#to take a gamble with my health every time i go to class or work

[gayvampyr]

..

[melodyanqel]

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 ── ✦ h.ih. (two - more to live)

a pretty little thing, who grew up extremely sheltered and has never seen the horrors in life until she gets recuited in a mysterious competition.

⤷ pairing: hwang in-ho x fem!oc

⤷ genre/tags: fluff, angst, thriller, psychological drama, established relationship, games, action, financial issues, gambling, betrayal, team bonding, family, possessive!sadistic!in-ho, sheltered!sunshine!oc

⤷ warning: mention of health issues

⤷ wc: 1.3k words

⤷ note: it's our front man's birthday! hbd to this dangerously beautiful character! <3

⤷ melodyanqel taglist: @buckitostan @nadloves @gracesworks @verouys @foulbreadpaenut @avery-043009 @christinamadsen

Upon the eve of evening, when there is still the strength of day yet the softness of night, the city comes alive with music and light. 

Yu-na and her boss are cleaning up the café because it’s getting late. Her favorite time is when she clocks out from work and relaxes in her cozy home. She also likes to turn off the OPEN sign because another day has ended. 

Throughout her shift, Yu-na missed her uncle. Despite the conflicts between her aunt and Gi-hun, she never hated him. Yu-na knew about his poor gambling habits, lived with his mother after his divorce, and got too stubborn to admit his mistakes. But in the end, Gi-hun does have a heart. Yu-na can tell through his emotions when mentioning Ga-young that he genuinely didn’t want her to leave him. It’s pitiful. However, he still thinks of his daughter every day. 

“Thank you, Yu-na, for today.”

Giving her boss a jubilant smile. “My pleasure, Mrs. Lee. Have a lovely night.” She leaves the place and notices the once-blue sky is now ink-black with splatters of stars and the crescent moon. Of course, the city is always loud and cheery at night. Yu-na starts to head home and luckily it’s not a long walk because there’s a neighborhood close to the café. Most people around the area know Yu-na because they have been homeowners since she was a child and a few are great friends with her parents. 

Yu-na kindly greets the people when entering the neighborhood. She also notices a little girl dressed in a light green dress and a flower beanie over her head, holding her father’s hand coming towards her direction. 

The child beams when she sees Yu-na. “Unnie!” She shouts the older’s name and sprints her small legs. 

“Na-yeon!” Yu-na bends down with her arms open—the little girl hops into the embrace. “Did you have fun in school?” She asked because Na-yeon started her education this year. They pulled away to face each other and the child responded, “Yes, I did! I learned how to draw because appa knows how to draw and my friends liked my hat.” She spoke enthusiastically, which made Yu-na smile widely. It’s nice to know Na-yeon is living her life to its fullest. 

Then footsteps come closer to them. Gyeong-seok or Na-yeon’s father approaches. He tells Yu-na, “The teacher also enjoys having her as a student. She brings an extra joy for the class.” He quotes the amazing feedback about his daughter. 

It honestly made Gyeong-seok proud of himself because he raised Na-yeon as a single father and the struggles and concerns about her chronic illness caused him to be overprotective. But then he reflects on his mindset to at least have Na-yeon enjoy life, even when she is fighting to stay strong. Gyeong-seok truly loves and treasures his angel and prays that luck will come true. 

Yu-na stands up and says, “I agree with the teacher. She is like the brightest sun in our universe.” The young woman looks at Na-yeon with adoration in her eyes. She takes a hand to pat her head. “I like your hat too. But you are prettier than the flower.” The comment was cheesy yet sweet because it made Na-yeon smile. 

Gyeong-seok also planned on taking Na-yeon to his work for the weekend and it's the amusement park. Yu-na is glad he is taking his kid to a magical place for the first time. Na-yeon had always wanted to go there because she loves fairytales, cartoon characters, and candy. She is like any other kid. Yu-na hopes Na-yeon will have fun and Gyeong-seok illustrates guests.

Afterward, the father and daughter bid Yu-na ‘goodbye’ and went home. 

✮⋆˙

In the Myung household, a family of three is at the dining table to feast on meals and talk about their day. 

They’re the same old topics: work, plans, and how they’ve been doing. For Yu-na, she brings something new to the table. “I met Uncle Gi-hun today.” She told her parents and they looked at her quite astonished. Her mother’s face lights up. “Really? Where has he been all this time?” Yu-bin becomes intrigued. 

Yu-na expounds, “He has been working overseas and has found a better living. His uncle said he stopped gambling because he was trying to improve his ways, which was shocking, but it’s understanding of him not to live on bad habits.” Her response is brief yet her parents comprehend.

Her father, Ji-won, tells her his thoughts. “It’s nice to know he is no longer in a negative life. Even though I’ve never shown any hate towards him, it was disappointing to see his behavior affecting others. That nasty divorce with his ex-wife caused so much trouble to the family that we weren’t so sure to continue being one. Sorry that I had to bring up your sister, my dear.” He sincerely apologizes to the love of his life. 

She shakes her head. “No, I’m with you on your opinion. As much as I never hated my sister and Gi-hun, their broken marriage had all of us worried. But in the end, I guess people do change.” Yu-bin does believe in second chances if the person is willing to make things right. 

Yu-na sighs, “I wonder if we’ll come together again.” She began to feel the nostalgia when times were different and the whole hatred didn’t come into their lives. Yu-bin reassures her child. “Someday. Keep on hoping for it and it’ll happen.” The mother also wants things they used to be. She misses her sister a lot more than she expected. The two women have a deep bond, even when they are countries apart.

Furthermore, the Myung family continued their dinner until it was time to sleep. 

Yu-na washes her greasy face because she ate delicious BBQ, soup, and dumplings. However, the calories were worth it. After having soft, clean skin, she jumps on her bed like a rabbit. The blissful feeling of cotton sheets and a blanket soothes her aching muscles. To end the night, she texts her friend she met in college. 

Park Chae-young is her name. Yu-na once thought she could seriously be a model for a fashion magazine—from face to body to attitude like so much perfection. Chae-young is also a hard-working student and dreams of becoming a registered nurse. It also makes it appropriate that her fiancé is a police officer because they are helping people in the community by providing medical care and maintaining safety, often in high-stress situations.

The quiet bedroom echoes her giggles here and there from the silly yet cute messages sent by her friend. Yu-na feels sleep taking over her body. She delivers one more reply before entering dreamland. 

✮⋆˙

It’s not a work day but a school day.

Yu-na carried her supplies in a pink and white backpack, wore a Cogimyun crewneck, flared jeans, and sneakers, and ate a quick breakfast—a toast with jelly. 

She leaves her home to meet Chae-young at the subway station. Whenever she goes to school, Yu-na appreciates how peaceful the morning is. It’s close to autumn so the weather is getting cooler and less humid. While leaving the neighborhood, a few people said “Good morning.” Yu-na says it back with her usual merry smile. It’s always amazing how a short yet meaningful greeting can uplift someone a little more. 

As she makes her way to her destination, Yu-na abruptly gets stopped by a person on the streets. It turns out to be a grown man who is fairly tall, with dark brown hair layered flat over his forehead and dressed in all gray and black. His facial features are sharp, thin lips, and has kind brown eyes. 

“Excuse me, miss. Do you know a café nearby?” He asked in a deep, charming voice. Yu-na politely answers. “Yes, I do. If you go down another block there will be one.” She points ahead of the street on her left, directing him to her workplace because that’s the closest. 

The man etches an elated expression. “Thank you so much, miss. Have a good day.” He bows to her. 

“You’re welcome and you too.” Yu-na does the same thing and watches him descend elsewhere before continuing her walk. 

series masterlist | three

[vengeancect]

i spent this year trying to get a job but i never even got an interview, not surprising considering i have no qualifications and "he knows english and technically passed high school!" is only impressive to crackheads and the terminally destitute aka my immediate family. i have some trouble translating job-related terms from english to portuguese in my mind, and i know so little about my surroundings that i can't tell if a job listing is near me or not, i just hope they all are and gamble on it. funny enough the most luck i've ever had was in january 2023, and even then they never messaged me back after the interview. when my aunt showed up a few days ago with pity christmas gifts (food) i wanted to ask her if i could work at her wedding company but couldn't bring myself to do it when i was in front of her. i must look very gross and homeless now. my mom told me she works several towns away anyway so it was pointless.

phantom hands also steered me towards seeing doctors about my "mental health" which has proven to be quite a pain in the ass these past few months. i sat in a room full of doctors (they were probably my age, this particular thing is just going to get worse and worse lol) and tried to speak to them candidly about what my life is like, including all the sordid embarassing internet shit. their little notes for me make me sound like the most miserable creature to ever live: "uses the internet as a release valve to simulate the life he doesn't have" LOL "has had contact with unknown adults on the internet since childhood and sexual chats. despite disliking these chats and feeling ashamed he could not avoid them as he knew the attention he got from them fulfilled an inner need for affection". this was my first visit. i got prescribed prozac and lithium, i take them every single day along with vitamin D and B12 (6 pills a day hooray) to absolutely no effect at all. it's shocking how little an effect it has, other than the lithium making me feel kind of gross for a bit. my second visit had a homeless guy sit next to me in the waiting room going UHUUUHHH every 20 seconds. they upped my prozac dosage, nothing came from that. the doctor this time adopted a sort of special ed class teacher position with me, giving me "homework" to go outside and socialize more, like going to a mental illness support group and taking a job there or maybe volunteering at a church.

none of this is actually new to me. i've tried all sorts of stuff since i've turned 18. exercising, going to the gym, going on walks outside, cheating on my zoom classes, taking in-person CS classes, applying for jobs. all of this either did nothing or was a massive failure. my walks didn't make me any healthier or more motivated, there were no life changing chance encounters. i just sat down at some college and watched all the other people my age talk and laugh while i did online 6th grade level tests (that i still couldn't pass and had to use google on). going to the gym meant i had to keep it up or my dad would ask where the money was going so he could buy drugs. when i quit my mom instructed me to pretend i was still going so i had to sit alone somewhere for 20 minutes before i could go home. the classes were a total waste of time and money as i could no longer google my way out of them and my eyes had become so shit from looking at screens all day that i couldn't say what was written on the board. i couldn't do anything right and consistently got awful test scores. i'm going to see a therapist next year and i'm no psychic but i have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen. i feel like after this year i've reached the upper limit of what i could realistically try to do to fix my life. all i can do is push the same buttons harder for less and less results. i don't know if there's anything else. i'm going to be 26 in a few months

[carlysviewonsocialmedia]

The Best Nonprofit in New England

Non-profit organizations use their influence and resources to reach out to people for their cause. They usually use donations and social media to reach out to get their message around fast and efficiently. Social media is one of the most effective ways for fundraisers and charities to get money and to reach a broader audience to find people to contribute. More information on non-profits can be found at the National Council of Nonprofits. 

My name is Carly Kelly, and my favorite non-profit organization is the Ronald McDonald House Charities of New England. This non-profit is found at 45 Gay St in Providence between Blackstone and Dudley Streets. Every time I'm going home from taking classes at CCRI, I pass this organization so one day I looked it up to see what it was and what their cause is. Paula Wright is the board president and operator of The Ronald McDonald House Charities of New England.

The Ronald McDonald House Charities of New England focus their efforts on home families and create a support system for those in need. The foundation helps children with illnesses get care, to make sure they have homes to go to and develop support and programs that build up children's physical health and mental well-being.  

The Ronald McDonald House Charities of New England use a few different social media outlets to share their cause and ways to donate. The Facebook  has 5.2K likes and 5.3k followers. The Facebook page seems to be popular and well liked gives the lives and followers so it's safe to say they get a lot of outreach. The page provides updates on events they have hosted and the families they have helped over the years they offer separate ways to contact them such as their email (esimmons@RMHCNE.org), where to find them, and their phone numbers, much like their website provides.

The nonprofits Instagram are mostly the same, but it has only 1,509 followers, photos, and a link to their website. Even though the follower count is low they still get good responses and a fair number of views. Also of their videos photos are well liked and professional. the reels they post always have something to do with the nonprofit or the families.  Their LinkedIn provides the same information but also adds separate locations in different states and offers job opportunities working at the nonprofit. LinkedIn also provides the names and positions of the employees so you know who you can get in touch with, also providing weekly updates. The Ronald McDonald House Charities of New England also has a YouTube channel with 23 subscribers and 43 videos. Their YouTube does not seem extremely popular either. YouTube is a gamble most of the time, so I'm not surprised that they have a low subscriber count and low views on their videos. It's hard to make a YouTube channel for fundraisers because a lot of people don't go on YouTube to find nonprofits. But their videos do share information on their profit and show the families that they have helped. A good video I recommend watching is “RMHCNE Annual Appeal: Providing Comfort and Support to Families in Need”. I think the reason their YouTube channel is not popular is because they don't post as much anymore. Their last photo was 11 months ago and before that video the last one was won a year ago. If they posted more videos, they may have more luck getting more views and subscribers. Also, if they posted more about their YouTube page on different social media, they would be able to get different viewers from different sites. 

[devildomdoofus]

Lemon Dreams: Part 1

[NSFW]

Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan

a bit of spicey lil dreams the brothers have of MC. If requested, I’ll add the undateables (minus Luke) into a Part 3.

Gender-Neutral as always.

MINORS:

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT PROCEED

Be smart, have common sense.

I’m not responsible for your irresponsibility.

You see the warnings. I put them out plainly. Adhere.

‼️WARNINGS‼️

NSFW, mature theme, mature content, implied intercourse, nudity, swearing, light bondage, BDSM, tidbit of pet play, wet dreams,

IF I MISSED ANY, PLEASE INFORM ME

Author’s Note (Sorry, I’ll try to be brief):

Trying my hand at some “light” N S F W content to see how I do and see how it goes.

Thank you all, once again, for the love and support and positive responses!! You’re enjoyment is the reason I keep doing what I love to do✨ Please: stay healthy, stay safe, stay you, and stay ruling them all, MCs 💕

- DevildomDoofus

💙Lucifer:

Regrettably, it has been nearly a millennia since he’s had any amount of a decent shuteye due to his brothers’ antics, his oversight of R.A.D., and obligations to Diavolo so you can only imagine the amount of fatigue that he felt in his mind, body, and soul. But because of his image and his own personal desire to be nothing short of perfect, he couldn’t simply rest whenever or wherever he pleased. It was outlandish to even consider the idea. Unfortunately, the side effects of denying himself any form of rest were starting to show. It was causing him to make mistakes he wouldn’t normally make and Diavolo had to personally intervene, using his authority on behalf of his dear friend’s health or lack thereof and demanded that he take a day off. He was the only one in all of the realms that could try and convince this workaholic to put on the breaks. You, yourself, have tried before but Lucifer was as stubborn as the days of summer were long and you felt like you were talking to a brick wall. But because Lucifer could not deny his prince’s demands, he reluctantly obliged... but not without absolute confirmation that nothing would go wrong while he was absent and as soon as he felt rested enough, he would return immediately.

