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sor-vette · 2 years

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#12.5 Jungkook and the Meaning of “Oh”

“It’s a refurbished student housing,” you explain as they trail after you like ducks in a row. Even if they don’t understand what you’re saying, they seem to be clinging to every word. Wherever you look there’s always at least one pair of doe eyes staring expectantly back at you a.k.a. what do you do when you open your doors and find a certain retired boyband for some reason wants to move in

▶ type: ot7 x fem! reader (poly)

▶ word count: 5.0k

▶ series’ masterlist

▶ other works

▶ a/n: Looks at pictures of fetus Jungkook *does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes* This will have themes of coming to terms with one's sexuality and a cliffhanger. No fancy picture headers because only 10 photos allowed per post :(

Too many hours to count until move-in (but 2014)

“Weather forecasters warn of a thunderstorm descending upon Seoul and urge citizens to remain home and avoid travelling if possible.”

Jungkook grit his teeth harder and resisted the wind that was trying to propel him across the country, putting all of his 17-year-old body mass against the raging storm. The road was not easy but he had decided to see it through. There was no one around. No one with sanity would venture into such conditions but Jungkook was not just anyone. He had someone’s else's heart in his chest and he had to know why.

When he reaches Daehangno, it’s late in the evening and the wind is accompanied by pelting rain and thunderstorm that cracks right above his head.

He finds the small, neon sign of an eye enclosed in a circle and he punts his entire soul on those doors.

“Just, please, explain to me, please!”

The woman who opens them is greying, wrinkled as a blooming rose but there are many decades behind her eyes, Jungkook even thinks maybe centuries.

He bows, because he’s a polite boy, and spitting out rainwater, he yells over the thunder.

“Please, tell me, I’m not crazy.”

The old woman looks down on him, without pity even though Jungkook looks like a drowned rat, but she recognized him. Even if they never met before, she knows who he is.

“Get in, before you drown,” she puffs and without much objection he scurries in, shaking off his soaked back with books too heavy and too wet to be used, by now. He had run straight from school to Big Hit then to here.

The old lady prepares him a bitter tea, which he gulps down, chasing warmth and sensation in his frozen fingers. He doesn’t know how to say what needs to be said, so he voices his main point of worry.

“This is not my heart,” he points at his chest. It’s thundering again, it causes him pain and he wants it to stop. “Am I correct?”

Her dark eyes glisten in the candlelight of the small shop as rumble rips at the window panes.

“You figured it out, fairly early.”

Jungkook winced after a particularly hard tug. His heart was breaking and he felt so horribly alone.

“Please,” he begged the old lady and something in her demeanour changed, turned more lenient at the sight of his pleas.

She pulled out a stethoscope of all things and wiped black coal on his forehead. He sat obediently, not daring to breathe as she listened to his heart. When she was done, a tired sigh escaped her lips.

“Drink more of this. It should help for a little while,” she mutters more to herself, pushing another cup of the chamomile tea in his direction. He drinks it once more with fervour even though it tastes like a thing rotten. Taking a short gasp, he sits on the chair.

“I’m not losing my mind, right. I’ve got soulmates, right. Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, Tae, Jimin and me. We’re…we’re connected, I’m right, am I? Please, tell me I’m right.”

He felt like some sort of freak thinking this but he couldn’t shake it off. He has no idea where the belief came from but it was rooted within him so deep, he couldn’t rid himself of it.

The old woman swirled her own tea around the cup with a disinterested expression.

“How did you know?”

“I don’t know how I know! I just…I just need to hear that it’s right and I’m not some sort of sick person for thinking it.”

“You’re not sick, Jeon Jungkook. Though you’re much more open-minded more than your friends.”

The world collapsed on his shoulders.

Oh.

“They…they know?”

She hummed in retaliation, grimacing sourly.

“They laughed at me for saying it. Can you imagine being laughed at by kids who haven’t lived even the eighth that you have?”

He sags further down.

“I presume it was annoying,” he mumbles appeasingly.

“It’s infuriating!” the woman interrupts, slamming her hand down.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jungkook curls up on the sofa, fireplace crackling in front of him, chamomile tea in hand. He was sitting in quiet, though he often did not prefer it. Quiet was thinking, thinking was getting lost and getting lost meant being overwhelmed. His worst fear was being overwhelmed, trumping his fear of failure. Failure could be avenged, but being overwhelmed meant drowning underneath a vast wave of helplessness and when he was helpless he couldn’t protect what he needed to. He took a sip and winced at the taste, nevertheless, relaxing in the washing calm of his heart rate slowing down.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Come on, closer,” the old woman beckoned at him and, dubiously peering at her, Jungkook did shuffle closer. In front of him, there was a plate, a clay slab. Undecorated, coarse, it didn’t look more than a child’s cursory attempt at pottery. It stood on the table in front of the woman under which she was rifling through a brown bag. Sounds of clinking glassware travelled from her searching.

“Ah, there it is,” she breathed out in victory a few moments after.

The thunder was nearly ripping the windows from their place but in the small, overcrowded space no one seemed to care.

In her hands, there was a slender, glass bottle, filled to the brim with what appeared colourless substance, though Jungkook could swear that in the faint yellow lightning of the overhanging lamp it had a faint nacreous glow.

Underneath Jungkook’s widened eyes, she proceeded to pour the liquid onto the slab but instead of merely wetting the object, it began to divulge into eight different paths, twinkling so bright they cast water-like reflection upon his rain-soaked face.

Oh!

“Is this…is this magic?” he gasped and the old woman sized him with an impassive glance.

“It’s whatever you want it to be or whatever you’ll remember it in the future.”

Instinctively he knew that there was a reason for why there were eight paths. They began separately and then one by one merged together, creating a glimmering river from the small, independent brooks. He smiled at it as though he was witnessing the birth of something splendid.

“This is what a soulmate is?” he asked her, voice shaking but joyous. His cheeks were sore from the width of his grin but he couldn’t help it, even if he didn’t quite understand what he was seeing.

“This is what fate is, Jeon Jungkook,” she replied, though her voice didn’t just hold as much happiness as Jungkook did, it held none at all. She seemed almost grimly resolute.

Suddenly one of the streams broke away from the liquid, travelling to the far edge of the table, twinkling away like a flickering candle for a short while before disappearing. Then another one broke off and was extinguished just as fast, then another one and another, and another, some going to the farsides of their allowed space, some clinging near but in the end, they all extinguished and what remained in their wake was a small singular stream, pounding weakly as it moved forward and then ultimately stopped rolling and there was no light left to see.

“No, no, no! Bring them back!” he demanded, feeling very frightful of the emptied tablet but the woman corked the bottle shut and stuffed it back into the bag.

“I can’t bring them back. This is what you decided,” she proceeded to sit down, groaning from the tired ache of standing up for too long.

Jungkook’s eyes began to feel entirely too wet.

“I didn’t decide! I didn’t get to decide! Explain what you showed me!”

His mother would slap him for yelling at an elder like that. His eyes shone with trepidation but at this point he was years away from being a walking powerhouse and standing here, trying not to cry and quivering from cold, he didn’t inspire much fear. Least of all in himself.

“I just told you, it’s fate. I informed your friends of what they should do and they rejected it and now fate is taking a different turn.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Because they rejected this,” he thumped the flat of his hand against his chest, not knowing whether it meant the rejection of the unified path or the eighth one, “this is what’s going to happen?”

“Yep. Fate is not as absolute as one thinks. People have free will to flourish or destroy it and you’ve chosen to destroy it.”

“But I didn’t choose anything!” he opposed starting off strong and decided, like a proud lion cub but somewhere in the middle, he began to grasp the injustice of it all and that reduced him to sobs.

“Are you actually crying?” she asked him dryly and Jungkook, sniffling and hiccuping, obstinately insisted that no. He immediately of course began to cry harder.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s six in the evening and the radiators sprinkled throughout the apartment have started to heat up the air for the night but Jungkook is still thinking. He’s preparing scenarios for what to say when you walk through the doors but there’s nothing that seems to fit. Empty sentiments and reassurances, apologies that you would not believe in. He didn’t fault you for not believing, had he not seen what he’d seen, he would discard everything too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Too many hours to count but still one hour closer to move in (still 2014)

It takes several long minutes of Jungkook wiping the snot away with the sleeve of his school uniform. He marginally regrets pressuring his manager to divulge where the guys had gone to last year that made them act so strange.

“But I still have this? It must mean something,” he mumbled weakly and the woman poured him the third cup of tea. It smelt just as acrid as the first but in his blooming misery, he couldn’t comprehend objecting against the old lady.

“It means you’re an empath,” she tapped one of her heavy ringed fingers against the table, relaxing deeper into the plush seat. “ You have a gift and you’ve given your heart across the ocean. The only thing it means is that you offer your love too freely.”

“Stop saying that,” he wheezes, clawing at his reddened eyes. His head was beginning to throb and it was difficult to breathe as mucus travelled down his throat with every gulp.

“No, I’m serious! Contrary to popular belief, love does not conquer all. It lives and dies as time wills it. If love could conquer all why do you think tragedy exists,” she said, in a low, tempered voice, “why do you think grief haunts the living? Love is not a weapon we can shield against suffering, it eases the pain of our existence but it can not absolve us from it.”

Jungkook listened to her carefully, deep weariness settling on his shoulders.

“So what? That’s it?! We’re doomed to be alone because of one mistake? One mistake that I didn’t take part in?!”

“I didn’t say fate had to be fair.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He thinks he’s falling asleep, the walls are tinted with a coat of confusing fog as he lets his neck rest on the plush armguard. He must be falling asleep because there’s a rattle on the door and the faint draft of the hallway between all of the apartments is stretching a scent of your perfume towards his nose.

Oh.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2+ hours closer to move-in (2014 and onward)

“I’ll protect them,” Jungkook states with broad finality when the storm quiets and it’s safe for him to venture outside, as such he’s no longer welcome in the old woman’s shop. He pins her down with his trademark doggedness, it only increasing when she gives a wry, patronizing smirk.

“How old are you, kid? 15? 16?”

“I’m 17,” he pushes through gritted teeth, walking out the door, still hesitating because he’s yet to prove a point.

“You said people have free will, they can choose to destroy their lives or flourish them. I choose to fix it then! I will use this gift for good.”

“Gifts can be useless. Have you never received too many socks for Christmas?"

He, in fact, hadn't and it shows on his face. The woman pushes further with the same derision.

"You against fate? Good luck with that.”

“Just you see,” he vows and leaves the unwelcome door space.

“Above cups and hearts and vases made of glass, the one most often broken is a promise.”

Jungkook remembers reading it. Or more accurately, Namjoon was reading it and the phrase stood out to Jungkook when he ripped the book away from their leader’s hands to whine about how he needed a sparring partner.

A promise was a nice word for the obsession that Jungkook grew ill with - the mindless desire to protect.

He had it ever since he’d been smacked on the ass, fresh out of his mother. It didn’t make much sense and over time they regarded it as just his thing - an innate characteristic that was just there. A Jungkook for a Jungkook if that made any sense.

His father at times teased him for being a bit doglike, all in good nature and Jungkook never took offence to it. He liked dogs. Dogs guarded, dogs were reliable, dogs could take joy in simple things that people more often than not forgot to do.

For Jungkook fear and drive were so intrinsically connected they couldn’t be parted. His fear of losing a toy, a friend, a soulmate walked hand in hand with his desire to protect it or rather them. So naturally, naturally for him mind you, he beefed up. It was a little thing but it was a start. If he could protect them physically from harm, he’d wander upon the path of how to protect them emotionally. Right?

….or wrong. Because his soulmates were absolute tools.

Jungkook loved and adored them with all his heart but they had to be a group of the densest people on the planet. He never abandoned them or broke his promise but they made it so difficult. When he asked of what they’d seen or heard in their time in Daehangno that made them act like they conspired to carry a ticking bomb for all remaining time, they shook their head and alternated between their favourite answers - “it’s nothing” and “you’re too young”. Young, he was but he was not stupid. And if Jungkook smacked them a bit too hard on the shoulder or put them in a chokehold for a second too long, it was but a small, temporary relief of the frustration he felt.

Protecting them meant that he had to be strong, no matter what, he would be their guard, their wall and their fortress. As he grew older and the mass of challenges increased, he, with only added frustration, understood that their strong wall not always was needed in physical form. There was strength in comfort, in allowing them to lie that the affection was because “he was the youngest”.

“You’re the youngest that’s why I’m giving and receiving flowers with such grace.”

“You’re the youngest that’s why I’m kissing you on the forehead and allowing you to do the same”.

There was strength in him staying with Yoongi, quietly sitting by as he worked through a piece that was troubling for weeks, there was strength in knowing how to pacify Jimin’s tears when he wound himself up so tight it felt like he had a noose around his neck, strength in cheering up Hoseok, in playfully bullying Jin to distract him, in supporting Namjoon and never letting him forget the kindness that poured out of him, in hugging Taehyung in the open, uncaring of what people thought.

It was strength and obstinance and bravery to be Jeon Jungkook and to continue being him every day. For him bravery was like a muscle he could exercise and he did so often. He got tattoos without permission, he cut his own hair, he did what he wanted even if it meant to rebel against soulmate’s wishes. It signified getting himself up, sometimes getting picked up after he stumbled and fell. Love, in the end, was bravery. To love was as scary as it was to be loved back. But he did it.

His memories grew fainter and voices grew muddier but he knows what he saw that stormy day. He knows the future they will hold if he’s not brave. Occasionally, the realization that he was the only one who knew of what their choice did to their futures burdened him so much he ended up screaming in the bathroom stall but as sure as the next sunrise would be, he wiped the tears off, washed his face and set back to work, diligent, stubborn and unswayed. He will do the impossible to save them from an unfair fate.

It’s all worth it though. The moments spent laughing, feeling safe and content win over the turmoil of worry and fear. He remembers the bright pool of the joined light. In the face of it, this was but a short detour, a small climb up the mountain to see the sun’s warming cheek.

“Oh, god, it smells so vile,” Jin cried as he took a whiff of Jungkook’s chamomile tea. It’s nighttime and they were still filming. This day was a hard one, not for him, but for the Other. They don't say it who it was, the eighth one, so he calls them "The Other". He’d been feeling his heart race for almost twenty hours now and it didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. The Other was having a very, very rough day. If only he could protect them, however, he's marooned for now with these six beloved assholes.

“It helps,” he grumbles back, not answering Jin’s follow up question about “for what”. It was perhaps a little bit petty that he never told them what he saw. Though in fairness they never told him about the Other, the holder of his heart as well. It was an eye for an eye sort of thing.

It takes four years for Taehyung to speak of the Other - Her. Lady in red and in a brilliant moment of clarity, lying in Tae's arms, Jungkook grasps everything.

They were incredibly fussy about wearing red, always insisting that maybe there were other choices. Anything but red. Yet when it came to songs, red was everywhere. Whenever anyone asked of where the inspiration came from, to write so acutely about longing and rejection and pining, they could only shrug their shoulders and try to somehow humbly present they were just genius’ of the human heart. A lie, of course, a preposterous lie. Jungkook who’d been watching them skirt around affections and longing with feeble excuses could attest that they were anything but genius'. Whatever the lie might be, the truth remained the same - they longed for a ghost. For a promise that was not yet made and one that Jungkook knew would never live up to the name if they didn’t act.

He and Taehyung are the first to kiss in front of their eyes and while stunted, it wasn’t like they objected. Jimin is next to fall, casting away his fears, maturing and realizing that love wasn’t a far stretched theory or dream in the future, it was right here, he only had to reach out.

“Jungkook?” Hoseok asked as they walked together in Malta, observing the beige stones and starry skies.

“Hmm?”

“You ever thought about, you know, being gay?”

The question is not unfounded but it is surprising to hear it from Hoseok’s mouth. He’s looking away, not knowing how to delicately phrase the matter but Jungkook doesn’t mind.

“I thought about it.”

“And?”

“I don’t care.”

Hoseok stops walking and Jungkook halts a few steps ahead of him.

“You don’t care?” he echoes, incredulously.

Jungkook takes a moment to think and when that moment passes, he gives a soft smile.

“I know for many people it’s important but, for me, I don’t see why I have to justify myself to others,” he ends with a shrug. “Regardless of who I like, I’m Jungkook and no one should care about anything more than that.”

Hoseok examines the pavement, expression forlorn as he bites in his lip.

“You’re very brave aren’t you, Kookie,” he at last whispers.

Jungkook’s grin turns teasing.

“Well, someone has to be."

Hoseok smiles but it’s without mirth.

Oh.

Jungkook can’t help but feel that maybe, in spite of all his guarding, he just said the wrong thing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Right. The irrevocable part of humans is that you mess up. Be it an interview, a conversation, your entire fate, you mess it up, but you can fix it.

Fix it, is the instinct Jungkook has when he rouses from the haze and realizes that the door rattle is not a dream. You’re home.

You’re home and his heart is glad. Ever since he moved here, his chest stops hurting. He has a theory that he felt you and not everyone else is because they were near, yet you were far. It’s like his heart kept vigil through means beyond the logic, remaining attentive even across the seas.

He gets up, adjusts his sweatpants and shirt, (he began to wear them because winter promises to be absolutely brutal here, though he still leaves three buttons open) walking calmly towards the doors. Again a bit dog-like but he doesn’t take insult.

You’re one step in and he greets you, lowly but kindly. Your face… he remembers the feeling of not being able to breathe. Your face is haunted and above else he wants to hug you, to push all your problems away, to save you but he keeps Gwenell’s advice etched in his brain. He’s not a ram, in this case, he was the woman with the crown, gently stroking the lion until it melted in his touch. He’ll be gentle, he’ll soothe your pain away, bit by bit, day by day. No matter how much you needed his love, which he was not blind to see, you needed love so plainly, you also deserved respect. So he stays away, even if his hands itch and he breaks at the crestfallen sight that's visible in your eyes. He stays away because some healing can only be done in solitude.

“Hey,” you greet him, trying to appear casual but your voice is rough. You’ve been crying and you’ve been worrying. He recalls the twinkling light, breaking away from them and then disappearing mutely into darkness until it was no more. He’ll fix this, don’t you worry, he’ll be your miracle when you let him.

“Hey. Let me take that,” he gently pries the luggage away from your hands and pulls the red suitcase into the living room. This must be the same one the guys saw that night they met and let you go. He’d only heard stories and vague lyrics about this thing. To hold it in his hands was to hold a symbol of you and he can’t help but beam softly despite the fact that he couldn’t hold you yet. Your symbols, for now, would suffice. Jungkook was greedy but he was not ungrateful.

“Did the conference go well?” he asks, turning around as you unhook the shawl from your neck. Your gaze is flitting around the room, spotting only the fireplace and nothing more.

“It was…” you trail off, unsurprisingly not giving an answer. “Is anyone else here?”

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head. “Jin has class and they is... are still at work.”

“I see,” you drawl awkwardly. You give Jungkook a curious glance, examining him like he had changed his hair.

“Is something wrong?” he asks gently, sitting down on the sofa, hoping you’d sit next to him.

You don’t.

“You look different?” you question, a frown of worry creasing your forehead.

You, however, looked just like that day.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

13 hours until move-in

Oh! Oh! Here you are!

Jungkook feels like a seeker who's found the most diligent of players in Hide and Seek.

He doesn’t know you. But you must be the one, the holder of his heart, his Other. He feels as though he’ll throw up from nerves but at long last, his heart calms without the help of tea. He can’t feel you anymore but he can see you. You’re holding your phone and you’re frowning at it. Instantly, Jungkook wants to know what you’re reading, what’s making you so upset. You should never feel upset.

The guys are still sleeping back in the hotel. They haven’t slept on a bed for so long, everyone passed out like the dead once hitting the pillow but Jungkook couldn’t stop this fluttering in his chest. It’s like his every nerve was rhythmically going Oh! Oh! Oh! so he wandered out for some calming beverage.

This has to be fate. Or if not, then it was his doing. His gift was not useless. He rips open the doors to the cafe and is hit with the smell of pastries and coffee. He’s hungry but he doesn’t register it because Oh! Oh! Oh! You’re here!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yes, you’re here and Jungkook doesn’t know what to say.

“I just…had a…realization,” he explains and you leave him at that.

He looks you over and steps one daunting, but a brave step forward. Love is about bravery. Bravery, strength and obstinance. The Jungkook.

“What happened with Hoseok…”

“Is I think none of your business,” you bite back, defensively.

He nods along and lets the scorn pass over his head. It’s in the lion’s nature to roar and bite people, he knows that now.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

12 hours 57 minutes until move-in.

He can’t hear what the cashier is saying, he’s just saying yes. She offers him food and he keeps saying yes, not averting his eyes away from you. He can say hi, can’t he? Okay, so he smells and his hair’s a bit dirty and his clothes are a bit rumpled. You try living on the road for seven months and not be a little bumped over. But you shouldn’t mind. You don’t look like the sort of person who would.

