#she literally just put out a notice that she was retiring in february

[neverbeforeandneversince]

just found out that my therapist passed away this morning 💔🙏🏼

[sor-vette]

two, down!! (index/description)

☜ one, strike!!

☞ three, an all-out fight club!!

It was the middle of February. The month of perpetual grey and rain. It tapped against the small cubic window of your bedroom as you laid in bed reading the text.

Erik: "Meeting, you and me. Main building. Now! Wear something without any blood on it. 😘"

The phone falls out of your hands and smacks you in the middle of the nose.

"Ow."

***

You already see Erik in the distance. A bright red shirt flowing around him like a drape in the frequent bursts of wind. Across the river, he looks like a will-o'-the-wisp and you can't help but be increasingly apprehensive about what has he planned.

You get off the bus in the middle of the bridge, stop and glare at the circular high rise. Legally known as Bighit - an independent advisory firm for various claims, to the large variety of your clientele it was BH - vigilante made business. Briefly put a vast clockface with thousands of cogs spinning both on the own and tandem with others. It looked and sounded and you knew it to be an imposing organization. Nevertheless, you entertained the idea of how would this company would fall and could it be possible to burn down all the spider webs it has formed in the now 22 years of its existence.

"Good morning!" Erik beams widely, trembling in the wind. His pirate shirt not doing anything to help the situation. In his hands, there is a thick brown folder. The sight of it begins a gnawing motion in the stomach.

"What are you doing?" you ask suspiciously, studying his face for any giveaway. Which of course there were a lot. He was still young both in the field and age. The little runt was mostly brazen, often impolite and careless. But now, now, he was nervous. Maybe it wasn't even the weather that had him shaking like a leaf.

"Oh, I'm taking my enrollment review today. In 20 minutes to be precise."

What was gnawing had turned into a stone that travelled up, ignoring the gravity, and settled deep in your chest pressing down and creating a hole. A horrible numb feeling that you'd hoped you wouldn't feel again. And again. And again. And now once more.

"Oh."

You take a moment to force your voice to remain unfazed but even to your own ears, it sounds too hoarse and slow.

"Don't you need my referral?"

"I asked Olga." Yes. Olga. That's why you didn't know.

"So let's go up?" if Erik had a tail it would wag at lighting speed. He is not just nervous but positively jittery. You had seen him this happy...never. Yeah, this was the first time. When he would officially enrol in another department, at best giving you a clap on the back for all the trouble caused and moved on. In a week he would give you a distant wave, in a month maybe a nod if you passed by in a hallway, in half a year it'll be like you never even existed.

You nod quietly entering the glass doors. BH was a massive, subtly hidden maze, much like the overall organization. By the schematics and the layout, no one would give a second thought that it would be more than just an ordinary office firm. But of course, what they didn't know and what was a closely guarded secret were the literal hundreds of small alcoves and passes hidden within the walls. Meant for in case of a sudden police raid. Not to mention the literal escape tunnel that stretched underneath the river you just passed. No one knew exactly how it looked like or how it was even built. Some said it was an abandoned underground transit system from WW2, others said that it was built in the early years of the BH establishment having cost literal billions. But no one knew the truth. Even Namjoon had shrugged when you asked him, long ago already.

In silence, you both take the escalator upwards. To the 25th floor, a.k.a. the 7th department - the literal heads of the system. The building usually had hundreds of people running from one place to another but even so, this was a large commotion for an event this small.

In the doorways there stands a tall woman and you nearly bite your tongue off at the sight of her ramrod back.

"Petsch." You growl and Erik beside you throws a surprised glance.

She turns around almost immediately. As if hearing you or just sensing your presence like the ill-bred Cerberus that she was.

"Hello, .̴̭͙̪̻̈́.̸̮̟̳̐͆͘͠.̶͚̉͛.̸̺̞̉͐̈́̐͋.̶̟̻̺̽͛̒̚.̷̗̱̃.̶̮͚̼̾͜͜.̷͉̋̈́̐̔͝.̵͖͛̓͆.̷̼̲̥̙͆̊̊͝͝.̸̢͕̔.̸̜̜̲͈̅͜͠.̵̱̤̆̑͘.̸͖̰̣͈̾̊̈́́́ " Her glee is almost maniacal as she power walks towards your little group.

"Deputy Petsch. How wonderful to grace our Earthly realm with your presence. I did wonder why it looked like the skies were weeping."

"It's Chief of Staff now," she corrects getting even closer, "to no one's surprise I've been promoted while you've been demoted."

"Yes, I can see the stress of the new position. Or is that just your face?"

In the corner of your eye, you can see Erik standing completely still, his head darting from one speaker to another bemused.

"As the Chief of Staff, I'm here to evaluate your...pet." Erik gives a silent wave and Rosaline narrows her eyes, most likely not knowing what to make of him.

"What happened to Michael?" Petsch scoffs at your question.

"He retired to live with his family so much so for living a dignified life." You straighten stubbornly at the newly given information. Erik's hands are still lightly trembling, along with the file in his hand.

"Interesting. I will attempt corporation." You push out through gritted teeth but immediately get one of Rosaline's bony vulture fingers thrust in your face.

"Don't even try to sweet talk me!"

In return, you snap your fingers near her outstretched hand. A gesture you would normally never do but it was Rosaline. Anything but an abnormal reaction could ward off this lietonis off your neck. (a/n)

"I tried to be peaceful. Well then. Let's. Begin." She huffs and puffs and then stalks over to the lecture hall, her tight blonde ponytail swinging like the world's most obnoxious metronome.

Erik stands silently for a few short moments before -

"The fuck was that about?" You hide your face in the palm of your hand. If Rosaline was here for the panel review then this little fucker had no idea what was coming.

"Rosaline and I have what you would call an uncivil work relationship."

"A rivalry?"

"No, a rivalry with another woman would be inherently attractive. Rosaline just...sucks the lifeforce out of me like a goddamn Dementor." Erik chuckles at the sight of your displeasure but a quiet bell coming from within the lecture hall stills him again.

"Please all attendees take your seat! We're about to start soon!" A faceless voice calls over the crowd and the unpleasant feeling that Petsch managed to eradicate away for a moment returns worse than ever. Your own hands begin to mutely tremble. Erik looks close to passing out.

"You're going to be fine." You say gently bumping into him, "you're my trainee after all."

***

Oh, he's going to be not fine at all.

For some reason, the hall is literally stuffed with attendees.

The enrollment panel reviews despite the name, yes, was actually an open doors event. Much like an undergrad presenting a thesis it had a panel of judges and a crowd of listeners. Usually, it was limited to other potential interviewees who wanted to get a sneak peek in the twisted action to come but the number of people was 5 if not 10 times more audience than what you've ever been in.

Truth be told you never knew how friendly Erik was with other departments but even if he was a magnet surely this crowd was too massive.

With a rapidly rising anxiety, you start to pick out familiar faces. Some of them your trainees and previous teammates, some who gave you a stink eye, and then some with whom you didn't want to interact.

On the third row there sits Jungkook and sweet Jesus what were they feeding him in the footsoldier department. He was now almost twice as large as he had been when you last saw him. One tap of those arms and you'd be in an automatic knockout. Behind him sits Jimin, also looking confused as to why he's here. Which is somehow even more offputting considering he's the one who decided to be here. In the back rows, there is Jin, face hidden in his hands, large sunglasses pushed atop of his head. The only reason why you recognize him at all is that those very sunglasses had "JIN" in large letters above the rim. Naturally.

At this point, your insides are just a gaping screaming void of pure social terror as you start to suspect they were all here. While scanning the crowd you notice an orange fleck that is surrounded by a gaggle of students who eagerly listen to every falling word. That would be Hope. And far closer to the seat that you wanted to take sits V. For reasons unknown he was perched in the first row, fiddling with the strap of the camera. The last thing you want is to meet that vitriolic, judgmental stare of his but it would be unfair to Eric to sit anywhere else. The supervisor, even the one who had no idea that the review was taking place and did not actually write the referral, always sat in the front. The little scamp should have at least that.

You sit down stiffly with your hands bunched up in fists and shoulders tightened to the point where it was almost painful. V pretends he doesn't recognize you. You turn around once again to look over the crowd, almost meeting Jungkook's gaze but he suddenly finds his shoes to be the most captivating image in the world. Jin nearly takes off his jaw while ducking below the chair line and Hope is still surrounded by his devoted students. Jimin is persistent in looking disoriented.

In the faraway upper back, behind the fifteen rows of cascading seats, there is a second door. Slightly ajar and leading to complete darkness but you can swear there is a hand holding the doors open. For a moment you wonder who would hide away in a dark side room only to silently observe everyone but then you know exactly who. Yoongi. You whip around so fast the chair makes a loud squeak. In the peripheral vision, you make out a movement from V but he turns back to the camera without a second thought.

No, Erik was in deep trouble. The panel of judges or should you say evaluators was much too high standing for the first time enrolment. Rosaline Petsch's choice of coming here could be attributed to her being a harpy. Sure. Namjoon, although a CEO was known to just arrive at small scale events, to fully support his staff and also fully give them untreatable heart conditions. But the following had no place being here: Rhys Bethany, the key speaker of yesterday's anniversary and the head of Internal Affairs. Rahul Singh, chief of Communications. Tamira Johnson, head of International Affairs. Shen Qiongzi, head of Large Operations management. And two others whom you didn't even recognize. These were some of the biggest names of the entire organization and also the most bewildering. Strictly speaking, none of them had any input on the hiring or the enrolment process. The matters far, far below their usual duties.

Why were they here? Had Namjoon invited them? Why would he? Because he was still angry at you and was punishing Erik for it? He wouldn't do that but would he? Were you being narcissistic for thinking it had anything to do with you??

Whatever the answer was, hearing the last bell ring and seeing Erik, suddenly look very small and scared climbing up on the stage without even the protection of his notes folder... You felt a lot like seeing a crowd of shrikes encircle one mouse. You squeeze the handles of your chair, rocking back and forth with anxiety.

"As part of your legal right, what would be Your prefered choice of name for the course of this review?" You hear Ms Johnson speak. Erik picks up the microphone to speak...

....not a sound comes out of his mouth. You cringe.

"My real one, ma'am," he finally manages to croak after a moment of silence that was perhaps too long to be unnoticeable.

"Thank you. We will begin the first part of the enrolment request review for Erik Genyer."

You blanch at her words. The first part... meaning that what is about to happen was an actual full, point by point review and not the shortened version that came into popularity in recent years. The review would last three hours and it was three hours of ruthless questioning.

You grip the handles even tighter.

***

Erik fares surprisingly well. After the initial shock, he starts to melt into well-rounded answers. After the five minute pause in between the two parts, he even starts to subtly lean into humouring the panel, offering sarcastic, unhelpful comments. Truly one you could call your own.

Your heart is in continuing thunder as it beats harder with each given situation and particularly hard question. At this point, you have tossed and turned and quietly whined at every to the degree that it is noticeable to everyone in the room. And that in itself pushes to a worrying realization that Erik had somehow managed to slither his unholy way into your heart and become not just a trainee under your care but a friend. Like a proper friend. A friend that would leave you in literally the span of 10 minutes.

Namjoon who was eerily silent for most of the hearing, providing only two softball questions, had noticed your flighty twitching and leaned back to glance at you. You look at the ground knowing that you were perhaps not in the right mindset to put on a facade of your somewhat trademarked blasé attitude.

For God's sakes, you were not even this nervous in your own review but then again you had resigned yourself to the bottom of the barrel. Erik was not.

Finally, he passes the third part of the review. He had taken a few hits, all of which delivered by Petsch, but overall came out with impressive results. Two things were left to unfold. The panel would ask him what was his preferred choice of the department and then either allow it or politely indicate his skills would be more useful in another department and refer him there.

"Mr Genyer do you have a specific department choice?" Mr Singh asks politely. He'd been a tough but fair reviewer nevertheless it was always Namjoon who asked this question. Why was he so quiet? What was the point of showing up if he was going to be silent?

"I have." Erik answers and you see a smile form in his mouth. It was his bastard smile. Eerily similar to the picture of the cat surrounded by knives. You've seen that expression many times, mostly when he was breaths away from pissing off a lot of people.

"And what would that be, sir?"

"The cleaner department."

....

....

....

Not a single person breathes. Not a sound is made. The panel has gone speechless. You think your heart has stopped entirely.

"I'm sorry, do you mind repeating that?"

Erik couldn't look smugger as everyone stared at him.

"I'd like to work in the cleaner department."

The second time he says it causes an uproar. People actually stand up in the back. You hear a crunch to your side. Tae dropped his camera on the ground. There's so much noise you can't even decipher what is being said. Vaguely you maybe hear Jin's loud ass "what?" but that also could be literally anyone else.

The panel has to turn around and repeatedly shush the crowd. It is not an easy task. You just stare at Erik, mouth dropped open, eyes bugging out and he gives a self-satisfied smirk.

"I promise tomorrow you’ll have reparations."

These were the reparations. As the crowd finally eases back you let out a breath, lungs screaming for oxygen. Hadn't even noticed the lack of breathing process.

"Why would you choose a cleaner department?" It is finally Namjoon's turn to speak but he too sounds astounded all the way to outer space.

"It is a lowly position." So low in fact, they were not in the count of departments. Hence the status of 0 out of 7. You're hit with another realization. "Aspiring 0". The one Erik had placed in his Instagram bio. It was not zero aspirations that you thought he meant, no he was aspiring to be 0. And suddenly it makes sense. Him being such a little pain in the ass, always sneaking off, taking cases well above his position, taking yesterday's case in fact. All to rank up and enter the review faster. You don't even know how to function with this information.

"Why would you choose the cleaner department?" There was only one person who had chosen the cleaner department. A year ago. You. But even back then the choice was between quitting altogether or becoming part of the 0.

"The cleaner department is as hard-working and as essential as any other position in the organization." He shrugs.

"Yes, but why choose it?" Ms Shen pursues. You can hear it in her voice that she simply cannot comprehend why would anyone choose to work there. Honestly neither can you.

"I like it there. The cleaner department has the friendliest, most genuine and accepting people I've met among all departments. Also, I've had the most supportive, protective mentor anyone could wish for. I've never been more inspired to both be myself and improve forward as I have under their tutelage and I hope that by working in the cleaner department I can repay them for the faith they had and hopefully continue to have in me."

His request is approved and after a quiet "review ended" Erik is officially given the position of the evidence removal department.

***

The crowd is restless. There's not a soul that's not debating outside the room. Everyone huddled up together. What Erik did today would go down in the history of the company. Right next to your name.

Briefly, you encounter Petsch who throws something snide in your direction but you brush past her without a second thought. Finally, you find that stupid red shirt, snuggled against the window. You break out in a sprint and smack him in the middle of the chest.

"OW!"

"Why would you do that?" You yell. Why are you yelling? You don't know. You're happy. Literally so happy. Erik begins to laugh, kinda nerdily as he is snorting a bit like a pig.

"You should have seen your face! Oh, man, I wish I had my camera with me! Oh, a picture truly is worth more than a thousand words."

"You idiot! I trained you," you deliver a smack "so you could," a smack, "have a better life!" Erik's smile doesn't falter for a second.

"What's better? It's a shithole here anyways. So they pay me more in other departments. The money I'd spend on therapy for working there would still decimate my pay into non-existence."

You stop hitting him as something dangerous bubbles up your throat. The hole in the chest filled. No, not that, he will never let me live if I do, you think to yourself.

"Are you actually crying?" Erik giggles his expression turning somewhat strange.

"No."

You do end up crying. After taking you to Omelas where surprise, surprise, your inner circle of other cleaners and Irina were waiting. Diego was already rolling on the floor with Liz trying to pull him up in a somewhat vertically inclined position. J.D. giving a quiet, appreciative nod and S - Jo along with Byun screaming their lungs out in some kind of celebratory song. You can't even tell which language they are screaming in.

Olga looks at the scene with mild amusement. If you'd had become a little bit like an unwilling older sister to this little horde of gremlins then Olga was like everyone's collective mom. How many of your messes and mood swings had she endured? You couldn't even count but you remember how badly you were afraid of disappointing her. And if Erik felt even the half of that...

It was then and after two bottles of vodka that you started sobbing. But just a little bit. After all, you hadn't cried in a while and if there was a better place to cry it was among this little makeshift family.

***

(a/n: lietonis, more commonly known as lietuvēns is a spirit from my country's folklore that is rumoured to strangle people and animals in their sleep. Basically something like a sleep paralysis demon.)

[365days365movies]

February 19, 2021: The Phantom of the Opera (2004) (Part 1)

I love musicals.

Hands down, when talking cinematic adaptations of musicals, my favorite is Little Shop of Horrors. I’ve seen it MANY times, and will see it many, MANY more. And I’m not the only one. I mean, obviously, but in this case, I’m referring to my girlfriend. She’s chosen to represent herself with a GIF from her favorite musical, Hairspray. So, here she is:

Ravishing. Now, because it’s currently our anniversary, I let her pick today’s movie from my list. And so, she chose a musical that neither she nor I have seen: 2004′s The Phantom of the Opera. And some of you may now be saying, “What, this guy said he liked movie musicals, and he hasn’t seen TPotS? That’s like saying you haven’t seen Grease, or Singin’’ in the Rain, or, PFFT, West Side Story!”

...About that...

Yeah, yeah, I know! It’s insane, and I’m a hypocrite. I’ll be getting to the rest of those eventually, and one of them’ll be coming in the next couple of days, I promise. You can probably guess which one. Anyway, fact of the matter is that we’re gonna watch it tonight, and I’m looking forward to it. 

However, there’s another factor to this, and that’s the fact that this film...doesn’t have the best reputation amongst fans of the original musical. And, yeah, this should ideally be the Michael Crawford version, but the Butler version is the one I have access to, so we’re going for it. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

Paris, 1919, back when the whole city was in black-and-white for a year. They lost the budget for color after World War I. Anyway, at an old opera house, an auction is taking place, and items found within the theater are for sale. One of these is a music box with a monkey on it, an item which sponsors a bidding war between an older woman, and an older man in a wheelchair. I’m sure we’ll find out who they are eventually.

Anyway, a broken chandelier is also up for option, and was involved in the mysterious disaster of the “Phantom of the Opera” fiasco. They turn it on with electric light, and as they raise it to the ceiling, the organist goes fuckin’ NUTS. The song’s so loud that it REVERSES TIME, and we’re now in color, in the year 1870 at the same opera house.

The theatre, managed by the soon-to-retire Monsieur Lefèvre (James Fleet), has just been purchased by Richard Firmin (Ciaran Hinds) and Gilles André (Simon Callow), who are there to observe. On stage, a rehearsal for the opera Hannibal is taking place, and the costume’s are already...like, a LOT, not gonna lie. The headliner for the show is soprano (and drama queen supreme) Carlotta Giudicelli (Minnie Driver), and is being funded by patron Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny (Patrick Wilson). 

The background dancers are instructed by Madame Giry (Miranda Richardson), and include her daughter, Meg (Jennifer Ellison), and her adopted daughter, Christine Daaé (Emmy Rossum). As the rehearsal takes place, an accident happens on stage, almost injuring Carlotta. Enraged, she leaves, and refuses to perform.

Meanwhile, Madame Giry finds a letter from the Phantom, who demands his normal monthly salary of 20,000 francs, as for Box 5 to be left open. While the new owners think that this is ridiculous, they also note that it’s pointless without a lead singer for their show. 

However, Christine is volunteered, and shows that she is indeed a talented singer. The show goes on, and Christine is a smash, much to Carlotta’s dismay. At this point, Raoul also discovers that this is his long lost childhood friend (and possibly long lost love) Christine, which she also noticed earlier.

But this is because of a mysterious teacher, who sings to her from the walls of the theatre. Meg comes in to congratulate her (through song), and asks who her tutor is. Meg responds...in song (”Angel of Music”).

Afterwards, Madame Giry also congratulates her, and tells her that the Phantom is pleased with her. Right after, Raoul also pays her a visit, and the two reconnect on shared memories of times in an attic in the summer. She tells Raoul that she is visited by an Angel of Music, and cannot go to the dinner that night with him. And the Phantom agrees, as he locks Christine in her room. YIKES. 

And as literally every person in the theatre except Christine leaves, the Phantom serenades her, angered by Raoul’s presence, and Christine’s potential dalliance with him (”Mirror”). And through the mirror, he takes her to a mysterious crypt beneath the theatre. And as they sing their strange duet in the form of the title song (”The Phantom of the Opera”)...I try to resist talking about Gerard Butler until later. And it’s hard. It’s SO hard, guys.

But, OK, he takes her away on a...sewer horse...how the FUCK did he get that horse down there? And wait, WAIT, does he put her on that horse to walk her, like, 20 feet to the gondola? Like...WHY DO YOU HAVE THE HORSE? That is...monumentally wasteful. Where do you keep the horse? Does he feed the horse? How much? How often? With what? Does the horse eat the sewer rats? Is there naturally growing sewer hay? Does the Phantom’s salary go towards buying food for the horse, or buying new horses when the original ones DIE OF STARVATION - WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THIS HORSE?!?!? WHOMSTVE THE FUCK

And yes, I love this fuckin’ song (not the singers, but we’ll get there), but this is distracting me alongside the statues of naked men in the sewer, because...well, Joel Schumacher. What can I say, it’s kind of his aesthetic. Anyway, we get officially introduced to the Phantom of the Opera (Gerard Butler), a very handsome-looking man who likes wearing a half-mask.

