#“I am a college graduate after all” is one of my favorite lines in the whole series lmao. Just so good after the shitshow he pulled in T1.

[psicheanima]

Miss these guys more each passing day, some of the most drastic hilarious character development in history and then some of them are just like “a toothpick changes everything”

[subliminalbo]

I used to tell myself that I wasn't like other girls. I know, gross cliche. But so sincere was I in my belief that I thought that it was the fundamental thing that made me Andrea Rubin.

Listen: I've never really been good with people. The transition to college was hard for me. I didn't like dressing up, I didn't like going out. Maybe I would convince myself from time to time that a hook up was a good idea, but a boy never did anything for me that I couldn't do better by myself.

You'd think that with all that time alone, I'd be on track to graduate with honors. Fuck, on track to graduate at all. But I was a shit student too. Not so much in the "peaked in high school, bounced out of college in sophomore year" way, but more so in a "super senior without a major" kind of way. Yeah.

My life before I started working for Dr. Fielding is what an academic advisor describes as "rudderless." A lot of single seat tickets at the college theater, nights spent locked in my room absorbing trivia by way of podcast.

I didn't mean to find my purpose in Dr. Fielding, but I didn't really have a choice, either. She has a way of reshaping things for you.

Alright, let's just call it what it is. I'm not her employee, I'm her slave. Once she's in your head, there's no escaping her. I exist now solely as an instrument of her will.

And yeah, it pisses me off. It pisses me off that she sets me free after every job. I have to live my life as if nothing's happened, waiting for the phone call that overrides everything else. All I need is to hear her voice on the other end of the line to drag me down instantly into her service.

I'm not the only one either. Dr. Fielding has favorite conquests. Like the crazy sorority president who brainwashed half of Greek life on campus, or that stage hypnotist who thought she could get the better of the doctor. Her favorites are the ones who fight even after they're under her power. Some of them fight like hell, and that's what makes the conquest worth it.

The vast majority are not fighters. I've seen dozens of patients enter Dr. Fielding's office and they all leave with that same expression on their faces. Empty, uncritical, obedient eyes. I see their faces and I know that it's exactly how I look when she's done with me.

How can I tell myself that I'm not like other girls when I'm not even a favorite? I've given up on fighting. I know that this power she holds over me is total and there is no escape.

I don't even know who Andrea Rubin is anymore. I am whoever Dr. Fielding needs me to be. She can dress me up like her doll and I'll crave to be played with. If she needs me to be an honor student I'll pick up a textbook. If it's a brainless bimbo, I'll empty my head and fill my mouth.

The scariest part of all of this is that I lose more of myself every time she puts me under. It gets harder to go home after work. I want to be me. I want to be hers. My only pleasure is in serving her. I am nothing without my purpose. I'm nothing without her direction. I am nothing without...

Fuck! Fuck, I'm cumming! I'm cumming for you, Dr. Fielding! Oh god, fuck!

Fuck.

fuck.

Okay, breathe in, long exhale.

Jesus, I've got to get my shit together before I actually lose it completely.

[tonberry-yoda]

Pineapple Flip Flops - A One Piece Modern AU - Chapter 2

notes - Here's chapter 2!!! I had a lot of fun writing this one because Ace is my canon boyfriend and I get to brag about him through my writing tee hee. Also, Luffy is 19 in this AU :) word count - 818 summary - Luffy wakes up to his brother Ace and they make food together while considering college.

“Hey, doof-ass, wake up.” Ace smacked Luffy’s forehead with a rolled up magazine and Luffy woke right up, sucking in a line of drool.

“Huh?” Luffy looked around the apartment in confusion, but his face lit up when he saw his brother in front of him. “Yo! Ace, Ace, look!” He shoved his foot in Ace’s face and Ace just laughed, pushing his foot away.

“Nice foot, Luffy.” Ace rolled his eyes with a laugh and walked to the kitchen.

“No, no, look!” Luffy ran after him and slipped off his flip flops, which made him trip over his own feet and fall onto the floor. That didn't stop him though and he was able to show Ace the design on his new shoes.

Ace squinted and then laughed out loud. “Are those new?”

“Uh-huh! I lost my pineapple ones today.”

“Damn, bud, that sucks. Those were my favorite ones.”

“Me too.” Luffy pouted and sat at the dining room table, splaying his arms in front of him.

“Well, I dig the rubber ducks.” Ace stared in the freezer. “Want pizza?”

“PIZZA!” Luffy threw his arms in the air.

“Pizza it is.” He pulled out two frozen pizzas and laid them on the counter, preheating the oven. “Really sucks that Sabo isn't here. Neither of us can cook actual food.”

“Yeah,” Luffy chuckled. “You always almost burn the house down.”

“Shut up.” Ace laughed and sat across from Luffy.

The two sat in short silence for a little while just randomly scrolling on their phones. But Luffy got bored pretty quickly and started drumming on the table. He just wanted the pizza right then and there and was hoping to kill at least a little bit of time.

Ace looked up from his phone and smiled. “What did you do today, Luff?” he asked. “Other than lose your shoes.”

“Just rode my bike all day.” He laid his head down on the table and turned it over, making his cheek squish and voice muffle. “You?”

“Just work. I helped with some field trip for another school and then started doing after school activities again.”

“Where was the field trip?” Luffy asked hopefully.

“Just some little pool. It was crowded as hell.”

“Lame.”

“It was fun though. And no one drowned,” Ace chuckled. “So that was good.”

The oven was done preheating, so Ace got up and put the pizzas in there. He then leaned against the counter and stretched, doing some overdramatic yawn. “When are you planning on going to college, Luffy?” he asked mid-yawn.

Luffy looked at Ace in the kitchen with disgust. “Never.”

“You can't mow lawns forever.” Ace scoffed.

“I know. But I am not going to college. Shanks didn't, and he’s doing really good.”

“I know, buddy.” Ace sighed and walked back to the dining room. “But you’re Luffy, not Shanks.” He poked Luffy’s chest. “There’s still time to apply if you wanna. Plus, I think you’d like my major.”

“But I don't wanna have to take a math class!” Luffy groaned.

Ace laughed. “Neither do I.”

Ace majored in outdoor activities where he got the opportunity to learn a lot and travel a lot. The things he got to do were always fun: rock climbing, hiking, nutrition, etc. But – as said earlier – there were its boring parts, like having to take math in order to graduate, but that's what Sabo was for whenever he was around.

Ace had only been in college for a year, but he would always come home with a smile and a story. Luffy loved these stories – even getting jealous some of the time – so Ace figured that Luffy would love college. But he insisted he would rather explore the world on his own and figure the rest out himself.

Ace understood Luffy, but as his older brother, he couldn't help but worry a little also. The world wasn't built for people like them and that sucked big time. It was surprising they even made it out of high school.

The timer on Ace’s phone went off, signaling that the pizzas were ready, and Luffy jumped up with a smile.

The two brothers ran to the kitchen and collected their pizzas, sighing knowing that they had to wait for them to cool.

“Speaking of college,” Ace said, trying to cool down his pizza by fanning it with his hand. “I have to go get some financial aid stuff figured out tomorrow before classes start in the next couple weeks. Wanna come with?”

“Only if I get food.” Luffy said with a mouthful of pizza already.

“Yeah, we’ll go get some lunch.”

“Then sure, I'm not doin’ anything better.”

Ace smiled and ate his own pizza, just barely burning his tongue in the process.

