REAL reformative work begins!! And the road is long! 

The most important thing, in my humble opinion, is to show up. To not be afraid. To ask the questions. To educate yourself through your friends with their experiences or through history.

Humbly, you must think, but what even can I do to help?

Showing up isn’t JUST protesting. It’s signing petitions. Donating to charities. It’s calling local reps. It’s doing the research and thinking, what can I do to lend my voice to help create a better world for all and doing it authentically if even imperfectly because deep down you also want to right these injustices and demand change! Do it in public. Do it in private. But do it because you believe in it!

I know everything feels a bit dark and overwhelming right now! The amount of times I’ve needed a “break” and then wanted to cry because my black friends and fans don’t get the opportunity to take “breaks” is countless. But your mental health is important for you to be the strongest ally you can be!

And if you’re afraid of backlash, understand that many are hurt. I know many feel nervous to speak up in a damned if I do, damned if I don’t kind of way. But EACH of your voices are, and have always been so, so important. And each and every one of you have an important say and CHOICE/VOTE in to where we lead our country!

Someone told me this week that although sunflowers follow the sun, when it is cloudy and dark, they turn to face each other and share their energy!

I don’t know if that’s a million percent scientifically accurate, but the sentiment brought me to tears. In times of darkness, we should all be able to lean on each other for support.

We can all be sunflowers in the dark. <3

Love you all.

[heresathreebee]

Garrote part 12

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez X Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Summary: Healy and the Jimenez’ are gearing up for war. Jazmine’s getting antsy waiting for something to go horribly wrong. Previous Masterlist Next

Rating/Warning(s): Mature (+18 or I call the police). post-coitus fluff, swearing, anxiety, time skip, canon typical violence (I think...?), all plot, gringo using google translate Spanish and half remembered high school classes (sorry in advance), mentions of grooming/pedophilia (don’t worry, Porsche’s OK)

Word count: 2.2k words

Author’s Note(s): yeah so I wrote this back in December and just didn’t have the heart to put it out. I wanted to try and finish the other chapters (thinking I’m gonna wrap up at seventeen chapters) and I couldn’t. I have a problem with finishing anything I start, it never feels strong enough. I’m gonna try not to let that stop me though, promise. 

Waking up in Diego’s arms, Jazmine never expected to feel so calm. Truth be told she didn't really wake up, but drifted in and out of sweet harmonious consciousness to find Diego, whether he was cradling her or sitting up or rubbing her back. She finally managed to convince herself to get out of bed and by then it was already 2 in the afternoon. Diego had his pants and shoes back on but nothing else, so she relaxed a little. 

"You need to eat," he whispered, "come on, get dressed." 

Jazmine blinked slowly. "I need a shower. Maybe a wheelchair, too." 

She didn't miss the proud smirk that suddenly graced his handsome features. As he put on his shirt, Jazmine glanced past him at the open door of the closet. It was empty inside save for a few hangers, but it left a bad taste in her mouth and a lump in her throat. Diego followed her line of sight and said nothing. He let her shower, never more than five feet away (which is exactly how far the shower curtain is to the bathroom door). They ate somewhere family friendly, a pancake house she barely remembered the name of. Her legs still suffered from tremors and her pelvic region ached, but they were good feelings and she tried to make them last as they put a smile on her face. 

~

It's been about a week and Jazmine has seen neither hide nor hair of Haagen and it's starting to worry her. 

The only relief she had been able to accrue these past few days had been Healy's announcement that they had made a huge connection and were in the process of setting up task forces to take Haagen down. Alicia was confident that Haagen knew nothing and was continuing on with business as usual (or so she heard through the grapevine), and even Diego seemed to be relaxed about it. 

That was another thing that bothered her. Diego, relaxed. Diego doing more hands on business and clubbing at all hours of the night. He'd barely said two words to her after coming to the rescue and fucking her silly in front of Haagen. 

Sitting alone in the penthouse, Jazmine scratched at every itch and tugged on every baby hair like her skin was diseased. She didn't want to go outside, she was too afraid of Haagen's next move. She had been texting her mother regularly again just so she wouldn't call and have to explain why she sounded so nervous. It would have taken LaShawn all of ten seconds to realize something was wrong: so why couldn't anybody else see it? 

Maybe she was overreacting. Jazmine drew a hot bath in the jacuzzi sized tub and turned the jets on, finding bubble bath solution and a pink rubber ducky to cradle. The bathroom had a dimmer switch she turned down to near zero and let silky smooth R&B from the 90's wash her worries away. Her fingers worked to squeeze the ducky like a stress ball, and a traitorous part of her brain whispered longing thoughts. 

I wish Diego was here to massage my back.

She shushed her thoughts: at least the bath is perfectly hot. 

She washed her body and spent the better part of the day deep conditioning her hair and shaving her legs just for the hell of it. The music never stopped, it simply rolled from R&B to classic rock and then back again. Miguel checked in only to make sure she ate, and Jazmine managed to convince him to eat with her and play a co-op mobile game for a few hours. She plucked at the listening device in her ear for the thousandth time and decided to just call Healy. 

"Hey can't talk right now," were all the words she got out of him on the second call and then an immediate hang up. 

Jazmine growled and crossed her arms, suddenly reminded she was still wearing nothing but a bathrobe. She slipped into a pair of jeans and a tank top, and feeling bold, she marched up to Diego’s room and swiped a black button down that smelled like him. She tucked it unbuttoned into her pants and swanned up to the penthouse roof with a bottle of wine and one glass. 

She knew she would miss this level of extravagance. Never worrying about paying for rent or for food or selling her time and labor for someone else and next to nothing pay. Jazmine wondered what Diego would say to becoming her sugar daddy after this whole human trafficking business was over, but shook her head and topped her drink off. 

Probably overstayed my welcome, she thinks, that’s why Diego’s been distant lately. 

~

Jazmine was unnaturally quiet on her end, though Healy recognized the tinkling sound of bottle to glass. Probably on her fourth drink if he was counting correctly. No matter– she was safe for now at Diego’s penthouse suite and there were more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. Brasa was leaning over each and every agent sat in the boardroom as if to intimidate them into obeying her every command. She was a good detective, really she was, she just needed to work on trusting the people who trusted her. Her partner Holbrooke was no help at all– selective mutism was a nasty habit to overcome. Brasa had not breathed a word of thanks in Healy’s direction, but he had expected that. This wasn’t about the praise– it was about justice. 

When he could finally break away for coffee and a piss, he sent a text to Alicia. No doubt los hermanos Jimenez would be thrilled with the intel– but what would happen next? 

The safest place for Jazmine right now is Diego’s place, he thought, but for how much longer?

~

An address and a transcribed photograph of the documents they came from. Healy had told them that the most likely scenario for Porsche’s whereabouts was ‘adoption’ by people who did not want any adoption documents to surface later on. The family probably has prestige, they may have lost a child recently and are looking to replace it like a goldfish and hope no one notices. 

It didn’t stop Diego’s trigger finger from inching closer and closer to his gun at every small pump of the breaks. 

“Tranquil, hermano,” Alicia soothed. “We’re almost there. We can kill them after we get la pequena back.” 

Diego sniffed and hopped out of the car as soon as it finally parked. Alicia was right behind him, checking her peripherals on the well lit streets of this upscale neighborhood. It was them two and one guard each, a second car bearing two underlings coming in from the back door and four cars with heavily armed back up around the corner in case things went south. Brother and sister climbed the porch steps idly, slipping their guns back into their hidey spots before knocking on the front door…

~

“Fuck.” 

Jazmine’s phone battery flashed at 3%. She didn’t remember finishing the bottle, but she did really have to pee so she stood up from the pool’s edge to relieve herself. Miguel was asleep on the white leather couches in the living room, mouth open and drooling with his gun on the table. The woman’s steps were a little unsteady and her vision came in waves, but she felt that fuzzy warm buzz and decided she had better not drive. 

She shook the young man awake with a sigh. “Hey, I left something at my apartment. Can you drive me?” 

Miguel pursed his lips. “I don’t think jefe would want–” 

“Please,” she said, “it’s important.” 

Miguel relented, swiping the keys to a Ferrari from the rack by the elevator and handed Jazmine her coat. Just a few more items she couldn't live without. The way Miguel drove meant they were there in no time at all, and every light they passed by in the dark somehow made Jazmine feel lighter, less jittery and anxious. She had Miguel drop her off by the backside of the apartment and climbed the steps alone after insisting she would only be a minute. All of her doors and windows were locked, the place looked exactly as she had left it. 