He as subtly as possible leans in to smell himself and gives a quick glance around for any pharmacy or anywhere they would sell deodorant.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“It’s none of my business, but he’s very sorry for hurting you,” Jungkook gently continues and you shrug but your eyes say it all. You’re like him in that aspect, your eyes told or maybe he knew because your heart was sometimes in his chest. As gruesome as it sounded, he knew you intimately.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

12 hours 55 minutes until move-in

You’re getting up. You’re walking. Oh, oh, oh! You’re walking away. You mustn’t walk away! You can’t! They just found you, he just found you! What if you’d glimmer out at this very moment?!

His mouth keeps saying yes. The sum for his absentmindedness begins to soar in triple numbers but he pays it no attention. You’re leaving and he’s stammering by the counter like a dog on a leash. Say something, just say anything. Hi! You know how to say hi!

He can only gape and smell in your perfume when you walk past him. He even thinks that you give him a glance, a frowning glare as to why he was just standing here, smelling air like a weirdo.

Oh! Oh.

Oh…

You’re gone.

He smacks down into the hotel room, knees bending underneath the bags of takeout. It’s more than enough to feed fifty people.

Give them three hours and they’ll be done.

“I FOUND HER!” he yells, rousing them awake from the dead.

Namjoon lifts his dishevelled head from the crook of Yoongi's elbow, barely making out the shivering form of their youngest.

“What d’you mean…” he mumbles incoherently and Jungkook drops down the mountain of bags upon Jin’s sleeping figure, effectively burying him.

“I FOUND HER!” he repeats, capturing Namjoon’s cheeks in his palms.

His face is so close he can only make out the small spots of lighter brown in his irises. Years ago he would have wrenched away but for Jungkook’s sanity, Namjoon has resigned to their fate and Jungkook likes to think their stream was growing brighter by the day.

“I FOUND HER!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yes, he’d found you. Against all odds, he’d found you and he’d make sure you didn’t twinkle out all alone. You’d be behind his wall, his fortress, his guard.

So he’s brave and he takes in a breath, to pop the bubble, the ballon, the truth that they hid.

“Hey, _________, what do you think of soulm-”

Ringing.

He grits his teeth, jaw clamping shut.

Did your phone really have to ring, right now? Was his life a bad TV show?!

It’s still ringing and you’re looking at it with…softness? You didn’t look upon anyone calling you like that? You hated phone calls. You made so sure that they only ever texted you.

Jungkook sees greedy racoons, with their greedy paws taking away his precious pentacle.

You answer the phone, giving Jungkook a peculiar glance when you notice his fists clench. He doesn’t want to frighten you so he lets them loose.

Gentle. Patient. Not aggressive.

You’re Jungkook, not a ram, he reminds himself.

“Hey. Did you land?” you speak.

Land? Someone was flying over? From where? From New York? Did you meet an acquaintance in New York?

Jungkook discreetly inches forward, pretending that he’s not at all listening in. He can’t hear anything though, the volume of your phone is too low for him to make sense of the person on the other line.

“Yes, tomorrow, at 10. I sent an e-mail so they should know you’re coming.”

Who? Who was coming?

You huff but it’s not annoyed. Your behaviour is not making any sense.

What happened? Why hadn't you been able to breathe? Why did you feel empty? Who was talking on the other side? Who had the attention of the holder of his heart?

“Okay, I got it. Yes. Okay. Bye, Jae.”

Oh.

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a/n: Either you love it or hate it, I'm *runs away*

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 3 years

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This Sarah Everard case is so terrifying for women. But not only am I terrified - I am furious.

⚠️ tw for mentions of r*pe, sexual assault, violence against women, murder etc. ⚠️

She was just walking, including walking by busy roads and not dark alleyways. She was dressed in winter clothes. Even if she HAD walked down a dark alleyway or been wearing something short or “revealing”, she still wasn’t doing anything wrong - she was just walking somewhere.

Her murderer - a police officer named Wayne Couzens - plotted to murder a woman to live out his perverse fantasy. He didn’t plot to kill a specific woman - he knew he would murder a woman, any woman he thought he could abduct, any woman who would be out at night on her own. Sarah was just there.

Not only did he drive miles and hours to kill a woman, not only was he a police officer… he used his badge, police belt, handcuffs and credentials to fake arrest her to get her into his car. If a police officer tells you to go with them, we’re told to not resist, to be obedient or we will be in even more trouble. Even if she HAD done what the MET have just said women should do - “question non uniformed officers!” - it wouldn’t have helped her because he was a police officer. He had the credentials. Why would she run away and resist a police officer? And if women do resist, the police commit violence against them (like at the Clapham Common vigil for Sarah).

He handcuffed her, drove her for hours, then raped and murdered her. This fucking monster strangled her with his fucking police belt. He burnt her body and disposed of her in a pond.

A police officer did this - a fucking police officer, a MET officer, the MET we’re supposed to trust. And you want women to trust them?!!

And I don’t want to hear that “don’t judge the whole profession based on one bad apple”, because guess what? This is not the first time a police officer has harmed a woman. There is misogyny rooted deep in the MET that needs to be addressed. Wayne Couzens was literally nicknamed “The Rapist” by other police officers and had offended in the past by flashing people, and that’s just what we know of - and yet not a single person did anything. The police joked about it. Several officers gave character references supportive of Couzens during the hearings for his sentencing, and female officers told the press that they did not feel as if they could report concerning behaviour by male colleagues.

It’s thought that at LEAST 15 serving or former police officers have killed women in UK since 2009, and HUNDREDS of UK police officers have convictions for crimes, including assault. There are many cases that do not go reported, and so it’s likely the numbers on both counts are actually higher. Why are they still allowed to serve? Why is our government giving them more power and freedom to arrest whoever they please? “It’s not that many” - IT SHOULD NOT BE ANY.

If you can’t see why there’s a huge problem with our police force and why we say “fuck the police”, you’re part of the problem.

And the fear and anger we feel isn’t new - this has been a problem for literally all of our lives.

At 11, I learnt to come home before dark, and if it was dark in the winter on my way home (meaning: every night in winter), I was taught to not go down any dark lanes, and if I was walking the dark lane I had to go down if I got the bus home, I was to walk as fast as I could and to not have earphones in because i wouldn’t hear attackers. Every day from September 2009 to July 2014, coming home from secondary school, I was told to either wait for my dad or grandad to pick me up or to walk down the busiest road that ran near my house and had constant cars on it. I couldn’t take the shortcut down the public footpath on my way home from sixth form college because it was too dark and isolated - I had to go around it and through the village instead, which took more time but was vaguely safer. Since university, I’ve made a point of waiting for the hourly bus that stops just round the corner from my home and on the busiest road, even though I have to wait up to an hour for it usually, because getting the bus that comes every 15 minutes means walking up the dark quiet lane.

At age 13, I learnt not to talk to even very friendly men, even not in broad daylight, even with a female friend, when some old man approached us and started complimenting us, telling us we had “nice smiles” and “I can hook you up with someone who can help you get into acting” and “here’s £10, you go down to the garage down the road and get whatever you girls want”.

At 14, I learnt not to sit in trees in the park by the gate, not even during the day when it’s sunny, when an old man entered the park, took one look at me, and said “you’ve got a nice arse”. I couldn’t prove he had said anything, and I would see him on my way to school sometimes and panic.

At 19, I learnt that I could not trust friendly men online. Apologies to any decent men I have spoken to online - there’s a few who are nice and not weird, I’m not talking about them. I learnt this when a guy I was speaking to on my old blog - who had for weeks just been generally nice and checking in on me - started to send intimate and sexual messages that started with “*hugs you*” and became “*spanks your ass*”, “takes your clothes off”, “f*cks you hard”, just to name a few (and these were the milder ones). When I asked his age, he merely said “older” than me - “more than twice as old as you”, actually. I learnt to not talk to men online, and if I did then I had to set very clear boundaries in a way that wasn’t too obvious - not say it outright but make it clear I am “unavailable”.

I have to carry a rape alarm on my keys, just in case. I could go out to bars if I wanted to, I could have at university when all my peers were - but doing it meant risking the chance of being harmed while intoxicated or on my way home. I have to send my location to my mother if I get any Ubers, if I go out to theatres or cinemas in the evening I have to text my mum to say I’ve arrived safe. I only feel safe out at night if I’m with a man that I trust like my dad or grandad - I got very lucky at Uni because not only did one girl make sure I got home safely at 1 in the morning by calling me a cab, but one boy even stayed with me on another night until my dad arrived to pick me up, because he knew leaving me intoxicated at 2:30 in the morning was dangerous. I have even phoned my grandmother while walking home in the dark because being on the phone to someone means you’re less of a target to an attacker.

Men do not have this experience - or, if they do, it’s nowhere near the fear and worry women feel every day. Women can’t even walk somewhere without being worried of being attacked - we cannot go anywhere without asking ourselves “am I safe?”. Are we wearing the “correct” clothing, so as to not give off the wrong idea? Are we walking down the well lit roads where it’s busy? Are we aware of our surroundings, of every single person nearby? Do I have my keys in my hand, ready to defend myself if I’m attacked? Women are blamed if we are attacked - not men, but women. “She was dressed slutty” “she was passed out drunk” “she was walking down a dark lane” “she was out late”.

When doing safe guarding training at my current TA job, I came across this phrase: “always think it can and will happen”. Just as a teacher or TA should not think “none of my students will be victims of abuse”, women should not for one second believe that they are safe and “it will never happen to me” - every day we have to think of how to prevent our own assault or murder, just in case.

Every time I’m walking home in the dark, I have the fleeting wonder of “what picture(s) of me will they use if I’m attacked or go missing?”. I was not really surprised when I saw that other women said the same thing. Women wonder it so often it’s almost a joke, an absent minded thought. But it’s not a joke - it’s real life for us, every single day.

Sarah Everard is not a one off case. Sabina Nessa, a 28 year old primary school teacher, was murdered on 18th September this year, her body discovered the next day by a dog walker. So far in 2021, 110 women have been murdered in the UK by men (or men are the prime suspects). Only a handful get national attention because at this point, violence and murder against women have become normalised in this country.

I am not only heartbroken for all of these women and their families - I am scared for my own safety; I am scared for the safety of my mother, my grandmother, my aunts. I am scared for the safety of my 20 year old sister, the safety of my 17 and 14 year old cousins, for the safety of my older male cousin’s two daughters who are only 4 and 1. I am scared for the safety of every single girl and woman I have worked with, the safety of every woman I have ever spoken to.

But I am also furious and filled with rage. Women should not be scared to go out or have fun, we should not have to take such precautions or measures that still won’t completely prevent our assaults or murders. I am sick and tired of the victim blaming when a woman is murdered, of the indifference of “oh another woman”, of this being how women are expected to live their lives.

I’m tired of this problem being ignored by our government, tired of no one giving a shit about us or our safety.

#sarah everard #wayne couzens #tw violence against women #tw rape discussion #tw crime #tw murder #tw assault #tw rape #tw police murder #tw police brutality

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berkcwitz · 4 years

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❛ ✶ ( madison beer, cisfemale, she/her ) spotted ! jalissa berkowitz was spotted singing along to find my way by dababy in hilton grove . you’ve heard of them right ? they are a twenty two year old pornographic actress / internet personality who has already amassed a net worth of 550m . you should really follow them on insta @callmejalissa , they’re about to hit 89m followers . the tabloids have been calling them the vixen because they are known for being whimsical but also a bit abrasive . though most people recognize them by a drunken gaze staring into the mirror as she holds finger guns to her head , a laugh too contagious , leaving notes in lipstick on bathroom mirrors & echoing of her mothers longtime disapproval . — ooc info ( mia. twenty. est. she/her. )

GUYYYSSSS ?! this group ? a masterpiece , wow . im hella excited to get to roleplay with you all . im mia by the way , im twenty ( i’ll be 21 in june what a vibe ) & i live in the est ( a clam chowder eating , dunkin donuts chugging , no Rs havin , boston sports loving new englander ). also i go by she/her pronouns ! i am going to be so honest with you guys . this intro is dummy long . like , i promise i will not judge you if you hmu asking for a quick synopsis of my girl because this shit below this cut ? is a novella & a half , sis . if im very honest i really just needed to flesh her out completely because she’s a new baby of mine ? and i wanted to make sure i really knew her before i put her out on the dash . im so anal about this , i know . anyways , before this little note section gets as long as the intro without further a do ? adu ? idfk ... here’s jalissa , she’s ... a piece of work . also if you'd prefer to plot on discord hmu @ 𝖒𝖌𝖐'𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖊#9789 .

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇

full name: jalissa billie-jean berkowitz nickname: lissa , jals , jb , berks , jalissa cadden ( porn name ) birthday: october 13th birthplace: fort lauderdale , florida hometown: hilton grove residence: hilton grove nationality: american ( est. 1997 through birth ) , british ( est. 1997 automatically a citizen due to mother’s citizenship , passport was claimed est. 2012 ) ethnicity: askenazi jewish ( maternal & paternal , 100% ) religion: judaism orientation: pansexual , panromantic ( she never really came out per say , people just kind of know she’s attracted to all genders . her family is very religious and she’s very involved with her synagogue so she’s made the choice not the necessarily put a label on her sexuality but is open about loving people no matter gender ) languages spoken: english ( fluent , first language ) , yiddish ( fluent , second language ) , spanish ( fluent , third language ) , german ( conversational , fourth language ) . father: henry christian berkowitz ( 50 years old ) was born & raised in fort lauderdale , florida by a politician / banking heir & talk show host / philanthropist . henry himself went on to follow in his father’s footsteps and serve as a us senator for two terms & currently is the ceo of berkowitz capital . ( relationship: it’s never been perfect but the love is clear in the relationship & he’s been much better at being supportive of her in recent years . certainly a daddy’s little girl even when you do wrong you can’t do much wrong type of situation ) mother : austen sylvia rachelson-berkowitz ( 48 years old ) was born & raised in westminster , england up until her teens when she & her mother moved to washington dc after her mother had become the incumbent uk ambassador to the united states . austen was crowned miss usa at the age of 20 & later went on to follow in her families long time involvement in politics ( holding former offices as a us representative as well as governor for two terms ) . today she spends much of her time putting her law degree to work on criminal cases . ( relationship: they’ve never been close & have never quite seen eye to eye . since jalissa was nineteen she & her mom haven’t said more than ten words to one another & if they have it’s never necessarily positive ) brother: kenneth patrick berkowitz ( 24 years old ) was born in fort lauderdale , florida & raised in hilton grove . he shares the same parents as jalissa and is the couples first born & only son . kenneth is following in the berkowitz footsteps & is heading the uk sector for berkowitz capital since graduating from columbia university a couple years back . ( relationship: the two siblings have always been close. they had a similar friend group growing up & alot of the same interests . they’re still rather close to this day despite being countries away from one another ) sister: sariah rachel berkowitz ( 19 years old ) was born in fort lauderdale , florida & raised in hilton grove . she shares the same parents as jalissa and is the couples last born . sariah currently attends stanford university where she’s on a pre med track . ( relationship: the two were often at each other’s necks growing up . mostly because how similar they are to one another . as of recently the two have grown close , though , with sariah fessing up to looking up to her older sister ) social class: upper education: highschool diploma ( hilton grove highschool g. 2015 ) career: youtuber ( from 2014-present ) , pornographic actress ( from 2016-present ) , podcaster (from 2018-present ) notoriety: being apart of the prominent berkowitz family , having one of the top 10 most watched pornographic movies , her podcast with her best friend tickets to our downfall & her youtube channel callmejalissa . weight: 122lbs height: 5′4″ hair color: brown ( with blonde highlights ) eye color: hazel ( wears blue contacts sometimes ) positive traits: whimsical , astute , extroverted , affectionate , quick , intelligent , friendly , ambitious , passionate , humorous , loyal , compassionate , effervescent negative traits: opportunistic , recalcitrant , hypocritical , vain , critical , stubborn , distant , sneaky , abrasive , sarcastic , obsessive , vengeful , reckless , arrogant likes: black coffee , birthday parties , lying , sunshine , baby pink , glossy lips , gossiping , stand up comedy , sunkissed skin , dogs , peanut butter , popping champagne bottles , driving with the windows down , swimming , mimosas , oversized sweaters , taco bell , cranberry juice , makeup , football , cosmetic work , arguing , online shopping , exotic foods , jewelry the price of a car , fresh berries , roller skating dislikes: liars , driving in the snow , her mother , jelly , basketball , bad drivers , when people lie about their cosmetic work , sushi , hateful people , disloyalty , overly emotional people , romance , being alone , astrology enthusiasts , hospitals , silence , cheap perfume , criticism , traffic , being late , red wine , short hair , anything banana or grape flavored hobbies: reading magazines , dancing to her newly curated playlist in the mirror , gossiping with her grandparents , video editing , meddling , going for brunch , goat yoga , drinking alcohol while snuggled up in bed , painting alternate universe cartoons , attending big soirees , making impulsive decisions , smoking weed , sleepovers with her closest friends , suntanning on yacht decks , late night instagram lives , marilyn monroe movie marathons chara inspo: kourtney kardashian , emily nelson ( a simple favor ) , tan france ( queer eye ) , evie zamora ( thirteen ) , rebekah mikaelson ( the vampire diaries ) , jennifer check ( jennifer’s body ) , gabrielle solis ( desperate housewives ) , regina george ( mean girls ) , lucifer morningstar ( lucifer ) , kathryn merteuli ( cruel intentions ) , veronica lodge ( riverdale ) , chanel oberlin ( scream queens ) , samantha jones ( sex and the city ) , andie anderson ( how to lose a guy in 10 days ) , blair waldorf ( gossip girl ) , naomi lapaglia ( wolf of wall street ) , maddy perez ( euphoria ) , kat hernandez ( euphoria ) fashion inspo: fran drescher , bella hadid , alex chung , madison beer , romee strijd , kendall jenner , selena gomez career inspo: tana mongeau , jordan lipscombe , sofia franklyn , alexdandra cooper , lana rhodes , abella danger headcanons: she has one hundred percent smashed the windows in an exes car , she drives a black range rover , vandalized an exes home before , says “ harely quinn is my spirit animal “ once a day , is not the type of ask if you’re okay with her vlogging , has slept with rock stars and couldn’t care less that they’re basically the age of dirt at this point , is actually very sad when she’s not putting on the vivacious front in front of people , dances on tables whens she’s drunk , its not a party unless someone has offered her a line

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀

the berkowitz family name has long been one that holds prestige & power . among the 1% for over a century . they are a prominent banking family that has had their hands in the pots of nearly every big banking company across the nation . coming into the united states after word broke of the california gold rush back in 1849 , the berkowitz brother’s were of the lucky few to acquire pounds of gold by the thousands . later founding what would become a leading investment bank known as berkowitz capital . the generations to follow would capitalize on the head start given to them by the two brothers . expanding the family company as well as the knowledge of the family name through heavy involvement in politics alongside the kennedy’s . since as early as 1953 there has always been a berkowitz family member actively appointed to a political role ( governor , senator , representative , us ambassador , etc ) . although the families roots within the states are documented in the capital of california , as generations went on they made their way over to the east coast , with most of the family members now residing in southern florida .

the rachelson family is a prominent political family . synonymous with power & eloquence . with their rise initially taking place in the british parliament . many escaped to england from germany between 1933-1935 . they hadn’t settled into the states until jocelyn rachelson ( jalissa’s maternal grandmother ) was appointed the united kingdoms ambassador to the united states in 1987 . the rachelson’s have since had heavy involvement in the us government , both behind the scenes and at the forefront . much of the rachelson family have stayed within the european union ( germany & poland ) as well as england . although the few that followed jocelyn to the states now reside in washington dc and the tri-state area .

henry & austen had met through their mutual friends . it didn’t take long before the two became a rather public couple , a supercouple if you would ( similar to that of a brangelina of the 1% ) . although they’d met in new york the two decided that when it was time to start a family they wanted to move to hilton grove , an island austen had eyed for years . instead they found themselves moving down to fort lauderdale where henry had grown up . before they knew it , they were three kids deep in settling down in fort lauderdale . austen’s anger from never wanting to build a life in florida started to tumble into the relationship & the daily life of the family & so in an effort to recover the marriage henry agreed to moving the family up to hilton grove , where they have resided ever since .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀 𝐄𝐑𝐀

jalissa was born the second of three children and oh boy does she suffer from middle child syndrome , riddled with a envy and a need to be in the mix . the berkowitz household , although , from the outside looking in looked like a fabulous family life was anything but . jalissa , like her siblings , was born on a pedestal & what came attached with that was even higher expectations from her parents . her parents found a way to be extremely authoritarian & uninvolved all at the same time . they were very dismissive if you disappointed them & everything jalissa did seemingly did just that .

for a long time she was obsessed with getting her parents approval , she’d turned life into a silent competition between herself & her siblings . she befriended only the people her parents approved of , did all the events they asked her to do , did everything she could to excel academically & only dated people who were of benefit to her parents ( people who’s parents where also in high places ) .

