#unrelated but sorry for not posting as much life has been stressful and busy

[asleepygremlin]

I saw posts of kitakami siblings and bb league plushies and I started questioning whether I was dreaming

I was in fact not dreaming

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 29: a one-night thing and a date debate

(hey hi hello, in the interest of clarity, there’s a new POV toward the end of this chapter. hope you enjoy!)

Tuesday, November 13th, 1990

“What?? I didn’t think it was that bad.“ 

It’s rude to gawk at her. I know it’s rude. Yet gawk I shall, when her hair looks like THAT and she’s got the unmitigated audacity to keep eating clementines standing over her kitchen sink like it’s a normal Tuesday evening. It’s been hacked off unceremoniously to several non-conforming lengths, all of which fall somewhere above her shoulders, and the ends are all sticking out sideways, free from the tyranny of the length that used to weigh them down. I never knew her hair could be this … how do I put this charitably… voluminous… she looks like she stuck her finger in a socket… 

"Not that bad?? What’d you, cut it with a bowl on your head?" 

"Hey, no need to be shitty!" 

"No, you’re right, that’s an insult to the bowl community." 

"Jesus, Lucy!” she exclaims, choking and looking deeply wounded, although whether at my snide remarks or the food lodged in her throat, I can’t be sure.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay, you just… you don’t even look like you." 

Cora beams at me. "Thanks!”

Maybe if I flatten my face into my palm hard enough, I’ll just pass out. Nope, no luck. And now my face hurts. “Okay, I get it, it’s the stereotypical post-breakup reinvention –" 

"Huh? This has nothing to do with… that." 

”– sure, right, and a cat might have her kittens in an oven but that doesn’t make them… I don’t know… biscuits or something… shit, I’m hungry, I skipped dinner…" 

Cora’s eyebrows draw together and we share a moment of silence for the metaphor that got away before we burst out laughing. I join her in the kitchen and she hands me an orange before picking another one for herself. She peels it straight into the sink, on top of a large existing pile of peels, and I follow her lead. 

“Okay, okay, you just wanted to look different. I get it." 

"Thank you.”

“And you succeeded,” I crane my neck to get a better view of the back of her hair, where the disparate lengths of the sides meet in one jagged scissor swipe. At its shortest, it’s a bit above her shoulders. I can work with that. It’ll actually be a cute length on her, if I can even it out… and get the ends to lie flat… and fix whatever those short pieces in the front were supposed to be… “but I’m contractually obligated as your best friend to ask you this whenever you do anything crazy: are you okay? Like, really okay?”

She nods, sending random pieces of hair bobbing wildly.

“I don’t have to take you into the shop for a tune-up, right? Because this little stunt, this kinda feels like a ‘check engine’ light… " 

"I swear, Luce, I’m fine. I just… I needed something different.”

“…because?” I ask, as carefully as I can. She takes her time answering, becoming overwhelmingly interested in removing every last string of pith from her fruit. 

“…because Alex called." 

Ah ha. Now we’re getting somewhere. Also, that bastard! "What’d you guys talk about?”

“We didn’t. He left a message.” I’m already making a beeline for her answering machine when she adds, “I erased it, don’t bother." 

"Okay, and that wasn’t cathartic enough, so you had to erase your hair too?" 

"I… I don’t know, he said he thought he spotted me at the store the other day –" 

”– creepyyyy –“

”– yeah. And suddenly I just didn’t want to be spottable anymore, you know? I mean, I didn’t change my hair one bit the entire time we dated, it always looked the same. And I just felt like I could make myself a little less recognizable to him, or maybe just make myself feel less like the person he recognized as his girlfriend, or… I don’t know, none of that probably makes any sense.“ 

"No, it makes perfect sense. How are you feeling now?" 

She downs the last wedge of her orange and reaches for another. "Fine. Scurvy-free, at the very least." 

"No, I mean about Alex… did he say anything else?" 

"Not really. I mean, he left me his new number. Well, her number, I guess. He’s at her place,” she wrinkles her nose at a distaste unrelated to clementines. The thought turns my stomach, too.

“And… are you going to call him back, or…”

“NO! Absolutely not. That’s why I fucking destroyed the tape, even hearing him in this room again felt like a violation. I just wanted to kill any trace, you know?" 

"Definitely. Definitely. Now, for the love of all that is good and holy, will you please let me fix… this for you?" 

I tug at a sideways strand of hair, maybe a little too hard. Setting aside the insanity of her actions, I admire her resolve. When Cora decides something, she really goes for it, whether it was to move across the country to start her life over, or to try to save the planet with her crazy genius brain, or to try and make things work with Alex even when any idiot could see that their relationship was already long over, or to cut him out of her life and cut off her own hair just for good measure, or even to ignore every ounce of evidence that she and Stone are perfect for each other. Smart or stupid, she really commits to her cause and sticks with it. I’m sure Jeff wishes I had the same kind of commitment capability. 

"Is it really that bad?" 

"Cora! You cut. Your hair. With kitchen shears!” I clap between words to stress the severity of her situation, but my efforts are undermined by both our cackling. “You’ve gone from a Daphne to a Velma!" 

"Hey, what’s wrong with Velma???”

“Y'know, the person we really need right about now is Patch." 

"Oh god, he’d disown me." 

"Yeah, but at least he’d be able to make you look like Molly Ringwald first. I think the best I can do is, like, Anne Shirley post-chop." 

"Hmm,” she muses, her face clouding, “no more pigtails to pull.”

“Huh?” 

“Oh… nothing…”

“Come on, Mess." 

She lets me snatch up her hand and start dragging her down to my apartment, where I have slightly more refined cosmetological implements than kitchen shears. But once we’re in the hallway she plants her feet, frowning in the direction of my boyfriend’s door like a bird dog. 

“Hey. What are you even doing here so early anyway? Weren’t you going to hang out with Jeff before the show tonight?” 

“Why don’t you ask a little louder, maybe he’ll hear you and come explain it himself?” 

Her face contorts quizzically. I tug hard on her arm. “Ow! Okay, okay! Walking now.” 

“Sorry,” I whisper once we’re in the stairs, “just… we’re still in kind of a weird place, we had a really dumb fight, and I should probably go talk to him about it, but…” I trail off, feeling even more undeserving than I usually do of someone as great as Jeff. What’s wrong with me? He’s my favorite person in the world! Why don’t I want to talk to my favorite person in the world?

“…but you needed to take a breather?" 

"Maybe? I don’t know, I just know that in the moment I needed to get away, and now I’ve probably fucked everything up." 

"Somehow I doubt that.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“Well, nothing’s wrong with you, I can tell you that much.” 

“Reserve judgment until you hear the whole stupid story, woman. Bathroom. Now.” I open my door and point down the hallway. With a childish groan, she obeys, grabbing a dining room chair and stomping away. I grab the phone, tugging the cord so it’ll follow us. 

“What’s that for? Is there a hair disaster technical support line?” 

“Pretty much, yeah. I was gonna call your brother, I need reinforcements.” I steer her by the shoulders and shove her down into the chair, maybe a little too aggressively.

“Oof! Fabulous. Double the abuse, no waiting.”

“No less than you deserve,” I snicker as I glare at her until she recites his number, which I stab into the phone. “Hmph. No one’s picking up. Guess I have to fly solo on this one.” 

“Well, good, honestly, I don’t want to worry him.” 

“You should have thought of that before you hacked off your hair like a crazy person,” I scold as I start to comb it into submission and evaluate the job in front of me. 

“Enough about me, Lucy, what the fuck’s going on with you lovebirds?”

“We had our first fiiiiight,” I whine, “it was awful. And it’s stupid, and I’m stupid, and I need to just get over myself and let him win this one because I’m never going to find another person like Jeff so I’m crazy not to go along with him, and –" 

”– wait, is this still about you not wanting to move in together?“ 

"Yes! Or, no, it’s not that I don’t want to, exactly, I just don’t want to… yet, I guess. Which is dumb, right? I’m being dumb. Only the truly dumb among us would blow up an otherwise perfect relationship over something trivial like that." 

"Trivial?? Okay, (a), be nice, that’s my best friend you’re talking about, and (b), it’s not dumb or trivial, it’s how you feel, so why would that threaten anything?”

As I start trimming hair, the whole stupid story tumbles out of me. Cora listens solemnly, chewing on her lip, until I’m finally done with my tale of woe.

“It’s over, Cora,” I lament, “I just can’t imagine how he’ll still want to be with me after this, I mean, I’m basically rejecting him." 

"If he can’t handle a little rejection, he’s in the wrong business,” she sniffs. “And it’s not rejection. You love him, right?" 

"Of course!”

“So, you’re not rejecting him. If anything, you’re trying to hold onto him by not rushing into things." 

"Okay, EXACTLY!" 

"So, say that to him!" 

"I DID! But he wasn’t even listening by that point. He got all huffy because I didn’t want to take the leap or whatever. Hey, hold still, you trying to fuck up your hair even more?” I grab her head to keep her from shaking it in disbelief. 

“If he expects you of all people to carpe the freaking diem just because someone else told you to, he’s got a lot left to learn about you. And trying to guilt you about your career? That was bad, and he should feel bad about it.” She glowers at me in the mirror, stabbing the air with her index finger. “You do things in your own time and for your own reasons, because you’re a badass independent thinker, and anyone who wants to change that about you is gonna have to go through me first. He should love that about you the most, not try to overrule it.”

I have to pause what I’m doing and screw up my face to keep the tears pricking my eyes from falling. “Stop being so sweet, woman, it’s really fucking irritating." 

"Look who’s talking,” she mutters, her own eyes looking a little red around the edges. 

“I know you’re right, I’m just scared of losing this one. You know? I don’t exactly have the best luck in this department.”

“Oh, I know, when compared to Jesus freaks or fish pukers, Stinky Hat Man is a veritable dream come true." 

"His hats really aren’t that stinky, you know." 

"I’ll have to take your word for it. Anyway, uh… if we’re doing the whole ‘sharing is caring’ bit, then I have to admit that I didn’t quite tell you everything. Before.”

“About what?" 

"My answering machine. There was another message. Yesterday. From Stone.”

“Oh?” I struggle to keep my voice and face neutral. Truth be told, I’ve been feeling guilty lately about interfering and telling Stone to back off. Seems like he backed a little too far off, when all I wanted him to do was respect her mourning process and not rush her. I’m really 0 for 2 at this whole relationship thing lately.

“Yeah, it’s just… it was weird, he’s kinda been absentee lately, ever since… well, like a week, I guess… since Alex left. And it’s just a week, and it wouldn’t be a big deal if it were anyone else, I mean, we all have our own lives, but… it’s me and Stone, you know?”

“Uh huh.” Yup, confirmed, this is my fault. Shit. “Well, what did he say?" 

"Nothing special, really, he just wanted to make sure I was coming to the show…" 

Okay! Whew! A sign of life. I didn’t fuck everything up for them. "That was sweet of him." 

"Was it?” She frowns. “He probably called everyone he knows, right?" 

Is she fucking serious?? "He didn’t call me." 

"Of course he doesn’t have to call you to make sure you’ll be at their shows, you’re boning his bassist." 

"Jesus, Cora, real ladylike." 

"Ha! I love that you still blush about it, it’s been months. Look, all I’m saying is he has no reason to call you, but he probably checked in with a bunch of other people just to spread the word." 

"You’re crazy." 

She shrugs. "What other reason could he have?" 

Oh, I don’t know, he’s IN LOVE WITH YOU? But I can’t say that. I can’t interfere in their situation again. I obviously don’t know what I’m doing, not even in my own relationship, much less someone else’s. All I can do is send her to the show looking as cute and feeling as confident as humanly possible and hope Stone’s smart enough to take it from there.

"Beats me,” I sigh, tousling the ends of her hair after checking them one last time. “Well, I think I’ve officially finished working my magic. What do you think?”

***

“God damn it, I can’t believe I let you talk me into this shirt." 

"What! You look good!" 

"But we’re not even the same siiiiize,” I groan, tugging at the low neckline of the tiny borrowed black shirt to try and force it up into a more modest and familiar location. Ultimately I give up and burrow deeper into my giant cardigan as Lucy drags me into the Off-Ramp. This is my payback for the hour she spent salvaging my creative hairstyling skills, of course, but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it. 

I suppose she did a fine job. Not that I particularly care whether it looks good or not. But she neatened up the ends and made it a little more even than I could manage by myself, and it’s shorter now than what I’d been going for, which is actually a plus. It hits right below my jawline, and she did her best to get the ends to lay nicely and for the shorter pieces in the front to look more natural. The problem now is that those little pieces fall in my eyes, so I’ve got them pinned over to the side rather than worry about them for tonight. There’s enough to worry about here already. Even setting aside the conundrum of Stone’s motivation for calling me, Lucy and Jeff are perfectly capable of producing enough drama for one evening. I can understand both of their perspectives, but if I’m being honest, I want to smash Jeff over the head with his own skateboard for being so self-involved. Can’t he see how much she loves him? Of course they’ll inevitably move in together and pick out china patterns and have a million beautiful little blonde babies and all that domestic bullshit, but Lucy is not a person you rush. I really admire that about her, the way she takes her time making decisions. I could stand to take a leaf from her book. So, Jeffrey, I love you and all, but get the fuck over yourself.

“Up front, right?” Lucy drops my hand and scans the already crowded room, looking for space near the stage.

“Uhm… I was thinking I was gonna hang near the back tonight… we could probably scrounge a couple of bar stools…” 

“Transparent much? Don’t act like you’re not trying to hide from Stone.“ 

"You don’t know me." 

"Come on, don’t you want to talk to him? He did call you and ask you to be here." 

