#very busy i hope i manage to get in my post-mountain nap that i always desperately need LMAO

[acebytaemin]

that black lingerie in fast car pic is SHAKING me to my core like thats literally me if i slayed (more)

[still-a-morosexual-help]

OBEY ME! LESSON 55 DETAILED SUMMARY AND DISCUSSION/THEORIES

*I wrote this days after the lesson was first posted and never bothered to go back and edit it so meaning there will be me theorizing about the next lesson as well

*I write a small para for each chapter and I write it immediately after finishing that chapter so there’ll be theorizing about the next chapter too

*I swear more than usual here

*Some of the dialogue is heavily plagiarized and a few is lifted directly from the story, the game is to figure which is which.

*Summaries and Discussions/theories for all the other lessons can be found on this blog under #obey me spoilers or #my theories or #my headcanons

OKAY! So first off the background for this is absolutely gorgeous and shows a real demon. You know the kind you’d imagine an actual demon to look like and everything’s dark (black, grey, brown) there’s a castle on a mountain like area with a narrow suspended pathway leading to it, there are crows flying around and a person in a robe pointing what looks like a lit wand at a snarling attacking demon, there are skulls and what looks like weapons on the ground and my favourite part: a person in a long robe, kneeling on the ground, covering the top of their face with their hands and wailing to the sky. It’s all tailor made to my taste and I love it! There’s one locked lesson.

It’s breakfast time and Asmo & Beel are heading to an all you can eat global sweet sampler, MC questions it and Asmo says you can get desserts from all over the world there and Asmo’s hoping to live stream it. Asmo invites MC but Mammon interjects asking them to come see “cute horsies” with him. “’Horsies.’ He’s so pretentious. Shut up, it’s the fucking horse race. ‘Horsies.’” Says Levi. Levi invites MC to a real life TSL themed escape room (that sounds really fun tbh), Satan invites them to come watch the sci-fi movie they were talking about, in their home theatre. (he’s actually watched it 3 times already but he read online theories about it and now he wants to see if he can catch the basis for those theories in the movie). They all start arguing about it (except Beel who’s just eating) when MC gets a text from Diavolo congratulating them on their 5th star and wishing them luck for the other 2 and inviting them to an amusement park date. Everyone – MC included – is kind of baffled by the one on one date with Diavolo. They ask any of the others if they want to tag along but they all refuse but Beel asks if MC can take Belphie along since he hasn’t really left the house in a while and Beel’s worried. MC texts asking if they can bring Belphie along too and Diavolo says the more the merrier and I just know this is gonna end in disaster like did Belphie ever even resolve all the problems he had with Diavolo back in S1?

Beel drags Asmo along to wake Belphie up because a.) he doesn’t want Asmo to leave to the sweets thing without him b.) they need all the help they can get to wake him up. MC suggests using force and Asmo happily volunteers to grab Belphie, turn him over and drop him on the ground, Beel says they can’t do this to poor Belphie cause Beel’s a sweetheart, and says the most force he’ll allow them to use is by tickling Belphie, which Asmo then does. It doesn’t work so Asmo says if they’re gonna use force they should do something like this right before he screams “ASMO DIIIIIIVE!!!” and jumps on top of Belphie as Beel protests and I love that despite what you’d assume from his aesthetic and despite what Asmo would like you to believe he’s a lot more rough and tumble and violent (I just really love the sweet with hidden edges trope as much as I love the jerk with a gooey centre trope). Belphie says ow and Asmo brightly and sweetly cheers that he woke up as if just seconds ago he hadn’t used a wrestling move on his sleeping baby brother. Beel says that though Belphie’s body is awake his mind isn’t (relatable), Beel fixes Belphie’s bedhead and Asmo complains that Belphie’s a stereotypical spoilt brat youngest child and says that Diavolo obviously would’ve wanted a one on one day with MC. Beel says he knows and it’s another reason he wanted Belphie to go. Asmo agrees saying that after everything if MC chooses their boss over any one of the seven guys MC actually lives with it’d feel wrong. Asmo tells Belphie to keep an eye on them and not let it turn into a “whirlwind romance”, Belphie just asks for his pillow and Asmo’s upset cause he doesn’t feel confident about the plan now. Poor Diavolo being constantly cockblocked

On the way Belphie complains about being forced to do this when his schedule is just as busy but MC says all he does is sleep and he says because naps are important to him and he takes them seriously. He wishes he could go back home and asks why of all the demons he had to be stuck with Diavolo (so guess those issues are still around good to know). MC asks if he still dislikes Diavolo cause of his fondness for humans and Belphie says he’s fully gotten over that whole human genocide phase which is great to have confirmed. They ask why he dislikes Diavolo – lots of reasons. He always thinks he’s right and expects to get his way about anything and everything and never listens to anyone’s opinions. He hadn’t bothered to listen to Belphie back when the exchange program had been proposed and Belphie was against it (and I mean to be fair back then Belphie was 100% okay with killing the entire human race for no reason other than the fact that he blamed them for Lilith’s death when really they had nothing to do with it and it was definitely the angels’ fault. I mean I don’t think I would have listened to him either and he really does have the spoilt youngest kid personality. I think out of all the brother’s Belphie’s the one who has the fondest memories of the Celestial Realm – probably helped by the fact that Lilith was still alive then – which is why he never blamed them for what happened and instead directed all his anger at the humans) Lucifer hadn’t let Belphie plead his case (what case Belphie!? That all humans should die!?) and that Diavolo’s surrounded by demons like Barbatos and Lucifer who shield him from criticism (and yeah I agree that this is true and that it’s a bad thing but Lucifer wasn’t shielding Diavolo from criticism when he refused to let Belphie plead his case, he was protecting Belphie cause if Diavolo found out Belphie wanted to kill humans he would have thrown him in jail like he did back at the end of S1 and MC you dumb fuck can you pls tell all this to Belphie) and that Diavolo doesn’t understand that he’s been saved from criticism and Belphie hates that about him and he shudders at the thought of spending the day with Diavolo. On the way they run into Simeon and tell him where they’re going, he says Luke’s been wanting to go there since he saw a ad for it and MC says they could take Luke along with them but he says Luke’s at a cooking class today but that he’d probably love to hear about it when he gets back. Simeon then takes off saying he has a meeting. Belphie goes to call after Simeon to tell him something and catches a glimpse of the person Simeon was supposed to meet. He’s surprised and says “Is that…” and when MC asks what’s wrong he said he must have just imagined it and that the person Simeon was meeting just looked really familiar and HOLY SHITTTTTTT GUYSSS rfhiefjoSJKWDLDADJSJ was I right are we really gonna get to see angels???? That’s the only explanation, right? It would have had to be Michael or even Raphael and there’s only a few lessons left and this and the next lesson are probably gonna focus on Diavolo and Belphie’s relationship and following the patter MC should get their 6th star next lesson, then the two lessons after that will be their final exam for the 7th star and then the last two lessons will focus on saying goodbye as the brothers go back to the Devildom and all that’s gonna have a lot going on but if they’re teasing the angels being here now could they manage to slip them in or will that be too much? I mean they’ll be introducing a whole new (or two whole new) character(s) and ahhh I’m rambling but pls I need the tension and angst between them and the brothers ok I’m done.

When they get there Belphie complains about how crowded it is and MC tries to look for Diavolo to which Belphie points to a group of fangirls surrounding Diavolo. Diavolo answers them sweetly and one of them says he’s even better looking irl and another shyly asks if he wants to walk around with them. Belphie cuts that short by barging in and asking Diavolo what’s going on, Diavolo happily greets Diavolo and one of the girls realises that Belphie called Diavolo ‘lord’. Diavolo apologises to them and said he’s already made plans with friends (and ugh he’s so sweet I love him just wanna give him a big hug I bet he gives great hugs), the girls are very understanding and sweet about it and they leave. Belphie’s a lil shit and says “Aww, too bad, Lord Diavolo. I’d hate to interrupt just as they were hitting on you…” and Diavolo laughs it off saying it wasn’t like that (and can Diavolo not understand sarcasm or does he just ignore it? Both seem highly likely) Belphie disagrees and says they were clearly hitting on him and Diavolo changes the subject and says he can’t believe Belphie actually came, MC explains why and Diavolo says it’s understandable that Beel was worried after Belphie hadn’t left the house in a week (Me, who hasn’t left the house in almost a year: :’) ) Belphie says he knows Diavolo wanted a date with MC but too bad cause now Belphie’s gonna third wheel them. Diavolo tells Belphie not to be ridiculous and that he’s happy that Belphie came (and the thing is other than a small twinge of disappointment this is probably the truth). Belphie says that it probably won’t be a good idea to go around calling him “Lord” Diavolo given the way the girls reacted, Diavolo says he can just call him by his name since he wouldn’t mind but Belphie says he himself would mind and anyway if Lucifer or Barbatos found out Belphie wasn’t using his proper title they’d kill him. So Belphie suggests a nickname which Diavolo’s really happy about and MC suggests DD (they can also suggest John or Cap’n), Diavolo adores it and asks them to call him it all the time hereafter (I want to give him a hug so badly). Diavolo then happily and with lots of exclamation points goes on to say that it’s time to let their hair down and that Barbatos had made minute to minute schedule for them to follow so that they could enjoy the park to the fullest and Belphie says he wants to go home

Diavolo keeps unsuccessfully trying to get Belphie to wear a themed headband and take a group photo, saying he also wants to wear the headband on a boat ride and the ferris wheel. Diavolo gives MC sad puppy dog eyes (which I’m sure he uses successfully on Lucifer regularly, but that don’t affect Barbatos at all) and MC can’t refuse, asking Belphie if there’s anything that’ll get him to change his mind. He says no but he’s not stopping the others from doing it, Diavolo says since they’re here as a group they all should do it, Belphie snaps saying he doesn’t like how Diavolo’s using MC as a tool to bend Belphie to his will and he says he’s going home. Diavolo tries to stop him but he marches off and Diavolo drags MC off to chase after Belphie. Diavolo grabs Belphie by the arm outside the park and begs for a chance to apologize, Belphie denies it and tries to free his arm. Diavolo refuses to let him go saying he should have listened to and considered Belphie’s opinions now as well as in the past, Belphie’s shocked and MC asks Belphie to just hear Diavolo out. He agrees but tells them not to have any expectations of what this’ll accomplish.

Belphie says he doesn’t want to wear the headband or take pics and that he’s only gonna ride what he wants to, Diavolo agrees with all that. He asks if Belphie will stay with them and Belphie agrees and Diavolo is just so brightly stupidly happy and I can completely understand how he was able to make Lucifer question his entire world view. Diavolo’s so happy he starts waving Belphie’s arm around unconsciously and then asks Belphie what rides he wants to go on as they make their way back inside, Belphie doesn’t answer instead he’s blushing and annoyed and asks Diavolo to let go of his hand. Belphie wants to ride ‘The Twisting Freefall of Death II’, MC & Diavolo would like to not freefall to their death thank you very much. Belphie quotes the ride as being, “the single most terrifying experience in the world where you’ll scream for mercy and receive none” Diavolo says, “Did you say scream for mercy…” Belphie happily agrees. Diavolo turns to his last hope, MC, and asks how they feel about this. I like to imagine that even MC has a line where their lacking self-preservation will kick in. Belphie just smiles saying it won’t actually kill them (this would have been more reassuring coming from someone who didn’t once murder MC but whatever.) They can also ask Diavolo how feels about it. After the ride Belphie’s cackling loudly and gushing about how great it was. He’s especially happy about the look on Diavolo’s face during the ride, saying he’s never seen it before (probably the look of a demon praying to God for mercy). MC can say that Belphie seemed to be having a lot of fun, cheer how the ride was the best or say they thought they were going to die. For the 3rd option Belphie very cheerfully says MC’s alive and ok. Belphie asks Diavolo how it was only to realise Diavolo’s missing. He fell off the ride at its highest peak. He’s dead.

They’ve tried texting Diavolo but he doesn’t read them. Belphie wonders what kind of person actually gets lost in an amusement park unless they’re 5. Then he says “…is that what it is? Is he actually 5 yrs old?” He remembers that mammon got lost in a park once too and says the only thing the two of them have in common is that they’re both basically children, They then run into my favourite character in the entire game – the butcher (is2g this man needs to become a recurring side character) who is here with his wife and daughter. He asks them if the rest of the harem is here too and Belphie lets him know that unfortunately they’re here with a new inductee who got lost. The butcher offers to help and asks for a description. MC says he’s the owner of the corvo hotel chain and the butcher wonders who the fuck are these people in the first place to know someone like that and then because the butcher’s the sweetest person alive he too starts worrying about diavolo, scared that he might have gotten kidnapped. Belphie says “there’s no one in the human world oh shit I mean THE WORLD. THE NORMAL WORLD ALL US HUMANS - BECAUSE WE ALL ARE HUMANS - LIVE IN” the butcher now probably used to how weird this cult is (because they definitely are a satanic cult with their extremely obvious demon names, how weird and unused to normal life they are, 7 of them being obviously infatuated by the eighth one but the butcher’s not gonna bring this up cause with the amount of meat they buy from him he could keep his family afloat for years AND pay for his daughters college tuition) ignores this and says he hasn’t seen Diavolo but advices them to check the information desk and ask them to page Diavolo over the loudspeakers. They thank him and Belphie promises to stop by with Beel later, the butcher says he’ll see him then and tells them to take care (I love this man). Barbatos text MC asking how they’re doing and which itinerary of his they’re following cause yes apparently he made more than one and telling them he trusts them to take care of diavolo (and I can’t believe it took me this long to realise Barbatos is a helicopter parent). MC leaves him on read. Lucifer then texts them saying Satan told him where they’d gone and telling them that since the two of them are with Diavolo he assumes he’s okay but just to clarify make sure nothing happens to Diavolo. MC leaves him on read. Belphie says that Barbatos and Lucifer are way too overprotective. Barbatos and MC then realise how fucked they are if either of them find out that they’ve lost diavolo and so decide to skip the whole loudspeaker thing.