“Thank god.” 

She had to search for her charger, a sparkly teal thing with a cat and an alligator charm on it. She found it hiding under her bed, then found her way into the bathroom to check on her face in the mirror. Jazmine fingered the black hickeys on her neck, smiling to herself. She caught sight of something white hanging out of the trash and dug it out: her Chicago shirt. Stuffing it into her back pocket next to her phone charger, Jazmine took one last look at her apartment and blew a kiss to it. 

“Bye,” she whispered, peaking into the dark and lingering on the memories she was about to leave behind forever until finally the lock clicked into place. Oh shit, this was the wrong door. Miguel was waiting out back– 

Pop-pop-pop

Gunshots rang out from behind the building, the returning fire was short and stilted, overwhelmed by the repetition of an automatic. Jazmine took to the stairs at the far side of the building and ran down them wishing she was in something other than slippers. Her heart began to pound in her chest and her breath billowed in heavy clouds before disappearing. The second she stepped off of the last stair, she tripped. Her flimsy footwear slid on the thin layer of ice and she fell, her eyes and ears following the clink clink plop noise of her phone literally going down a storm drain. 

She barely had time to scramble back to her feet before she heard tires come screeching around the corner down the street and she stumbled into a run. 

Jazmine wasn’t sure how far she’d gone, and she can’t recall how many streets she turned on, or even if she was being chased at all. Every sound made her jump, and every car coming her way made her anxious. Her lungs burned for air as she finally collapsed against the window of a minimart. There were tears streaming down her cheeks as she pushed the door open to hide among the tiny rows of snacks and gum and cigarettes and refrigerated beverages. The store owner was wearing headphones and didn't bother looking up. Deep breath in. Exhausted, shaking breath out. Jazmine curled tightly around herself to try and calm down before her heart exploded in her chest. 

~

Alicia and Diego have the father on his knees and bloodied. His wife and children are being held upstairs in one of the bedrooms, terrified. Diego wipes at a small spot of blood from his sister's face. 

"Donde esta el bebe?," Diego said, grasping the man's ear and dragging his head back to look at him. "I won't ask you again." 

"What baby?" The man coughed dryly, his eyes nearly swollen shut but still glimmering in fear. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

Alicia kneeled down in her white pantsuit. "The baby you bought from Jeremy Haagen, Mr. Fletcher. A beautiful little girl with dusky hair and big brown eyes. A baby that belongs to us." 

Fletcher squirms under the murderous gaze of los hermanos Jimenez but doesn’t break. 

“You know, Diego,” Alicia said leaning on her brother’s shoulder, “I didn’t see a fourth bedroom.” 

Diego pursed his lips. “So?” 

“So the contract specified a room for our mariposa, and he already has two children. Where’s the other room?” Alicia’s heels clicked as the gear turned in Diego’s head. “I bet la senorita Fletcher might know.” 

“No, please,” he begged, “leave my wife out of this– she’s got nothing to do with this!” 

“So you do know what we’re talking about,” Diego’s aha motion garnered a vague threat with the point of his gun– gold plated, of course. Emeralds in the hilt this time. 

“Secretly adopting a baby girl,” Alicia tsked, kneeling before Fletcher and brandishing a knife, “when you have two perfectly healthy girls of your own? Ay dios mio, what’s the matter? Three’s your lucky number, but your wife doesn’t put out anymore?” 

Fletcher stumbled hard over his words and made next to no sense. One thing that did make it clear through the haze of nonsense struck a nerve with the Jimenezes: “I didn’t know she’d be that young!” 

Alicia exchanged a queasy look with her brother. She had heard of it before: grooming. Usually starts when a girl is anywhere between nine and eighteen. Fletcher continued to ramble, about hiring a nanny and raising the baby anyway since Haagen didn’t do resales. He was probably just trying to get the baby off his hands…

Before Diego could pull the trigger, his phone rang. So did Alicia’s, both projecting the same number from a burner phone and three emojis to designate the caller: Healy. Alicia answered for Diego, jerking her head towards the door and mouthing, ‘I’ll take care of it from here.’ Diego reluctantly slipped outside, glaring at the nosy neighbors in the window who disappeared in a flash. He put the phone to his ear just in time to hear:

“– I need you to get to Nassau now: Jazmine’s in trouble.”

@mental-bycatch @kid-from-new-zealand @1zashreena1 @girlpornparadise @nicke0115 let me know if I missed anybody, I’m sorry it’s been so long

[hadarmarkin]

Beyond the Purim Story: An Introduction to Persian Jewry

Centered in the ancient capital of the Perisan Empire, the story of Purim offers a glimpse into the life of the Iranian jewry- a long standing community with roots beginning in biblical times to Contemporary Iran. In the Megillah, the orphan Esther, paves her way into the royal court, and later saves her Jewish people from destruction. Although historically questionable, the Purim tale in many ways, is a microcosmos of the history of the Iranian community.  A saga that could be sketched as a linear graph with sharp ups and downs, from regality to poverty, from great political power to persecution. And to add to this extraordinary trajectory, It is also one of the few Jewish communities still existing (rather miraculously) in large numbers in a Muslim country, and under radical theocratic regime.

A portrait of Queen Esther 

Despite this fascinating history and the important contribution of Iraninan Jews to global commerce (which will be discussed later), the topic received very limited scholarly attention. In fact, less than a handful of books were dedicated to Persian Jewry. I lament this on a personal level as I am Iranian from my paternal side. Therefore, this post is a humble attempt for reparation. It contains a short historical view, and aims to provide a sense of its rich folklore through the lens of fictional literature and culinary.

Major Milestones in the History of Persian Jews

The Persian community is one of the oldest ones in the diaspora as it dates back to the Babylonian exile in the fourth century B.C. For the two centuries to follow, the Perisan community was linked to the Jewish communities in Babylonia and Mesopotamia. The famous Yeshivot  (Torah learning academies) in Sura and Pumbedita, in which the Babylonian Talmud was crafted, were a source of guidance for the refugees in Persia. To this day, the Iraqi and the Persian communities bear much resemblance in terms of culture and religious practice. Their cooking (later discussed) is similar as well.

Babylonian Exile map

In ancient and medieval times, the Jews of Persia were well known as savvy and wealthy merchants. Situated in a prime location between China and India and Europe, Persian Jews were pivotal in what was then global commerce. Through the Silk Road and other networks of trades, Persian Jews imported spices and other goods, such as rice and tea to the west.

Silk Road’s Routs

Persian Jews were influential and properous through the first generations following the Arab Muslim conquest of Iran in the third centry A.D. Their status and living conditions deteriorated significantly with the accession of the intolerant Shiite Safavid rule. Under a regime, in which non- Muslims were considered impure heretics, Persian Jews were pushed to the margins of society and poverty. Excluding a short resurgence during the Sunni Mogul takeover of Persia in the sixteenth century, the Persian community lived under hardship and fear. The Shiite Shahs harshly oppressed minorities, denying them any position of power and restricting them to a few professions and areas of living. In several episodes in the course of the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Jews were expelled from the cities they lived in and forced to convert to Islam. Subsequently, many Persian Jews fled to Iraq, Syria, Samarkand and Georgia.

The economic and overall living situation improved in the late nineteenth century as Iran increasingly opened to the west. Although still segregated in Jewish quarters, urban Jews pursued western education. Jews, including women, gained proficiency in languages, such as English and French. They also increased their integration into local Iranian society, and named their children in both Hebrew and Parsi names. Jewish women did not veil, but they adopted the black Chador  to cover their faces when out of the house. Similar to other Jewish communities at the time, girls were betrothed at age 8 or 9 and married when they were about 16. It was common for women to pilgrim to other parts of the country to visit sites, such as Queen Esther’s burial place, near Isfahan.

Queen Esther’s Tomb

The rise of the Pahlavi dynasty in 1925 marked a turning point. This transformation allowed the Jews once more to be in a position of influence both politically and economically. Many immigrated from the hinterland to Teharn to explore new opportunities, and a few became close to Risa Shah and other men in powerful posts. For the most part, this elite chose to stay in Iran after Israel’s Independence. The lower and middle class Jews opted to immigrate to the new Jewish State in 1948.

