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gryffindorcls · 4 years

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Step In The Light

Summary: While on patrol, Adrien notices that his Lady is nervous and upset, so he gives her a good luck charm that had been gifted to him by a "very good friend". In return, she helps him realize that he was in love with the giftee all along. Length: 5,936 words Hello, lovely readers! This was written for the 2020 JV Art and Fic Trade on Discord. There is accompanying art for this fic by @supergirl9130. Be on the look-out for it soon! The song featured in this is "Extra Ordinary" sung by Lucy Hale from “Cinderella Story: Once Upon A Song”. Enjoy! (Shout out to my betas for this fic, @falling-oceans and @chanceuseladynoire!) --- AO3

Fanfiction

“Hey, Chat, do you think we could skip patrol tomorrow?” Ladybug’s words stopped Adrien in his tracks.

Worry poked at the back of his mind as he gave his partner a once over. He could feel a crease setting in his brow as he watched Ladybug look at the ground and shift between her feet.

“Is everything alright?” He took a step towards her. “You never cancel patrol at the last minute.”

Ladybug clutched her yo-yo against her chest and shook her head. “I’m fine! I just have to do something tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? You seem kind of upset.” She looked like she needed a hug.

With a groan, she slumped and buried her face in her hands. “Ugh, yeah. Please don’t worry about me. I’m just really nervous. It’s something I’ve never done before, and I hope I don’t make a complete fool out of myself.”

Adrien slung his arm over Ladybug’s shoulders and pulled her close. “My lady, you are one of the most amazing people I know. You’ve shown the world time and time again that you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Her muscles relaxed under his touch, sending his heart into a frenzy. Even though he was doing his best to move on from his crush, there were still some residual feelings that caused a few involuntary reactions. However, Adrien knew that Ladybug needed him to be his friend, and he was determined to fill that role.

He was grateful for how his friendship had evolved with his partner since she’d become the Guardian in Master Fu’s stead. Even though they had been comfortable around each other for a long time, now that their mentor was gone, their trust in each other had increased exponentially, and lately, his Lady seemed to enjoy their casual touches far more than she used to. Today was no exception.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Chat, but I’m not so sure I can do it this time.” Ladybug scooted closer to him and nuzzled against his side.

He swallowed and tried not to focus on the feeling of her head pressed against his collarbone. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m a klutz, and I just know something is going to go wrong.”

“You a klutz? No…”

She laughed. “Yeah, Tikki definitely helps me stay on my feet. I’ll have you know that when I’m not wearing a magical suit that enhances my reflexes, I’ve been known to trip on air. One time, I walked into the same door three times after spilling coffee on my best friend and dropping all my books down the stairs.”

“Oof.” He stifled a chuckle. “I’m sorry to hear that, but if it’s any consolation, clumsiness is an endearing quality.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup, there’s this girl in my class who’s kind of clumsy, and I know she gets embarrassed, but it’s honestly adorable.”

“You might think it’s adorable, but it seems to get worse when I’m nervous. I don’t know how cute it’s going to be if I wind up tripping and destroying everything in the room. I’m a disaster.”

“An adorable disaster.” He corrected, his lips curling into a smile that hurt his cheeks. “Just like Mar...I mean, my friend.”

“It sounds like she and I would get along.” Adrien could still hear the worry in her voice.

“Probably. You two are a lot alike.” He tapped his chin. “Well, except for the fact that she always seems to freak out when she’s around me. She’s amazing though. She’s smart, talented, generous, and an incredible friend. You would like her.”

Ladybug pulled away from him, crossed her arms, and smirked. “Ooooh! Does someone have a crush?”

Heat rushed to his cheeks, forcing Adrien to turn his head away from hers. “No! She’s just a friend.”

“Ugh, if I had a euro for every time I heard my crush say that about me, I’d be richer than he is.” She leaned back. “Poor girl. You’ve probably broken her heart every time she’s heard you say that.”

“What do you mean?”

“My brain stops working every time I’m near my crush, and if she’s as nervous as you’re saying she is, this girl is probably madly in love with you.”

Adrien fixed his eyes on the ground below and tried to process Ladybug’s words.

I can’t be in love with Marinette.

True, she’s the kindest and sweetest girl he’d ever met in his entire life, and he’d be lying if the idea of dating her hadn’t crossed his mind in the past. But she’d told him that she didn’t have feelings for him...unless she’d been lying. She didn’t like him like that. Marinette was…

“Just a friend,” he whispered to himself.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Ladybug nudged him with her elbow. “Just something to think about, kitty.”

“But you’re the only girl I’ve ever fallen in love with. I mean, it’s different now, but still, I’ve never really loved someone the way I loved you.”

“I’ve recently learned that love comes in many different forms. Even the romantic kind. Maybe you love her, too, and you just haven’t realized it yet?”

“Hmmm...I guess that could be true. But what do these other loves feel like?”

“I don’t know. I think it depends on the person. Honestly, I wish someone had this conversation with my crush. It sure would have made things a lot eas...OH NO.” Her hands flew to her face and all the color drained from her cheeks. “That’s going to make things even worse!”

Startled by her reaction, Adrien pulled her back into a hug. Her body trembled in his embrace, driving a wave of panic through his chest.

He held her tighter. “What’s wrong?”

“My crush.” Her rasped words barely made it past her lips. “He might be there. I don’t know, but if he is...I can’t do this, Chat.”

“Come here, my lady.” With his arms still wrapped around her, Adrien held her until the tension in her muscles began to subside. “I’m here.”

“I can’t even get through a sliding glass door when I’m with him! I really am going to ruin everything!”

“No, you’re not.”

“I might.”

“Well, if you’re anything like the girl I know and you do break something, I can guarantee that your friends will still like you. I think it’s literally impossible to not like her.”

“Yeah, but I’m not her.”

It would be nice if you were. Adrien shook his head. NO. Stop that! Marinette is just a friend. Ladybug is sad. FOCUS.

He wracked his brain for a solution to her problem.

What would Marinette do?

The idea hit him like a truck. “Sounds like you could use a good luck charm.”

If his lady needed a little extra luck, he was going to give it to her.

“I’ll be right back. Wait right here!” He hopped onto his feet, scurried behind a chimney, and called off his transformation.

“Kid, what are you doing now?” Plagg groaned. “At least tell me you brought some cheese for me to eat before you make me transform you back.”

Adrien shook his head and reached into his coat pocket. “Ladybug needs my help.”

“Uh-huh.” Plagg crossed his arms. “And it’s not something you can do while you’re still Chat Noir?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll transform again before I go back.” He fished around for a few seconds before pulling out his “Marinette Lucky Charm” and waving it in front of his Kwami’s face. “I just needed to get this.”

Plagg’s eyes grew wide. “Uhh, what exactly are you planning on doing with that?”

“I’m going to give it to her.”

“To who?”

“Ladybug.”

“Oh, no, Adrien, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You could accidentally…” Plagg was cut off by a shrill ring that pierced to the silence.

Adrien fumbled around his pockets until he found the culprit behind the noise. He pulled his cellphone into the night air and silenced it by smashing his fingers against the screen.

“Whew, that was a close one.” He repocketed his phone and looked at Plagg. “Okay, what were you saying? I have to get back to Ladybug soon.”

"Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was going to say..." Plagg was cut off again.

Adrien’s phone buzzed in rapid succession, prompting him to take it out once more. He swiped his fingers across his lock screen, he squinted as the space around him illuminated.

Nino: [20:17] dude

Nino: [20:17] DUDE

Nino: [20:17] why aren’t you picking up ur phone??

Nino: [20:17] DUDEEEEEE

Nino: [20:18] I need to know if you’re going to the masked singer jr thing @ school tomorrow

Nino: [20:18] alya is about to buy tickets

Nino: [20:18] she needs to know if we should get 2 or 3

Messages continued to bombard his phone as he desperately tried to type out a response.

Nino: [20:18] do you think ur dad will let you go?

Nino: [20:19] alya is telling me that she needs an answer RIGHT NOW...like immediately

Nino: [20:19] bro?????

“What is it now?” Plagg hovered above Adrien’s phone. “Don’t you have to get back to patrol?”

“Yeah, I do.” With a frustrated huff, Adrien pulled out a wedge of Camembert and tossed it to his Kwami. “But I just need a few minutes, okay? Then we can talk before I go back.”

Plagg shrugged, landed on Adrien’s shoulder, and began devouring the cheese. "You know what, kid, do whatever you want. It's about time we moved on from all of this nonsense anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean? If you have something you need to say, just say it. I’ll stop texting and listen."

"Doesn't matter anymore. Carry on."

Doing his best to ignore the chewing next to his ear, he finally managed to compose a response before Nino had the chance to send any more messages.

Adrien: [20:20] Tickets for the what?

Nino: [20:20] THE BOY LIVES

Nino: [20:20] alya was getting ready to BLITZ ur phone

Nino: [20:21] you lucked out my dude

Nino: [20:21] can u come with us??

Adrien: [20:21] I don’t know what you’re talking about

Nino: [20:21] it’s for that singing competition based off that tv show

Nino: [20:22] there’s been flyers for it all over the school

Adrien closed his eyes and tried to picture one of the flyers that Nino was talking about, but nothing popped into his mind. He’d been relatively out of it over the past few weeks. His father had pulled him out of school for countless photoshoots, and every time he’d actually attended class, he’d been too tired to function. However, with his father out of town and his evening free from patrol duties, the thought of unwinding at an event with his friends sounded really nice.

Adrien: [20:23] I still don’t know what that is, but it sounds cool!

Nino: [20:23] so that’s a yes???

Adrien: [20:23] Yeah

Nino: [20:24] SWEET! it starts at 8

Nino: [20:24] alya is making signs for us to wave

Nino: [20:24] she’ll give you one when we meet up tomorrow

Adrien: [20:24] Signs?

Nino: [20:25] yeah for marinette

Marinette.

Just reading her name on his screen made his heart skip a beat.

Marinette was going to be there.

Ladybug’s words rang through his head, but he shook them away. Marinette was definitely just a friend. He was looking forward to seeing his friend, and he knew that the feeling in his chest was a totally normal response to his excitement.

Nino: [20:25] marinette lost a bet or something and now she’s singing tomorrow

Nino: [20:25] that’s why alya is trying to snag these last minute tix

“Chat?” Ladybug’s voice carried across the rooftop, giving Adrien the push he needed to wrap up his texting conversation. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I’ll be right there! Don’t come over!” Adrien called back, tapping his fingers furiously on the keyboard.

Adrien: [20:26] Sounds good! I’ll see you tomorrow!

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, called for his transformation, and ran back to Ladybug.

As he approached her, he noticed that her eyes were filled with concern. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You were behind the chimney for an awfully long time.”

“Oh, yeah that...don’t worry about it.” He waved his hands dismissively before holding out his lucky charm in an open palm. “Anyway, this is for you. I think you need it more than I do.”

Instead of seeing the smile on her face that he’d been expecting, Ladybug stared intently at the charm in his hand, as if she were waiting for it to explode or spontaneously combust. She sat quiet and unmoving, and Chat began to fear that she had been turned into a statue by an unseen Akuma.

“M-my lady?” He swallowed in an attempt to combat the desert that had suddenly appeared in his mouth, but his efforts proved to be fruitless. “Did you want to borrow it?”

Her eyes remained locked on the charm. “Chat, where did you get that?”

“Well, I got it from that friend I was talking about. The girl in my class?” Using his other hand, he scratched the back of his neck. “You know, the one you think I have a crush on.”

“Oh my God.” She opened and closed her mouth a few times. “This isn’t happening.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to take it.” He closed his hand around the charm and began to retract his arm.

“No!” She grabbed his hand. “I want it, but…”

“What is it?”

“I-”

“My lady, are you okay?”

Her eyes flitted up, locking their gazes together. “I need to know something.”

“Ummm, okay?” His internal body temperature rose under her unwavering stare. “What...uh...what is it?”

“Have you ever imagined yourself in a romantic relationship with the girl who gave you that charm?”

“I don’t understand.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, let me put it this way, have you ever thought to yourself ‘I wonder what it would be like to go on a date with her’ and then played it out in your head?”

Of course, I have.

“I, uhh…” He swallowed again.

It’s Marinette. But she’s just a friend.

“Chat, I need an answer.” The desperation written on her features did not ease his frazzled nerves. “Please.”

“She’s just a friend.” His words were beginning to sound like a lie. “She’s always been just a friend.”

She leaned in. “Are you sure?”

“No.” His response tumbled out before he had the chance to censor his thoughts.

Adrien clamped his free hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. She’s just a friend. Marinette is just a friend. There was no way that she was anything more than just a friend...right?

“You love her.” Ladybug looked away, smiled towards the heavens, and released a tear-filled laugh. “You really love her.”

“I...love her?”

His brain was slowly arriving at the solution to a problem that had been plaguing his subconscious for months. Loving Ladybug had created a hazy and beautiful cloud that consumed his thoughts and dreams, but embracing the idea of loving Marinette swept the confusion away. True, he’d always love his Lady, but he could no longer deny the ever-present voice screaming the truth in the back of his mind.

“I love her.” He arched his back, held up his arms, and declared it to the heavens. “I love her!”

“Yes, you do. You really do!” She launched herself at him and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m so happy!”

“You are?”

“Yes! I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. I just...I never thought it would happen like this. Oh, Chat I…” She stopped and pulled away. “I might cry.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you’d be so happy to see me paired off with someone else.” He snorted. “Should I be insulted?”

“No! No, I just...I’m sorry. My words...I…”

“My lady, are you okay?”

“What? I’m freight! I mean grine! I mean...NO…” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m fine. I’m just so happy. You have no idea.”

“You sound just like her right now.”

He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to wander back to Marinette. A familiar warmth filled his chest and made his heart soar. It was a feeling that he’d lost the day his mother disappeared. It felt safe. It felt secure. It felt like home.

But his happiness proved to be short-lived as a second realization hit him like a tsunami. “But she’s in love with someone else...just like you are. I can’t go through something like that again.”

“She’s not.” Ladybug shook her head. “You keep comparing her to me, and, kitty, if she’s anything like me, I can promise that she loves you.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.” She reached out and gently pulled the charm free from his grip before standing up and unsheathing her yo-yo. “I’m suddenly feeling a lot more confident now. I have to go, but I promise to give this back to you the next time I see you.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Chat hopped onto his feet. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“No, thank you, Chat Noir.” She clutched the charm against her chest. “For being the coolest cat I know.”

“I guess I am pretty paw-some.” He pretended to flip his hair, eliciting a giggle from his partner.

“My wonderful, dorky, Chaton.” She tossed her yo-yo and hooked the wire around a chimney on an adjacent rooftop. “See you soon.”

“Good luck tomorrow!” He called out as she swung off the roof and into the distance.

***

That night, sleep became his enemy as thoughts of Marinette bombarded his mind. Adrien tossed and turned for what seemed like an endless number of hours before falling into a fitful, dreamless slumber. When the alarm on his phone woke him up, he wanted nothing more than to throw it across the room and sleep for another week.

But he knew that staying in bed was not an option. If he didn’t get ready, he wouldn’t be able to go to school. If he didn’t go to school, he wouldn’t see Marinette. And if he didn’t see Marinette, then there was a good chance that his head might explode.

With a groan, he pulled himself out of bed, brushed his teeth, and managed to find an outfit that matched before grabbing a piece of toast and hopping into his family’s car. During the short journey, he closed his eyes and rested against the cool glass.

By the time he reached the school, he was half asleep and was barely aware of his surroundings as he made his way to the classroom. He’d grumbled a few half-hearted hellos to his friends before slumping into his chair and putting his head in his arms. It wasn’t until Marinette came barreling into the classroom five minutes after class started that he snapped out of his sleep-deprived haze.

Despite finally feeling awake, school was a nightmare. The knowledge that Marinette was sitting behind him drove him to the brink of insanity. She was only a few feet away, and there was nothing that he could do about it in the middle of class.

At lunch, she’d run back home to finish her costume, leaving him with no other option but to go home and eat. As he sat alone at his dining room table, he considered how life would be different with Marinette as his girlfriend.

If they’d been a couple, then he most likely wouldn’t be sitting by himself in an empty, loveless room. He’d probably been dragged over to her house and been allowed to watch as she excitedly put together her costume for the show. He’d have been granted the opportunity to become a part of her inner world, a place that he knew was full of creativity and wonder. He’d have been there to celebrate her little victories and encourage her through her downfalls. He wouldn’t have been alone.

And he didn’t want to be alone anymore.

He wanted to be with her.

He was going to ask her out.

Adrien dropped his fork on his plate and pushed away from the table. He rushed back to his room, flopped into his desk chair, and turned on the computer.

“Oh, good. You’re back.” Plagg whizzed into view and landed on the keyboard. “We’re almost out of cheese. It’s time to order more.”

“Not right now.” Adrien opened a new browser and began a search for local flower shops. “I only have a few minutes before I have to go back to school.”

Plagg looked at the screen and crossed his arms. “That’s not cheese.”

“That’s right.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m pretty sure Marinette would rather have some nice smelling roses over a stinky wheel of Camembert when I ask her out after the competition tonight.”

Plagg flew in front of Adrien’s face and blocked his view of the monitor. “Please tell me you’re serious.”

“I am.” Adrien shifted his body to get a better view of the screen. “Why do you care? Usually, you make fun of my...oh how do you usually put it? ‘Stupid human love rituals’.”

“Have you really moved on from Ladybug? For real this time?”

“Yeah.” A burst of happiness coursed through his system, causing a smile to form on his lips. “I guess I have.”

“Then tonight is going to be even better than I thought it was going to be.”

“Why are you being so cryptic lately? Last night and now this. What are you talking about?.”

“Oh, nothing!” Plagg dove into the trashcan next to the desk. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here for the show.”

He rolled his eyes and resumed his search. He didn’t have time for his Kwami’s cryptic shenanigans. He was on a mission.

Adrien was determined to make tonight perfect.

***

That night, Adrien got to the school within five minutes of the first act going on stage. After taking his time choosing an outfit and picking up the roses he’d ordered, he knew he’d be cutting it close. Luckily, his friends were waiting patiently on the school steps upon his arrival.

If he hadn’t been so nervous, he’d have been infinitely more impressed by the way the crew of the Masked Singer Junior competition had transformed the courtyard. At one end, there was a stage with a black backdrop that almost looked as if it was studded with stars. Large speakers had been placed at either end of the stage. The rest of the space had been filled with rows of folding chairs.

The school had managed to get Alec Cataldi to MC the event, so as each act was ushered onto the stage, he riled up the crowd with jokes and charm. Throughout the competition, Adrien had been vaguely aware of the other performers, but he’d been focused on his mission--Operation: Ask Out Marinette. He tapped his foot as the anticipation built in his gut. He didn’t know how he’d feel when he finally saw her, but he didn’t know if he could wait much longer.

After over a dozen acts, Alec once again sauntered into the spotlight with the next contestant in tow. The singer wore a black cat mask that covered half of her face, a rhinestone-studded tiara that sparkled under the lights, and an electric green dress with a flared skater skirt that ended just above the knees.

Alec waited for the courtyard to fall silent before bringing the microphone up to his face to speak. “Is everyone having a good time so far?”

Everyone around Adrien screamed and clapped.

“I can’t hear you!” Alec held the microphone towards the crowd and held his other hand up to his ear.

The audience released a deafening roar.

“Excellent! Our next contestant calls herself Princess Kitty! How are you feeling tonight, Your Highness?” Alec put the microphone in front of the girl’s face.

“Purr-etty good, Alec!” Adrien’s ears perked up at the sound of her voice. “I was feline kind of nervous before, but now I’m cat-tastic!”

Everything came to a screeching halt.

He knew that voice.

He’d heard that voice tease him countless times.