They can decide if they want to check by the lake, the ferris wheel or the last ride they went in. He’s not at the lake and they choose to take a boat across the lake to get to the ferris wheel cause it’s faster than going around it. Belphie actually enjoys the boat ride and asks if the two of them can just enjoy themselves together for a bit instead of looking for Diavolo, MC says “I’m worried about Diavolo also can you not remember how fucked we are if we don’t find him”. Belphie gets jealous that MC seems to care more about Diavolo than him (they’re just been practical! If the roles were reversed they’d have shut Diavolo down to look for you!) and says that even they have a real soft spot for Diavolo (He’s like a giant golden retriever!!).  There’s an announcement over the loudspeaker for MC and ‘Snoozy’ saying that DD’s waiting for them at the info desk. Belphie’s not happy about ‘snoozy’ (understandable)

[cnzmendoza]

Discovering the Map to Remission

How an MDMA-assisted therapy trial saved John Saul’s life

His hands felt frozen. It was frigid and windy outside, but 50 degree weather was normal for Sausalito, California. And besides, even if it was warmer, his fingers would still feel stiff and close to paralyzed. 

John Saul struggled to get out of bed. It felt like he had the flu. His body was fatigued, his head throbbed, and even the smallest movements would leave him out of breath. He had felt the same way the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that one, too. In 2012, he was diagnosed with systemic scleroderma, an incurable autoimmune disease that led his body to attack itself. Now three years laters, he had work to do as always, so he had to get up. He popped half a Percocet and started his day. 

He flipped open the San Francisco Chronicle, and his eyes shifted to an unusual article. The title read “Ecstasy therapy approved for trial in Marin County.” Two therapists, Dr. Phil Wolfson and his wife Julane Andries, were seeking patients for a clinical therapeutic trial. They were looking for people with life-threatening illnesses. They were looking for someone like John. 

This clinical trial would be part of a Phase II study on MDMA-assisted therapy. MDMA, or 3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine — more commonly known as ecstasy or molly — is often seen as a party drug. Its ability to produce transcendent bliss and unfiltered connection has made it popular at raves and night clubs, but the possibility of traumatic hallucinations and death have perpetrated the drug’s stigma.

John had never used MDMA before, but he’d dabbled with drugs briefly as a kid. Growing up in La Cañada, California, he would sneak out on a full moon night, make his way to the Pasadena hills near his home, and trip on psilocybin mushrooms. Given that he was only in middle school at the time, he remembers not knowing how to process what he experienced during those trips. “All I knew was that I felt the presence of something different,” he says. “It was something much bigger, almost like another force of life.” 

Though MDMA would be something new for John, he wasn’t fearful. In fact, he was filled with the same curiosity that thrilled him as a young teenager, an eagerness and sense of excitement that had been dormant for decades. “At that time, there was no light at the end of the tunnel. The trial gave me hope that I would have some sort of say in how my life played out.” Now, John hoped that this alternate life force could help in the ways that everything else had failed to do so.

A nonprofit organization called The Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (MAPS) would conduct the trial, as it had raised millions of dollars for research funding. MAPS was founded in 1986 by Rick Doblin, who has spent his entire career researching the therapeutic value of psychedelic drugs. He wrote his Master’s thesis on marijuana use for cancer patients, and in 2001, he received his Ph.D. from Harvard after writing his dissertation on the regulation of medical use for marijuana and psychedelics. 

Collaborating with doctors and therapists around the world, MAPS also designs the studies and works with the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) and the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to gain regulatory approval and ensure safe, ethical protocols. After a successful Phase I, which is primarily to test out safety regulations, MAPS was now continuing the Phase II study. Other trials in South Carolina and Colorado were aimed at treating post-traumatic stress disorder, and now MAPS was looking to treat anxiety caused by life-threatening illnesses. The purpose of the therapy was not to cure these illnesses, but rather to give people peace and to help them gain control of their hindered lives.

Many people assume that those with life-threatening illnesses have anxiety because they’re in the face of death. “That’s a sure source of the anxiety,” John says. “But, at least for me, death is way easier to accept in comparison to just how hard life is. All I’m thinking is How am I supposed to go on?”

Systemic scleroderma struck John fiercely at age 47.  He had been an athlete all of his life, wrestling since he was 8. He got involved with sports in high school, and eventually went on to wrestle for the division-1 team at Cal State Fullerton. He went to the gym daily, sailed boats, and ran half-marathons. His life as a jock had kept him outdoors, fulfilling his everlasting urge for adventure.

But now, at 50, his joints ached like they were plagued by arthritis, and his hands swelled so much that they were stuck as if holding a microphone. Scleroderma causes an overproduction of collagen in the body, which is typically most noticeable in the hardening of the hands and the face. John’s fingerprints had vanished, and his skin morphed into a waxy, mannequin-like consistency. The extra collagen essentially affected his whole body, but if it were to get into his lungs, heart, or kidneys, he would die. He always had a slight headache and felt chronically dehydrated. His stomach acid raged within, and his bowels were constantly irritated. The skin on his stomach was so tight that he couldn’t stand up straight, and the rest of his skin burned and felt toxic, like he was lying in flames. It hurt just to touch it.

The only thing that could keep him going was his opiates. 

Each morning he would wash a tiny pill down with a glass of water, just to gain enough courage to get out of bed. The painkiller’s effects would only last for about two hours, though, so he would take several a day to numb himself.

John had spent the last several years building up his own yacht-brokering business, and he was thrilled to be in a profession that he loved. Even more so, he was proud to be the owner of a company that was finally gaining some momentum. But as his disease progressed, his body began to mimic the elderly grandparents who made up most of Sausalito’s population. For months now, John had little energy or motivation to live. 

There is no cure for scleroderma, only treatments to lessen the symptoms. For years John tried everything to maintain a normal life. He had a chest port inserted in his body to directly inject antibiotics into his veins, which had been proven to help arthritis. This treatment was beneficial for the first year as it minimized the hardening and aching of John’s joints, but he continued to use it for longer than he should have. He received the antibiotics for another two years, and his digestive system weakened as a result.

He went through every nutritional aspect that he could think of, testing out which foods triggered the disease. Because of a fragile digestive system that would lead to bloating and bowel irritation, he had to cut out foods like red meat and dairy products. He tried to incorporate more fruits and vegetables into his diet, but that could only do so much. 

He tried traditional talk therapy for a brief time, but he found the effects to be short-lived. Exercise, which had been his coping mechanism since high school, also seemed to be completely out of the picture. Even a trip to the grocery store would leave him out of breath, and he couldn’t drive back home until he sat in the car, reclined his seat, and napped for an hour. 

Working from home also took more energy than he could afford to give. He could barely pick up the phone to call clients because his hands were crippled, and their waxy texture didn’t provide much grip. His business was losing money, and he was becoming isolated from his work and friends. The thought of death, and the anxiety of awaiting its arrival, secluded him even more from real life. Perhaps, he often thought, it would just be better to end his life himself.

As he held the San Francisco Chronicle in his waxy hands, he knew that he had to enroll. This trial, he believed, would be his very last chance. 

John reached out to the MAPS trial researchers and got in touch with Phil and Julane. Phil told him that he certainly qualified for the trial, but he would have to go through an interview and some tests before his spot was guaranteed. John drove to the site of the trial, which was only twenty minutes from his home in Sausalito. He went up into the Muir Woods, on the windy road and through the infinite, colossal redwood trees. Finally, near the top of the mountains, he reached Phil’s office.

They told him in order to participate in the trial, John had to have a clean drug test. This meant cutting out the opiates that had been his saving grace for almost four years. “Opiates get a really bad reputation, but they truly kept me alive,” John says. 

Phil and Julane gave him a tapering schedule to manage the withdrawals that were sure to come as he laid off the opiates. When he got home, he looked at the clock. The last time he had taken an opiate was at 9am. He had always known this day would come, but now it was really time. He ripped up the schedule and threw it in the trash. He wouldn’t put another opiate into his mouth. 

The withdrawals were torturous and the pain so petrifying that he couldn’t sleep. In the early hours of the morning, he called his best friend, Jim. His body was on fire. His heart was beating at a million miles per hour, throbbing so hard that it might break through his chest at any moment. Sweat gushed down his face, and his fragile body shook like it was being electrocuted. He felt nervous and agitated as excess energy vibrated throughout his bones. The energy wasn’t the kind that he used to feel after a half-marathon or a boat race. Instead, he wanted to strangle someone, but he also wanted to weep. It had only been 18 hours since his last opiate. 

The opiate withdrawals were so agonizing that it was often hard to tell the difference between physical pain and mental anguish. But this was all he had, so it would have to be worth it.

In the fall of 2015, John was accepted into the study, and once more, he drove up the curvy mountains to the study site. The sunshine illuminated the wooden walls and the burgundy and light brown furniture around the room. The panoramic windows displayed the sea of green and the heavy clouds that were preparing for a storm. By the middle window, there sat a kind of shrine. Two pots of vibrant orchids were surrounded by candles, tiny figurines, and a picture of the therapists’ 16-year-old son Noah. 

Before the initial dosing, John had several therapy sessions with Phil and Julane. They told him that by the end of this process, they would know him better than anyone, and better than he knew himself. He was encouraged do “homework” in between sessions. He would take notes on things that he knew he needed to work on, and things that made him severely uncomfortable. These sessions would help the therapists, and MDMA, guide John through life and death.

His first MDMA dosing took him into another realm. He popped the pure MDMA pill that Phil had created in 1983. He laid on the “tripping couch” with his eyes closed and feet posted up. Ambient music played in the background. About 30 minutes passed, and he was flying. The colors around the room were the brightest he had ever seen. Each element was amplified and begged for his attention. The books on the tables, the paintings on the walls, and the plants around the room all came alive and greeted him with extraordinary personalities. When he closed his eyes, bright geometric patterns would dance around the back of his eyelids. 

Phil and Julane placed their hands on him, and for the first time, John experienced one of the most profound parts of MDMA-assisted therapy: human connection. 

He was wrapped in safety and comfort, and Phil and Julane took on the role of surrogate parents. “It felt like being bundled up and coming home from the hospital after you’re born,” John says. “It just felt that good.”

They told him to go in, drift inside his head, and let the medicine do the work. 

His life began to come alive like a picture book on a coffee table. People in his life would come onto the pages in the most crisp, vivid colors he had ever witnessed. He could take his time flipping through every page, remembering the purpose or the lesson that each person provided him with. Time became abnormal, and he would feel like he had been in the picture book for hours. It would really only be about 30 minutes. 

Phil and Julane would nudge him lightly after some time, and invite him to sit up. They had work to do. They would give him some gentle guidance, but ultimately, he would begin to talk about whatever was on his heart. “MDMA has some kind of intelligence that’s hard to describe, but it knows exactly what to bring up,” says John. 

Marcella Ot’alora, the principal investigator for the Colorado PTSD trial, explains that MDMA activates certain parts of the brain while lessening the activity in others. It effects the amygdala, the part of the brain that elicits fear, by making it less active. It releases serotonin and oxytocin, which establishes a sense of wellbeing, encourages self-acceptance, and heightens the bonding with therapists. Judgement is also not so present, which makes patients feel kind and affectionate toward themselves and others. Ot’alora emphasizes that seeing yourself and the world this way, especially when processing trauma, is a critical component in therapy.

Words would fly out of John’s mouth with the ease of reciting the alphabet. He and the therapists would shed light on the darkest, most uncomfortable parts of his life. They would discuss and analyze, all going down the same road collectively, for an hour or two before John would start to lose energy. He would then lay down again and get lost in the picture book within his mind. This went on for about eight hours, and when the MDMA wore off, he would spend the night at the study-site. John says that this first session felt like he had done 15 years worth of therapy in one day. 

The euphoria that John experienced is one that has stunned scientists and therapists for decades. MDMA was synthetically developed by a German company in 1912, but its use was dormant for several decades after the initial creation. It wasn’t until the 1970s that Dr. Alexander Shulgin, who obtained a biochemistry Ph.D. from UC Berkeley, first began to develop his own MDMA. After some self-experimenting, Shulgin relayed his excitement about the drug to Oakland psychiatrist Leo Zeff. 

Zeff, mutually mystified by the healing powers of the drug, helped Shulgin spread the word to dozens of other psychiatrists and therapists - one of whom was John’s therapist, Phil. Their hope that the drug could enhance therapeutic practices showed promise, but their campaign was short-lived. Although MDMA’s value was becoming known in a small medical community, it was simultaneously gaining fame in the party scene. 

The misuse of MDMA, paired with Ronald Reagan’s war on drugs, led to its placement as a Schedule I drug in 1985. This meant that it would be illegal, had no medical value, was likely to be abused, and lacked safety for use with medical supervision.

Though John was thrilled for what he believed would be a revolutionary therapy, the legalization of MDMA for therapeutic purposes has been difficult to fight for. The recreational use of the drug has resulted in a nationwide stigma. Especially since the rising popularity of raves, MDMA’s recreational use has been fatal for many in the U.S. The deaths related to the drug have also been publicized by the media perhaps more than any other drug in recent times. According to the Los Angeles Times, at least 29 people have died since 2006 because of drug-related causes at raves hosted by LA-based companies. A majority of them had MDMA in their system at the time of death. 