Locking himself away in his room while putting a soundproof spell on the outside of it, he finally sits down at his desk and leans back in his chair as he sluggishly closes his eyes. The silence was both mildly relaxing and extremely uncomfortable as it was so rare for the world around him to be so... quiet. so undisturbed. So peaceful.

It was a bit unnerving.

He sighs deeply. This whole resting thing was going to be a lot more difficult than he originally thought. He stands up to go grab a vinyl record, places it on the antique gramophone and turns the device on. The orchestra makes their way through the metal funnel and the melody of the instruments echo beautifully throughout his room. “Much better,” he hums to himself. He tosses his coat aside, unbuttons his vest and drops it to the floor, removes his button-up shirt, kicks off his shoes, and does away with his belt while his pants follow suit. He dons his nighttime robe and finally slides into his bed. As soon as he hits the mattress, his eyes shut and his mind turns off, allowing him to drift swiftly into a deep slumber.

The dream started out like any other dream he’s had in his life; it’s mundane and not much is going on. It’s practically the same as ‘bringing work home with him’ but in his dreams. He’s at his desk, crossing his t’s, dotting his i’s, finalizing some paperwork, and the like, while the stress from his waking hours begins to find its way back to him like a boomerang.

Then, as if by magic, all of his stress melted away as soon as he heard a knock on his door along with your voice calling for him softly on the other side. He smirks. “You may enter.” He kept his head low as you stepped in due to the fact that he was finishing signing a particular paper. “Just a moment,” he instructs, as the last cursive letter finds its place on the paper. He begins to lift his eyes to meet yours. “Now, what can I do for yo-...” He freezes.

There you were, standing before him, in nothing but one of his ties hanging loosely around your neck. His jaw clenches and his fist tighten into a ball so firmly that his knuckles turn white under his gloves.

‘Like a lamb to it’s slaughter,’ he quotes, internally.

Needless to say, the dream takes a more DRASTIC turn and he’s got you bent over the desk, hands tied up with his tie that you so graciously considered to bring with you, and his name pouring out of your lips like a faucet. He’s taking you all for himself, piece by divine piece, with every snap of his hips, bite of your skin, and claw of your flesh. What a sight you were beneath him.

The moment he wakes, his body is covered in a ‘morning’s dew’ of sweat and the sheets of his bed have become painfully heavy on his lower half. His heart is still thumping wildly in his chest and his eyes are darting everywhere in his room, ensuring that he’s alone and no one can see him in such a disheveled state. He uses part of his robe to dab away the sweat from his brow and then rubs his eyes as he collects himself.

Spends the next many few hours calming himself down and hoping that he is blessed by some unholy miracle where NOBODY walks in...

especially you...

with nothing but his tie hanging loosely around your neck and-...

Ah shit.

The following morning at breakfast, he is eyeing you rather heavily from across the table and his brothers take notice but never dare to say a word. They just assume that you’ve done something to piss him off again and want no part of it.

They are not entirely wrong, though. You had unknowingly irked him quite a bit.

You entered his dreams without permission, made such a delectable spectacle of yourself in front of him, and caused him to feel things that no other demon, angel, human, nor any other soul for that matter, has been able to make him feel. And now he has to deal with these explicit thoughts and feelings, especially when you’re around or in his vicinity, along with many other things that demand his attention and it’s all just so irritating. Delightfully irritating. The kind of irritating he secretly enjoys.

The next few days, you never really get the sense that anything is off with Lucifer for how well he carries himself, no matter his circumstances, and yet... he seems to be less physical with you. Normally, he would give you the occasional hand on the shoulder or upper back when you needed guidance, allow you to lean on his shoulder when your days had been particularly rough and you needed to rest, or pinch your cheek when he teased you but lately... he wouldn’t even keep eye contact with you for very long without turning away and- was that a hint of pink in his cheeks? No, surely you are imagining things. Lucifer, blushing? Has the devildom froze over?

💛Mammon:

This poor, sweet and a little bit sleazy man was just SO exhausted from having to get up early that morning when he’d normally sleep in, to go to a school he doesn’t ever really pay attention to, as well as constantly keep lower demons from getting anywhere near his precious MC, bribe Levi to do his homework in exchange for an exclusive Ruri-Chan figurine (which he went into further debt to obtain), keep his overbearing fanbase from his modeling jobs happy on social media... it all was simply too much for The Great Mammon to be doing when he could alternatively be doing something better. Like being lazy sleeping off this R.A.D lag.

He had skipped his last few remaining classes and told you he was headed to your room to crash before school let out and you two could hang out later. He plopped onto your bed, nuzzled his face into one of your pillows, and fell asleep shortly after to your sweet aroma surrounding him.

His dream began as they typically do, with him gambling his Grimm for higher payouts or watching the Devildom stock market fluctuate in his favor... or more often times than he’ll ever admit, it’s just the two of you spending some quality time together alone for a change.

Only this time, his dream didn’t end up the way it typically did.

In his dream, he was sitting next to you on the sofa with his arm resting behind your head wanting to wrap it around you so fucking badly and watching whatever you had put on when it was interrupted by the winning lottery ticket read out. He leapt from couch with a big yell and the winning ticket in hand, and rushed to hug the tv and to kiss the demon inside of it, thanking him, Lady Luck, and anyone else involved in his incredible fortune today. As he turned around to come squeeze you tight with excitement and have you share in his celebration, his whole body tensed and he stopped in his tracks. He had become a deer in the headlights.

You were now lewdly postured on the couch, bare and exposed, excluding how you were practically dripping in gold jewelry/accessories whilst surrounded by enormous piles of Grimm. With one finger, you beckoned him over.

To say that this is one of his all time favorite fantasies would be THE understatement of the millennia.

He was in front then over you in a matter of milliseconds, his demon form taking over his body and stealing noises from you that the entire House of Lamentation- no- the entire Devildom could hear and FUCK he loved that thought almost as much as he adored you he cared about you; the thought that the entire Devildom could hear that you were his and his alone, that no other soul could make you feel like this.

And just as it was about to get really good, he wakes up.

Red faced, breathing heavily, and a thick coat of sweat all over his body. Not to mention the newfound, painful tightness in his pants.

He’s jerking his head around the room to confirm hoping to deny that is was all simply a dream, and to be certain that you hadn’t come back from school early or something and found him like this.

“Unholy shit.” He wipes the sweat from his face and then takes his phone in his hand to check the time. “UNHOLY SHIT!!” You had texted that you were on your way back home 10 minutes ago! He had to be quick.

He replaced the sweaty sheets and pillow cases with new ones, adjusting them so that it looked as it had before he slept on them, tied his school uniform coat around his waist to disguise the ‘friendly neighborhood bachelor,’ and darted like a bat out of devildom to his room, avoiding major hallways and doors to ensure that no one could stop him or chase him down and see him in his predicament.

You can be sure that for the next few weeks, he’s avoiding you like the plague. He sends texts that he is “paying off a debt and can’t make it,” or “Sorry MC, I’m a little tied up at the moment. This Grimm won’t make itself.” and to you it was a little odd, but nothing he hasn’t exactly done before, so you go about your days as normal. Poor Mammon has once spent an entirety of four months working a few jobs to pay off one big loan.

If only you knew how often he was reliving that dream in his head, over and over and over again. For such a thing to become reality? Well... he feels he’d have better luck winning the lottery. But just as he gambled, he wouldn’t give up so easily.

🧡Leviathan:

It is not uncommon for Leviathan to have certain dreams about certain individuals he enjoys, be it anime characters, video game characters, idols that he fawns over, etc. It’s normal. Quite often, in fact, but he would rather LITERALLY DIE before he ever admits to such a thing, much less have anyone think he has a crush. With his brothers as they are known to be, he’d never live it down. Which is one of the reasons why he keeps himself locked away in his room and goes on binges of whatever it is he’s invested in at the time. He’s left alone to do and be as much of himself as he pleases without judgment. It is one particular episode of an anime he had been bingeing for several hours that has him with his head resting upon his keyboard and ever so slightly snoring away as the characters converse in the background. It wasn’t boring in the least, it’s just that his eyes refused to stay open any longer and his body decided for him that it was about time for a proper nap.

His dream began as normal, with him on a quest to save the renowned, royal heir from the ten-headed beast that guarded the tower in which they were kept. The journey to the tower was extensive and not without its obstacles, the battle was epic, in every sense of the word, and the reward for it’s heads would match the gratification of the victory that ensued it.

Little did he know that in that tower, it wasn’t just any royal heir lying in wait for their prince to come, as they had always been. It was you.

You, in all of your glory, draped across the bed and adorned with the finest of cloths that were barely covering your most intimate of skins.

As he entered your bedroom chambers, expecting to find a fictional character he adored in his waking hours, he stops dead in his tracks and his entire body turns red hot in matter of seconds. You could easily hear the thumping of his heart throwing heavy blows at his ribcage, and, if you looked close enough, you could see the steam trickling out of his ears. You could also hear the clinking of his amor, the metal plates shaking against one another as he trembles before you.

Leviathan.exe has stopped working.

Yes, he’s had plenty of dreams like this before but.. fuck.. they were never of you. Much less like this. Believe him, he’s tried on many occasions to at least see your face or hear your voice, ANYTHING. But inevitably, his anxiety and shyness won in the end and you never came passing through his dreams... until now.

You leant against one arm, your lips curling into a smile, and then beckoned him silently with one crook of a finger.

Anxiety and shyness who?

He quickly does away with the heavy armor, tossing them aside, and crawls across the bed to you, to your face, to those precious lips.

He takes a hold of them in his own and seemingly devours you as he strips you of what little cloth covered you and then pushes you back down against the bed. The dream continues with your bodies intertwining in every way that earned him the lewdest of noises from you.

Until he jerks awake with his face a deep shade of crimson, body covered from head to toe in a mist of sweat, and a heartbeat that could put a drum solo to shame. He quickly scans his surroundings as he’s coming back to reality, making sure he’s the only one within a mile’s radius. If anyone thought he was a hermit now, you can only imagine what it would be like if he was caught looking the way that he did. The anime that he had fallen asleep to was now on a screen that was asking for confirmation if he was still watching. He presses the power button on his computer and wipes away the sweat on his brow before leaning back in his chair, eyes glued to the ceiling as he’s recollecting the dream. He sees the faces you were making in pleasure pass through his mind once more and it makes his face turn 30 shades redder and increases the painful tightness in his snug sweatpants. He shakes his head, no longer wanting to continue digging this grave of overwhelming lust, and plants his head back onto the keyboard. Lord Diavolo, please, just kill him now.

The following months, Leviathan stays locked away in his room and avoids you as if you were the final boss of a game he never wants to stop playing. He knew that if he saw you, got near you, or even heard your name being mentioned, there would be no way of stopping his thoughts, his body’s reactions to those thoughts, nor his brother’s comments about how he’s “acting awfully strangely.”

As much as he wishes that he never had the dream in the first place because of all of the trouble it’s causing, he can’t help but relive it over and over again, putting it on repeat in his mind. But to admit to you these powerful feelings and attempt to bring it to reality? Only normies do such a thing... right?

💚Satan:

Line after line, chapter after chapter, book after book, he simply could not put the new series he had discovered down. He was so invested, he’d finish one book and immediately pick up the next. His mind was reeling far too fast for him to stop now and nothing in all of the three realms could do so. That is until his own body waved it’s white flag and begged for him to shut his eyes, even if for just moment. Satan bargained, internally, that he’d allow himself roughly thirty minutes of rest before he’d pick back up where he left off. He sets the book on a nearby desk, settles down onto his loveseat and closes his eyes.

As a man of many talents and faces, his dreams were known to be as heavily diverse as he was, and often times reflected whatever book he had been reading, philosophy he had been pondering, or stress he had been managing. No one particular type of dream frequented more than another.

That being said, in the past few weeks, you had been a bit more physical with him. Whether it was a simple brush of the hands as you two reached for the same novel, late night study sessions ending up in late night study and cuddling sessions, or the occasional linking of arms as the pair of you walked the length of a museum and studied its inhabitants. It goes without saying that you were making an impression on him and his mind, leaving little to no room for any other thoughts than the ones involving you. Naturally, you had found your way into his dreamworld and you were the one constant in the ever changing slumber visions.

The dreams that you were involved in, which were now a majority of them, were mostly sweet; the most intimate being the one time you had placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. If you were to ask him about these dreams that had him chipper than usual, he would smile and tell you that “they were simply pleasant hallucinations but nothing more.” And he’d be lying through his teeth, desperately trying to keep his cheeks from reddening in front of you. If you were lucky enough that his gaze lingered, you’d catch the tint of pink making its way across his face. The poor inner romantic in him couldn’t help himself. He’s mastered the art of poker face in its entirety, but when it came to you, his willpower and calm demeanor waned into nothingness and he was like putty in your hands. Just don’t push it or there will be Devildom to pay.

This particular time around, though, his dream would take a more unforeseen turn.

In his dream, he had invited you to join him on an outing over to the Royal Library and you two were now making your way to your favorite lone table in the farthest back corner, hidden behind the many shelves of books. After claiming your usual spot, he went to gather the books he wanted to go through and planted himself in the chair to finally open them up and get started. Meanwhile, you had wandered off, presumably, to find and create your very own mountain of novels to conquer.

An hour or so passed and he had made his way through five of his books when he felt a tap against the cover of the one he was currently reading. “Forgive me, MC, but I’m almost done with this paragraph and I need just one more moment to do so.” Another tap against the cover. “May it wait, MC? I’m nearly finished.” This time, you gingerly grabbed the tip of his book and tilted it away from him (a pet peeve of his). Just as he was about to give you his trademark glare of warning, his eyes widen and his jaw clenches, with his fingers letting go of the book and tightening into a fist taut enough to turn his knuckles white.

There you stood before him in little to no clothing, fluffy little cat ears and a tail to match, with a leash and collar adorning your precious neck. You took his stiffened hand, ever so slowly opened it up, and delicately placed the end of the lead into his palm, flashing him your cheekiest grin.

Now you’ve gone and done it. He snaps.

He jerks the end of the lead so that you’re aggressively pulled forward, bending over the table and sending the piles of books to the floor with audible thuds, and your lips crash into his. He uses his free hand to trap cradle the other side of your face as he devours your lips, devours your taste. Impatient and hungry, he soon lets you go with a low growl before standing up and dragging you behind him, forcefully, by the lead, coming to the front of a shelf that leant against a wall and grabbed your waist, lifting you up to push you against it, having more books tumble to the floor with a sound thud, while once again, taking your lips with his. Something about the way you looked, the way you sounded because of his actions, drove him completely mad.

