#Drunk Mike was all depressed about how he feels like he's not important and that kind of stuff

[coldninjaruins-blog]

Will: ok listen i wasn't that drunk.

Dustin: you tried to color Mike's face with a highlighter because "you have to highlight the most important things!!"

[ladygoth]

⛦˙♱⋆♱˙⛧ ᴛᴏɴɪᴄ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴅɪᴇꜱ ⛦˙♱⋆♱˙⛧

summary - you try to avoid ghost after your separation but it seems like forces brings him back to you.

text messages with ghost is important to this, specifically text message 09.

alcohol consumption, angst and low-key desperate manipulative ghost?

word count - 1891.

“Honestly, I think I was over-reacting,” you sighed before you pressed the curved tip of the wine glass against your lips, accompanied by Mike and the quiet volume that emitted from his television, the both of you had rested against his yellow sofa you once made fun of the first time you stepped into his home, but ever since the break-up you had learned to love the unique futon.

“I don’t think you were,” Mike shrugged, he had his arm rested behind your shoulders, giving you some comfort throughout the conversation. “Your feelings were valid, you just wanted to hear I love you from Ghost.”

“But what if he’s right? If he just said it, it wouldn’t have been genuine,” you shared and silent, Mike gently shrugged his shoulders.

He appeared somewhat embarrassed with what he had wanted to say, though in the end, he had fought through the feeling. “I believe, that if any other man had been with someone that had looked like you, they would’ve said they loved you on the second day.”

You had laughed as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Shut up,” Mike snickered, “babydoll, everyone thinks you are.”

Comforted, you had gently smiled at his small speech before you took another sip of the expensive wine you had bought. Ever since the break-up, you had been hanging around Jasmine and Mike more often, partying, clubbing and drinking, and you had been taking less of your anxiety and depression pills, you had felt confident and free without them. If Ghost heard what you have done, he would’ve never let you hear the end of it.

Then as punishment he would’ve fucked you, and oh how much you have missed his dick, his tongue, his fingers, the mere thought of it had made heat commence between your legs and a certain shift pulse. You had gently gulped down another drink ere you looked up at Mike. “Should I get back with him---”

“Of course not, he was controlling, possessive and mean, he made you lose contact with your best friend,” Mike winked and humoured you had smirked.

You had been avoiding Ghost ever since he returned from dispatchment, you changed the locks so he couldn’t come in and would make sure he was in his home before you left yours and you had always looked over your shoulders, you had sometimes felt like he was always watching you with those intense eyes of his.

There had been a moment when Ghost had knocked on your door and you had pretended as if you weren’t home, but he knew you were, because he saw you enter your home before he reached it. He told you that he would wait out your home all night and he did, though you were just as stubborn and didn’t leave your home and never responded to anything he had said.

You had spent more time in Mike’s home before you left to yours, accompanied by Coco who had been you biggest comfort throughout the entire separation, the second one being alcohol. There were moments when you found yourself awake in the most embarrassing environments because of it, some of them dangerous, and whenever you did, you’d think about the disapproving look Ghost would have on his face if he saw it, or how disappointed his tone would be. Even through text.

Once again you had found yourself drunk, and had been glad that you called yourself an uber home, conceited that you didn’t need to vomit and in deep need to be touched. Mayhap you’d go to Mike, or just please yourself with one of the toys you had kept hidden in the room.

You had stepped into the elevator and immediately started looking for your keys, you had forgotten to press the button but had informed yourself you’d do it once you find those keys of yours, and intensely focused on your task, you had almost overlooked the recognisable scent that punched through your nose and immediately you had looked up and had felt like air had been trapped in your throat.

Ghost.

He had stood in front of you, his mask on and eyes barely expressive but sharp, he didn’t say anything but had turned to face the buttons and pressed the nub that had led to the floor the both of you lived on. Eventually you had found your keys and had dragged the leather straps of bag up your shoulder, reticently pleading the Universe to take you to your level immediately.

You heart had wanted to leap out of your chest but you had silently calmed yourself down.

“Life is funny, isn’t it?” He said, “all this avoiding me just for me to run into you in the elevator.”

As you clenched your jaw, you had focused your sight on the sealed silver doors of the elevator, the blurry reflection of Ghost had shimmered on it and you had forced yourself to look away. He had his hands in his pockets and had stood tall, per usual, he still looked down at you, he had wanted you to say something, you always did.

“Babydoll,” he called.

Fuck.

“You can’t avoid and ignore me forever, I have stuff in your home I need to get, and I want to speak to you,” he said and anxious, you had looked at your fingers, painted fingernails that had gleamed under the bright light of the elevator. “I’ll speak to you here then.”

Eventually, you had pulled your sight towards him, your head tilting to specifically lock eyes with Ghost. “I don’t think it’s a good idea---”

“You are so stubborn,” he gently joked, “and I’m sorry with how I treated you, you didn’t deserve it luvie.”

You hummed, eyes darted back to your feet, the silverness of the elevator almost glowing white and the glowing ring around the buttons slowly travelled up as the box slowly whizzed past the upcoming floors. “Missed you,” he muttered, “Missed everything about you babydoll---” and the second you had heard the elevator doors ding and spread wide, you had immediately darted through the opening.

You couldn’t.

You couldn’t fall for him again.

“Babydoll!” Ghost called after, his thick British accent coating the area around him as it echoed. He had stepped out of the elevator, the silver doors slowly closing behind him. “Please,” he pleaded, as someone who had barely apologised to people, Ghost had felt a yearn to be forgiven by you, he had understood he should’ve given you the affirmation and statement of his feelings that you deserved.

Though, there had been a certain expression you had on your face, that mirrored the stubbornness he had known so well.

“Get your things,” you exhaled as you twisted your body towards the direction of your home, you had plopped your key in and twisted the lock open, unlocking the once sealed door to the area Ghost used to call home.

Once he followed you into the apartment, he had closed the door behind him, welcoming the memorable warmth he had once grown used to, almost everything looked the same, but the only difference had been the new dog that had darted towards Ghost, and quickly, Ghost had remembered the time you had introduced the pet to him during text, and the long ridiculous name you had given it.

Coco Beau Chanel Riley.

He had wondered if the dog still had his last name. You would’ve apologised for Coco’s loud behaviour, but Coco was a really small dog and could do no harm to someone such like Ghost, plus, Coco was protective over you. Guarded and feisty.

Once you had splashed your key against your desk you had sat down, not uttering another word to Ghost who had clenched his jaw, he stood in front of his door and the barking of Coco had died down as she had now moved her attention towards you, she had jumped against your lap and had curled between your thighs, aware that you had seemed unmoved by Ghost so he must’ve been no threat.

“Just like that?” Ghost pondered and as a response, you had curved your gaze towards him, lips closed with your phone between your hands. “You don’t even want to ‘ear the rest of what I got to say?”

“No.”

“Babydoll, it just can’t end like that---”

“Well, I’ve decided that it did---”

“Your being unfair!”

“God, Simon!” You shrieked, as you had sat up, you had felt your body tense with intense angst and apprehension. “Just get your stuff and leave.”

Silent, Ghost had quickly pondered and briefly he had played with the coating of his leather gloves before he spoke again. “Have you been taking your pills?”

“What?” You snapped.

“Have you been taking your pills?” He thoroughly repeated and clenched, you had leaned back against your sofa, dismissive and as kickback, the tall man had walked towards you. “Doll,” he said and irritated, your eyes had then fell against your dog, you knew what he was doing.

Extending the conversation so he could stay longer, and he knew the questioning about your prescription would be a good conference. “I’ve seen you going out more, even going to Mike’s to drink, babydoll, this isn’t good and you know that. You need me luvie, and I need you.”

You had forced down your spit as you had then motioned yourself to stroke your fingers through Coco’s soft fur. He was such a dick.

For a brief moment, his presence had disappeared as he moved to the bathroom that had your medicine, when he had them, he had filled a glass with water before making his way back towards you. “Come on take them doll,” he muttered and as he sat back down next to you, you had paused, your eyes had remained on the items he had held, processing thoughts backwards and forwards in your mind, and eventually you had given in.

You had swallowed the pills and water and placed the cup Ghost had given you, on the small coffee table in front of the two of you, you had looked away from him, satisfaction emanating from his body as he had watched you take them. “You’ll feel much better,” he cooed, the flat of his thumb gently stroking your jaw and as an anxious response, you had continued to gently rake your digits through Coco’s fur.

“Please go,” you responded and finally you had looked at him, your pretty eyes that had stared into his brown orbs had shown the sour and stubborn aura that you had felt, and without fighting, Ghost had followed your short order, though before he had left, he had neared himself towards you, giving you a hard and deep kiss against the side of your head.

Then he had left, without taking his belongings, he had closed the door behind him before leaving to his apartment, and the lack of his presence once more had made you remember how much you had missed him; with your bottom lips behind your teeth, you had returned to your phone, quested yourself with an action you know Mike would be disappointed with, but shameless, your thumb had hovered over the Ghost’s contact and had pressed the unblock button.

text messages coming back :)

was thinking of this song

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Can you tell us a story about Josette Collins? She's a ghost from the 1966 gothic soap opera Dark Shadows. She lives in a painting of herself.

Once upon a time, I was married to a man named Michael. In my day, this was a fairly normal thing to be named; if there are any Michael Collinses in the audience today, I feel that I owe you an explanation.

I had never met Michael in the flesh before my wedding day. He had come to my office the morning of our wedding, looking a little pale and nervous (which he would continue to look like for the rest of my life) and asking if I had anything in the house for "a small party." I, too, had been nervous (although this was more a matter of not knowing where the party was, or who was attending, than of fear).

We agreed to have our wedding ceremony in my office and then, afterwards, to go out for a celebratory drink. We were both too overwhelmed to consider a wedding party, so it would be our first such occasion together.

The wedding ceremony and drink were both very emotional. It took three hours to say the vows and about fifteen minutes to drain a bottle of wine (I made up for it in vodka).

It had not occurred to me to ask Michael what his real name was, until we were sitting in my office and he was giving me his name in that familiar, teasing way people do at these sorts of events. In that moment, I think he realized how young I was, in a way that he could never admit to me. I was just about the age at which the first boy he'd ever dated had left him heartbroken. But here we were, together, sharing a drink, and he was my husband now. And soon, he would be a father, too.

"My name," he said, "is really Michael Collins, but call me 'Mike.'"

This was the last time I saw Michael alive.

I am still married to him, although we are divorced now. He is, I think, the same person that I married to for seventeen years, although now I think he's a little more depressed than I remembered.

I have never told anyone about Michael's life before this, and I do not plan to.

One of the very first things Mike told me after we had met was that "he wanted to go back in time," and do everything differently. He said that he would do it with me, and that they were "fond memories of college," and I should "think it over," or maybe "just trust him," although he said it very gently, and with a kind of gentleness that sometimes made me feel anxious.

"I want you to tell me where I should not go," he had said, and for a while I could not say no. I would have liked, I think, to go back in time, too.

Then I thought about it and I said, "There's only one answer to that. No matter who I am, my husband is still my husband."

"I've never been a big fan of this sort of thing," Michael said. "But I suppose we can both think about it, if we ever decide to move on together. We could try to come up with some kind of compromise. Don't ask me to talk to him, though. I don't even know what he would want me to say."

Michael never told me why he was back. He didn't seem to know either, although it became clear to me that time was very important to him. When it came time to return, I had to tell him to his face and face my own doubts.

I did not tell him about my marriage before he came back. We made small talk for a while, and I got very drunk. Then Michael started acting very strangely.

He kept talking about the war of 1914, about how if they had sent the zeppelin off an island instead of back to Germany it would have stopped the war and he and Michael would still be together, and I would be a grandmother. This was not something Mike had said to me on our previous conversations.

Mike kept talking about how he hated the sound of "the Great War" and that his favorite war movie was All Quiet on the Western Front. He kept telling me that he was a German officer in the war of 1914, wearing the uniform he wore in the movie. He kept talking about his German love interest, and how they were never able to be with one another after the war because "they're too different."

I began to feel very afraid. "My husband is still Michael Collins?" I asked. "No," he said, laughing softly. "I'm Mike, of course. You don't understand, my love. All these years later, I've been back in the war of 1914 waiting for the war to end, waiting to see my German sweetheart again. But I wasn't there, and when the war ended he wasn't there. I'll never see him again."

I asked him to drink some more wine, to calm down.

Then Mike started crying. He cried so hard that his glass of wine spilled all over the floor, and I got very upset and tried to leave.

"I'm sorry," Michael said to me, "I just need another drink. Just one more. Then I can talk to you again."

I gave him a towel to put over the mess.

Later, after we were both sober, Michael explained that he was still in Germany, but he wasn't a German officer. "I was there," he said, "but I wasn't an officer. I was a soldier. I was there, but only because I was one of the millions of men who didn't come back."

"I've been going insane, haven't I?" he said. "They told me to go crazy. They told me to go insane, so I went back crazy. When I came back, I couldn't handle it. I started killing people."

Michael said that he knew why I didn't believe him. He said that when he went back and died, he knew he would have stayed with me. He would never leave me. "But I couldn't do it," he said. "I kept going back and back, and I kept killing people."

After the war, he said, his father had left him. Michael had to be sent to live with an aunt, a woman named Lotte. It turned out that Lotte's son, the father of my present husband, had been drafted as well.

"My mother told me to go crazy. That's why I've been so weird," he said. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here."

He drank more wine. He didn't seem to notice that he was starting to slur his words.

"Let me tell you what happened to me and my wife."

He said she had a son who died in the war.

He said she started to drink, and it kept getting worse and worse.

"When I was seventeen, she kicked me out. She threw all my stuff into a garbage can, and we had to start from scratch, with what little I had left of my things. There was an inheritance from one of my father's siblings, but Lotte took all of that."

"What about your father?" I said.

"Lotte stole his life savings

[thornescratch]

3 and 4 for in chinatown, howling at night (long-time favorite of mine)? there's so many great lines to choose from i'd love to know what sticks out to you as the writer

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Maybe this one:

Refusing to acknowledge or research being a werewolf simply because it would involve prolonged awkward conversations in English with someone he wasn't comfortable with is both very weird and very Sasha, and Alex can immediately see how it would have happened.

Mostly because it sums everything up about the story pretty succinctly and is something I identify with. “This is fixable. But is there an awkward conversation with a living person involved? Yes? Well now I am just not doing it.” Also I am a verbose motherfucker and most of my other favorite bits are several lines long so I guess it would be cheating to select them.

As runner ups, I also still like the bits with the werewolf dildos (because I put a lot of damn thought into what werewolf dildo model names would be!) and where Ovi is mentally comparing Crosby’s socialization skills to a Discovery Channel monkey experiment.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

This was harder, because the dialogue in this story is a bit odd, given that half the time it’s meant to be in Russian, and the other time is Alex Ovinglish, so it sorta jumps around and seems inconsistent? But I still like this bit for a one liner:

"I will get every single Staal in the NHL and even the one who isn't to bite me until it takes if you won't," Alex says. "I can do it, all I have to do is wear lots of denim and hold Tim Hortons coffee.”  

FRONTIN ON CANADIAN STEREOTYPES YEAHHHH.

For conversational exchange, it might be this, because Ovi is focused on the important issues:

Alex thinks this over, adjusting his world view. "If they're werewolves, they should be able to grow better beards," he finally concludes. "Wait, will you be able to grow a real beard now?"

"He said it's important to figure out and keep a schedule," Sasha says, ignoring Alex's very vital question.

"For beards?" Alex asks.

And lastly (God, I’m cheating in answering this question and being really self indulgent, sorry) there was initially a much longer scene with Green, Laich, and Ovechkin and singing “Highway to the Danger Zone” which I cut with regret, but I’m still kinda fond of Mike Green absolutely being the Cap who would randomly sing that song while drunk and throwing up in someone else’s washing machine. So, Mike Green doing that.

He listens to the quiet mutter of Brooks trying to sort Greenie out, and Greenie occasionally repeating "DANGER ZONE," which seems to be the only part of the lyrics he knows. It's almost comforting, even if Brooks is going to come back and make Alex talk about his feelings. Or, well, Alex will probably talk about his feelings even without Brooks, because he's drunk and sad and a terrible teammate, a terrible friend, a terrible captain, probably a terrible boyfriend except he'd never gotten to the point where he and Sasha were that to each other and in fact, he thinks it sounds kind of lame. A terrible fuck buddy, then. And that just makes him more depressed because he's not even that anymore and by the time Brooks comes back, Alex has decided achieving verticality is just too much effort, and he's going to live his entire life in a horizontal position. On Brooks's couch. It'll be fine.