These deaths, affecting people from the ages of 15 to 37, have understandably struck fear and anger into people all over the country. While the effects of MDMA are euphoric and otherworldly, the drug can be high-risk if used recreationally. Death is a possibility without safety precautions and a genuine understanding of how the body and the drug work together. 

MDMA-related deaths have been caused by a multitude of different scenarios. Many people who died from MDMA-related causes were also found to have had other drugs in their bodies at the time, such as cocaine, heroine, and methamphethamines. Nevertheless, ecstasy or molly pills are almost never pure MDMA and can contain mixtures of other unknown substances. 

Because high body temperatures are a natural reaction to MDMA, dehydration and over-hydration have also played significant roles in these deaths. Aside from the dangerous physical effects that can occur when an MDMA dose is not properly monitored, the mental effects can be just as damaging. 

Environment is a crucial component for MDMA trips because, as experienced in the PTSD trials, the drug has the ability to bring up traumatic memories that may have been suppressed for years. Without proper preparation and guidance, the drug can cause mental anguish that can further traumatize people or lead them to take life-threatening measures.

Because of these possibilities for harm, MAPS researchers have put together strict protocols to ensure that their patients’ bodies and minds are protected at all times. This protection comes from a variety of mechanisms, the first being the therapists’ genuine knowledge of the drug and its powers. Their expertise is necessary to monitor the patient’s body, such as their heart-rate and body temperature, to observe any negative reactions to the drug. Because MDMA enhances the way the brain processes its surroundings, a balanced physical setting is also imperative. The trials require a fairly quiet environment, which is void of any external stimuli that could cause negative distractions. To further create a sense of safety and tranquility, blankets are provided and ambient music is encouraged. Perhaps most importantly, it’s crucial for the therapists and the patient to establish an alliance - a relationship that is built on trust and empathy. This is one of the most revolutionary components of the therapy as it proactively guides the patient to build healthy relationships and use human connection as a healing tool. 

The trials have taken place in several parts of the world, including the U.S., Israel, and Sweden. So far, the small sample sizes have been relatively small, and almost all of the trials have been funded by one organization: MAPS. Though the trials have some questionable attributes, the results have been quite promising.

In 2008, Michael and Ann Mithoefer completed the first MDMA-assisted therapy clinical trial. They published the study in The Journal of Psychopharmacology in 2012, which aimed to treat individuals suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. They stated that out of 19 patients that received the MDMA treatment, 14 sustained significant benefits at their long-term follow-up, which occurred during an average of 3.5 years after the dosing. These results were measured by the Clinician Administered PTSD Score (CAPS), which shows the patients’ symptoms, as well as the severity of the symptoms. Two patients relapsed, and three did not complete a long-term follow-up, which results in a 74% positive result compared to 89% without the inclusion of those who did not follow-up. Though the results have been positive, what’s even more promising is the length of time it took for individuals to heal. Before the trials, each patient had received ineffective therapy for an average of close to 20 years. MDMA-therapy, on the other hand, was able to provide long-term healing for the majority of its patients after only two sessions, over a span of two months. 

About a month after John’s first MDMA dose, he was back with his feet posted up on Phil and Julane’s tripping couch. He was lying on his back, staring up at the wooden ceiling. An oil vaporizer produced steam which danced around the room gracefully. The sun shined on the particles, and when the light struck a certain way, the steam slowly curled around the therapists’ faces. 

He was mesmerized by the dancing steam when a thought suddenly struck him. It was a thought that had haunted him for years, one that he had convinced himself was the truth. His lips parted open, but before he could even get a syllable out, everything stopped. Even the faintest sounds had paused. The particles in the air stood in place. Phil and Julane stopped breathing. Time was still. 

John heard a voice, partially in his head but also within the room. He felt an instant sense of guilt, like a puppy that had been caught chewing a shoe. Chills went down his arms all the way down to his feet, and the voice told him, “There’s only truth in this room.”

John knew instantly that the words that were about to come out of his mouth were false. Though he spent much of his life believing them, he hadn’t been honest with himself. Because his parents were so stern, he was always in fear of punishment. Even the thought of getting in trouble was terrifying, so John learned to lie. He became such a good liar that he began to lie even to himself. The voice halted him, and everything around him, to remind him of what was true. In that moment, John began to respect his own personal truth.

John’s dishonesty was one of several uncomfortable topics that the MDMA brought forth.   Relationships, financial issues, self-esteem, and other tender spots were among the others. Though normally John would have been avoidant of these topics, the MDMA allowed him to talk through them with ease. 

Family life was one of the most crucial things John analyzed during his sessions. He was born when his parents were only 19, and he felt that his upbringing lacked the warm affection that he had grown to crave. When presenting unpleasant moments, the MDMA would play short movies of his life back to him, with memories drifting from as far back as the age of five. 

In the midst of his tripping, John saw a memory from when he was six years old. He had been outside playing with friends when another young boy purposely hit him in the mouth with a baseball bat. His lip was bleeding, and he ran home screaming with tears running down his face. John went to look for his father, expecting him to open up for a hug, clean his face up, and feel sympathy for his son. Instead, when he saw John, he stood up and filled the room with anger. He marched toward John, and John quickly forgot all about his bloodied lip. Now he was afraid of his father. He ran out of his house, while his father chased him for three blocks until he reached the house of the boy who hit him. 

“Is this the boy that did this to you?” his father asked. John nodded his head.

“Was it an accident?” John shook his head. 

“Okay,” his father said. “Hit him.”

John obeyed his father and proceeded to harm the boy who had bloodied his lip. Looking back on the memory, John remembered how brutal his father’s lesson was. At the time, he had always seen his father in that way - an aggressive, strict, and hardened man. But looking back, almost 50 years later, he began to understand that this was the only way his father knew how to care for him. Though he didn’t hug and kiss John when he came home sobbing, he taught John to stand up for himself in the way that his own father had taught him growing up. John grew to be what he calls “a gentle fighter,” one who fights with his words and deeds rather than with physical actions, but he came to understand that this self-defense mechanism stemmed from his father. 

After his second session, John was faced with something he hadn’t felt in years. He felt courage. The MDMA, though powerful as it was, did not reveal answers to him in the open. Ultimately, he was left to sort through his experiences on his own. The feeling of bravery had almost become unfamiliar to him, but he wanted to act on it while he could. His body was still rebelling and he hadn’t been active in years, but he thought that now he might have the power to change that. He decided to purchase a pair of running shoes. 

On that day, he went to his favorite old running trail. He was only able to walk and jog about half a mile. He breathed heavily as sweat ran down his face, and he finally made it back to his car. This was nothing compared to the 13 miles he used to run, but he was exhausted. Though his entire body ached, he felt a different kind of high - a surge of adrenaline, mixed with relief and gratitude. 

“It hurt like hell, but it felt like my body was thanking me.”

John’s last session with Phil and Julane was perhaps the most pivotal moment of his life. John was lying down and looked over at Phil for a quick moment. Phil was staring out of the window, with the sunlight shining on his face, illuminating the tears that were running down it. Suddenly compelled by an urgency of strength, John sat up. “Lay it on me,” he told Phil. Their roles were now reversed.

For the first time in his life, John felt competent to hold a sacred space for someone else. Phil began telling him about his son Noah, who had died at 16 of leukemia. He told John about the family’s struggle to accept Noah’s fate, and how MDMA was one of the ways in which Phil and Julane established their own resilience. Eventually, after years of arguing and answer-searching, Phil, Julane, and Noah found acceptance. They understood that Noah would be gone soon, and he was able to die free of anger and full of gratitude.

Phil talked in detail about his son’s last moments, and how those memories triggered his tears. They were a reminder of why he was with John now. They were also a reminder of the goal of these trials: to find solace and fight in the face of death.

In the last hour of John’s final session, he was overcome with anxiety. His body began to shake as MDMA’s final messages were calling him to create an entirely new life. Phil and Julane, sensing his fear and angst, placed their hands on him in the same way that they did in the very beginning of his first session. John felt their gentle touch as he breathed heavily, and their watchful presence calmed him. 

He began to get visits from different entities. He didn’t see them, but sometimes he would hear them.  John compares this feeling to sitting up when you’re half-asleep. You wonder if someone is in the room or if the voices you just heard were even real. Then you realize that it was all just a dream. The entities came to him as if they were an extended version of this feeling - an amplified thought. Ultimately, it was his own heart and brain talking to each other. It was time for a serious meeting.

You’re working in the wrong business, they told him.

He had spent the past eight years building up his yacht-brokering company. At times, during the peak of his illness, it was all that kept him going. But if he continued, it would end up killing him - if it hadn’t already started doing so.

He would spend six months working on a deal, just for it to end when his clients’ egos would get in the way. Their worlds revolved around petty things, and his did, too. It didn’t make sense for life to be like this, especially when he didn’t even know how much life he had left.

You’re living in the wrong place.

Sausalito is a quiet, seaside town which was ideal for John’s business. For John himself, though, it wasn’t where he needed to be. The mornings were always cold and crisp, which only hardened his body more. It was an isolated town, full of wealthy, older folks. He needed to be in the sunshine, and he needed to be around people and places that were full of vitality. 

You need to work on your relationships.

During his sessions, John had seen memories from his earliest years. He was able to analyze nearly every part of his life, including a cold relationship with his parents and a toxic relationship with an ex-girlfriend. He didn’t know how, but he would have to find a way to deal with them. 

Lastly, they told him, You need to help people. 

Today, nearly two years after completing the trial, John lives in Venice Beach, where the weather is warm and the people are wild. He shut down his yacht-brokering business, and his body is now 90% healed. Though the objective of the therapy was not to cure illnesses, the healing powers that Alexander Shulgin raved about when he first tried MDMA have proven to unite John’s mind and body.

His life wasn’t miraculously easy after the therapy, but he gained tremendous insights and tools to work his way through the hard parts. Simply having the mental capacity to get out of bed and aim for something healed John in several ways. “I learned to make friends with my body and to remember that it had been good to me for so many years before I was diagnosed,” he says.  He began to change his unhealthy sleeping habits, he strictly managed his diet, and he began to exercise daily like he once did. He started practicing yoga again, which helped to improve the elasticity of his skin, and he’s currently trained to teach aerial yoga to older clients. Eight months after he huffed and puffed down the trail after his second MDMA session, he also ran a half-marathon. 

John says the integration process is like being in a helicopter, overlooking the world underneath you from a bird’s eye view. Everything is beautiful, and the feeling of ecstasy is truly living up to its name. Suddenly, you’re pushed out of the plane. When you finally hit the ground, you land on a skateboard and you’re flying down a steep hill. Maybe you’ve never even ridden a skateboard before, but you’re forced to find a way to make it down the hill alive. 

As with other psychedelics, the few days after an MDMA dose often come with a dark hangover. Because the brain has been so energized and overfilled with serotonin, the come-down can be bleak. For John, these days were difficult because he had to find ways to integrate the otherworldly awareness into his daily life. However, the darkest days were also the most promising when it came to understanding his experience. “A lot of people don’t like this part of the therapy, but that’s when you really need to look inside,” he says. “You write your thoughts down, take vitamins, drink a lot of water, and try to help your brain rebuild itself.”

During his sessions, John was aware that the feelings of bliss wouldn’t last forever, but the fact that he was able to feel emotions on such a deep level made him hopeful. If it was possible to feel that good on the drug, maybe he could feel the same without it. He’s gotten pretty close, but he finds euphoria in a much simpler form now. He likes to call them snapshots - mental pictures in which he takes the time to grab a moment and absorb it into his brain. It can take form in many ways, like running on his favorite trail, or getting lunch with a good friend and sitting next to a window, smelling your food coming to you. “It’s a cliche. People always say, Oh, live in the moment! It’s really easy to say, but you have to deliberately do it. It’s just a matter of grabbing sincere appreciation of something, even if it means you have to cry your eyes out sometimes.”

John’s integration process is still a work in progress, but he’s using his journey to help others who have come out of the trials or their own psychedelic experiences. After he shut down his yacht-brokering business, he started working on a company of a much different nature. Map to Remission, a play on both medical remission and life repurposing, aims to provide a community and resources to others who have been knocked down by a life-threatening illness. John holds weekly 3-Peer sessions in which he and two or three others Skype call to talk about their integration process. The point of the sessions is not to coach or counsel each other, simply because none of them are therapists or psychiatrists. Instead, they share their own experiences and provide unwavering support.

While he’s getting his company up and running, he’s also involved in other integration circles in Los Angeles. John and his peers work to protect people from using MDMA unsafely or as an escape route. It’s not meant to be used as a way to escape our real worlds, but rather as a way to better understand them. Education is proving to be one of the most crucial steps of the legalization of MDMA-assisted therapy, and John is doing his part to share his journey. The psychedelic community continues to grow rapidly, and John’s body and mind continue to heal in return. 

“It turns out that community is some of the best medicine you could ever have,” he says.

[dewygrassy]

Dark Necessities

Armin dreams of the outside world. Mapping the path with his own footprints but “it’s illegal to go outside of the wall, Armin!” Eren says. 

Armin flipped through the thick book; each of the pages was overflowing with innumerable artistic posters and egotistical axioms with different fonts and size. He pursed his lips as his small, bony fingers traced every single of printed lines and curves on the pages. He was mesmerized by the book the moment he found it inside the wooden box covered in dust at the abandoned attic in his house. His grandfather was taking a long nap on the old, ugly couch after a few sips of bitter low-quality tea that was given by a lovely middle-aged woman two mornings ago. Armin had no intention to ask for her name so he just simply nodded and muttered "thank you" in the most polite way with a soft, genuine smile plastered on his face.