The Muslim revolution in 1979  drew a sharp decline in the status and overall safety of Iranian Jews. After decades of prosperity, the Jewish community was once again isolated and in grave danger. The initial period of the new Isalimic republic was particularly traumatic given constant harassment and even execution of several Jewish businessmen for their alleged connection to Israel and the United States. In the following years, the situation seemed to stabilize, and Jews were given a certain degree of religious autonomy. Although most Iranian Jews fled the country in several waves in the aftermath of the revolution, a sizable group remained. Today, their number is estimated at nine thousand. Given the lack of reliable information, their overall condition is unclear. Recent imgirants paint an ambiguous image of harmony with Muslim neighbors, and yet a feeling of imminent threat. Unsurprisingly, Iranian news reports emphasize the community’s well being and alignment with the regime.

Images of contemporary community life 

Outside of Iran, Israel and North America are the main hubs of Iranian Jewry and smaller pockets exist in London, Melbourne and Buenos Aires. Two significant communities in the United States are located in Great Neck, New York (also known as Persian Island) and in Los Angeles (it’s estimated that about 25 percent of Beverly Hills population is of an Iranian- Jewish descent). Many of the immigrants in America were able to bring their fortune to the new land and used their capital and expertise to start businesses in the clothing, food and electricity industries.

In Israel, as an attempt to integrate, Iranian Jews adapted to the culture and values of mainstream society while leaving their own heritage behind. This may be a gross generalization, but sociological studies, statistics and experience of living in Israel suggest a trend of assimilation. As a result of their pragmatism, Iranian Jews have made great accomplishments in the sphere of public service. The IDF, in particular, was a stepping stone to obtain power within the military (and later in Israeli politics). Among its current and former ranks, one can find a high number of generals of Iranian descent, including two chiefs of staff.

Real Persian Housewives

An exception to the unspoken policy of concealing Persian legacy is the author Dorit Rabinyan. Born in Israel into a warm tight knit Iranian family, Rabinyan used her gift for writing to bring Persian tradition into the spotlight. Inspired by her grandmothers and aunts’ tales of life in the old country, Rabinyan published her first novel Persian Brides (titled in Hebrew, The Almond Tree Road in Oumrijan) when she was only 21 years old. The book, an immediate  bestseller, was widely translated and praised by critics, describing Rabinyan as a meteor and comparing her to Gabriel García Márquez”.

Dorit Rabinyan

In Persian Brides, Rabinyan masterfully crafted a new hybrid of Hebrew- rich and whimsical -Parsi sounding text. Through her vivid language, Rabinyan invites the reader to experience the surreal Persian village of Oumrijan in the dawn of the twentieth century. The plot centers around two maidens, Flora and Nazie Retoryan, and their dramas involving marriages, pregnancies and relationships with their neighbors and the village demons.  

Since marriage is a central thread in the book, there are many descriptions of ceremonies and superstitions involving the bride to be. One of them, hilarious and sad at the same time, is the qualification test performed the day before the wedding. This is a test run by the mother of the groom in order to assess if the future daughter in law will qualify as a housewife. So what makes a good Persian housewife? The answer is superior herb chopping skills... perhaps understandable given the amount of vegetables used in Persian cooking (see section below). During the test, the poor girl needs to demonstrate how quickly and meticulously she handles a massive amount of greens needed for Khoresht Sabzi- a traditional stew. The pressure around the “Sabzi test” was so daunting that bleeding injuries, including losing fingers, were common. Here is the excerpt from the book:

“The bride had to prove her skills in cleaning and chopping the Sabzi, the herbs that Janjan sold in the market...the women of the village and relatives circled the bride...On a silver tray, they put bunches of celery, traggon, sage, rosemary, mint, spring onions and parsley. Homma (the bride) was sitting on the ground with her legs crossed as the Sabzi stems hill reached all the way up to her breast… Homma began quickly by separating the leaves and the roots from the celery, the spring onion stems from its onion, the sage from its delicious smelling flower buds, all of these were soaked in a big water bowl. later, the mint, tarragon and parsley leaves were washed as well...Homma reached for the sharp knife. Its blade was shining, and the women were shushing each other. Nazie knew that the tested brides sometimes get injured because of the pressure, and sometimes they even cut off their fingers. When that happens they deposit the cut finger with their mother, and continue to chop while they are heavily bleeding. But if not a single blood drop spilled during the test, and the herbs were finely chopped, the women sang and danced in circles around the bride as she was proven to be a skillful and well trained cook at her parents’ kitchen”.

Khoresht Sabzi Recipe

In honor of poor Persian housewives, I am including here a recipe of Khoresht Sabzi. This is a more user friendly version of this staple dish as it allows using dried herbs (although I highly recommend fresh for flavor), and it calls for a smaller variety of herbs. Note though that other available herbs  (for example, dill, traggon, basil)  will be a wonderful addition to the herbs listed below. In addition, middle eastern grocers sell pre cut Sabzi mixes (either dried or frozen), which can make the process even easier. Lastly, I listed lamb as one of the ingredients, but variations are welcome. In my family,  Khoresht Sabzi was served with chicken, but it is also fabulous as a vegan dish (see modification below) as I prepare it.

Khoresht Sabzi- Adapted from Najmieh Batmanglij’s book Food of Life: Ancient Persian and Modern Iranian Cooking and Ceremonies.

6 tbsp oil, butter or ghee

2 large onions thinly sliced

2 pounds lamb shank (optional)

2 tsp salt

1 tsp ground pepper

1 tsp turmeric

½ cup drained kidney beans - either canned or soaked overnight (increase the amount to 1 cup if omitting meat)

2 whole limu- omani - dried persian limes pierced

4 cups finely chopped fresh parsley or 1 cup dried

1 cup finely chopped fresh chives or scallions or ¼ cup dried chives

1 cup  finely chopped fresh cilantro

3 tbsp dried fenugreek leaves or 1 cup chopped fresh fenugreek

¼ cup lime juice

1 tsp ground cardamom

½ tsp of saffron threads dissolved in

2 tbsp of rose water (or hot water)

Let the chopping begin 

1. In a large saucepan (preferably a dutch oven), heat 3 tbsp oil over medium heat, and browned the onions and meat (if using). Add salt, pepper and turmeric, and sauté for 1 minute.

2.Pour 4½ cups of water, and add the kidney beans and dried limes. Bring to a boil, cover and simmer for 30 minutes stirring occasionally.

3.Meanwhile, in a wide skillet, heat 3 tbsp oil over medium heat, and sauté the parsley, chives, cilantro and fenugreek for about 20-25 minutes stirring frequently to avoid the burning of the herbs.

shrinking herbs

4. Add the herbs mixture, lime juice, cardamom, and saffron with its water to the large saucepan. Cover and let simmer for 2 -2 ½ hours, stirring occasionally.

Simmering slowly 

5. Check if meat and beans are tenders and add salt if needed.

6. Serve warm on a bed of steamed basmati rice.

Gratifying bowl on a cold winer night 

Festive, Aromatic and Nutritious: A General Note on Persian (and Jewish) cuisine

Khoresht Sabzi - quintessential  among Jews and their Muslim neighbors- can shed light on the Iranian kitchen as a whole and its link to Persian folklore. The Israeli celebrity chef, Yotam Ottolenghi wrote on this topic, in his book Plenty More:

“My Previous life must have been somewhere in old Persia. I am absolutely convinced of this. I am completely infatuated with the richness of Persian cuisine, by its clever use of spices and herbs, by the inguianty of its rice making, by pomegranate, saffron, and pistachios, by yogurt, mint, and dried limes. It seems that my palate is just naturally honed for this set of flavors”.

Ottolenghi’s words well capture the exotic and diverse essense of Persian cuisine. Specifically, the  culinary practices of contrasting dominant flavors (obtained by adding sour taste, such as pomegranate or lime juice to savory dishes), and textures (for instance, the combination of dried fruit and herbs) are indeed extraordinary. The slow cooking of a wide array of fruit (such as pears, apricots, dates and cherries), nuts (pistachios, almond and walnut) and spices (saffron, cinnamon and turmeric) also add a layer of complexity and colorfulness.

Typical Persian assortment 

The Zoroastrian concept of duality between good and bad, light and darkness -embedded in Iranian culture- was a key factor in the development of Persian cuisine. It inspired the aforementioned balance between sweet and sour, hot and cold, lean and fatty that exists in many dishes. Concerned with health, and mainly digestion, Persian cooking offers a dichotomy between hot foods, which thicken the blood and increase the metabolism, and cold foods that do the opposite. Dates and grapes are, for instance, “hot”, while plum and oranges are “cold”. A diet consisting only of one type of food can essentially imbalance the body and lead to an illness. Accordingly, the high consumption of herbs and green vegetables in almost every meal also stems from the concern regarding nutritional properties adjuncting food and medicine.