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

Every Coffee Cloud Has A Silver Lining

Lena was staring down at the depressing ‘1,483’ on the corner of her mail app as she pushed through the door to the little cafe. She flicked through her emails, deleting most of them immediately as she moved through the queue. When she got to the counter she rattled off her order without looking up and stood to the side to wait.

Lena liked spending her breaks at this cafe. It meant she could continue working on her laptop without Jess being there to tell her off for not actually taking a break. It was small and normally quiet, with windows all along the front that let the warm sunlight come pouring in. The smell of coffee and fresh pastries permeated the air and soft jazz was played through little hidden speakers.

A few minutes later she heard her name called out and grabbed her coffee. She was about to take a sip when she paused, looking down at the drink in her hand. Where normally there would be a pretty leaf design or something, there was a squiggly shape with blobs of milk foam.

Lena turned back to the counter with a raised eyebrow, more amused than anything.

The woman at the counter gave her a sheepish smile and adjusted her glasses. “Would you believe me if I said it was a new abstract style of coffee art?”

Lena tried to stop herself from laughing. “What was it supposed to be?”

The woman (or ‘Kara’ as her nametag proclaimed her) huffed and pouted. It was far too adorable. “It was meant to be a leaf. I’m sorry - I’m new.”

Lena laughed and Kara smiled brightly at her but there was still a small queue and Kara had to get back to work.

Lena sat at her usual table in the far corner and relaxed back into the comfy chair, blowing gently on her coffee to cool it down and smiling at the blobs on top.

———

Lena was back at the same time the next day and smiled when she saw Kara was there again.

“Lena!” Kara beamed at her.

She raised an eyebrow. “You remember people’s names after just one coffee? Impressive.”

Kara chuckled and adjusted her glasses. “No, not normally. I guess you’re just memorable.”

They both blushed and ducked their heads and Lena almost walked off without ordering her drink.

When Kara called her name again, she went up to the counter and looked at her coffee.

She smirked. “Let me guess - it’s a cloud.”

Kara laughed. “That’s exactly what I was going for - see, I’m an excellent coffee artist.”

Lena shook her head in amusement and went to her table.

It was only when she went to throw away her cup as she left that she saw the little smiley face Kara had drawn by her name. She couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. (The strange look Jess gave her was probably unrelated.)

———

Lena found herself in the cafe more often after that. She told herself it was because she was having a stressful time at work and needed the time to relax. She didn’t believe herself.

Kara occasionally stopped to talk to her while she went around wiping tables (most days trying to convince her to try a caramel frappe instead of her ‘boring adult drink’) and Jess kept looking at her as though she knew Lena hadn’t been able to do any work and had actually had a break.

Lena was thrown when Kara wasn’t there one day. Her coffee had a beautiful leaf pattern on but it didn’t come with the Kara Danvers Smile.

She was sitting in her usual corner when she saw Kara come stumbling out the door from the back, tying on her apron. The redhead that had served her coffee looked unimpressed as Kara said something and got a cleaning cloth thrown at her in return.

Kara lit up when she caught sight of Lena and made her way over. She frowned down at her coffee and pouted.

“Aw, someone else already made you coffee? I feel so betrayed, Lena.”

She laughed. “It’s not my fault you weren’t here. Although, I have to say,” she picked up her cup and looked at it, “I think your dinosaur yesterday was better.”

Kara grinned. “I knew it looked like a dinosaur!”

Lena gestured to the seat opposite her. “You know you can sit down if you like?”

Kara fiddled with the cloth in her hands and glanced back at the counter. “Alex probably won’t be very happy if I don’t do any work at all but will you still be here in 15 minutes?”

Lena was supposed to be back at the office in 5. “Sure.” She probably didn’t have any important meetings.

Kara grinned and skipped off to wipe tables. Lena quickly sent a message to Jess to tell her she’d be back a little late. She ignored Jess’s following interrogation.

Kara flopped down into the seat opposite 15 minutes later with a huff and flicked the towel onto her shoulder.

Lena smirked. “You cannot possibly be tired. You only got here 20 minutes ago.”

Kara whined and dropped her head back against the chair. “I’ll have you know I had a very tiring night.”

She raised an eyebrow and Kara pouted.

“I did! And it wasn’t even my fault - it was Mike.”

Lena looked down and brushed imaginary dust off her laptop keyboard. “Who’s Mike?”

“Oh,” Kara made a face and waved her hand. “He’s- I don’t know he’s not even really a friend - he kind of just tagged himself onto our group. I had to spend all last night making sure he didn’t get himself into trouble because he’d got so drunk.”

Lena frowned. “You’re way too nice. I would’ve left him to get himself in trouble.”

Kara laughed. She waved happily at Alex who was glaring at her from across the cafe.

She turned back to smile at Lena. “So what are you doing?” She nodded to Lena’s laptop.

Lena waved her hand and closed the lid. “Oh, just some work.”

“Oh gosh,” Kara sat forwards in her seat, making to stand up. “I’m not disturbing you am I?”

“No!” Lena reached out a hand as though trying to push Kara back down using The Force. She winced slightly at how loud her voice was and cleared her throat. “No, it’s fine. I was finishing anyway. And I like… spending time with you.” Where was not-so-socially-inept-CEO Lena when she needed her most?

Kara smiled shyly and adjusted her glasses. “I like spending time with you too.” She tilted her head at Lena’s laptop. “So where do you work?”

Lena picked up her coffee and took a sip to buy herself some time to calm her nerves. “Um… L-corp?”

Kara laughed. “That sounded more like a question.”

Lena watched as recognition took over from her amusement and downed the rest of her coffee.

“Wait - Lena as in Lena Luthor?”

Lena gulped and nodded.

Kara’s eyes lit up which was definitely not what Lena was expecting. “Golly, how did I not realise! The Lena Luthor? You’re incredible!”

And thus began the most unorganised, excited, politest rant Lena had ever been on the receiving end of. She sat and gaped at Kara until she trailed off, nervously adjusting her glasses.

Kara cleared her throat. “Sorry. You probably came here to relax and here I am telling you things you must have heard a million times.”

Lena looked down and shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Nice, actually. Not a lot of people are willing to look past the Luthor name.” She shrugged at Kara’s look of confusion and outrage.

“Well those people are dummies.”

Kara looked so certain of this mildly phrased fact that Lena was a little taken aback. It reminded her of how Lex used to defend her and made her heart clench.

She smiled politely at Kara and started packing up her things. “Well, I should probably be getting back.”

Kara stood up with her, looking slightly worried she’d said something wrong.

Lena bit her lip and fiddled with the strap of her laptop bag. “I’ll… see you tomorrow?”

Her smile became a little more real when Kara brightened and nodded enthusiastically in answer.

When she looked back as she left the cafe, Kara was still standing there watching her with a smile on her face.

———

Lena was not having a good day. She had just finished an emergency meeting that had run from 6:00 that morning and had another in half an hour. She pushed through the door to the cafe, lost in her thoughts, planning to grab a coffee and head straight back to L-corp to sit and be stressed until she had to go into the next meeting.

Kara seemed a little nervous as she took her order and asked her to wait to the side but Lena was too stressed to take it in. When Kara called her name, watching her come up to take the drink and biting her lip, she barely took notice of it. She quickly smiled at her and grabbed the drink, turning to leave immediately.

She was halfway to the door when she noticed the name on the cup wasn’t hers and went to turn back to the counter.

“Oh, I think I’ve got the wrong…” It was only then that her brain actually processed what she was reading. Instead of having her name on, the cup read ‘Kara’ and underneath was a phone number.

She looked up at Kara who was twisting her hands together and looking as though she might run away at any moment. Lena looked back down at the coffee. On the top was a perfect heart.

“I um…” Kara adjusted her glasses. “I’ve been practicing.”

A smile started to spread across Lena’s face and the stress that had been so prominent in her brain five minutes ago melted away. She bit her lip and ducked her head.

Alex chose that moment to enter through the back door. She looked between the two of them and rolled her eyes, turning and leaving again immediately.

Lena approached the counter again. “Hi.”

Kara swallowed. “Hi.”

Lena tapped the counter and looked up at the menu boards. “Do you do reservations and preorders?”

Kara frowned. “...Yes?”

“I’d like to reserve a table for the same time tomorrow with my usual and a caramel frappe, please.”

The brightest smile Lena had ever seen spread across Kara’s face and Lena couldn’t help but mirror it. Kara Danvers was like her own personal ball of sunshine and she was pretty sure she was halfway in love with her already. Jess was never going to let her hear the end of this.

[fandomsconfuseme]

I have been playing in my head with an idea for a fanfic (i actually never wrote fanfiction but oh well) and would love if any of you guys could tell me if you think i should try to write it!

Headcanon:

After It is defeated Richie is the one that goes to see Patty and explain everything and since every other loser is occupied doing something with their lives (Mike is traveling, Ben and Beverly are together and Bill goes back to his wife) they end up leaving Richie completely lost without realizing, so he becomes friends with Patty because they are both in a "what now?" moment in their lives. Patty finds out she is pregnant and Richie offers to be there to help.

Fast forward 9 months and Richie and Patty are trying to take care of this kid while having zero idea what they are doing. Bev is pregnant, Audrea is pregnant and Mike found a girl he really connected to in Florida, they got married and are now expecting twins. While Patty was pregnant Richie basically started going out and getting drunk in order to try to feel something beside numbness, having quick sex with any boy or girl that took his mind of his life. When the kid is born he stops drinking and straights up his life but by that time he got a model pregnant.

Fast forward 18 years and we have 6 adorable kids:

Anne Uris (18)

She grew up with Richie and Patty and basically became a mini Richie with better sense of style. She is the one that is always cracking jokes, is always ready to fight but can barely talk about her feelings. She plays a ton of instruments and dropped a lot of other ones, loves skating, is always wearing her dad shirts and t-shirts with some dark acessories, is confused about her sexuality but has supportive parents that tell her that at the end of the day she doesn't need labels and it doesn't matter and she is the first one to call people out on their bullshit (like Stan).

Samantha Tozier (17)

Richie got full custody of her when she was 4 because she is trans and her biological mother didn't "agree" with it so ended up becoming psychologically abusive. She is a ray of sunshine and is really similar to her mom (Patty). She is the nerd of the group, allways talking at the speed of light about some new subject she adores, she loves history (especially queer one), is totally a bookworm and an activist, loves studying cultures and learning new languages for fun (she is fluent in 5 but can understand a ton of other ones with a little bit of help). She also got Richie interest in sex (haha) and while she is in fact a virgin she is always reading smut and ends up being the one that teaches good sex education to the others and gives them shit about being safe and stds (like Eddie would). And while her sister is not the most touchy person ever her love language usually involves physical contact, they complete each other, are always doing stuff together and are also best friends.

Ruby Hanlon (17)

She is one of the popular kids, plays volley and really likes math and fashion. She sometimes gets involved with drama for the guys she chooses to get involved with (that are not always the best ones) but is a strong cookie and a feminist that would not turn on another girl for something a guy did. She is extravagant and loud and lovely to be around, she has friends from completely different circles and with completely different interests and its good at seeing people for who they truly are.

Theo Hanlon (17)

He is allways fighting with his sister and hates drama but is the first one to get involved to have her back. He is in the Track team and is always getting medals because he works hard and loves running. He is the person that is allways there if you need, loves hearing his friends rambling even if it's about something he knows Jack shit about and although he wouldn't admit it to his sister his family is one of the things he cares the most about. He is really popular with girls but has been in love with Samantha since they were little kids (she also loves him but they are just too dumb to realize each other feelings so everyone has to silently face palm themselves while they go on about how they won't say anything because they don't wanna ruin their friendship).

Adrian Hanscom (17)

Adrian is loud and vibrant, he is openly gay and having Bev as his mom means he can always have clothes that scream his personality, never apologizing for who he is. At first glance people might say that he just wants to have fun all the time and doesn't think about the future but he is actually the one that worries the most about which path he wants to take because he doesn't really know what he truly loves or wants to do with life. He likes to experiment and try new things and has a closer relationship with Ruby and they are two vibrant puzzle pieces that belong together.

George Denbrough (17)

He is the quiet kid, loves to dance and plans to do it professionally in the future. He is closer to Samantha and Anne but adores Adrian, and might have a little crush on him if you ask the others. He loves musicals and cats and has a laughter that is always louder than anyone in the room, he adores his younger sister (i didn't put her on the list because she is not exactly a main character but she is 5 or 6) but has a hard time connecting with his parents. He is the person that you would go to if you wanted to talk about your feelings without being judged and without them giving you advice in return.

Samantha has anxiety but is in therapy and talks openly and healthy about it. George is currently pretty much depressed but believes that since he doesn't think he is clinically depressed and he doesn't "have reason to be depressed" he shouldn't worry his parents about it. Ruby has a bad relationship with food that her friends are trying to help her with.

Ideally this would be a Fix it fic, the Tozier-Uris kids decide to research about Derry and their parents past because they wanna learn more about the people their parents love and end up finding things that Mike missed because of bad translations and lack of information available at the time. They decide to go back and try to save Eddie and Stan and the other kids get involved and go with them.

Another idea i played with in my head was Eddie having his sperm conserved as a way to try to delay Myra "requests" (more like manipulative behavior) to have kids, and Myra finding a way to use his sperm some years later because she is lonely (this would be HIGLY unethical but hear me out). And while researching about Eddie, Anne finds out about his kid and decides to find him because she believes he would be important if they are really using magic for this. She ends up finding a way to work as a babysitter for Myra but the kid doesn't really communicate a lot with other people and hates physical touch (i thought about making him autistic but i would have to learn more about the spectrum to portrait it accurately) and she is actually not that good with children. So one time when she tries to get close to him he basically has a meltdown and she calls Samantha who actually knows how to help and ends up getting close to the kid with time passing. From that point forward Samantha always goes with Anne and while Anne is researching about Derry, Pennywise and the Tuttle she is playing with the kid and starts building a strong relationship with him, teaching him what real family should feel like, not something overbearing and stressful but unconditional love, support and mutual understanding.

I don't know if i people would read this, specially since the main characters wouldn't be the Losers so please let me know your thoughts in the comments. Thank you :))

[finding-the-daylight]

It’s been a long, stressful week. So, I’m going to drunk-watch Twilight (this is part 1, I’ll do a part 2 later). So far, I have drunk watched and reviewed Eclipse, Breaking Dawn Part 1, and Breaking Dawn Part 2. I will probably drunk-watch and review New Moon some time in the near future. My sober review of Twilight is that it is the best of all the movies (But New Moon though, I know, it’s a very close second for me). I love that it was meant to be like a cool, niche indie film and Catherine Hardwicke is the best. The baseball scene. The meadow scene. The bio scene. Iconic. Anyway, my drunken thoughts are below the cut as per usual:

- So I know it’s like .0 seconds into this ish, but I just realized when Bella’s tlakign about dying in the place of someone she loves @ the beginning, we see the deer and then in BD2, when the mountain lion tries to kill the deer, Bella kills the mountain lion. Feels like symbolism idk.

- Phil really is like 25 years old lmao. Does it ever say how old he is? He looks young af. 

- Forks seems super depressing. Like the scenery is cool, but like there’s no one there? Only 3,000 people? Boring af.

- everything is so green and blue and aesthetically pleasing, thank you catherine

- i just realized the picture above the shelf with cds is also of a deer. the deer is important.

- the friendship between charlie and billy is all i want in life

- the truck literally brought a smile to my face. and the whsikey. 

- the high shcool looks more like a fancy ass mansion and idk why no one else has ever called out this fake shit

- eric is so precious an we deserved more of hom

- bella playing volleybal is me lamo i’m so uncoordinated at throwing shit liek that hahaha

- i just keep thinking about how anna kendrick forgot she was in this movie. if i played a character as written in canon by smeyer, i’d probably choose to forget it too. 

- mike is so fcking creepy lmao he could’ve been written better but smey r said no

- if people don’t look @ me and my mans on my wedding day the wya they look @ rosalie and emmett int he cafeteria scenr then imma fuking fight

- do not disrecpt carlisle like that hoe he is a flawless mna and deserve your full respecgt

- what the fuck i hate this scnee now that ik now abotu banner fck smyer’s nast y ass

- also lmao @ rob’s face he was foin to fuckng mucj

- wy the fuc did bella wear a bowling shirt over al ong gray shirt?

- my arms feel heavy af right now lmaooooo

- the lady they had play renene lowkey looks like krisen they did a good job casting them

- oooooh hell yeah eyes on fire time bitch

- emmett is my fave pullign up on top the jeep and hopping out like it’s nothing

- this scene is actually pwowrful because bella’s wathcin g the cullens but her human friends try to get her attention so it’s liek she’s being torn between the two worlds. cahterine’s mind

- i duckinf love the aesthetic and scnery of this movie

- mike really said how you likin da rain girlllllll lmao

- when edward apologizes though lowkey that shit’ cute and i would’ve fotgiven him too

- this bitch lied. tlaking about i don’t like any cold thing. homie. you a damn lie.