It was one of the steamiest days in this year and his baby blue cotton T-shirt was drenched with his own sweats as he walked down toward the alley. He brought the book closer to his chest and he could not hide the erratic beatings of his heart. The anxiety clouded his mind, visualizing the possible scenarios of the town bullies appeared at the corner of the street, smirked in amusement as they kicked his body over and over again. Armin clutched the book tightly as he paced up a little bit faster before he turned to the right corner of the street. Only twenty-three footsteps more before he found Eren sat at the end of the riverbank alone and his fingers were fumbling around to find stray pebbles before lazily tossing them into the river ahead of him.

"Eren!"

He beamed when Eren turned his head around and found his friend gave him the most beautiful smile for him. Armin took a sit next to him and placed the book on the cracked concrete pavement carefully.

"Where did you find this book?" Eren asked in a hushed voice. His big green eyes wandered the hardcover of the book curiously. "It doesn't look like one of the books that you could find at José book stall."

"I found it at the attic! And there are masses of illustrations too!" Armin flipped through each of the pages eagerly; he couldn't rip off his enthusiasm when he enlightened Eren with his explanation on every artworks and diagrams in the book. There were photographs of icy lands, infinite peaks of nothing but far and wide land of sands, flaming mountains, and enormous cerulean lake spread out the entire page. "And look at this picture, Eren!" he pointed at the page of a half-naked young lady, wearing only in a pair of black short pants and shielded her big breasts with her small hands. At the bottom of the image, "the government on earth there is some trace of human weakness, some germ of corruption and degeneracy"[¹] was written in standard font size.

"Armin... This book is illegal! You can't keep this book with you; those gruffly dudes will capture you and you'll get chastised by them!"

"But, Eren..." he leaned closer and stared into his friend's eyes intently. "The outside world... It exists! This book is a fragment of what the outside world looks like. Would you like to waste your youth by sitting around inside this wall, Eren? Are you willing to be led blindly by this unanimity string of fucked up social structure for the rest of your life? We have been living like stupid cattle inside this wall for almost twenty three years! The future... Our future is waiting for us outside of this gigantic barrier..."

"Armin..." he sighed exasperatedly. This wasn't the first time that Armin had ever told him about his astonishing ideas of walking out from this walled city without getting a bullet hole on his forehead, flicking his middle finger to a bunch of over-enthusiastic government's "clowns" during the annual congregation in previous year, and succeeded in getting both of their earlobes pierced by Mikasa even though she was very hesitant to do so in the first place. Armin always had his ways to get what he wanted but Eren was uncertain if he agreed with his friend at this time. "Look, nobody likes to sit around and doing nothing inside this fucking wall. I know that. And I do appreciate your enthusiasm but we're both unemployed and broke right now. We don't even have any fucking great working skills if we are manage to get the hell out from here. We don't even know what's awaiting us out there. But, the thing is, they will kill us, Armin!" said Eren. "Just... Just like what they did with your parents... I-I don't think we can-"

"If you don't want to do it, it's fine," Armin closed the book and brushed off the dirt on the hardcover of the book before he stood up. "I won't let this injudicious social system taking over my unabridged way of life. The world war is over almost three years ago, Eren. But the King and the government still do not let us to make our way out from this wall. They are trying to throttle us with utopian socialism beliefs. It's so stupid!"

Eren frowned at the sight of gigantic clouds of dreary smokes risen from the factory's chimneys, sputtering the overcrowded town with grey ashes all over the place. The air was stagnant and overflowing with the smell of fresh baked breads and chemicals. He always thought that Armin was so fragile like a delicate, breakable porcelain doll but then again, he had such an unbreakable willpower of self independence and Eren was always always fascinated by his miraculous philosophies and his way of thinking. Armin never gave up, even when he had to fight those bullies at the back streets single-handedly before he and Mikasa came along to rescue him. He cried, he always cried each time the bullies took out on him because of his unconventional thoughts but he never backed down. He always had been the fearless one.

And Eren was always always put all his faith and hope on Armin.

Perhaps this could be an opportunity for both of them to see the sights of the unexplored borders of the outside world, mapping the paths with their own footprints and writing down their untold stories in the jotter every night. They probably could get killed on their way of escaping this suffocating wall but Armin was a smart young man. Armin never failed him.

"Okay, genius," Eren sat up, slung his toned arm around his best friend's shoulders. "What's your plan?"

[¹]Quoted by Thomas Jefferson

The fanart is credited to Bev-Nap on Devianart

This is an unexpected idea that I caught when I was writing a report about business ethical issues last year. It was supposed to be a very subjective, personal thought of my experience but I was thinking about writing a short story of Armin and Eren instead. I posted this short story on my Attack on Titan Amino page a couple of months ago and I have decided to post on my Tumblr account as well. 

As a teenager, I used to be so rebellious with my inner thoughts and dogmas. As a young adult, I am getting so curious about the outside world, the cultures, the people and the tickling sensation of snowflakes on my skin. So, the wall represents the constraints that I am currently encountered on my way to discover my own dreams, Armin is the depiction of my inner struggles and Eren signifies my anxiety.

Disclaimer: All the characters are rightfully belong to Isayama Hajime

[asleepinawell]

Shoot + snowboarding (chaos au would be 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼But no pressure)

I know nothing about snowboarding, so this turned into a team machine winter vacation that includes some snowboarding. Definitely set in chaos au a few weeks after the ending, though context isn’t really needed. This is mostly silly, but hopefully enjoyably so.

“This is aterrible idea.”

“No, letting Johnplan social events is a terrible idea. This is only a slightly riskyidea.”

Shaw sighed. Zoewasn’t wrong, but Shaw was still reserving the right to say ‘Itold you so’ when this all went to hell.

“There’s onlythree bedrooms.” Reese looked slightly uncomfortable.

Root regarded himcuriously from the couch in the lodge that Zoe had rented out fortheir weekend getaway. Was he worried he’d have to sleep on thecouch? Obviously she and Shaw would be sharing a room.

Shaw wandered intothe main room causally toting a shotgun under one arm.

“I took thebiggest room,” she said in a tone that dared someone to challengeher.

“No complaintshere.” John eyed the shotgun. “You expecting trouble?”

“Oh, this? Nah.Security precaution. And don’t think I didn’t see you stuff your bagof guns in the trunk earlier.”

“Always good tohave a plan B,” John muttered.

“Guess I shouldgo get my bags out of the car.” Root stood up slowly, only wincinga tiny bit. The bullet wound in her side was almost completely healednow, but it still ached sometimes, especially in the cold, and thesnow-covered mountain Zoe had brought them to wasn’t the best climatefor it.

“Already broughtthem in.” Shaw lightly pushed her back down onto the couch with onehand. “They’re in our room.”

Even though theylived together, Root still couldn’t avoid the delighted little smilefrom hearing Shaw call it ‘our room’.

Shaw took in herexpression and her eyes narrowed a little. She turned her suspiciousgaze on Reese, as if she thought he’d somehow made Root doubt thesleeping arrangements.

“I hope you’re asound sleeper, Reese, because Root…”

John fled.

“That was mean,”Root said, delighted. She didn’t think John had been implying anything (more likely he’d been concerned about his own sleepingoptions and brooding out loud), but it was still entertaining towatch Shaw mess with him.

“He’ll live.”Shaw placed the shotgun on the polished wood coffee table between thecouch and the huge fireplace and then sat down next to Root. “Longdrive.” There was almost a question in her words.

“Was it? I didn’treally notice.” Her whole side was stiff and achy and she sort ofwanted some painkillers and a nap, but she wasn’t going to admit thatwith Shaw already hovering over her constantly. She wanted her to beable to stop worrying, no matter how endearing it was.

“Yeah, well I’mtired. We’ve got a few hours before Zoe drags us out to whatever thisfancy restaurant is. Gonna go take a nap.” She got up of the couch,but lingered there until Root stirred as well.

Root hid a smile asshe let Shaw give her a hand up. Shaw could be very bad at subtletysometimes, but it was sweet that she was trying.

“And take agoddamn painkiller. No one’s impressed by how tough you aren’t.”

So much forsubtlety.

“Why did I lether talk us into this?” Shaw blew on her hands, trying to get somefeeling back into them after being out in the cold. It was warminside the lodge, but she was frozen solid from shoveling the frontwalk (which had gotten covered in snow while they’d been at dinner).This had clearly been a terrible idea. Her only consolation was thatReese had looked equally frozen.

“Becausesometimes a weekend away is nice, especially now that we don’t haveto watch our backs constantly.” Root stuffed her spare cables backinto her bag. She’d been busy setting up cameras for the Machinewhile Shaw suffered outside.

“Hope you didn’tput any of those in Zoe or Reese’s rooms. You know, just in case.The Machine doesn’t need to see that.”

Root snorted.“She’s seen much worse, I promise you. But no, I didn’t.” Shecame over to where Shaw was sitting on the edge of the bed andreached down to take her hands between her own and rub them.

In the past, Shawwould have scowled, even if it was just for show, but lately she’dstopped bothering to act annoyed by the little gestures like this. Itwasn’t like she could give Root the wrong message when she’d alreadygiven her the right one. And Root’s hands were really warm.

“Regretting ourromantic winter getaway already?” Root asked, releasing her andgoing back to rummage around in her bag.

“Nothing romanticabout Reese snoring in the next room.” There was nothing romanticabout it at all, in her opinion (and Root’s tone had suggested shewasn’t being serious in the slightest about that part). Zoe hadsuggested they all get away from the city for a weekend, and whenShaw had waved the idea off (after all, she and Root had spentseveral months away from the city recently), Zoe had reasoned thatthis trip was an actual vacation rather than a recovery vacation.

And then she’d gonearound Shaw and suggested it to Root and Reese, both of whom had beenall for it, and Shaw had found herself outvoted.

But it had beenhard to be annoyed when Root had been so excited. Even now that theyofficially lived together, there was still a small but constant airof worry around Root, like she expected to wake up one day and findthat everything that mattered to her had been stolen away.

And she definitelydid seem to be enjoying herself, if their overly exciting dinner wasanything to go by. Some waiter at the restaurant had made the veryunfortunate decision to leer at them, and Root had somehow managed to‘accidentally’ light one leg of his pants on fire. The fire hadbeen put out fairly quickly (and the water jug Shaw had smashed overhim had probably done more damage overall), but Root had looked verypleased with herself.

“She says it’sgoing to keep snowing all night.” Root had finished fussing withher bag and was looking out the window at the winter landscape.

“Just great. Zoecan shovel this time. This was her damn idea.” It wasn’t like shecould make Root shovel snow while she was still recovering. Dishesand other small cleaning chores, yes. Shoveling, no. (Though Shaw hadfound that it was more efficient to not let Root attempt toclean. She often just made it worse).

She got up to joinRoot at the window and look out at the woods outside, wrapped in thehush of the falling snow.

“How’s Beardoing?” she asked after a few quiet minutes of watching in silence.

“Sleeping. Leewore him out in the park earlier.”

Having the Machineable to keep an eye on her dog was all the proof Shaw needed of howAI could benefit humanity.

“We should go tobed,” Root suggested at last. “Exciting day tomorrow.”

“Going to be solame.”

“We’ll see.”

“You just saythat because you got out of it on a technicality.” Though beingshot wasn’t really a technicality.

“Maybe you’lleven have fun.”

“I highly doubtit.”

“She looks likeshe’s enjoying herself.”

“I figured shewould, once she got out here.” Root held back a shiver. It wasfreezing out here, especially since she and Zoe were remaining on thesidelines and not running around like the other two.

Though Reese andShaw weren’t exactly running. The big hill next to the lodge hadturned into their own private winter sports arena at Zoe’sinsistence. Shaw had begrudgingly decided that a snowboard might becool enough to not tarnish her reputation as a badass, while Reesehad opted for skis in some misguided attempt to preserve his dignity.

Shaw had spent thefirst few attempts falling over a bunch and slipping around, but sheseemed to have gotten the hang of things now, her uncanny balanceassisting her greatly. Root knew even less about snowboarding thanShaw (who had attempted to learn from a few videos the Machine hadsupplied her with), but she could see the moments when things justclicked for Shaw and she figured out how to control her movements,shifting her weight to control her turn and then leaning into thehill to come to an almost-graceful stop.

Root smiled whenshe saw the little smirk on Shaw’s face; she looked quite pleasedwith herself (and also absolutely adorable all bundled up for thesnow).

Reese on the otherhand stood absolutely ramrod straight and didn’t seem to understandwhat the ski poles were for. His technique appeared to be to pointthe skis downhill and hope for the best. Root thought he might haveshut his eyes at least once.

“He’s trying sohard,” Root said. She wished she’d brought her phone to takepictures, but she did have a wireless camera planted in a tree nearbyso hopefully She was recording all this.

“I think he’sgetting a little better,” Zoe said, charitably.

“I thinkhe’s getting worse.” Root almost laughed when the Machine chimed into agree with her. Reese had been too cool for Her youtube tutorials.

Shaw kept pausingto watch Reese’s suffering with a nasty, satisfied grin. She evenlooked over to the little spot on the side of the hill where Root andZoe had taken up their post to include them in her enjoyment ofReese’s dilemma.

“I think theyboth needed this,” Zoe said. “After all the drama with Samaritanit wasn’t going to be an easy transition back to saving numbers oneby one. Sometimes you need to have uncomplicated fun.”

