#thankfully i had a second bank account with a physical card i could use

[fruitsilly]

Hate and rage and seething

[bangfantanfic]

Our Own World: Chapter 4

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, restrictions/COVID

Type: Hybrid/Yandere/Romance/Fluff/Angst

Authors Note: Hey~ again, so sorry I took so longI apologise! I hope you guys enjoy. As usual, I’d you’d like to be tagged for future updates, DM or comment 🥰

“As cases continue to rise officials have announced as of 12am tonight a nationwide lockdown will be enforced.” 

Six pairs of eyes were glued to the large screen, most of them worried-- yours however only showed off pure irritation. 

“-- in order to minimise rising case numbers President Moon announced a country wide travel ban. Non Korean residents will have paid flights back to their home country, Korean residents outside the country will not be let back in until further notice--” 

Your stomach plummeted. You're stuck here for as long as your brother is stuck in the Netherlands.. 

“Y/N?” 

You could hear the men around you calling out to you, but it sounded muffled, like your head was under water. 

The five men around you were panicking at your frozen state, you were like a statue-- even Jeongguk was unable to hide his worry.

Taehyung was sitting by your feet whining, his arms wrapped around his own torso. He had tried to hug your legs, wanting to provide some comfort to your shaking form but Namjoon had nudged him away, sending a warning look before crouching by your side and trying to pull your attention back. 

“Y/N, you need to breathe--relax.” He cooed, his hands balled into fists on his thighs. It was taking all his energy to not reach out and touch you, to hold you and promise everything was okay. “Jay will be fine, he’s safe with Mila.” 

Unfortunately, the boy's sweet attempts to console you only made you feel worse. They didn’t know you were panicking about being here longer. They thought you were worried for your brother's safety. 

But you were only worried about your own.

“Y/N, do you think I could come to the store with you?” Seokjin’s voice asked shyly, his hands tightly gripping one another. “I just thought since I know the boys well— and my ah, physical differences are easier to hide—“  

You raised an eyebrow, smirking at the babbling hybrid. You had grown much more confident with the polar bear hybrid, and even a few of the others thanks to being locked in 24/7. You had still yet to meet Hoseok and Yoongi, and Jeongguk was more than happy to keep as much distance from you as humanly possible, but otherwise, you were somewhat comfortable in your surroundings for once. 

The few occasions you were able to leave the house was to get groceries and other essentials, but otherwise being caught out of the house without solid reasoning would land you a hefty fine and you weren’t exactly financially stable enough to pay thousands of dollars. 

Your brother had been in contact with you, making sure the boys were all doing fine and that you were coping with the news and long term adjustment. He had been supplying you money, and you weren’t sure where he was getting it from. His clinic had been shut since he left the country so it wasn’t from there, but you were too deep in your self pity to question it.  

“Sure, I don’t see why no—“ 

“No fair. If Jin Hyung can go out I wanna too!” Taehyung whined, appearing from thin air. His dark hair hung over his eyes, still dripping from his shower. 

“Your tail is too noticeable.” Jin shrugged, wrapping a long arm over your tiny shoulders. 

The brunette glared at the blond, stomping over to pull you away. Lightly grabbing the pocket of your white hoodie and tugging you into his chest. You wriggled, trying to pull out of his grip but it only seemed to make it tighten. 

“You’re always selfish with her!” The younger complained, resting his chin on the crown of your head.

A dramatic groan came from behind you as Jin, no doubtedly, rolled his eyes at the monkey's words. “I can’t help it if I’m her favourite.”��

Taehyung stiffened. You could feel him grinding his teeth, the sound of his teeth dragging made you feel nauseous. 

“She doesn’t have favourites.” Namjoon cut in, carefully pulling you out of the monkey's arms and wrapping his own around your shoulder. “And Jin Hyung is right, your tail is too noticeable.” 

Taehyung’s wide eyes narrowed, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re the only one who can’t keep it still!” He argued. 

Namjoon’s face flushed pink, his jaw jutting out. It was true. Like animals, hybrids often displayed their emotions and moods through tail movements, and while the others had passed with flying colours in emotional control, Namjoon had always struggled. 

“Be that as it may, we can’t risk it. Hyung will go with Y/N and help pick out foods best suited to each of us.” He said sternly, sounding confident despite the pink tinge to his round cheeks. 

You smiled apologetically at the monkey hybrid. He was clearly biting his tongue, arms tightly crossed and eyes squinting. 

“Fine. But when you get back Y/Nie is playing with me.” 

Grocery shopping had always been easy. You only had yourself to think of, but now you had seven others depending on you. You weren’t sure about allergies, or even just what everyone liked and disliked. 

You still needed to get around to those files… 

Thankfully your brother had left behind a card for shopping, knowing your pathetic bank account would ever be able to handle more than one shop. 

With Seokjin leaning on the handles of the shopping cart he directed you where to go, what to grab all while letting you browse and pick out your own snacks. 

“Yoongi and Hobi will be joining us tonight, I’ll need to get more meat. Yoongi practically inhales it.” The hybrid sighed, voicing his thoughts aloud. 

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling softly at the sight of Seokjin. He was dressed comfortably, washed out blue jeans, a white sweater and a red cap. Round glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as he read over packaging, his plump lips pouting as he considered every item. 

“Do you think we could get lamb, Y/N?” He piqued up, dropping three packets of snacks into the cart before waddling to catch up to you. 

“I don’t see why not, it’s my brothers card after all.” You shrugged, grinning. You held back a laugh as his cheeks turned pink, attempting to hide the bright colour he rushed forward to avoid your gaze. 

You had noticed the boys were all easily flustered, you found it funny. Sometimes Jimin or Jin tried to say something flirty, and when you countered back the two turned red and made excuses to run away. Sometimes you just had to talk to them and their faces would turn redder than an apple. 

Taehyung was a little more difficult, most of the time he was rather clueless with what he said, or at least that’s how he played it off to be. 

Namjoon just didn’t try. He just preferred to leave cute gifts for you on your bed; Flowers he had grown that were in season, fruits and clumsily made origami. 

Jeongguk completely avoided you, and Taehyung the little asshole, made sure to tell you the youngest hybrid liked you, telling you how the youngest was always staring at you or asking his brothers about what you were doing. 

“The look that the cashier gave you was so rude!” Seokjin huffed, closing the passenger door. 

You rolled your eyes, starting the car. You didn’t blame the poor girl, you had bought so much food it caused a huge back up, the line running down the isles . You couldn’t even look at the cashier, too embarrassed. 

The car ride was pretty quiet, the only sounds were Seokjin humming along to the radio and the crinkling from the candy packet. He seemed to be deep in thought, and as much as you wanted to ask what was on his mind you forced your mouth to stay shut. 

Sure, you were somewhat comfortable around him and you assumed he was comfortable around you, but you knew that there wasn’t any friendship foundation, you had no right to pick around his brain— no matter how intrigued you were. 

So you stayed silent, while the hybrid beside you happily chewed away at the gummy bears he had begged for. 

As your brother’s neighbourhood approached, Seokjin finally decided to talk. He wriggled around until he was angled enough to look over your smaller body. 

He thought you were pretty. Very pretty.

The way you smelt was enchanting, always leaving him dizzy and fumbling for words, just like now. 

He felt like a fish out of water, his mouth opening and closing, eyebrows pulled together in frustration as he tried to spit out words, any words. Just something so he didn’t look like an idiot for another second. 

“Don’t freak out.” 

When your head shot over, a crack sounding from the joints making him cringe, he wanted to melt into his seat. He felt his neck and cheeks turn red, an awkward laugh forced passed his lips. 

“Sorry— sorry. I just meant, don’t let Yoongi make you feel uncomfortable.” He clarified, mentally kicking his abrupt outburst. When you raised an eyebrow he took it as a signal to continue. 

“Yoongi can be stiff?” He paused, considering his words. “He can be two ways, blunt and sort of arrogant— which he isn’t I promise!” 

“Or, he’s cocky and imposing. He’ll try to push your buttons, find out what makes you uncomfortable or mad.” He explained, clicking his tongue as he thought. “But don’t worry, Hoseok and Namjoon keep him in line.” 

When the car fell silent Seokjin felt his veins turn to ice. The last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable, or scared. He’d leave yoongi out in the cages before he allowed that. 

“I grew up with Jay, I’m immune to annoying boys.” 

The smile on your lips, although forced, relaxed him slightly. You really seemed to be trying, even if it wasn’t for them and more so for your brother, he appreciated it. It made his insides feel like marshmallows. 

He watched your fingers tap on the grip of the steering wheel, your lips sucked in thin between your teeth as you thought. A cute habit of yours Jin had picked up on almost instantly. 

“I’ll be next to you, I won’t leave your side!” He promised, a hand over his heart and the other up in the air. “Scouts honour— and I can say that.” 

The proud grin on his plush lips made you break out into a small smile of your own. 

“And the other boy?” 

Seokjin dropped a red candy into his mouth, chewing twice before speaking. “Hoseok?” He looked to you for confirmation, seeing your curt nod he continued. 

“Hobi is playful, he gets along well with the younger boys. He can be a bit much, he’s loud. But he’s a good guy, you don’t have to worry about him.” 

“Hoseok— oh for Christ’s sake! Get off! All of you out, they’ll be back any minute now!” 

Namjoon’s scolding voice could be heard throughout the entire house, not that it mattered. Everyone was gathered in the one tiny space. 

The tiny office space that had been converted into a makeshift bedroom was bursting at its seams with the six men all huddled in. 

The youngest three, Jeongguk, Taehyung and Jimin had snuck in to play on the PC’s while you were missing. Jimin hadn’t been interested in playing, so instead he took the chance to snoop through your belongings. 

Hoseok, lonely after a week of separation, found his brothers quickly. But his original mission, finding the maknaes, was abandoned the moment your scented room hit his senses. Your perfume and natural musk stuck to everything in the room, almost as if you had lived in the space your whole life. 

It was mouth watering. 

Ignoring Jimin, who watched the bigger hybrid worriedly, Hoseok joined in the snooping. Mostly just looking through books and sniffing sweaters before getting bored and collapsing onto the fold out bed, an excited laugh filling the quiet room as he rolled over the unmade sheets. 

It didn’t take long for Hoseok and Jimin arguing over the small bed to wake up Yoongi. But unfortunately he got to the mess a little late, arriving just as Namjoon did. The younger boy practically tore out his hair as he tried to remove his pack from the room. 

Failing, obviously. 

The situation was quite funny to the sleepy hybrid. Yoongi’s snickering was infuriating the Wolf hybrid further, his anger and panic almost over powering the soft feminine smell that you had left behind. 

“— Jeongguk you know you aren’t supposed to be in here! Taehyung, you’re supposed to be making sure he doesn’t cause trouble, not helping!” Namjoon groaned, head in palms. 

The youngest two barely looked away from the screens, their eyes only momentarily flickering over to Namjoon. So instead Jimin piped up, stepping out from behind the much taller hybrid. 

“We just thought since she was gone we could take advantage—“

“You thought it would be okay to sneak through someone’s personal belongings!?” 

The fox hybrid turned bright pink, his ears flattening to the top of his head. Guilt flooded his features as he practically dislocated his fingers behind his back. 

“That wasn’t my intention—“ 

Their leader was livid, and not even for being disobeyed. He was familiar with the feeling— jealousy. They all smelt like you, and now your room smelt of them. 

You smelt like someone other than him— and to make it worse, your musk had been mixed with multiple other male hybrids. It made his stomach churn. 

“Your intentions don’t matter anymore.” He snapped, pointing to the door where Yoongi rested. “Out, all of you.” 

Not a single person made an effort to move, all five pairs of eyes locked on their leader almost as if they were daring him to try and remove the group. The whole situation was amusing to Yoongi who still hadn’t said a word to his brothers, just watched everything as he usually did. 

But the sound of your tires crunching on the gravel driveway sent the boys flying for the front door before an argument could breakout, much to his disappointment. 

Yoongi and Jeongguk were the only two that waited in the living room, not reacting to your arrival with enthusiasm. 

“Y/N! You’re home!” Taehyung cheered, running out the front door, ignoring the stinging pain of the sharp rocks stabbing into his bare feet. 

Before the monkey hybrid could pull you into his body for a hug he was yanked to a halt by Jin. 

“Help with the bags first.” He scolded, shoving the heavier bags into the younger boy's arms. 

Whining Taehyung obeyed, his knuckles turning white as he practically ran to dump the bags in the kitchen. Namjoon and Jimin followed in Taehyung's direction, arms full with heavy bags until everything was unpacked. 

 It was after everything was put away where it needed to be that Taehyung engulfed you in his arms, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. He was breathing in so heavily you felt like the boy was about to inhale your skin. 

“You were gone for so long--” He paused, his arms tightening on you as he shuffled around. Your back was now facing everyone so Taehyung could glare at his elder. “You hogged her on purpose!” 

Seokjin groaned, the younger boy's accusation not even bothering him. He knew his brothers had grown attached to their temporary carer. He was however beginning to worry that everyone was experiencing the same feelings. Your original four weeks of house sitting was officially up tomorrow, and he felt selfish knowing you were stuck here until the government decided otherwise, and not only their government but the Netherlands too. 

He had been so excited the moment he heard you step out the car. The moment your car tires had stopped crunching on gravel and your door swung open the strong scent of Spring hit him-- despite it being WInter. You smelt fresh, like flowers and pollen, and yet sweet like sugar. You smelt perfect. 

The first time he saw you, the night you come out with their meals he almost dropped to his knees to worship you. Long (H/C), wavy hair hung down your back, messy and slightly knotted from your hands attacking it. Your glasses were dangerously low on your nose as you struggled to drag the chunk of elk meat across the ground. Your lips were pouted, but he could tell that even if you weren’t sulking they would look nearly the same. You were pretty like a doll. Small, petite shoulders and rounded hips and plush thighs he dreamed of falling asleep on. 

You were perfect, and his. 

Until he realised, maybe you weren’t just for him. 