"I… I don’t know, this is kind of a big night for him, I don’t want to make it about anything else… not that there’s anything else it could be, I mean, he obviously –" 

”–called everyone he knows,“ she drones in unison with me, "yeah, right. Ugh, come on, we’ll hang out over on Jeff’s side, Stone won’t even see you.”

“I figured you’d want a little distance from Jeff after today?” 

She shakes her head in disbelief. “One stupid fight doesn’t mean I’m not going to support him during something this big.” 

And as always, she’s a walking example of class and grace and bravery and being the bigger person, and I love her even more than I thought I ever could. “Okay, fair, you go be all supportive and whatnot, I’ll go keep one of those bar stools from floating away.” 

“Cora…!” 

“I swear, it’s fine, it’s not even really about avoiding Stone, I just kinda wanna… I feel like I’ll get a better feel for the whole thing back there. You know what I mean?” 

“No. Not at all.” But instead of arguing with me, my best friend pulls me into a slightly-too-rough hug and plants a peck on the side of my head before disappearing into the crowd, leaving me to hang near the edge of the darkened room and appreciate the show in my own way. 

Of course she’s right. Of course it’s about avoiding Stone. Of course I want to talk to him, but how? I still can’t figure out if the right thing to do is follow his lead and pretend we’re just friends and everything’s fine between us, or try to gently hint to him that I want to talk and see if I can get him to set aside some time, or just completely lose my mind and shake him and spill my guts and ask what the fuck is wrong with the two of us… nope, strike the last one, this is the absolute worst possible night to do something like that to him. And as the lights come up in the middle of the first song, just look at this room full of people who are here to see his new project, or to remember Andy, or just to have a good night. No matter what brought them here, tonight is clearly something special. Even if it’s just a one-night thing.

“Looks like Mr. Gossard busted himself a string,” Chris ribs after a while. He stalls for time while Stone messes with his guitar, but when he speaks again, his voice is halting and vulnerable. “This whole thing we’re doing was originally meant to be kind of a tribute for… for our buddy, Andy Wood, but… what it ended up being was fun, but this next song in particular was written about him, for him, and a tribute.” 

Just as the air in the room starts to feel too heavy in my lungs, Chris makes another 180 degree turn and teases Mike about his ridiculous blouse before finally starting the next song. I can’t remember when I’ve heard something more beautiful than the way Chris’s voice pours over the music, filling in all the cracks and broken places. Even my irritation at Jeff on Lucy’s behalf vanishes when I catch him leaning on Mike for support, and skipping over to Stone so they can play together over the end of the song. And for a while, nothing matters except how much I love these friends I’ve found and how much I wish I could keep them all safe from any more loss or pain. 

Of course, the show is absolutely amazing, and I’m embarrassed that I ever entertained the idea of staying home. I dutifully catalog every detail in my mind to tell Eddie when he gets back from San Diego, including Chris’s brief crowdsurfing stint during which I lose sight of him entirely, with the exception of his giant black boots. Maybe I don’t need to tell Eddie everything, though… he certainly doesn’t need to hear about the inconvenient heat that slides up my spine whenever I watch Stone play his guitar, or the shameless and hypnotized way I end up staring at his hands until a sharp inhale reminds me that I’ve been forgetting to breathe, or the way the light hits the angles of his face when his hair’s pulled back, although one disobedient piece keeps falling into his eyes, making him occasionally pause in strategic moments to sweep it back… but it’s more than any of that. It’s the geeky way he mouths along, not with Chris’s words but with his own chords. It’s the oddball, chattering riffs that only he would ever think up. It’s the resiliency that drove him deeper into songwriting as a coping mechanism in his grief. It’s the ethic that makes him work so hard but stay so grounded. I miss him. I miss him! What am I doing? This is bullshit!! Okay, maybe I don’t know exactly what words to say to Stone, maybe I don’t know the best way to get my point across, maybe it’s a bad night to even try, but none of that matters anymore. I just need him to know how I feel. I’ve got to talk to him as soon as I can. There’s a thrill that accompanies the resolve, like choosing to jump off a high cliff into the sea. I don’t know how I’ll fare on impact, but the inevitability floods me with excitement.

Before I can figure out my plan, their set is finished, and I watch as they step down into the crowd. Excitement turns back to panic. What am I supposed to say? How can I begin to tell him? But it’s irrelevant for the time being, because the first thing he does is shotgun a beer with a guy in the crowd. I don’t recognize the guy, except as the person who led a rousing chant of “Stoney, Stoney!” during the set. Chant Guy produces two more beer cans seemingly out of nowhere, and he and Stone disappear from my sight. Just as well. I’m still a mess of nerves. People-watching keeps me busy as I huddle up on my stool. Jeff and Lucy are absorbed in conversation on one side of the room. Mike and Selene are absorbed in each other’s faces on the other. I think I even saw Emily a little while ago, although I can’t spot her now, because there are some rowdy idiots in metal band shirts dominating the middle of the room like a bunch of territorial gorillas. One woman with curly, vivid green hair flits around them, constantly snapping pictures, just as she’d done during the set. I follow her with my eyes for a while, until a familiar sight appears behind her head: a baggily sweatshirted elbow, which is connected to a bony hand, which is fidgeting with a soft brown ponytail, which is pulled back from a handsome, angular face, which is deep in conversation with one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. 

I take rapid inventory. She’s a lot taller than me, only a few inches shorter than Stone, with perfect dark hair and a build like one of those godforsaken Baywatch women. I compress my knees deeper into my chest to try to control the roiling in my stomach as I watch her deploy the classic flirty arm touch, and to my despair, Stone rewards her with a smile. Huh. They seem to know each other pretty well. Or maybe I’m just telling myself lies because the thought of him hitting it off with anyone is anguishing, especially someone so different from me. But I need to get the fuck over myself and admit it. I spent too long denying my feelings for him, thinking of him as my twerpy, obnoxious friend, when the fact is, he’s a catch, and I missed out. He’s brilliant, he’s funny, he’s sweet and caring, he’s talented, and he’s stupidly handsome. It figures that someone else would see those qualities too. And it makes sense that this girl with a supermodel build would be more his type than… whatever the hell it is I thought I had to offer.

“You cut your hair??”  

The familiar deep bellow draws my mouth into a reflexive quirk, all I can manage by way of a smile of my own, mostly because I’m still battling my nausea. When I avert my eyes from whatever fresh horror is happening between Stone and Big Tits McGee over there, I turn to find Kim staring bug-eyed at me and wielding three freshly opened bottles of beer. 

“Yes, it is I, of the shorn locks,” I concede. “Don’t worry, it’s not contagious.” 

“I’m not fuckin’ scared,” he scoffs. “Wasn’t that long ago I had short hair too.” 

“File under: things I cannot picture.” In spite of myself, Kim has me laughing, and I’m so grateful for the distraction.

“Oh yeah! No beard, Prince Valiant haircut, I had this whole respectability phase. Fuckin’ terrible. Cheers! To not giving a shit,” he hands me a beer and holds up the other two for a clink.

“Oh, no thanks, I’m teetotaling tonight. Someone’s gotta get these degenerates home safely.” 

“Yeah, but not for a while. Don’t insult my intelligence, I’ve seen how well you hold your booze.” 

I finally accept the offered bottle and his toast before glancing automatically back at the crowd. Like picking at a scab, I don’t know what I expected except for it to be painful, because Stone and the brunette are still laughing it up. 

“OH! Crazy Caitlin! This night just got awesome!” 

Kim has followed my gaze and is pointing at the two of them, glee etched all over his features. 

“Keep your voice down!“ 

"Oh, I’m sorry, are we spying?" 

There’s a question I have no desire to answer. "What do you mean, Crazy Caitlin?” 

“Stone’s ex! Haven’t seen her in a while!” 

“Is… is that good or bad?” 

“Huh? I mean, she’s a fucking nightmare, she cheated on him a whole bunch and made him miserable.”

“I don’t know, he seems pretty happy right now.”

“Oh come on! Rookie mistake! Look at the poor guy, you can smell the panic pheromones from all the way over here. He’s not smiling, he’s baring his teeth like a cornered animal." 

"Who died and made you David Attenborough?”

Kim snorts, taking an enormous pull from one of his beers. I press on, trying to sound casual, “so, she’s crazy, huh?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s always a guarantee of interesting times. Melodrama on feet. Also, she’s dumber than a sock full of sand.” 

I hope I’m not just imagining things, but when Caitlin rubs Stone’s arm again, I think I see him tighten that side of his body ever so slightly. Is it just the lighting, or is he clenching his jaw when he smiles? 

“I can’t picture Stone with a brainless girl, how on earth did that work?” 

"Are you kidding me, did you notice her huge… tracts of land?” Kim swerves to a different vocabulary choice when I slice him with a glare. 

“Well, I declare you suitably corrupted, time to spread the happy,” he continues, clinking my bottle one more time and strolling off into the crowd without another word. I watch him clap Stone on the back and hand him the third bottle, and I’m mid-sip from my own drink when Stone’s eyes find me. The jolt makes me dribble some of the beer down my shirt. Fantastic. Even better that it’s Lucy’s stupid little shirt, and there’s not even enough fabric to mop myself up, so I’m gonna be sticky and reeking of beer for the next –

“RED!” 

Stone’s yelp gives me just enough warning to look back up before he barrels into me and wraps me in a lung-collapsing hug. After the shock wears off and he shows no signs of letting go, I allow myself to hug him back. But the longer he holds onto me, the harder it is to resist the horrifying urge to bury my face into the crook of his neck. I opt to wedge my chin up over his skinny shoulder to try to block out how good he smells.

“Mshohappierhear.” 

“What?” I relax my grip on him and he pulls far back enough to face me, but not far enough to let me go and certainly not far enough to be out of kissing range. I bite my lips in to stop them from doing anything foolish. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he slurs, radiating a lopsided grin. Oh Christ, he’s fucking wasted. So much for the idea of talking to him tonight. This isn’t right. He’s just happy to see everyone, it’s got nothing to do with me.

“Really?” 

"Of course. Called you, didn’t I?" 

"Yeah,” I force myself to laugh, “I’m impressed. You still sounded pretty genuine by the time you’d made it all the way through your Rolodex to Shaw." 

"Rolodex? Hang on, did you… do you think I called everyone I know?" 

"Didn’t you?" 

My voice is so small, it’s a wonder the words made it out of my throat to his ears. But he heard me. He drops his hands from my waist, steps back looking to the floor, and huffs out a little laugh through his nose. I could swear he gives the slightest shake of his head before looking out over his shoulder, suddenly paying attention to nothing in particular. It reminds me of the night we met, right here in almost this exact same spot, when all I knew about him was that he was Chris’s sarcastic friend who was trying too hard to seem cool by not making eye contact. Hope rekindles in my chest.

"So, you didn’t?" 

"Uh uh." 

"Not even Crazy Caitlin?" 

He looks back with a knowing smile. "You’ve been talking to Kim, huh? Nah, no way. Actually, I owe you one, you gave me an excuse to run away mid-sentence. You saved my ass, Red, how will I ever repay you?" 

Easy, I want to say. Tell me nothing’s changed. Tell me you still love me. Strike that, don’t tell me anything, just grab me and kiss me, you stupid smug little… 

“Hey, you cut your hair.” 

Damn it, can’t anyone talk to me about anything else? “Can’t get anything past you,” I mutter, but I’m no longer wishing for a change of subject when I notice how closely he’s studying me. My heart starts to pound and my brain feels like it’s been replaced with cotton balls and I could have sworn this room was full of people just a moment ago but it can’t be, because a feeling like this is so thoroughly dangerous it has no business being on display with so many witnesses… 

“I love it.” 

“That… that’s not the point,” I say weakly, willing my knees to stay locked in place and my cotton-brain to remember how to form words. His trademark smirk creeps back into place, albeit a little more crookedly than usual thanks to his level of inebriation, and I’m horrified at how cute the effect is.

“Okay, I hate it.” 

“Also not the point.” 

“Why don’t you throw a guy a bone and tell me what the point was, then?” 

“I just… I wanted something different, I guess… I got tired of being so…” I wave my hands around, like that’s going to help me become more articulate, “so… noticeable?” 

“Good luck with that,” he snorts derisively. “OH! HEY! Can I have this? Thanks!” 

In another dizzying about-face, he’s plunked his beer down on the bar and reached into my hair to remove the bobby pin holding back the shortest pieces of my hair, which now flop listlessly in front of my eyes. Before I can object, he’s already stowing it in his jeans pocket. 

“Hey…” he says slowly, "even better. You should always wear it like that. Really, I did you a favor.” 

“Uhm… much obliged.” What the hell’s gotten into him? How drunk can one idiot possibly be? Is it possible to sustain whiplash injuries from a conversation? “I’m really impressed at how shitfaced you are, Stoner, I think this is as drunk as I’ve ever seen you.” 

“Eh, people keep buying me shit, it’s rude to say no.” 

“How are you getting home?” 

He mimes holding onto handlebars and ringing a bike bell. “Ding ding.” 

“Is there a specific citation for that? Biking under the influence? Can you get a BUI?” 

“I hope not to let you know. I’m not that drunk, really.” 

“Mmhmm, sure. Anyway, you’re making me miss my bike, so shut up.” 

"Mmhmm,” he parrots, placing his hands on my shoulders and steering me a couple of steps to my right to make room for someone else who was trying to claim space at the bar. My cheeks flame as I remember that we’re in a crowd, and I shuffle to make more space, turning my back to the rest of the room. 

“Hey,” he says, his hands dropping from my shoulders to pick up my hands. 

“Hey yourself.”

“You look really pretty tonight.” 

“You… look really drunk tonight.” 

“My drunkness doesn’t negate your prettiness,” he chuckles, tugging alternately on my hands to start swinging us both slightly. 

“No, but it does make you a pretty unreliable narrator.” 

“Guess you’ve never heard of it referred to as truth serum before.” 