I say handsome, because the Phantom in this movie, looks...fine. HE LOOKS OK. HE LOOKS LIKE A DUDE WEARING A MASK. What, did somebody throw a hot candle at his face once, and he freaked out over it and ran into the sewers forever...WITH A HORSE? NOT OVER THE HORSE SHIT.

Look, the Phantom is supposed to be HIDEOUSLY scarred. Famously, in one of the film adaptations of Phantom, actor Lon Chaney Jr. purposely distorted his own face using adhesive face in order to play the role of the hideously disfigured character. Now, other versions have just given him severe, and I mean SEVERE burn scars. But behind the mask, Butler looks...fine. HE LOOKS FINE GODDAMMIT. He looks like he’s wearing the mask because it looks edgy and shit.

But OK, what’s happening in the movie? Oh, right, more serenading (”Music of the Night”), with another song that I like quite a bit. This and the previous song were songs Id heard before, and that I’d already had on my playlist. They’re great, what can I say? Now is Butler doing it justice? Ehhhhhhh, we’ll talk about that in the Review.

During this song he kinda seduces her, or attempts to, and also shows her a wedding dress. She sees herself in it and IMMEDIATELY faints, Jesus!  Curtain falls on Christine while she’s in a bed, and we go back to her room, where Meg is looking for her. She finds the mirror, and is about to go back there, but her mother finds and stops her.

Meanwhile, stagehand Joseph Buquet (Kevin McNally) tells the chorus girls of the legend of the Phantom, and describes a physical description that doesn’t match him...even a little. We cut back to Christine, who wakes up in what my girlfriend refers to as a “bomb-ass HQ.” Which is fair, let’s be honest. Anyway, she heads over and tries to unmask her new masked lover (?).

He’s not the biggest fan of this, and he emos all over the screen (”Stranger Than You Dreamt It”). And then, as he puts his mask on, we suddenly (and I mean suddenly) jump to 1919, where the old woman, Madame Giry, bids farewell to...wait, that’s Raoul? HOW DOES HE LOOK SO MUCH OLDER THAN HER, WHAT???

Back in the past, inexplicably, the theatre owners and manager sing about the theatre and the Phantom’s demands ("Notes..."), and are soon joined by Raoul, who brings them a separate note, saying not to look for Christina any further. THEN, Carlotta joins them, delivering a letter of her own from the Phantom, warning her not to return to the theatre.

In his letters, he details how his theatre is to be run, threatening a disaster if Christine is not cast in the lead role, and if Carlotta is not cast in a silent role. However, the theatre owners and Carlotta refuse to obey, and Carlotta is cast in the role, as the owners try to appease her (”Prima Donna”).

That night, during a performance of Il Muto, Carlotta’s singing the lead role. Additionally, Box Five is full, and the Phantom is PISSED. So, like a Phantom do, it’s time for some good old fashioned petty revenge! He switches her throat spray, causing her to lose her voice on stage, and causing the audience to laugh when the show ends abruptly. They quickly and publicly recast the role, giving it to Christine instead. Well, mission accomplished by the Phantom! Guess we’re good without retribution. And then he hangs the stagehand.

Well...fuck, man. Realizing that the Phantom is EXTREMELY dangerous, Christine goes to save Raoul, who she...is in a relationship with now? Wait...wait, hold up, the fuck did I miss? I mean, yeah, he probably is gonna kill Raoul, but there is, like, NO lead-up to their connection before this point.

Anyway, as Christine explains that there is a Phantom when Raoul says he doesn’t exist...wait, WHAT? MOTHER FUCKER BUQUET JUST NOT MURDERED IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY WHAT IN THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN????? YOU LITERALLY HEARD THE...you know what? Break. BREAK. This is...this one’s tough.

See you in Part 2!

[edelblau]

i feel like talking about my life in a longform post so im gonna do that. ive added a read more but sometimes tumblr breaks and just, removes them for me so im sorry if this breaks and yall get a long ass post on your dash

i still think of how this whole ‘miles moving and having to move by february on incredibly short notice’ thing is all entirely my moms fault and its also blowing up in her face bc now shes gotta move on short notice as well

like for one, all of this began bc she was mad i asked to be more informed on when her boyfriend was coming over because she never told ANYONE in the household when he was coming. ever. she also used all the groceries to cook for him (he ate large portions) so like, she buys one 4 pack of chicken breasts? all 4 are used on dinner for her bf and we were left with nothing. like im sure people remember my first few donation posts-- those were all to buy food becaause me and my sister were left with SCRAPS bc shed buy very limited food and then buy takeout with her bf on the days there were no groceries. at the time i had no income at all other than commissions to beign with and even as i eased onto disability.... i have under 300 dollars left after rent goes through so my only money for a whole month is 300 and if i put anything into savings oops that goes down significantly!

anyways because i dared to get upset about this, not even the food concerns but just. wanting to know if he was over and god forbid wanting the tv to be at a reasonable volume as my room and hers share a wall she threw a HUGE FIT

and talked about how i was (to paraphrase) a burden, that ‘youre an adult now so i shouldnt have to parent you’ (i was 21 and am disabled and unable to work) and that we were ‘basically roommates’ and i was a bad roommate (as if roommates dont communicate when they have guests over in their shared space) and how i ‘didnt want her to live in her own home’

anyways then she started to talk about how i need to move bc blah blah i dont respect her so i was kinda like. ok im done with this too!

at the time i didnt know if id be accepted onto disablity (the program is notorious for rejecting ppl first try) but lo and behold i was! at a lower price than my mom ‘expected’ so i had to try and fucking wager my rent lower (which worked but barely) so i could save anything at all (again. i have under 300 fucking dollars a month of spending money)

anyways. i started saving! i was as good as i could be with her still not buying food (until a few months ago), every bit i could save... and i had to replace a mattress so i lost a huge portion of that (lol) bc as much as i tried to avoid it i... couldnt anymore and now i have under 500 in savings but the KICKER is my fucking mother turns out to have gone to my grandparents behind everyones backs to convince them to get on the active waiting list for a retirement home, which theyre VERY HIGH UP ON  ! leading to this whole fucking time constrained bullshit bc oops my grandparents own the damn house and to move theyd be selling it putting me, my sister and my mother herself needing to move within a short ass time frame

im just so mad all the time about it its so frustrating and annoying and... i was already in a quite frankly awful position bc my finances are so fucked and then she fucked it further and as further salt in the wounds apparently my extended family thinks me and my sister dont pay rent at all! which is really fucking interesting! also interesting how my grandma seems concerned and surprised by how much i pay for rent considering that the rent is supposedly going to her!

idk what to even do anymore im so sick and tired and scared i hate living here if i didnt have a friend who has quite ltierally offered to pay first and last for me id be literally fucked right now bc my mom DOESNT THINK

anyways thats all im just! upset

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Sorry for no story today- have these WIPs I will probably never finish instead

Kitty get punched

“Where is Joan?” A crew member hissed, looking frantically around the stage and wings. “She should be here by now! The show starts in five minutes!”

“I saw her earlier,” Maggie said. “So she’s here, at least.”

“But WHERE?” The crew member said, exasperated. Maggie shrugged helplessly.

“Maybe she’s getting changed?” Parr offered.

“She should have done that a long time ago,” Aragon reprimanded.

“And when does Joan ever get ready late?” Anne added, tittering slightly.

“I’ll go find her!” Katherine piped up, “Don’t worry!”

With that, she bounds off to find the music director.

—

Joan was paler than the moon, a somewhat sickly color painting her skin. Her checks were kissed with a slightly pink flush, spreading to her forehead as well. Underneath her eyes and against her pale skin, were dark rings. They hung under her eyes like curtains, pulling her eyelids so they could close. The color contrasted with her skin, making it more vibrant and more noticeable. Anyone could have guessed it; Joan Meutas did not sleep well last night. Now that, was an understatement.

Joan had not slept well in the past week. She was constantly up late at night working on this damned show that was wringing her dry. She was completely exhausted. She felt like a dead fish. Her entire body ached from her head to her toes. The only thing that seemed to keep her going was coffee, and it’s now come to the point that she’ll feel sick if she doesn’t drink any.

The show only increased Joan’s stress level. Everyone always seemed to need her; the queens, the techies, the costume crew, the managers- the demands for her aid or work was never ending. By the time she finished whatever was asked of her, it was time to perform, meaning she had to do her own music director work later in the evening, usually well into the night.

It was just hell. Literal hell.

At that moment, she could feel a headache starting to become apparent. It burned her vision, floating around and flashing like a neon light, tormenting Joan. It only grew worse at the loud clamor of the crew getting ready. And through the blurred and temporary blinding aura, she saw her coffee. It looked revolting to her.

Just the sight churned Joan’s stomach. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. She was so tired, and her headache was so bad. The chance of getting a sensory overload became more and more likely, which wouldn't be completely crazy, especially since she was so tired she could hardly think practically.

Approaching footsteps sounded like drumbeats pounding in Joan’s ears and the creak of the door nearly imploded her eardrums.

“Joan?”

Great. It was Katherine Howard.

Joan, too tired to reply, huffed in annoyance and buried her face further into her arms. She’s hunched over the desk in her dressing room with only half of her costume on, since she had given up trying to put it on. As Katherine stepped into the room and approached, she tried to ignore the throbbing in her head head, and the dizziness and nausea settling in, as well as the queen.

“Joan,” Katherine nudged Joan’s shoulder, earning a low hiss of warning. “What are you doing? We got a show.”

“I’m not going out today.” Joan grumbled, not lifting her head.

“You have to,” Katherine continued.

“Oh, but that one time you had a panic attack and didn’t go on was fine?” Joan snapped, getting angry. She lifted her head and glared at the young queen.

“There was an alt here,” Katherine defended herself, “Plus, a panic attack is different than...whatever is making you refuse to go on.”

Joan is grinding her teeth, now. Katherine is either too stupid to notice or ignores the warning sign and continues on anyway.

“I’m not going on.” Joan said again.

“Your dep isn’t here.” Katherine reprimanded.

“I’m not going on, Katherine!” Joan yelled, finally rearing up with a slam of her hands against the desk. The way Katherine flinches back a little is satisfying. “Get out.”

“Joan-“

“I said get out!”

A horrible crunch filled the room, followed by a sharp yelp. Katherine’s hands fly up to her face, while Joan’s fist returns to her side. Blood is pouring out in between the queen’s fingers.

“Leave me alone.” Joan whispered, taking deep breaths to quell her anger.

Katherine doesn’t budge, too shocked to move.

That only fuels Joan’s rage, which she gives up on taming.

“Leave me alone, you bitch!” Joan yelled, shoving the queen. Blood drops splatter to the ground, but she could care less. She just keeps pushing and kicking until Katherine stumbles out the door, to which she promptly slams shut. She can head soft crying coming from the hallway, but she just rolls her eyes and slumped back at her desk.

———

Tour!Howard is Tour!Bessie’s biological mom AU

The day started out perfect- Silver rays of morning sun were slipping through soft pink curtains, bathing the bedroom with warm beams. They hit Howard’s face, which has a smile painted on it, even in her rest. The grin only grows once she woke up- she was beaming. And for good reason, too.

She leapt out of bed, but quickly quieted her steps so she wouldn’t make too much noise. She greets the two cats in her room- Sombra and Hermès. She had a hunch where the third feline, Turtle, was.

On sock-padded feet, Howard made her way across the flat and to the second bedroom. She peeked inside and smiled brightly.

There, laying in the bed, was a young girl, barely thirteen, with bleached white hair.

It had been Howard’s idea to do DNA testing. Bessie agreed. Howard had been sipping her coffee, checking through her mail, when she found the document that stated the results came back positive. Tears dripped down onto the paper. Her mug shatters against the floor.

She found her daughter.

Bessie was equally shocked when the news was given to her. She had went very still, eyes bulging, mouth slightly ajar. Just as Howard started to worry that she was repulsed by the turnabout, she leapt right into the woman’s arms, sobbing in bliss.

———

i don’t even know, something with Joan being jealous

February was Kitty’s month. Like how (whenever she died) was Aragon’s month and (whenever she died) was Jane’s month. Whatever month a queen died in was their month, apparently. That unspoken rule didn’t go to the ladies in waiting, even if they could remember the exact month they died in. They weren’t deemed as “important” as the queens to get such a thing. Maybe they could get a week, or a week at the very least, but nothing more.

So, yes, February was Kitty’s month. The different thing about her month than the others was that EVERYONE doted on her. She got tons of gifts, tons of sweet words, tons of hugs and affection and attention. Tons of attention from Jane.

Before you start griping, yes, Joan knew why it was this way. Henry made a law just to chop her head off- yes she KNOWS, she hears about it almost every day, she KNOW SHE KNOWS. You don’t have to bring it up because she’s well aware. Everyone knows about poor, poor Kitty and her horrible life.

And, yes, it was horrible. Joan knows that she will never be able to relate her pain to Kitty’s pain, but, damnit all, is it so bad to want a fraction of what she gets from it?

Kitty got everything. Every-fucking-thing. And whatever may be left were mere scraps upon the ground, fragments of what Joan used to have.

———

Courtney!Anne comforts Joan

Stagedoor was an unpredictable thing. It wasn’t all hugs and compliments and pictures- sometimes there’s a fickle critic or an angry historian that’s mad about the portrayal in the show. Other times there’s the slightly weird, but charming fans who recite facts about the queens, hoping to impress them. But a slushy being thrown into someone’s face? That was new.

Anne only caught a glimpse of it- one moment all was normal; she had just finished taking a picture with a beaming young fan, and then there was an uproar of mocking laughter and several gasps, accompanied by loud splattering sounds. Anne looked to the side and was shocked to see SIX’s music director soaked in a coating of red, blue, and purple slush.

Joan was stiff and still, as if the cold beverage had frozen her. The colorful residue slides into the creases of her horrified expression, which slowly become more and more humiliated as seconds ticked by. Then, her wide eyes glance around wildly for a moment and she sprints back into the theater.

———

Wings of Fire AU

The worst part of Parr’s day was approaching- closing the library. She always hated leaving the peaceful, serene cavern at the end of each evening, but Aragon insisted she slept in an actual cave. Arguing against this proved to be fruitless- the queen just had an aura to her that was impossible to beat in a bickering match, so she retired to her room each night.

Sighing, Parr rolled up the current scroll she was working on, cleaned the ink from her talons, and swooped down from her writing ledge. She walked down the aisle of polished mahogany shelves, observing each one to make sure everything was in place and not burnt (there were some younger dragonets weaving in and out earlier that day- she never trusted them with the scrolls).

———

Zombie Apocalypse AU

You get used to the smell. Rot, decay, organs, blood, death- you get used to the scent of the end of the world real fast. If you don’t, it may just drive you insane. More insane than seeing the actual cause of the odor, maybe. Some people react to things differently. But one thing everybody has in common is that nobody gets used to killing. Nobody gets used to sacrificing others, nobody gets used to putting their loved ones or even strangers down.

Nobody gets used to the damn Walkers.

But it’s the way it is. The apocalypse doesn’t seem like it’ll be having curtain call anytime soon, so you have to make do. Learn how to shoot, find a group, get shelter, don’t go hungry- those are the basics. Or just put a bullet in your brain and don’t even bother with survival. In the end, it’s your choice.

Sometimes Joan considers shooting herself in the head. The will to live is still kicking within her, but it gets hard. Being alone doesn’t help, either.

Well-

Scratch that. She wasn’t alone. She had some company.

“Hey, will you cool it?” Joan snapped, tugging on the rope that was around her newest Walker’s neck. She found this one wandering on its own in the woods and decided it would have to do- one quick slash of her knife removed the rotting bottom jaw and rendered the thing useless. At least when it came to infecting others. Its scent will keep away lurkers. Hopefully.

[james-stark-the-writer-wips]

A Year At The Opera - An Excerpt

WC: 2500 words.

This is still mostly a first draft and I might add more stuff to it later as I need to but this is a pretty complete piece :)

Chapter 14, Part 1: Thea

Thea arrived home around 4pm. Like every day before, she unlocked the doors, stepped in and headed straight for the kitchen. She opened the fridge and grabbed the triple chocolate ice cream cake sitting right in front.

She’d eaten half of it last night and she intended to finish the rest today. She opened one of the drawers, grabbed a spoon and took a bite.

As it slowly dissolved in her mouth, she wandered into the living room and waltzed over to the thermostat. She lowered the temperature to 50F and took a seat on the couch. She stretched out her feet on the center table and let herself drown in the cold comfort of the couch as she took another bite of the cake.

As Theadora continued to reminisce on her day today, the door opened and her mother stepped in.

Ah, Haley Rockwell, retired actress now turned real estate agent, married her co-star Nicolas Belfry about ten years ago and had since then been the bane of Thea’s existence. Haley Rockwell had everything Thea hated in a person: her holier-than-thou attitude, her complete lack of self awareness, her perfect figure, her ‘love’ for Thea’s dad. Most of all, Thea hated that her dad seemed to love Haley more.

Thea swore Haley had just married her father for the money but Nicolas refused to hear it.

“Eating again, are we?” Haley remarked coldly as she slipped out of her trench coat and gently placed her St. Louis purse on the couch.

Haley loved that purse more than her own life. On occasion Thea had considered burning it or trashing it as payback for ruining her life but had stayed her hand for the appropriate time. She didn’t want to waste the opportunity if she could avoid it.

“What do you care, anyway?” Thea replied just as coldly, barely bothering to turn her attention away from the plate of cake in her hand.

She took another bite and faked a moan. She held the cake out to Haley. “Want some?” Thea asked, putting on her best baby voice and puppy dog eyes.

Haley scowled, walked over and slapped Thea. Thea barely flinched. This was nothing new. No, in fact this was practically routine.

Haley turned around and grabbed her phone from her coat.

“Guess that’s a no, then.” Thea smiled cheekily.

She knew Haley couldn’t have the cake anyway. Poor little lactose intolerant Haley.

“I’ve had an incredibly stressful day, I do not need your fucking sass, Thea.”

“Oh, why don’t you ask dad to buy you something then?” Thea replied.

Another slap. This one hit harder. Blood pooled under Thea’s cheeks and her skin felt warm.

“Well, at least you’re getting better at something in life.” Thea said, taking another bite of her cake.

Haley groaned angrily. “Is this the fucking antartic? Why is it freezing in here?” She walked over to the thermostat.

“It’s hot out.” Thea replied.

“Do you want me to get frostbite?”

“It’s 50 fahrenheit. You literally can’t get frostbite.”

“Oh, you’re so smart, aren’t you?” Haley grit her teeth.

“I like to think so, yes.” Thea remarked.

Haley exhaled sharply, shook her head in frustration, turned the corner and fucked off to her room.

Thea smiled contentedly, taking another bite of her cake. She grabbed the remote and flipped the TV on, finding a boring reality show to distract her. No matter how bad life got, she could at least remind herself she wasn’t like the pathetic bitches of rando city.

All the whining and bitching and crying. Thea almost felt bad for them. They’d never learned what true power felt like, locked in their terrible marriage in their stupid town.

Thea was determined to be better. She was determined to be smarter. She’d sworn to never let a man affect her and yet, last summer, she’d slipped. Thea was not the kind of person to get angry. No, she just got even.

But last summer, as the news dropped, Thea distinctly remembered feeling rage inside her and letting just a little bit out. Thankfully no one had seen her or figured out that the messed up classroom and the shattered green-board was her doing. Her reputation was still intact, even after last summer’s events. And she planned on getting revenge.

As the TV droned on in the background and the hours passed by, Thea spent her time planning out how things would go when she would finally get her revenge. There had to be some weak link in their relationship she could exploit.

Her interactions today with Mason practically spelled it out for her: they were having relationship issues. What she couldn’t figure out though was the best way to do it. She could make them turn on each other or turn the class against them (she figured that would be the easiest given how everyone pretty much already considered them freaks) or perhaps the situation would need a gentler, subtler approach. She couldn’t let anyone figure out she played a part in it or they would just get back together again. No, whatever needed to happen needed to be public and damning. She wanted to make Ingram the outcast. So much so even the losers wouldn’t associate with him.

She played all the scenarios over in her head, wondering which one would do the most damage. She imagined herself standing in the cafeteria, watching Ingram and Mason confront each other about something and then breaking out into a fight. Embarrass themselves publicly, certainly at least as humiliating and public as it was for her.

It was so vivid in her head it was practically a movie. The people would surround them, like they had on the first day of the semester, during the fight. They would publicly breakup and in his lowest moment, separated from everyone who even thought of loving him, Ingram would crawl his way back – wait that didn’t sound right. What she meant was: he’d feel completely and utterly destroyed and feel just like she did. Hurt and angry… Thea’s eyes widened as if she’d had an epiphany. It was not the first time she had thought about Ingram hurting like she had but it was the first time the thought had struck her in a different way. Why had a man made her feel weak, hurt? Almost jealous?