[sighmurderbot]

Irish Coffee Chapter One

Title: Mocha, Extra Sugar

Chapter Rating/Warnings: T for profanity, no other warnings

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: They meet over coffee and Kierkegaard. There was a spark in his honey-brown eyes that drew her to him. There was a sadness behind her bright smile that drew him to her. Spencer Reid/Original Female Character. Slow burn coffee shop meet. Strangers to friends to lovers. This fic is also available on AO3, it’s ahead of tumblr currently!

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“A 'first meeting' is, by definition, a one-time opportunity, and there's no going back.”

Cup, counter, look up, smile, call out drink, next customer.

“One cafe latte!” 

I looked up with a bright smile even though my feet were aching in my non-slip shoes. Thankfully it was near the end of the afternoon rush, and I should be able to go on break after finishing with the last customer in line.

The businessman in front of me hadn’t stopped talking on his bluetooth the entire time he was here, which made it annoyingly difficult to take his order. Without looking, he grabbed at his coffee. His hand glanced off the cup and I watched it topple in slow motion. The lid flew off and hot coffee sprayed over the whole counter.

Both the businessman and I jumped back, avoiding the scalding liquid.

“Ah, shit — one second Dave,” the man scowled. “What the hell?”

I fixed a smile on my face.

“I’m so sorry about that, sir, let me make you another.”

“No, no,” he looked at his watch and his scowl deepened. “Forget about it. I won’t be coming back!”

Oh no, whatever will we do without your business, I thought sarcastically, maintaining a perfectly happy expression.

With that he turned and hurried out the door, jostling the man waiting behind him. I crouched to grab a towel and somewhere above me he said something, but the words blended with the music floating through the shop. 

“What did you say?” I asked as I looked up, hoping I’d be able to discern what he said. I couldn’t help but smile as my breath caught in my throat. The man standing at my counter must not have been too much older than me. His hair was long enough to brush past the nape of his neck but he had the soft brown curls tucked neatly behind his ears. He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and gave me a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He wore a cardigan over a dress shirt and tie, and a brown crossbody bag gave his hands something to fiddle with.

“Ah, I just said he wasn’t having a very good day,” he said, blinking a few times as his eyes slipped over the counter. He seemed to notice everything at once, and I hoped he didn’t think anything of the way my gaze flicked to his lips as he spoke before I met his eyes again. He had a cute cupid’s bow, and as someone who sees a lot of lips I feel qualified in saying they were nice lips.

I used the counter to help me to my feet and began to mop up the coffee.

“Apparently not,” I said, taking care to not accidentally push any coffee towards the customer. “Sorry about that, what can I get you, sir?”

I paused and looked up while he spoke, leaning on my lip reading as the music muddied his voice. “A large mocha please,” he said, shifting a little as if he were nervous. “And could you stir some extra sugar into it while it’s hot? The, uh, the extra heat helps the sugar dissolve so there’s no little granules at the bottom.”

Huh, I didn’t know that.

“Sure thing, sugar,” I replied with a bright smile, happy to learn something new and relieved to have a pleasant customer after an hour of government drones rushing in and out as fast as possible. I turned and began the drink, glancing back as I waited for the milk to heat. The man had ducked his head, reading a slim book while he waited. His free finger ran down the page and he muttered to himself as he flipped page after page. 

He probably read a whole chapter in the time it took me to make his drink!

I couldn’t help but let my admiration show a little as I set said drink in front of him. 

“One mocha, extra sugar,” I said as he looked up. I leaned my elbows on the counter.

“Whatchya reading?”

He blinked a few times, glancing down at the book as if he had forgotten he was holding it. 

“Oh, uh, it’s Sygdommen til Døden, it’s a book of Christian existentialism by Søren Kierkegaard. It presents the question that death isn’t the end, and true death is spiritual, not physical,” he rattled off in an instant. I stumbled over a few of the foreign words, but I was able to put the sentence together with context.

The man stopped speaking just as quickly, a light pink spreading over his cheeks as he ducked his head. Leaning over the counter, I stole a peek at the pages he had been tearing through.

“Kierkegaard, in the original Danish too! Impressive,” I said, returning to my side of the counter. “Are you a philosophy student?”

He nodded, almost unsurely. “Yeah, I’m working on my BA now.”

I grinned at him. A fellow academic, I could appreciate a kindred spirit. 

“I haven’t made it to Kierkegaard yet,” I admitted, shrugging one shoulder. “Still working through Plato and Hegel.”

He seemed to perk up a little, eyes sparkling. “They’re good!” he exclaimed. “Hegel’s theory of dialectics strongly influenced the work of Karl Marx. Because Hegel claimed that reality should be examined by a series of logical and rational arguments, Marx created the theory we now know as historical materialism,” he caught himself and the pink on his cheeks deepend to red. “...sorry, I ramble sometimes. Are you a philosophy student as well...” he glanced at the nametag pinned to my apron, “Katie?”

I pursed my lips in what I hoped passed for a smile and not a pained grimace, avoiding his eyes to wipe a few stray drops of coffee away. This man’s gaze made me feel like he could see everything about me with just a glance, but it helped that his soft brown eyes held no malice that I could see. That and the fact that he seemed more nervous around me than anything.

“Nope!” I forced some cheerfulness into my voice. “Not yet, at least.”

He opened his mouth a little, as if he was about to reply, when his attention was suddenly drawn away. Shifting his book he pulled a phone out of his pocket, flipped it up, and answered.

“Reid,” he said. I turned the name around in my mind. I wondered how he spelled it, ei or ee. 

He pinned the phone between his shoulder and ear, stuffing Sygdommen til Døden into his bag and picking up his coffee.

Sorry he mouthed to me, and he did look apologetic. Hoping he knew not to worry about it I gave him a big smile and watched as he hurried out the door, returning the phone to his hand and striding off down the sidewalk. I let out a wistful sigh and grabbed a cleaning spray and paper towels to go over the counter again. If only everyone who came through this coffee shop’s doors was as interesting and pleasant as that Reid. 

And as easy on the eyes, I thought, biting my lip to hold back a girlish giggle. 

I glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite the counter. Just a few more hours until closing, then a quick bus ride to the diner. Everyone in the cafe was taken care of, so I gave myself a few minutes to get off my feet.

Pulling my phone out of my apron pocket I opened my bank account.

Starting to pull ahead, I thought with a tired relief. I wouldn’t be quitting any time soon, but my savings account was finally starting to look a little healthier. I closed out of the app and stared at my background.

It was a picture of my mother and I. I couldn’t have been older than 6 or 7, and I was wearing the biggest smile a little kid could manage. My mother was holding my hand, her smile matching mine. Behind us rose the stairs and columns of the National Gallery in London. I traced my mother’s face for a moment, then shut my phone off and slipped it back into my pocket.

The hands of the clock moved slowly for the rest of my shift. People drifted in and out, none staying longer than a few moments. The sun fell behind DC’s towering skyline, and as the sunlight disappeared it felt like my energy went with it. By the time the last customer waved goodbye and I wiped the last table down the room was swaying around me. I glanced at my watch.

Ten hours since breakfast, medication is beginning to wear off.

I slid out a seat and took a few deep breaths. My stomach wasn’t pleased but it settled after a minute off my feet. Once the room was steady again I stood and finished closing the shop. As the lock clicked into place behind me I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. It felt like being battered by ocean waves. 

My feet carried me to the street corner and I slumped against the sign indicating the bus stop. 

I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, I thought, stifling a yawn. 

The bus pulled up and stopped with a screech of brakes that instantly had me clinging to the signpost in pain. The cold, dirty metal cutting into my hand had nothing on the high-pitched scream that bounced around my head, multiplying and hitting the inside of my skull harder and harder. Biting my tongue to stop from crying out, I pushed off the sign and stumbled onto the bus. Over the ringing in my ears I heard a muffled voice saying something. It was as if the voice was speaking to me underwater.

“I-I’m sorry…” I stuttered, forcing myself to breathe. Hands shaking, I fumbled through my bag and pulled out my wallet, finding my bus card. I shoved it in the direction of the driver, who only gave it a cursory glance and waved it away.

“--- --- --kay?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a few more deep breaths, the painful ringing dying down to an aching headache, and looked up at the driver. Somehow I had ended up slumped on the floor by the door. The old bus driver was leaning over me, concern etched in the deep wrinkles across his face.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, Connie,” I said, tripping over myself to apologize and get up off the filthy floor. 

“Hey, that’s alright Katie,” he replied kindly, offering me a hand which I gratefully accepted. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” I sighed deeply, brushing my hands off on my jeans. “It was-”

“The breaks, right?”

“Yup.” I popped my ‘p’, shaking my head sadly as I returned my bus card to my wallet. “Still figuring out how to manage it all.”

“You’ll get there,” he replied, setting a comforting hand on my shoulder. I gave him a weak smile and moved to a seat while he closed the door and released the breaks, pulling out into the road. There weren’t many people on the bus, all the commuters had gone home already in an attempt to beat the very traffic they created. The only people left in DC as stars began to blink to life in the sky were those who called the city home.

As the bus rumbled away around me I let myself slump into the seat, chin dropping to my chest and eyelids closing. Before I knew it I had slipped into a shallow sleep.

—

A gentle hand pushing my shoulder roused me and I started awake to see Connie’s face once again.

“Hey kiddo, you fell asleep,” he said. I stretched out my cramped muscles.

“Thanks for waking me up,” I replied. “I owe you.”

He shook his head with a smile.

“Just get me one of those coffees you make and we’ll be even.”

I nodded.

“You got it.”

Connie slid back into his seat and gave me a two-fingered salute, which I returned as I disembarked. Then the bus pulled away and left nothing but the crisp fall breeze, scented with exhaust and that peculiar smell every big city has. Adjusting the strap of my purse on my shoulder, I walked the half-block to a neon-rimmed 24/7 diner. 

A few moments later I stepped into the syrup-steeped diner. 

“Katie! Boy am I glad to see you.” A woman a bit older than me bustled out of the kitchen, arms loaded down with plates piled with pancakes.

“Right back atchya Liz!” I grinned, my exhaustion temporarily lessened at the appearance of a friend.

“Busy night?” I asked when we had both made it to the back room. 

“Very,” Liz exhaled, pushing a few strands of silky black hair away from her face. “It’s started to calm down a little now, mostly just regulars and some college students from the U.”

“That shouldn’t be too bad then,” I replied, slowly standing and stretching my arms above my head. “I’d better get out there.”

Liz shook her head with a smirk. “Girl, you work too hard.”

I gave her a tired grin. “Without labor, nothing prospers.”

She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. 

“This another one of your old philosophy dudes?”

“Nah, this one’s an old playwright dude.”

“You and your old dudes, when are you gonna take interest in a guy from this century?”

My thoughts flickered to the cute guy from the coffee shop, with his beautiful curls and Danish Kierkegaard book, but it was my turn to shake my head.

“Why bother?” I joked. “Who’d take interest in me anyways? Not like I have time for anyone.”

“Without labor, nothing prospers,” Liz repeated back to me. 

I touched my nose and pointed to her.

“Damn right.”

“Alright, alright,” she conceded. “Let’s get our labor on.”

With Liz by my side the first hour of my shift passed quickly, but then ten o’clock came and she bid me goodbye, filtering out with the rest of the regulars. Before long it was just the college kids gathered at two tables in the back corner, heads bent over textbooks and notes. As long as I kept the coffee and snacks coming they were happy and quiet, which was fine by me.

Around 2 am one of the students came up to the counter, asking for more fruit.

“What’re you guys studying?” I asked as I handed over the pre-prepared fruit cup and accepted her cash.

“Architecture,” she replied, and her attempt at a smile looked almost as tired as I felt. 

“Keep at it,” I said, slipping another fruit cup to her with a wink. She nodded gratefully and returned to the tables, passing the extra fruit to the boy next to her.

Finally the clock ticked over to 3 am and my replacement arrived. There was little more I could do than give him a tired wave as I gathered my things and wrapped up in an old coat, preparing myself for the cold night. 

Thank goodness my apartment is only a few blocks away, I thought, taking a bracing lungful of air. It was a path I was familiar with after two years of walking it almost every night, and a good thing too, because I was half asleep on my feet. I don’t even remember most of the walk, dozing as I was, and by the time I got to my blue apartment door it was all I could do to get my key in the lock and inside. Locking the door behind me I let my purse slip to the floor and took the five steps to my bed, collapsing on top of the blankets. With my last ounce of energy I fished my hearing aid out of my ear, setting it carefully on my bedside table.

“I did it, mom,” I mumbled into my pillow, fingertips brushing the silver photo frame beside my hearing aid.

“Another day done.”

And with that, I slipped into a deep sleep.

Hours later my alarm rang. I woke up, never feeling rested enough but determined to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I felt grimy after falling asleep in my work clothes, so I treated myself to a long shower, luxuriating in the steam billowing up around me. After I scrubbed myself clean I spent a few extra minutes soaking in the hot water. My aching muscles relaxed a little and I felt a bit better when I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel. After drying and dressing I slipped my hearing aid in and squared my shoulder, ready to face the day.

And so time went on. It was three days before I saw Reid again.

[strongsassysexysloane]

I Should Hate You - Fin

This story just poured out of me. So here’s the ending and thank you to all the favourites and reblogs and comments. It means the world to me. 

And to @regal-roni​ your pep talk worked :)

Now enjoy the emotional wreck that is this story. 

. . . . .

You welcomed the pounding headache the following morning, it drowned out enough of the pain in your heart that you managed to get on with part of your day without thinking too much about the night before. At least that what you lied to yourself about. The washing machine got a work out over the weekend. First it was your bed sheets, you added an extra heap of washing powder just to make sure the smell of her was gone. You didn't want to think too hard about how Jack had gone from Jacqueline to her in twenty four hours but it had happened.  