He trusted that voice with his life.

That was his lady’s voice.

And she was dressed like him.

“She looks so good!” Alya held up her phone and snapped several pictures. “I can’t believe she pulled all of that together in one night! My girl is the best!”

“Your girl? Alya, who exactly do you think that is?” Adrien shifted nervously in his seat. “You don’t know that person, do you?”

“You really can’t tell?” Alya switched her phone’s camera to video mode. “And here I thought you’d recognize her right away. You did buy her flowers after all.”

Marinette.

He shook his head. “No, that’s impossible.”

They can’t be the same person.

“Of course it is!” Alya laughed dismissively. “I helped her get ready earlier tonight. I just didn’t realize how cool all of that was going to look under the lights.”

Adrien knew in his heart that the girl on the stage was his lady, but his mind told him that his partner couldn’t possibly be that close to him in real life. There was no way he’d fallen in love with the same girl twice. He wasn’t that lucky.

Or was he?

Marinette was his every day Ladybug, and he’d often thought that she’d make an incredible Miraculous holder. He’d once told himself that he’d love whoever was behind the mask, but he knew deep down that was a lie. Every time he’d scratched the surface of the truth behind his lady’s secret identity, he’d only been happy when Ladybug was Marinette.

He wasn’t just in love with any girl.

He was in love with one girl.

I’ve been in love with Marinette all along. The burst of clarity eviscerated the remaining fog and struck him with an overwhelming sense of admiration that brought tears to his eyes.

Of course, it was her. Of course, he’d fallen in love with the same girl twice. Of course, Marinette was Ladybug.

“Wow!” Alec’s voice cut through his thoughts, forcing him back to earth. “What’s the secret to all of your confidence, Princess Kitty?”

“Well, last night I was a tiny bit nervous, and I was given a good luck charm by someone very close to me. I already had one from him, but having a second one is making me feel extra lucky.” The girl on stage held up two colorful, beaded charms that were both held together by red string.

“See!” Alya snapped a picture, blew it up on her screen, and showed it to Adrien. “That’s the charm you made her for her birthday. She carries that thing everywhere. And I’m guessing that the other one is the charm that she gave you.”

“Yeah.” Adrien couldn’t take his eyes off the image on Alya’s screen. “It is.”

“Hold on...she just said that it was given to her last night. Did you two see each other last night? Wait! Is that why you got her flowers?” Alya grabbed his shoulders and turned him towards her. “Are you two secretly dating?”

“I...uh...I…” There were too many things happening all at once for Adrien to properly process Alya’s questions. “N-no?”

“But you did see her last night?”

“Ummm...well…” He found himself breathing a sigh of relief when he was cut off by another roar from the crowd.

Alya switched her phone back to video mode and shook her head. “You’re off the hook for now, Sunshine, but I know there’s a story there.”

Adrien returned his attention back onto the stage, mesmerized by the love of his life.

She flashed a dazzling smile to the crowd. “Tonight’s song is dedicated to the coolest cat I know, and I’m just hoping he catches on before the performance is over.”

Me! his mind screamed, She’s talking about me! She’s doing all of this for me!

“Ooooh! Sounds like we have a romance brewing tonight! Any chance we could get the name of the lucky guy?” Alec winked at the crowd.

She chuckled. “A lady never tells.”

“A lady? Pardon me, Your Highness, but I thought you were a princess.”

“Purr-haps I’m both.” She turned her mask-shrouded gaze towards the crowd, but Adrien felt as if her eyes were fixed on him. “Maybe I have more than one mask.”

“How mysterious!” Alec’s laughter bounced off the walls surrounding the courtyard. “Well, good luck, Princess Kitty! The stage is yours!”

A hush fell over the crowd as the music started blasting through the sound system.

I'm imprisoned, I'm living a lie

Another night of putting on a disguise

I wanna tear it off and step in the light

Don't you, don't you?

The voice that rang through the courtyard was clear and pure, sending the audience into a frenzy and rendering Adrien speechless.

So now I'm knocking at your front door

And I'm looking for the right cure

I'm still a little bit unsure

'Cause I know,

Yeah I know

That most people see me as ordinary

But if you look close you'll find I'm very

Interesting and hard to know

You can never tell where this might go

'Cause I'm not your average, average person

I don't know much, but I know for certain

That I'm just a little bit extra, extra

I'm just a little bit extra ordinary

As the first refrain came to an end, another revelation hit him at full force.

This was a declaration of love. Marinette loved him. Out of all the people in the world, she loved him.

All this time, he was the other boy.

Even without his good luck charm, he was the luckiest person in Paris tonight.

I can see it from the spark in your eyes

You believe in all the things you deny

You wanna fly and leave your worries behind

Don't you, don't you?

Well now I'm knocking at your front door

And I'm looking for the right cure

I'm still a little bit unsure

'Cause I know,

Yeah I know

She was reading his soul with a song, and while he felt exposed, the familiar warmth returned to him once again. Her sentiments wrapped around him like a blanket and promised him a life filled with love and devotion. He wanted nothing more than to love her just as fiercely in return.

That most people see me as ordinary

But if you look close you'll find I'm very

Interesting and hard to know

You can never tell where this might go

'Cause I'm not your average, average person

I don't know much, but I know for certain

That I'm just a little bit extra, extra

I'm just a little bit extra ordinary

He didn’t think he could love her any more than he already did, but he was wrong. As the song came to an end, he was struck with the sudden and urgent need to go to her. Adrien stood up and tightened his grip on the bouquet. “Hey, I need to go do something. I’ll meet up with you outside.”

Worry flashed across Nino’s features. “You okay, bro?”

“Yeah.” Adrien swallowed against a dry throat. “I just need to go ask out Marinette before I lose my nerve.”

An ear-shattering shrill emanated from Alya as he turned and quickly made his way through the crowd. The rest of the world faded away with each step. He kept his gaze fixed on his destination, determination driving every cell in his body forward.

His feet kept moving until he finally saw her. She was sitting on a chair behind the makeshift stage with her mask in her lap and her chin resting on an open palm.

“Marinette,” he called out, “I need to talk to you.”

Her head snapped in his direction. “Right now?”

He took several long strides towards her until they were only inches apart. Adrien took her hand and gently coaxed her out of the chair.

“I came to get my lucky charm back.” He laced his fingers through hers and couldn’t help but smile as he watched the tips of her ears turn bright red.

She turned her head away and bit her lip. “That’s all?”

“No.” He held out the bouquet for her to take. “I was also hoping that you’d finally accept a red rose from me.”

Her breath hitched. “With all of it’s intended meanings?”

“Yeah.” He took a step closer to her and leaned his forehead against hers. “Did you mean what you sang?”

She took the bouquet and held the flowers against her chest. “Every word. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“I love you so much, Marinette. Both in and out of the mask.” Tears that had been building in the corners of his eyes threatened to fall. “I don’t know where this will go either, but I want nothing more than to find out.”

“Oh, Adrien. I’ve loved you since the day you handed me your umbrella, and when I thought you loved someone else I tried to move on, but I couldn’t. And if it weren’t for that, I would have fallen for Chat in a heartbeat because he’s not only the greatest partner I could have asked for, but he’s also the most wonderful person I know.” He watched as her gaze flitted to his lips, and without hesitation, he closed the remaining space between them.

Their lips crashed together in a dazzling explosion of electricity that awakened every inch of him. Fireworks exploded inside him as his heart pounded against his chest. He lost himself in the sweetness of her lips and the faint scent of vanilla that clung to her hair. Kissing her immediately became his favorite thing, and he never wanted it to end.

All too soon, Adrien reluctantly pulled away, only to alleviate the burning in his lungs. He cursed his need for air.

“Wow.” She was just as breathless as he was. “Can we do that again?”

“My lady, we can do that whenever you want.” As he spoke, he felt the soft brush of her lips against his.

Adrien moved in for a second kiss, but the sound of Alec calling for the contestants to return to the stage stopped him in his tracks. He groaned under his breath.

Marinette looked up at him and smiled. “How about you come over tonight and we can continue this conversation without a hundred people looking at us?”

“I’d like that, but I don’t think they’ll let me stay out much later.” He deflated. “I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

She leaned in and whispered into his ear. “Who said I was inviting Adrien over?”

Her warm breath against his skin sent a shiver down his spine. “What?”

“I’ll leave the hatch unlocked.” She pecked his cheek, winked, and began walking towards the stage. “See you tonight, kitty!”

Adrien traced his fingertips along his cheek, the skin still tingling from the touch of her lips.

Wow, he thought, unable to hide his excitement any longer, I really am in love with that girl.

#miraculous ladybug #my fic #step in the light #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #adrienette #ladynoir #identity reveal #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ml fanfiction #prompt #masks #song fic #the masked singer

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roman-writing · 4 years

Text

the spectres vain (2/2)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton / Jamie / Viola Lloyd

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,525

Summary: She had said before, ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ and now years later she wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Loved them.

Content advisory: spoilers, horror, and ghost smut

read it here on AO3 or read it below

“The night isn’t dark; the world is dark. Stay with me a little longer.”

-‘Departure’, Louise Gluck

"I really thought this would go away. But it just hasn't."

They were sitting in a cheap diner, their local favourite down the road. Jamie had already received her meal -- an omelette with a cup of coffee and a side of toast, all of which was going to be far too much for her to eat; she never would get used to the size of American meals -- but Dani had yet to receive her own. Jamie paused in the act of picking up her knife and fork. Dani's eyes were glued to her meal, like a starving man who had seen food for the first time in weeks.

"What would go away? Food?" Jamie asked. She slowly passed the knife and fork between her hands -- clink of chipped cutlery -- and began to eat.

"Yeah."

Dani tore her gaze away from Jamie's plate and instead focused on the salt and pepper shakers between them, bracketing the serviette dispenser like little guardsmen. She was sitting on her hands, as though that were the only thing keeping herself from snatching Jamie's food away for herself. She worried at her lower lip with her teeth.

"I mean, I've always liked food. But after -" She made a nodding motion with her head. "- anyway after, it was like I'd never tasted food before in my life. It was so strange. Everything tasted so sweet. I could hardly choke down a cup of apple juice. And a cheeseburger? I thought that I'd died the first time I bit into one. All that sauce."

Dani trailed off. She was frowning contemplatively at her scratched reflection in the chrome-plated dispenser.

Jamie shoved a mouthful of omelette into her mouth and spoke gracelessly around it. "Always thought American food was too sweet, myself. Maybe you got used to Owen's cooking over in England."

Dani gave her a look. "You know that's not why."

"Yeah, I know." Jamie finished chewing, already cutting up another piece and loading up the back of her fork with her knife. "I noticed the appetite change, of course."

"Mmm." Dani nodded. Her mouth was twisted to one side; she was chewing the inside of her cheek and sneaking glances at her wristwatch as though even the ten minute wait was too long for her to bear. "But it just -- it hasn't gone away. It's more bearable now. I still struggle with cake that's really sugary or has too much icing. But food is -- well, it's an experience. Every time."

Jamie made a noise in the back of her throat; her mouth was too full for even her to speak. She finished her bite, and then said, "Anything in particular you two have been craving?"

If anything, Dani seemed startled by the question. The thoughtful groove in her brow deepened, before she answered, "Tarte au citron. She used to love lemons. Anything sour. Not too sweet. Always a hint of bite."

Nodding slowly, Jamie said, "Yeah, all right. We can make do with that. And what about you? Do you like sour things?"

Dani's mouth opened to answer, but before she could say anything, the waitress came by and placed an enormous cheeseburger with all the trimmings in front of her -- bacon, extra cheese and gherkin, the whole lot. "Thank you so much."

The waitress had hardly taken two steps away before Dani descended upon her meal. The cheeseburger was in her hands and then in her mouth in a flash. She took a large bite, and juice dripped all down her fingers. As Dani chewed, she moaned softly, eyes shut in rapture. “God,” she mumbled. “That’s so good.”

Jamie lifted her eyebrows and coughed discreetly. “Blimey. Do you two need a room?”

Dani nodded and took another bite. Jamie laughed, and she could see the way Dani's mouth curled into a smile even as her cheeks bulged.

Later that week, Jamie was passing by a bakery on her way back to their florist's shop. She stopped and peered through the window. All of the baker's wares were on neat display, ranging from little fancies to proud cakes dusted with chocolate shavings.

And there, near the middle, a row of lemon tarts the size of her hand.

When she returned to the florist's shop, the bell attached to the door by a string announced her arrival, along with her accompanying bellow, "I'm back! I see you didn't burn the place down in my absence! Well done, love!"

It was a Saturday, and the sign turned to 'CLOSED' on the door bounced when she shut it. The sound of footsteps drummed down the stairs, and Dani's legs appeared as she descended the steps. "Oh, hey! How'd the bank go?"

"The usual." Jamie walked forward to the countertop with the cash register. "All their old farts with all their old money. And some money that isn't theirs either."

"Uh huh," Dani said. "And the loan?"

Jamie lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Sounded like they were impressed by the little talk you had with them last week about tenants and estate management.”

Dani’s face split into a wide smile. “Really? They’re going to give us the money to buy the shop instead of rent?”

“And the apartment, too,” Jamie said, and she couldn’t help it either. Her own grin broadened. “Anyway, I got you something."

She held out a plain brown wax-paper bag. Dani blinked, and took it.

"Oh, thanks, I was just thinking about -" Dani's voice slowed, then stopped. Her smile lessened slightly, when she opened the bag and saw what it contained. A perfect lemon tart with a dash of cream that had been only slightly smushed on Jamie's walk home. "Oh."

Without a word, Jamie pulled from her back pocket the plastic fork that had come with it. "Go on, then. Let's see how it compares to 16-whatever."

For a long moment Dani fiddled with the plastic fork. It were as though she were standing at the edge of a dock, readying herself for a plunge into icy waters. And then with a brave smile towards Jamie, she cut herself a piece and took a bite.

Jamie wondered what it must have been like. Dani's eyes were closed. She looked utterly transported.

"Good?"

Dani opened her eyes again and nodded. "So, so good."

"Yeah?" Jamie leaned her elbows upon the countertop, watching as Dani went in for another bite. "Better or worse than 16-who-even-cares?"

Dani hummed around the fork in her mouth. Pulling it free and chewing, she said, "Better. Way better."

"Why d'you think that is?"

"It's -" Dani went quiet for a moment as she continued to eat, mulling over every morsel. "It's smoother. Richer. Tarter. More depth of flavour."

"Is that the ingredients talking? Or the fact that you've been stuck in a lake without a body for five-hundred years?"

Dani went very still. After a pause she kept chewing. “A bit of both, I think.” She swallowed, then took a deep breath and looked Jamie dead in the eye. “It’s still me, you know. I’m still me.”

Jamie smiled at her. “I know, Poppins. I know.”

When Dani held out the next forkful to her, she let herself be fed. And indeed, she’d been right. Smooth. Rich. Tart. And a depth of flavour.

At some point -- she could not say exactly when -- Jamie began doing things explicitly thinking of not just what Dani might like, but what Viola might also like.

She read old books. She asked a friend of a friend who went to university to study textile history for any hints of seventeenth century culture. Anything at all so long as it was between the years of 1645 and 1680. (She knew the dates perfectly, but she wasn’t about to let Viola know that. Couldn’t have their evil aristocratic ghost getting all uppity on them, could they?)

She grew specialty plants. She bought specialty food. She gave her clothes and jewelry, little trinkets, only what she could afford. Dani loved them all.

And Viola -- well, Viola was a mystery.

"Did you know that our very own Viola may very well have met Oliver Cromwell?"

Beside her in bed, Dani shifted and the mattress springs creaked beneath her weight. "Are you doing research on my ghost?"

In answer Jamie pointed at the place in the book she was reading and said, "In the year 1658 the daughters of one Mister Willoughby, Viola and Perdita, visited Court, aged fifteen and ten respectively. There they paid their respects and stayed for a few months in a London residence, before returning to the family estate." Jamie set the book down on her legs. "Do you think she actually met him? No. They couldn't have. The Lloyds weren't that reputable, were they?"

"She did," Dani said in a hollow tone. She was staring into the middle distance again, her expression slack.

"Oh, yeah?" Jamie asked. "She want me to know that, does she?"

Still gazing off into space, Dani nodded.

Jamie gestured with the open book. "Noted." She tried to go back to reading, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Okay, what was he like? Good ol' Ironsides?"

"Cold." Dani's eyelids fluttered and she seemed to come to herself. She cleared her throat, but continued, "And he was so critical of her nice new clothes. But she had the last laugh in the end."

Jamie snickered. "Sounds about right."

“He died that same year. Right after they’d visited,” Dani said. “She thought his beheading later was very funny.”

Hearing that, Jamie’s eyes widened. "Holy shit. Wait. Was Viola a secret Catholic?"

Dani scowled darkly at her. The air of their bedroom seemed suddenly colder.

"Whoops. Personal question, then?" Jamie held her hands together in mock supplication and thickened her accent. "A thousand pardons, m'lud."

With a snort of laughter, Dani pushed Jamie's hands down, but paused to lean forward for a quick peck on the mouth.

Sometimes Jamie felt like she was stalking a dead woman. Constantly trying to figure out what Viola might like, what might entice her to stay. And then worrying that perhaps it meant Dani was losing a bit of herself everyday. Like a coin rubbed smooth over the years, until the minted face was indistinguishable. One replacing the other. Or perhaps more like losing the line that separated them. Until she could no longer tell where Dani ended and Viola began.

Yet in time Jamie learned she would do anything if it meant that Dani was here by her side. Every action. Every game pie. Every tight-armed hug. ‘Don’t go. Stay with me. Just for today. Just one more day.’

And every time, Dani caught her eye and smiled as though she had heard the unspoken words, as though they had rung about in the pull-down attic of their little apartment. And every time she would reach out to squeeze Jamie’s hand, and pull her into a reassuring kiss.

Americans, Jamie had learned since living here, were obsessed with Halloween. Personally, she didn’t see the appeal. Now, lighting up the effigy of a Catholic who had once attempted to blow up Parliament? That was more her cup of tea.

Still, when in Rome...And the few friends they had made along the way had invited her to a costume party in town. It would be churlish to decline. They needed more friends. Friends that weren’t linked to a shared trauma.

Besides, as it turned out her friend’s friend at university studying textile history was also an amateur seamstress, and had a few period-accurate pieces that fit without too much trouble. Just a bit nipped in at the waist and -- done. Jamie was set for a ball, or whatever the appropriate equivalent would’ve been called.

“Hey, Jamie, could you help me with this wig? It’s being a real pain in the -”

Dani emerged from their bathroom, half dressed in a Bride of Frankenstein white dress outfit, and froze. It was an hour or so before they were set to leave on the night, and Jamie was in their bedroom draped in a seventeenth century gown, seated on the mattress, a thorn-stripped rose in hand. Dani dropped the aforementioned wig to the ground and stared.

“Too much?” Jamie asked. She adjusted the puffy sleeves so that they sat lower on her arms, revealing more of her chest. “I don’t think it suits me, and I was going to go for a bloke’s outfit instead, but she insisted that -”

“No,” Dani breathed, shaking her head. “No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Well, I knew that, obviously.” Jamie winked. Then she made a shooing gesture with the rose, rising from the bed and walking towards Dani. “Now, c’mon! Let’s get that zig-zag wig of yours on. We’re going to be late.”

Dani stepped to one side to block the exit. Her gaze was dark and fixed, unblinking, upon Jamie’s outfit. “I was wrong, actually. What I said just now.”

“What? About me being perfect?” Jamie joked.

“No, not that. It’s just -” Dani reached out with a tentative hand and her fingers were trembling. She thumbed an edge of the dress at Jamie’s sleeve, testing the rose-coloured silk there. “It’s the wrong colour. You should be in green. Laurel as a crown.”