It reminded her of how she felt around her father: ignored, betrayed. Perhaps it was precisely why she was so angry. What Ingram did to her was what her father had done to–

“Are you gonna lay there all day?” Haley’s voice yanked Thea out of her stream of consciousness and back to reality.

Haley stood in the hallway, arms crossed, glaring Thea down. “What do you want?”

“Theadora, get off the damn couch and go do your homework or something.” Haley chided. “Your father doesn’t need to worry about you anymore than he already does, you waste of skin.” Haley spat from her crimson lips.

Thea groaned as she stood up. Her ass felt numb and she hadn’t even realized how long it had been. Probably over six hours, as the TV had switched off. She stretched her arms and let out a yawn. “I’m just gonna go sleep.”

Haley turned around and sauntered back to her room.

Thea sulked her way up the stairs and into her room. She pulled back her chair and opened her laptop.

She’d closed the laptop last night while shopping for the Halloween dance party next month. She’d had her eyes set on a gorgeous lavender silk dress with an intricate see-through lace front, although the price tag had made her hesitate. She loved Halloween and she wanted to be the best dressed but, even for a hand sewn dress, thirty thousand dollars was a lot of money. Which meant she would have to ask her dad.

Thea immediately rolled her eyes at the thought. She rarely found him alone; all the time that he was actually home and not at work or out golfing with some client he spent by Haley’s side. Thea couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen him crack a smile. Even on his birthday last February, he’d come home an hour early from work, downed half a bottle of whiskey and gone straight to bed. Not a single word to anyone. He was always the stoic, quiet man for as long as she could remember. And the thought of asking him to buy something for her, especially something that expensive, in front of Haley was a lecture Thea didn’t need.

Haley would play the naïve fool whenever Nicolas was around. Thea would point the slightest bit of criticism at Haley and Nicolas’s mood would automatically sour.

And so, putting aside the thought of buying the dress, Thea scrolled through the website, looking for more stuff she could actually get.

And as she scrolled through the countless dresses, Thea found her thought’s wandering…

It was suddenly last March – the day of the final exam and Thea had just handed in her exam. She grabbed her stuff and placed her hand on the door handle.

Just outside, the cacophony of inescapable and unintelligible chattering filled the entire sound space. Thea turned the door handle and stepped out. A sudden wave of dread passed over her. She could feel the wind change, as it were.

But she didn’t know why she was suddenly feeling like that. It couldn’t have been the exam; she’d done excellently and she was pretty much guaranteed an A+. As she took a few more steps, turning to walk to her locker, she noticed people’s subtle glances. She was used to being looked at in awe, in pure deification even – but these were very different glances. Just quick looks here and there, thinking she wouldn’t notice. These were curious glances. These were almost malevolent glances. She even thought she heard a few people whispering about her as she passed by.

No, it had to be her imagination. These low-lifes would never dare talk about her, certainly not like this.

Thea turned the corner and disappeared into the crowd as she walked to her locker. She opened her locker and grabbed her phone from inside. She reached to unlock it.

“Stop!” Thea heard a familiar voice and turned around.

The lean figure of Chrissy sprinted over and caught her breath. “Stop.” She bent down and caught her thighs.

“What is it?” Thea asked.

“Don’t open your phone.” She said.

“Why not?”

“You deserve better.”

Thea scrunched her face. “Better what, exactly?”

“Look, let’s just go somewhere a little private and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Tell me what, Chrissy? You’re scaring me, you know?”

“Just put your phone down and come with me. Please.” She pleaded.

“Fine.” Thea groaned.

“Come on, over here.” She grabbed Thea’s hand and gently led her away.

As they continued to drift past people, Thea noticed even more people staring at her.

“What are you all looking at?” Thea shouted and everyone turned away.

“What the fuck is going on, Chrissy?”

“There’s a big problem.” She stopped outside an empty classroom. “In here.”

She opened the door and led Thea in.

“Will you just tell me already?” Thea asked, annoyed.

She closed the door. “Okay, I want you to try not to freak out but Sarah Schulman–” She gulped.

“Spit it out already!” Thea yelled.

“Sarah Schulman saw Ingram making out with a guy in the bathroom!” She covered her mouth like she wanted to stop speaking.

Thea’s jaw dropped. She could feel the blood rushing out of her brain and into her balled fists. “She what?!”

“She told everyone.” She said calmly.

Thea couldn’t even process the thought. Thea felt lightheaded and stumbled backwards. Chrissy outstretched her hand to grab Thea but Thea brushed her away and leaned against the table. “Leave me alone.” Thea whispered through gritted teeth.

Chrissy’s legs shook uncontrollably as she nodded and sprinted out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Thea looked up at the ceiling, trying to get the thought through her brain.

Ingram Shaw. Kissing a boy. And everyone at school knew. Before she did. Maybe if he’d told her himself, she could’ve broken up with him, saved herself… but now all she could think was to break something.

She grabbed one of the chairs in front of her and threw it at the green-board – it shattered like a mirror and the chair clattered to the floor. Thea put her arm up to her mouth and let out a scream.

All she felt was betrayed and hurt and angry and all she could think about was what everyone would say about her. She would have to control the situation before it spread anymore. A tear streaked down her cheek and she wiped it off. She couldn’t afford to lose her head right now. She had to fix this.

She took out her phone and walked out of the classroom.

Thea shook her head and just like that she was back in her room, scrolling through dresses again. She scrolled for a while more, found some she liked and closed her laptop. She quickly finished up some schoolwork, answered some texts from Kitty about going out shopping and then climbed into bed. Tomorrow could not come soon enough, and Thea couldn’t wait to get to scheming.

-

It was September the 12th and a warm noon on a Wednesday, aka the next day, when Thea finally found an opportunity to get more information. There she was, grabbing her stuff from her locker at the end of school when everyone was shuffling out and Mason Carmichael was standing outside the gym.

She cleared her throat, checked her breath and quickly caught up to him.

“Mason!” She placed a hand on his shoulder and he jumped.

“Oh, Thea. It’s you.” Mason said, taking a deep breath. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Why so jumpy?” She asked.

“Nah, just nervous.” He leaned forward and looked down the hallway. “You know, first real session of the year.”

“Come on. now. What’s there to be nervous about? You’re like our Kobe.” Thea took a step back. Even with her heels, Thea had to look up to talk to Mason.

“It’s nothing.” Mason said, leaning against the wall.

“Well, you know if it is something, you can talk to me, right?” She said innocently.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mason took out his phone.

“Well, good luck, then. With the game.” Thea said, turning around.

Well that was fucking useless. She would just have to try again later.

*

AYATO taglist: @inexorableblob @hell-yeah-fantasy @lilac-written @aurumni-writes @vviciously @the-real-rg @three-seas-writes @cawolters @emilymustwrite @westviews @ashestoashesdusttodust @berryspaceship @mariahwritesstuff @rcvolutions @noxcomic @death-over-coffee @ohlooksheswriting @your-art-is-gay @grimmwrites @leo-november @vhum @mendeled @adventurebeneaththewords @shamelesslypoetic @bettsican

[wolfpawn]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary -  Paige does an interview at the BBC with a host who very much wishes to see if she can pry information from Paige regarding her relationship with Tom but Paige is aware of such.

Tag, @wolfsmom1 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @nonsensicalobsessions@damalseer   @standing-onthe-edge

anyone else who wishes to be added to the tags, just ask :)

Paige tried to settle her nerves. She had done so many interviews before, this would be no different. Yes, they could mention Tom, in fact, she was sure they would, but she had prepared herself for almost anything they could throw at her. Though most of the time, her work in media had been to do with her books, something she was well versed on, she decided to study her new topic of conversation that she was certain she would have in Tom. She read his interviews, she recalled his mother's comments, his conversations with her on different matters and compiled what would be sure-to-be asked questions and appropriate answers that she would need to know to keep up the pretence of a relationship with the actor.

She smiled as the radio station manager showed her where to sit in the studio and offered her some water. “Please, if it’s no bother.”

“Of course.”

She looked at the headset in front of her and took a deep breath before readying herself more.

“Ms Winters?” She looked to the side to see the radio host, Davina Curren looking at her. “Hello, thank you for your time. I can imagine you are a busy woman.”

“Please, just Paige. I am more than happy to oblige. I haven’t been here in over two years. You were in the evening slot then, weren’t you? I remember I used to listen to you on the Underground on the way home from different things. I loved your piece on Aristotle you discussed with the College Professor from London.”

Davina’s face became more animated on hearing Paige knew her work. “Wow, thank you. Yes, that was an interesting piece. Well, as Mike, the manager here would have told you, we will discuss mostly your work and if there is time at the end, some other bits and pieces.”

“Yes, he said. We’ll see what we get through.” She smiled politely.

“Well, we start in three so we will get ready now.” Davina indicated for her to put on her headphones before sitting in her own seat and doing the same. “You put the volume to a level that suits and please remember to speak clearly into the microphone, you can adjust it as required.”

“Okay.” Paige did so to allow her close to the microphone with comfort.

When the light flashed for thirty seconds, she readied herself.

“Can you hear me?” Davina checked.

“I can indeed.”

“Perfect, let’s begin.” The light ceased flashing and turned on fully. “Good morning, Britain, Davina Curren here with you again on this lovely Thursday morning, and my guest today is a woman that has been in a few of the celebrity headlines of late but whose name has been gracing the more prestigious world of literature for the better part of the last decade, Britain's very own Paige Winters, author of many pieces but most known for ‘Rumour Has It’, the Costa book of the year in 2016. Paige thank you for joining us in the studio here today.”

“Thank you for having me.”

“So, we will start at the beginning, what got you into writing?”

“Well, there’s no straight forward answer to that.”

“Surely you had some inkling, even in school?”

“Interestingly, when I was doing my GCSEs, I had this teacher who literally told me I had no right to be doing English. I could not comprehend the work and if I passed, it would be a miracle.”

“Really?”

“No, honestly. She had no faith in me. Thankfully, she retired that summer and the most incredible teacher, Benjamin Shakespeare, no relation to the playwright we checked, came in to fill the void and honestly, I would not be in this profession today had he not sat me down one day and talked to me about why I wanted to keep on English with such mediocre grades. Being honest, I loved English, I loved literature, but that other teacher drained my love of it but on her retirement, I hoped I could regain my love for it. Thankfully, he was able to see I had some potential and allowed me to remain in his class.”

“And that was it?”

“Sort of. I did a piece the summer before and sent it into a competition. I didn't think anything of it, I thought at the time I didn't send it to the right place or it was not good enough, in fact, I did and on the 8th of February, 2005, Blue Peter published my story as part of their short stories book. I knew then that I wanted to write and see my name on the cover of books.”

“That's amazing.”

“Yes, I still have the original Blue Peter book I was sent for writing a contribution to it, my mum has it safe at their house.”

“So you have a Blue Peter badge too.”

“Yes, I do. It is in my jewellery box to this day.”

“That's lovely. So, can I ask, your books, they're not conventional love stories, are they?”

“I personally don't class them as romance if I'm honest. They are stories that have romance in them, yes, it's true, but that is merely a part of it, not the entire basis of the story.” Paige explained.

“Is that how you see life in general?”

“Well, yes. Romance is not the reason to live but an enhancement of the act of living, in my opinion.”

“And your characters are always strong women.”

“Every woman has her own strength, it's not always conventional muscles and power strength. Strength is different things to different people. A person who is kind, even when others are not kind to them. Someone who suffers some form of pain and stands straight again after. I try to display that in my work so women of differing personal strengths can relate to the situation at hand. In writing, you need to make the character relatable for it to resonate with the reader.”

“People seemed to resonate with an alien ice-being with magic more than actual human characters before.” Davina pointed out.

Paige knew she was clearly referencing Loki. “Yes, because of the portrayal of said ice-being and how well the character was acted out. People gravitate towards characters that are well portrayed and in that case, the most relatable and likeable character was the abandoned ice baby, raised on lies who, on realising it was all a lie was acted with anger, resentment, feeling incredibly inadequate, these are things that people feel empathy for.”

Davina looked at her for a moment before returning to other questions. “What book would you say would be a personal favourite of yours that people would not usually agree with?”

“Of my own or of another author's work?”

“Another author's.”

“People are startled when I say this though it is a very common choice but Pride and Prejudice.”

“You don't seem the type for conventional romance stories.”

“But you see, that's the thing. It's not conventional, or it wasn't, not in its day, it was groundbreaking in many respects. I was asked before at a gathering of friends if I could time travel just once into the past, when and where would I choose, and why. I said England, 1813, a week or so after that book was published and my reason being; that for a woman of no significant name, wealth or titles to decline the hand of a man of such considerable wealth and standing and citing her reasoning for such at a time where to do so was unheard of would have been an incredible experience. You know men were appalled by it, women of a certain mindset would have been scandalised by it and amongst them all, young women flabbergasted and enthralled. It would be called feminism in the modern age.”

“But she went and wed him in the end.”

“Yes, once both put aside their pride and prejudice. In it, you also see Elizabeth grow, acknowledge her own faults and become a better person too. I think a lot of people need to realise we all have negative faults we need to look at in ourselves too and Austin married it accordingly in her main characters, but also that people do change or at the very least, acknowledge themselves they are not perfect and work on it.”

“And you have faults?”

“Find me a person who claims they are without fault and I will show you a liar.”

“What would you say is your greatest fault?”

Paige thought for a moment. “I don't know which would stand over others, but I would say that I often lack social etiquette in particular situations. I don't believe in entertaining ideas of grandeur and in my world, many would argue that to be a considerable fault.”

“Many would commend that too.”

“Most people say they like an honest opinion until they receive one they do not like.” Paige countered.

“True.” The radio presenter agreed. “You pride yourself in never having to do too much publicity to sell your books, so I have to ask, do you still feel that way now, in your current situation?”

“I don't follow.”

“Well, since you went public with your current relationship, as I stated at the beginning of the show, you are now in the celebrity news for being with one of the most eligible men in Britain, surely you've noticed the increase in sales for your work? That is mostly due to the publicity of your relationship.”

“Well, I would argue it was not as though it was decided to go public since it was a photographer taking a photograph of a private brunch that alerted the world to this information, not a conscious decision to declare it publicly that made this information known, but yes, I am aware of the renewed increased sales and I have little doubt that that has been in part due to people hearing my name for what is, to them, the first time and deciding to see if they like my work resulting in these figures.”

“Do you think you will become a charity shop book now?”

“I have no idea nor do I have a say in it. I cannot force people to like my work, nor would I wish to force it as I believe in 'a pat on the back, not a pat on the head’. I want to be acknowledged for my work and it's quality, not because of the company I keep or who I may choose to be in a relationship with.”

“So you are not upset that many of your newest followers are only discovering you by these means?”

“Not everyone discovers the same people at the same time. Some only learn about certain authors, actors and singers after they have been around a while, for whatever reason, this is the very same. My soon-to-be sister-in-law only heard of Saoirse Ronan from her part in Mary Queen of Scots even though she has been the lead role in many movies and has been around since Atonement. That is not something to ridicule. People are only hearing of me now because of whatever reason, I am delighted they are and truly hope the like my work.”

“You are close to your family, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I consider family the most important thing in my life, my brother, his fiancée, my parents, they are so precious to me.”

“It must also be hard being in your current situation, supporting your significant other in a role centred around being betrayed when you, yourself have a similar experience.”

Paige shifted anxiously. “Well, I do not dwell on the past, it’s not a healthy way to live life.”

“But you were cheated on by your fiance, weren’t you? And to be with a man now that in many people’s eyes split up a music couple, how do you marry that?”

“I am not sure if that sort of drama-fishing warrants an answer if I’m honest. The only people who need to take account of their actions are those who are the guilty parties, namely, those who elect to cheat, I am told there was no infidelity there and until such time as I am led to believe otherwise, I would not speculate to such.”

“Do you like her, Taylor?”

“I don’t know three things about her. I never really found myself listening to her music, I never was overly into pop, so that is not a slight on anyone. I know the name to hear, of course, I don't live under a rock but I don't know her in any manner that would cause me to form an opinion on her as an individual.” Paige stated diplomatically, uncomfortable with the situation.

“And have you been to the play?”

“I have actually, yes. I quite enjoyed it too.”

“You seem somewhat startled by that.”

“I stated in the not too distant past that I did not feel it to be the best of Pinter's work due to him writing it with the aspect of the one being cheated on as a main point when he clearly cannot comprehend the sensation. The actors and actresses that put their hearts into the roles, the stage crew, everyone backstage, they put everything into this and it shows. I cannot commend them enough, they brought it to life brilliantly.”

“So what is next for you?”

“I am not sure really. I find I am asked that and indeed, asking myself that a lot of late. I still scribble a few things down, to keep myself fresh, but of yet, nothing is really coming to me.”

“Do you think it is partly because of a content home life? Having another you can depend on surely makes you complacent in many ways, I know when I got married, my husband’s income really gave me the security to try and get the job I sought.”

“I think there is a considerable difference between someone leaning on their spouse for support and leaning on those they are not so bound to. I always prided myself, since the day after my A-levels, of having my own income. My parents assisted me until then, I would never deny it, something not everyone is lucky to afford, and I don’t ever plan on that changing. I think it is imperative people have security in themselves if possible when doing something like writing a book. I wrote four pieces that were outright ignored before I ever even got a hint of interest from a publishing house. While doing that, I needed to afford to live and that meant housing that I am fairly sure dogs in a kill shelter reside in, because this is London, after all, and two jobs, one as a receptionist and one in my local all-night cafe. Even now, I make sure I am smart with my finances and this is the life of a writer, I would very much want others to understand, not everyone turns to JK Rowling with millions, or in her case for a short time, billion, in the bank. Even George RR Martin is not as wealthy as people think and though it affords him a comfortable life, writers rarely are that well off and if you are expecting others to fund you, especially in this world, you may be a long time looking.” Paige could see the presenter didn’t like her going off course slightly, but she used a technique to volley the conversation into a more impersonal and vague area.

Davina frowned as she realised Paige would not say or do anything controversial as a guest, to which Paige smiled politely back. “Good sound advice there. What do you think of Tom’s online fans, they are enthusiastic and protective of him, aren’t they?”

“I do believe so, yes. I am not a big fan of social media myself. I don’t do Instagram or Twitter and my Facebook is dormant for nearly two years at this stage. I think personally, I am more at home in a less technological era. I would have done well back in the eighties, I think.” She laughed. “With regards fans, people gravitate towards some people. They hold your attention more than others do and some for the wrong reasons, some for some very right ones. Some people light up the room they are in, they smile and are wonderful people and of course, people would want to be around that and wish to project towards that, I cannot blame them. It is great and alluring quality.”

“You don’t seem to mention Tom by name,” Davina noted.

Paige laughed slightly. “I don’t seem to have to really, do I? I think people will know who I am referencing, those who care for such things, those who do not will be glad not to be bombarded with it.”

“Not really no.” Davina looked at Paige’s polite smile. It was clear Paige was studying every question before answering, making sure not to say anything that could be construed as controversial. “Finally, is there any advice you have for young aspiring people, not just in your own field, but in general?”

“Well, I suppose the best thing I can say is not something I personally have said. But I think it is a great quote. ‘Never, ever, let anyone tell you what you can and can't do. Prove the cynics wrong. Pity them for they have no imagination’.”

*

Tom huffed slightly as he listened to the words Paige spoke on his phone, Luke beside him.

“What’s so funny?” Luke asked curiously.

“That’s something I said.” Tom pointed out.

“She’s done her homework. Oscar said she is thorough, I didn’t realise how much so.” Luke commended. “She handled that perfectly.”

“She’s an incredible and intelligent woman.” Tom agreed.

Luke studied his friend/client carefully, noting the manner in which he smiled as he listened to Paige speak.

[kaiju-z]

“It was an Orc, Orc Night....”

Seon Adventures Episode 9: “Deals and Drunkards”

Following the shenanigans from last session, our heroes get together with Nelatha in the tavern, where the melee fighters with the pointy weapons get quizzed on what they got themselves into. What with the blood all over them.

Luck explains what happened. Sort of. Barfight and all. But due to a misunderstanding, with Mournimar forgetting that Amelia and Nel are behind him, he comes off as though he’s drunk (because Luck rolls SO BAD!!!)

With everyone together, we talk more business and learn that Belli will be meeting an influential figure in the local cáfe, a very snobby establishment and it would bequeef her to bring alogn another person. While Mournimar suggests Amelia, Nel makes an observation that Luck would be an easier choice.

Luck agrees after a bit of cnversation and gets some wet wipes, for his troubles, from Belli.

As everyone, but Luck go to bed, Luck understands clearly the implications of Nel and Ames going together for the evening. But before he hits the hay, he borrows some books from the library, getting into some enthusiastic learning and edumacating.

Amelia gets a good night. Joke’s on us, they just fucking cuddled.

Th following morning... Mournimar asks Belli to not get in any trouble without him. “What’s the worst we could do?” – Belli, 27th February, 2019

Everyone gets together in the tavern, after Mournimar and a rolling Belli go in from a cuddle pile with Samson and Morgan, who stuck to the carriage.

Nel helps Belli with some prestidigitation and after some more shenanigans, the trio go to the Fancy Cafe. Very high society. 