The rest of the weekend was spent sulking around your apartment. Cleaning surfaces that she'd touched because you were that pathetic and emotionally raw. Then you drowned your sorrows again to find the bottom of what use to be half a bottle of vodka and a bottle of wine. Needless to say, your Sunday headache was ten times worse than Saturdays one. Sunday was spent keeping yourself busy by cooking. Cooking meals for the week and baking enough cookies to feed the entire apartment block but you had them for yourself. You were kind to your head Sunday night playing the school night card was best for you right now. No one needed to know the hell that was this weekend. You groaned out loud when you realised Nick and Ellie would no doubt have questions. You were fine, the night went well. You had fun, until it wasn’t. You'd twist it somehow and hopefully Gibbs would enter with a "Grab your gear." You didn't want to think at how bad that sounded. Wishing for a murder over talking about your weekend.  

When you got up Monday morning it was like a light had been flicked on. You actually felt good, rested and somewhat normal again. Maybe drowning your feelings in alcohol wasn't the best thing to do. You shook off that thought and got ready for the day. A power suit was the go for a Monday. Nicely tailored to your shape with a light blue, loose, blouse under your black tailored suit jacket. You always felt more confident and powerful wearing this and today this was needed. 

"Hi Brooke." You smiled at the barista behind the coffee machine through the window as you pulled up to the drive through coffee shop on the way to work.  

"Good morning, y/n. Loving the suit. The usual?" She smiled down at you from her spot high in the window.  

"Why thank you and yes please. An extra shot thanks." That was very needed. As much as you were trying your best to ignore the nagging feelings creeping in. 

"One Americana with an extra shot with a dash of cream and an Americana with sugar, sugar and more sugar." She smiled but stopped when she looked down at your face to just reconfirm the order. One could never be sure as a barista. People liked to change their 'usual' all the time.  

"Actually.." You thought about it for a second too long and saw the concern in Brooke's face. "Never mind. Yes, two Americana's thanks." You had forgotten with all the feelings getting pushed really far down that Monday's you usually picked up a coffee for you and Jack because she loved the coffee here. That and it gave you an easy excuse to go visit her first thing. It used to be a great way to start your week but now it sounded like the worst idea ever. You could just have both?

"Coming right up." Waiting patiently while she made your coffee's, the smell was amazing and was already giving you a lift. Her assistant for the morning came over to take your payment while you waited and kept up basic conversation with Brooke.

"Thanks. Hope you have an easy shift." She scoffed at your comment which only made you smile. Monday mornings must've been a bitch for a barista. Everyone needed their coffee and usually no one was nice before they had their coffee in their hands. That bewildered you because you don't bite the hand that feeds you or hands you the liquid you need to make your Monday that less painful. In this case it was the cause of your agony.  

The team would notice if you didn't go drop off the coffee to Jack so maybe it was smarter to go and drop the coffee at her office. It could be quick. In and out and done. Yeah, it would be easy. You didn't believe that for a second.  

The knock you made on Jack's door wasn’t as confident as you hoped it would be. You just wanted to tuck tail and run, maybe drop the coffee in the trash on your way back to the bullpen but her answer came too quickly that you couldn't not walk in. She'd no doubt know it was you. You'd have the guilt written all over your face for the rest of the day and she always saw right through you.  

"Come in." Jack was smiling and it faltered once you entered. She wasn't expecting to see you at all today, actually she'd made a plan that would involve avoiding you all day and hopefully tomorrow as well. This was the last thing she expected, the usual, coffee and a smile on your face. Like nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Well it had for her; she couldn't see it had for you.  

"Got your Monday coffee." You had the smile painted so well on your lips, it even looked like Jack believed it and you couldn't believe it yourself. Maybe it was all the pep talk you'd given yourself on the drive over that had finally worked.  

"Th-thank you." Her words betrayed her, she cursed herself but the faulter in her words let your walls crumble a little and she hated it but she was glad to see you were dealing with this as badly as she was. "You didn't have to."  

"Been doing it for weeks now. Thought it wouldn't be fair if I deprived you of your favourite brew on a Monday morning." It wasn't a full lie. You just didn't want to deal with Brooke's questions about why it was so hard to make up your mind about a coffee order and now you were glad you'd brought it up to Jack. Being in her presence again somehow felt right. But that wasn't right. This wasn't right.  

"Thank you, how was your week- sorry it just slipped out. Thank you for the brew." She clung to her coffee like it was a lifeline and at this point it definitely was.  For both of you.

You shifted back on your heels; you knew these was where you left but your legs weren't moving. Something needed to be said and this time she couldn't run. "Jack I-"  

"Can we just be friends?" She blurted it out, she was good with that lately. Apparently, she couldn't run out the door physically but she mentally could. Those words were something you didn't want to hear and it looked like she didn't either but it was said. It seemed like the only option at this point.  

The coffee had a nice burn to it when it slid down your throat while you could compose your words. Think of a somewhat coherent answer. You didn't want to lose Jack, not as a friend. She was too precious and such an incredible person. It may hurt to look at her now, knowing what she looked like under that dress but you looked her in the eyes and cleared your throat.  

"If that's what you want." It wasn't until the words crossed your lips that you realised how close it was to the words uttered minutes after you'd fucked each other the other night. Because that what had happened right? You hadn't made love, it was a one night stand. She made that blatantly obvious when she ran out of your apartment half dressed.

The words hit Jack like arrows destined to kill her but she expected that's exactly how you'd felt when she ran out and she wasn't wrong. She nodded and took a sip of her coffee. It was good coffee. "Great. Well thank you for the coffee but I've got the rest of those evals for Leon to complete before lunch."  

"Right yes, enjoy." You even cringed at how flat and not genuine you sounded but you couldn't stand in her office anymore. It was surrounded by too many great moments you'd spent in here while working or doing really nothing at all.

Jack watched you leave and wondered if that's how she looked running the other night. At least you were fully clothed and not pathetically running away from your feelings.  

You wanted to hate her; you should hate her but the rest of the day you couldn't stop thinking about how stupidly you loved her. Even after how miserable she made you feel all weekend. One look at her and you loved and hated her. Hated how she made you feel. Like she could solve all your problems but she had created them in the first place.  

The next two weeks were difficult to say the least. You both tried so hard to be friends again but Ellie noticed almost straight away, she didn't press seeing you weren't ready to talk about it. Nick surprisingly skirted around the jokes, probably from the intense glares Ellie and Tim were sending every time Jack leaved and he opened his mouth.  

You'd caught a case and you couldn't be happier to have the distraction. Thankfully it was just a robbery of military funding so you didn't have to feel guilty about someone dying to be your distraction. It was a slow case, painfully slow. So many paper trails and interviews that only lead in different directions. Finally, the idiot slipped up, transferring it into several different bank accounts that McGee and Kasie managed to track and get the guy.  

By the second week you and Jack had managed to lift half the tension in the air whenever you were both in the same room. Even joked together again. However, the feelings came flooding back when she touched your shoulder, it was a simple touch, friendly, innocent but she retracted immediately and you saw the concern in Ellie's eyes. You excused yourself to the break room in search of a snack. That's when your phone dinged. You'd set your dating profile back up the other night on one of your old dating apps and you'd been messaging with a woman a few times over the past day or so. She seemed nice, worked in admin in some office in the city. You didn't pay much attention to it like you knew you should but she seemed simple, fun even and you needed that right now.  

She'd hinted last night that she would love to catch up for a drink when you were done with your current case and now, she was following up. You hadn't answered her question. Just went on with the other points in the conversation. You smiled down at your phone and ignored the looks as you walked back into the bullpen and sat down at your desk. You thought what the hell and agreed to meet up for drinks this weekend. Joked that if your job didn't get in the way of destiny that you'd make it.  

"Who's the lucky girl?" Nick piped up and glared back at Ellie when she shot him a warning stare.  

Jack looked between Nick and you. She saw the smile, cute small twitch to your lips and wanted to leave but she needed to know the answer to Nick's question. Needed to know like it was the only oxygen left on this planet. Not to be dramatic at all.  

Your eyes train in on Nick and not the beautiful blonde staring at you. "Just a woman I'm meeting up with on Friday."  

"Oh? You back on that dating app again?" You almost wanted to punch Nick for continuing this conversation with Jack being right there. You didn't want to hurt her. You almost laughed at that thought. The whole reason you'd signed back up to this site was because of her. You'd given up on ever being back to where you and Jack were. Where ever that actually was.  

"Yep, seemed like a good idea. So we'll see." You shrug, hoping for him to drop it. You looked at Ellie who gave you a sympathetic smile and then looked up at Jack who was now glaring at the Plasma like it was the most interesting thing in the room. You saw her eye twitch and knew; you just knew that hearing you being back on a dating app had to hurt on some level. So be it. She couldn't tell you how she really felt then this was how it was now.  

Thankfully the rest of the week was only filled with paper work. It had Nick grumbling beyond belief, Gibbs had stormed out many times because Nick was being an extra pain in the ass. Ellie had snapped at him a few times and by Friday night even McGee was running for the elevator to get away from him. You loved the guy like a brother but he really did get under your skin. You had been looking into a cold case all day that time had been lost on you and it wasn't until McGee was running out that you noticed the time.  

"Shit!" You jumped up, turning off your computer.  

"Thought you have a date." Gibbs mumbled from his desk, he'd been typing away at something for the past few hours.  

"I do. Was too busy with this cold case that I didn't realise the time. Thank God Nick scared McGee off or I wouldn't have noticed the time."  

"Hey!" Nick whined and you just rolled your eyes. Gibbs actually smirked this time but it faded quickly. It had been a long week.  

"Go." He made a shoeing motion with his hand and you laughed at it.  

"Going!" Luckily you knew better than to have to rush home and get changed, the bar was closer to work anyways so you brought your outfit in with you to work this morning. Ellie and you had enjoyed gushing over it this morning. Apparently, a simple short black dress was still a winner in Ellie's book. There was nothing special about it, it hugged you in all the right places, the straps weren't thin but they weren't thick either. The scoop of the neck rested nicely above your breasts, not giving too much away and the cut sat at your mid-thigh.  

You slipped into the dress in the toilets at work and you were almost done applying your make up when the last person you wanted to see right now had to walk in. It was past 1800 on a Friday night, why was she still in the office? You hid your annoyance but Jack turned sharply as soon as she saw you and went to run out. Not again.  

"Jack, you can use the toilets." You mentally rolled your eyes as she stopped and turned back to face you.  

"Right. You have a date tonight, right?" She shut the door and leant back on it. She hated the way her eyes couldn't look at you and the need to pee was building but she couldn't make the move to walk closer to you.  

"That a problem?" The words just slipped out, like someone had yanked them from your head and immediately needed them into the universe. No thought about if you should even question it. You'd managed to get back to a semiprofessional and friendly atmosphere. This had the potential to ruin it once more. "You made it clear the other night and then again Monday morning that you didn't want me. So I'm not sure why me potentially dating someone has you all flustered." Again, with the words coming out before you could think them through. Your emotions were taking hold and all the feelings you'd buried deep from that horrible weekend ago were shooting to the surface.  

"That's not what I said."  

"No, you said us being together was a mistake."

"I said our one night stand was a mistake."

"I never said anything about it being a one night stand. We never even got the chance to talk about it. You just ran, Jack."

"You didn't stop me."  

"Because you'd just stabbed me in the heart right after we made l-  my head was pounding from the amount of alcohol we consumed at the bar. I couldn't move even if that's all I wanted to do!" You almost shout, letting all the pent up frustration from the past two weeks out.  

"I dont want to fall in love with you." She shouts at you, you can see tears forming in her eyes but the words that had just shot out of her mouth had you struck. She always seemed to knock you slightly off kilter, always saying the last thing you were expecting.  

"No one asked you to." The words were meant to be yelled back at her but they came out as a strangled whisper. You turn around and place your hands on the counter for stability. You'd have to redo all your make up after this because there were tears streaming down your face. This conversation had just ruined whatever was left of your friendship with Jacqueline Sloane but emotions were out there now and there wasn't anything you could do to rein it back in. Your head was dropped, eyes locked onto the drain in the sink because you couldn't look at Jack anymore. You probably couldn't look at her ever again.  

"But I am." She sniffed and you couldn't look at her, you thought you heard something come out of her lips again but it wasn't yelled like she had a moment ago. This time is was barely a whisper.  

Your legs were starting to crumble under your emotions and you didn't know how much longer you could stand here. You were meant to be going out on a date with a woman you'd chatted to online for the past week. She seemed fun and not confusing like the woman behind you. You just wanted fun. Fun like at the bar the other night. It was filled with laughter and soft touches. It was a perfect night, followed by complicated, messy and fucked up.  

"I'm falling in love with you y/n." The words were stronger, she couldn't bear watching you crumble in front of her anymore. Her words and actions had defeated you like she'd never seen you before. That's when she realised her ignoring her feelings was doing more damage than all the walls and rules she'd built up around her heart. She took the leap and walked towards you, touching your lower back as gently as she had done at the bar.  

There was that electric shock again. Your whole body jolted under her touch. "Don't." You whisper, still looking down into the drain, watching as your tears fall, drip down the black hole.  

"If you don't want to be with me, I understand. I'm a mess and I'll probably hurt you but I am falling in love with you. I can't get you off my mind. Ever since you mentioned you had a date I couldn't stop wishing that it was with me."  

Her hand clung to your side, she hadn't dropped her touch at your words and you hated and loved her for it. Love her? Did you? Could you? Her words had been hurting you all week and she'd brought you almost to your knees tonight with them again but now she was stitching your heart up with every letter she spoke. Her fingers ghosted along your cheek, they curled under your chin and brought your eyes up to meet hers. You saw how red and puffy your face was in the mirror when you turned your head with her touch.  

She continued when she could see you weren't going to advert your gaze, to make you believe her words now more than the hurtful ones she's said before. "That if I'd just stayed and not got so in my head the other night that it could've been me making you smile at your phone and hope for the weekend to come. For your smile to light up my day and not some random woman's. I want that. I want you." Jack tried so hard to read what you were thinking through your tear stained eyes but she couldn't be sure if those new tears were because of the hurt she had caused you or the new found declaration of love. She took the chance, another big one, and leaned forward closing the small emotion filled space she'd caused and ghosted her lips over yours.  

