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bimsha · 3 years

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All of Our Stars (Sano Manjiro x Reader)

"You're on the other side

As the skyline splits in two

Miles away from seeing you"

Song - All of Our Stars by Ed Sheeran

“And you all have to read the next pages…” The voice of your teacher droned in the background as he repeated the homework for which it felt like the trillionth time after starting the period. Your eyes wandered aimlessly along the Sakura trees which were bare against the melancholic nature surrounding them. Winter break was close at hand, nature was getting ready to welcome the coldness.

You collected your things as the bell rang snapping you off from your daydream. Students rushed out of the classroom, grateful that another exhausting school day was over. Everyone was getting ready for the upcoming exams which were close at hand. You didn’t care much about them. You’re a third year middle school student and everyone in the class was already choosing high schools while you knew you wouldn’t be able to choose yourself. It’s already chosen. You’re moving with your parents to America next year. Your mind was occupied with different thoughts as you took the stairs, finding your way through the crowd of students heading home.

Your eyes wandered to the gate when you noticed him standing there as usual, but he was in his casual attire, not the school uniform. “Skipped school today?” You asked, walking to Mikey. It had been a whole year since you two started dating. It was almost as if when you two are together, time accelerates. You could recall every precious memory like a vivid polaroid. Your first Christmas together, the games at the arcade, and the things you went through when the world of delinquents suddenly crashed into your safe bubble of love. It was beautiful. Every scar, every memory was beautiful.

He stood up straight, no welcoming smile. “You didn’t tell me, Y/n, Why?”

Your smile faded, he knew. You averted your gaze to the ground, absentmindedly poking the sole of your shoe against the ground. “I found out a couple of days ago. It was a sudden decision” You sighed, “So they say”

Mikey stared at you for a moment, “Y/n, what do you want to do?”

You shook your head. That was the question you had in your mind for days. What do you want to do? You didn’t have any idea whether long distance relationships actually worked. Sure, you could visit when it’s a holiday but what about the rest of the days? “C’mon” Mikey took your wrist, guiding you out of the school. You two walked in silence as he slipped his hand to yours, entangling your fingers. A small sign of reassurance. Mikey was good at subtle affectionate gestures. That’s how he loved you, subtle, but affectionate.

“Y/n” He rubbed his thumb across your skin, his eyes looking at the fallen leaves making a thick carpet of red and orange under your feet. “I don’t want to end this”

You smiled, it was obvious, neither did you. “Same here.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “We could try long distance.”

“I know…” Your voice trailed off, “But Mikey, what if you-” You stopped, the question was obvious. What if you find someone else? Someone better? You shook your head, “I don’t know”

Mikey tipped his head backwards, looking at the blue sky, heavily covered with clouds. It would be a matter of weeks till snow starts to cover the streets. “I had the same thoughts.” He admitted, turning to you. Both of your fears were valid. Human hearts are fragile and needy. You didn’t know what the future held. “But” He started, “Then I thought of something else. Come, there’s something I have to show you.”

Suddenly, both of you were running across the streets, passing people who were busy with their phones and groceries. Cold wind brushed against your cheeks as you two dashed past annoyed people groaning about youngsters'' manners these days. You didn’t even know the destination until you both stopped in front of a wall filled with graffiti. You knew the place well. Mikey and you came here for your first date. Your eyes instantly reached the bottom corner where Mikey’s messy handwriting was. Written in black ink, contrasting against the patch of white was just one line:

“All of these stars will guide us home”

It was an inside joke between you two. A comfort song of sorts. “Remember here?” Mikey crouched down, his hands softly running over the words. Just underneath his messy writing was your own neat handwriting.

For you and me, and for a future with us together.

Just the first date, but both of you had high hopes for each other. It was rather naive to hope for a future when it had been mere days with you two together. It was precious nonetheless. “You screamed at me that day. Called me out on vandalizing the walls.” He smiled, reaching out a hand to you. You took it and sat down beside him, leaning against the wall, icy cold but holding a vague sense of comfort. This was the first place you two planted an icon of your love together.

“Then five minutes later, I was vandalizing the wall myself” You finished. “You’re such a bad influence, Mikey”

Mikey raised his brow, “I think you’re the bad influence, Y/n. I didn’t beat the crap out of guys with only my shoes.”

You huffed, offended. “First, they were trying to harass me. Second, my heels were the only good weapon I had in my hand. Third, those guys were crap at fighting.”

Mikey shook his head with a laugh, “When I came to the scene, it was all over. I wanted to play the knight who saved the princess, but you didn’t let me.”

You nudged his ribs, “You played the knight several times, Mikey.”

He turned to you. You breath catching against your throat as he reaches for your hair, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You could feel his breath against your cheek as he held you in his arms, clutching to you as if you were his lifeline. You didn’t blame him. He lost so many people in his life, you knew how much he loved the people around him. Toman wasn’t his treasure. The people in the gang were his treasure. “Where to, next?” You asked, your voice muffled against his black jacket.

He pushed away, “To a certain street sweet shop”

Ah right, you thought as he started walking towards the busy streets of Shibuya. Both of you looked around, taking in the busy lifestyles around you. There was that feeling again, you were detached from the world when you’re with him. It was just him and you, and your hands brushing together as you walked by. You’re going to miss this. You stopped in front of the shop. The pleasant aroma of different types of street food caught your nose. Your mouth waters at the smell. This was the best shop.

Taiyaki sizzled loudly on pains, turning into a golden colour. Mikey’s eyes were firmly planted on them as he ordered two fish shaped cakes, handing one to you. “I will never get sick of this” He spoke through a mouthful of his own.

You kicked his shin playfully, biting into your own. The soft cake melts inside your mouth. “Of course you aren't going to. You stole mine one day!”

Ironically, it wouldn’t be wrong if someone said Taiyaki brought you two together. You two met at this shop. He with his delinquent friends crowded around him, you with your school squad with you. It was a summer evening and there was only one Taiyaki left. You ordered first, but he being the spoiled brat, took it from the man, dropped some coins and dashed out of the shop. You would’ve let it go, but it was your Taiyaki. You dashed after him, ignoring the cries of your friends and the grins of his friends. You chased him down to the river bank where he stood, chomping down on the Taiyaki like a madman.

“I took it first and I paid for it.” He countered, snapping off your thoughts. “I own it, Y/n. I’m no stealer”

“No” You find yourself childishly arguing back, “I ordered it first. You stole it.”

“It’s not stealing when you pay for it.”

“And how are you coming to that conclusion?” You chomped down on your own Taiyaki furiously, getting drowned in crumbs as the crispy sweet crunched at your harsh actions.

“It’s a thing because I say so” Mikey grinned with satisfaction at his argument.

You frowned but kept chewing harshly, as if to offend him. It was a thing with Mikey, you can be childish and at the next moment you could act like mature adults. “You look like you want to bite my face off” He commented, finishing off his and dropping the paper slip into the trash bin.

“I’m afraid I would '' You countered, imitating his actions and looking dusting your hands. The crumbs fell to the floor.

“You’re a messy eater, Y/n” He said, reaching his hands and wiping the corner of your cheek, your eyes lingering against each other for a second longer. “Usually I’m the messy one. Good to have a change of roles” He dropped a kiss on your hair, nuzzling his nose on your head.

“You lovebirds are blocking the door!" the shop owner yelled. But the smile on his face was inevitable. They were regulars at his shop and he had seen both of them grow into lovers from rivals to friends.

“Sorry!” Mikey called out with a slight wave as they both exited the shop. It was like a walk down memory lane. From one thing to another. Shibuya was your love story. Everywhere were scattered memories of your love. “Remember that bench?” Mikey said, gesturing towards a metal bench under a bare Sakura tree.

“We shared my lunch together under that tree” You said, tilting your head as a slight flush reached your cheeks.

Mikey grinned, “You accidentally came to school on a Saturday.”

“Shut it” You huffed, marching to the opposite lane. You knew where you would end up if you just continued to walk. It was another place you made memories. The place you made most of your memories. Mikey skipped a few steps before reaching you.

The river bank was colder than you expected it to be. The wind rushed through your hair as you breathed in the cold air around you. Mikey sat down, patting the grass beside him for you to sit. You slid to the ground and drew your knees to your chest, looking out at the water, overlapping with waves in a soundless muttering. This is where you two came when you needed to talk. The time didn’t matter. You two had midnight talks with each other spilling the insecurities. Somedays, it was just to stay in silence. Nevertheless, this was your happy place. It was the same from all the dangers or reality. A place lost in time.

“Shibuya is going to be a nightmare after you leave” Mikey was laying on the grass, a hand dropped behind his head as he stared into nothingness. “Everywhere I go, it’s memories of you and me. Tiny specks of moments we shared.”

You hummed, “America is going to be even lonelier. No memories. Everything is going to be new and foriegn. Even the people. I’m kinda scared, maybe even terrified, Mikey”

He turned your head and stared at you, “I don’t want to break up, Y/n.”

It was getting dark, you noticed. The sun had already set through the horizons. The stars, one by one came into view, sliding away the darkness with a speck of comfort. The lamp posts on the streets glowed in a healthy yellow breaking through the black night. “Even if we’re going to be away, we’ll be staring at the same sky, watching the same stars each night.” You were talking nonsense, but you did not want to stop. “Mikey, let’s try. I don’t want to let you go either.”

His lips quirked upwards into a soft smile, “Yeah, we should try. You can always come home to me, Y/n. If things get tough out there, you always have a place right here” He said, tapping his finger against his heart. “Don’t be scared. Just be the badass girl you are, they’re going to be terrified”

You let out a surprised laugh, “Terrified enough to send me back home?”

He shrugged, “Worth a try” There was that, his childish tone you adore. You loved him for the man he is. The childish yet mature person. The one you can confide all your secrets to. The one who holds out his hand for you when things get tough. There was no way to let go. You were committed, both of you were. That was love for you. He sat down and turned to you. His dark eyes are watching you intently. “Call me?”

“Every night, I promise” You assured, taking his hands. “Wait for me, Mikey. I’ll be back. If you can wait-”

“I will wait.” He said, cutting you off. He drew closer to you, “There’s always a home with me for you. I promise”

You closed your eyes as you felt tears threatening against them. Love was a series of promises and words. It could be the simple moment you shared with him tonight under a sky filled with stars. For you, love was him and him alone. “I love you” your whispered words were carried by the wind into the night.

“I love you too, Y/n” He said, connecting your lips. Your lips danced together as he pulled you close. The world didn’t matter. His warm hold, cocooning you in mattered more. Your arms held him tightly, lips exploring each other’s warmth and comfort. When you pushed away he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss you, Y/n”

You nodded, unable to form words. You’re going to miss this. You’re going to miss him. Your universe. Your guidance to your place called home.

"But I can see the stars from America

I wonder, do you see them too?"

#Mikey x Reader #Tokyo Revengers #Sano Manjiro #xreader #female reader #tokyo manji gang #song fic #Tr #fanfic #slight angst #Sano Manjiro x Reader #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x you #mikey

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mildkatfics · 3 years

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small talk rating: m word count: 6316 summary: Simon and Baz come to the family estate for Christmas, for the first time as an official couple. read on ao3

I did it with an email. Not even with my personal account. My fucking LSE address: [email protected].

Dear All,

Hope you’re well. I’m sending this message this way because it would be too crude to do it on my mobile, and I didn’t want to wait to be back at Hampshire to tell you. I hope you don’t mind.

I’m gay. Simon Snow and I have been in a romantic relationship this whole time, and we are happy.

I suspect none of you are surprised, but it was getting ridiculous to pretend like none of us knew the situation. I am, however, happy to carry on as always. I just figured it’s time for us to get through this bit.

Regards,

Basil

Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch

MA Candidate, Teaching Assistant

Department of Political Science | London School of Economics

“Merlin, don’t use your email signature.” Snow peers next to me on the sofa. “Using this account is bad enough.”

“I kind of like it,” I admit. “It reminds them to be proud of me.”

“Remove it. And shut up, they’re proud of you.” He rests his chin on my shoulder. I can smell the coffee on him, though he’s showered after work. I wonder if he’ll ever stop smelling of Starbucks. He glares up at me through his eyelashes. “Say it.”

I narrow my eyes. “No.”

“Baz. Say it.” He rolls his eyes and shoves his body against mine, slightly toppling me over. He hasn’t gotten any gentler over the years. I love it. “Say that your family is proud of you.”

I sigh, but give in. “My family is proud of me.”

“So is your boyfriend.”

I indulge in a sneer, and he throws it right back at me. I say it. “So is my boyfriend.”

He grins, and sits back up. “Right. Now remove the email signature and send it. And remove my last name. You’re talking to your family, not applying for a mortgage.”

I snort. “I’m pretty sure my father doesn’t know what a mortgage is.”

“Here,” Snow takes my laptop from me and removes the signature and his last name from the email. I watch his brow furrow and his lips move slightly as he focuses on re-reading the text. He starts to tug on his hair, and I almost laugh. I didn’t bother spending too much time on the message, but here he is, reading and re-reading every word because he cares. I press my lips against his cheek. I let myself linger, inhaling his scent. Dark Roast. Probably the Christmas Blend. “Don’t give yourself a hemorrhage,” I murmur.

He ignores me for a while before speaking again. “I’m gonna hit send, yeah?”

I don’t take my eyes off him, not even bothering to read it over. “Yeah.”

I watch his finger hesitate for a second on the trackpad, then clicks it. He blinks and takes a deep breath, and I laugh. “Are you going to be alright?” I joke.

His eyes slide over to me. “You just came out to your family. I can’t tell if I’m overreacting, or if you’re...underreacting.” He cards his fingers through my hair. “I also can’t tell if you’re hiding your feelings from me, or if you’re a complete fucking sociopath.”

I laugh again, and I consider his question seriously. “I’m happy,” I think out loud. I make sure to look in his eyes when I finish my sentence. “But that’s par for the course nowadays, isn’t it?”

Snow tries to trap his grin into a smirk. “Sap.” He leans in and brushes his lips against mine. I lean hard and deepen the kiss, and I feel him grin for real and bite my bottom lip. I give an indignant grunt, but don’t bother pretending how much that gets me on. He pushes back until he braces himself against the arm of the sofa, trapping me. I grip his shirt in my fist, only because I would never let him do that to me. And I do it to him, because I get off on that kind of thing. And so does he.

My laptop pings from the coffee table, and Snow breaks away. “What are you doing?” I hiss, and capture his mouth back in mine.

“That’s probably your family.” He crawls back and opens my laptop.

I slump back, keeping my eyes closed. “Is it my father?”

I can feel him roll his eyes at me. “Baz. You read it.” I feel the sleek metal on my chest. I sigh, and I open it.

Dear Basil,

Thank you for your email, and for your candor. We look forward to seeing you both this Christmas. We’ve actually just invited loads of your aunts and uncles for this year. Wonderful timing, isn’t it? All my love to you and Simon.

Also, please remember to bring my mixing bowl.

Sincerely,

Daphne

Snow is peering over my shoulder. “I’ve always liked Daphne.”

I have, too.

—

“I’m not asking you to memorize a family tree here, love.” I’m leaning against the condiment stand, now plastered with plastic snowflakes, a few feet from where Snow is working. The fairy lights around the place sparkle against his skin, complimenting his freckles. I watch the way his arms flex as he pulls chairs back, handles cups and saucers, and carries our conversation with a kind of effortless rhythm that I find really hot. “And you’ve done this before. You’ve spent, what, four other Christmasses with my family?”

“Oh, don’t even try pretending this is the same. This is the first Christmas since your email, not to mention all these people.” He replies without looking at me. He looks up and smiles towards the door when a patron enters, and turns his head back to an empty table. “You have, like, five uncles with loads of kids a piece, who all speak Latin—”

“They speak English too.”

“Not the French ones.”

I purse my lips. “So you have been listening. Don’t worry about them. They stick amongst themselves, anyway.”