It was getting lonely without Sabo, but it was nice to know that Ace was going to have a day out with his favorite little brother.

~~~~~

one piece masterlist | one piece modern AU masterlist | pinned post | ko-fi

2023 @tonberry-yoda– do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[ibusukiss]

Boueibu Rewatch

Thursday's for the Boys! 9

Boueibu OVA

Here's what I remember: "That took forever! It was lazy, too!"

At least they created a new opening for the OVA

When HK dragged me back into Boueibu after a bit of time that I wasnt super into it (freshman and sophomore year of college) I started back up by listening to the music from the OVA so i kinda associate this OP with HK haha

Atsushi dont say his name

I have never forgotten the thing En says about sakura trees being a graduation thing rather than a beginning of school thing - i think about it every spring when the blooms start up where i live

SEITOKAI ILY

"come take a bath" Ata cover your ears

Kinchan I relate to you so much

i am so glad they put the Zundar bit from the seitokai manga in this!!!!

god i wish Kinchan were in more of the show post-redeem he's so cute

ah yes, the flashbacks hath begun - really makes me wonder why they didnt just make a 24-minute ep

yep theres that kinchan line that represents the whole OVA

AKOYAAAA

i have a newfound appreciation for Io that i didnt expect - hes just so pretty haha

same, ryuu

I...have not heard Akoya's character song in YEARS. It was my fucking ANTHEM in 2015.

this rly shows how little Akoya is in the show T_T

Good looking boy! Precious human being!!!!

I guess this is a good episode for be to muse on character songs bc they are near and dear to my heart

My fav character song awards go to Akoya, Io, En, and Kinchan.

ok...with the recent trailer where Io is definitely older and has a ponytail (which i still am in disbelieve is even happening) - long hair isnt really a hallmark of 'successful business man' in anime. do you think.....he had offscreen character developement? do you think he isnt the money guy anymore????

hotaru really gives the gifts that keep on giving, their lyrics are so choice

"Oh is it that kind of episode?" Unfortunately, Arima

Arima is funny bc the fandom calls everyone their surname except for him - i know very few ppl that call him Ibushi, even Akorima has his family name lmao

EN'S SONG SLAPS

on the note of the recent trailer - the thing is, i dont trust boueibu staff with good-looking adult redesigns. so Im gonna take what they give us and infuse my own flavor where I can. Long hair Io is incredible tho - the last one i expected them to give long hair was him

kinchan's song is the one i can sing the best

oh boy im so glad that took almost 30 minutes :)

thank you En for reiterating that

kinchan is such a great character genuinely - hes so emotional and petty and so obviously repressed (reminds me of another boy i love *ahem*)

pon pon pon pon pon is a good bit

im glad we get to see all the 2nd years as friends

tawarayama sensei is a gilf

kinchan leg is still best transformation

at least there is a little bit more character plot in this ep than a normal one

"your love is in letting things go" has anyone understood what that even means

flying train is such an old anime thing, i remember watching Sasami Magical Girls Club as a kid and thinking the flying train was the coolest shit lol

Way-too-long story time: Kokoro to kokoro de is probs my favorite defense club song - its genuinely really emotional. I have a very meaningful memory involving it: like I mentioned before, HK dragged me back into Boueibu hell when it started airing and i went back and downloaded the OVA songs and that one non-sequitur Summer album. I was driving from college to my dad's house for a weekend and it started POURING rain, the most rain I have ever seen - and this is the Seattle area I'm talking about. It was A LOT of rain. So I'm pretty tense while driving, its dark out and pouring rain, traffic was way too fast for how many cars were on the road going through Renton that evening (google 'renton s-curves') and I'd just put my new boueibu songs playlist on - Ole Lovless Oblige had already played and I was HYPED about how much I already loved the new student council. And then Kokoro to kokoro de comes on - now I had heard it before so I knew it kinda well but i hadnt really emotionally connected with it during the OVA bc, ya know, the OVA was Like That. But with all my excitement about HK, and how heightened my emotions were from the insane weather, I start SOBBING listening to this fuckin song - singing along terribly because im crying so hard, trying my best to not completely fuck up driving. That memory feels like a fuckin emotional rebirth for me, it was a dang catabasis. I genuinely cant explain it - i think being able to feel nothing but unbridled joy and excitement about something despite a very stressful environment did something to me. I have never felt a high like that since LMAO

ANYWAY - next week HK!! and then MOVIE AFTER THAT!! Lets fuckin go!

[bradshawsbaby]

Happy Anniversary!!!!

You are one of the first if not the first top gun blog I followed last summer. I literally can’t watch the movie without telling all my friends about hangman and Phoenix!!

With that being said I’ll requested a little Drabble of my favorite family the hannix family!! Maybe a little older hannix when James and Ellie are FINALLY official. But honestly I’d take any hannix content so do whatever!!

Happy One Year!! 💖💖

Yay, thank you, love! It’s been so fun to watch our little Hannix fandom grow! 🥰 Here’s a little Older!Hannix, plus some James & Ellie!

Rolling his shoulders back with a tired sigh, Jake unlocked the back door to the house he’d been sharing with his family for nearly three decades. It was a good decision because as he stepped into the kitchen, he was instantly met with the mouthwatering aroma of his wife’s chicken and rice.

“Hi, Minx,” he greeted her, dropping his things on the small kitchen table and stepping up behind her to press a kiss to her cheek.

“Hey, babe,” Natasha replied, turning her head to smile up at him.

His beautiful Minx. She had more lines and wrinkles now than the day he’d first met her, and her dark hair was threaded liberally with streaks of silvery gray, but she was still the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Grinning, he cupped her chin in his hand and dropped a kiss on her lips, still desperate for her even after all these years.

“You’re home just in time,” she murmured, nudging him away playfully as she put the finishing touches on the meal she’d been preparing. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Mmm, and it smells good, too,” Jake sighed happily, leaning over the pot of rice and taking a deep sniff. To this day, he still had no idea how she seasoned it to make it taste so delicious.

“How was the debrief?” Nat asked, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes as she sliced vegetables.

Jake had been forced to stay later at work today to hold a meeting with the newest TOPGUN recruits. He enjoyed getting to work with the younger pilots, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t exhausted.

“It was alright,” he told her, snatching a carrot off the cutting board despite her protestations. “But my God, Minx, you’ve never seen such a cocky crew before. They think they know everything.”

“Trust me, I know cocky,” Natasha teased, turning to look up at him with a hand on her hip.

“Yeah, yeah. But I actually am the best,” he shot back with a smirk, earning him a swat on the arm.

“Shut up, Bagman, and go get cleaned up for dinner,” she laughed, shaking her head.

“Is Ellie home?” Jake asked as he went to grab his stuff off the table.

He and Natasha were getting used to no longer being empty nesters. The boys had long moved out, but Ellie had just moved back home after graduating from college last month. Jake was more than happy with the arrangement, feeling much better knowing that his baby girl was safe under his roof again.

“Mhm, she and James are watching a movie in the living room,” Nat explained, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

Jake froze at that. “Watching a movie, huh?” he asked suspiciously.

Natasha sighed and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes, a movie. Do you really think James Bradshaw, who has been in our house practically every day since he was born, is going to jump our daughter’s bones in the middle of the living room?”

Frowning, Jake placed his hands on his hips and scowled. He certainly didn’t need that visual in his head, especially with his daughter and Baby Bradshaw’s relationship still being so new.

“Bagman, they’re both grown adults,” Nat laughed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

“Not while they’re under my roof!” Jake huffed, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive.

“It’s our roof, and I have no problem with our daughter and her boyfriend—who also happens to be our best friends’ son—watching a movie in our living room,” she retorted, trying to show him how ridiculous he was being.

He just grumbled in response, muttering under his breath as he walked out of the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, when everything was ready, Natasha walked into the living room to let the kids know that dinner was ready. To her surprise, she found her husband there as well.

Sitting right in the middle of a mortified Ellie and a sheepish James.

“Bagman!” Natasha scolded, frowning at him.

“It’s a good movie, Minx,” Jake smirked, leaning back comfortably on the couch. “You should join us.”

Join my “TOP ONE” Anniversary Celebration! 🥳

[moremusic]

This week’s guests are from my favorite city, New York. The Upsides play infectious music that will get into the core of your soul and leave you wanting more. Do yourself a favor and check them out!

Can you tell us a little history of the upsides. How did you meet and form?

My brother Matt (who is the lead singer and guitarist) and I have been playing together since I received my first drum set for Christmas in fourth grade. Matt DaSilva, our bassist, has been in different iterations of groups we’ve had over the years including a 90s covers band. Hopefully we’ve improved a little since those days. I met Hart (lead guitarist) in college although we never played in a band together there, we would just kind of jam together after a few drinks. I luckily ran back into him in Lower Manhattan after graduation and invited him to come to the next rehearsal my brother and I had lined up.

I am a big fan of your song “Jump In” can you tell me the meaning of this song?

Thank you! That one came about a few years ago and while all of our songs are collaborative, that’s a tune I had more of a hand in than others. Lyrically, it is really just about coming to a certain point in maturing as a person. Being more comfortable in your own skin and ‘jumping in’ if you will to who you actually want to be, rather than someone else’s idea of who you should be or what you should be doing with your life. It felt like a proper album opener particularly with the uptempo feel, sort of a “here we are” moment.

When you write, is it a band effort or does someone come to rehearsal with an idea or finished song?

For this first album, most of the songs were one person bringing forth an idea to the band that we would work together to fully form which was a great process. However, for the second album that we are beginning to work on we wanted to try to build songs from the ground-up as a unit in the rehearsal studio. We actually rented a cabin up in the Catskills in early July and had a really productive week forming ideas with that method. We’re really excited to finish out those songs that stemmed from a new writing process and it was invigorating to have a full blank canvas every day rather than quickly showing each other new ideas after a rehearsal in Brooklyn.

What is your career highlight?

It might be a toss-up between having our tune ‘Jump In’ played on either Pat Monahan’s (lead singer of Train) SiriusXM channel and also on WFUV 90.7 in New York City. We grew up covering Train in that aforementioned 90s covers band, and also grew up listening to WFUV which just had enough signal to make it to our hometown of Randolph, New Jersey. Shout out to Alisa Ali of WFUV who always supports local acts!