If she'd glued you to the spot by her words earlier, now you were even more terrified of the sudden change in direction. Was this real? Was she kissing you? No, she wasn't kissing you because you were so shocked and frozen when her lips ghosted over yours, she began to pull away. You stopped her movements and hesitation with your hand coming up to her waist, holding her in place. That was all you could physically do right now. So many things were swimming around in your head, she'd wrecked you. She'd wrecked you long ago but after the bar she'd torn you right down.  

"Are you sure?" Your eyes were stuck on her lips, her tongue coming out to wet them and you held in a groan. The memory of a date at the very back of your mind right now. The woman in front of you had your full attention and you wanted to feel bad about your date and the woman you'd been messaging but you couldnt. You'd send her an apologetic message once Jack had made a decision because either way you couldn’t go on a date after this.

Jack had had your heart and your body since day one. With a new found determination, you pulled her in by the waist, she stumbled slightly, her hand that was under your chin now whipped around to the counter behind you to find her balance again. Her lips brushed against yours and your mouth opened just enough to slip her lips perfectly with yours. Her other hand came up to thread her fingers through your hair, deepening the kiss, letting the emotions swallow you both.  

She pulled back too soon, your world spinning. You dont think it would ever stop when she had you in her arms. You prayed it never would. "Jack?" As much as that kiss was the answer, you needed her to say it, for her eyes to mean it.  

"No words can fully describe all the feelings I have for you." Her eyes devoured you again. Her emotions filling her and showing you exactly how she felt. Jack smiled, her mischievous, confidence seeping back in. Like hearing herself admit it was all she needed to know that it was going to be alright. That those walls she had built and kept you at a distance for so long weren't worth it. "But I'll try to show you from now on." She captured your lips again, drew the kiss out, emotionally raw and taking you on a journey of how she felt. You gripped at her waist, pulling her in and you'd never let her go. No matter how far she ran.  

. . . . . End . . . . . 

*runs away*

[jj-lives]

Keep it Together (sing sing)- bmblb

“Can we make cookies for dessert?”

Ruby’s hopeful voice reaches Yang’s ears where she’s sitting on the couch watching the news.  It’s supposed to rain again the next day, which doesn’t bode well. Another day without pay won’t kill them, but it’s definitely not helping their situation.

“I don’t think so.” Yang flips the channel to some cartoons she knows Ruby likes and returns to the stove where she’s left Ruby in charge of stirring their dinner. “We don’t have the stuff to make cookies.”  Yang looks over her younger sister’s shoulder, approving of the soup’s unburnt appearance and smell. “Good job Ruby, looks delicious.”

“Can I go watch t.v. now?” The younger sibling asks, dropping the spoon already anticipating her answer.  

“Yeah, go on.”

Taking up the spot Ruby vacates, Yang stirs the mix of meat and vegetables.  There’s decidedly more vegetables than meat and even more broth than vegetables.  But there’s enough to last a few meals which will get them pretty close to payday.  

“Can you not go get stuff for cookies?”

Ruby’s using her puppy dog eyes when Yang turns to acknowledge her.  It hurts, because Yang would love to go out and get the cookie dough, come home and spend the evening making and eating them with Ruby.  She wants to give her sister all the things she deserves, the things that make her happy, the things Yang never got to have. But there’s literally less than a dollar in her bank account.  

“Not today.” Is all Yang can muster to say as she turns back to taste the soup.  The carrots are cooked all the way through so she turns off the stove and grabs a couple bowls from the cupboard.  She dishes them both equal amounts, making sure to pour more broth than anything in her own bowl. Ruby needs the nutrients more than she does, the youngest is still growing after all.  

They eat on the couch, in front of the television, laughing between bites at the cartoon shenanigans on the screen.  When Ruby’s finished Yang grabs her bowl and cleans up the mess dicing vegetables has caused on the kitchen counter. When everything is clean once more Yang glances at the clock on the stove.

“Ruby, it’s time to get ready for bed.”

“No, one more episode!” She’s demanding, which means she’s tired and experience has taught Yang that prolonging the inevitable only results in a larger argument.  

“No, get ready for bed.” Yang uses her stern voice so Ruby knows she means business.  Ruby only has two choices, she can either obey and head to bed or she can use the only other trump card in her deck. She chooses the latter.

“Dad would le-“

“But he’s not here, is he?” Yang cuts her off turning towards her, anger flaring.  He isn’t the one putting a roof over her head. He isn’t the one going to school and holding a full time job just so Ruby doesn’t have to realize how fucked up everything is.  He doesn’t care about them and Yang’s sick of Ruby using him as an excuse to not listen to her.

Ruby dips her head ashamed, but she quickly presses a button on the remote in her hand.  The light from the television disappears and Ruby makes her way silently, sheepishly to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Anger deflating, Yang suddenly feels guilt.  Ruby doesn’t know how bad she struggles, because she never lets it show.  She’s always made a point of not letting her negative emotions show around her younger sibling.  Tai’s bad parenting has already taken its toll on her, she wasn’t about to let it affect Ruby’s innocence too.  Yang just wishes she had more money, a better job, just anything really to have set aside. She really would like to be able to have a nest egg where she could take a little out of to give Ruby the things she asked for.  She really doesn’t ask for much, cookies and small treats. Her requests should be achievable, and Yang is blessed that Ruby’s one that can take enjoyment out of the smallest things.

She sits up for another hour before following her sister to bed.  She might not have work but she still has school in the morning.

—-

Yang storms out the front doors of the school. She hates her Physics teacher with a passion.  No matter how hard she tries, she just can’t grasp the concepts. She’s good at math, so she has to assume it’s more his teaching methods than anything else, but he continually calls on her for the answers he knows she doesn’t have. She despises being embarrassed that way.  She’s a smart student, has above average grades, but he makes her feel stupid. Yang has enough negative thoughts about herself, enough doubts on if she’s doing things right when it comes to Ruby, she doesn’t need some pompous teacher making her feel worse about herself. She’s debated dropping out to get a second job- it would help with the money situation - but Yang knows that isn’t what’s right for her.  She doesn’t want to be a negative influence on Ruby, and Yang desperately does want to graduate.

She waits for Ruby in the parking lot, beside the beat up rusted junk she calls her car.  It isn’t much, but she needs it to get to her job. Yang doesn’t even want to think of what they would do if it broke down.  She barely has enough for rent and food to last between paydays, what would they do if she had to fork over any more on fixing her junk of a car?

Ruby’s taking longer than usual, probably caught up talking to one of her many friends.  Yang doesn’t mind waiting today, she doesn’t have to work even though the clouds are dispersing.  She’s happy to wait if Ruby’s enjoying herself. Plus, the fact Yang is probably going to have to pull a double shift to make up for the rain impacting the crews completion schedule doesn’t have her excited for tomorrow.  She’s happy to relax at least for one night.

Laughter brings Yang’s attention to a group of girls her own age.  Yang’s seen them around school, a couple may have even been her friends in an earlier lifetime.  There’s also the new girl; Blake was her name. Yang supposes she isn’t really new, having moved into the area the year before, but in their small town where no one moves into or out of she is still the new girl in Yang’s mind.  

She’s nice enough, from the interactions Yang has witnessed her in.  She hasn’t said a negative word to anyone as far as Yang knows, and generally has a positive standing with most students and teachers.  It’s not something that can be said for all of Blake’s friends however.

“Hey orphan, what are you looking at?”  Yang grits her teeth to stop from escalating the situation.  They’ll soon leave.

“She’s not an orphan, Chelsea.” Another speaks up, Yang can’t tell if she’s defending her or just a know-it-all needing to set the facts straight.

“Even worse,” Chelsea supplies, her perfect brunette hair bouncing as she swings her head in Yang’s direction, blue eyes burning with mischief. “Just means Blondie here wasn’t worth sticking around for.”  Her friends snicker at her comment but Yang notices Blake isn’t one of them.

Blake’s eyes switch from her cruel friends to meet Yang’s for the first time.  Her bodies reaction to the eye contact surprises Yang. The girl is pretty, beautiful even, but her eyes are piercing and it unnerves Yang’s usual confidence enough for her to actually take a shuffled step away from the raven haired girl.  She feels something jab sharply into the small of her back and she winces - she’s fallen back onto the mirror of the car behind her.

Blake’s friends roar louder, Yang’s pain adding to their amusement. The ears, so adorably perched atop Blake’s head twitch, one in the direction of her friends and one trained on Yang.  Blake notices they catch Yang’s attention and she narrows her amber eyes, challenging her? Yang isn’t sure what the look means.

“Hey, sis. Let’s go!”  Ruby bounds to the passenger side of the car, brushing unknowingly past the group of girls making Yang their sport. “Hey, can we get that stuff for cookies today?”

Yang shifts her gaze to her sister over the hood of the car. “Not today.”

“That’s what you said yesterday!” She complains.

“Maybe on the weekend.” Yang tries to placate her, noticing they’re still being scrutinized by the group behind Ruby. “Now get in.”

“Can we get ice cream then?” She’s switching treats thinking Yang’s just not into her cookie idea, and Yang would be touched that she’s thinking of her wants but that isn’t the issue.

“Get in the car, Ruby.” Yang tries more sternly.

“Is that a yes?” She asks hopeful.

“It’s a no.  Let’s go.”

“Why not?”

Glancing over Ruby’s shoulder Yang sees the group of girls whispering quietly to each other.  She knows they won’t stay silent for long, and although she’s sure Ruby doesn’t catch on to the reason she’s denying her, Yang knows the others can guess.  She desperately wants Ruby to get in the car before the older girls point out the unpleasant truth but her sister’s being extra stubborn and Yang doesn't want to make more of a scene by going into parental mode.

“Let’s go guys.” Yang’s eyes dart to find the source of the soft voice and she finds it came from Blake.  Amber eyes hold hers for a moment before they shift to her friends. “I need to get home, and you guys are my ride.” And with that Blake turns and walks further down the row of cars.  Her friends pause, but just shoot Yang matching glares before they move to follow their friend.

Ruby asks three more times on the way home before giving up on the idea of any treats that day.  It digs at Yang’s heart every time she has to deny her. She can tell Ruby isn’t pleased at having the same meal as the night before but she thankfully doesn’t voice her displeasure.  

“You have any homework?” Knowing the answer before she even asks.  Ruby is an honours student and always seems to finish any homework in class.

“Nope.”

Yang hums in response and moves to sit at their rarely used kitchen table.  She’s working on one of the Physic questions that stumped her earlier when she hears a knock at the door.  Confused, because they don’t get visitors, Yang quickly panics wondering if she forgot to pay rent but her bank account proves that she has.

Before she can move Ruby is already swinging the door open, like a visitor is a common occurrence.

“Yang, it’s for you.” Ruby calls, still standing at the door, staring at whoever is on the other side.

“What?” Yang stands and takes a step towards the door.

“It’s one of your friends from school.” Her answer confuses Yang even more.  She doesn’t have any friends, but when she steps around her sister she comes face to face with Blake.

“Hello.” Her voice is just as soft and eyes just as piercing as earlier and Yang is having trouble processing.  

“Hi.”  They stand in silence for an awkward moment and even Ruby seems to notice because she speaks up when neither of the older girls seem to be in a hurry to do so.

“Do you want to come in?” Ruby asks, opening the door wider. “I like your ears by the way.”

“Ruby!” Yang scolds, tearing her eyes from Blake to shoot her sister a disapproving look.

“What?” She asks perplexed. “They’re cute, don’t you think?”

“I-“ Yang turns back to the girl in their doorway, looking for any signs that she’s been affronted by Ruby’s unfiltered nature.  She can’t help but glance up at the ears Ruby has just mentioned. They twitch ever so slightly and Yang can feel her face heat up because yes, they are completely adorable.  

Blake’s melodious laughter fills the room and Yang meets her eyes once more.  They’re less penetrating than before, more gentle in their scrutinizing of the two sisters.

“I was hoping you two would like to join me for some ice cream.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Ruby is already shoving her feet into her shoes before the words can even process fully in Yang’s mind.

“I don’t think-“

“My treat.” Blake cuts her off, giving Yang a pointed look before softening her gaze and looking to Ruby.

“Does that mean I can’t get my usual?” Yang’s about to tell her to just get a normal cone instead of the giant monstrosity she usually gets but Blake speaks up before she can.

“You can get whatever you want.  I’m getting an extra large sundae so I’d rather not look like a pig on my own.”

Ruby squeals and rushes passed Blake, already bounding down the stairs. “Hurry up Yang!” She calls over her shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this.” Yang states but shoves her feet in her shoes anyway.  Ruby isn’t going to take no for an answer now.

“I know, but I want to.” Is Blake’s simple reply.

“Why? You don’t even know us.” Yang asks, stepping out into the hall, locking the door behind them.  “And how did you even know where we live?”

Blake chuckles. “Your car is pretty easy to recognize, and I only needed to knock on a few doors to find out which one is yours.”

“There’s no privacy in this world anymore.” Yang grits, glaring at the neighbours doors they pass, slowly following Ruby’s path.

Blake’s soft laugh at her comment pulls a smile from Yang.

“You know.” Blake speaks up, smiling coyly. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

“What? I smile.” Yang defends.

“Not that I’ve seen, but you should definitely do it more often.”

“Huh?”

“You look really pretty when you smile.” She laughs again at Yang’s dumbfounded look. “And to answer your earlier question, I want to do this because I have younger siblings as well.  I know what it’s like to want to protect them from things, and how much it sucks when you can’t. Everyone needs some help here and there.” She shrugs as you both bound down the flight of stairs.  “I have some food in the trunk of my car if you’d like it. We can move it to your car later so Ruby doesn’t have to know.”

“I can’t-“

“I’d be more upset if you refused, but I’ll understand if you do.”