during highschool she joined the model un , debate team , and soccer team . if it were up to jalissa & not her parents she’d probably had joined the cheerleading team but her mother would never let that fly . it was too “ self indulgent “ to fit the family brand ( if only she’d known what would be coming years later lol ) .

it wasn’t until she was seventeen that she started to deviate from her parents wishes . of course , the catalyst to this was a boy , one her parents hadn’t really approved of but jalissa was completely head over heels for him . he really helped her boost her confidence to be her own person ? and not allow her parents to treat her like a puppet . with his encouragement she started her youtube channel , something she’d wanted to do for years but her mother had shot down the idea anytime jalissa brought it up . it was once again too “ self indulgent ” . the channel known as callmejalissa was an outlet for her , talking to a camera was the most heard she’d felt in seventeen years of her life . and god she knew that was hella sad . she really grew to view her subscribers as family & by the time her channel was brought to her parents attention ( more like her mothers , her dad had found her channel just four months after she’d made it and promised not to tell her mother so long as she was smart about what she posted ) she was about to turn eighteen and there wasn’t much they could do to stop her from doing it .

at eighteen she’d graduated highschool salutatorian with offers from university of pennsylvania & brown university . in all honesty she didn’t wnat to go to college , she saw it as a complete waste of her time . it wasn’t like she was going to do anything with the degree anyways . it would simply be a point of bragging for her parents at events & at this point she really could care less about them being able to brag to their friends . she knew she had to play along though , because this was the same year she was going to receive her first half of her trust fund ( a whoopin 500m , yes her trust fund in total will be 1b her parents are grossly wealthy guys ) so she bamboozled ? her parents , promising she’d committed to attending penn just so they’d allow for the money to be released to her account . she moved out of the house , literally moving into a house of her own a couple blocks from her parents house & claimed she was living in pennsylvania for college . we stan a sneaky binch .

two months later her parents were at her front door , though , ready to give her an ear full . her mother basically disowned her at this point . telling her how every year jalissa found a new way to be a bigger disappointment . her dad kind of played good cop , like he normally would because her mother often dug into her pretty deeply . to the point where any insecurity ( even though with the way she carries herself you’d never think she has any ) she has stems from something her mother has said / called her in the past . if henry berkowitz had a soft spot , it was certainly jalissa , it that had only grown clearly with the harsher austen became on the girl .

a few months before her nineteenth birthday a sex tape was released of jalissa cheating on her boyfriend at the time . it was a drunken mistake she’d made around the time of her mother basically disowning her , but that explanation did suffice for her boyfriend who inevitably broke things off with her . although this was a horrific time she’d received an abundance of offers to film more tapes . it was enticing to say the least . she was someone who loved intercourse but also had this deeply rooted desire to get back at her mother ? and what better way to do so then to something so far left from what her mother was about . this was next level disappointment in the eyes of austen berkowitz . the only thing that made sense ( in her mind ) was to dive head first into the porn industry .

like you’d expect her parents had a fit when they found out about her new career choice . although her internet fame had soared to new heights and her youtube & instagram followers were loving every second of this move . her mom was currently serving as governor and has since not been able to get elected in the political world since jalissa became one of the top porn stars around . they basically blacklisted her & jalissa feels no remorse , she’s gone so far as telling her mother “ sucks to be shunned , huh? ” .

although it took her dad a while to come around , he cares far too much to shut her out .

not to long after jalissa & her best friend started their podcast tickets to our downfall , it’s a mix of call her daddy & the basement yard , basically two besties talking on a level that most people wouldn’t want to leave the privacy of their own space , giving advice , hoe tricks , and telling funny stories of their past . it a total hit & one of jalissa’s favorite things to do .

she live sin the same house she has since she was eighteen . she lives on her own with three dogs and a cat . she absolutely hates being alone and so maggie ( a tan corgi puppy ) , louis ( a yellow lab puppy ) , humphrey ( a chocolate lab ) , and cedric ( a orange scottish fold ) are her babies that keep her sane in her big ole home .

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

as you can tell jalissa is chaotic , impulsive , reactive , and overall just searching for attention . she doesn’t care if the attention she receives is for the wrong reason or not , as long as she’s getting it . despite this she’s a good person ? i promise . she’s very friendly , loves a good joke & having a good time . very fun loving . she’s the type of person to try and bring up everyone else’s mood even when she isn’t feeling 100% herself . she’s loyal to those she deems are loyal to her . sometimes she’s bad a seeing who is actually loyal to her though & will be disloyal to someone who actually has her back ? oops . she’s definitely not the type to sugar coat anything for you , she tells it like it is & refuses to apologize if that hurts your feelings . if you cross her ? i’ll be praying for you . she’s the type to fuck your s/o , tell your boss some wild story about you & dump alcohol over your head at an event all in the matter of a week . don’t get her going , she’s absolutely relentless . with that said she’d very affectionate ... ? you can catch her hugging up on whoever is next to her at all times . touch is her love language , because lord knows she’s no sweetheart . she hates the stereotype of porn stars / internet personalities being ditzy , although she didn’t attend university she was accepted into two ivy leagues based off her academic abilities alone . the girl is intelligent & enjoys having a clever conversation from time to time .

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

a girl squad or just a squad in general really , give my baby her lil group of people please

her ex boyfriend from when she was seventeen ( he’s mentioned above ) but basically he’s the one who encouraged her to not let her parents make her their puppet , they didn’t approve of him , jalissa fell head over heels for him . they would’ve dated for nearly two years because the sex tape of her cheating on him came out .

the person she cheated on her ex with ? maybe they’re the one who leaked the sex tape ? maybe they never even told jalissa they were recording ?

her best friend that she does the tickets to our downfall podcast with ? these two are literally like twins , just two peas in a pod ( pun intended )

fans of her work ? and im not taking about her youtube channel or podcast

ex hook ups that think she’s crazy ? she probably gave them reason to think so lbr

frenemies give me blair & serena circa season one type of shit

just plain old enemies , they were probably friends at one point or maybe just have always disliked one another ?

smoking buddies were they literally just hot box cars together and munch on taco bell talking about why sound vibrates & shit

someone who isn’t afraid to confess their love for jalissa but her damaged ass refuses to confess her feelings for them ? so it’s just this constant cycle of them having a good time , them being sweet & her just gets weirdly quite & starring at them before she complaining about them going and ruining the vibes

she’s a bad influence on them ? they’re a good influence on her ? ride or dies ? partners in crime ? only friends when there is a substance involved ? sugar baby vibes ? unlikely friends ? flings ? crush ? friends with benefits ? everytime they are around one another its a fight ? someone she lets crash at her place sometimes ? someone she’s backstabbed & maybe they don’t even know she has & they still think she’s a ride or die for them ?

#hilton:intro #❛ 🍑 ── 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑. / INTRO.

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callunavulgari · 4 years

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Year-In-Fic | 2019

How many fics did you write this year? What was your total wordcount?

This year I wrote 41 fics (technically 40 as the last was published today, but I wrote it in December so I’m counting it), for a total of 96,689 words. For even more interesting numbers, of that 96k, a little over 70k of them were written in the month of October alone, so I’m pretty proud of that.

Fic Roundup!

children of dust and ash | Bartimaeus | Bartimaeus/Kitty(/Nathaniel) | 1,801 words | Kitty summons Bartimaeus on a chilly fall day in her thirty-eighth year.

sweet music playing in the dark | DBH | 1,102 words | “I noticed some time ago that you seem to have an appreciation for jazz.”

Radio Ga Ga | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,143 words | There’s always another party in Hawkins, Indiana. It would be almost boring if it weren’t for Steve Harrington.

Sunlight | Marvel | Loki/Thor | 765 words | They aren’t quite out of the solar system when Loki appears at the arm of Thor’s chair, hair shorn short and a furious snarl on his face.

like the bough of a willow tree | Detroit Become Human | Hank/Connor | 1,214 words | There’s a human lost in his woods.

knocking on heaven’s door | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,748 words | “Just, get in the fucking car. I’ll drive you home.” Billy looked at him, very seriously, and said, “What if I don’t want to go home?”

no more dreaming like a ghost | KH | Axel/Roxas | 813 words | He is in the kitchen, the stove top still warm under his thighs, and everything smells of cherries. The pie is cooling on the windowsill, the sun slanting in warm and buttery, and it is like a dream. A memory. A wish.

Cheers | DBH | Hankcon | 6,368 words | “Are you coming in or not?”Connor blinks, jerks his eyes up and away from those hands and-The bartender has blue eyes. They match the spinning LED at his temple perfectly.

bury a friend (try to wake up) | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,587 words | Steve digs up Billy’s body on a Tuesday.

won’t be too soon ‘til I say… goodnight moon | KH | Riku/Sora | 4,549 words | The house was built in the fall of 1882.

you’ll never know what hit you | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 5,379 words | “C’mon, ghost,” Shane urges. “Make all my dreams come true. Fuck me up, fam.”

make this chaos count | EOS 10 | Ryan/Akmazian | 724 words | “You really should stop looking for me,” Akmazian tells him, fingers creeping across Ryan’s ribcage, mapping the architecture of his ribs.

eat you up whole | The Witcher | Geralt/Regis | 2,527 words | “How many mouthfuls do you think I could take from you before it had some effect?” Regis whispers, lips against his throat. Geralt can feel the pinprick of fangs. “Four? Six? Ten? More, even?”

forget the horror here | DBH | Hankcon | 4,390 words | “Hello,” the android says, it’s chest heaving, the gleam of its heart brighter, bluer than before.

summoning demons (and other bad first date ideas) | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 3,868 words | “If I let you out of that circle,” Ryan says, slowly. “Are you going to eat me?”

Itch | The Magnus Archives | Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims | 1,440 words | The boneturner takes from him two ribs - one for him and one for Jon.

the salt water sting | Dishonored | Corvo/Outsider | 2,163 words | The ship wrecks several hundred miles off of the coast of Karnaca.

a skeleton of something more | SGA | Rodney/John | 3,072 words | “John?” he murmurs, still coasting on the pain. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, if cotton were also made of glass.

in the woods somewhere | Teen Wolf | Derek/Stiles | 4,570 words | Stiles buys a house in Virginia.

Wake Up | The Magnus Archives | Martin/Jon | 550 words | “If you wake up,” Martin tells him, experimentally. “I won’t go through with it. You can tell me what a stupid idea it was, and we can laugh about it, and everything will be normal.”

Pas de Deux | KH | Axel/Roxas | 506 words | Roxas doesn’t remember what the sky looks like anymore.

try to wake up | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,226 words | They do not, in fact, bone down and praise Satan.

too late to come on home | LoZ | Gen | 1,391 words | “You look familiar,” the boy says in his strange, haunting voice. “Are you lost?”

patron saint of the lost causes | Harry Potter | Draco/Harry | 4,203 words | “Can’t you just, y’know,” he waves a hand and makes an obscene gesture, his cheeks flaring red. “Shag it out?”

wouldn’t you like to see something strange? | Teen Wolf | Sterek | 1,571 words | “I’d say you make my heart pound, but well…” Stiles nods meaningfully to his chest, where if you look hard enough between the slots of his ribs, you can see the lump of muscle that once was his heart, pointedly not beating. “You know.”

the night is softly, sweetly calling | Teen Wolf | Sterek | 2,938 words | Here’s the thing that Stiles never tells the Hales: his mother was strange too.

Haunt | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 1,486 words | Ryan couldn’t remember a time when the world didn’t believe in ghosts.

bite my tongue, bide my time | PJO | Nico/Percy(/Annabeth) | 1,376 words | “What’s wrong with you?” Nico asks, cowering when Percy places a gentle kiss on his collarbone.

Bird Song | Raven Cycle | Ronan/Adam, Gen | 1,445 words | On a dreary Sunday in early January, Ronan dreams himself a pair of wings.

kiss me hard until you’re done | Star Wars | Reylo | 3,082 words | He looks up at her from under heavy lids, dark hair sweeping forward to frame his face. “May I have this dance?”

beauty in the dissonance | Marvel | Tony/Loki | 1,411 words | When Tony dies, it isn’t for forever.

like real people do | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 2,808 words | “I’ve got the sight, man,” he says with a small shrug. “And look, I feel for you. You’re dead and I’m not, and that sucks, but unless you’re planning on doing something about it, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop feeling me up and let me get back to sleep.”

i’d rather drown in your ocean | Naruto | Itachi/Shisui | 1,630 words | The Uchihas are an odd sort. Everyone says so.

catch your breath | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien/Sam | 2,588 words | Mark had never assumed in a million years that he would ever see Damien again. He hadn’t factored in zombies.

Nightmare | The Magnus Archives | Martin/Jonathan | 1,424 words | “All right,” he says, taking Jon’s still outstretched hand. “Let’s give the dream what it wants.”

dreaming of the crash | Gravity Falls | Mabel & Dipper | 484 words | When the end of the world comes, they’re under the bed.

don’t we love it now? | Kingdom Hearts | Sora/Riku/Kairi | 1,784 words | When Kairi is eleven years old, she gets lost in the woods.

all this, and love too, will ruin us | Star Wars | Reylo | 1,102 words | Rey is awake to watch the sunrise

open the walls, play with your dolls | Coraline | Coraline/Wybie | 2,886 words | Halloween at the Pink Palace is a lot like any other time of year.

in every golden trace | Queen’s Thief | Costis/Eugenides/Irene | 4,645 words | For as long as Costis can remember, he’s had two names scored across the skin atop his ribs, one on either side of his rib cage, nearly perfect mirrors to one another.

a different kind of danger in the daylight | Shades of Magic | Lila/Kell/Holland | 6,930 words | Sleeping with Holland was never part of the plan.

Best story I wrote this year: Probably the night is softly, sweetly calling. I wrote this for the 18th of October, and it’s the much awaited third part of a Teen Wolf/Addams Family fusion that I wrote back in 2014. A lot of people have asked me to continue this series over the years, but I never did because I felt my writing style had changed too much and then I fell out of the Teen Wolf fandom completely. But I’d written another Teen Wolf fic a few days before (more on this later) and I was just... very nostalgic all of a sudden. My style of writing had changed, but to offset the change of tone, I wrote the story from Stiles’s POV instead of Derek’s and it made all the difference. I was pretty pleased with the result, and hope that it made everyone happy.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest. patron saint of the lost causes. There were a couple fics that I think I did a really good job writing this year, the one listed above and below included, but I think that this one was my favorite. Writing Drarry was a surreal experience, because even when I was in the Harry Potter fandom I didn’t really write for it (well, I didn’t publish what I’d written for it) and I was surprised by how easily it came to me. I tried to channel a lot of the feeling of men who had mothers when I was writing this one, because it seemed very right.

Okay, NOW your most popular story. All right, so technically my stats are all messed up this year because when I posted the third part of the Addams/Teen Wolf fusion, I also posted a chapter to Que Sera, Sera since so many people were subscribed to that story. So. From a purely stats standpoint, Que Sera, Sera was the most popular because it has a total of 25,790 hits, 2973 kudos, and 115 comments. BUT, I did not actually write anything new for that one so-

in the woods somewhere was the first fic I’d written for Teen Wolf since I wrote take me to church in August of 2017. It has over 900 kudos and some 5000+ hits. When I decided to do Dark Month this year, I knew that I wanted to revisit some of my old fandoms, so Teen Wolf was always going to be a given. I wrote take me to church as a cathartic goodbye to the show, the fandom, and of course, Stiles and Derek. It was my soft epilogue for the boys.

in the woods somewhere has a very similar feel to it. It’s post-canon, obviously, and features Stiles buying a house in Virginia and Derek slowly working his way back into his life. It is also very much in the ‘soft epilogue’ genre, leaning heavily into the magical Stiles Stilinski trope while maintaining the FBI agent direction canon was leading us in. Also it has a lot of comfort things for me - judicious descriptions of food, a packed witchy cabin in the woods, and warm shower kisses. Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Possibly either won't be too soon 'til I say... goodnight moon or all this, and love too, will ruin us. The first of these two fics is almost 5k of spooky season Riku/Sora that was strongly inspired by Uzumaki-sama’s old fic Goodnight Moon. It was the second day of October and my prompts for the day were moon cycles, nightmare, cage, lookalike, mirrors, and glowing eyes, which was just asking for fic exploring doppelgangers and old haunted houses. I loved writing it, and maybe I should have expected it since Kingdom Hearts is such a quiet fandom nowadays, but it honestly stung that it didn’t get more attention.

The second of those fics was a Reylo fic (yes, yes, I know, it’s an awful ship, etc. etc.) that was very much written to be slow and melancholy and kind of surreal. Sometimes my smallest fics are my favorite, and I really liked this one. But alas, some things were not meant to be.

Most fun story to write: I had a whole lot of fun writing summoning demons (and other bad first date ideas). A lot of the fics I wrote this year, particularly during October, were really fun and easy to write. I missed writing every day. This one in particular though was about 4k of Ryan accidentally summoning Shane (the demon) while Shane was standing right next to him in his human suit. It let me play with a lot of body horror tropes that I don’t explore usually, and Buzzfeed Unsolved is a very fun, fresh fandom to dig around in. This is the second of the three (I think it was three, at least) fics that I wrote for the fandom during October and I had so much fun with it.

Story that could have been better? I don’t know about better, but Sunlight and Bird Song were both supposed to be significantly longer. I wrote Sunlight shortly after watching Endgame, and it was always going to be me working my way through my issues with that movie (Loki not really coming back, weird wonky time travel, Thor leaving his people after his whole arc was him learning how to be a good king) but I got distracted and had to go somewhere that day and just never got back to it.

Bird Song is actually a fic I’ve been meaning to write for years. Ages ago (and we are truly talking ages ago, like September 2015 ages ago), @kaikamahine gave me a prompt for E, 17, and hymnal, which basically balanced out to Ronan, churches, and wings. So day 20 of October was going to be Raven Cycle (with such prompts as stacked deck, darkness, wings, and fight fire with fire, it was begging for it) and I was finally going to write Ronan wingfic. It was going to be great. There was going to be Calla and Ronan interaction and found family themes and there was going to be a church, because obviously, but then I wasn’t doing so well and ran out of time, SO. Definitely could have been better.

Story I wrote to fix things: beauty in the dissonance, the 24th fic of October, was a Tony/Loki flavored story where both Tony and Loki are, in fact, alive. Sunlight was written as a direct response to Endgame, even if it was never finished properly. make this chaos count was the 4th day of October, and written because I’m still not fucking over Ryan and Akmazian. And then knocking on heaven’s door was written just after viewing s3 of Stranger Things. It was uh, less of a fix it fic and more a wallow in your grief fic, but it still applies.

Oh, and a different kind of danger in the daylight was technically fix it fic? I’m generally okay with how Shades of Magic ended, despite my favorite character dying because it came off as a good death. However, the recipient of my Yuletide gift wanted no character death and I wanted to write something post-canon, so presto, fix it fic.

Longest completed fic this year: a different kind of danger in the daylight, followed by Cheers. Both are hovering between 6 and 7k, which isn’t technically long, but since about 90% of my fic this year was written over the course of a day each... I’ll take it.

Fandom you enjoyed writing for most this year: I had a lot of fun with Buzzfeed Unsolved and The Magnus Archives, but I also had fun dipping briefly back into Harry Potter and Teen Wolf.

Favorite character you wrote this year: I had way, way too much fun writing Geralt and Regis in eat you up whole. I have literally no idea if it translated into good fic, but it was fun and just shy of porny and I just really like Geralt. I also had a lot of fun writing Lila in the Shades of Magic fic.

Most memorable comment(s) this year: I got two comments from @kaikamahine about a week ago that honestly made my day. @faorism reread one of my older Stranger Things fics and left a comment, which made me reread it, which was just very good. Every single comment I got on the new Teen Wolf fics with some variation of ‘missed you’ or ‘so glad you’re back’ made me fucking melt. The two different comments where the reader wasn’t even familiar with the material, just read and enjoyed because I wrote it. The comment on one of my Stranger Things fics that just reads, “What the FUCK this SLAPPED.” The comment directly above that one that is from one of my favorite writers in the fandom. The several comments on the single PJO fic I wrote this year which were different variations of “oh my gosh it’s you” and “it’s been so long.”

And of course everyone losing their collective shit over some of the grosser October fics. Namely Itch.

Fics you wanted to write but didn’t: For the most part, the fics I wanted to write but didn’t are the same as last year- Sabriel AU, Enjolras/Grantaire fic, found family Dishonored fic, bodyswappying Reylo, Sterek Bioshock and Carmilla AUs which I am likely to post as is sometime next year.