There’s a dish that looks like meatballs, but white and is very heavily seasoned. Dancing lights going about.  - Towards the back of the room, there’s an elf woman and a guard, who Nel introduces as Morticia.

There is a discussion of the Narah family, who apparently “went into temporary retirement”?!

The gig that Belli is to work on is the Winter Solstice celebration at Morticia’s mansion. “It’s important this time of year to celebrate our accomplishments.” And as such, they are invited to perform at the festival.

But as we register, we must put a name for our party.

After some whispers and references to future events (see below),Belli and Luck come to a consensus: “ You can call us “The Cultbusters”. (And we’ll probably NEVER fight another cult again.)

After agreeing on pricing, the rest of the party get invited to come to the cafe. Sadly, the stay doesn’t last, because Mournimar helps the party learn that the locals eat the unborn babies of Bullywugs from the swamp. Bullywugs being sentient creatures.

Luck and Mournimar freak out about the eating of frogpeople babies and each leave pretty quickly after this, with Belli swearing she’ll write a bad review for the establishment. 

The boys literally have to be talked down by Nel to not cause havoc in the restaurant, out of their pure outrage at this cruelty and Belli throws a chair.

They agree to make their leave, but beofre doing so, The Chaos Siblings (Belli and Mournimar) and Luck go to Peppery Pete’s to restock on supplies.

After making him bamf in and out several times by ringing the bell of his shop, they make their purchase. They get potions of healing of various levels (One greater and 6 lesser)

Luck also gets the Wizard’s Folly potion from Pete.

We also learn that  Belli apparently mixed potions at one point.

We also learn about a Potion of Dwarf’s tongue.

Before they make their leave, Luck... learns something that makes him go serious. He asks about the Traveling Gentlemen again and their member, who had recently left. It was the elf, Felaern, who was currently in Victrum (the town, where Gorruck operates from) and will remain there for the next few weeks.

Luck goes grim. And freaks, repeating the names that only Mournimar had heard by this point, as he leaves the establishment. 

As they walk, they go to the carriage, where everyone else has reconvened.  Mournimar asks Nel about Victrum, which, she tells him, will take  9 days of travel. They agree to travel to Victrum directly after they finish the festivities in Morticia’s mansion.

The trip is short and Samson waits with the horses and Morgan, while the rest go in, wearing their “best faces”. Luck somehow smiles through this.

______________________________________________________

AND SO WE SWITCH TO A PREVIOUS SESSION!

One Dungeon Mastered by our Half-Orc Bard player, @langsty-mc-langstface​

This is really cool, ok?!

Our heroes enter the building, fashionably late. Belli had come in quite earlier than the others on that day, so she could prepare with the other performers. But the rest are coming fashionably late. Repearting myself.

The place is fancy-shmancy and everyone invited, but the party is wearing bright pink suits and dresses.  There’s glitter and wreathes and stuff and  Mournimar is dressed all “Mean girls” style.

How to describe Luck?  Luck is generic. Except not. He found a Winter Solstice sweater and dear horns. YOU HAPPY MOM?!

Burk’s painted his armor red. So he’s red and green.

Amelia’s wearing a sweater and pants.

That said, Nel is possibly the most expectedly dressed of the bunch. A fashionable dress.

Guards collect everyne’s weapons, but Luck’s, due to prejudices...Nel manages to sneak in a weapon, a dagger of sorts.

The four get lead around by Nelatha after this display of racism and make their way to the buffet. There’s a lot of food and from this point the party can see Elves, dressed like wizards, upon the podium, who do funny shit to keep people from overeating.

There’s a massive fire place, where people are gathered around. Commonly, the people here are mostly humans and elves, but there are the outliers...

The party find an angry Belli, performing on stage. Angry, because she has to wear pink for the celebration. 

As Mournimar and Nelatha go for drinks, Luck examins their surroundings and notices that the help is mostly made out of  humans, halflings and a goliath. This catches his interest and approaches the man, who introduces himself as Richard.

Richard the Golath.

Luck gets a couple of wine glasses from Richard, who he notices had recently smoken weed. While he’s taking well to the alcohol, Mournimar is sloshed 2 glasses of Brandy in. RIP.

Amelia and Nelatha notice a very tall Elf Woman with long black hair coiled up in a angry bun. Black dress and the biggest sapphire neckless around her. Morticia enters the scene and Luck inquires about her, while Nel and Morticia have a verbal spar of words. Trying to overpower each other on the scene.

Nelatha ultimatelly outsasses Morticia in defense of Burk, Amelia and Mournimar and causes her to make her leave.  None of the party, but Luck notices an almost cool wind blowing off of her that sends almost a shiver down his spine. Apparently, according to Richard, Mortitia comes from old money. Hers is the family responsible for construction of half the city.

There is suspicion from the party’s human as he watches her make her leave. There’s something odd about her, but he can’t put his finger on it. Either way, he parts ways with Richard, after getting another glass and gives him a gold coin for his trouble.

Mournimar quickly sobers up, while Nel gets a drink of her own from Richard. Shenanigans ensue as Burk tries to toss some meats over to Belli, only for it to be zapped away by an invisible barrier. This goes for a while. Burk does not succeed. But damn it if he didn’t try!

However, whomever set up this barrier didn’t count for Burk’s stubborness as he eventually succeeds to push through some bacon for the Half-orc Bard lady.

Having failed to repeat Burk’s success, Mournimar slinks into a corner, feeling self-conscious over his identity.... until a little tiefling boy approaches him. 

The boy smiles a toothy, shy smile at Mournimar, referring to him as pretty. His parents are performing on stage. 

Mournimar gets a note from the child. He gives the boy 3 gold for each member of the family. The two hug it out, before going their seperate ways...He takes note of a small gaggle of children running around the room, unsupervised. Some of the rich, some of the lower classes and staff.

Burk and Amelia go to check the hotsprings outside and Ames gets a disturbing view of an orgy taking place, while Burk makes snowballs with rocks inside.

Nel makes idle conversation with the creme of the crop on the continent. A title for each person in the immediate area of the conversation. While conversing, a uniformed guard pulls Nel aside and takes her and Luck to an upper floor library, where she simply whispers to Nel that they need to be careful, they can’t ask questions. They don’t know what’s listening.

She can answer questions about Mortitia, but this can’t be traced back to her. “Not everything’s as it seems. There’s always a cover, there’s always a lie.” she whispers and runs off.

With that, the red haired half-elf then makes her leave.  Nel turns to Luck. They agree everything is whack and should gather everyone.

Meanwhile...  All of Burk’s snowballs melt and a very cross looking wizard is looking down at Burk from an upper floor and talks down to him. Which, in turn, earns the wizard a response of a melted snowball to the face.

The duo are made to go inside. There, the party reconvenes and Nel notices Amelia’ traumatized expression.

Much to everyone’s shock, Luck doesn’t recognize the most famous bard in this plane of existence, Fantasy Beyonce. All the while, Burk feels a strange chill in the air for a second time.

Their attention is brought to a scurrying noise and they follow it with their eyes to the kitchen. The lights go off, then on again and everyone, but the five heroes of this story, are frozen solid.

They try to help them in some way, but unfortunately that doesn’t work out. A man gets shattered, even!

Even Belli is frozen, much to Mournimar’s horror.  Burk gets some frozen hair and Nel is almost blinded. WITH MAGIC! Because everything around them is basically enchanted in some way???

A few people aren’t frozen. The tiefling wife and Richard. Some of the dignitaries. None of the wizards are frozen.  The orgy is frozen. One guy is not. He’s in the center. He’s stuck.

Mournimar finds footprints. Almost like frozen into the ground, leading towards the rest of the house. Lying on the floor near the door there’s a familiar sapphire necklace (Mortitia’s).

Nel checks for the barrier. It’s not there, while Nel puts out the fireplace so people don’t get melted..

Mournimr notices the little tiefling boy is also frozen. As are almost all of the children. Mournimar has gone protective big brother mode. “Footprints, this way!”Luck follows. All the while.  Amelia and Burk go to the kitchen. The food and the staff are frozen. What draws their attention is that one of the windows is broken, glass is everywhere inside the room.

Burk investigates that some of the glass is broken like it has been walked on. That leads to the toilet’s door.  Which he kicks down.

Mournimar and Luck follow the footsteps and reach the door with the necklace.

Mournimar sees that the room is very cold, but the door seems colder and ice is forming around the hinges and door handle. Everything metal is being covered in a small sheen of ice. This ice seems to be covering the ground With things developing as is, they decide to restock on their weapons, so they can be able to defend themselves. This definitely is the work of a mysterious being of ice and the like.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, everyone, who isn’t our heroes right now, is frozen. Some seated, Some in mid expulsion. There is a vent, but it doesn’t seem damaged, so no one came through there, if they were responsible for these shenanigans.

All the mirrors have been punched with violent contact. There is dark red blood over the crack of the window near the window.  Burk uses a step stool and investigates the bloody mirror. He then notices chalk in the sink. Almost rubbed out lines in the mirror. Burk touches the chalk and realizes the chalk isn’t on this side of the mirror.

Upon trying to touch the door, Mournimar is repulsed backwards from an unknown impact. Luck has better.... well.... Luck with it as he opens the container of the others’ weapons, being greeted by solid block of frost.  Through the ice he can see into the ballroom. It’s like it’s carrying on like nothing happened.

Mournimar uses thaumaturgy. It’s not effective. It’s almost like this isn’t ice at all. The two theorise that this could be special glass. Was this-Was this all a trap? Did this half-elven woman bring them here to get revenge on Belli in some way?! She was, after all, aware of the Narahs in some fashion?! (AND WHAT ABOUT SAMSON AND THE BOIS?!)

As MarMar leans closer, it looks like a mirror. On the other side, it looks like we’re the frozen ones.

Amelia and Nelatha see them run past and bond over things as Luck shouts that they’re in the mirror universe. Nel notices that the shards of the shattered man are vibrating faster and faster. Nelatha casts message to Burk and mentions to Burk that the others are onto something.

But... ah... Everything around Burk seems to shift. He can’t tell what exactly’s going on, but something’s not right. He notices a foul smell from one of the stalls.

Upon kicking the door open, he sees the man, who was previously frozen in mid poop, doing his business. But Burk isn’t noticed by said man, who is now very much not paralyzed in cold. In fact, Burk almost appears spectral and transparent???  It’s almost like Burk isn’t there, even.

He looks out of the bathroom and finds himself in a Summer Solstice celebration, with fruits and vegetables as the course of feast, but no meats involved. A musicion gets on stage and begins to play country music.

Back with the anxious duo, Luck and Mournimar are in a hallway. At the end of the hallway there’s a door, surrounded by lights and  Mournimar notices that the door was recently forced with a dagger.

Luck Picks up the Necklace and the two go inside the room. It’s dark. It’s a study, but most of the furniture has been moved. There’s a single round mirror with a golden frame. On the mirror there are runes drawn in chalk.

In Infernal it says “As one door opens, another one closes.” Mournimar senses that this mirror is some sort of gateway. The duo are so preoccupied wiith the size of the room and it’s dark decor that they don’t notice when Nel and Amelia first come in.

Once they see them in, Luck asks where Burk is, but gets no answer on the subject. Nel is focused on the mirror.

She can feel massive amount of magic from the mirror. This kind of magic is all about teleportation, but someone’s messed with this in a way that no one should have tampered with it. Most of the magic seems to be coming from behind the curtain. As she shares her findings with the others, Luck dashes back outside to go and find Burk.

As if on que, a hand of glass shoots out of the mirror and drags Nel through it. It shatters once Nel passes through. Freaking out,  Mournimar and Amelia go to find Luck and Burk.

Nel finds herself in a room. She’s safe. But she’s in a room. A child’s room, as she is surrounded by toys and a dollhouse, sprawn around it. There is a little girl in a massive bed, Black haired and with elven features, it isn’t hard for the blonde elven woman to realize she’s seeing a terrified little Mortitia.

- Nelatha lies she’s “Judith” the maid, when asked who she is.  Mortitia says that everyone calls her “Morty” all the time. Her bear is Mr. Boop Boop.  Nela notices a window and fighting outside. There’s a war going on outside.Having a realization, Nel tries to distract the girl from the fighting with talk of music. And they bond over it. According to Morty’s dad, Bards are “hacks”.

Even so, Nel tells the young mistress of the house some stories.

In turn, she learns that  Morty’s mother isn’t around anymore and that her father’s fighting in the war. As they discuss Morty’s mom, an explosion goes off nearby, outside of the building.

Amelia and Mournimar run after Luck. But… the doors slam open and identical hands reach for them.

Amelia finds herself in a cloak room. And she’s not alone, as there is an injured soldier of Orcish descent, who is clearly hiding from some fighting transpiring outside. He’s a teenager and scared. Not just ‘cause Amelia suddenly popped in out of nowhere, but because of the conflict going outside.

While Amelia treats his wound as best she can, she tries to build a conversation with the young Half-Orc, whom she learns is named Riico. This is the “Great Base” that they were told to defend with their lives and protect the civillians. The voices outside get louder and the handle of the door begins to shake. Amelia tries to buy them some time, while she ties a rope to the door handle. There are many coats in here. With many pockets. But nothing of note inside them.

An explosion occurs outside and then the person shouts. And people start running away.

Mournimar falls into a dressing room full of outfits. Upon a quick inspection, this looks to be the dressing room with the design of a tiefling in mind. He notices that there are flowers everywhere. All folded from various colored paper. Mournimar follows the flowers and enters a bedroom. There’s a tiefling with a rose in his mouth in the bed.

They try to figure out who each other are. And what’s what.  The man is skeptical and there is a wand he is reaching for, but Mournimar tries to defuse the situation as he elaborates what exatly happened to him and his friends.

He and the taller tiefling begin to piece things together... And quickly realize who the other person in this dialogue is. Mournimar recognizes the man as the boy that he met in the ballroom not too long ago, when everything was normal.

MEANWHILE!

Luck enters the main hall, the door slams behind him. He forces the door open and is met with a mirror, showing him a dark version of the ballroom. With no person in sight. 

Resigning to his fate, Luck takes a few steps back.... and then dives headfirst into the mirror, finding himself in what appears to be a war room. There are heavy black curtains on the windows. Chains barricarding the door. He can smell dust, which clogs his nose.

He investigates the window. It’s been smashed in and on the glass there is old dried blood. Outside there is nothing. It’s a wasteland. There are skeletons and corpses of various decomposition strewn everywhere

He checks the hallway. It’s pretty much the same as before, only no doors. Walking past, there are only three mirrors. One leading to one at the far end, one towards the double doors.  Luck enters cautiously, asking if someone’s inside... And feels a presense nearby.

Back to Burk, he finds himself in the middle of a harvest festival. Everyone’s happy. As he looks around, he recognizes some people. Most importantly, he recognizes an older looking Goblin with familiar armor. He looks similar to Burk, but something’s off.

The older Goblin is focused on Bacon... And Burk tries to get said Bacon, but only startles the elder, wearing Burk’s armor. Our Barbarian notices that the man is very mucb blind.  He doesn’t say a thing to himself. “They have an understanding.” as Hayden puts it. Upon closer inspection, though... He realizes that isn’t his voice. But that is Burk’s armor.

Who the fuck are you?!” in stereo. “Is this a meme?”  asks the not Burk Goblin. The man elaborates on the armor... This armor is 7 generations down from his great-great-great-*zzz*-great-great-great-grandfather Burk.

As they talk, Goblin kids run past and kick Burk in the shin. 

The “descendant” wants to know who Burk is. Burk simply wants to know how Burk died. But the descendant has no damn clue. Burk begins to wonder if they’re even related. The guy could very well just have looted Burk’s grave or something.

Burk finds an older Nelatha and asks her about Amelia. Nelatha is confused, at first, but then remembers what happened. Burk concludes that she’s useless.

Back with Amelia, the noise outside goes to a quiet tone and Riico visibly relaxes.  Amelia questions him about what’s going on, what that noise was.  Riico has apparently abandoned his duty, something which clearly angers Amelia for some reason.

They check outside. Outside there are storage boxes and tents, people hiding. Outside there are civilians fleeing from the main hall. People are setting up a barricade at the main entrance. Some of them are soldiers, some civilians. Amelia sees a figure in a dark cloak outside.

He smashes his hand through the window, leaving blood on the shards. And then an army charges through. Civilians begin running for their lives.

She pushes through a sea of people. Riico isn’t in the closet, neither are most of the coats, but his is there. He abandoned his coat and took a civilian one. Amelia runs towards a familiar double door. Thrown open.

Mortitia is there, ushering folks through the mirror and her necklace is glowing as she’s helping people. She is distraught, looking like she’s about to break. Amelia decides to help, directing people in the direction of the mirror.

She notes that, wherever they are going, it appears peaceful and meadow filled.

BACK TO NEL! An explosion occurs outside the bedroom. She tells Morty to keep away from the window. Outside, Nel sees a single man waving a wand and doing horrible things. An elf man with dark hair. She puts 2 and 2 together that this is Morty’s father.

Morty’s looking up at Nel, she’s not seeing her dad, but is aware. Nel puts Morty back to bed. “Daddy got sick when mommy died.”She heard from servants. He did shady stuff and it made him different. It’s said that if he kills enough, Morty’s mom would return. 

If you try and break the cycle of life and death, it could turn out dangerous, even for you.” – Nel states to a much understanding little elven girl.

She leads Nel out into the hallway and moves quietly, afraid to be heard. There are double doors at the end of the hallway, which the bard can recognize from earlier. Er. In the future.  Inside, there is no curtain. Instead a cage. Inside the cage, there’s a chained elf woman. Her form is flickering, almost as if she can’t stay in this plane of existence and she seems to be in agony.

Nel covers Morty’s ears and whistles a brief tune on the screaming lady and puts her to sleep. It is a woman with a large bloody wound on her chest. They converse some more on what to do. Runes glow and light is pouring into her. Before their eyes, the woman is restored, wound closes, like it was never there.

Morty reveals that she has seen this before. Nel asks if she’d like for her father to stop this.  Morty believes that no one can stop him. He’s not her daddy anymore. She points at her necklace. She has a job to do and only she can do it. She learned from her future self about it.

Nel understands, if vaguely, what this means. She will have to go back to the future, but before she does, she gives Morty some make up tips to keep for herself in the future. 

Morty knows what she must do. The war’s been going on since before she was born. Nel gives Morty the talk of power and responsibility and in turn,  Morty helps Nel with the mirror, while Nel gives her a pep talk.

As Nel boops Morty’s nose, she gets teleported... 

We cut back to Mournimar, who is being escorted by the taller tiefling down the stairs. And they’re in the same place of the party, except it’s been converted into a studio with recording equipment and instruments everywhere. It’s a bardic paradise.

Apparently the tiefling had a crush on Mournimar back in the day. There’s someone who he needs to talk to. There’s an old woman in a wheel chair. Dark hair down. She’s softly playing a lute. It’s Mortitia.

It takes them a moment, but they discuss what happened.

Mournimar spills the beans. “Ah, the old hand! Some day I’ll figure out what the fuck it’s doing.” Mortitia states. She stands up and uses a stick to hobble to MarMar. Checks his face and yes. She definitely remembers the drunky boy.

Usually the hand takes people, who (and she has a real hard time remembering) are capable of operating the mirror. That must mean the party can also use this. And she gestures to her necklace. It’s been handed down the line daughter to daughter. And they’ve made doors through time to prevent disasters.

He needs to go through the summer solstice mirror, then through the winter one. And she puts the necklace around Mournimar and she gives him instructions. He needs to go through the bathroom first. And to be careful. She lost her temper earlier and punched the mirrors.

As she says that, the tiefling he recognized is very annoyed and blushes brightly as he brings Nel into the room. She just arrived.  She’s seen plenty worse.

Team bathroom mirror is a go!

Judith, btw from your childhood.” The girls catch up quickly, before our heroes make their leave. And Burk has had an interesting conversation with future folk. Then he hears a crash from the bathroom. He investigates and reunites with Nel and Mournimar, who had crashed down on top of each other through the mirror. For a second Nel thinks she’s got black hair now, but it’s actually MarMar on top of her.

Nelatha goes to talk with her future self. She’s wearing a familiar sapphire necklace. Nelatha got something nice in Mortitia’s will. Future Nelatha gives past Nelatha the Necklace and directs her to the closet. Before they go, Nel gets a very important message from herself:

Whatever she does, never accept a makeover from Belli.

Back with Amelia, she is helping civillians through, until Mortitia collapses. She’s exhausted as fuck. Almost completely drained of life, basically. The necklace calls for Ames to put it on.

Burk, Mournimar and Nelatha fall through the portal in a tiny closet, stacked up. Nel at the bottom, Burk in the middle, Mournimar at the top. Nel’s dress is basically ruined by this point.

They see people running past them, screaming. No one is even noticing the trio, they’re just b-lining it.  Burk splits off again. And checks what’s up in the back.  He sees the fire behind the people. Seeing as he can’t punch that, runs the opposite way.

The trio get to Amelia, who is now wearing the necklace as well. Just as the door begins to freeze behind them. Burk sees a tiny little dragon breathing ice, breathing on the door and wagging it’s tail.