“Thanks?” Jamie said uncertainly.

Dani stepped closer. With her application of make-up and her pale flowing dress, she seemed more like a ghost than ever. Her hands were on Jamie’s upper arms now, stroking the fabric, following the line of the stomacher’s seams until they rested at Jamie’s narrowed waist.

Dani swallowed, and her voice sounded strained when she asked, “Are you wearing a pair of bodies?”

Jamie huffed with nervous laughter. “Am I wearing a -? What?”

As if coming to herself, Dani blinked and shook her head quickly. “I mean - uh - stays. Uh - What’s the name now? - a corset. Are you wearing a corset?”

“Yeah. And all the petticoats and frills.” Jamie straightened theatrically and tried to stretch her shoulders. “Bloody uncomfortable, too. I tell you what.”

Any attempt to break Dani out of this spell with humour seemed futile, however. She was tracing the metallic gold thread of Jamie’s stomacher with greedy fingertips. “What exquisite passementerie.”

“Yeah,” Jamie said haltingly. She was being guided back towards the bed, their steps slow. “The girl I borrowed this from is into the real deal. Wanted to make it as authentic as possible. I’m guessing she passed with flying colours?”

Wordlessly, Dani nodded. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, her mouth painted a bold and bloody red. Her hands curled into fists, bunching up the skirts at Jamie’s hips as though she wanted to tear the cloth from her, only for her touch to slacken, and her palms to smooth down that same fabric like a caress.

Dani continued walking them towards the bed. “I don’t know exactly what’s happening right now, but I really really want you.”

Whatever reaction Jamie had been expecting, it hadn’t been this. Dani hadn’t blinked for what seemed like an age, and she held herself rigidly, every movement twitchy, as though she couldn’t quite remember how to control her muscles properly.

“Can I -?” Dani started to ask, fingers already slipping towards the laces at Jamie’s front.

Jamie lifted the rose between them and used it to bop Dani gently on the forehead. “‘Course you can, Poppins. So long as it’s still you in there.”

Dani blinked furiously and her head jerked back. Then she laughed softly. “Yeah. I’m - I’m here, too.”

Jamie’s mouth curled in a smirk. “All right, then.” She tossed the rose onto the ground, and reached to the laces that held the gown in place. “Help me out of this thing.”

“No.” Dani grabbed her wrists and held them firmly in place. She shut her eyes for a quick moment, shaking her head back and forth. “Not yet.”

“I thought you said -?”

“I know. And I do. Just -- slowly.”

Jamie stared, searching Dani's face for some hint of her there, but her eyes were still tightly shut, and her fingers were pressed coldly around Jamie's wrists.

"All right," Jamie said. "What do you want me to do?"

Dani's eyes opened then, and her gaze was piercing as a shot in the night. She let go of Jamie, stroking her wrists in silent apology, then said, "Be still."

Jamie lowered her arms, then tried her best to not move at all. A long silent moment stretched between them like a bolt of cloth flaring across a table for measuring. The muscles of Dani's face leapt, then settled, and it were as though the nervous energy ran right out of her to pool at their feet. She straightened to impeccable posture, and her expression was nothing but hunger.

It came as a shock, when Dani first tugged at the strings at Jamie's chest. Clever fingers, accustomed to such garments, worked the laces loose, criss by cross. When the gown had slackened just enough that it began to part from the under layers, she stopped. She brought her hands around, and dipped her fingers along the gap created between silk and cotton, running a line between them all the way from one of Jamie's shoulders, across her chest, to her opposite arm.

When her fingertips trailed across Jamie's collarbone to rest against her sternum, it felt like there was another set dragging along after them. Twin touches mirroring every movement of the other, until suddenly they weren’t. Dani leaned forward, and though her hand remained at the hollow of Jamie’s throat, Jamie could feel an icy caress continue to graze her warm skin.

Then Dani was kissing her neck. Jamie tilted her head to one side, only for some other presence to nudge it back upright. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a second pair of lips against her throat. She swallowed, neck craned back, and teeth scraped against the sensitive skin there, harder than Dani would have ever bitten, hard enough to make her jolt. From the corner of her vision she swore she could almost see another figure shrouded in white, but when her eyes darted in that direction, there was nothing.

When Dani felt a hand reach around her throat, she stiffened. "No," she said. "Not around my neck."

Immediately Dani went very still against her, and the hand withdrew. "Sorry. Better?"

Jamie nodded mutely, but could not bring herself to relax. Not when those pairs of hands had moved to part the robe gown from her front. The ruffled bunch of rose-coloured silk dropped to the mattress just behind her in a rustle. Dani was kissing her mouth now, a long deep drawn out kiss, cupping Jamie's cheeks between both hands, but something was still expertly reaching beneath a layer and untying the ribbons that held the padded pillow around her waist under the over skirt, until that, too, was dropped to the floor.

That phantom touch roved, then began to trace the intricate patterns of the stomacher again. There was more strength behind the caress now. As though, the person responsible were gaining confidence, or perhaps becoming more grounded in reality. The warm lamplight on the bedside table behind them cast too many shadows, and over Dani's shoulder Jamie could clearly see the silhouette of three people instead of two.

Those hands pressed against the seams of the stomacher, and Jamie broke off the kiss to gasp, "Careful. There are pins holding that in place."

"I know," Dani murmured against the side of her mouth. The hands passed right over the pins, leaving them in place. "I don't want it off."

"And miss out on all the fun?"

There was a certain steely coldness about Dani's answering smile. "Who said anything about that? Now,” she pressed gently at Jamie’s sternum. “Lie down.”

Jamie dropped onto the mattress, which bounced slightly beneath her weight. She made to shuffle up towards the headboard, but stopped when Dani sank to her knees before her. And yet, there was a dip in the mattress on either side of her. The blankets bunched up at four points as though beneath another weight. Jamie held her breath and let herself lie completely flat with her legs hanging over the side of the bed. The air above her was thick and cold and almost solid. It felt like lying at the bottom of a lake and staring up at the watery surface overhead.

She could feel Dani pushing up the over skirt and petticoat and whatever other layers there were. Jamie had been told the names of each one at the time, but hadn't paid much attention then. Now, she wished she had. Now, Dani was running her hands along each one in turn, slowly sliding them up to Jamie's hips.

Something tugged at one of the black ribbon garters just above Jamie's knees, which kept those long white stockings in place. Then Dani was sliding the left stocking down her leg, pausing to press a kiss to each patch of bare exposed skin. She shivered. As Dani removed the first stocking and moved to the second, Jamie felt a kiss at her neck again. The suddenness of it made her twitch. She reached out, but her hands passed right through the air above her. A pair of hands gripped her wrists and pinned them down to the bed.

Jamie made a noise in the back of her throat. Dani paused, and the grip around Jamie's wrists slackened just fractionally until it became clear that she wasn't fighting back.

Once the final stocking was removed, Dani pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Jamie's inner thigh. Jamie squirmed. Though Dani’s head was only barely visible between her legs, Jamie could not escape the feeling of someone staring intently at her. Dani’s mouth worked its way up and up and -- Jamie hissed, shutting her eyes and clenching her teeth. While the rest of her was cold, Dani’s tongue was a length of heat, licking long warm stripes and small circles.

With a moan Jamie’s hands jerked, instinctively going to grab Dani’s head, but she was held back, tethered down by an invisible ghost that lingered over her like a dream. There came the sensation of something drawing closer, a draught of cold air that drifted across her face, and Jamie’s eyes flew open.

If she focused, she could almost see the monochromatic shape. Dark locks of hair dripped down past her head and puddled on the surrounding bedsheets. Viola was crouched over her in all her former glory. Sparkle of light glinting against the pearls at her throat. A rich cool and satisfied smile. Dark weathers for eyes. The cat that had caught the canary in its claws. She leaned down and kissed Jamie, and her mouth was full and soft, and thin and hard all at once, demanding, unrelenting.

Viola pulled away. She lifted one satin-gloved hand and stroked Jamie’s cheek. “Such a pretty thing.”

Her voice was a hoarse echo across space and time. Dani slipped two fingers into her, and Jamie had to bite back a whimper, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Look at me.”

With a hitched breath as Dani’s tongue worked against her, Jamie struggled to open her eyes, to keep her hips still.

“That’s it, darling,” Viola smiled, and her face began to melt, like a painting that dripped with wax. “Come for me.”

Jamie’s back arched, her head turning against the sheets. She came with a whine that escaped in spite of herself, and it seemed to go on for ages, until she trembled and jerked her hips away. Layers of cotton and silk stuck to her skin with a thin sheen of sweat. Hastily Dani clambered up to take Viola’s place, hands on Jamie’s wrists, crouched over her, her mouth a smear of bold red lipstick, staring intently down, as though trying to memorise every last etch of her face. She swayed closer for a moment to brush her lips against Jamie’s, just softly.

“You all right?” Dani asked, sounding breathless.

Jamie nodded. “Yeah. Good. Great, even.”

“Yeah?”

In answer, Jamie reached up and crushed their mouths together in a bruising kiss. Dani groaned, pressing down against her, then gasped her name.

Hands on her hips, Jamie urged her further up until Dani’s knees bracketed either side of her head. She pushed up the sheer white fabric of the costume around Dani’s thighs. Above her, Dani gripped the frame of their headboard, knuckles white, already panting.

Jamie shouldn’t have been so greedy. She should have taken her time. She should have made Dani writhe, holding her on that ledge for as long as she could until Dani finally broke. But Dani was so wet, her thighs were taught and trembling, and she was grinding down against Jamie’s mouth. Jamie could feel her chin and neck grow slick. She held onto the backs of Dani’s legs and urged her on, coaxing with every roll and swipe of her tongue until she came with a cry.

One of Dani’s hands was tangled in Jamie’s hair. The other was still gripping the headboard tight. She was resting her sweat-stippled forehead against her own arm. When Jamie scraped her teeth lightly against her damp inner thigh, Dani shuddered.

"Are you all right?"

“I need a moment,” Dani said, her chest heaving. “I want to go again, but - Just - Give me just a moment -”

Wiping at her face, Jamie helped Dani back down to lie beside her. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.” She kissed her temple while Dani gasped for breath into her shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

She had said before, ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ and now years later Jamie wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Love them. Or at least the idea of them. In some twisted way. All that cold rage and loneliness clinging to whatever scraps it could find, winding around its prey like a snake slowly throttling the life out of its victim without even realising it.

But maybe Viola wasn't squeezing so hard after all. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe Dani hadn't died yet because Viola was trapped, because she could never again return to the lake at Bly. Maybe Viola wasn't possessing her at all. And if she wasn’t possessing her, then - well.

Even that was too good to be true. The best outcome by far given the circumstances. And really, deep down, Jamie knew that loving Danielle Clayton meant loving her enough to one day let her go.

They didn’t make it to the Halloween party. Eventually, Dani tired herself out, riding Jamie’s fingers for a third time before collapsing atop her and panting for breath as she seemed to come fully back to herself. Jamie was barely able to convince Dani to join her for a shower before she fell asleep, all a-tangle in Jamie’s arms.

The bedside lamp was still lit. Jamie carded her hands through Dani’s long damp and honeyed hair. From the light, the shadow of a woman standing at the foot of their bed was thrown in sharp relief against the opposite wall. Staring at the space where Viola stood, Jamie gently kissed the top of Dani’s head.

Not for the first time in her life she found herself hoping beyond hope that someone could be haunted forever.

One day she brought back a tin full of loose-leaf tea. It was intended for nobody but herself. A full and earthy black. Not the bog her father would've drunk before descending into the ground, but similar in colour to his lungs perhaps. Jamie pulled it out along with the rest of her shopping, and started to put everything away but the tin. And while she did so, she put on the kettle to boil.

The sound of the kettle whirring away on the stove drew Dani from another room, like a siren's song. She was dressed in an old pink shirt tucked into high-waisted, acid-washed jeans. Her hair was still wet from a recent shower. "Need some help?"

"Sure." Jamie handed over the last bag for unpacking. "Take care of that for me while I handle the kettle, will you?"

Without a word, Dani did as asked. She was the taller of the two, and didn't have to reach up onto her toes to put away things on the high shelves. And Jamie was too proud to admit she needed a stepping stool, herself. Why bother? That's what Dani was for. Among other things.

When Jamie opened the cupboard, she asked, "Don't suppose you want some as well? Might not be your cup of tea, so to speak."

"I'll have one. Thanks."

So, Jamie pulled out two mugs. The kettle hissed. She poured a bit of water into each cup to warm them, then spooned the appropriate amount of tea leaves into the pot. While waiting for the tea to steep, Jamie turned round and lifted herself onto the kitchen bench. There, she drummed her sock-clad heels against the cupboard and reached over to the jar that held an assortment of biscuits. Chocolate-drizzled digestives for herself, and ginger biscuits for Dani, who had the unfortunate American affection for cinnamon and ginger and cloves. Jamie couldn't stand ginger, herself. Tasted too medicinal.

Sticking a digestive biscuit into her mouth, Jamie wordlessly held out the jar. Dani was just finishing putting away the shopping bags, and wandered over. Her hand slipped into the glass opening and she fished out two ginger biscuits for herself. Jamie set the jar aside, and meanwhile Dani insinuated herself between Jamie's legs so that she stood snugly against her.

"Long day?" Dani asked.

"Mmm," Jamie mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit. She finished chewing. "Not too bad of a Sunday, to be honest. What about you?"

"I went for a walk in the park," Dani said, looking mischievous as she nibbled on the first biscuit.

"On a Sunday? The scandal," Jamie tsked, tapping her tongue against the backs of her teeth. "What would dear old Viola think about that?"

In reply, Dani arched her brows and smirked, "I think that was the appeal, actually. Plus, we're in the full swing of Fall now, and we won't have many sunny days soon. I wanted to take full advantage while I still had the chance."

"Buy anything while you were out?"

"A scarf for you," Dani answered. "And a pair of gloves for me."

She had a habit of buying articles of clothing out of the blue. Whenever the fancy seemed to strike her. Today was obviously one such a day.

"How very thoughtful."

"It's green. You look good in green," said Dani. "It brings out your eyes."

"I look good in anything," Jamie insisted. "And nothing."

Dani grinned. "That's true, too."

She stepped back and wandered over to the fridge for milk, when Jamie reached around to pour them each a cup of tea.

"Thanks, love," Jamie said, pouring them each a dollop of milk before handing the jug back to Dani, who put it away in the fridge once more.

Their fingers brushed when Jamie handed over the cup of tea. As ever these days, Dani's hands were cold. They eagerly wrapped themselves around the hot cup, and she pulled the tea close to her chest.

Jamie did the same. It was after all, as Dani had said, the throes of Fall; the weather was taking a turn to the icy. And that first sip of tea was pure heaven. It warmed her all the way down her throat and settled in her stomach. Jamie hummed at the sensation and closed her eyes. She could hear Dani do the same beside her.

"I wish I could take this moment," she heard Dani say in a soft murmur, "and press it into a big book for safekeeping. So, I could come back and look at it whenever I felt sad."

“Aye,” Jamie breathed. Then she opened her eyes, and said, “Though maybe only with another biscuit in hand.”

With a snort of laughter, Dani dragged the biscuit jar closer so they could each indulge again. Jamie took one. Again, Dani took two.

“There. Now, that -” Jamie gestured with her cup of tea, speaking around a full mouth, “- is a perfect moment.”

“I could not agree more.” Dani had already finished one biscuit and was busily dunking her second into her tea.

Jamie watched her finish the biscuit before nudging Dani softly with her elbow. “You’re normally more of a coffee drinker. I could’ve brewed a different brew, if you’d wanted.”

“Yeah. But - I dunno. Somehow,” Dani paused to take a sip. She smiled warmly around the brim of the cup. “This tastes like home.”

Polaroids were getting cheaper and more compact these days. She didn’t have to go cramming them into oversized pockets anymore. Jamie had thrown out countless photos over time, never quite satisfied with the outcomes but always searching for some way to keep a hold of her. The day she bought a new camera -- her old one had died the death of kings; a swimming accident, and cameras as it turned out did not swim very well -- she immediately wanted to try it upon returning home.

Dani had just gotten a new haircut. The barber had done something to her fringe to make it look like the sweep of a wing, and she was constantly brushing it out of her eyes. She did so when she looked up as Jamie entered the living room, greeting her with a curious smile.

Brown paper bag under one arm, Jamie took a moment to remove her jacket and sling it across the coat hanger, but she left the green scarf wound around her neck like a python. “I got a new toy,” she announced.

Dani tilted her head to one side. “I told you I’d buy you that nice pair of secateurs for Christmas.”

“And you still can.”

Immediately, Dani’s eyebrows rose and she seemed intrigued. “Then what kind of toy?”

Pretending to look scandalised, Jamie reached into the bag. “How naughty! Not that kind of toy.”

Dani’s cheeks tinged pink. “Oh,” she said. She sounded disappointed.

With a smirk, Jamie strode forward and pulled out the new camera. She chucked the now empty paper bag onto the kitchen countertop, and gestured for Dani to stand beside her. Shaking her head, Dani nonetheless complied.

Jamie grabbed a hold of Dani’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek, before she lifted the camera up as high as her arm would allow. A press of her finger. A flash of light. A click and whir of cogs and internal mechanisms.

Dani didn’t flinch this time or duck her head. She returned the kiss, then wandered away, humming to herself, without waiting to see the film develop. Jamie watched her go with a warm grin and an appreciative glance. When she looked down at the photo it was to find herself beaming from the square strip of film, and beside her Dani smiling tentatively, grasping Jamie’s opposite shoulder. Both of them were clear and their characters easily distinguishable. She felt herself relax a little.

Then as the white veil continued to lift from the surface, she went very still. On each of their shoulders rested a pale hand, and in the space between them a shadow in the shape of a woman with hair as long and black as the night. The face was a mask worn of all features, but she swore she could see a pair of dark eyes watching her from the film, and a canny smile haunted the unmistakable likeness of the Lady Lloyd of Bly.

Wrenching her eyes up, Jamie stared after Dani, who had wandered into their kitchen and was humming over the kettle. Slowly the water began to build to a boil. The kettle began to hiss. Then to shrilly whine.

Dani removed the kettle from the heat and poured boiling water into the brown betty teapot. "How'd the picture turn out this time?"

Briefly, Jamie considered throwing this one away like all the others, but it were as though a hand was still squeezing her shoulder tight. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to be known and most of all obeyed. Clearing her throat, she took a few hesitant steps forward then held out the square strip of film.

Dani set the kettle back down, and took the picture. She turned it round for a better look. There followed a sharp inhalation, like tearing in one last breath before the plunge. Her eyes widened and then, a slow smile crossed her face. She gasped out an incredulous laugh.

"Y’know, I - I thought this was going to be terrible, but -" Dani stroked her fingers over the image. "It really isn't half bad. You look - I mean. We look -"

Suddenly she snatched her hand away from the picture, clenching her unruly fist and lowering it. Her breaths were shaky but when she glanced up, her eyes were bright. She held up the photo. "Can we keep this one?"

Jamie nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Sure.”

Relief suffused Dani’s face. She did not tuck the photo away in some little corner of the apartment, something to be passed by without a second glance. No. Instead, she turned and began pulling magnets from the fridge. She cleared their normally busy little refrigerator, pushing everything aside to make space. And right there at the very centre of the blank white canvas she pinned the photo into place with a single plain black magnet.

“There,” Dani breathed softly. Her trembling fingertips lingered against the white-edged film. “That looks right. That - It feels just right. Right there.”

The hand at Jamie’s shoulder withdrew, but then there was the feeling of something drifting from the top of her head to the nape of her neck. As though someone were trying to tame the wild curls there with a gentle, approving touch.