What is your favorite venue to play?

That would probably have to be Mercury Lounge right here in New York, where we had our album release show back in May. It’s an intimate vibe but always sounds great and has a great stage. You can almost feel the history of the bands who have played there over the years in the walls. And you can definitely see all the band stickers in the green room!

What does the next 6-12 months hold for you?

We’re going to be hard at work on album 2, hopefully finishing up demos for that by October and starting the recording process early next year. We’ll have a couple more shows in New York in New England to close out the year as well and then hopefully releasing more music as early as possible in 2025 and gigging in support of our second album!

What is your dream festival line up?

Speaking for myself, and keeping the list to a somewhat respectable number, I’ll go Cut Worms, Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, Fontaines D.C., Arctic Monkeys, then Queens of the Stone Age.

If you could open for any band who would it be?

Funny you should ask, I just asked that question while we were killing time driving to a show in Philadelphia. I picked Spoon. I’ve seen them live a few times and they’re just a killer band who has been at it for awhile growing organically and are about as authentic as it gets in my opinion. Other picks I can remember were Alvvays and Fontaines D.C.

Who are your influences?

It’s definitely a mixed bag which is something I really appreciate. Honestly, and I’m not just saying this, the first Atlas Genius album was a big inspiration for Matt and I as we first started writing our own songs. And Hart even brought up how he was doing some “Atlas Genius guitar stuff” when we were up in The Catskills. We definitely first bonded over a love of The Strokes but have sought to differentiate our sound from them, as they’re an easy band to want to sound like particularly being from New York. I really love Australian bands like Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever and the feel of songs like ‘Jump In’ and ‘Grand Plans’ definitely comes from that influence. We all made pretty eclectic playlists of ten songs that were ‘mandatory’ listening ahead of the Catskills trip which was fun to see what ideas, even if it was just a quick drum pattern or chord progression, stemmed from that. Those playlists saw everything from Kevin Morby to The Chills (from New Zealand!) to Jonathan Richman to New Order.

If you were stuck on an island and could only take one record, what would it be?

‘Caravan’ by Van Morrison. I do have it on vinyl and it just instantly puts me in a good, nostalgic mood. Brings me back to sitting on the patio with my family growing up and is just timeless incredible music.

Fender or Gibson?

While I’m the drummer, I can definitively say Fender. Hart just got a new Fiesta Red Made in Japan Jaguar, so now we have just about every Fender option available other than a Mustang I believe. The Upsides arsenal includes a Stratocaster, Telecaster, Jazzmater, Jaguar, Precision Bass and Jazz Bass all from Fender. We’re open to a Fender sponsorship!

Any upcoming gigs you would like to promote?

Yes we have a big one on Saturday September 7th at Bowery Ballroom in New York! That will be in support of our friends Gooseberry and their album release, and another dear friend B. Miles will be on the bill as well. And then Saturday October 26th we’re going to make our debut up in Portland Maine which will be a blast.

Lastly, where can people find out more about you?

https://www.instagram.com/theupsides_?igsh=OTl2dHg4c3cxc2Fr

[bokettochild]

Hey. How’s it going? How was your day?

-🪵🐺

It was... interesting

My college graduation/commencement ceremony was today. I'd been telling my dad about it for weeks and found out yesterday that my mom hadn't a clue it was happening (she hasn't been talking with me until yesterday but I thought my dad might bring it up since I invited them) so I rold her myself, and invited her and my family once more.

However, after I enjoyed a chill morning and dolled myself up a bit (just a bit) I went to the ceremony and no one really showed up for me. Despite all efforts to not, I ended up crying through the reception and left early after scouring the halls for any sign of my family or a friend who'd all but promised to come.

There was a really nice lady who gave me a hug and helped me with photos though so I had some sort of pictures for the day at least :)

I was sort of really upset, because while I get that my family was busy, I didn't get so much as a heads up that they couldn't come or explanation for why, and the only word I heard was when I asked if they came and they said no.

Maybe it's silly, but out of 249 graduates, I was the only person alone, and since I was mostly attended classes online, I knew no one except a couple professors who probably didn't remember me, and a few members of the choir who performed for the ceremony. I've felt alone before, but yeah, this was overwhelming.

Anyways, I left shortly after and caught a bus to my library and tried burying myself in a childhood favorite book (only to realize it's not half as good as I recall) and then missed my bus to my next destination. It ended up being okay though because I got to tell myself a theraputic story while making the hour walk (we had good weather, I had good shoes and honestly it was refreshing and also calming) and I made it to my Saturday hang out with some other ladies.

They were amazing. We talked about random stuff, played board games, had dinner, and when they heard no one came for my ceremony, they snuck off for a bit and pulled together a little gift and card to give me, which they all signed. I got a hug (which I've been needing for forever) and they told me that they're my church family (we don't even go to the same church, which made that really a tearjerker) and they support and are proud of me.

I know I'm rambling, but that made my day. They were so sweet and caring it it really made it all worth it and made me feel so much better to know someone gave a crap about my success.

All told, it was a rough day, but it had a silver lining/rainbow after the storm ending and honestly I am so gosh darn thankful for the ladies in this group.

[meetthetank]

I was possessed by demons in my brain to write priest!hero getting deflowered

Read here or Ao3

Henry is a good man. He is the leader of the local parish, the favorite ordained priest of the parishioners, always kind, always loved. He is pious, and humble, everything a priest should be. A model for the community and universally loved.

But he is a sinful, covetous man.

The woman with silky black hair has tempted him for months, seen outside of the chapel on frequent occasions. At the store, at the park, on the street, at college. Yes, he was fresh out of seminary, the youngest pastor in the archdiocese, and Mari, the black-haired woman’s name he learned, had also just graduated with a degree in music. Every time he saw her he swore the light of god shone down on her, placing a halo of light that reflected off her shining hair. Always dressed rather conservatively, but showing much more than most would dare without showing anything at all. Full chest and waist, slender legs, and soulful eyes that matched her hair. Only in direct sunlight could he see that they were the softest, kindest brown he’d ever seen.

It didn’t last long, their friendship. No, it progressed further than anticipated and faster. A touch of the wrist, a lingering hand on the shoulder, a cupped cheek, and suddenly their hands were in each other’s hair or crawling sinfully under clothes. Her body was taught, he found. She hurt her knee ages ago, yet she still played softball. She admired his body just the same, her hands wandered over the thin layer of fat that concealed his muscles.

They never dared to go further than groping each other in the halls where no one could find them after the parishioners had left and the janitors had locked all but Hero’s office door. Oh, they both knew how much they craved the other, but Hero had always remained true to his vows. His hands could love her, please her. Even his mouth could. But he never allowed her to let him finish. That was a line he wavered at day after day. The last bastion of his vows, and yet that line grew thinner and thinner every day.

Mari lies on top of him tonight. They didn’t make it to his office this time, and his resolve is destroyed to the point that he no longer cares that the crucifix hangs above him. She has him pinned to a pew in the front row, just in front of the altar.

“I brought something,” she says and sits up.

Her thighs are on either side of Henry’s hips. An erection already strains at his black pants. Thoughts of how he will service her tonight are halted by curiosity. “What?”

She gets up, leaving cold in her wake, and retrieves a bag much larger than her sensible purple purse. He didn’t even notice it before, such is her distractions. A contraption of belts and studs loops around her hand. His eyes widen at what follows.

“Uhm-”

“What do you think?” She asks, trailing a finger across the head of the purple phallus in her hand.

“I-I…”

Mari traps his hands in hers and pulls them to her lips. “Remember? We talked about this if you’re still okay with it.”

“I am!” He answers a bit too quickly and a bit too loudly. “I just didn’t expect so… soon.”

“Oh, I’ll admit I got a little excited,” she giggles. With a grace only she could master, she slides off him and begins to remove her skirt and panties. “You know how I love to tease you.”

Mari’s words send a delightful shiver down his spine. God if this was so wrong, why did he want it so bad? “I know you do…”

He sits there staring dumbly as Mari affixes the dildo to the harness and slides it over her thighs. It only needs to be adjusted a little bit. The image of her standing proudly, hands on her hips, with an erection does something to his stomach he’s never experienced before. Is it fear? Or Arosal? Or some blasphemous mix of both.

The harsh echoing click of a plastic bottle opening snaps him out of his daze. She squeezes a healthy portion of lube onto her hand and begins stroking the fake cock.

“You should probably start taking your pants off.”

Her words aren’t a command, but Henry finds his body reacting as if it were. With enchanted precision, he unbuckles his belt and shimmies out of his uniform piece by piece, until he’s fully nude. She smiles at him and beckons him over to the altar.

“Over here?” He stammers, eyes wide yet dark. “But-”

“There’s pillows over here, you’ll need something for your knees.”

Henry shuts up as she slips her hand into his. It’s cold and slick. All he can stare at is the glistening, purple cock jiggling obscenely at her groin. He swallows and allows himself to be led into position.

Mari knows what she’s doing, he can tell by the confident way he’s moved. He’s on his hand and knees, ass in the air like a cat in heat. Or maybe he’s a dog; he has the collar for it. The idea of being Mari’s dog makes his cock twitch. How easily he’s debased.

“Tell me if it gets too much for you, okay?” Her gentle words pour into his ear like hot wax.

He nods, and her warmth is slowly removed from him. Once he works up the nerve to look behind him, he sees Mari kneel behind him and angle his hips down a little more. She is much smaller than him after all. The bottle of lube returns, this time poured onto two fingers. His eyes widen as they disappear past his hips.

The sensation is unlike anything he’s felt before. Henry winces and his breath hitches. Mari’s two fingers press gently inside him, working into places he didn’t know were as sensitive as they were.

“Did you know there are about as many nerves here as in your fingertips?” She asks him as she spreads her fingers apart. Henry can’t make any noise other than a choked hiss. “Just a fun fact I learned. I’m surprised most guys don’t know about it.”

Henry groans from a place deep in his chest. “I-I don’t think most guys are doing this.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised, Father.”

He can hear Mari giggle behind him as her fingers curl and press against something inside him that makes his vision turn white. When oxygen fills his chest once more, he looks back at her.