As Burk makes friends with the little one, Amelia and Nelatha hug it out as they reunite, finally.

BACK WITH LUCK! As Luck is standing in the room, it’s almost as if Ash is appearing on the walls and floor.  He notices the ash seems to be the thickest in the center of the room.  Luck nat 20’s his perception check. There are foot prints buried in the center of the room. As he’s looking there, the room starts getting cold. 

The lights go out and once they go out, all the people, who were frozen in the party are unfrozen. Luck waves awkwardly at the people. Aaand gets glomp-tackled by a panicking Belli. They quickly catch up and come to a realization on what had actually happened.

Back with the others, Mournimar is slowly getting more anxious as they haven’t found their human buddy.  Mortitia starts to wake up and she sees her dragon is taken by a goblin. She refers to the little one as Boop Boop”the dragon. Nel has a 1,000 yard stare.

Morty is almost annoyed at the situation and ties her hair in a bun (MUCH TO THE ENTIRE GROUP’S PAINED CHAGRIN).

They try to follow her through a mirror, but it breaks. The dragon chirps as they plan and the dragon points in a direction with it’s tail that takes the form of a hand.

The party gets to the main room, where the floor has been burnt into a mirror. Dragon’s pointing at the floor. They jump through, holding hands and pulling Burk along. And promply land on their other two companions.

The dragon came through, as well and the party begin discussing what the hell just happened to all of them.

There is a reunion hug in there, somewhere as the girls notice a very annoyed Mortitia. Nel uses”Morty”. Mortitia shudders. Apparently this is all “Boop Boop”’s fault. 

Mortitia tries to call Boop Boop to her, but the little dragon is adamant to do so. Wanting to travel with Burk for a while. She sighs and asks for the necklaces back, telling the party that they’ll forget what happened once they hand them back. It’s important, but some refuse as they’d seen a future where they hold onto the necklace.

Luck and Mournimar hand their versions of the necklace to Mortitia.  Mortitia is honest with them about what’s what and her opinion of the party has shifted. As things go back to normal, the once Low Wisdom Duo forget what happened, beyond their intitial experiences in the mansion, before things got weird.

The lot of them make peace with the mansion’s owner and Burk gets to keep Boop Boop, whom he renames “Rimefang”. Rimefang seems chill with this new name. The lot of them get 1,500 gold together for the job and their troubles.

Belli gives everyone a present and takes a “Still Image” of sorts with her friends. Inside, everyone finds a friendship bracelet. Mournimar has a t-shirt with “Best Big Brother” on it.

________________________________________________________________

Once they make their leave, the party feel accomplished.

One could say that everyone has... leveled up, in a way.

Level 5! Level 5! Level 5! Level 5! Level 5! 

Nel states that the lot will be able to meet heri n the capitol next. She’ll be veyr busy, apparently. 

(Out of character, we learn that  If the opportunity presents itself, Burk will jump in front of Belli to take a blow. He hates himself more than he hates the party).

Amelia’s gonna pull Nel aside and the two have a moment. Which Mournimar and Belli are absolutely extatic for. While Luck’s demeanor shifts slowly as he remembers what’s coming next on their journey...

Nel’s red in the face, once the two come back from wherever they came back.  For the first time, the party see her visibly flustered. She goes invisible and heads off to the capitol.

The party commences their travels, with Luck taking a seat beside Samson, who has been coachmanning the shit out of the carriage.

4 days after setting off from Heraeia, they hear shuffling i nthe trees. Mournimar and Luck hear something more. Orcish grumblings and point them out to Belli, since the only Orcish the two bladed boys know are cusses.

Burk understands as well and what they learn is that a small band of orcs are sitting around a fire, bragging about their latest spree of murder and mayhem.

The party is talked into taking out the orcs for their crimes, Luck being the most eager to put a stop to them. With help of Mournimar’s spell “Pass Without a Trace”, the party of now 8 travel through the bushes, with Morgan the Dire Wolf being the top tier standard for stealth.

A fight begins and ends in almost an instant as the party are too strong for the orcs, who are overcome from all sides.

Belli being the MVP, quite frankly, as she had put the leader to sleep, before it even started!

To summarise the far, here are my notes:

- Mournimar Hunter’s marks a guy, then hits him. Hits him hard.

-  Sam does a cool plant whip move.

- Luck finishes off the dude.

- Luck misses the other dude.

- The an arrow bounces off his armor.

- Burk rushes in and crits the guy that shot at Luck, with the Axe.

- And almost kills him brutally.

- Amelia smashes another guy’s face in.

- Amelia gets the second kill of the session, after Luck.

- Then goes to punch another guy, but he just barely dodges.

- Rimefang ice cones a dude.

- Morgan takes a nibble off the sleeping dude.

- Belli claims another penis.

- Mournimar does a sord combo.

- Samson smashes the man’s ribs in.

- While Mournimar pats Morgan, Luck gets his dagger back.

- Belli finds 20 gold and 2 emeralds.

- Hell yeah!

- It’s dusk time.

- Luck finds 10 gold on the sword and shield and 5 on the guy across him.

- Belli gets 5 gold.

We have us a bit of a singing out of character on the subject of these country Orcs.

“Country Orcs, take me “ACK!”

The party camp further away from the orc band as they don’t want to atttract attention, in case there’s more of them. Though they could probably take them down.

Rustling comes from the bushes. Amelia and Samson hear it first.  An brunette half elven woman with a bow appears. She introduces herself as “Noria” and offers her services as a guide on the road. Having had bad experiences with random beautiful elven women appearing before them,  Belli uses Zone of Truth on the ranger.

“I just wanted to offer some advice to the people in the area. You have a wolf, I noticed.” She is clearly impressed by Morgan. And she tells the party that there is a tavern down the road, where they could spend the night, should they continue further. And a good cave, if they are so inclined to explore that as well.

Burk asks her if she’s a cannibal or knows a cannibal. Nah. Luck's just cleaning the blood off his swords and armor, while the ranger helps the party in gettign the war horses, Kevin and Killer, to move faster with the help of some infernal.

Mournimar goes to Kevin and Killer and will do Animal Speak with them.

(I wrote down that there is a Hannibal Lecter reference down here??? I think this is when I did my impression of Sir Anthony Hopkins).

Amelia insights Noria. She doesn’t hunt people. She eventually walks off. Luck tries to give her some coin, but she refuses and they part ways. (Smol Luck lore: He was a bit smitten with the lady).

Mournimar earns himself a star for “being emo”. Apparently Belli keeps all kinds of charts. All the while, Amelia pulls Luck on the side, far away from the others.

Softly, she asks: “So, did you notice anything strange about that.” Luck asks her what she saw. Her eyes didn’t move at all. Creepy. Didn’t blink. Second of all, she was watching her. She’s not “solid”. She seemed to fade at some point. The two take a moment to consider what they can do from here on out.

They decide to spend the night here, but in the morning they’ll check with the tavern on Info about Noria. Then come back to the others, right as they hear the mention of a name. Who’s Lazarus.”

Mournimar wants to discuss some things with the group. In the morning.

In the morning, they discuss turns on taking reigns on the carriage, so they can move faster. Mournimar is looking forward to seeing his old flame, Gorruk, again.

Luck gets to know Samson a bit. He’s been with the Bretheren for 4 years. To learn about his Craft. He’s very enthusiastic about their Message. Luck learns about a lot of different types of plants along the way, but he’s not very enthusiastic about it, given his current predicament.

Along the way, Burk and Mournimar teach their quadropadal companions some commands to varying success.

Reaching town, Amelia and Luck do a lore quest, while the others do their own thing. They find another Half-elf, an older woman, definite gray sprouting from her roots. Her eyes light up and she approaches them about how Noria was her grandmother and who the town was named after.

The swamp is magical, maybe it was an echo of Noria.

We continue on, after the party learns about the Spectral hero of the land.  At some point during their journey they see a suspicious coin purse in the middle of the road. Belli pokes it with mage hand as they pass. Belli picks it up and opens it. There’s money in there. Belli takes the money. Belli gets 69 copper pieces.

She hands the money to Rimefang as his first little horde. And he grunts happily.

...

Eventually they make it to Victrum.  And Luck makes a b-line for the Silver Hammer’s Inn, alongside Mournimar. With the rest of the party, except for Samson and the horses, and maybe Morgan??? Yes, definitely Morgan stays there with the others, at the carriage. The rest of the party joins the anxious boys.

A very smitten Mournimar catches Gorruk up on what’s been going on. They certainly have gained a repotation by this point.

Following a 21 perception (I had power outage for a couple of minutes sgaghasgh), Luck sees an elven man sitting in a corner. He recognizes him as Felaern.

Taking a couple of cups, Luck walks over to him and bullshits his way into a conversation with the man, making him believe that he is an admirer of The Traveling Gentlemen.

He is able to persuade Felaern to talk to him about his experiences, while also having him drink the Centaur Moonshine. Felaren leans in. And starts slamming drinks. All the while spilling his heart out to the fighter about all the hardships he’s faced lately.

How the Gentlemen became too mainstream and moneygrubby. How they started doing shady shit and weren’t as “heroic” as they were making themselves out to be. Which “SHOCKS”, SHOCKS I say, Luck as he makes it known to Gorruck that his perception of The Traveling Gentlemen was not all it was cracked up to be.

Eventually, as they talk, Felaren tells Luck that he was gonna be replaced by some other wizard. Luck just keeps pouring him drinks. Until Felaern eventually konks out from the Centaur Moonshine. (Nat 1, Baby!)

Luck picks the elven wizard up and starts carrying him outside, promising to Gorruk, in a twisted way, that Felaren won’t get hurt. And that turns out to be true.

As, by the time they reach the marshlands, out of town, by the time they reach a tree, by the time Luck disarms and undresses Felaern, just to be sure he is unarmed, by the time he starts tying him to a tree, he makes a quick realization.

Felaern was dead. Alcohol poisoning having taken him out.

In that moment, Luck freaks out and begins shaking and mumbling to himself, much to the worry of Belli and Mournimar. And then...

The party swear to help Luctan on his quest.  And, as the body burns, the session comes to an end. With this reveal simmering along.

Previous Episode / Next Episode

[meisteralready]

Today. I’ve been having a bad day.

Everything was off. I didn’t know I had to work and discovered just an hour and change before so. I wasn’t prepared.

I hadn’t slept well, having a horrible nightmare of some beast- a weird wolf-like insect (I know) - that broke into my bedroom and was trying to literally eat my foot.

I woke up at 4am, shaking, deep heart palpations, terrified. It was so visceral and real. I got up to use the bathroom and I couldn’t figure out where it was. My feet started cramping up and I felt dry and hollow, hot and lightheaded - it felt like a panic attack.

I quickly checked my blood sugar. It was 60. Dangerously low for a diabetic. I stumbled into my kitchen and slammed orange juice. I ate a chicken leg, cashews, random chips. The hunger was ferocious because I was crashing.

This was more dangerous than a bad dream.

Slowly, I rebounded. 72.

5 minutes later, 85.

10 minutes.

Got to about 100.

Finally.

I sat back on the bed gingerly. I was scared to go back to sleep. Afraid I’d crash out again. And I was terrified to possibly return to that nightmare.

Eventually, I drift back to sleep at 6 or so, thinking -thank bejesus!- that I am off today. Wake up later to use the bathroom. And because my circadian rhythm is supremely and unrecognizably out of whack, I have no idea the current time. I check my phone.

At that same exact moment, an email chimes in. It’s my trainer/coordinator, reminding us to be ready, promptly and memorized, for the meeting at 9am.

My phone says it’s 7:45.

I think that this is the first I knew of any of this. Until, I check my email and, nope! I knew of all of this.

I just never put it in my calendar. And if it’s not in there, it doesn’t even exit in my world. But in the real world, I have to be prepped and ready for a in-depth case at in about an hour and some change.

I jolt awake.

For the second time this morning.

A worse nightmare.

This will not be the day I was expecting.

Slam a shower, more food, iced coffee from my refrigerator and it’s 9:30. I zoom into the meeting and it’s ON.

In the meeting, though, I am confused. I am not connecting the dots. Dates and times tumble. Simple things that I have replicated, quite literally, thousands of times, become unwieldy; cumbersome. I look like a complete amateur.

Plus, I am being awkward. Awkward in passes of conversation. Even awkward in the way I am holding my body in front my laptop’s camera. A sudden alien on this earth.

I feel I am short with people. I am not following the case. I’m so very lost. I am asked a fairly direct answer and just…

Nothing comes. And because this is a goddamn zoom meeting, all eyes are literally on me. Just then, my downstairs neighbor is loudly playing some movie - crashes, incoherent rambles and screams. I mute myself for a second and, out of view of the camera, stomp the floor with three large thuds.

I click my mic back on. The volume downstairs deadens, then GOES UP.

In the mock exercise for the event, I just flat-out fail. I mess up facts and am noticeably not memorized. It’s easily seen and my tension is palpable.

Mercifully, the training ends. I am terribly embarrassed.

After a brief de-brief with my higher ups, I explain I’m off at bit, but I will be fine - studied, memorized and 100% coherent - on the day. No worries. It’s next week. Okay, Monday, but next week.

Leave Meeting.

I hear the downstairs door slam close. I guess it was a shit movie. It is finally, relatively, quiet. And I am just kinda frozen-in-place. The laptop shows an empty zoom prompt, but nothing is moving. Not on-screen, in the room, nothing. I just take in the screen, the hum of the nearby refrigerator, and the absolute stillness of me at the table in my living room.

I feel a sadness welling. I feel the urge - a growing need - to cry. It was a bad, bad morning, yet this feeling is now overwhelming me, startles me.

Why now?

I decide food is the answer and will fix something.

I am about to push away and stand up from the computer, from the table. I notice on my iCal the date. February 19th.

It’s February 19th.

12 years ago, today, roughly to this exact time in the morning, I had to make the choice to take my Mom off life support.

Surrounded by her world, and her being mine, she slipped away within minutes. It was an immediate emptiness I have never felt again or since. Dry and hollow.

How could I forget? How could I forget this day? A moment that never leaves the back of my eyes and perhaps defines every day that came after it. The decision in that day that simultaneously affirms and will forever haunts me.

How could I have forgotten this day?

I guess that is what time is supposed to do. Let your psyche trick itself into the monotony of days, of the work that years lay upon you.

But I had never not remembered this day.

I sat back down. And I just cried. Wept, actually.

I miss her so. Mom. I’d do anything to see her at this stage in our lives. She should have been retired and me, with a teenager. I would like to compare parental notes, battle scars.

I wish-upon-wish that she could just sit with Evangeline for a conversation, some iced tea (though Eve hates it), see them split their beloved jellybeans. To hear them laugh with the same easy little hiccup and drawl they both share.

Outside, it started shifting a little snow - some call it “spitting” - just gentle flakes, unhurried, making their way down from their journey way up.

Then, the sun broke through, gleamed over the top of the building next door, and directly into my face.

The snow still fell. Though now, with this little sun, it glistened in its’ little cascades.

I felt my shoulders release and fall. Relief just rushed over me.

Warm.

I had forgotten about the day.

But I had remembered Mom.

[silverfootstepswrites]

hello! May I ask for an ItaSaku fic where Sakura is a model, & Itachi's her assistant? Thanks~ >u

title Model Behaviorsummary The pay is nice but, like…. there’s so much butt glue…pairing itasaku (duh-doy)

“Read me my schedule?”

“You’ve got that jeans shoot at 10 today. An interview with Nylon at 2 plus the cover shoot. And then there’s that meeting with the CEO at 7.”

As she listened, Sakura drew a sweeping line above her lashes. She rubbed at a smudge with her thumb. When she looked up, she saw Itachi’s reflection in the doorway. 

“Is that last meeting for dinner?” she asked. Itachi didn’t respond, so she wrinkled her nose. Sighing, she picked up her jacket. Draping it over her shoulders, she glanced down at her smartwatch. 

“Did you remember to-”

“I scheduled your facial for 11 tomorrow,” Itachi confirmed. He glanced up from his tablet, leaning against the doorframe.

“Don’t forget to pick up my dry cleaning today,” she then said. Itachi pointed. Her dress hung from the doorknob, ensconced in the plastic bag. The ticket from the cleaners was still stapled to the corner.

“I also called a car. It should be here in two minutes,” Itachi added, not looking up from his tablet.

Puckering her lips, she blew him a kiss.

“You’re my hero, Itachi. Pick me up from the shoot!” she sang, already running out the door. Without looking up, Itachi caught the kiss thrown his way. 

“Uh-huh,” he replied, still sorting through her emails.

When a talent scout had stopped Sakura on the street six years ago, she hadn’t given it much thought. Her parents had insisted on going to the agency with her. She didn’t blame them. There were so many shady places and shady people. It turned out that it was a real agency, though. 

A gig for a catalogue had turned into two. And then three. And then friends of those photographers had begun reaching out to her. 

At 25, she was far from a fresh face in the industry. And as of late, she noticed more and more gigs being snatched up by these younger girls. 

The older girls around her urged her to retire gracefully. It wasn’t worth sticking around to see tabloids mocking her one or two developing wrinkles, they said. By her age, Temari had used her money to open up a boutique. Ino was currently working on releasing a line of beauty products. Everyone knew that being paid to be pretty only lasted as long as the beauty did. 

Her phone buzzed from inside her jeweled clutch. 

“You forgot your wallet,” Itachi said as soon as she answered. She peered inside her little bag. 

“Oh.”

“I’ll bring it to the shoot. Bye.”

With a click, he disconnected.

She hardly had time to worry about that. When she arrived at the studio, a horde of make up artists and producers greeted her. They surrounded her before the swarm of paparazzi could engulf her. Smearing her makeup off (what a waste of all her hard work in the morning), they tugged at her hair. Engulfed in hair spray, Sakura kept her expression neutral. They combed her hair back until she was certain that her forehead looked about a thousand times larger. 

The lights flashed every few seconds, preceded by a high-pitched beep. 

“Chin up, Sakura. Good! Tilt your head. Alright, give me sexy eyes. Look to the left.”

Sakura followed the instructions. No matter how ridiculous she felt, she knew better than to disagree. The pictures always ended up looking better than she thought they would.

“Five minute break!” one of the producers announced. 

Sakura waited for one of the make up artists to come powder her face before she tried to move. She held out her hands. One of the many assistants came forward with her green tea and her phone. She sipped carefully through the straw; she would get yelled at for smudging her lipstick. No missed calls from Itachi. She pushed her drink and her phone back into the girl’s hands. 

Sulking, she settled into her chair. 

“You’ll wrinkle even more, Grandma,” Sai said, pushing his thumb to the furrow in her brow. He smirked his way over to the empty chair beside her and sat. 

“I’m literally six months older than you, Sai,” she sighed. Sai scoffed.

“Still haven’t hit a quarter of a century. What does it feel like to be ancient? Does your hip hurt?” he went on. Teeth gritting, Sakura fixed him with a glare.

“Sai,” she warned. 

“You can’t hit my face. I’m up next and I bruise easily,” Sai said, hand on his cheek. Sakura settled for flipping him the bird instead. She turned away from him, leaning against the arm of the chair. It was easier just to pretend that he wasn’t there. 

“Sakura!” one of the staff called. 

And it was back in front of the camera. Lights exploding in a frenzy. Turning, smiling, craning her neck this way and that. As they took a minute break to touch up her makeup for the millionth time, the back doors opened. Itachi slipped in, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. One of the production assistants stopped him and he held up his laminated badge. He pointed at her and the girl turned to follow his finger. 

Their eyes met. Sakura winked. His expression didn’t change.

“Alright. Sakura, tilt your head back. Good. Left hand in your pocket.”

As the camera restarted his rhythm, Sakura didn’t look at Itachi again. And he disappeared into the sea of people watching from the sidelines. 

Only when they wrapped up her segment of the shoot did Itachi emerge from the shadows. He walked over, holding up her pink wallet. 

“You looked a little stiff up there. Are you feeling alright?” he asked. He found her clutch and put her wallet inside without being asked. He then dropped her phone into her waiting hand. 

“That creep Sai is here. He’s been talking smack all morning,” she whispered, yanking her arms through the sleeves of her jacket. Itachi did a casual turn and scanned the room, like he was bored. But then his eyes fell on the tall man striding towards the photographer to check his shots. Itachi looked back at Sakura. 

“He’s been holding a grudge ever since you got that shoot in February for Non-no,” mused Itachi. Sakura hummed, already busy scanning through her missed texts and emails. He reached out to adjust her collar. Ran his fingers through her hair so that her bangs would sit just the way she liked them.

“It’s not like I stole it. They just asked me and the schedule worked out,” Sakura defended herself. She stuffed her phone in her pocket, forgetting that, like most women’s clothes, the shallow pockets of her jacket were less than useful. Itachi held out his hand instead. She let him tuck her phone into her clutch before handing it over to her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“You’re extra irritable because you’re hungry. Come on. Food’s in the car,” Itachi said. Sakura stared at him.

“Are you trying to decide whether you’re pissed at me for that comment or not?” he asked, digging in his pockets for the car keys.

“Yes.”

“You done deciding yet?” Itachi looked over his shoulder at her, holding up the keys. They jangled together against her Hello Kitty keychain.