Before it could go any further, he jerks wakes to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He quickly scans his surroundings and when he finds it empty, he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. The knocks continue and from beyond the door, a familiar voice requests his audience. “Satan? It’s Solomon. My apologies, but I just wanted to return a borrowed book.”

He reaches for a nearby cloth and dabs away the sweat that covered his face. He steadies his breathing and in the stablest voice he could muster, he answers back, “Alright. One moment please.”

“Take your time,” the sorcerer replies.

He gathers himself quickly, as the master of his own emotions does, hoisted up from the loveseat, straightens himself out and starts to head for the door but with a quick glance downwards, he pauses. There’s no way he could greet Solomon with such a visible... display...

He takes his coat from the coatrack, wraps it around his waist and finally opens the door with a welcoming smile.

“Thank you kindly for the recommendation. It was a pleasant read,” Solomon tittered in recollection then immediately shifted into a frown of concern. “Satan... are you alright? Forgive my intrusion, but you seem a bit disheveled.” The disheveled man in question nods, chuckling in hopes of deterring Solomon from pressing any further by lightening his aura. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. I simply had a bit of a nightmare.” Solomon raised a brow and Satan continued in his tall tale. “It had been so long since I’ve had one, so I’m sure you can imagine how unnerving it’s effects had on me.” Moments passed like molasses as Solomon pondered what Satan had said and the uncomfortable silence was wearing down on Satan’s last minute, makeshift composure. “Thank you for returning the book,” Satan’s voice firmly interjecting the fellow wise man’s thoughts as he received the book from his hands, “and I’m delighted that you enjoyed yourself.” He holds the book in front of where the coat covered his waist. “If you wish for more recommendations, I’ll be happy to share them with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some tea to drink and a book to read to calm my nerves. Good day, Solomon.” Before Solomon could get a final word in, Satan slips back into his room and shuts the door. For good measure, he locks it and turns the deadbolt. He shuffles back over to the loveseat where it all began and dropped down, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. The blush that wanted so desperately to creep it’s way into his complexion the moment he’d awoken was now set free and his entire face turned red. He knew how to keep a tight grip on every other emotion he’s ever had... but love? Lust? This was going to be a challenge.

Outside of the door, not having moved an inch, Solomon stood with his chin snug between the crook of his forefinger and thumb. “Can demons have nightmares...?” He audibly contemplated as he waited a moment, following his train of thought before asking himself aloud again, “If so... then why did Satan have an erection?”

A pair of delicate hands found their way to Solomon’s shoulders and he glanced over them to see Asmodeus leaning in close to his ear. “It’s called a kink, darling.” Solomon politely shoos away the embodiment of lust with a gentle wave of his hand before starting down the hall from which he came, with the demon practically skipping in tow. “Kinks, we both know, I’m aware of. I had just assumed that his.. situation.. would be more relative to Belphegor.”

“Well,” Asmodeus chirped, “that’s what you get for assuming.”

[wdymwhatdoyoumnea]

I posted 14,453 times in 2021

1365 posts created (9%)

13088 posts reblogged (91%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 9.6 posts.

I added 1,091 tags in 2021

#ask to tag - 297 posts

#chi my beloved - 222 posts

#cat cat cat cat cat ca - 135 posts

#adorable - 103 posts

#tiny my beloved - 87 posts

#kitty!!!!; - 69 posts

#wwwww chi my beloved this is so cute - 62 posts

#amazing - 48 posts

#skeleton rattles out an awnser - 36 posts

#skeleton and rat: halloween spooks - 32 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#currently failing one class and like very very closs to failing this ither classes and as soon as the deadline hits fir my other class ifai

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Give me your opinion on all the HypMic characters

(also if you don't remember what some are like just tell me and I'll tell you because I know how horrible your memory is ☆)

ifbajdbakfbskd anitxh they dont know i have a bad memory you just exposed meeeee

okay speed run fucking gO:

BB!!!:

uhhhhhh ichicro; dude fix your sibling realshinships yall nit really functiong as a healthy family i think, but also trust them more, they can handle it

jrio; dude buddy man you have to be a litttle tiny bit nicer i think but other then that rock on youre rad

saburo; i love him but also work on being a little nicer you do need to start working on communication i feel like but again that kinda just what happens in that family, but that dosnet mean you can imrpove

--

uhhhhhhhhhh cool color guys????? the bule?????? hhhhhhhhh whats thier nAMe??????????:

samatoki: sir you need therapy. also lay of the smoking sir i dont the sister you no longer talk to likes it alot.lol. also i do like your asthwinc ily but work on your anger and please.dont yell around kids youll scare them sir

jyuto; not to be rude but what the fuck. why??????? if you wanna be a a good c*p do it the right way??????????????? ??? i mean like what???

rio: rock on dude but please stop cooking so many nice and cute animals im so mad at you for that, also did you have youre pericings ehile on tour?????

--

FLING POSSE flingposseflingpos:

hhhhhhhh dice; i mean first off mood and vibe but also set up a fucking savings fund. please.please. also whats going on with any lack of passion for mosly laegal activitives????? gamblies have no honuer even tho honhr among theifs thing?????? sir please. a braincell. use one. get one and use it

gentaro; skndskbdakdb amazing incredible show stopping breath taking never been seen before i dont care what you say the way he talks and dresses is just him being him and habing fun living his life and not hurting anyone doing it, and he's able to enjoy himself around people who let him be him and express himself he has good taste

ramuda ramuda ramude: he's more complex (duh) but he's till able to care about the people around him in his own way and supports them and enjoys himself do he needs to work on being more to himslef but give the whole clone thing it makes sense but also should also be more to himself beacuse of the whole cone thing

--

MAT MAT MAT MAT MAT MAT AMT::;

hifumi: . i dont want to be mean but,,; u gotta work on talking to people with out the jackt buddy. or work on more boundeirs in the jacket atleast!! but iverall he's suppoerive and a good guy he's desveres what he has and the nice and also suppoetive people in his life

doppo: buddy. threapy helps ive heard. anyway you need to really just get the meantal health unser co troll. u have good people around you to help so i thi k you can also illy

jakurai; . express yourswlf more sir. trust your team mates a little more, you can be yourself with them. also good charcter and im glad u have your realxing hobbys and a good head on your shoulders

--

do i do dh and hhhhh BAT????

35 notes • Posted 2021-02-19 09:30:49 GMT

#4

click on this if were firnds its a gift <3  

35 notes • Posted 2021-05-18 21:54:27 GMT

#3

neither if us have the fucking braincell

@thou-shalt-not-staple-rats dweeb

38 notes • Posted 2021-09-16 21:42:38 GMT

#2

good mo5 everyone, nobody fucking tell danny but im love keaya now???? sm???????

46 notes • Posted 2021-08-07 06:04:41 GMT

#1

im not saying that all my friends are amazing and that i care them, but i AM saying that exactly, actually

72 notes • Posted 2021-05-30 02:56:35 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

jd fucking look the post where i make fun if you is a top post

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

You messed with my heart too long

A/N: I posted this anonymously on ao3, but I’m really proud of writing this so decided to post it on here as well. Please, please let me know what you think, it would mean the world to me. 

Summary: When Richie accidentally burns his food right at the same time as Eddie arrives home, he fears he's in for a verbal beat down. He's used to that thank to his ex-boyfriend, who mentally and emotionally abused him before Richie realized what he was doing to him. Once Eddie works out what is happening, he is quick to assure Richie he would never treat him in the same manner.

Warnings!: mental abuse, mentions of physical abuse and Bev’s abusive ex, Richie thinks Eddie going to react badly (he doesn’t but he still thinks about it) 

read on AO3

Richie, in all fairness, has never had any confidence in any way, shape or form. He’s not sure why that is. His mom and dad were good, loving parents that indulged into his secret little hobby’s, and when Richie at age 24, a fresh college drop-out, told his parents he was going to take a gamble and try to make it as a comedian, they supported him wholeheartedly. Of course, they were a little disappointed that he never got a degree in case things in the comedy field didn’t work out, but they were convinced of Richie’s talent. They were truly the best parents anyone could ever wish for, at least in Richie’s mind.

The losers were also nothing if not supportive towards him, though they had been long gone before Richie turned 24. They made fun of him sometimes, on the occasions where a joke ran too far or failed miserably, but they also made sure that Richie knew how much they adored him in reality.

Beside from getting scolded at every now and again by Eddie or Stan, about his hygiene or lack of self-awareness, they also never tried to change him to fit their wants. For some unknown, nonsensical reason, they liked Richie with his flaws and all.

Truly, Richie has no inkling as to where his insecurities came from, but he does know that he never let them stop him from doing anything when he was still friends with the losers. Quite the opposite even, if he got nervous about performing in front of his class, he would loudly ask to go first, laughing boisterously and slouching against the teachers desks, pretending like the activity wasn’t even a blip on his radar. When Henry’s taunt would hit a particular soft spot, and Richie felt the urge to sulk or mope, he’d double down on the thing Henry found annoying, and get a bloody nose for his troubles.

He fought hard to be ready to perform in front of people that weren’t the losers or his parents, and the losers departing from Derry just made that worse. With the losers, he felt confident enough to try and be himself, without them, he saw himself as useless in every sense. His very first live performance sucked, and in retrospect he’s really glad none of the losers were present because within five minutes of walking on the stage, he had forgotten his lines and threw up in full sight of the audience.

If his mother hadn’t persuaded him into trying again a few months later, and that one actually working out, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier would have been buried before it began.

But that was before all the progress Richie made in all the years he’s been doing comedy. Despite having the occasional setback, he mostly outgrew throwing up before an act, and he could objectively look at himself in the mirror and conclude that he wasn’t the most hideous person the world had ever had the displeasure of seeing.

In fact, according to people on his twitter page, he was being described as hot and possessing a form of appeal that drew people in. He didn’t find himself good looking by any means, but there was a huge difference between hating everything about himself, and accepting that he was not as hideous as the beast from the Disney fairy tales he was a big fan of as a kid.

And then, in the prime of his mental health, he had met David, and every ounce of self-worth faltered like snow under the burning scorch of the sun. It only took five weeks for David to absolutely destroy the very thing Richie had toiled at for over twenty years.

David was his first boyfriend, who he met just shortly before his thirtieth birthday, and he took more than advantage of that. The first night they first laid eyes on each other, after one of Richie’s shows, David had walked up to him at a bar and promptly declared his show was absolute shit.

Normally Richie would feel hurt by these comments and would pretend to brush them off as if they were never uttered, but something about the way he said it caused Richie to laugh so hard he snorted part of his beer through his nose. It wasn’t until he saw Eddie with Bill and Mike at Jade the Orient ten years later, that his quarter fell. In the beginning, David had reminded him of Eddie. It wasn’t until much later that it became clear David’s intentions were not as innocents as Eddie’s.

Richie assumed the guy was pulling his pants, because who would dedicate their time to flat out insult someone they had never met, and so he had greeted him and bought him another beer. David wasn’t particularly funny, and he never laughed at Richie’s jokes throughout the night either, but he was very eloquent and could keep up with Richie’s conversation topics, though he always seemed to be able to turn and twist the subject so that it gave away another one of his qualities.

By the end of the night Richie never expected to hear from him again, and he was okay with that. His conversation partner had been interesting, but not to the point where Richie wanted to know everything about him or see him again.

David felt otherwise, as thanks to a mutual friend of theirs, he’d found Richie’s number, and when he texted him to ask him on a date, Richie had been too thrilled that someone was interested in him to containplat if he even wanted to go.

That same day the date took place, David had granted himself the title of boyfriend, and Richie went right along with him. They never officially verbally agreed to date, but they held hands and David slept over most nights then not, and his mother got so happy that she saw him with someone that things progressed naturally.

At first, Richie didn’t notice that David was influencing him in a negative way. He only had one close friend, Steve, who was simultaneously also his manager, and he constantly praised David for making Richie a changed man. Because Steve saw it as something positive, so did Richie.

His voice got progressively stiller, as David would ream at him multiple times a day that he was annoying everyone around them with his booming voice, and that he was an attention-seeker who would do anything to get the limelight on him. Richie practiced his voices less and less when David started to critic every aspect of them every time he would overhear him. It got worse once they started living together full time.

‘Hey Rich, no voices? Come on I want to know if you’ve improved over the years, let us hear it.’

He cut off all fatty foods when David glanced at his plate and grimaced, asking if he was really going to eat everything on the plate. He didn’t say it in so many words, but Richie could connect the dots that led him to believe David found him too fat. Lying became a sort of second nature to Richie, as he dared to eat a small pack of chips when David was away, and deluded him the next day by stating he hadn’t eaten any. Sometimes, at times where David thought Richie was away, he would observe him going through their trash to catch Richie in the lie. He’d fight tooth and nail to deny the accusation, and never admitted to it.

David complained just about everything Richie did, including the way he held his towel whilst drying the dishes, ‘For god sake Richie don’t rumple up, hold it in your palm and open it up so you can get to the surface more.’ When Richie tried to joke that David’s way didn’t necessarily mean the best way, he’d yelled that Richie was an ungrateful bastard and that if he had to do it his way because the way he was doing it was useless.

Useless, that was a word Richie learned to associate with himself as whatever he did would get dragged down by David, until there was barely any Richie left. Once again Richie began getting stage fright, worse than when he was a child, and on one evening David witnessed his total bomb of a show, and told Richie he had pretended he didn’t know him to the people watching. That hit so hard, the fact that someone was disgusted to be linked to him, that he stopped writing his own comedy and hired someone to do it for him.

There was so much negativity surrounding him and David, but when Richie tried to address his problems, David would make him seem like he was the one that was crazy. Like he was seeing things that were not there. David rolled his eyes and waved off any of Richie’s attempts to defend himself, but then denied doing it after the fact.

‘You’re a loser Richie, I can’t believe you’d be so stupid to take my ribs seriously. Aren’t you supposed to be a ‘comedian’? You’d think you’d know what’s a joke and what isn’t.’

A can of coke being set down too hard on their dinner table was enough to get David off of the couch, where he’d been watching football and ordering him around, and into the kitchen, striking a tirade that Richie was ruining their furniture with his fumbling. Richie was constantly on edge that he was doing something wrong - and he was according to David -. He avoided David as much as he could, but the latter would find something to fault him on regardless. Life had transformed into a prison cell.

Later Richie would scold himself for not leaving, but how could he? David manipulated him to the point Richie truly believed he was doing all of those things wrong, to the point where he was the one crying and begging for David’s forgiveness. He was gaslighted, manipulated and blackmailed at the same time, with gifts that weren’t a one-off after Dacid crossed a line too far, and they often contained a very expensive item that Richie had eagerly awaited for a long time. Richie felt like he owed it to David to stay, if only for all the money he had spent on him.