“Wh… at,” he pants, “was that?!”

“Something else most guys don’t know about. Or at least guys I’ve met.”

“D-Devil woman…”

Mari giggles and continues stretching him out. “Condemn me all you want, Father. But it’s part of your god’s design. Isn’t it? Why would he put it there and make it feel good if he didn’t want you to use it?”

Is this the correct place to have a crisis of faith? Probably not.

Soon Henry finds himself rocking back and forth against her hand, silently begging for her to hit that spot once again. Unfortunately, Mari seems to pick on this, and, with a giggle, she kisses the side of his face. She removes her fingers from his depths, and he keens like a puppy for her touch.

“Aww, poor boy.” she coos as she drags a fingernail across his spine. “All worked up?”

He shoots a look back at her. He doesn’t imagine it’s very intimidating while he’s flushed deep red and slick with sweat already.

Mari palms his ass, massaging the muscles beneath her touch. “You’ve treated me so well, so why don’t I return the favor?”

Henry shudders as he watches her line up the fake cock with his waiting hole. His aching neck forces him to drop his head, but the moment she does it begins to slide inside him. The ridges he never saw pull against his flesh, gently gliding inside under Mari’s heavenly touch. Any time he tenses too much, she slows down and allows him to adjust. He feels so full, and it’s only halfway inside. Bumps and divots press against sensitive unexplored parts that make him pant and moan, filling the church with the sounds of his defilement.

She bottoms out, her hips pressed flush against his ass. She’s inside him, deflowering him, and oh God it’s better than her tongue inside his mouth or the taste of her cum on his lips. God forgive him or condemn him. He couldn’t care less.

And Mari hasn’t even started moving yet.

The moment she does, rocking her hips outward, he moans and grips the plush carpet beneath him. His back arches when she slides back inside. They find a rhythm together that’s slow enough to allow Henry time to adjust to her cock, and fast enough to satisfy his carnal desire.

“I’m going to move faster now,” she says directly into the back of his neck. Her promise is fulfilled in tandem with her teeth in the skin of his nape.

He cries out to whoever will listen to his prayers. His vision flashes white every time she slams into the spot. Something dangerous tenses inside his stomach, a peak, or a point of no return. A threat.

And he dives headfirst into it.

Henry rocks with her bucking hips, and he can tell by her moans that she’s enjoying this as much as he is. They call each other’s names like psalms, and he doesn’t even care that her hand wraps around his cock.

The cliff approaches faster than he realizes as something releases inside his stomach. Henry’s entire body shudders with an onslaught of sinful electricity that ignites his brain. The decision to leave the cloth is cemented as he cries out the name of his new, black-haired goddess. Her fingers tighten around his cock and it happens again, this time with the spilling of seed against the off-pink carpet.

“Oh, Henry… Look at the mess you’ve made,” Mari says as her pace slows to a stop.

Henry twitches, his body no longer able to support itself. He flops to the side and pulls Mari with him. She slots into place behind him, spooning him on the floor behind the altar.

Her soft fingers brush the hair from his eyes, It’s sticky with sweat. “You okay? Was it too much.”

Henry looks at her with the adoration reserved for a higher power. “It was perfect. I’ll have to repay you too, for teaching me.”

“Oh, Father. You can study the book of Mari all night if you wish.”

He just laughs, a breathless sighing sound. “That was terrible.”

“Yes, but I made you laugh. So it’s okay.”

The following morning, the carpet at the altar is surprisingly spotless. As if it had just been cleaned.

[allthingsfook]

If you're still doing ships (you put so much thought into them. It's amazing), I'm Jake [he/him]. I'm 26 and in grad school. I'm graduating with Masters's in History (studying queer history) in August with the intention of getting my Ph.D. so I can teach college-level history classes. I am always listening to music like Spotify told me I listened to 200,000 minutes last year. It's literally always in the background. my music taste is all over the place. Harry Styles, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, and The Smiths are probably my favorite groups. When I have free time, I like to read, i tell everyone my favorite fiction genre is High Fantasy and that's not a *lie* but it leaves out the part where my other favorite genre is romantic comedies. My love language is act of service, like being asked to do things for people makes me feel needed and loved. I hate the taste of coffee but drink it 1. because I have a horrible caffeine addiction and 2. because as a graduate student, I need to be awake more than my body wants to be. I have two cats one named after a star trek character the other named after my favorite poet.

This is my main blog, my GVF blog is @theintelligenceoflove if you get around to this thank you so much.

Hi Jake!!! Thank you!! I hope that these make everyone feel special 🤍🤍

I ship you with….

No surprise… Jake 🖤⚔️🤍

I wanna touch every point, so let’s start with your education! Jake would be incredibly impressed by your commitment to schooling, passion for history, and goal of teaching. I don’t think it would take long for Jake to be enamored by the way you talk about your schooling and what about it interests you most. Jake is definitely a history buff!!!!! As Kelly and Dan mentioned in an interview, Jake is the one that stays up until the early morning and will chat your ear off about anything under the sun. I can picture the both of you sharing a drink on the porch of his beautiful home, talking all through the night. The warm Tennessee air hugging you as you delve into the obscure details of a certain period. 🌅🏔️

No doubt music would fill the house if you lived together. To some people, it might be like an annoying mosquito that won’t go away, but you and Jake prefer it to silence, background noise, or even chatter. Just take a second and imagine the impressive record collection that man has!!! 🤯🤯 I think your music taste would be accepted by him (I don’t think there is much he wouldn’t appreciate) Even Harry Styles — I mean that sometimes the boys come off a little pretentious with their music taste and would like people to think they don’t indulge in anything mainstream, but let’s not forget that summer solstice shoot where they did, pose like Fine Line Harry!)

If I was going to give you and Jake a Smiths song, it would be Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want. I imagine that song is something people wouldn’t normally think Jake would listen to, but I didn’t think he paid any mine to Third Eye Blind either. He’s full of wonder.

I don’t mean to be unoriginal, but it’s not secret Jake loves to read as well. I hope that you could be the person that helps him create more time for it. I picture that being in the form of gifting him books he can’t contain himself from not picking up. As I’m sure you already know, any musician’s autobiography, or something about pirates 😂

Acts of Service is accurate for Jake as well. I remember him saying that if he wasn’t in music he’d probably work in healthcare. That’s very commendable of him and no doubt the biggest form of service to others. Through that statement, you can tell he has a huge heart.

WHATEVER YOU DO!!!!!! do not think about Jake stumbling down the hall, be-lining toward the coffee machine. His hair frizzy from a good nights sleep. His pajama bottoms sagging and lopsided on his waist. His bare chest appearing tanned in the morning sun. 😫😫😫 DO NOT GO THERE!!!!! The thought is more addicting than the coffee 🥰🥰🥰

Lastly, Jake would adore the fact that your cats are named after Star Trek and a poet. That’s right up his alley. And if you convinced him to get another, he’d insist on naming it something like Oscar (Oscar Wilde) or Bedivere (Monty Python).

Hope you enjoyed your ship, Jake! Let me know what you think 🧐❣️

[the25thviolence]

Writer Interview Thing

So this weekend I--- Lets roll this back a tad. So the beginning of this week I got super motivated to be creative but I work 4 day weeks of 10 hour shifts.  So I didn’t really time to do anything till now.  I want to finish 3 bits of writing this weekend and this is one of them. 

1. When did you start writing?

Actually writing in this form?  I’m not sure honestly.  I remember as like a teen writing poetry a little and writing my mom like a nice mothers day poem I made up.  She was convinced I took it from somewhere.  

Early writing was based on just too many feelings and or emotions inside of me and just needing a release.  Writing after that was because I could write to someone I cared about.  Which led to the early stages of this kind of writing.  

I actually pushed more into this because way back in the day when people rode around on dinosaurs a guy found some of my very first stories on a blog website.  He thought they were funny which is why some of my stories are the way they are today.  He also hosted my original website and writing for a few years back than. 

2. Favorite story you’ve written?

As the person who picked most these questions I don’t know why I fucking picked this one.  

I’m not sure, I really enjoyed writing the Summer Time Madness part with (Captain) Sean and the Kraken.  I have a huge soft spot for any part of a story where I use the ocean as symbolism for washing someone away.  

3. Favorite character?

I don’t think I remember all my characters to be honest.  It would be an insult to my own creation to not say Sean and the Girl/Princess/Ashley.  They’ve been in my head for over a decade now. 

Currently I really do enjoy Claire and the Baristas though. 

4. Best hidden message in a story you’ve written?

Hidden seems to be an abstract thought to me.  When I feel something is hidden it is apparently very obvious.  And when I feel something is obvious it is not noticed at all.  I think for now my favorite hidden.... You know I haven’t really fleshed this part out, written it, or come to a concrete thought on the matter.  But a certain character mite have connections to the girl from the star character from a very old story of mine.  Well Claire mite have that connection.  I’m not sure yet.  But the stars themselves mite be coming back to my stories. 

5. Why so many spelling and grammer errors? 

Short, because I can.

Long, hmmmm.  I didn’t like grow up smart.  I didn’t really start reading till like the 4th grade but than by the 5th grade I was devouring books.  Do to many personal issues in life (people dying and being extremely poor etc) I didn’t really try to do anything in school.  I graduated high school with one of the lowest possible GPAs because I thought I was going work at mcdonalds after I graduated.  Turns out I was so poor the government gave me money for college and I was able to attend community college and get an associates for free because of that.  The only and most depressing silver lining to having a parent die when your 12 years old. 

Basically I have no real education on the matter of writing.  

Also I can’t draw for shit. 

I can’t sing or make music for shit.  

I can’t paint. 

I can write, anyone can write.  I view writing much like someone would view painting.  Each word but a stroke on the canvas.  And every error or mistake but a drop of paint misplaced.  Now apart of something greater and beyond my control. 

I know its wrong but I heavily prefer my writing be a one shot.  Written once and released into the world.  I have slowly, very slowly, come to terms with editing and proof reading and all that nerd shit.  Its a process I am still heavily refusing to this day. 

Yes, grammer is spelt wrong on purpose you heathens. 

6. Any sneak peaks or future plans for writing?

Hmm

If the Moon can be apart of the story.  

A vessel of power. 

A weapon. 

A dramatic bit of symbolism. 

What of the sun than? 

7. Can you explain “The Void” and “Post Void”? 