“I’ll be right with you, mate.” Simon calls out to the guy. He throws his cloth onto his shoulder and starts walking backwards towards the bar. He redirects his attention to me. “Busy now, I need you to go away. We’ll talk about this at home.”

I give him a pout. I’m six foot two, wearing a Tom Ford coat, and pouting at my boyfriend at a Starbucks. I’m shameless.

His eyes, still locked on mine, sparkle for a second before he turns all his attention on his customer. “Sorry about that. What can I get started for you?”

I let the smile stay on my face even as I exit the shop and head to class.

—

I lay my suitcase and my folded clothes on the bed. I almost ruined a white cashmere on my last trip by putting my toiletries on the same side, so I place it at the very top this time. Then I decide it’s actually better to put it at the bottom of the stack, to keep it safe. So I pull everything out to rearrange. I place my socks in between the empty spaces. “You should focus on your own packing instead of watching me do mine.” I turn to raise an eyebrow at Snow, watching me from the door.

Snow mirrors the gesture, opens his dresser, and dumps a bunch of clothes into a black backpack that he picked up from the floor. “Done.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Will you please let me pack for you next time?”

Amusement lights up his face. “I think I should pack for you.” He sits on our bed, looks at my full suitcase, and looks up at me. “It’s two days, darling. Or is this one of your anxiety-packings?”

“Aren’t you the one nervous to meet my family?”

He groans and flops down on his back. “I’m trying not to panic, but the closer we get, the more I think about it.” He lifts his head to look at me. “Please tell me I’m not the only one. There has to be another cousin’s weird boyfriend or someone who flunked out of uni or whatever your family gossips about.”

I consider it. “Elvira voted Labour in the last election and told everyone.”

“Rookie mistake.”

“I know. Don’t even utter anything remotely political in that house.”

“Great. So don’t mention your school, career, or passions, and we should be good to go.” He sighs before muttering, so low that I can barely hear it, “Bloody hell.”

A beat of silence passes, and I can hear his brain spinning into overdrive. “Snow,” I start.

“They’re gonna eat me alive.”

“They won’t.”

“They will.”

“They won’t.” I look him in the eyes when I say it. “Do you trust me?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes at my low blow. He looks at me for a moment, hesitates, then nods.

“Good,” I say. “Just stay close to me and look pretty.”

He shoves me, hard, and laughs.

—

The drive up to the country is still one of my favourites. Fiona would usually drive me each year in December for the holidays, and I loved watching London slowly disappear. The buildings and adverts fade away. The last minute Christmas Eve shoppers nowhere in sight. The snow on the roads thicker, whiter. Trees replacing lamp posts. The thrill is multiplied now that I’m behind the wheel, with Snow on the passenger seat, his fingers massaging my nape and pulling slightly on my hair. The road is deserted, and I accelerate. The engine purrs with the effort underneath us, and I can’t help but grin. I feel electric.

Snow looks at me. “Are you smiling because you’re endangering my life?”

I raise my eyebrow at him. I can make this drive with my eyes closed. I go faster, and his eyes light up. His finger travels up my nape, and starts scratching my scalp. Gooseflesh erupts across my arms. “You keep this up, and this car will spin off the path.”

“Anything to delay getting there, right?”

My eyes slide towards him. Just as I try to gauge how serious he’s being, he retracts his hand to run it down his face.

“Simon,” I start to say.

“No, s’alright. S’alright, I promise. I think I just need to get through the first bit, then I’ll get in the zone.” I can hear his heartbeat pick up. I slow the car to a halt.

He keeps his eyes closed when he mutters, “I may seem like I’m mental, but I’m fine. I’m great.”

“I’m sure.” I keep my hands on the wheel when I turn to him. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

“‘Course we do.”

“I’ll turn the car around right now if you’d like. I’m serious.”

“And I’m serious when I say I can do this. I can. Besides,” he drops his hands and looks at me. “I want the roast beef.”

I laugh, but my face settles into a frown. “Are you sure?”

His lip quirks upward. “Start the car, Baz.” As we accelerate, he adds, “Though if Daphne decides to suddenly go vegetarian or something, I swear to Merlin and Morgana we are leaving.”

I smile, and I let my right hand drop down to loosely lock with his left. The rest of the drive is as beautiful as I remember it.

—

When we pull in and step out, there are already cars lined along the path. Snow stretches his arms above his head, his green jumper riding slightly above his waist. I pop open the boot and grab my suitcase, but Snow touches my wrist. “Let me,” he says. I stare at him as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, take my suitcase and the paper bag in his right hand, and shuts the boot with his left.

He takes my hand and starts walking. I roll my eyes. “Are you doing this to impress my father?”

“I’m trying to impress my boyfriend.”

He’s a git, and I love him. “At least let me carry the bloody mixing bowl,” I say, grabbing the bag. I think about how inappropriate it would be to snog him ten feet from my family home. We never did when we’d come for the holidays, but would we start, now that everyone knows we’re a couple? I spot a lamborghini parked near ours, and the possibility dissolves. Fat chance Snow would feel at ease enough to do anything like that.

We approach the door, and I feel the heat and energy radiating off of him. His feet shuffle in place, and he rubs the back of his head. My finger hesitates before ringing the bell. I should say something. Some final words of affirmation, to make sure he’s feeling better—

My eyes widen when Simon shoves me into the wall, and they flutter shut when he kisses me. Deeply. He looks sheepish when he breaks away, stil inches away from my face. “Sorry. Don’t know when I’ll get to do this again.”

I kiss him another time before letting him go. “Idiot.” I let my smile stretch wide across my face as I ring the doorbell.

—

The parlour is already half-full of people, but the staircase is blessedly tucked away when we enter the house. I can see a few of my relatives from where we stand. Most I recognize, and others I don’t. Cousins whose faces ring a bell but have changed since they’ve grown. New wives and husbands. Little toddlers using their magic like firecrackers, sending sparkles and clouds of smoke in the air as they chase each other up and down the stairs.

Daphne shoos them away as she leads us to my room—our room. “How was the drive, darling?”

“Lovely, thank you. The snow’s being kind to us this year, isn’t it?” I can already feel my tongue change inside my mouth. My years with Simon has morphed my vocabulary and made my words looser. More relaxed. Simon’s chuffed, of course; my slurring speech and clipped words are entirely his fault. Here at home, though, it’s like my whole body automatically straightens.

“Oh, yes.” Daphne replies. She swiftly spells the stray toys and wrinkled carpets tidy. The mixing bowl has long floated to the kitchen. “Nothing can be as ghastly as last year. Your Uncle Edgar’s tires had a tough time, remember? He’s got a new car now.”

Ah, yes. The lamborghini.

“Have you got new flowers, Daphne?” Snow asks. This catches me by surprise.

That makes her smile. “Yes, actually. I thought orchids might brighten the place up for the children. You’ll see the poinsettias in the kitchen.” She clasps her hands when we reach our room. “Right. I’ll let you two get settled. Don’t wait too long to come down, everyone’s excited to meet you.” She squeezes Simon’s hand and walks back to the party.

Simon opens the door, drops the bags, and walks back out. “Right, let’s do this.” I look at him. I was planning on showering, at the very least changing clothes. He speaks again before I can ask. “If I go in there, I’m not gonna want to come back out. Let’s get on with it, yeah?”

I hesitate, then I nod. I rub his back while we go down the stairs, as the party sounds get louder. Well, calling it ‘party sounds’ would be misleading. It’s murmurs, conversation, and the occasional clinking of dishware.

Snow grips my elbow before we step into the parlour. “Stay close to me,” he whispers.

There was a time when I wouldn’t say my reply out loud. That was a long time ago. “Always.” I say, firmly.

—

It’s fine. It’s only been two hours, but it’s been fine.

Snow and I entered the parlour, and I don’t know what dark curse is after us, but my cousin Emille approaches us first. Of the French Pitches.

“Basil! Bonsoir, comment ça va?" She had smiled warmly. We always got on well during these events.

“Bien, bien. Et tu?”

We kept up this back and forth for a few minutes, and it became clear that she had no intention of speaking to Simon. “Sorry, I don’t believe you’ve met Simon. My partner,” I say in English. I place my hand at the small of his back and smile at him.

He smiles at her and holds out his hand, right when she goes in for a kiss on the cheek.

The conversation didn't last very long.

As I was steering us away from Emille, I caught my father’s eye from across the room. His smile almost reached his eyes when he called us over. Almost.

“Basil,” He said, gripping my shoulder. “Welcome home.” I nod, and he turned to Simon. “All right, Simon?”

Simon holds out his hand. “Good evening, sir.” He smiles, but I can see his jaw pulled taut. I can feel his pulse picking up. He’s called my father that every year.

I waited for him to correct Simon, to call him literally anything else, but he shook Simon’s hand and replied, “Did the snow give you any trouble on the drive?”

“Not at all. Made it in record time,” Simon replied, while I grit my teeth in annoyance.

“Very good. Your aunts and uncles are thrilled to see you...”

Thankfully, since then, we’ve stayed off to the side as each uncle and aunt exchanged pleasantries and tried their best to casually mention their child being brilliant or athletic or powerful. Each is playing their own game, and they’re all losing. I see Simon intently listening, his eyes darting back and forth to keep up with this pathetic six-person tennis match. I want to rub his back again. To tell him not to waste so much energy for this. That he’s too good for any of them.

Instead, I sip my wine and look around the house. Fiona hasn’t arrived yet—typical. She’d probably bust in at half-nine, after dinner and when the children are about to sleep. I watch Mordelia sit in the far corner near the dining room, her nose in a book, with one of the toddlers curl up next to her. Softie. She’s gotten so tall since I last saw her...

My attention whips back when I hear my Aunt Ariadne says my name. “Are you at uni, then, Basil?”

I uncross my legs and straighten my spine. “Yes, doing my Master’s at LSE.”

I pray she’ll let me leave it at that, and she replies with, “Oh, lovely. Your cousin Rainn is thinking of pursuing one as well. She’s almost done her undergrad. Over at Cambridge.” Good old Aunt Ariadne.

I nod and smile, about to prompt her about her precious Rainn and Cambridge, when my father speaks up. “Have you decided on your dissertation, Basil?”

I try not to sigh when I say my practiced reply. “I have. I’m doing it on democratic theory and fiscal austerity in the EU.” I leave it as vague as possible, and hope the conversation simmers away.

I see Edgar sit up, and I brace for impact. “Good lad. More people your age ought to learn about personal responsibility and the free market.”

I think about my work, the research I’ve poured over, that argues just the opposite. How the time for austerity has long gone. How democratic theory must be at the forefront of economic policy. But nothing can be worse than a roundtable discussion with my dear Uncle Edgar and half the Pitch extended family, so I swerve. “Yes, the school work can be a pain, but I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

“Public discourse has thrown what really matters out the window,” he presses, and I can see his face begin to liven up. “It has corrupted our society. Having Labour in power now, of course, is a bloody nightmare. Giveaways here and there. Iced lollies, penny sweets, thousands of pounds a month? What difference does that make? Throw it all to the wind! There’s a ‘public program’ for anything nowadays.” He makes air quotes with his hand.

“Edgar,” Daphne starts.

He ignores her and starts to speak with his hands. Clearly, he’s enjoying being a world-class twat. “And what will that do with my taxes, hm? Wasting and throwing it to bums and lunatics.”

Edgar’s points are so dogmatic, so cartoonishly cookie-cutter, that I almost laugh, but I feel Simon tense beside me. I gently nudge my thigh against his. Steady, love, I want to tell him.

“Well, dinner’s just about ready. Let’s all wash up and get the children, shall we?” Daphne suggests. Bless her heart. The others heave off the sofa, chairs, and loveseats handsomely positioned all around the parlour, and disperses to different corners of the house.

I start to get up, relieved to eat, when I see Snow stay put. His jaw is set, and his eyes are fixed on a spot at the wall. The parlour has cleared, so I take my hand loosely in his. “All right?” I ask.

His fingers absently toy with mine, but it takes a minute for him to look at me. I’m an expert in reading Snow’s transparent face, but right now, I’m at a loss. He nods, stands up, and drops my hand.

—

Dinner, so far, is hardly better. At least Daphne didn’t go vegetarian.

The table is spelled longer to accommodate all the guests, and it stretches from the dining table, past the archway, and into the parlour.

Next to me, Snow is quiet. He’s aced the table manners over the years, and I smile at the lumps of food on his plate. Underneath the table, I tap his foot with mine, and he taps me back.

This is good. We can do this.

Aunt Willow—A Danish Pitch—takes a sip from her wine and turns to us. “So what do you study, Simon?”

I feel Simon straighten up. “Oh, I don’t, actually. I’m working right now.”

“Like for a gap year?”

“Er, I’m not sure yet.” He chuckles, and he hides his discomfort well. But not to me. “Just reckon I’d spend my time saving up if I’m not sure what I’d like to study.”

“Of course, I think that’s wonderful.” I take another bite, and try my best to look nonchalant. But I already start to dread my family’s behaviour. My body feels like I’m about to enter a duel. “Where do you work, darling?”

Simon hesitates before he replies, “Central London.” I watch his fork swirl around the mash. Willow smiles and nods, and just when I can see her about to turn to someone else, he abruptly adds, “I work at a Starbucks. In Central London. Just by LSE, actually.”

“Lovely,” she says, and I can tell she’s at a loss with what to say next, but that won’t stop her from carrying a conversation. “I tried a scone from there one morning when I was running late to a conference. It was quite good.”

Simon laughs, and I can feel an edge to it. I decide to jump in. “I’ve had all their scones, Aunt Willow. Almost comparable to Watford, if you ask me.”

Daphne smiles. “Maybe someone can give Cook Pritchard a run for her money.”

“Baz, you interned at the Home Secretary’s office, didn’t you? When you finished your undergrad?” I hear my father suddenly add.

“Yes, father.” I reply without a beat, though my brow raises slightly at the question. What is he on about?

“Well, maybe you can connect Simon. He ought to have a better gap year than a cafe, eh?” He’s smiling, but when we make eye contact, I can feel a bucket of cold water splash through me. I clench my fist and I feel a loud clunk on the floor. Simon ducks down to fish his knife from beneath the table. I’m so taken aback from my father’s words that I’ve stopped keeping tabs on him.

I stare at him from across the table. It’s completely quiet now.

“Mummy, will you pass the gravy, please?” An even voice says from three seats down. I look over at Mordelia, with her plate almost empty.

Daphne clears her throat. “Sure, darling.” When Mordelia gets the boat, she sets it down and doesn’t pour it on her plate.

I clear my throat. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t think they’d even remember me.”

He nods once, and goes back to his roast beef.

—

Thankfully, the rest of dinner is quieter. Snow is quieter.

He barely finishes dessert before he excuses himself and steps away from the table. I smile, excuse myself, and follow him through the parlour.

I can tell Snow is trying not to stomp and barrel up the stairs. I can tell his jaw is clenched, so tightly that I can hear his teeth scrape together. He opens the door, and we go inside.

My walls have been permanently spelled sound-proof since I was fifteen. I can still feel the magic I left behind, permeating the wallpaper and the tapestries. A part of my brain appreciates the irony of that; I spell them on the summer I tried to wank my feelings away, and now the spell still stands, concealing the clenching jaw and heavy footsteps of Simon Snow himself. I think I would have been thrilled, had I knew.

Now, though, I feel my stomach constrict, like cold water sizzling against my heated insides. I sit down on the trunk at the foot of my bed. I want to ask him to sit with me, but I know better. I watch him five feet away from me, running a hand through his hair. “You’re angry,” I say.

“‘Yeah. I am.” He’s not saying anything else, but he’s anything but quiet. He takes a deep breath and exhales out his nose. His heart is thumping, and I can hear his blood rush across his veins. He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. Like I have countless times before.

When he speaks, it’s barely above a whisper. “I wanted this visit to work. So badly. But those things he was saying. And you listening and taking it, and...and...” He huffs in frustration. It’s demeaning, Baz.”