There were days Richie would get so furious he was prepared to scream back at David, to let his anger be set free and unleashed upon the one person who deserved it, but then David would show up with a gift out of the blue, or would grant him a loving caress, and Richie was gone for him again.

Not to mention that Richie’s self-esteem had sunk so low, he wasn’t ready to face a world without having David there to guide him along with things.

Barely five months before Mike’s earth shattering phone call, Richie ran out of all mental capacity to deal with the torment a moment longer, and packed his things, disappearing on a cold blistering night. David called him, of course, but Richie was a coward, and never answered the phone.

He only sent David one text to tell him it was over, and then promptly blocked his number without waiting for a response. He heard from gossip that David spread lies about him, and told other people about how much of a terrible boyfriend he had been, but Richie never objected to the claims. He agreed with him anyway.

Mike’s call had been, for a large proportion anyway, a saving grace. Reconnecting with his best friends and destroying the thing that loomed over him for so long was liberating, and Richie viciously wished that Pennywise had come back sooner, so that his tortures road would have been that much shorter.

There was no lingering bitterness inside of Richie because of this though, not when his life was finally in the best possible place it could be. Eddie and him got their heads out of their asses, or more like Eddie got out of his and decided to yet again be the brave one out of the two of them, and they started dating almost immediately after defeating Pennywise. In only a week's time, Eddie made the move from New York to Los Angeles, and with him he had brought the happiness Richie had long forgotten he could ever possess.

His marriage with Myra had been just as much a scam as the relationship between Richie and David, and his divorce was swift - no surprise there with the way Eddie always prepared for every possible scenario-, but Eddie almost always avoided talking about it. In a way, Richie was disheartened by that.

It was no secret Eddie married a woman that was basically a mirror image of his mom, and at times Richie caught himself wondering if Eddie had realized how smothering she was or if he had been so hunkering for the normality of life as a straight, married man that he never paid her enough attention too. He wonders if he was the only one stupid enough to not realize the gravity of what was happening to him.

Richie has debated on flat out asking Eddie about it, but, and there’s always a but, that would mean he would have to tell Eddie about David, and he is overcome with a rare form of anxiety, something deeply ashamed nestling in the place where his trust is supposed to be at the mere idea.

Swearing on the holy turtle god that managed to save them from Pennywise’s claws, Richie was originally planning on confessing the whole thing to Eddie on day one of their relationship. He truly was, and he had even conjured up humorous escape alternatives to duck his way under a fire load of questions Eddie was surely about to ask him after.

He even prepared himself to tell Eddie in Derry, right after overhearing Eddie’s phone call to his wife, feeling empowered that Eddie would come to understand. Bev interrupted before he could, perhaps a blessing in disguise. Before Eddie fully put down his phone, Bev had sweeped in the room, requesting a meeting downstairs to talk. Richie had been helpless to follow and listen intently, and if he was being honest with himself – he wasn’t – he felt a tiny bit of relief that he wouldn’t be subjected to any negative attention. Until Bev started to confess how her life had been before Mike called them.

All at once, a sickening hatred from himself overwhelmed Richie. He was so angry that he had dared to feel sorry about himself, and here Bev was, with a situation that was incomparably worse. The more details Bev entrusted them with – Richie may have promised to never kill anyone again, but he an exception could be made - the more Richie’s food from a few hours before threatened to choke him, and not even Eddie’s cream smoothed hand holding his distracted him.

Near the end, after they’d progressed from such an melancholically topic and began drinking away the booze in their hotel, Richie had drawn Bev’s attention with a call of her name, to either make her smile or to assure her that she wasn’t alone, Stan send him a withering look, as if to warn him not to open his mouth. Stan’s assumption was fair, it was in Richie’s nature to find humor in places there shouldn’t be, and he had no idea about Richie’s past to think otherwise. Still, every time Richie considered telling Eddie, the look flashed in his mind and sewed his mouth shut.

Not telling Eddie hasn’t impacted things the way Richie had predicted it would. Really, Richie was doing fine. Eddie chastised Richie on certain things, but Richie didn’t freak out or experience any sort of flashback. He would be given a peck on his forehead, or a hand running through his hair, and he’d know that Eddie was never mad at him. It was the littlest details that had Richie out of his mind with love, that highlighted just how different Eddie and David were.

By now, Richie had decided he was fine with not telling Eddie anything about David, and the extra weight of keeping something a secret was his boyfriend was just another fee to carry around with him. But life always throws a curveball Richie Tozier’s way when he has finally made plans.

This curve ball comes in the form of soup. A horrendous chicken soup that Eddie cooked up two days in advance, an experiment of different herbs that clashed into a symphony of flavors all competing to be the primary flavor. There are two things to know about Eddie as a cook. Number one is that he is not an impressive cook – and it’s not for the lack of trying - but Richie doesn’t mind. Eating food that doesn’t please his taste buds but getting Eddie in return for it is a fair deal in Richie’s books.

The second thing to note is that Eddie is a lazy cook. He turns the kitchen into a battlefield of different sauces, with jars a million different pots and pans skewed across the stove and no more room to place anything else left. It’s gotten to the point that whenever Eddie is in charge of cooking, they will not even put their dinner on a plate anymore, but instead leave it in whatever it’s made in, because it eliminates dishes to wash. That’s what starts the mess that day in first place.

Richie isn’t an idiot. Yes, he can be dense at times, and when it comes to loving Eddie he’s more than a bit moronic, but he’s not stupid. He’s had to survive on his own – and with someone who didn’t lift a finger - for a long time, thus there was no other way. He’s aware of the danger of putting a metal bowl in the microwave, and how it can cause the metal to heat up and start a fire, and therefor has never been stupid enough to try it. But today, Richie is stressed.

Steve has been calling him all day to try and persuade him into doing an interview for a magazine, and no matter how many times, how loud or agitated Richie says no, Steve still insists. Richie paces annoyed towards his fridge phone locked between his shoulder and ear, so he can take out the metal bowl of soup with his hands, and place it in their microwave without a second thought.

‘Steve I don’t care how much publicity you think it will get me, I don’t want to do it,’ Richie mutters, turning around with his back towards the warming soup. The consistent arguing with Steve has his teeth grinding, his shoulders tense and his anxiety sparked.

Eddie is still out for work, but it’s closing at five pm, the time he ensures he’s at home, and Richie thinks he can hear his car driving up into the gravel parking lot. The absence of his boyfriend is about to be filled, and Steve is yapping away in his ear, not content to admit defeat just yet, it’s maddening.

‘Steve… Steve listen to me, don’t get your panties up in a twist, I have to go. Don’t book the interview. I won’t take any part in it.’ His denial doesn’t put a stop to Steve’s yapping, but at that point Richie is over his nagging. He pinches the bridge of his nose and utters; ’Okay nice chat’, and hangs up without waiting for a response back.

He lets the phone clatter on top of their kitchen surface and says that Steve got the message, if only for the rest of the day. His phone doesn’t vibrate again, leading Richie to assume he has won this round. He can’t help but lean forward so far his head rests against the cold tiles of the kitchen counter, just sighing for one long, extended breath. A night in on the couch with Eddie spooning him has never allured him so much. His back cracks with a satisfying pop as he readjusts his body, and he groans in gratifications.

Their alarm dings loudly in the open concept kitchen, a warning that someone has just entered their driveway. Richie doesn’t need to go look to know that it’s Eddie and his large, black suv, but he wants to anyway. He’s about to walk towards the front door to greet Eddie like he’s a pet that has been waiting anxiously for its owners return – and some would describe him in the same manner - when the air fills with smoke and a rancid smell. It’s barely detectable at first, nothing more but an insentient odor that is unpleasant but not resolute and easy to ignore. But then actual smoke begins to wash it’s way around Richie, and he has a split second of blissful unknowingness left, until the problem dawns on him.

Richie follows the smoke trail, and is shocked to find their microwave steaming and actually crackling, like it’s on the verge of exploding. It probably is. Still, it’s nothing compared to the cluster bomb of fumes that spread throughout the room when Richie actually opens the microwave door and gets slapped in the face with the enormity. It’s a surprise that their smoke detector has yet to erupt.

Instantly, his airways fill up smoke, prickling his cough reflection so tremendously he doubles over in extortion. The coughs rattle his body in a painful manner, his chest and back start to hurt from the brutal movements and the fact that he can’t grasp fresh air no matter how wide he opens his mouth. Objectively, Richie should understand it can get a lot worse - their smoke detector hasn’t gone off, and there are no flames to accompany the smoke and therefore turn their house into a major safety hazard - but a panic he hasn’t felt since David has shut down his logical thinking skills.

A key is slotted into their keyhole, and it turns a first time to leave. Eddie is about to open the door, in give or take in about a minute – it always drags out because despite living here for give or take two years, Eddie still can’t remember this lock unlatches via the left side and not the right – and walk in on an absolute shit show that Richie’s engendered.

So far there was indication, no sign that hinted to Richie he still had leftover, undealt trauma left from his time hanging around David, but now, his only thought revolving around how mad Eddie is going to be, how much trouble he’ll be in once Eddie sees everything, he starting to realize he might not be as over things as he originally believed.

He ignores the way his lung burn, and reaches forward to grab the pot – with fogged over glasses rendering him blind - protection less, not even grabbing the oven mitts to provide some shelter for the warmth. He can’t comprehend how dangerous that is, can only focus on the red lights blaring in his mind, telling him he needs to get rid of the evidence before Eddie gets here and unleashes hell upon him.

Unfortunately, he’s too late. A door unlocks and Eddie enters the house. His feet pad on their wooden floor, brazen and fast, like he’s been waiting for a shot at grilling Richie and he can sense his opportunity to do so has arrived – the motion is so un-Eddie Richie dismissed it as absurd then and there, but a seed of doubt remains -.

With time, Richie comes to learn how to listen to the different footsteps, and he can now recognize who’s walking towards him and in what kind of mood they find themselves in, without taking one look at the person's face.

Eddie’s footsteps, after every work day, drag across their floor, as if a thousand pound weight has been added to his back. The bottom of his shoes wear out a lot faster than Richie’s do, and it drives Eddie nuts because out of the two of them, he’s the one that treats his material objects neater than Richie.

Richie’s always delighted to notice how light his footsteps get after just a few minutes spent with him or the losers.

Now, he is too scared to pick up on such little details. His palms tingle unpleasantly, the boiling liquid burning them more with each second he hangs on. He stands in the middle of their kitchen like a fool, turning his body every which way and letting his eyes dart out an escape plan. The smoke is nowhere near gone, and there’s too much of it for Richie to open a window and it to be blown away. Eddie’s going to notice, there’s no way he can’t.

‘Richie, you won’t believe what this imbecile Josh did at work today. I swear, I don’t understand how some people can get fucking hired sometimes.’

Eddie trudges into the kitchen, his suit wrinkled from a long day of frantically working on a report that should have been finished by some other incompetent coworker. The groves in his face are more prominent today, acquired by the years of unhappiness he experienced with Myra, the ages of his life cut off by the shock of Pennywise's return and the occasional busy work day his job supplies him with.

A nausea craters in Richie's stomach, filled with guilt for turning Eddie’s night off into a stressful event that requires a ton of clean up. Eddie stops dead in his tracks when he notices the mess, his mouth slips shut, the word dying on his tongue.

He’s waiting for Eddie’s frown to deepen, for his lips to cresting into a fury. He’s waiting for the waterfall of insults that will be hurled at his head, each one meaner than the last, honing in on his deepest insecurities and having them exploited because Eddie’s so angry he’ll do anything to strike a verbal blow. And it’ll be worse now, because it’s Eddie. It’s the love of his life doing it now, the one’s approval he seeks most.

Eddie’s the person that knows him inside and out and knows exactly what boundaries to push and prod out to crack Richie open from head to toe. He waits for all that, with his hand still clamped around the bowl of burning hot soup, scorching his palms – by this point, Richie is sure there will be blisters by the time he finally unclasps his grip.

Eddie’s frown does deepen, but it’s not out of anger. ‘Rich, be careful you’ll hurt yourself.’ Richie doesn’t let go, but holds onto the sides of the bowl tighter. Part of him wants him to experience the pain, to let what he did sink in like David’s words always did.

‘Richie’, Eddie says startlingly firm. He’s not trying to approach Richie or the bowl, but he’s capturing Richie’s attention just by his firm voice. ‘Put it down.’

Richie drops the bowl of soup, watching helplessly as it splatters all over their freshly painted walls and the ground. Out of the corner of his eye a flat glob of liquid drips down the wall, dirtying a whole line down to the floor. Richie cringes, his heart beating so fast he could swear it’s about to jump out of his chest, and his mind a mantra of ‘look what you did, look what you did, look what you did.’

‘Fuck Richie, did you burn it?’

And Richie knows he’s caught. He was, up to two seconds ago, holding the evidence right in his hands, but he’s so petrified logic is not operating in his brain at the moment. The only thing he can focus on with great clarity, is that he’s willing to try anything to get him out of a verbal tear down.

‘No..’, he tapers off at the end, leaving his statement much more alike a question than he would have preferred. Eddie raises one eyebrow suspiciously, pointily averting his gaze towards the smoke floating around them.

‘No?’ He asks back equally confused, head tilted to the side. Richie can feel his throat closing up in panic, bracing himself for an onslaught. He doesn’t foresee Eddie’s nurturing and concerned approach. ‘Let me take a look at your hands’, Eddie murmurs tenderly.

It’s technically nothing new, the way Eddie treats him. After Neibolt and Richie’s big coming out, Eddie commenced all his vacation days and flew Richie all the way to Hawaii, for the pure intention of getting him away from any and all consequences. He’d allowed Richie to eat what he desired - within reason of course, there was no way Eddie was allowing Richie to eat pizza at 8 am-, waisted their days sitting by the pool and indulged in Richie unchancy pranks - one of which ended up with Eddie scrubbing out blue glitter out of his hair. Eddie had been kind then, so it shouldn’t be surprising he is in this situation.

It doesn’t take away the fear Richie is left with. David had good days too, days that he was the perfect boyfriend, but that would never last long, and Richie is left to speculate if it’ll be the same thing with Eddie.

Maybe it’ll be hidden in a secret message, maybe Eddie is busy hatching a plan that will utterly deploy Richie from the inside out. Eddie’s hands are gently skimming over Richie’s palms, inspecting the damage without irritating the skin even more. ‘It doesn’t seem like it’s bad. It hurts right?’

‘Yeah’, Richie croaks when he figures out the question isn’t rhetorical. He isn’t sure at the moment why that’s supposed to be good.