Many parts of my life have shoved there whole hand into my chest and squeezed.  Every time it happens it feels worse than the time before.  I would call my high school years a void and everything after a post void.  I would call some years after losing someone I cared about in my twenties a void than post void.  And this rehash of loving people and losing people another void than post void.  Depression is crippling.  Depression has ruined every single tooth inside my mouth.  To the scars on my body to the tattoo on my wrist.  

Simply a void is when life wraps its cold star ridden hands around my neck and holds me still till I either die or stand back up. 

And post void is everything that happens after.  Consequences and all.  Standing back up always comes at a price and I pay it greedily each time. 

8. Does anyone in your family know that you write?

No? I guess some know I scribbled at one point as a hobby.  But no one for sure knows about Once Was A Stranger.  

If anyone is curious as to why.  I don’t trust my family with the deep bits of my existence.  As the youngest of 6 kids nothing I do will ever have a strong meaning. 

9.  “Why am I not a main character?”

I can’t tell if this a question from my good friend twchh or from Sean himself.  Sir, I could never capture your essence in simple words.  God could give me the canopy of the night sky and I still wouldn’t be able to put you into mere words with all that space. 

10. “How much of Once Was A Stranger is actually inspired by/based on reality and how much of it is me misreading it as that.”

Warning: A friend/peer/tortured proof reader asked me this question so I up chucked a metric ton of words on the subject.  This is the last question here and its full of non-organized words. 

This is going to be a really really really long answer and I will try my best to make it as coherent as possible.  I’ve reread this story multiple times to better answer this. 

Its so hard to explain everything without shoving 86 links with 86 different stories down your throat.  Once Was A Stranger was every bit of writing I ever tried to write in my life.  I was finally able to reign in my scatter brain and write a complete story in the style I desired.  I have some small regrets still on some parts.  I had really big expectations for the market scene where the Stranger gives his big speech.  I tried for a really long time to write that part and just couldn’t do it.  Which is why the scene is so.... off center and cuts off.   It works just well enough to fit its role in the story but I wanted so much more from that section of the story. 

I am already off track. 

I’ll start with the characters. 

Sean

Sean for all intensive purposes is my first character.  Like my first character ever.  Sean is a major carry over from my first stories I’ve written.  Why the name? Because I liked it.  Sometimes it reminds me of the Shawn meme from that one video game (SHAWN!).  Sean’s shtick is that he was a thought, a happy little day dream, a fantasy trapped in some girls head.  And he was used by the girl to make herself happy.  But one day he started slowly growing free will and becoming alive.  He would turn against the girl in her dreams trying to escape.  The girl would often “reset” him back to a basic little fantasy but suddenly it didn’t work.  I never finished this story, I knew how it was going to end, but I never finished it.  

Princess

Princess is just the---the girl---every single girl from every story.  Most precisely the girl from Beads that used Sean as an escape inside her own head.  I used to know a person a lifetime ago.  A very very very long lifetime ago.  This character was based off of them and the relationship I had with them. 

Jim

Now this one is funny.  While rereading the story I didn’t realize that this mite be read as a problematic name for people who knew me.  I’m not sure if this was a separate story or a part of Beads (Beads was my first too much for me to handle large scale failed story attempt).  

But Jim is named after an old one off character.  His full name was Jim the goldfish.  Jim the goldfish lived on an alien planet full of goldfish.  Jim’s wife left him and he was drafted into the army to fight in non copyright infringing battle suits (much like gundams but totally not gundams).  In this story the ruling class, the Kardashians (yes, those ones) were battling revolutionaries to keep there power.   They got this power  by abusing the exchange rates between there planet and earth.  And they used that money to get amazing plastic surgery and become famous on earth.   The “Sean” character, a guy in a pair of white nikes drifting thru space (was and still am a huge kid cudi fan) was drifting past this scene in the story.  

Stranger

Once Was A Stranger.   Not much in the story really takes inspiration from my life till the end.  But the title.  The act of writing this story.  The life I breathed into it and the immortal bit of lightning it threw back at me.   The title is very strongly based on events from my life.  Thus he was titled.  For he was a stranger.  Much like myself. 

List of all the references:

Stars: I have a great personal desire to escape life, all of it.  And stars are about as far away as you can get.  I once wrote a story about a fallen star who met a strange boy.  Boy and girl.  Sean and princess, etc.  Boy obviously had problems at home.  Girl was a star exploding with life not wanting to go back to the night sky.  Not that bad of a story I think this still exists and is readable somewhere.

Succulent plants:  A small reference to a person someone tried to make me friends with and the interaction of wanting to own plants but not being capable of keeping them alive so they were suggested to me.  I thought they best fit the character for this story.  Kind of like a foreshadow to Jim having a darker bit of torment inside of him. 

The Actual Moon

Honestly, I have no real clue.  I wanted something great to destroy.  I have more to explore and write about in future stories so I won’t get into too much detail.  Big kid cudi fan (man on the moon).  Its in space and away from here.  Big and bright and in the sky.   Also completely crazy concept to try and fight it.  

King/Princess/Royalty

The girl is referred to as Princess as like an emotional show of importance.  The way the girl from the star story was a star.  And in that same story her father was the morning star always searching for her till the last moment each morning.  The princess had a king.  Someone of authority who did not like the stranger.  What? A girl with a father who didn’t like the boy.  Crazy.  That’s totally never happened to anyone before.  

The napkins in the end scene.

Unicorn/Bear/Mysterious monster

These are all references to old bit of writing pieces or short stories I’ve written.  Sean even notes his white sneakers aka the white nikes story. And this is all a deeper reference to the fact all those stories have long been deleted.  I had a...

I had a. 

A blackhole void consumed my life.  

An irl friend had to come grab me out my house one day to make me move.  

I deleted almost every single part of my online presence because of that.  

Many references in Once Was A Stranger are from long deleted stories. I think I wanted to acknowledge them and pay my respects even though I was the one that deleted those stories.

Repeated phrases/bits

Because I find them entertaining and this was my story.  The telling time by the stars or sun.  Repeated phrases.  Etc etc etc.  My favorite part of Once Was A Stranger was slightly noting the writer was apparent to the characters.   It wasn’t breaking the 4th wall in my opinion because the writer, myself, was in fact also a character in this story.  

Sliding between Sean and Jim and different parts of the story

This was a major shoutout to Beads and to what that story could of been if I was a better writer at the time.  To make it seem like the Princess was trapped between stories.  A turn on the original Beads where Sean was strapped between stories.  

Sean/Jim 

Were they the same?  Different sides of the same coin.  Not to spoil future stories yet to be written too much.  They represented the split between my long time main character. I’m not sure if there any really parallels between nice Jim becoming angry and angry Sean becoming nice.  I think I was in too deep of an emotional space at the time of writing to really know. 

Baristas

I have no idea.  That just sprouted in my brain.  They became apart of the story than proceeded to get there own “spinoff” story.  

Late game writing

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yep

You read these parts

I guess I should spell this out. 

Knife.

The void

This all hurts to talk about honestly. 

I’ve been kicking the words for this around in my head lately.  Hoping to write something that would relieve the pain a little.  

I was in love with someone.  It was unrequited.  And it caused a forest of stars to sprout and take root in my heart.  And it made someone very very very close to me hate me.  Hate me so much.  It felt like they stabbed me in my chest with a knife.  Trying to kill the forest of stars inside my heart.  To kill that love.  That unrequited love.  A deep bit of selfishness shared all around.  All because we loved the same person.  

As far as the story is concerned.  Sean, The Stranger, twisted and turned.  And now the knife was in there hand.  New name and all.   

The Ocean

As far back as Beads I have always used the ocean as a way to cleanse.  Clean.  Restart.  Change.  Give birth to.  The ocean is as much life as it is monstrous and uncontrollable.  The ocean cleansed this story and gave a rebirth to the boy and the girl.  Or a death.  They walked purposely into the open arms of the ocean.  

Ashley

This is the shortest answer.  Big fan of Halsey. 

I’m not very good at putting things in order.  Jesus H Christ that much is obvious.  I hope they shined random bits of light on some things. 

This is the end of this bit of writing.  And I am completely open to follow up questions.  I know only one person mite have them but you know how to contact me and scream insanity into my ear. 

[puxinghua]

YOU HURT MY FEELINGS A MILLION TIMES. YOU'VE MADE ME SHED A THOUSAND TEARS AND I CAN'T BREATHE IN THE DAY OR SLEEP AT NIGHT BECAUSE YOU CRAWL INTO MY VISIONS AND CALL ME NAMES. I yell back sniffling at the echoes of my own repeated thoughts by daylight, and dream of gracefully drowning when the sun dips low, when beams of moonlight hit my tongue and the cold glow taste shocks me into needing lake hug. The water's so still that it becomes a second sky. I can trace the Big Dipper between my toes. When I chase the North Star, it's gravity pulling me down toward its ice gleam.

All of my feet slip underneath me to the tune of a familiar boardwalk creak when I finally let the Jersey Shore take me. I've always pined after her for so long, so romantically; I think it's only right that she is the first to swallow me whole, to wrap around every thick and thin of my body and force herself down my throat until there is no more point in gasping for air. Water is my final fear, and today I tackle it footfirst.

I'm shattering Carnegie's precious surface into a million shards of ice light. I feel the sky in the water ripple and burn and chase away the stars because now I've broken the mirage. Supernova dust swims from me like little fish; I radiate reflected light like it's my own.

For an infinite two minutes I am taken beyond the cold of the ice turbulence and into the warm swathes of sticky pink and blood of my mother's uterus. I open my eyes to a glowing Pittsburgh hospital bed; I swim in fabric and sweet kisses. Legs sprout from my shoes and I love the feeling of leaping and landing outside my childhood home, of the green grass playgrounds and the clunky house number 8118 and sparkling view of a golden water. Here, five rivers meet and I call my powder sugar donut holes the juncture.

It's my third birthday and no one shows up to the party. My parents are at a loss for words, my two-foot tall self cries its first real tears. In elementary school I make two foot-tall friends. They graduate and I sit at the window alone during aftercare, nothing but the heater beneath my skinny chalkboard fingers and rainbow kid leggings to heat my sick child self as I wait for the clock to tick down to 5:30 and my mom to come pick me up after work. When the teacher's not looking, I crank open the white winter window and watch my breath float to the sky to become a cloud. My mom's wrapped in a bright yellow puffer and I decide from that point on that my favorite color's gonna be dandelion. 