I still want to finish the Castlevania OT3 fic, the giant canon-divergent Bright Sessions AU where years after the series ends, Mark ends up running into Damien again in a small town in the middle of nowhere only to realize that he has a daughter, a farm, a life, and is just so drawn to it that he keeps coming back. I have the Wolf 359 post-canon fic where everyone has feelings and found family is a general theme and maybe Eiffel smooches an AI. I also have the smuttier Wolf 359 fic that’s been lurking in the back of my head for months where Eiffel and Kepler er, basically eiffel tower Jacobi.

Oh, and I have the Reylo fic where Rey (and Ben, through the bond) sit through General Organa’s funeral and keep coming back to each other afterwards. And that Final Fantasy 15 fic where Dino and Noctis do the nasty. And the Hera & Jacobi fic from October. And uh, the post episode 9 fic that’s been lurking about in my brain.

Oddest story: Probably i’d rather drown in your ocean? It was pretty spot on aesthetically for me, but it was weird to write Itachi and Shisui again, especially in a strange modern day vampire context? Also Itch and Nightmare were both Magnus Archive fics that were super gross (Itch) and just plain spooky and bizarre (Nightmare) but they were so fun to write. Hardest story to do: Cheers gave me some trouble initially but got a lot easier as I went on. I hit writer’s block pretty bad with the Shades of Magic fic too, but that seems to be what happens when I come up on deadlines. Easiest story to write? Most of October’s fics were a blast to write and super easy besides. Basically all of the Kingdom Hearts, Stranger Things, and Teen Wolf fic. And the Buzzfeed Unsolved.

Most mining of your own history in one story: Probably either open the walls, play with your dolls or no more dreaming like a ghost. Not in any way that really matters, but there are a couple familiar details.

Themes, or absence thereof: Mostly either spooky scary things or fix it fics. Sometimes both.

Where did you publish/archive your stories? Ao3, as per usual. Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to: The only thing that I currently have planned is the post episode 9 fic and a couple things that I’ve had planned for a while that may or may not come out.

Sexiest moment (excerpt): “How many mouthfuls do you think I could take from you before it had some effect?” Regis whispers, lips against his throat. Geralt can feel the pinprick of fangs. “Four? Six? Ten? More, even?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Geralt murmurs, and Regis laughs.

“I would,” he agrees.

“So, why don’t you find out instead of boring me with all the details?”

Regis pulls away from his throat, far enough that Geralt can meet his eyes again. He swallows at what he finds there. Amusement, yes, but also hunger, brighter than the moonlight reflecting in his eyes.

“A taste, first, I think,” Regis says in a low, cool voice, and then closes the space between them.

Geralt had forgotten the blood on his lip, but he remembers it when Regis catches him in an open-mouthed kiss. It’s wet and bruising, and Geralt is responding before he remembers he shouldn’t, fighting back the only way he knows how with the rest of him indisposed. He claws at him, bites at him, and the vampire laughs when Geralt catches his plump lower lip between his teeth and bites down. Regis gives his mouth one last darting swipe of the tongue before he is pulling away.

There’s a flare of color high on Regis’s cheeks and his ears are distinctly more pointed than they were five minutes ago, the sclera of his eyes gone red.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been bitten by a human before,” Regis tells him, leaning close like he’s divulging a secret. “It’s a rather exhilarating experience.”

“I’m all for a repeat experience,” Geralt quips, eyes narrowed. “Lean in just a little and we can see if I can manage to tear off your lips before you rip out my throat.”

“Please,” she whispers, and feels herself quiver like a taut bowstring when he touches her mouth gently, with the very tips of his fingers.

He smiles and leads her away, through the demons and goblins and fae that she came here to kill.

They make it as far as the parking lot before he is hitching her up the side of a gleaming Mercedes, hooking her legs around his shoulders, and hiking her skirts up over her thighs so he can duck his head beneath them. His fingers linger for a moment on the silver of the knives strapped securely to her thigh, and then he is reaching in, guiding her underwear to the side and getting his mouth on her, right where she wants it.

She must make some kind of noise, because he chuckles, tongue circling her clit in a slow, languid way that makes her think that he is savoring her, that he likes the taste of her on his tongue.And he must, because she knows what he is. Knows that just as he’s savoring the taste of her, he is eating her, feeding off of her want like the things that she hunts in the dark feed off of blood and marrow and souls. She knows, but it isn’t enough to stop her from tilting her head back, gasping for him, the distant wink of streetlights and stars so far away.

He makes her come with his mouth on her, with his fingers inside her, and even as she’s shaking around him, she knows that it isn’t enough. She wants more, wants to feel the heavy press of him inside around, wants to kiss his lips and taste herself on his tongue.

“Please,” she says, her thighs shaking, and he laughs, pulling away and easing her down, until her legs are looped around his waist instead of her shoulders. He reaches between them, and she knows what’s happening beneath her skirts, knows that he’s getting his cock out of his pants and pressing it against her, can feel it as he sinks slowly into her, the tight fit of it so sweet, so perfect that it makes her ache.

“You’re lovely,” he whispers, kissing her shoulders and fucking into her slow, a teasing stretch that makes her mouth water, makes her twitch.

“Is this what you wanted?” Hank jeers, one finger circling the rim of Connor’s hole. There’s a flush of angry blue across his cheeks. His hair is coming loose from its usually immaculate tail, curling against his forehead. His eyes are blue. His LED is not. “To lay back and take it? From a fucking machine?”

Connor whines, back arching as Hank dips the tip of his thumb inside, just enough to hold him open.

“That is it, isn’t it?” Hanks says softly. There’s a touch of triumph to his gaze as he fucks Connor open on his thumb. Something mean, too. Disdain, slowly unfurling in the curve of his lips. He shakes his head. “All this time, coming to this bar. Talking to me like you thought I was some kind of human, and you just wanted something like me to hold you up and take you apart.”

“No,” Connor gasps, but can’t help the twist of his hips when Hank adds another finger.

“No?” Hank says with a laugh. “Look at you.”

Connor’s cock jerks against his belly as Hank drags his pants the rest of the way down his thighs. They make it as far as his knees before they tangle, stuck on his shoes. His cheeks feel hot, and he- god, he wants to protest. Wants to say that Hank’s got it all wrong, that this is more. That he’s more.

But then Hank is flipping him over, until the arm of the couch is digging firmly into his belly, his ass high in the air. Hank pulls his fingers out, then leans over and spits, the cool slippery slide of the saliva trailing down the curve of his ass.

“All right, Connor,” he says. “This what you want? I’ll give it to you.”

No, Connor should say. It isn’t like that.

Instead, he says, “Please.”

Crackiest moment (excerpt):

“Did you just sneak into my house?” Stiles breathes, absurdly charmed.

Derek’s in his human disguise, everything dangerous about him hidden away from view, lurking just under the surface. He gives Stiles a look, and says, “Don’t be weird about it.”

He shuts the door behind him.

“I’ve got a nice monster knocking on my door just before the witching hour,” Stiles tells him playfully, making room for Derek to take a seat next to him. “How am I not supposed to be weird about that?”

Derek does something akin to rolling his eyes, the flames doing a little shimmy around the circumference of his eye sockets. He leans back against Stiles’s headboard, seemingly unconcerned that their sides are pressed together. Derek’s skin is very warm, human warm, and Stiles is all bones. He sucks up the warmth greedily.

“I’d say you make my heart pound, but well…” Stiles nods meaningfully to his chest, where if you look hard enough between the slots of his ribs, you can see the lump of muscle that once was his heart, pointedly not beating. “You know.”

“What’s the local legend about this thing?” Shane asks, hopping up onto the throne easily and spreading out, eyes on the night sky. He looks good. He always looks good, but Ryan likes him best like this, out here with the moonlight shining down on them and the camera catching all his best angles.

As Ryan watches, he blinks, and turns to look at Ryan, puzzled. “Ryan?”

Ryan clears his throat. “The locals say that if you make a wish while sitting on her throne, the witch will grant it.”

Shane gives him a wicked smile and hums a few bars of Genie in a Bottle. Ryan chokes out a laugh, crossing the space between them until he’s leaning up against the side of the throne himself.

Shane closes his eyes. “I wish, I wish with all my might, please dear god, let there be ghosts here this night.”

Ryan holds his breath.

“C’mon, ghost,” Shane urges. “Make all my dreams come true. Fuck me up, fam.”

All around them, the world is still.

Shane cracks an eye open and squints at him. “Did it work?”

“Jon?” someone asks, and Jon blinks.

Martin is standing before him. He’s wearing something out of another time, a costume of silken breeches with a well-cut waistcoat of a rich, opalescent blue. There’s a puffy cravat hugging his neck, and polished buckled shoes on his feet. Jon almost expects him to be wearing a wig, but his hair is the one thing that’s been left untouched, hanging loose around his chin.

“Martin?” Jon asks.

Martin seems to take him in, his eyes running slowly down Jon’s body, lingering at his wrists, his waist, his thighs. It’s a bold sort of move, one that Martin would never be half so blatant about if he were awake.

“You, er. Look nice,” Martin says, and Jon glances down at himself.

He’s sure that moments ago he’d been wearing the same thing he’d worn to the office, shabby coat, mostly clean shirt, a pair of nondescript trousers that didn’t have any stains. But now, he finds himself in a dress. The gown is long and brilliantly red, the skirts heavy around his thighs. There are embroidered patterns reminiscent of roses along the bodice and down the front of his petticoat.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, still staring. Experimentally, he moves his hips, and finds that the skirts swish obligingly with the movement.

“Yes, well,” Martin murmurs, cheeks flushing horribly. “You always did look rather good in red.”

“In red-” Jon repeats in horror. “Martin, I’m in a gown.”

Favorite dialogue (excerpt):

“Are you ever going to stop looking for me?” Akmazian asks him one night.

Ryan is tired. Akmazian is a shadowed figure in the dark that he tries not to look at too closely, because if he does, Akmazian will be gone.

“Maybe,” Ryan tells him, and turns over onto his side. Away from the shadow, the ghost.

The bed dips under the weight of a person who isn’t really there, and Ryan can feel Akmazian’s breath on the back of his neck, warm and damp.

“Don’t touch me,” Ryan says, and means, I don't want this to end yet.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, darlin',” Akmazian murmurs back, then drags his lips over the back of his neck anyway, just to be contrary. Ryan swallows, his throat dry, tongue thick in his mouth. He clenches his fingers in the sheets, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that his vision stains red behind his eyelids.

“Please,” Ryan says.

“You really should stop looking for me,” Akmazian tells him, fingers creeping across Ryan’s ribcage, mapping the architecture of his ribs.

“I know.”

“You’re never going to find me.”

Ryan laughs. “Never say never.”

There is silence behind him and then, “Ryan. Please. You’re hurting yourself.”

Ryan trembles a little when a hand lands on his hip, just this side of too solid.

“Don’t care.”

“You’re hurting the stars.”

Ryan is silent for a moment. Then, “I just miss you.”

A sigh.

“I know,” Akmazian murmurs, and leans over to place a kiss on Ryan’s forehead. “I miss you too.”

Ryan opens his eyes, turns to look, and like always, Akmazian is gone.

“Look,” Potter says, audibly slurring. “I’ve had an idea.”

Draco crosses his arms. “And what, pray tell, is this idea of yours, Potter?”

Potter leans forward, using a hand to prop himself up, until he’s well into Draco’s personal space. He smells like beer and whiskey, and his cheeks and jaw are more beard than stubble.

“Break your curse with me,” he breathes, a hand settling atop Draco’s blanket-clad knee.

Draco swallows. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“No, look,” Potter says, leaning in even closer, eyes a bit wild. “We can just… you know.”

“No, Potter,” Draco tells him. “I don’t know.”

But he does. He really does.

“You know,” Potter says again. “Shag it out.”

“I think that you’re confusing things again,” Draco says tiredly. He sets the book on the nightstand next to him. “Remember the terms of the curse? Love, Potter. Not sex.”

Potter’s nose wrinkles. “But sex is part of love. Usually, anyway. It’ll work, I know it.”

“It won’t,” Draco insists, slapping Potter’s hand away when it begins to wander up his thigh. “Do you really think that I didn’t shag my wife before she left me? Because I did. We tried for years. Years, Potter. Trust me, if the curse were going to break because of a fuck, it would have happened well before now.”

Potter blinks at him, his eyes wide. There’s a ruddy flush on his cheeks, and Draco’s not sure if he likes it.

“We could at least try,” Potter says, almost gently. He doesn’t touch Draco again, but he looks like he wants to, hand trembling where it lays on the bedspread.

It feels like there’s glass in Draco’s throat. He is so, so tempted. Here is what he wanted - or at least part of it - Potter in his bed begging to fuck him, and he’s going to have to send him away.

“I think you should leave,” he tells him, and Potter’s mouth shuts with a click.

Favorite lines (excerpt):

“Relax,” he croons, stroking her fingers before he pulls away. “Your secret is safe with me. Most of this crowd knows that I’m not on speaking terms with that side of my family. They won’t suspect you because of me.”

Her face is flushed, either from rage or humiliation. Possibly both.

“So you-”

“Yes,” he says, fingers dropping to caress the fabric of her gown, swirling a thumb around the sweeping petals of an embroidered rose. His gaze is sly, a bit predatory when he glances back up at her. “I know what you have under this pretty skirt of yours.”

Rey’s breath catches, and she feels something- a slow trickle of heat seeping in to pool around her navel. She shifts, thighs sliding together, and hopes that he can’t smell her.

“Just as I know exactly what you’re doing right now,” she tells him in a hard whisper, jerking away from his grip on her elbow.

His eyes widen, affecting a look of innocence - a ‘who me?’ - that isn’t quite as effective when his lips are also curling up into a slow, pleased smirk.

“And what exactly am I doing?” he asks, his eyes laughing at her.

She glares at him. That seems to be enough of a reply, because he chuckles before taking possession of her arm again and pulling her smoothly towards the dance floor. Once they’ve reached the edge of it, he stops, dropping her elbow in favor of dipping into a low, courtly bow.

He looks up at her from under heavy lids, his hair sweeping forward to frame his face. “May I have this dance?”

The dance floor is crowded, full to the brim of masked people sweeping by in jewel-bright dresses and dark suits. She knows not to - knows that this place is a lot like fae courts of old. You don’t eat the food, you don’t drink the wine, and you definitely don’t dance.

But she’s already drank the wine, so she might as well dance.

The ship wrecks several hundred miles off of the coast of Karnaca. The storm that ends them is a rare sort, fiercer than most, a huge bank of dark clouds that seems to come from the void itself, blooming on the horizon like a warning. The lightning cracks the world asunder, thunder deafening, but it's the wind and waves that will always be a ship’s downfall.

Corvo watched the wave approach, saw its frothing white caps and the way it had stretched, higher and higher, until it loomed over the ship.

They never had a chance, and by the time the wave came crashing down, Corvo was already holding his breath.

Much of what he remembers after are mere snippets: the gulping suck of the water around him, broken pieces of the ship spinning by along with those of the crew who were unlucky enough to be caught by the ship’s pull, sucked down into the void, devoured by the whale god himself. He remembers his first gasp of air once he’d surfaced, the tang of brine and salt heavy on his tongue as wave after wave battered his body.

He doesn’t think that most of the crew survived the first few minutes much less the whole night, and he is certainly alone when the sun blossoms on the horizon hours later, clinging to a piece of ship the size of his torso and kicking relentlessly towards the dawn.

Corvo grew up on the coast, his hair stiff with salt from the ocean breeze. He grew up in and out of the water, hauling cargo or gutting fish on the docks. He’s familiar with the ocean - how the pull of the tides work, which days its best to avoid the dock, how to escape the sea’s wrath when a riptide or an undercurrent tries its damndest to drown you.

So he knows that his chances of making it to land are slim. But Corvo has always been stubborn, his legs have always been strong, and his story is far from finished.

Stiles buys a house in Virginia. It’s a modest thing close to Quantico, but not too close, tucked away into the heart of the wooded Appalachians. The bones of the house is all stonework and sturdy dark wood, a rickety wraparound porch bracketing the house on all sides. The first thing that he’d bought for it were two overpriced rocking chairs he’d gotten from the nearest Cracker Barrel.

Over the course of a year, he fills the house with things. A soft, dark gray sofa. Several solid end tables. A pair of emerald lamps he gets from an antique shop. A moss-green throw that is warm as a hug when it’s wrapped around his shoulders in the dead of winter. His living room is a bit too mountain man chic, but he likes the way that it looks when he’s coming home from a long day at the academy, warm and inviting.

He gets his bed set from a woodworker a couple dozen miles down the road, a man with a gruff bristled gray face and a warm smile, who trades Stiles the custom set for some warding and a couple bottles of what he calls, ‘miracle elixir.’ The set is sturdy mahogany, a pair of wolves carved across the top of the curving headboard, runes filling the gaps between them. The chest of drawers and dresser are just as solid, and Stiles has to hire movers to help him get everything back to the house.

The bulky rednecks decked out in worn flannel that help him with it carefully avoid looking at the runes of the headboard, their eyes skittering away from the carvings like frightened rabbits. They exchange apprehensive looks when they see the herbs drying over the sink in his kitchen, but to their credit, stay quiet and hightail it out of the place when he pays them. Here in the Appalachian backwoods, no one talks about magic, but everyone knows it exists.

Stiles has people over every once in a while - flies his dad and Scott in from California, has Lydia drive down from Boston, or Kira from North Carolina - but mostly, he’s alone. It’s a strange thing to get used to, the silence of the nights out here, where the night sky is bright and clear enough to see the stars above him, not a hint of light pollution to be seen, and the trees rustling in a quiet wind is almost louder than the hoots and hollers of the local wildlife.

He’d thought it would be lonely, and to be fair, sometimes it is.

Some nights he comes home and collapses back onto his sofa, and would do anything to be right down the road from Scott and Melissa and his dad again. He has days where he craves Melissa’s pozole or his dad’s meatloaf so badly that he can taste the heat of it on his tongue.

But mostly, the quiet is nice.

He cooks himself soups that simmer in the slow cooker while he’s at the academy and roasts that he makes on the weekends. He experiments with food the way he never used to back in Beacon Hills, where he had his dad’s heart to worry about if he made anything, and fast food which was easier to grab when he didn’t. He takes a world tour through his kitchen - homemade pierogi, hearty paella, steaming pirozhki, spicy-smelling curries, and hand rolled sushi. The first time that he makes his own bread in the ancient oven that came with the house, the smell of it coming fresh out of the oven is so good that he nearly cries.

It’s three winters into living there before he hears a scratching at his door in the middle of the night, and when he goes to investigate, finds a large black wolf on his doorstep.

It’s favoring one of its paws, dark fur matted on one side of its head where he can dimly make out a sluggishly bleeding gash. It blinks at him, eyes glowing a bright, familiar blue, and Stiles spends a minute watching it before he smiles and steps aside.

Fic goals: Hey Heather, it was only 800 words, but you did technically write something original. Now, let’s do something original that’s a little longer. And while we’re at it, let’s do something novel length.

#heather says what #heather writes #2019 #new year's memes

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swiftshimmy · 4 years

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Dear Taylor,

I remember being 8 years old, and watching music videos on CMT. It was the fall of 2006 and the video for ‘Tim McGraw’ played a lot. I really liked her dress, and that was my first experience with Taylor Swift.

I remember being 11 years old, and sitting in my 5th grade classroom. It was the beginning of 2009 and my teacher was always playing Fearless on CD during work time. I really liked the song ‘Forever and Always.’ I would go home and look up the lyrics on the Internet.

I remember being 13 years old, and coming home from the 7th grade Valentine’s Dance in 2011. There was a boy that I really, really liked, and I worked up the nerve to tell him that night. When I got home, I ended up blasting Haunted on full volume because well...it didn’t work out.

I remember being 14 years old (about to turn 15!), and being in study hall during my freshman year of high school. It was 2012, and I was in my first real relationship ever. Wow, did I think that I was in love, so the feelings of heartbreak that were on the album Red didn’t really mean anything to me at the time; however, they sure were some great bops when I was working on Biology homework.

I remember being 17 years old, and working my first job ever as a junior in high school. The year was 2014, and I just bought tickets to my first ever concert...1989 Tour Chicago, Night 2. Section 436. 1989 was the only thing I was listening to and little did I know, in a few short months, I was going to experience my first real heartbreak that I thought I would never get over. Red helped with the heavy emotions at first, but I remember jamming to 1989 with friends on the way to prom.

I remember being 19, and trying to figure out my life as a sophomore in college. The year was 2017, the world was a mess, and I was still dealing with different heartbreak. Reputation was so new, fresh, and relatable. I remember driving home from campus late at night, screaming along to Dancing With Our Hands Tied and other favorites. It was so therapeutic. I saved my money and went to both nights of the Reputation tour in Chicago, right by b-stage 1 both nights.

I remember being 21, and starting my final semester of classes before I student teach. The year was 2019, and I was dealing with some of the worst anxiety of my life. Lover came out and I blasted it along with Maggie Rogers for months on end. I felt like not much had changed, but also everything was changing all at once.