“Is it Edgar? My father?” I ask. “They’re old dickheads, Simon. They humiliate themselves. Can’t even go through small talk without—”

“That’s the thing,” he interrupts me. His eyes flit to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but me. “It’s not just </i>small talk.</i> That rubbish he spouts? You think it’s jest?”

“Why do you care what he thinks?” Seeing him so upset is sending a ripple of panic fluttering from my chest. I scramble, and I grasp, and apparently, I break.

“It’s not just Edgar, isn’t it? It’s that whole lot. What would they say when they find out their darling Basil is dating a bloody chav from a foster home? Leeching away his money ‘cause I serve coffee eight hours a day.” He laughs a bitter, joyles sound. He’s still not looking at me. “This is real life, Baz. It’s not small talk. It’s not a chat during a fucking garden promenade at your family’s club. I guess I’d know if I picked up a few shifts there, wouldn’t I?”

Irritation swells in my throat. I think about the Easters, Christmases, summers at the club where I kept my mouth shut when my family makes gay jokes about lads and queers and faeries. He has never thrown my privilege in my face. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

“Actually, I haven’t the faintest idea what you do mean. Not when you sit there and say nothing.” He breathes again. “It’s not just everyone else.” He repeats. “It’s...it’s you.”

Fights aren’t the same from when we were twenty. Now, at twenty-three, they don’t feel like we’re one shout from breaking up. They don’t feel like Simon will slip from my fingertips unless I hold on so tightly that my knuckles are white with the effort. They don’t feel like the love I had for him was an overflowing static, buzzing through the air and hurting anyone who dares come close. Now, they’re just fights.

But they still fucking hurt.

“Simon, love—”

“Don’t.” He holds up a hand. He stares at a far wall when he talks to me. “Don’t call me that when I’m upset with you. Please.”

I stand there, at a complete loss. He turns around, unzips his backpack, and starts shoving his clothes out on the bed. I can see his hands trembling. His heart is still thumping, blood still rushing. I shut my eyes and start to feel the tears well up. Long before I learned to retract my fangs, I’ve mastered retracting my tears first. But I don’t want to hold them back. Not here. Not with him.

He keeps his back to me, and I stare at it—at the thick ridge, strained and tense. I know he can feel me looking. I want him to keep talking. I want him to yell at me, tell me what to do. Because I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.

I turn around and open the door.

“Your toothbrush is in mine,” I mutter. “You almost forgot it this morning.” I close the door shut, and I go down the stairs.

I blink, but the tears don’t come. Like I said; my body knows when I’m home.

—

When you hang a left by the garage, there’s a brick wall on the side of the house. It’s completely dark at night, and dead quiet. At half-eleven, it would be tricky for any visitor to end up there, and I easily make my way down there without being spotted. It was my favourite spot to sneak a fag. Not that I have one on me. I’d kill for one now.

I stop when I see Mordelia standing near the bins, one leg folded to prop herself up. I see her blow smoke up to the sky, with the soft ember at her fingertips the only light between us. I had no idea she smoked.

I walk up to her and join her against the wall. She looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. “Have you got a spare?” I ask her. I can’t remember the last time we spoke. Surely, not last Christmas?

She flicks open her pack and holds it out to me. I put one between my lips, light it with my wand, take a deep drag, and exhale. I close my eyes and relish the way my head starts to spin.

“Aren’t you going to tell me off?” Standing next to her, I realize that she’s almost past my shoulder.

I shrug. “I was about your age when I started.”

She narrows her eyes and bites her lip, and I think about my life at sixteen. Fifth year. I hope to Merlin and Morgana that she’s not going through even a portion of what I did. I think about saying something to her, or asking about Watford, when she says something that throws me off. “Is Simon never coming back here? After spending a night with the family?”

I laugh, almost bitterly. I never give her enough credit. “That Edgar is a real wanker, isn’t he?” I deflect. She chuckles, and I take another drag. I follow her line of sight and look at the stars. They’re so much prettier here, away from London. I continue talking. “He’ll be alright; he’s always been stronger than me. It’s me who can’t stand it.” I look back at her and give a half-smile. “Do you want him to? Come back?”

I was meaning to take the piss, but she slowly nods. “When he spent that first Christmas with us, I didn’t like it. Not cause he was the Chosen One, or whatever. Crowley, that seems like a lifetime ago.” She takes a drag and exhales. I wonder if our father would blame her smoking on me. “I didn’t like it because you were different with him. Where he goes, you go. And neither of you have any clue. It’s like someone cast ‘Shall we dance?’ on you. And it freaked me out to see you so different. It never changed with every December, you see. Didn’t waver or dampen. And Simon never stopped looking bloody terrified every year.” She pauses when I laugh, and then looks at me when she speaks again. “I can barely remember what you were like before him now. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

I look at her with wide eyes. In the moonlight, I can see how her eyelashes flutter. How her cheeks redden in the cold. I wonder how much she’s absorbed, how much she’s grown up, right under my nose. She puts out her cigarette and stomps on it. Without another word, she turns to head back inside.

“Mordelia,” I call after her. She turns back to me and raises her eyebrow. “Happy Christmas.”

She rolls her eyes, but I can see a smile start to form. “Go back inside. Don’t cock it up.”

—

I don’t know what to expect when I carefully open our door. Part of me hopes he’d be asleep; he tossed and turned all night last night.

Instead, I find him sitting on the floor cross-legged, facing the fireplace. He doesn’t say anything when I shut the door behind me.

I pad across the room and join him, leaving a few feet of space when when I sit. I watch him for a moment in my periphery. He’s hunched over his knees, resting his chin at the top of his knees. I indulge in inhaling his scent. “I’m sorry,” I say.

He’s silent for a long time. In the quiet, if I concentrate, I can still hear the party below us, louder now that they’ve brought out the brandy. I remember the drill, and I hate it.

Instead, I listen to the crackling of the flames. Simon’s even heartbeat.

“I’m not angry anymore,” Snow mutters. He keeps his gaze on the fire.

“I fucked up tonight,” I say.

Simon shakes his head, and I spot a small smile on his lips. “You don’t fuck up, darling. You’re too perfect for that. You miscalculated, maybe.”

He’s trying to lighten the mood, because he knows how. He’s bloody brilliant with that. With me. But I won’t take it. “Simon...”

“We save that phrase for actual fuck-ups, like me.”

“Simon. No.” I shift to properly face him. He keeps his eyes forward, but that’s alright. “You’re right. Those things are important, and they matter, and they were unacceptable. And I didn’t understand that. And I hurt you.”

He hesitates before replying. “Don’t you think they have a point?”

Anger rises in my chest. “No,” I almost growl. “They don’t.” My hands ball into fists, and I force them to open again. I breathe. “Please look at me, love.”

He does. I scoot forward and lean in, pushing his curls back. “You are not a fuck-up, SiImon Snow. I will make a spreadsheet, I’ll write you a speech. I’ll do a dissertation, and I’ll pass with distinction. Because I’ll prove it. Crowley, I will prove it.” Nothing would be easier to do. Would make me happier to accomplish.

He looks down and smiles. He takes my hand from his face, kisses my palm, and laces our fingers together.

“Will you forgive me?” I whisper.

He leans forward and kisses me. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he answers against my lips. He moves to my ear. “I know I’ll never be a fuck-up as long as I’m your boyfriend.”

“Because Basil Pitch doesn’t date losers,” I answer breathlessly.

“Indeed,” he whispers. He moves to my neck, kissing me there. “Merlin, I’ll live up to it. I could be buried with that title, and I’ll be the happiest ghost around.”

I close my eyes and breathe him in. His pulse is so loud, so close to me, that it rings in my ears. I pretend that it’s mine, that we’re sharing a heartbeat. If I had to stay this close to keep my heart pumping for the rest of my life, I’ll accept it. Gladly. Gratefully.

“Do you want to go home?” I murmur against his hair.

He pulls back and looks at me. “Really?”

I can see in his eyes that he wants to. I nod.

“What about your family?”

My lip quirks upward. “I think they’ll manage.”

He keeps looking at me, searching my eyes for hesitation. When he finds nothing, he smiles slowly. “Will you let me drive?”

I purse my lips. “Then we’ll be even?”

His eyes sparkle, lips twisting in wicked amusement. “Deal.”

It’s almost one o’clock in the morning when we step out of the house with our luggage, so I wasn’t expecting anyone to notice. We almost make it past the gate when I hear a voice behind us. “Leaving so soon?”

I turn around. Fiona.

I look at her, unsure of what to say. Of whether or not she’d stop us. She drops her cigarette on the ground and stomps it out with her boot. She rolls her eyes and says, “Just give me a hug before you go.”

I walk forward and wrap my arms around her. When we pull away, she nods at Simon behind me. “Drive safely, yeah?” She jerks her head towards me. “He’d cry if you wreck that Jag.”

I hear Simon chuckle. “I will.”

She nods. “Go on, then. Before anyone sees you.”

I kiss her cheek. “I’ll ring you when we get home.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go.”

—

Turns out, the drive is even better in total darkness.

—

We woke up on Christmas morning at eleven o’clock.

I can’t remember the last Christmas where I slept in so late.

#snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow #Tyrannus Basilton Pitch

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charpaige · 4 years

Text

my canon chenry fantasy

Here’s how I would’ve made Chenry canon. This is a little bit over 2,300 words to compensate for the slow burn they should’ve got.

For starters, I would’ve started their relationship in Season 3. I know, I know, what about starting it in Season 1? We’ll let Henry enjoy all of his little love trysts in the first two seasons since those were actually pretty important to his character growth. It also allowed Charlotte and Henry to really bond and have some really important conversations. So, we keep those.

But, one of my favorite tropes is when someone close to a superhero gets kidnapped and they realize how important that kidnapped person is to them.

I would’ve had Charlotte get kidnapped by a new villain. A female villain too, since we barely had any of those. She’d be like Rick Twittler in a way. Since she shows up unexpected and adds a level of seriousness that the show hadn’t possessed yet. Let’s call her Miss H.

And of course, Charlotte being kidnapped drives Henry crazy because hey, one of his best friends are missing and it seems like Schwoz and Ray aren’t doing enough to bring her back.

So, Henry decides to take matters into his own hands. And predictably, he fails miserably in his rescue attempt and ends up captured with Charlotte.

While waiting for Ray and Schwoz to rescue them, the two of them have some serious bonding for a few days. They talk about missing Oreo milkshakes, wonder about what happened to Jasper’s bucket collection, and dramatically fantasize about their youth like they’re knocking on death’s door.

When Captain Man finally makes it to where Charlotte and Henry are captured, they’re moved to a room by Miss H’s goons with a two-way mirror so they could see the showdown between Ray and Miss H. There’s a countdown for ten minutes in the room, but they have no idea what it does.

However, it seems like Captain Man does. Because he looks towards the mirror with concern while Miss H. gives her monologue about her villainous ways.

Henry and Charlotte watch the fight and look back and forth between that and the timer while freaking out together, and not knowing what to do. Once the timer hits the half-way mark, they unexpectedly reach for each other’s hand, squeezing a little too tight.

And then, in typical Captain Man fashion and for television like suspense, he manages to stop Miss H. and stop the timer with one second left to spare. Henry and Charlotte respond by immediately hugging each other and jumping for joy with huge smiles on their faces.

Unexpectedly, their faces are inches apart from all the excitement, they’re out of breath in a good way, and their hearts are racing from anxiety and jubilation. But their eyes meet like they’ve never met before and lean into a kiss.

But they don’t get to kiss since Captain Man barges in and makes them jump apart like they were doing something illegal.

From there, Henry and Charlotte have a hard time talking about the almost kissing incident. It’s a little awkward and they can’t even share a bowl of popcorn without fear of their hands touching.

But they eventually talk it out. It was all in the moment they say. It just felt right at the time they say. It doesn’t mean anything and they’re still best friends they convince themselves.

Everything is cool till Charlotte gets a boyfriend. Which, completely throws Henry for a loop because what the heck, who is this guy, and why does he think he’s good enough for Charlotte.

But Henry sees how happy he makes Charlotte, how well he treats her, and how annoyingly cute they look working on LIMP projects together. So, he lets them be and keeps his jealously to himself. But they still remain pretty close and everything is seemingly normal.

Until normalcy starts to go down the drain. Because Henry and Charlotte are closer than ever now that she has a boyfriend, which is weird. But knowing that Henry doesn’t have to deal with his feelings for his best friend makes their interactions a little better. And every time Charlotte shows up to work with her boyfriend with their hands laced together, Henry gets used to the small uneasiness in his stomach and smiles a little bigger because his bestie is happy.

But happiness might as well be a pair of black jeans since it fades over time. Suddenly, Henry gets a little frustrated that he has to watch Charlotte so happy while being a sidekick to a superhero is taking a toll on his mental health, school grades, and his ability to be a teenager.

But Henry keeps it to himself since he doesn’t want to feel like a bother with his problems. Until the Christmas episode that is.

I’d keep it the same as Season 5’s episode with Ray and Henry saving Christmas trees. Except Charlotte is throwing a small Christmas party at her place with some of her class friends and Henry was supposed to be there to take a breather from being Kid Danger.

But he’s Henry with a good heart. So, he has to save Christmas even though he’s kind of sick of saving everything and not being able to hang out with his friends.

Henry arrives late to the Christmas party after everyone’s left except Jasper’s passed out on the couch from drinking too much eggnog with gingerbread crumbs all over his face.

Charlotte gives Henry a cup of hot chocolate and they sit by the fireplace where Charlotte makes him spill the beans on how he’s been doing since they barely get to talk anymore.

He makes her go first since he knows Charlotte gets an ear full of talking men since she works in the Man Cave. She fills him on accelerated testing, joining the newspaper committee, and some crime tracking system she and Schwoz had been working on in the Man Cave.

However, he’s caught off guard when she reveals that she and her boyfriend broke up a while ago. Henry had been so busy and sleep-deprived he didn’t even notice them not eating lunch together, holding hands, and at the library together.

He wants to be nosey and ask a whole bunch of questions, but her answer to them wanting to be just friends sufficed enough.

So, Henry finally got to rant and rave about how tired he is of being Kid Danger sometimes, how much his grades are suffering, and how much he misses being the Three Musketeers with Jasper and Charlotte. He manages to leave out the fact he has a massive crush on her.

Which is hard since she looks really pretty in her forest green sweater, a Santa hat headband, and her hair straightened for her yearly layered haircut.

Charlotte puts her hand over his and does what she does best, makes him feel better while telling him how to go about his next moves to get his life back. After the serious talk is over, they vibe and catch up and Jasper wakes up to join them like it’s old times.

Jasper says his goodbyes to Henry and Charlotte and dashes home to do a weird Christmas ritual with his mother. This leaves Henry and Charlotte awkwardly standing in the doorway and saying their goodbyes with a hug. They smile a little sheepish after they separate, but Charlotte’s eyes briefly glance upwards and slightly widen.

Henry follows her line of sight and notices the culprit of her gaze, mistletoe above the doorframe that had been forgotten.

Henry coughs awkwardly and quickly says goodnight in an attempt to get out of there as soon as possible. Except Charlotte reaches for him and stops him in his tracks.

She’s looking up at him like the last almost kissing incident and Henry just thickly swallows waiting for her next move.

“You know how much I hate breaking holiday traditions.” And Charlotte leans into him and kisses him on the cheek.

Henry knows he’s embarrassingly flushed and his mouth his probably slightly agape, because who is this version Charlotte and why was mistletoe only around on Christmas?

But he’s Henry, so he’s cool and suave (yeah, right), and he smiles and wishes her a good night.

He somehow floats his way home and doesn’t stop thinking about the kiss till he falls asleep.

But the cheek kiss suddenly freaks him out while he’s eating breakfast, because what the heck does it even mean??? Does she like him? Are they on the path to being more than friends? Or does Charlotte really just love holiday traditions and he’s a victim of circumstance?

All the thinking drives him crazy, so he finally turns to Jasper to ask about what any of it means. From the beginning when they almost kissed to now. And unsurprisingly, Jasper just shrugs and says, “I dunno.”