Ruby is jumping with excitement as they both emerge from the building.  Yang catches the amused smile on Blake’s face at her sister’s antics. She’s glad Blake seems to be enjoying her sister’s energy instead of being annoyed by it like some people.  

“My car’s parked at the end there Ruby.” Blake speaks up giving Ruby a destination.

“Oh my- Yang, it’s black and purple!” She squeals. “It’s so cool.”

“I’ll pay you back.” Yang says once Ruby is out of earshot.

“No need,” Opening her mouth to argue Blake beats her to it. “Though if you must, I am in the search of new friends, my current ones are getting on my nerves.”

“Oh yeah?” Yang smirks.  

“Yeah, they’re definitely too bitchy for my taste.”

It pulls a genuine laugh from her and it feels good, she’s been faking enough of them lately.  When her attention returns to the other girl Yang notices how surprised she looks. Her mouth is parted and eyes wide, ears perked straight up atop her head.  

“Wow,” Blake whispers and Yang raises a brow in question. “You should definitely do that more often too.”

“Come on,” Yang blushes, motioning towards Ruby waiting not at all patiently by Blake’s car. “If we don’t hurry you’re going to see the full wrath of my sister.”

“She’s tiny, what can she possibly do?” Blake laughs.

“Honestly?” Yang feins terror. “You do not want to find out.”

Blake rolls her eyes but moves into a jog. “Then we better hurry.”

Yang laughs again, but follows suit.  The smile Blake shoots her over her shoulder at the sound of her laughter has Yang promising to do it more.  

Anything to have Blake look at her like that again.

[dandeacon]

SPIDERMAN OF THE RINGS: In 2007 I had no ID, no cell phone, no bank account, no computer, no credit card, no money, and thought there was no actual future. But I had friends. Those friends helped me through a time in my life that could have gone in several awful directions, but with them, I went down a very strange, beautiful and colorful journey that, in many ways, solidified 10 years ago with the release of ‘Spiderman of The Rings.’

SMOTR was written mostly on a roommates desktop computer while he was at work. The album was recorded on a borrowed laptop and with a borrowed microphone in my bedroom within a warehouse when the person on the other side of the wall wasn’t playing the drums (which was insanely often). Beyond those huge tangible favors, what the community of friends I had and new people I was meeting in Baltimore gave to me was a massive inspiration and encouragement that seemed unique to this place and that time.

When I first started making computer music, I was making it for myself to pass the time, more like a video game than a studio practice. The idea of other people listening to it seemed like a fantasy and I thought there was no way to perform it. That slowly changed in college at Purchase, being around so many artists and different people constantly working, seeing so much work always on display. It inspired me to want to share my work and to make it of a quality worth sharing. Upon moving to Baltimore in 2004, the energy from college was concentrated in the small group of friends I moved here with and amplified by the energy and creative fervor felt throughout Baltimore. My first few years in Baltimore shaped the musician I was to become in ways I could not have foreseen.

I fell in love with the American DIY and the absurd optimist nihilism I felt in it. The world was going to end in 2012 so we might as well party our way into the apocalypse. Every second was lived in the moment and the entire world was summed up in a tiny warehouse or basement of whatever city I was in that night. I was a fool. An ignorant, ecstatic fool.

The first indication that SMOTR was going to be a turning point for me as a musician was when the album “leaked” a few months prior to its released. This was hilarious to me. Before this, I could barely give my music away for free and now people were “stealing” it. It made me so happy. The leak found its way to a Radiohead message board that started having the first real conversations about the album. Prior to this, I had never really encountered anyone hearing my music without seeing me perform. From that leaked and the work that Carpark was doing, my music reached more people than I could ever have dreamed of. It completely changed my life in every possible way.

ULTIMATE REALITY: There is no one else in my life that I have collaborated more frequently with than Jimmy Joe Roche. We met in college, became fast friends and have lived like arcane idiots ever since. His psychedelic images have always inspired me. In our college dorm room, our computers would be setup side by side. It was almost a competition to see who could work the most on them. His work ethic and push for originality were major inspirations and source of drive in me.

When Jimmy moved in with me in Baltimore in 2006 I had just begun working on some new music for a project with two of my favorite humans and drummers, Jeremy Hymen and Kevin O'Meara. They were my two favorite musicians in Baltimore, amazingly creative drummers who put their all into their playing and displayed it both in the sounds and with physicality of their movements. They both looked like they were exploding and contracting back infinitely as speeds that baffled me. I very much wanted to write a piece of music for the two of them to perform together. This started with 'Ultimate Reality (movement 3).’

Jimmy came home when we were rehearsing in the living room and immediately asked what we’re doing and if he could collaborate with us visually on the project. His involvement brought the project into a context that allowed it to be real. Before this, I had no idea how this piece of music would exist, now suddenly, it was real.

This collaboration awoke in me my desire to write music for other other musicians. Musicians of amazing skill and ability. This project was steer my music in a totally new direction. Ultimate Reality was what helped steer me towards Bromst, America and was the seed that brought about collaborations with Sō Percussion and the Kronos Quartet.

Ultimate Reality came out in late 2007, a few months after Spiderman of the Rings. The score of Ultimate Reality was always linked to the live performance or with the visuals on DVD. It was never released as a standalone score until this release. It makes me really happy to have SMOTR and Ultimate Reality paired together for the release. Both those projects marked major turning points in my life as a musician. Looking back SMOTR and Ultimate Reality were opposite side of the same door that I was passing through. There could not have been one without the other.

IN CLOSING: All the original files and session for SMOTR and Ultimate Reality have been lost time to time. There will never be a re-master or re-mixing of the album or the score. At first, this really bummed me out. But slowly it not only started to make sense but make me happy. It reminded me of how I lived and who I was 10+ years ago when I was making the album. I never thought there would be a reason to archive those files, to keep track of old computers or hard drives. Plus even if I had, I wouldn’t have had a means of doing so. It feels appropriate that they are frozen in time, mixed in the red, maxed out at all levels at all times for all time. I recorded them in the same way a photograph is taken, to document a moment in time. I didn’t plan on losing the ability to remaster or remix the Spiderman of the Rings, but I also didn’t plan on anything else associated with it or my career to happen to it seems perfect and poetic that it’s impossible.

I’d like to deeply thank anyone and everyone that’s ever taken the time to listen to any of music. It still blows me away to know that with such a massive wealth of music we live with some people choose the time to spend their time listening to mine. I can’t thank you enough for that. Thank you to my friends and family that have kept me alive and going and continue to inspire me and push me. I’d like to thank two specific individuals. Todd at Carpark for, despite knowing I was completely insane, believing in my music and giving me a chance to share it with the world. And thank you to Sam Hunt who thankfully didn’t know I was completely insane but, upon learning so, continued to help me deeply explore my love of performing and touring through a deep collaboration on whatever logically and logistically impractical concept I approach him with.

OK, sorry for this long winded sentimental nonsense. This music means a lot to me and it means everything that it means anything to you. Thank you again so infinitely much. I’ll keep making my weird music as long as I’m able with hopes that it’ll reach anyone and make them smile, inspired or want to have a party.

Peace, your pal dan

'Spiderman Of the Rings’ (Deluxe 10th Anniversary Edition Including Ultimate Reality) is out now!

—- Stream/DL: smarturl.it/smotr10_dsps Limited vinyl: smarturl.it/smotr10_vmp Limited cassettes: smarturl.it/smotr10_carpark Limited merch: bit.ly/smotr10_merch

[dannydeek]

SPIDERMAN OF THE RINGS: In 2007 I had no ID, no cell phone, no bank account, no computer, no credit card, no money, and thought there was no actual future. But I had friends. Those friends helped me through a time in my life that could have gone in several awful directions, but with them, I went down a very strange, beautiful and colorful journey that, in many ways, solidified 10 years ago with the release of 'Spiderman of The Rings.'

SMOTR was written mostly on a roommates desktop computer while he was at work. The album was recorded on a borrowed laptop and with a borrowed microphone in my bedroom within a warehouse when the person on the other side of the wall wasn't playing the drums (which was insanely often). Beyond those huge tangible favors, what the community of friends I had and new people I was meeting in Baltimore gave to me was a massive inspiration and encouragement that seemed unique to this place and that time.

When I first started making computer music, I was making it for myself to pass the time, more like a video game than a studio practice. The idea of other people listening to it seemed like a fantasy and I thought there was no way to perform it. That slowly changed in college at Purchase, being around so many artists and different people constantly working, seeing so much work always on display. It inspired me to want to share my work and to make it of a quality worth sharing. Upon moving to Baltimore in 2004, the energy from college was concentrated in the small group of friends I moved here with and amplified by the energy and creative fervor felt throughout Baltimore. My first few years in Baltimore shaped the musician I was to become in ways I could not have foreseen.

I fell in love with the American DIY and the absurd optimist nihilism I felt in it. The world was going to end in 2012 so we might as well party our way into the apocalypse. Every second was lived in the moment and the entire world was summed up in a tiny warehouse or basement of whatever city I was in that night. I was a fool. An ignorant, ecstatic fool.

The first indication that SMOTR was going to be a turning point for me as a musician was when the album "leaked" a few months prior to its released. This was hilarious to me. Before this, I could barely give my music away for free and now people were "stealing" it. It made me so happy. The leak found its way to a Radiohead message board that started having the first real conversations about the album. Prior to this, I had never really encountered anyone hearing my music without seeing me perform. From that leaked and the work that Carpark was doing, my music reached more people than I could ever have dreamed of. It completely changed my life in every possible way.

ULTIMATE REALITY: There is no one else in my life that I have collaborated more frequently with than Jimmy Joe Roche. We met in college, became fast friends and have lived like arcane idiots ever since. His psychedelic images have always inspired me. In our college dorm room, our computers would be setup side by side. It was almost a competition to see who could work the most on them. His work ethic and push for originality were major inspirations and source of drive in me.

When Jimmy moved in with me in Baltimore in 2006 I had just begun working on some new music for a project with two of my favorite humans and drummers, Jeremy Hymen and Kevin O'Meara. They were my two favorite musicians in Baltimore, amazingly creative drummers who put their all into their playing and displayed it both in the sounds and with physicality of their movements. They both looked like they were exploding and contracting back infinitely as speeds that baffled me. I very much wanted to write a piece of music for the two of them to perform together. This started with 'Ultimate Reality (movement 3).'

Jimmy came home when we were rehearsing in the living room and immediately asked what we’re doing and if he could collaborate with us visually on the project. His involvement brought the project into a context that allowed it to be real. Before this, I had no idea how this piece of music would exist, now suddenly, it was real.

This collaboration awoke in me my desire to write music for other other musicians. Musicians of amazing skill and ability. This project was steer my music in a totally new direction. Ultimate Reality was what helped steer me towards Bromst, America and was the seed that brought about collaborations with Sō Percussion and the Kronos Quartet.

Ultimate Reality came out in late 2007, a few months after Spiderman of the Rings. The score of Ultimate Reality was always linked to the live performance or with the visuals on DVD. It was never released as a standalone score until this release. It makes me really happy to have SMOTR and Ultimate Reality paired together for the release. Both those projects marked major turning points in my life as a musician. Looking back SMOTR and Ultimate Reality were opposite side of the same door that I was passing through. There could not have been one without the other.

IN CLOSING: All the original files and session for SMOTR and Ultimate Reality have been lost time to time. There will never be a re-master or re-mixing of the album or the score. At first, this really bummed me out. But slowly it not only started to make sense but make me happy. It reminded me of how I lived and who I was 10+ years ago when I was making the album. I never thought there would be a reason to archive those files, to keep track of old computers or hard drives. Plus even if I had, I wouldn't have had a means of doing so. It feels appropriate that they are frozen in time, mixed in the red, maxed out at all levels at all times for all time. I recorded them in the same way a photograph is taken, to document a moment in time. I didn't plan on losing the ability to remaster or remix the Spiderman of the Rings, but I also didn't plan on anything else associated with it or my career to happen to it seems perfect and poetic that it's impossible.

I'd like to deeply thank anyone and everyone that's ever taken the time to listen to any of music. It still blows me away to know that with such a massive wealth of music we live with some people choose the time to spend their time listening to mine. I can't thank you enough for that. Thank you to my friends and family that have kept me alive and going and continue to inspire me and push me. I'd like to thank two specific individuals. Todd at Carpark for, despite knowing I was completely insane, believing in my music and giving me a chance to share it with the world. And thank you to Sam Hunt who thankfully didn't know I was completely insane but, upon learning so, continued to help me deeply explore my love of performing and touring through a deep collaboration on whatever logically and logistically impractical concept I approach him with.

OK, sorry for this long winded sentimental nonsense. This music means a lot to me and it means everything that it means anything to you. Thank you again so infinitely much. I'll keep making my weird music as long as I'm able with hopes that it'll reach anyone and make them smile, inspired or want to have a party.

Peace, your pal dan

'Spiderman Of the Rings' (Deluxe 10th Anniversary Edition Including Ultimate Reality) is out now!

---- Stream/DL: smarturl.it/smotr10_dsps Limited vinyl: smarturl.it/smotr10_vmp Limited cassettes: smarturl.it/smotr10_carpark Limited merch: bit.ly/smotr10_merch

[guattari2600]

on choosing a life without a father

I tried to write this a few days after his death and it was rambling and hard to get through, so this is my second attempt - it took a few years to get here.

I didn’t open the last card my father sent me until after he was already dead. For seven or eight years before he died I didn’t speak to him and my family didn’t give him my address (thankfully), so on birthdays and holidays my mom would have a card from him that she’d hand to me without comment. Usually I didn’t open them at all because I knew what would be inside - a plea for me to get in contact with him, to have dinner with him, a claim that he didn’t know what he had done wrong. Sometimes a strain of indignation that I was his daughter and he was entitled to time with me. As time went on and he was clearly mentally deteriorating, sometimes he would write on legal paper instead of a card and meander into rambling accounts of money he was giving my brothers and mother, in an attempt (I’d guess) to make it sound like he was trying to be responsible, to hold it together, to make things up to the family.