Root wouldn’t havecalled the look of terror on Reese’s face ‘having fun’, but ingeneral she agreed with Zoe. She was almost disappointed she couldn’tjoin in. Almost. The last thing she needed was for Shaw to talk theMachine into getting her a picture of Root falling on her face. Itwould have haunted her forever.

“What’s she upto?”

Root looked up tosee Shaw cutting a path across the slope that made it seem like shewas going to collide with Reese. At the last second she shifted herweight and avoided him (a mischievous smirk on her face), but Reese had already panicked and veeredwildly away in a desperate attempt to save himself.

“Such a brat,”Root said, fondly.

“He needs to slowdown.” Zoe sounded worried, and now that Root looked she noticedthat Reese was headed right towards them, distracted in his attemptsto get himself under control.

“Oh, shit.” Itwas all she had time to say before Reese fell over and tumbled acrossthe last few feet between them to crash straight into her.

Shaw sat down onthe couch next to the pile of blankets Root was ensconced under. Itwas slightly closer than she normally would have sat on her own, butshe hoped it would do for the apology Root had prevented her fromgiving earlier.

In the directaftermath of the ski incident, Root had stubbornly refused to befussed over, despite the fact she was obviously in pain and visiblyshivering from all the snow that had gotten under her clothes. Shawhad been left with no other choice than to grab her by her collar and dragher, complaining, up the hill to the lodge. Root had continued toprotest needing any special treatment the entire time Shaw ran a hotbath in the large tub. The protests had ended rather abruptly whenShaw had dumped her (still fully dressed except for her shoes andcoat) into the tub, brushed her hands off, and gone to find her somepainkillers.

When she came backinto the bathroom she found that in the five minutes it took for herto dig out the good painkillers from their bags, Root had not onlystripped out of her wet clothes, but somehow found a bottle of bubblebath and added a truly unnecessary amount to the tub. She’d alsoprocured an honest to god rubber duckie (which, upon inspection, shehad painted black with what smelled like a sharpie and put what wereprobably supposed to be blood stains around the beak), who wasapparently named Quack The Planet and who she was pushing through themaze of bubbles with one finger.

To Root’s credit,she managed to hold off on making a ‘fowl play’ joke for anentire minute.

Shaw had gone tosit on the edge of the tub, and attempted to figure out how to framean apology. Afterall, it had been her goofing around that had startedReese’s unfortunate trajectory into Root, and while Root had onlygotten a bruised shin, Shaw could tell that it had made thealmost-healed wound on her side hurt like hell.

Root had listenedattentively to a few seconds of Shaw awkwardly attempting to phrasean apology, before grabbing her and hauling her backwards into thetub. After she’d coughed up a lungful of bubble bath and restrainedherself from choking Root, Shaw had decided that negated her need foran apology.

She still couldn’thelp but hover a bit, even now with Root curled up on the couch withblankets and a mug of hot chocolate.

At the other end ofthe couch, Reese had his leg propped up on the coffee table, ankleswollen and several shades of red and blue (sprained, not broken,Shaw had determined). Shaw ignored all his dramatic groaning andpointed hints that she should be waiting on him since it wasapparently her fault he didn’t know how to ski.

“I should haveknown better than to assume any of you knew how to have a relaxingweekend,” Zoe commented from the armchair she was curled up in.

“I mean, no one’sdied.” Reese made it sound like this was an accomplishmentfor them, which, okay, maybe it was.

“You’re right,”Zoe reflected. “I should probably be grateful for small favors.”She was smiling, though.

Root (who had beenalmost nodding-off for the last few minutes) slowly slumped sidewaysonto Shaw (who quickly relieved her of her mug), already soundasleep.

“Did you drug heragain?” Reese asked, suspicious.

Zoe blinked.“Again?”

Shaw shook herhead. “Not this time.” The codeine probably was a factor, butmostly she suspected Root was just that exhausted.

Root didn’t wake upwhen Shaw carried her back to their bedroom (ignoring Reese and Zoe’ssmirks), and only stirred a little when Shaw put her down in bed. Shewas somewhat awake when Shaw came back from the bathroom, though,because she immediately shuffled over next to Shaw when she climbedunder the covers.

“You doing okay?”Shaw asked as she curled up around Root’s back. Root’s hair stillsmelled like that awful bubble bath.

“If I weren’t,you’d be the first to know.”

Shaw didn’t pressfurther; she didn’t like being fussed over either.

“I knew thiswhole trip was a terrible idea.”

Root laughedsoftly. “I don’t know, Sameen. Skiing mishaps aside, I think it’sgone quite well.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm.”

“Well, I guessthat’s okay then.”

It meant shewouldn’t get to say ‘I told you so’ to Zoe, but, with Root curledup warm and content against her, it didn’t seem like a big losssomehow.

(if you don’t understand why Root’s rubber duckie is named Quack The Planet, then you probably haven’t seen the 1995 cinema masterpiece Hackers and should remedy this immediately). 

[reyloshipkylorey]

Post- The Last Jedi Reylo Fanfic

POST-TLJ Fanfic

Hey guys so this is my first Reylo fanfic. It takes place after TLJ (obviously) and it would be like the first chapter or so of episode IX. I’m not sure if I’m going to write a full-flegded story, but who knows! I’m justing posting the chapters here on my page because I don’t have an AO3 account.

Please repost and share! If you do, please give credit!

Comments and likes are always appreciated! :)

Without further adiue, I give you Reylo (most in Kylo’s POV ;))

Kylo gasped, waking up after a fit of adrenaline rushed to his heart. He looked around, taking in his surroundings frantically. He was just in his chambers, in his new palace on Baylor, a First Order alley planet in the Roctar system. He relaxed, taking a deep breath and remembered what he was thinking about before he fell asleep.

Rey.

Dammit, he ran a hand over his face. He missed another opportunity again. Last night, he attempted to catch Rey in the act. Lately in the last two weeks, she’s been appearing in his dreams. And  it wasn’t just him dreaming of her. She was using the Force Bond.

But it wasn’t something he wanted necessarily, and neither did she from her behavior in those dreams. She was stone-faced, looking around First Order bases and investigating Kylo’s thoughts. She wasn’t there to see him. No, she wanted information on his whereabouts, what he was doing, what he was thinking about. And what better time to sneak into his mind when he is asleep and will think a vision of her is only a dream.

Well, he quickly picked on that three days into her spying. He realized that she wasn’t a dream when he couldn’t control what happened to her in his dreams. Whenever he tried to get her to come closer to him or talk to him, she wouldn’t budge. She would just keep milling about as if she had a mind of her own.

And she certainly did.

If it was up to him, in his dreams, she wouldn’t be so cold or far away from him. She would be responsive to his presence and wouldn’t ignore him. They would talk, just the two of them, and they would touch hands as they once did before. Merely thinking about that night sent him into a reel of emotions... Not to mention, in his dreams, they would most likely be engaged in other intimate activities. Such activities that would involve more than just talking and the fragile connection of fingertips.

After Kylo had realized what she was doing, he wanted to throw her off somehow, make her uncertain about what she was doing. To do that, he’s been trying to randomize his sleep patterns. Take naps during the day to try and stay awake at night during the hours she would think him to be asleep. And when she finally entered his mind, he would actually be awake and he would confront her.

Confront? Actually, he wasn’t entirely sure what he would do.

He didn’t want to scare her off. Even though she was intruding on his thoughts, he didn’t want her to disappear again. Not like how she was for the last several months. It was too unbearable. The silence he heard when he was alone. He couldn’t locate her whereabouts through the Force or sense her. The thought of her out there and possibly meeting her again was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind.

Rey. Rey. Rey.

There would be random times of the day where he would tap into the Force Bond and call her name... to see if she would answer, call his name back, anything...

Some nights he considers her intrusions a blessing. Without seeing her every night, her face would have become a blur in his mind. He wouldn’t have been able to remember the exact lines and definitions of her face that made her Rey. During the months prior, he actually started to forget what her voice sounded like...

Kylo sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. He fell asleep too soon last night. He was so close to being up all night, to the high-probability he could have seen her while he was awake. Force, he really wanted to see her while he wasn’t dreaming. He wanted her to be standing there, right in front of him. He wondered how Rey managed to do it. To stay awake long enough into the night to do what she does.

The Rebellion must be familiar with what she is doing: using their Force Bond to get some kind of advantage over him and the First Order. How else would she explain the weird sleep patterns she must be having in order to get into his mind undetected. Kylo has noticed the odd looks the First Order higher-ups give him sometimes when he shows up exhausted, drained, or abruptly leaves in the middle of the day to go back home.

Speaking of, he had work to do. He looked to the clock on his nightstand.

12:36 PM.

Kylo swore to himself sharply and hauled himself out of bed and into the fresher. Although the last week’s nights’ sleep have been rough, he has never been this late to work. Hux will be sure to say something this time. Scold him possibly, if he had any gull left, for being hours late to attend to his responsibilities as Supreme Leader.

Rubbing his hands up and down his face to wake himself up as the water from the fresher beat down on his back, he felt his scar. The scar that Rey gave him almost half a year ago. It hadn’t completely settled into his face like an old, distance memory. It was still somewhat pink and raw-looking.

He continued to run his fingers over it, his mind flooding with memories of Rey and Starkiller Base. He looked into the mirror in the fresher.

She had fractured him. Physically and mentally. The scar stretched itself like a snake from his brow to his torso. Rey had cracked him into two. One side of him was Kylo Ren, and the other side was an old self he tried so hard to rid of. And then, he met her... and she gave him this reminder. Rey had awakened Beno Solo. She had found the inner depths of his mind with one swing of his grandfather’s lightsaber. And she didn’t even know such as side of him existed until they discovered their Force Bond.

Now, he was left with two sides that weren’t completely whole, each fighting for power over the other. Rey was right... He was conflicted. Always has been since he was young and Snoke invaded his mind. The confliction only took over when his uncle tried to kill him. He can still remember the fear, the bewilderment, and the betrayal. It had sent him running to the Dark Side.

Then, he heard of this girl, this scavenger, a no one from a junkyard plant in the far reaches of the galaxy. When his lieutenant spoke of a girl who helped a BB-unit and a First Order traitor escape Jakku aboard his father’s ship, he was immediately angry and intrigued at the same time. Who was she? Where did she come from?

She came from nowhere. Her parents were no ones. She wasn’t born of the Force like his grandfather. She didn’t even known she was capable of such power, and submitted herself to a life of scavenging and filth in hopes that her parents would return. little did she know they were dead in the ground on the very planet she had been living on for nearly a decade and a half.

But she was special. She was a no one and held a power many believe to be a gift only obtained by being born of a certain bloodline. She changed the rules of the Force with her very existence. Imagine what she could do if she reigned over the galaxy...

No time for that, unfortunately. Kylo stepped out of the fresher, dried off, got dressed and left. He took his TIE Silencer and rode across the planet, beyond the city. Although this was a First Order planet, Kylo wanted to keep operations from prying eyes or nosey businessmen. The base lies beyond the dusty orange canyons that line the horizon around Baylor’s grand city.

The base is well protected by the dimensions of the surrounding mountains. It allowed exterior defense to be easily built and placed in prime positions. The flat, silver outside of the establishment took up much ground space and continued to extend from every point. Tunnels branched from the ends and disappeared into the rocks. Cruisers and destroyers were constantly flooding in and out of the space.

Kylo had hoped after landing his ship, he could sneak his private office largely unnoticed. However, as he rode inside the hangar, he spotted General Hux and several other officials gathered on the balcony.

They were waiting for him.

He rolled his eyes at the inconvenience. This was not how he imagined this morning he would go. He strode quickly out of his ship and continued at that speed up to the balcony towards the awaiting group. Except, he continued past them to start the path to his office. He saw Hux open his mouth to speak. Hurried sets of footsteps sounded behind him, trying to keep up.

“Supreme Leader!” Hux called in that almost-cheerful way of his. Kylo’s fists clenched at his sides. “Supreme leader,” Hux ran to get to his side, but almost immediately fell back to Kylo’s long strides. Hux had to maintain an almost unhealthy type of speed walking. “Several ministers have been waiting for you. Your first meeting was to occur nearly five hours ago. Where have you been?”

“Busy,” he replied lowly.

“Fine then. No matter because they all left and said they would return tomorrow.”

Kylo didn’t respond as he didn’t feel the need to. He was steps away from reaching his office and his ability to shut Hux out.

“I also must inform you of the recent developments on the Rebellion.” Hux continued talking. Kylo’s interest peaked slightly at the mention of the enemy. Unless, the name ‘Rey’ was spoken, Hux remained without his full attention. “They’ve continued to visit many plants in many systems.”

“Trying to recruit allies I assume,” Kylo commented, stating the most obvious reason why the Rebellion would be making such rounds. He finally reached the door to his office and turned around to face Hux. He looked over Hux’s shoulder and found none of the other officials.

“I don’t think so, sir. They have not managed to gain any help in their cause.” Hux’s brow furrowed, squishing his red eyebrows together. Kylo almost sneered in disgust at the sight and at Hux’s flat, greased hair. “However, landowners and organizations from those planets have complained of missing slaves.”

Kylo nearly laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why should I care?”

“You see, sir, these slaves went missing after the Rebellion left.”

“If you’re implying that the Rebellion is stealing slaves, then go tell those wealthy half-wits to handle it themselves. Send their own forces and security on the Rebellion and get their own slaves back! I don’t care and I don’t have time to babysit their property! He was annoyed now. Never did he imagine that he, the Supreme Leader, would have to solve the problems of those who could not be less helpless.

“Understood, sir. Finally,” Hux began nervously, knowing that if he didn’t bring any other news that the Supreme Leader would actually want to concern himself with, he’d get it. “We believe we have located the planet the Rebellion has taken refuge on.”