“Guess you’ve never heard to it referred to as beer goggles before.” 

With a groan that’s undercut by his smile, he lifts our hands up and laces his fingers in mine. “You’re really bad at accepting compliments. Like, really, appallingly bad.”

“I’m out of practice.”

“We should work on that.”

“Okay.” 

I hardly care what we’re saying. I’m busy watching our hands tangle together like they belong to someone else entirely.

“Hey, Stone?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” 

Without looking up, I can hear him smiling. “Whatever you tell me.” 

“Stop it, I’m serious.” 

“Me too. What are we doing tomorrow night?” 

Jesus, who needs beer to feel drunk? Stone asking about our plans like it’s the most obvious thing in the world is more than intoxicating enough.

"Uhm… hanging out? Talking, and stuff? With words." 

"I’m familiar with the concept, yes.”

“Shut up. I just… it’s been a while, since we… I kinda miss hanging out, without everyone else.” I feel impossibly jittery and have to pull my hands back to try and regain some composure, but when I look up at Stone, he’s beaming. 

“I’m all yours. Where? What time?" 

"M… my place? Eight?" 

“It’s a date.” 

A nervous laugh escapes me. "Haha, uh, our first date?” 

"WHAT! In no parallel reality is this our first date, Red, this is like date number twelve, minimum." 

"Twelve?! Now I know for sure you’re wasted." 

"Don’t make me embarrass you by proving you wrong in front of all these people.” He picks his bottle up off the bar top for a drink, waving aimlessly at the crowd around us that has absolutely no interest in our conversation. 

“Try me." 

"K.” His face oozes drunken overconfidence as he sets his beer back down and snatches one of my hands back up. “Okay, date number one…” he folds all my fingers down except for my index, waving it in front of my nose and fighting my efforts to fold it back in. “The basement. After our first big fight." 

"Nuh-uh, no way, not a date." 

"And your exclusion criteria are…?" 

"Well, for starters, a date is something you plan in advance. Loitering around in a basement after everyone’s ditched us hardly qualifies." 

"Even with me providing the mood music, huh?” he scoffs. “Fine. Have it your way. Date number one: ice cream." 

"You’re real slow, Stoner. We didn’t plan that either, we just ran into each other in the park." 

"Yeah, and then we planned to go get ice cream, so who’s the slow one here?" 

"But…” I cast around for objections, “but we each paid for our own, and…" 

"Okay okay okay wait,” he crows, “who foots the bill determines whether it’s a date now? It’s almost the new millennium, Red, get with the times." 

"Fine. I’ll let you have that one.” I stop trying to crane my finger back downward just as he begins to pry up another one. 

“Dirty penguin jokes are a time-honored courtship ritual, after all. Date number two: uhm… do phone calls count? Phone calls where intimate matters are discussed? Like sleepwear?" 

"NO!” A few heads turn around us, but they quickly turn back when they realize we’re both laughing.

“Alright, alright, easy. Then the next one was… dinner, your place, the robot show." 

"Denied. You just dropped by, it doesn’t pass the pre-planned test.”

“Haven’t had too many nights that ended cuddling on the couch that weren’t dates." 

"So what, first time for everything,” I wrestle my hand free long enough to flip him off before he resumes counting on my fingers. “If anything, the next night could qualify since I actually asked you over." 

"For sure. Halloween, date two. Which makes date three… that whole thing…” he eases up my ring finger and wiggles it back and forth, squinting at it thoughtfully. I hope he hasn’t noticed that my hands have started to sweat. Is it just my imagination, or is it getting louder in here?

“At… at the park, at your place, yeah." 

"So then what would number four be?" 

We both stare at my pinky finger, contemplating the options. 

"I can't… I can’t think of anything…” I lie. I can, I can think of one big thing, but we can’t talk about it right now, not when he’s wasted, not right now…

He scratches his nose with his free hand. “Yeah, I mean the whole moving day thing definitely doesn’t count…" 

Not right now, not right now… "no, definitely not…" 

"I mean, that was… that was just… anyone would have come over to help out, I just happened to be around when Lucy called…" 

I don’t know whether to cry or slap him. Would I have kissed just anyone who came over to help me? Is that what he thinks? 

"So, uhm,” he mumbles, “what about tonight, does tonight count, or…" 

But I don’t get to hear the other option, because a commotion behind me makes Stone grab my shoulders again and yank me out of the way. A few of the Aerosmith-shirt-wearing gorillas appear to have gotten into a fight with another faction of guys.  We turn around just in time to see Stone’s friend, Chant Guy, take a beer bottle to the face on the outside edge of the scuffle. 

"Oh, shit, Eric!” Stone recognizes his heavily bleeding friend and starts to head that way, “I should probably… uh…" 

"Go, yeah, go! I’ll see you tomorrow?" 

No answer comes back from him as he checks in with the group of people now surrounding Eric, inspecting his nose and debating whether he needs to go to the hospital. I duck past, spotting a glum-looking Lucy by the door. 

"You ready to get out of here?” I ask her, grabbing her arm to leave no room for argument. 

“Beyond ready.”

***

Okay. It’s official. I’m going to have to tell Marc that’s the last time I let him set me up with one of his Frisbee golf buddies. The dude had enough hairspray in his hair to single-handedly account for the hole in the ozone layer, and he was wearing a Whitesnake shirt. WHITESNAKE. I mean, kudos for letting it all hang out on the first date, but seriously? And he had the audacity to criticize MY hair?? Green is the new black, asshole. 

At least it was easy enough to lose him when people started arguing about the music. I thought the show was fantastic, but apparently Mr. W. Snake didn’t like hearing so many mellow songs in a row and started complaining loudly to anyone around us who would listen, which got everyone all fired up. On the bright side, his boorishness is my gain – I stayed long after he fled, and I think I got some really great pictures of the fight. Rowdy concert crowds and paramedics will make a nice bonus to my amateur photo collection. Like Seattle’s own little Altamont. With somewhat less stabbing, blessedly. 

I’ve just rounded a corner on my walk home when I spot another potentially interesting crime: a skinny dude kneeling on the curb, trying to pick a bike lock. Ordinarily I’d cross the street and avoid trouble, especially at this time of night, except that I recognize him as one of the guitarists from tonight’s band. The goofy-looking one. He doesn’t exactly strike me as a menacing guy. I walk right up behind him, but he doesn’t even notice. World’s worst criminal.

“Want a little help?" 

The skinny guy nearly jumps out of his skin, leaping to his feet and making an unholy racket against the bike rack. "JESUS! Oh, uh, no, my bike, it’s, uh, well, the lock’s stuck, so I was just…" 

Uh huh. "His” bike is covered in about a decade’s worth of rust, and he’s using a bobby pin to try and pick the lock. With terrible technique, I should add. And completely shitfaced. Meh. What’s it to me if he’s stealing? Whoever owned the bike originally obviously isn’t coming back for it. 

“May I offer you some constructive criticism?" 

"Uh… shoot.”

It’s a mighty struggle not to laugh. “You, uhm, you have to unfold the pin first… it’s not going to fit like that… here…" 

I crouch down and swipe the pin from his hand, going to work on the lock. "Hey, great show tonight, I love your band." 

"Oh, you were there?" 

"Yeah, my Neanderthal blind date started the battle royale." 

He laughs kind of like a mule, a weird braying noise. "Glad someone else’s date ended worse than mine.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your misfortune?”

“Nothing bad, just ended kind of abruptly. She got out of there after the fight. Well, after your Neanderthal started the fight, I guess. Been drowning my sorrows ever since.”

“You don’t say.” Chatty little fucker. Ugh.

“Anyway, I guess I probably shoulda recognized you from the show, the, uh, well, your…" 

”…my hair’s green, yeah, so I’ve been told.“ 

"It’s cool." 

"Thanks. It runs in the family.”

“Ha. You sound like someone I know." 

"And is it their bike you’re stealing?" 

"Kind of. Hey! No, I’m not stealing it, it's…" 

”…yours, right.“ I stand up and toss him the opened lock. "And you are?”

“Stone. Wow, thanks.” He drops the lock on the pavement and yanks the rusty bike loose.

“Child’s play. Well, I’m gonna do that whole 'leaving the scene of the crime’ thing, you might wanna give it a try. There’s still cops everywhere." 

I’m already putting the drunk skinny guy behind me when he calls out, "oh, yeah, hey thanks, uhm…?" 

"Tracey! Get the hell out of here, Stone!”

His stupid laughter fades as I break into a jog. Weird kid.

[aremarkablygoofymovie]

Secret Unkept (1/?)

Chapters: ?

Fandom: NCIS

Characters: Ellie Bishop, Tim McGee, mentions of Ziva David

Pairing: none!

Rating: a very soft T or a hard K+ (there’s like one mild curse word) 

Words: ~1800

Warnings: angst & talk of Ziva’s death 

Spoilers: through 16x13 (”She”)

Post-Ep: takes place after 16x18 (next week’s episode, “Mona Lisa”), but it’s related to 16x13 (”She”)

Summary: After Nick gets hurt, Bishop confesses Ziva’s secret to McGee. 

It’s been a long day, and both Tim and Ellie are unusually quiet on the ride back to the yard. Though the recent spring time change means the sun is just beginning to dip below the horizon, the agents find themselves stifling yawns and daydreaming about getting home to bed.

“Hey, McGee, thanks for driving me today,” Bishop says softly. She clears her throat; she’s barely spoken since she and Tim hit the road nearly an hour ago, too emotionally drained after the day’s events to make much conversation.

“Sure, no problem,” McGee replies absentmindedly. He sneaks a glance at his passenger out of the corner of his eye. “I know you were pretty rattled this morning when we finally heard about Nick. I’m glad you didn’t have to be on the road like that.”

Ellie smiles a little vacantly. “I’m just glad he’s safe,” she murmurs.

For the safety of my family . . .

Ziva’s words have been echoing in her head for weeks now. Having never met Agent David, Bishop has no voice to assign to the warning, so it’s been her own voice whispering whenever the day grew quiet enough for wandering minds. Still, though, as the days keep passing without so much as a hint of news, she finds herself feeling hopelessly lost and in way over her head.

_I need help, _she realizes. After all, Nick might be fine now, but earlier in the day his future hadn’t been so sure. What if that had been me? What if something happens to me, and no one ever knows?

“Hey, Tim.” The words tumble out of her mouth before her brain catches up to what she’s about to do. “I – I gotta tell you something.”

From the driver’s seat, McGee furrows his brow slightly at the use of his first name and the tone of Bishop’s voice, but his eyes stay fixed on the road. It’s been a stressful day, he figures it’s not too far outside the realm of possibility that Bishop is just having a bit of an emotional moment. (Goodness knows he’s had his share over the years, too.)

“Sure, Bish, what’s up?”

Bishop swallows hard and fixes her eyes on her teammates face before saying slowly and with as much clarity as she can muster, “Ziva is alive.”

There are moments – fleeting moments, few and far between – that remind Bishop just how much time Timothy McGee has spent around Gibbs over the past decade and a half. The way his face stays completely expressionless as he whips the car to the shoulder against a chorus of protesting horns? Definitely one such moment.

When the car comes to a stop, McGee very quietly puts it in park, pulls the key from the ignition, unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns (slowly, slowly, slowly) towards Bishop. The way his right hand clenches around the key is the only physical manifestation of his emotion as he says softly, “What did you just say?”

Bishop opens her mouth and shuts it again, feeling very exposed under McGee’s undivided attention and unrelenting gaze, before finally speaking. “She’s alive. Ziva. She’s – she’s still out there.”

McGee blinks slowly. “No,” he finally says. “That’s impossible.”

“McGee –”

“I watched her die, Ellie!” Tim’s calm façade flies away and the car keys slide through his fingers to the carpet with a tiny jingle that does absolutely nothing to break the rising tension as his voice rises. “I watched her house explode on international television! The director of Mossad brought her daughter to Vance’s office! Hell, Tony moved to Europe! Ziva. David. Is. Dead.”

An angry tear runs down his face and he takes a shaky breath. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled, but it took me a long time to – Bishop. What are you doing?”

Bishop finishes wrestling her wallet from her back pocket and slides out a small, folded up sheet of white paper. McGee watches closely as she smooths the page out flat on the dashboard.

“Bishop?” He’s too busy watching her actions to pay much attention to the paper itself, until she says, “Is this her handwriting?”

Between the chaos of the day’s events, the rush of emotions from which he’s just beginning to calm down, and the roar of traffic outside the window, McGee’s not quite firing on all cylinders, so he’s quickly growing very confused by the seemingly disjointed turn of events. “Whose handwriting?”

“Ziva’s. Is this Ziva’s handwriting?” Bishop urges, sliding the mystery wallet paper towards McGee.

After a moment’s glance, his eyes widen and he grabs the paper up for a closer look because yes it is. “Where did you get this?” he demands without looking up. His eyes race back and forth over the words and he rubs his thumb gently across the page.

Bishop tucks her hair behind her ears nervously, keeping a close eye on McGee’s reactions. “During the, uh, Morgan Burke case – the case where we found her office,” she begins, “I went to read Morgan’s mom’s letter to Robert. Gibbs gave me Ziva’s journal, and I went over to the hospital, but when I went to read the letter, the page was torn out. Robert said a woman had already been there and read it to him.”

McGee waits anxiously for Bishop to continue, his fingers of one hand still grazing back and forth on the paper while the other hand gripped it tight.

“I figured it might’ve had something to do with Ziva. I didn’t want to assume to much, but I went over to her office, and that’s where I found the letter,” Bishop finishes.

McGee nods slowly, his eyes distant as he processes what he would’ve said ten minutes ago was completely impossible.

“Wait!” He exclaims suddenly, his eyebrows shooting up and his eyes swiveling to Ellie’s. “You didn’t tear the page out of the notebook?”