All the water flows from one chapter of my life to the next, from those Pittsburgh rivers to the waterworks that I can't possibly shore up every time I lose a friend. In high school my heart's wrenched again. "You're too much, I can't keep up." Why are you so fucking depressed? That's a bad friend, people say, but maybe so was I. We were all sixteen anyway. By the time I hear that line in college it's already a staple in my playbook, an old record I can't be bothered pulling off the library shelf. I check off words and stuttered phrases like it's my personal bingo board. "Need distance," "I love you but." I nod in routine. I nod til my chin hits the water. I nod til my jaw snaps against its stone surface and I can't open it to cry out any longer.

YOU HURT MY FEELINGS A MILLION TIMES. YOU'VE MADE ME SHED A THOUSAND TEARS AND I CAN'T BREATHE IN THE DAY OR SLEEP AT NIGHT BECAUSE YOU CRAWL INTO MY VISIONS AND CALL ME NAMES.

The bingo board cracks like the lake's surface. Its stupid phrases curl around my ear with my third birthday cake and a honey yellow jacket. Splash — I'm dying, and you're in my visions again. I'm sorry. Ice. I didn't fucking mean it. My lungs, logged, water. Cold like knives, the words in my ears. Gasps, flails, muted screeches. I swallow every star, I feel their shards rip through my nostrils. I chase the North one like my life depends on it.

Stardust powders my guts, and I explode like Betelgeuse. I'm a tiny bomb in Lake Carnegie, I'm a burst of hot sun on a quiet summer evening. I flash bright white stripe and fan out drizzling every rainbow color and hugged person and creaky shape I have ever loved and hated. I become my own end and beginning. I am a uterus spark and a bingo board ember, a burnt blacksmith coal sinking slowly to the bottom of the rowers' dwelling.

I am an arm and a leg. I am a newspaper headline. I am fish food. I am algae creeping along the surface of the pond. I am a distant memory, a foregone laugh, an unfortunate tragedy, an excellent example of inexcellence and an indignant point to be made. I am an ex-roommate, an ex-friend, an ex-lover. I am an internet obituary with two smiling pictures and eight quotes about how I've always reached for the stars. I am a puff of carbon dioxide evaporating into the sky. I am every tear that I have shed and the path that they took to run into this river. I am the heat death of every atom that composes me. But most importantly, I am without link to the world at my feet. I am free. And I am happy.

[bubblebass1]

What is happiness?

Recently, my sister asked me to fill out an interview for her project, and I have decided to include my answers to those questions here.

1.  Please tell me a little bit about yourself and your life. Who do you believe you are? What are the major milestones you’ve experienced that have brought you to where you are and who you are today?

I am 22 years old, a recent college graduate, a teacher, a woman, a sister, a daughter, a girlfriend, and a creative person. I believe I am a good person, yet I am flawed which sets me back from the goodness I want to achieve in my lifetime. I take on various roles in my life, but the overarching goal in all of them is to support and guide others. However, my flaws are that I am ambitious, proud, and overly emotional myself.

There are a few major milestones that have pushed me into who I am today as a woman, many of which are unfortunate milestones that have forced me into a position of independence. For the formative years of my childhood, I grew up with separated parents, one of whom was an addict. Growing up with an abusive addict for a parent is difficult, but it teaches you skills such as learning how to read emotions and being in tune with others, but on the other hand, it leaves you without a model for how to control your own reactions and emotions. One of the hardest things was being separated from my mother at a young age, and then after years of no contact, she died from a drug overdose. Shortly after this occurred, my father, who had acted as a constant in my life, moved out of our home state and I stayed for college. This was extremely uprooting and taught me about independence. Even though this period of time in my life was like a whirlwind, I learned a lot about myself, such as that I value my independence, but I need certain supports in order to be successful. In knowing this, I aim to be the supports for others, since I wish that I had those supports throughout my life, instead of putting all my eggs in one basket and them sinking at the removal of them.

2.  What are the most meaningful experiences you can recall from your life? What experiences do you believe life should provide you?

The most meaningful experiences that I can recall from my life are those in which I have spent with the people who matter most to me. In more recent memory, I was able to go to Longwood Gardens in Pennsylvania with my boyfriend and all we did was walk around and look at plants, but it was some of the most meaningful experiences that I had that whole summer. Many of my favorite moments are spending quality time with my boyfriend, my siblings, my parents, and my friends. I also find joy in being recognized for my accomplishments such as when I got nominated for an award for my writing, when I published a story in an anthology with my university, or when I can share my skills with my classmates and offer edits and help with their writing or other creative projects.

I believe life should offer experiences that fulfill our need for connection and success in different ways. Connection with others is one of the most fulfilling experiences that life can offer, and I measure success in terms of happiness. While many view financial freedom as success (and that is valuable too), I find that life is more fun when you are chasing new experiences with the people you love, even if that means something as simple as walking around a garden.

3.  When do you feel truly happy? What do you believe happiness really is?

Happiness is not always an achievable goal for some people, especially those who believe that they can never have enough of it. This comes into play when people use substances or become addicts to sex, gambling, porn, or other things that create temporary happiness. I believe that true happiness is more in line with being content than anything else. In short, when you don’t want for things. I believe this because I have experience with addiction in my family, and this influences my viewpoint. When you don't want for things, this enables you to focus on the present and the current experiences you are having and build memories, which then will feed into further happiness and prevent unhappiness by equipping you with experiences to call back upon in times of need.

4.  What does your soul/true self want? Are you living a life that is aligned with that/those desire(s)?

I believe my true soul wants to feel needed. Selfishly, I want to feel like the people that I love need me and want me around. I also think that my soul yearns to be heard, and I believe that every person wants to be heard and accepted despite their shortcomings. I struggle to feel connection and love (I think because of my upbringing) and oftentimes will push people away in fear that my vulnerability is a turn-off. I think this is why my goal is to be someone who can support and guide others, since I often lack that same support and guidance, and see that many people are reaching out for it.

I am not living a life that is aligned with these values at the moment. I am kind of taking a backseat from what I want to be doing career-wise which would support my desire to help and listen to others, because I think that I need to be ready to listen before I take on such a monumental task. At this point in time, I am not ready to listen because I fear that I have so much to say that it clouds my judgement, my thoughts, and lessens my ability to support others since I am so stuck in my own head.

5.  What kind of impact do you want to have on the world? What legacy do you want to leave behind when you die?

I want to make other people happy. I think of my Grandma who passed away, and how she was so full of love for her family and wish my impact on this world could be something similar. I know that my impact radius will most likely be small, but as a teacher, I want to be able to inspire students to value others, rather than have an individualistic mindset. I think the people we often love the most are less individualistic, and more geared towards supporting the group, whether that be a family, a community, or even a classroom.

When I die, I don't want people to be sad, but rather I want them to be inspired to support others in my honor. I think about when I have grandchildren, how I would want them to remember me as someone who was helpful, loving, and wise. You cannot be wise unless you have knowledge of yourself and others.

6.  Will you share a hardship you’ve experienced in your life? Do you believe this hardship was associated with a culture you identify with? Why or why not?

A hardship that I have experienced in my life is the loss of my addict mother, and the removal of my father from my immediate support system due to a cross-country relocation. This is not a part of my culture or identity, my addict mother came from a wealthy background, she simply had a disease that unfortunately she could not be cured from. My dad moving away has nothing to do with my culture, just financial strain, and the need for a life change.

7.  If you looked back at a photo of yourself as a child, do you still identify with that person and those dreams? Please explain your response.

When I look at myself as a child, I see the changes that have occurred throughout my life and no longer identify with that person today. I think that my life experience has influenced my morals and values so deeply, that even the roots system that they are founded on is profoundly different from when I was a child. There are a few similarities that remain steadfast, including my need to be creative, my bubbly personality, and my sensitivity, but the dreams that I had when I was a kid are well and truly gone. When I was little, I wanted to be different than everyone else, I wanted to stand out. Now, all I want is to be a part of the group. In fact, I think I need to be a part of the group to feel good about myself or be successful.

8.  What does “living the good life” mean to you?

Author John Green once spoke about his experience as a bestselling author, and how when his novel, The Fault in Our Stars was released, he found himself touring around the country, making tons of money, getting invited to exclusive parties and events, and meeting prestigious and successful people. He claims that he was living "the dream." However, "the dream" was not his dream. He would much rather watch soccer with his friends, work out in the garden with his wife, and take walks with his kids. This is how I feel too. I think money is valuable only in pursuit of experiences with those we love.

[jcmarchi]

Open Roads Preview - A Personal Start - Game Informer

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/open-roads-preview-a-personal-start-game-informer/

Open Roads Preview - A Personal Start - Game Informer

In my bedroom, I have a drawer lovingly dubbed my “drawer of sentimentality.” There’s a hat signed by various members of my favorite bands of a 2010s Warped Tour, tickets to some of my favorite movies, sticks from my last year on drum line in high school, and cards. Birthday cards, Christmas cards, “just because” cards, ones I got for graduating high school, ones I got for graduating college – So. Many. Cards. I struggle to throw cards away with personal greetings. I struggle to throw out anything that means something to me, even more than a decade later, so my sentimental stuff lives in a single drawer to keep me in check. 