Eddie tips forward, stretching up higher so he can kiss Richie’s forehead tenderly. Against his skin he explains. ‘That means the burn isn’t too deep, but hold it under the water still.’

‘No but you know what does go deep?’

‘Nothing if you don’t treat your burns,’ Eddie teases with a smirk. He gently ushers Richie closer to their faucet, and holds his own palm under the stream of water, twiddling with the different temperature taps until he finds one that he deems just lukewarm enough to allow Richie’s hand under it.

The smoke in the air remains unspoken about. It’s almost as if Richie is more important than a potential house fire to Eddie, but that’s absurd. Not only because this is the house that both of them felt was the right one, and subsequently paid a lot of money for, but also because Richie isn’t that special. He’s not even trying to be condensing towards himself, because he truly believes that.

‘How did you manage to do this huh? Idiot.’ Eddie jokes while guiding his hand under the water at the correct angle, his salutation gets smoothed over by a hand ruffling his hair. Coincidentally, or perhaps the exact opposite, a part of the stress Richie accumulated falls away when Eddie calls him an idiot. It helps to underline why exactly Eddie will never be like David, why the two aren’t in the same league of each other even.

When Eddie says idiot, it’s a nickname, it’s a middle school jab when Richie runs too fast and trips over his own feet, it’s the symbolic soothing pat on the back he receives after he can get all of the losers to laugh at his humor. It’s their love langue no one understands, It’s Eddie’s way of hiding how deep his adoration goes with a job that’s unusual to others.

David’s condescending tone alone tipped Richie into the deep end, into a cave that echoed his deepest flaws and slammed it into the cavity in his chest every time something didn’t go according to plan. Idiot for David did not mean the same things. For David, idiot was shoving aside Richie’s concerns, it was disinterested in all his quirks and his passive attitude. He meant what he said without sarcasm.

A first tear tracks down Richie’s cheek. ‘Rich?’ Eddie inquires startled. His hand previously stroking Richie’s curls slides towards his elbow in a smooth motion.

Richie tries to tell him it’s okay, that he needs a minute to regroup but that he’s fine, but instead of that he sobs, more tears spilling over with no regards to him uneasy Richie is to cry in front of someone.

‘Richie shit I’m sorry. Does it hurt that bad? Do we need to go to a hospital? We’ll go right now.’

‘No, no hospital,’ Richie waves him off with his injured hands. Eddie leads his hand back without response, tracking his face to see if he gives away anything. Richie had forgotten his hand hurted in the first place, so he definitely didn’t require any treatment beyond what he was doing already. His tears are the result of being overwhelmed by his emotions, and his default response to that is to cry.

‘If you don’t want me to do that, that’s okay you know?’

Because his hand is incapacitated, he wipes his nose on the corner of his shirt, watching as Eddie’s wrinkles his nose at that. Still, even with the disgusting move on Richie’s part, Eddie leans in closer, molding Richie so he fits in the fold between Eddie’s neck and shoulder. There, he resumes his path of caressing Richie’s hair, and kissing his temple. Richie fists one of his hands in the back of Eddie’s shirt, pressing them as intimate as he can.

‘Hey sweetheart, it’s okay. What’s wrong?’

Richie sobs harder, not particularly keen on telling Eddie why he’s this upset. It’s a difficult topic to talk to anyone about, Eddie and the losers included. There were days that Richie twisted his mind to convince himself that it was all in his head. That David was the best boyfriend anyone could ever wish for, and that the tirades he had to endure was just the cost of that. He was afraid he added things in his mind that hadn’t actually taken place and he created his own narrative.

Apprehension held Richie back, dreading what Eddie’s response might be. He could exclaim Richie to be a complainer that should have praised himself lucky to get the abuse he got, or he could say that Richie was a sourpuss, turning a fly into an elephant.

‘Shouldn’t we get rid of the smoke first?’, Richie questions to stall.

‘Later’, Eddie soothes with another kiss to his temple. ‘Talk to me. Please Rich.’

‘There was this guy I used to date, David.’

Eddie’s head shoots up in bewilderment, his brow furrowed. ‘You never told me about him.’

‘Yeah well we never talk about your wife either and I thought that would mean we wouldn’t disclose our previous hang ups.’

‘Ex-wife. Remember Rich? She’s my ex-wife. There’s nobody in the world I would rather be with then with you.’

‘Stop it you bastard,’ Richie sniffles pathetically. ‘You know I can’t deny you anything when you sweet talk me.’

‘That’s the plan.’

Eddie thumbs underneath Richie’s eye socket, brushing in a hypnotic rhythm that ankers him to reality. If Richie nuzzles into Eddie’s palm, then no one else but then needs to know.

Talking about something that brings forth a lot of anxiety goes smoother with closed eyes, Richie’s come to find, so he does that before revealing what he should have revealed a long time ago.

‘He was.. not so kind’, he chuckles humorless. ‘He really thrived when he pointed out everything I did wrong, liked yelling too.’

‘Rich?’

‘Wait let me finish. If I don’t say it now I’ll never get the courage to again.’ He opens his eyes only to see Eddie nod in agreement, and his face starting to tang a bit red.

‘Sometimes I couldn’t even walk right without him being all up in my ass about it. At parties he would gladly tell everyone embarrassing things I did, or he would pretend like he did all the work at home while really he was the one that did nothing. And the way he spoke to me.. like I was a child and he was a teacher or something. And he had this way of saying things so I’d know I was a breath away from being yelled at, but so that he could still claim he never once raised his voice at me. I guess I was scared you were going to do the same thing after seeing what a major fuck up I am. . He kept insisting I didn’t do things good enough, but I was really trying my best. I fucking swear Eds. I can’t help that my best isn’t good enough.’

The repetitive motion that Eddie kept up during his long monologue abruptly ends, and Eddie instead balls his hands up into two fist, pulling away from Richie to lean on the counter. He bounces on his heels, unable to stand still any longer as he is now the one to squeeze his eyes shut.

‘Eddie?’ Richie implores, the panic from before quickly flooding through his bloodstream and entering every part of his body.

Eddie opens his eyes, and something on Richie’s face must give away what he’s experiencing, because he’s quick to assure Richie did nothing wrong. ‘No, shit Richie it’s not you sweetheart. I love you, you did nothing, nothing wrong.’

He pecks Richie on the lips twice, very softly and barely noticeable, almost a goad to get Richie to cram their lips together tighter. For a long moment, they don’t move. Their lips stay hovering just out of reach, and one of Eddie’s palms slide down Richie’s chest down to his belly and up again. It’s an effort for Eddie to try and generate as much love towards Richie as he possibly can, before his resolve breaks and he has to let his resentment for David out in some way.

‘I’m going to kill him.’ Eddie turns away from Richie, but his hand remains on Richie’s stomach, a connection so they don’t separate. His chest puffs up, almost like he’s gearing up to go fight David right now. He would if he got the chance.

‘Spagheddie you don’t have to do that for me. I don’t even own his number anymore.’

‘I don’t care Rich,’ Eddie’s voice trembles but is laced with a deadly amount of venom. ‘He should have never done those things to you. If I ever see him I’ll fucking strangle him with my bare hands.’

‘It’s fine Eds, it wasn’t that bad.’ The denial burns in his chest. He wondered for a long time if he could qualify what he went through as abuse, not because he was actively hoping to label himself as an abuse victim, but because he questioned if what happened to him was worth being this upset over. In conclusion, Richie decreed it wasn’t. Eddie's eyes snap up, burning behind a sheen layer of glass.

‘He never hit me like Bev’s husband did to her.’

‘That doesn’t fucking matter. What happened to Bev is terrible, but that doesn’t make what happened to you any less dire. Both of you were victims of abuse, save for a different kind.’

Are they comparable? If they were talking about another person Richie would say yes, that both leave lasting scars, but because he’s the subject of the question, he can’t say for sure. He’s not lenient enough with himself to allow such a statement to be made. Bev can suffer from the consequences of her abuse, but from Richie’s perspective, he should be over it by now.

‘Oh fuck,’ Eddie curses explicitly, ‘and I called you an idiot. Richie I’m so sorry.’

Eddie’s little crease that only appears when he’s discontent about something appears again, and he avoids eye contact with Richie. There’s no need for any of that. Richie hadn’t even taken that big of a notice about the word. He was reassured Eddie would never use it as a true insult, and even if he wasn’t convinced of that, the tender way Eddie reacts towards him otherwise would be enough to convince him.

‘No Eddie. I don’t mind, really. I don’t want things to change between us because I told you this. I like our banter.’

He finally takes his hand from under the lukewarm water stream, and dries it on his pants -the water, come Eddie’s prediction, has eased the aflame skin -. With both hands now free, Richie cuddles up closer to Eddie, using his arms to tug him closer. Eddie is still dressed in his suit from work - and it might deem handsome, but it is not very comfortable - but has not mentioned getting changed once, too enraptured with taking care of Richie.

‘They won’t if you don’t want to, but we’re making a deal. If I do something that hurts you, you need to tell me, so I can apologize and tell you I didn’t mean any of it. Are we clear?’

‘Aye aye captain. Shall we pinky promise on it?’

‘No, I’d rather kiss on it.’

They do, and this time the kiss progresses further than just a simple peck. Eddie cups Richie’s face in between his palms, a soft, sentimental smile ruining it a little. It doesn’t matter, Richie still greedily savors the moment as it comes.

‘All those times that you went on stage and rocked that whole performance I was already infinitely proud, but shit Richie, now that you’ve told me I’m even prouder. He tore you down but you spit in his face and said fuck no, I’m still going to be my own person. I’ll never let him treat you badly again. More importantly, you’ll never let him do it again. You’re so strong sweetheart.’

Richie sniffs, ‘why the hell are you still being so sappy? I told you everything already, there’s no need to spawn me further.’ He giggles, and Eddie can’t help but chuckle at the sight too, then he turns serious again.

‘Okay, now let me take care of you. I’m going to clean up, hush I am and you’re not going to lift a single finger, and then we’ll order in, watch tv from the bed and cuddle. That sounds good? We can talk about the heavy things in the morning.’ Richie has been through enough for one day.

‘That sounds perfect Eds.’

They let go of each other, but not before Eddie sneaks in a kiss on his forehead, cheek and jaw.

While dating David, Richie never used the word love. He knew, with manipulated affection and all, that he did not love David. Love isn’t supposed to change us, it’s supposed to accept us, makes us laugh and cry at appropriate times, and cocoon us in her warmth. Love doesn’t change us, but it adds something more to the previous person we were yesterday. Eddie adds something more to Richie every single day, be it by teaching him or standing by his side when he messes up. Richie loves Eddie, and he gets loved back equally as fierce.

[thejosh1980]

I was lookin' back to see if she was lookin' back...

Yesterday Alex, Mum and I celebrated...

It's been one year since Alex and I arrived at Mum's place in Ocean Shores, NSW Australia.

If you've read my earlier blogs in 2020, you'll know that we had a lot of trouble getting home. Between the government and airlines, at one point it looked like we'd never get here; we were stranded. I was living in constant worry, stress and hopelessness - in fact, we all were: Alex's family in Germany and Mum's family down under.

Our July 2020 flights were cancelled or rescheduled many times, and eventually we decided to buy new, more expensive flights, on another airline through an agency, which gave us some assurances we'd be on the flight. Our new flights booked and confirmed for early September.

We flew Frankfurt to Adelaide, which was not our original plan. Adelaide had no COVID, and the chance of getting on a flight and getting into the country was higher than say, Brisbane, or Sydney. We could quarantine in Adelaide for 2 weeks and then fly on to Brisbane, which is closer to Ocean Shores.

That was like.... so last year...

This area where we now live is known as the Northern Rivers of New South Wales, and when we arrived at Mum's there was no COVID in the area. We are only about 35 minutes south of the Queensland border, about 8 hours north of the big smoke, Sydney.

Now, a year on, COVID has arrived here.

It's been biting at the heals of tourists and essential workers travelling north since Sydney went into lockdown a couple of months ago.

It's not our idea of a good time.

Right now it's school holidays, which is meant to be 2 weeks of families holidaying in caravan parks and hotels, an essential part of this tourist attraction mecca. Byron Bay, Brunswick Heads, and surrounds are usually very popular places; so popular that most locals complain about how busy it gets here during the holidays. You just can't get a parking sport anywhere!

The Northern Rivers was locked down for about 6 weeks through August into September because cases from Sydney were getting into regional NSW. These regional areas affected by COVID weren't near here, but they made a blanket rule for everywhere outside of Sydney, just to be on the safe side.

Honestly, I don't blame them for the rule, regional outback Australia can't cope with COVID, there's few hospitals, beds, or COVID experience in the scrub and farm land.

Anyhow, I digress...

After those 6 weeks or so in lockdown, they lifted the restrictions here in the northern rivers (and other areas of NSW).

And now, after 2 weeks, lockdown is back on...

There are a couple of cases in the area. Snap lockdowns are the government's preferred method of containing outbreaks. Lockdown areas wherever cases pop up for a week or two (or longer) to limit exposure.

It reminds me constantly that life can change quickly at any time. I have decided I will not waste time once this current lockdown has ended (who knows when that will be). I will visit friends, family, and musicians who live close by. I want to see as many folks as quickly as possible, before another lockdown kicks in.

Besides the boring, never ending tale of COVID, there have been a few things happening this past year...

Alex has been working consistently in the real estate industry since her temporary visa kicked in late last year.

Her first job was a few more miles away than any of us locals would consider driving, and the position wasn't as enjoyable or rewarding as she had first hoped. She really dived in the deep end, and while she didn't drown, she probably needed a few swimming lessons before the attempt. It was a life lesson, one she took on board, and when a new job came up closer to home, she nailed the interview (as she always does), and hasn't looked back.

The 2nd job is less than half the distance away, strictly 9 to 5 and in a company which she enjoys. There's a strong company structure, good work ethic, and entertaining colleagues. Her supervisors, colleagues, and managers are all very supportive; I think she'll be sitting tight on this one for a while.

Alex has also found her creative side again, scrap book journalling, instant camera photography, and some kind of couples diary/journal/photo book too. It's become an almost nightly affair of focusing, creating, and having something to show for it fairly quickly. She's very proud of her work, and it's something she does just for herself. I don't expect you'll get a chance to see a photo of what she's done, and she likes it like that.

I had a bit of work late in 2020 and early 2021, nothing special really, but wait until the premier!! It's interesting to think that some day soon I'll be able to go to the cinema and see my ugly mug on the big screen (even if it will most likely be out of focus). I'll be on Netflix too.

Having the opportunity to be an extra on film and TV was a real boost for my confidence after being off stage for so long. I felt creative, met some great people, made some friends, and had a few bucks in my pocket. Happy days.