“No, McGee, I just said –”

“And you got the notebook from Gibbs?”

“Yeah.”

“Was the letter still there when Gibbs got the journal?”

“Yeah. He took it from me, and when I had it last, the page was still there.” Bishop frowns, not understanding McGee’s line of questioning. “What is this all about?”

McGee’s eyes are wide and bordering on frantic. “Bishop, if the letter was in the journal when you gave it to Gibbs but gone when he gave it back to you, then whoever tore out the page did it while the journal was with Gibbs!”

Bishop’s jaw drops. “Gibbs knows,” she breaths. “Ziva’s alive, and she was in DC, and she was at Gibbs’ house!”

“Oh my god,” McGee whispers, finally setting Ziva’s note back on the dash and rubbing both hands over his head. After a moment, he turns back to Ellie. “Do you know anything else?” He demands. “Is she okay? What does this mean about keeping her family safe?”

Bishop throws up her hands almost defensively. “You know everything I do, McGee. And look, I know she says not to tell anyone, but, I mean, Nick just almost died today, and I couldn’t stop thinking that it could’ve been me, and then no one would’ve known that Ziva’s still out there.” She laughs drily, then adds, “Except Gibbs, apparently. Of course.”

“No, no, no, I’m glad you told me,” McGee says quickly. “God, we gotta – I gotta call Tony! Oh my god, Tony. Do you think he knows?”

“No!” Bishop exclaims. “I mean, not ‘No, Tony doesn’t know,’ but ‘No, don’t call Tony.’ She told me to keep her secret, and I’ve already told you. The last thing we should do is get more people involved, right?”

She looks down to check an incoming text as McGee sighs. “Yeah,” He concedes, though he’s nearly whining in frustration, “But this is her –” He pauses – her what? Tony was never her “boyfriend,” at least as far as Tim knows (_Though I seem to be out of the loop lately, _he thinks derisively), and “lover” doesn’t really fit either. “Best friend” doesn’t quite convey the significance of the pair’s bond; Tim’s had best friends, like Abby and even Tony, but those relationships were never anything like the one between David and DiNozzo. “I mean, this is Tony we’re talking about!” He finally says, though he realizes that the meaning is effectively lost on Bishop, who never saw them together or even knew Ziva at all. “This is the father of her child,” He adds, in the interests of emphasis, detail, and relational accuracy.

“He might already know,” Bishop reasons. “For all we know, they’re having dinner together as a family right now. And if she hasn’t told him, it’s because she doesn’t want him to know.” She pauses, taps out a quick response to the text, and turns back to McGee. “Gibbs is asking where we are. You want me to drive the rest of the way?”

“Sure. Thanks.” McGee’s voice is hollow as he slips out of the driver’s seat to swap spots with Ellie.

It doesn’t take Bishop long to slide behind the wheel and find the keys on the floor, and then they’re back on the road. The quiet is different now, less tired but relieved and more shocked and uncertain. Ellie fiddles with the radio a bit before deciding maybe the silence is best.

They’re just turning into the parking lot when McGee says, barely a whisper, “She didn’t tell me.”

“Hmm?” Bishop looks over at him. She missed what he said, distracted by her own thoughts about the mysterious life, death, and life of Ziva David.

“You said that if she wanted Tony to know she was alive, she’d tell him,” McGee explains, just a little louder, as Bishop searches for an empty space. “She didn’t tell me. She wants me to think she’s dead.”

“Tim –” Bishop starts to explain that that wasn’t exactly what she’d meant (Wasn’t it, though?) but he cuts her off.

“It’s okay, Bishop,” he mutters. “I guess I just don’t understand.” He pauses as if he’s done talking, but apparently changes his mind. “I mean, I was here from the beginning. We were ‘Probie’ McGee and Officer David. I helped her study to become a citizen. I helped her look for her father’s killer. I just – ” He chokes up but swallows back his tears. “Gibbs I understand. But why would he tell you instead of me?”

A million reasons, Bishop thinks. She’s trying to protect her family – you’re a part of that, but I’m not. I’m safe and neutral.

As she shifts the car into park and pulls the keys from the ignition, though, she knows that’s not at all what McGee needs to hear. “I don’t know, Tim,” she says softly. “But if Ziva was here in DC after all this time? I have a feeling we’re going to find out.”

[jellyrollin-yo]

anyway im gonna make another ramble post so it’s going under a readme, sorry to any mobile users

Welp. It certainly has been a past couple of weeks. Things are collapsing and like, I know I’m a fixer but i’m just out of fixing juice.

After my big dip into the void my mom’s been really on me, which is like, I appreciate it, but it doesn’t really help to get a text every day at 1130 asking me to call her bc she’s worried about me despite me confirming im fine and went to therapy earlier that day. Like I love my mom and i appreciate the effort but there’s too much bad juju there.

Speaking of attention i need more clingy friends bc like, i love my friends, and I know they’re busy and have things to do but It’d be nice to have someone to like, just talk to or that would just stick around whenever. Or at least like, when I aske them if they want to hang out on a particular day and they ask if I had any particular time in mind and my responce is whenever is good for them, that I don’t have any plans and then don’t make any plans waiting for them to get back to me and just. Nothing. It hurts. Like, I know I’m a lot and I share a lot of stuff with people I like but at the same time I have like, 2 friends that reciprocate that and neither of them actually have cars and one’s a closer at my store while i’m a morning/mid shift or a closer on their day off.

As for coworkers, that’s just... a fuckin mess. One of my old friends barely works anymore, but we had started growing apart anyway after she started dating again. Another friend from the same time is great but he’s a huge fuckin stress ball, which I can’t blame him for, there’s a lot of stress in his life but noone seems to realize the only way to keep him calm at work is to keep him continuously distracted, despite me doing my best to teach that to the new kids. The new kids aren’t getting trained properly anyway, the last opener that got proper training afaik is me, and I got that after my first open when I taught myself how to do it.

((also unrelated but this gorillaz song came on at work today and I almost lost it))

I almost lost it bc a) my hormones are finally kicking in, but that also means I’m 1) hitting second puberty, with all that entails and 2) have a self inflicted hormone imbalance, and b) I spent 2 months trying to break up a toxic relationship and it just... didn’t work.

I shouldn’t really be surprised but like, I really liked the girl and I think she can see it but there were very convenient excuses to be made, ignoring that the problems from before the convenience were still going to be there afterwards. Depite she herself saying her mood had improved, despite their roomate actively being and saying he was in a better place with him gone, despite one of our mutual friends who was friends with the boyfriend before the breakup found out why and said it wasn’t cool. I can’t be the rock for someone so they can stay in a toxic relationship. I may be a Krystal but I’m not attuned for that. No one should be. (Esp not since... she started thinking polyamory was for saving toxic relationships? that was a weird convo.) And now it’s killing me because I removed myself from the situation. 3rd time wasn’t the charm, and the 4th time’s an omen which I don’t care to experience, but she’s drowning herself in responsibilities and it’s not going to end well, but she refuses to let me try and talk her down from some of it. Like, I respect the hustle but at the same time, please don’t kill yourself. And I, always the masochist, was dumb, and checked her blog. She kicked it back on when me and a coworker told her we were both on it, and we were mutuals before i decided to space out and it’s just mostly my content? like shit I send her and my main and dirty side blog? like i know i’m pretty present on here and stuff but still. It’s... it’s hard. It’s hard to give up on a relationship. It’s hard to stiffle chemistry with a person. I know I can’t fix this. I can’t be the emotional crowbar i want to be, that I tried to be. It’s her choice, and I can only support her decision.

Spotify’s been fun recently bc my emotional state, despite my attempts to keep it mostly under wraps, bleeds heavily into my music tastes and it’s been. not great. I legitimately woke up one morning and a song I don’t remember listening to was on my most recent listen and it like. Hurted. when I listened back. I should really start making playlists but I can barely pay attention and I don’t need to concentrate my depression songs into one place. Music is good and can help but there’s only a certain number of times i can listen to certain songs before the void covers my ears.

I just want to be happy. I just want to feel safe, my friends to be safe and happy, and just... The world is burning. I just need some solace. Something. I’m drifting hard, my temporal dissonance is getting overwhelming, I’m clawing for anything to hold onto that my brain hasn’t decided is fake yet and it’s... there’s nothing there. And I won’t be an alcoholic. I won’t. I’ll stuff it down with dr pepper and twizzlers. Just... take the edge off. be gentle with me. Rage, guilt, sadness, restlessness, just all sorts of things I put away bc I’m the fixer, not other people. Opening up gets me hurt, hurts others. It’s fine though. It’ll work out. It always does, unfortunately.

please get some sleep, drink some water, and know that somewhere in the southeast there’s a sad trans girl who hopes you have a nice day tomorrow.

[dwightkschrute]

In 2014 and 2015 I did a my year in review kind of thing where I, of course, reviewed it and accompanied it with a picture from that month. I somehow forgot to post 2016 (until now) and forgot to do it at all for 2017 but unfortunately, I am back with a really disappointing year. I was debating not putting myself through the legit pain of “reviewing” this year but I think of how I love going through my 2009-2010 posts and seeing how much I’ve grown so this is for you, successful and cooler future me.

2016 and 2017 were amazing but 2018 was my most promising year. My boyfriend and I were going to move in, I was going to start my dream job; everything was perfect. It definitely started out as one of the best years of my life! Then exactly halfway through the year everything changed and I was left having to pick up the pieces and completely restart, making it one of the worst years of my life.

I started January in Mexico, which was the best, but my family and I got home early in the month. I had quit my job the month before so I dedicated the entirety of this month to job hunting. Our friend (my bf’s bff who became mine and my brother’s bff early on)’s dad got a boat so it was like we got a boat too because despite the cold, we lived on it. (My boyfriend couldn’t go on the trip with us, which he was super bummed about (and that we had to spend like 10 days apart which was killer then), so he was the one to pick us up at the airport and he greeted me with a bouquet of flowers. Out of the many gifts/gestures he gave me, that was one of my favorites.)

February I started my amazing new job so life was back to 40 hour work weeks and not having much time for much else. I was always attached to the hip to my bf so almost every day after work entailed going out with him or having dinner with my family or his. That was my month. My favorite part of every February is Valentine’s Day and this one was as amazing as the rest. I don’t even have enough space (of the allotted space I give myself for each entry at least!) to describe that day. (My bf at our Valentine’s Day dinner. We finished our long day at this restaurant (so, so cool, once popular with Old Hollywood stars) on Hollywood Blvd and it was dreamy and romantic and amazing.) Oh man, I don’t have a lot of interesting things to say about March. Oh, my parents got Influenza (A/B/idk tbh), so it was two weeks of my brother, bf, and I taking care of them. My dad has a serious chronic disease so it was especially dangerous for him so it was a stressful time. Once we weren’t in hazmat suits anymore (no but really, we were gloved and double masked around them and kept them quarantined), I’d be at work or with my bf. I also started to get close with a co-worker, who I quickly became close friends with! (My bf’s two huskies. I’ve just loved that picture since I took it! I’ve never been loved by a dog more than the one in the back of this pic. Not even by my own! He has a special place in my heart.)

April was barbecues at my house or my bf’s, trying every brewery and bar around, hikes, bike rides, beach visits, baseball games, boat rides, late night cooking and baking. It was lots and lots of love and happiness and I would give absolutely anything to go back to those days. (My brother and bf grilling on Easter. This was a familiar scene, I have so many pictures of this exact scenario, yet looking at it just now made me so emotional! Stop! They’re just grilling!) May was so exciting! Very first day I got a new car! I was so happy! It was long overdue because my finicky, expensive Volkswagen had to go and I’d fallen in love with the new Honda Civic (I’ll admit I have basic taste but I don’t care!) so I finally bit the bullet and did it. This month my bf and I, after a long time of “oh wouldn’t it be nice!”, bit the bullet as well and decided to finally get serious about finding a place together. So the apartment search started, but we soon realized our home, Orange County, was super expensive. My bf, in that “ha ha jk but I’m down if you are” way, suggested we pick up and move to Oregon and I immediately agreed. It just felt right and despite us being the most careful and non-spontaneous people ever, we decided to do it! So we began to research, look for apartments but most importantly, jobs. (My car the day I took it home!)

Uhhhhhh, well, June hurts to think about! We went to visit Portland, where we decided we’d want to live because that’s where the jobs were, on a quick trip since it was strictly “business.” Portland was everything I imagined and more. We loved it and I think we loved playing house in our airbnb more than anything about the city. Back in LAX we came to the easy conclusion that though we lived Portland, that’d require a lot and for our first time moving out we’d like to stay close to home and above anything else, we just wanted to live together as soon as possible. We immediately started to look for places in LA, we spent the month apartment hunting, and towards the end of it, decided on one we really liked, one he begged me to please say yes to so we can move in already. I was so, so, so happy this month but what made me happier was seeing my bf, I swear, even happier than me. I seriously felt unstoppable and was beyond excited for our future. (I had a lot of Portland pictures to choose from but my bf and I liked this one because it reminded us of Always Sunny for some reason.)

In July, everything changed. To start, I left my job. I thought, new chapter in my life, new job coming, I’ll live really far, I should leave now. So I did. My last day was an emotional day because I loved my job so much and every single person I worked with. That very same day, my bf and I broke up. For unrelated reasons to my last day, to our moving in, to our relationship, etc. We had an amazing, amazing relationship but he has a lot of demons and issues/insecurities he has to deal with and conquer, and though I was aware and was there for him and would continue to be by his side no matter what, he decided that this was a battle he had to handle by himself and I figure before he got into a more committed situation. It didn’t have to happen, though. I hadn’t talked about the specifics of the breakup on my blog so  sorry for changing the mood of the post, but yeah, July happened and it felt like my world stopped. Really regret quitting my job now, huh? I was hit by two huge losses and changes right at the same time.  (I took this on my friend’s boat 20 tequila shots in, drunk and sad as fuck. Not to get fake deep but how sad. Literally on a boat, beautiful sunset, would rather die.)