I am 22 now. I finally get to say that I’m feeling 22 (I’ve been waiting 7 years, haha). We are on the eve of a new decade. I have a group of friends that lift me up. I am openly bisexual. I am just over a month away from student teaching, and only 6 months until I become the first person in my family to graduate college. I know now that grad school, law school, and becoming an education lawyer is in my future. I’m not sure that it will all happen within the next decade, but one thing I do know for sure is that Taylor Swift will be by my side the entire time.

Over the past 13 years, Taylor Swift and her music has been by my side for everything. Boring days in school, heartbreak, falling in love, graduation, crushes, my first traffic ticket, getting my wisdom teeth taken out, starting college, finishing up my degree, my first ever concert, late night car rides with friends, the perfect Instagram caption, teaching my first ever lesson to a class of students, and even just typical Tuesday nights in my room. All of this and everything in between. There has never been a time when a Taylor Swift song didn’t make the moment better.

You’re attached to nearly every single memory, good or bad, from the past 13 years of my life. You are the best friend that I’ve never met, but couldn’t live without. I hope you are celebrating every accomplishment that you have tonight because this is all you. You have touched countless lives over the past 13 years, and are more than deserving of Artist of the Decade. You are an artist of a lifetime.

Congratulations and thank you so much for everything.

Love ya <3

#taylor swift #taylurking #swifties #american music awards #amas #artist of the decade #2019 amas #2019 american music awards #lover #reputation #1989 #red #speak now #fearless

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bee-kathony · 6 years

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FOUR YEARS - YEAR TWO | “January 5th, 2015″

The First Year

January 5th, 2015

On our one year anniversary, we had a small party at Lallybroch, it was rather laid back since it was the day after Hogmanay. I loved being with Jamie and his family, joining in with their family traditions. Finally… I felt like I had a place to call home — a person to call home.

In the few days that Jamie and I had been engaged, my heart hadn’t come down off of cloud nine. Every time I saw the ring sparkle in the sunlight or felt it knick against my sweater as I pulled it over my head, I found myself smiling like some giddy schoolgirl. If you asked me last year what I had been expecting for 2014… it would not have been a brain tumor, chemo and a fiancé by the end of it.

I was a different person than I was a year ago, my outlook on life was completely different. More than anything I cherished each day and tried to soak up every moment. Every kiss, every touch… every laugh that escaped my body.

There’s a quote I love, “How wonderful it is that we laugh because our bodies cannot contain the joy.” My joy had been a feeling that hadn’t existed in me for so long but with Jamie by my side and my body healing… laughing was my favorite thing and I couldn’t get enough of it.

I was laughing now as Jamie pulled up outside of the gym at 11:00pm on a Monday night. “Jamie, what on earth are we doing here, surely you didn’t drag me here to watch you work out?” Opening the car door, I walked around the other side and hooked my arm through Jamies, nuzzling against him to get warm in the cold January weather.

“Of course I’m no’ goin’ to work out at this hour, I’m no’ crazy, Sassenach.” He kissed the top of my head and led us to the entrance of the gym.

“It’s closed, how are we supposed to get in?” I asked but my question was quickly answered as Jamie pulled out a set of keys. “Ahh, friends in high places.”

He attempted a wink and unlocked the door, “Lasses first,” he held the door open for me and followed me into the dark lobby.

“Will you please tell me what we’re doing here at this hour? I would much rather be in bed with you,” I turned around and placed a firm kiss to his mouth, sighing against his body as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Oh I ken ye would, mo nighean donn. But I’ve got a wee surprise for ye,” his cheeks blushed a deep red and he turned, pulling us towards the men’s bathroom.

“Jamie!” I laughed, “You’ve got to be kidding me, you utter arse!”

His laugh echoed around the empty tiled bathroom as he switched on the lights. “I wanted to bring ye back here… back to where we first met, mo cridhe.” Jamie brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “I ken ’tis just a bathroom, a smelly one at that,” he sniffed and we both grimaced, “but it’s the place where I met the love of my life. And where our story began.”

I arched my brow, waiting for him to do something more that would explain our presence here in the middle of the night. Surely we could have visited during the day. Jamie released my hand and walked over to the shower area and turned one of them on, hot.

“Sassenach,” he smirked and came to stand before me, his hands on my hips. “Will ye join me for a wee shower?” He kissed my neck, “That first time I didna get to do to ye what I really wanted.”

Breathless I pressed against his body, “Oh… and what was that?”

“Well, first of all. I wasna wearing any clothes,” he chuckled and together we pulled off his sweats and boxers and then removed his shirt.

“Much better,” I agreed and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. “I recall that you were standing in the shower, Mr. Fraser.”

“Aye, ye’ve a bonny memory, Sassenach.” He walked forward and took a step under the water and I shivered as I watched it pour over his auburn curls and down across his skin.

“And the curtain was pulled over you,” I whispered and as he pulled the curtain to cover himself, I started to remove my layers. First my hat and scarf, followed by my coat and pajamas. “Then I chose this shower and pulled back the curtain,” I said over the rushing water and put my hand to the curtain and slowly pulled it back.

It was half a second later that Jamie had me in his arms, joined with him under the warm water. “I’ve got ye this time, Claire. I willna let ye fall.” He smiled and placed both his hands over my head, kissing the deep scar that ran over my skull and under the short curly hair.

“I love you, Jamie Fraser.” My hands slid across his back, over the scars — pressing against the story that covered his body.

“And I love you soon-to-be Mrs. Fraser,” Jamie placed one more kiss against my head — over the story of my pain, of my survival.

The water was warm and made it rather slippery as Jamie’s hands slid over my body but eventually he guided himself into me, lifting my legs to wrap around his waist. Holding me with my back to the shower wall, he thrust home, gently at first and then with a quick rhythm.

Our mouths pressed together, fevered and lips chapped. Since our first time on Christmas Eve, I had wanted him almost every second of every day. It was as if something had been released in me, a desire to know him and to have him know me completely.

Gasping, I came around his cock and leaned my head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Soon he followed into the abyss, his hands holding my arse and he brought us both down to the floor of the shower.

“My legs are like jello, Sassenach.” He laughed and I kissed him, savoring the taste of whisky on his tongue.

“Then I’ve done my job well, Fraser.” I rubbed our noses together and we sat there for awhile longer, letting the water pour over us.

++++++

“Can we maybe not go home just yet?” I wrapped my scarf around my neck once again and shook my short hair free of the water. “Annie will be asleep, she won’t miss us.”

Jamie smiled and kissed my cheek, “Aye, what did ye have in mind?”

“I thought we could just take a drive,” I think people still have some of their Christmas lights up.” Jamie helped me button up my coat and we made sure all the lights were off before we left the gym.

“Who gave you the keys anyways? And what exactly did you tell them?” I laughed, imagining Jamie having a conversation with the owner about how he wanted to bring his fiancée to the gym bathroom and make love to her.

“I ken the owner,” he smirked, “of course. Rupert Mackenzie, he’s a… cousin, of sorts.”

“Why am I just finding out about this?” He opened my car door and I slid in. Jamie walked to the other side and slid in, starting the car and turning up the heat.

“Well, he’s really my uncles cousin and ye havena been to the gym in about a year ye lazy oaf,” he playfully poked my side. “There’s a lot of things ye dinna ken about me.”

I reached for his hand and squeezed it, “I’m sorry, Jamie.”

Pulling my hand to rest over his heart, Jamie looked into my eyes, “Sassenach, this last year was — well it was verra difficult. But I swore to ye that I would love ye and stay by yer side. Have I kept that promise?”

I felt tears stinging my eyes, “Yes, you have, Jamie. Of course you have.” I leaned across the seat and kissed him. “I can’t help but feel selfish every time I find out new stuff about you… like I didn’t try hard enough to ask you or pay attention.” I let my head fall against his shoulder.

“Claire, we have plenty of time for that, the important thing is that yer healing, besides,” he ran his hand over my back, “there’s lots of stuff about me that isna verra interesting.”

I pulled my head back to look at him, “That is a crock of shit, Jamie. You’re very interesting… at least to me. Will you tell me more?”

Jamie turned the radio on low, already tuned to the Christmas station that was still playing ever after the holidays. “Aye, I’ll tell ye all the embarrassing stuff ye want to know.”

As he pulled out of the gym parking lot, I thought of questions to ask him, silly things, important things… anything that would let me know more of Jamie Fraser.

“Okay,” I intertwined my hand with his that wasn’t on the steering wheel, “Tell me something embarrassing that happened to you at school.”

“Ye really want to know what I was like as a daft kid?” He laughed.

“Aye, I do.” I smirked.

“It’ll have to be the time I wore a kilt to school…” His cheeks already started to turn bright red.

“No, Jamie… don’t tell me -“ I started to laugh.

“Yes.” He laughed as well, “I was just a lad and I guess my kilt wasna on properly, it was school picture day ye ken and my Mam told me I must wear the kilt. So I did but as soon as it came time for the picture to be taken…” he looked over at me, “it came loose and fell to the ground!”

“Oh my God, I can just picture a wee Jamie with his tighty whiteys and a puddle of tartan around his feet.” I wiped at tears from under my eyes. “What a sight.”

“Ye ken I have a kilt at home, Sassenach? Ye may no’ have to imagine.” Jamie slid his hand over my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Oh… and will you be wearing those tighty whiteys?” The fire was already building back up in my stomach.

“Och, no. Of course no, I’m a true Scotsman.” Jamie smirked and pressed his hand in between my thighs. “Do ye want to go home now?”

“Hmmm, drive around for a little bit longer and then we’ll go home and I’ll make you put on that kilt.” I squirmed and spread my legs further apart so his hand could tuck in between them.

For the rest of the drive, my mind was focused on Jamie’s hand — my complete undoing. He never touched me where I wanted but by the time we pulled up outside of our home, I was the first to exit the car.

“Eager lass,” He smiled and locked the car. I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the building.

“Come on lad, let’s see those buns.” We both laughed, intoxicated still from our late night gym shenanigans.

#four years #jamie x claire #mclairefras #jamie fraser #claire fraser #claire beauchamp #first year #year one #year two #January 5 2015 #outlander #outlander fanfic #here we go

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the-end-of-art · 5 years

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Christianity has no magic

My husband lost his job. My sister-in-law was murdered. Here’s what it did to my faith. by Elizabeth Bruenig at the Washington Post

A week before my daughter was born, my husband lost his job. It was unexpected. I came home from work just a little early one day because I thought I had felt a contraction — I didn’t know what it would feel like, having never given birth, and so I thought every pain could be a sign of labor.

When I came inside, I saw my husband’s shoes by the door. It wasn’t time for him to be in yet. I looked up and there he was, sitting in the rocking chair we had bought for me to use when nursing our baby. And he was slouched with his head in his hands, so then I knew.

I don’t remember much else about what happened then, other than that at some point I pulled so hard on the medal I was wearing — a miraculous medal, imprinted with an image of the Virgin Mary — that the clasp broke.

When I gave birth a few days later, the pain was unmistakable.

My husband and I came home from the hospital and looked for jobs for him. Sometimes when a job seemed especially promising I would go to church and light a candle and pray, although I still hadn’t fixed the clasp on my medal and didn’t wear it. It laid on the surface of my dresser and was buried in short order under towels and rags and baby clothes.

***

I had felt, maybe because of all my prayers, that things would soon look up. It made sense that things would get better quickly.

In late June, while my husband was out shopping for a suit for interviews, he received a phone call from his father in Texas. My husband’s sister, he said, had been murdered. She was 29 years old.

When my husband came home, I was in bed with the baby. Both she and I were glazed with sweat. Our bed is near a window; outside there are only the staggered roofs of other buildings, plain and tan, some of them sometimes crested by birds. I had fallen asleep watching crows rising up in the shimmering heat.

When he woke me up all I could hear through my daze was that she had passed away.

It was only later that he used the word murdered. A man had attacked Heather in the trailer she shared with two other women — a mother and her adult daughter who had previously lived out of their car. Heather was engaged and looking forward to her impending marriage. She had sporadically studied accounting after high school but spent most of her time working as a waitress at Cracker Barrel and Red Lobster. She had always been poor; she had never known anything other than being poor.

Red Lobster helped pay for her funeral. Dimly I thought of God’s love for the poor. Where could it have gone? Where was God now?

My husband flew to Texas, and I slept with our daughter, only a few weeks old. She woke up often then, hungry, and I would nurse her. In between I drifted in and out of a fitful twilight sleep, still aching from birth and worry. I wanted to see my husband, but I had run out of encouraging things to say. We were both exhausted. I would try to pray, only for my mind to wander into broken thoughts. I had a strange dream.

In my dream, I wandered down the aisle of some kind of noisy, crowded theater. At the front, where a stage should have been, were confessionals. I went inside one to repent and there was no priest there, only a screen with the face of a priest. I said to him: “Father, I’ve lost my faith.”

***

I should tell you the story of my medal.

In 2014, my grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She underwent surgery, and my mother visited her in the hospital often. It was a long recovery.

One evening my mother came home from the hospital and showed me something.

“I spotted this in the parking lot,” she said. There was a dull, nickel-colored oval in her hand. On one side I could make out the image of the Blessed Virgin, but the other side was coated with chewed gum and dirt.

I am a convert. My mother, a Methodist, wasn’t sure what this pendant could be. Neither was I.

I cleaned it up with dish soap and tweezers. It had been scraped on the asphalt, but I could read the words: O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee.

The next time I was out, I took the medal with me in a plastic bag. I brought it to a jewelry shop and had it put on a simple black cord with a lobster clasp, and from then on I wore it very often, thinking as much of whoever had lost it in the hospital parking lot as of my mother who picked it up out of the filth for me as of the Blessed Virgin herself.

***

The police were able to tell us that they had caught Heather’s killer driving her car, which he had stolen. She had been stabbed in the neck. There was very little more they were willing to say.

A couple of job opportunities seemed very likely. I would pray and ask all my friends to pray. I trust that they did.

But nothing came through.

***

For a while during the long, hot summer I entertained the superstitious idea that things would not look up for my family until I had the clasp of my medal repaired. I did not think I was being punished for breaking it, but I thought I had damaged some trust by doing that, and that I couldn’t fix it until I did some penance by way of cost and trouble.

But things got in the way. There is so much to carry when you go out with a baby. I would always think of taking it with me when I thought we might pass by a jewelry shop, but some other thing — a bottle, a rattle, a just-in-case bundle of socks — would always occupy my hands instead.

Summer stretched on. Our baby grew; she did not wake up so much in the night anymore, and she could smile and laugh. I prayed for the soul of my sister-in-law, and for my husband’s family and my husband, who occupied himself with our baby so as not to dwell too much on everything that was lost. I didn’t rush to light candles for possible jobs anymore. It didn’t seem to be any use, and I thought I had made my hope on that front clear enough. God would listen or He wouldn’t.

I had days of greater and lesser certainty. Mostly I thought God was listening. That was the fact that made me feel so restless: Why are You listening so quietly? I know You’re there. A whisper of doubt sometimes passed through my thoughts: You’re only thinking like this because it’s likely another job will come along. If it were something less likely, you wouldn’t feel so sure.

***

In August I visited my gynecologist’s office for a postpartum checkup. Everything looked to be in order. She asked me if I had felt sad since the baby had been born, or hopeless or lost. She asked if I had spent many hours crying.

I lied to her. But on the way home, in the still midday street with sun flooding upward from the pavement, I impulsively stopped my taxi short of my apartment building.

I departed from the road into the cavernous darkness of a church.

It wasn’t time for confession, but there was a priest in the sacristy who I asked, when he emerged, if he would hear my confession. He led me by the shoulder to the confessional where I knelt down and rested my forehead on my folded knuckles.

I don’t have any more faith, I told him.

But you’re here, he said. He was patient. It took a long time for me to say anything. Slowly I recounted everything that had happened over the past few months, though I didn’t tell him about my medal — somehow even then I was still too cowardly to tell him about my medal.

He listened. He said, at last, that while faith can be a comfort, it can also torture you. It can tear at you in times like these, he said, with his hand fixed like a claw. Because you know everything could be made better. But it isn’t.

The line between religion and magic, I learned in school, isn’t clear. But many scholars of religion agree that one important division is that while magic is private and crisis-oriented, religion is public and its rituals have no specific, short-term, earthly goals.

Christianity has no magic, and that may be just as well.

***

Eventually a job came along. The way that it happened was very prosaic, the way most jobs are. Nothing about it felt miraculous. I couldn’t discern any sign in it, but I know there must be one. It isn’t always important, I now think, to feel moved. Sometimes faith is an act of will. Maybe it mostly is.

What can I say: That my faith wasn’t injured? It was wounded.

But wounded things heal.

By the fall our baby had grown so much she could no longer fit into her first baby clothes. I decided to put all of them away for the next baby, and so went through our apartment gathering up every sock and onesie marked for a baby up to three months. In doing so I uncovered my medal, still looped on its broken cord.

I was never going to have it fixed, I realized. It wasn’t realistic. Having the clasp of a cord repaired was no longer possible in the scheme of the life I had now.

Nor did I have to. I slipped it from the cord and onto an unbroken silver chain I’d bought someplace a long time ago. It looked different, but wore just the same.

(https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2016/12/24/my-husband-lost-his-job-his-sister-was-murdered-heres-what-it-did-to-my-faith/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.706accc06f9b)

#Elizabeth Bruenig #faith #grief #loss #death #recovery #healing

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icantbealive · 5 years

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“oh, you’re a convert?” SHORT VERSION:Raised Catholic in Virginia. Felt connected to Judaism at 15. Moved to Chicago for college at 18 and completed a conversion through the Conservative movement. Now 22, studying at the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem, and shomer mitzvot.LONG VERSION:I was raised Catholic. I was baptized. I prayed the rosary until I fell asleep when my brother’s fever was dangerously high and he spent all night in the emergency room. I went to mass with my family every Sunday. I went through religious education. I read through the Bible several times. My brother and I used to run around my backyard and play with our guardian angels. I went to confession regularly. While my parents certainly raised us to be Catholic, I was still raised with liberal values. My family stopped going to church sometime after my brother’s communion, so I was probably nine or ten. As I got older, less and less made sense to me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the holy trinity, or the entire story of Jesus. I would lie in bed, awake at night, trying to make sense of what I still believed in.I grew up in a small town on the outskirts of the DC suburbs. My school was 90% white. Out of 600 or so kids in my middle school, one or two were Jewish. I knew Yom Kippur was a Jewish holiday because it was always printed on calendars, and I knew Hanukkah was around Christmas. I had little to no knowledge of any religion besides my own until I started having this crisis of faith. I went to a sports broadcasting camp in Maryland every summer in middle school and my freshman year of high school. The first year I went, I made friends with a boy named Jacob and we went to camp together every year. The next year, we went to a different session and met more friends. They all talked about their bar mitzvahs and BBYO and summer camp and it was all so fascinating to me- I was the minority and they had this entire culture and upbringing that was utterly foreign to me. At the time, I had reached an apathetic level in my faith. I was no longer a spiritual person. I did not pray or feel a need to find a religion. After camp, I went home and I started reading more and more about Judaism. I found it so interesting. I found it to be a religion that was very open to interpretations and questioning, which was refreshing. The cultural aspect was fascinating.Much to my dismay, I was about forty five minutes away from a synagogue. I was entering eighth grade, so I obviously couldn’t drive. I spent the next two years observing the religion in different ways. Truthfully, I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t understand the differences between Orthodoxy and liberal movements. I read as much as I could. I started keeping kosher. I would pray every morning when I woke up. I began exploring the idea of conversion.My friends mocked me. Everyone- my parents, friends, other family members- thought it was an adolescent phase, as if I would grow out of it. I was only fourteen, but I felt like I was old enough to know what I believed in. In Catholicism, I would have been going through the sacrament of Confirmation and “confirming” my faith and my dedication to follow the religion for the rest of my life, so why wasn’t I old enough to find a more suitable set of beliefs to go by?I first attended services during my sophomore year of high school. There was a boy on my brother’s ice hockey team whose parents would sit with my mother at games and practices. The family was Jewish and upon hearing about my interest in the religion, offered to take me to a reform temple. My first experience was tagging along to a religious education class and to meet the rabbi. A few weeks later, I went with the family to High Holiday services.The family did not go to temple outside of holidays, so my experiences at an actual synagogue were limited until I began driving. Once I had my license, I began attending Shabbat services every month or so. I worked at a grocery store in high school and it was difficult to take Friday nights off, so I went when I could. There were certainly times when I felt a need to go- Shabbat services always leave me feeling clear headed and relaxed, and I absolutely love how there is a holiday every week in Judaism.I went to High Holidays, a seder, and a handful of Shabbat services throughout the last two years of high school. After nearly four years of identifying as a Jew, it felt natural and like it was truly part of my identity. Most of my classmates didn’t even know I was converting. I experienced antisemitism, and while it was usually satirical, it still affected my Jewish experience. It gave me a pride in my religion and new-found culture. It was frustrating not being able to fully observe Judaism. I was in third grade when I decided I needed to move to a large city, so in the back of my mind, I promised myself I could live a Jewish life once I was in college. I made it a goal to join a synagogue and begin the conversion process. In late November 2013, I was accepted to Columbia College Chicago. By the spring, I had officially paid my deposit and would be moving to Chicago in August. I made it one of my many goals to join Hillel and find a conversion class.I began researching synagogues in Chicago. I wanted to try out a Conservative synagogue. There seemed to be more of a standard for practice within the Conservative community, and there were certain mitzvot I felt very drawn to, such as kashrut and Shabbat, that I didn’t feel like the reform community I had been in took seriously. I also wanted a synagogue that had a comprehensive conversion program. Some of the synagogues that I looked at had little or no information about their programs. A synagogue on Chicago’s North Side had a very established program and it was accessible by public transportation. I began the program in September 2014.I completed the Jews-by-Choice program at a Conservative synagogue in May 2015. I went before a beit din on 19 May and went to the mikveh on 21 May. In mid-May, I also moved to a Jewish neighborhood to be within walking distance of the synagogue. I live near three shuls, a JCC and a kosher restaurant. For someone who grew up in rural Virginia, this is heaven. My first year of college in Chicago was a very unique experience. I became very active in Hillel. I formed a pro-Israel student organization at my college. I went to AIPAC Policy Conference as a student delegate. I went on an Alternative Spring Break trip with Hillel and the Jewish Disaster Response Corps. I was able to experience Shabbat through a variety of lenses, from the local reform shul to a Modern Orthodox community, from Hillel Friday night dinners to being welcomed into a local community member’s home. Fast forward a few years to today. I finished undergrad in three years. I spent a year after college working at a major Jewish non-profit. I’ve visited Israel five times. I’ve experienced Jewish life in 9 countries during a semester abroad. I’m shomer shabbat, I keep kosher, I wrap tefillin and I’m relatively happy with where I am and who I am and how far I’ve come.If you have any questions about conversion, Conservative Judaism, or anything else at all, feel free to ask!”