By jumping into an industry I hadn't been in before right after arriving here, it reminded me that Australia has a lot to offer. I found myself comparing Germany and Australia, and Australia often feels like it comes up short. This was a chance to prove to myself that there are adventures awaiting here down under.

So, I decided to go back to school.

The last time I was in a class room was in 1998!! I am studying a Diploma of Counselling, and am currently half way through my studies. I've found it very challenging, but have passed every assessment so far, and gained some handy skills too. I have a good connection with my teachers, and I really enjoy the company of my classmates; some of which I can even call friends.

I chose counselling for a few reasons, but the first step was really just a process of elimination. Besides being a freelance professional musician for several years in Germany, I had worked in offices, shops, warehouses, kindergartens and various other jobs. While I could go back into IT or something similar, I wanted to use this opportunity to try something new.

I had my fair share of mental health issues in the past (and present). I thought maybe those experiences could help me connect with folks who need support as well. When looking at course options, the counselling course stood out. So now I'm making a mid life crisis gamble that I'll pass the course, and feel confident and knowledgeable enough to take on the role that many others have taken on for me over the years.

The course has helped me find a routine too, one that I didn't know I needed, until it happened. When you're jobless and unfocused, the mind wanders, the days pass. Now my mind is focused on study, and I feel better for it.

Up until the lockdown hit, we were in class 3 days a week and then I'd study from home 1 to 3 days a week. When lockdown hit, we had to go online. However, being on the computer so much has worn me out, and I really start to enjoy those rare days where I am not looking at a screen!

To be honest, it's been challenging every step of the way, and I even thought about quitting several times in the past few months. However, my confidence has steadily risen to each challenge and I felt better for it.

That's the kind of vicious circle I enjoy.

In July I had my first live show in 13 months! In fact, to date I've only had 3 since the pandemic started! Fingers crossed I can cross the border next month and add a 4th.

I was approached by Cherry Divine to play guitar for her. It's a relatively easy gig for me. The songs are fun rockabilly tunes, Cherry sings great, and she already has a band and gigs. I'm helping her write a few songs too, for her next album. I can't thank her enough for sparkin' the fire in me to keep music alive in my life; for a while there I thought it was all a thing of the past.

With the spark has come the possibility of “The Josh” solo band coming together. While the band isn't moving at any great speed (the recent 2nd lockdown kicked in right as I was about to arrange a rehearsal), I'm finally eager to get a band together. I miss playing live, and I miss having musicians in my life. I miss the spontaneity of a show, life on the road, and crowd reactions.

I've even started to write some new material, and get those ideas on “tape”, well, on the computer. Slow and steady, between studying, family, pets and surfing, music is coming back into my life, and it feels good.

Our family unit here is doing well. Alex and I have been under mum's roof and mum's care for a year now. There are some ups and downs, but mostly I'd say they're ups... The house is big enough to give all of us space, all of us get time outside of the house (except during lockdown, I was mostly stuck at home, but that's OK for me)...

Last night we couldn't go out for dinner, but we did have take away from the local Indian which was really good, and a special treat for us, we don't eat out often.

Alex and I plan to get away every 5-6 months for a visit to somewhere we haven't been. In March we were on the “Sunshine Coast” and checked out Australia Zoo, and in June we went south to the mid north coast to pick up BB Junior.

It's nice to get out and explore. A bit hard to do at the moment, with the restrictions, but we've agreed another trip away (before Christmas if possible) is in order. Those trips are part of the reason why I came home, to see some of Australia, and I'm lucky I get to make those experiences with Alex.

It's also nice to get away from it all. I know we live in a beautiful spot near the ocean, but here, at home, there's the computers, the life and routine, and getting away keeps us fresh and focused on each other. It's definitely something I look forward to!

Speaking of BB Junior, he's almost 7 months old now, and a real character. While he's not the easiest cat to train, I've been getting a few tricks out of him, and he enjoys his time outside, with his harness and long lead. He visits his cousin each week for play time, Charlie, who is another ragdoll of a family friend who loves to play chase all day long with Junior. Alex adores Junior, and Junior adores Alex; they can't wait to cuddle when she comes home from work. He's very vocal too, so even when everyone is at work, I have someone to talk to!

Losing our little boy Mijo was a real difficult experience. I know I've written about him before, but he deserves a mention here, as he was a big part of our first year here. He was full of character and strength, he and I bonded very quickly and not a day goes by I don't think of him. He also brought Alex and I closer together. When she chose him for me, and when he passed, and all points in between, he brought us closer.

I've been focused on sport a fair bit since getting back and settling in. I bought a RowErg, also known as a rowing machine, and I row about twice a week, in addition to riding my bicycle about twice a week. I try to surf every chance I get, which unfortunately ends up being only a few times a month. It's my goal to do something sporty to get my heart rate up every day, and of late, usually I get there too. I don't really do it for any other reason than I love to snack and I can't snack if I don't do sport!

A benefit of my sport/snack workout routine is it helps me stay calm and focused and connected with those I ride and surf with.

I haven't asked Mum how she's feeling about having her middle aged son and his wife living with her recently. Maybe I should, but do I really wanna know the answer? Well, I think she's OK with it. After all, we drive her wherever she wishes! I suspect it goes a little deeper than that, and in all honesty, we enjoy each other's company.

Since Alex and I have been here, I'd like to think Mum has been living a little bit fuller life. I don't think her eyesight has deteriorated much in the past year, but we've been able to provide her with support, eyes to read the small print, driving and help with google, or something around the house. When Mum was diagnosed with celiac disease earlier this year, Alex took her shopping to check over the ingredients of Mum's favourite food, and when needed, found alternatives. It definitely made the transition to gluten free a little easier on Mum and it was a load off my mind that we were around to help her through that phase.

Winter 2021 was over before it even started. I forgot how warm this part of the world is, and I don't know why I own so many jackets! Returning from Europe, where I was wearing a jacket daily for about 9 months of the year, here it feels like, if it's really needed, and I mean if you're desperate, you might need one for 9 weeks of the year. I think the heater was on a handful of times, and the sun was shining just about every day.

I tell ya, it's some kind of paradise here.

It's been a bit difficult keeping up with our European friends and family. I sometimes find it hard to find the time to be proactive to contact the 20, 30 or more friends I'd like to keep in touch with regularly. I know our lives keep on keepin' on, but time passes by so quickly too, and next thing you know it's been 4 months since I last contacted you!

Sorry about that!

Don't take it personally, and I'll get back to you, eventually!

My overall mental health has improved over the year, I'd say it's become quite stable since I started the course. I mean, can't you tell? I write less and less in this blog, because I have less and less to process. I'm not sure if it's the fact there's a lot of self reflection that is inherently a part of doing that kind of mental health course, or if it's the routine of being a student or the new friends I've made and classmates I study with.

It could be that it's taken a year to come to terms with being back here, cause when I first arrived I felt uncomfortable, depressed and worn out... There were a lot of questions; is this a mid life crisis? What am I doing here? Will I ever feel good again? Is my music career over? What am I going to do now? Is Alex OK? Is Mum OK?

My journalling, blogging, and support from friends and family has helped a lot too this past year. Processing my thoughts in words, by clarifying and reflecting, has helped a lot. I've been trying to care for myself a bit more now and then too, I think people call it self care, sometimes I call it sport! Alex has helped me to recognise my achievements, however big or small, and focus less on what I haven't done.

I'm not perfect, but definitely improving.

I was hoping that Alex and I would be in a position to start looking at buying our own house around this time, a year in, but unfortunately, with one of us being a student and the ever rising cost of housing, we have to sit tight on that idea for a while longer. Sorry Mum, you're stuck with us.

There's been many smaller things happen during our first year here. Lots of moments of gratitude, love and support. There's some stuff we've forgotten, or that has been overtaken by something bigger. All in all, I'd say it's been a real rollercoaster home coming!

We're still here, a year on, still going strong, making motions, taking chances, being in love, talking shit, laughing, smiling, misbehaving and focusing... What more could we ask for?

Thank you for reading, for your support and love. I love you too.

Josh

[commonplaceprojkelseyh]

Reflection!

Kelsey Harper

Professor Dr. Richards

(ENG-3298-01, WGS-3298-01, GBS-3298-01)

July 30th 2021

Individual CommonPlace Book & Reflection Paper

Feminism & Gender Equality

Did you know that eight out of the top ten countries have a larger female gender population compared to the male gender yet the percentage of women within the workforce was at 28% since 1959 up until 2020? That means for every 1 male, there are 7 females to that one male, making the population higher for women. It is sad to report considering I have been a part of that percentage since 2000.  To think that an entire race of extraordinary females for more than just one reason are not on the same working tier as man, even though woman represent a great deal larger within the population compared to men is astonishing. I know what you are thinking, it is due to our past ancestors that made the corporate world, “a man’s world” however, so much has changed in today's society to encourage women that they are just as equal to man in more than one way!

I, for one, grew up in a “both my parents work” home situation, which ultimately left my brother and I with a lot of babysitters. For many other people like me, that can be normal right? Well, what I didn’t know for the longest, was that my mom was working as a Merrill Lynch Financial Advisor managing over 500 million dollars in assets which ranks her in the top one half percent of all females and more importantly males in her industry. Ironically she has been doing this for over 34 years and the percentage of women who are at her level in the investment business has never moved past 15%. Making her one of only 200 other women in the entire industry at her level(which made her job an everyday event to consistently prove herself to the men around her.) She picked a career that was based on meritocracy, so there was very little subjectivity to her advancement. Basically, she was responsible for her own success, the harder she worked, the better she did. This inspired me at an early age because my mom never seemed to think that whatever she was searching for, shooting for or hoping for was unreachable. If anything it never even crossed her mind to not work as hard as she could to be within her industry and have the reputation she has built up to today. She has made it her mission to bring up other women to follow in her path. Okay, so you may ask well how does this even relate to our class? Well, part of the reason I was so interested in taking the class in the first place was the title, which is, “Woman’s Writing Worldwide”, which stood out to me because of the first word. It stood out because of that five letter & two syllable word that can make or break a human coming into the world. For others, within third world countries, like the ones we have been reading about, that word defined one from the jump and almost pre-decided that female's destiny. As much as I would like to say it is different in the United States, it is similar in the way that being a woman in today’s culture is a huge ever-growing adjustment because men are only making it harder for us to speak our truths and claim our spots within the working class. Trust me, I may sound like a hater on the male race, but I am eternally grateful to a lot of them for making me the person I am today, however if men truly understood woman, like we do them, the world would be a much fairer place because it is not a competition all the time like men tend to make it to be.

One person that spoke volumes to this exact subject was Meghan Markle, in her speech that specifically dealt with her first encounter with being a woman’s right advocate at the early age of 11. In that speech, she essentially told the audience that she was watching a TV show in grade school, when a commercial came on for a dish liquid with the tagline, “woman all around America are fighting greasy pots and pans,” when two boys in her class quickly said after that commercial, “yeah that is where women belong, in the kitchen.” She was so bothered with this that she wrote to the first lady, then Hilary Clinton, Linder Elerby, Gloria Albred and the soap manufacturer, Proctor and Gamble to change the tagline to, “people all over America are fighting pots and pans.” When in fact, a month later they in fact did change the tagline and opened the doorways for Markle to really understand the magnitude of her actions within this topic. She then goes on to even say that, “women need a seat at the table, they need an invitation to be seated there, and in some cases when a seat is unavailable then they have to make their own. It is said that girls with dreams become women with vision. May we empower each other to carry out such a vision because it is not enough to simply talk about equality and it is not enough to simply believe in it, one must work at it. Let us work at it together, starting now.” I absolutely loved her entire story because it really hit home for me who was mesmerized by her willingness to stand up and say something. Without that willingness from women such as her, women as an entire race will never have a seat at the table. I am thankful to her and for the blessed opportunity to come across that story which inspired me to start a club chapter of CHAARG(changing health, attitude, actions to recreate girls) to encourage women to speak their truths, focus on themselves and be inspired by the powerful woman around them to step up and not only prioritize their mental health & wellness but their eating, their exercise, their self care, their mental health and overall happiness.

Another important factor to add, is that it has been observed in women's fight for equality in the workforce,  that there are a lot of women that fall into the category of being a part of the “sandwich generation.” This generation of professional working women have been tasked with both caregiving for their children and their aging parents. This has caused breaks within their career paths and deferred promotions. This is particularly felt within the wealth gap of income disparity between men and women. Recently, I have noticed a corporate trend towards improving this disparity. Corporations are offering more flexible work hours to accommodate these “sandwich generation” working mothers.

One speaker that really spoke volumes to this exact subject was the Msimang TED talk, where she described a time in her life where she had something taken from her by the opposite gender and felt for the first time the extreme difference between a boy’s perspective and a girl’s perspective. A great quote from our actual syllabus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie was, “The problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue but that they are incomplete. They make one story be the only story.” I enjoyed this quote because both the story by Msimang and the quote by Adichie, touch upon a common goal, equality in every form. Another element that really moved me within Msimang’s TED Talk was her inner passion for storytelling and really trying to capture what makes a good story. I also was really inspired by the TED Talk by Dalia Mogahed, a religious muslim that spoke heavily on the idea of Muslims within America. Although her topic wasn’t exactly about gender equality but more so about racism in general, she spoke about a time in her life when she felt embarrassed to not only be a muslim but also a female muslim. Her story about being scared for her life after the 9/11 attacks, was the first time in her life, she said, that she was afraid to be her true self. I felt for her in this way that I too, felt similar when walking down a city street by myself as a young adult female. Although the two are still very different, in the moment while watching her speak about her story, this was the first image that popped into my mind.

Most importantly, I enjoyed the TED Talk by Kavita Ramdas, with her extraordinary opener, which was: “ Given my TED profile, you might be expecting that I'm going to speak to you about the latest philanthropic trends -- the one that's currently got Wall Street and the World Bank buzzing -- how to invest in women, how to empower them, how to save them. Not me. I am interested in how women are saving us. They're saving us by redefining and re-imagining a future that defies and blurs accepted polarities, polarities we've taken for granted for a long time, like the ones between modernity and tradition, First World and Third World, oppression and opportunity.” This got me thinking more and more about gender equality as a whole and just how important and influential women are in society. Countries such as China, took a very long time to find this out, as many of new born baby girls were sold to the States for money because in their culture, “boys were the only ones that could work to bring the family up, girls are an embarrassment and are only here for one thing, reproduction.” However, after several years, they grew to know that they ended up needing more women because they were running out of women to bear children, hence the population drop in 2019 into 2020.

To combat that however, it has been proven through the last century that intellectually women are naturally more nurturing & emotionally smarter than men, just like the saying that “women develop maturity faster than men do”. So women tend to outshine men in industries such nursing.  However, men tend to rely more heavily on their physical strength in order to obtain certain jobs that are not typically where women fit into the picture such as construction and engineering. I, for one, have never viewed it like that because I have always believed that no matter the race or ethnicity, age, gender, religion, sexuality or financial standing, everyone deserves to work a job they love in any industry and that all judgement should be shoved out the window without reason.