August was a blur and I’m still not convinced I didn’t just dream it. God, alright, here we go, the rest of the year is a mess so get ready. I fell into a deep depression fast. It also didn’t help that my dad had to start getting radiation/infusions for his illness shortly after the breakup. I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed. I started dating someone else and then I dated another guy shortly after. I wanted to replace and/or forget and I really thought that’d be the solution. I was miserable when I was with them. I took absolutely any opportunity to get really drunk or high, and the opportunity came often so I spent most of my days desperately trying to not feel anything. The only time I’d feel okay was when I was extremely high and I couldn’t even think. Since I had a lot of savings for my out of state move, I had a lot of money to blow, which I did. I realized I even liked the feeling of the temporary “high” of spending a lot and receiving the stuff. I’d hang out with any friend who offered (out of boredom? loneliness?) and even ended up on a mess of a Vegas trip. Worst month ever. Maybe. (Here’s a positive! I like that bathing suit and my tiddie looks so round!)

When September came I realized two months had passed and all I had done was be a huge depressed mess. I no joke forgot about work. I just straight up forgot. I started to look for a new job, which hurt me so bad because I had to face the fact that it wouldn’t be my Cool LA Dream Job anymore. I stopped dating. Most importantly, I completely stopped drinking and smoking because it’d almost always make me sadder but also it scared me that I had no self control nor did I care. I saw a whole lot of my close friends and they, along with my immediate family, kept me afloat this month because time felt like it was going so fast. I couldn’t believe that at a blink of an eye it was night again and then a new day. Time had no mercy for me, please let me hold on. (Me at a baseball game. Tbh I’m looking at this thinking, did this really happen?)

October started out nice because my best friend of years, who I unfortunately had a falling out with three years ago, reached out to me. I’ll always give her all of the credit for doing that. I can’t begin to explain what this meant to me. It was a nice, bright shine of light that managed to shine through the dark clouds. Having my best friend is exactly what I needed. I’m a big believer in the universe acting in mysterious ways and though I had grown disappointed in its little surprise for me lately, this was the kind I always appreciate. I spent a good part of that month with her, catching up and doing things just like we did back then. It was like nothing had changed. That’s all I remember about this month, and a super fun Halloween! That day was probably one of the best days in months. (My best friend Rylee and me the first time seeing each other in 3 years. We’ve had our blogs for 8-9 years so please follow her for quality content)

November was rough. I was frustrated because surely things should had been better by then. I was still feeling so low, I was going to job interviews to no avail, I “relapsed” and had a high/drunk off my ass on a boat messy moment.. To make matters worse, I accidentally drove up on a cement divider in a parking lot and my airbags deploy, which is so expensive to fix, so my car was out of commission for a month. Then I got so sick and I rarely ever get a small cold. I seriously felt like I was cursed, even the smallest thing felt like an insult towards me. The one good thing is that since July I had been forcing myself to go to the gym five times a week. My mom said exercising was the only thing that’d help her feel that sweet release of seretonin, endorphins, dopamine, and all that good stuff when she was depressed so, though I enjoyed going to the gym before, I did it just for that reason alone. It worked and as another result I got like pretty fucking fit. Revenge body, you’re one of the few good things in my life right now. (I literally had no idea what to choose so I said fine, here’s a pic of the scene of the crime. Whatever.)

In December I turned 26. Which I hate, naturally. I went to a million more job interviews. I’m seriously so embarrassed to admit that but whatever, it’s the truth. (I have a degree, experience, and an awesome cover letter..I’ll keep blaming the curse!) What kept me sane was that we had different family members visiting from the very beginning of the month. Playing with an energetic, adorable baby kept me distracted and happy. Having so much company around also distracted me (slightly, but it helped!) from the fact that the holidays and my birthday would be quite different now. I’m one of those annoying Christmas lovers, usually at least. This year everything just happened and I didn’t care. But I survived December! (I don’t care. This is the appropriate representation of 2018 and how I feel at the end of it.)

Jesus if you’ve read all of this.. I’m sorry you had to read about the mess of my year but really more like the mess that is ME. Yknow those like “people my age I went to HS with vs me” memes? I seriously went from being that bitch with a good paying job, brand new car, a serious, great relationship with a promising future together (Like. We would color coordinate outfits! LMAO. We would have dinners with both of our families together. We were obsessed with each other. You’d roll your eyes if you saw any of this. I can’t get over how perfect we were, it’s hilarious what happened to us.) and then at the blink of an eye I went to not having absolutely any of that, casually dating (something I’d NEVER done) anyone who resembled my ex and sadly and drunkenly puking off the side of a pier. Who is she? I don’t know, I got whiplash. (Queen of parentheses and side notes, I know. But another thing about me is... I’ve never been affected by people leaving my life. I’m used to it. I’ve never been anywhere as affected as I was when my ex and I broke up. This isn’t normal for me, my ENTJ/Capricorn ass doesn’t know what this feeling is.)

Please curse that has been put on me, release me. Whoever is attacking my voodoo doll, calm down! Please! I’ve gone through enough sadness and loss. If 2019 is even slightly as bad, I’m going to be like that pigeon I reblogged the other day that’s like “fuck this I’m just going to sit here.” I can’t even make a cute but corny, hopeful “hope 2019 is great!” comment. I’m literally begging you...pleading you... I don’t believe in karma but after all of this shit, I better have something much better in stock for me. “Good things are coming!” I fucking hope so. Like, I’ll be even more annoying right now and say that it’s not fair that I didn’t get to have the future I was about to have. I don’t care about any cliche you may have for me. One door closes, everything happens for a reason, God has a plan, etc. No. Why did all of this have to happen? What can be better than the future I was going to have? I felt so unlucky. It all feels like a nightmare and I’m just waiting to feel whole again. Oh shit I got really intense. I know I’ll get over it and life will be good again eventually but for now, I am still so mad. I would have never in a million years guessed this is how my 2018 would go. 

So fine, I’ve accepted things now, so now I’m impatient and say please prove me wrong, 2019. I’m THREATENING you to be amazing!

[hell0mega]

probably meaningless rant lol

my sister has been having a really hard time recently. a local survivors/abuse callout group with 15k followers recently outed a serial abuser (like 40+ women) and it even ended up on the news. she doesn't know the guy but she's posted about the men she's had troubles with in the past on there. but the page suddenly shut down and even deactivated and no one knew what was going on, and this recent guy seemed scary enough to maybe do something to them, so she was worried.

turns out it was internal and a woman that got involved in the organization was an abuser herself. not sexually but in a power and manipulation kind of way. so to save themselves the creator just shut it down. it's been a tumultuous time for online activism, which she says she's had a lot of fun doing, but i don't know if what she experiences should be considered "fun"

she fell headfirst into sexual activism and positivity and Instagram psychology where everything is a "trauma response." she's gone through a lot of trials and tribulations in her life (she's 10 years older than me so completely different world) and the experiences she shared were in fact traumatic.

but it's made me think about how i deal with things from my past, and... I've definitely had traumatic experiences and both my past relationships were toxic as hell. i have an inate aversion to sex on top of my asexuality because of how they treated me. I'm sex positive and I'm theory like sex but initiating makes me scared. you can argue that i was lucky that they didnt push harder, or that i was strong in not giving into their tactics, but it still harmed me. and ive had to deal with it and realize these things still effected me and have talked to my bf about it at length (not exactly many details, but the kinds of things they did or SAID and how it effected me)

but i think im just at a point where i, at the very least CURRENTLY, dont feel burdened by my past. and maybe that's just because im so separated from it, having been quarantined for almost a year now and focusing on school and my home life. i think it helps that my bf is so supportive and is nothing like my exes, while my sister's even-longer bf is having trouble being there for her, which im mad about.

she described something that's been happening a lot lately and it was textbook dissociation. unlike me, who was in a near-constant state of it for a couple months, hers comes and goes, which i almost feel might be worse. it's like a switch turns on and off in her head, usually in response to something she reads, thinks, or does. and i do empathize with her there as i am also one to dissociate as a stress response (not recently, but i did go through a long period like i said) so i was able to give her some good explanations as to what was happening and advice on how to get out of it.

but she also is asking me advice about how to deal with PEOPLE. girl you're the adult here, whomst has had many many jobs and actually likes (or liked, rather, considering the pandemic) traveling and going out to have fun and socialize. i literally had to tell her "i dont really talk to people" when she asked for my input on something. and i just feel so disconnected to that problem and that mindset of WANTING to reach out, wanting to engage in things. and i don't know why.

I'm literally a communications major and i do LIKE to talk to people. i love talking to people and communicating... in real life. the more i think about it the more i realize how much i fucking hate trying to communicate over text. and i don't mean with friends, but it seems like whenever i try to comment on something, or respond to someone, or say just anything, there's someone that takes it out of context, or just doesn't have fucking reading comprehension or something despite me if anything over explaining my point. i hate social media (which is why that WON'T be my degree concentration, I'd rather die) despite me consuming it so often. but i just feel like there's no critical thinking. people need to say what they think the second they think it.

and this might make me sound like a boomer or something but boomers are the worst at this. it might make me soundhippie dippie that I'd rather talk to someone in real life than on Twitter or some shit.

this is where it stopped me from typing lol. as if anyone is reading this. anyway i guess I'm just... weirdly numb right now. and not in a no-feelings depressed kind of way, but in an... unburdened way. like i empathize and I'm not rolling my eyes out being apathetic towards any heartbreak happening that i read. but when i reflect on some things from my past that i feel like i probably havent healed from... i dont feel... anything?

is that my brain protecting itself? do i have enough on my mind already that my brain is making me not dwell on the past? is that a thing? i just feel... nothing when i think about bad past stuff, right now, to the point where i stupidly wonder why people "let" their past effect them. as if my past hasn't ever effected me or changed who i am ultimately.

I'm also weirdly disconnected from my past self. i don't have a lot of memories of my past that i can recall without something to remind me. i don't know how i acted, i don't know how i said things. then i see videos or pictures and I'm... still me. i act the same, talk the same, think the same. my hair is different but I've had the same face my whole life. is this a coping mechanism? I've always been like this

i don't know where i was really going with this. i guess I'm just dealing with a lot, including my sister's emotional issues, which she's never leaned on me before with until now. she called me 3 times in one day... we talked for 2 hours today. i replied to her innocuous message on ig and she called me cuz she saw that i was active on my phone.

I'm fine with it now but I'm worried I'll get to the point where I'll not open her (unrelated) messages or avoid putting stuff in my ig stories in order for get to not know I'm online/not busy. I'm not near that point yet but I've had to do that in regards to other people in the past and it's such a sucky feeling. I've never had to do it to family and i hope i don't feel that way. i hope she feels better from therapy for both our sakes

i don't think I'm gonna read this over so sorry for any spelling mistakes as I'm on my phone and autocorrect be playin

[fanfictionconnectionwordpress]

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | JuminxMC Good Ending Continued | Ch. 11 The Lie

***I'm so sorry everyone. Just as I was getting back into my posting groove, I was informed that my grandmother was passing away. She passed peacefully just a couple of days ago, and I really appreciate that you all didn't send me a mass of irritated messages about the chapters not coming out twice in a row. You're all wonderful~ I hope this intense chapter makes up for it! I'll be ending the Jumin story arc soon, which means I'll be taking some time off after that to prepare for 707!

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"Don't you trust me, Jumin? I need your help!" The sound of a woman's voice greeted me as I entered the penthouse. We hadn't been expecting any visitors, so confusion was the natural reaction as I handed our daughter to the nanny. "Go ahead and go back outside." We'd just returned for a walk, but judging by the frantic tone whatever woman this was had used, I didn't want my daughter anywhere near this conversation.

Typically I would stay out of my husband's affairs, particularly if they had anything to do with business, and he had become very talented at not bringing his work home with him. Still, I couldn't resist my curiosity, treading as lightly as I could with my heavy belly towards the bedroom. He never brought women casually into our house and certainly not into our bedroom. My stomach felt like it was at my feet, and nausea completely unrelated to my pregnancy hit me hard as I put my ear to our bedroom door.

Jumin's deep tones were harder to hear than the woman's more shrill and panicked sound. He was far more calm, like he always was in high-stress situations. "Of course I trust you, Rika, but I still need the details presented to me. You're not making much sense. Please, sit down." Had he just said...Rika? Wasn't she supposed to be dead? What were the details anyway and how was a woman who was supposed to be long dead by almost four years in our bedroom?

My head was spinning even before the woman, Rika, started talking again. "You don't understand! You're all in danger! V has been plotting this from the beginning. He's going to attack at the party, and you need to be ready. I'll have to know everything. I need you to give me all the information you can." She talked so fast that it was hard to keep up. It was hard to believe that someone as supposedly panicked as this woman seemed to be had such a strong grasp on what was happening and already had a plan against it. I furrowed my brows, our child starting to kick at me, making me give a startled sound as I had been so focused only to hear the Rika woman hiss, "What was that?" followed shortly thereafter by the door opening so fast that I barely had the chance to catch myself on the door frame.

There she was, though, Rika, in the flesh, looking horribly angry before her eyes seemed to glaze over and a sickeningly sweet smile appeared on her face. "I guess my plans have been ruined after all. Ray!" Who was Ray? What on Earth was even happening? I looked over to Jumin whose own eyebrows were furrowed. "Rika, if the plan was to share information, you would need MC's help any-" His words cut off as someone grabbed my arms from behind me and a chilly voice was in my ear. "You found the phone's owner, congratulations."