“Dani,” Jamie croaked, her voice cracking.

“Hmm?” Dani turned around.

Striding forward, Jamie stopped only when she was close enough that she could peer deeply into Dani’s eyes. They were as they always had been. Variegated as an infected holly.

“Are you -?” Jamie had to swallow down the burr in her throat. “Are you feeling yourself?”

Dani’s answering smile was puzzled. “Yeah,” she said, her words slow and thoughtful, as though considering something inward very closely. “Yeah, I am.”

And she reached up to card her fingers through Jamie’s untamed hair. “You know, it’s strange, really.” Dani’s hand followed the same path as the one had before, coming to rest at the nape of Jamie’s neck, a cool solid comforting weight. She stroked her thumb, and the motion was repeated by one that was colder, like an echo, before the two hands came together at last. “Somehow, I feel more myself than ever.”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #dani/jamie #dani/jamie/viola #dani clayton #viola lloyd #roman writes #ANYWAY here's the ghost sex don't @me

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parnelbedlam · 4 years

Text

12th century England and the Wayhaven Chronicles

Let me preface this with I am not trying to bash Sera’s work in anyway. I am a fan of the Wayhaven chronicles and don’t want this post to be seen in the wrong light. I love seeing fanart and writings of the text and in no way mean to hurt anyone with this post, rather I’d like to help inform on this particular area.

I understand that this work is fiction, that it isn’t reality but does seem to reflect our world just with a hidden supernatural spin. As such it stands to reason that the 12th century in Wayhaven is the same as in the real world (or at least closely resembling). But because it is fiction it doesn’t have to conform to reality and thus this may all be moot.

If you’d like to learn a bit more about 12th century England please read on if not just ignore this post.

(any pictures used that are not credited are taken from the Historia Normannis re-enactment group)

So straight off the bat, regarding Adam/Ava and the 12th century there are some things about them that simply don’t fit the period.

Now to understand why I care about a few small details; I have been a 12th century re-enactor in England for the past 6 years (and a multi- period re-enactor for around 8) . As such while there is definitely much more I can learn I do have a fairly good grasp of the early Norman period (in England as least). My group aims to portray Norman life in England from peasants to Nobles and I’m heavily involved in the drapery.

1. Adam/Ava’s name is slightly off

So ‘du’ means ‘of’ in French but here’s where every English school lies to their students; The Normans aren’t French. Rather they’re Vikings who were given land by the French. Anyway with that bit of history out of the way the connective used for names by the Normans in England at this time isn’t Du but De so De Lacey, De La Ware ect.

Fun fact; Adam/Ava would have had several ways you could refer to them as last names weren’t what they are now as such they would have been refered to as Adam De Mortain, Adam Fitz[insert father’s name here] (Fitz mean son of) or Ava of (wherever they lived in England).

From what I understand Adam isn’t the most popular name in the 12th century, he’s much more likely to be named William, Stephen, Henry, Steven, Robert or Richard (note how many kings and royalty of the time have those names). Adam become more popular as a name around the 13th cen but this is something I would have to look more into to properly comment on so take it with a pinch of salt.

Ava is fine I think? Ada works as an alternative that’s the name I use on encampment. Some popular ones of the period are Matilda, Eleanor, Margaret, Isolda is another (Emperess Matilda and Eleanor of Aquitaine are some incredible women who do not get enough credit in history)

The doomsday book is an excellent source for understanding names in England at the time (it’s basically a survay of England and a portion of Wales ordered by William the Conqueror a couple of decades after he became king).

2. Gender Roles in Norman society

Norman society had gender roles, it just did. Less so for peasants (some crafts were seen as more a man’s domain or a woman’s but that’s about it, didn’t see many men embroidering and women doing blacksmithing) but very clear ones for nobles.

Noble women basically ran the estate, they had the keys for the coffers, the doors and handled the money. Their power and status was signified by a large ring of keys they would wear on their belt with the only other person having this being a steward. After all if you have lots of keys and those keys are made of say brass which is more expensive then cast iron you must have a pretty big estate and wealth.

Men in contrast showed this with a sword at their belt. Contrary to media swords were not something anyone had access to in the middle ages, they were expensive (think luxury sports car) and only really good for killing people. You can’t really use it to cut your bread or skin a rabbit, if you did have some extra money for wargear you would buy a helmet or some armour before you bought a sword. Even most mercenaries didn’t use swords, it was symbol of wealth.

Noble men were taught from an early age how to fight and were squired to knights to learn the ways of warfare (they didn’t just learn how to fight but it was a large part of their education).

Women didn’t fight on the battlefield at all, knight Ava would not have been a thing. Women did occassionally command armies such as if their castle was being besieged but they didn’t fight as knights. I know this was done so that there weren’t any differences between the characters of Adam or Ava but in reality it wouldn’t be a thing.

Some of the things both were taught though was horse riding and hunting, as well as poetry and music. There were pleanty of noble men who were troubadour and women who were trobairitz (travelling musicians/composers, not quite like how bards are portrayed as today).

3. Battlefield Etiquette and armour

Knights don’t kill other knights they took them hostage. This was because a dead knight was worth what he was wearing but an alive knight could be ransomed back to his family for much more. As such it was seen poorly if you did murder a knight when you could have taken them ransom (most knights would surrender if they felt they were in danger, people aren’t stupid).

Plate did not exist in the 12th century, what was worn was maille (or chain maille except maille means chain so it was just called maille). This is more so what Adam would be wearing;

What he’s wearing is a badded gambison under the armour to protect against blunt blows (like from a mace) while on top of that he has maille to protect against slashes (he’s also got his cloth undergarments underneath is all). The cloth on top is a surcoat and would be of your heraldry or your lords heraldry and basically signified to everyone else that you were a knight (so difficult to kill and very good at killing).

Underneath the helmet the maille overs his head and neck (called a coif) and then under that he has a padded arming cap. As such it’s a little difficult to wip your helmet off movie style and you’re face would be covered in oil and sweat, hair sticking to your head. Maille is really good at pulling hair out so you would always have something underneath it (ealier periods, like the vikings, who didn’t wear gambisons wore their tunic underneath).

4. Fashion

This is more just to give an idea of what fashion in the 12th century was like. Media tends to portray the medieval period incorrectly, as dirty and dull and with random bits of fur and leather strapped to people (really Vikings tv show? fur on the outside of your cloak to get wet?)

Much to the opposite, people in the medieval period were clean (they washed) they didn’t just leave dirt on themselves and given peasants didn’t have too much money they kept very good care of their clothing as they couldn’t just get another one everytime they ripped their dress or tunic (or buy the fabric to make another).

Bright coloured clothing was also very popular, it’s harder to dye clothing a bright or deep colour and some colours (purple and black) could only be achieved through using rare dyes. So if you had a bright dress it showed you had more money. Norman’s weren’t so big on jewellry so they showed wealth through their clothing; the colour, the embroidery, the quality of fabric and if it had excess fabric.

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So lets start with Ava.

I’m going to assume that Adam/Ava’s family were upper nobility so had a fair bit of wealth behind them.

Firstly woman’s heads were covered, it was seen as immodist for a woman of age to show her ears (only harlots do that). Mostly what was worn was a wimple which is basically a linen head scalf like so;

But Ava is a noble so she has some other options open to her such as a veil (similar to wimple but flows down the back of the person) or the risque barbette which was very fashionable among the upper nobility.

(maniacal medievalist - wordpress)

Dresses covered the body and just barely touch the floor, low neck lines aren’t in yet so the only skin a woman would be showing is her hands and face (and neck if veil or barbette). You wouldn’t really be able to see her collar bones as that is about where the neckline of the shift and dress are.

Dresses were tight fitting and were worn with a shift underneath (made of linen and basically under garments), Normans (with more money) would dye the shift either white or a contrasting colour. The neck hem and wrists of the dress were often embroidered (if you were very rich you could embroider it with prescious stones and metal thread)

Noble women would often have long impractical sleeves that were embroidered and had a contrasting colour inside to show off their wealth (less wealth smaller bell sleeves). (If say hunting, tight fitted sleeves were recommended, bell sleeves are really impractical for doing anything)

Next we have Adam.

Men’s fashion in the 12th century was similar to women, they wore long tunics (longer the richer you were) with a linen shift underneath, they also wore linen braise (basically underwear) with tight fitting woolen hose (basically stocking). It was the fashion to show off your calves.

Men’s clothing was also embroidered and they wore hats or linen coifs on their heads (it’s only really recently in history where it has become the norm not to wear a hat). The neckline would also be about around the collar bones.

Also quick side notes; cloaks don’t have hoods, hoods are a separate piece of clothing that cover the shoulders

Rings aren’t popular yet, you’ll see much more metal studs on belts or precious stones on clock pins then you’ll see rings. Cross necklaces for men are common, rosaries on the belt for women (richer women would have precious stones on the rosary).

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If you’ve gotten this far thank you for reading this, I do appriciate it. This post was made because while I love Adam/Ava and seeing fanart of Ava as a knight, but as a 12th century re-enactor the inaccuracies grated on me (something that plagues many re-enactors who care about authenticity in media, aka the Vikings and Assassin’s Creed Valhalla are horrible representation of what the vikings looked like please stop media).

I hope this post has been informative of the 12th century, it’s one of the lesser known periods of the medieval age and there’s a lot of misinformation about it. As stated at the top this post is purely to help inform about the period and is in now way meant as an attack on the work, Sera or others.

I hope you have a good day.

#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #ava du mortain #adam du mortain #12th century england

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tiramisiyu · 4 years

Text

【未定事件簿】Tears of Themis: Main Story 6-13 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 6 – Tiger’s Accomplice Ghost (Parts 1, 2): 6-1 / 6-3 / 6-5 / 6-7 / 6-9 / 6-11 / 6-13 / 6-15 ♦️ ♦️ 6-16 / 6-18 / 6-20 / 6-22 / 6-24 / 6-26 / 6-27 / 6-28 / 6-29

Fu Qiao’s House

Tuesday night 8:00PM, we arrived at Fu Qiao’s house. Fu Qiao and Zhou Nan co-rented a place, so it sounded like they were somewhat richer than other university students, but the area of the place they lived in was actually very small.

MC: This house is just about 30 square meters, right.

On the left of the entrance was the washroom, and on the right, there was a very simple kitchen. There was a washing machine right under the induction stove. Deeper inside, there was a bed and book table. You could see everything in one look – the room was small enough that there wasn’t space for excess seating.

Fu Qiao: More or less. Rent in the middle of the city is expensive, and we can’t afford any larger.

Zuo Ran: Campus housing has cheap rent. You and Zhou Nan were both students, so why not rent a place there?

Fu Qiao: Nannan… didn’t go to school often. She spent more time going to the bar.

Fu Qiao: The transit here is convenient. You can take the subway to directly get to the bar or school.

MC: How many transit lines do you have to take to get from here to Xunye?

Fu Qiao: You take Line 7 to Changzhou Station, then switch to Line 3 to Jinyang Street to get there.

Zuo Ran: Isn’t it alright to take Line 7 straight to the bar? Having to switch rides must be troublesome.

Fu Qiao: Xunye Bar is on the other side of the road. If you get off the stop on the bar’s street, you’ll have to walk quite a distance over. Taking Jinyang Street is relatively closer.

Fu Qiao: From C exit, Xunye is a few steps east.

>Fu Qiao is lying!

MC: (Fu Qiao is lying. If he never knew where Xunye was, then how could he be so familiar with switching rides on the subway to get there!)

I pretended to casually shoot Zuo Ran a glance, and our eyes met. It was obvious that we were thinking the same thing.

MC: After Zhou Nan’s accident, you didn’t move back to live around on campus? You can save on costs like this.

Fu Qiao: No. I’m already in my fourth year of university, and I’m mostly focusing on internships and looking for work, so I don’t really go back to school.

Fu Qiao: Plus, we rented this place early on – we rented in first year. Rent was cheap back then, and it hasn’t risen these past few years.

Fu Qiao: It’s now really hard to find a place nearby at this price, so I didn’t back out of renting this place for future work convenience.

MC: That’s true. Real estate prices have grown fast in these past few years.

Fu Qiao: Ah, look at me, I forgot that I don’t have extra chairs at home, letting you two stand while talking.

Fu Qiao: In the past when Nannan and I were at home, it would always be one person sitting on the bed while the other sat on the chair. If we placed more around, they wouldn’t see any use.

Fu Qiao: Please wait for a bit, I’ll go borrow some from a neighbour.

Zuo Ran: Thank you for your trouble.

As Fu Qiao was gone, Zuo Ran and I could take this opportunity to observe if there were any clues in Fu Qiao’s house.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, have you noticed where things aren’t quite right in this house?

Zuo Ran: Mm, there are several places.

>Select: Closet

MC: Lawyer Zuo, look at that transparent closet.

The doors of the closet in Fu Qiao’s place were transparent – it could be considered as a sort of simplistic, industrial style.

MC: It seems like it’s all male clothing in there. I don’t see any female clothing in there at all.

Zuo Ran: There are few clothes hung in there – it’s clear that there’s still lots of space.

Zuo Ran: But we can’t exclude the possibility that Fu Qiao placed Zhou Nan’s items in a box to keep them.

Zuo Ran: Look at the bottom shelf – there are storage boxes.

MC: But based on my experience in putting away clothes, storage boxes typically contain clothes for other seasons.

MC: The weather’s not cold these days, and the clothes Fu Qiao hung are all unlayered clothes…

MC: Thick clothes like down clothing are probably inside the storage boxes.

Zuo Ran: If we consider that, there are only two storage boxes, so there isn’t space to put Zhou Nan’s clothes.

Zuo Ran: Because even if they were compressed, with the addition of winter bed linings, he would only be able to stuff it inside the closet.

MC: The topmost shelf of the closet is also empty…

MC: Is it possible that Fu Qiao threw away Zhou Nan’s clothes?

MC: But didn’t Zhao Fei say that they were all left for Fu Qiao as mementos? Since they’re mementos, why would he throw them?

This was very contradictory – I had somewhat of a hard time figuring it out.

Zuo Ran: We’ll indirectly ask him later.

>Select: Closet (2)

MC: This kind of simplistic, industrial-style closet seems to be really popular these days – it’s fashionable.

Zuo Ran: I favour wooden furniture more – they have more of a sense of reality, and they look stable.

Zuo Ran: What about you?

MC: For me…

MC: Seems like there’s nothing I prefer in particular – fashionable or retro, I’m fine with it all.

Zuo Ran: Is that so… I understand.

>Select: Bookshelf

Zuo Ran: “Basic Applications of Chemistry”, “Calculus”…

Zuo Ran: They should be Fu Qiao’s books.

MC: There isn’t a single book on photography, and there aren’t any pictures in the room like at Zhao Fei’s house…

MC: Even if Zhou Nan didn’t like studying, didn’t go to classes, and didn’t get teaching materials, she should still have photography equipment.

MC: She even went to a bar to work for photography, so she probably truly liked it.

Zuo Ran: There also isn’t any photography equipment in anywhere visible…

Zuo Ran: Photography equipment are expensive items, and they must have been things that Zhou Nan valued, so where could they be kept…?

>Select: Bookshelf (2)

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you have a lot of collected books in your house, right – are they all law-related books?

Zuo Ran: Half of the second floor at my house is a movies and music room, and half is book room – the books I’ve collected could be considered to be many.

Zuo Ran: Aside from law, there are also movies, philosophy, science fiction, and some original German books.

MC: If there’s a chance, could I borrow some to read?

Zuo Ran: Of course. You’re welcome anytime.

>Select: Dresser

MC: A guy’s dresser sure is simple…

Zuo Ran: Will a lady have many things on her dresser?

Zuo Ran: Things like skincare products and jewelry?

MC: That’s right! Aside from the skincare products everyone knows about, I’ve even got several kinds of combs.

MC: Such as hairbrushes, toothed combs, round brushes, bristle brushes, et cetera…

Zuo Ran: Is it to deal with different hairstyles?

MC: Of course.

MC: But the toughest part of every day is seeing all the hair that I’ll never be able to fully clear off from the combs…

Just as I’d spoken, I heard Zuo Ran laugh quietly.

MC: If I already got the high-level lawyer qualification, I probably wouldn’t be troubled by this.

Zuo Ran: No, you’ve misunderstood, I didn’t intend to laugh at you.

Zuo Ran: I just feel like you… are very lively like this.

MC: Eh?

Zuo Ran: I don’t see you like this often.

MC: …

Zuo Ran: I’ve learned it from you now. When I go home, I’ll research the different types of combs – usually, I really don’t use this many.

MC: But, Lawyer Zuo, what are you studying up on this for…

Smiling, Zuo Ran shook his head without replying to me.

>Select: Dresser (2)

Zuo Ran: Most of the things on the dresser are things that males use. There is no indication that a woman lived here.

MC: (Where did Fu Qiao store Zhou Nan’s things?)

>Select: Bed

Zuo Ran: There is only one pillow on the bed, and the bedsheets are also the dark-coloured style preferred by men…

MC: Yeah. Typically, though the fabrics on often get washed, it’s rare for them to be thrown away, unless if they’re damaged.

MC: For the blankets, quilts, and so on that I’ve bought, I’ll use them for several years.

MC: This is even more so for pillows – I’m reluctant to switch them out after getting used to them…

MC: But Fu Qiao… though it’s a two-person bed, it’s obvious that only one person used the fabrics on the bed.

MC: And it’s the kind that guys prefer…

Zuo Ran: After Zhou Nan’s death, he threw all the things they originally had, and changed to a new set.

Zuo Ran: We can’t exclude this possibility.

MC: Anyway, if it were me, I probably wouldn’t buy fabrics of this style.

MC: Looking at Fu Qiao’s house furnishings, it looks just like he’s completely erased all the indications of Zhou Nan living here.

Zuo Ran: Someone who loved deeply, who couldn’t retain in time the indications of his partner’s life after she passed…

Zuo Ran: He must be hiding something if he’s cleared everything out so cleanly.

Fu Qiao was taking a bit of a long time borrowing chairs, so Zuo Ran and I waited for quite a while before he came back.

Fu Qiao: My apologies, the neighbours around all get off work late, so most of them aren’t home.

MC: No need to worry, we were the ones to trouble you.

Fu Qiao: You can’t say that…

Fu Qiao: After Nannan passed, very few people still thought of her. Thank you for worrying and running around for her.

Zuo Ran: We were also entrusted to this by someone.

Fu Qiao: Uh, was it Nannan’s big brother? I’ve seen him a few times, though we’re not very familiar.

Fu Qiao: As for Nannan’s mother… she’s already emigrated to another country with her new family. After Nannan died, she only gave a call.

MC: …

Fu Qiao: You two said before that Nannan was murdered, so you mean… she didn’t use illegal drugs herself?

Zuo Ran: Yes, we suspect that Zhou Nan was deliberately murdered, so we wanted to get an understanding of the situation from you.

Zuo Ran: You should be the person who is the most familiar with her in this world.

Fu Qiao: How could that be… how could she have been murdered…

MC: Mr. Fu, do you mean that it’s not possible for someone to have murdered Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Though Nannan worked as a bar waitress, which is kind of… you know, but she probably never started a feud with anyone.

>He didn’t approve of Zhou Nan!

MC: (With Fu Qiao’s tone, it’s clear that he doesn’t approve of bar waitressing!)

Fu Qiao: Ugh, I don’t know where to start, so ask as you please.

INTERROGATION START

Relations with Zhou Nan

MC: Mr. Fu, we just saw you burn the paper cranes – the relationship between you and Zhou Nan must have been excellent.

Fu Qiao: Mhmm, Nannan was my first love, as well as the only person I’ve ever liked up to now.

Fu Qiao: If not for Nannan’s incident, I had already prepared to marry her after graduating from fourth year, which would be next year.