In conclusion, I believe in the strength of women as a whole race to be able to one day never have to speak of women's rights. I envision a time within my life that women will have a seat at the table, they will be heard, understood and most importantly treated equal to men. I believe it starts with women empowering other women first and then men following that trend.

[sunflower-swan]

Not fandom related. TW for Covid content. I just need to put this out there.

...

...

...

One year ago this week...

Wednesday, March 11, 2020: My HS Choir sang the national anthem at the opening game of the state basketball tournament. We had lunch on Mass Street. My Mom came to see me and have lunch together. Dad was busy with farm stuff. My kids were excited to meet my Mom. On our way home we visited the capital building because they had never seen it before.

Thursday, March 12, 2020: HS Music trip to St. Louis cancelled. We were supposed to leave in a week. The kids had been fundraising for a year. We still haven't taken this trip. I'm hopeful for next year.

Friday, March 13, 2020: All of my groups had fantastic rehearsals. We were on the right path to having another great contest season. I told my kids I would see them Monday. We had four more days until Spring Break.

Sunday, March 15, 2020, around 5pm: Schools in my state shutdown until further notice.

Sunday, March 15, 2020, around 5:15pm: Calls and texts from crying and hysterical seniors who just lost all of their lasts. Who had been practicing their solos for months because this was going to be the year they received top marks at state music. Who had their final day with their band and/or choir family and they didn't know it at the time.

And then...

November 2020: A staff member tests positive. I was sitting next to them in a meeting the day before. We were both wearing masks and socially distanced. I was not quarantined.

Also November 2020: Three of my students test positive. I sit next to one of them during band rehearsal the day before. We were socially distanced and I'm not quarantined.

Still November 2020: My BIL tests positive. Sister and kids are quarantined. Family Thanksgiving is cancelled. We'll get together for Christmas.

Day after Thanksgiving 2020: My Uncle calls me to say he was in the hospital a few weeks ago for Covid. My Uncle never calls me. I probably hadn't talked to him in... A year? It was nice to talk to him but apparently thinking you're going to die changes a person.

A week before Christmas 2020: My Dad and his parents admitted to the hospital for Covid. My Dad and Grandma come home. My Grandpa does not... He passes away on New Years Eve. We did not have family Christmas.

Two weeks ago: We made an impromptu visit to see my family. It did not suck as much as I expected it to, to be at my grandparents house. It was the first time had seen them in person in four months. My Grandma is having surgery to remove her thyroid soon. When she was in the hospital for Covid the doctors found early stage cancer.

It has been a real turd of a year for everyone. For educators I feel like it has had an extra special suck. In my classroom (band & choir), kids are literally projecting their breath forcefully into the air. Kinda scary in an environment where kids are often unknown carriers of a dangerous virus that is transmitted through droplets expelled from one's mouth.

In August, when I found out my school was going completely in person with no mask requirement, I did some serious soul searching for a couple of days. In the end, I took the gamble that if I got sick, odds where good that I would feel lousy for a week or two but ultimately be ok. If I wasn't at school, then my kids would not be able to play their instruments or sing, and what's the point in being in music if you can't do those things?

I still feel like that was an unfair choice I was forced to make. The choice between my future health and my students education. For many kids, their elective classes get them out of bed and at school every day. A couple of teachers chose to teach remotely. I'm glad they had that option. The way I looked at it, if I wanted my program to survive beyond this year, and I did, then I had to be at school.

Not gonna lie, that first month of school was rough on me. I hadn't been around anyone other than close family in about six months. I went to the store a couple times with my husband early in the spring. Apparently I don't hide my fear as well as I think I do because we got home and he said that he wouldn't make me do that again. And he hasn't, bless him.

Except... Our weekly trips to the store were fun. We don't really go out so that was our time together outside of home. And we lost that. He still does the shopping on his own. It's the only time he leaves the house other than when we walk the dogs in the evening. (His job allows him to work from home.)

Which brings us to today. I got my second Covid shot on Friday. Saturday I spent the day in bed. I didn't feel "bad" I was just too exhausted to do anything. Yesterday I felt better but still kinda tired. I don't like needles or shots, and the thought of receiving an emergency vaccine really scared the hell out of me.

Teachers in my state were part of group two, right after senior citizens and health care workers, to have the chance at the vaccine. Some of my colleagues chose to opt out. In the end I decided to get it because my Grandpa couldn't. He was gone before it was an option.

And then my Dad sends me this picture this morning:

I was probably about six years old here. And that's my Grandpa helping me ride a bike.

Tell your loved ones you love them every chance you get. Don't take a single second for granted.

...

This ended up way longer than I expected it to be. When I started it was just going to be what happened a year ago. And then it sorta snowballed into everything from the past year. If you've made it this far, well, congratulations I guess. Thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: You sound like a remarkable woman out of her time. Your posts suggest you are modern and feminine yet your cultured intelligence and cleverness seems from an earlier lost time. Would you prefer to be living in 18th Century Georgian England? One imagines you would fit right in as a heroine in Jane Austen’s Regency world of aristocratic manners and clever barbs over tea in the drawing room.

I had to smile to myself a little because the last thing I ever saw myself was a Jane Austen character. I certainly don’t see myself as heroine of Austen’s world. After all don’t most if not all of Austen’s literary heroines spend their time pathetically pining away for the socially aloof and yet heroically vulnerable gentlemen they profess to love, men who are usually too dense to know that these whining women have childish schoolgirl crushes on them? I know I’m going to angry mails now from pouting Austen fans but I have to speak my mind.

Like most people I do profess to liking a nice, cosy Jane Austen adaptation on television. The fabulous frocks, fans, feathers and finery soothe us with images of a gentler, well-mannered time when gentlemen in cravats and breeches wooed perfumed ladies across ballrooms and well-manicured lawns.

However the reality was not quite so lovely. It’s not that women - like Austen’s literary women - were caught up in the social constraints of their time but also I would get restless just sitting down all day to tea and gossip. I would sooner catch the first ship bound for India and have adventures in the Orient along the way. Tea with Mr Darcy in well stuffed breeches might not be enough for me but then again a well stocked library as most landed gentry homes had would make me reconsider.

I’m fortunate that within my family we have a wealth of diaries, correspondence, private papers, and other family heirlooms that go back a few centuries which we have scrupulously stored to hopefully pass onto future generations.

So when I can decipher some letters of my ancestors it gives me some insight into what life was like for them as men and women of their time. It’s not always easy to read as they loved to scribble in ink (now faded) in the margins on nearly every page of the books they read. And so the penmanship is stylish but minuscule and therefore sometimes hard to make out. The letters are somewhat more legible but it requires patience and perseverance to make sense of what they were writing about. It’s a wonderful way to flesh out the genealogical tree with titbits of personal anecdotes that could be perfunctory, mundane, scandalous, salacious, romantic, and even political.

I’ve read Jane Austen like every other girl at boarding school I imagine. I like her writings but I wouldn’t say my heart is in it to actually live through that time.

Life for Georgian women, even of high birth, was harsh enough in a time when men still held all the power and husbands could beat and even rape their wives. Noblewomen caught diseases passed on from their husband's prostitutes and were still subjected to confinement and the barbaric medical practice of bleeding when pregnant. Even their fashions and frippery provided cold comfort when their make-up poisoned them, unwashed dresses and undergarments stank and their fancy foods made their teeth rot and fall out.

The fact that women did survive and even thrive is a testament to their strength and fortitude which I find admirable. 

I’m used to mud and sweat and even living rough because as ex-army officer I was trained to suck it up but it’s also in my nature because I love going rough when I hike or climb mountains or trek to other places off the beaten track. So I’m not squeamish so long as at the end of the day I can bathe or shower my aches away and I can put on a fresh change of clothing. However even I recoil in some horror when I consider that despite their elegant appearance, Georgian women carried a world of stench. While hands and faces would be washed daily, immersive bathing was considered bad for the health and was only indulged in occasionally.

The heavy gowns of the period would have caused the wearer to sweat profusely, with only perfumes such as rose water and orange blossom to mask the smell. The clothes themselves would also be pungent. Due to the huge amount of work involved in laundering, most households would have a maximum of one wash-day a month. Linen undergarments were changed as often as possible, but their "clean" smell would still be unappealing to us. Linen was often bleached in chamber lye, a kind of soap made from ashes and urine.

As if bodily odour was not bad enough, there was also the whiff of rotting teeth. A sugar-rich diet led to frequent tooth-decay in the upper classes. Cleansing tooth-powders had started to emerge but most of these featured "spirit of vitriol", known to us as sulphuric acid, and stripped teeth of their enamel. Often the best remedy for smelling teeth and bad breath was to chew herbs such as parsley. Where a tooth was past hope of redemption, it would be pulled with pliers or a tooth key, a claw that would fix to the teeth so it could be loosened in the jaw. To avoid a gummy smile, ladies of fashion sought false teeth made from ivory or porcelain but, where possible, they preferred to have "live" teeth in their dentures. Poor people were encouraged to sell healthy teeth for this purpose. While such a practice was unethical, it was better than the other method of sourcing human teeth: pillaging them battlefields and graveyards.

Georgian women were renowned for their snowy faces and dark eyebrows but achieving the fashionable skin tone could be extremely dangerous. White face powders were lead-based and some also featured vinegar and horse manure. Years of coating the entire face, shoulders and neck with such a mixture could lead to catastrophic consequences. Society beauty Maria Gunning died at the age of just 27, having spent her life addicted to cosmetics. Lead-poisoning could cause hair loss and tooth decay but ingeniously, these problems were elegantly adapted into the fashion and it became desirable to have a high forehead and pencil-thin eyebrows. If your own eyebrows failed you completely, you could always trap a mouse in the kitchen and use its fur to make a new artificial pair.

I usually wear my hair straight or tied up in a bun so I don’t fuss too much over my hair. This would certainly be out of place if I lived in Georgian times. Georgian ladies were the mistresses of big hair. They piled their frizzed and curled locks over pads or wires to create show pieces for the drawing room. Often their own hair was not sufficient and had to be supplemented by horse hair and false pieces. Styles from the 1760s were domed or egg-shaped, elongating into the pouf in the 1780s. But Georgiana, the infamous Duchess of Devonshire, had to take things a step further. She introduced the three-foot hair tower, ornamented with stuffed birds, waxed fruit and model ships. Following her example, women competed with one another to make the tallest headdress. Since these styles were costly and took hours to arrange, they were worn for several weeks. Ladies had to sleep sitting up and travel on the carriage floor to avoid spoiling their creations. With no combing possible, lice were inevitable so a special scratching rod was invented for irritated ladies to poke into their piled up hair.

It wasn’t any real fun being a woman and I often think Jane Austen is selling a false bill of goods in her books. You never see women in her novels deal with their menstrual problems. No one has proved for certain what they did, if anything, for sanitary hygiene. With no knickers to hold in strips of linen or rag, they were left to Mother Nature’s mercy. I can imagine that being a conversation stopper in the drawing room over tea with the vicar and his prissy wife. Their toilet habits were a little more civilised. When ladies at the royal court were caught short, they resorted to porcelain jugs much like a modern-day gravy boat. This contraption, called a bourdaloue, was stuffed up beneath the skirts and clenched beneath the thighs. Apparently it was quite normal for a lady to continue her conversation while urinating into the device! I think Jane Austen missed a trick by not having at least one scene with Elizabeth Bennet urinating under her skirts whilst trading clever barbs with Mr Darcy.

Speaking of which marriage was not a box of chocolates in the early 18th Century or indeed later in Austen’s day. Upon marriage, a lady and all her worldly goods would become property of her husband. It was therefore essential to guard a well-to-do bride’s interests with a legal marriage settlement before the ceremony took place. I read somewhere that Henrietta Hobart, later mistress to George II, had reason to be thankful for the settlement drawn up before her marriage to Charles Howard in 1706. It stipulated that two thirds of her dowry should be invested, with the interest at her sole disposal. Should Henrietta die, the funds were to pass to her children. This arrangement was to prove life-saving when her husband became an abusive gambling-addict and alcoholic.

Lower class women were known to take extreme measures to protect their future husbands from their own debts. "Smock weddings" were intended to show that the bride brought no clothes or property to the union, thus exempting each spouse from the other’s financial liabilities. The woman would be married wearing only her undergarment or smock – or sometimes nothing at all. Of course no marriage settlement, however generous, could save a woman from a violent husband and it remained legal for a man to rape or kidnap his wife. While excessive beating was frowned upon, whipping was considered a reasonable measure to discipline a wife.  Even so, it would appear many men pushed their rights beyond the limit, for laws were later amended to say a man could only beat his wife with a stick "no thicker than his thumb".

Escaping an abusive marriage then was well-nigh impossible. Divorces were so expensive that they remained the privilege of the very rich. Even if a lady did have the money to appeal for divorce, she was by no means certain of success. She would have to prove both adultery and "life-threatening cruelty". And if she won her freedom, it would come with more than just a social cost - any children from the marriage would remain property of the husband. Certainly in my family - on my father’s English side of the family - they had their fair share of scandalous behaviour that didn’t reflect well to our 21st Century minds.

Certainly the Georgians were not sexless and they enjoyed their carnal pleasures but of course being aristocratic they never did things that would publicly expose them to scandal. I was reading one such letter of an ancestor who was writing to her older sister about how hard it was for her to conceive her first child - a son naturally - that her rakish husband first took to prostitutes in an era when such things were common and the risk of infection from sexually transmitted diseases was rife. And then later settled on one mistress whom he seriously gave thought to impregnate her. However the mistress was an actress and thus such a union was frowned upon in landed gentry circles and so he was shamed back to his high born wife and to ‘try harder by God’s Providence’. The duty of any aristocratic wife was to produce a healthy son and heir but if nature did not take its course, they could seek help and so these ancestors of mine did.

Like many other aristocratic couples with trouble conceiving children they sought out quacks who made promises to cure infertility. One such person was a Dr James Graham who had invented what he called ‘The Celestial Bed’ that guaranteed conception and unearthly sexual pleasure. The bed itself was electrified and stood on insulating glass legs. The mattress was stuffed with stallion hair to increase potency. Mirrored floors and music from a glass harmonica heightened the experience, while the air swirled with exotic perfumes. Having made love on this bizarre contraption, the couple were encouraged to take ice baths and have a firm massage. The lady would also be advised to douse her genitals with champagne.