That voice had sent such a cool sensation down my spine, but I could still manage to figure out what was going on. The phone's owner...that was how I'd come to be a part of the RFA in the first place, and that meant this was the mysterious stranger, Unknown. "Jumin!" My voice cracked horribly as fear overtook me, emotions unchecked even more than they would normally have been thanks to my pregnancy. Jumin's face was cold and hard. "Rika. Release my wife at once."

A laugh started to bubble from the blonde woman, her green eyes not changing from that glazed over appearance they had developed earlier. "I can't do that now, Jumin. The plan was to take you all to Mint Eye at once, but it seems we won't be able to do that. We'll just have to go get the others individually." Her tone had picked up into something sing-songy. Where were Jumin's bodyguards? Just as I thought about it, the chilly voice answered. If I could have shifted to get a look at the man holding me, I would have, but I simply didn't have the ability. "I hacked their security to make sure that only an image of you leaving the penthouse and then leaving it empty except for the cat and her kittens was left up. We'll be able to take them to paradise without anyone interfering."

None of this seemed real, it was all so much like some crazy nightmare or a horror movie come to life, but here we were and no one was coming to save us. So we thought before the sound of our elevator pinged. "Jumin, MC!" Seven's voice. What was...how did he know to come? I could hear his steps falter and the man holding me angrily released me, Jumin sweeping in to grab me in his arms and I was once again saved from falling. His arms around me was reassuring, even in the mess of the current situation.

"You!" The man who had been holding me had this white hair with pink tips, dressed in black leather mostly, a crude tattoo visible where the sleeve dipped on the arm nearest to me. He was flying into a rage, charging at Seven before our bodyguards burst through the elevator too. I simply couldn't handle any of this, burying my face in my husband's shoulder until it was all over.

Rika wouldn't talk, the Ray person who Seven kept calling Saeran wouldn't talk either, but Seven was able to find what he believed to be their base, that same place V had told him not to look into. It was clear that Rika's story about V coming to attack as at the party wasn't true, but why would he have told us to stay away from there in the first place? Yoosung was up in arms, begging to see Rika, and Seven gave in only for a few moments before Yoosung started to have his own panic attack. "Why is she like this? What did you do to her?" Jumin sent me to a hotel with a bodyguard to rest while he dealt with everything, not wanting me to stress any more than necessary, but we were going to have to find V and figure out what had really happened before long.

Jumin would take care of everything, he always did, and I had faith in him. With the resources he had, we would be able to find out the truth of everything in no time and maybe even find V after his nearly two years of having been missing. Hopefully, we could get all of this done before the next RFA party. Jaehee was already organizing a number of files and documents by the time I'd left for the hotel, with Zen helping her, his quick reading ability making it that much easier. It seemed that everything we'd thought for the past few years had all been a lie.

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[breaktimewritings]

B. French II Rumbelle Prompt-Verse

(( Based on this post made like a year ago in which @emospritelet commented on her property law tutor and @tinuviel-undomiel gave me a plot bunny. I blame all of you for this. This ‘verse is open for prompts so yeah! Feel free to send them in if you like it! ))

Favors had been called in. Strings had been pulled. Phones had been yelled and cursed into. Now, Gold was sitting outside the doors of B. French, the most renown custody attorney on the east coast. Gold only hoped that given the right amount of money, he could help. Or rather, she could help.

His son had a broken arm.

Everything in Jeffrey Gold’s life had stopped the moment he got the call from the school and was now pinpointed on the simple fact that his son had a broken arm. And that it was all his mother’s fault. Milah would be lucky that he didn’t kill her for this.

He didn't care that he had to drive to New York. He didn't care that he had to pay medical bills. But he did care that all the while Milah was nowhere to be found, not even showing up until that night when it was time for Bae to go home from the ER. He should have done something about it then. Something more than barking a warning to his ex-wife about lawyers and walking off.

Really, he should have done something about it months ago, when Bae started dragging out their every-other-weekend visits until the very last moments. The least he could do was fight for his boy, which is exactly what he planned to do when he called Dove. Favors had been called in. Strings had been pulled. Phones had been yelled and cursed into. Now, he was sitting outside the doors of B. French, the most renown custody attorney on the east coast. Gold only hoped that given the right amount of money, he could help.

The door to his office opened, and a brunette with the most brilliant blue eyes smiled at him. “Jeffrey Gold?”

“Yes.” He said, almost falling over as he leapt up.

She only smiled. “Come in.”

Gold thought it a bit odd for the secretary to be waving him into the attorney’s office, but he supposed it wasn’t too unheard of. The office itself was divided in two, a space for a small desk that must be hers with what he assumed to be a much larger part in the back. The brunette led him straight back into the larger space easily. Both offices were warm and welcoming, painted with warm neutral colors that immediately put him at ease. The walls themselves were neatly decorated with various certificates as well as the occasional pictures of happy families. In both spaces there were at least two bookcases overflowing with books that Gold assumed had to be about law but couldn’t tell. The back area was worse than the front in terms of books, but everything obviously had a place. On a mahogany desk there was a gold plaque that read “B. French.” Beside it was a picture of the same brunette with another man, taller and broader than she, smiling happily at the camera.

Was she his wife and secretary perhaps? That wasn’t too uncommon. Lucky man.

“So Mr. Gold shall we get started?” The brunette asked, sitting at the desk as if she’d done so a million times before.

For a moment he gaped at her. “With you?”

“Belle French.” She said with a bright smile, extending a hand to him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He blinked, but nodded, shaking her hand. “Jeffrey Gold. It’s nice to meet you Mrs. French.”

“Miss, actually.” She said, giving him another dazzling smile. How did she make it look so sincere? “Now, let’s discuss your son. You and your ex wife are sharing custody yes? You get him every other weekend?”

“Yes.” Gold said. “And Christmas.”

Belle nodded, jotting down a few notes in the file.. He knew how this went. The attorney spoke to their client, outlined the idea, discussed the plan. He couldn’t help feeling that something about the way she operated was much different than his methods, though. Every now and then she’d ask him about something completely unrelated. How old his son was made sense, but why on earth had she needed to know his favorite animal?

“Swans.” Gold answered after a moment. “I always find him doodling them in his notes.”

Belle hummed, writing and circling something. Was that really so important?

“I’d like to meet Baelfire, if possible.” Gold remained silent, but she continued, her voice gentle and sympathetic. “I understand if you’re a bit hesitant. But he’s young and custody battles can be quite hard on--”

“I’m aware, Miss French.”

If Gold’s tone was too harsh, Belle didn’t show any signs that it bothered her. “It would help if he at least knew me.” She explained. “I apologize if my methods seem a bit unorthodox to you, Mr. Gold, but I assure you, there’s a reason I haven’t lost a case yet. You’ll have to put some trust in me.”

And that was the hard part, it seemed. Gold trusted no one with his son, not even his own mother. It wasn’t as if B. French was going to be interacting that long with them, but he supposed she did have a point. If it made it easier on Bae, then his boy would simply have to meet their new attorney.

“Very well.” Gold said.

Belle smiled, scribbling something quickly. “Perhaps next meeting? I’ll need to get everything in order. Find out our plan of attack. We’ll have to convince the judge that you’re a better guardian. But I don’t foresee that being too much of a problem given the circumstances. I’m sure you’re aware of how it all typically works.”

Gold shrugged. “I know the basics. Custody cases are not my specialty.”

“Well, lucky for you, Mr. Gold, they are mine.” She gave him another brilliant smile. Had her office gotten brighter? “Now, when next would be best convenient for you?”

The appointment was made for the next weekend, and Gold was grateful that she’d gone out of her way to meet he and his son out of business hours. She didn’t seem too upset about it at all. He stood from the chair across from her desk feeling oddly at-ease. The bundle of nerves that had been squirming in his chest from the moment he’d called and left a message with her secretary about an appointment had disappeared. Somehow, effortlessly, she’d completely put him at-ease with a few smiles and her amazing accent over gentle words.

Perhaps she was magic.

“Everything is in order, Mr. Gold.” She said as she walked him out of her office. “Are you ready for all of this?”

“I’m ready to have my son home and safe.” Gold said.

Belle’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Well you can relax and leave it to me for a bit. I don’t imagine we’ll be hearing from you ex-wife’s attorney for a little while yet.”

“Why is that?”

“Because she called and left a message as well.” Gold’s eyes widened. “And I saw you today instead.”

Gold groaned internally, remembering the choice words he’d had for her secretary when the appointment hadn’t been soon enough to his liking. Or had it been she herself that he’d spoken to? Really, it wouldn’t surprise him if it had been.

“I’ll have to send an apology basket to your secretary.” Gold said. “I didn’t show her my best colors.”

“You were stressed and worried about your son. Speaking of, you’ll have to tell me what he prefers in a gift basket. A broken arm can’t be very fun for a boy his age.”

“He’s adoring the attention.” Gold said, unable to help the smile on his lips that formed whenever his son came up in conversation. “All he could talk about when he called was collecting signatures.”

Belle smiled, practically beaming. “I’m glad to hear he’s doing well. I look forward to meeting him next week.”

Gold nodded, turning to leave. However, something made him pause and turn back to her. She only tilted her head, and he was struck again by how brilliantly blue her eyes were.

“Why did you choose to see me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Wouldn’t most lawyers, especially...women, take the mother’s side?”

“I’m not most lawyers, Mr. Gold.”

“But you are a woman.”

“I’m not most women.”

“As I’m learning. Humor me, perhaps.”

Belle seemed to search him for a moment, and suddenly it felt as if he was the one opposing her. Truly, he felt sorry for any judge or jury that had to face her down. After what seemed to be a moment of fighting with herself, her shoulders relaxed.

“You seemed different.”

“I seemed different. As I cursed at your secretary.”

Belle shrugged. “My father always said that you can’t know a person until you know what’s in their heart. People are layered. I imagine any man willing to fight so hard for his child has to be different than how he appears.”

“And what if I’m not?” Gold frowned. He knew his reputation. Knowing his ex-wife, it was only a matter of time before Belle found out as well. Somehow, he didn’t like that idea. “What if I’m as terrible and dark as I seem?”

Belle only grinned. “You’re not.” She turned away, retreating back into her office. “See you next week, Mr. Gold. Don’t be late.”

Gold only blinked as the door to her office shut, and he was left staring at the door. He ignored the way his pulse had picked up and his palms became sweaty. This was absolutely ridiculous, and he was certain that he should find a new lawyer immediately, one whose blue eyes weren’t so brilliant and whose smiles weren’t so sweet. However, he knew that would never happen, and he also knew that it would be absolutely impossible for him to be late next week. Custody case or not, he very much wanted to see B. French again.

[anneedmonds]

Life Update: End of the Baby Era

A fleeting break from tradition with this life update because I’m going to be talking mostly about me. My favourite subject. (Joke: I hate talking about myself unless I’ve had too much wine. In fact, I tend to stop people in their tracks when they try to ask me what I do for a living – I usually tell them that I work with computers and they are too bored to ask more!)

I’m talking mostly about me because I feel as though I’m at a weird old juncture in my life, one that has me wondering who the hell I am and what an earth I’m going to do next. I think that shopping for Angelica’s school uniform triggered it all off, this sense of being a bit lost and wondering about what the future holds, but in fact it’s a strange feeling that’s been bubbling away beneath the surface ever since we made the big move to Somerset.

I think it stems from being the sort of person that always has to be doing something, planning the Next Big Thing, working on a project, being so busy that I live in a state of perpetual low-key chaos and stress. Having two babies quite close together (18 months apart, not planned that way!) has been the most intense time imaginable, especially with work being the most busy it has ever been, and I think I worry that when school starts in September, and Ted starts a few mornings at nursery, I won’t quite know what to do with the extra time.

Actually that’s a lie; if I was entirely honest, my problem with September and the new starts is that I am forced to evaluate the era that is just about to come to a close. The baby era. I find myself tentatively asking myself how did I do? Could I have done better? In those rare moments of quiet, when I just sit and mull things over, I wonder whether I worked too much or should have worked more, whether I should have pulled in more help to save my sanity or turned down more jobs in order to be a completely full time Mum. I tick off the things I didn’t do: I haven’t taken them swimming once. I didn’t make gingerbread with them and get it all over the floor. I didn’t get enough photos of me with babies perched on my hip, or me asleep in a tangled nest of sheets with a newborn spreadeagled on top of my chest. I ask myself whether I was ever really present, in the moment, because I really can’t remember much at all.

I could do a huge list of the things we have done, including almost daily trips to the zoo and adventure park, walks with the dog, holidays in the car to Cornwall and Devon and London and Dorset, crazy chases around the house every afternoon (it’s a great house for running and hiding), discos, picnics, dressing up, shop games, hotel games, vet games, hospital games, early wake-ups every morning, drawn-out bedtimes every night, middle-of-the-night cuddling sessions, countless dribbles of Calpol over the bedsheets, endless tense exchanges between the adults as to where the in-ear thermometer is and who had it last…

I’ve been away from home for less than 2.5 percent of the time I’ve been a Mum, but I still fret that I could have done better and that I would do it better if I did it all over again. Maybe that’s why some people have another baby (I’m not, don’t get excited!), because there’s always the feeling that next time you will finally get it right.

Well. That was borderline depressing wasn’t it? Sorry about that! I don’t actively regret any part of what I did during the baby stage, I’m just sad that it’s pretty much over. It’s like a klaxon has sounded to tell me my time is up.

“FNARRRRRRR! Put down the flour, mothers! You’re about to make homemade play-dough, or bake cookies for the first time, but it’s TOO BLOODY LATE! You want to take them for a walk instead of plonking them down in front of Peppa Pig so that you can print, sign and scan the mortgage documents in peace? TOO LATE! They’re old enough to just amuse themselves anyway! They don’t need you anymore and they wouldn’t go on a walk with you anyway unless you bribe them with sweets! FNARRRRRRR!”