Iran’s historic role in importing goods from the far east and its interactions with its neighboring regions also shaped the culinary culture. Particularly, the Mogul - indian conquest and the long Ottoman reign increased the selection of spices, and introduced dishes, such as baklava and yogurt to the Iranian repertoire. These interchanges also spread Iranian staple dishes to other parts of Central Asia and the Middle east. Sephardic communities in these areas, particularly in Iraq and Turkey, adopted the Persian combination of fruit with meat, and rice with legumes.

Rice is perhaps the most iconic Iranian staple. It is made with a sense of perfection aiming to avoid porridge-like texture. Rice is commonly prepared either as Choleh - steamed with saffron scent and a crunchy crust (Tahdig) or as pilaf - mixed with vegetable, fruit and beans. A very colorful pilaf is the Wedding rice served with almonds and dried fruit.

The Art of Tahdig

Hearty stews, known as Khoreshts (such as the aforementioned Khoresht Sabzi) frequently  accompany the rice. Khoreshts are vegetable and herb based but utilize local ingredients unique to specific regions of the country (caviar in the Caspian sea area, for example). Another important dish is Kuku- a savory bake that can be compared to crustless quiche (or an Israeli Pashtida). Popular Kuku are made out of herbs, eggplant (also known as Iraninan potato) and my favorite cauliflower. At the end of the meal, Iranians enjoy a cup of tea served with a sugar cube and a nut based treat, such as nougat or walnut cookies.

Kuku: Colorful and heathy 

Persian-Jewish cuisine is basically identical to the majority cuisine with one main distinction. Due to Kosher dietary laws that separate meat and dairy, Jews refrained from using Ghee (clarified butter) and yogurt in meat stews. Iranian Jews contributed a very popular dish to the Iranian collection - Gondy chickpeas dumplings that are traditionally cooked in chicken broth.

Gondy: The Persian answer to Matzah Balls 

[superworldunkown]

SAY WHA??: Prologue

AN: Fun fact about me, I am a runner. So you bet your booty when that MHA ‘He will Meet the Three Musketeers’ teaser image came out, ya girl took that and RAN with it. Right into headcanon territory. I tired to use as much as I know from reading the manga, so there are spoilers of the War Arc/Dabi reveal/My Lady My Queen Midnight/Bakugou rising (aka finally showing some signs of positive emotional intelligence growth)/etc. I will also be mixing in my own OCs and thoughts on the meaning behind the WHA patches on their uniforms and what happens during this moving. And yes, Bakugou will be about that melanin. I’ll try to post every two weeks but…I am TERRIBLE at timeframes. Also, IDK what to call this, so right now it’s “Say WHA?” lol

Anyways, enjoy BBs.

Chapter 1: The Aftermath is only the beginning

Bakugou should have never jumped in front of Deku. Yes, he said it. And no, it wasn’t about the heroic act in itself or the public admittance that he does give a shit (albeit tiny shit) about that Damn Nerd. It was the fact that now, in the midst of the aftermath, everyone was looking for a hero. And, for some reason, everyone was looking at him.

The three weeks after The War with the Paranormal Liberation Army was nothing short of a blur. After intense healing and barely out of his stiches, he, Deku and Todoroki were immediately thrown into the media spotlight only to quickly be yanked back into the dark by All Might and the Hero Commission. There was so much to answer for, but no one seemed to know what to say. The Hero Comission went to work on damage control, class was suspended. Bakugou just focused on getting full mobility back to his arm. He didn’t want to think about anything else or unpack any emotions. But, swallowing his emotions was becoming more difficult with each passing day.

Everyone was clinging onto him. At Midnight’s funeral, Kirishima cried into his shoulder. Bakugou stayed silent, just letting it happen. After all, Kirishima, Mina, and Momo were the first ones that found their teacher lying breathless on the battlefield. Even if Bakugou couldn’t form the words to console his friend, the least he could do was be the strong shoulder to cry on. Even though he was breaking on the inside.

Then, of course, Deku. Despite the insane amount of growth and power his childhood friend had acquired in their first year at U.A, he was still a self-shaming masochist in the making (much like the explosion hero himself). Deku went into a week long shame spiral, blaming every death on his lack of ability to take down Shigaraki and his weakness for seeing someone that still needed saving.

He too broke down in front of Bakugou, blaming himself for the scars that graced the blond boy’s chest and shoulder. “I should have been stronger. I should have been able to save and win. I didn’t do either. I can’t make this power my own when I can’t even save the people I care about-“

Despite the emotional growth Bakugou had undertaken, he was still Bakugou. But instead of outright knocking Deku into a wall he merely shoved the boy so hard he fell back in a chair and snarled, “I’d beat your ass right now but somehow I’d think you’d enjoy that. Blame yourself for any of this in front of me again and I’ll blow your ass up so fast they’ll find pieces of you in different time zones.” Yeah, he still needed to work on his bedside manner.

Todoroki was another story. The boy hadn’t said a word, a single word in three weeks. He made himself scarce, stayed in his dorm despite everyone being ushered home to be with their families. Who could blame him? The media was in a frenzy over the reveal of Toya Todoroki and the public announcement of his father’s crimes and abuse. Todoroki didn’t even attend Midnight’s funeral. Bakugou wasn’t sure if it was Todoroki’s decision not to draw attention to the sensitive matter, or the Hero Commission. Bakugou was really starting to hate the Hero Commission.

They were protecting Endeavor with all the power and influence they had, but leaving Todoroki to defend himself.

Bastards.  

Both Deku and Bakugou had tried, in their own ways to engage their Icy Hot friend, but it was no use. Deku tried inviting him to his mother’s to stay over, ecen offering cold soba for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Todoroki never responded to the message.

Bakugou, in true Bakugou fashion, tried kicking down his door and challenging him to a fight, only to find a giant wall of sharp icicles dangerously close to his body. After blasting them for 10 minutes, he got the hint and left him be.

There was so much to cleanup between the three of them. They were all broken in their own ways. But, as much as time stood still at certain moments, things began to move on and forward. 

And now, here they all were, standing on a runway at the early hours of the morning for a new mission that none of them had any idea about.

“The Hero committee thanks you three for your assistance with this rather important mission.” The president spoke. She dressed in all black, looking extra serious. And in Bakugou’s mind, evil as shit.

“Yeah, you didn’t give us much of a choice,” Bakugou grumbled while clutching the handle of his suitcase.

“We’re happy to be of assistance,” Midoriya answered, “But, um, can I ask where we’re going?”

“Due to the recent events and,” The president treaded carefully, “unforeseen revelations….The Hero Committee has partnered with international hero departments across the globe to form a united front against villains from all nations. We have formed the WHA. The World Hero Alliance. With a focus on the heroes of the future each Hero Commission has selected their brightest and bravest hero’s to represent Japan’s hero effort.”

Bakugou looked at Todoroki, who was currently staring at the ground, and then to Midoriya before speaking, “So you’re sending us? What are we, show horses or something?! I thought we were going to kick some ass!”

“I couldn’t agree more.” The president’s response caused Bakugou’s eyes to raise slightly, “You three were not at the top of our list. However you were personally recommended by All Might himself and we owe him quite the debt for his commitment to the cleanup the past few weeks.”

“Sorry I’m late everyone.” All Might’s voice cut through the rather thick air. The skinny man dressed in his usual oversize suit, the darkness around his eyes looking extra black and fatigued. All Might had been spending every waking moment on all the news channels reassuring the public of their faith in heroes and in Endeavour, the still number 1 hero.

“Young Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoro-“

“Shouto. Just Shouto.”

Damn, he finally speaks! And those three words managed to hit All Might, and Deku, and Bakugou with such force you would think he himself had inherited One for All.

“Right uh…Shoto. I’m so glad you all could make it. You all have your passports, licenses, and everything? Don’t worry about your hero costumes, I had some new ones created for you all to wear during the events.”

“Can anyone explain where the hell we’re going and what the fuck we’re doing?!” Damn, someone had to say it.

All Might let out a small laugh, “We’re headed to the first Annual World Hero Alliance in The United States. Los Angeles to be exact.”

“The…The… THE UNITED STATES?!” It was like the sadness washed out of Deku, revealing the eager, bright eyed hero student, and complete fanboy, “Where you became a hero?!”

“That’s right, kid. I’ll explain everything on the jet.”