So, Henry remains really conscious about his crush on Charlotte and unsure if their best friendship is in danger (ha, get it? ‘cuz he’s Henry/Kid Danger, yeah okay it’s not funny) or worthy of something more.

It’s up in the air till they kiss in I Dream of Danger and become official. Instead of Charlotte being freaked out by the dreams because of her inability to see Henry in a romantic way, she’s freaked out because she’s afraid of their relationship changing.

They’ve been Henry and Charlotte. The best friends for the longest amount of time. A friend turned romantic relationships usually turn out well, but she’s worried about theirs going down in flames and losing her best friend for the rest of her life.

But Henry reassures her that everything between them is going to be fine whatever path their relationship takes. And they can talk about it later when she’s not feet away from a hungry lion.

So, he rescues her and they don’t kiss, but instead, she hugs him really tight for basically saving her life.

Later on, Henry walks her home since he’s afraid to let her out of his sight now. And they talk a little bit more about their feelings for each other and admit that their relationship has been on its ups and downs.

When they’re at Charlotte’s doorstep, they get awkward since they both got a lot off of their chests in a short amount of time.

Henry has his hands in his pockets. “So, yeah…” he trails off.

She anxiously laughed. “Yeah, so what now?”

“I don’t know. Should we try the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing?” He’s looking at the ground when he says it since this is the most nervous he’s ever been in his whole life.

“Well, I like you and you like me, so I guess it makes sense?”

“You guess?” Henry laughs.

Charlotte playfully rolls her eyes at him. “You know what I mean.”

They smile really big at each other and banter a little more till the air gets serious again. The conversation truly feels like it’s at its end now, so Henry goes in for the final blow.

“Can I kiss you?” Henry has to ask because hey, we love consent.

Charlotte nods frantically while saying yes.

And then they kiss. It’s terse but sweet and they’re both in astonishment afterward, since wow, I just kissed my best friend and it was actually kind of great.

They awkwardly part ways after that but then we get separate scenes of how happy they are. We get to see Charlotte run upstairs to her bedroom to scream into her pillow in glee. And we get to see Henry jumping up and down in excitement and punching the air. And yeah, Chenry is canon at that point.

Chenry dates officially in front of the audience from the beginning of Season 4. The first episode from that season is Sick & Wired, so we open with Charlotte taking care of a sick Henry and her remaining by his side. Ray thinks they’re lying to hang out together since they’re dating, so he still convinces Jasper to wear a wire and blah blah blah, you’ve probably seen the episode.

And yeah, so imagine official Chenry for all of Season 4 and 5. They’re not super-duper romantic and always engaging in PDA since it’s a self-proclaimed ‘kid’s show’ and I want kids to know that you don’t have to always be kissing and all over each other to be in love or in a relationship.

So, we’d just occasionally see Henry and Charlotte holding hands while sitting on the couch, Henry’s arm around Charlotte’s shoulder, the two of them sharing food and drink, them smiling super big at each other in the background when other characters are talking.

The occasional kiss could involve forehead kisses, cheek kisses, and even hand kisses because those are so wholesome and underrated. Plus, I’d want there to be a running gag that Jasper never gets to see Henry and Charlotte kiss. Since, The Bucket Trap he really wanted to see them kiss, so what’s better than to not have them kiss. It’d also be for Jace and Riele’s sake too not gonna lie. Since I’m sure that’s awkward and people ship them enough in real life.

But yeah, Jasper only sees Chenry holding hands, long hugs, and other romantic shit. And in the last episode, they offer to kiss in front of him to appease him, but there’s a power outage as soon as they go in for it and Jasper misses the whole thing with a dramatic “Noooooo!”

Canon Chenry also means we get a prom episode where they look awesome in a matching tuxedo and dress. We get a Valentine’s episode that lets them go on a date. We’d get graduation day Chenry in their caps and gowns.

Matching costume Chenry for Halloween. Like, imagine the two of them wearing a peanut butter and jelly costume where they’re each a slice of smeared bread. And Jasper gets to be a milk carton and maybe his significant other could be a chocolate chip cookie. Idk, I’m just rambling at this point.

So, yeah, that’s all I got.

#henry danger #chenry #henlotte #henry hart #charlotte page

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rinusagitora · 4 years

Text

The love, lead, and the undead.

Fandom: Monster Prom

Characters: Vicky Schmidt, Damien LaVey, Brian Yu, Oz, Zoe, Vera Oberlin, Liam de Lioncourt, Blobert, Scott Howl, Stan LaVey, Lucien LaVey, OC: Mungandr,

Pairings: Brian/Damien/Vicky, Oz/Zoe, Lucien/Stan

Words: 4.1k

Summary: Canon divergent. Chapter 6/?. WARNINGS— violence, gore, drug use, major character death; Their worst nightmare comes to fruition.

Vicky had a headache the size of Manhattan and not even dope eased the rumble of her head.

“I’m dying,” she announced as she pushed a pair of heavily tinted sunglasses up the bridge of her stupidly tiny nose. “Why the fuck did you guys let me drink so much? I mean, that whiskey was expensive so I wanted to make sure we finished that, but I had six other drinks on top of it.”

“Because we were less than sober ourselves, and I, for one, wanted to see how much you could drink before you absolutely couldn’t walk.”

“Fuck you, Brian.”

“You did that at least twice. I was there,” Damien said.

“Damien. Unless the next words out of your mouth magically make my headache go away, I will carve out my colon and floss your teeth with it.”

Vicky tossed her joint out of the window when the school came into view. Brian parked and she tumbled out of the car. He was sweet enough to massage her neck at least.

Immediately, the trio was bombarded by Scott. Vicky wasn’t made with cat reflexes, so while her boyfriends deftly stepped out of reach, she was squashed in his huge arms and chest. Her arms laid by her side. At least if she suffocated, her head wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Vicky! Vera told me all about how awesome you were yesterday. You’re so awesome!” Scott cheered.

“Scott, I think you’re hurting her.”

Scott dropped her. Vicky involuntarily gasped for air. Nonetheless, she peered around Scott and beamed when she laid eyes on Blobert.

“Hey there, buddy!” Brian chirped. He strode over with uncharacteristic charm and hugged Blobert. Vicky was kind of jealous he got to hug Blobert first. “How’s it going? We missed you at the game.”

“I’m sorry. Stocking’s water broke at the shelter, so I stayed to help deliver her kitties.”

“Oh my god, do you have pictures of them?”

“I do! I’ll text them to you later today. I have something for Vicky, however.”

Vicky blinked. “For me? Why?”

“Forgive me for prying, Vicky, but I saw you running away from school the other day. Valerie told me what happened… the business concerning your uncle. I know there isn’t anything I can do to heal what he has done to you, but I hope you understand that you are loved, and I know for a fact you have many friends who will protect you.” Blobert pressed a card into her hand. “I know this isn’t much, but I hope it will remind you that you have many people who love you and will never hurt you.”

Vicky leaped onto Blobert and squeezed him. “Thank you, Blobert, you’re an amazing friend. My uncle was… an awful man, but you’re right. I have a family here with all of you. There’s nothing more I want.” Aside from more painkillers for her head.

“Anyways, I should get going. I have a quiz today. I’ll catch you guys around.”

“Bye, Blobert.”

Scott resumed squeezing Vicky. “I’m sorry I took your arm off the other day. I was so scared! You were running and screaming and I got scared, so I grabbed you. I guess I don’t know my strength.”

Vicky felt awful. She hurt Scott in her tizzy to escape, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. “It wasn’t your fault. My arm fell off because I ripped open my stitches to get away,” she explained. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Her head felt like it imploded. The Christmas she kissed Liam flashed before her eyes.

---

Oz exuded goo. Fear wheezed and whined. His head was lolled against Zoe’s shoulder as he breathed raspily, and his hair had seeped down into her lap like candle wax. It was so hard for him to keep his shape when the spear sucked out his power like soft marrow.

“Baby?” Zoe said hoarsely. Her tentacles were dry. “Are you still with me?”

“Barely,” he mumbled.

“I have an idea how to get out,” she said. Oz hummed quizzically. “You probably won’t like it.”

“Can it be any worse than this?”

“Is the spearhead on your side?” Zoe asked.

Oz lifted his head. The tip of the spear was shaped like a spade from a deck of cards. He gave a resigned sigh. There were worse fates than having that ripped through his chest, like Vicky's death. “It is. It’s pretty wide, though, so we’ll need to pull hard.”

“What? No, Oz, I need it to pick our cuffs. You’re going to have to break it off.

He was relieved. “Can you pull it closer? Slowly, I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Zoe grunted. He heard her tentacles and teeth grip it. Slowly, with enormous strain, she pulled it closer. He hissed between his teeth. Every inch it was dragged through him burned from his collar to the bottom of his ribcage.

“Are you okay?” Zoe asked tearfully.

“Keep going, just a couple more inches,” he whined. "One more pull, baby.”

Zoe gave one last heave and the spade was close enough to touch his chest. “You’re good. Lean as far forward as you can.”

Oz’s goo shuddered. He tensed it around the rod inside of his chest to cut it off, free himself, and then pick them free without the cumbersome spear in the way. He was too weak to shear it off, however.

“I can’t. I’m sorry,” he wept. “I’m so sorry.”

“I said you won’t like this. Forgive me, Oz.”

The mouth at the top of Zoe’s head opened and it siphoned the sanity from the denizens outside. Terror flooded the dungeon.

Oz's vision blurred as it seeped into his skin like poison. It rattled his bones like glass in a hurricane. A scream ripped from the mouths of Oz's phobias. They writhed and bucked and howled. Individual phobias ballooned with teeth, their eyes glowed with menace. It was worse than the spear, how his body grew and thrashed of its own accord.

The spear snapped in two with a crack like thunder when clubbed by one of his incarnations. Zoe closed her mouth, Oz fell to the floor and coughed up spongy bits of Fear.

"Oz!" Zoe screamed with fright. Freed of the spear, she unlocked their chains. “Are you okay?” she bawled. “I’m so sorry, Oz, I didn’t know what else to do.”

He grunted, “I’m fine, but Vicky needs our help. Let’s get the hell out of here before the guards find out! I don't think I can fend them off if we're discovered!”

Zoe opened a portal into the overworld.

---

Brian heard gunfire for the very first time when he was fifteen. It kind of sounded like it did in Hollywood, but at the same time, it didn't. Gunfire wasn’t like a bomb or firecrackers. It sounded more like an engine backfired next to a bullhorn. It was so indistinct, Brian's entire body tensed for a split second whenever he heard something similar.

However, over the last six years, it became a knee jerk reaction since those pops never turned out to be gunshots again, and he calmed down as quickly as he freaked out.

It wasn't until Scott and Vicky dropped like stones and their blood pooled around them like macabre halos that Brian's fears were confirmed. The screaming of his classmates hit his ear like a bat to the side of his face and he hit the deck and shook uncontrollably. His friends and lover bled out only two feet away, and yet he couldn't even move to stem the bleeding or call emergency services.

"Vicky? Scott? Oh my god," Brian croaked. Scott gurgled on the other side of Vicky. Terror had frozen him in place. Brian loathed himself for his weakness, but even as he scolded himself with the most scathing remarks, his body refused to budge. "Somebody help us! Please!"

Above Brian, a cyclonic portal opened, and Oz and Zoe, albeit bedraggled, hopped onto the sidewalk next to Brian's head.

"Oh my god!" Oz screamed in horror. He and Zoe crouched next to Scott and Vicky.

"Go! Damien is gone, he could be hurt. I'll take care of Scott," Zoe said.

"Brian, where's Damien?" Oz asked.

"I don't know," Brian said, "I think he ran after the shooters, but I don't know where they went."

Nonetheless, Oz took off.

"Brian, I need your help," Zoe said.

"I-I can't."

"They're gone. Scott needs help, or he's going to bleed to death."

Brian shook his head. "I can't. I can't look at her."

Zoe threw her jacket over Vicky's head. "There. I know you're in pain, Brian, but Scott is dying. I need your help. Please, come here."

Shakily, Brian pushed himself onto all fours and crawled over to Zoe and Scott. He gagged and swallowed bile. Bits of Vicky's brain and hair were splattered onto Scott's face, and he gurgled as he feebly pressed his paw against his torn carotid.

"Focus on me," Zoe said. "What's your blood type?"

"O-positive," he replied.

"Excellent. This is going to hurt, but this is the only thing that's going to save Scott."

Brian nodded. Zoe plunged her tentacles into Brian's neck.

---

Vicky's head sprayed over Scott. Damien had fired enough guns to have instantly understood what had happened.

He took after the black car behind them that squealed away from campus. Damien wasn't anything extraordinary, but the second of Vicky's murder, his unbridled rage pushed him harder than ever before.

Damien gained on the car even as it accelerated upwards of sixty miles an hour. Damien threw himself onto the trunk, and to throw him off, the driver spun the car and they careened into power lines. Damien howled when he collided with solid wood. The splintered pole creaked and he realized it tipped over like a tree.

He managed to push himself free right as the cables ripped. Electricity crackled, the live cables writhed like beheaded snakes, sparks flew in every direction.

Damien stormed to the driver’s seat. Every inch of him burned with unbridled homicidal rage palpable enough that the air around him shuddered with heatwaves. He grabbed the driver, a yellow manticore, by their collar and threw them onto the live powerlines. They combusted without a sound.

Finally, he pulled the passenger, a young vampire, into the street. They were unconscious and bled from their forehead. “Wake the fuck up!” Damien bellowed. He slapped them and they awoke with a yelp. “What’s your name?”

“What?” they asked.

“I asked for your fucking name!” Damien screamed.

“Fuck off!”

Damien pulled a knife from his waistband and held it against their throat. “Fine, did you shoot my girlfriend then?”

“I did!” the vampire spat with a vicious tone. “She killed my dad!”

“She had come so far! We were going to be happy together!”

“And I’ll never be happy without my dad!”

“This is your fault. Now I'm going to string you up by your fucking guts!"

Damien kicked the gun out of their hand as they reached for it. He sank his knife into their abdomen and pushed it down until it nicked their pubic bone. Damien pushed them back with a fistful of their intestines. They fell back with eyes as wide as dinner plates. Fruitlessly, they weakly stuffed their innards inside, before they fell limp.

He crouched over them as they breathed raspily. “This is the end. You messed with the wrong bitches.”

“Damien!” Oz screamed. Oz tackled Damien and they rolled across the asphalt.

“Fuck!” Damien screamed as he pushed Oz off. “Get off! I’m going to kill them all!”

“She is gone and mutilating him,” Oz flung his hand to point at the dying vampire, “isn’t going to do jackshit. But Scott barely clinging to life. He needs his friends. Please, put this behind you for your friends.”

It was like Oz kicked the wind out of Damien. Rage subsided, and he began to cry.

Vicky was gone for the rest of his life: fodder for blowflies and worms.

---

Zoe parked Brian's truck. They tumbled out and ran full speed into the Emergency Room. Vera stormed to the front desk. “We’re here for Scott Howl. I’m his Power of Attorney, Vera Oberlin.”

“Miss Oberlin, we need you to fill out some paperwork for Mister Howl,” said the receptionist.

As Vera filled out paperwork, Oz had to help Damien and Brian into chairs next to each other. The pair looked miserable. Brian’s head was in his hands, Damien rubbed his mouth with a disconnected gaze. Yet as much as it pained Oz to see his friends like that, there were more imminent threats. He needed to warn the LaVey family of the Aquino’s plan for their demise.

He couldn’t tell Damien about their plan, though. He was already put through the wringer. He needed to get Damien’s parents into the equation. A manipulative tactic, but Oz reasoned that Damien needed their support anyway, so really, it helped everyone.

Oz kneeled in front of Brian and Damien and held their hands. "Damien, you need to call your dads. You need them now."

Damien nodded with glassy eyes. “Right,” he murmured before he dug through his pockets.