It must have worked because the family line did not die out but flourished. It proves to me that champagne is the answer to almost every question in life. A woman’s travails were not over just because she was successfully pregnant. More hazards lay in her path. Despite advances in medicine, a shocking number of medieval practices remained in the Georgian birthing chamber. The long period of rest or "confinement" leading up to the birth was still enforced for wealthy women. The rooms would be kept dark and sweltering with the expectant mother wrapped up in fustian waistcoats and petticoats. As soon as she had given birth, the room was made even hotter, with the curtains round the bed pinned and even the keyhole in the door stopped to prevent a draft. When I lived in China I discovered this is what Chinese mothers did and still do to this day. So I wasn’t so surprised when I read such a practice happened in other cultures like my own.

Those more fortunate might find themselves in a birthing chair. This had a sloped back and a semi-circle cut from the seat, designed to let gravity aid nature. It was certainly a better option than staining expensive bedding and linen. With only female relatives and an unofficially trained midwife to help, many women and their babies died in childbed, as it was known. Even when male surgeons became involved in obstetrics toward the end of the century, treatments were woefully inadequate. I read in the correspondence of one of my female ancestors that she was frequently ‘bled’ during her pregnancy. Somehow she survived any risk of post-partum haemorrhage.

Even when a birth was successful without complication the wife/mother was not out of the woods just yet. In keeping with custom in landed gentry circles of the times, the new mother would not suckle their own babies. In keeping its custom this taks was given over to a wet nurse. In the case of one of my ancestors whose correspondence I read she got a village girl from the family estates to breast feed the baby. The reason for doing so was brutally simple. Firstly, it was to ensure that the lady could conceive again as soon as possible. And secondly, Wealthier women often had difficulty breastfeeding due to their tight corsets or stays. It was also believed that a child would grow up stronger and hardier with a country-woman’s milk.

But even when the baby sprog was weaned, it was common practice for it to be handed to foster-parents until it was old enough to run about and talk. Interestingly enough Jane Austen and her siblings were fostered by a cottager in Deane village, two miles from their family home.

So overall I’m no so sure I would be thrilled to be living in the Georgian and Regency era even if it meant challenging that scoundrel Mr Wickham to a sword duel (and kicking his arse), match making with Emma, or even missing out on the pleasure of taking tea with Mr Darcy.

Sorry Mr Darcy.

Of course I’m fascinated with history and one sometimes wonder what it might be like to live in a particular time. However it’s just a flight of the imagination because to paraphrase Sir Roger Scruton I prefer to live in “the pastness of the present” rather than the past itself. This is the difference between being an historically illiterate reactionary and being a true conservative.

Thanks for your question

[luminisvii]

anyway i’ve been playing three houses on maddening lately because i hate myself, and i also hated looking at tier lists that put some characters who are actually quite bad for high difficulty up top, i made my own tier list of suggested feth characters for if you do a maddening run. this is really just so i can scream about what characters i think are best (spoiler alert: it’s lysithea)

so, here we go, tell’s three houses tier list!

disclaimer: based on personal experience, not all characters have been used on maddening, but i have played the game like... eight times. on my ninth run. so i have some pretty decent data on majority of the characters. 

tier is determined by how easy a character is to use, how much investment they require, and stat growths. crests+relics also influence this, since people who can use relics effectively are better. the game tells me not to judge based on crests, but come on! 

lords are not included, jeritza is also not because he’s CF post skip exclusive, but come on, we all know where he’d place anyway

the real tier list is this: if you’re playing on normal or hard, literally anyone is fine. follow your heart. invest in who you like. on maddening, you unfortunately need to be a little more discerning. and sometimes, you just get rng screwed, even with the best, so rip lmao 

TOP TIER (FOR COOL KIDS ONLY)

-lysithea: the coolest kid, doesn’t need a bed time. obvious bc her spell list and stats and access to relic are great. also look at her. shes bappy. she says so herself in her support with cyril (the only valid cyril support) all jokes aside, she can go down the basic mage line and mow down anyone who comes within her insane range. she also does well as a valkyrie, but with the speed penalty, i don’t recommend her staying in the class for long. just get uncanny blow! then hades will never miss! 

-felix: he may be a shadow the hedgehog motherfucker but he has one important thing that shadow doesnt: crest of fraldarius. i guess shadow has a gun, though. felix is just straightforward gameplay baby. you send him at something and it dies. go crest boy go!

-mercedes: im legally obligated to put mercie in here because of her personal, her crest, and fortify. although restore is also super neat! miss mercie is just plain reliable as a healer. easily goes through the priest line to gremory.

-balthus: extremely helpful early game, doesn’t fall off later either. his personal skill of str/def +6 when below half health means he can either straightforwardly tank or just punch shit so hard it doesn’t have a chance to strike back. also gets a relic, healing focus, and a major crest that allows him to heal, so he’s a one man army. he does one thing really well and that’s use his fists to liquefy his opponents. also gets rally strength if you care about that. my favorite strategy with him is to let the damn poison strike archers knock his health down and then just go to town, combined with vantage for REAL fun. forget war monk, this guy should just go to war master

-sylvain: this little slut will join you if you’ve got boobs so he’s real handy to have around. plus he’s got some great qualities: flexible, strong, free relic, and maybe kinda hot i guess. you could make him a paladin, but you should give him a giant lizard. he can basically become any of the master classes with ease, although i would not recommend putting him into magic classes that much unless you wanna do a wholly mage sylvie build. will still perform just fine as a dark mage even without dedicated magery. but seriously, dragon

-petra: you want crit??? you got crit!!! this little lady can not only crit like hell but also dodge tank really well. i had fun making her a falcoknight once and just watching her line it all up and tear it all down. petra is reliable and stronk and also horrible to fight against so just. recruit her, please

-constance: entirely here because of bolting. for the low price of her reason being A you can nuke enemies from across the map. while you could make her the canon class of dark flier, i for one think the warlock line is better, because that’s four uses of bolting and even more if her crest activates. she also has a similar statline to lysithea and hits like a truck with other spells, and with bolting can supply long range support, so really, what’s not to love? the rest of her spells are good too. i go for gremory over dark flier bc while the mobility is great, x4 bolting is even better. 

PRETTY GOOD TIER

-ingrid: extremely reliable, only down here instead of in the cool kids category bc her strength kinda sucks. i love ingrid though! she’s got a gambit gimmick and a crest+relic! ingrid with the chalice is super funny and i highly recommend it. i watched her fucking OWN every single siege tome user like that

-ignatz: some will say he sucks. some would argue his utility as a debuffer and rallybot. i will argue this ungodly crit. ignatz is a very luck man, blessed with great opportunities and a base crit value beyond any other. the little man will strike you down in the name of the goddess before you even know what’s going on. with a little help his strength will match the others and if you slap as much crit up on him as possible then it’ll never end. ignatz could be a one man army if he could crit more than one person at once. unfortunately he’s stuck to one divine judgment at a time. you can either use his 55% luck growth and archer level dex to gamble on a high crit rate, or you can stack his personal with another hit +20 to basically never miss anything. if you play deer, this man is a must.

-hilda: the usual, a crest, a relic, good times, a nice personal, but also like. she slaps. in general. pretty sick with an axe but works nicely as almost any physical class (i haven’t tried sword, though) because she naturally goes down the warrior line she can get some real fun times going. or just give her a lizard! women love swarms of lizards. she is a delicate little flower who will end a motherfucker

-ferdinand: fairly reliable as a cavalier class, and comes with some natural dodge tanky capability and access to seteth’s spear of assal and ochain shield which make him restore health like crazy and his personal will stay on. also a counter attack block is nice! he’s got some nice combat arts too. just a pretty straightforward cavalier. good times

-seteth: and while we’re on the crest of cichol, seteth is gonna make sure you never raise a finger against him again. you won’t survive. the only prepromote i use. he has good base stats, good growths, and he just does really well at what he does! he may come in a little late but he’s strong as fuck and is shredded. i tend to favor him over ferdie for the cichol linked items, but also i’m biased towards this anxiety dad, so take that as you will

-marianne: she tends to get left out of the healer talks because like most of the deer, she’s kind of weird. i will make an argument for her. what she lacks in utility she makes up for sheer raw power. while her crest won’t be of much use until very late and even then her sword prowess is not what you should be using her for, her spell list is all high power and she also comes with easy access to silence, which can nicely stall for some time against powerful mage enemies. she also gets a heal to herself if she’s standing next to an animal since all her friends are horses. still kinda slow as most healers are and not as much of a res tank, but a formidable edition nonetheless. blutgang is a good pinch hitter relic as well

-caspar: like most gauntlet users, caspar is good at one thing: punching. he is just really good at it. he’s perfectly geared towards being a war master. and he’ll perform that very well. he gets healing focus as one of his arts, so he can run off on his own if he wants. solidly reliable, will work at just. punching. go short king!

-yuri: the man’s utility is unrivaled. he’d go top tier if it weren’t for the fact that he’s got unreliable strength/magic growths. he could go either way as a physical attacker or a mage, but he naturally fits well in the assassin class along with trickster, and even dancer if you like (i’m trying that and honestly the male dancer animation is so sad. like. why can’t you put as much energy into it as the women.) but this man can go. hes fast. he’ll fuck you up

-hubert: while not as hard hitting as lysithea, the man still fucks things up with dark magic like she does. he lacks her double crests but he makes up for it by still smacking people’s nuts clean off and with the added bonus of range and debuffs dark magic provides. even better, you can make him a dark mage/bishop! however points off because they won’t let me stack fiendish blow. love u vampire man!!! unfortunately locked to CF so rip.

NICE TIER: 

-lorenz: i adore him but hes a little unreliable as things go. in house, hes the better paladin than leonie, and his personal grants him a nice damage bonus with a battalion. lorenz shines as a dark knight the most, he has a heavy hitting spell list and if you really want to, thyrsus is technically his relic even though everyone puts it on lysithea! i really like him and he can perform really well but unfortunately like most of the deer he is Weird and this can put him in strange places with his growths. tis a cruel world, being a lorenz stan!

-dorothea: also suffers from strange statline. for some reason they’re pushing sword with her. honestly, because she’s outperformed by other mages, even on black eagles i tend to put her into dancer and kinda forget about her. she has quite a bit in heavy hitting spells and her personal skill grants a very nice mini heal to people around her, but honestly, i usually favor lysithea over her. she functions best as pure support but can still pull through on the offense. sadly, the competition is really rough.

-ashe: does his job, and does it well. not as heavy of a hitter as some of his fellow archers, but still good nonetheless, and has access to deadeye for extra range (although don’t count on it on maddening). his personal means he can unlock things no matter what class he’s in, so you can focus on others! i personally think that, you guessed it, he should get a giant lizard.

-annette: she does well, sadly outperformed by other house mages. functions as a rallybot and gets crusher if you care about that. i missed crusher completely in my first lions run, whoops, and then in my second one i had constance so uh. sorry, annette! she’s so very sweet, but her spell list has her down here.

-leonie: im hiding before the leonie stans get me. sure, like sylvain, she has his ability and shared flexibility for any class, but unlike sylvain she lacks power, a crest, and a relic. i see people keep arguing that she’s a massive damage dealer, but i honestly never see it. she falls off damage wise really quick, even if she’s got more than enough speed to deal with it. she’s basically just a lamer sylvain or ingrid without the crest abilities that those two have to make them stronger. what? the game keeps TELLING me crest = bad but as far as i can tell, all the best characters have one! on maddening GD, she’ll be good at first, but she’ll drop.

-dedue: i would rank this man higher since i simply adore him but he’s SUPER difficult for me to use. his defense is unrivaled, this man will flinch at nothing, but his speed is almost always shit and he tends to get nuked from orbit by mages. i love him, i really do, but man he can be a lot to manage. he does really well early game but can’t keep up. which is a shame, i really like him :(

-flayn: she has quite a bit of capability with rescue and fortify, and her major crest means her healing is even more potent. however she’s a little slow, extremely fragile, joins low leveled after you’ve already invested in a different healer, and is not very strong. she IS a res tank, though, and learns seal magic, which adds to her res tanking capability. she also synergizes with the caduceus staff, so she can be very self sufficient, and hit from farther away! flayn does very well. the major penalty is a lackluster spell list and significant investment buy in.

-hapi: she’s… weird. i like hapi quite a bit but she’s got it worse than lorenz in terms of stat growth. her personal ability makes her an extreme aggro target for monsters and she can’t even avoid their attacks, and the bonus damage it grants unfortunately isn’t better than fellow DLC mage constance, who hits harder just out of sheer momentum. for having a healing crest, she doesn’t have a particularly interesting white magic line. her dark magic grants her utility similar to hubert, but she’s slower and can’t quite strike like he does. sadly miss hapi has to be down here. id like to put her higher but boy did she struggle

-raphael: well, he’ll do his job. he’s only beat by caspar since caspar has a little bit better tools at his disposal, but they’re basically the same character. raph will do very good at punching the living shit out of things. starts off better than caspar, but unfortunately in my current run i have balthus so raph had to get benched

YOU CAN DO BETTER TIER

-bernadetta: she’ll work alright, but only with lots of attention, and her personal doesn’t seem to make up the difference. for a sniper she seems to have far less hit than her rivals in ashe and ignatz, especially since ignatz makes him more reliable. her crest doesn’t actually grant her much since it has such a low trigger rate and by the time it does work she probably already can double. also she gains no levels between pre and post skip which is hilarious but like. HELLO? ive also been told she has the worst starting stats. personally, i only use her on BE runs. i know she’s a popular character and a lot of people rank her highly for persecution complex and the fact that she learns both encloser and deadeye, but deadeye is unreliable in maddening and she’s a lot of work to keep up with the others.

-cyril: he can become a killer, he honestly does really well, but he starts so far behind you need to invest a significant amount into him. i don’t recall him having a particularly stellar combat art line either, but if you choose to put in all the work of catching the kid up, he will do well. but it’s not worth it most of the time. i use him on church route runs bc it feels right. on other runs, you’ll already have someone who fits his niche--the guy becomes a wyvern rider, and the likes of sylvain can do much better in this line.

-linhardt: kind of a shittier flayn, without fortify or rescue. lackluster spell list for both black and white, and terrible growths. he’ll do fine if you play eagles, but if you’re going to import a healer, mercie or flayn is the better option. 

-anna: oh lord, anna is difficult. her offensive stats are horrendous. flayn hits harder than her. with her unique stat line, inability to get supports, weakness in authority, and all around just odd set up, anna is not a reliable character and you should use yuri instead. they’ve basically got the same crest.

DIDN’T USE SO NO OPINION TIER: 

-hanneman

-manuela (heard she’s not good anyway)

-alois

-gilbert

-catherine

-shamir

(yes there’s a trend to this which is past FEs have trained me away from using prepromotes!)

and there we go! im still biased towards GD but the characters who do best are the ones who have a clear class line to follow and a statline that matches it.