In the last card he sent, a new tone emerged - he added a line about how “one never knows what will happen” and “we don’t have forever” to reconnect. He died unexpectedly of a heart attack shortly after my youngest brother left for college, his license for practicing law was suspended after it was found he was spending his clients escrow funds, and my mother moved to a different city and cut almost all contact with him. I don’t think his letter was prescient so much as he knew that the last handful of dirt was about to be tossed on the grave that he had dug for himself; the long years he’d spent abusing, controlling, and ultimately alienating those he’d loved had finally ripened into the poisonous fruit of loneliness that he’d been cultivating for decades.

My father’s death had the effect of expanding and prolonging the negative effects he’d had on our lives. Having just gotten out from under his thumb and moved to a brand new place, my mom now had to deal with the fact that he hadn’t updated his will in over a decade, so she had to manage all his financial affairs. During his life my father repeatedly tried to alienate us from my mother’s family by claiming they were brainwashing us against him and stealing from him (!), but it was my mother’s father who, now in his 80s, took on the awful task of cleaning out my father’s hoarder house, including wading through piles of trash and having to defrost an enormous freezer filled to the brim with food. It turned out that my father had triple-mortgaged the house, so immediately after his death my brothers and i had threatening letters from multiple banks who wanted to foreclose - we left them to fight among themselves.

My mother never spoke with much nostalgia or regret about her time with my father, but she did reflect on the time and money she’d dumped into the house - a few years before leaving, she’d funded a giant renovation that included hardwood floors, a brand new kitchen built to her specifications, a giant piano room to hold our baby grand piano and a room full of plants with skylights that was her sanctuary. She had a garden outside, too - I remember one year, she ordered ladybugs online to help kill aphids in her garden, and for a few weeks the entire house and yard was full of ladybugs.

There are a lot of things I remember, and a lot of things I don’t.

I remember the night my father promised to watch a meteor shower late at night with me - I set up lawn chairs between the trees and made a thermos of hot chocolate for us - he came home drunk and passed out on the couch, so I watched it alone.

I remember sitting on my grandparents’ stairs screaming and crying and holding onto the banister because I didn’t want to go home with him, and him trying to pry my fingers away. 

I remember him laughing at my mom when she was pregnant because she was too big to tie her own shoes, and helping her tie them so she could take me to school. I was eight.

I remember being at church in a dark blue velvet dress and white tights on Christmas and hearing my mother sing for the first time, and looking up at her and thinking she was the most beautiful person in the world.

I don’t remember ever seeing them touch each other with any affection, except once when she was sitting at the kitchen table - he kissed the top of her head, and she flinched.

It’s hard to feel like anyone understands my relationship with my father, or that I can understand other people’s relationships with their parents, dead or alive. His death has had a double barreled effect on my feelings about relationships. It’s forced me out of a cavalier attitude toward something more serious because of my fear of dying alone, the way he did. And it’s opened an uncrossable emotional gulf for me. When my father was alive, there was maybe a 1% chance I might talk to him again. It was low, but it was still a chance - a thread that people could connect to. Now that he’s dead, that connection is severed entirely, and so is my experience of other people’s relationships with their parents. It’s not jealousy or resentment, just loneliness. The scariest part, that I’ve worked on a lot, is the similarities I see in myself to my father - the quick temper, the struggle to change my opinions about the world and see things through the lens of others. And the good things too, the quick wit. And the physical things, my nose. When I fear dying alone, it’s not so much the dying alone part that’s scary, but the dying alone because I grow into him. Because of his aversion to mental health professionals, the giant question mark that is half of my genetics - will I suddenly lose control when I’m his age? My grandpa, upon going through my father’s things, found piles on piles of brand new clothes that my father had gone into debt to acquire instead of washing the clothes he had - he let the house crumble around him and filled it up with expensive things never removed from the packaging. It’s the act of someone ill, and I have no idea if that illness will hit me too. Maybe I’m a ticking time bomb. Maybe it’s not worth letting anyone get close to me, because I’ll just destroy them the way he destroyed people.

A question that people who have similar relationships with their parents ask me - sometimes out loud, sometimes not - is whether I wish I had reconnected with him before he died. A world in which I’d opened the ominous last letter and seen it as a path to redemption. I don’t have any regrets about not talking to him, but that’s mostly specific to my situation - I would happily have reconnected with my father if he’d admitted that he was mentally ill and abusive and sought help. Instead, he systematically shut down any criticism. He lived in a world where he couldn’t be wrong, and any attempts to make him seem wrong were either deflected or outright ignored. He threatened therapists in the area where we grew up because of his extreme aversion to him or any of us getting the help we needed. After leaving, I wanted to have him committed but my entire family was in a state of paralysis about it because he was a well-known local lawyer and had too many connections in the police and courts. He created a world in which it was impossible for me to feel like reconnecting with him would be worth the mental anguish of reopening the wound.I’ve spent a long time trying to untangle the relationship between my father’s mental illness and abuse.

Oftentimes (especially online) people will say “having mental illness doesn’t make you abusive.” That’s true, but it’s often tangled up together in ways that can make you feel guilty. My father grew up in a world where he had almost no control over anything around him, so he tried to build a world that he controlled. His mental illness made it possible for him to eliminate the parts of the world that didn’t fit what he wanted it to be. It didn’t make him do cruel things, but it helped him to forget them so he could live with himself. After he did something particularly cruel, his eyes would glaze over for a moment, he’d start laughing, and then he’d claim it never happened.

One of my therapists said that people who experience abuse are often more likely to empathize with abusers because we are forced to face their humanity every day. My father the monster loved Bobby Darin and had bookcases on bookcases of high fantasy books that he loved to read. He loved cowboy movies, especially John Wayne. The only thing he ever cooked was some kind of Eastern European tomato soup with so much pepper it’d make your eyes water. He put heaps of pepper on everything, even watermelon. He wore too much cologne. When he was growing up, his father died and his mother was also severely mentally ill and untreated, so she put him and his brothers through hell. Not only was the genetic lottery stacked against him, but he grew up with someone who saw snakes in the washing machine and blurred the boundaries between truth and dreams regularly.

Today’s Mother’s Day. One of the lasting effects of my father’s death is that when Mother’s Day comes, the dread in the pit of my stomach starts building in anticipation of Father’s Day. On Father’s Day, I disconnect from social media so as not to spoil everyone’s joy. I chose a life without a father. And I guess I’m writing this today in case you chose one too, or are thinking of choosing one. It’s hard, I won’t lie. It’s lonely. But sometimes a life without a father is better for you than life with one.

I loved my father despite everything, but I had to choose a life without him. And I think maybe for the first time over the past few months I’ve realized that’s okay.

[prosperopedia]

How to Make a Terrorist Scammer Ask: Are You Trying to Fraud Me?

My wife and I have built our careers together creating online businesses and selling products to people all over the world. Operating online businesses has always tended to put us into contact with a lots of regular and interesting types of people, some of them awesome, and some of them not so awesome. Some of the interactions I’ve had

While operating my medical products ecommerce business, ProHealthcareProducts.com several years ago, I had one of the most memorable experiences in my years of marketing and ecommerce.

I received an email from someone in the Middle East, who asked me to send him a product quotation for a dozen or so of one of the physical therapy devices listed for sale in my store. That request for a quotation from someone outside the country was not unusual. Requests from international customers, including Africa, Asia, the Middle East, and elsewhere, were common, especially because the most advanced and highest quality medical equipment is often only available from suppliers in the United States.

In most situations where a customer requests a formal price quotation, before we fulfill the order and ship the products to them, we either make sure their payment is received and has cleared, or we do some due diligence on the organization they represent to ensure that they are reputable and likely to pay us when we invoice them.

I replied to this potential customer stating our policies on purchase orders for organizations.. The quoted total was $7,741.

Within the next two weeks, I received a phone call from my bank, telling me that they had received a cashier’s check from this person, that the total amount listed on the check was $37,741, and that the check was fraudulent and wouldn’t be honored. The situation wasn’t all that surprising to me. Over the years, I’d dealt with lots of similar situations, where someone tries to steal products using fraud. In fact, I’d lost several thousand dollars sending products to people who used stolen credit cards before I figured out and documented all the warning signs of fraudulent orders.

This occasion was the first time I had ever been sent a fraudulent cashier’s check. I picked it up from the bank later that day. It looked legitimate, but somehow the bank (thankfully) was able to tell that it was fake.

Overpayment Scams from Online Sales

Like most of the informed public, I had heard many stories about people being bilked out of money when offering products for sale. It’s an old trick that thieves use.

You offer something for sale.

A thief sends you a fake payment, usually for more than the amount you listed it for sale, whether it be on eBay.com, in the local online classifieds, or anywhere else on the internet.

Once you receive the fake payment, the thief will ask you to send a refund of the “overpayment”. In some cases, naive sellers will ship (or in rare cases meet up in person and give away) both the product and the extra payment.

Request for a $30,000 “Refund”

Within a day after the bank reported to me that I’d received a fake check, I received an email from this person posing as a legitimate customer. I had done a bit of research on these kinds of scams, and I read in several places that scams like this were often used by Islamic terrorists to raise money for their organizations. I wondered about the intelligence or experience level of those who are being duped by schemes like this, and I was at once angry that people like this might exist on our planet, people so sinister as to pretend to be decent human beings doing their best to deceive and steal to secure funds for other evil people whose missions are also no good. The fact that this guy was coming after my own business, involving my own family’s money, made it even more personal.

In this fool’s email, he humbly pointed out that the person from his organization who made out the check to me “accidentally” wrote it out for $30,000 extra, and that they desperately needed that extra money back. The email included the account information and bank instructions for me to wire back the “overpayment”. It was written in a matter-of-fact tone that tried to make it seem as though an immediate payment by me would make me the bad guy for holding on to their money and taking advantage of their honest mistake.

Playing Along – The Phone Call

I had a good laugh at what a gross lack of judgement from this person about my business and general life experience, then sent back an email telling him that it was too late, that I thought of their overpayment as a stroke of good luck, and I’d already spent the money on a few frivolous things, making it impossible for me to send anything back to them.

Soon after I sent the email, I received a phone call from this person, or from someone associated with him.

Although I’d heard of and even experienced schemes like this one before, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone be as bold as this guy.

Over the next half hour, he did his best to influence me to send him the money he was determined to convince me I owed him.

As he walked me through, in his broken English, the process of going to my bank and sending $30,000 to the bank account he listed in his email, I decided to have a little fun with him.

I pretended to not know how a wire transfer works. That made him frustrated.

Then I reminded him that I’d already spent the money on things like a big office party and crossing off a few things from my bucket list. I told him that I appreciated the fact that they had given me a huge overpayment, but that I counted it as a token of good luck, an unintended gesture that came because I was an extra good guy.

I was certain that he would just hang up the phone on me, but he was persistent.

I proposed a solution. I told him that I’d round up everyone in the office and ask for a collection. I told him that maybe we could collect enough dimes, nickels, and quarters to repay what they’d sent as an overpayment if we could figure out how to get the bank to accept those as funding for their wire transfer.

Finally at his wits’ end, this guy vehemently yelled, “Are you trying to defraud me?”

After spending thirty seconds or so laughing at the irony, I told him, “How ironic is it that you would ask that. Goodbye!”

That was one of the most bizarre experiences I’ve had running my online stores.

The post How to Make a Terrorist Scammer Ask: Are You Trying to Fraud Me? appeared first on The Handbook for Happiness, and Success, and Prosperity Prosperopedia.

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[suckitsurveys]

Think back to yesterday, what were you doing around this time? I was sleeping. What was the last thing you watched on the TV? BoJack Horseman. Do you think pets can get annoying easily? Not “easily” but my cat can definitely get on my nerves sometimes because she’s a little shit.  Did you know that pickles have no calories? Uhhhh sure. 

Do you enjoy family get togethers? Usually. If they involve food haha. I don’t like them so much because my sister’s obnoxious fucking husband but I try not to let him bother me. 