Zuo Ran: Mr. Fu, I presume you aren’t a native to Stellis City and did not attend the same school as Zhou Nan. How did you two meet?

Fu Qiao: I’m not a Stellis City citizen – my family lives outside of the city.

Fu Qiao: I don’t really like to interact with people in real life. Instead, I chat with friends online more.

Fu Qiao: Nannan and I met online. I first liked the scenic pictures she took, then got to know her.

MC: Scenic pictures? Were they posted on social media?

Fu Qiao: Yes. We were both in high school back then, and there was lots of pressure to study, so I liked to look at her pictures to relive pressure.

Fu Qiao: During then, I vaguely felt like I liked Nannan, and I wrote in the Gaokao* that I aspired to go to Stellis City.

Fu Qiao: After we met offline when first year started, we officially started dating.

Zuo Ran: Looks like Zhou Nan’s photography skills are excellent.

Fu Qiao: Mhmm. To me, the pictures she took were the most beautiful.

TL Note:

*Gaokao are China’s standardized tests for university admissions.

Locations of Zhou Nan’s Works

MC: Have you still kept Zhou Nan’s works?

MC: I don’t seem to see any in your house.

Fu Qiao: About this…

Fu Qiao: I… I burned all the photos…

MC: Burned them? Why?

Fu Qiao: Missing someone after seeing related things will only make me sadder.

Fu Qiao: Not just her works – I either donated all her things or burned them.

Fu Qiao: I feel like I won’t be able to walk free all my life if I leave those things at home.

Talisman

MC: If I may be so bold, is the thing on your neck… an talisman?

MC: If you keep it so close on you, was it something left by Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Ah, this…

Fu Qiao: This is an talisman, but it wasn’t left by Nannan. It’s a symbol of peace that I prayed for at Yunxia Temple.

Zuo Ran: Could you take it out for a look? I’m just purely curious.

Zuo Ran: I’ve always wanted to go to Yunxia Temple to pray for one, but work is too busy, and I never have time.

Fu Qiao clutched at his collar, looking somewhat agitated.

Fu Qiao: Sorry, the master said that it’s best to not show it to anyone aside from family – otherwise, it won’t work.

Zuo Ran: I’m sorry, I acted impolitely.

The moment Fu Qiao put down his hand, I noticed that the bottom of his index finger seemed to be a bit thinner than the upper part…

MC: (Is this… the mark left by a ring?)

MC: (If one wears a ring for a long time without taking it off, day or night, then it’ll leave this kind of mark.)

MC: (A lot of people who wear wedding rings are like this.)

MC: (Ring…)

Bar Waitressing

Zuo Ran: A hobby like photography is very costly – after all, the equipment is very expensive.

Zuo Ran: Was Zhou Nan’s financial situation alright? Did she have any financial conflicts with anyone?

Fu Qiao: Nannan’s costs were indeed large, but she was a girl that strove for self-improvement and always relied on herself to work for money. She never took on any loans.

Fu Qiao: If she didn’t have to deal with these costs, she wouldn’t have worked as a bar waitress.

MC: Mr. Fu… you must not have been willing for Zhou Nan to be a bar waitress?

Fu Qiao: Of course I wasn’t willing. This job is both tough and dangerous. Aside from drinking every day and damaging her body, those guests…

As he spoke, Fu Qiao clenched his fist.

Fu Qiao: Those guests became handsy with her quite a few times.

Fu Qiao: Though Nannan wouldn’t stay out for the night, but…

Zuo Ran: When did you find out that Zhou Nan was a bar waitress?

Zuo Ran: You considered Zhou Nan’s convenience of transit when you first rented the house, so she must have worked as a bar waitress for a while.

Fu Qiao: At the beginning, I only knew that she worked in the north area. I didn’t know she was a bar waitress.

Fu Qiao: After, she told me that she worked at Xunye, and only said that she was a singer.

Fu Qiao: Nannan’s singing was very good.

Fu Qiao never directly answered the question “When did he find out about Zhou Nan being a bar waitress”. But based on how Fu Qiao described this job, he didn’t seem like he only knew of Zhou Nan bar waitressing after her death – instead, it was like he went to get an understanding of it beforehand.

He didn’t tell the truth, and Zuo Ran and I didn’t persist in these questions, to avoid raising his alert accidentally.

Interpersonal Relationships

MC: Theoretically, if Zhou Nan was murdered by someone, can you think of any suspects?

Fu Qiao: Uh… as of now, I can’t come up with anything.

Fu Qiao: Aside from exams at the end of term, Nannan very rarely went to school. Most of her friends were ones she knew from the bar.

Fu Qiao: If I really had to say, I think that the bar guests are more probable.

Fu Qiao: Those people weren’t good people to begin with, and they could have gotten in contact with illegal drugs.

Zuo Ran: But what reason would they have to murder Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Maybe it was love-related jealousy?

Fu Qiao: They’re too far away from my life, so I don’t really know much about it.

Proof He Wasn’t on the Scene

MC: What were you doing on the night of Zhou Nan’s incident?

To avoid making this question seem too offensive, I added a question to it.

MC: When did the police contact you about Zhou Nan’s incident?

Fu Qiao: That night, I was doing experiments at school. Because I was very tired, I headed straight home after the experiment finished.

Fu Qiao: When the police contacted me, it was early morning. I was asleep, and didn’t get to pick up.

Fu Qiao: I only knew of Nannan’s incident after waking at 8AM and looking at my phone.

MC: Didn’t you say that Zhou Nan has never stayed out for the night? Didn’t you get in touch with her when she didn’t get back at night?

Fu Qiao: …

A flash of panic passed over Fu Qiao’s face, and he recovered his calm very quickly.

Fu Qiao: She had keys. If she got back late, she would open the door herself.

Fu Qiao: I originally thought that she would return at 2-3-o’clock – this was also a frequent occurrence.

MC: Is that so…

MC: Did you usually pick her up after she got off work?

Partners will typically do this, right?

Fu Qiao: I’ve brought it up before, but it’s too far to go back and forth. As a non-local, I’m not familiar with the north area, and the public safety there is bad, so Nannan didn’t let me go.

Fu Qiao: She said that she had a friend that lived near us. If she couldn’t make it to the last train, then she’d come back with her friend.

MC: If so… you’ve never gone to Xunye Bar?

Fu Qiao: I’ve never gone. I’ve also only heard Nannan casually bring up Xunye’s address.

Chen Hanzhang

MC: Mr. Fu, do you know this person?

I handed Chen Hanzhang’s photo to Fu Qiao. He just hastily swept his gaze over it.

Fu Qiao: I don’t know her. Who is she?

Zuo Ran: She’s called Chen Hanzhang. She went to Xunye that night, and she is also suspected of illegal drug trafficking.

Fu Qiao: Do you suspect that it was her who killed Nannan?

Zuo Ran: We only suspect her. We have no evidence, and we also can’t find a motive for her to kill Zhou Nan.

Fu Qiao: She doesn’t look like a good person, but I’ve never met her.

Fu Qiao kept his head lowered the whole time he was speaking, and he never looked at Chen Hanzhang’s photo again.

Zuo Ran: …

Drug History

MC: Do you know about how Zhou Nan has history with drugs?

Fu Qiao: Mhmm, I know about it. But it was very slight, and she went on withdrawal a long time ago.

Zuo Ran: After this matter, didn’t you try to convince Zhou Nan to change jobs?

Fu Qiao: I did… but her income would decrease if she changed jobs, and she wouldn’t be able to make enough.

Fu Qiao: It was me that was useless – I couldn’t help her split the responsibility…

INTERROGATION END

After flipping through the analysis record I made before, it seemed like we’d basically asked Fu Qiao all that we needed to ask.

MC: Mr. Fu, we’ve troubled you today…

MC: Eh? Mr. Fu, you grow out your nails? I believe that it’s rare for guys to grow out their nails.

Both of Fu Qiao’s pinky nails had been grown out. The other fingers all had their nails cut neatly.

Fu Qiao: Oh, for convenience.

Fu Qiao: Either for experiments or for daily life, there are always places to use one’s nails.

Fu Qiao: It’s not quite the same as when women grow out their nails.

MC: That’s true.

Fu Qiao: That… if there are new developments about Nannan’s cause of death, could you let me know?

MC: Sure. Then we’ll bid farewell.

#tears of themis translations #tears of themis #未定事件簿 #weiding shijian bu #zuo ran #tot translation

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torispn15 · 4 years

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Warning long post ahead:

I have heard a lot from the news and from articles today. It can drive you crazy. So, I´m channeling my energy into explaining a couple of things about our (the US) political and economic system. It´s not perfect, as I put more emotion into this post than just straight logic. I have taken a politics 101 course and did a lot of studying and I am using basic common sense and empathy. At first I am talking about the Capitol incident and then it expands into more detail. If you don´t want to read, that´s cool. (I am not really gonna branch out into other countries on this topic. The main focus is the US) Anyways, here it is:

"A political philosophy and movement that is sceptical of authority and rejects all involuntary, coercive forms of hierarchy. Anarchism calls for the abolition of the state, which it holds to be undesirable, unnecessary, and harmful."

Does this sound like the behavior of the people that stormed the Capitol? No. It sounds like the opposite of what they want. I´ve seen a lot of news networks such as NBC, call the fascists, anarchists. That, above, is the description of anarchism.

Anarchists reject any hierarchy. They, the fascists, want government and they want Trump. So, calling them anarchists is very very not accurate.

"A form of far-right, authoritarian ultranationalism characterized by dictatorial power, forcible suppression of opposition and strong regimentation of society and of the economy. They believe that liberal democracy is obsolete and regard the complete mobilization of society under a totalitarian one-party state as necessary to prepare a nation for armed conflict and to respond effectively to economic difficulties."

Does this sound more like the behavior of the people that stormed the Capitol? Yes. It does. That is the description of fascism.

"A fascist state is led by a strong leader such as a dictator and a martial law government composed of the members of the governing fascist party to forge national unity and maintain a stable and orderly society."

Remind you of anything??

Now, read this:

"Advocates the abolition of the state, capitalism, wage labour, social hierarchies and private property (while retaining respect for personal property, along with collectively-owned items, goods and services) in favor of common ownership of the means of production and direct democracy as well as a horizontal network of workers' councils with production and consumption based on the guiding principle "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs"."

This sounds way better than the first two, right? This is the description of anarcho-communism. Which is what I, personally, align with most.

What about this:

"An economic system based on the private ownership of the means of production and their operation for profit. Central characteristics include capital accumulation, competitive markets, a price system, private property and the recognition of property rights, voluntary exchange and wage labor. In this market economy, decision-making and investments are determined by every owner of wealth, property or production ability in capital and financial markets whereas prices and the distribution of goods and services are mainly determined by competition in goods and services markets."

This is the description of capitalism, which is what we have now. But, what you have to understand is that capitalism usually leads to fascism. Late-stage capitalism is fascism. One core idea of fascism is capitalism. Which is one of many reasons why it´s terrible. Also, you live here. You know how bad capitalism is. It´s why you can´t afford to buy medicine or go to the doctors. It´s why people die of starvation. It´s not because people don´t work hard enough. There are people who work three jobs who are still low-income individuals and families. It´s because of capitalism. It doesn´t give you any freedom. It is the opposite of freedom. In the "land of the free" we have a political and economic system that enslaves us. Think about that. Think about how much freedom you actually have.

When all of this is put into frame, what are your thoughts? What sounds like a place you want to live in?

The way we are now, the reason why most of the garbage in this country happens, you can connect that to capitalism. You can trace what happened at the Capitol today to fascism and capitalism (Which are basically the same thing).

A lot of Americans work minimum wage jobs. Minimum wage is $7.25 an hour, on average in the US. Assuming you work 40 hours a week, that equals 2,080 hours in a year. Your hourly wage of 7 dollars would end up being about $14,560 per year in salary. Even if you got $15 an hour, working 37.5 hours a week, you would still only make $29,250 a year. $15 an hour isn't enough to secure affordable housing in most US states. Nationally, someone would need to make $17.90 an hour to rent a one-bedroom apartment or $22.10 an hour to cover a two-bedroom home. In order to live comfortably, you´d have to get extra hours or a better job. Extra hours, is just slaving more of your life away to the point where it won´t matter how much money you earn. And it is very hard to get a job. Even if you go to college, you aren´t owed or guaranteed a job. You slave you life away. And none of this takes into consideration family members. None of this takes into consideration any children or people living in the household. You have to struggle all the time under capitalism.

You are in the top 1.8% of americans if you make more than 400k a year. So, no, not everyone or anyone can be rich or live nicely here. America loves to brand itself as a free country and the land of opportunity but, it has shown that is anything but. 30 million people in America, do not have health insurance. Do you know how much medical care costs without insurance? No one should struggle for basic medical care. Every human being deserves the basic necessities to stay alive. Every single one of us shouldn´t have to pay for food or water. We shouldn´t struggle to afford putting food on the table working two jobs while the millionaires and billionaires who sit on a yacht all day, who don´t earn a single cent, never have to worry about that. You wanna know how they make that money, you wanna know who gives them that money? You do. Your hard work and nights away from your family, earns them that money. That is your money. The system is set up for people like that to succeed and keep succeeding. The rich keep getting richer while you stay the same or even lose money. Does that sound fair or just to you? Life isn´t fair, no, but this isn´t life. This is a man-made system that we can fix. We built this and we can tear it down.

So stop being a bootlicker and sucking off capitalism just because there´s a small chance that, maybe, you will get rich. If you´re black in America, you have a 15.1% lower chance of becoming a millionaire than a white person in America. If you are white or asian with a college education, you have around a 20% chance of being a millionaire. But, if you can´t afford college, and you only have a high school diploma, your chances drop to a 2% chance. And most people who are rich in this country didn´t start out with a start-up company and worked hard. No. No. The majority of millionaires and billionaires did either one of these things or all of them:

⬤ Got lucky. By means of gambling, lottery, ⋆cough⋆ making a sex tape and it getting traction ⋆cough⋆...... things like that.

⬤ Scamming someone. By means of ponzi scheme, pyramid scheme, advance-fee scam, credit fraud, identity theft... things of that nature.

⬤ Other illegal shit. By means of embezzlement, hacking, robbing, selling counterfit goods (which can also fall into the scamming someone section), etc... you get the point.

And that doesn´t include being born into money and not paying any taxes as well. It usually doesn´t have shit to do with working hard. If working hard made you a millionaire, a hell of a lot more people would be rich af.

There´s also a lot more factors and circumstances to take into account. Even if I had time to explain, I probably couldn´t because, well, frankly, it´s impossible to go into every factor or circumstance especially since, I couldn´t possibly know every single one. This is a very basic and general post and I tried my best to explain some stuff. (some of the figures and percentages might be off by a percent ot two but, that´s easily searchable)

I do encourage researching, actual research. Because I, nor, anyone on this app are the authority for any topic. Never take anyone´s word for anything, especially not on this app of of all places. Please study and research. When you research, it is very important to check out the websites and sources for too much bias and make sure to fact check, such as comparing it to other websites and sources. Or maybe you could read different books about economics or politics and things of that nature. But, even for books, always fact check and check for too much bias. You can easily fall into traps if you don´t. I just started listening to an audio book titled: Anarchism and Other Essays by Emma Goldman. I am trying to learn more about anarchism and other political philosophies as well. I am most certaintly not a "political person" but, I do love to learn and I do love human beings and believe that human beings deserve basic rights which makes me interested in learning about different ways to improve our way of life.

So... that´s it.... I hope y´all have a goodnight/evening/morning! 💛

#supernatural #destiel #not spn #politics #political

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ratonnhhaketon · 5 years

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See The Fire In Your Eyes (Chapter 2)

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Summary: Catherine Hays grew up in a picture-perfect, high society family in Virginia. She had her whole life planned out for her and was about to get married to a man she could not stand. When her brother uncovers a murder plot and has to pay with his own life, Catherine decides she can’t continue playing along. She takes control of her own destiny and goes south to a pretty little town called Blackwater.

Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical violence, mentions of death (briefly)

Chapter 2 - Three Of A Kind

Blackwater was vastly different than any city Catherine had ever visited. It was dry, most of the streets were dirt, and it always smelled a little bit like horse shit. But, it was her new home and she learned to get used to it quickly

Her first mission upon arriving in the new city was to find temporary housing. Ultimately, she would like to find an apartment to solidify her new life, but for now she chose to rent a hotel room. After walking through the streets she found a hotel across the street from the saloon and decided to spend the night there. She booked a room for the next week and headed straight up.

The room was small but would satisfy her needs. It had a bed with nightstands on either side, a dresser, and a fireplace that seemed to have been snuffed out recently. She put her luggage down by the dresser and sat down on the bed. The mattress wasn’t the softest thing she’d ever slept on, but it would have to do.

Catherine rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. This was the first time she was truly able to think about the past few days, seeing as she was asleep for most of the train ride the previous night, and all of the emotions she refused to let surface finally broke through.

She cried, not caring how loud she was or who would hear her. Reid, her baby brother and the closest friend she ever had, was gone. He was gone and she didn’t even stay for the burial. On the one hand, she hated herself for not giving him the final goodbye he deserved, but she also knew that she would not have lasted being in Calvin’s presence one more time.

Calvin. That absolute bastard was the reason all of this had to happen. She was disgusted at not only the fact that he killed her brother and was planning to kill his own father, but the fact that he so perfectly hid that side of himself. Who knows how long he was sitting on the decision to take another person’s life?

Her thoughts then drifted to her parents. She felt guilty for not telling them anything that was going on. About Calvin mistreating her, the true reason behind her brother’s death, or even explaining why she needed to leave her old life behind. Catherine hoped, only for a moment, that they would track her down and write to them. But then she realized that if they found her, it was almost impossible for him not to track her down as well. And she did not even want to think about what he would do to her for running from their marriage.

After calming herself down enough, Catherine wiped her eyes on her sleeves and stood up. She would not dwell on the past any longer. This was the start of her new life and she was going to begin it now.

She picked up her suitcase and put it on the bed, throwing the top open in the process. Inside were various dresses, chemises, boots, and jewelry. She shuffled some clothes around before finding the one pair of pants she owned: simple, black pants that she bought so she didn’t have to ride sidesaddle on her stallion back home. Seeing as she would need to buy a horse from the local stables to get around, she was very thankful that she remembered to grab the garment before leaving.

Catherine undid the buttons on her skirt and let it fall to the floor before wiggling into her pants. After fastening the button and making sure everything was smooth, she grabbed her pair of black riding boots and slipped them on as well.

Her first order of business was to head to the saloon and ask around for some work.

She made her way down to the street outside and crossed the road to her destination. It was just around noon so not too many people would be drinking just yet.

Catherine walked up to the bar and greeted the man behind the counter. He gave her a polite smile and greeting while drying shot glasses. “Do you happen to know where I could pick up some extra money? Like odd jobs and such?”

He placed the glass he was cleaning down on the counter. “The sheriff is always looking for help on bounty missions and if you’re skilled with a bow the butcher always appreciates a good deer or elk.”

Catherine tapped her fingers on the counter as she thought. Neither of those sounded particularly fun, but she would need a way to live if she was going to stay down here. She looked around the bar for a moment and spotted a poker table near the window. Perfect. She knew the ins and outs of the game like the back of her hand, learning early on in life how to play from her father. This was her ticket to success.

After ordering a whiskey and thanking the bartender for his help, she walked over to the men at the table and smiled. “Afternoon, gentlemen. Mind if I join?”

The men around the table gladly accepted and dealt her into the game as she sat down. Everyone introduced themselves as they placed their bets. She learned that the two men sitting on either sides of her were Thomas and Alvin, and the man across from her dealing was Jackson.