- “i’m just trying to figure you out” mhy ex said th  same damn thing lmaoooo bitch i ain’t about to let you figre me out unless yo uput a ring on it-

- whne i say edward stopping the van was ome iconic shit i mena inconng

- awww hell ya the hot doc is almost here

the moment i’ve ukjng been waiting on

- i love carlisle i’m so fucking thirsty for this bitch even though i just downed som mufng whiskey

- literally carlisle could get it period.

- rosalie is 1000% a daddy’s girl like anytime someone gives her shit she runs to carlisle and he’s got her back. he only supported edward and bella becaus esme did and she’s a hopeless romatic and carlisle loves that about her. but if it wans;t for esme, edward would’ve gotten his as sent lmao.

- if you see acreepy dude int eh corne of your room what ar you gonna do?

- agaain with the shot of bella being town between the humans vand vamps chathetiner’s mind

- tbh i eel like i know what should’v happened in canon better than smeyr at this poijtn and it’s not canpn that the cullens would’ve gone on a field trip. they just wouldn’t have like it’s extra risk and it’s unnecsary.

- edwar’ds fae when jessica rna upt talking about mike lmaoooooooo

- not gonan lie i love thsit shirt bella’s wearing when they’ra tlaking about la push kind of wanti kt

- the dumbas s salsd

- i want an edward fanvid to  bad guy by bullie easihr lish

- love thatb ella encouageed angela to ask etic to prom. a feminsit quenenne

- why di d theyr rcarst the original embry and quil? 

- when taylor said old scar tsotry the midwest accent popped thef ick out

- i love jow bellas all serious baout this shit and jake doesnt give af he’s like bitch it aint real lmaoooo

- i stan laurent and i’m so angry about what smeer did to him

why do people just layo out in the sun like this lmaoooo

- awww i’m so happy fro angela i love her

- bella was ahrdore fucking femimnist and it should’ee been more cental to the plot fmeinist bella never would’ve tolerated half the shit she tolerated from jale and edwar.snmeyr has no consitnency

- why tf would opu statt wlaking down a dark alley @ night

- edward saves the day from thos ecuckgjn scumbags

- i just relaized they/re usposed to be in wahsingtob but they have fucmngn oregon plates on the car lmaooooo

- but if a dude whopeped his car lioke that idc what kinda car he drove even a volvo that shti sexy aaf

- he looks so fcking angry lmaooooo @ jess and angela

- yhis scene is cute but it also looks like this is where rob regretted his decision t op lay an emo edodei boi

- the older ig et the creeperi it gets to me that edward followed her like yeah it worked and he ended up resuing her but like still creep yas fuk

- carlisle in that coat at the staitons does a lot for me

- if i was chalrie iw ould’ve given her a hwoel ass taser

- someone tell me why bella tbought the book if she was just goign to golg.e it all

- edward weares the same thign evry damn day lmaooooo

- why werent the yf facgtin eah other when bella was tlaking this shit is too mcuh 

- i wouldn’t be afriad eitgher @ carlise

- it would be fun to run tlike that thou lnao m

- the spakrling skin thuing is funny af while durnki thogjh

- eddie bou is so damn emo and overramatic liek bitch yo uuahgt feelings too chill thf out 

- efawrd remind sme s omcuhg of chuck in gossip girl has anyone else thoguth this

- bella striahgtu p toldthis dumbass she was aafrianf onky of losing him and he left her in the next one

- the meadowa as fucking iconing as everrrrrrr

- i;m not gonna make it through this hwole  movie i’m tired watch out for part 2

[campchitaquamemories]

What are your top 10 Queliot moments?

Nonny, thank you so much for waiting patiently for this one! 

I was just going to write out a list (after I got done being EXTREMELY stumped because- you expect me to just pick 10??! Rude.) but then I realized that I just hit 600 followers (what?!), and I wanted to do something a bit more to say thank you to all of you for putting up with me while I’m on my bullshit. So I went back through my favorite episodes and made some gifs for you, too! 

Here you go. Hope you like it!!

Gigi’s Top 10 Queliot Moments (YMMV):

10. This is from 1x03, Consequences of Advanced Spellcasting, and… it’s such a great breathing space. This whole episode, the Eliot + Quentin sideplot to retrieve the book was a delight, and it only happened because Eliot is so far gone on this boy. He could have taken literally any of the Physical Kids with him, but no, he’s got a crush on the super cute nerd that just moved in and so it HAS to be Q that comes with him. Eliot is highkey flirting with Quentin here, both as emotional support, and - I will maintain until my dying day - if Kady hadn’t blown the hinges off that door he was planning to make a move on Q that afternoon.

9. I have so many feelings???? This is from 2x01, Knight of Crowns. Things are complex interpersonally between the whole gang right now, but out of everyone parting ways with Eliot, Q is who we get to see saying goodbye. Eliot is actually high king now, and he’s not any less depressed, or damaged emotionally or mentally. It didn’t immediately fix him like he wanted (much like how magic didn’t immediately fix Quentin, but that’s a meta for another time), and now he’s staring down being all that and an unknown future ruling this frankly odd kingdom (from books he apparently never bothered to read? El, baby. SMH.) potentially for the rest of his life without his friends. The two of them are so tender, Q initially leaning against Eliot to provide support, and then he doesn’t hesitate even a moment when Eliot asks for a hug. What at that point could be the very last hug he ever gets from Quentin in this lifetime. There is such a depth of feeling here between the two of them and I’m so glad the show gave us this (in S2! I’m!).

8.  1x11, Remedial Battle Magic. Look at our babies and how happy they are?! I know they’re drunk on wine and emotions and about to seriously fuck their friendships up, but have they ever gotten a moment to breathe and be happy in each other’s presence since this? They haven’t. It’s been arguments and recriminations and quests and beasts and averting world-ending disasters since they woke up from this night. So I treasure this moment of soft smiles and touches (even Margo, I am not opposed to Marqueliot in this list at all). And of course, the threesome it is leading up to, and all of the implications and interpretations of that night that they take forward into the series with them.

7. “I’m trying to tell you, you are not alone here.” From 1x02, The Source of Magic, this bonding scene has always felt very profound to me. These two boys have literally known each other, what, less than a week now? And here is Eliot “feelings are for other people” Waugh, opening up about his past traumas to try and connect with Quentin. The only other person we’ve ever seen him do this with is Mike - Eliot’s other love interest - and we know he told Margo during their Trials. This is Q confessing his biggest fear - that if he loses magic, he will lose his tenuous hold on his mental health - and Eliot reciprocating that confession: inducting Q into the very, very select circle of Eliot’s confidantes. This is each of them accepting some measure of comfort from the presence and understanding of the other, and a moment that underpins their entire relationship from this moment forward.

6. I’m cheating with this one, but I wanted to show both sides of this dynamic, and Quentin and Eliot have not had a chance to fight for their relationship together in the main timeline yet, so these will have to work for now. The first gif is from 4x06, A Timeline and Place, and the second is from 3x13, Will You Play With Me? It’s so, so important to see these moments - even if our boys are dumb and they don’t start fighting until the very last second - when they are willing to lay down everything, and burn down the world for each other. Quentin will NOT let the Monster kill Eliot’s body, and Eliot will NOT let Quentin throw away his future to play jailer to a sociopathic child-god. When push comes to shove, they will choose each other every time. Now if we could only get them to do that when the stakes aren’t life and death, am I right?

5. Another moment from 2x01, Knight of Crowns. This coronation scene is just… Remember that they are fractured leading up to this: we’re coming right off of the fall out from the threesome, and Eliot has been spiraling for episodes now. But then we get this super tender declaration from Quentin: “So, destiny is– it’s bullshit…. For what it’s worth, I think you’re going to be a really good king.” And Eliot’s eyes just, light up, his whole face lifts. Because here is someone who believes in him, wholly and truly. Even after everything they just fucked up together, and separately, Q (someonee good and true) has faith in Eliot, and it’s infectious. They’re both looking at each other here like no one else exists in the world, like nothing is important in this moment except each other. And thats?? Beautiful?!

4. I fucking love this shot. Q kicking over those tiles and then saying “Oops.” is a whole-ass mood. Okay, so this is obviously from 3x05, A Life in the Day, and I could easily have made and entire top 10 list of JUST moments from this sequence because it’s all SO AMAZING. The beauty of all life, amiright? But this moment is so important to me. Making a conscious choice, every day to choose this quest and choose each other takes a toll. Ask anyone you know who’s been in a committed relationship for years. Sometimes it’s just fucking hard. They’ve been at this for so long that their clothes from Earth (which, I’ll remind you, they were still wearing at their 1 year anniversary) have worn thin, and they’re wearing traditional Fillorian garb. This was supposed to be over years ago, but they’re still going.  And Q is struggling. And Eliot is struggling. And they argue, but neither of them walks away. I always have to stop and pause at this part of the episode, because this is so domestic and realistic that it makes me cry. And if I start crying here, I’m useless for the rest of the sequence once we get to Arielle and Teddy.

3. 1x01, Unauthorized Magic. So, so many people have talked about Q and El’s first meeting, how Eliot spread himself out on the Brakebills sign elegantly and Quentin’s one bisexual braincell shorted out to the point where, for a moment, he couldn’t even words. But I so rarely see people talk about this moment, when Quentin asks Eliot if he’s hallucinating. This look, right here, is so soft, and sweet. I’m sure Eliot gets hit on all the time, and he was 100% flirting with Quentin when he jumped off that sign and gave him an “I could eat you up” once over. But this is the moment Eliot decided that Margo needed to know about the cute new boy who thought Eliot was exactly the kind of person he would dream into existence, if he made those kinds of decisions. Right here. The beginning of it all.

2. Back to 3x05, A Life in the Day, and if you’re surprised this is my #2 moment you must be new here. This is a kiss that has been brewing for a long time. One not rooted in emotion bottles, and not one that can be passed off as being too drunk to know what you’re doing. Quentin sets his cup down, and starts to say something, but ends up finishing his thought with this kiss. It’s short, but not tentative, and Eliot is… look at his face. He’s surprised, because he’s pretty sure they fucked up their chances at this a season and a half ago. But Q is there and he’s not apologizing and he’s not panicking, and that gives Eliot the courage to reach out and pull Q back in. And for a little while, it’s not about the quest, it’s not about defeating a monster, it’s not about fixing anything they’ve fucked up. This is just about them. 

1. “Fifty years. Who gets that kind of proof of concept? Peaches and plums, motherfucker. I’m alive in here!” 4x05, Escape from the Happy Place.So, this scene is where I live now, my trashcan, if you will, with these dumb boys and their dumb faces. Eliot’s absolutely perfect timing, and his delight to see Quentin is just- Just beaming out of his face here. This is the first of many chances he’s going to have to set the record straight, and he does it with style. This was a declaration of love - peaches and plums - and one that only Eliot would be able to give, and only Quentin would be able to understand. Q has been so beat down and defeated this episode, like he’s walking through a world that has faded into black and white, but we can see the moment he understands and the light comes back into his eyes. “Eliot’s alive. He’s alive.”

Honorable mentions to: “I’m Team Eliot.”, “Could I maybe have Eliot back?”, “I find you, and I don’t say magic is real, but I do seduce you”, and the extended throne room scene from 3x05/4x05 - which only didn’t make the list because I couldn’t pick a single shot to slice up for a gif.

[mbtiinfictiontypings]

Until Dawn: Josh Washington [INFP]

Function order: Fi-Ne-Si-Te

"I DID something! I made you believe in the world I created!” - Josh

Judging Function Axis:

Introverted Feeling (Fi) / Extroverted Thinking (Te)

Josh’s whole life is surrounded by his emotions. Everything is based on the past and how he feels about what everyone did to him and sisters (Fi-Si) He focuses on how people have hurt him or others (Claiming his friends are “bullies”, and being angry at them for the prank because of how it made him feel) He wants to “prank” back the people who hurt him and his sister’s so they can understand the pain they put him in. Josh clearly longs for a deep connection with someone (Fi) and feels that he shares one with Sam; personally thank her for coming, saying that it meant the most that she was there. Josh is very private with his complex emotions (no one knew about his mental illness except his parents) and he is very good at hiding them; that even Chris, his childhood best friend, is clueless about what’s going on with him. The only person he confided in about his grief was Sam because she the only person he trusted (Fi) and the only one he felt understood him (“He told me I was the only one who understood him.” - Sam) Josh is in a Fi-Si loop throughout the entire game, constantly self-loathing and fixating on his sister’s deaths. His “therapist” consistently ridiculous him and blames him for his sisters dying saying “He let them die.” (We know this is how he really feels about him himself when his therapist is revealed to just be a hallucination) He even hallucinates his sisters taunting him and asking him if “This is what he wanted.” (for them to die) Josh feels immense guilt over not being able to stop his sisters from dying even though he was passed out drunk during that time and physically unable to do anything about it. His resentment of himself and of the past grows for so long (Fi-Si) that he ends up projecting his guilt onto his friends and ultimately takes revenge by “pranking” them in order to punish them for what they did and most importantly, punish himself (he knows that pranking his friends will push only push them away) Sam even proclaims that Josh’s prank was a “Cry for help.” Josh’s Te is shown in the work that went into his prank. Sladly Josh’s inferior Te results in his prank to be poorly planned with a bunch of loose holes in it, and making it quite obvious it was him behind the prank (whether or not that was on purpose is up for debate)

Perceiving Functions:

Extroverted Intuition (Ne) / Introverted Senseing (Si)

Josh’s is shown having a keen interest in movies and directing; frequently referencing qoutes from said movies, throughout the first half of the game (Ne-Si) He shows to be very fond of things that could happen and imagining various different possibilities. Josh has even shown interest in wanting to become a movie producer as a career; majoring in film school (and phycology) but eventually drops out because of his sisters deaths (Fi-Si) He does however, use his knowledge of filmmaking for his prank; setting up cameras and proper lighting and even coming up with narrative plot points in order to make his prank feel like a horror film. He even uses past scenes from popular horror movies as inspiration (Si) and making them his own (Ne) for his prank. The psycho closely resembles jigsaw and uses similar life or death traps from the movie, placing the axe on the door in order to have Matt and Emily recreate the iconic “Here’s Johnny!” scene from ”The Shining”, Spirit boards, dolls, ghosts, clowns, and running away from a killer maniac in a towel are all common horror tropes. Josh’s Ne and low Te combined with his schizophrenia causes his references to movies to be more unorganized and less cohesive than they could've been. While his Fi truly knows why he’s doing this prank (punishment, revenge) His Ne still has an “idealized” vision of his prank going viral on the internet and making him and his friends internet famous. He continues on with this type of thinking assuming his friends will be fine with the prank and even find it funny once they find out it will make them “internet stars” and will be grateful for the internet fame. (unrealistic Ne with delusions) He is very nostalgic; taking joy in things from his past (the baseball-bat in the basement) and enjoys reminiscing about about them. Being in a Fi-Si loop means that remembering old memories isn’t always nice for him though (After reminiscing about the baseball-bat he will always bring up a negative side to the memory. If he used to play with his family it’s no longer fun anymore because his sisters are dead, if he used to play with his dad then his dad eventually got “Too busy to hang out with him anymore.”) It’s clear he’s very much so, haunted, by negative things in his past. He holds onto an idea/fantasy that his prank will “change the world” and start up his film career.