Zoe pulled Oz aside. “Please, for the love of whatever you hold sacred, tell me we’re not keeping the Aquino’s plan a secret. More people are going to be killed if we keep this on the DL, maybe Vicky will be hurt worse.”

“That’s why I reminded Damien to call his parents.

"Excellent."

Before Oz could reply, Blobert and Liam ran into the emergency room. Blobert sobbed inconsolably. Oz ran over to them.

"We came as soon as we heard about Scott," Liam said.

Oz hugged them. "Thank you."

"Is he going to be okay?" Blobert asked. He sounded so desperate, and somehow, despite Blobert's gelatinous nature, he gripped Oz's hands so hard he thought they might break.

"I don't know. He's in surgery now and we haven't heard any updates," Oz replied.

"What about Vicky?"

A hush fell over their group. Damien resumed crying, Brian escaped into the nearby bathroom. Oz couldn't look Blobert in the eye.

"I'm sorry, but she's dead," he told Blobert.

"We believe Vicky was targeted by a gang she robbed the other day. Damien took care of the perps, but they got in a good shot. She's not coming back," Zoe said.

Valerie hopped the back of a chair squeezed Blobert as he sobbed. Oz waited by the doors where his cries were someone muffled.

He felt awful. He was too late. He was always too late.

Lucien and Stan ran inside as Oz internally berated himself. If only Vicky could see how many people loved her.

Oz stood. "Go comfort your son, but as soon as possible, I have an issue of utmost importance about your kingdom's security."

The two demon Kings looked between themselves. "I'll talk to him."

Oz took Lucien into an adjacent waiting room.

"Oz, correct?" Lucien asked.

"Yes."

"What is this supposed security threat?"

"The Aquino family is behind Vicky's murder. I've been having premonitions about her death, so my girlfriend and I have been looking into it in hopes we save her. However, the Aquino caught on and kidnapped us. Dahlia explained to us that she and her family plan to use Vicky as a weapon against you, and more worrisome, Damien, to overthrow your rule," Oz explained.

Lucien rubbed his face with concern. "This is a dire accusation. This is something we go to war over."

"The Aquino already plan to do that. It seems you don't have a lot of options here," Oz countered.

"What proof do you have? How do I know I can trust you?"

"Vera and Vicky have robbed three dozen banks with CCTV, guards, and alarm systems, and never once have they been even suspected, and yet a lab, where they executed the same precautions, somehow figured out their identities and location, and then killed Vicky. Do you think that's coincidental?"

"... I see your point," Lucien replied. "This is… this is awful."

"Lucien, I understand it's a lot to take in, but we need to begin preparations as soon as possible. Do you have someone who can begin something, anything, while you're here to comfort your son?"

"I do. Thank you, Oz. I need to make a quick phone call, and then I'll come back."

"Of course. Thank you."

Oz returned to his friends and paced in the waiting room as they waited for news on Scott's condition. Some hours later, they were approached by the surgeon.

"I'm glad to announce Mister Howl survived the operation without any complications. He will need to stay overnight in case there are any hiccups with his blood transfusion, but we are optimistic about his prognosis. If you like, you may visit him."

They were guided into Scott's room. He was intubated and pale, but his vitals were stable and lively.

Oz breathed a sigh of relief. At least something had gone right that day.

---

The morning of Vicky's funeral, Damien was stiff.

He rolled off of Brian and grunted as he made way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and then eat something.

"Damien, why are you up already?"

Damien looked up to see Stan and Lucien in the doorway. Stan was still in pajamas, but Lucien was fully dressed. It was unusual for either of them to be even remotely dressed at that hour.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

Stan nervously glanced to Lucien.

"Unfortunately, there's an emergency on the outskirts I have to attend to," Lucien explained.

"You're the only one going?"

"Yes. But I should be back before the ceremony."

Damien grimly nodded. Border disputes weren't handled by either king. Perhaps the Minister of Border Land was out.

Stan sat at the island. "How do you feel?" he asked. Damien shrugged. He missed Vicky, but he said that every day since her death. "I wish I could do more. I do, Damien. I cared very much about Vicky as well."

Damien's lip wobbled and he wiped his eyes. He didn’t feel any different since the first day she died, but all that meant was he hurt like an open wound.

“It feels wrong without her. The more I think about it, the more it hurts.”

“Yes, but she left pieces of her with you and Brian. I’m sure you remember how much she loved you,” Stan said. Damien nodded. “I know it’s not a lot, but she loved you so much, and that is something that will never die.”

Damien smiled at his dad. He appreciated the effort, but Stan’s reassurance didn’t change how badly he ached. Damien could only hope the funeral would soothe him.

---

Brian woke up alone and it felt like the air was thin. He stumbled into the hallway, gasped for air, he tried to find Damien, but the LaVey’s basement suite was built like a surreal, inescapable nightmare where Brian was doomed to circle the hallway until his death. He braced himself against the wall and tried to convince himself to calm down so he could find a way out.

Voices came from beyond the door Brian was beside. He turned his gaze to watch it.

“Mugandr,” Lucien’s muffled snarl came, “exactly how is Vicky alive? Her head was blown to pieces.”

“Her body was, but her condemned soul remained intact.”

“Then we would have been notified of her entrance into Hell!”

“Your Majesty, please quiet down. I understand why this upsets you but our conversation may not be private.”

Lucien sighed. “Nonetheless, why weren’t we notified of her death and damnation?”

“It’s likely her soul was intercepted. I’ve looked into it and… Your Majesty, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Oz and Zoe were right, it is the Aquino family. I found correspondence with the drug manufacturers detailing who attacked them and where to find Vicky, and ingredients to summon the dead.”

Wood snapped inside of Lucien’s room. Brian slapped his hands over his mouth to stifle his yelp. “Unbelievable!” he bellowed. “Mugandr, summon Oz and Zoe to the Divinator’s Room immediately and keep this between the two of us.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Brian made a run for it before he was discovered. It felt like he swallowed molasses. Vicky was alive? What did Dahlia’s family want with her? Why did it have to be a secret? Why wouldn’t Oz and Zoe tell him if Vicky was alive?

He ran straight into Damien in his maelstrom of confusion. He was grabbed before he fell.

“Brian,” Damien said, “what’s wrong? You look like shit.”

Brian panted wordlessly before he threw his arms around Damien. He wished he was dreaming. He wanted to wake up with Damien and Vicky, safe and sound, where he didn’t feel like the world was crashing around him.

“Babe, what’s wrong? You’re freaking me out.”

Reluctantly, Brian whispered, “I think your dads are keeping secrets,” he said. “I think… I think Vicky’s death is bigger than we think it is.”

Damien pushed Brian out of the crook of his neck and scowled perplexedly. “What the fuck do you mean they’re keeping secrets?”

“I-I couldn’t find you, and then I overheard Lucien talking with this Mugandr guy about Vicky. They were saying stuff like they didn’t have any record about her entering Hell, and that Oz and Zoe knew about this, a-and the Aquino summoned her soul. He wanted to keep it a secret.”

“I’m sure it was just a bad dream.”

“Damien, listen to me!” Brian snapped. “Something’s wrong! This is bigger than we realize.”

Damien’s lip curled. “Get your head out of your ass, Brian! Vicky’s gone. She’s not coming back. And don’t you ever fucking say my dads are lying to me! They wouldn’t ever do that!”

“Listen, Damien,” Brian grabbed Damien’s shoulders. Damien knocked his hands away.

“Fuck off! You’re being a huge asshole right now, dude! Don’t fucking talk to me until you get your shit together.”

Damien stormed away. Brian was left breathless yet again.

---

Damien stared into the mirror. His tuxedo felt ill-fit.

It was the tux he went to prom and homecoming in. He went to one of his aunt’s weddings in it too. All three occasions, Vicky was with him in that pretty polka-dot dress and a big smile. The mere memory was enough to make Damien tear up.

The only other time he got to wear it with Vicky was at her funeral.

Stan entered his room. “Damien…” he said, “are you ready?”

“Dad, I don’t think I can do this.”

Damien’s father hugged him. “I know it’s hard. But Brian needs you, and you need this too. This ceremony will give you closure.”

He couldn’t meet Stan’s gaze. He couldn’t even return his father’s hug. What Brian mentioned about Vicky haunted him, even as he mourned. He tried to tell himself Brian only had a bad dream. His parents would never hide something as enormous as that from him.

“Let’s go,” Stan said. “You’ll be okay. I’ll be there for both of you.”

Damien’s heart fell into his gut. “What about Dad?”

“Lucien’s attending to a land dispute.”

“Still? That’s odd. I thought those were handled by the Minister of Borders.”

“Ordinarily. However, this involves the Aquino Family. Lucien’s there to make sure it’s addressed delicately.”

Damien felt sick as he followed Stan. His father was a terrible liar. Was Brian right about Vicky and his fathers? It had to be impossible, yet the events of the last couple of hours begged to differ.

---

Oz held Zoe’s hand as they ran. Her dress was hiked up to her crotch as they ran up and up the tower. “I cannot believe he’s doing this now of all times!” Oz screamed. “The funeral is in two hours.”

“We’ll be fine, Oz. Lucien won’t miss his son’s girlfriend’s fucking funeral,” said Zoe as they stormed up the weathered stone steps.

When they reached the top, Zoe knocked upon the heavy door. It opened and they were heaved inside and surrounded by the smoke of Biggleworts to ward off the prying eyes of magic. Oz took a deep breath.

“I’m glad you two have come,” Lucien said. He gestured to the bony creature with the skull of a snake. “That is Mungandr, my most trusted associate.”

“I don’t care. Just make this quick, I would like to comfort my friends,” Oz said.

“I’m sure you’d like Vicky back more.”

“You found her?” Oz gasped.

“Yes and no. We know she is in the care of the Aquino,” Lucien explained. Oz wanted to break something. “We need you to find her and bring her back. You’ll have Mungandr to help. His magic will prove useful.”

Oz looked to Zoe.

“You need to go,” she said to him. “I will stay for Brian and Damien, but you need to go save Vicky.”

He nodded. “Apologize to our friends for me.”

“I will. Promise me you’ll be safe.”

Oz cupped Zoe’s face. “I’ll come back to you with Vicky. I promise you.”

#monster prom #vicky schmidt #damien lavey #brian yu #stan lavey #lucien lavey #vera oberlin #blobert #liam de lioncourt #oz monster prom #zoe monster prom #brian/damien/vicky #oz/zoe

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ashencreature · 5 years

Text

Important Update for partners across the board

This is long, and I’m sorry, but I just wanted everyone to know what’s going on. Honestly, I’m not expecting anyone to actually waste time reading through all this, but it’s just so I can try to ease my own anxiety in case the worst case scenario does come and I left some sort of explanation.

Ok, so, some of you know there’s been a lot going on for me at home in the last 3 or 4 years. But everything’s kind of getting worse by day and at this point, I’m not sure what to do anymore.

When I was 14, I moved in with my dad. We moved quite a few times in the first few years I was with him. Hell, that first year alone, I was in 3 different schools. All for Freshman year. And the last house we were in that year, we stayed in for maybe 2?

But when I was 16, the factory my dad worked at closed and he lost his job. That’s kind of where all this starts. Instead of getting a new job, he decided he wanted to spend all day drinking with his new friends and occasionally doing odd jobs for them or things with them. We had to move out of that house, take my dog to the shelter, and move into a trailer. It was only supposed to be for a year. But nearly 14 years later, and we’re still here.

Now the landlord here is a real prick. More like a slumlord if you ask me. He jacks the rent up for the dumbest reasons and acts like he’s god’s gift to humanity or some shit. He told us himself, and had the park manager tell us, that we couldn’t fix our roof to stop the leaking because the walls would collapse of we tried to move it. So literally the entire 14 years we’ve been here, the roof has been leaking. My dad tried everything he could think of, short of tearing it out and redoing it, to fix it. Nothing worked.

And in that time, the entire back half of the house got destroyed by mold. My bedroom, being the very last room, was the first to go. I think I slept in it for a year? And ever since, I’ve had to sleep in the living room because the walls had to be torn out due to the mold. It’s right down to the studs and the scant insulation. It’s been like that for over 10 years. Well, now the mold is spreading and getting worse. The bathroom is destroyed pretty much. The back hallway is the same. The floor’s rotting away, and the toilet is falling through the floor; again.

Now, I think my dad went to the garage he was at for the first time when I was maybe 18? I don’t remember exactly. I do remember being in junior year and my friends either having to buy me lunch, share theirs with me, or pray that we actually were cooking in cooking class; which happened a lot less than you’d think. Other than that, I didn’t eat. Senior year was a little better because I at least would get money dropped off to eat. Not that the cafeteria had a lot of choices for me to pick from. I pretty much ate nothing but gross excuse for pizza and occasionally pretzels, fries, or Belgian waffles.

Anyway, so senior year rolls around and we’re all prepping for college. At the time, I wanted to go to AMDA for musical theater, and managed to get an audition there for that March. I had to force my dad to go to the meeting about FAFSA and to fill out the paperwork. Which he said he did, but I don’t believe it because he says they denied me. And I’ve never heard of FAFSA being denied. Not that it mattered anyway, because I bombed the audition and didn’t get in. So graduation rolls around and all my friends go off to college. I haven’t seen or spoken to most of them since. They never stop to visit when they come home and they never try to reach out on Facebook. Eventually, I got sick of being the one to initiate and maintain all conversations, so I just gave up.

The 2 friends I still had at that time helped me to get jobs when I was 20/21 and living with them, in 2011/2012. This was because 2 of us and their mom were in a car accident on the way to my friend’s college at the time. We all nearly died. My friend had a concussion, their mom needed surgery, and I nearly got impaled by a fake Christmas tree. I ended up going to the hospital a lot later than they did with a copy of the report in the doctor’s hand and got told I wasn’t in an accident I had the flu, go home. Anyway, so after my friend’s mom’s surgery, I moved in to help around the house and look after my friend’s youngest sister. These jobs weren’t the best; Wendy’s and the deli department of one of the local grocery stores. But it was money.

For all the good it did. Because by that time, my dad had quit working at the garage. So here I was, paying for rent, bills, gas, food, and child support for my brother. All on $200 a week. My anxiety was driving me insane. And I came to find out that my dad was going in and threatening one of the store managers, which was probably why the guy was such a scumbag to me. But I digress. So I was in the store for a month shy of 2 years. I started at maybe $7.45 or $7.50. an hour when I started. It was slightly over the minimum wage at the time. By the time I left, 2 years later mind you, I wasn’t even making $8, and I was working full time hours while only being part time. Everything that went wrong got blamed on me, even when it was my day off and I wasn’t anywhere near the store. I liked most of the people that I worked with, even if I hated the job, and the assistant department manager became a really good friend. She was 2 years older than me, and we hung out a lot. I’d spend the night at her house, I was at her wedding, I’ve been to her daughter’s birthday parties and so on.

At one point, I was supposed to get training to be an assistant specialty cheese shop lead. They sent me to one class, told me about another, but never gave me any more details about it, even when I asked. Then they said they were going to train me over there, but never did. That was just the first of a long list of grievances. The culmination of which was on a Sunday night, our busiest day of the week. There was just me and 1 other guy in the department. Then 1 lady in the hot food section, 1 lady in the beer store, and no one in the bakery. But they expected me to take care of all 4 departments and still wait on the 20+ people that were at the counter the whole night. And I had an order to make and put away for the assistant department manager. Needless to said, I had a panic attack. I told my partner, and both of the other people nearby. They told the assistant store manager, and he didn’t care. They made me work for 3 and a half hours, through a panic attack, without a break. I couldn’t breathe and was on the verge of fainting. I finally had enough and told one of the ladies that I didn’t care what the store manager said, I was going to get my inhaler in the break room and get a drink at the water fountain, or I was going to faint.