Midoriya was already rushing up the flight stairs, leaving Bakugou and Shouto on the runway. Bakugou didn’t know what to do. He could tell Icy Hot was a hot mess of emotion, despite his emotionless demeanor. His natural instinct was to shake/threaten/beat the sadness out of his classmate, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be effective.

“I know why you’re looking at me like that.” Shouto spoke, his eyes facing forward to the jet, “And no, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m fine. Let’s just…get this this stupid mission over with.” With that he walked forward and boarded the jet.

Fuck. Bakugou secretly hopped the WHA, or whatever it was called would get overrun by villains, as most of their missions/trips do. At least he would have someone to blast into smithereens that deserved it.

 AN: Alright. Just a teaser here.  I’m so excited to introduce you to The 3 aspiring heroes of The United States in the next chapter. My OCs. I can’t reveal much yet (honestly, I’m still test driving hero names). But, so excited regardless. I’ll post the next chapter by in the coming days.

[girlactionfigure]

A farmer's daughter, she was "born in White Sulphur Springs, W.Va., when Woodrow Wilson occupied the White House and rotary dial telephones were still brand-new," according to the Washington Post. Her mother was a former teacher and her father, aside from being a farmer, also worked extra jobs as a janitor. Her father, Joshua Coleman, had quit school after the sixth grade. But, "considered education of paramount importance for Katherine and her older siblings . . . Since the local schools only offered classes to African Americans through the eighth grade, he enrolled his children in a school that was 125 miles away from their home." "As an African American and a girl growing up in an era of brutal racism and sexism, [she] faced daily challenges. Still, she lived her life with her father’s words in mind: “You are no better than anyone else, and nobody else is better than you,” according to Junior Library Guild. “I don’t have a feeling of inferiority. Never had. I’m as good as anybody, but no better,” she said. "Career options for black women were limited at the time," according to the Charleston Gazette-Mail. After majoring in mathematics and French, she decided she "was going to be a math teacher, because that was it,” she said. “You could be a nurse or a teacher.” She married, left her teaching job and enrolled in a graduate math program, becoming the first African-American woman to attend graduate school at West Virginia University . When she got pregnant, however, she quit to focus on her family. In 1953, she accepted a job as a research mathematician. At a very young age, Katherine, says she counted everything. “I counted the steps. I counted the plates that I washed.” And, “I knew how many steps there were from our house to church.” In her job, she had to overcome racism and sexism, but she would eventually make a name for herself. In one of the most important projects, she would be called to verify some calculations. "Get that girl," astronaut John Glenn said. The rest is history. Katherine Johnson had arrived. Margot Lee Shetterly, author of "Hidden Figures: The Untold True Story of Four African American Women who Helped Launch Our Nation Into Space," stated, "So the astronaut who became a hero, looked to this black woman in the still-segregated South at the time as one of the key parts of making sure his mission would be a success." "For more than 30 years, [Katherine] Johnson worked as a NASA mathematician at Langley Research Center in Hampton, Va., where she played an unseen but pivotal role in the country’s space missions. That she was an African American woman in an almost all-male and white workforce made her career even more remarkable," according to writer Victoria St. Martin. "For many people, especially African Americans, her tale of overcoming racism and sexism is inspirational." "Her work was instrumental to some of NASA’s most important missions, including the flight of Alan Shepard, the first American in space, and the Apollo 11 and 13 missions to the moon," according to the Los Angeles Times. When Neil Armstrong took his first step on the moon in July 1969, many Americans did not know that Katherine Johnson had calculated the trajectory for the Apollo 11 flight to the Moon and was even given, along with her fellow team members, a souvenir flag that made the trip with Armstrong and his crew. She remained a "hidden figure", however, until Shetterly wrote her book, which eventually became the movie, “Hidden Figures”. Shetterly explained "the reason Johnson and her co-workers’ stories were 'hidden' was complex. Some of it was rooted in racism (the African American women were relegated to a separate office), some of it was sexism (calculations were considered “women’s work”), and some of it was simply that Johnson and her co-workers were wives and mothers as well as mathematicians." In 2015, Johnson was presented with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the Nation’s highest civilian honor - given to individuals who have made “especially meritorious contributions to the security or national interests of the United States, to world peace, or to cultural or other significant public or private endeavors.” President Obama noted, “Black women have been a part of every great movement in American history — even if they weren’t always given a voice.” Most will think of this in the context of the civil rights movement, where black women helped plan the March on Washington, but were largely absent from the program, or perhaps even in the fight for women’s rights, from suffrage to the feminist movement. Very few, however, may know the role that women, particularly women of color, have played as innovators and leaders in the domains of science and technology." "Johnson’s recognition by President Obama marks a proud moment in American history because until recently, Johnson’s critical technical contributions to the space race were largely unknown to the world. The contributions and leadership of countless scientific and technical women and people of color who have been tremendous innovators have been left out of American history books, unfortunately," according to Knatokie Ford, Senior Policy Advisor at the Obama White House Office of Science & Technology Policy. In 2016, a new building was named after Katherine Johnson at the Langley Research Center in Hampton, Virginia, then renamed the Katherine Johnson Independent Verification and Validation Facility in 2019. “I am thrilled we are honoring Katherine Johnson in this way as she is a true American icon who overcame incredible obstacles and inspired so many,” Jim Bridenstine, the administrator of NASA, said. The New York Times said that Johnson's fight for equality in the workplace increased awareness and called her a trailblazer. "Johnson was integral to developing human spaceflight in America," according to Scientific American. She was "an unstoppable force and a role model to young African-American women." Johnson, Shetterly said, “has given us a way to shine a light on a lot of women who have not been talked about. None of these women really got the recognition they deserved and .?.?. now an entire group of women are being recognized for the work that they did.” "Her father’s determined effort to send his children to school and her own resolution to pursue her dreams overcame race and gender discrimination and led to an extraordinary life of personal fulfillment and professional achievements," according to Visionary Project. Johnson, born on August 26, 1918, turned 101 last year. She published her autobiography, “Reaching for the Moon,” for young readers last year. “I want young people to feel the same way when reading my story,” she said. “I want them to see that it doesn’t matter where you came from, what you look like or what your gender is. You’re no better or worse than anyone out there and there’s nothing you can’t do as long as you put your mind to it. You can be a doctor or a lawyer or even help put a person on the moon.” Katherine Coleman Goble Johnson remembers as a young girl when she had to travel to an area known for its racism. Her mother would warn her. Not afraid, young Katherine responded back, “Well, tell them I’m coming.” After "a half-century, six manned moon landings, a best-selling book and an Oscar-nominated movie," Katherine Johnson is no longer a hidden figure. [Photo from Makers]

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

[chezgender]

Permission

Hello everyone!

This fic is inspired by Angst prompt 5 of this post:  “My heart tells me to kiss you, my head tells me to walk away.” The amazing @saint-of-los-angeles helped me with it and if you haven’t, go check her works because she’s amazing!

Pairing: Nikki x Tommy, Terrorcest Warnings: mention of drugs and lots of angst 

Summary: It’s Tommy’s wedding and Nikki has to cope with the idea of losing the love of his life.

Tommy's wedding was, indeed, supposed to be a day of celebration.

But what's the point of celebrating the loss of the person you love the most in the world?

All dressed in white, Tommy Lee looked like the most beautiful creature Sixx had ever seen, an angel sent straight from heaven just for Nikki. Nikki knew every single inch of the skin underneath those clothes, the tattoos he loved to trace, the taste of the salt on Tommy's body. He knew the shades of Tommy's voice, the way they changed when he smiled, or when he cried. 

Despite all of this, Nikki was there, in a stupid black and white tux that he hated, looking at his life-long love marrying another person.

It was no wonder he had injected all the shit that he could into his veins. He was outright wasted, devastated for a lack of a better term, and it was such a miserable scene.

He couldn't even fake happiness for Tommy, even though he should have.

Luckily the ceremony was over, everyone out there was having the time of their life, especially Tommy and Heather, flashing smiles like never before. 

Nikki, instead, was sitting on the cold tiles the bathroom in the huge, painfully clean bathroom. The bassist felt like nothing more than a spot of dirt in there, he felt out of place in every sense of the word. He had barely managed to take a breath before another violent shiver hit him to the core, and he gagged again, his hand desperately gripping the toilet seat. He felt like shit, he knew he had done entirely too much, but no matter how hard he tried, the bassist could think of no other way of making it through that dreadful ceremony.