Kylo uncrossed his arms and swallowed a string of frustrated insults. “Why the hell didn’t you start with that?”

Hux actually took the opportunity to smile. “I always save the best news for last,” he attempted a laugh, but immediately stopped at Kylo’s flat look and glare.

“Have you confirmed this location?”

“I’ve sent spies out there for confirmation. Although, it could take until tomorrow. The plant is in the Outer Rim territories, thousands of parsecs away from here.”

“You’ve failed to mention which planet it is.”

“Psyan. It is a relatively stable planet with a thriving ecosystem and economy for the small population that lives there.”

Of course, the Rebellion would go there, Kylo thought to himself. Rey had to have a say in where they went. No sand, no snow and no barren lands. A plant that resembled Takodana no less.

He didn’t say anything to Hux in response. Instead, he opened the door to his office and stepped inside. Hux tried to follow but Kylo pushed him back out with the Force, and slammed the door.

His office was sleek, the smooth surfaces of nearly everything in the room shone from the light that was coming in through the extremely long window that made up the back wall. Kylo��s wide V-shaped desk was placed right in front of the window.

He sat in the tall black leather chair that acted as his temporary throne. Tapping on the surface of his desk, it lit up and began listing everything that needed to be dealt with. Which was a lot. It gave him a deadly headache. Rubbing his temples, he shut off the commands with a frustrated sigh, and spun his chair around to face the window.

Kylo gazed upon just a piece of his empire. A little something he built from scratch. Down below, a new operation he created was taking place. A new weapon was being built. This weapon would not be another Death Star or Starkiller. It won’t even be another ship. The weapon will be something the Rebellion cannot outrun. Not this time. Kylo plans to get what he wants. Alive and unharmed.

Rey.

STICK AROUND FOR CHAPTER 2 TONIGHT (which is definitely more Reylo ;))

[spiderlingfromqueens]

Super Parker Bros: World 1

A/N: This is my first go at writing a fic after reading them for so long. At @blissfulparker ‘s encouragement, I finally moved it off of my “fic idea” google doc and onto the interwebs :D. I have been playing a bunch of super mario bros wii currently, and this is inspired by that. This is kind of set up as a slow-burn series right now, but we’ll see how it goes or if I decide to write more (I do have the whole thing outlined out). Also this is probably very poorly edited, so apologies in advance. It’ll be separated by the game’s worlds instead of chapters. Thanks for even looking in its direction :)

Summary: You and Peter Parker bond over playing Super Mario Bros.

🍄🍄🍄 🍄🍄🍄 🍄🍄🍄 🍄🍄🍄 🍄🍄🍄 🍄🍄🍄 🍄🍄🍄  

The rain poured down in sheets as you huddled with your classmates under the front entrance of Midtown High, waiting for it to slow down just a little so you could make the sprint to the subway station. It had already been nearly twenty minutes until school ended, and you were exhausted and ready for a post-school nap.

In fact, you were leaning against a wall and nearly dozing off when your chemistry lab partner, Peter Parker tapped on your shoulder from behind and startled you. “Uh.. hey y/n!” “Peter you scared me!” “I was wondering if you wanted to work on that lab report tonight since it is due in a couple days. Um, you could come over to my house if you want or I could come to yours, whatever works. I mean, if you want. If this rain will ever stop, that is.” Peter nervously chuckled.

You had lived in the same building as Peter for the past few years, since he recently moved in after the death of his Uncle. You took a mental check of who would be in your house- it was too early in the evening for your parents to be back from work, and your sister wouldn’t even notice your presence for a while, probably engrossed in a tv show or talking to friends. “Yeah Peter, you could come over to work on it now if you want.” You replied. “Ok sounds cool. It looks like the rain let up a little so maybe we should make a run for it now?”

Your heart rate picked up a little. Peter Parker was coming to your house. Sure, you had day-dreamed of the curly-haired brunette falling in love with you, and writing you poetry, or going stargazing with you, (professing his love during sunrise on a mountain, maybe?) but you’d always brushed it off as a harmless fleeting crush, like falling in love with a stranger on the subway. But again, you knew Peter, you’d gone to school with him for a long time, even if you never really had the chance to hang out. But why would he want to hang out with you? He was smart and pretty and you were just--

“Y/N!” Peter shouted, interrupting your brief nervous thoughts. “Let’s go! Run!”

You both broke into a sprint, aiming for the subway station one block away. Dramatically dodging umbrella-carrying pedestrians, bikes, and one particularly enthusiastic dog that you really wanted to stop and play with, you both chuckled as you finally made it to the safety of the station, slightly damp from the rain. You caught Peter’s eyes as you suddenly lost your train of thought- and finally turned around to see the subway train you needed careening off into the depths of the tunnel. “NO!” you exclaimed, exasperated. “Wait, was that the one we needed?” Seeing you nod sadly, Peter reassured you “There’ll be another soon, but at least we’re out of the rain.”

You nodded as you both sat down on a nearby bench, the proximity to Peter and the slight whiff of his cologne making your heart jump. You chided yourself,  there were no chances there for you, despite what your day-dreams always said.

Realizing you both had been sitting in silence for far too long, Peter broke the silence “Um, what do we still need to get done for the lab report?”

“I worked on the introduction a bit during lunch today, and I think we were pretty much done with the graphs and calculations and stuff in class, so all we need to get done today is the analysis and discussion.”

“And references. Don’t forget that Ms. M is a stickler for good citations.”

“Of course” you chuckled.

“What have you been doing for fun these days?” Peter asked to prevent another silence.

“Fun, what’s that?” You joked. “Between all of the calc tests and chem and physics labs I don’t even know what free time is anymore.”

“I feel that.”

“But I guess I did break out my old Super Mario Brothers game. I wanted to see if I could still beat it.”

“And did you?” Peter asked

“No!” You said, feigning frustration. “I’ve really lost my skills.” As Peter was about to reply, the train pulled up to the platform. “Oh come on Peter, let’s go!” You started to walk quickly to the train.

The train was packed to the brim with the first wave of rush hour travelers. You and Peter stood beside each other, sides pressed together, making your heart beat rapidly yet again.

“We should totally play Mario after we’re done with chem. I bet I can help you beat it.” Peter said confidently as his eyes caught your own. “If you want.” he quickly added nervously.

“Yeah sure. If we ever manage to get this lab done, though.”

The rest of the subway ride was filled with the conversations of strangers as you and Peter stood clutching the pole hoping not to fall into another person as the train navigated the tracks. You swore you caught Peter staring at you once or twice, but you tried your hardest to assure yourself that it was nothing. Don’t let your heart get ahead of your head.

The two of you walked up to your apartment, the rain outside having slowed to a gentle drizzle, and unlocked the front door.

You immediately headed for the kitchen where you pulled out a box of cookies, hoping they would help you feel less tired. You look questioningly at Peter, holding up the box to offer him some. Seeing him nod, you threw the box in his direction.

However, this seemed to take him by surprise- you noted his super fast reflexes as he grabbed the box just as it was about to hit the ground.

“Agh warn me next time!” Peter said sarcastically.

You both sat down at the kitchen table and began to get straight to work on chemistry. With both of you working on it together at the same time, it went much faster than you thought and in under an hour you had put the finishing touches on the lab report.

After closing your laptop, you turned to Peter and said “Super Mario time now, I guess?”, not wanting him to have to leave just yet.

Peter quickly stood up. “Yeah! I’m excited! I haven’t played this in a long time!”.

You both plopped down in front of the tv a little too close, arms brushing against each other as you started up the game. “I made a new save yesterday and I haven’t gotten that far into World 1.” You explained.

“Cool.” Peter responded. “It can be our save”.

Did he just say our? Did he just kinda make plans to play in the future? This is just like the beginning of one of those Netflix romances, maybe it’s finally happening. Your mind raced with excitement just as you found your character jumping into the trajectory of a Koopa.

“Nooo! You shouted.

Both you and Peter were so determined to finish the world that you played for hours, neglecting that dinner time had come and gone. Even with both your stomachs grumbling, you didn’t stop playing until Peter’s Aunt May nearly knocked down the door later that night demanding him to come eat and go to bed. “Oh but it’s lovely to see you Y/n!” she added on her way out. “I don’t nearly see you around the building enough anymore! You’re always so busy!”

“Bye Y/n! We’ll play more later!” Peter called from the hallway.

As May dragged Peter home, you quickly saved the game and turned off the television. In the darkness of the room, you sat thinking about what had just happened. You just spent hours with Peter Parker. You must be dreaming, he was just so sweet and funny. With crushes, you usually projected desirable attributes onto whoever it was, but Peter somehow defied expectation or dreams. Wait- no. Don’t call it a crush. Just a mild… uh… smush? As in not a full crush? Sure.

Regardless, you fell asleep that night with a head full of possibilities.

[booksbroadwaybbc]

Lets Transform Ourselves Day 20 "Rebirth" (Pics on /r/dailyprogression) via /r/selfimprovement

Lets Transform Ourselves Day 20 "Rebirth" (Pics on /r/dailyprogression)

Background information:

I'm a 20 year old Middle-eastern guy who's very figgity, impulsive and really only thinks about the short term benefits of everything. I used to be addicted to Gaming, but ever since i became 18 years old i decided to leave that part of me behind. I live in a lower-class home, we live off of welfare and I've had the fortune of being born with an above average-IQ which has led to me being able to go to university with a loan.

Last year 2017 December 17th I quit university, broke up with my girlfriend (whom i lived with for 4 months), ditched all my junky friends and moved back to my hometown.

So this is what I'll be doing every single day.

Waking up in the morning at 7:30 AM

Meditate for 10 minutes

Practise a skill/craft in my case Programming for 2 hours (not currently bec of holiday)

Walk for 2 hours per day

Do 60 Pushups + 240 Situps And Plank for 1 minute straight

Read a book (Currently : 4-Hour work week) for 2 Hours

Go cycling for 1 hour (not currently bec of holiday)

Be hygienic

Eat clean and track the calories that i'm taking

Log of 24th of August 2018 - Current time 00:00AM :

Guess who's back, once again sharing his log? Well... it's me. You know. Gara. Yeah Gara is my name, if you didn't knew this before you do know it now great fact right? Alright lets get this going, today was an absolutely amazing day and you'll know once you start reading the rest. I woke up at a very early time in the morning at about 7 AM, I didn't want to be woken up so quickly but it happened so ... Yeah.. I just went back to sleep and woke up again and this time at around 9 AM which was a good time to wake.

Once I got out of my bed I noticed my ankle that i bruised the day before was still hurting and I wasn't able to walk without feeling a bit of pain. I thought it would be wise to not go out today, my mother and siblings were going to the mountains of Tirana to hike. I wasn't feeling it, so I told them i didn't wanna go because of the suffering I experience when walking, and there's obviously the chance that the bruise will get worse or maybe even break my ankle since they'd walk on a mountain. I got shit for not going but in the end it was okay. So today I didn't walk for 2 hours obviously, it would've really killed my body. The bruise is because of all the walking I did previously, i walked 2 hours a day at a minimum for a month straight even before this transformation. I did notice a strong increase in appetite as well to eat proteïn foods and carbs, maybe it's because of my body wanting to heal the bruised ankle? who knows.

At around 12 PM I took a nap till 4 PM, i needed this because i hadn't slept good the past days due to jet lag and just absolutely ridiculous temperatures. This did me really well and my ankle felt less sore. Oh and I drank some Albanian Vodka before going to sleep, it costs 3 euro's for only half a litre which is incredible. In holland it'd cost you at least 10 euro's for the same amount. It also tasted better and didn't burn as much as dutch migrated Vodka. Now this wasn't the wisest decision ever, but i was very bored because I couldn't do anything really i was placed on my bed and that was it.

When I woke up I decided to hit up my customers, I had some orders pending and I made a shit ton of money about 0,5K worth of sales, which is just incredible I still can't believe that you can make so much money just by putting some effort into E-commerce. At some point around diner time I got really hungry, my family was still out in the mountains and I munched some bread with butter and cheese (7 pieces of bread), also drank shit tons of soft-drinks because the water here tastes like sewer water. It's a bad excuse since it's possible to buy good water in the store, i'm just too lazy to get it.

Yesterday I was really upset about not being able to do my routines and just skipping entire parts of what i want to be. Today I made a come back and did most of the things that I was supposed to do. For starters I tried doing push-ups, I did about 15 before my ankle just gave up and started hurting a lot. So push-ups weren't going to be it today, and I started doing my sit-ups which worked perfectly fine since there's no legs or ankle movement incorporated really. I did the 240 sit-ups with a bit of struggle and after that I also did the difficult part of the whole exercise which is : Planking. It's incredible how planking an exercise so simple looking can be so hard to perform. I did the planking for 1 minute and it has gotten a lot easier over the last few days that I've been doing it.

Surprisingly enough I had a lot of orders coming in on my E-commerce website, so I was busy with that after the exercise. I really wanted to walk outside, do my 2 hour walk but I couldn't do that obviously which sort of got me down... I started a meditation session and did that for 10 minutes. I hadn't done it in ages and it felt like a fresh breath of air. Just cleansing the mind and letting my spirit heal, so I can endure more suffering and stress and overcome anxiety. I've finished my basic meditation pack that comes with headspace and the next pack is called "motivation" so it's definitely going to be different. We'll see what it's all about soon enough :)

Now I also wanted to go reading, and this time I actually did it. at 10 PM when my family was already back I told my brother (10 year old) to pack my bags and luggage and i'd let him go on my laptop for 1 hour. Surprise surprise he actually packed it all neatly and clean, then i let him go on the laptop patted his head and went reading. I went to the living room of our appartment and closed the door to be able to completely focus on my book "4-hour workweek" by Tim Ferris. This time around I managed to read from page 80 to 100, which is a lot better than 0 pages. I'm very proud that I managed to do this despite the many distractions that were around me. This time I learnt about how to improve your habits and efficiency + effectivity. Perfection is not about adding stuff to increase somethings value, but it's all about not being able to reduce things because it's so perfect. I learnt that "elimination" is key to making a habit more powerful and effective. Other than that The book is getting really interesting and the stuff that I'm learning is very applicable in real life which is just great.