A few days later, I got called to the main office to speak to the store manager, who I usually didn’t have a problem with. And unfortunately, since my anger receptors are evidently attached to my tear ducts, I broke down in tears when I wanted to be furious. He basically told me that I was going to the bakery or I was getting fired. So the next day, I quit. There was a lot of other stuff too but that doesn’t really matter. Including being so sick that I couldn’t eat for over a week, fainting in the back room because they wouldn’t let me take a day off, and not being able to talk for over a month. The assistant department manager almost called the ambulance when I fainted, but you know, I’m clearly the problem here.

So there we were, I didn’t have a job. My dad didn’t have a job. I was 23, and feeling just as helpless as I did at 16. I spent a year filling out job applications for a bunch of different things from craft stores to fast food to jewelry stores, but never heard back from any of them. The only interview I got was for Chipotle. But they wouldn’t even hire me. Naturally, cue the anxiety and depression getting worse. And around this time, our electric got shut off. This was in May I believe because it was just before my birthday.

At that time I started thinking about going back to school. So I looked at schools and degrees you could do all online, because I knew I could never afford to go on campus. And, as most of you know, I started at CTU in July of that year. Now the program I did was an accelerated one, which meant I could finish gen ed classes faster, be done faster, and lower my tuition. I did as many as I could, but only my admission adviser was any help. My actual student adviser was never around, never responded to my emails, never called me back. But whatever.

So for 3 years I spent pretty much all day, every god damn day doing schoolwork. I’d be at my local Dunkin from 3 in the afternoon until they closed at 11. Sometimes I’d be working even later next door because I still had stuff to do. The first year and a half I was fine. It didn’t bother mine, just like working didn’t bother me at first. But then, a year and a half after I started, I got sick. I couldn’t eat anything without my stomach cramping up and getting the worst migraines. It got so bad that one day at Dunkin, I felt like I was going to puke, and got up to go to the bathroom and almost fainted. Personally, I think it’s a combination of anxiety, depression, Celiac/gluten intolerance, anemia, and asthma. But I don’t know for sure because I haven’t had a doctor since I was going to the pediatrician. And even if I did, can’t afford it.

So I’ve just been getting sicker and sicker. I was 125 pounds in January of this year. 11 months later, and I’m down to 108.5 the last time I checked. I think the lowest I hit was 107, and that was all 6 months after the weight loss started. There’s times it’ll go back up, but I can’t get past 110 or 111 tops. Neighbors who used to live down the road came to visit earlier this week, and all the lady could say was how skinny I got. I’m like yeah, malnourishment’ll do that to you.

And to make things worse, my dad at some point went back to the garage and was working again, so things were slightly better. I say slightly in the loosest way possible. But, just after Christmas last year, my dad quit again. I’ve seen him apply to 1 job and go to 1 interview in the year since. Other than that, he’s been collecting scrap and doing shit for people who refuse to pay, including the landlord. In the last 7 or 8 months, despite how many times I’ve told him that my refund checks from the school aren’t free money I can spend however I want, my dad’s made me spend it. The $5,000 I had that was supposed to set me ahead for my student loans are gone. And I’m $5,000 deeper in the hole than I should be. Which means instead of being like $45 or 50 grand in debt I’m about $55 grand.

Then, because we haven’t had electricity in almost 4 years, and with the mold problem, everything in the house is ruined. We had only cold water, and I took cold showers for as long as I could. But last winter, the shower pipes froze and burst. So even if I wanted to, I can’t do that. Plus, because we can’t use the washer and dryer, or hook up a generator thanks to the scumbag landlord, or afford a laundromat, our clothes have gone unwashed for over a year. Most of mine were sitting in the tub, which got filled with mold and bugs. I have practically no clothes left, with no way to wash them, and no way to shower unless I go to someone else’s house. And even when I do, I still don’t feel clean. Even after washing my hair 4 times or more.

We were supposed to move into the place next door and tear this one down. But the landlord and my dad made a deal that he’d give it to us for the cost of the title transfer. Then suddenly, he wanted $600, then like $800 or $1,000. But he won’t stop asking about it, no matter how many times we tell him no. Him and his wife keep trying to say we’re $5,000 behind on rent which isn’t possible because with what rent is now, you can’t even get $5,000 as a total for a whole year, and this last year is the only time we fell behind because everything else was caught up. He gave us a bill full or errors. Payments that were made aren’t marked. Payments that weren’t made are. There’s random charges after the monthly rent cycle. Which I think are from when he was bitching about us paying the taxes for a place we didn’t even own and was still in his name. He told us we can’t run the generator for power because it was too loud. Though the noise ordinance here is 11, and it was always off by then. And when one of the neighbors asked how we were supposed to live, he told them it “Wasn’t his problem”.

So when I started getting really sick, and unable to leave the house to go to Dunkin for school because I was too gross, the neighbors next door let us run an extension cord over to their place. Not a lot. Just enough for the light in the living room, the fan, a mini fridge, and to plug in my phone and computer. OH WANNA HEAR A GOOD ONE. THE LANDLORD TOLD MY DAD 3 SEPARATE TIMES IF I NEED TO PLUG IN MY COMPUTER TO GET A LANTERN. YES THE OLD FASHIONED OIL OR CANDLE TYPE LANTERN. WHICH YOU CAN TOTALLY PLUG AN ELECTRONIC COMPUTER INTO. So because of that, I was able to finish school and graduate in June.

But, because I still can’t bathe or do laundry and have no clothes, I still can’t go to interviews. If I walked in with my arms, face, neck, and legs literally black from dirt, and reeking to high heaven, I’d fucking get laughed out of the place. My dad still refuses to get a real job and insists on hauling scrap or doing shit for people who won’t pay at all, or want to pay less than it’s worth. And guess what’s due this week? You got it, my first loan payment.

I can’t figure out how much I have to pay, work on getting it lowered or delayed, or even access my account info because there’s an issue with my birthday apparently, and they can’t find it even though they have my name and social and keep emailing me. I’ve been telling him this for months, and he still won’t come with me to try and sort it out. Because what he needs has to taken care of then and there and everything else can fuck all. He blew up at me the other day about it, blaming me for going, leaving him with payments, for my mother walking out 20 years ago even though they hated each other, and pretty much for being born. Because he resents having to take care of kids he made the choice to have. Not like I asked to be born, and I’ve been wishing I was dead since I was 9, but whatever.

Anyway.

So, the neighbor’s dad was diagnosed with lung cancer over the summer. Like 2 weeks later, he was dead. And she’s struggling just as much. We’ve been trying to help her and she’s been trying to help us. But her ex was paying her rent and some of the other bills until she found a job because they have a young son. But he started refusing to do that, which I honestly wouldn’t be surprised it if was the landlord’s doing cause they were talking. And he was telling her to “pull the plug” on us. And his wife started harassing her about rent like 2 weeks after her father died. Then, she went to Domestic relations earlier this week and then like the day after she goes, her ex somehow gets an emergency custody on the little guy. They came for him yesterday.

She’s most likely going to have to move, which means that we’ll be losing power and internet unless we can figure something out to get our power back on. But even then, the bill’s supposedly at least $1300, and that won’t fix the internet problem.

So... Needless to say, if I disappear suddenly in the near future, that’s why. I don’t want to go. I’ve spent too much time here, made too many friends, and put too much work into my muses. But everything is going to shit all at once. It’s just been building and building for the last 3 years, especially the last year, but my dad refuses to see and do anything about it. Instead, he’d rather blame everything on me and expect me to fix it. As if my mental health wasn’t bad enough from childhood abuse and being sick and stressed all the time. Now I’m too fucking scared to leave the house. I haven’t been outside since the midterms when I went to vote. But I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen now. And I just wanted everyone to know that I love them. And even if I do disappear, I still plan on keeping my muses and coming back when I can. Granted Tumblr doesn’t die before then. In which case the only blog i’m worried about losing is Elizabeth’s because of all the worldbuilding, metas, and headcanons I’ve done.

#Outofbelief

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cardsvistas · 4 years

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Today: a abecedary who makes $31,000 per year and spends some of her money this anniversary on a Perfect bar.

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Occupation: TeacherIndustry: EducationAge: 23Location: Buffalo, NYSalary: $31,000Paycheck Bulk (Biweekly): $951Additional Income: I additionally waitress on the ancillary and accomplish $300-$400 per month. (This includes tips…I get about $30 per analysis afore tips.)

Monthly ExpensesRent: $790, breach bottomward the average with my boyfriend, C.Student Loan Payment: $100 (I owe $27,000 total.)Netflix: $15 (My sister SOMETIMES remembers to pay me for the added half.)Credit Cards: $300 (I owe about $2,500 in acclaim agenda debt that I am aggressively aggravating to pay off.)Gym Membership: $22Utilities: Never added than $100 a month. C. takes affliction of utilities and afresh deducts my bisected from the hire he owes me.Savings: $20 every Monday into my accumulation account. Small, I know, but that’s what happens aback you accomplish a baby salary!

Day One

6:55 a.m. — I deathwatch up. I am SUPER LATE. I’ve had this bad addiction afresh of aggravating to get every minute of beddy-bye I can. My acceptance are absolutely backbreaking me lately. I adulation them, but average schoolers are adamantine work. I grab my breakfast and cafeteria and jet out the door.

7:35 a.m. — I get to academy on time somehow! I appetite to accommodated with my arch to altercate a fundraiser he wants the club I admonish to run. But abominably he’s action on a acreage trip, so I don’t get to accommodated with him. I calefaction up the breakfast I brought from home and delay for my kiddos to arrive.

11 a.m. — Cafeteria is provided for us today! I about consistently accompany my own lunch, as I am aggravating to save money. I eat the egg-salad sandwich I brought (hey, I adulation it) and grab some of the amazon soup we accept in the teacher’s lounge. Center through the day, I feel a absolutely bad algid advancing on. I accede calling in ailing tomorrow but anticipate about how I accept a club affair during my cafeteria tomorrow…

3 p.m. — School’s out! I accept a basketball bold to drillmaster today, so I charge some caffeine. I go to Starbucks and buy a bifold attempt on ice. I bushing my Starbucks app for $10 and afresh beat through to Whole Foods to get a Perfect Bar. They’re on sale, two for $4, so I grab accession to bandy in the fridge aback I get home. $14

5 p.m. — I leave the basketball bold and arch to my additional job. I waitress on Tuesdays and Fridays and sometimes aces up accouterment on Saturdays as well. I do this alternating with apprenticeship basketball, actuality a club adviser, and acting as a parent-teacher liaison. Here’s to acquisitive I accomplish some money!!

10 p.m. — Assuredly out!!! I arch home, grab some gas on the way so I won’t accept to do it in the morning. I get home, booty a shower, and accord C. a kiss accost and goodnight. Tuesdays fetor for us because we don’t see anniversary added at all. I apprehend on my Kindle and afresh abatement asleep. $10

Daily Total: $24

Day Two

6:30 a.m. — I deathwatch up and feel TERRIBLE. I accept hella all-overs alike cerebration about calling in sick, but I apperceive if I don’t I will feel alike worse this weekend. I don’t appetite that to happen, because C.’s sister is visiting from L.A. and we’ll be spending time with her! I argument our academy secretary and acquaint her I’m ill. I affiance her an algid cappuccino tomorrow aback I appear back.

10 a.m. — I’m aloof lounging about the house. I still feel appealing crappy, but the added beddy-bye helps a lot. I accomplish myself some breakfast. Toast with avocado and eggs and accession allotment with peanut adulate and banana. I am OBSESSED with peanut butter. C. gets mad because I buy altered flavors all the time and we currently accept ten jars.

12 p.m. — I annal through Amazon, but I don’t buy annihilation because I accept a $125 allowance agenda advancing my way from acclaim agenda rewards points. I’m aggravating to cut bottomward on plastic, so I put some reusable sandwich baggies in my cart.

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5 p.m. — C. gets home!! We babble about his day and accomplish dinner. He plays rugby and eats A LOT, so our bistro schedules don’t usually match. I accomplish an egg-white omelet with veggies, and C. makes a lot of craven and veggies. We booty turns switching amid me watching Netflix and him arena on his PS4. We accept a Fire Stick in the bedroom, but I don’t feel like lying in bed.

10 p.m. — I annal through LikeToKnowIt. I adulation all the outfits. I haven’t bought clothes with my own money (thank you, allowance cards!) aback afore Christmas, so I appetite to amusement myself eventually. I do this until I canyon out.

Daily Total: $0

Day Three

6:30 a.m. — I deathwatch up at 6:30. But. I. Can’t. Get. Up. I breach snuggled up until my additional anxiety goes off at 6:45. I blitz cafeteria and breakfast together. I’ve absolutely got to alpha accomplishing this afore I go to bed.

7 a.m. — I stop by Tim Horton’s to get our secretary her promised algid capp, and I grab an algid coffee for myself as well. Yesterday I didn’t absorb any money, so I’m all appropriate with battery out the six bucks. $6

11 a.m. — I eat my collection of Trader Joe’s mac ‘n’ cheese, broiled veggies, and a boilerplate yogurt. I accept accession basketball bold afterwards tonight, and I apperceive I’m action to accept to grab a bite about afterwards school. I analysis my coffer account, and my freeholder STILL hasn’t taken my hire analysis out. This happens a lot, and it’s appealing annoying because I accept to mentally bulk out how abundant I accept in my checking. I apprehension I accept a little money to additional afterwards payday this week, so I accomplish a brainy agenda to pay a little added against my apprentice loans. They aren’t as abundant as what some bodies I apperceive have, but the absorption adds up.

3 p.m. — I arch to basketball. It’s demanding apprenticeship alike for average school. We lose in overtime. I accomplish a big accent at the end because a few girls fabricated faces on the cloister aback I told them what to do, and it drives me NUTS. Now I apperceive why my mom acclimated to get so mad.

5 p.m. — I adjudge to run and grab a few advantage afore I arch home. I arch to my admired abode on earth, Trader Joe’s!!!! I get about all of my advantage from Trader Joe’s. I adjudge to grab the arctic lamb tandoori to eat for banquet tonight. I absorb a little beneath $70. I additionally run to Target because they advertise the yogurt I like. Of advance I get ice cream, ChapStick, and a few added things. That comes to a little beneath $30. $97.29

8 p.m. — I absolutely should be action to the gym, but I can’t accumulate my eyes accessible at all. C. is a bad access and tells me to aloof breach home and rest. He active to rugby, and I catnap off and don’t alike apprehend him appear home.

Daily Total: $103.29

Day Four

6:45 a.m. — I deathwatch up a little afterwards than usual, but I feel abundant because I got a abounding night’s rest. I get dressed bound and bandy a cafeteria together. I backpack my waitressing clothes because I accept to assignment tonight. Bifold payday today!

7:15 a.m. — I grab coffee for two coworkers and myself. We accept formed a absolutely tight-knit accumulation in the accomplished year and a half, and I like assuming my acknowledgment for them whenever I can. Our job is difficult, and not anybody understands the accent agents experience. We accept a accumulation babble area we accelerate common memes and complaints and allocution all day. $6.23

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10 a.m. — Is this day over?! My kids are absolutely testing me today. We’re watching a cine about abolitionists, and it’s absolutely absolutely good, but they WON’T STOP TALKING. It drives me nuts.

12 p.m. — Okay, while my kids are watching the abutting documentary about Jesse Owens, I cave. I absorb $87.52 at Gap online — two shirts, a brace of “sculpt” jeans, and a brace of absolutely beautiful dress pants. I additionally arch over to Nordstrom Rack online, area I get a brace of pants and a brace of over-the-knee boots. This equals out to $142.70. I don’t feel bad because I am disturbing through my closet this anniversary accepting rid of annihilation I don’t wear. $230

3 p.m. — School’s out!! Alone one added anniversary until February break! I’m action home to appointment my parents for bristles days, and I can’t wait. I alive bristles hours abroad now, and I absence them a lot. I get accessible to arch to the gym afore my waitressing gig.

4:30 p.m. — I’m starving! I get to assignment and anon adjustment a craven sandwich. Luckily, we don’t accept to pay for our commons here. For a little while we did, and it sucked. I would absorb allotment of my tips advantageous for my meal. I bandage it bottomward and get accessible to serve. It can be accidental here, so I never apperceive what I’ll make.