He could barely hear the knocking at the door through the ringing in his ears, and just let out a weak grunt, hoping the person would take the hint and go away. He grunted louder at the sound of a jiggling door handle as someone tried to open the door, and said a silent prayer of thanks that he at least had enough sense to lock the door. 

Soon enough he was alone again, and focused on the goal of feeling at least slightly better than he currently was, pleading silently with his stomach to just stop lurching. 

His pleas fell on dead ears, of course, as his body kept violently rejecting the goddamn drugs that were supposed to make him feel better, to help him get through this day. This was hell.

His skin was on fire, he felt himself sweating despite the constant chills and shivers that were making him shake like a leaf, and his throat was  burning and raw.

"Nikki? Nikki, are you in there? Open the goddamn door!" a desperate, shaking voice cried out from the other side of the door, a voice Nikki would know anywhere.  

There was Tommy, on the other side of the wooden barrier, with his forehead leaning on the door and wet eyes hidden by his long curls. His shaking hand held the handle in a life-like grip, he would've broken it if he had to. Luckily there was no one around, he had left the party with a poor excuse since Nikki was nowhere to be seen, and Tommy always worried about the bassist.

In the end Sixx opened the door, barely able to stand on his feet, looking dejected and broken, but somehow still beautiful despite the messed up hair, black eyeliner tracks down his cheeks, and the smell of vomit lingering in the air. He would always be beautiful to Tommy.

Tommy hugged him, trying to ignore the feeling of his bones through the clothes. He had lost so much weight since heroin became part of his daily routine. "Nikki... thank fucking god you're alive." He whispered, and felt the bassist shake in his arms. He closed the door and let Nikki sit again, only to follow him. 

"How are you feeling?"

"I love you, you know that right?" Nikki whispered, and Tommy noticed he was barely holding back more fucking tears. "I want to be happy for you, you found love, you found all you were looking for with her…" Tommy remained silent, looking at the ground, unable to say anything. He knew what Nikki was going to say. "So yeah, I'm good really. I might have just.. overdone it with the junk, you know?"

"I'm glad you're here. I know it's hard for you."

"I'm fine, Tommy. Go out there, be with her, you deserve your happiness." Nikki smiled, the best he could. He meant it, in a way. He really wanted Tommy to be happy, even if it meant to lose him. He needed to adapt, adjust. Losing people had been a constant in his life, he was used to it, but somehow this stung more than the rest.

“My heart tells me to kiss you, my head tells me to walk away.” Tommy said in a hushed tone, his heart was as torn as Nikki's. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" He continued, and right there Nikki heard the crack in his voice. He lifted his eyes to find Tommy's full of tears, and Nikki's heart broke even more.

"Please, walk away. That's the best for both of us, I can't fuck up your life like I'm doing with mine." The bassist answered, those words hurt so much while being spoken, Nikki could barely hear himself. He whispered them, careful, careful not to say anything that could convince Tommy to kiss him, to cheat on his wife, to give a stupid glimpse of hope to himself when he was trying desperately to accept reality.

"I don't wanna ruin you. I would never forgive myself, Tommy..." 

"But-" Tommy tried to say something, anything, but Nikki interrupted him: "Go, for real. They are waiting for you out there." 

The drummer nodded, even if leaving Sixx there, in those conditions, hurt him like a knife straight to the heart.

"Let me at least walk you to the limousine, so you can go home. Rest, try to sleep and please take care." He proposed, helping Nikki to get up. He was still very weak, possibly even weaker than before, if that was possible. He washed his face with cold water and sipped a bit of it, it tasted amazing and felt so refreshing for his sore throat. He felt his heart seize up when he felt Tommy's warm hand resting on the small of his back, steadying the bassist and grounding him to Earth.

Tommy walked him to the car, dealing with the other guests so Nikki could stay quiet and just smile. He left him in the limo and said goodbye with wet eyes, said he was going to call him later.

Nikki knew Tommy wasn't going to call, he would be much too busy with his new bride and maybe that is for the best, anyway

He asked the driver to bring him home and, on the ride, he did what he knew he shouldn't and called Jason. He asked for more drugs, more substances to help him just forget, and Jason didn't disappoint. When Sixx walked through the garden of Van Nuys, his dealer was already there with the substances requested and waiting for the money.

He shot up again, indeed, because he felt he had no other choice. He needed to forget everything he had said to Tommy, because he regretted every single moment of that conversation.

*****

The drummer had to wait until the party was over and he and Heather were home. He called Nikki once, then twice, but nobody answered. Worry grew and rose in his chest, he was filled with bad thoughts and worst case scenarios. 

Scenarios that involved the love of his life, dead alone on the floor with a needle in his arm.

"Babe, I'm really sorry but I need to go. It won't take long, I promise." He said, hurriedly grabbing his jacket and the keys to his Harley.

The blonde woman looked at him and raised her eyebrow: "Where are you going, to check up on your junkie friend? He can't do anything without you, right?" She sneered, crossing her arms and looking really annoyed.

Tommy walked closer to her, so he could kiss the tip of her nose. Like he always did with Nikki when he was angry for some stupid reason, and he couldn't help but think this felt so wrong with her, but he had to get out of there. "Honey, don't get mad. He needs me, I wanna be there for him. He's my best friend."

"Well then, you might stay at his place for the night then, since you seem to owe him some kind of help." She growled as she threw her nightgown on in a huff. "Why didn't you marry him, instead?" 

Tommy snapped and took a couple of steps back, to avoid losing control of his actions. His fingers were twitching and he couldn't help but think: if I could have, I would have.

"Don't say shit like that ever again. Mind your own fucking business, and stay out of my relationship with Nikki." He spat through gritted teeth, pointing at her with shaking hands. She wasn't intimidated though, just angry, and she rolled her eyes at his obvious distress.

"Yeah sure, go. Go and take care of him. I'll see you tomorrow, maybe. Or maybe not, I might as well pack my shit and leave!"

"I told you it's just for tonight, he was really sick today."

"Whatever. Now get out." And Tommy did as he was told,  running out and jumping on his motorcycle, and speeding his way to Van Nuys. He knew the road by heart then, since he had done it so many times, and luckily it didn't take long.

He had a copy of the keys, of course he did, so he basically ran through the garden and then entered the house. No sound was to be heard except the soft music on MTV, Nikki was probably on the first floor. Of course the place was completely messed up, and he wasn't surprised. 

"Nikki? Are you here?" He called, and then clarified: "It's me, Tommy,'' knowing Nikki's mind spiraled downwards in paranoia, when he was high. He reached the bassist's bedroom and found Nikki sleeping on the bed. He was still fully dressed, and there was the wound of a very recent fix on his left hand. 

At least he was alive, that was all that mattered. Everything else could wait. Tommy laid down next to him, ignoring the not so nice smell in the air, and listened to Nikki's deep breath like a sort of mantra. He was alive. He was alive.

He watched Sixx 's face and breathing for signs of distress the whole night, until the bassist woke up by himself around 4am. 

"Tommy? Is that you or, am I hallucinating?"

The drummer shifted and went closer to Nikki's body: "It's Tommy. How are you?"

"Sleepy. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I came to see if you were okay."

"And what about her?" Nikki enquired, scratching his forehead and then looking for a bottle of water on the drawer. He took a long sip, still looking at Tommy with half closed eyes.

"She's home, pretty mad, but I don't care."

"The fuck, Tommy, you should be there with her." The bassist put a hand to his forehead, his voice sounded tired and most of all, worried. "You shouldn't be here."

"I want to be here, that's the fucking point." Tommy said, and cupped Nikki’s face. The black haired man looked at him, tiredly. Why did Tommy have to do that to him? Hadn’t he endured enough pain yet? He was trying to get used to the idea of living without the love of his life, because Tommy himself said so, because he said they had to cut their relationship short, for their own good. And yet Tommy was there, taking care of him and ignoring all the things he said, all the things he promised. Tommy was there, and Nikki found it so hard to resist, to say no, because he didn't fucking want to.

“Don’t ruin shit, dude.” Nikki growled then, getting up and taking the chance to change his clothes into something more comfortable. He could feel Tommy's sad eyes watching him during the whole process, without saying anything. "You fucking married her. You wanted this."

"I know... but-"

The black haired man looked at him, dead in the eye: "But what, you still love me or something?"

"...There's no way I could ever stop loving you."

"Then you shouldn't have married her." he said back, barely able to swallow the pain those words caused him. He needed to try to lie, to convince Tommy that this was the right decision. Giving up on Tommy, trying to put some distance between them, to save Tommy's marriage. He really wanted Tommy to be happy.