“….Did you bring me a matcha latte?” she asked, already hurrying to catch up to him.

“Sakura, why would I ever risk my life by forgetting your matcha?” he responded. Sakura smiled, hooking her arm through his.

“You’re amazing. I appreciate you. I admire you,” she showered on the praise. 

“I know,” was all Itachi said as he held the door open for her.

Dinner with the CEO ended well after midnight. Sakura had gone into the calendar and added several crying emojis during the affair. Itachi didn’t delete them. They felt like a necessary addition.

Itachi half-carried Sakura up to her apartment. 

“That man….talks… so much,” she huffed, leaning against Itachi’s back. He fumbled in the dark for the right key. When he managed to fit the right one in the lock, he heard Sakura groan.

“Are you going to throw up?” he asked, wary. He felt her shake her head. Sighing, he opened up the door to her apartment. She wobbled two steps into the apartment before abandoning her heels.

“Satan’s helpers,” she hissed, kicking them aside.

“Extremely expensive gifts from your boss,” Itachi corrected her as he set them upright. He glanced at her feet.

“Okay you’re bleeding. Satan’s helpers it is,” Itachi conceded. Sakura limped her way into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Itachi appeared to join her a minute later. He patted the countertop. Sakura finished gulping down her water before she hoisted herself up to sit there. Itachi pulled out the folding stool she kept tucked under one of the counters. He opened it with a flick of his wrist and sat on it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, taking her foot into his hand. Sakura poured herself more water.

“About what?” she questioned. Itachi pointedly shook her foot.

“Oh. That? They…almost always hurt,” she stated, shrugging. Itachi glared up at her for a moment.

“The only comfortable shoes I have are the ones I buy. No one else cares how they feel on me. Just if they look good. It’s sort of my job, Itachi,” Sakura went on. She hissed when he touched the scrapes with alcohol. He only held onto her foot tighter.

“If these get infected, it’ll only hurt worse. Hold still,” he scolded her. Sakura downed the rest of her water. More liquid trickled into her glass. She sighed again.

“Sorry. You’re only trying to help. I know. I’m just tired and taking it out on you,” Sakura confessed in a quieter voice. Itachi didn’t say anything as he bandaged the back of her left foot. He tended to a smaller scrape on the side of her foot before he turned his attention to the right one too.

“It’s a good thing you don’t have any shoots tomorrow, So you can sp-” Itachi trailed off when he looked up and found that her glass was now filled with red wine. She gave him the most innocent look.

“What?” 

Sakura looked down at the glass.

“Well if I don’t drink it soon, it’ll go sour. The bottle was already open,” Sakura insisted. 

Itachi stared at her. Sakura fluttered her eyelashes. She flexed her toes, turning her feet this way and that.

“Thanks for this. You’re a peach,” she said, hopping off the counter. She lightly pinched his ear as she walked past. She paused to scoop up her bag and jacket where she had dumped them in the foyer.

“I’m going to bed. You should get home too. It’s late,” she said, already slipping into her room down the hall. 

“Not the first time I’ve been up late making sure you don’t die,” Itachi retorted. After a moment, just Sakura’s head popped out of her bedroom. Her glass of wine followed.

“That’s what I pay you for. And you’ve been very good at it so far,” quipped Sakura in return. Itachi’s expression remained flat.

“If you die, I don’t get paid. It’s a simple survival strategy,” he replied. 

Sakura scrunched her face up.

“You’re no fun, you know that?” 

“If you wanted the fun assistant, you should have bought the upgrade,” he answered. Sakura eyed him for another moment.

“I hate you.” She disappeared behind the door.

“I thought you said I was amazing. You said that you appreciated me and admired me, remember?” he goaded her.

All that answered was the sound of the pillow hitting the door.

“You’re fired,” her muffled voice followed.

“See you in the morning, princess,” Itachi said. He paused, waiting for her response.

“…..Yeah, whatever.”

[peachesnsunshine]

Hay frandz, life update tiem

Howdy. 

I got a new computer, a Chromebook, and holy shit this thing is fast and awesome. 

2019 has been a bit of a shit year. Like, on the one hand, I’m getting married in LESS THAN A FUCKING MONTH (YAAAAASSSSS, BTW did I tell y’all I found a boy who loves me and has a doge and shit?? It’s truuuuuu). 

But on the other hand. 

On. 

The. 

Other. 

Hand. 

TW: death, medical shit, description of surgery, struggle, abuse mentioned

My momma had surgery back at the end of January. A mass was found on one of her ovaries, and given her age, total removal of GYN organs plus additional tissue was decided upon. The surgery went well, and she was home within 4 days. 

But. 

The lab couldn’t figure out immediately if the mass came from a GYN organ or from her appendix, so the surgeon removed her appendix as a safety measure. It was a good thing she did. 

Because the pathologist found cancer in my momma’s appendix. Cancer. Fucking. Goddamn. Cancer. She’s been getting chemo since the end of February. I’ve been going home about once a month to take care of her. 

It’s been hard, because she is still married to my abuser. The man who sexually abused me as a child. She believes me, she really does. She’s also a victim of emotional abuse from him. Every time I go home to take care of her, he has been there. I sent him a letter in January telling him I was cutting him out of my life and he was not invited to my wedding and will no longer be a part of my life from here on out. When I texted my momma to let her know I’d put the letter in the mail, she called me to tell me about the surgery. Which led to the cancer diagnosis. Follow? 

My psychiatrist has been amazing. She offered me a 6-month course of Prozac, to help my anxiety and PTSD as I take care of my momma and the run-up to my wedding.  Edit: I’m picking this post back up again after like a month or two of not touching it, so I’m not sure what my original train of thought or plan was. But we’re gonna just keep rolling on.  The Prozac has been amazing, I noticed a difference in my mental state literally the first dose I took. My psychiatrist was totally right: it helps me feel more like myself minus anxiety and depression. The meme is completely true: “If you can’t make your own serotonin [or other brain chemicals], storebought is fine.”

So at the beginning of May Momma and I celebrated what we hoped would be her last chemo treatment. She made the decision to retire effective immediately, so with end-of-the-school-year stuff she wasn’t able to find out the results of her PET scan until after the Memorial Day holiday.  On Memorial Day, my oldest brother died. Marc was 57, and it was a heart attack, just like our daddy. [Side note: I am my mom’s only child, with 2 half-brothers, a stepbrother, and a stepbrother-in-law, if you wanna split hairs.] I was only 5 when Daddy died, and Marc stepped up for Momma and me. After my grandfather, Marc was the second-most present father figure in my life. Sure, we only did fun things like go to amusement parks and water parks, but looking back I now realize that part of the reason he did those things was to get me out of my momma’s hair for a while so she could fucking breathe and have some time to herself. The other part of the reason Marc pretty much only did fun things with me was that as he told me so many times, he was just a big kid. Even now, as I type this, I can hear his giggle after he’d say that. After Teddy called me to tell me our brother was gone, I cried like I haven’t cried in decades. The kind of weeping with screaming sobs, with hyperventilating sobs, with pain that makes you want to tear your heart out of your chest, with the only thought in your mind that all you want in life ever again is to have that person back. I called My Boy (fiance, soon huzzband) and told him. He rushed home as quick as he could and slipped into bed behind me and held me so tightly.  As we were packing our things a couple of days later, I texted Momma to let her know where we’d be staying and what time we’d arrive. I also let her know I hadn’t forgotten that she’d found out the results of her PET scan.  The cancer is still there. 

It has shown a response to treatment because it’s shrunk 50%. But it is still there. She restarted chemo and met with a surgeon who apparently is one of the top in the US for treating appendix cancer. The plan is that in a few months, after the wedding, she will go back into the OR for a pair of surgeries that will most likely take most of the day. The first surgery will be to open her entire abdomen up and the surgeon is going to go through all of her internal organs looking for and removing any visible tumors found. By my estimation, this alone will take several hours. The second surgery will happen immediately afterward and involves warming up chemo drugs to slightly above body temp then dumping them into her open abdomen and swishing them around for no more than 2 hours. This all scares the absolute fuck out of me. I don’t want to, I can’t, lose my mama. 

At this point, she has about two infusions left. One will be the week before my wedding.  Between wedding planning, losing Marc, and Momma’s cancer, what’s one more thing to add to my brain and my life? I’m changing careers. I’m trying to get out of healthcare altogether and into college admissions or student affairs/services. I’ve been working with a career coach who has been pivotal and amazing in my progress. I met him just a week before Momma told me about her surgery and that avalanche.  But by the beginning of June, I officially reached my limit of Too Much. My therapist encouraged me in the strongest possible terms to request FMLA for myself. I did and mercifully was granted intermittent FMLA. I am able to take time off when I just can’t get myself out of bed.  I am inordinately exhausted, so I’m going to post this as is and write part 2 (which will be happy, all about The Boy and me) tomorrow or something.  Thanks for reading this far.  

[topicprinter]

Hey - Pat from StarterStory.com here with another interview.Today's interview is with Chris Dreyer of Rankings.io, a company that does SEO services for personal injury lawyers.Some stats:Product: SEO for personal injury lawyers.Revenue/mo: $275,000Started: February 2013Location: CaseyvilleFounders: 1Employees: 15Hello! Who are you and what business did you start?My name is Chris Dreyer and I’m the CEO/Founder of Rankings.io, LLC. My company is a hyper-focused SEO (search engine optimization) agency; we help elite personal injury law firms dominate first page rankings.In 2018, we were #858 in the Inc. 5000 list of the fastest-growing companies in America. Our revenue is just under $300,000 per month and we’re on pace for another record-breaking year.What's your backstory and how did you come up with the idea?I graduated college with a History degree, fully intending to become a high school teacher and coach. I landed a job shortly after graduation as a detention room supervisor, of all things.You can imagine what my daily routine was like: sitting in the same small room, managing the same recurring cast of misguided youth and assorted screw-ups. One day, bored out of my skull, I Googled “how to make money online” (not joking: that’s the literal query I used). This led me to a few digital marketing courses and I was instantly hooked.I’m competitive by nature, so I really enjoyed the process of taking a site from nothing to something when I entered the world of affiliate marketing. In short order, I had sites ranking #1 for “double chin,” “stained concrete,” “Acai fruit,” and a host of other terms. By the end of my second year in affiliate marketing, I was making more money from my side job than I was from my primary...so naturally, I did everything that my parents didn’t want me to do: I quit my job, moved to Florida, cashed out my teachers’ retirement account, and threw an enormous party at my new place.imageThe party was so successful that I received an eviction notice shortly afterwards (Mom, Dad, if you’re reading this: I’m sorry).In 2012, the Penguin algorithm update came along and basically nuked my income from orbit (taking my 100+ affiliate sites and making them largely useless), but I found a job with a full-service digital agency that specialized in marketing for attorneys. While that company is no longer in operation, I did learn the ropes of legal marketing, and this further seated my passion for the field/niche.One of the main reasons that I loved working in the legal marketing field was the competition. Ranking affiliate sites was relatively easy and had long since ceased to pose a challenge to me. SEO for lawyers was hyper-competitive and required me to be on my A-game at all times. I loved it so much that in less than two years, I had left and opened my own agency.Take us through the process of starting, launching, and growing Rankings.io.I didn’t save a lot of money when I was younger (as you might imagine, based on how I treated my retirement fund), so I bootstrapped the company with a $15000 loan from my sister, who is herself a very successful entrepreneur (she and her husband own a plumbing company). In the early days, I didn’t have to worry about operations: I didn’t even have any clients yet. I acquired my first clients strategically through LinkedIn, Google+ (now dead), and YouTube marketing.At first, I took on any digital marketing project that came my way; I had to be willing to try. I gave those projects my all and this built a reputation for high-quality work. To this day, our leads are largely from referrals and word-of-mouth. In fact, we only have one full-time marketing staff member.In the earliest days, I ran the business from my apartment. We didn’t have any clients, so all of my time was spent on acquisition. I basically unpacked my brain, creating videos to detail what I knew and used that to build some authority. I would say I created at least one YouTube video per day back then.I was also heavily engaged on GooglePlus (I know, it’s dead now too...but at the time, it was a great source of lead generation for me). I ran a community of legal professionals, whose purpose was to connect lawyers and their peers. Running that community also built a lot of authority for me, as managing those relationships put me in contact with a wide range of lawyers and firms, and made me a known quantity to them.Lastly, I knew from the beginning that LinkedIn would be the most valuable social network for connecting with my specific audience. I spent a lot of time there, networking, creating endorsements, writing recommendations, and participating in LinkedIn groups.From all of these efforts (YouTube, Google Plus, and LinkedIn), I was able to land three or four solid clients within the first month. The revenue from those clients surpassed my “real” employment and gave me a solid foundation from which to begin working for referrals.Back then, we charged regularly $1000-2000/month for SEO. I distinctly remember the first time I signed a client to a $3500/month retainer; I literally did a happy dance.These days, our minimum client engagement is $10000/month, which certainly feels surreal to say when I think back on how things began not so long ago.After my tenth client, I began looking to hire my first employee, as things were moving well enough that I needed the help. At the time, I was extremely pleased to hire Steven Willi (a web designer who also understood SEO), but the years that followed would only serve to reinforce the belief that he was basically a unicorn: for those of you familiar with EOS/Traction, Steven now serves as my Integrator (the individual who executes the Visionary’s ideas and who is the glue that holds the organization together).Even the manner in which we met was frankly serendipitous: we were both attending a very casual birthday party for a mutual friend. I asked him what he did, he said he designed websites, and I said I was looking to hire someone to do exactly that.It’s hard to explain now how lucky I was, having someone like Steven appear at exactly the right time. He’s an absolute stud and he helped propel my business to an entirely new level. In his first week, I signed five new retainers and I can tell you that any nervousness he might have had over making such a bold move (joining a startup) dissipated rather quickly.Interestingly, in terms of scaling the company, things have gone contrary to what one might expect: rather than our teams increasing in size as the company has grown, we have learned how to work leaner and get more with less. One of the biggest advantages of having a hyper-specific niche is that your process creation, SEO strategy, and acquisition all approach the same persona or avatar. An example would be: when doing keyword research, we can create one expanded editorial calendar that will appeal and apply to most of our prospects. In the same capacity, instead of throwing paint against the wall with our marketing budget (hoping that we attract), we throw the paint directly at personal injury lawyers. LOLSince launch, what has worked to attract and retain customers?In all levels of retention, it comes down to some form of warmth and competence (warmth, in that clients want frequent and quality communication, transparency, reliability, etc.; competence, in that they want results). One of the things that we’ve done successfully is separate account management and project management.Our account managers act in a client-facing role; they have their “heads up,” looking for strategic opportunities and advantages, and they guide the client’s campaign. Our project managers have their “heads down,” focusing on completing the work in-scope, on-time, within budget, and correctly.In many digital agencies, the account manager is also focused on implementation. What we found is that when an individual is in the weeds, concentrating on doing the work, it’s difficult to see opportunities. Your head is “down,” if you will. Consequently, we chose to split strategy within the team, putting account managers in the forward-thinking position and project managers dealing with the day-to-day deliverables/execution.This rather simple segmented approach has gone a long way towards helping our retention.Oftentimes, when you hear about the success of a company, you assume that they are bringing a large team to bear. However, we have always focused on maintaining exceptional service first and foremost (rather than expanding our workforce) and this has, in my experience, been easier to do with a lean team. We only have 15 total employees, with only one in Sales and one in Marketing, respectively. Instead of growing horizontally (with a massive volume of sales/clients), we have chosen to concentrate on a more select group of clientele who are also growth-minded when it comes to their firms/practice. The more success that we deliver for our clients, the more opportunities there are for us.Most of our leads come from referrals, due to our reputation for high-quality work. We frequently run Net Promoter Score surveys, gauging our clients’ happiness and willingness to speak on our behalf. In addition, during the exploratory phase of engagement with us, we help those prospects who aren’t a good fit for us find the proper representation (via other agencies whose work we respect). As you can imagine, being so hyper-focused on legal SEO only, we must strategically say no to a majority of our prospects. This lends itself to natural reciprocity, a psychological trigger that Robert Cialdini discusses in his book, Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion.We typically produce at least one solid piece of content per week and try to make each piece epic, with a focus on promoting that content properly, rather than concentrating on generating a large volume of new content in short order.Internally, we refer to our content promotion strategy as “the Jordan Content Promotion System.” It looks something like this:Scheduled social syndications on (23 total; 1 per day for seven days, then 1 per week for 5 weeks, then 1 per month for 11 months):FacebookInstagramTwitterLinkedInPinterestContent/Social Curation on:MediumLinkedIn PulseScoop.itEmpire AvenueEmail NewsletterPaid Promotion:Facebook BoostLinkedIn BoostTwitter BoostInfluencer Fiverr Gigs x20Other:Social SproutTwitter Promote ModeAnother large component of our success with retention is being process-oriented. We are believers in “The Checklist Manifesto” and treat inconsistency as the enemy. These processes are continually improved and tightened, eliminating much of the possibility for missteps, large or small. As a result, our clients know that if we say we’ll do something, it’ll happen exactly according to the blueprint that we lay out for them.Lastly, one of the most important aspects of growth and retention is our specialization in not just SEO for lawyers, but personal injury lawyer SEO. This competitive advantage allows us to refine our processes even further (our editorial calendar, link building techniques, etc. are all focused on one niche); it means that we “speak the language” of our customer much more so than would a generalized SEO agency.How are you doing today and what does the future look like?In 2019, we’re still firmly in a period of exponential growth in terms of revenue (and, more importantly, profit). In my first year, I grossed $79,000, my second, $300,000, and my third was $700,000. In my fourth year, I finally cracked the million mark, grossing $1,100,000. Afterwards, things proceeded at a steady clip, breaking the $2,000,000 mark in the following year and $3,000,000 the year after that.This year, we are aiming conservatively $4,000,000, but regardless of the final number, our profitability will be higher and we’ll continue to focus on high-quality work.One of the biggest changes our agency has made recently is to not only focus on law firm SEO, but to niche down even further and specialize in personal injury law firm SEO. This decision was strategically made: somewhere around ⅔ of our gross revenue was already coming from our personal injury clientele (who made up just under 50% of our client base). By focusing on just those clients who were generating the most revenue for us, we were able to refine our processes and make our team much more flexible and responsive.These changes today are actually an outgrowth of some hard decisions that have been made over the past couple of years: in early 2018, we had to decide whether we wanted to expand horizontally (bringing in clients from other verticals, and growing our company by volume) or vertically (working with a smaller number of clients in larger markets and growing the company through net profitability).Each growth trajectory has its own pros and cons, but for us, our goal was to be the most respected SEO agency in the world and we felt that we couldn’t do that by diluting our focus with horizontal expansion. We are now even more selective when deciding which clients to sign, because we can only work with a limited number of firms and still provide the service that we want/they deserve.Having a smaller number of clients makes us more agile. We can implement strategic initiatives much faster and this innovation allows us to stay ahead of both the curve and our competition. Keep in mind, I want to reinforce that our quality and reputation is the lifeblood of our company and inbound leads; referrals are happily given, because our clients see the difference that we make for them.imageThrough starting the business, have you learned anything particularly helpful or advantageous?One of the most painful learning experiences was the consequences of over-hiring, which I learned in 2017.When everyone gets busy, everyone naturally needs thinks that the company needs to hire more staff, but in most cases, there needs to first be a retrospective on the circumstances that are making us busy and ways that we can improve efficiencies within our existing team.We implemented Profit First accounting practices at the beginning of 2018, which transformed how we looked at our company’s finances. Essentially, it forces us to take the expected profit out first, rather than looking for it in what’s left after the bills are paid. Think of brushing your teeth: when you have a new tube of toothpaste, you are very liberal with how much you put on the brush...but when the tube is almost empty, you can manage to squeeze a lot of use out of very little actual toothpaste. Profit First is a lean methodology to managing your money; it forces you to stop buying new tubes of toothpaste, if you will.What platform/tools do you use for your business?Business Framework - EOS/Traction“EOS®, the Entrepreneurial Operating System® is a comprehensive business system, integrating a holistic business model with a complete set of simple business tools proven business process to align and synchronize all the pieces of your business to produce the results you want.” It’s comprised of six key business factors: Vision, Data, People, Issues, Process, and Traction. We implemented in company-wide in mid-2018 and it has been a game-changer for us.CRM - PipedriveIt’s a simplified, kan ban approach to lead management.Project Management - BaseCamp 3It’s simplified, but it’s also full-featured and easily understood. We have also used Trello, and while we liked some of the features (particularly the visual style), it didn’t allow for organizational hierarchies that we wanted. BaseCamp just makes it easier to manage our teams.Communication - SlackEase of use and familiarity. Everyone texts and Slack is essentially just iMessage.Finance - QuickBooks Online, Profit FirstQBO allows for my Director of Finance and our CPA to collaborate via the cloud (they are not in the same location). Profit First is for the reasons detailed previously.PEO/HR/Payroll - InsperityAgain, ease of use, bundling our benefits, HR resources, and payroll together under one umbrella.SEO Tools - Ahrefs, SEMrush, Agency Analytics, Google Suite, Screaming FrogThe above tools are industry-standard and should be familiar to everyone in SEO. They are to SEO what, say, a socket set is to a mechanic: they’re just a part of every digital marketer’s toolbox (well, at least the competent ones).What have been the most influential books, podcasts, or other resources?I’m a serial reader/listener/pursuer of knowledge and generally consume at least 60 business books per year. Tony Robbins put me on tilt this week when I heard that he read 700 books in seven years; I’m coming for your record, Tony.Books - The E-Myth (Michael Gerber), The Win Without Pitching Manifesto (Blair Enns), Traction (Gino Wickman), Value-Based Fees (Alan Weiss), The Goal: A Process of Ongoing Improvement (Eliyahu M. Goldratt), The Art of Client Service (Robert Solomon), Profit First (Michael Michalowicz).Podcasts - Entrepreneurs on Fire (John Lee Dumas), Smart Agency Masterclass (Jason Swenk), Build a Better Agency (Drew McLellan), How I Built This (Guy Raz)Advice for other entrepreneurs who want to get started or are just starting out?Model the masters.Essentially, find someone whose work you admire and apply both their mistakes and successes to your own trajectory. The old saying that there’s nothing new under the sun is largely true in business: most any mistake that can be made has been, so take advantage of the availability of the stories of others to sidestep the pitfalls that caught them.It isn’t even necessary for those role models to be in your industry. While there are certainly a number of SEO professionals whose work I hold in high regard, there are just as many from other fields who I’ve sought to emulate.Find and concentrate on a unique selling position.If you’re just selling hammers, a consumer is going to shop on price, because there are hammers in many stores. If you focus on a unique service, product, or offering that solves a problem, you are instantly seen as the best… because you’re the only one solving that problem.Due to being the only one, you can dictate your price much more easily. The issue with being just another hammer goes hand-in-hand with another saying I love: “The problem with the race to the bottom is you just might win,” meaning that continuing to lower your prices guarantees that you’ll eventually not be profitable.Some others things I live by:Sales cures all.Don’t do anything half-assed.Integrity is everything.Learn from your mistakes.Are you looking to hire for certain positions right now?We’re always looking for talented and ambitious SEO experts. If that’s you, you can send a resume to careers@rankings.io.Where can we go to learn more?Rankings.ioConnect with me on LinkedIn (I accept all requests)If 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

[tonykoester-blog]

Welcome to my Mid-Life (non) Crisis!