Enneagram: 6w7 sx/so

Tritype: 649 (6w7 4w3 9w1)

Josh’s prank is very much motivated by his paranoia and trust issues that his friends don’t care about him (6) Despite Mike and Jessica being the most involved in the prank against his sisters, he chooses to prank the people closest to him, Sam (his crush) and Chris (his best friend), who played no part in the prank. His 6 projects his own fears into his friends in order to cope with his anxiety; he does this by “testing” them throughout his prank. (Despite wanting Chris to save Ashley in order to pull them together, he will still hold it against him if he does; he asks Sam how it makes her feel to see Josh die as the psycho in order to see if she really cares about him) Josh mainly blames himself for his sisters dying so he uses the prank as a means of punishing himself by testing his friends in impossible ways to prove that they don’t care about him (6) and to get back at the people who wronged him and his sisters (Fi). His 6 enneagram is shown much more healthily when he is socializing with his friends early on in the game. Josh’s character description mentions that he just wants all of his friends to get along and have a good time; he is described as being warm and friendly, even acting as an older brother figure to Chris. He breaks up the fight between Emily and Jessica or Matt and Mike, exclaiming that it’s “not what he wanted”. It’s clear the Josh cares a lot about his friends and despite the whole prank, he didn’t want his friends to get hurt or be mad at him. The last thing he wanted to was to drive them away. Josh is in a constant loop of not being able to decide whether he wants to get back at his friends by projecting his own feelings into them (Fi-6) or not wanting drive away his support group (6w7) It is said by Josh’s therapist that he has a fear of isolation (having no friends or support group to lean on aka every 6’s worst nightmare) but ultimately he favors his Fi more because his prank allows his 6’s need to “test” his friends. His 7 wing makes him have a social and easy going side to him; shown in his ability to be very humorous and take jokes quite easily (thinking Chris’s prank is funny in the beginning while Sam is pissed off) His 7 wing also means that he tends to escape his pain with “positivite” distractions for for example, Josh is seen passed it drunk in the prologue of the game and is said to have a party animal streak having partied through his senior year (hinting at a drinking problem) and hoping that his prank can be seen as just one big joke. His 4 fix gives him a much more depressive and artistic side (Making his prank into a form of art by filming it as horror movie) and a tendency to romanticize tragic things (Thinking the prank on Chris and Ashley was a romantic way to bring them together since all they needed was a “trumatic moment to send them into each other’s arms.”) His 9 fix gives him a calmer “peacekeeping” side (breaking up the fight) His Sx/So variant is shown in his obsessive need for an emotional connection with someone (that he finds in Sam) and his need to make an important impact on society.

Note: Josh is mentally ill so his plan won’t make very much logical sense, so take that into account. He can seem like a 4 at first but that’s just because he had depression. He is NOT an ENFP his ennagram just makes him more extroverted, remember not every INFPs are anti-social bookworms.

[brittle-bone-gabe]

Losers Holiday

Summary: Richie and Eddie decided to invite the Losers over to their new house for their own holiday.  Pairing: Eddie x Richie (Reddie), Beverly x Ben (Benverly), Stan x Patty Read on Ao3: Here

The winter holiday months had always felt... off... for the Losers. Well, not when they were younger, when the holidays had a magical feel to it, Santa, close family, presents and all that. There must be a time in everyone’s lives where the holidays just don’t feel the same, not like they used to, especially when you had to work, to pay bills, take care of yourself and family didn’t really feel like family anymore. Growing up sucked. That much was clear. 

When they were kids, the Losers would always celebrate their own holiday in December. It wasn’t exactly Christmas, mainly out of respect for Stan, even though he told them over and over that he didn’t care. Instead, they called it the Losers Holiday. It was fun, they’d drink cheap alcohol from whoever could sneak it from their parents’ stash, some of them would smoke cigarettes, and as they got older they would bring pot, and they would bring each other presents. Growing up and eventually apart, the Losers never felt the same joy during the holidays as they did with their Losers Holiday. 

Especially Richie, once he moved out of Derry after he graduated high school he hasn’t celebrated any holiday ever. Not Thanksgiving, not Christmas, he would get black out drunk on New Years, but that was about it. He felt bad about leaving Derry without saying goodbye to the remaining Losers, but he needed to do it for his sanity. He had a great home life, he and his mother had struggled seeing eye-to-eye at most times, but loved and cared about each other... well... until Richie came out to them. His dad was happy for him, saying that he should do whatever makes him happy, but his mom was silent. She didn’t say much, but certainly treated him slightly different afterwards. Eventually Richie couldn’t take it anymore and left, with little money he saved up from working, only the clothes on his back hoping he would make it somewhere. 

Beverly didn’t celebrate Christmas anyways while she was living with her dad in Derry, in fact, she never did until she moved in with her aunt in Seattle, Washington. Still, the amount of positive family around her and the presents didn’t compare to the holiday memories that had slowly started to fade from the move. She could never put her finger on why it didn’t feel right, now until going back to Derry to meet back up with the Losers Club. All the memories had flooded back, everything made sense. She knew there was a reason she always bought cheap alcohol during Christmas time, it wasn’t good, but it brought back memories that she couldn’t exactly pull from the back of her mind. 

Mike, living on his grandfather’s farm and not having a mom and dad to celebrate Christmas holidays always kinda bummed him out. Yeah, his grandfather tried his best, but they didn’t have much back then, all the money they had went into bills and farm related purchases. Mike always told himself that he didn’t need a Christmas like he saw on the holiday TV movies, he had a roof over his head, food, a place to sleep, and the best friends a person could ask for. So when the Losers started their Losers Holiday he was awkward with giving out the gifts he picked out, not sure if he wrapped them right, if they were good enough, etc. The smile he had plastered on his face when everyone expressed how much they loved their gifts was something Bev wished she could’ve taken a picture of and frame it, she swore she never seen him so happy before. Living in the library all these years waiting for It to come back didn’t help, he had nobody to celebrate it with in general and it lowkey made him depressed. 

Ben got spoiled for the most part of Christmas. The kinda kid who believed in Santa until he was almost thirteen, his parents wasn’t going to ruin his holiday fun. The Losers’ face when Ben said ‘Santa’s coming in a few days.’ Everyone was silent until Richie broke out in laughter, telling Ben that was a good joke, but when Ben gave him a confused look his laughter had died down and for the first time in his life he shrunk, not wanting to be the one to tell him the news. Nobody really wanted to poke at that, but Bev was the one who broke the news, saying it was just his parents putting presents under the tree. Then why would the label say it’s from ‘Santa’? That’s when it hit him that it was in his mom’s handwriting. Whoops. 

Eddie did not like Christmas. Mainly because whenever he went out of town to meet up with family every Christmas Eve someone in his family was sick, and he would return home sick. Like, actually sick with a cold. His mom would keep him in bed for an extra week from school so he could get well again, even when Eddie kept saying he felt fine enough to go back, she just wouldn’t allow it. His mom would always say things like ‘I couldn’t get you much this year because I had to buy you all this medicine for your illnesses.’ So yeah, Eddie was drilled into feeling guilty during Christmas and it fucking sucked. Oh, yeah, not to mention that going out this time of year was gross; the stores were always more busy than usual, more people bumping into you and spreading their germs. Disgusting. 

Stan couldn’t care less about Hanukkah, to be completely honest. Yeah, his dad was a Rabbi and was always stern with him about his studies, but Stan just. Did. Not. Care. He never really felt like dealing with it, but when the Losers made their own holiday he finally felt like he was involved with something. He enjoyed drinking and giving presents to his best friends, he liked showing that he cared about them when he felt like he hasn’t in the past. 

Christmas was never the same to Bill since Georgie died; he would always remember how excited his younger brother would get that Santa was going to come to their house and bring them presents. Something about a child getting excited over Christmas always made Bill smile and play along to whatever they were talking about. Bill noticed that Christmas slowly started fading away in his house as a kid, his parents moped around in December, eventually they even stopped putting up a Christmas tree. Which was understandable, but it still made Bill sad that they still couldn’t hold onto one more thing. Oh well, the Losers Holiday instantly replaced it, and he got just as excited as Georgie did when Christmas rolled around. 

Now December was rolling around again and since the Losers were finally reunited after all these years they were excited to do their little holiday again. It was actually Eddie who brought it up, asking the other Losers if they wanted to do it as his and Richie’s new house that they recently bought. Everyone was excited to come up to Chicago to see the house and celebrate. Yeah, it’s only been a few months since they met up in Derry for the first time in years, and yeah, they texted in their group chat all the time, but they would rather see each other in person. This was going to be exciting. 

                                                               -----

“Will you please get off your lazy ass and help me clean?” Eddie asked Richie, who had his feet kicked up on the coffee table in the living room as he was drinking a beer on the couch while watching some shitty Hallmark Christmas movie. 

“Eds! I can’t!” Richie said, acting as though Eddie should’ve known that.

“Why the fuck not?”

He gestured towards the TV, and Eddie had no idea what he was supposed to be looking at, so he folded his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow. From what Eddie could tell it was almost the end of the back to back to back to back Christmas movies. Who knows? They were all the goddamn same. 

“It’s almost the last minute, Eddie!” 

“The las- what?”

“The last minute. These boring ass cookie cutout couples don’t kiss until the last minute of the movie.” He checked his watch, not thinking about the beer can he was holding in the same hand, almost spilling it on his shirt. “Annnd....” He held up a closed hand, still watching the seconds on his watch before snapping his fingers and pointing at the TV. “Now.” Exactly as if on cue, the couple on the TV finally had their first kiss. “Awww,” Richie said sarcastically, “why can’t we have that, Eds?”

“Because I’m not a woman who works too much on Christmas and you’re not the man whose gonna change my ways at the last second,” he said, grabbing the remote and turned off the TV, “get up.”

“So oddly specific, I love it,” he said, standing up from the couch, stretching as he did. “I can put on a blonde wig.”

“Oh god...” 

“Get an office job, work my way up,” he moved over to Eddie, wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him closer so he had to look down at him, “become an important business woman. You swoop in and change my ways. Romantic.”

“I said I was the woman. Not you, Trashmouth.” 

“You’re right.” Richie reached up, rubbing the sides of his face with one hand, “this scruffy bastard isn’t pretty enough. But...”he booped Eddie’s nose, causing his face to scrunch up, “you are.”

“Th...” Eddie had to take a second to process anything Richie just said, “thanks, Richie.” 

“Oh, you are so welcome!” He leaned down, pressing his lips against Eddie’s. “Have Bev do my makeup,” he said against his lips. 

“Okay that’s enough,” he said, pushing Richie away playfully. “Beep beep, Richie.” 

“Beep beep, Richie,” he mocked, rolling his eyes with a smile on his face. “But, what is there to clean? You’ve been cleaning and deep cleaning since you invited everyone over. I think it’ll hold up through tomorrow. Oh!” Richie said, switching back to his stupid joke, “Bev can make me a custom made dress!” 

Eddie rolled his eyes. It was clear Richie was getting excited, he was talking so fucking much. Times like this really showed Richie’s ADHD, he would talk a mile a minute and keep switching subjects back and forth and expect everyone to keep up. He wasn’t medicated with Adderall, he said he didn’t like the way it made him feel. Apparently the first time he took Adderall was at a college party, while everyone was taking it to get high, it did the opposite for Richie, in fact he went home to clean his entire dorm and do some homework instead. Why would I want to be productive, Eds? Was what Eddie recalled him saying when he had suggested him going to the doctor for his ADHD. 

“They won’t care what the house looks like,” Richie continued, swapping the subject again, following Eddie into the kitchen, “I mean, it’s spotless, babe. It’s not like they’ll gonna check for tiny specks of dust.”

“I know they won’t.” He opened the cabinet under the sink, looking for... something. Cleaning supplies most likely. “But Patty is coming with Stan so...” 

“Son of a bitch,” Richie said happily, “we finally get to meet the great Patty.”

Eddie pointed at him with the duster, causing Richie to put his hands up shoulder height as if he was pointing a gun at him. “You will behave.” 

“When don’t I?!” 

“Richard.” Richie clicked his tongue, giving Eddie a wink, Eddie let out a sigh. “Please?”

“I’ll do my best.” 

Eddie kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” He shoved the duster into Richie’s hands so now he couldn’t refuse to help.  “Get cleaning.” 

“Aw hell yeah,” Richie said before he began shaking the duster. Either just because he was bored or to piss Eddie off, the smaller man couldn’t tell, but he was sending dust everywhere. All the work Eddie put in the past week was quickly being destroyed unintentionally. 

“Richie!” He snapped, snatching the duster away from him, his eyes were wide in surprise and confusion. “You’re not helping! Just…” Eddie let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I dunno…. go…. um…” When he looked up at Richie he had a smile on his face, ready to do whatever task was given to him. Goddammit he was too cute for this world. Eddie snapped his fingers. “I know. It’s a job even you can handle.” 

“Ouch.” 

“No, shut up, you’ll like it. Go to the store and get the cheapest alcohol you can find.” 

“Cheap?!” Richie put a hand on his chest as if he was wounded by Eddie’s words, “Richie Trashmouth doesn’t buy cheap! Only the best for my pack of Losers!”

“We used to only drink cheap alcohol for our holiday.”

“We used to steal it too. Oh.” Richie smiled. “Is it for the aesthetic?” Richie knew that was a meme, Eddie didn’t. That’s what made his expression even more hilarious.  “You want me to rob the liquor store?” 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I can see it now!” He wrapped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, bringing him to his side, using his other arm to wave it across them as if they were standing in lights. “‘Richie Tozier under fire for robbing a liquor store of their cheapest alcohol. More at five.’ Ah? Would you like to see that? I’d like to see that. Aesthetic.” 

“Just…” Eddie had to stop as he let out a laugh from his stupid jokes. He put a hand on his face, looking at his boyfriend lovingly. “Jesus fucking Christ. Just go, Richie.” 

“Once I get my ski mask from the closet it’s over for those bitches at the liquor store.” Eddie was startled when Richie pulled him in close, planting a quick kiss on his lips before getting ready to face the harsh winter that was the outdoors. 

                                                                 -----

It was hard for Richie and Eddie to sleep, no matter what they did they just could not sleep for the life of them. Eddie was panicking about the shape of the house, did he do this? Did he do that? All of these constant self doubt questions were swarming in his head in the middle of the night, rendering his ability to sleep. Richie, on the other hand, was too excited to sleep. He couldn’t wait to see the Losers again after all these months. Yeah, texting them was great but tomorrow would be even better. 

Throughout the night they were blaming each other on their inability to sleep. You keep tossing and turning. Yeah, well you keep mumbling shit in your sleep. Eddie has gotten fed up with Richie fidgeting, tapping his fingers and bouncing his leg in bed, so eventually he climbed onto the taller man and laying on him for the rest of the night so he would stop. Richie didn’t know that. Richie thought Eddie just wanted to cuddle, so he held him close and that’s when they eventually fell asleep.

A night of tossing and turning and a deep sleep never mixed too well. In fact, Richie and Eddie overslept well into the afternoon the next day. Y’know, when the Losers were supposed to show up to start their holiday. The two idiots didn’t even hear their many, many, many set alarms that they needed to even wake up in the morning. Yikes. 

Richie mumbled something under his breath when his cell phone started vibrating next to his head on the mattress. He wasn’t ready to wake up, he was still tired and needed just five more minutes. He tried rolling over to get away from the noise, but Eddie was still laying on him so he couldn’t move at all. Eventually Richie opened on eye, looking over at the red LEDs of their digital alarm clock. Without his glasses he couldn’t even try to make out what it said. 

“Okay, okay…” he said under his breath as he reached for his phone. He had to squint hard to be able to make out the time on the phone through his already blurry vision and his tired eyes. 12:44. Wait, was that right? Richie bolted upward, almost knocking Eddie off the bed. “Eddie!” He almost yelled, shaking his boyfriend a little to wake him up. “We’re late!” Eddie mumbled something, his eyes still closed as he waved a hand to Richie as if to signal ‘five more minutes.’  “Eddie!” 

“Why are you always so loud,” Eddie said, clamping his hands over his ears, rolling over onto the empty mattress space next to him. 

“It’s-” 

“Shush!” Eddie said, attempting to put a hand over Richie’s face to shut him up, but couldn’t quite reach. Richie grabbed his wrist as he put on his glasses. “I don’t want to hear a word from you until the alarm clock goes off.” 

“That’s wh-”

Richie was interrupted again when the doorbell rang, followed by some pounding from someones fist. “They’re here!” He announced happily. Eddie’s eyes shot open, looking at the digital clock on his nightstand. 

Oh fuck they overslept.

“Oh shit, I’m not even dressed yet!” Eddie whined, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. “I’ll just text them-” 

“Too late!” Richie yelled as he ran out of bed in only a t-shirt and boxers with a huge smile on his face. 

Eddie let out a groan of frustration as he smacked his forehead. Well, okay, fine, as long as it’ll give Eddie time to get dressed and ready. 

Richie unlocked the door, swinging it open, leaning against the door frame with the same huge smile plastered onto his face. “Losers!” He said loudly and happily when he saw the five adults standing outside in the cold. Richie shivered from the gust of winter air that entered their house. 

“For f-f-fucks sake, R-Richie,” he could hear Bill groan. 

“I was just so excited to see all of you,” he gestured to himself, “forgot to put clothes on.” Bill pushed past him, entering the house as he hated the cold and didn’t want to stand outside any longer. “Oh, yeah! Come in.” He moved aside more, holding the door open so they could come in. “And who-” he stopped, remembering that he and Eddie were meeting Stan’s wife for the first time ever. “Ah, shit. This is not the first impression I wanted,” he told the blonde haired woman holding onto Stan’s hand. “Oh God, Eddie’s gotta save this,” he mumbled, “Hi! I’m Richie Tozier,” he reached over, shaking Patty’s hand, “so glad Stan the Man found someone. I thought he’d be alone forever.” 