TLDR THIS BITCH NEEDS TO CHOKE ON A ROCK

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rhinestonerespect · 5 years

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The Story I Hate to Tell

TW rape, violence

Yeah- don't read this if you don't wanna. For me this is an exercise in narrative. I've been stuck on poetry for many years and it is not working for me right now. My stories are in dire need of some clarity. Luckily I have diaries and conversations with friends to reference to make sure I have this right. I remember well. Too well.

My body still remembers it's trauma this time of year. It's been 5 years.

Part one:

The person that raped me was not the person who first attempted to rape me. The first actual rape attempt I experienced as an adult was a mutual friend of my roommate's. I had maybe five people over my mother's house drinking one night. Not heavily. Just a casual evening among legal college people. This guy had eyes for me so bad the whole night; it made me squirm. I did not feel attracted to him. When he asked if he could stay a little longer after my friends left, I said, "I'll be right back. Gotta pee." hoping he would just leave. (It is here that I cringe at myself for not just saying no.)

When I came out of the bathroom he was in my bedroom. I had not invited him in there. I walked in trying to figure out how I was going to say that I was tired and going to call it a night, but he grabbed me immediately. He forced a kiss and held me by the throat, squeezing more and more on my airway very slowly and started to fumble with the button on my pants.

I struggled for some seconds that I remember. But then THIS is precisely where I black out. I don't know if I lost consciousness from him choking me or if I have a short gap in my memory, but the next thing I know I am straddling him on my bed with the searing hot red lava lamp in my hand held over his face. And I'm saying "Get. The. Fuck. Out."

He then apologizes over and over and over and slinks away from me and grabs his keys and is gone. I had dropped the lamp on the floor. I remember it burned a little spot in the carpet. The burn on my hand took time to heal. I couldn't feel it at all until minutes after I saw his car leaving my street.

The person who did actually rape me was a friend. I had known him for years, but not intimately. After I dropped out of college we had the same crowd. Wasn't a healthy crowd for me. Party animals. Dissociated and shallow. They liked me because I was pretty and permissive. At the time, I was so low on self-esteem and agency that it literally gave me a life to hang out with them. I was like a doll. They dressed me up and watched me flail. I had felt like a reject and a disappointment, but they accepted me. And gave me lot's of drugs. Played all my favorite jams and asked me to twerk upside down against the fridge while they cheered. I am wondering now if I can still do a headstand.

It was on a late frigid night in January (January the 24th 2014 actually) that we had gathered in the trailer to do our usual damage. My girlfriend "A" was there. She'd had a fight with her boyfriend and wanted to get drunk and cut loose. There was a boy there who slowly throughout the evening warmed up to capitalizing on that mood of hers. Other than that, just the three people who lived there were present by the time our psychoactive substances started to kick in. We were drunk, also.

My 'friend' and I had drunkenly made out twice before. Both times I had declined going further and he was ok with us just snuggling and falling asleep. He actually fell asleep first on both occasions. That night he was very wide eyed. He kept grabbing my face to kiss me, which is generally a thing I enjoy from a lover's standpoint.

Things started to get bad when I 'decided' (I had a lot of coercion here) to go and get the 'moon rock' my ex lover had given me to make into an engagement ring. It was at my dad's place where I was staying. He came with me to retrieve it. I drove - which was extremely dangerous. I was out of my mind on the drugs. On the way back, he was groping me heavily. I remember yelling at him about it because I was scared to crash. I wanted to get back to my friend A because she was drunk and sad and I was supposed to take her home in the morning.

I did crash. A combination of being under the influence, being groped, and the black ice all over the roads. We spun around and crashed into the riverbank; my back wheels were on the frozen river spinning uselessly. The front end of the car was lodged tilted upwards in a snowy bank of cattails. We hadn't been going fast so the shock of the moment was not too terribly dramatic. However, I realized later that the characteristic bruises on my chest in particular were from my seatbelt.

It took us about 15 or 20 minutes of spinning wheels, pushing, and pulling to SOMEHOW MIRACULOUSLY dislodge my car from that spot. I still think it's insane that we were able to. My car was only dented in a few spots and had cattails hanging off of a few places. I remember, I lost some things in the snow out of a makeup bag I had packed to stay the night. I picked my dress I wanted to sleep in out of the snow, but left whatever else it was- eyeliner pencils and things.

When we got back to the trailer A was asleep on top of the guy who had wanted to take advantage of her being drunk and mad at her boyfriend. I should note, that I'm fairly sure she also took advantage of that situation. So my friend and I went into the bathroom to continue our business. We were making out when one of the people that lived there burst in on us and then laughed and went back to bed. We were still mutually enjoying each other at that moment.

Shortly after something changed. I did not expect it at all. I pulled back as I had done before when I wanted to stop and it was as if he suddenly had lost all patience with me. He grabbed me hard by the throat and slammed me back into the shower wall. There was a metal towel rack that badly bruised my back. It hurt in that moment very badly even with all the drugs. I was breathless and frozen in place for a moment. After everything that had happened that night, I had finally started to panic.

Then I told him I wanted to just go to bed in the living room. I was not tired. I was, at that point, deeply in shock and afraid of him. I went into the living room where our friends were sleeping. He pulled me down onto the mattress on the floor. I was worried about being quiet because it was so late. Still I said "Stop" and "I don't want to" and I can remember saying those things perhaps only because at that point it was as if I were watching myself say them. Uselessly. Like I had left my body on the floor underneath him and was watching from the ceiling just over us.

He shushed me. I remember that too. I remember how badly the spot on my back hurt. And my body in general.

He bit my mouth closed after a minute so that I couldn't keep protesting and then took my pants off and forced himself on me. Quickly and then done, but painful. Everything felt so painful and wrong. I bled on that mattress. I stopped struggling once he was done. He rolled off of me and then after some moments that were as timeless as anything, I heard him snoring.

I carefully got up so as not to wake anyone and tried to find what of my belongings I could. My coat. My car keys. My shoes. I left my purse and some clothes. Then I went outside. It was freezing and I didn't have pants. There was blood on my bare legs and walking was very difficult. My body kept seizing up and I had to try hard to deliberately put a foot in front of the other.

There was a walk down an icy hill to my car and as soon as I got outside, I saw that there was a cop parked right in front of my car. It was around 4 in the morning by then. He was idling there just to be off the street. It’s funny because every other time I've seen a cop in my life, I generally panic, but this time I was hopeful. I knew that I wasn’t ok. I did not want to drive. I did not want to go home. I wanted help.

I took careful steps down towards the cop and saw his face look up at me. He put his car in gear perhaps thinking that I was one of the cars parked behind him and needed to leave. So I WAVED. I waved at him and I know he saw me. He was looking right at me. I kept walking towards him and waving.

He drove away.

And so I got in my car and drove myself back to my dad’s house. I took a bath for hours. When the water got cool, I’d let out a little and just fill it up again with super hot water. Eventually when I got out I realized I would not be able to face my family like a normal being and would have to leave the house again before anyone woke up. I didn’t have my phone so I couldn't try to contact any of my friends for help.

I got on my computer and sent a message to my friend M’s boyfriend who was on Facebook. I knew he would see it and tell her to contact me via messenger. He did quickly and she then told me to come over. So I got dressed and went over there. I found his stolen Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses he had left in my car. My friend A was already there at M's house as well. I told them what had happened. At that moment, it was very easy for me. I was still in shock and hadn't fully formed emotions towards what I had just experienced. They had almost nothing to say in response. I later realized that they didn’t really believe me.

After I left M’s house, I went back to the trailer and got my clothes and wallet and phone. I saw the spot of blood I had left on their mattress in the living room. It was not very small. That was the last time I saw my friend S (who lived there). She was getting ready for work and had no idea about what had happened. She barely said good morning to me. Once she was told his version of events - which was that we had consensually hooked up but then I was jealous that he started dating his girlfriend (who I guess they started dating the very next day/I literally had no idea about any of this) and so I must have lied and claimed he raped me.

That sentiment was adopted by everyone else in that circle of people. They completely disowned me as a friend, as an acquaintance. When I returned to confront him a few days later - I brought the stolen D&G sunglasses he had left in my car. I had taken hours to carve the words “Fuck you, you motherfucker” across the lenses. Very deep with a sharp knife.

He was standing with his new girlfriend and a few others outside the trailer smoking. I drove up the hill and left my car running. Walked over to the group. No one spoke to me. They all went silent and looked stern. I walked right up to him and said “These are your sunglasses.” I handed them to him and he said nothing. Everyone stared at me like they had no idea who I even was. Like they had never seen me before. Then I got back in my car, drove away and never spoke to any of those people again.

Part Two to come later....

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harianadimples · 6 years

Text

Harry & Ariana Masterlist [UPDATED 02/14/20]

Below are short pieces I’ve written mostly to stir up inspiration/motivation to write for my longer stories. Some were written spontaneously, inspired by songs I love or movies I’ve seen. Some were taken from daydreams, and some from nightmares. To who sees what I create, I hope it inspires the same feeling in you that writing breathes into me .x

* = smut

-:-:-:-

2012

Dear Harry

– Skye Monroe is dying and her doctor suggested that she write her feelings in a journal. Instead, she decide to write to her favourite band member and never in her wildest dreams did she expect to get a response.

2013

Better Than Never

– Harry is unable to come home on time for his daughter’s birthday and it upsets her, but he finds a way to make it her most memorable birthday yet.

Bottled Love

– Harry’s an alcoholic. Ariana is faced with a tough decision.

My birthday Girl

– Harry and the boys plan a birthday surprise for Ariana.

2014

I’ll Always Hold You

– New dad, Harry Styles, has to learn how to cope with taking care of his eight-month-old daughter while Ariana’s on tour.

10 Months Without You*

– How Ariana feels when Harry’s gone for 10 months.

Home

– Harry’s a famous underwear model and he’s dating an university student.

2015

Chocolate

– A complicated relationship. She’s like a cigarette and Harry’s the fire that ignites her love.

Post-wisdom teeth removal

– Ariana has just had her wisdom teeth removed and Harry’s driving her home.

Violet

– Following a traumatic event, Ariana’s sanity begins to deteriorate and her faithful husband, Harry, watches her become attached to a plant as she learns to cope.

2016

The Force is Strong in Love*

– Harry is a sith apprentice studying under Kylo Ren. Around his master, Harry is most impressive; he is strong and Ren senses this– Harry has nothing distracting him, no weaknesses at all. But when his master is busy searching for a last Jedi master to notice, Harry uses the force for more personal purposes, such as seducing his master’s younger sister, Ariana. The two find that the connection they share is stronger than anything they’ve ever known.

New Faces

– Marcel the marketing guy meets his new intern, Chloe.

Your Country Needs You!

– In the early 1940s around the wake of WWII, a mechanic (Harry) struggles with his current way of living as he feels torn between settling down and wanting to fight. He soon decides to enlist in the army unbeknownst by his girlfriend (Ariana), a waitress t the local pub. harry faces his first challenge as he now has to break the news to her that he will be shipped out the next day. The question on their mind remains: can their love stand the testament of distance and time? the fight for their love has just begun.

Let Me Give You a Hand*

– It’s 1994 and 38-year-old Harry is in the prime of his porn star career. Before Viagara’s existence in the late nineties, fluffers were people assigned to sexually arouse porn stars to maintain arousal during long filming shoots. Ariana has been Harry’s fluffer since her first day and they have gotten each other off a few times in the past. This is just another day at work, or so they thought.

Wine is Best Shared With Friends

– It’s been a little over two years since Harry and Arian saw each other last. In 2014 they became close while working on Ariana’s song for her album, but inevitably lost contact. Fast forward to now, they’ve both grown into their own, but some things never change. Harry and Ariana see each other again at a party and something happens that night that could lead to something great.

2017

J’adore

– A school trip to Paris, France brings Ariana and her French professor (Harry) closer together.

Death of a Bachelor

– Married life for long-time single guy Harry Styles took a while to get adjusted to, but once he finally does he embraces a change that many others are quietly opposed to. Finding that he as to justify himself to try to put an end to the judgement, he reflects on his relationship, nearly kills a kitten, proves his commitment, and pens a song hoping that people will understand how he feels about not being a bachelor anymore.

Love is Friendship Set on Fire

– Ariana gives really good foot massages. it takes a lot of convincing to get her to give you one though. Harry and Niall battle it out at ping pong; winner gets a foot massage.

2018

Her: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

– Harry and Ariana remain friends after their breakup. Harry’s been in relationships after Ariana while she hasn’t, or so he thought. It’s the one where Harry is a little shocked to hear that Ariana’s been in a secret relationship for a while now and is eager to know who the new guy is.

2019

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

– Halloween for the Styles-Grande household and what led them to become the couple their friends know them to be today; inspired by Harry saying ‘Halloween is not fun’ vs. Ariana being the Queen of Halloween and going full out for Halloween 2019... then me wanting to write them as a married couple dealing with their differences yet being so in love

‘the one where Halloween complicates a marriage when you couldn’t care less about Halloween while your wife’s the kind of person to paint ‘YOU’RE NEXT’ on your new walls with fake blood’

2020

He Held The World Upon a Dream

– In a quaint cul-de-sac somewhere in London, Harry lives peacefully with his six-year-old son, Teddy and his four-year-old daughter Bambi in an apartment fit for the three Styles'. With his attention divided between his music career and raising Teddy and Bambi, Harry's hardly had the time to date, much to the disbelief of his band mates and friends who've worked themselves to exhaustion trying to find Harry someone he can settle down with. Harry loved to say that 'in the six years I've been a father I've needed to settle with no one else but my babies," and he'd also love to say that he's never thought about it. In fact, he'd done a pretty good job not really thinking about love and all its decorum and flaws, until he heard her voice. Suddenly, she was all he could think about.

‘the one inspired by “She” by Harry Styles’

I Know You’re Not Far, But I Still Can’t Handle All The Distance

– A look into what Harry and Ariana’s facetime chats are 100% like.

‘the one inspired by an alternate universe where Harry played the piano for Ariana’s 2020 version of ‘My Everything’ while in quarantine’

#hariana #harry styles #ariana grande #one shot #one shots #did we really just put together hyperlinks for specific chapters of a one shot book on wattpad? yes ma'am #we love an organized hwoman

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festfashions · 6 years

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I seriously can’t believe how much fun I had at EDC this year. A weekend that started as a last minute decision became a totally great experience -- but don’t they usually start that way? I was hesitant about attending EDC this year because this weekend coming up I have Lightning in a Bottle, and I didn’t want to be too exhausted or get sick. I told myself, you know what, f-it, yolo, I’ll just not go too hard at EDC.

Then I saw the sunrise two nights in a row.

And I regret nothing.

EDC 2018 - My Electrified Experience

Truly I still didn’t go “hard” I’d say, I only attended the rave Friday and Saturday because I couldn’t take off another day of work to go Sunday night. This way I also gave myself some time Sunday to recover. I am still a little in shock of how late I stayed up each night, how time just flew by and all of a sudden it was 4:30 am.

EDC is an absolutely crazy place. I’m struggling with how to explain it exactly… if you like to party, this is the event. There’s so much going on, there’s lights on everything and music coming from every angle. It’s a carnival for adults with rides and alcohol and costumes.

Insomniac is the best at throwing big production raves in my opinion. Their events are a combo of Disneyland-meets-Cirque-du-Soleil — two of my favorite things. My favorite part though of any event is getting ready, and you can see at Insomniac shows this is a lot of other people’s favorite part as well. We get to be creative and be colorful and just have fun.

Friday I wore my eyeball crop top from Pretty Little Thing and these little white booty shorts from iHeartRaves. My glitter was applied with highlighter (personally using this is my favorite because it holds the glitter, comes off easy, and adds extra shine behind it!) and I use a biodegradable brand called Universal Soul. I very carefully applied some of the glitter to my eyelids as an eyeshadow and on my lips as well. You have to be SUPER careful around your eyes because you can damage them with a loose piece of glitter.

We left for the festival around 6pm and it didn’t take us too long to get there. We had some fun moments in traffic with other headliners as we approached the event. At one point we almost missed a turn and had to cut in, and the other car said we only could if I did a shot with them. We “cheer”sd from our cars and they let us in. A couple minutes later we ended up next to them in some stopped traffic and I popped out to trade kandi really quick. It was hilarious because everyone was yelling from the other cars cheering us on. I live for these vibes.

I went with one friend to EDC, Rob (@PinkyPinkston on Instagram) this year. We stayed at the Luxor which I would not recommend going forward (lol already wrote them a review on Tripadvisor). Rob’s great because he’s always down for whatever and we have a lot of fun together. He doesn’t mind if I lose him for a bit to take photos and stuff. Plus it’s always nice to go with a guy just to feel safe.

Once we got to the festival we took the route that leads you down the bleachers, where you get a full view of the whole racetrack as you walk in. This is my third time to EDC and my first time ever walking in this way, and I’m so glad I finally got the chance to! It’s one of those moments people always talk about, and I felt like I’d missed out so much before.

They give you a few moments to take a photo then make you go down all the way. It’s pretty cool to see the WHOLE event from that view.

Once inside we had tons to explore. Seven main stages, art cars, rides, interactive art pieces, sponsored interactive areas and so many people to meet. I feel like every step you take at EDC you’re meeting someone new. People just love to talk to new people here!

Friday night, and I’m not totally sure how it happened, but I ended up meeting this group who had these cool bikes they were riding around the festival. They invited me to join them so we rode around and even went behind the stages to ride on the racetrack!

That whole night flew by, Kaskade’s set was amazing, per usual, and that was about when I realized that I TOTALLY lost Rob so I struggled with failed texts then finally found him. We danced through a few more areas then made our way back to the exit. On the way there we found this awesome art piece that had a LED ceiling and was playing classical music. Everyone was just laying underneath it relaxing. I knew one of the songs and busted out some ballet moves which ended with a round of applause from everyone there. What a moment.

We headed home, made it out of the parking lot really easy at 4am and went to bed.

Saturday AM I pretty much felt like I couldn’t do this another day, but we rallied and headed to the pool to relax. After spending some time in the sun and eating some lunch I decided it was nap time, so we did a 2 hour nap before it was time to get ready for day 2.

Saturday I wore a mix of pieces from “old” outfits I’ve worn to raves. The top I actually wore to my very first EDC back in 2014. I liked this look a lot because it was one that I really couldn’t see myself wearing to any other event besides an Insomniac one. There’s definitely a look and feel to EDC that’s different than say Coachella or Lightning in a Bottle. As someone who loves fashion, I love that I get to dress uniquely to each of these events!

Saturday we left the hotel a little earlier, more around 5pm and had no traffic getting in. It was nice to see the festival grounds with some daylight before the sunset. I liked being able to take a lot of photos during magic hour as well!

We had VIP access passes so Saturday we spent a lot of time checking out the VIP areas. At EDC these are over the top with so much more to do and see. One area had arcade games, and another allowed us to go backstage behind the DJ booth!