Who knew that this day would come!.  On November 2nd I turned 55 years old! This one is hitting me particularly hard.. maybe hard isn’t the right word, but it’s having a profound effect on me, much more so than 50, 40 or even 30.. and perhaps it’s because at the beginning of this year, I wasn’t sure I’d make it to here.  At the risk of being redundant, (most of my friends are tired of hearing this story), in February of this year, while on a ship in the Caribbean, on the very last night of a lovely cruise I suffered a minor stroke.  I wasn’t sure at the time that it was a stroke, but indeed it was, along with being diagnosed with Influenza B, and Diabetes.  It’s not lost on me how fortunate I am.  This life-changing event happened on Friday night, in the middle of the Caribbean, I didn’t seek/get medical attention until Sunday afternoon.  Actually, let me rephrase that.. I didn’t get appropriate medical attention until Sunday, I’m very happy to be sitting here able to type this.

The day this happened was our last day of a 7 night / 8 day Caribbean cruise on MSC’s newest ship The Seaside, and while worthy of a stellar review, I’ll put that off for the time being, this is about me dammit! :) 

 Mikey and I had been holding court on the Yacht Club pool deck, drinking martinis, smokin’ cigarettes and laughing it up with our newly found cruise friends.  

The above picture was taken no more than 6 hours before I had my stroke.  

While I had been having a good time, I did notice I had developed a cough a day or so before, but didn’t think much of it, at the time I was smoking a pack a day, so a cough was not surprising.. but as the day went on, I started feeling worse, to the point that I ended up leaving our group and went back to our stateroom to lay down, an hour or so later, Mikey came into our suite, and said “we’re having dinner with Rosemary, c’mon..get up”.  Rosemary was this retired RN turned Real Estate Agent from Palm Beach Florida, (a wacky woman, who should absolutely be a character in my one man show) and Mike and Lori, a fun , and oddly enough, republican couple from Chicago. 

Dinner was fine, we had not been disappointed with the food for the entire trip, but as we ate, and time went on, I remember continuing to feel crappier and crappier, after dinner, Mikey and I headed back to the suite to pack up our weeks worth of beachwear and souvenirs.  It was then that I really began to feel worse and told Mikey that I needed to lay down. Mikey assumed I was just trying to get out of helping pack our bags, and stomped around the cabin, “anger-packing”.. and then my left arm went numb, I remember telling Mikey that I felt like I needed medical attention, so he called the concierge and was connected to the ships hospital.  A nurse came to the cabin and did a set of vitals, I told her my left arm was numb, so she and mikey loaded me into a wheelchair and wheeled me down into the bowels of the ship. 

It looked similar to the one above, but not so well lit and a bit more dismal.

 Oh, Did I mention she was, I”m assuming Russian? So not only did she and I have a language barrier, but the Ship’s Doctor was also Russian making the next few hours frustrating at best.  I was really starting to tank at this point.  I remember every time I told the Doctor that my arm was numb, she’d look at me and in a heavy Russian accent, would say “You Has Numbs?”  If I wasn’t as ill as I was it would have been funnier.  They did an EKG, which oddly came back fine, and gave me IV cortisol for the numbness.. I know, I didn’t get it either. No “you should seek immediate medical attention” when we get to Miami, or anything, after the IV was done, Mikey and I made our way back to the cabin, I laid down and Mikey continued to get us packed and ready to debark the ship, and for the record, it was about the time that the nurse did my vitals, that he realized I wasn’t trying to get out of packing.  Neither one of us realized at the time that I was having a stroke, as I mentioned I also had influenza B, which was wreaking havoc with me as well.

Fast Forward, we debark the ship, make it to Miami Airport, have about 5 hours to wait, we were both exhausted, I was deathly ill, and we both knew it was going to suck for the next several hours.   By now, my chest hurt like a mo-fo, yet, I continued to “try” to smoke.  Nicotine addiction is real folks!.  I was titering on delirium by the time we boarded the first leg of our journey home.  The flight from Miami to Newark was at capacity, complete with screaming babies and obnoxious passengers.  I did my best to shut my eyes and rest, not successfully.

We got to Newark, got to our gate, attempted to eat something, and got on our final flight to Seattle.  It was as if the universe said “let’s give these guys a break!!”  This flight was less than half full, such a relief!.  I was able to lay down in a row all to myself for the entire flight home.

We arrived in Seattle around 11:30 pm, deboarded and in our sleep deprived state, and just plain not realizing yet the severity of my medical situation, we decided to Uber home, in hindsight we should have headed directly to an emergency room.  But we don’t, we head home, Mikey gets me to bed, and crashes on the couch, we both didn’t wake until noon the next day.  We get up, and realize that I need to be seen, and for some odd reason, instead of just going to the Urgent Care (This was a Sunday), I called my Primary Care Doctor’s office, and left a message for the on-call Provider.  So for the record, I’ve not had the typical symptoms of a stroke, no paralysis, no droopy face, so just thought I had a really bad infection of some sort.  

10 minutes go by, and the on-call Doc calls me back,I answer the phone, and apparently by this time, my speech was slurred and I wasn’t making complete sentences, he directed me to hang up and get to the nearest Emergency Room immediately.  We get dressed, and go to the closest hospital, which also happened to be one of Seattle’s premier Neuroscience Centers fortunately!

Got to the hospital, got checked in, and they bring me back and,get me into a bed,the Doc’s and Nurses start working on me, all the typical tests, MRI’s, etc, and at the end of it all, they came to the conclusion that I suffered a mild stroke, and Influenza “B” and Diabetes, and would be admitted.

 It was a couple of days of poking and prodding and being woken up every 2 hours, I swear I tried, but I may have gotten a little cranky here and there, especially when they decided 2am would be a good time to wake me up for a 45 minute MRI.  

I went home after a couple of days, and 10 days after the “incident” I returned to work, that was a poor decision.  I was totally unaware of the after-effects of a stroke, extreme fatigue!. I lasted about 4 hours before I was exhausted to the point of slurring my words and literally shaking.  My Doctors and my husband both made sure I slowed that down, and I cut back to 4 hour work days, taking my time to recover.  It took a few months, but I gradually got back to an 8 hour work day, and now I feel pretty much normal where fatigue is concerned.

I looked at this as a huge wake up call, I was 54 at the time, I smoked a pack a day, I was about 60 lbs over-weight, didn’t exercise, and was slowly killing myself.  

Today, I’ve lost about 30 lbs of my 60, I’ve quit smoking, which, by the way was the hardest part of all of this.  I smoked for 35 years!. But with the help of the patch and Buproprion (Welbutrin) I’m pretty much smoke free, every so often I think I want one, and if I do, they taste like crap!.  it’s amazing to have that monkey off my back. 

I still have numbness in my left hand, and the left side of my face.  But I have full use of my hand, and the facial numbness is just annoying.  

As a result of this, I also lost my sense of smell and taste, which for a foodie is devastating!, but even that is starting to return, I can taste much more, and my sense of smell is returning slowly.  I’m confident I’ll have a full recovery!.

Today, it’s exciting that I get to dream, that I get to make plans, and be fearless (that’s a process).  My desire to see the world is possible,  I strive to be too busy LIVING to worry about dying!

The world is my Oyster, and I’m gettin’ a whole pearl necklace!

[artdjgblog]

Innerview: James Hoskins / World of Forms

April - August 2011

Art: Jean Fouquet / The Taking of Jerusalem by Ptolemy Soter / ca. 320 BC

Note: I’ve had the pleasure of being interviewed by James Hoskins several times over the years, as being a live-in designer for his Kansas City band Elevator Division back in our basement dwelling days. These nuggets in particular are fairly significant in my initial retirement / death of DJG Design and transition into personal art. The following is a two part interview for a blog feature. The first part is via email Q&A, the second morphed out of a discussion over coffee a few months removed.

PART I:

1) What do you feel are the biggest challenges to working a "day job" while being an artist? What are the benefits? Has maintaining a day job affected your art in any way, positive or negative? If so, how?

Anyone who has something cooking at home base is applicable to the challenges of a day job (I'm certain the interviewer can attest to this). And I think it's easy for one to think he or she has something special waiting on them while in the monotonous thick of the daily grind. But, you have to keep a level head. I believe in a healthy balance of being a human first and an artist second. If right, you can mix the two. Sort of a "Have Brain, Will Travel" mindset. Anything and everything is good meat and day job placement should be no stranger. I am always a working artist, yet I don't wish for myself to be the work of art nor play God with it. 

As an artist in an office or cleaning an office (the two climates I've been kicking at the past decade), I try to intake what I can, smell what roses I can find and bring back home to the table inspiring meat. Of course, as a janitor, I was literally bringing things home! (Probably not so much fun for roommates or wife, me thinks.) Anyway, my nature has always managed to maintain employment or casual servant/observant at places where I'm still able to keep locked inside, somewhat. I've just never had any means to climb another man's ladder. Rather, I show up, stay on the ground and help out the best I can while still tinkering within. I believe every man is wired a certain way. I'm a starving artist in the sense that I am always hungry to create and nothing can stop me, not even a day job.

Of course, owning up to a day job doesn't come without trials. As I grow older the major seemingly stackable factors are time and energy. A year, even five years, is sucked away so fast now and I can no longer do the all night artistic marathons like I could at 22. But, at a younger age I was also dealing with design deadlines for clients. Something that isn't a factor now that I've gone the route of solo artist. I'm still making as much stuff, just on my own time 'n' dime and staying smart with getting to bed early/getting up early. Still, there is never enough hours in a day or life span to amount for what I'd like to leave behind in this life. I guess I am content but there can always be more content! 2) Why the change from graphic design to visual artist? What led to the change? What is your new vision/direction? Lack of time and energy, the want to develop and explore elsewhere, loss and change of who I once was to who I am now, poor business skills, the soul sucking of self-promotion and marketeering, the changing of the design guard, technology takeover, everybody being a designer now, personal betterment, a shift in heart/gut...many factors stack up to my decision. I explain further in a letter to the public on my web site. It was a grueling three year process and those close to my calls can now nod collectively. Though, as the human I am, I'm no stranger to inner struggle and I'm a pretty emotional being. I guess that's why my voice is what it is in speaking through art? I realize now that all the inner back 'n' forth from 2007-2010 was the result of something dying within. And when I kind of came-to around the first of February 2011, I found an immense feeling of freedom. I guess compared to most in my position as a graphic artisan for hire, I displayed an unlimited amount of freedom in the last decade. Just something inside me was shifting and I had to listen and let it take shape or be consumed completely. It's hard to explain and most people are either genuinely supportive or sorta saddened and confused by it. I'm feeling good about it and really it's not that drastic of a deal this side of the decision. Also, my stuff will still be seen on a few things here and there for others if it feels fit and my voice is right. Everything I've ever done has been leading to this. I'm excited. I'm still making art. I always will and always expect there to be many a shift in me. Ultimately, my goal is to make art full-time and I'd like to eventually have an agent or someone to help me in the areas I lack so I can better focus on what I should be doing. But, for now, my goal is to not think and just make. From day one I've never set restrictions on how I make art. I do have certain ideas I've been kicking around for a long while. My back burner has become a bonfire the past 8 to 10 years! We'll see though, as it's a process that can't just be point-click-ship and I don't really like to leak out too much beforehand. I'm currently piling things up and plan not to reveal much for a while. It's nice to just sit and play mother hen. Though, I can say I'm working on exhibitions, books and online printing/purchase shops with the work that I've produced up to my artistic shift. Just chipping away at the boulder, mostly. What I don't want to be is the guy who lives in the future on past merits. I'm proud of what I've accomplished, but there is a lot of gas left in my tank and I'm looking forward to a hopefully long and fruitful life in and outside of the arts. It's nice to take a breather though and sorta have a time out. It allows a man to slow down, see and appreciate what he's already got and the foundation to the black and white up ahead. 3) What advice would you give to other artists? It could be practical, artistic, or spiritual. This is your chance to wax eloquent. I believe in just following your heart and gut. And if you have to work a day job, do it, and don't stop creating. Turn frustrations into fruit. So many people give up or are all blow and no go. Even if time/energy/life doesn't budge, do what you can and when you can. Document everything and leave your dots down here. Find the tap and drink from that. There is a vast, unlimited reservoir there for the taking. There are so many things going on and on top of each other right next to you. Be true. The best and most pure art is of the moment and can't be repeated. Crawl back into why you began creating in the first place. Listen to yourself or your elf...or that thing ticking and walki-talking above you. Ear wax eloquence. Amen. 4) If there's anything I didn't ask that you really want to say, say it! If you're happy and you know it clap your hams.

-djg

PART II:

0​1) "One's passion can become a monster sometimes."

No matter what you're doing, there are certain limits. There is a monster in all of us and we feed it in different ways. A practical discipline and taming comes into place. There is one monster in particular people are especially over-feeding, the online world. Kids of the future will never have their umbilical cord cut. We're all becoming our own iCons of self-promotion and iBrand building. I'm guilty to a degree (I have tons of stuff online and am slowwwly thinning things up a bit) and there have been times where I've tried to take a step back. It's hard. One big thing that has helped has been making art and nesting up on it and not immediately putting it online for those few that care. It's become the norm to constantly be beating brows but I'm less and less impressed with where we're headed and I tend to butt heads with it. I have to take it in small doses as an overload of focus on "me" takes away from the purity and intent of creating art and community. I guess it depends on the individual, and again, the balance. Some people are good at it, but I wasn't wired for it. I have noticed myself doing better with it since retiring my DJG DESIGN name and approaching things differently. I love sharing my art as much as the next guy, but sometimes the artist can become the work of art as opposed to the bigger thing they're channeling. That's a dangerous beast I'd like to avoid. ​0​2) "I never want to be someone who milks the same cow. Because I'm changing every day, and it would be untrue to myself for my art to stay the same and not reflect that change." Though I try not to set rules, there's probably an umbrella of look and feel to the way I'm creating. But, I've never been concerned with that as what shakes and bakes the viewer, or me. Ultimately, it's up to them if they're up for opening up to it. If not, no big deal as we can't all see the same way. We all see through different shades and with our own set of wiring. As humans we should be evolving yet never enveloping and I find that whatever mood or feeling I'm in per given day, that's what is fueling my creativity and how I make. It's all part of the process. Even still, I wouldn't feel right doing the same thing artistically every single day and/or finding the spaghetti that "sticks" and always waking up and doing that. That's what day jobs are for, I guess?! I tend to find it odd when artists have detailed artist statements already mapping out what they do, what they intend to do and what it all means. Some are cool and all but there are many days out of the week where I'm not impressed by them. Boxing in a corner can pigeon hole or suck fun and discovery out of art for me. That's just never been on my personal radar or to-do list.

​0​3) "With technology, anyone can be a designer. That leaves me without a place. I wanna make art with my hands."

I'm not against others exercising their creative chops and I'm not against advancement in the art of computer graphics. There's a place for it and I use a computer as a tool when need-be. But, there are times where technology (and just because it's there, accessible and convenient) takes over causing other areas to be void. It can put an artificial filter on things. It can also cause everyone to undermine and undervalue art per our era of instant commentary. Everyone is a professional commentator and judge. There also seems to be founder's rights flung across quickly in a world where everything has been done under the sun/son. I want an experience that lends time to chew on before sending it out to the world and I don't want one in which it's critiqued, commentated upon and microscoped within the first 5 seconds and then moved on and buried like the road out west. But, that's just the way of the beast that many people find is best these days. We can't just accept that "E.T." came to Earth like Elliot did and form a special bond and find love in that, in him, we have to roll in and put him under with our holy thunder. We're reducing everything down to a science and I dont think everything needs to be put under, tagged and bagged. You can scratch 'n' sniff everything down (but I would love to see true scratch 'n' sniff technology on something like an iPad!). But, why not just make things because you feel something hit you a certain way or came down on you and out and leave it at that. I appreciate an exploration and searching with childlike eyes and pouring out what needs to be said within while transmitting something much bigger. And sometimes I can tap into that with digitally slick oil spills. However, when approached like a business man because he's got a machine to desktop decorate, it typically has the greater ability to lose something, at least to me. I guess I've never had a business man's mind? But, there are always two sides and there are some who are great at business and art with heart. "Have heart, will translate and travel", isn't working as much as it once was. I guess the happy medium I'd like to see more of is still in the shop. There are some out there finding it and that's great. And I don't think I'm too far off with all of this falling somewhere in the, "What if God instantly installed within us a machine-like activation button to love and instantly know a tangible Him and make the purest of choices in His name and all that." I'm no scholar, artistically or Biblically, but that's some meat I tend to chew on a great deal. We're swiftly headed towards an age of the union of man and machine and that scares me. Interesting though as it brings to mind the fascinating dichotomy of a movie/character like WALL-E, a man-made machine who also has a heart. I found myself in WALL-E and his little world as it reminded me of my own...until the humans came along plugged into their machines. Personally, I don't think they should have gotten Earth back. But, I guess this is a morale tale to maybe trigger something within us? Or, maybe they're showing us that we can smash our cake to the ground and still eat it too. I believe in forgiveness, rehabilitation, a second chance and all that...but I've my own ending in mind for that one. I'll just make my own director's cut. ​0​4) "I like to notice squirrels and butterflies - these little worlds that are buried beneath all our junk. That's a theme in my art - the human element buried in 'junk' - found objects that others have thrown away." It amazes me what we pass by every second, even in our own homes. There is so much to our daily landscapes, inside and out. There is so much buried on top of each other and many different worlds interacting and conversating. I feed off much of this junk (natural and man-made) and try to tap into it as much as I can on my journeys or while in the act of making art. I don't really consider myself a political or "message" artist by putting the amount of found objects and trash into my work like I do to prove a point. I just see the potential or beauty in something and run with it. Naturally, I miss being a janitor because I got paid to rummage physically and mentally. Our things are our souvenirs. The documentary "Wasteland" fits in well with all this...art/trash/life/love/God. I grew up in rural Missouri. Animals were at my feet. Living in a big American city, it's nice to get this when I can and mostly with squirrels playing, butterflies flapping and the occasional praying mantis buzzing by or quietly creeping. Walking to work is a big plus for bookending my day job life stuck inside artificial air. I'm thankful for the shelter, but I just can't help but think it wasn't meant to be this way. But, we should also smell the roses when and where we can. About a year ago something in me said to take a different pathway home from my day job for the first time in over 5 years. Because of this I happened upon a tiny, sightless baby squirrel on the sidewalk on one of the hottest days of summer. He must have fallen from the tree nearby but I couldn't see a nest or any other squirrel activity. He was scared to death. So was I. I was conflicted though on what to do in the whole nature vs. nurture category. But, I couldn't let him suffer or become food for another animal or even stepped on or ran over by a human. It was quite the emotional experience (for both the squirrel and me) but I brought the little guy home and my wife took him to an animal rehabilitation center the next morning. I still wonder a great deal about that squirrel. A few months ago I was walking to work and apologized to a tiny bunny in a tiny patch of yard because we had built all this concrete and junk in his way. I told him to be careful. The next day around the same spot I saw a smashed bunny in the road. It was sad. Were we in his way or was he in ours? ​0​5) "With the squirrels, are we in their way, or are they in our way? The same with the Internet, is it in our way or are we in its way?" I love watching squirrels and other critters. Especially in the city. It's a treat. Though, I can't help but look at both perspectives of it. While driving long distances my wife and I love to play "Hawk Spot", the art of spotting hawks on the side of highways. It's interesting to see them stoically surveying what we've built. There are so many just sitting there, watching us driving to destinations. We should probably take a good look at the information highway the same.