In a group of three, do you often feel like the third wheel? Not usually.  What color are your pants? I am wearing light blue shorts with different colored flip flops on them. Is there snow on the ground where you are? NO THANK FUCKING GOD I WOULD FUCKING DIE.  What is keeping you warm right now? A blanket.  Has anyone bought you a piece of jewelry? Yes.  How far away is your next birthday? 3 1/2 ish months.  Do you have plans for that birthday yet? I’m seeing Kayla and Sarah to celebrate! Do you think it’s attractive for a man to wear eyeliner? Eh.  When did you last take a shower? A few hours ago. Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon? I haven’t. Have you ever flown somewhere alone? Yes, the only time I’ve flown has been alone. Are you more serious or funny? Funny. Is there someone that annoys you but you haven’t told them? Yes my fucking brother in law.  When is garbage day in your area? Wednesday. Who/What was the last thing to really irritate you? Fucking Chase bank. Do you think people either love or hate spongebob? I don’t think people really care.  Have you seen that new “Lie To Me” show? I have not. What is something you’d rather be doing right now? Rolling around in a big pile of money. Do you find that people are too hard on you? Nah. Sometimes customers at work can be shitty but whatever.  Do you take surveys often? Yeah. Who was the last person you yelled at? The lady at Chase bank. Do you tend to slam things around when you’re mad? Eh, I can.  Do you know anyone who hates/dislikes chocolate? I wanna say I do but I can’t think of who it is.  Do you know anyone who is racist? This is America.  Could you vote in this last election? Yes. Have you taken a shower today? Yes. How much sleep did you get last night? ~6. Do you have more girl friends or guy friends? Girl. What is your current mood? Content.  Is there anything on your mind at the moment? This Chase bank bullshit. There were charges on my account for some gas station in Wisconsin and they called me and put the money back in my account and then this morning the charges were back so I called them ans was like wtf and they said because a physical card was used they can’t prove it was fraud????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? how about the fact that none of my other charges were in fucking Wisconsin????? So now I’m out $230 until I can prove it wasn’t me who made those charges............................................................................ Are there any movies out that you’d like to see? TONS. I need to catch up on movies.  Have you ever been on a website called Stickam? Nope. Have you ever hated yourself? Yes. Who hasn’t? Are you hungry? No. Did your parents ever ground you? They did once or twice.  Where was the last place you went out to eat? This place near my sister’s house my niece calls “Pac-Man” because they have a Ms Pac Man game. She’s so fucking cute.  Have you ever felt like you needed a better life than the one you have? No. Do you own an MP3 player of some kind? No, just my phone. Do you have a moment in your life you wish you could replay over again? Yes. Have you ever been in a play? If so, did you like it? I have been in a couple of grade school plays by requirement and a high school play by choice. I liked them.  What is one musical artist you wish wasn’t making music? Kanye West.  When was the last time you cleaned something? I cleaned up after dinner earlier. Have you ever been so sick you had to be taken to the hospital? Nope, thankfully. Not sick, anyway. I’ve been taken to the hospital for broken bones.  Do you like your smile? I can live with it. Do you have someone that you think truly understands you? Yes. When was the last time you doubted yourself? Eh.  Is there anything currently bothering you? Yes, Chase bank BS.  Would you say that you’ve got something ‘special’ about you? Sure.  Who was the last person to cheer you up when you were down? Mark. Are you scared of what you do not know? I mean, not actively so.  Is there anything in the next six months that you’re looking forward to? My second niece being born any day now, summer in general, possibly going to St. Louis in June with my dad to see a Cubs game, seeing Kesha in July, Mark and my 1 year anniversary in July, seeing Kayla and Sarah in August, my birthday, Halloween.  Were you/are you popular in high school? There were 60 people in my class so it was hard not to be known.  Do you really care what people think about you? To a degree. A very small degree  Do you find yourself treating others like you’d want to be treated? I try.  Are you constantly envious of others? Eh.  Are you more of a whiner with things or a do’er of things? I like wine.  List three of your favorite TV shows: Currently: BoJack Horseman, Brooklyn 99, Bob’s Burgers.  Would your friends say you’re a relaxed person or stressed? I don’t know, ask them.  What do you find yourself worrying most about these days? MONEY.  Would you say it’s hard to earn your trust? Yes and no. I don’t know.  Who was the last person to compliment you? My husband said I did a good job with the soup for dinner tonight.  Anything interesting happen this past week? I had the most random throat infection? When was the last time you felt scared? Earlier today.  What’s on your mind this very second? Wine.  Do you know the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’? Of course.

Do you correct other people’s grammar/spelling when talking to them online? No because I am not a jackass.  Is bacon one of your favorite foods? No. I like it, but I wouldn’t call it a favorite.  Are you one of those people who like to sleep in on the weekends? I don’t really like to sleep in anymore.  Do you like things vampire-related? I read this as “vagina-related” for some reason. Have you ever cussed at a parent or teacher? Not at, no. In front of, yes.  When was the last time you saw snow? April. Don’t make me relive it.  Have you ever felt stupid after saying something? Yes.  Do you find yourself cold at the moment? I’m slightly chilly but in a good way.  Are your nails currently long? They are.  Are you the kind of person who does not like talking about their past? Depends on the part of my past.  Do you have long slender fingers or short chunky ones? They are inbetween.  Do you think your foot size fits your body type? I have no idea how to answer this? Are you the competitive type? Not usually.  Are you more of a mommy’s person or a daddy’s person? I’ve always been a daddy’s girl. I hate saying that because tumblr ruined the word “daddy” forever.

[travelling-trooper-blog]

There were four things I knew I wanted to do during my time in Africa:

Climb Mount Kilimanjaro

See lions, elephants, and giraffes on a safari

Work with the beautiful women of Living Positive Kenya

Bungee jump over Victoria Falls

Yesterday, I managed to check number four off of that list.

However, for a while there, I wasn’t sure I was even going to be able to get into the country.

Two weeks ago, a friend instructed me to make sure to withdraw American money before leaving for Zimbabwe. The country is literally strapped for cash. People sleep outside the banks here, waiting desperately until the next time the bank has access to more money. People may have money in their accounts, but the bank doesn’t have money to give them.

The reason? For several years, the country ran a trade deficit, importing more than twice of what it exports. The result is that there’s just not enough physical money to go around.

To solve this problem, last year Cairo’s African Export-Import Bank, provided $200 million so that Zimbabwe could print $200 million worth of its own bond notes, which are equivalent to US dollars.

The government also limited the amount of money one can take out of the country to $1000.

The whole reason Zimbabwe uses the US dollar is because Mugabe destroyed their own currency in 2009. Mugabe had 100-trillion-dollar notes printed, the economy went down the crapper, and by 2009, one US dollar was equal to 2.6 decimillion dollars. (That’s ten to the power of 33.)

Note: I got this information from a 2016 article from The Atlantic. Several locals, on the other hand, seem to think that Mugabe quite literally had $8 billion hidden under his mattress.

One thing President Mnangangwa has promised to do to help remedy this situation is bring money back into the country. According to an article in the Gazette, many wealthy individuals and corporations have externalized $3 billion to other countries over the last three years. He’s given them from December 1, 2017 to February of next year to return that money. After that, people will face legal consequences.

Why am I telling you this? BECAUSE I’M AN IDIOT AND I FORGOT TO WITHDRAW MONEY IN UGANDA, SO I CAME HERE WITH NO MONEY AND NO CERTAINTY THAT I’D BE ABLE TO PAY FOR MY ENTRY VISA, LET ALONE SURVIVE FOR 9 DAYS!

The realization hit me as soon as I walked into the airport in Uganda. My first thought was to ask for the nearest ATM. Apparently the airport in Entebbe doesn’t have ATMs.

What the what?

Whatever, I’ll just take money out in Ethiopia while I wait for my connecting flight.

Nope.

ATMs only give out local currency, and for some reason, there was no currency exchange place in sight.

Crap!

So I boarded my flight to Victoria Falls uncertain as to how I was going to pay for my entry Visa, since the e-mail I got from my hostel explicityly said that they only accept cash payments for Visas at the airport.

It was a long flight.

I anticipated being stuck at the airport for at least a day. Of course, my bungee reservation was for the next day, so I figured I wouldn’t be able to make it on time.

Crap!

Miraculously, the Visa desk had a card machine and I was able to pay by credit card. Hallelujah!

Next problem: Get American dollars. I didn’t want to pay for EVERYTHING by credit card for the next week.

I had thankfully e-mailed my hostel from Ethiopia and told them of my situation, and they had sent a taxi to the airport to pick me up.

At the hostel, the guy at the desk informed me that since I had gotten the Kaza Visa (thank you Liz from Zambezi Safari & Tours!), I’d be able to walk over to Zambia after my bungee jump and take out some American money. Hallelujah!

Had I gotten the normal Visa like most bungee jumpers, I would have had to pay another $50 to enter Zambia.

The Victoria Falls Bridge is right at the Zambia-Zimbabwe border, so I could literally get my passport stamped, walk across the border to the nearest hotel, and take out money.

With that settled, I was ready for my jump!

The plummet

The view from the plummet

I had purchased what they call the “Big Air Experience.” That means that I was booked for bungee jumping, the gorge swing, and the zipline.

Now I have gone skydiving in Toronto, paragliding in Korea, and ziplining in both Canada and Nicaragua; but I can say without a doubt, that bungee jumping is the most terrifying thing I have ever done.

With skydiving, the fear is only anticipatory. Once you take that leap out of the plane, all of your fears disappear. You don’t feel the rush of a bajillion butterflies fluttering in your stomach; it’s just a blissful freefall.

And with paragliding, sure, your life flashes before your eyes as you run for everything you’re worth towards the edge of the cliff to take that leap, but once your feet leave the ground, your gaze rises to the clouds, and those fears once again disappear.

With bungee jumping, however, I felt like the ratio of crippling fear to joyful adrenaline rush was reversed.

There were so many different emotions going through me in these shots.

So this is how it works:

You step into the harness, and some dude hopefully clips all the right clips and secures all of the straps properly. You’re just watching his every move, thinking, “What does that do? What is that connecting to? Are you sure that goes there? Did you tie that tightly enough?

Then you step through the gate to the platform area and more clips are clipped and more straps are secured.

Then things get weird.

You sit down, and a guy wraps a pair of thick towels around each of your ankles and secures them together with a sling that is attached to your bungee rope. As the sling takes the load, everything is supposed to get tighter. Supposed to…

You then have to waddle over to the edge of the platform, with your feet tied tightly together, and stand with your toes hanging over the edge and your eyes looking straight at the horizon.

Your jump master counts down from five WAAAAY faster than you’d like, and you’re expected to jump as far out as possible with your arms stretched outwards. You’re supposed to jump outwards because if you just fall straight down, you’re likely to tangle and spin.

So here’s why bungee jumping was far scarier than skydiving:

First off, that Dead Man’s Walk to the edge of the platform with your feet tied together was brutal. I half expected myself to lose my balance and just tumble over the edge. I held on to those handles as tightly as possible.

Now, once my mind processed what was happening as the ground came rushing towards me, those three seconds of freefalling were actually the best part of the whole ride. Those butterflies were screaming in my stomach, and I laughed hysterically the entire way down.

Then I bounced back up and began to spin, and I had no idea what was up and what was down anymore. It was really dizzying and completely disorienting. I’m pretty sure if the rope had snapped at this point, I wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late because my head was spinning at a speed of 200 km/hour. To be honest, it was actually kinda fun.

BUT THEN IT STOPPED BEING FUN AGAIN!

As I hung in the air and I noticed for the first time just how shallow the water was directly below me, I couldn’t help but feel like the towels were slipping off from around my ankles. Now, sure, there was a harness around my ankles that was holding me safely in place; and sure, it was probably just all in my head; but holy crap, that was when it really stopped being fun.

I had so many action movies flash through my head. But these weren’t the ones where the hero grabs somebody’s hand or wrist just in time and saves them from falling to their death; no it was the scenes where the hero just can’t hold on. It was the scenes where their fingers are slipping. It was the scenes where the rope snaps just a second too soon. With every bounce, I felt like the towels were slipping further and further down my ankles. I wanted those guys to pull me up IMMEDIATELY!

They started pulling me up, and soon enough, there was a sitting in a harness in mid-air, waiting to grab me. I’m pretty sure I told him to not let me go. I’m also pretty sure he knew that already.

There was a platform directly underneath the bridge. We were pulled up to the platform, and then I was clipped onto a cable that extended all the way to the end of the bridge so I could walk safely back to the surface…AND DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN!

This time, I was to do the gorge swing.

Round 2

I’d met a Zimbabwean girl in Ngong, Kenya, and she had said that, as a huge thrill seeker, she loved the gorge swing much more than the bungee jump; so I was curious to see what this experience had in store.

Once again, harnesses, straps, and clips were involved.

Once again, the countdown was far quicker than I was comfortable with.

This time, though, I was instructed to just step off the edge and let gravity do the rest.

Sounds easy enough, right?

Nope.

I somehow managed to screw that up.

Rather than falling straight down like a pencil, I felt my body start to lean forwards as I plummeted. Not sure how this would affect my fall, I started kicking my feet like an idiot in a desperate attempt to straighten myself out.

Once again, the butterflies screamed in my stomach like there was a Slayer concert going on inside there.

This time, though, I, too, screamed. Oh, how I did scream. I don’t know if you’ve ever screamed so loud and intensely that you actually wondered if it was even you making that noise, but I sure have. It’s a bizarre and terrifying feeling.

Once the rope tightened and I became a human pendulum, though, everything became right in the world again–except for the fact that the harness was crushing me in a very uncomortable and sensitive area. I’ll leave it at that.

Nonetheless, what a view. I could’ve hung there all day.

Last up was the zipline. That was a piece of cake.

Once back at the hotel, I had just enough time to order lunch before my safari group arrived.

I had signed up for a rhino game drive, since the rhino had eluded me on my Tanzanian safaris. The guy at the desk at my hotel had told me that this tour specifically goes to a certain area known for rhinos. However this turned out to be another regular safari through Zambezi National Park. If I didn’t see rhinos, I was going to be pissed.

The guide asked us which animals we were hoping to see. The two couples in my group were desperate to see lions before leaving Africa, but I made it clear that I wanted to see a blasted rhino.

As you can see, there was certainly plenty of natural beauty to behold, but no signs of rhinos.

Our guide pointed out rhino poop, but I wanted to see a freakin’ rhino, not his excrement!

Thankfully, my fellow tour mates were two retired couples from the UK. They made the tour a lot of fun. I have to say, I hope that when I grow up, I become an old Englishman. They just have the best sense of humour. It was like going on a safari with John Cleese and company.

I perked up when we stopped for a snack break. Our driver got out of the vehicle and popped a grill out from under the hood. He then pulled out a delicious plate of deviled eggs, perogies, sausages, and skeweres of something called kudu.

One of the British guys turned to his friend and said, “You’re going to eat that after just seeing one and commenting on how beautiful it was?!”

His friend replied, “I also saw a cow earlier, but I’m still going to eat my steak for dinner!”

To top it all off, our guide also offered us a cooler of wine and beers! I had three glasses of wine and a beer. Needless to say, we were all in great spirits after our snack break, despite not having seen either a lion or a rhino.

AND THEN WE SAW A RHINO!

Everybody was just tipsy enough that we couldn’t keep our mouths shut. They were all happy for me. Our guide had to shut us up before we scared the momma and baby rhino away.

And with that, the sun went down, and our safari was over. But I saw a rhino! Two, even!

Huzzah!