Patty laughed, but Stan wasn’t having it. “Nice to meet you, Richie. Stan’s... said a lot of great things.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, fuck you, dude,” Stan said, holding up a middle finger, causing Richie to laugh. 

“Yeah, fuck you too. I am a delight.” 

“Richiiee, the house is beautiful,” Beverly said, moving over to pull him into a hug, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“You think so?” He wrapped an arm around her, “apparently three people were killed here. Eddie didn’t want to go for it, but... the house has history. Nice wholesome family home. You guys want kids?” He nodded towards Patty and Stan. 

“Richie,” Bev said, lightly smacking his side. 

“What?!” 

“Oh, God, where’s Eddie? We need you to shut up,” Ben said, glancing around. 

“We’ve been trying,” Patty said with a smile, pressing up against Stan’s side so he wrapped an arm around her, bringing her in closer. 

Everyone could tell just the look on Richie’s face he was going to make a stupid, awful joke. So there was a collection of “Beep beep, Richie”’s from everyone. 

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“You were going to,” Mike said, taking a seat on their couch, “Eddie!” He called out, “come get your man!” 

There was a small bumping around coming from their bedroom before Eddie came out fully dressed, a stern look on his face at whatever it was Richie could’ve said. 

“Richard,” Eddie said in between clenched teeth, a wave of ooooh’s filled the room, “what did you do?!” He stomped into the room, but once he saw Patty his entire mood change. “Oh, hi,” he said to her, “I’m Eddie,” he held out his hand, shaking hers in return. 

“I’m Patty, it’s really nice to meet you.” 

“I’m sorry you already met Richie.” 

She giggled. “No! It’s okay, he’s sweet. In his… own loud way.” 

“Wooow,” Richie said, folding his arms over his chest, “rude. I love her.” 

“Eddie, the house is beautiful,” Bev said, moving away from Richie to give him a hug. 

“Y-yeah, h-h-how l-long did it t-take to clean?” Bill asked. 

“Probably like twenty years,” Ben added playfully. 

“Twenty- like…” Eddie was trying to think back when he actually started cleaning up, with Richie making a constant mess it kept setting him back, “I dunno, a week.” His eyes moved back over to Richie who was still in his boxers. “Jesus Christ, dude. Go put on some clothes.” 

“Awww, don’t be jealous, Ed’s. I’m still taken only for you,” he said with a wink, causing Eddie’s face to turn pink before moving back to go put something on. 

“Something nice!” Eddie yelled over his shoulder. “We overslept,” he told the Losers before plopping down next to Mike on the couch. 

“That’s what you get for overworking yourself,” Stan added. 

“I don’t overwork myself.” 

“Eddie, honey, you do,” Bev added, linking hands with Ben, “everything looks great I promise.”

“You know what else looks great?!” The Losers could hear Richie yell from his bedroom, “anyone who isn’t Eddie come in here and tell me what you think!” 

“I am not going to look,” Stan announced, folding his arms. 

“Oh, I am!” Patty said happily, dropping his hand to catch up with Beverly who was accompanied by Ben and Bill

Mike didn’t want to know either. He had a long drive and didn’t want to stand up yet, he was too tired and just had a feeling he was going to shake Richie for whatever stupid prank he had planned. 

“Sorry we overslept,” Eddie apologized, seriously feeling bad about it. 

“It’s okay, Eddie,” Mike said, patting the smaller mans back, “we’re all here and that’s what matters.” 

“For the first time in years it actually feels like a holiday,” Stan added as he took a seat on a fold out chair, “we were glad you invited us over. Patty wouldn’t stop talking about it since.” He smiled as he thought of how excited Patty became when Stan asked her if she wanted to meet up with his childhood friends for their own holiday. It was priceless. 

“Richie!” 

“Do not wear that around Eddie.” 

“H-he’s gonna k-kill you, dude.” 

Eddie groaned when he heard Ben laughing hysterically, sitting back on the couch pinching the bridge of his nose. He should’ve guessed that Richie had something planned for today. The moment Richie steps back into the living room Eddie had the feeling he was going to beat him up as soon as everybody left. This was the guy Eddie wanted to marry? Unbelievable. 

The four Losers came back out without Richie, their faces red from laughing so hard trying to contain themselves when they saw Eddie’s face. 

“It looks great!” Patty said, giving Eddie two thumbs up as she sat down next to Stan. 

“We gotta c-call the funeral home once Eddie sees him.” 

“How bad is it?” Eddie asked them, moving his hand from his face. 

“It’s goo-... it’s….” Bev stopped, trying to think of the right words to say, “it’s festive,” she settled on. 

Ben couldn't say anything as he was having issues trying to contain his laughter and eventually had to cover his mouth. 

Would it be too soon for Eddie to start drinking the cheap alcohol that they picked up? Either way, he was going to be the first one to drink tonight. 

“Just…” Eddie out a sigh, “let’s see it, Richie!” He called backed to his room. 

Eddie could hear the sound of Richie’s socked feet and slight jingles as he was making his way into the living room. He had to close his eyes, he wasn’t sure what to expect, even thinking the worst case never prepares Eddie for whatever jokes Richie had in store. 

Somewhere along the way Richie had put on a headband that had little antlers on the top that provided the source of the jingling. The moment he stepped into the living room Ben lost it again, basically crying as he laughed. 

“Goddammit, Trashmouth. What the fuck is that?” Stan demanded before letting out his own laugh. 

“Eddie. Eddie. Look at me. I bought this because of you and I want you to look.” 

“Don’t look, Eddie,” Mike said in between his own laughter. 

The smaller man let out a deep sigh before moving his hand away from his eyes. What he saw standing in the living room made him want to deck Richie as hard as he could. With that trademark goofy smile he was wearing an ugly holiday sweater with an elf plush at the bottom with the words When I Think About You I Want To Touch My Elf. 

“Whatdoya think?” Richie asked, his hands out by his sides waiting for an answer.

“I hate you. I hate everything about you. You are sleeping on the goddamn couch forever. I cannot stand you,” Eddie said slowly, his face turning red. Why was Richie like this? 

“Aww, he likes it!” 

“I do not like it! The second you take it off I am burning it.”

“Oh, in that case I will never be taking it off. Mike! What do you think?” 

“Eddie can we put him outside for awhile?” Mike asked, completely ignoring Richie. 

Everyone was agreeing with Mike on that one. 

“No! Trashmouths don’t like the cold. We thrive in warmth. Like in an uptight risk analysis’ warmth.” He plopped on Eddie’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck so Eddie couldn’t just shove him to the floor. 

“Where’s the alcohol?” Eddie asked as he tried to stand up, a loud dramatic whine came from Richie as he did as if to say pay attention to me. 

“Why can’t we be like that?” Patty asked Stan. 

Stan’s face was actually priceless. If he ended up getting married to anyone like Richie he would rather die. He was quiet and reserved and Richie… Richie was the opposite of that. 

“I th-think if a-anyone had to be with Richie they would th-throw themselves off a c-c-cliff,” Bill added with a smirk on his face. “S-s-seriously Eddie, how do you d-d-deal with it?” 

“Lots of alcohol.” 

“Please. You drink once or twice a month and get drunk with one drink. You love me!” Richie planted a kiss on his cheek. 

“They were made for each other!” Bev added, playing with Ben’s fingers. 

“Yeah, they’re both annoying,” Ben added. 

“We’re not annoying!” Richie and Eddie said at the same time. 

Richie scoffed, “None of you will be getting presents then.” 

“No wait.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Shut up.” 

The evening was nice. The Losers spent almost an hour opening their gifts, they were all super nice and thoughtful. Richie went on a long rant after opening up his present from Stan as he had gotten him a kids joke book with a card that read: Use these, they are probably better than your jokes (: he joked that he was going to use these up on stage then thank Stan personally for giving him new material. Everyone could tell before looking at the name tag on the gifts which ones were from Eddie, as his wrapping skills were seriously unmatched. Then you had Richie’s who looked like a kid was trying to hurry up and get through the wrapping process. 

It was nice catching up with everyone again face to face rather than texting or the occasional phone call. They all went out to get pizza before finishing up the night with cheap alcohol. Eddie had tried to convince Richie to change his shirt before leaving the house, but the comedian was having none of it, saying something about how the world needed to see his Sunday Best outfit. Of course, while they were out Bev and Patty took plenty of pictures and selfies with the other Losers (even if it was against their will), just to remind them that there were more Loser Holidays coming up in their future. To Eddie’s horror there were fans of Richie who asked to take a picture of him wearing that god awful ugly sweater that he couldn’t wait to get his hands on and burn. 

Overall it was a great night with great food and so-so alcohol. Nobody really got drunk except for Eddie, who anyways, was always considered a lightweight. Everyone was trying to convince him that he loved Richie’s sweater, but drunk Eddie still wasn’t having any of it, saying if he had to he would burn Richie alive along with the shirt. 

This was the holiday spirit that they all remembered and missed dearly. The staying up late telling stories about their childhoods, laughing and spilling alcohol everywhere on accident, hell, just for the fun of it, the eight of them played truth-or-dare like they would used to. Of course, Richie would make anyone who picked dare lives miserable. There was a reason none of them cared for the overhyped and oversold holidays, because this was the best one. The one where you’re surrounded by friends you’d consider family over your own family having an amazing time. That was the best type of holiday.

[worthsomethingtoday]

Our interview with Save The Broken about mental health and some other questions

1. What is your names & what do you play in the band?

Steve Walters - Vocals

Tyler Semolik - Drums <Participants of interview

Frank Cortalano - Guitar

Frank Mazzei - Guitar

Mike Hooper - Bass

2. • How did the band get started?

Rob, a founding member and I used to always go to karaoke together and sing songs with screaming in them. The look on people’s faces was priceless when they heard that first scream unexpectedly. One day we got tired of people coming up to us asking if we were in a band to which we always replied no. So we told each other “let’s just do it, it’s our dream. What are we waiting for?”

-Steve

I joined the band when the old guitarist left the band. Members of Save The Broken including Steve and Tyler had come to see my other band at a show back in February of 2019 to introduce themselves to us. After that, my other band had played a few shows with Save The Broken. Later that year the band had announced that their guitarist was leaving and that they we’re looking for a new one. At the time I was not looking to join another band because I have a million other things going on, but I reached out to Steve and told him that I was willing to help fill in until they found someone permanent. After weeks of practicing, we had our first show at Lucy’s Lounge in Pleasantville for This Is Sirus Fest. The energy on stage was amazing and I knew that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be a part of something this fun so I decided to become a permanent guitarist.

-Frank C.

3. •What was the funniest thing that has ever happened to you on stage?

Last year on Halloween my mic got yanked into the pit and I tried pulling it back but it wasn’t budging. I threw my arms in the air and sang along with the crowd for the rest of the song. There’s a clip of it in the highlights on our instagram.

-Steve

My equipment breaks on me almost every show lol!

-Tyler

The funniest thing that happened on stage was a drunk guy at one of our shows was so into our set that he came up to sing our songs along with us, even though he didn’t really know the words lol.

-Frank C.

4. •If you had 1 million dollars in the music industry what would you use it for?

Besides investing in equipment, I would love to donate to charities that are meaningful to me and to the band as a whole and put together shows that would help raise money for causes that we care about. I want people to realize how important music is and how it can help the community and the world.

-Frank C

This has never been about money for me. If I can help people heal and just make enough to get by, I’ll be very happy. If we do end up getting to that level one day I’d want to give back to all of the people that got us there. -Steve

Currently, a venue for sessions where bands can do their thing and be live streamed so everyone can see them considering the situation.

-Tyler

5. • If you could tour with any band or musician dead or alive who would it be with & why?

Easy, August Burns Red or Dance Gavin Dance. They’ve always been my inspiration to be a musician and be in a touring band.

-Tyler

My Chemical Romance. Yeah, the guy that screams was an emo kid. I don’t think I’d be here without them and they’re my inspiration for wanting to help people just like they’ve helped me. Band name inspiration confirmed. -Steve

Definitely Bayside and Coheed and Cambria. These are two bands that have gotten me through some tough times and have been a huge inspiration for me as a musician across all instruments I play. One of Save The Broken’s main messages is to help and inspire others so bands like these two that have done the same for me are near and dear to my heart.

-Frank C.

6.• What do you think of the media frenzy over mental illness meaning should we talk about it more in the world?

I believe that it is very important to talk about mental illness. We all need to do what we can to be healthy in all aspects of life and our mental health is arguably the most important part because it coincides with everything else. I feel like the media doesn’t focus as much on mental health as it should and unfortunately does not do more to encourage people to seek the proper help that they need.

-Frank C.

We should always talk about it. I think the media and certain businesses are just cashing in on the hype, but there has never been a better and more acceptable time to talk about your mental illness, and that’s a great thing. -Steve

7.• Have you ever dealt with depression or any other mental illness & if so how did you handle it?

I’ve been dealing with depression for years. I find solace in my friends, family, music, writing, and my bandmates. I’m very lucky to have strong people around me and to be a part of this band. Helping others is a great way to deal with your own depression sometimes. We’re here to help heal the world, but we’re definitely healing ourselves along the way.

-Steve

Depression has definitely been kicking me in the butt for a while. I try to put myself out of my own element and to be more openminded about trying new things I may like to take my mind off of the old things dragging me down. -Tyler

I have been dealing with both depression and anxiety nearly my entire life. I’ve been trying my hardest to follow a lesson that I learned from reading the book The Alchemist which is to live in the moment. This lesson has really helped me become more present in all aspects of my life rather than be stuck inside my own head. I am very lucky to have things in my life that bring me joy such as music, dungeons and dragons, video games, and hanging with my friends and loved ones who are an important support system to have. There are a ton of bad things that I can focus on or worry about but when I can do the things that bring me joy, be present in every moment and remind myself that the pain and sadness are temporary it allows me to be positive and enjoy the good things in life.

-Frank C.

8.• What would you say has been the most difficult or hardest part of your life so far?

The hardest part of my life so far has been finding a comfortable environment where I feel free to find myself and to properly sit with my emotions. This has negatively affected me because I haven’t felt like I had a place to think and to properly heal mentally which has taken toll on my writing which is one of the most important things in my life.

-Frank C.

Losing my dad suddenly at 15 still hurts me to this day. We were very close. I’ve lost many loved ones, but that cut is the deepest. I’ve worked in the funeral business for a long time and being around death is always a constant reminder of what I’ve been through, but being around others who have lost someone and helping them means a lot to me.

-Steve

Now, 2020, corona virus, I love being around people, being out and enjoying myself. So not being able to do so drives me insane.

-Tyler

9.• What would you tell a fan that is struggling with self harm?

I try my hardest to let the people in my life know that they are important and that their life is worth living. I would encourage a fan, or anyone struggling with self-harm, to seek out professional help or at the very least reach out to someone who can help them get to that point. I know it can sometimes be scary, but therapy is an option that they should consider and can benefit from. It’s also important to be honest and patient with themself and to realize that healing takes time. We all have the strength to get passed whatever we are dealing with.

-Frank C.

Do whatever you can to find a different outlet for your pain. Reach out to anyone you can, and even if you think that person doesn’t exist there is always someone out there going through the same thing or maybe even worse. Luckily there are many ways to reach out these days even if there’s no one present in your life to help you. You shouldn’t be ashamed to talk to someone, and if that’s what’s stopping you, luckily there are plenty of ways now to do that privately and virtually. I also want people to know that they have the strength within to heal, but sometimes in your darkest of places, someone needs to drag it out of you, and that’s ok.

-Steve

If a fan is hurting, you be there for them, LISTEN to them. A fan is a friend you hold highly. Try to help them find other coping mechanisms to help when they are in their time of need.

-Tyler

10.• What is like when a fan comes up too you & tells you your music saved their life or get them though hard times in life?

That’s what this is all about. There was a guy who came up to me in Brooklyn after a set who had never heard of us before. He connected with what I said between songs about losing someone and not being alone. He thanked me for reminding him of that and gave me a hug. I cried and thanked him also, because he reminded me of how true that was too. If he’s reading this I hope he never forgets that statement, and for anyone else reading this you shouldn’t forget it either.

-Steve

It’s one of the best feelings in the world. As performers and artists, it is important to remember that what we do goes beyond ourselves. When we get up on that stage or release music out into the world we are connecting with people. I don’t do this for money or fame. I do this to inspire others and impact their life through music. If I can relate to one person and give them a sense of hope by letting them know they aren’t alone in this world then I have done my job as a musician.

-Frank C.

It’s a great feeling. I love that people can connect through music and being someone who helps with that means the world to me!

-Tyler

11.• Do any of your songs talk about anything dealing with depression or self harm or anything along those lines?