10 p.m. — Woo! Fabricated about 100 bucks tonight! This is great, because I try to absorb my tips afore I blow my debit card. This will buy and apparently awning all of our advantage abutting week, so I’m excited. Waitressing afterwards teaching all anniversary is exhausting, so I anon blast afterwards accepting home. I grab $10 account of gas on my way. $10

Daily Total: $246.23

Day Bristles

10 a.m. — I booty time to pay my acclaim agenda payments. I set abreast $300 per ages to pay off my cards. I accept three. It was a aberration to accessible up so many, but oh well. I’m demography albatross for it now. I accept one about paid off. Once that’s done, I’ll aggressively pay off the added two!

11 a.m. — We accept a continued day advanced of us, but I hit the gym first. WOW — I am sore. My acquaintance is a claimed trainer, and anniversary ages he creates a conditioning for me for the month. It’s awesome! I grab a baptize canteen on my way in. $2

4 p.m. — We accommodated C.’s parents and his sister for dinner. We absorb every weekend with them! It’s abundant because they’re so nice and additionally let us do our laundry at their house. We get Italian aliment and C.’s dad affably pays.

8 p.m. — We adhere out at C.’s parents’, and his sister rents Bohemian Rhapsody. It’s so good!! We adhere out for a few hours afore we arch home and get to bed.

Daily Total: $2

Day Six

10 a.m. — C. and I arch to our admired café/coffee roastery. It’s in an old burial home, and it’s Day of the Dead–themed. We adulation it! I appetite to accompany their mug club, but it’s $100 a year and I can’t absolve that aloof yet. I get a turkey sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich on a whole-wheat bagel. C. gets this antic sandwich with mac ‘n’ cheese, BBQ chicken, cheese, and Triscuits. He says it’s delicious, and honestly, it does attending appealing great.

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4 p.m. — We’ve been lounging allllllll day. I hop on Netflix and watch Tidying Up with Marie Kondo. I use our additional bedchamber as my closet and absolutely charge to get rid of things and adapt added effectively.

7 p.m. — I am about absolutely done charwoman my room. Whew. That was a lot. I put some clothes abreast to accelerate to my friend. I additionally column some on Poshmark and achievement that I can accomplish some money that way.

10 p.m. — Okay, I’m shot. I get into bed and delay for sleep.

Daily Total: $0

Day Seven

6:30 a.m. — Ughhhhhhhh. Mondays. They are rough. I run out the aperture and stop and grab a coffee. I am absolutely aggravating to cut aback on my spending, I swear. $2

8 a.m. — It’s alone 8, and I’ve already yelled at my kids. They are so beggarly to anniversary added that it hurts my soul. All I appetite to do is advise them to be affectionate animal beings, but they are absolutely disturbing with that.

11 a.m. — Cafeteria time…halfway through the day. I can do it! I accept basketball afresh today appropriate afterwards school, so I’m counting the hours until I can go home and sit down. I adulation actuality a teacher, but man, it makes me tired.

3 p.m. — As we arch to our game, I see a Venmo appeal for a wine bout we did with accompany a few months ago! Apparently, my acquaintance forgot aloof like I did. I accelerate her the money for it. I additionally stop and get $20 in gas aback somehow I’m on abandoned again. Amid active aback and alternating to assignment every day, basketball two to three times a week, and the gym four times a week, my car is sucking up the gas. I absolutely should ample it up, but it’s freezing! So I ample it up halfway. $95

5 p.m. — I get home and see my acclaim agenda rewards accept appear in the mail! I accept $125 for Amazon and $50 for Starbucks. This is amazing, because I absorb money at these two places the most!

7 p.m. — I accomplish banquet for us — Buffalo craven with broccoli and candied potatoes! We bandage it down. C. goes to rugby convenance and I put on Lady Bird.

11 p.m. — I assuredly clamber into bed. This anniversary has been a continued one, and I alone accept four added canicule until February break. I can’t wait!

Daily Total: $97

Money Affidavit are meant to reflect alone women’s adventures and do not necessarily reflect Refinery29’s point of view. Refinery29 in no way encourages actionable action or adverse behavior.

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theonewhereiramble · 4 years

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The One With the Decade Ending

Since we are just days away from 2020, I wanted to reflect on the past 10 years.

2010: Took my life in my hands and jump started my weight loss journey. Was in my second semester of college, still unsure of my future career goals but tackling 19 credit hours with a 3.97 GPA. That summer, my grandma had her first of 3 heart attacks and I took care of her. My insistence of getting her up to walk is what lead me to choosing a path in nursing. She thought I would be an excellent nurse with my no BS attitude. I became an RA to cut down on student loans and to live roommate free since I had the best freshman roommate ever and didn’t want to risk meeting someone awful. Our different majors took us out of the same dorm. Thanksgiving break my grandma had her second heart attack and this encouraged me to work harder to get into nursing school.

2011: I lost my brother in January due to medical negligence in Florida. In April, I lost my grandma to her third and final heart attack. I didn’t show up to any of my finals because everything happened during finals week. My GPA wasn’t wrecked completely, as my grades were high enough without my finals. Some let me take the test later due to the circumstances, others said my percentage was already high and not to worry about it. I spiraled down a dark path of binge drinking and not really sleeping for a few months. My family was torn apart. The dynamic was weird. I lost who I was. I had to be the strongest person for everyone even though my grandma was my best friend and I was wrecked the most from the lost. My mom decided all attention needed to be on her despite the fact she hated my grandma. I moved back home and commuted to school. I turned 21 in October and gained a sense of confidence to go after a guy I wanted for 5 years. I was admitted into nursing school in December and would start in January.

2012: Most of the beginning months are a blur. I studied my ass off for nursing. It was truly a struggle and I had to rewire the way I thought and studied. Most difficult time of my life. My boyfriend had cheated on me and we broke up. We ended up getting back together and then I cheated on him during my friends bachelorette party. My friend got married and my boyfriend and I ended up getting an apartment together. I found my second cat in the dumpster of our complex. We saved each other and my ex hated him. Our relationship ended a month later but he refused to move out and I wasn’t moving back home. So we coexisted and then I found out just how much of a psychopath he actually was. November came and I met the love of my life - I just didn’t know it at the time.

2013: The love of my life and I decided to see each other casually. Neither of us wanted anything serious, or so he claimed. In February I fell in love with him. We had a difficult relationship and just fought all the time. In May, I took a random roadtrip to NYC. Then in June I moved in with him because he didn’t like my living situation. It didn’t feel right so I moved out again. He accused me of cheating on him and I never worked so hard to prove to him or anyone I wasn’t. He adopted a cat because my two made him want a cat of his own. In July, we gave living together another shot. Things just ended up working and the fighting stopped. In October, my friend found a kitten on her porch and my boyfriend fell in love with her so we then had 4 cats and a dog. Also, unbeknownst to me at the time, he started planning how he was going to propose. He got his best friend and mine involved.

2014: I graduated with my bachelors and was admitted into a grad program for teaching. It was an accelerated program of the bach of ed. My dog attacked my kitten and I spent many days in and out of veterinary hospitals. I started dreaming of working in one. I had no passion for nursing after my grandma’s death and thought I needed a career change. Teaching was always an interest as well. After I graduated and before I started grad school, I went to NYC with 2 of my friends. My boyfriend and his friend were also in NYC, but as a surprise. I was proposed to in Central Park. I started grad school and realized that it was not a good decision and dropped out after one semester. I revisited different desires I had in a career in what I wanted to be when I grew up as a kid. In November I started volunteering at a local vet clinic to see if vet med would be a good place for me. I clicked instantly with all the staff and never felt more at home than I had at that time.

2015: Well, to be honest I don’t remember much of 2015. I focused on vet school prereqs and applied to go on a trip to Thailand to work with elephants. I was accepted for the May 2016 trip. I also applied to OSU vet school and was given an interview invitation. My fiance and I started looking at houses to buy. We had complications with one, as the owners we not ok with the “low” appraisal and tried to get us to pay $30k more due to their own sentiments. We declined and decided to keep searching. We put an offer on another house, we were due to close and the day of the lender told us since my fiance was technically a contract to hire it wasn’t going to be closed that day. We said forget it, it’s not our time to buy a house. A week later, that house flooded causing thousands in water damage. A blessing in disguise.

2016: I was accepted to OSU vet school for the class of 2020. I was offered a job at the clinic I volunteered at. I had the best time in Thailand treating elephants and helping at a spay/neuter clinic, all under the supervision and advisement of a veterinarian. Thailand has less strict laws on what people without a license may do. I started paying back my student loans, which were over $100k already. I had decided it wasn’t the right time for vet school because I didn’t want the extra debt. I started being smart about money. I married my best friend in December.

2017: We spent the first 6 months traveling to places new and old. Vegas, Boston, and San Francisco were all new. In January, a sickly kitten appeared on my porch and wanted to meet my cats desperately. He went into the back yard and I was fearful my dog would kill him. I brought him inside and kept him in the bathroom until I could get a clean bill of health on him. We decided to keep him as I was convinced cats find me when I need them the most. In April, my sister committed suicide leaving behind 3 children. In June, my husband was offered a job in California. He accepted. In August we lived just north of San Francisco. In October, I was woken up in the middle of the night by a wild fire. I was on the verge of evacuation and my husband was in Chicago for work. He flew home that day. The smoke was so terrible for months and going outside was not advised. We went whale watching for our 1 year anniversary. We didn’t receive any of our belongings until Christmas Eve. I hated living there and just wanted to go home. My husband loved living there.

2018: I was finally starting to love California. I was making friends and looking forward to exploring. I got my dog in a routine. Things were looking up.The smoke was still bad but if we went south of the bay it was ok. My husband started hating it because his job was awful. In February I said goodbye to my childhood cat. I flew home on an emergency because my dad was having his 4th open heart surgery. I wanted to see him because I had a gut feeling he wasn’t going to make it. He was admitted into the hospital in preparation. He acquired an affection to his Dr. ordered antibiotics to cover the bases. In March he finally had his surgery, after a month in the hospital. He came out of surgery just fine. Over the weekend, he started to go down hill. On Wednesday March 21, I walked into work, my cousin called me to tell me his kidneys were failing and he was going septic. I promptly walked out of work, called my husband to come get me as we carpooled and booked a flight home. I landed and went right to the hospital. A half hour later I took him off life support said goodbye to my dad. I planned his funeral and had to fly home the day after it. A week later, I said goodbye to my childhood dog. My husband decided we should move home because I had gained guardianship of my niece and nephew. My dad was my niece’s best friend. Losing her mother and her grandfather less than a year apart took its toll. In May we decided to explore a bit of California. We visited Yosemite and that sparked my desire to visit every national park. In June we moved back to Ohio and I went back to my old job. In August I was hired at a major hospital in the cardiovascular ICU. My husband fought in court to gain custody of his daughter. I started my own side photography business which was responded to very well. I visited NYC with my friend, her boyfriend, and my husband.

2019: I wasn’t adjusting to night shift well. I was lonely and with my own thoughts too often. In March I miscarried and was depressed for many months. I started to try to craft more as a creative outlet and found I love woodworking. I picked up running again and stuck to it. In May I went back to NYC. I ran my first race ever in June. Also in June, I visited Mackinaw Island and the UP with my friend and we visited some of her grandma’s childhood. I left night shift and started working day shift, still in the ICU. In July, I joined a group that takes shelter dogs out for runs or hikes. In August, I ran my first half marathon. In September, I ran my second. In October, I planned a trip to Quebec for my birthday. After some mishaps and difficulties booking a hotel (there was a marathon that weekend) I said forget it and planned a different trip. I went to Shenandoah, Washington D.C. and Great Falls Park with my husband and my dog. My grandma celebrated her 93rd birthday. In November I sprained my foot but decided to run a half marathon anyway. It got to the point I could no longer walk, and thus ending my running season prematurely. I signed up for a full marathon in 2020 despite that. In December, I went back to NYC. My foot was finally healing so I began running again.

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theliterateape · 4 years

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Fifty-Four Years Doesn’t Seem Like That Long: What I Absorbed In the Past 365 Days

By Don Hall

Every birthday since I was in eighth grade, I have spent some going through the year I just ended and looked for the lessons it held for me. Today, I turn to page fifty-four in the Book, so here are the lessons of Year 54. I recognize first, that a few of these lessons have been lessons learned over and over for years and second, that some lessons are contradictory with others. Such is the road I travel and it’s a fair guess we all travel.

Year 54 was a trip. As in, literally a trip to the desert. After thirty years in Chicago, Dana and I packed our shit, hopped in vehicles, and traveled 2,000 miles west to up end our lives and forge new territory. It was a year of jumping of a cliff. It was year of lotsa moving. It was a year of lessons.

As I started Year 54, I was living in a bedroom in Humboldt Park in the home of the guy we were moving with to Vegas. We had already gone there and found a house. We had an arrangement to help him move his ridiculous mountain of stuff, he would pay for the move, and we’d take on a portion of the mortgage as co-owners once we settled.

LESSON #1: There’s No Such Thing As Free.

Yes, we agreed to the move. It was much less expensive to get our home across the country in exchange for labor and the agreement to share a home. We had no idea how much labor would be involved and how little input we would have concerning living arrangements.

There were the flags of crimson that popped up.

For Christmas, he wanted a tree. He and Dana went to Home Depot (a place of almost religious fervor for him) and, in her impatience as he limped through the aisles looking for random tools and containers to impulse buy, she grabbed a tree, paid for it, and took it out to his truck. He was so upset that it wasn’t exactly the tree he wanted, he pouted like a child for three days. He didn’t decorate with us. When we went to Kansas, he took the tree down almost immediately and, in the process, haphazardly combined all of our legacy and family ornaments into a box that went rogue by the time we arrived in Vegas a month later. Grown men don’t act like this, I thought, but we were already in for a pound.

When he flew to Nevada and Dana and Kelli (his long-time roommate) drove his truck out there, I was left to get all of his stuff and our stuff on the moving truck and clean his now sold home spotless. He woefully underestimated the amount of shit he had to move and, as a result, I had to drop a grand to make sure the moving company didn’t just drop all of it off in an alley.

Combining this with the very trappings of Las Vegas where every offer of free play is merely an invitation to get hooked on the buzz of slots and spend your kid’s leukemia money, the idea that anything is free is just silly. Everything in life has fine print somewhere and, baby, you get exactly what you pay for. The delusion of free feels nice until the hidden bill comes.

✶

Once in Vegas, I had set up a number of interviews and meetings in order to land some quality money-making gigs. I interviewed at the MGM Grand, Caesar’s Palace, the UFC, the Make-A-Wish Foundation. I had meetings with KNPR, UNLV, and The Black Mountain Institute. I had all the expectation that my Chicago street cred would get me into the places I was looking at.

LESSON #2: High Expectations Amount to Big Disappointments.

It turned out that while I was well-received, no one would hire me. It took me a bit to figure out that my Chicago experience didn’t really translate well to this new area and that my decade with public radio basically made me too expensive for the more academic crowd.

When I finally figured out that freelancing events in Vegas was far more daunting than my high expectations warranted (EX: In Chicago, an Events Representative was a job that entailed, you know, working on events. In Vegas, an Events Representative is the guy holding a spinning sign outside a business) I started looking for just about any gig that paid.

LESSON #3: Ego Is the Fucking Worst Baggage You’ll Carry.

Starting over from scratch is the bargain we made but my perception of myself was from my thirty years in Chicago. Here, while I had no bridges burned I also had no reputation of any kind and it was a struggle to reconcile these things. At this point the most difficult challenge was to ignore my ego and sack up. There were a few days when I couldn’t get past the reality that these fucking people didn’t know who I was. The ego developed over thirty years in the Chi was a bitch to ditch. I had to accept the reality that starting over was exactly that.