The Travelling Trooper Goes Bungee Jumping There were four things I knew I wanted to do during my time in Africa: Climb Mount Kilimanjaro…

[retrovergo]

This is not, by any means, the most lighthearted of topics for my second entry of new year, I know, but I feel that in order to proceed forward and start afresh in my life, I truly need to share these thoughts with all of you. As we sit here just over half of the way through January, it strikes me that it is entirely possible that the complete impact - insomuch as it pertains to our lives in the much longer run - may not have even fully presented itself yet, but again, I want and need to get some of these thoughts and reflections down on virtual paper all the same. Most of you are aware that three months ago now, in mid-October, Tony and I lost our home, virtually all of our possessions, and our precious cat, Stella, when an arson fire destroyed the entire fourplex that our home belonged to. {Exceptionally large volumes of water were required by the local fire department to put the multi-home blaze that destroyed our house out on the night of October 13th. It took several hours, but they were eventually successful in quashing the blaze before it spread to any of the dozens of other condos/townhouses in the immediate area. The end result of such though was that on top of the smoke and fire damage itself, our possessions were greatly harmed by water as well, including over five whole feet worth's that was shot into the basement alone - as you can imagine, everything there was a total write off, as was very nearly everything else in the whole house. Vintage image source.} In the immediate aftermath, shock and disbelief filled our days. Our brains – or at least mine - fluctuated constantly from feeling completely foggy to clear as a bell. Adrenaline fueled us onward for weeks, sleep was elusive (and fraught with nightmares when it did happen), and we absolutely had to focus on tasks like the arduous insurance claim process, getting an approved removal crew into the burned out remains of our house (this step was required for our insurance claim), and buying those day-to-day staples of life that were most pressing and important. Amidst this chaos, emotions soared, hearts ached, and a sense of disbelief rang out across the crisp autumn air. One day we had a happy home filled with our belongings, I was running my Etsy shop, our pets were both fine, and we were getting ready to celebrate our wedding anniversary the very next day (October 14th). Then, that night, everything changed instantly when one person's staggeringly malicious, thoughtless and life threatening act destroyed just about everything under our roof (save, thank goodness, for our own lives and that of our precious dog, Annie). More than mere things themselves, I was struck almost instantly by the haunting sense that I had lost my very identity (or at least a sizable portion of it) - as well as the cocoon of comfort and serenity that I had build up for myself throughout my adult life. As a someone who does relentless battle day in and day out with multiple severe chronic illnesses and who is frequently far too unwell to leave the house for days, weeks, and sometimes even months at a time, my home was my beautiful sanctuary. It wasn't huge, but it teemed with items of all sorts that brought me incredible joy and peace, inspiration and comfort. In many ways, it really did feel like a suit of armour that helped, at least in part, to shield me from whatever life threw our way - that is until it vanished quite literally in a (giant) puff of smoke. I remember, shortly after the fire, sitting on my parent's couch one morning - borrowed clothing hanging from my exhausted shoulders - and being struck by the fact that I felt an unforgettable mix of numbness, gut wrenching emotion, and as though I was witnessing someone else's life unfold before my eyes, as right then and there, my world no longer felt like my own. {For the first few weeks immediately following the fire, I felt adrift without my usual wardrobe, surroundings and possessions. It was an alien and vastly unpleasant sensation and one that I would never wish on anyone. Thankfully, the more time that passes, the less this feeling takes center stage. Vintage image source.} Mercifully, though elements of those feelings all still linger, something astonishing happened to help bring me back to myself: all of you. From your staggeringly generous monetary donations, to your awesome care packages, to supporting us via the surprise of a lifetime that was the private VSS, literally thousands (in total) of caring emails, private messages, and blog comments, and scores of other amazing ways, the vintage community was there to catch me and Tony and Annie alike as we proverbially fell further and further into the abyss of this tragedy. Your hands and hearts reached out to us. In some instances we didn't know yet know you, in others we'd been friends for many years, and in others still, we might have only been acquainted for a short while, but no matter what, you were there for us. It was as humbling and touching a thing as either of us have ever experienced in our entire lives and the mere words "thank you" will never feel like enough to express our deepest of gratitude to all of you. There is a great totality that comes with losing everything (again, virtually - we estimate that we lost at least 99.95% of everything that we had before the blaze and I really want to stress that, of course, while I'm speaking mostly from a first person perspective here, my darling husband Tony lost everything, too, and was likewise hit to his core by such) - especially when it is caused by someone else's hands and comes completely out of the blue. "Everything" may be an easy ten letter word to say, but wrapping one's mind around - and fully accepting - what that really means in terms of your home and its contents is another beast entirely. At first - and to a degree, still even now - the closest thing that my brain could compare how it felt to suddenly not be around my possessions any longer was to liken it to being on a holiday and having lost your luggage en route, thus seeing yo reach your destination with just the clothing on your back. This was no vacation though - very far from it - and as we came came to grips with what losing everything really did entail, a barrage of emotions, thoughts and pain hit us hard. Yet we persevered. We were alive and unscathed physically by the blaze, we had each other and Annie, and as dark as things were, a voice deep inside of us kept reminding us that there would be brighter days again - we would just need to be patient and keep working hard to make them happen. Though most of you know me primarily because of my strong ties to, and passion for, all things vintage and I certainly lost a substantial amount of antique, vintage, vintage reproduction, and vintage appropriate items (some categories of which - such as hats, plastic jewelry, and mid-century novelty print skirts, as well as books, magazines and catalogs - continue to pain me more than I could have ever imagined their loss to do), that was not all that I lost by any means. Some other key categories of my personal belonging included the following: -A massive supply of scrapbooking, stamping and other paper crafting related supplies (honestly, I had more than I could probably have ever used in ten lifetimes and it was a collection that I was both proud of and extremely grateful for). As well, all of my completed scrapbooks were lost, too. That cuts to the core, let me tell you. While fortunately I did have photographs that had been uploaded to Scrapbook.com of some of my finished projects, dozens of pages and cards hadn't been shared publicly yet and as my computer and our external hard drives were all destroyed in the fire, so too were the images of I had of these creations. The loss of my craft room and its contents is on my mind constantly and, as time goes on, rebuilding a new version of it will be an immense priority for me, as crafting is essential to my happiness, well being, and the state of my health. -A large supply of jewelry making products, tools, and related items including multiple totes full of vintage findings, cabochons, beads, charms, etc. -A smaller, but still decent sized, selection of other assorted crafting supplies, including items for cross stitching, embroidery, sewing (sewing machine included), and holiday decor making. -All of my photography equipment - Canon DSLR, lens, flashes, tripods, stands, backdrops, a white box, camera bags, etc. You name it, it was destroyed. -Over 600 modern books (and hundreds of vintage ones, too), plus dozens and dozens of crafting and home decor related magazines. -A substantial collection of Canadian and (to a lesser degree) international Girl Guide and Girl Scout patches, badges, pins, books, uniforms, and other related items, many of which would be next to impossible - due to their scarcity - to replace these days, even if one had Bill Gate's bank account at their disposal. -A few dozen plush toys (stuffed animals), a few modern dolls (including some Pullips and their wardrobes), and even a few of my childhood toys. -Oodles of Halloween and Christmas decor (including some family heirloom items), and a smaller array of decor for various other holidays. -At least three large totes of items from my childhood + teenage years and another couple full of keepsakes, letters, and souvenirs pertaining to my adult life. -A substantial number of items pertaining to my spirituality. -Every single item (listed or unlisted at the time of the fire) for my Etsy vintage shop, as well as all of my props, packaging and shipping materials, and every thing else related to my business. {Like most of us, I had amassed my possessions over the course of many years and listing everything would be quite the task, so I've opted to just focus on some of the key areas here, especially since they're the same ones that I'll be aiming to rebuild collections of from here on out. Vintage image source.} There are were many other things, too - from family photo albums to 40+ metal cookie cutters, medical supplies to our printer - that were lost, as well scores of the sorts of things that most of us barely even think about on a day-to-day basis, such as toothbrushes, pots and pans, undergarments, vitamins, and countless other items. As well, in losing my computer and external drive, I lost a great deal of information and images pertaining to my blog, including Word documents that housed hundreds of potential ideas for future blog posts, all of the images I’ve shared here over the years (including photos of myself), drafts of about twenty future blog posts, and research that had been gathered for dozens more. I want, and need, to mention, that I don't list the physical items above or talk about what I used to own in any sort of (intentionally) bragging or even so-called "humble bragging" kind of way. That is , categorically, the polar opposite of the type of person that I am and I would never want anything that I do or say to come across in that way. This post is being penning both as a healing tool for myself and, to a degree, for a sense of posterity, as well as to honour, in a way, the memory of those items that were lost. My collection took a lifetime to amass - a combination of online and in person purchases, coupled with a fair number of items that were amazing gifts from friends, family, CV readers, neighbours, and (in more recent years) blog sponsors, too. A great deal of what I had was bought on sale and very often even modest items were saved for before being purchased. I never took what I had for granted and was (and still am) immeasurably grateful to have had an abundance of possessions pertaining to so many areas that are near and dear to my heart before the fire. Given that we were grossly under insured (far more so than we realized before the fire; we would have increased our coverage had we known), we won't be able to replace most of what we lost beyond the bare bones basics of our household needs (dishes, bedding, towels, a table and chairs, etc), nor are we otherwise in an economic position to do so. This stings, of course, but as I constantly remind myself, once, a fairly long time ago now, I started out with nothing and created the life that I (and later "we") had as an adult. There was a time when I didn't own a single scrapbooking item, when I could fit all my books into a lone backpack, and further back still, when I was just starting to wear vintage and owned less mid-century pieces than I had fingers on one hand. Though I never imagined that I'd need to start from scratch again in some many different areas of my life at the age of 32, that I am (doing) and instead of bemoaning what was lost, I am just thankful to be alive and to have the chance to rebuild certain collections over the course of time. There are many, many factors that will prevent me from most likely having the same sized collections again - at least not for decades - and I accept all of those as best I can. Some of these factors include things such as that a lot of what I used to own was bought online back when the US and Canadian dollars were on par and (also) USPS postage rates were still reasonable, that there are few to none (depending on the category of items) shops in our town that sell such items, and that that our household budget and expenses are vastly different today than where they were, say, when I was in my mid-twenties. In addition, there is the critical fact that we need to focus our finances elsewhere at present and for the foreseeable future. It is certainly possible that some categories may never really materialize into collections again (I sense Girl Guide related items may be one such area, for example) and again, others will likely be smaller. As much as I'd love to go on a giant shopping spree, that isn't even remotely possible. Instead, in what is perhaps a very vintage approved sort of manner, I will gather items slowly and with great though. Each dollar weighed, each purchase contemplated. Baselines, so to speak, of various categories will be - and in some cases, already are beginning to be - established and built upon. Just as Rome wasn't built in a day (though, much like our old house, it too burned), my future wardrobe and the other areas of my world that matter to me will take time to rebuild. I am trying to look upon this as challenge as an adventure. A chance to hone in all the more on those areas that matter most to me, to discover new treasures, rewrite wish (and holy grail/unicorn) lists, and not, importantly, feel like I need, by any means, to own as much as I did before. I loved everything that I had and will miss nearly all of it for the rest of my life, but thankfully in the world at large, there are still lots of most of those types of things to be had and some of them will end up living with me. We lost so much that night. At first I felt like a fish out of water. My vintage threads were gone, my comfort zone had been obliterated, our wonderful cat's life was taken, and my Etsy business was destroyed. Our lives were on their heads and everything felt out of sorts. Now, several weeks after the fire, thankfully, a greater sense of order is beginning to enter our world again. We have met - in no small part thanks to the aid of others - many of our basic needs, we have a temporary roof over our heads until at least this March (the search began in full force earlier this month for longer term accommodations, as touched on here), and there is a degree of structure in our world again. It isn't the same world as before the blaze. That would be impossible. It different. Starkly, extremely different, but it is also positive because we've survived and in time, that survival will, we truly hope, progress to thriving as well. The unexpected can happen to any of us at any point in time. Tragedy hurts, loss hurts, and devastation hurts. It is important to feel those emotions and not try to brush them off, to live through the process honestly and openly. Yet it is also just as important to believe in the future and yourself. To think positively and focus more on what you still have, then what was stripped away. There are, and will continue to be, many challenges in our lives that would not have been present if this arson fire didn't occur, but that's okay. We'll tackle them head on, bolstered by the strength of those who care about us and a steadfast belief that we rise up again. This new year is the ideal time to really begin down that path and I am so thankful that it's here. I have no clue what 2017 holds in store, but I can promise you that it will see us continue to fight, to put the pieces back together, and to reconnect with many things that have been integral parts of our world for a long time now. {Even when - and arguably even more so - times are tough, there are still valuable constants in our life to focus on and get excited about, and few work better for new beginnings than the annual return of January. Vintage image source.} Even though my previous belongings are gone, it's awesome that Chronically Vintage and the online community at large that it belongs to are still here. Physical objects matter and there's nothing wrong with that in the slightest, but life, how will fill our days, the relationships we experience, how treat one another, and the way that we lead our lives matter far more. Thank you for allowing me the chance to share these cathartic thoughts with of all of you here today - very good job, if you've made it this far. I know this wasn't the smallest of blog posts by any means. :) Here's to 2017 - each day and every hour, the prospects and promises that it holds in store, the many firsts and old favourites alike. Let us hope that it is not only a good year, but a great one for ourselves, our loved ones, and the world at large. We need it something fierce! *PS* Thank you very much for as well to everyone who commented on my last post and/or otherwise expressed care and concern regarding my minor surgery last week. I'm happy to report that it went smoothly and that I'm now recovering at home (I'll have my followup doctor's appointment in a few days's time). My health in general though, as touched on in that same post, is struggling massively in the aftermath of the fire. It took me, for example, more than two full weeks - working in stops and starts, as I could muster the ability to do so - to pen this post. Pre-fire, it would have almost certainly have been written in a single day. As you can imagine, this situation is currently having a profound impact on my ability to blog or be online in general, and between my health and the continued hectiness and challenges of our lives, my posts here, if possible at all, will be very sporadic and I view this site as still being on indefinite hiatus. I appreciate your understanding and kindness on this front beyond words.