Not every song of ours speaks about those subjects specifically, but every song is based off of emotions, good or bad, that come from dealing with hard times, and the journey to overcome them.

-Steve

12.• What would you tell someone that is scared to ask for help because they don't want to be looked at differently?

I’d tell them that it is okay to feel scared, but don’t let anyone stop them from getting the help they need. The fear of being judged should never hold them back from doing what is right for them. It is their right to keep their personal life private, but they should reach out to people they trust if they are in need of help.

-Frank C.

I would tell them don’t feel scared. Speak to someone who they feel comfortable talking to and explain the problem, then look for help.

-Tyler

Reach out privately. Research different organizations designed to fit your specific needs.

-Steve

13.• Do you think we as society should be able to have a conversation about mental health without being judge or looked at differently & do you think we should be able to talk about it in our school systems?

Anyone who would ever put you down for what you’re going through has no place in your life. Cut toxicity out of your circle. As someone who was bullied all throughout his life in school I think that is the toughest hurdle. We as a society have to make it so mental health is not something to be looked down upon and I think that will trickle down to everything else including the school systems. I think we’re on our way to that.

-Steve

As a teacher, I can tell you just how influential the things kids learn in school are. Speaking about mental health in schools will help children understand how important it is and may help decrease the stigma that surrounds mental health. If our children are properly informed on the subject, it will help us as a society to normalize the conversation and can lead to less judgment and better understanding of it.

-Frank C.

14.• Do you think the media should look at mental health in a positive light, more then just jumping to conclusions on the news?

Unfortunately, media and the news have a big role to play in our society. If mental health was discussed in a positive light and helped people have a better understanding of it by providing the information in a more accessible way, then it may help open the discussion rather than stigmatize mental health.

-Frank C.

Don’t watch the news lol...

-Steve

[plounce]

anyway while i was browsing thru blogs i got reminded how much i like the t*ylor sw*ft song “forever and always” since my mom bought the album for us when i was like 13? 14? anyway i listened to that and since i am always ready to just sort of talk about my mother i will talk about my mother now. “ive been dying to talk about my mother!”

anyway i was listening to that particular tsw*ft song (a lyrics video on youtube because she will get NO clicks from me) and thinking about how my mom bought that album for us because she saw it was The Hot Cool Teen Girl Thing and that is yet another thing my mother presented to us in an attempt to help us fit in with the feminine majority that she has also always felt alienated from! the makeup she bought us for christmas and presented to us, but never helped us learn how to use it because she had no idea how to use it. some nail polish and then later eye shadow palettes. limp efforts because we didn’t really ask for it, beg for it, seek it out, but neither did we reject it. we just wavered in this strange place beneath culturally relevant femininity. i never saw my mother really be feminine. she was a woman, dressed like a woman, wasn’t really tomboyish or masc in any way, she was just... plain. she didn’t make a special effort to be especially feminine. her face is bare and her hair is kind of scraggly and thin and untreated and for most of my youth she wore t shirts and jeans - only in the last six years or so has she worn shirts that are a little fancier, bought things one step above. only one step! nothing really out of pattern. just one step up.

i saw my childhood best friends’ mothers dye their hair, i still see my friends’ mother dye their hair back to full luster. and it has taken me a long time to realize that that’s the normal, that’s the general normal expectation, because MY normal was my mother just sort of Existing. and it made my teenage years really hard!! i had no idea of or access to the knowledge of all the things i was SUPPOSED TO DO to be a FULLY CULURALLY GIRL! i fumbled my way through everything. my mother never really helped me or told me anything: she never told me to start shaving, but i started shaving my legs because i saw that the girls in my 6th grade pe class were, and i have fairly light body hair (outside of the concentrated areas like the brows/pits/etc) but i observed that oh, they were making their legs smooth, this is what i was supposed to do to not be A Child anymore. so i used my sister’s razors and shaved my legs, and then one day my mother and sister saw my legs propped up in the car and saw that i had shaved them and were disappointed. “you shaved your legs? you didn’t need to.” does leg hair start coming in thicker once you’ve hit puberty full force? i don’t know! i would have to look it up. but i shaved my legs, and now the insides of my shins is long dark hair. the outsides get scrubbed and rubbed by my jeans and socks, and my thighs are light. i decided not to three years ago this spring, and it’s been good, i’m glad i stopped shaving. that’s one thing my mother does, i think, but i just assumed Was, because it was invisible to me. so much of femininity and womanhood has been invisible to me, either because my mother didn’t do it or if she did she did it invisibly.

those little attempts to help us. i wonder if she feels alienated from femininity, or if she isn’t as clued in on gender theory. i wonder about my mother’s relationship with womanhood. high school was so strange for me, experimenting very tentatively with the beauty rituals while having NO CLUE HOW TO DO THEM! my freshman homecoming my mom bought a prepackaged box of makeup stuff and we both sat down and watched the video on what the fuck we were supposed to do with it all, and we both didn’t really Get It. she was a very good face-painter, for carnivals, when i was a kid, she’d volunteer. i’ve made more peace with mine in my adulthood, i’ve struck out the parts of the rituals i don’t care for and consciously performed the rituals i will do a couple times. there are some i am terrified of not doing - my hair MUST be long enough to frame my face, i have to pluck some of my facial hairs - but i’ve both grown bold enough and beaten down enough to go out sometimes with my ugly bare acne’d face. i still can’t fathom the rituals other girls put so much time and energy into as their normal. i have depression and i have my upbringing, or my lack of, besides little attempts to help us have access that never quite worked.

on another note, i got invited to drink a little bit when my family was together in nevada last weekend at my uncle dave’s, because they all like wine. my mother doesn’t drink. my father is a wine guy and likes wines from the willammette valley and has a glass of wine with dinner. my mother doesn’t like losing control, doesn’t like not having control of herself. i can relate: i’ve decided i can only drink when i am with people i am utmost, utmost comfortable with, and anyone who isn’t there with my comfort zone get one drink out of me before i realize i can’t stand acting like the person i am constantly trying to beat into shape, into normality. but i decided to let myself be cajoled into having a drink with family, and uncle dave asked me what drink i like, and i answered that i really only like mike’s hard, or other fruity drinks that are meant to taste of something sweet and not alcoholic. so he made some crystal light and put some vodka in a tumbler and i had a drink, and it didn’t do much to me, because i didn’t want to have much more than one, didn’t want to be anything but the least drunk of the people drinking out on the patio. it tasted fine. the next day they bought me some actual mikes hard at total wine when we did a little shopping but i went to bed early because i had (have!) a cold and it was making me so sleepy and exhausted. i just never drank, also because i think they put them out in the shed and i didn’t want them enough to request them without being asked. honestly that’s how a lot of my life is: i don’t want things enough to actively pursue, i settle back and watch and i make sure that yes, it isn’t out of line if i ask, and being asked raises my interest level anyway. i wonder if that’s the chicken or the egg: if i’ve trained myself to not desire or if i just have a very high threshold for desire.

anyway when we were in costco this afternoon, my mom asked me what i thought of “dave’s hard lemonade” as we’d called it. i said it was ok, i didn’t really taste the vodka except for a couple “oh, THERE’S that slight taste of nail polish remover.” then she told me about how she doesn’t like vodka - reminds her - that’s what her mother (my grandmother) would always drink - with tang. TANG? i said, to add to the repartee, GROSS! apparently she’d leave the half empty glasses all over the house, and vodka just brings my mother back to those glasses, the smell of them.

i have the faint knowledge that what killed my grandmother was old age, but the damage to her liver didn’t help. that’s really it. in all her ramblings of the Stories of her past she never talked about drinking - but that wasn’t the important part of her life. again i bring up the time my grandmother’s memory slipped and wavered and she replaced my mother with my sister in a story, and i and my sister were sitting there, and i told her no, who’s my mother, and she was confused, and eventually i went out to the driveway, to my mother’s car, where she was sitting and reading or maybe working on something, and i cried, and she said it’s okay, it’s alright, i’m used to it. or something like that. she was okay with it. amanda says she is still cut up about her relationship with mamu, but i don’t know if it’s as much as she thinks it is. i think my mother is where i get my dispassion from. amanda knows more than me about all this, but i am more like my mother than my sister is, which would have made child me very frightened and scared, to have that comparison be on me.

ever since sweet aggie made those tweets about “my mother: you! you made me like this! and then you find out about your grandmother: ah. you are mother fucker?” that’s how it is! i am always thinking about this, before and after, but yes! again, i think my mother tried to help us gain access to the normal woman culture because she never had access to it, because mamu was an older foreign woman and SHE was raised by a woman who treated her poorly because she was her stepdaughter. i don’t know my step great grandmother’s name. god, how do i not know that, she is why i am like this!

i wonder if my mother feels bad that she wasn’t able to grant us access, or if she’s ok with us being a little odd. girls who grew up with noses in books and visits to museums and quarries and no model of femininity in our real daily lives. that sounds pretentious but i am distanced from mainstream culture and it’s difficult sometimes, it is a difficult youth to go through. i think there are good points but there are enough insufferable nerds, i don’t need to go over them. i’m glad she demanded we try to answer her teaching leading questions all the time, how she tried to enrich us. i am grateful. there were positive things she did. she didn’t get it perfect, who can, but the flaws in my upbringing loom heavy over me. ok, no, some things are flaws - my untidiness in this house, my probably poor eating habits, my dispassion for friends in the physical private spaces - but while my lack of feminine role model caused my troubles i don’t think it was a flaw. it was difficult in my adolescence but that’s not her fault. she didn’t do anything, she just existed, and that’s not wrong.

[shoelace-noose]

#078 | Truth

Mike Dodds/Klaus Hargreeves. Mike and Klaus get out of rehab.

Word Count: 1598

When Mike gets out of rehab, he has an apartment to go back to, a friend who’s been watering his plants and picks him up at the front door to say how proud of him he is. In spite of all the fucked up shit he’s gone through, there’s people and a place he can go to. He has a whole network of support for days when the craving hits hard, or his depression feels insurmountable.

But Klaus has nothing and no one. He was homeless before his third OD in a week had him forced into rehab, and his only friend besides Mike is his dead brother Ben, who he claims to still be able to see and talk to. The doctors referred him to a psychiatrist, but Klaus refused to do anything but talk in circles and lies and anything to keep from being forced to confront his issues. He’s like that, a mess and completely resistant to help. And it’s intoxicating enough that when they both hit thirty days at the same time, Mike offers him the couch in his living room.

The two of them walk out together, arm in arm as Klaus twitches with the need for a fix and talks in irritation to someone Mike can’t see, both holding their little plastic hospital bags of belongings that had been confiscated or otherwise stowed while they served their sentences. Peter is standing out front, leaning against his car with a smile on his face. A smile that quickly drops when he sees Klaus.

“You made it,” Peter says, pulling him into a hug, but unable to tear his eyes away from Klaus, who’s still talking to thin air. “And this is…?”

“Klaus. I offered him a place to stay while he gets back on his feet, he doesn’t have anywhere to go.”

Of anyone Mike has ever met, Peter is the most patient and understanding when it comes to mental illness, especially the scary ones. It’s probably because of his sister, and the way she went through life. Does Peter ever wonder if she would have turned to substance abuse, had she not gotten the help she needed early on? Would she have turned out like Klaus, drowning in drugs or hallucinations or both?

“Peter,” Peter says, holding a hand out for Klaus to shake.

For a long moment, Klaus just looks between him and the same empty spot he’s been speaking to all morning beside him. “Was she your sister?”

“Excuse me?”

“The woman beside you. Blonde. Looks like you. Covered in blood. Was she your sister?”

All the color drains from Peter’s face. He then silently gets into the driver’s seat, and does not respond. Klaus has a tendency to figure out how to hurt people, but it’s always general insecurities, stuff Mike picks up on from body language once Klaus points it out. This is too specific. It sets off alarm bells in Mike’s mind, the way they go when a suspect knows just a little too much about the case at hand. But obviously Klaus had nothing to do with Pam’s death, so what the fuck?

When the two of them slip into the backseat, Klaus choosing the middle because he insists his brother is sitting with him but he wanted to sit next to Mike as well, it’s time to ask questions. Mike hasn’t missed it, but something deep down says he has to.

“What were you talking about?” He hisses through his teeth.

Klaus laughs a little and plays with the medical bracelet curled around his wrist. “I told you, I talk to the dead. Apparently your boyfriend’s dead sister is still following him around, so.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Mike argues, as if that’s the important part of this. “And Klaus, you know that’s impossible-”

“Did you ever read ‘Extra Ordinary’ by Vanya Hargreeves? Her sweet little biography of the Umbrella Academy.”

No, he hasn’t, but it was big news when the previously unknown Number Seven spilled all the dirty little secrets the Hargreeves children underwent. There were sections about the family as a whole, and about each individual child. Number Four, Klaus, was the academy disgrace even before the book was published. Tabloids ran articles about him getting high during missions, and getting drunk on the streets as a teenager. Rumor has it that Four did it to suppress his powers because of how overwhelming they were, that Six joined him too for the same reasons before his death.

The dots connect. Four. Klaus. And his dead brother. Ben. Six. Holy shit. No wonder Klaus is so distrustful and constantly chasing after any high to get rid of the voices in his head, the voices that must be so much worse if they’re real and not a hallucination he can learn to deal with. Guilt at not believing Klaus the first time washes over him, but comforting Klaus is more important.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. At least I’ve got Ben to keep me company when everyone screams! Fun fact, a lot of people off themselves in rehab, did you know that?”

“Jesus-”

“No, I said it was Ben. Oh, by the way, Ben likes you. He thinks you’re very dependable and nice and…” Klaus squints and looks at the empty seat he insisted had to be left for Ben. “Oh, Benny, that’s so dirty-”

“Klaus,” Mike says gently, the way he always does when Klaus gets caught up talking to himself.

“Okay, fine, he didn’t say anything dirty. He just wanted me to tell you he thinks your eyes are pretty.”

Funny that Klaus blames that particular phrase on Ben, when he’s said it to Mike in the middle of the night when the nightmares are keeping them from sleep many a time. He’s always too tired to remember the conversations in the morning, but he says the company help. Once he admitted that people only pay attention to him when they want something for him, accompanied by a very lewd gesture. It set off alarm bells too, but a different kind. Mike hasn’t been in the NYPD, in SVU, for a good five years, but he never forgets the kind of pain he saw. Pain no one, especially not Klaus, deserves.

“Do any of your family know you were there?” Peter asks, suddenly reminding Mike that he’s in the car. “Or that you’re homeless?”

Klaus laughs, but it’s wrong. Broken. “No, of course not. Except for Ben, I don’t see them, like, ever. They all pretend I don’t exist. Oh, oh, except for Diego. We run into each other every now and then. He beats up my dealer, tells me to get sober. Yanno, real fun family bonding time. Fun fact, he usually picks me up when I leave rehab to try and keep me from getting high right away, but this last time when I OD’d and he drove me to the ER, right? He found me in the alley, it was this whole thing- but I expected him to be there when I woke up, and he wasn’t. The nurses said he wanted ‘em to tell me he wasn’t gonna come back.”

At the very end, his voice goes small and fragile. All he wants to do is hold him, comfort him, make it all better. Some very protective part of Mike in the back of his head says to start a fight with Diego, but he’s working on controlling those sort of impulses so he doesn’t act on them. That’s something else he started working through at rehab. He doesn’t need the high to control himself, he can do that on his own, all that stuff. And he’s got a couple shiny new prescriptions for bipolar with depressive tendencies- which he’s trying to remember to take even though they remind him a lot of obsessively popping xanax to make it go away.

“I’m sorry.”

“I deserve it.”

“No one deserves that,” Peter adds from the front seat. “They’re family, they’re supposed to love you no matter what.”

“Bold of you to assume they loved me in the first place. Honestly, I don’t even think any of us are capable of it, Daddy really fucked us up with the whole ‘torture and isolation and perving’ thing he had going on.”

The car jerks suddenly, swerving off to the shoulder and stopping too fast. Peter turns in his seat to look at Klaus with the same intensity he looks at case files with. Even knowing it comes from a place of concern, it’s enough to make Mike shrink back in his seat. But Klaus just stares at him with mild curiosity.

“What?”

“‘Perving?’ What did your father do?”

Klaus seems stricken by his own words and turns to the seat beside him again, listening to Ben’s input on the whole thing. As far as Mike has seen, Ben is usually the voice of reason for him.

“Calm down, he just had these freaky cameras everywhere, always watching. There was one in the bathroom, even. Five found it when we were like, twelve, and broke it. It never got replaced, or at least, not that I know. And to think, all this time the great Reginald Hargreeves acted like I was the slut who couldn’t control myself.”