"You have no right to do this to her, and to me, because you know too damn well I can't fucking live like this."

The drummer sat on the edge of the bed and took Nikki's hands, they were kinda cold, but those long and rough fingers felt so familiar when they intertwined with his. "We always kept our relationship secret. What's different now?"

"Tommy, you chose her. You promised to stay next to her no matter what. You shouldn't cheat on her, and moreover, not with me. The difference is in the choice you made." Nikki’s voice was indeed petty strangled at that point, he couldn’t hold back the salty tears. Tommy pulled him closer and hugged his waist, leaning his head on his belly. They both sighed, while the bassist stroked the younger’s hair.

“I still love you anyway. I think that’s pretty clear, right?” Nikki whispered, and Tommy nodded silently as Nikki sat next to him. Shoulder to shoulder, they were looking at the floor with sad eyes. Everything was chaotic in that room: the bed was unmade, clothes and any kind of personal belongings were scattered all over the carpet, the smell of smoke and alcohol mixed with hairspray, the sound of cars passing by. Nikki’s mind drifted off: he couldn’t stay concentrated for too long. He was tired, and there still was the aftermath of drugs, hazing his mind.

Tommy’s voice brought him back to the harsh reality of things: “Can I kiss you one last time?” he asked, and Sixx couldn’t say no to that. Just one last kiss, he told himself, won’t kill anyone, right?

They were familiar with each other, yet, that kiss seemed full of brand new sensations. First the drummer caressed his cheek and then held up his chin, looking into those green eyes he was so hopelessly in love with. Their lips touched ever so softly, just a chaste contact, before Nikki would deepen the kiss by licking the other's lips. Tommy of course followed him, and kissed him in a desperate dance of feelings, almost crying, almost moaning his name so low it couldn't be heard. 

"I love you, I love you so much…" the drummer whispered, stroking Nikki's tangled hair and kissing his jaw and neck, breathing hot against his skin, trying to savor every moment, every single sensation. Nikki bit his lip before lowering his head to kiss Tommy's hair. 

"I love you too, Tommy. More than anything." he quietly murmured back, words they had chanted so many times. Sometimes between laughs, sometimes during sex, sometimes while fighting, but never like this. Tommy was crying: Nikki felt it by the way his back would slightly jolt and his breath kept on stopping. He couldn't do anything about it.

"Stay here tonight, okay? You’ll go home in the morning, I don’t want you driving like this.” Nikki proposed as he laid on the bed, pulling Tommy with him. The drummer remained silent for a while, until he stopped crying, and then nodded: "Okay."

So they fell asleep together, just by basking in the familiar sound of each other’s breath, so reassuring, and soaking in the comforting heat of their skin, tucked in the sheets together, as they were always meant to be.

But both of them knew that the daylight would come much, much too soon.

[mimzy-writing-online]

Coping Methods

Ways I’m managing my mental health during this high stress period:

-open my curtains in the morning

-wash my pajamas and favorite shirts more, so I won’t have to choose between wearing my favorite but dirty clothes or less comfortable clothes

-watching youtube videos that relax me (soothing aesthetic videos with soft music and pretty clips of someone doing daily routine stuff or doing their hobbies are what relax me the most)

-playing lo-fi or studio ghibli music in the background of my room, very soft

-(after having super productive days) accept that the next day I won’t have energy and allow myself to relax instead (because that’s just how my spoons work)

-call K and talk for a few hours on the phone, about 2-3 times a week

-play Overwatch with A

-Sims 4, giving my simself a productive, social, exciting life. currently they’re a doctor (because I’ve never played the doctor career) and married and I made them a really nice house on my most recent low-energy day so they can start a family

-picking up art again, mostly watercolor but some sketching too

-and learning cursive, and writing in my journal with cursive. that took me a few weeks

-reducing social media use

-cat cuddling

-brushing my dog (shedding season is supposed to start)

-one day a week I do my hair and makeup and put on nice clothes for working/productivity

-tea, so much tea. but I’m not drinking Starbucks anymore and the first two weeks without were hard. I’m making Twinings Earl Grey, and sometimes I brew that into iced tea

-use my nice tea pot and make a huge pot of tea, to make it feel more special

Things I’m Still Struggling With:

this month has been hard because ADHD was at its worst. I talked to my doctor and we changed my medication routine and the last week I’ve been feeling great. performing tasks is much easier than it was a few weeks ago.

the ADHD was also making it hard to be motivated to take care of this blog. You can’t see it because I have a large queue usually. it’s easier for me to do big sessions of hyperfocus for this blog and filling up the queue instead of posting everything at once. the queue is pretty drained, but that’s okay. I have that system for a reason, because I know physical and mental health will have temporary setbacks sometimes.

I have five asks still unanswered. your asks aren’t lost, it’s just been hard to focus enough to put quality thought into my responses or research anything I’ve been asked about.

actually, while I say I’ve been off most social media, really I’ve been neglecting all the ones that weren’t tumblr for a long time. twitter and insta just haven’t been easy to summon the mental and emotional spoons for.

I’m still struggling with sleeping, insomnia is bad. eating is hard to remember, and whatever executive function takes care of that hasn’t existed in a long time.

Hey, if I’m gonna share mental health tips, I’m gonna give you the real honest, sometimes ugly part too.

I’m doing okay. My overall outlook is positive, so long as I focus on my immediate situation, which is that I’m safe and as healthy as I usually can be, that I have family and am not living alone, that my friends are well and that I can reach out when I need to, that nobody I know has gotten sick, that my family is currently comfortable on necessity supplies, that my mum and sister can manage their anxiety and overall mental health too, that my doctor is literally a text away if I need help. I’m okay :)

[thejosh1980]

Update #21 – 1 week at “The Ocean Shores Resort”

Update #21 – 1 week at “The Ocean Shores Resort”

A week ago we left quarantine in Adelaide!!!

It's been another week of mixed emotions, but I have to say, for the first time in months, they've been mostly on the positive side of things.

Last Tuesday, we left the hotel without too much hassle. They'd given us a basic breakfast the night before to have first thing and they called us down early; luckily we were ready and down the stairs we went. Before you know it, we were in the hotel reception taking our masks off!

Adelaide and South Australia are COVID free, so no masks, no problems.

The checkout was quick (the big bill comes in a few weeks!!), the staff were awesome and the police informative. They all understand that quarantine is not easy on anyone, and they were patient with our questions and worries. We had won the jackpot of quarantine hotels: Pullman Adelaide and the staff helped make our stay tolerable.

Jumped in a taxi (with masks on cause we really weren't sure yet how to behave in the outside world) and off to the airport. We had to leave the hotel by 07:30, because another bus of incoming “Covicts” were coming in that morning. Our flight was at 11:50 up to Brisbane, so it was yet another waiting game to check in and fly. But first... coffee! (we actually bought a coffee from a coffee shop! Amazing!! It's the small things...).

The flight was about about 2/3's full, no masks.

Landing in Brisbane we had to do a border check, show our papers, explain where we had been and all that. The check was there to stop anyone who may have COVID from coming in without quarantining. Each State has slightly different rules, and they do change from time to time, depending on hotspots and COVID numbers. Because the flight was from Adelaide and we left the hotel directly to the airport, we made sure we had no problems entering Brisbane (Queensland). We definitely didn't want any chance of another 14 day hotel stay!!!

Our original plan was to fly into the Gold Coast airport, which is only about 35 minutes from Mum, but there were no flights on our leaving day, so we had to fly into Brisbane (which is 2 hours from Mum's). My cousin picked us up (bloody legend!). We were hungry, and we went directly to Yatala pies. This was the moment I started to realize we were almost home. The taste of home! (Yatala Pies is a well known bakery south of Brisbane, a regular stop for many).

My cousin could drive us as far as the QLD/NSW border. Once there, we walked across the border and Dave picked us up on the other side. A little complicated, but sure enough, the plan worked.

The whole experience felt like something out of the movies. Not that it was all “Hollywood”. It was more like: I can't believe this is finally happening. I wasn't really in the moment. Yet.

As we were getting close to “The Ocean Shores Resort” (which is the name we have for my Mum's house) I still didn't feel calm...

Anyhow, we arrived, and if you've seen our IG or FB Story on the day, you'd know that when I knocked on the front door, we had actually surprised Mum (a little early), and she couldn't find the front door key to let us in!! So our reunion started off with a scream and eventually a laugh!!