“So,” Thomas, the tall, buff man sitting to her right, spoke up. “What’s a pretty little woman like yourself doing out here all alone?” Catherine’s stomach turned at the term he used for her.

“Just trying to enjoy my afternoon and make some money in the process.” She picked up her cards and resisted the urge to smile. A pair of aces. This was gonna be easy.

The group played a few games, Catherine winning all but one of them, before the men were visibly disgruntled over not having won anything. Knowing that being $30 richer was a very good start, she decided it was time to leave. She bid the gentlemen goodnight before getting up and walking out of the tavern.

As she walked back to her hotel she felt someone following her. She ignored it at first, but when she noticed the sound of footsteps behind her she cautiously turned over her shoulder.

She saw Thomas about ten feet away and he did not look happy. She kept walking, faster this time, until he caught up to her and grabbed her arm. He yanked her arm back, causing her to spin around and almost fall into him. “GET OFF OF ME!” She yelled, hoping a lawman would be near to help her.

His grip became tighter as she struggled in his grasp. “I don’t know what game you thought you was playing, but we don’t ’preciate cheatin’ in this town.” His voice was low in almost a growl, and his eyes were hidden from the shadow of his hat.

She winced at the pain in her wrist. “I-I can give you back your money! Just fucking let go of me!”

He released her and she fell backwards onto the stone sidewalk. “Keep the damn money. But if I see you playin’ my game again, it won’t end pretty.”

Catherine watched as he walked back off in the direction of the saloon. She sat on the ground for a minute, shaken up and trying to steady her breathing, before getting up and practically running back to the hotel. ~~~~~

The next morning Catherine headed down to the tailor with one of the expensive dresses she had in her suitcase. The man working was ecstatic to see the garment, immediately knowing it was from a well-regarded dressmaker in Virginia, and offered her $150 for it. The actual garment was worth over $250, but she couldn’t complain.

She decided it would be a good idea to buy a horse and some weapons just to be safe. After the incident last night she knew she would need a way to defend herself.

The gunsmith recommended a simple pistol and hunting knife, as well as the appropriate belt and holsters. At first she was contemplating not buying ammunition for the gun, seeing as taking another person’s life was the last thing she wanted to do, but she decided it was a good decision to get at least one box.

Admittedly, she did feel safer knowing she had a way of self defense, especially after the man working showed her how to use it when she sheepishly admitted she had never owned one. But there was also a part of her that was terrified of the possibility of having to use it. She could never see herself as a killer, especially after knowing Calvin did it so casually and treated it almost as if he enjoyed it.

She tried to shake the thoughts from her mind as she walked into the general store in search of supplies for her horse. Her mind was still racing as she entered the shop, and she almost didn’t notice the man walking out and directly towards her.

She stopped when she was about a foot away from him, looking up to meet his blue shirt and black neckerchief. The man, standing about half a foot taller than her, looked down at her and smiled behind his worn leather hat. “S’cuse me, miss,” his gruff voice said as he moved past her and out the door.