“Klaus, that’s not okay,” Mike says in the calmest voice he can muster.

“Nothing in my life ever has been, so there.”

The car starts again, and they continue the drive back to Mike’s apartment, Klaus carrying on a one sided conversation- argument really- the whole way.

[fanfics4all]

More Personal!

1. Is there a special person in your life? Yes, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see him in person at this point :/

2. Think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them? Probably not

3. What’s something you really want right now? To see and really be with my boyfriend (He lives in England and I live in America)

4. Are you afraid of falling in love? I’m always afraid to fall in love but with this person I fell like it’s real (I could be wrong but I don’t really care at this point in my life)

5. Do you like the beach? No way

6. Have you ever slept on a couch with someone else? Yep

7. What’s the background on your cell? Lockscreen is Harley Quinn blowing a heart kiss (Black and red version) Homescreen is Matthew Gray Gubler. I always have a male and female as my backgrounds because I’m attracted to both or I will have a something else I like (Examples: Pokemon, Harry Potter Slytherin, Disney, Avatar The Last Airbender, etc.) because I look at my phone first in the morning and I want to look at something that will make me happy so the day might start off well.

8. Name the last four beds you were sat on? Mine, My moms, My brothers, and um that’s all I can remember

9. Do you like your phone? Yeah it’s a little old and I need an upgrade because its not doing too great, but its a Galaxy Note 5

10. Honestly, are things going the way you planned? Hahaha, Never!

11. Who was the last person added to your contacts? Oh god um, probably My friend Mark and his name in my phone is Mark The Shark

12. Which hurts most, physical or emotional pain? Emotional, I’ve been physically abused by my father and emotionally abused by my whole family (Not all the time) and emotional hurts way more

13. Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum? Both, definitely

14. Are you tired? I’m pretty much always tired

15. How long have you known your 1st phone contact? Um like 2 years, we don’t really talk anymore and I’m awful about deleting contacts

16. Are they a relative? No

17. Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? It’s complicated but yes, only one of them

18. When did you talk to the last person you shared a kiss with? Today

19. If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? It would mean I would be able to be with them so yes

20. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? No

21. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? None

22. Is there a certain quote you live by? There’s a few, “At some point every rose has to die” “Even with a scar a diamond’s still worth something” and “You are you no matter how much of you there is” There’s more but those are the important ones

23. What’s on your mind? Trying to think of ways to get enough money to see my boyfriend

24. Do you have any tattoos? No but I want some

25. What is your favourite colour? Red and Black

26. Next time you will kiss someone on the lips? Hopefully the end of December when I see my boyfriend and friends

27. Who are you texting? My best friend and boyfriend

28. Think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch? No

29. Have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right? Always, I’m very perceptive

30. Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? Most of my friends are guys so yes

31. Do you think anyone has feelings for you right now? My boyfriend

32. Has anyone ever told you, you have pretty eyes? Yes

33. Say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you? I would leave, it was a mistake that I regret and I wish I could go back in time

34. Were you single on Valentine’s Day? No

35. Are you friends with the last person you kissed? Not really

36. What do you friends call you? Sam

37. Has anyone upset you in the last week? Oh boy yes

38. Have you ever cried over a text? Oh god yes, I still do sometimes because I will re-read text or go over them in my head and cry

39. Where is your last bruise located? Leg, I bump into things a lot so it’s rare I don’t have a bruise

40. Where is it from? I think a door?

41. Last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad? Now

42. Who was the last person you were on the phone with? My boyfriend

43. Do you have a favourite pair of shoes? My Jughead Jones sneakers

44. Do you wear hats if you’re having a bad hair day? Yeah

45. Would you ever go bald if it was the style? No, I like having colored hair too much

46. Do you make supper for your family? Yes

47. Does your bedroom have a door? Yes

48. Top 3 webpages? Youtube, Tumblr, and Twitch

49. Do you know anyone who hates shopping? I don’t like shopping much

50. Does anything on your body hurt right now? My stomach

51. Are goodbyes hard for you? Depends on the person

52. What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself? Tea I think

53. How is your hair? It’s alright, I could use a hair mask

54. What do you usually do first thing in the morning? Lay in bed and try to convince myself to get up and go on my phone

55. Do you think two people can last forever? Yes, I hope

56. Think back to January 2007, were you single? Yes I was 10

57. Green or purple grapes? Green but frozen

58. When’s the next time you will give someone a big hug? When I see my boyfriend I hope but if not then my best friend

59. Do you wish you were somewhere else right now? Yes! So badly!

60. When will be the next time you text someone? Probably in a few seconds or so

61. Where will you be 5 hours from now? Asleep hopefully

62. What were you doing at 8 this morning? Sleeping

63. This time last year, can you remember who you liked? Yes

64. Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile? My boyfriend, he’s the only one that’s ever gotten me to smile when I’m having a breakdown or just a really depressed state

65. Did you kiss or hug anyone today? No

66. What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? I was crying… so how I could get to England to see him

67. Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? Pretty much my whole life...

68. How many windows are open on your computer? On this one 11, 5, and 3. On my other one 4 (I have 2 shitty laptops and the one I write on sound doesn’t work)

69. How many fingers do you have? 10

70. What is your ringtone? Default

71. How old will you be in 5 months? 21

72. Where is your mom right now? In our living room

73. Why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love? Um, he broke up with me because I wouldn’t have sex with him and cheated on me...

74. Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days? No

75. Are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago? A few of them yes

76. Do you remember who you had a crush on in grade 7? Oh god, unfortunately

77. Is there anyone you know with the name Mike? Yes, don’t talk to them anymore

78. Have you ever fallen asleep in someone’s arms? Yes

79. How many people have you liked in the past three months? Just one

80. Has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days? Yes

81. Will you talk to the person you like tonight? I did

82. You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with? My best friend but I would not be drunk, I would be the DD

83. If your bf/gf was into drugs would you care? If it’s just weed no, anything else yes

84. What was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie? Nothing, haven’t been to the movies in a year I think, maybe longer?

85. Who was your last received call from? My best friend

86. If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you? No

87. What is something you wish you had more of? Money, Time, Happiness

88. Have you ever trusted someone too much? Yes, I don’t do it that much anymore

89. Do you sleep with your window open? No

90. Do you get along with girls? Yeah but I’m better around guys because I’m definitely more like them than most girls I know

91. Are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth? Yes but just because I don’t want to hurt them and I don’t know how to tell them without crying

92. Does sex mean love? No

93. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem? Yes

94. Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring? No, but I wouldn’t care if I did

95. Did you sleep alone this week? Yes

96. Everyone has somebody to make them happy, do you? Yes

97. Do you believe in love at first sight? Um, I suppose so since that’s kind of what happened with me and my boyfriend

98. Who was the last person that you promised? My boyfriend

99. How many kids do you want? Oof like 12 or more tbh

100. Do you like doing tags? Yeah, I don’t mind them!

[reddie-to-go]

I'll Kiss All of Your Wounds Away

So this is another piece written by @princesschelliebelle I’ll start posting my stuff again soon. But in the meantime, I really like the way she writes. there is a trigger warning on this for an attempt at suicide, it’s a little dark but good, keep reading if you’re okay with that.

Richie padded down the stairs only to be smacked in the face with the sour, putrid smell of vomit.

"Fucking great", he mumbled to himself. He walked quicker, hoping to avoid the inevitable.

Richie opened a cabinet and started to rummage around, hoping to find something, anything, to eat that was easy to grab quickly, so he could dart back up the stairs and lock himself away in his room again.

No such luck.

Leaning against the kitchen door frame, half-lidded, and partially covered in her own vomit, was his sad excuse for a mother, Maggie Tozier.

She scowled and gestured at him with the beer bottle in her hand.

"What the fuck are you doing in the cabinets, Richard? I swear, you're going to eat us out of house and home."

Richie gritted his teeth, and tried not to bait her. He knew where it would lead.

Seventeen years of the same crap had taught him that. But he was hungry and tired, and his patience threshold wasn't particularly high at the moment.

"That's so damn hilarious considering I haven't eaten in 2 days, since someone spent the grocery money on booze", Richie spat out, without turning to face her.

Richie could feel the anger radiating off her in the seconds before she spoke.

"What did you say to me, you little shit?"  

Richie slammed the cabinet shut, and decided to resort to what he knew best to try to defuse the situation. Sarcasm.

"Nothing, Maggie. I'm just making yet another sly attempt at stealing your best tupperware. Damn, foiled again." He turned on his heel, hoping to make a quick exit.

Just then, Richie heard a loud crack and the sound of glass shattering.

If you blinked, you might have missed it.

Richie pulled his hands to his head, trying to make sense of the searing pain on his scalp.

He ended up on the floor, his back to the kitchen wall.

Suddenly, as he put his hands in front of his face, it processed. Shards of glass.

His mother had chucked the beer bottle at him, and she had more than met her mark

"You selfish, ungrateful little child. You think you're so funny, and you're so smart. Well, you wouldn't have fucking anything if it wasn't for us!", she yelled at him venomously. She seemed entirely unconcerned it the trickle of blood now running down from his hairline to his neck.

His head throbbed, and he looked up at her. Richie could feel his heart pounding, the adrenaline making him quick to speak.

"What do you mean 'us'?! As if you spend your money on anything but alcohol! Shit, we both know that your husband pays for nearly everything!"

She chuckled low and shook her head at him.

"You fucking waste of space. You think you're special, Richard? You're the abortion that should have been! But noooo, your father wanted a family so bad. We had hoped at least we would have a daughter. HA! You were true to character from the start....a God damn disappointment."

Richie wanted to tune her out, he really did.

He really wanted to believe in the old adage "Sticks and Stones". But right now, he felt like melting into the linoleum tile and dissolving away into oblivion.

The drunk grabbed a new bottle of beer and popped the top off on the counter.

She took a long swig and began again as Richie stood to his feet.

"Hmm, it's ironic really. Now even your father regrets you. Why do you think He's away on business 21 days of every month?" She stumbled over to the doorway again, glanced at the glass mess on the floor, and scoffed.

Then she shuffled away to leave Richie alone at last.

Richie ran up the stairs so fast and shut the door so hard that the walls shook.

Richie wasn't about to give that bitch the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

He began to sob so hard that he started to dry heave.

Snot ran down his face and intermingled with the mostly dried blood trail from the slice on his scalp. He haphazardly wiped at his face with his jacket sleeve and buried his face into his pillow to scream.

Richie didn't know how long he stayed in his room with his muffled screams and cries filling the space. Richie swore that time moved at a different pace depending on your mood.

And from years of unwitting practice, Richie decidedly thought time moved at a snail's pace when you were shoulder deep in self-loathing. But according to the clock on his nightstand, it had only been just shy of an hour since he ran up here.

When his tears ceased, he stood up and moved as if he was on autopilot. His face felt stiff, sticky and hot, and his eyes felt swollen.

He walked downstairs and found his mother passed out on the sofa, in front of the television. He stared at her motionless form in disdain. If looks could kill, they say.

He walked to the dining room, seeking out the familiar oak liquor cabinet.

He crouched down, and carefully picked his poison. He picked up a half-full bottle of some type of rum and walked up to his room once more.

"Like mother, like son", he whispered to himself bitterly.

He just wanted to be numb.

Tonight, was the first time he had sunken to her level, so to speak. Richie was not one to 'drown his sorrows' with alcohol.

No, the drunken, sadistic psycho role was already taken in this family.

But tonight, he had reached his tipping point.

He removed the ornate glass top, and started taking sips straight from the bottle, shuttering as it burned its way down his throat.

Richie found himself lost in thought as his whole body warmed with each swallow of rum.

Richie first realized he was depressed at roughly age 14.

He had seen those anti-depressant commercials, talking about how one becomes "lethargic, disinterested, persistently feeling sad and empty".

But "trashmouth" Tozier wasn't one to just lie down and take it.

He tried his best to be happy.

He would try to stay out of the house as often as possible and spend time with the fellow losers as much as he could.

He would crack perverted jokes, clown around, tease and poke fun, but at the end of every day, one thing remained.

He had to go home to that hell hole and feel the weight of the father who doesn't know him and doesn't care.

He had to go home and feel the burn of a mother who despises him.

And then be left alone with his thoughts.

And sometimes, Richie thought his own mind was worst of all.

His home life aside, he also was forced to face two things consistently.

First being that he felt replaceable, and disposable at best.

The losers club, that glorious lucky 7, in his opinion, didn't need Richie to be as perfect as it was.

His friends loved him, he knew that. And god, the feeling was mutual. But even still, the nagging thought remained.

You see, everyone has a role.

There's Beverly, the courage of the group.

Then there is Bill, the unofficial leader.

Then there is Stan who is the reasoning, and Mike is the kindness.

Then comes Ben who is the knowledge.

And of course, there is Eddie Kaspbrak, the nurturer of the pack.

But what was Richie?

The court jester?

A placeholder?

A 'waste of space'?

And he wished his thoughts ended there, but that would be too simple.

Oh, how Richie longed for things to be simple.

When you're life is one big convoluted shit show, the last thing you need are romantic feelings.

Especially not unrequited feelings for your male best friend, without one fucking soul knowing.

There were so many reasons why Richie was so in love with Eddie, but the biggest was Eddie's gigantic heart.

And worse yet, was the realization that Eddie didn't deserve to be stuck with someone as worthless as Richie.

But Richie knew he would never be so lucky to have him feel the same way in the first place.

He couldn't decide which thought hurt worse.

Richie sat on his bed, headphones blasting in his ears.

His vision was fuzzy around the edges, and his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

He rested it back on his headboard and picked at the frayed hole in his jeans.

Why didn't he feel better?

Why wasn't his mind blank?

Richie tried to stand up, and ended up landing hard on his knees.

"Shit....I can't fucking walk right, but I can't shut my mind the fuck up?", Richie mumbled angrily.

He slowly pushed himself up, and shuffled to his desk.

He slid open the drawer and pulled out his pocket knife.

He flipped open the blade and observed how it glinted in the dim bedroom light.

Richie smiled sadly as he ran his finger along the cold, smooth length of the blade and thought to himself, 'Maybe I can just shut my mind up forever some other way.'

Richie’s mind was made up.

He couldn't take one more day, one more hour, one more minute of hating the skin he was in, and everything inside of that shell.

Suddenly, he had the urge to call Eddie.

He grabbed the house phone off the cradle, and went back to his room and locked the door.

He sat on his bed and dialled the number he knew by heart.

Eddies groggy voice came on the line after 3 rings.

Richie sighed into the phone at the familiar voice, before he slurred out "Hello, Eddie Spaghetti. I'm sorry its so late, I woke you up." Eddie didn't skip a beat before saying, "Rich, don't fucking call me that. And are you drunk, dude?" Richie lets out a hiccup as if on cue, and leaned his flushed cheek onto the receiver.

"Maybe. But that doesn't matter. All that matters is I got to talk to you one last time. Because you're most important to me. Did you know that, Eds? God, I hope you know that. Just promise me you'll never change, Eddie."

Eddie broke out into a cold sweat, panic making his heart jolt into overdrive, and he began to yell into the phone, "Richie, what you do you mean 'last time'? What's wrong? Are you OK? RICHIE?!".

Eddies stomach dropped when he heard the deafening silence, a click, and then a dial tone.

Eddie had never pedalled his bike so hard in his life.

He muscles were screaming at him, burning as he furiously pumped his legs to go faster, faster, faster.

He needed to get there in time.

Eddie didn't know what happened, but he wasn't going to wait until it was too late to find out.

He made it there in half the normal amount of time as usual, and ran through the front door without stopping.

He thudded upstairs, panting from exertion and anxiety.

He went to turn the knob on Richie’s door, but it wouldn't budge.

Eddie felt like there was a timer ticking down ominously overhead, and it nauseated him.

He thought quickly.

He ran to the master bedroom and whipped open one of Mr. Toziers drawers.

Eddie knew he was a dentist, and was praying there was some dental tools somewhere, anywhere.

"Yes!", he yelled out loud, grabbing some sharp, surgical steel tools.

He grabbed a handful and darted to his door.

As luck should have it, the first one Eddie shoved in the keyhole popped the lock open, and Eddie tumbled inside, gasping for breath.

Eddie went cold with what he saw.

Richie was on the bed, slumped sideways, whimpering softly, while blood ran out of a cut on his left wrist.

Blood slowly dripped to the carpeting below.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no....Richie! What did you do, Rich? Oh my god, what the fuck did you do?" Eddie cried, as he desperately pressed the blanket to the wound.

Eddie didn't expect Richie to answer, but Richie groaned and swivelled his head towards Eddie, and opened his eyes, trying to focus.

"Eds....Hi. You aren't supposed to be here...You can't be here. Stop...please leave.", Richie said, starting to cry.