Dana landed a job at a casino bowling alley that was far beneath her perceived value. I bounced from working as a window sales rep

LESSON #4: Any Job That Requires You Wear a Lime Green Polo Shirt is Bullshit.

and quit after three weeks. I found a job at a high-end hat store in the Venetian (part time) and settled in a bit.

Backing at the Hoarder Ranch (later to known as Trash Island) our Christmas Tree Pouter was in full swing. He often slept during the day in the living room and would go out to the shed he built to work on random projects in the middle of the night. As Dana and I opted to move into the tiny box one-bedroom converted garage to have some privacy and some escape, he loitered around, demanding attention, and trying to pay us to go out and get him cigarettes and Mountain Dew.

LESSON #5: A Transactional Relationship Will Always Be Transactional.

LESSON #6: Jumping Off a Cliff Is Only Scary the Moment Before You Jump. The Rest Is Simply Navigation.

It’s sort of that Hannibal thing where you burn the bridges behind you so there’s only the forward road to take. Once you’re committed to the journey, the only real choices are figuring out how you land. The number of times I went back to re-examine our choices leading up to moving was staggering — late nights as Dana slept peacefully in the crummy bedroom and I sat in my robe at a desk in the next room wondering “What the fuck have I done? What am I supposed to do now?” It reminded me of both my divorces and the final break up with Alice in that, in the absence of the malicious relationship that had defined my every waking moment, I longed for more of it to cover me up in a soiled, stinking blanket. Familiarity, regardless of the quality of it, is a salve to uncertainty.

The first four months were peppered with whole days seeped in self doubt. Spending two weeks with nothing more than $1.42 in my bank account. Looking at my Prius and begging whatever arcane gods exist that it last just a few more days. Putting on the optimistic pose for Dana as her naturally pessimistic outlook felt like that moment driving in the dark when you seriously ponder the possibility of just turning off the headlights and gunning the accelerator and crashing yourself on the rocks of “At least I get to control this outcome.”

Leaving Chicago was a divorce. A disengaging with the reality that, in a life of not truly fitting in with any crowd, I no longer fit in with an entire city.

✶

In the face of the fact that my resume and reputation from Chicago meant fuckall to employers in Vegas, I applied to a host of places—restaurant management positions, public school positions, retail, and briefly flirted with Uber and Lyft. A Days Inn attached to a small casino called about interviewing for an Assistant Hotel Manager gig. I went in. The Manager and I talked. I was comfortable enough at the Hat Shop so the prospect of working at a hotel off the strip was mostly about making more dough. The next day, I was asked to come in again. This Director told me flat out he thought I was all wrong for the hotel but had I considered casino management?

One more interview with the General Manager and I was offered an opportunity. Operations Manager of a casino in Las Vegas. Entry level pay but, given my utter absence of any experience in a casino, it felt like being noticed. I mean, in Vegas, casino is the primary business so getting in on that at 53 years old was very intriguing. Certainly a tiny, dive bar version of a casino but complete with slot machines, a bar, and a Sportsbook, this felt as if I was going to Casino College. I left the Hat Shop the next day.

LESSON #7: Take the Job That Seems the Most Interesting Because All Jobs Are Just Jobs But Interesting Jobs Have the Most To Give.

While I started at the Wild Wild West and a modest income started flowing in, Dana decided she’d had all she could stand at the bowling alley (she simply has no patience for bad managers). We also decided to move (again) to remove ourselves from Trash Island, the increasingly hostile (now) landlord (who, in a fit of pique, turned off our internet), and the east side of Las Vegas (a place Dana described as “the ass end of broke dick.”).

Framing the casino management gig as both a means to learn this business and make some cash doing it and the makings of a really fun book about this sub-sub-set of casino life made it an easy choice to make. Jump into the dingy pond of the West and drink heartily from its possibilities.

LESSON #8: While Still Just Stuff, Your Own Stuff Provides Stability and Comfort.

Finding an apartment was surprisingly easy. The place was small but far larger than the garage we’d grown accustomed to and the complex had two swimming pools and much closer proximity to my work and humanity. The move was a bit fraught as I was hellbent to get as far away from the Crippled Dick (who stood by as we packed our things into a rented U-Haul with a pistol on his hip as if we suddenly represented a threat).

In no time, we were surrounded by furniture and things we brought from Chicago — our stuff. As we expanded into our new digs, the feeling of having finally arrived in Vegas started to creep in and the freedom of making our own way dawned.

Back in the days before the move but after the ignoble dismissal from the public radio sphere vocationally, I decided that working for myself was the thing. I worked that freelance dance with gusto. Sure, I was taken advantage of by major Chicago institutions (Chicago History Museum, anyone?) and found that getting paid was like extracting teeth but I leapt into it.

Freelancing in a new city with a completely different definition of events proved more daunting.

LESSON #9: Freelancing is Three Times as Much Work as Working for the Man

I love the seeming freedom of freelance work. Getting up when you want to, working often from home, the sense of the hustle. Were I single, it might be exactly how I’d pursue the day but I’m not. I have a larger responsibility to a partnership and providing regular money at regular intervals is a part of the bargain. A more selfish me would leap into the almost non-existent LiveLit scene and forge what I had forged in Chicago and there is a bit of a siren song to gravitate to that lifestyle.

Turns out that I prefer working with a definite paycheck, easily deposited in my bank account every two weeks, than the fucking scramble to achieve financial freedom on a twenty-four hour basis. It’s good to have those freelance skills but it’s also good to be able to relax into a day job. Dana thought she was looking for a day job and discovered she prefers freelance.

The best lesson is that no matter how broke you are, no matter how destitute you might flirt on the edge with, there is almost always a way through unless you simply give up. If I decided tomorrow to quit the gig in the casino, devote my golden years to writing the Great American Novel or caring for the homeless, I would find a way to feed myself, provide a roof over my head, and carry on. Dana is an amazing partner and we got this.

LESSON #10: No Matter How Broke You Are, There is Almost Always a Way Through Unless You Simply Give Up.

In addition to my own experience, I learned and re-learned this from the patrons of the casino. Sure, there are plenty of compulsive gamblers on property and it is my job to make sure their experience is positive. There are far more who have really lived some life and continue to get up, go to work, then come and have a few drinks and try their hand at some potential winnings. Gambling is all about hope — hope that it’s your day to hit the jackpot, hope that that next hand is the one to create the windfall, hope that you can be a winner.

Giving up is an absence of hope. I’m fucking surrounded by hope tinted with despair every day now.

The “training” I received for the management gig was completely half-assed. More of a Here are a Few Things You Have to Know, Don’t Do This No Matter What, Now GO!! This approach is a bit teetery, especially considering that I’m dealing with incredible complex Nevada Gaming Laws and the constant presence of surveillance cameras. Fuck up and you’re fired and we’re watching you all the time.

✶

LESSON #11: Online Friends Are Rarely your Actual Friends.

I’ve known this for a long time now but it didn’t really land until this year.

At one point in the second half of the year, I realized that Facebook was becoming more burden than tool. So I unfriended over 4,000 people (most of whom I had never met) and kept about 500 who I could pick out in a line-up. I did it in an impulse at the poolside of the Stratosphere on a 112-degree day. I could barely see the screen on my iPhone as the sun was so incredibly bright.

The first bit of impact was that all of a sudden I was seeing posts from people I knew but had not heard from in a long time. The glut of too many strangers was clogging up the view; the overshare of thousands of voices was too loud to allow those smaller moments of “Ah! He has a kid now!” and “Whoa! She’s a conservative?”

The second occurred as I culled the list. The number of people whom I saw as friends wasn’t honest. I harbored great resentment toward those whom rode that social fence and watched as I was bullied and flamed by assholes in Chicago so I erased them from my online roll call. The climate of high partisan morality meant that there were a few whom I have genuine affection for but whom I cannot have a rational online discussion (Jesus. That’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one!) so I eliminated them but with the quick message explaining that I cared too much for them as a person to continue to be present for their online daily performative diary.

The tool of Social Media is now a bit more manageable and a bit less present.

✶

Based on lessons of the past, I really dug into my previous assertion to be less Kirk, more Spock. As a younger man, I was a whole buncha angry and reactionary. I sought fairness and achievement. My social capital was extremely important (even into my fifties this was true). I feel as if I’ve been getting closer to some sort of line in the sand to cross over, one side that signals me as Strident Idealist, the other that holds the trappings of Optimistic Pragmatist. I have been the former, I’m becoming the latter.

It all boils down in the sauce pan to the rue of choice.

LESSON #12: Your Emotional State, Just Like Your Life Circumstances, Just Like What You Have for Lunch, Is a Choice.

If I’m angry and aggrieved, I chose to be that. If I am filled with anxiety—over my past, over the news, over money — I must want to be anxious because I chose it.

At fifty-four, I hope wisdom comes in making better choices both minuscule and epic in scale.

By the time I hit the Fall of 2019, things were groovin’. Dana was finding freelance gigs and it turns out, I’m damn good at casino management. And, oh my gawd, the stories!

LESSON #13: Every Person You Encounter Is a Story. Pay Attention and the Mysteries of the Universe Will Unfold.

I don’t know how long my tenure at the Wild Wild West will be. Las Vegas is a city of hustle and transience and the act of moving from one experience to the next is embedded in the DNA of every business, every venue, every stretch of road. It is also a place of a truly American mise-en-scéne. The casino is the Melting Pot writ large in bygone times. Rich, poor, men, women, heterosexual and homo, black, white, foreign and domestic, Left, Right, and Libertarian all participating in the hopeful pursuit of the payout of capitalism.

I’ve had long conversations with:

A twenty-three-year-old prostitute from Idaho who came here to be a spokesmodel and made some pretty poor choices along the way.

A sixty-six-year-old millionaire Big Oil executive with more money and time on his hands yet still feeling a need to hide from the world.

A thirty-five-year-old limo driver with dreams of hitting it big on sports betting so he can start his own fleet of cars.

A fifty-three-year-old TimeShare saleswoman whose husband left her a few years back and she’s happier than ever to be alone.

A thirty-year-old construction journeyman in town to work on the Raiders Stadium who spends his off-time shooting his collection of guns at local ranges and playing video poker. He’s also incredible worried he’ll be a terrible father to the baby that’s coming soon.

A seventy-seven-year-old retired economics professor who is living out his last days (his words) analyzing the workings of craps and visiting the desert nature with his wife of fifty years.

The ridiculous, wonderful quilt of human existence wanders into this tiny dive bar casino and its Days Inn from everywhere in the world and covers me in stories every day. I don’t know if there are answers to the Big Questions of Life and It’s Meaning but if I am to find them, I’m pretty sure their right here in the people I dance in tandem with daily.

Once I do leave the Wild Wild West Gambling Hall for some other place in Vegas, I’ll take a month or so and write a book about it. Like so many places I’ve never even imagined, this place is like a Roald Dahl invention and I’m digging my own personal Chocolate Factory.

LESSON #14: Management Is About Fostering Trust Rather Than Intimidation

As a younger man I’ll admit I was a bit...angry. Demanding. Aggressively pushing my agenda forward. You know... typical male. I used to say that more people left WNEP Theater because I lost temper than for any other reason. Not a pretty picture in hindsight despite the many great successes artistically.

As a casino manager I’ve found that I’m the “nice manager” and a large part of that comes from my understanding that, in an environment of constant surveillance and a draconian process of administrative discipline, I’d rather my staff trust me than work in fear of making mistakes. The flip side is that some staff members and guests take advantage of my softer approach but I’d rather be taken advantage of once in a while than rule by an iron hand.

This approach is at odds with the corporate policies more often than not. The casino business is built in part on an intentional distrust of everyone involved. There are patrons who are so seeped in the get mine at the expense of everyone else mentality that sniffing out the folks who claim the machine stole their money and faking a fall in order to get a free hotel room for the night is a necessary skill to develop. The staff member who clocks in just a bit early and just a bit late to pad their paycheck a bit is always going to be there.

These people are not, in my experience, in the majority and changing my approach to protect against the few only to punish the many is a poor strategy in life.

LESSON #15: I’d Rather Let the World Change Around Me Than Have the World Wear Me Down

Imagine a rock in a river. The water rushes past and due to the presence of the rock, must diverge its forward push to accommodate the obstacle. Certainly, over time, the water reshapes the rock’s edges but the fundamental nature of the rock is that the outer edges protect the inner strength.

Being surrounded by gamblers, grifters, pessimists, and cynics the temptation is to adapt to reflect the reality these people puke out. It is a reality that posits kindness as weakness, justice as a sword rather than a scale, honesty as vulnerability, and shame as a weapon. The easier road to travel is the one that acquiesces to these concepts and allowing the water to fundamentally change your behavior to reflect these noxious values. I reject that easier road. The water will divert its path to accommodate my optimism, good humor, and fundamental belief in humanity.

A substantial part of this lesson is rooted in the expectation theory which is at odds with Lesson #2. The theory (one I learned in college) is simply that if we have low expectations for people, people will accommodate that. If we have high expectations, the result will match that. The idea is that people around us respond to our expectations of them in remarkable ways. It is all on how perceive them and concomitantly treat them.

I know I will be cheated, betrayed, lied to, and assaulted with negativity but I will continue to expect better rather resign myself to the inevitability of those behaviors.

As Fall hit Vegas, the days blended into one another. Routine set in. I’m a creature of routine. It provides me with a sense of control and security. Certain benchmarks in time become either more or less important depending on the day and frame of mind. I worked on both Thanksgiving and Christmas Day for the first times in my life. In the day-to-day grind of living check-to-check, the realization that these Holy Days are a luxury strikes hard when confronting the cultural universality of them. Not spending time with my family was jarring but Dana and I made our own holiness.

Not to be too dramatic but it reminded me of the image of Charlie Chaplin in some movie as The Tramp treating a single bean as a full meal. He gets out a knife and fork, a napkin over his shirt, and proceeds to take his time eating that single bean, gingerly slicing it like a steak.

LESSON #16: In the Absence of Luxury, How We Treat What We Have Can Either Elevate Its Value or Dismiss It Altogether.

When working hard for the money to pay your rent, you choose to either practice gratitude for the simple pleasure of going to a park, taking a hot shower, taking a nap on a couch, or you ignore that simplicity with the gnawing anxiety of want for more. I believe that treating the smallest of gifts we receive as bounty reflects upon how we view those moments of need in longer term ways.

LESSON #17: The iPad Pro is Perfectly Capable of Replacing a Desktop Computer or a Laptop.

Not so much a lesson as an observation subject to disbelief, at one point in our Vegas autumn, my 2011 iMac took a massive shit and died. All I had was my iPad Pro and I had to make due. Turns out, this enlarged iPhone is actually a fairly powerful computer and manages to handle my substantial computing needs with ease. A few workarounds, an app or two navigate limitations, and I may never get another desktop.

LESSON #18: "You’ll stop caring what people think about you when you realize how seldom they do." — David Foster Wallace

Here.

If I were still getting tattoos on my birthdays, this would be the one I’d ink this year.

LESSON #19: You Don’t Need to Announce to the World That You’re Reclaiming the Best of You Have Been After Being Wounded. You Just Need to Sack Up and Get it Done.

LESSON #20: Everyone You Know or Have Known is Going to Die and You Have No Idea When and Have No Control Over It. Proceed Accordingly.

Had a few people whom I cared about croak this year. As I age, I’m a thousand percent certain I’ll have some more. Soon enough I’ll be on the In Memoriam list and you, Gentle Reader, will acknowledge my passing with a post on my Facebook wall that will live on past my demise like a fucking morbid remember that the digital self never decays.

That’s it. I’m sure there were more lessons than twenty but those are the stand outs. Seriously, I recommend that you (one of the ten or fifteen who will actually read this) try the exercise. Look at your year on your birthday and ask yourself what you learned. It’s all fucking naval-gazing and staring into a pond at your own reflection but the benefits, while difficult to describe, are nonetheless remarkable.

Every day is a gift. Every bean is a meal. Every breath is a choice.

#Birthday #naval gazing #life lessons

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