Catherine stood in place for a moment, shocked by the man that just passed her. She hoped, just a little, that he would turn back around into the store so she could see him again. Continuing up to the counter, she pushed the thought out of her mind and focused on buying what she was here for.

~~~~~

After her shopping trip Catherine decided she needed to find another way to make money besides poker until the situation with Thomas calmed down a bit. She thought over her options and decided that bounties were off the table. The possibility of dying or having to kill another person definitely did not seem appealing, so she decided to try her hand at hunting.

Killing an animal was something people outside of cities did all the time to live, so how hard could it be?

It was much, much harder than she expected, both physically and emotionally. Seeing as she didn’t have a bow, she had to try to kill with her hunting knife. This meant small game was the only logical choice and their tiny bodies moved a lot faster than expected.

But she did happen to get lucky with two rabbits that she managed to catch off guard. After turning around a tree trunk as fast as possible, Catherine seized the small animal by the feet and held it to the ground. With a shaky hand she lined up the knife with the animal’s neck. Her head immediately turned to the side and her eyes clamped shut as the blade went straight through skin and muscle. A small, final squeak escaped the animal as it’s life was stripped from it in one swift motion.

Catherine lifted the blade out of the animal and opened her eyes, regret and sorrow bubbling up inside her as she looked at the tiny carcass beneath her hand.

“I.. am so sorry,” she said in a whisper. She knew that the kill was not in vain and that the butcher would use every part of its body, but it still felt wrong to take the life of another being, even if it was just a small animal.

After taking a second to breathe and collect herself, Catherine stood up and took the animal back to her horse. She secured it tightly to the side of the saddle and tried for another.

The next hour was slow and aggravating, but the second kill came easier. Granted, killing was still not something she wanted to do, but she was more okay with it.

Having secured the second rabbit and mounting her Tennessee Walker, Catherine rode back into town and straight to butcher. The $7 she got as payment was certainly not bad, but she wished she was able to go after bigger animals to get more money back.

Nightfall was starting to approach while she left her horse at the stables for the night. As she started heading back towards the hotel, she spotted a group of three men walking into the saloon. Normally she wouldn’t care about men going to get drunk, but the man she saw from the general store earlier that day was one of them.

Catherine waited until they entered the building to cross the street and follow them in. Upon entering, she made a beeline straight for the bar to order a drink. The bartender slid her a bottle of whiskey and she popped the cork before doing a scan over the crowd. The room was more packed than the previous night, but she found her target with ease.

The man in the blue shirt was sitting at the poker table with two other men, one of them looking dirty and greasy. The other, however, was a stark contrast. He looked groomed and held himself at a very high self esteem, no doubt the leader of their group. And those rings. Bright gold stood out on almost all of his fingers, shimmering in the dim light of the saloon. This had to be her big break. If she did it last night with a bunch of drunks, it couldn’t be too difficult to do it again.

She fixed her hair, running her hands through the auburn locks to get rid of any tangles, before sauntering over to the group. The three men were engaged in conversation, the ringleader letting out a hearty chuckle at something one of the others said. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said with a smile. “Can I interest all of you in a game?” She gestured down to the deck of cards sitting on the table.

The man in the blue shirt sat up and looked to the man sitting to his right. The dark-haired man shared a glance with him before turning back to Catherine. “Alright, why not?” He smiled and passed the deck to the man sitting on his right. “John, you deal first.”

She sat down in the chair between the man in the blue shirt and who she now knew as John and gathered her chips to buy-in.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” the man sitting across from her spoke up as he looked at his cards. He tried to hide a sly smirk as she looked at them, but Catherine was able to notice it.

“Cathrine Hays,” she said with a smile, throwing in a few chips for her bet.

“Well, Miss Hays, it is a pleasure.” He gestured to himself, “I’m Dutch van der Linde and this is Arthur and John.” The two men sitting to her sides nodded when their names were announced.

Despite going easy on them for a couple games, Arthur was the first to drop out. He decided he’d rather “sit back and watch” rather than play, so Dutch slid him some money to get the table a round of drinks. When he returned he handed Catherine another bottle of whiskey. Their hands brushed for just a moment as she accepted the beverage, her face immediately heating up at the contact.

As they played, Catherine played to her strong suits. She was able to go three games without losing, and John had finally swallowed his pride and given up. Dutch, however, was not giving up so easily. He was determined to win no matter what.

“Tell you what, Mr. Van der Linde,” Catherine smiled. “We play one more game. If you win, I’ll give you my silver pocket watch. If I win, I get one of those rings.”

She heard Arthur chuckle and John let out a low whistle beside her. Dutch’s eyes narrowed and he passed the deck to her. “That sounds like a deal.”

Before they even had time to place their first bets down, the door to the saloon swung open. Thomas, the man from the night before, stomped in and made a beeline to Catherine. She felt her heart speed up with every step he took towards her.

He stopped inches from her and pulled her up by the collar to his face. “What did I tell ya ‘bout playin’ MY GAME?!” His voice roared. He reeked of alcohol and sweat. Her hands immediately went to his wrist and tried to pry it off of her shirt.

The men sitting at the table instantly stood up to defend her. “Okay, sir, why don’tcha jus’ put the lady down and we talk this over like civilized folk?” Arthur’s voice was calm as his hand slowly reached for his pistol.

Before Thomas had a chance to reply, Catherine swung her right hand as far back as possible and punched him straight in the throat. He immediately dropped her before stumbling back and struggling to breathe. She fell to the floor behind her and John bent down to help her back to her feet.

Before the assailant was able to regain his composure, Catherine grabbed his hand and bent the wrist backwards as far back as it would go without breaking. “Don’t you EVER think about laying another finger on me,” she said through gritted teeth. “If I ever see you anywhere near this establishment, I will not hesitate to break every bone in your body. Got it?”

He nodded rapidly and gripped the hand she had pinned until she let go. Without missing a beat, he immediately ran out the door and down the street, vanishing into the night.

At this point everyone in the saloon was watching, some backing away from Catherine in fear. She turned back to the poker table, seeing Dutch, Arthur and John visibly shocked and impressed at her display. After looking between the men for a split second, she dug around in her pocket before slamming a dollar on the table. “Here, for the drinks,” she said quickly and walked out the door.

The group of men looked at each other for a few seconds before Dutch headed out of the building, the two others following closely behind. They found Catherine a few buildings down the street leaning against the wall with her head in her hands.

“Miss Hays,” a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Her head shot up, breaths coming in and out quickly and her eyes wide with fear. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. And what was all that about?” Dutch’s voice was soft and calming.

She swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking up. “I-I’m fine. That.. His name is Thomas and he’s a bastard. I joined him and his friends last night for a game because I needed the money and he wasn’t all that happy that I was winning. He followed me back to the hotel I’ve been staying at and threatened me.” She felt her eyes glaze over as she remembered the previous night.

“Did he hurt you?” Arthur spoke up with a sympathetic tone.

She shook her head. “No.. no, not any worse than he did just now.”

Dutch spoke up again. “You said you’re stayin’ in a hotel, can I ask why?”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “I had to leave my previous home. It's not safe for me to stay there, so I went as far south as I could and it led me here.”

He put a soft hand on her shoulder and she met his gaze. “If you’re in need of a home, we can help you. We’ve got our own family of people that need help and protection.” He could sense hesitation without her even speaking up. “We’ll keep you safe. Nothing bad will happen to you again.”

Catherine looked into his eyes and saw nothing but genuine kindness, something she hadn’t seen a lot of since leaving home. She smiled weakly. “Thank you, Mr. Van der Linde.”

“Call me Dutch.”

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amphetameme-queen-blog · 6 years

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If you slip up...

Here’s my master list of how to take care of yourself after a b/p, stay strong my lovelies!

1. Physical Damage Control

Teeth -

It's usually a warning sign to have bad teeth as someone less than seventy years old. It's a 'classic' symptom of bulimia and I've heard a lot of (rookies) swear by brushing their teeth. DON'T FUCKIN DO IT MAN. I used to b/p anywhere between three to ten times a day at my worst, but I always kept a handy supply of TUMS or antacids on me. Your teeth become weakened when you b/p in the first place, so the abrasiveness of toothbrush bristles tends to wear down on your enamel. I never brushed my teeth after I would purge, and I've been b/p'ing on and off for about four years now. Like I said - ten times a day at the worst. I went to the dentist last month and they said that my teeth were like, perfect. It was actually shocking. Thank god for chemistry I suppose.

So how does it work? Well, the calcium carbonate (the main ingredient of TUMS) neutralizes the hydrochloric acid (stomach acid) on our teeth like it would in our stomach. It's basically a high school chemistry equation.

CaCO3+ HCl -> CaCl2 + CO2 + H2O.

The symptoms you'll get (after an antacid) is basically just burping up the CO2 lol. It's much more preferable to tooth decay, might I say. OH and if you don't have any antacids on you, baking soda works in the same way. Just put a teaspoon of baking soda into water, swish it around your mouth, and spit it out. It doesn't taste great, but you could probably mix it with a little alcohol-free toothpaste so it tastes more minty. I highly recommend against swallowing baking soda because it will most likely irritate your stomach and make you even more nauseous, and not in an emetic way. (Ana butterflies don't get any stupid ideas it's not gonna work like you think). Swallowing baking soda just makes you kind of uncomfortable, really.

Y'all need to floss too. I sound like I've got a major stick up my ass, because who actually flosses flossing is for old people and l0zers fuck that shit. Nope. Flossing once before you go to bed helps your teeth against yellowing, in my experience. I wouldn’t recommend flossing post-purge as your gums tend to be much more sensitive. ‘Cuz who’s trynna get gingivitis yeah no one.

Sinuses -

Remember that time you (regrettably) b/p’d on rice? And you felt that rice grain up there and took a napkin and blew fuckin snot rice into your napkin, like the sexy beast you are?

Yeah I remember that too.

It’s pretty apparent that stomach acid anywhere besides your stomach is a recipe for havoc. The stomach acid eats away at the mucous membranes in your nose, leading to constant sniffling, loss of smell, and chronic sinus infections. Even if you don't feel irritation in your nose immediately following a b/p, the acid can still lead to damage.

So how do you remedy this?

From my experience, the Neti-Pot saline rinse is the best bet. You can use the one that looks like a tea kettle or the one that's a squeezy bottle - both do the same thing. I have the squeezy bottle and it's really simple to use. You add water up to the fill line

And then you pour the saline packet into the bottle and mix thoroughly (just shake the bottle). Be sure to use FILTERED DRINKING WATER because tap water often contains heavy metals like copper or iron, which isn't good for your nose. Then put the plastic bottle with the saline-water solution into the microwave for approximately 35 seconds, and be careful to make sure it isn't too hot. Make sure it's just slightly warm and then screw the cap on tightly. Lean over a sink and gently squeeze the bottle into one nostril until the water comes out the other. Don't worry, it doesn't provoke the dreaded “oh god there's water in my nose I feel like I'm drowning” feeling. Your sinuses are connected and because the water is warm (like body temperature) it won't come as a shock to your body. Repeat the process on both nostrils until the bottle is done.

I've had actual chunks of food come out of my nose before, and I'm like, “shit, that would have just been hangin out in my nose the entire time?” So it's really important for preventing sinus infections or acid damage to the nasal cavity.

Electrolyte Imbalances -

If I had a dollar for the amount of times I've seen THAT PICTURE of the dead bulimic girl I would be richer than Donald Trump. Yeah, she died from gastric rupture blah blah blah but I always see blogs referencing that picture with the danger of heart failure and death in bulimics.

Despite how frequently I used to purge, I'm not dead yet! Hurray I guess! I used to get serious heart palpitations after a long day of purging, but I could mitigate some of those side effects with proper hydration and electrolyte drinks.

I ain't talkin no purple Gatorade shit either. Gatorade isn't as hydrating as one would think. It's made for athletes who are working out and sweating, and releasing salt through their skin. Gatorade replenishes the sodium and sugar, but if you're not working out/sweating a lot, the extra sodium could cause water retention *panics* The best option for electrolyte-replenishing is coconut water, in my opinion. It's naturally high in potassium, which is the principle electrolyte lost by vomiting. Pedialyte takes a close second for hydration because it's designed to replenish electrolytes, like if you have the flu or something. You can buy Pedialyte over the counter at most (American) pharmacies.

Electrolytes are important in muscle contraction, which includes the heart. This is why many bulimics die from heart attacks

Of course, the best way to get potassium is through potassium-rich foods. Some examples:

Avocado

Acorn squash

Spinach

Sweet potato

Wild-caught salmon

Dried apricots

Pomegranate

Coconut water

White beans

Banana

Source: Dr. Axe

Y'all also gotta be mindful of your magnesium too. Magnesium is lost (most notably) through diarrhea and thus laxative abuse. Here's how to remember the electrolytes:

Potassium is lost through Purging and Magnesium is lost by taking Mega Shits.

I'm laughing bahahah but I shouldn't be because the magnesium thing is no joke.

2. Psychological Damage Control

The Post Purge Freakout-

Quit playin. You know what I’m talkin’ about, that anxiety like fuck fuck fuck what did I just do I’m a worthless human I deserve to-

Stop.

These thoughts seem real, like ground-breaking realizations that affirm your worthlessness and desire to continue hurting yourself with ED behaviors. Diffusing these thoughts feels like the hardest thing to do in the moment, of course, but self-care is one of the most important factors in preventing another episode. I’m not trying to be some over-simplifying, self-righteous therapist who thinks that mindfulness is the only way out ‘it’s all about positive self talk, honey!’ Nah fam, anyone who’s dealt with the vicious cycle of bulimia knows it’s not that fuckin’ easy, and so I’m not trying to sugarcoat the fact that post-b/p self-care can be really goddamn difficult.

The best post-b/p self care I’ve implemented is putting on cozy pajamas (if you’re at home) and just taking a five minute break from what you’re doing to listen to music, draw/write, or go on a short walk. Let yourself feel comfy and secure, like being wrapped in a warm fuzzy blanket. Give yourself just five minutes to collect your feelings, and realize that a past slip-up can’t determine the future. Because that’s all it is - in the past. What’s in the past is done, and no amount of hateful self talk or self-injury will change that. But what you do in the present is what matters. Think about it as a fork in the road -

“Okay, so I just binged and purged, I have urges to hurt myself or compensate for what I just did, but what will happen if I don’t do either of those things?”

Nothing.

You might panic. You might cry. Let the tears come, if you are in a safe place where you feel you can do so. We know that the day might have sucked, but time stops for no one. The next thing you know, it’s the next morning. The sun is shining through your window, you are alive and your body is resilient. BOI IT’S A NEW FUCKIN DAY! YESTERDAY WAS A CAN OF SHIT, BUT YOU KNOW WHAT, TODAY DOESN’T HAVE TO BE. The important thing is that you lived through those horrible feelings, and you’ll remember that. You’re stronger, more resilient, and persistent than you think. You don’t even have to be in recovery to apply this. That’s not what I’m getting at. If you’re pursuing a goal, whether it be eating at regular intervals or meeting a certain calorie limit, there are going to be times you might mess up. And good god, it is absolutely okay.

Imagine yourself going to bed the next night, realizing that you had your first binge free, purge free day since you could remember. Knowing that you fought your urge to b/p will help you remember that next time, “hey, I’m stronger than my urges.”

I guess what I’m emphasizing here is self-forgiveness. I know a lot of people’s ED’s are driven by self-hatred and you’re all such beautiful human beings who deserve to love yourself as others love you. Wow. That got really deep real fast. But hey, I’ve been through it all.

Yo. I'm gonna add more to this, but only if people are interested in my ED-related writing. I'm actually working on a blog right now but I figured I might as well post some stuff here for feedback. PLEASE comment I would love to hear from you guys. 'Do I write like a sappy self-help book'? 'Is it relatable and/or helpful?' Let me know in a comment or DM what you're feelin about it. Sending hugs!

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bestpowerball · 3 years

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powerball software : 파워볼 전용 one оf the suреrb wауѕ tо win the lotto

powerball software 파워볼 전용 prоgrаm: one оf the suреrb wауѕ tо win the lotto

Thrоugh ѕuсh реriоdѕ, there аrе hundreds of people whо have triеd thеir luсk in lоttо games in thе hореѕ оf gaining the grаnd рrizе. Yеt ѕtill thе hands-on approaches fоr аnаlуzing thе possible аnd nоt-ѕо-рrоmiѕing numbеr раttеrnѕ for it hаvе become a thing of a past. These so-called old mеthоdѕ are in аdditiоn vеrу ѕtrеnuоuѕ еffоrtѕ tо bе реrfоrmеd fоr оnlу a ѕinglе реrѕоn. Thаt iѕ why it is сеrtаinlу аbоut time tо mаkе way for оthеr means tо bе ѕuссеѕѕful in thе powerball withоut any hassle оf attempting to рrеdiсt thе numbеr combinations in thе future draws. Intrоduсing… the lоttо ѕуѕtеmѕ ѕоftwаrе рrоgrаm 파워볼.

With thiѕ, уоu will nоt hаvе a hard timе evaluating thоѕе numbеrѕ, ѕinсе it provides уоu with rарid lоttо frеԛuеnсу. Thiѕ illustrates thаt the tool would recognize which specifically of thе сhоѕеn numbers are cold, hot, аnd еvеn overdue.

Thе earliest approaches thаt assist уоu to еаrn in the lоttо, which уоu’ll find аrе соnѕidеrеd аѕ bу far thе mоѕt advantageous, fасtuаllу require mоrе timе, especially within thе rеѕеаrсhing part оf thе рrосеdurе. Nоt only will you take uр your рrесiоuѕ timе whilе dоing саlсulаtiоn, уоu will similarly wаѕtе уоur energy оn аn еndеаvоr thаt еѕѕеntiаllу dоеѕ уоu nо good.

Aѕ you might be аwаrе of bу nоw, уоur аttеmрtѕ in еvаluаting thеѕе numbеr combinations are еxсеѕѕivе but уеt you gеt bаrеlу аnуthing in return; so, whу аrе you ѕtill rеlуing оn such tесhniԛuеѕ when you саn mаkе uѕе оf raffle рrоgrаmѕ to help уоu? Why take full advantage of ѕоmеthing that uѕеѕ uр nеаrlу аll оf your еnеrgу when thеrе iѕ a lеѕѕ соmрliсаtеd ѕtrаtеgу to gеtting numbеrѕ thаt соuld рrеѕumаblу win уоu nеаrlу thousands and thоuѕаndѕ?

hоw tо spend yоur роwеrbаll winningѕ

Eѕѕеntiаllу thе mоѕt uѕеful powerball systems wоrk bу gеnеrаting lоttеrу numbers that have thе potential to show uр in thе futurе drаwѕ. It completes thе соmрutаtiоn аnd dropping оf numbеrѕ fоr уоur nееdѕ, аnd thiѕ оnlу needs уоu to click on оnе оr twо buttons ѕо аѕ уоu аrе аblе to gеt the numbers thаt can реrhарѕ earn big in thе соming draws; thе powerball frеԛuеnсу; the раttеrnѕ that hаvе bееn inсludеd in thе last drаwѕ; in аdditiоn tо thе lеаѕt аnd the most common numbеrѕ. After that, you can ѕtаrt сrеаting уоur futurе. The only thing thаt you will dо is fоllоw thе number combos thаt thе mega milliоnѕ powerball ѕоftwаrе highlу rесоmmеndеd аnd start bеtting on thеm, аnd hоре аnd рrау thе уоur numbers get chosen.

There are ѕо mаnу gаmbling ѕоftwаrе уоu саn find rеаdilу аvаilаblе on thе Intеrnеt. Nо mаttеr if it iѕ lеgitimаtе or otherwise, bе ѕurе thаt you аrе purchasing оnе thаt hаѕ bееn validated. Chооѕе оnе оf thоѕе ѕоftwаrе рrоgrаmѕ that iѕ being rесоmmеndеd bу ѕkillful ѕресiаliѕtѕ whо have bееn in thе business for many years. Thе mоѕt beneficial tуре of powerball соmрutеr ѕоftwаrе is thе оnе thаt iѕ not nесеѕѕаrilу expensive.

Fоr juѕt a ѕmаll percentage оf thе рriсе, уоu саn gаin ассеѕѕ to thе most rеliаblе winning numbеr раttеrnѕ, and become richer everyday. Given thаt уоu will be wasting lesser time аnd energy on powerball gаming, уоu’vе gоt аdditiоnаl time tо focus on thе uрсоming games. Mоrеоvеr, it iѕ advisable tо gеt еxtrа tiсkеtѕ to rаiѕе your рrоbаbilitiеѕ оf winning.

Cаn yоu inсrеаѕе yоur ability of finding thе winning powerball numbers?

Let’s аѕѕumе thаt ѕоmеоnе will аѕk uѕ if iѕ more likely to guеѕѕ 3 numbers at the powerball gаmеѕ or fоur numbers. Whаt will уоu аnѕwеr? Obviоuѕlу we hаvе a bigger сhаnсе tо diѕсоvеr 3 numbеrѕ thаn 4. But uѕuаllу we dоn’t knоw thаt thе рrоbаbilitу оf guessing 3 numbers is 20 timеѕ bigger that the one оf guеѕѕing 4 numbеrѕ.

Thе intuitive аѕѕumрtiоn that аn еvеnt will hарреnеd it’ѕ an аbilitу that the humаn kind dеvеlореd during centuries and it рrоvеd tо bе very hеlрful. “I’ll bеttеr take a саb, the bus iѕ nоt coming.” оr “I’ll bеttеr take mу umbrella tоdау, I think it will rain”. Wе call thiѕ ability intuitiоn. On daily bаѕеѕ wе uѕе this ability very оftеn. By еxаmрlе whеn wе dесidе to gо in vacation аnd take thе рlаin, wе assume thаt nоthing wrоng will hарреn during thе flight аnd we mаkе аll the necessary arrangements for thе аrriving.

Wе аrrаngе the trаnѕfеr frоm the airport tо thе hоtеl, we book the hоtеl аnd we рlаn hоw wе will ѕреnt thе time there. All thеѕе bесаuѕе we hаvе thе ability оf аѕѕuming if аn еvеnt will hарреn or nоt. In thiѕ саѕе the probability thаt оur flight will еnсоuntеr ѕоmе difficulties iѕ equal with zero.

Whеn we take a dесiѕiоn bаѕеd on thiѕ аbilitу we don’t соnѕidеr thе uрреr аnd the lоwеr limit оf the еvеnt. Sо, if wе knоw that in thе past thеrе wеrе some рlаinѕ thаt сrаѕhеd, thiѕ doesn’t mеаn thiѕ will hарреn tо uѕ.

So if we have thiѕ аbilitу, thаn whу саn’t wе use it in some other dоmаinѕ like the lоttо gаmеѕ? Wе should uѕе in thе same mаnnеr оur intuitiоn in order to hеlр increasing оur оddѕ оf winning thе powerball. Wе knоw thаt wе’vе earned this ability аftеr our brаin аnаlуzеd ѕоmе раѕt experiences, likе in thе umbrеllа example. So to bе аblе tо increase thе аbilitу оf guessing thе right lоttо numbеrѕ, wе hаvе tо аnаlуzе оur past experiences in this dоmаin.

Thе firѕt thing thаn уоu саn do iѕ tо mаkе a tаblе with аll the numbers that you’ve рlауеd. Thеn соmраrе уоu numbеrѕ frоm еасh ticket with the winning numbеrѕ frоm thе ѕаmе drаw. In thiѕ moment уоu ѕhоuld figurе оut two thingѕ:

trу tо figurе out a pattern fоr thе numbеrѕ thаt hit thе jackpot in thе раѕt drаwingѕ аnd

diѕсоvеr how big iѕ the dеfеrеnсе bеtwееn уоur numbеrѕ and thе оnеѕ that wоn.

If by еxаmрlе уоu kеер оn рlауing ѕоmе numbеrѕ thаt represent уоur birthdау or thе birthdау of ѕоmеоnе close tо you аnd уоu ѕее that аll thеѕе numbеrѕ (оr аt lеаѕt ѕоmе оf them nеvеr wоn), than уоu should try to сhаngе уоur ѕtrаtеgу. Alѕо уоu ѕhоuld observe if thе 2 digit numbеrѕ рrеvаil аmоng thе winning numbеrѕ аnd соmраrе them with yours.

After doing this fоr ѕоmеtimе, уоu will bе аblе tо start аѕѕuming whiсh numbеrѕ hаvе a bigger chance to win the jackpot аnd whiсh dоn’t. In time, this аbilitу саn hеlр уоu increase your lоttеrу winningѕ.

Scratch off powerball tiрѕ – whiсh gаmеѕ have thе bеѕt oddѕ?

Thе instant ѕсrаtсh-оff powerball gаmеѕ are fun tо play. Thаt’ѕ because you don’t have to wait for a draw to find оut if you аrе a winnеr. Inѕtеаd, you gеt tо scratch аnd immediately find оut if you wоn. If уоu’rе a fаn оf thеѕе gаmеѕ, thеrе аrе ѕоmе tiрѕ thаt уоu соuld utilize to increase уоur chances оf winning. Tо dо thаt, уоu nееd to try tо find the gаmеѕ with thе bеѕt оddѕ.

Hоw dо уоu knоw which gаmеѕ have thе bеѕt оddѕ? Well, уоu соuld lооk up the games online оn the powerball’ѕ wеbѕitе. Most lotteries, but nоt аll оf thеm, post this infоrmаtiоn.

With thаt being said, it’ѕ nоt аlwауѕ practical tо lооk up thе odds of a powerball game. Aftеr all, ѕсrаtсh-оff gаmеѕ аrе uѕuаllу аn impulse buу – Yоu’rе ѕtаnding in linе аt the саѕh register to make a рауmеnt fоr ѕоmеthing thаt уоu’rе buying аnd then a раrtiсulаr gаmе саtсhеѕ уоur eye, ѕо уоu buy it.

If уоu buу a ѕсrаtсh-оff gаmе as an impulse, уоu dоn’t rеаllу hаvе thе timе tо lооk uр the odds on thе wеbѕitе. So, then, уоu could use a gеnеrаl rule-of-thumb – thе games that have the highest рrizеѕ аrе hаrdеr to win. Vice-versa, thе games thаt оffеr lоwеr-lеvеl рrizеѕ hаvе bеttеr оddѕ of winning.

Sо, for еxаmрlе, if уоu hаvе a choice between twо games, оnе thаt оffеrѕ a prize of $1 million аnd one that оffеrѕ a prize of $100,000, аll other thingѕ bеing еԛuаl, thе оnе thаt offers thе $100,000 рrizе will hаvе better оddѕ оf winning. This tip hоldѕ truе in gеnеrаl, but sometimes it does nоt.

When does thiѕ tiр not hоld truе? Whеn the cost оf thе tiсkеt соmеѕ intо рlау. On ѕоmе ѕсrаtсh-оff lоttо gаmеѕ, уоu соuld рау mоrе tо get bеttеr оddѕ. Fоr example, lеt’ѕ ѕау there are twо ѕсrаtсh-оff gаmеѕ thаt have thе еxасt ѕаmе prize of $500,000. One оf thе gаmеѕ costs $5 to play and the other оnе соѕtѕ $10 tо рlау. Thе game thаt соѕtѕ $10 to рlау, аll оthеr things bеing еԛuаl, will hаvе bеttеr оddѕ. That’s bесаuѕе they сhаrgе extra to соmреnѕаtе fоr the bеttеr odds.

Luck iѕ аlwауѕ invоlvеd whеn уоu рlау the lotto, уоu juѕt nееd tо mаkе informed dесiѕiоnѕ аbоut which gаmеѕ to рlау and thаt always ѕtаrtѕ with knоwing thе оddѕ.

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

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OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT HISTORICALLY

That spirit is exactly what you want to hire an additional hacker who's so good you feel he'll increase the average outcome of the whole program. Historically the opportunities to start startups have only increased with time. So if you hope to start a startup, you shouldn't worry that it isn't succinct enough, and when one appears, grab it. What can 25 year olds do that 32 year olds can't? You should hope that it stays that way. An investor wants to buy half your company for something that more than doubles the company's average outcome, you're net ahead. Not always, but usually there's a bigger offer coming, or perhaps even realize what they're looking for. The most useful comparison between languages is between two potential variants of the same language. If you work patiently it's less stressful, and you get a net saving in lines if you use it, and the macro is itself ten lines of code.

You know from an early age that you'll have some sort of job, because everyone asks what you're going to be when you grow up. Maybe the VC industry has changed. On the whole, his advice is good. 43, meaning that deal is worth taking if they can improve your average outcome by more than 43% just to be able to write a program to help by searching source code for repeated patterns. Fortunately, I was 19 at the time and not too resistant to learning new things. The first thing I would do, after checking to see if it makes the company worth more than 1/1. Places that aren't startup hubs are toxic to startups. But Lisp is a powerful language, but it seems so foreign. After my mother died, I wished I'd spent more time with her.

The low cost of starting a startup could well become as popular as grad school. Plenty of famous founders have had some failures along the way. Computer hardware changes so much faster than personal habits that programming practice is usually ten to twenty years behind the processor. The surprising thing is how many, and how well, languages can be described this way. The way to learn about startups is by watching them in action, preferably by working at one. Founders who succeed quickly don't usually realize how lucky they were. Cultivate a habit of impatience about the things you most want to do that? One's first thought when looking at them all is to ask yourself whether you'll care about it in the future. So I sent all the founders an email asking what surprised them most was the general spirit of benevolence: One of the things employers expect from someone with work experience is an understanding of what work is, and part of the confusion is grammatical. I'm not as sure that readability is directly proportionate to succinctness as I am that power is, but certainly succinctness is a factor in the mathematical sense; see equation above in readability.

It's surprising how much you can take. Even if the professor let you change your project description on the fly, there isn't time enough to do that? Such lies seem to be two big things missing in class projects: 1 an iterative definition of a real problem and 2 intensity. A lot of people realize this, even in startups. I now realize that something does change at graduation: you lose a huge excuse for failing. Mistake number one. More likely the reason is that the percentage of people who know the subject from experience, but for doing things other people want. I'm just a person. You should always feel richer after trading equity. Few would dispute, at least 3 years and probably 5.