We also saw a pool and even a ball pit which to play in. Inside one of the VIP tents we found two people with typewriters offering free haikus. Mine said:

On the runway and In the crowd she knows both sides An aerial view

I really loved seeing the crowd from the Quantum Valley VIP area best, and it was here that we watched the fireworks Saturday night.

Each night the fireworks at EDC are something else, they’re over the top and a perfect addition to an electrified night. I had these awesome glasses they were giving out at the Smirnoff Experience that changed the light into little hearts, and watching the fireworks with these was so cool.

As we were leaving for the night I turned back to look at the grounds one last time and could not believe I was watching the sun come up over the mountains. Time flies when you’re having fun.

We got to our car and it took us roughly an hour to get out of the parking lot this night. The traffic flow out was terrible, the only way we were able to get out was to weave through parking rows.

We ended up driving home Sunday am, which gave me a little FOMO for day 3 but I had to be realistic, Lightning in a Bottle is my favorite event of the year so I needed to rest for a few days so that I can live it up there.

EDC was an amazing time though. I got to meet a lot of awesome people and dance for hours and hours. I just love how late EDC goes when most of our big production raves end at 2 am. According to my health tracker I climbed 9 floors each night of EDC with the number of steps I took. This equalled roughly 10 miles each night. You’ll all be happy to know I didn’t even have to break out my knee brace once this weekend :) I was taking it easy!!!

Well that was a super long recap, and there’s still a lot I didn’t cover, but I’ll share little bits as I go with photos I post of people’s outfits. So be sure to watch as I share them all with you! I’m glad I decided to go to EDC, sometimes the last minute decisions are worth it!

#EDC 2018 #EDC #Electric daisy carnival #Electric daisy carnival 2018 #words #text #my style #EDM #EDM review #insomniac events #festival news #ravers #rave girl #rave fashion

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foreverholdmedown · 6 years

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Short: “Welcome Home”

“Ma, can you fix this please? I want it higher up like you did it yesterday.”

Robyn quickly whipped her head around at the sound of Yari’s playfully squeaky voice. Before she could give her the response that immediately registered on her mind, a glimpse of her one year old son wobbling his way towards the entrance of the bedroom took precedence over her step-daughter’s millionth request of the morning. With her traveling make up case in hand, she quickly trekked over to his small frame and scooped him up towards her side with one arm. In his usual fashion, the sound of his giggles filled the room and the babbling that followed instantly warmed her heart and took her mind off of the hectic routine it is in getting the both of them ready no matter what time of the day it is. Her attempt to distract him with his all time favorite red and furry Sesame Street character and a snack was a failure and his big sister had no interest in occupying her time with him because her look for the day was of far more importance than her younger brother who she usually smothers with her love.

“Yari, if I put your ponytail up any higher, you won’t be able to wear the hat that your uncle Mike gave to you. So, which one is it? A high ponytail or the hat?” The faint ding of her iPhone alerted her but she didn’t have enough care or concern to head in it’s direction to figure out who was contacting her. She already knew who it was and her impatient husband would have to accept her pending lateness and wait it out. Instant regret filled her thoughts as she turned down her mother-in-law’s offer to ready the children herself and take them with her ahead of Robyn’s departure from her five bedroom, four bathroom Raleigh, North Carolina home. She assured her that she had everything under control and she thought she did, though she had just a couple of hours of sleep, but the current chaos was proof that her mouth moved quicker than her mind could ponder on it.

“I’ll wear the hat.” Her sigh of relief was mental. She had already slicked her ponytail back so well, that the thought of unraveling it, just to do it all over again made frown.

“Good. Can you mind your brother for just a couple of seconds while I grab a few things out of the bathroom? We’re heading out in about two minutes.” She’d already packed his diaper bag with the day’s necessities and even Yari’s MCM backpack with her iPad, two books, and enough snacks to keep her occupied on the hour ride down to Fayetteville. Herself? As she walked into the bathroom, she tossed the remaining products on the counter into her make up bag and zipped it shut. She’d have to improvise and do it when they’re both unable to do anything but sit still; in the car. With a lifestyle as a renowned supermodel, CEO, full time wife, and mother, she became a pro at doing things on the go, in the tightest situations, or when time isn’t on her side. Most would say, it’s when she’s in her superwoman element most.

“Okay, lets get out of here before we’re way too late.”

With Jaxton on her hip, both his bag and her bags hanging off of her arm, her step-child in tow, and her six inch heels hitting the flawlessly waxed wooden floors of Kay’s gifted home in yet another celebration of her retirement, she made her way downstairs and outside to the awaiting chauffeured SUV. The task of getting Jaxton’s car seat properly situation wasn’t as much of a hassle as it can be from time to time and Yari’s desire to stretch out in the seat furthest back gave her the appropriate room she needed for her cosmetic task.

“Can we get Diary Queen today? Maybe we can grab some for papi too.”

“It’s December. I know it’s not as chilly and cold down here as it is in New York right now, but you’re definitely going to get cold eating ice cream.”

“I can eat it in the car.”

“If we happen to see one, we’ll stop. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Nothing prepares you for motherhood more than experience. Advise is useful, articles and books are okay, but parenting is an individual learning process that outweighs all others massively. Walking a runway in the upper echelon of designer garments is effortless, sitting in a conference room and brain storming what’s next for the company falls under a natural finesse, and continuing to be hailed as one of the most alluring and interesting people in the world is attributed to a spunk that existed within her since her conception. Motherhood? The most unpredictable spontaneity of all time. No matter how many compliments she receives for holding the Cole residence together in such a smooth and tight knit manner, the chaos she experiences while trying to do so is felt tremendously. Mommy Robyn is the head of that household and the man she vowed her life to will tell you so. Balancing the blooming personality of Yari and the curious busy body that is Jaxton keeps her on her feet, toes, and every other limb. There’s the sleepless nights and early mornings, the constant rearranging of anything that’s within his reach, and having to figure out ways to have five additional eyes to follow his every move. Then comes the jazz tap dance recitals, soccer practice and games, PTA meetings, and the every other weekend slumber parties with friends that turns their home into a loud fun fest for three additional girls. Wife Robyn? Oh she’s just as busy. There’s the bi coastal living because Jermaine enjoys recording in Los Angeles, the traveling to and from festival performances all over the place, the six dates of The Warm Up version of the Dollar & A Dream Tour that she swore she’d only attend half of, and just him in general. Work? A five hundred mile per hour train that thankfully has rest stops. Their Paris wedding? Dear, God.

“Shh. Shh. Here.” As she held her Beauty Blender with one hand, she placed Jaxton’s frozen teething ring in his hand to soothe his antsy whines. That part of his growth hasn’t gone over quite well. There are good days and bad ones. The night she and Jermaine were due to fly to Tahiti for their one year wedding anniversary, they spent it sitting in a hospital as his teething and an ear inflection left him with a high fever and endless crying. Tahiti didn’t happen. She couldn’t leave him until he was restored to perfect health.

Parenting.

“Thank you so much. Really. You didn’t have to do that.” Robyn carefully brushed on the bronzer she needed to warm up her face and smiled at the elderly driver as he tilted his cap to acknowledge her appreciation. He’d gone in and gotten the ice cream for Yari so no one had to move out of their places.

The fresh air and familiarity of her surroundings were partly a distraction from the light application of blush that followed. The highlight? A subtle golden glimmer that enhanced her naturally sun kissed skin and lastly a nude lip gloss.

“Though we’re going to support, you know your dad is working right?”

“Yes.” Robyn reached in-between the seats to lightly brush a sprinkle off of Yari’s cheek.

“So if he’s talking, don’t interrupt and if he’s doing interviews, make sure you wait until he’s completely finished to grab his attention. He claims that he won’t be too busy, but you know that’s always subject to change.”

“I know. Be mindful.”

“Yes. Be mindful.”

“I can’t believe he invited all of those people to grandma’s old house.”

“Me either, but that mind of his; it’s always filled with unique ideas.”

A private listening session inside of the humble three-bedroom home at 2014 Forest Hills Drive, his former childhood home, sounded like the coolest and yet most insane idea he’d come up with thus far, but as expected, he’s pulled off what she thought may have been the impossible. He announced the album’s December ninth release date with a touching seven minute introductory film highlighting him, Fayetteville, and it’s natives in mid-November and has since created a roll out of fan experiences that are a testament to his “Man of the People” label. Now has he has people locals and people from multiple states traveling long distances for a chance to spend maybe an hour or a little less in the comfort of the home that inspired what would be downloading onto their iTunes libraries in a couple of days. Despite her exhaustion from a two day trip to London for a Vogue photo shoot and Monica’s launch of her collaboration with Missguided and a return to New York for meeting at her imprint, she refused to miss it. That house is apart of her childhood just as much as it is apart of his.

“You finally made it.” The driver didn’t have a chance to get out and open the door. Ib had already done it for him and the sly smirk on his face sparked a playful rolling of the eyes from Robyn.

“Shut up. You have no kids. I have two and then there’s myself. It’s a process.”

“I’m sure it is. Your man’s been looking for you. I told him you were just on diva time but you’d be here eventually.”

“Well, I’m here.”

“I see that. He’s over there talking with a reporter from Noisey. The first batch of people literally just went inside so you really haven’t missed much. I don’t even think they have the headphones handed out yet. Are you listening today too?” She looked on as he unhooked the belts in the car seat and carefully grabbed his “nephew” out of it.

“No. Still waiting until the release date.” Though it was difficult, she vowed to listen when the rest of the world would. She, arguably his biggest fan, wanted to hear it when the rest of the fans did.

“You’re so lame for that. Come on Yari. And why didn’t you bring me any ice cream? As much as I buy you ice cream, you couldn’t buy me some?” T heir lighthearted bickering became faint as he walked away from the vehicle with both children and it was finally time for Robyn to have just a minute or two of a breather. From the window of the car, she watched as Jermaine’s eyes lit up at the sight of his offspring and he did what she warned Yari against. He excused himself mid-sentence and went on to shower the both of them with hugs and multiple kisses to their cheeks. The daddy’s girl in Yari showed itself all over her expression instantly and Jaxton’s teething ring hit the ground as his drool filled mouth smiled at the sight of his best buddy. It was in that house that she’d quietly ogle over him and sometimes imagine what he’d be like as a father and now to see it come to fruition is something that cannot be put into words. He’s a phenomenal father. She knew he would be back then despite her doubts that his children would come from her. Of course, God knew what her doubts wouldn’t allow her to see or believe.

 Upon exiting the vehicle, she didn’t approach her family, in-laws, Jermaine’s busy team of people, or the surprised natives on the block who were simply hanging around to enjoy the experience. Instead, she began to slowly walk down the street taking it all in.

Often times, she attempts to figure how Ronald found out about this city and why he felt compelled to move here. She never asked. What called him here? They didn’t have a single relative within the state let alone the city. He didn’t have an incredible job waiting for him. There was no woman he happened to have met, though he had his flings here and there. It never made much sense initially but now, it does. Despite his choices, it was never about him. This was all an awakening and new beginning for her. She’d come here to meet what would challenge, test, nurture, enlighten, encourage, and most of all love her. Every single memory of this street and the many others that they’ve walked or drove along, hung out on, or simply passed through are all reflections of her falling deeply in love with Jermaine Lamarr Cole. Genuine love was always apart of her prayers as her family unraveled. It was at the forefront of all of her other desires whether they were necessities or not. The blessing came in a risk to leave all she knew behind and to start anew. It then came in a warm and welcoming city, that embraced the young and scarred girl from a small island. Lastly, it manifested in a high yellow and lanky boy who thought she was an African foreign exchange student. Life is a trip; a damn good one though.

“What’s a man have to do to get a hello and kiss from his wife?” Chills tickled the nape of Robyn’s neck as the all too familiar deep and raspy voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned back to glimpse at his crooked smile and turned in her heels so she’d be face to face with what had easily just aroused her. Just the sound of his voice. He still has it like that. He’s always had it like that.

“A man just has to come and get it. His wife is always willing.”

Their embrace was just as passionate as the kiss they shared. All thoughts of possible regard for onlookers went out of the window when he locked his addicting lips over hers and hungrily snaked his tongue beyond the barrier of her lips and into her warm mouth. His hands met their favorite place to rest and it was her laughter that interrupted what was turning into a heated exchange.

“You trying to start round two of what you interrupted my sleep for this morning?” She’d fallen into such a deep slumber that she was damn near drooling on her pillow and the sound of his alarm briefly interrupted that. Her thoughts of stretching out and returning to her amazing sleep were pointless. He never left the bed. Instead, her nightgown was being pulled over head as he kissed along her neck and her hands were adamantly working to rid him of the barriers covering his skin. He wasted no time filling her, becoming one with her mind, body, and soul. Sleep then no longer mattered.

“I’m hoping to once the house clears out.”

“Babe!” Her hand lightly smacked into his chest at the sound of his light laughter. He embraced her again, without a kiss, and it reminded her of the hugs they’d share multiple times of day no matter what was going on. He’d always been a hugger, far more than she ever was. He playfully forced them on her until she had no choice but to get used to it happening. It swiftly grew from being slightly annoying, to highly anticipated, to being apart of her daily needs to function properly. His hugs always spoke to her. They ceased her worries for just that moment and made her world alright. Even now in all that they have and the comfort they live in, being in his embrace is still her safe haven.

“Isn’t it crazy to be out here doing this? It’s so full circle.”

“Right? I was thinking about that as I sat on the hood of the Civic when I got here this morning. We came up huh, Baby Girl?”

“I’d say so.”

“You know, I fell madly in love with you in that house.” He nodded his head towards the partially bricked home with the smoky blue shutters that she grew to love so much.

“And I, with you.” He pulled his lip in-between his teeth as his reflections ran across his mind. The serene peace in his expression drew her in.

“It was also in that house that I knew one day, I’d ask you to marry me.” Robyn glanced at the lavish diamonds as they dazzled on the forth finger of her left hand.

“And you did. It was in that house that I dreamed of having children with you.”

“And you did.” He nodded in pride. “A lot of shit went down in that house, but somehow, for me, every memory comes back to you. That house is our beginning.”

“It is. That makes it and this city more beautiful than any other place we’ve ever been. It’s home. We’re home.” Barbados will always be home, but Fayetteville is the embodiment of home. Despite everything, it’s the city that raised her.

“We’re home.”

On their hand in hand walk back to the house, they pointed out the homemade ‘Welcome Home Jermaine’ signs that decorated the front yards of multiple houses, but it was the one directly in front of the 2014 driveway that stole their hearts. Not only was his name on it, but so was Robyn’s and their children. It had been Kay’s doing.

As Jermaine returned to his favorite seat on the hood of the Civic that took them on some of the wildest and funniest journeys, he held Jaxton in his arms and resumed the interview. Yari sat up on the shoulders of Ib as she joined him in being “co-manager” of day’s festivities. And Robyn? She stood along side her mother-in-law, on the side of the house near the mailbox.

“You know, if you’re going to marry my son, you have to learn how to cook for him.” Laughter immediately spilled from Robyn’s lips as she registered the all too familiar quote from Kay. She’ll never forget how flustered she was while standing in that kitchen after she said it. She’d called both of their bluffs long before the two of them would ever consider admitting it.

“I always knew it would be you sweetie.” With a bashful nod, she threw an arm around the neck of the woman who had been a maternal figure to her even when she resisted it. She then locked eyes with Jermaine who quickly winked with a smirk.

He knew too.

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crowdvscritic · 4 years

Text

round up // JUNE 20

The quarantine continues, and so does my insane level of film consumption. As you’ve probably discovered in your many a Zoom call, if you ask, “What’s new?” you usually get a, “Nothing much since we last talked.” Of course, these days no news means good news, so I’ll happily confirm the same is true here at Crowd vs. Critic. In this time of no movie theatres and few new releases, I’m catching up on a lot of classics and squeezing in a yoga sesh and reading in between. Perhaps these pop culture pieces that brought me joy in June will bring you some in July!

June Crowd-Pleasers

Yoga with Adriene

Adriene is all about finding what feels good, and her yoga videos have been helping me feel good during quarantine. I’m a big fan of browsing her YouTube playlist of 20-30 minute practices and picking whatever focus sounds like it would, well, feel good on my lunch break or when I wrap up my work day. If you’re looking for a way to stay active, destressed, or stretched out, Adriene’s (and her dog Benji’s) friendly videos have become my go-to.

The World According to Jeff Goldblum (2019- )

You know those people who can make anything interesting? Jeff Goldblum is the quintessence of that kind of person. Every episode of this Disney+ docuseries covers a broad topic that happens to intrigue him, including ice cream, tattoos, denim, RVs, and jewelry. While I don’t have many questions about ice cream, per se, I’m happy to just ride along on his trips all over the US to learn more about it. He finds niche communities, game changers, and new technology I suspect most won’t be familiar with, and he finds ways to get involved, a lá giving someone a Jurassic Park tattoo or getting custom grills made for his teeth. Truthfully, I don’t care much about what Goldblum chooses to explore as long as he’s stammering and sing-song-ing his way through as only he can.

Double Feature – Historical Action Flicks: The Quick and the Dead (1995) + Troy (2004)

I told you last month I’m working on the Western genre, and The Quick and the Dead (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8/10) is a ‘90s entry from Sam Raimi featuring a rare female lead (Sharon Stone), the babiest of Leo DiCaprios, an evil Gene Hackman, and an epic tournament of duels. If you’d prefer your adventure several thousand years back, Troy (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10) is a star-studded interpretation of The Iliad featuring a plethora of togas, romance, and epic battle scenes.

Double Feature – Corporate Espionage Thrillers: The Firm (1993) + Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit (2014)

Two unassuming guys start jobs bright-eyed and leave jaded, one a fresh-out-of-law-school attorney and the other a quit-school-to-save-the-world CIA analyst. The Firm (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 9/10) is the critical winner of the pair, but Jack Ryan (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10) is a more satisfying action movie than its Rotten Tomatoes score would suggest. (Another example of why we should take those numbers with a grain of salt.) Bonus: Another evil Gene Hackman in The Firm!

Double Feature – New Crime Comedies: The Lovebirds + My Spy (2020)

For a family movie night in, I recommend My Spy on Amazon Prime (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10), which holds the honor of the last movie I watched in theatres before everything shut down. For date night in, I recommend The Lovebirds (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7/10), which made me ready for Kumail Nanjiani to become a superstar. You can read my full thoughts on this fun pair of laughs on ZekeFilm:

The Lovebirds

My Spy

Double Feature – Heist Thrillers: Now You See Me (2013) + Finding Steve McQueen (2019)

Close up magic hasn’t been as cool as Now You See Me(Crowd: 10/10 // Critic: 8/10) since Houdini was escaping handcuffs. This, of course, has less to do with the magic shows and more to do with the Ocean’s Eleven/The Sting-style plot. I love a movie that pulls the wool over my eyes—Hollywood, this is your call to trick me more often! And who says “cool” like Steve McQueen? While I wouldn’t have minded another pass at the dialogue in Finding Steve McQueen (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 6.5/10), this based-on-a-true-story heist targeting President Nixon looks as cool as it is funny.

Double Feature – ‘80s Comedies: ¡Three Amigos! (1986) + Coming to America (1988)

The stars of early SNL & Friends make movies! Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Chevy Chase bring an alternative version of The Magnificent Seven with more jokes and fewer successful heroics, and I’m surprised at how most of it (save a few moments) has aged well. (Crowd: 9.5/10 // Critic: 7.5/10) And who knows when we’ll get the sequel Coming 2 America that Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall were going to star in this year, but the original sweet and silly romantic comedy about a Prince looking for love is worth revisiting so we’re ready whenever it drops. (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8/10)

Cinematic Cities: New York by Christian Blauvelt (2019)

I started this Turner Classic Movies book to prep for my first visit to New York City in March...well, we all know what happened there. Kudos to this writer and the book designers who helped me wrap my head around how the neighborhoods are connected in this city and where to find famous movie locales, plus a few off the beaten path. Now I have more places I want to see and taste and experience when I finally go, but until then, I’ve got a list of movies to watch so my vacation doesn’t feel so far away.

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Summer Stock (1950)

The plot is hackneyed and the songs are hokey, but, gee, if I didn't spend the whole time wishing we had more movie stars like these clowns, Gene Kelly and Judy Garland. Twice I tried to wipe the smile off my face as Gene danced, and I just couldn't do it. The corners of my mouth twitched back up because a newspaper and squeaky floor were competing with Judy for his best dance partner! 70 years later this movie still won't let someone wipe a stupid grin off her face—three cheers for camera-magnetic movie stars! Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 6/10

Air Force One (1997)

Sure, it’s Die Hard on a plane, but when you nail the formula this well, I think you get more than a pass. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 6.5/10

June Critic Picks

The Sting (1973)

I jumped out of chronological order in my Best Picture watch because I liked Butch and Sundance so much. It’s an unusual winner, but it holds up well. Scroll down a bit for two reviews, or catch ‘em here:

Crowd

Critic

Double Feature - World War II Action Dramas: Saving Private Ryan (1998) + Enemy at the Gates (2001)

Watching this pair back-to-back makes for a poignant compare and contrast of how the United States and Russia managed their campaigns during World War II (at least as they’re depicted here). In Saving Private Ryan (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 10/10), Tom Hanks and Co. are trying to save one soldier just after D-Day; in Enemy at the Gates (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10), Jude Law is a legendary sniper trying to give hope to his comrades. Compare how both armies fight against all odds, and contrast how one life matters to each country.