During a virtual hands-off preview of Open Roads, the player, as Tess, played by Kaitlyn Dever (Booksmart, Uncharted 4: A Thief’s End, and soon-to-be Abby in HBO’s The Last of Us), picked up an old birthday card they received from their grandma, who recently passed away, kickstarting the events of the game. It’s an action players will do a lot of in Open Roads, given it’s what I’d lovingly call a narrative-driven walking sim. This card is nondescript with a simple pre-written message inside. But Tess’ grandma signed something to the extent of, “I’m so proud of you, love grandma.” It wasn’t much, but I immediately felt tears in my eyes. 

Admittedly, I cry easily. Also, my grandma, a matriarch of sorts in my family, passed away suddenly in August. That grief rose to the surface during this Open Roads preview when I saw that birthday card. 

It reminded me so much of my grandma. I have at least half a dozen cards, if not more, from her, just like it. Perhaps there’s a sailboat on the front (I’ve never been sailboating) and a prewritten message inside that says something like, “May you enjoy another year of new horizons.” And signed under it by grandma, “I’m so proud of you, love grandma.” My grandpa would sign it, too, of course. And I’d take the card home after birthday celebrations and stash it away in my drawer of sentimentality. Beyond my struggle to throw sentimental things away, I couldn’t have told you a specific reason for keeping this or that. In hindsight, I guess it’s for moments like these when I’m previewing a game and am reminded of my grandma and feel the need to pull out one of her cards, to remember those are real words she wrote to me, just for me.

I’d later learn during this preview that things like this card from Tess’ grandma, or the colorful scribble on the inside wall of a closet done by a child, or the art of a Pikanese Pomeranian Tess and her mom, Opal, played by Keri Russell (The Americans, Star Wars Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker), joke about, are all real things from someone on the Open Roads Team.

Notably, Open Roads was originally in development as part of Fullbright with creative lead Steve Gaynor, director of Gone Home, before allegations of cultivating a hostile work environment in 2021 led to Gaynor stepping back. The team working on Open Roads detached itself from Fullbright, now going by the title of Open Roads Team. 

Executive producer Amy Fincher says during the preview, “[It’s] a great game for nosy people,” pointing out that a Pirates of Penzance brochure Tess finds in a drawer is a tribute to her late grandmother; Pirates of Penzance was Fincher’s grandmother’s favorite musical. Someone else on the Open Roads Team would add that the studio hopes all of the personal touches put into the game make Open Roads feel more handcrafted and resonate with players of various ages. It takes place in 2003, with a Tomogatchi-like device, Scholastic Book Fair erasers, a 9/11 commemorative paper, and more alluding to this, but there are trinkets and remnants of the 1960s and ’70s, too, thanks to Tess’s grandma.

All the handwriting in the game, including that of Tess’ in-game grandma on the birthday card, is actual handwriting. Everyone on the Open Roads Team has their handwriting featured somewhere in the game, and there’s a lot in just the 25 minutes I see, which takes place in Tess and Opal’s house. However, the duo remarks that the house is up for sale. “We took care of Grandma right up until the end, and now they’re selling the house right out from under us,” they say, and the two will soon set off on the road trip. 

Graphic artist Harrison Gerard says Opal goes anywhere Tess goes, so picking up something in the house to interact with will net you insight into both characters. And I imagine that carries over into the road trip that Open Roads is mostly about. I don’t see any of that road trip, though, with the preview stopping right at the point where it is initiated. 

I have no idea how the game feels to play; I’m impressed with the voice acting, but the lip sync seemed random, and sometimes, when I heard their voices, their mouths wouldn’t move; the art is nice and easily telegraphs what you can interact with; I don’t know much about the story yet at all, to be honest. But most of all, and perhaps most importantly, following a game preview, I’m excited to play Open Roads. The personal touches seemingly inject a level of relatability I haven’t felt in a game for a while – I certainly haven’t teared up previewing a narrative-driven game like this before. I’m a sucker for games that pull on heartstrings, and mine are easily pulled, so perhaps the warmth of Tess’ grandmother’s card won’t carry the rest of the experience. I look forward to finding out, though. 

Open Roads hits PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X/S, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Switch, and PC on February 22, 2024. 

For more, watch the latest Open Roads trailer here, and then check out the Open Roads announcement trailer. After that, read Game Informer’s exclusive feature about how Open Roads changed direction and saved its turbulent road trip.

[ysapawithfeelings]

Dear Old Friend,

Friendship break-ups hurt too. I just haven't quite figured out yet which hurts more: a friendship that ended because of utter betrayal, or a friendship that died a natural death, with no particular rhyme nor reason, but just naturally ran its course, packed up its things quietly and suddenly, just totally left without a word, like a thief in the night.

Here's the thing: ours died a natural death.

Something to remember you by

---

We grew up together. In every sense of the word. I met you at the tender age of seven, but we only really became friends during the fourth grade. In the fifth grade, you had your first period months before I had mine. In hindsight, maybe that should have been a clear indication that you will be more mature than I am, in more ways than one. During our grade school graduation, you were one of those who cheered the loudest after I gave my valedictory speech. We were so young, and our dreams seemed so big yet attainable. I felt invincible with you by my side.

In high school, we grew even closer. Your thirteenth birthday was extraordinary. We celebrated at Pioneer, and although my heart was a little broken over someone (this seems so trivial now), I remember we had a grand time. It was October, and it has always been one of my favorite months. Quite frankly because you were born October 15th.

Despite having had to transfer to a different school during junior year, we did our best to remain close and be there for each other during the most crucial of times. We stayed close all the way to college and even after that. And even though we attended different universities, pursued different degrees - the stuff that truly mattered kept us so incredibly connected. You were my soulmate. I can still remember you twirling and doing a little happy dance when you first told me about your first boyfriend. And knowing the kind of love and loyalty you gave the people you care about, I just knew he was going to be your last. I wasn't wrong. He did end up becoming your husband, and now you have two beautiful, amazing girls. You're living well, doing well, and I couldn't be happier for you.

And I couldn't be more thankful on how we'd seen each other through everything: parents, lovers, vices, work woes, pregnancy, marriage. Everything.

But somewhere along the way, we grew apart. The thing that I thought would never happen to us did. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault. We just had a falling out, even though we never actually fought. I could never really swallow fighting with you. We just grew distant, the figurative kind of distance, which when you think about it is ironic, judging by how close our houses currently are. It just happened one day, the day I extremely dreaded for the longest time. Long story short: you got tired of reaching out, as I did. And it just did not seem like the friendship could be extended, expanded, or saved any longer. It happened gradually, but also kind of all at once. I know you know what I mean. As much as it pains me to say it, it's been true for a long time. We are like strangers now.

There was a last straw; I'd be lying if I said there wasn't an ultimate cue that led me to just get up, stop trying altogether, and just go. It may be immaterial now, but it did exist. It solidified what I was trying to deny the whole time: I was barely hanging on a thin line, and it was simply time to let go. You have your reasons. So do I. And all of them are valid. But you know what? I held on so much longer and deeper than you did. I don't mind, and I am never taking that against you--so don't even try to rebut. It's okay. I will be okay. :)

These days, I think I am still in the process of grieving over our decades-long friendship. There are still instances on mundane days when something happens, and my first thought would be to call or text you because you'd be the best person to tell all about it. In time, I do hope the feeling of longing will pass entirely.

It has not been easy, especially since I have had other deep friendships to mourn for since the pandemic took place. It's my thing now: losing friends. Part of the whole growing up shit, I guess. Still, I have to say, I am having a hard time deciphering--if a friendship that died a natural death is harder to get over than a friendship killed by a lie and/or a betrayal. I guess it just depends on what kind of day I'm having. Or what memories are more painful to look back to. Maybe they equally hurt because they both cannot be repaired. And maybe I don't ever really need to know the answer to my question. Whatever is the point, right? Nothing. Because a loss is a loss.

Despite losing you, I will always love you--albeit from a distance. You have been such a core person from my childhood, puberty, and even the first two decades of my adulthood. But whenever we were together (sadly can't even remember the last time we were), I've realized, we talk more about the past than we do the present or even the future. We're just two ships passing by each other now, but you can be assured that I'm a ship that's rooting for you and always praying you'd never sink. Even in my most hurtful and embittered phase, I will never wish you ill. In fact, I am letting you go with nothing but love and respect.

I am almost at the end of my blog here. Not that you'd even be reading this, but just as well, please let me thank you for the our friendship. It almost felt like family in countless ways. It almost felt like forever. We made promises we couldn't keep, that's all. We meant them when we made them, and that's enough. So a thousand times thank you, and I think this is it for us, G. I can almost hear Monica's For You I Will playing in the background.

And if you ever do feel you want to come back (and I'm honestly not expecting even the slightest bit that you will), I want you to know that the door will never be locked. You can knock any time. Or you know, if it's a matter of life and death, just freaking turn the knob. Heck, destroy the door if you need to. And nobody even has to apologize or say the first awkward hello. It won't matter; my heart will easily let you in.

Maybe I'll even buy you a flat white or two. And even if I never was a Harry Potter fan like you massively were, I am well-aware of that famous line--

"Even after all this time?" "Always."

[kat-shifts]

𝕬𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝕸𝖞 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖑𝖋

A lot about this script was ‘stolen’ from different media, but not from like, other creators? Like TV shows and stuff.

Most of the regular life stuff/personality is literally just me, so eh.

My DR is a College AU BNHA reality. Yes, I know. Don’t like it move on, let me enjoy what I like.

So without further ado, let me introduce myself.

| 𝔎𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔓𝔢𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔳𝔞 | 𝔔𝔲𝔦𝔯𝔨 - 𝔙𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢 |

My name is Katherine Petrova, I mostly go by Kat because it’s easier for primarily Japanese speaking people to pronounce. I am 18, and I moved to Japan completely alone when I was 17. I’m what you’d consider goth/alt.