Mum did cry, but we all expected her to cry more... ;) Honestly, I think we both had cried too much the past 2 months, it was no longer needed. It was all about joy and happiness.

After meeting and hugging Alex (some more tears) we entered the house to find Mum had a “welcome home” sign and our picture up on the walls (lots of me and Alex, can't go wrong with that!!).

It was surreal.

A quick house tour for Alex and we settled down. Lots of chatting and catching up to do, and a roast dinner!

We'd made it.

The next morning (Wednesday), a son's work is never done and I was up early to take Mum to school. She's part of the support unit inside the primary school, working with kids with Autism.

Even though her eyesight is deteriorating, Mum can still work. Driving a car; that's out of the question. Reading the “use by date” on a packet of chips is almost impossible. Keeping an eye on children in the playground, developing their social skills or helping them with their school work (considering the text is usually quite large and the pictures bold) Mum can still do really well.

I've learnt she has figured out ways to cope with her eyes. She has a great memory, so once she's told something, she can remember it really well (like recipes for cooking etc). She's still a keen bargain hunter when it comes to shopping. I enjoy learning that she's kept her life as close to “normal” as possible, making small changes to the bigger things to keep her independence.

But it's those small things that are hard to do alone, which is why I'm here...

After dropping Mum off, Alex and I spent the morning of our first full day in Brunswick Heads. This is the town I lived in from the mid 80's until late 90's. I went to primary school here, learned to surf here, and know the old names of the shops (the hair dressers is now a surf shop, the butcher's is a cafe, the ice cream shop is a real estate agent and the bank has recently closed). Lots of changes for me, lots of new things for Alex.

We also went down to the beach, the south wall of the Brunswick River, where the river meets the ocean. We watched some waves. Taking in the salt air (I don't think I ever realized how salty the air is here until now).

It was a relaxing day.

But I still wasn't quite “here” in my head and heart. Leaving Dresden back in July, only to be delayed for 7 weeks, then another 2 weeks in quarantine, was going to take sometime to overcome.

Time to pick up Mum from school... Home... Unpack a little, dinner, chatting and a little TV.

Thursday morning, it was time for another radio interview. To finish off the 3 part story with ABC North Coast Radio I did another live interview with Joanne Shoebridge. I'm always nervous doing these kinds of things, even though in the music world, I've had to do interviews, they were never quite as personal as this.

After we dropped Mum off at school Thursday morning, we drove up to the Cape Byron Lighthouse and luckily got a park up close to the top.

I wanted to introduce Alex to the area as much as I could, without overwhelming her. Brunswick Heads, Ocean Shores, Mullumbimby and Byron Bay all played a big part of my childhood, and I wanted her to at least know these villages a little bit as early as possible. We'd covered Brunswick Heads and Ocean Shores a little, so now it was time for Byron Bay.

Bring on the whale watching!!

Within minutes of leaving the car, we could see whales jumping out and swimming around the cape. It was a wonderful morning. I'm so glad Alex got to see them (in fact I can't remember the last time I saw whales so close to the shore). They migrate each year around September/October, so it was perfect timing.

It was a special day for Alex...

The sun was shining, the whales were in plain sight and the tourists were kind enough to stay away from Byron Bay. COVID does have its benefits. Fewer people in these tourist spots isn't always bad (although I am quite aware the economy is suffering. The borders are opening up next week and it'll be very busy then).

Back into Ocean Shores, picked up Mum from school. Home... Dinner.. Chatting... Some TV...

Friday was the first day we had to do “stuff” in regards to living here permanently, and that was banking. So after dropping mum off at work, we drove into Mullumbimby “The Biggest Little Town In Australia”. I went to high school here.

Basically Brunswick Heads and Mullumbimby are like Neustadt in Dresden. You can't walk down the street without seeing someone you know, stopping and chatting. It happened in Brunz the other day, I literally parked my car, and lo and behold an old high school friend came out of the video store to say hi... Or in Mullum, as we arrive at the bank I see an old friend who used to teach me rock n roll dancing (yeah, I can still cut a rug)... and even inside the bank, I said hi to a fella from my high school year, we hadn't seen each other since 1997.

It's a small world...

The banking took a bit longer than expected, after much back and forward we settled on our new bank accounts and how to arrange things going forward. While I've had an account here since I was very very young, I cancelled most of my stuff when I left in 2002, so now it was time to set up shop again, especially since I had my wife with me and we have a future to work towards...

We walked the street of Mullum, grabbed a coffee and we let the country hippy vibe soak in. Alex commented on how many folks don't wear shoes here and she can't believe how many new coffee shops there are for her to try (there's a lot more than when I was a kid).

Picked up Mum from school... School holidays for 2 weeks! Yippeee!!

Home... Dinner... Chatting... some TV...

Over the weekend we sorted out things around the house. Set up better internet Wifi around the house, the pool is in good condition after the winter sleep, cupboards got cleaned out and we unpacked and the car was washed (first time I've hand washed a car in over a decade!).

Sunday I watched Mark's live stream (from his front porch in upstate New York) and I felt inspired (he does that to me). So I am considering live streaming next week. I have a guitar and good internet, so why not? I just have to find time to practice ;) I'm thinking net Sunday evening here, which would be Sunday lunch time in Germany. If I don't get to it this Sunday, then maybe next Sunday... I'll keep you posted.

Overall the weather has been warm, often over 20 degrees. But the mornings are still quite chilly, with frosty dew on the golf course out back. It's not bad for coming out of winter...

Today, Monday, we went “up the coast”, to Tweed Heads.

First thing we tried to exchange my German license for a mandatory NSW (State) license, unfortunately I gotta wait for some back checks, no idea what I did 19 years ago in Melbourne, but they wanna check it out. So onwards to shopping...

Yes!!! We bought a coffee machine! Finally we can wake and with a press of a button get ourselves a cup of joe. It's the small things....

Helped mum with the grocery shopping. She knows her stuff. She knows where everything is in every shop, but sometimes she just needs me to reassure her what is actually written on the box or package!!!

So that's basically our first week...

We are settling in well. Alex and Mum get on like a house on fire. I often can't get a word in edgewise and I'm always outvoted!

I still miss Germany and I still miss Europe... (I always will). I miss a lot of the “past life”, but that's just cause Australia has moved on without me these past 18 years. Each day here I get a little closer to that homey feeling I used to have as a teenager (when I didn't know better).

In hindsight, the past 3 months wasn't too bad... We survived... But that's easy to say now...

When we were in the middle of it, it was really tough.

It was really hard packing up our lives into boxes. It was emotionally draining saying goodbye after goodbye to our wonderful friends. Playing my goodbye show was one of the musical highlights of my life, even if it was one of the saddest.

Then we were ready to leave...

As you all know, that didn't go according to plan.

That's when the really bad feelings crept in. You know it's one thing to know you gotta pack up and say goodbye to leave (you are prepared for that)... It's another when you're ready and the world says “nope, not yet”... and again and again that build up and let down was happening, and until the last 2 weeks in Germany, we had no idea why!

As some of you know, I'm not really good at spontaneity. I'm not good when the plan changes... It was tough... But...

When we took control of the situation and booked new flights, it helped a lot. We were back in control.

Quarantine was a difficult time, it got a little dark there. It brought with it, it's own set of challenges and a steep learning curve. I, for one, learnt a lot about pressure. I put too much pressure on myself. Since we arrived here, I have tried my best to relax more, in my own way at least. My to do lists are shorter...

Alex and I had already figured out how to survive the German lockdown, the packing up of our lives and clearing out the apartment. Then we had 2 months at her parents stuck in “limbo” and then 2 weeks stuck in a room together. Our marriage is really new, and we survived that without any damage to our relationship. Sure, we both have a few personal scars, but nothing a little love and tenderness wont fix. I'm proud of her, Alex has a lot of patience for me!

I'm really happy I am here to help Mum each day. Those small things will slowly become bigger things, but for now, it's great to be able to do “stuff” with her. That was always the plan, to be here in time, before things got really bad.

We've been posting often on our IG and FB stories, so I hope folks have seen the day to day happenings. I'm sure we'll continue with that, keeping you up to date visually.

I think I'll end these FB journals here, and switch over to Tumblr full time. The idea being that if you'd like to continue to read these long “new life” chronicles, I'll still post a link here when I do update there... Confused? Me too! ;)

Thanks everyone for your messages of support and love. We are very lucky, we have the best friends.... You guys rock! You're awesome! We love you.

Love

Josh and @dauntlesscoffee