Talking of bribery, Angelica has cottoned on to the whole you-scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch-yours system remarkably well. Maybe she will grow up to be a negotiator. Or a politician. (God.) Either way, she knows the value of her cooperation, especially when Ted is kicking off about his apple not being cut in the correct manner (ie: not cut up at all, he likes them whole, but he carries the bloody thing about for an hour and the dog almost always ends up getting it off him so I usually try to make him eat it chopped up in a bowl and he hates it) and there are two things that she has firmly planted on her demands list: games on the iPhone and sweets from Daddy’s retro sweet shop box.

Mr AMR got a huge box of sweets for his birthday last month and they’re all retro chews and sherbet dips and so on from the seventies and eighties – Angelica is obsessed. It’s like another world, one where Pom Bears and organic dried apple rings don’t exist. The games on the iPhone thing has had to be curbed, for the moment, because she got really into playing on these Toca Boca apps that let you play at being a vet or a train driver or a doctor. They’re a bit like Sims but for toddlers and she gets really immersed, carrying supplies through the hospital and visiting the patients and feeding them their lunch. She started waking up early just so she could ask to play on my phone, so that has been nipped in the bud. The phone games started as a lazy thing because I could go back to sleep for half an hour and she just carried out her doctor rounds, probably doing things like administering morphine and delivering tricky babies and amputating gangrenous legs using a selection of power tools. But the games are no more. It’s too early. Both in the day and in life.

I say that officially, in case Mr AMR is reading, but unofficially I let her play at grooming the Toca Boca horses last night when I was trying to wrestle Ted into his back-to-front Gro Bag and stop him from throwing his mattress out of the cot.

Ted has become Hulk Ted Smash over the course of the last month. Not only does he thrash about in his sleep, knocking into the bars of the cot so that it sounds as though a minotaur is trying to ride through the wall of the house, he likes to dismantle his sleeping arrangements over and over again between the hours of 7 and 9pm. It used to be that he stripped himself, did a wee on the mattress and then called for help, but now he is trapped in his back-to-front sleeping bag (thanks for that tip, readers!) and can’t unzip it, so he amuses himself by taking off the sheets and folding the mattress in half (actually quite a phenomenally difficult thing to achieve) and then sticking both legs through the bottom slats. Before calling for help.

Whoo, bedtimes are still the most testing time of the day. I think (still) that it’s because you really feel as though you’re finally owed a bit of a bloody break, thanks very much, and your brain sees 7pm (or whatever time, 5pm would be idea, hohoho) as the cut-and-dry deadline for any child-related shenanigans. The other night, when Ted was still going at it with his mattress-bending at 9.15pm I ended up bellowing this is Mummy’s time now! I’m not available! 

He just stared at me blankly and said, “ham?”

Ted is saying “ham” a lot at the moment. I have no idea why, other than that he really likes ham. But the more he says it, especially in answer to completely unrelated questions, the more we all laugh and the more he thinks it’s funny. He’s chatting away like the clappers, now, and if I read a story to him he copies every single word. Which is sweet, but at the same time it makes it really hard to read – it’s like having an echo that makes no sense.

In other news, Ted did something the other day that was both highly convenient and potentially disastrous, all at the same time. I knew something was up because things had gone quiet in the living room and then, when I called him, he said “coming Mama!” and arrived in the kitchen holding his (very full) nappy between forefinger and thumb. He had done a poo, carefully taken off the nappy pants and walked to the kitchen without dropping any of the poo onto the floor. To be frank, it’s almost more than I can do and I’m thirty-six years older than him. Not that I wear nappy pants, you understand.

Oh God, I must dash! Angelica has had her taster morning at school and I’ve just realised that the time they’ve said to pick up is actually the time when they’ll be coming out of the gates! Not like in nursery when you just saunter in between x time and y time and everyone’s all chilled out and “here’s a painting with some twigs and dirty feathers glued to it, it’s a duck, yes that’s an acorn representing its one eye”. I have a drawer full of those paintings. Ah, such excruciatingly happy days, tinged with such anxiety that time keeps flying by too fast! Why is being a parent such a bloody emotional rollercoaster?

The post Life Update: End of the Baby Era appeared first on A Model Recommends.

Life Update: End of the Baby Era was first posted on July 3, 2019 at 3:35 pm. ©2018 "A Model Recommends". Use of this feed is for personal non-commercial use only. If you are not reading this article in your feed reader, then the site is guilty of copyright infringement. Please contact me at contact@amodelrecommends.com Life Update: End of the Baby Era published first on https://medium.com/@SkinAlley

[datingadviceonreddit]

Sorry this might be long, but please bare with me. Also I tried to post this same thing on r/relationships but they locked the post for some reason before people could respond. No explanations... those mods are ridiculousSo I've been dating my girlfriend for about 3.5 years and I'm completely in love with her. We've fought a bit recently due to some unrelated stress but overall we are an amazing team and she's one of the most fiercely loyal and awesome people I've ever known. I know once we get married it will be for life (I know, I know, things change, but we have changed so much together and we aren't the types to have divorce on the table or even consider it unless something truly out of the realm of what I deem possible were to happen).There are a couple problems though. First, she is very pushy when it comes to my possible proposal. She's been hinting for a ring for over a year now and it's just a lot. She's always been an intense person but I'm kind of overwhelmed with how often it is brought up, when I've already told her it is coming. I just got a job in her area and we were going over the budget I created for myself and she very quickly brought up how there wasn't a category for my engagement ring budget. Now, there actually was, but I wasn't going to call it that since I knew I would be sharing it with her. It's going to take me awhile to save up for it though and I don't want to be hounded for practically a year. I got downvoted to all hell on another post when I suggested that although a proposal shouldn't be a complete surprise, the guy should still have a large enough window so that the girl doesn't know the day and time of it, I want to surprise her at least a little bit! Her being so pushy makes me feel less excited about the actual act of proposing and just generally under pressure. Not to mention she already has a date picked out for our wedding. It's not that I don't agree that it's an optimal wedding date (it really is perfect for our timeline and everything) but I want a say in these decisions!!Second, once the proposal business is out of the way, I brought up that I wouldn't want either of our exes at our wedding. She agreed that that would be weird, but then when I explicitly brought up an ex that I believe still has feelings for her, she bristled up and it turned into an argument (haven't brought it up since). They have been friends since childhood, went to multiple proms together, and dated for about 3-5 months literally right before we started seeing each other. The way we first started talking is I saw one of her friends and she said that my now-girlfriend just broke up with someone, and I showed interest. I don't understand why my feelings about this person being there don't matter. He's always been nice enough to me, but being around them both I still feel like he's waiting for her to be single again and she's completely oblivious. Every picture taken with their friend group he finds a way to be touching her...it's just a gut thing. I don't want him there but I recognize that it might cause some problems in their friend group because he would be the only one not there from her circle. I don't want someone who is romantically interested in her to be at my wedding, I really don't think it's that much to ask. Any advice?Tl;dr: girlfriend is very pushy about proposal and wants her ex to be at our future wedding. via /r/dating_advice

[allenmendezsr]

The Bigness Project

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/the-bigness-project/

The Bigness Project

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    Build your biggest, boldest physique ever.

Sculpted arms, popping shoulders, and bootylicious booties aren’t made by working them off – they’re built by the age–old art of bodybuilding.

Join The Project Learn More

From the Desk of Jen Sinkler

It’s 3:45 a.m., and I’m alone in my office, crying again.

The source of my tears are a group of 40 women. Well, plus one: their coach, Kourtney Thomas. This is all her fault, really.

I’m crying because I’m watching a flexathon of bursting biceps and big grins; hands sliding over rounder, higher haunches as they describe more booty developing and increasingly defined quads; gleefully celebrating new muscle striations in their shoulders. The new ripples look like 3D tiger stripes. These women are rejoicing because they feel bigger, inside and out.

(Did I mention these are happy tears?)

The crew was selected last fall to embark on a special resistance-training endeavor called The Bigness Project. Over the course of the 14-week program, they were to try to pack as much muscle as possible onto their frames during that time.

Obviously I’m joking—everyone knows women don’t want to get muscular (or worse, the dreaded “bulky)!

But [whispering]: What if that assumption is incorrect? What if some of us really do want to look like we lift?

What if we stopped pretending otherwise, and admitted that yes, we WOULD like to look strong and muscular; gunsy, even?

After having to cap registrations for The Bigness Project after a scant two hours, we found that assumption to be flat wrong. In fact, it turns out that response wasn’t a fluke. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) issued a recommendation that all women do some sort of muscle-strengthening movement at least two days a week, and research indicates they are hitting the weight room in ever-increasing numbers.

Ladies, it turns out, are all about them gains.

“I spend more time flexing than I ever have before in my life, and I have to say, when there’s a lot more to see, it’s much more fun,” says Hilary Glaus, a personal trainer and health coach based in Bronx, N.Y. “You can’t hide these arms. That would be a crime!”

It’s not just entertainment and gym selfies, however. Having more muscle mass is fantastic for your health; some refer to it as a veritable fountain of youth due to benefits such as:

More metabolically active tissue (meaning your body can handle more calories without storing fat)

Greater bone density (making you less susceptible to fractures or osteoporosis)

Stronger connective tissues (making you less prone to injury)

Better mental and emotional health (creates the hormonal environment to deal better with stress)

Increased longevity (lifting literally helps you live longer)

THE SPECIAL SAUCE

So you see muscles are for women. They can be for you, if you want them to be. And resistance-training is the means to that end.

But any old resistance training won’t get you muscles, at least not as effectively anyway.

Let me be perfectly clear. Any kind of resistance training will help grow muscle.

BUT, it won’t get you the:

Thick thighs (#teamthickthighs, anyone?)

A juicy booty

Coconut shoulders

Big biceps

Detailed quad definition

Poppin’ hamstrings

Curvaceous calves

And that, hypertrophy training delivers in droves.

Hypertrophy training is, essentially, striking that perfect balance between workout volume, training frequency, exercise selection, amount of weight you use, rest times, and a myriad of other factors in order to build the biggest muscle size that you can.

If resistance training is barbeque then hypertrophy training is the “special sauce.”

Decades of research in exercise science lay the groundwork for the ingredients in this special sauce. You need to choose the right exercises, you need to perform them correctly (not just technique, but how you do every repetition matters), you need the exact amount of volume to stimulate growth but not hamper recovery, you need to create metabolic stress by manipulating rest times, and the list goes on and on. But like any recipe, the devil is in the fine details.

This is both art and science. You are the art. And you employ the science.

The thing is, I’m not a hypertrophy specialist. It takes deep, unrelenting attention to keeping up with the science and experimenting with the art to be a great hypertrophy coach. I know when I’m out of my depth, so I brought in hypertrophy expert and devoted coach Kourtney Thomas to create the bigness for you.

Get The Sauce

If you’re looking for a passive fix, this isn’t it. This demands your full attention and focus. Some of the The Bigness Project lifters called it meditative. Of course, that’s exactly what makes it so engaging, fun, and rewarding.

So, yeah, it’s hard work, but the rewards are big. Big. Huge.

THE MAGIC OF THE MIND-MUSCLE CONNECTION

With hypertrophy training, it’s not enough to go through the motions. It’s important to consciously connect with the working muscles to recruit more muscle fibers. (That mental focus on the feel of lifts is thought by many in that community to directly impact muscle size.)

“Embrace that mind-muscle connection in the gym, and suddenly, it becomes second nature to be more mindful in all of your decisions,” says Thomas. “Over time, it creeps around and takes over, grounding you in the idea that taking up space—physically and energetically—is the way to go. Bigness encourages power, owning your choices, taking control of your body and your life, and standing in that power.”

These predictions have been borne out, time and again. Witness:

After spending most of my life in pursuit of getting smaller, the idea of seeking Bigness turned out to be a life changer to me! I’m not meant to be small — I was made to be BIG. I’ve never felt more confident, beautiful, and so at home in my own skin.

Christy Richarz, 34

Utopia, Texas

@christyricharz

All my life I have believed that I needed to be small…in size, in weight, in my words and my actions, that I needed to take up the least amount of space possible. I have worked very hard on these thoughts over the past 14 weeks and know now that it’s OK to be BIG in all aspects. I was put here for a reason and it sure as hell wasn’t to be small and quiet.

Erika Dickerson, 37

Ruskin, FL

@edickerson1979

I’ve totally embraced Bigness — and have had so many good conversations with my 7 year old daughter about it over this time too. It’s fun to hear her say to someone at the bus stop, “My mom could do that — she’s stronger than dad!”

Kristen Buter, 36

Greely, ON, CA

@kristenbuter

The Bigness Project has changed my life — no joke. Taking up space, being empowered, embracing growth and bigness: this program has delivered. Kourtney has put together something awesome, something that will fundamentally change you in ways that you won’t believe. I have changed my body, grown my muscles, expanded my mind and my horizons. Embrace Bigness. You won’t regret it.

Jude Crowther, 49

Gloucester, England, UK

@jcrowther9

WHO, ME?

We are, as women, used to having people up in our business in ways that range from subtle to absolutely no chill, about how we should look, act, and speak, how much we should or shouldn’t eat. Also, how much we should or shouldn’t lift.

That last one sounds like a joke, but you know it isn’t. Some people get reeeaaal nervous about the prospect of a muscular woman.

But…it is a time for bigness. It’s a time for showing all the way up in our bodies and in our lives.

How that plays out for each individual will be different. Some people are seeking a “toned” look (which shhh, secretly also just means building muscle), while others want biceps and delts for days. (Personally, I dig a “foxy linebacker” aesthetic for myself.) Still others aren’t into lifting weights at all, which means you’ve taken a wrong turn to end up here, but feel free to stay as long you like. This goal is not for everyone, and that’s OK.