0​6) "I'm not anti-technology, but I've never been completely comfortable with it. I just need to put some of myself into my art." I'm a fan of hands-on media. Just the other day I was watching an '80s horror movie and loved the tangible effects created. "Woah, Freddy just totally crawled out of that dude's body!" Today, more than likely, these would be computer generated. It's not that I don't find an esteemed art or appreciation in computer imagery. I think there definitely is when it's done well. But, it's becoming so easy now to do it that after a while it starts to dumb and numb everything down. I prefer something I can tell a human made it. I'm both excited and a bit bothered that another "Jurassic Park" movie is in works. And my only bother is the possible loss of the late Stan Winston's wonderful ideas with the dinosaur puppetry. In design school (Missouri State University) I was placed on a computer and I just couldn't get passed the screen barrier. I struggled so much that I considered changing emphasis, perhaps even a retreat from the arts altogether (which, I had no clue what would be). I stuck with it and eventually had to rediscover myself and my love of creating in the first place. I had to crawl back inward, get my hands dirty and only see and utilize the computer as a tool. It helped too that my instructors all came from Eastern European/Russian backgrounds and with a great push for art/design history. All of this inspired and influenced my work as well. I began seeing and tasting differently. I found my former self again, the boy who just enjoyed making art and fused with a whole new sense of discovery. I was hungry. I still am! However, I didn't feel comfortable with consuming a life in an actual design company as another person behind a computer shuffling images around like a desktop decorator. They're not all bad guys, just not for me. I would come back from visiting design firms with a complete sense of failure and disgust. It just wasn't for me and I had to listen to that. I wanted to make my art and my way and without anyone owning me. I wanted to lock myself in a room, pour myself into the work and pour the work out...make art and share with people in a different way. I've always looked at design as an artist first. I've never really considered myself a designer. And of late I've morphed and felt more comfortable with just going the way of the visual artist. But, I don't really care for the classification of "artist" either. I just do as I do. My recent morph has confused a lot of people but I don't see much of a change. I will still do design if it's a good fit for both my voice and a client's. I just need to be a healthy human first. ​0​7) "Our collections help us see our own timeline of growth and development. We don't have that with the Internet. Everything is electronic-instant-throw away. Everything's a la carte. Maybe that's good for the environment, but it's bad in another way." I can see positive aspects in technology with the hunting and gathering of culture. Blogs and online areas of round-up are like lockers of curing meats. But, I'm so thankful to grow up when I did as kids growing up right now don't know a life without the internet or instant gratification or instant audiences. I'm also thankful to grow up where I did in rural Missouri, yet still have have access to finding pop culture and not to mention parents who allowed me to do so. In the end, it's not the culture/media/things that get man across his or her desired county line, but there is something special about them. There is no denying the things we love help define us. I just never want that to be why and who and what I'm living for. But, when there are unlimited resources at man's side all the time, they start to become the controller. Something to chew on... My parents have many Amish families/communities living around them now. Apparently, they use more technology than my dad does. I'm slowly warming up to the idea of music floating in space, the mp3. Though, I still don't find a connection to it like I do with something in my hand, with art accompanying...the total package and the intent of the artists who made it. There is something special about that. I like that there is more access to music that I may not have heard otherwise, but after a while it becomes too much of a good thing. I listen to something and then forget about it because I've got so much to eat. "I haven't quite absorbed that one yet." is a great line from the movie "High Fidelity." I've a big appetite for consuming culture, but I still find myself not spending enough time with things like I used to because there is so much and/or I know it will always be there so it's easy to put it off and just keep eating because I can. Also, I'm getting older and there is more in a day now than there once was, yet the days are so much shorter. I love and appreciate how a band like Radiohead can all of a sudden come from behind their computer curtains to drop a new album digitally the day after they reveal they've even got a new one to drop. But, it actually stresses me out and knocks some of the fun out of it for me. There was something special about saving up money, cutting a college class, driving to the record store salivating after months of wait and cryptic campaigns, making my purchase, sitting in my car, cracking the seal, looking, listening, smelling, smiling, going home with it, making popcorn, getting under the covers, hitting PLAY...making something special of it. And then seeing your own timeline on that album years later and seeing the ebb and flow of the musical landscape in your head, in the air. The complete package. I have fond memories of many albums (and movies). I still try to get the hard copies from certain bands (Radiohead definitely), but there is something missing...maybe that's a theme they're embracing and experimenting with all-around in their music and marketing too? Also, the idea of the album is being pushed and pulled these days. I think there will always be a place for the complete package, regardless, but I'm still iffy about where things are headed. And I'm not even going to get into the loss of the video store generation, something that has a deep grain in my formative years and still helps fuel my art today. I realize that every generation changes or breaks the mold and what we have serving the majority now will be obsolete very soon. But, I just personally prefer a want to be in an impressionable age of real user activity, not an impressionistic one. In the end all of this stuff means nothing in comparison to people starving to death from actual food (not cultural food). I've too much to be thankful for. ​0​8) Difference b/w being force fed music and art and being hungry and finding "food." I slipped into the poster business at a unique time right before social media boomed. The passing of information via poster or tangible object isn't completely dead, but it is out in the cheap seats as people receive and share information online and/or have it force fed to them instead of satisfying a hunger in what I find to be a more meaningful way. Almost like an angelic stumble. It is fascinating the number of people you can reach and share with a single item of imagery and information online. I get that. Still, too much of a good thing isn't a good thing. It's overload in a new way to where so much of it is just filler. But, I can flip the coin and see there is so much filler in the window or bulletin board of a coffee shop. But, I love it when something substantial can smack a person out of the flesh of day to day overload and touch them in a certain way that becomes more personal. This creates a more special kind of world wide web to me. I guess it's like when a bunch of seeds are cast into the wind and only a small percentage of those "take" and sprout future seeds. I just find the experience of a poster or piece of art in person to be more genuine. I used to come away from places like Urban Outfitters so frustrated for pop culture and discovery. There's been a nostalgic branding of what is deemed cool and hip. I've come to accept it. I just don't get it and maybe I do when for convenience's sake. Maybe I'm just mellowing out more the older I get with these filters of cool. It's just not worth it in my typically short-changed day to be so concerned with it anymore or even trying. I'd just rather blow holes in my own jeans because I wore them out. Satisfaction guaranteed! ​0​9) "I can't get attached to music as much when it's floating in space. I like having it in my hand." I like going to a museum to see art, not downloading a PDF of it." I'm slowwwly warming up to the idea of the mp3 or movies on demand. I appreciate it but still find it odd and at times very fleeting. It's easier to forget about something when it's downloaded out of thin air and stored in a data bank and there any time you want it like a self-serve drive-thru. I finally got home internet and instant Netflix this year. Really cool and all, but I find that I still don't get too jazzed by it as it is always there waiting. I can see circumstances where vehicle video monitors would come in handy. Though, more and more I see parents switch them on for short distances. We're numbing ourselves straight out the chute. After attending a live musical production recently the parking lot was suddenly illuminated even more by screens on the backs of seats. Are we that bored? Just the other day I saw a truck drive by with a whole batch of little dogs stretching necks to look out. It was quite something and touched me more than most humans do. We don't seem to appreciate the air we breathe or recognize a blue sky unless it's in a Pixar cartoon on the back of the seat in front of us. 10) Almost born at home b/c of a blizzard. Mom had to be transported by a tractor through snow drifts. Hometown: Chillicothe/Wheeling, MO/Farm. Why am I here? What's my purpose? These are questions I've always asked myself. 1979, my birth year, seems like an old world compared to now. I guess a far removal from any day and age has such a haze. Same applies to the melting of a big blizzard. But, as far as I can tell, we're all the same coming in as we are going out. As in, we all get the bite in the same. I'm fascinated by coming into the world. Actually, it perplexes me more than the being here and going out. Maybe because it's a memory that can't be weighed? Why me and why that time and place? Yeah, you can boil it down to a mom and a dad, but there is something more to it. Something kinda freaky-beautiful-mystery. It all adds up to who and what I am now and I still can't make much sense. I'm nobody special, but I was made and I made it and I'm making things to counter react. That's saying something. We've all got something to say. I don't know. Most people seem to go without bothering about this stuff. They just put on their boots and start marking or mucking up their timeline. Not a bad way to go about it, I guess. But, I've always carried this stuff. I guess it lends to why I do as I do and the next guy does as he does? I was in line at Target and the cashier was well "with child" as her stomach hung over the counter and the scanner area. Pregnant women are intimidating, but this was also fascinating. All I could think about was the little thing inside hearing a part-time to full-time parade of "beeps" and "blips" and odd mumblings about prices and products. What a weird thing before you have to come out of the comfort. 11) "Art is my way to communicate what's going on inside.... I don't know if I really believe in cliches, cause their all true. It's like guilty pleasures." For a long time I've felt something inside of me and around me that I've needed to say and I say that with my art. And if it doesn't make much sense to the viewer, then no big deal. If it sounds cliche to the viewer, then good for them. I wasn't blessed with a vocal personality on the outside. I've always adapted more with the back row corner crowd. I don't know, art is my outlet for sharing. It's weird though as I've had social phobia since I was first put around other humans yet spend so much time alone making art that it causes me to have more social problems. But, the art actually helps me. It's a weird world I live in. Eventually, I'd love to do art for a living, but in the end it will never be about that. I will be making art no matter what until my number is up. I don't believe in the term "guilty pleasure" unless it's really affecting your life and others in the process like an addiction to drugs or other activity. If you like the new Katy Perry single because it's catchy pop then so what? Why feel guilty about that? It baffles me that we have to put up precursors of cool to protect and project our cultural DNA. I think there is truth in cliches and at some turn they can become classic. I guess my main beef is when people go for cheap shots, lowest common punches or don't push themselves or their own voice intertwined. But, then again it just depends. I still giggle like a schoolboy when people get punched where it counts in movies. 12) "I'm a believer in God, and I have faith through Him. If anyone is creating, they've gotta believe there's something bigger than all this, whether they believe it's God or not. I've always liked the idea of finding God through childlike eyes, and that I can tap into that through art and discovery." My favorite and most purest of makers are folk artists. There comes a truth in that with the connection to something bigger in their work. They have something to say, are typically prolific and hardworking, art oozes from them. I see a very special kind of balance within to Him. One that is seen worked out through images and the act of creation to help further an understanding and taming. They have to create and say what needs to be said. I'm no folk artist, nor anywhere near, but I find a kinship with these kinds of creators. The way a child creates, looks at the world and plays is vital resource material as well. And not just for an artist, but for everyday living/profession. We should all be more like children. I can't connect with much of the adult world. Even as a child it didn't make sense to me. I was so freaked out about dating and marriage in the first grade. It's sad to me when we get caught up in games that push purity away. I'm no purist or saint. I think we're all tainted at birth. We come out of the cannon and are instantly thrown into the thicket. But, art and looking at things with a spiritual lens just helps me reconnect and see Him a bit clearer. I can't not see Him. Anybody channeling something within to make something on the outside is tapping into something big. There's a reservoir out there that all of our individual reservoirs are connected with. It is there. I'd be another wreck on the highway if it wasn't for my belief in all of this. 13) "I grew up in a very white bread church with no instruments. A lot of artists chuck their childhood or religion to the curb. I'd rather tap into it. You learn a lot of important life-things in your early years." I won't go too far into this, but it's weird when we set man-made restrictions upon the simplest and purest of things like worship. I've never understood that. God can be found in everything and the world isn't painted black and white. Again, this is like putting a microscope to it and staking a one way flag. Stuff like this causes many a more colorful outlook to run. I've never understood how people can just stop being childlike or creative just like those that decide to bury their past. It's kinda like knocking the foundation out of a building. I wouldn't do as I do without those early years. But, I can admire those who can re-invent themselves with what they've built. I love playing Legos. I just find it sad when we chuck things to the curb. But, I can also see why as life and other lives can be pretty darn hard on some folks. 14) "I love the idea of a timeline through my art - to see how I was developing and growing." It's important to have a human identity, to say something of value in art and that goes with anything we're pursuing and leaving behind. And it's neat to see this physically in something like a body of work with art. I look at stuff from years ago, heck, even last week, and think, "Wow, what inspired me to do that? Something was thumping in me and had to come out like that!" I also love how each thing leads up to the next, like marks on a height chart or a traveled map. Everything in life got me to the end of this interview... -djg

[fadingpersoncollectorstuff-blog]

Do i need car insurance while im not using the car?

"Do i need car insurance while im not using the car?

Im due to renew my car insurance. Ive 6 days after my motor insurance policy ends where i will not be using the car. Do i need to be insured for these 6 days despite not using or moving the car.? thanks

BEST ANSWER:  Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://freecarinsurance.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr 

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my car was hit about 5 months ago and the police report was filed. i received my copy of the police report and it doesn't state the car was stolen. now my insurance company is claiming, 5 months later, that the car that hit me was stolen. can this happen? how do i know the insurance company isn't making this up so that they wont pay me back for my deductible? thanks!""

Car Crash and Insurance Please Help?

Hi, Yesterday I got in my first wreck I am 16 and the fault of the accident was put on me even though the woman in front of me slammed on her brakes so fast that I didn't have enough time to slow down. Anyway, the car I hit was a tank of a truck, I didn't put a scratch on it but her trailer hitch rammed into the front of my car, smashing the hood and other things. The woman said she will not fill out the insurance thing since I did no damage to her car so that brings me to my first question. If she doesn't tell her insurance company, which she probably won't, do I have to tell mine? My parents and I really don't want my rates to go up and my dad will be so furious if they do. My second question is how much do you think it will cost to fix my car? It is a 2003 Mazda Protege... Please help I really need to know and if you give a good answer I will give you 10pts in a heartbeat :) Thanks""

Inestment in Gold or Life insurance ?

it is better to invest in gold or invest in life insurance / same amount

New York city question regarding insurance?

How are the insurance premiums in New york city (queens borough specifically) ? i.e. how much would someone like I have to pay for insurance say per year (for a car that has about 80,000 miles on it)? I have New York driving license for 2 1/2 years now, and prior to that had Pennsylvania license for 3 years. I had my own car for the 3 years I had Pennsylvania license, and have been renting cars (twice or thrice a year) for the 2 1/2 years I have been in NYC. In all these 5 1/2 years, I had no accidents. Also, how much is registration fee to register a vehicle in New york city?""

How much does it cost to insure a 2003 hyundai accent 4 door?

How much does it cost to insure a 2003 hyundai accent 4 door?

What are the regular insurance cost of these cars. (without deduction or add cost)?

Porsche Nissan 350 Honda S2000 and also give me a recommendation on a nice not that expensive, good sporty looking car, lol.""

Insurance on a Nissan 350z?

I am wondering how much insurance would be for a 16 year old with that car. And what is the best way to insure it? Thanks

Does car insurance really go down at age 25?? how much?

How much does car insurance go down when a person turns 25? How much can I expect mine to go down? I am a woman now paying 82 a month. I have nothing on my record, no tickets, accidents, claims in my life (8 years since 16)""

Can you get car insurance with out a licence?? if so..how so?

i just bought a car for my mom...who is without a licence. but she needs a car to take her drivers test in. (this is tecnically my frist car) can i get the car registered without insurence?...and if not....can i get insurence for an unlicensed driver?...or will we have to have a licenced driver get insurence for the car..and put my mom as unlicenced driver till she takes the test?? i just need a little help on how the prosses goes. thank you very much. kathleen

How can i get free health insurance?

i live in Pennsylvania. i need health insurance. i am 18, live with my boyfriend at his moms house. i have no job, she has no job, no one in the house has a job. my mom moved to florida so i can't have her help me anymore. how can i get free health insurance? like completely free. i can't even remember the last time i went to the doctors, i really should go for a checkup. please help.""

I need help finding a good cheap sporty used car with low insurance rates.?

Well I turn 16 in december, I've had my permit for about two months and my family is at total loss of cars. My sister and her car are going to College, and my mom is using the Sienna. So my dads been riding his motorcycle to work. However, he wont be able to do so because he has a 30 mile commute to work. So he needs a car before the rain rolls in, so when he gets a car it'll be his, until I get my license, then it becomes ours. However, all my ideas are getting shot down, but as we get closer to needing one, slowly he's getting more okay with my ideas, but I need your help. I want an Rx8, I've wanted one since I was in 4th grade. I know I know. What the hell, why? A rotary engine with not even 2 litres. barely any horsepower and only gets 16/26 mpg. Well I've driven an Rx8 and I think they're amazing. HOWEVER, my dad doesnt want one for one reason, and one reason only. High insurance. So I was wondering if you can help me find a sporty used car, that I could find pretty cheap. For some Ideas I like, Bmw 330ci's, 328i's, rx8's, G37 coupes. OH YEAH, that reminds me, I'd like a coupe, but a 4 door would work well too if it still maintains a sleek style. like a lexus IS250s. Manual transmission or automatic is fine. decent mileage. you know the drill, OH and it must be atleast 4 seater. Thank you, its greatly appreciated.""

If I have homeowners insurance do I have to have hazard insurance as well?

I have home owners insurance already, do I need to keep paying hazard insurance? I live in New Mexico.""

Gerber life insurance company?

is this even worth doing has anyone ever done this...i need feed back and ideas i have a one year old little boy and i want him to have something to fall back on when he gets older, weather its college or whatever The insurance says they can cash it out for the premium. So should i sign up or just get him a savings account?""

Are there any Insurance companies in the Philippines that have Mortgage Protection Insurance?

Any companies that have this certain type of insurance directed to people paying off a house or a property?

Car vs Motorcycle?

I have a Chevy Cobalt that get around 35mpg but I drive over 150 miles a day should I get a motorcycle to save money? if so what kind I was think about a Ninja 250 i weigh 165 pounds and am 5'10

""Im 19 with a permit, can I register my car and insure it? Price Estimation?""

First I have a 1999 Acura Integra...I believe over 100,000 miles...no driver side airbag, no alarm system YET...and its fast...BUT I drive safe...I dont believe in street racing because It claims to many lives, especially innocent ones such as families that are not even involved with the idiots racing... Im 19 with a learners permit, have wayyyy over 4 yrs driving experience, I plan to get my license this month [or this week], as I just got my permit today, can I register my car and insure it? What would an estimated price be for... 1. My Registration and Tag [whats better temporary or permanent for now? 2. Insurance [Who should I go to for insurance?!] Thanks""

Should I get rental insurance for my apartment?

I don't have any expensive appliances. I only have used funiture and my clothes. Lately I have seen a lot of apartment fires on the news and now I am indecisive about getting rental insurance for my apartment.

What are some cheap auto insurance companies in florida for teenage drivers?

I am 17 years old. I currently have liberty mutual insurance with my parents for $5,901 annualy (about $550 per month for three cars). Is there any cheap car insurance?""

Corvette insurance. i need full coverage for a 1977. not collectors.where is the cheapest???????????????????

i will get collectors insurance in 2 months. right now i need full coverage to get the loan, transfer to me, and get it done friday. please help.""

Is there any auto insurance that is affordable for college students?

Is there any auto insurance that is affordable for college students?

Does anyone know the cheapest auto insurance?

In florida that is? i'm 18 and trying to buy my first car. I'm almost to my car cost mark and I know that i'm going to have to be ready to buy auto insurance....and I'm not 'bankin'' lol.

What insurance plan should I go with?

I'm a full-time college student and I work part-time. I have no insurance but need to get some soon. What health insurance do you think I should go with that is affordable?

Can I take a life insurance policy on my 80 year old father who is excellant help without him knowong?

Can I take a life insurance policy on my 80 year old father who is excellant help without him knowong?

How much might they charge me for no insurance ticket in wyandot ks?

was following my boyfreind in my brothers car and I took a wrong exit near the speedway. I went down stateline rd looked for a gas station for directions. Found a gas station to ask for directions and the guy did not speak understandable english so tired and lost I took off down the road and forgot to turn my head lights on was puulled over and given a ticket for the lights and it turns out that my brother did not have insurance on the car and that I had forgot my purse way down in pittsburg. I am being told that I may have to pay a $1200 fine and get some weird insurance that cossts $300 or more a month and that it is possible htat they will take my liscense away. This can't be rite?!!? I have a clean driving record and only make $250 a month can't hardly pay rent. Sombody who knows awnser please!!!!!

Do i need car insurance while im not using the car?

Im due to renew my car insurance. Ive 6 days after my motor insurance policy ends where i will not be using the car. Do i need to be insured for these 6 days despite not using or moving the car.? thanks

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/why-california-mortage-lenders-require-fire-insuance-helen-henderson"