Now guys I managed to do almost everything that I wanted to do other than the 2 hour walk, which is a tragedy since my ankle is bruised. I will be able to walk properly again soon, so it won't be a big problem. I hope you guys like to read my posts and if you do please leave behind feedback, it's greatly appreciated :) Ciao !

Pictures per usual are on r/dailyprogression

​

We're all going to fuckin' make it, it's not about having money or being strong and muscular. It's about believing in yourself, having the spirit and not giving up when times are tough, fuck mediocrity you're better than that you have always been better than that... All this time... You just couldn't see it.

Thank you for reading.

Submitted August 25, 2018 at 02:01AM by AttackPrince via reddit https://ift.tt/2o9w2vO

[harneyforhope]

Father’s Day Thoughts

Thought I would post this blog in honor of Father's Day- it is a bit long, but a Top 10 list on things that can help you do something interesting to shake your life up in a good way- especially if you are a dad trying to keep up with kids who growing and getting smarter at an alarming rate. Hope you will enjoy...

Since the moment I let people know I was doing Haymakers for Hope and since the conclusion of the journey, I have gotten a lot of comments from people that are usually either “I would love to do something like that”, or “I could never do something like that”. I have a few thoughts to share that focus on taking on a big challenge and getting out of your routine and comfort zone. Whatever “something like that” is for you- it could be open mic comedy or climbing a mountain, the point is that you should do it and you (almost) definitely can do it.

Here are my thoughts, Top-10 style, on some of the critical things to taking on a new big thing, which are by no means an exhaustive or definitive list- they just stood out to me when reflecting on my journey on the things that made my experience so worthwhile. My thoughts are pretty centric to a parent of young kids- really to being a dad (I feel like taking on a big challenge for a mom is just item #87 on her to-do list that she crushes without much fanfare…), but hopefully anyone can glean some insights and, hopefully, will pursue something big.

0. Take Control of Your Health. This is #0 because, as the saying goes, you have nothing without your health. True saying. For me it was a laundry list of issues from my weight, aches and pains, fatigue.. . Once I took proactive steps to identify issues, and removed plausible deniability on certain culprits, it made all the difference. I knew the issues and the solutions- at that point addressing them was either a priority for me or it was not. Everything was very interconnected, more than I ever could have guessed, and resolving/improving the issues put me in the position to consider taking on a challenge. This is not applicable only for a big, physical challenge either- anything that takes a significant time commitment, and is out of your comfort zone, takes mental and physical resources. You need to be sleeping better and thinking more clearly, at a minimum, to add big items to your life. So whatever issue may be holding you back, take this step. If you take this step and do nothing else, then you are way ahead of the game.

1. Make Sure You Have Support. If you are taking on a big challenge, then you will need support from the biggest components of your life. I was very fortunate to have incredible support from my family, immediate and extended, and my company, TwinFocus, who did not just tolerate my efforts but were proactive contributors towards my efforts. What’s great is that this is a two-way street- the people who spend the most time with me get the benefit of a healthier, happier, and grateful Patrick. On that note, if you have someone in your life taking on a challenge- support them, you will be glad you did and they will remember it. On the flip side, absent the timing being terrible or other extenuating circumstances, if the people around you won’t support you- why not? Just like addressing your health, make sure you have healthy relationships with the people you spend the most time with.

2. Get out of Your Comfort Zone. This is about doing something new, ideally something you have wanted to try but have not. There is a reason you are drawn to this activity, so take a chance and figure out why that is. You can always go for a new personal record or make a comeback in something you have excelled at. Having to learn the most basic, introductory steps of something is humbling, but also energizing when you start building on the fundamentals and put things together. You exercise new physical and mental muscles. I found it particularly helpful as a parent of young kids who are learning new things every day, to be reminded that learning new things is hard. Putting on my wraps, getting in my stance, throwing a jab.. .the most basic stuff in boxing, I am still learning about. I realized how quickly my kids are actually picking things up. I think I have more thoughts about this experience as it relates to parenting that will follow.

3. Define the Objective. You have decided to take the leap- congrats! Now what is a good outcome for you? Be ambitious within reason and adjust accordingly. You may have a hidden talent or maybe it is much harder than you thought. Either scenario is great. I wanted to raise a lot of money and awareness for the fight against cancer, break through on some health and conditioning goals and win a boxing match. Two out of three ain’t bad…Haymakers created an incredible infrastructure for these objectives. You may do something similarly established, but if not, understand why you are doing it and what you want to achieve.

4. Get A Manageable Core Routine (and then push it). Put yourself in a position to achieve your objectives by scheduling consistent blocks of time that you can dedicate to each week- then build around them with additional work that can be more flexible based on your schedule. You’ll have some late nights and early mornings. You will miss time with friends and family. That is the point- if you don’t miss anything then you aren’t working hard enough. This goes for your diet as well, if that is a component of your challenge. I knew I was going to Digg Inn for lunch 4X a week. Have 80% of the time and activities you need booked into a routine. If you have that core time figured out than the rest can be optimization. If the kids have soccer, go to that and run when they are napping.

5. Roll With the Punches. The only thing you can guarantee about your routine is that it will be blown up on occasion. You will have sick kids (who get you sick), work travel, family holidays... Being a good partner and parent, handling your business- those are the few things that should take priority over this endeavor. So embrace the departure from your routine. Some of the coolest parts of my experience were the “departures”, such as training internationally on work travel. Do I look back now and wish I missed parent-teacher conferences to train, or that I avoided my kids when they were sick? Not even for a second. Make up the time later. Whatever you are training for certainly won’t follow a script, so being too rigid will only hurt you.

6. Involve Your Spouse and Kids. It’s more fun, more practical, more inspiring.. If you are trying to achieve something that you really want/need to silo yourself for and not include the most important people in your life, then this is the wrong write-up for you. My family would workout with me, cheer me on, help with all the extra logistical stuff. Incorporating them always was a reminder of why I was taking on the challenge- to wind up a better version of myself.

7. Inspiration Is Everywhere-Use It. No matter what you do it will be hard, but there will be sources of inspiration to draw from. Look for them and use them. Boxing in support of KO’ing Cancer left me inspired every day by people wishing me luck and supporting me. I learned some boxing history and about some of the colorful characters. While your journey will be unique – you won’t be the first to make it, so embrace being a part of something bigger than you.

8. Chronicle The Journey. We have incredible technology that provides us, in the palm of our hands, similar resources to a news truck from not too long ago. Take pictures and videos, capture your thoughts and write them down throughout the process. Maybe you will do lots more adventurous, challenging things - but this will be the one that kicked it off and you will be glad you were diligently tracking it. If you are one and done, then you can remind the kids (and yourself) that you weren’t always so boring…

9. You Have Done It- Now what? Despite being the owner of an 0-1 record with USA Boxing, I had an incredible journey, topped off with a once in a lifetime fight night experience. Now what? Well, I’ll spend some extra time with my family to start. Maybe cheat on the diet a little as well. The benefit to making sacrifices is that you can think about what you really missed when you dedicated all that extra time to the challenge and what you didn’t. Allocate more time to the stuff you missed and a lot less to the stuff you didn’t. I’ll bet the stuff you missed is more meaningful than the stuff you didn’t. I missed playing with my kids after work a lot more than happy hour. There is no need to stop the challenge activity either- I’ll keep up with the boxing. Being lighter and in shape will allow for some other things too- as I mentioned you can always go for a personal record or make a comeback. Now you can do it with new skills, perspective, and confidence.

10. Be Thankful. Whatever you choose to do, it’s a choice. Be grateful you can make it. It means you are healthy and have support all around you. You will make new friends and reconnect with old friends. You will learn new skills. You will have triumphs and defeats (yes, even be thankful for the defeats- if it stings you know you still have some heart...) Taking risks and testing yourself cuts through the BS in your life- the experience will force you to prioritize all the discretionary things that come your way and renew and enhance your appreciation for all the core things in your life - and that is the point.

Haymakers for Hope TwinFocus Capital Partners, LLC The Play Ball Foundation Alethea Harney

[rusticrevivals]

In the dead of winter, and especially when you live as self-sufficiently as possible, there aren’t a lot of reasons to leave the farm.  And with the amount of snow-storms the Maritimes have had this year, and the higher-than-average accumulation in northern New Brunswick, travelling isn’t always possible even when you DO need to go into a town because your library books are due or there’s a doctor’s appointment.

As I haven’t had an overnight away since coming here last May, and with both Valentines and my birthday coming up, we decided ONE night away (if Smitty the nerve-riddled rescue dog would allow it) was deserved, at the very least!

We had noticed that in one of the nearby towns (all our towns are about equal distance from us – 40-45 minutes!) there were posters up everywhere for a Masquerade Ball this past Saturday.  Now, this just seemed so unlikely in Boonesville, Appalachia,  (most social events centre around church, hockey, cards, or if there ARE dances, they are country and western ones for the seniors, over at The Music Ranch, where ole Harley tunes up his fiddle-players every week!) so we were quite excited to see what this Masquerade Ball was all about. Thus, since we had also been wanting to see inside the eccentric Castle Inn in Perth-Andover, and because I was a guest at the Saddle Club meeting down there on Sunday, we made arrangements for a neighbour to spend Saturday night upstairs in Mom’s suite (she’s in Florida with her Aunt Jane to get away from the last ravages of winter here). So we gave the keys to ‘our castle’ to Zeb, and we packed up and went.  Twenty-four whole hours away from the farm!

This is the poster that started it all:

Perth-Andover is a lovely town bordering on Maine, and with the Tobique River running through it and a Maliseet First Nations Tribe with a reservation on one end.  Upon arriving in town we went for lunch at our neighbour’s sister’s bistro. It’s a lovely little spot, always decorated for the occasions, and facing out onto the river, reminding me very much of all the little cafes in the national park town of East Glacier, where I lived in Montana.

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The photo across the river is of a large building that was once the courthouse — more on this later, but the town is full of more historic homes than you can imagine, very “New Englandish” but with the kind of large early Victorian homes and architecture that remind me of what I envisioned as a youngster to be Nancy Drew’s hometown of Riverside in New York, along the Hudson …Visitors down further south in Fredericton will also enjoy many of these types along the Saint John river there:

      above, Richard, at our back table at the Riverfront Bistro,  whose owner grew up next door to us in the hills of New Denmark… even though Perth is 45 minutes from Blue Belldon Farm, you’re still liable to know nearly everyone you run into! see Mary’s’ Bakery, below!

  Richard and I had a lovely luncheon at the Riverfront Bistro, but we forewent Shirley and Charles’ decadent desserts because I wanted to enjoy our Castle dessert later that night, while cosied up at the fireplace I’d seen photos of!  So we went next door into Mary’s Bakery for a muffin instead.  (I’ll just do one of my typical Facebook rants here – BUY LOCAL!   Although Perth has the usual Tim Horton’s (which drive me nuts anyway, but don’t get me started on all the reasons why on that one!) and Subways, WE make sure the lovely downtown of any of our 3 towns have our business instead, and I wish more people would be considerate of the small-town shop-owner in this way.)  Although I have recently done a LOT of publicity for the Valley Horse and Saddle Club, trying to help them plan of series of clinics for  this season, as well as some theory nights, I was disappointed to learn (as Mary is on the board of Directors for the club) that the meeting was postponed on Sunday. So, there went the first big disappointment of our special weekend plans!  (I WAS boosted to find that the editor of the local Blackfly Gazette, which I will be mentioning later as well, HAD kindly and free of charge put in both the ad I’d mocked up as well as the article I’d suggested about the club’s efforts to build their membership and activities. Thank you, Stephanie! More later…)

Below, Richard entering Mary’s Bakery, with actual photos of the Saddle Club activities on her walls, and some of her family and friends, too- yup, that’s how small town and rural this part of New Brunswick is!  While some  in large cities worry about posting photos of their children or grandchildren ANYWHERE for fear of preying eyes, folks in these parts proudly display their kiddies on the walls of their shops! 

      Below, both the Riverside Bistro and Mary’s Bake Shop, all decorated for Valentines!

    We then climbed the mountain to the castle. This is what it looked like part-way up:

The Castle was built in the 1930s (when most others were struggling financially) as a summer home in the then very-touristy Perth-Andover. It was designed to replicate an even larger mansion that the family’s friends owned on Long Island.

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Above, two old geeks who don’t get out much, attempt a ‘selfie’.  The icicles hanging from the roof of the inn were GORGEOUS! The river rock was collected from both the Tobique and adjoining Saint John rivers.

Upon registering, we discovered our second disappointment of the barely-started weekend:  the restaurant was CLOSED for the months of Jan. and Feb.  Despite the Castle, with its spa, pool and jacuzzis in most rooms being a romantic attraction for the month of February, it seems to me – the place was on skeleton staff and there were only the two of us and one family of 4 staying there!  Thus, Richard was proud to be given the actual Keys to the Castle, as we told them we’d be out later!  Here he is, entering via the keys to the place:

  Although bitterly disappointed that we wouldn’t be having the romantic cozy dinner right within the confines of the inn, and huddled up to the fireplace I’d seen photos of, with a glorious mahogany mantle and bookshelves, I still thought our room was pretty and the jacuzzi was exactly what my old legs and feet needed after 9 months of rugged moving, gardening, harvesting, renovating and entertaining! Also, Smokey the purr-ball was happy to greet me and have a cuddle in the lounge.