It is for those ready to show up as Big as you really are, to create a physical reflection of how you already feel on the inside — or for those who would like to give yourself a physical space to grow into. Maybe you’re making art (one woman in the early group remarked that training this way made her feel creative—“as, I’m creating my body!”). Maybe you want to learn to treat yourself with all the reverence and awe of great art. Maybe you just want to support your strength goals, or try something new and different. Regardless, if you do not feel curious, eager, or elated at the idea of making muscle as an act of self-care, please pursue something that does make you feel that way.

I’m Down With Bigness

NOT JUST FOR WOMEN

I’m so sorry, I’ve done nothing but talk to women so far! But, I have not forgotten everyone else. This program is for you, too! Totally and completely. You may share many of the same motivations above. Or, like a contingent of our ladyfriends, you may just be here to get totally jacked. Either way, the answer is dead ahead.

Muscles are a huge part of what The Bigness Project is all about. But what we’ve found, too, is that it’s, well… bigger than that. If you follow this path, you’ll see what we mean.

You’ll begin to see results quickly — within the first 14 days, after tackling four muscle-building sessions per week. By the second half of the program when we add in the fifth day (I told you this hard work), you’ll see results on the outside and the inside.

The Perks:

There’s no guesswork involved—each step that will help you change your physique is backed by tried-and-true methods so that you build visible muscle on your body. There’s no more spinning your wheels in workouts that don’t work the way you want them to and you’ll look like you lift more than ever before.

A better mind-muscle connection. Learn cues that will help you literally activate more muscle fibers simply by thinking about it. The intense focus and mental engagement also helps you build more body awareness.

Strength imbalances get buffed out by training with more of a focus on single-sided movements

Higher volume means you’ll necessarily have to lower the weights, and a side benefit of working with lower weights is a decrease in chances of injury.

A second benefit of working with lower weights is that it can be more accessible to people for whom high-intensity exercise is off limits: those with hormonal or other issues (but of course, as with any fitness endeavor, consult with your health-care professional first). Strength-training can be thought of as upgrading the software of your body, but it’s hard on the system to upgrade the software. Hypertrophy training, on the other hand, is like upgrading the hardware — it makes the software run better

A deeply creative, meditative focus during weight training—unparalleled to other styles of resistance training, which can be more task-oriented.

You get to adorn yourself with new muscle in places you want to put it! The magic of hypertrophy training is in the self-care and the ownership of your path

Optional access to resources from nutrition titan Renaissance Periodization. If you choose that option during the checkout process, you will be granted access to a super-simple, super-effective nutrition plan customized for your gender and bodyweight. That way, you know you’re fueling your body for the work you’re putting in

Join The Project

The Bigness Project isn’t just a program. It’s an ongoing endeavor that will carve out new muscles, new insights, and maybe even a new path.

P.S. We’re sorry in advance for how much you’re gonna want to squeeze your own muscles.

Actual Week-by-Week Highlights From Bigness Project Participants:

Week 1: “Huge fan of the intro week. It felt like a really productive rough draft to an ‘A’ paper. I was able to take a curious approach and be humbled (then hooked) instead of my typical perfectionistic approach that would have led to frustration with myself.”

Week 2: “Curves are coming out in FULL FORCE! I have “ass cleavage” now because my underwear cannot contain my growing booty!”

Week 3: “I noticed an improvement in whole body coordination. (Or maybe it is simply my improved awareness.):) My posture and balance is better both inside and outside the gym.”

Week 4: “I’m starting to look like I actually lift!!!!! 😊”

Week 5: “I’m looking more muscley everywhere. I know thats vague, but my arms have more definition, and actually, ive seen a difference in my waist this week. Abs are popping more, and im making a dent in my fairly ‘blocky’ midline.”

Week 6: “My body feels like a machine again with all the parts working together. My back is becoming the Mississippi. And my legs ‘got my back.’””

Week 7: “I feel like superwoman and I want the whole world to know it. My arms have really exploded during these past seven weeks and I definitely want to show them off. I have never seen such a measurable improvement each week and I LOVE that.”

Week 8: “I feel like a boss.”

Week 9: “Arms and legs are feeling and looking ‘full.’””

Week 10: “I feel confident and I like my body for the first time in decades. It’s been a miracle for me. No exaggeration.”

Week 11: “The information about the mind-muscle connection was so spot on. I’ve really slowed down mentally to connect with what I’m focused on building for the workout. “

Week 12: “My husband commented that my thighs, shoulders, back, and arms are looking and feeling meatier.”

Week 13: “My lower half is definitely firming up. Shaving my legs is an adventure now because of all the new divets and bulges I’m discovering! HA!”

Week 14: “I feel like my body now clearly demonstrates how I feel on the inside: strong, knowledgeable about fitness and nutrition, and dedicated to training. I feel fantastic!!”

HERE’S WHAT YOU GET!

User Manual

The nitty-gritty of making gains and developing bigger muscles through the best, tried-and-true methods of hypertrophy training. We lay it out step by step so you walk away with the knowledge specific to building muscle. Also includes information on including mobility and stability into your program to keep you supple as you pack on the muscle.

Exercise Glossary

Includes step-by-step photos and clear, vivid coaching cues spelled out for every single strength exercise in the program, so you know how to do every one of them correctly and effectively. (This comprehensive resource, which details 95 exercises, is an incredibly useful resource all on its own!).

Training Program

A complete 14-week program that focuses on building muscle all over, including how to use eccentrics to maximize your gains in the gym. Specific rest protocols and the use of compound sets help make the program effective and challenging.

Video Library

For those who prefer visual cues, the 20 videos of strength and how-tos of lifting in a hypertrophy program will break down step by step everything you need to know to be able to perform the movements.

Get The Program

What about, Cardio???

I thought this was all about dem gains?!

It is. But being cardiovascularly fit and incorporating targeted cardio workouts into your hypertrophy routine is only going to support growth. Here’s how:

Without getting too technical muscle hypertrophy actually lowers the amount of blood flow that is available to the muscles due to decreasing capillary volume relative to the size of the muscles. Cardiovascular exercise helps to build out this network of blood-delivery vessels and increases muscle perfusion. Better bloodflow = more ability to use and grow muscle. It’s like clearing the streets for the delivery vehicles of raw materials.

The options in the Cardio Calendars will adjust your schedule to optimally benefit your muscle gain.

So if you’re already doing cardio and loving it, you can keep doing it and chase the pump. And if you’re not, but you want to? Don’t worry, cardio won’t steal your gains – it’ll help you make even more muscles. The Cardio Calendars lays it all out on how best to achieve a big healthy heart along with your big muscles.

Scoop the Gold Package

30 DAY 100%Money Back Guarantee

Common Questions

QWhat should I eat when training?

AIf you’re newer to training, the most important factor is simply getting enough protein, says Dr. Mike Israetel of Renaissance Periodization (RP). About a gram per pound of bodyweight is a good rule of thumb, and spread evenly throughout the day. If, on the other hand, you’re a more advanced trainee or you want to better fuel your training, you will likely want to pay closer attention to calories and macronutrients, as well, in order to optimize your results.

To that end, we’ve paired up with RP, a leader in nutrition programs for a variety of clients, to give you the tools you’ll need in the kitchen, too. The RP Bigness Plan was written specifically for fitness enthusiasts going through The Bigness Project.

Note: The plan is written as a maintenance plan that will help you maintain your current body weight while better fueling your training with more ideal nutrient timing and food ratios to support hypertrophy as a goal. If you follow it as written, you will likely see your body “recomp” — that is, gain muscle and lose fat at the same time, while maintaining your current body weight.

If that doesn’t suit you, the plan can very easily be modified to fit your specific physique goals, meaning you can titrate the plan either upward or downward if you have a more specific goal of gaining muscle more rapidly, or losing body fat. (All of this is explained in more detail in the RP Bigness Plan User Manual.)

The plan very simply lays out what to eat and how much in an easy-to-follow format. RP has done an excellent job at creating a unique system that makes staying on a nutrition plan sustainable and sane. Each plan has two options — one with a more balanced nutrient content and one that is low-carb. Within each option you also have the choice to split your day up into three or four meals depending on your lifestyle. RP also gives you a list of recommended foods and comprehensive details on how to put your meals together so there’s no guess work in meal planning.

All that said, your exact nutritional needs will depend on you. If you’d like additional guidance, we recommend seeking the counsel of a trusted nutrition coach. (RP does private coaching, as do many other coaches and companies. That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

QWhat if I become bulky as I put on more muscle?

AThere are tricky dynamics at play when women put on muscle — one of the words commonly used is “bulky,” often said with disdain. We think it’s necessary to reframe the term, and perhaps even more importantly, to reframe what it means to be a muscular woman (or man!). Bottom line — you’ll add muscle mass, but it’s up to you to determine how you view it. Any sort of muscular development takes loads of work, so when it comes to getting bulky, I recommend trying your best on this program. Where you will end up 14 weeks from now, chances are, is exactly where you want to be: with more visible muscle definition to your frame.

If you are still concerned, rest assured you will not accidentally become Ms. or Mr. Olympia. Unless you’re in the top echelon of that gene pool and you train for three to five hours every day for the next five years, it simply won’t happen. Moreover, this program isn’t intended to prepare you for a bodybuilding competition (the sport of bodybuilding involves more training that’s geared toward the specific aesthetic preferences of its various governing bodies). That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

QWon’t I lose my strength gains as I go into a hypertrophy cycle?

AIn short (and in the short-term), you may lose some strength in certain big lifts. First, it depends on your training background. If you’ve been doing bootcamp-style training, it’s likely you’ll get even stronger! If you’re coming from a powerlifting background or the like, you may temporarily lose some ground on your big three.

But, that doesn’t give you the whole picture. Cycling in a hypertrophy program will help you build more muscle, which you can then put to work turning into even stronger muscles when you go back to heavier programming. Physically more muscle (as in a greater cross-sectional size of the fibers) means that you have the potential to reach and activate more muscle when you start training for strength again. (Plus, this can be a great reset for your body. If you’re feeling beaten up from the really heavy stuff, this will feel like a dream, and you’ll get more jacked, to boot. That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

QDo I need a gym to do these workouts?

AYou’ll to need a wide range of dumbbells, a barbell setup (including a squat rack), an adjustable bench (or a way to create an incline), various bands (mini- and full-length), a pull-up bar, and a stability ball or Valslides. You’ll also want some accessories like a kettlebell and slam ball. If you have all of those things in your home gym, you can absolutely complete the program at home.

If you cannot check off all of those boxes, you’ll need to head to the gym to get the most from this program. There is also a benefit in doing the program in a fully loaded gym in that you can take advantage of various machines throughout the program that you wouldn’t have access to at home, such as a leg press.

All that said, if you have most but not all of the equipment, there are ways of getting creative. That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

QI’ve heard hypertrophy is boring — how is this program different?

ARep after rep can get boring, but what we’ve found is that this program has a way of drawing us inward and into our muscles — which put us into a highly focused, nearly meditative state. (No, really!) The mind-muscle connection that we teach you helps you hone in on how your body is moving, which is naturally a more mindful approach to moving and boots boring right out the window.

In short, keep your focus dialed in and you won’t be bored. That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

QThere’s only one option to choose — is this program better for beginners or advanced gym goers?

ABoth! Starting with hypertrophy or cycling it into your existing program are both great ways to add Bigness to your routine. We give you step-by-step instructions on how to perform each movement safely and effectively if you’re just starting out, and the ability to scale each movement makes sure you have options if you need them.

For those who are more experienced, going into a hypertrophy cycle will give you a different stimulus and help you continue on to (or return to) that sweet muscle-building zone. That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

QIs the nutrition plan necessary to see results?

AThe training program is written so that you will build muscle mass even without following a specific nutrition plan.

That said, the nutrition program is highly complementary to the training program, and will accelerate your results (you’ll get the added benefit of ensuring you’re getting enough protein for your muscles to recover). That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

QIs The Bigness Project for men and women, or both?

AHypertrophy does not discriminate. While there are invariably differences in training from person to person, and even between genders in some regards (generally speaking, women do better with higher volume than men), the training principles in the Bigness Project apply to everyone.

As far as physical results to expect go, your look will very likely change. Some people may call it “getting ripped” while others might say “toned,” but we’re talking about the same thing: adding muscle mass and improving posture and coordination. That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

QAm I too old for this program?

AAbsolutely not. That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

QI’m in—how will the program be shipped to me?

AShipping is so ’90s. Everything is a completely digital, downloadable series of PDFs that you get instant access to as soon as you purchase. What’s more, you can download and access the entire system on any device that can read a PDF — which, these days, is nearly anything. You can read it on your computer, your tablet, or even your phone. Or, print it out, if you prefer. That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

QWhat is the structure of the training program? How many days of lifting per week will I be doing? And about how long are my gym sessions going to be?

AThe Bigness Project training program is broken into what’s commonly referred to as body-part-split training. In the beginning, for the first 7 weeks of the program, you’ll be hitting the gym 4 days per week. The last 7 weeks, your training days will increase to 5 per week. This does not include any additional cardiovascular workouts. The days must be completed in order, but how you complete them throughout the week (ie: where you take your rest days and/or do your cardio) is flexible.

For those first 7 weeks, you can expect your workout to take somewhere between 45 and 60 minutes. And for the second 7 weeks, you can expect workouts to increase to somewhere between 1 hour and 90 minutes. Of course, this all depends on how quickly you move and assumes you don’t have to wait for equipment. That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

QI don’t see the nutrition plan on the package options. When can I add that to my purchase?

AThe RP Bigness Plan can be added to your cart after you select and purchase either The Bigness Project Silver or Gold Package. On that page, we’ll walk you through everything offered with the RP Bigness Plan so you know if it’s the right option for you and want you want to acheive. That answered my question, I want to join The Project.

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