Anna Karenina (2012)

Joe Wright reunites with much of his Pride and Prejudice cast, and it’s as magical and beautiful as you’d hope. Keira Knightley stars as the tragic heroine alongside a stacked cast including Domnhall Gleeson, Jude Law, Matthew Macfayden, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, and Alicia Vikander. Fun fact: I just learned my grandfather calls Knightley “his girlfriend” because he thinks she’s so cute in Pride and Prejudice—no word yet on what he thought of the gorgeous gowns she wore in this movie, but my podcast co-host Kyla and I loved them in our most recent episode. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 10/10

Double Feature – Humphrey Bogart: The Maltese Falcon (1941) + Key Largo (1948)

Plenty has been written about how The Maltese Falcon (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10) is the epitome of Film Noir. Now that I’ve met Sam Spade and his femme fatale (Mary Astor) and watched their hunt for a McGuffin, I’ll just join in the chorus. And now that I’ve watched all of Bogie and Bacall’s features, I’m picking Dark Passage as my favorite and Key Largo (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10) my second. In their last film together, she’s a war widow and he was a soldier who knew her husband. When he comes to visit her at her hotel in Key Largo, they end up stuck inside during a hurricane with gangsters—tension ensues.

Da 5 Bloods (2020)

While Spike Lee’s latest was a little long, it’s hard to know what to cut when its updated take on The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is so engrossing. Between the performances, the action, and the treasure hunt plot, it’s the rare Netflix original in which you won’t be tempted to look at your phone. I’m hoping Delroy Lindo is in the Oscars conversation come next April. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

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Long Gone Summer (2020)

The summer of ’98 was big for me: My sister was born, my family moved to a new house, and I turned six with a Mulan-themed party. (Yes, I was the height of cool.) It was also the summer Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa faced off in a home run battle to beat Roger Maris’s regular season record, which even then I knew was a big deal. This ESPN 30 for 30 episode interviews McGwire, Sosa, and everybody in their orbit, but the real heart is the tribute it pays to St. Louis, Chicago, and baseball as a whole. I knew baseball films make me cry, and it turns out good baseball documentaries do, too.

Women In Music Pt. III by HAIM (2020)

The sisters are back with an album made for late-night driving with the windows down, and “I Know Alone” feels like a COVID anthem.

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964)

If you loved La La Land like I did and haven’t seen this musical, just get around to watching it already! From the colorful aesthetic to the melancholy plot structure, you can literally see Damien Chazelle’s inspiration for his modern musical. And if you can find an answer as to why the Academy found this film worthy of consideration at not one but two Oscars ceremonies, let me know—I’ve yet to solve that mystery. Crowd: 7/10 // Critic: 9/10

Double Feature – Gregory La Cava Class Comedies: My Man Godfrey (1936) + 5th Avenue Girl (1939)

I don’t think I’ve watched a film from the 1930s that isn’t about money on some level, and these two from director Gregory La Cava are no exception. In Godfrey (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10), Carole Lombard is a socialite who brings a homeless man in as their family’s new butler (William Powell), but there’s more to him than they know. in 5th Avenue (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8/10), Ginger Rogers befriends a lonely businessman (Walter Connolly), and though their relationship is platonic, that doesn’t mean he won’t hire her to make his philandering wife jealous. The moral of both films? Rich people be crazy, which is a great set up for comedy.

Also in June…

In addition to Anna Karenina, Kyla and teased our self-made millionaire hair and introduced our butler Max to discuss the ‘80s rom-com procedural Hart to Hart. If you enjoy detective shows, it’s a fun spin on the genre you may enjoy.

I watched and reviewed Best Picture winners The Sting (above) and the worst one I’ve watched yet, 1933’s Cavalcade. Read the Crowd and Critic reviews to know why it’s not worth your time.

I updated my Letterboxd with a list of all the movies in Cinematic Cities: New York, and my quarantine watch list is almost to 250.

Photo credits: Yoga With Adriene, HAIM. Cinematic Cities my own. All others IMDb.com.

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dgarski · 4 years

Photo

This Journey (Part XCVI)

A brother passes

I've been putting this off for several days, mostly because I am still in shock. I've been wanting to write about Mike, but a few things have kept me from having a chance to really sit down and think about what I want to say. Now that I have the time. I would like to start off with how much I still cannot believe that he is really gone. Like so much of the past year and a half, this too, feels like a really bad dream. I know that the best therapy for me is to both talk about things and write about them. So, I will try to be short-winded and brief. However, I will be starting from the very beginning so, "being brief", may prove to be an exercise in futility. That's okay, it's my blog and I can indulge as much as I wish.

Way, way back about 50 years ago, my younger brother and I met two kids who lived down the block from our house. Mark and Andy were also brothers who were the same age as my brother and I. We became friends and rode our bikes around the neighborhood, played basketball in their parents driveway, played hide and go seek...all the fun stuff kids did back then. I don't remember how old any of us were at the time, but Mark and Andy's two cousin's, Mike and Joe, were over to visit. It was the only time I can remember meeting them when we were all really young kids. Fast-forward about 8 or 9 years. Mark and I had become closer friends, because he and I started taking guitar lessons at the same time, way back in 1976. By the end of the 1970's, I had also become friends with another kid down the other block. A kid by the name of Curt. Well, by the time we were around 14, 15, 16 years old, Mark, Curt and I were inseparable. The three-musketeers, as it were. We did everything together. We spent a lot of time at Curt's house. It was a huge house and he had the entire upstairs to himself. So, we did a lot of sleepovers back then. We'd be up until late, eating snacks, drinking soda and talking on the CB radio, all night. Each of us had paper routes, so we always had money burning holes in our pockets.

By the time we were out of high school, many things had changed about our priorities as friends. This was mostly due to us chasing girls. We were driving, working jobs and trying to figure out how to have fun in a very boring town. Drinking alcohol seemed to be the answer to everything. Mark and Curt both took up smoking. I couldn't handle the coughing part, so I never really liked smoking anything. In 1983, Curt's older brother Peter died. This understandably devastated Curt and his family. Curt sort of became a little recluse. Mark and I tried to be there for him as much as we could. He was really messed up about Pete dying so suddenly. Mark and I hung out with him and tried to take his mind off of his loss. Mark's family has always had this annual tradition of camping up in Door County, Wisconsin every summer. Well, this was going to be the first time he and his two cousins were going to go by themselves without parents. Mark suggested that Curt and I go along for the trip. I was absolutely up for it. He was reluctant at first, and it took some doing, but we finally talked Curt into going too. This would turn out to be our first trip of many, to D.C. Mark, Mike and I rode our motorcycles while Curt and Joe took Curt's moms' car with all of our stuff.

Mike and Joe's parents had been up the week before us, and had left the camper at the site, for us to use when we got up there. I had only ever been up to northern Wisconsin, with my own family. The only difference was, we usually stayed in a cabin. I never really did the tent in the woods thing, and neither had Curt. In fact, Curt had never been camping in his life. It would be a brand new experience for him, and it proved to be just what he needed to deal with the death of his only brother. For the next several years, the camping trip became our annual thing. We all looked forward to it, all winter long. In 1984, I purchased a brand new, very fast motorcycle. Joe had also gotten a new bike too. Mike bought a ski boat, and we were about to add two new members, Jim and Chad, to the Door County alumni group. Joe and I decided that we would ride our new bikes up to D.C., Mike would pull his new boat and Jim would pull the camper with his old man's truck. Seven guys, one camper, one tent and a week to ten days to try to not kill one another. The next few years camping, were unique in their experiences. We met four girls from Green Bay in 1985. We kept in touch with them for a long time. Then in 1986, we met two more girls from Illinois. Every year brought a whole new meaning to camping. Throughout all of this time during the 1980′s, Mike, Mark, Jim, Curt and I went out a lot to clubs and venues in both Milwaukee and Kenosha. Curt became a bartender at his Uncle's restaurant. Mike and I used to drive down there to sit at the bar and wait for Curt to get done with his shift so we could go to another bar nearby, and shoot pool. Mark was in a relationship with his girlfriend and playing guitar in his band. Mike was doing pizza deliveries while he was going to college with Curt and Jim. I was working at the local bakery, six nights a week, and had very sparse socializing opportunities. Whatever fun I was going to have, was going to have to happen on a Saturday night, or not happen at all. Sometimes, Mike and Mark would come over to my apartment, and we’d have a few beers and watch a movie.

In 1988, everything changed. Mark and I moved to Orlando, Florida and left everything and everyone we knew, behind. We both desperately needed to start new lives. Curt, Mike, Jim and Joe had a difficult time with Mark and I leaving all we had ever known, to start over in a town 1250 miles away. A few times, they would come to visit with us, and other times, Mark and I went up to Wisconsin to see all of them. By the early-mid 1990's, the trips were few and far between. We had all been separated for a long time, and had all grown apart. We all moved on with our lives as adults. We weren't kids anymore. We had all established our own lives away from each other. Some got married and divorced, some had kids, some bought houses, some ended up with great paying jobs, and some didn't. Regardless, the original brotherhood remained. Time has a way of reminding us that the only thing permanent is change. We all did the best we could with what we had.

By the time we all entered our 40's, the only thing we all really had left in common, was our history together. This sometimes proved to not be enough. We had all changed so much that any sort of visits were brief and relatively insignificant. I went back to Wisconsin a few times for Christmas. Mark did his own trips back to Racine, as well. Everyone had long since changed into completely different people. I flew back to Wisconsin in 1998, to go on the annual trip up to Door County. Unfortunately, it wasn't very much fun for me. Too much had changed and it would end up being the last time I would go camping with those guys. In 2004, Mike flew down to Florida for a business trip. He, Mark and I got together and went out to dinner and shot some pool. Mark was dealing with a lot of domestic issues in his marriage which would eventually end up in a really bad divorce. He and I would hang out a few times and I would try to be there for him while he was going through his divorce.

In 2009, Mike flew down to Florida again, for another business trip. He drove over from his meeting in Tampa to stay at my apartment. Mark came over and spent the night as well. This would prove to be the last time the three of us would be together. In early 2014, I lost touch with Mark. He disappeared off the radar. We're now all in our 50's. None of us are who we were, even a few years ago. So, much had changed over the years..and as much as we all tried reliving those leftover fragments of our youth, it just wasn't going to happen, effortlessly.

March 6, 2019, I have my collapse. I ended up back in Wisconsin to recover and heal at my parents house. One night, I got a text from Mike, asking me if I wanted he and Joe and Curt to pick me up to go get pizza. I agreed. They drove up and got out of the car, came up to me and each of them embraced me as their brother. They knew that I had almost died. I think it really shook them. The four of us went to the pizza place we had gone to a million times before. They asked me a lot of questions about my health and what I had been through. We sat and ate and talked for about two hours. We finished up with our pizza and headed out the door. We pulled up at my parents house and they let me out. This would be the last time I would ever see Mike.

I made it back home to Orlando, last January. I hadn't stayed in touch with any of those guys. We had all gone our separate ways, once again. Here it is, a few months later, and I am slowly getting my life back together. Then last Friday, while I was at work, I saw a Facebook post from one of the girls (Lori), we'd all known from camping, since 1983. It was the first time I would read about Mike being killed in an accident. I couldn't really absorb what I was reading. It had to be a mistake. I messaged Lori and asked her what had happened to Mike, She assumed that I already knew that he had died two days earlier. I, of course, had no idea Mike was dead.

Mike is gone. It still seems like a bad dream to me. It just doesn't seem real. I haven't talked with Curt or anyone from the original gang, yet. I still don't know what happened to Mike. How he was killed. All I know is that it was a vehicle versus bicycle accident. Mike's obituary finally made it to the Internet yesterday. His funeral is this coming Sunday afternoon. I won't be going up there for the ceremony. I really feel badly for Mark. He lost his other cousin, Jim, back on April 24th. Now, he's lost another cousin, only a few days ago.

It is so hard to believe that Mike is gone. He did everything right. He went to college, got a good job, got married, lived in a really nice house, built an old motorcycle, drove out to Colorado on motorcycles, with his brother Joe, and lived a comfortable life. He had everything going for him. A bright future and retirement with his wife, Beverly. Then this tragedy ended his life. Not to sound too self-indulgent, but I can't help but wonder about life and death. Last year, I almost died and I lived. This year, Mike died. There is no rhyme or reason to any of it. We're here and then we're gone. Just like that. Poof, you're gone.

I will always remember Mike as a very smart, very funny guy. I will miss him, just like I miss all of those guys and the lives of our youth. Rest in Peace, Mike.

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My TOP 5 Festival Moments

Like I already wrote in my first blog post: I love festivals. And I attended a lot of festivals in the last years. Now I want to share my TOP 5 moments at festivals. I guess there are more than only five but these are the ones that totally stuck in my mind and I hope I will never forget them. Once I heard someone say “No photo can describe what you were feeling in this moment. So you keep these memories in the photo book of your heart” – I liked this quote.

So here are my TOP 5 festival moments:

5. The perfect sound track for a setting sun

So I start with my fifth favorite festival moment. It was 2009, I was 18 years old and it was my second festival I ever attended. It was the “Hurricane Festival” in Germany. I was there with several friends when bands like Faith No More, Arcade Fire and The Hives were playing. But there was one special band that created the perfect festival moment. It was a band you may have heard of if you’ve watched the film “Fight Club”. When my friends and I went to the festival area on Saturday evening the sun was about to go down. We just had barbecue and a beer and were looking forward to the headliner of the night. But before that there was this band playing on the main stage. I only heard the intro and I was like “Oh my god, the Pixies!”. While we were walking to the stage they started playing “Where Is My Mind”. This moment will forever stick in my mind and my heart because it was one of the most beautiful moments I ever had at a festival. I still keep this image in my mind. The setting sun, the great weather and this song.

Thank you Pixies!

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4. Feeling like a teenager again

In summer 2016 I attended three festivals. It was quite funny because I only planned to go to one of them. But it turned out that I was working at the second festival and I was accredited as a journalist for the third festival called “Chiemsee Summer”. It was the first time that I attended a festival as a music journalist for my music blog Hailtothebeat (If you know German you can check it out ;) ).

Me and my friend wrote an E-Mail to the festival to ask for an accreditation. Okay, to be honest, we only wanted to go there because two guys from our favorite band were doing a DJ gig at the festival and since we didn’t want to buy the expensive tickets we tried to get a press accrediting.

So we had this idea to write this E-Mail after a night with lots of drinks just for fun and it turned out that we got our accreditation for the festival and could go there for free. Of course we wrote our articles and did photos for our blog and it was just one of the best experiences I had since I started this music blog! We saw a lot of great bands playing and some bands we didn’t like – such as Limp Bizkit and The Prodigy – but there were two bands that let me feel like a teenager again.

When Sum 41 hit the stage I was like “OMG I listened to their music when I was 16 and now I get to see them live. After 10 fucking years!”. I didn’t even know that they did a new record – which is called “13 voices” and I can totally recommend it now that I listened to it! After Deryck Whibley’s total collapse because of alcohol addiction and his rehab they were back and they played all the songs I wanted to hear. They definitely let me feel like being 16 again.

One day later another band played that influenced my teenager years. When I was 17/18 I listened to a lot of hardcore/metalcore and one of these bands I listened to was Parkway Drive from Australia. I saw them one time live when I was 16. And now, 9 years later, I saw them again. Singer Winston McCall is not only a very hot guy but also a very funny guy. They played after a hip hop band and after them a German indie rock band was playing so they didn’t really fit into the running order but they did a great job. People were going crazy in the pogo and Parkway Drive beautified their show with some fireworks. For a short moment we were afraid they would burn the stage down but the firemen were standing next to the stage, so everything was safe.

That was not only a great festival moment but also a great final for one of the best festival summers I ever had!

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3. The sound check of my life

In summer 2014 I was at a festival called “Highfield”. Bands like Blink 182 and Macklemore & Ryan Lewis were playing. But on the last day there was also one band playing that is my favorite band for years: Beatsteaks (sorry that I mention them so often but I really love this band and I will write about them in another blog post).

On this Sunday which was the last day of the festival we woke up after a night full of rain. But in the morning the sun was shining. We had breakfast – Nutella toast and beer haha – and while we were enjoying our breakfast we suddenly heard some music coming from the festival area. We were confused because the festival started in the afternoon and it was only noon at that time. So we suggested that it was a sound check a band did. First we couldn’t really hear the music but after a few minutes it got louder. Since we were camping very close to the festival area we could hear the sound check very well. And on this Sunday our favourite band - that wasn’t playing live for two years until this Sunday - was doing sound check for their gig that night. Suddenly every one at the camping site was turning off their music and it seemed like everyone was listening to the sound check the Beatsteaks did on stage. Although no one could see them, people started singing and dancing along to their music at the camping site. It was just a great moment at a festival and I guess that’s what festivals are for! The Beatsteaks did a whole hour of sound check – I guess they had to rehearse a lot after a break of two years!

In the end the concert that night was just great and I never was so happy to see my favorite band playing live on stage again after they were forced to do a break because of a terrible accident the drummer had. This video was filmed during the concert at the festival:

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2. The best after show party ever

It was a festival I attended this year in June. Such a small festival called “Kosmonaut” which is decorated very beautiful and detailed. There were umbrellas hanging in the trees with lights in it! At the last day of the festival me and my friend went to the official (unofficial) after show party at the backstage tent where only people were allowed to go who had the “friends”-pass. Since we had it we thought “Oh we should go there!”. And what should I say? It was the best party I’ve ever been to!

The German band Kraftklub was hosting the festival and the party and they definitely know how to throw a good party. The DJ was playing such a great party set list. Only songs from the 90s and early 00s. Sometimes some newer German songs were being played but you could tell that the DJ, the hosts and most of the guests at the party were in their mid or late twenties according to the music at the party, haha.

We danced the whole night and had beer and sparkling wine. People were even crowdsurfing in the party tent. What a crazy night! When we left the party in the early morning the sun was already shining. So we went outside and sat down at the lake next to the tent (the whole festival was taking place close to a lake). We were just giggling (not only because we were drunk), it was just a funny and crazy night. Partying with some really funny and likable music fans was just awesome and great. We were just laughing when we passed the empty festival area to go back to the camping site. I don’t know what the security guy must have thought when we passed him tottering.

Maybe the last drink wasn’t a good idea and maybe only four hours of sleep during the whole weekend wasn’t good either – but it was WORTH it! The train ride back home was the worst train ride I’ve ever had because I was so hangover but it was the best weekend ever! <3

This is the official after movie:

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1. “There goes my hero….”

It was the summer of 2015. It was so hot outside, like 30 degrees. I was attending the German festival “Rock im Park” with bands like The Prodigy, Slipknot, Bastille, Marilyn Manson and many German bands. The first day was and will ever be the best day of the whole festival! First my favorite band Beatsteaks played – which is always a pleasure as I already mentioned – but second, the headlining band on this first day were the Foo Fighters! I saw them once when I was 17 on my first festival ever. But at that time I didn’t know many songs and the sound was bad so I was looking forward to other bands that played at this festival. But seven years later I was sooooooo nervous and curious to see the Foo Fighters again.

We were already at the festival since noon and because of the weather we were totally fucked up. But when Dave Grohl and the Foo Fighters entered the stage I felt totally happy and fit again. They started with “Everlong” and played all the great songs like “Learn To Fly” and “Times like These”. But there was one song that made me totally emotional.

After half of the set (so let’s say after 90 minutes – the Foo Fighters play very long concerts) Dave Grohl went on the stage in the middle of the audience and he was all alone with only a acoustic guitar in his hands. And he started playing this song.

“My Hero”

While he was playing I got goosebumps! And when everyone was singing along to the chorus I just forgot myself. It was THE BEST moment I ever experienced at a festival. 80 000 people singing along to “My Hero” while Dave Fucking Grohl was playing the song only with an acoustic guitar. I will never forget that moment.

I’m actually watching the live stream of the Foo Fighters gig from Lollapalooza Berlin 2017 and I get goosebumps again. If my 17year old me would have known that the best concert I’ve ever been to will be a Foo Fighters concert seven years later, maybe my 17year old me would have appreciated it more.

I hope they will tour soon here in Germany and this time I will definitely attend a concert to finally see them again!

“There goes my hero Watch him as he goes There goes my hero He’s ordinary”

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#music #festival #festival love #festival summer #foo fighters #pixies #sum 41 #parkway drive #beatsteaks #blog

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