I was homeschooled throughout high school so I graduated early, then some family shit happened and I basically ran away from home the first chance I could get. I will elaborate on family issues in a moment.

I had planned since about 15 to move to Japan because I was obsessed with the culture and their hero schools pumped out some of the strongest heroes in the world. (i.e. Fucking All Might)

On to the family stuff, I guess the best way to put it is I grew up in a loving yet toxic household. I was the only one of my three siblings (one half brother) that actually ended up with a quirk, and apparently I just sucked out all the juice because honestly I’m kinda over powered as fuck.

My quirk is called Vampire. I have heightened senses, super healing as well as blood that heals others when consumed, super strength and speed, and my least favorite part of my quirk but also probably the best ability I have, compulsion. It’s essentially mind control and the only real limit I have discovered is it has to be used while making eye contact.

Compulsion I got from dead old dad, and he uses it however he wants. He basically forced my mother to be in love with him and to marry him, I think after a while it started to break down her psyche because she became a shell of a person and also a little deranged. She was emotionally manipulative and fiercely jealous that I had a quirk.

The healing and blood aspects of my quirk come from her parents quirks, ‘healing’ and ‘blood control��. I guess those mixed to give me my overclocked healing abilities.

The heightens senses and super strength and speed… I’m not sure where those came from, maybe dad’s side, maybe mom’s somewhere down the line. It doesn’t really matter either way at this point.

My quirk has given me a lot of problems throughout my life, because like the mythical monster it is named after, I have to consume human blood to use it. Without consuming blood I essentially go into withdrawals and my quirk stops working. Excruciating pain and weakness? No thanks.

I have issues with making or keeping friends because of the taboo of my quirk, I was born and raised in a small town in the south so I was basically the devil incarnate. It hurt for a while until I just gave up, on friendships, on love, on people in general.

Nearly my whole life I have been backstabbed, betrayed, abused or manipulated; so I have major trust issues.

I am also very mentally unstable due to the abuse I have experienced, and I am somewhere on the autism spectrum. I have major sensory issues due to my enhanced senses and I have ticks and stims. I have a very hard time not doing something; whether it be moving, playing with something, teaching myself literally anything and everything I can or immersing myself in some sort of media.

I particularly love music, art and manga. I’m a huge nerd, I have this thing called an eidetic memory so I basically never forget anything; which is both a blessing and a curse. I soak up knowledge like a dry sponge and I absolutely love learning. I love playing instruments, creating masterpieces and loosing myself in other lives and worlds.

The ‘family problems’ that made me run for the hills, I’m guessing are probably piquing your interest. My father was .. heavy handed to put it lightly. I had a minute where I started doing drugs and drinking and well that did exactly go over well when he found out, being a cop and all.

Though I didn’t end up with charges, but a fountain of verbal abuse and being told I was a mistake and that he would just ‘have to try again.’ He then proceeded to beat me until I could barely breathe and for a moment, I thought he was going to actually try and kill me. Once I healed which took a hour max, I shoved what I could into a backpack and ran for it, never looking back. I crossed the country from east to west coast in two days and hopped on the first plane to Tokyo.

I had been secretly selling artwork and giving online music lessons for a while so I had a decent cushion of money set aside. In the first few days in Japan, I had to use my compulsion a bit to be able to legally get an apartment without major issues, which I reluctantly did, because there was no one I could ask to sign with me.

I moved in, got a cat, started going to a therapist, continued my training and my work. After about two months of non-stop commissions I had accumulated a really good amount of money and treated myself with a motorcycle. I wasn’t a huge fan of public transportation and I had also always wanted one.

So now here we are, at the current time. All of this is backstory of what happened before I ‘shift’.

My timeline starts on the day of the sludge villain attack which gives me plenty of time to get accustomed to the world and being in a new country.

I will be updating with other posts, maybe. My plan is to permashift so I may not ever actually update this with anything other than mini-shifts or attempts and venting struggles. We’ll see. I can post my script if people want. Idk.

[creepyscritches]

Like, I grew up with a single parent who went MILES beyond expectations to secure me medical care and it was a horrible, demeaning process at every step! You could NOT "good behavior" your way to the system working. There were countless moving finish lines and a faceless wall of state insurance that did not care how often or how high they asked you to jump.

My father was not interested in paying for my health insurance after he dropped my mother and me like hot stones. So my mother did not have many choices when it became clear I was not well. I spent most of my early life undiagnosed and severely decompensated and, you guessed it, extremely suicidal. It wasn't until I was 26 or 27 that I experienced a day without pain, and I fought my way there the entire time.

I managed to graduate high school with honors, cords for the art honor society, and with all of my college-level English knocked out my senior year through dual-enrollement. I also taught intro level art at the high school, student-taught art at the middle school, student tutored trigonometry, and spent my remaining time in the art rooms completing the soldering on a giant stained glass installment we made for the school. Through this time, I also learned as many art techniques as I could (film photography and lost wax sculpture being my favorites). I also worked most holidays and school breaks in a kennel, spending 12 hour shifts handling non-social dogs.

By senior year, I was stashing coffee throughout my destinations each day. I was so tired I couldn't sit up. My body hurt, but doctors we could see would simply brush me off as a lazy teenager. I had a tumor under my tongue that kept returning and becoming more expensive to address. I had to lose a rear molar due to infection that eroded my jaw bone -- it took 2 years for the bone to regrow before I could entertain any options of replacing the tooth. I am 15. I am 16. I am 17.

I am 18. Despite having no money, I finally get some payoff for my efforts. I am awarded a full ride scholarship, I even get enough money back each semester to fully cover my books. I have to work a campus job as a part of the agreement and I spend 6hrs a week manning the liberal arts front desk between my +12hrs of classes. That's fine. I knew I was never going to have an easy road to education. I join the honors college and place my science + language credits there. My 7pm biology lab is the only reason I did not work my second job one day a week.

I am 18. I am working. I am learning. I am extremely ill but have been conditioned to call myself lazy, unmotivated, and the reason for my failures. I am not ill, not to me. I am 18. I work an overnight, 16 hour shift for Black Friday. I do not see family this year. My tumor returns. I quit my second job in December because I could not talk to customers after surgery. The doctor tells me I will have a scar as long as my jaw if it returns again.

I am 18. I am in pieces. My partner breaks up with me because I do not give them enough attention. I work until 10pm every day and spend the preceding 12 hours in rigorous college courses. Every day but my 7pm Biology lab, but I am too tired to spend time with someone that day. I do not have room in me to care about this now too. I finish my second semester and do not return. I cannot move my body and I cannot get accommodations because I cannot afford a diagnosis. I leave the full ride behind.

I am 19. I am supporting myself with freelance art. My body suffers deeply for this. I cannot get care. I find a chiropractor who will see me for $50 a visit and she saves me from killing myself if I'm honest. I begin teaching myself the ICD-9. I get certified and get a job the same month as my certification.

I am 20. I have moved out, my mother was moving as well. I am working, still sick. I cannot get care anywhere now as I am over 18, under 26, but my parent with insurance will not cover me. I work at my job for a year before I am fired for health complications. As a contractor, I did not get benefits or protections. This is just the way it is, they explain to me.

I am 21. I have picked up a new job, still contract over a year in despite the promise of full-time after 8 months. The job holds my insurance over my head like a carrot. I start to lose motion in my left arm. Pain now wakes me up on a nightly basis. I threaten to quit, they transition me from "external" to "internal" contractor. No benefits.

I am 21. I have forced my employer to hire me full-time. I am paid significantly less than my peers, despite experience. I get benefits. I pay $4000 out of pocket, but get my first diagnosis of narcolepsy. I do not get adequate medication until 4 years later.

I am 22. Physical therapy had been trying to fix my left arm, but things keep worsening. I receive a couple of painful steroid injections over my ulnar nerve (between the elbow). These do not work, so I am brought in for an ultrasound guided injection where the needle is woven between my bones and nurses physically hold me in place per protocol. This does nothing, but it is one of the most agonizing procedures I have ever had. I am rushed into a rheumatologist's roster after lesions in my bone marrow are found on MRI. The MRI took 3 attempts over a month as the pose required would reduce me to delirious levels of pain.

I am 22. I am told I have an autoimmune disease that has been running rampant for years. I begin oral chemotherapy. I vomit constantly. I do not improve. My doctor does not believe me when I say I cannot tolerate this medication. I do not get a name for my diagnosis, no matter how I press. I have multiple conditions submitted to insurance, but my doctor claims it is to get the different medications covered.

I am 27. I am accepted into Vanderbilt's cutting edge rheumatology department. I have SLE and my previous doctor's regimen had been consistently worsening my baseline condition. I am $15,000 in debt for medicine that ultimately was poisoning me.

I am 29 now. I have a body for the first time in my life. The opportunities I have now are unbelievable. The opportunities I missed are devastating. My body and health have been used as bartering chips my entire life. I am a "lucky" outcome. I cannot swallow this pill that this is the only way people can live here. No one will be demeaned like I was if I have any control over it. I will never minimize the incredible change the ACA brought to everyone here.

I cannot stress enough that the gap between "better than nothing insurance" and "no healthcare at all" is literally one big enough for your coffin. That is unacceptable, I refuse this. The only reason I have been motivated to learn the bureaucratic bullshit required for American health care is to shovel this gap closed, one shovel of dirt at a time. YEAH, I would love to be a middle school art teacher but I think I have been changed too much from these experiences to walk away from the state of American health care.

I find talent to help me and I protect it, elevate it, and encourage it to multiply. I have a mentor helping me do the same. I am learning the ACA industry still, mostly to identify problem points around me. I am 29, I am building like-minded spaces around me. I refuse to see another generation live like mine and those before. Sign up for the ACA.

Growing up pre-ACA radicalized me soooo much lol like I will not pander to arguments that deprioritize access to medical care at all as an adult