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  After my bath and reading for a bit, we went exploring the basically-closed inn.  I was disappointed that while the pool was open, the big hot tub was also shut-up for the season. I’d been looking forward to some serious relaxing in there as well, and I do think the manager should have told us what parts of the inn WOULD be closed when I called to make the reservations!  Alas!  Here are some photos of the historic architecture and SOME of the offerings the Castle Inn has to offer – when IN SEASON, anyway!

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smokey

fire in lounge

dining room that SHOULD have been opened

painting of the castle

conservatory for breakfast

pool, hot-tub (latter not open)

Smokey welcomes us

the turret staircase, built for the owner’s daughter to walk down on the day of her wedding – he started building it the day she was born!

After a nap and some more reading, we began to get ready for the Masquerade Ball, which, as you may have noticed on the poster above, said “Formal Wear is Encouraged…”  I couldn’t find my old dressage tails, but I did have my dressage top hat for Richard, and a ‘soldier’s’ suit jacket I thought would look especially dazzling.  I spent some time making our masks as well, because I gave away most of my costume collection from various drama-teaching tickle trunks when we moved out here.  I curled and wound up my hair, and got out a fan and shawl, and we took another (better) selfie:

  I told Richard that I wasn’t going to remind him of how to waltz, as it would jinx it and the ‘ball’ wouldn’t have any good waltzing music.  But he did request a few steps be taught, and thus, we jinxed it as I knew we would.  When we arrived at the venue, (3/4 of an hour late, as we thought we were being ‘fashionable’) the parking lot was still primarily empty, and we could hear (gulp) rap beats and see flashing disco lights .  As we entered, we had to fight our way past smokers on the porch who were wearing camouflage and baseball caps, and spitting into the snow drift off the railing on which they leaned.  This, of course, did not bode well, but I still held out some hope, and was relieved to see that the 3 or 4 teens behind the counter who welcomed us were wearing somewhat dressy attire and had masks on.  ( I later learned, bless ’em, that these were the 4 19 year-olds who’d organized the whole thing, one of them being a VERY gay  young fellow who must have struggled all his life to find a niche in these rugged rural mountains, and thought he’d help arrange this dance!)  At the front counter was also a table full of beautiful masks which we laid out for attendees to wear if they’d forgotten their own.  I thought all of this was a good sign at the time, but though it was now nearly 10 o’clock, when we entered the dance hall (full of white-covered, rose-petal-strewn tables and seating for about 200) there was only 1 table at the back full of already-drunk ,20-somethings wearing, if they were male, jeans that fell about their cracks, with punk chains intertwined through various orifices and, if they were female, jeans so tight, regardless of their shapes, that you could SEE their buttock cracks anyway! All had on sweatshirts with various beer slogans.  No other tables had ANYONE at them, save one near the front with a couple in their 60s who HAD, it seemed, made an attempt to dress up and wear masks.  We later figured out they were the supportive grandparents of one of the girls who’d helped organize the ‘ball’!  We sat at the table right behind them and awaited more attendees…

The music at first, was horrifying – just recorded ‘songs’ (mostly rap) at the requisite full blaring volume with the only two words we could make out of the lyrics being “SEX” and occasionally “BITCH”.  At least 3 long numbers passed like this, where no one danced, but a few of the ‘kids’ came and ground their hips about for about 20 seconds here and there…

Still, no one else came into the hall, and only the back table, and the 4 of us at the front were sitting in the hall at all… but at least the music changed to a good variety of songs from the ’70s and ’80s. A few pieces Richard and I might actually have danced to HAD THEIR BEEN ANOTHER SOUL ON THE DANCE FLOOR.  But we could imagine what that table of drunks at the back would do if we got up and started sashaying our way around to “Jack and Diane” …

Then, around 10:45, some more people DID start to come in – first, a couple both wearing cammos, with matching baseball caps.  Then, a couple of ‘good-ole-boys’, weighing in at about 350 pounds each, and with ripped jeans (NOT ripped by Abercrombie and Fitch, either!)  Next came a handful of farm-boys who, as Richard said, had just come in from ‘sloppin’ the hogs’.  They had on tall and very clunky rubber boots, not the stylish slim-fitting type of Wellingtons we often wore in England.  More mud on them than snow.  They did not sit at any tables, but hung around the door. I suggested to Richard that I might want to take a photo of them all there, and he said ‘Fine, if you’d like to see me get beaten to a pulp and taken to the hospital with this mask punched into my cheekbones…’

Thus, we have this illustration:

  We did not stay long after this last group came in, but I did hear the next day when we stopped for lunch on the way home, that the young organizers had been SOOOO disappointed, and so were we!  For them, as well as for ourselves.  Just goes to show that when you try to introduce something new to a rural area, it is NOT met with positive results.  Rural people do NOT like to try anything new, nor go out of their comfort zone in any way.  I know this, as I’ve been a tomboy and country person my whole life.  But I am ALSO a person who loves history, the arts, culture and, while a tomboy and home-body at heart, I do like to dress up and get out once in a while.  This night was NOT worth it.

We’d ended up having overly-spicy pizza in our room instead of a romantic meal in a historic dining area by a fireplace, and we’d ended up dressing up for a Valentines dance where we didn’t dance and no one else came in dress code – or really, even CAME!  We left, feeling quite gutted that our  brief weekend was turning out so askew, although we COULD see the humour in the “Waltzing Wellie-wearers”.

Trying to make the day not an entire waste, Richard suggested we make use of the pool and go for a swim.  Being a tomboy, and one who has mostly worn breeches and boots or blue jeans most of the summer months, rather than shorts or swim-suits, I do NOT like the water much.  But Richard went to test the water and said it was VERY warm.

  I went in up to my waist.  It was NOT warm.  I got out.

However, Richard did enjoy himself briefly with a quick trip down the water-slide (shown below) and 10 minutes in the steam-room (not allowed to show)…

Our room’s view was very pretty, right at the end of the castle, partly dug in to a hillside, and there was a beautiful full moon. It should have been the perfect Valentines’ get-away, really, had all gone according to plan.  Anyway, the moon was there:

The last thing I was looking forward to that night was SNL. As we have no television at the farm, I wanted to see Alex Baldwin host Saturday Night, and LIVE, for once, instead of via youtube feeds, RIP that insane Twitler/Humpty Trumpty to shreds. I did catch Melissa’s Sean Spicer, but fell asleep before Alex Baldwin came on in the People’s Court skit. So that ended all my exciting forays into “Fun Off the Farm” for THAT day! We are pathetic!

  The next day I did enjoy another jacuzzi in our bathtub, and Richard brought me a bagel and strawberry from downstairs, so that was romantic.  He apparently actually TOASTED the bagel himself, though why he can’t manage the toaster at home, I’m not sure….

Then, as the Saddle Club meeting was postponed, we headed for home.   I’d like to say a little something about organizing things of a rural nature, here.  Most readers will know I ran the Carlisle Country Craft and Old-fashioned Market Mercantile for years in Ontario.  It SHOULD have had more than 500 people attend it over the two days each summer, but alas, it was never to be more, despite moving to a busier location in the 3rd year.  Everyone also knows that despite constant and on-going publicity, the Rural Creators’ Collective shop never garnered the kind of attention I felt it deserved.  And here in N.B., things don’t seem much different. There is an artists’ collective shop in Perth as well, but though it said in the Blackfly Gazette that THEY were going to be open Sunday morning, we went by and they were not….  likewise, despite two weeks of work on publicity for the Saddle Club, est. in 1972 and inc. in 1982,  (-in less than a week I helped get their  FB page followers from 47 to 108!, AND had the following Blackfly Gazette articles published).  Yet, rather than going along with this advertising momentum and hopefully picking up more members with the publicity including the treasure hunt and prizes I was offering, they unceremoniously ‘postpone’ the advertised meeting, (they also did the same thing for the January meeting!)  with no reason given or any attempt to just move it elsewhere. ( I also attended ANOTHER meeting this past week here in New Denmark — where yours truly, Chip the Tomboy who has never worn nail-polish, rarely worn a dress or make-up, and who buzz-cuts own hair with nail scissors, was DELEGATED  to organize the Danish FOUNDERS’ DAY BEAUTY PAGEANT this spring! Another bit of hilarious irony that will have to wait for another blog posting. I don’t even BELIEVE in pageants, but it is part of their tradition, and I do believe in THAT). Some of you may know of the Christmas church choir disappointments Richard and I suffered this past holiday as well. So –  like the lasses (and one lad) who organized the Masquerade Ball and decorated the dance hall so beautifully – did I mention the amazing job of streamers, curtains, hearts, cut-outs, balloons and ribbons all arced over beams of the ceiling? – I am very discouraged these days with how no one in rural communities sees the need to EVER change, or listen to others’ fresh ideas, or embrace a new event or to use publicity to their own benefit!  This coming weekend we are holding a Games Night at the farm.  Out of 15 couples invited, only 2 have responded that they’d like to come, and they only want to play Scrabble, despite several other games being offered.   It’s winter in the rural valley, folks.  GET OUT OF THE RURAL RUT and try something new!  If it’s not offered FOR you, try organizing it YOURSELVES (doesn’t mean anyone will come, but at least you’ve tried!)

Now, about this fabulous Blackfly Gazette out of Perth.  It’s run by Stephanie Kelley (an incomer from Florida, who is proof that a new idea in a rural area CAN work if you keep plugging away) and Jonathan Gagnon.  Ever since we arrived here in May, I’ve been picking up this great little local paper wherever I see it, as it is FULL of fun verses, editorials, articles on rural living, and especially, a great directory for events going on in the big valley in which we now reside!  For someone new to the province and living self-sufficiently as we are trying to do, it’s the perfect balance of variety and humour about this area and the resources at hand.

Here are some examples of the last two issues, articles I particularly love as they are so in-keeping with the area:

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  From the Bistro window, remember, I took a photo across the Tobique River to the other side of the town, where the beautiful old courthouse stands.  The Blackfly did an article on this this week, and I feel VERY strongly about it, and must quote part of Stephanie’s own writing here, as many of you will recognize that these are similar to my own words, which I’ve reiterated time and time again in many rants… Stephanie is a little more eloquent and a little less angry than I am, but nonetheless, the message is the same:

“The Old Courthouse is a building that should be a showcase for our historic downtown with an art gallery, a  tea room, boutiques. It could become a destination business, the kind of place that draws visitors in to visit from out of town. We need more of these places, businesses that people get off the highway and come into the village to see what’s going on. This is why arts and crafts and good restaurants that are INDEPENDENT AND SERVE GREAT FOOD, not corporate junk, can help to turn a village into a tourist destination….” She then goes on to give several examples and some ideas for what could be done with the lovely old building, and ends by saying these sentences, very near and dear to my own heart: “This may all sound like pie in the sky dreaming, but we are at a cross-roads in time, and there is truly a battle going on for our minds and souls. Do you want to play the Matrix Game, where it’s all about consumption of cheap stuff and where ‘he who dies with the most toys wins’? In the end, the communities and their people that survive and thrive will be those that are LOCALLY BASED, with local production of goods, services and especially food.”

So there, to all of you who didn’t go to the Valentines’ Masquerade Ball.  So there, to those that don’t book yourself and your sweetheart into an amazing Castle Inn, so that they  DON’T actually have to SHUT DOWN in the most romantic of seasons! So there, to all of you we saw going in to Tim Hortons and Subway (a whole hockey team!?) as we drove out of the lovely town yesterday.  So THERE to those of you who don’t appreciate the good work of publicity and organization others do FOR you, whilst you just sit on your laurels and complain (or  postpone/cancel). And a final So There, to those who could have made a rural  pioneer art show and shop, full of eco-friendly local artisans actually MAKE A GO OF IT! (Not TOO bitter about all of that, still, NOPE!)

This is what Stephanie and Jonathan’s Blackfly Gazette did for the Valley Horse and Saddle Club this issue, JUST BECAUSE I  ASKED.  God Bless ‘Em!  And I’m going to make sure they get all the attention they deserve, and that I can bring to that great little paper for years to come!

    She even gave my coaching at the clinics and Rustic Revivals (above) a little plug for free, which  is greatly appreciated.  I want to do the same for them, even if the rest of the club never mentions these efforts!  Thank you, Blackfly Gazette!

And, just as a post-script to our 24 hours away from the farm, which ended in so much disappointment… that damn dog REFUSED to go out of the house for Zeb. Flatly, stubbornly refused.  The poor kid tried everything he could within safety confines we’d structured for him (Smitty DOES bite, as he’s always so anxious).  So he went a full 24 hours without going outside to do his business (he didn’t go inside either!) and thus also never got fed, as the kibble was meant to be put in his bowl ONLY when he was safely out of the house!)

So, what with that issue, and all the others, I doubt very much if my long-fought-for ‘romantic weekend away’ (which I’ve actually been asking for at Christmases and birthdays for the last THREE years) is likely to happen again any time soon.

Not to mention, come spring, we hope to have draft horse,  dairy goat and laying hens to add to the roster of “animals that need looking after!”

Thanks a whole heap of pig-manure, you moose-hunting/pig-slopping dance-goers!

  Keys to the Castle and Waltzes in Wellies In the dead of winter, and especially when you live as self-sufficiently as possible, there aren't a lot of reasons to leave the farm.