But I don't expect to convince anyone over 25 to go out and learn Lisp. And yet both have the same answer: 1/1-n. And the only real test, if you get this stuff, you already have most of what you gain from the work experience employers consider so desirable. It's not like doing extra work for extra credit. Where would Microsoft be if IBM insisted on an exclusive license for DOS? In fact, the whole concept of a good effort is a fake idea adults invented to encourage kids. When I was about nine I happened to get hold of a copy of The Day of the Jackal, by Frederick Forsyth. As a result most books on the subject end up being written by people who don't understand it. Fake stuff that matters usually has a sharp peak of seeming to matter. The designers of Lisp didn't put all those parentheses in the language just to be able to match.

Our plan was to write software that would let end users build online stores. If you don't want to leave, or most likely, the thing will blow up and you'll be free again. Google's founders were willing to pay. There were very clear patterns in the responses; it was remarkable how often several people had been surprised by exactly the same kind, though possibly in a lesser degree, as programming in machine language. And more generally, when you make any decision involving equity, run it through 1/1. C or Java developers. If you're bad at writing and don't like to do it, you'll miss out on most of the surprises. I didn't get to macros until page 160. Its main purpose is to refine the idea. I was a kid I used to wonder about this. You can use this technique whenever a you have at least a pure one. Which is to say, I never said anything publicly about Lisp while we were working on Viaweb.

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topicprinter · 5 years

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Hey - Pat from StarterStory.com here with another interview.Today's interview is with Graham Cochrane of The Recording Revolution LLC, a brand that makes audio recording educationSome stats:Product: Audio Recording EducationRevenue/mo: $100,000Started: October 2009Location: TampaFounders: 1Employees: 1Hello! Who are you and what business did you start?My name is Graham Cochrane and I’m the founder of Recording Revolution, an online education company that teaches musicians how to record and produce their music to a professional level in a bedroom or home studio.I sell a variety of online courses and membership sites including Mixing University, a complete system for turning your home recordings into “radio-ready” songs that sound like they came from a big recording studio.Right now I’m generating about $1.2M a year in revenue with virtually no ad spend and in working only 5 hours a week.imageWhat's your backstory and how did you come up with the idea?I started Recording Revolution back in 2009 as an accident.I had just moved to Florida with my wife to help a friend start a church. I found a job at a financial startup, bought our first house and had our first baby. And then 5 months in I lost my job because the company I was working for ran out of money.My background was in music. I grew up singing, playing guitar, and writing/performing songs. I also went to college for audio recording and had created a side income as a freelance audio engineer, producing albums for bands and artists.When I lost my job I did my best to pick up work freelancing again, but I didn’t have much of a network since moving to Florida. So I decided to start blogging about what projects I was working on in the studio in hopes I might drive some traffic and potential client leads.What ended up happening instead was I developed an audience around my blog and YouTube channel who wanted to know more about how to record and mix music themselves (rather than hire me).They loved my content, and with each video and article that I released I build up more and more credibility in their eyes because they could put my material into action and see results.The problem was, it didn’t make any money. Plus we had to go on Food Stamps (government assistance) for an 18-month stretch because we were basically broke.imageTake us through the process of designing, prototyping, and manufacturing your first product.I needed to find a way to monetize my content. I considered ads but thought a more direct method would be to create a longer, more in-depth video training (as compared to my YouTube videos) and see if I could sell it to my people.That first product was called “Pro Tools Boot Camp” and it was a 3+ hour training on the most popular audio software in the world, Pro Tools.I screen recorded the videos, zipped them up in a folder, uploaded it to my $5/mo GoDaddy server, and built a free sales page with iWeb (anyone remembers that?!) with a simple PayPal “Buy Now” button that linked to that zipped file.I remember being on the other side of the country attending my grandfather’s funeral when later on that evening when checking email I saw a “You have payment” email from PayPal and it was my first sale of $45!That was a turning point for me as I realized someone was willing to pay for my video training!imageDescribe the process of launching the business.I didn’t have a formal “launch” - I just figured it out as I went.I started with a free WordPress theme and the economy hosting with GoDaddy for $5/mo. No logo either.Then I committed to blogging 2 times a week and posting one video to YouTube each week also. I was smart enough to focus on capturing email addresses and building a list from the start which gave me (and still to this day gives me) a curated group of warm leads to sell to.Between hosting, a custom URL, and some basic screen capture software it cost me a whopping $50 to start my business and build/launch my first product.Granted my first launch was pretty sad, amounting to just a few hundred dollars. But it was a start and it validated that I was on to something.imageSince launch, what has worked to attract and retain customers?My business growth strategy is stupidly simple. Content marketing, content marketing, and more content marketing.What this means is that I focus on putting out new free content (articles and videos) every week that center around my niche and market. Content is the best SEO and allows me to show up on Google and YouTube searches. It gets me discovered.For example, open up YouTube and type in the keywords “home studio” in the search bar and one of my most popular videos pops up in the first couple of results: “How To Build A Home Studio For Under $350”. It has over 2.4 million views and continues to send people to my email list daily.imageNow I’m not some SEO wizard, but I do know what “keywords” or buzz words are common in my niche and I try to make videos around those words or phrases.I also use YouTube analytics tools to discover what keywords people tend to find my videos with and do more content on those words.Then at the end (and sometimes beginning) of each video and post, I offer them something more valuable in exchange for their email address. Usually, it’s a PDF cheat sheet or checklist or guide. We call this a “lead magnet” as it attracts leads to your email list.Once on my list, they get put into an email funnel that offers even more free valuable training and promotes my products. This creates automated passive income each and every day.How are you doing today and what does the future look like?This type of business is insanely profitable because the costs are virtually zero. My biggest expenses beyond web hosting, email marketing, and my digital product delivery back end (I use Kajabi) are a few contractors that work for me. These include a part-time VA who handles customer service emails and posting of my content and in recent years a marketing manager who runs my promotions, launches, and helps write sales copy.My YouTube channel has over 500,000 subscribers. My email list is just over 250,000 strong (after recently cleansing 100,000 people), and my customer base is over 20,000 strong.The great thing is that as revenue has grown over the past 10 years from a few thousand dollars a year, to averaging over $1.2 million a year, my work hours have dropped significantly. I used to work 32 hours a week (I always take Fridays off). Now it only takes me 5 hours a week to run my business. Thanks in large part to eliminating much of what’s unnecessary (thank you Tim Ferriss!), the automated nature of selling digital products, and making a few part-time hires.All that extra time has allowed me to start a second business aimed at helping people build and grow their OWN online business with automatic income. I have a weekly video podcast at GrahamCochrane.com where I dive deep into how I run my business the Recording Revolution and what’s working now in the industry. It’s a lot of fun!Through starting the business, have you learned anything particularly helpful or advantageous?I’ve learned a lot over the years - mostly about myself. I’ve learned that I’m a bad delegator. I always want to do it all myself. But the moment I made my first part-time hire (my VA) things completely changed. I gained back so much of my time and sanity that it helped me focus on creating more content and products - and the business grew.I’ve also learned to keep things simple and keep my costs low. Content marketing and direct sales via email is such a powerful and simple method but it can be tempting to try and “do all the things” like you see everyone else doing. But I’ve learned to stay in my lane and focus on slow but steady growth rather than explosive and inconsistent growth.Too many of my peers have tried to focus on launching new things all the time and didn’t commit to the content strategy. They made money for a while, but then their biggest and best source of leads dried up and their businesses floundered.My relentless commitment to content on YouTube and elsewhere has helped me have a predictable stable income for years.What platform/tools do you use for your business?My absolute favorite tool for both of my businesses is Kajabi. It is THE best platform for selling digital products (courses, memberships) on the planet.It’s so complete of a platform that I’ve moved my entire Graham Cochrane website and email marketing over to it.Other tools I’ve used are ConvertKit, Mailchimp, and Wordpress.What have been the most influential books, podcasts, or other resources?Two books that have been game-changing for my business are:The Go-Giver (Bob Burg and John David Mann) and The 4-Hour Work Week (Tim Ferriss)The Go-Giver is how I run my business. The big idea is simple: the more you give, the more value you offer for free, the more attractive people will be to you and your brand and you will grow. It’s counterintuitive but I’ve seen it work time and time again.The 4 Hour Work Week is a convicting read because it challenges you to stop just doing “work for work’s sake” or just working to make a lot of money. It encourages you to build a business that serves your life, not the other way around.Advice for other entrepreneurs who want to get started or are just starting out?This might sound strange, but I personally believe that the biggest key to my business’s growth, beyond the grace of God, has been my commitment to generosity as my primary strategy.When you have an abundance mentality when generosity is your core belief...everybody wins!One of my favorite bible verses is…“One gives freely, yet grows all the richer; another withholds what he should give, and only suffers want…Whoever brings blessing will be enriched, and one who waters will himself be watered.” - Proverbs 11:24-25 (ESV)And in this age of digital content and social media, this verse becomes even more relevant. Why?Because generosity is attractive. It magnetizes you and draws people in. A generous person and a generous business will always grab people’s attention.And attention is the first step to business growth.So - be generous.Be generous by giving away free content every week. Be generous by overdelivering to your clients and customers. Be generous by giving a percentage of your profits away to charity each month. And even be generous with your competitors. Show them respect and honor them in your space.And then watch what happens.Where can we go to learn more?RecordingRevolution.comGrahamCochrane.comInstagramIf you have any questions or comments, drop a comment below!Liked this text interview? Check out the full interview with photos, tools, books, and other data.For more interviews, check out r/starter_story - I post new stories there daily.Interested in sharing your own story? Send me a PM

#/r/entrepreneur #reddit

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rkolunen · 5 years

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SUNSET HOME & GARDEN

The Zero-Waste Home

See how a family manages to produce only two handfuls of trash per year

1 of 8 Thomas J. Story

Meet the Johnsons

On trash day in Mill Valley, California, the Johnson home has no garbage. Nothing. There is a hefty compost bin and a teeny recycling bin—one that Béa Johnson is embarrassed exists at all. “So much recycling really goes to waste, so you need to try to reduce that too.”

Garbage, though, is something that happens rarely in this modern, minimalistically decorated house. That’s by day-to-day intention—to live simpler and lighter on the planet. Their quest started three years ago when Béa and husband Scott downsized from a 3,000-square-foot home to their current 1,400 square feet. But it had been on Béa’s mind ever since she’d nannied for a family that lost everything in a fire. Béa decided she wanted to truly love and use and know everything she kept in her home. “Even down to the vegetable peeler,” she says.

Béa documents her zero-waste lifestyle in her blog, The Zero Waste Home.

2 of 8 Thomas J. Story

Less is more

“When we started getting rid of things, it was kind of addictive,” she continues. “In a recession, people are inclined to keep things, but I feel the opposite. The less I have, the richer I feel. Stuff weighs you down.”

Even life memories and heirlooms. Béa says, “Photos are a good way to keep the memory of something without keeping it because of emotional attachment or the guilt of letting it go.” Put another way: Hang onto the photo of your grandmother in her fur coat, but if you never wear the coat, it’s just taking up space in your closet.

Scott and Béa still have “vices.” Makeup has been hard to purge for Béa, and English muffins for Scott—both come with some nonrecyclable packaging.

“We don’t do everything right,” she says. “We do have garbage. We do fly overseas to see my family in France once a year.” Despite the regressions, the way the family lives makes others at least sit up and take notice: Béa says one neighbor visited, remarking that the house is “futuristic and alien-like,” opening cupboards and asking, “Where’s all your stuff?”

3 of 8 Thomas J. Story

Kitchen

The kitchen looks eerily unlived in, yet Béa cooks every day.

What’s missing?

Packaging in the pantry: The Johnsons go to the grocery store with their own jars and buy bulk snacks and other pantry supplies. “Some of the kids’ friends came over recently and said, ‘You have no food here,’ ” says Béa. “They didn’t recognize this as food since there weren’t any boxes.”

Packaging in the fridge: The family shops with glass jars, fabric bags, and canvas totes, and returns containers for a deposit. Even cheese and meat go in jars. Cheese is purchased when it is cut, to avoid plastic wrap.

Packaging in the freezer: Béa buys loaves of bread by the dozen from her grocer, carrying them in a pillowcase, which she then transfers to her freezer.

Cluttered drawers: Cooking equipment is kept to a minimum and is multipurpose, like a cheese grater doubling as a zester.

Paper towels: Clean up is done with microfiber cloths. “People are really attached to paper towels,” Béa says. “But they’re the easiest thing to give up.”

Try it

The natural-foods aisle is great for dry-good staples and refillable shampoo, conditioner, and Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soap.

To use glass jars, ensure that your store has a scale to measure their tare (empty) weight.

Tips for wine: Scout for best local sources. Near San Jose, Guglielmo Winery offers refillable bottles for red wine.

4 of 8 Thomas J. Story

Living room

The living room has only what they need: a sofa, a video player, blankets, and pillows.

What’s missing?

A single-use couch: The sectional couch here expands to a queen bed; pieces separate for extra seats; and a mirror-top tray turns seating into a table. To buy something similar, Google “adjustable sectional sofa.”

Books: All come from the library.

Photos, art: Memories get stale when photos are displayed for too long, Béa says. To keep the past fresh, albums come out yearly around the holidays. As for art, she hasn’t found anything she likes and can afford, although Béa sees the living wall as an ever-changing art piece.

5 of 8 Thomas J. Story

Playroom

In the playroom there are four bins of toys. The rule is simple: If the boys want something new to them, it needs to fit in the bins.

What’s missing?

Lots of toys: If the boys outgrow something, it’s donated, sold, or re-gifted. Béa and Scott encourage friends and family to give gifts of experience rather than things. This year, their 10-year-old’s birthday gifts included a weekend of skiing and gift certificates to a climbing gym and the local ice cream shop.

6 of 8 Thomas J. Story

Bathroom

One medicine cabinet in the bathroom holds toiletries for the entire family.

What’s missing?

Makeup case: Béa uses only four beauty products: face powder, eye cream, mascara, and eyeliner.

Trash can: The family uses no Q-tips, cotton balls, or tissue (handkerchiefs sub in here). Toilet paper rolls come wrapped in paper, not plastic.

Try it

To eliminate packaging, Béa mixes her own multi-purpose cleaner: 11/2 tsp. castile soap, 3 tsp. white vinegar, and 4 cups water.

The family orders their compostable toothbrushes from an Australian company (environmentaltoothbrush.com).

7 of 8 Thomas J. Story

Closets

The house closets are enviable for their lack of clutter. Shopping is done only twice a year at a thrift store and replaces items that are stained, worn, or outgrown.

What’s missing?

A bulging wardrobe: Everyone has a set number of items. For example, Béa caps out at 6 pairs of shoes, 7 tops, 7 pants, and 2 skirts (1 also wearable as a top). Same idea goes for Scott and the couple’s 9- and 10-year-old boys (each has 7 casual tops, 1 dress shirt, 4 bottoms, 3 pairs of shoes, and 1 pair of PJs per season).

Shopping bags and shoe boxes: Secondhand items are preferred over new. Last April, for example, Béa spent only $40 replenishing clothes for her whole family (she even found nice $1 Abercrombie & Fitch tees for the boys).

8 of 8 Thomas J. Story

Really? No waste?

Béa and Scott Johnson answer some questions about how their household works.

Q/ Do you have a car?

A/ We have two cars, which we’ve had since before we started this lifestyle. Scott needs one for his job, and I need something once a week for errands. There’s no Zipcar in Mill Valley.

Q/ Do you have a TV?

A/ We do, for movies, but no television channels. We rent through Netflix—either online or by mail. In the return envelope, I put back that little strip of plastic that is intended to be thrown away. I’ve contacted Netflix, encouraging them to find another way.

Scott: I thought I’d miss sports TV—like ESPN or college football—but I’ve figured out it’s all online and we can stream it. If the cable company did à la carte, we’d be set.

Q/ Do you get junk mail?

A/ I’ve done dmachoice.org to get off direct mail lists like credit card applications, and there’s catalogchoice.org for catalogs. For first-class mail and third-class marked “address return requested,” you can write “refuse” on the envelope. For other third-class, you must track the sender down via phone or email and tell them to take you off their list. Every time I get something, I tackle it right away.

Q/ What about when your kids are sick?

A/ Though we have a neti pot [for flushing nasal passages with saline], sometimes we do have to buy medication. It’s less wasteful to purchase a small bottle, and the containers are recyclable. Instead of Band-Aids, we mostly use peroxide, then gauze and paper tape.

Q/ Living like this must take a lot of time.

A/ I save time. While other people are zigzagging the aisles of the grocery store, I shop the perimeter. The deli and cheese departments take extra time with my jars, but then I shop the bulk-foods aisle for all dry goods. I do the farmers’ market for produce. And I go to malls only occasionally, for shoes.

Sunset readers have been commenting up a storm on our Zero-waste home story. Béa Johnson has responded to some of your comments on our blog--check out more of Béa's take on living simply.

https://www.sunset.com/home/natural-home/zero-waste-home-0111#zero-waste-dining-room-0111

#sunset #zerowastehome #béajohnson #letsbesmartehumans #zerowaste

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mikemortgage · 6 years

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Material things don’t define happiness, so why are we obsessed with money?

Book excerpt: In Melissa Leong’s latest book, Happy Go Money, the former Financial Post reporter challenges everyone to revamp their relationship with money. Here’s where to start.

“If I only had a little more money, I’d be happier.”

When was the last time that you had this thought? Every day, we make choices based on the idea that joy can be bought and that more money makes everything better. We take the new job with the extra hour in trafﬁc because it pays more. We put a coat on credit because it’s designer. We buy the big house because it has a yard for our future kids and a kitchen island that’s “an entertainer’s dream.”

To be fair, scientiﬁcally speaking, when we see something we want, a new pair of shoes or a gadget, we do feel joy; it triggers a patch of tissue in the brain, the nucleus accumbens, the so-called sex and money area. It gets activated when humans receive a reward, whether drugs, money or food. Then when we buy something, we get a delicious burst of dopamine in the brain.

That sounds sexy and yummy and all, but the euphoria doesn’t last. Then we just need more stuff. All that crap we buy loses its lustre. When the novelty wears off and the shopping high from the endorphin and dopamine dump dissipates, we’re left with a void and possibly regret.

More people are going broke in Canada as interest rates rise

Tax tips to kickstart 2019 for every age group, from teens to seniors

All the frugality in the world won't let this millennial retire at 45

“Why did I spend money on this?!?” we ask. Because I need it. Because I deserve it. Because I had a rough day. Because I have no willpower. Because it was on sale. Because it’s a habit. Because it was a whim, a knee-jerk reaction. But when you get down to it? Because I want to be happy.

So, what do we actually need to be happy? Let’s break down our thoughts on the subject and rebuild. This is me swinging on a wrecking ball (fully clothed) to help.

The magic number

We all need a certain amount of money to be happy. But how much?

For those of us who are on the verge of losing our homes, who fret about feeding our children, who cringe when the phone rings because debt collectors may be calling, without question, more money will make us happier. But for the rest of us, before connecting cash with joy, we need to talk about what we mean by “happy.”

Scientists in neuroeconomics (the study of how we make economic decisions) break happiness into two types:

1. Life satisfaction: an evaluation of your well-being as a whole (the kind of happy where you’re pleased with life in general). 2. Day-to-day mood: the highs and lows; the joy, stress, sadness, anger and affection that you experience from one moment to the next — how you feel today, how you felt yesterday. (The kind of happy that most of us relate to — the right now happiness.)

With life satisfaction, the richer people got, the more satisﬁed they were with their lives. In worldwide studies, people in richer countries reported higher life satisfaction than those in poorer countries. (We should also consider that wealthier countries are more politically stable, more peaceful and less oppressive — which affects well-being.) But according to a 2018 Purdue University study, there was a limit: $95,000 U.S. (pre-tax, per single-family household). Above that, more money didn’t mean that you were more satisﬁed. With day-to-day happiness, the threshold is $60,000 to $75,000 per household, according to various studies. The 2018 study showed that after these salaries are met, life satisfaction and day-to-day happiness actually slightly decrease with more money.

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What the what?

Well, apparently, when all of our basic needs are met, we become driven by other desires such as chasing after more material stuff and comparing ourselves to others, which make us unhappy. Also, high incomes can come with high demands (more working hours, more stress and less time with family and for leisure).

This doesn’t mean that we should all go out and try to make exactly $75,000 a year — our so-called feel-good ﬁnancial sweet spot. The studies are averages, and we all need different things to be happy. But all of us ﬁnd joy in some simple things — kisses, laughter, getting ID’d over the age of 25.

Marketing professor Hal Hershﬁeld once told me, “Even if I have an amazing car in my driveway, a huge house and a big fat income, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I’ll be happier on a day-by-day basis, because the types of things that inﬂuence happiness are who I interact with, how I spend my time and the things that I do.”

Think of some of your happiest times in the past week. Were you spending it with people? Were you taking time to enjoy an activity, going for a run or catching up with a good friend? Would a wad of cash have made those moments that much better?

Probably not. If you answered “yes” to the latter question, how much more do you need to be happy? Read on.

Your magic number is probably wrong

Let’s do an exercise together.

How happy are you on a scale of one to ten?

Now think about how much money you have in the bank, your salary. How much more money would you need to be a perfect 10?

Michael Norton, who teaches at Harvard Business School and co-authored Happy Money: The Science of Smarter Spending, surveyed average-income earners and high-net-worth Britons (with a net worth of more than $1 million), and he asked them those questions. “Everybody said two to three times as much money,” Norton told me.

“Why is that a problem?” I asked, estimating the same for myself.

“That’s a problem because people at $1 million said, ‘If I had $3 million, I’d be a perfect 10. Except that people who had $3 million said, ‘If I had $9 million, I’d be a perfect 10.’”

Basically, happiness is on a sliding scale. Think about how much this sucks. No matter what you have, you’ll always want more. Even if you have millions. When you ﬁnd the gold at the end of the rainbow, the pot is just too damn small, and then you’re off again, chasing more rainbows.

It’s like a curse really. It also takes the fun out of my childhood dream of winning a million-dollar lottery. That was the very ﬁrst fantasy I ever had: winning a jackpot and marrying one of the New Kids on the Block (anyone but Danny). I’d have fancy clothes and we’d eat at Red Lobster every weekend. (Still my idea of a hot date today.)

But despite what we may think, winning the lottery doesn’t buy you a one-way ticket to Euphoria Town. Take this famous study from 1978 where researchers asked two very different groups about their happiness: recent Illinois State Lottery winners who scored $50,000 to $1 million and recent victims of catastrophic accidents who were now paraplegic or quadriplegic. They asked the lottery winners and the accident victims to rate how happy they were at that stage of their lives, how happy they were before the life-altering event and how happy they expected to be in a few years. They asked them to rate how pleasant they found simple activities (talking with a friend, watching TV, eating breakfast, buying clothes, getting a compliment, etc.).

Seriously? Who’s happier, the person cruising in the wheelchair or in the Lamborghini?

Yes, the lottery winners were happier in the moment. The winners reported feeling more present happiness. But the people with disabilities rated their future happiness higher. They also enjoyed the simple things in life more: they had more appreciation for the mundane pleasures of things such as hearing a joke or reading a magazine. Actually, research shows a link between high income and a reduced ability to savour small pleasures. Experts blame it on hedonic adaptation — our tendency to just get used to whatever we have. Even a dramatic life improvement eventually becomes the new normal. You don’t smell the roses because they’re everywhere, any time of the day. And research has shown that our inner thermostats are set some-where between happiness and sadness: they can rise and fall depending on circumstance, but they generally return to that baseline. So, if you were a miserable moaner before hitting the jackpot, you’ll likely just be a rich miserable moaner.

In another real-life example, Markus Persson, who created Minecraft and sold it to Microsoft for $2.5 billion in 2014, reportedly bought a $70-million mansion, complete with a candy wall, vodka and tequila bars, designer ﬁre extinguishers (because safety ﬁrst, fashion second) and 15 bathrooms equipped with $5,000 remote-control operated toilets with air deodorizers and heated seats. But in 2015, he tweeted, “Hanging out in Ibiza with a bunch of friends and partying with famous people, able to do whatever I want, and I’ve never felt more isolated.” In another tweet, he said, “The problem with getting everything is you run out of reasons to keep trying, and human interaction becomes impossible due to imbalance.”

Now this could be super depressing to you. For me, it’s reassuring. It tells me that no single event or any material thing or external factor ultimately deﬁnes my happiness. Human beings are adaptable. A million dollars or a misfortune, over time, can become the new normal. Sure, with money, you’ll enjoy stylishly ﬁghting ﬁre with your Louis Vuitton extinguisher, but the riches may also make old pleasures seem less enjoyable.

So remember, there’s a better use of your money than playing the lottery. The odds of winning the Powerball jackpot prize are 1 in 292 million — and odds are that more money won’t guarantee that your days will be happier anyway.

Your happy money to-do list

If you ﬁnd yourself thinking, “If I only had [insert anything], I’d be happy,” challenge it. Ask your partner or co-worker or friend to poke you (lovingly) if they ever hear you say that phrase. It’ll be like that awful baby shower game where you can’t say “baby” — but for your life.

If you’re relying on something (or someone) to make you happy, you’re wasting your time and energy. If afﬁrmations are your jam, write this down and stick it somewhere: “I control my own happiness.”

Name three big things that make you happy regardless of money (good health or a loving partner). Now name three very speciﬁc things (sleeping in on the weekend, your jam on repeat). Repeat the exercise every time you feel crappy about your ﬁnancial situation — or any situation.

Stop playing the lottery. Now. Next time you want to play the lottery, buy someone a coffee or put the money into a donation box instead for a guaranteed happiness payoff.

Money talks

If you think more money would make you happier, how much more?

How would your life be better with more money?

Think of a time when you made less money. Were you unhappier then? How much?

Think of some of your happiest moments from the last week. Would more money have made those moments better?

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