Eddie moved the blanket to look at the cut.

It was fairly long and moderately deep.

However, thankfully, Richie didn't seem to know that when suicide was the desired option, cutting lengthwise is deadlier than cutting across.

Richie could have stitches.

Eddie thanked his lucky stars, and started to yell "What were you thinking? Why would you do this, Richie? Why? We love you, I love you!

Why?"  Richie scrunched his face up, and looked away.

He just cried and cried, and Eddie leaned forward and leaned onto his chest, listening to his heartbeat. A steady, rhythmic reminder of what Eddie almost lost.

After Richie had managed to catch his breath, he spoke softly "I'm sorry...but.. I'm just a mistake, Eds. I have no purpose...I have no reason to stay. I have no one who loves me. And not just the losers...I mean the real kind. Like, capital "L" love. And the fact is, no one ever will. And I’m tired of being reminded why every day..." he trailed off, his gaze fixed to the wall.

Eddie never thought he would say what he was about to say out loud, but he also never thought that he'd be here with Richie, after his suicide attempt.

After that, nothing seemed as scary to him anymore.

Eddie gingerly grabbed Richie’s hand before beginning, "Rich, this is not the way I ever wanted to do this. In fact, I never thought I would be doing it in general. But if manning up and confessing my feelings to you is what it takes to make you want to stay around today, tomorrow, and the next day...well, I will say it until I'm blue in the face" He paused, and took a deep breath.

Richie turned and looked at him, and furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I love you, Richie. I love you. And fuck, I need you. And yes, in that "capital L" way. Tonight made me realize, I should of said things like this when I had the chance. You are MY purpose.", Eddie admitted I’m a rush, his cheeks blazing while he gripped the bed like a vice.

For a moment, Richie just stared, eyes wide and glossy.

Richie spoke so softly then that Eddie had to strain to hear him.

"Fuck, Eddie. I love you too...and I want to believe that...I really do...But after what happened tonight, I feel like you might say anything to give me 'proof' that this life is worth living".

Eddie bit his lip, and thought.

Proof?

Fine, Eddie would give him proof.

"Do you remember that summer when we were 13, after all that shit went down...the blood pact we made? You know more than anybody I can't stand any kind of germs or bodily fluids. But in that moment, it didn't matter. So I bit the bullet, and I cut my palm and mingled blood with you guys. Because we had something so important to promise and to prove." Richie looked up and nodded.

He looked like he had aged a year all in one night.

Eddie began again, "Well, I will prove what I said to you just now is true, just like 4 years ago." Eddie reached out and picked up Richie’s arm so gently, as if Richie would shatter at any moment.

He looked at the cut, which had stopped bleeding some time ago, but was still fresh and unscabbed.

Slowly, Eddie bent down and pressed his lips to the cut, making a point to linger.

Eddie pushed the raging neurotic thoughts aside, as he wiped the small spot of blood from his lip.

Richie stared, mouth hanging open in shock, but Eddie saw what he was hoping for in his eyes. Trust.

Richie didn't know if it was possible to fit any more adoration for this boy inside of him.

How lucky was he for the chance to love him this much?

Richie hugged Eddie to him hard, knocking the breath out of him.

"I believe you....I believe you.", he whispered into Eddie's ear.

Eddie pulled back and rested his forehead against his. Richie studied the face before him that he knew better than his own.

Too many emotions were trying to crowd into his heart at one time. But above the guilt, shame, and surprise, one shined brighter than the rest. Love. And it was so pure, brilliant, and blinding. It cleared away so much of the dark fog.

Richie found himself thinking that now he knew exactly why he had made it through the torment of that summer 4 years ago. And why tonight had ended the way it did. The 'nurturer' of the lucky 7, nurtured his heart in the special way no one else ever could, or would.

Eddie smiled at Richie, and slowly leaned in and pressed his lips to his. It was chaste, soft, and warm. It spoke volumes to both boys without saying a word.

"I'll kiss all of your wounds away, if you let me, Rich. I promise."

And for the first time in the longest time, Richie allowed himself to believe that.

[floraexplorer]

Behind the Blog: The Power of Passionate People

“Mi-mi mi-mi mi-mi mi-mi-miiiiii!”

A group of travel bloggers stand in a small library, facing a keyboard. On the Caribbean island of Antigua, in a stunning resort studded with pineapples and palm trees, they are practicing their vocal warm ups.

“Ma-ma ma-ma ma-ma ma-ma-maaaaa!”

Behind the keyboard stands Mike King, a professional vocal coach and our choir master for the week. His mouth opens and shuts like a piece of elastic, his hands skipping along the plastic keys as the music flows.

“May-may may-may may-may may-may-mayyyyy!” 

But why on earth are we singing in the Caribbean? Why am I suddenly part of a choir? Is a passion for singing a pre-requisite for being a blogger now?!

Let’s start at the beginning. 

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve barely written anything this past year. Dealing with my dad’s inevitable death – and then with the aftermath of all-encompassing grief – stopped every one of my steps in its tracks.

October to March was a dark, dark time. Yet somehow, as the sun began to appear more often and as the daffodils began to bloom in the park close to my house, I felt the stirrings of inspiration. Instead of watching Netflix and crying with the curtains closed, too exhausted to do anything else, I remembered what it was like to create.

I began to remember my passions again.

The major problem standing in my way was how rusty I felt. If your creative mind is like a mechanism of nuts, bolts, cogs and screws, it felt as if too many of my internal components hadn’t stretched themselves for months. That might not have been too problematic in itself — except I’d also spent those dark months scrolling passively and depressively through all my social feeds, lamenting that my co-creators were achieving fantastical things and moving their careers forward while I felt fundamentally STUCK.

Things first began to properly change when I attended a retreat in Spain – an experience I still can’t find the words to explain online just yet, except that it was one of the most surreal, magical, eye-opening, life-affirming, heart-lifting weeks of my life. I’d expected to face up to my compounded grief and loss in Spain, but I hadn’t been prepared for the physical side of the work we did. Aside from our daily yoga sessions each morning, we spent significant time lost in ‘intuitive movement’ – something which, if you’d asked me about beforehand, I’d have immediately shut down.

“Nope, not for me, definitely not!” I’d have said. ” I hate dancing. Always have.”

In actual fact? I bloody loved it.

For most of my life, I’ve unequivocally stated that I can’t dance. I get embarrassed on dance floors, I think I look stupid, and I usually try and avoid dancing as a general rule (except when I’ve drunk enough to not feel self conscious). Honestly? I can’t even remember what precipitated this opinion

But somehow, in Spain amongst this beautiful group of women, my body intuitively knew what to do. I managed to quieten my mind to the extent that it was patiently waiting in the background while my limbs skewed themselves into contortions I didn���t know I wanted to create.

It felt incredible. I felt truly changed by it: like I was embracing and setting free some true, deep part of myself which had been hidden for so long.

Eyes closed, heart open, soul ready

For a long time, I’ve felt as if something was missing in my life. I attributed this to grief: I assumed my mum’s death had shaped me irrevocably, marked me out as different and separate from others. I didn’t know if this feeling would ever change. I assumed it wouldn’t. Yet during this past week, spent on retreat at @quarterlifehealthproject, I honestly feel that my life has changed. For the first time, I both witnessed and was intrinsically part of the sheer power which comes from a group of fiercely vulnerable women sharing their stories and emotions with complete openness and honesty. In yoga, meditation and intuitive movement we rose together, moved together, and turned inward together. We danced wildly in thunderstorms, connected in silence, and held space for each other in sharing circles and fire rituals. In just six short days, we became connected. We became sisters, in the truest, oldest sense of the word – and that’s exactly what I didn’t know I was looking for. Women, we are wise, strong, and so very powerful. Please never forget how much magic you hold inside yourselves

A post shared by Flora The Explorer (@florabaker) on Apr 24, 2018 at 12:59pm PDT

I left the Spanish coast with a newly formed group of soul sisters and a fierce pride in myself – and only a few days later, I checked into a flight bound for the Caribbean along with forty social media ‘influencers’ (the latest buzzword to describe what we do. I dispute this monicker wildly, and prefer the more humble ‘content creator’, but there we go).

Despite being good friends with many members of this Antigua crew, I was still nervous about being in such a big group. I’d just spent a week engaged in intense introspection, and suddenly I was with forty outgoing personalities, all with so much focus on the ‘outward’. I didn’t feel prepared for constant cameras, videos and social media updates – and to be honest, even being expected to be ‘on’ all the time felt exhausting.

I could never have guessed how much this outward behaviour would lift me up, and that it was exactly what I needed.

And it all started with the singing.

Joining a Caribbean choir

Our week in Antigua had been arranged by Traverse Events and the Antigua & Barbuda Tourism Authority for two reasons: firstly, to attend a small influencer conference, and secondly, to experience all the exciting adventures the island has to offer. Part of that excitement was the opportunity to join a singing workshop led by Mike King, who already runs singing retreats in Barbados and will soon do the same in Antigua.

While I don’t have the same mental block about singing as I do with dancing, I still haven’t sung regularly since I was at school. I used to love being in choirs, but like so many childhood passions it eventually faded out of my life completely, to the extent that when signing up for the Caribbean choir I felt the first stirrings of possible embarrassment. What if all my singing skills had totally vanished and I sounded awful?

Mike King was the perfect antidote. He’s unashamedly passionate about singing. Passionate about music. Passionate about bringing groups of people together – even those who protest that they’re terrible at singing and will just drag the whole group down – to sing.

And from our first practice together, it was obvious that collective passion had the power to completely override any of our nervousness.

Mike deftly explained how our week of choir rehearsals would play out: three morning practice sessions of two hours each, culminating in a little performance for our friends and other hotel guests at the end of the week. Before we had time to panic about singing in front of other people (!), song sheets were thrust into our hands and the stretching of our vocal cords began.

In next to no time we’d been divided into tenors, altos and sopranos, all belting out harmonies for Al Green’s ‘Let’s Stay Together’ – and we sounded pretty good.

But the more magical occurrence was how we all felt. Sheer joy and jubilation erupted in claps and cheers whenever a particularly gorgeous note rang out; utter pride at the end of a completed song; huge grins and hugging by the end of the session, as we all walked out of the room with grins we couldn’t shake.

“The energy in there was incredible!” my friend Shu said to me – and she was totally right. It was an intoxicating feeling to realise we’d created something unexpectedly beautiful out of nothing by working together.

Learning some comparative home truths

Later that day at the first Traverse conference sessions, I listened to Gemma Holmes talk about ‘comparanoia’ – something all too relevant in today’s online-obsessed world. As a fully-trained cognitive hypnotherapist, Gemma urged us to switch our usual narrative: instead of playing comparisons with the people you see as competitors, use their success as inspiration to instigate change and action in your own plans.

For me, this constant comparing with my peers rang disturbingly true – because deep down I’ve always known what’s at the root of it.

If I’m jealous that another blogger has written a book, it’s because I know that’s the ultimate dream for me – which means I have to actually DO SOMETHING about it. When I look at other social media influencers achieving great things it reminds me I’m not yet reaching out to the people and companies I’d love to work with because I’m afraid they might say no – but I have to take those leaps regardless, because that’s the best chance of actually achieving them.

A new way of thinking: our competitors are actually co-creators in our success, because they inspire us to be better.

Gemma’s session reminded me of a workshop I’d attended recently in London with the blogger Anna Hart, all about personal branding for bloggers. Anna had talked passionately about knowing your audience: who they are, why they keep coming back to your content, and what it is you’re offering them. More crucially for me, she stressed the importance of knowing which people you want to speak to – something which can really only be achieved by honing your unique selling point.

All my thoughts were swirling at this. Suddenly I was imagining my site, and by extension my brand, with different eyes. I saw it as a reader who might not know what they’re getting when they click on ‘Flora The Explorer’ – and I realised some more specific changes need to be on my blogging horizon.

I’ve spent so long explaining, “I write travel narratives!” but in all honesty that’s much too vague for me. What I’m really passionate about is the fascinating way my inner journeying affects my outer ones, and how mental health and grief change the way I see the world at large. The crux where travel and trauma meet is something I have a unique perspective on, and it’s up to me to take that idea further.

Cogs are turning slowly (despite the rust) – but until I work out the kinks, it’s back to Antigua.

What do influencers do in their natural habitat? They create.

When you send forty bloggers, photographers, YouTubers and Instagrammers to spend a week in Antigua, chances are they’re going to do exactly what you’d expect: they’ll utilise every moment to create content, in as many ways as possible.

I haven’t indulged that side of myself for a while, and it was so freeing to snap constant photos and scribble down notes about everything that interested me – but I also kept tabs on the way my friends and fellow content creators explored the island.

Some were vlogging to their cameras, others disappeared for little photoshoots or sat hard at work editing in the spare moments we had. Everyone had a different idea about how to interpret our collective experiences, and it was inspiring to watch.

The more I watched the other creators around me, the more I remembered just how damn GOOD it felt to be truly passionate about something. Moreover, to feel galvanised and excited about moving forward with all those beautiful, colourful, too-big-to-mention ideas which swirl around inside your head.

Realising the power in other people’s passion

One afternoon, I sat on the beach with a few bloggers who’ve been publishing content online even longer than my seven years of it. Someone suggested that ultimately we’re all each other’s competition – and I found myself switching the narrative.

“Call me naive,” I said, “But I still feel that being a blogger is about being part of a community first. I don’t think I would ever have reached the industry level I’m at now if I hadn’t made so many lasting connections with people who do the same!”

Instead of focusing on how many competitors there are in the blogging world, all vying for similar partnerships with similar organisations, I chose to see how inspiring all those creators are, and how lucky I am to work amongst people who are equally passionate about the same things I am.

Anything but a competition: three photographers are better than one!

And that’s when it hit me. As bloggers, as content creators, as influencers — whatever you want to call us – we’re the type of people to actively embrace the things that others won’t. We’re constantly in situations where unexpected activities are offered to us, and we’ve managed to rewire our minds to always think, “Hmm… that could feasibly be good content!”. So we go for it.

I remember being so scared of going caving in a Bolivian national park – but I did it, because I knew I could write about facing that fear. I remember almost backing out of white water rafting in Australia, but the thought of sacrificing an article about the topic forced me to say yes. (Ok, I haven’t actually written that article yet, but I WILL!)

It’s like the best kind of vicious cycle: we’re primed to challenge our comfort zones in order to perpetuate our passions.

A Caribbean singing performance at sunset

One evening, we gathered at the Outhouse at the very top of our resort. Ahead of us was the wide blue sea, flanked by bright pink blossoms. A keyboard, like usual; big speakers and three microphones. A palpable energy filled the little wooden structure as we glanced nervously at each other, wide grins hiding our vulnerable internal thought processes.

What if we didn’t sing as well as usual? What if nobody came to see us perform? What if, what if, what if?

But at sunset in the Caribbean, there were chills. Reverb on the mic which made everyone’s eyes open wider. Under piercing blue lights we sang our little blogger hearts out, and there was so much happiness and pride.

For the rest of the night, we sipped rum punch and danced under the stars. A group, brought together by our shared passions for creating and, this week at least, for singing. For art we’ve worked long and hard to be good at — and for the thrill of an unknown challenge.

What makes you unique?

For a long time I’ve felt both exhausted and confused at not feeling part of the blogging industry in the way I once was. At some point I got weighted down by negativity: I assumed my style of creativity wasn’t going to make me money, and I lost my passion in the face of being overwhelmed.

Luckily we’re all unique in the way we create. That’s what’s so utterly fantastic about it. If you’re getting too stuck in the professionalism of something you’re passionate about, try remembering why you started in the first place. Remember your initial passion and go with that as your primary focus.

For me? I forgot that writing feels like home – and sharing it with other people makes me feel like I’m flying. I adore the feeling when words pour out of my fingers – and so to hell with all the rest of it. I want to create. I live to create! And neither grief nor falling statistics will stop that.

Spring cleansing

There’s something uplifting about this time of year. Perhaps it’s the daffodils blooming everywhere, one of my dad’s favourite flowers; perhaps it’s the air, which suddenly feels fresh and light; perhaps it’s the extra hour of light each day. Or perhaps I’ve finally reached my limit of indoor bedrest, curtains drawn, sobbing silently into my duvet. Grieving for five months straight has taken so much out of me, but it’s also emptied a space I get to re-fill. Last week I stood amongst the spring blossoms in Peckham Rye with @alizejireh, hoping my years of internal awkwardness didn’t show as she snapped photo after photo of me (this outing a thirtieth birthday present to myself). We talked about how beautifully vulnerable a photoshoot can be, and as I stared out over this green space I’ve known my whole life I felt something inside me shifting, something quiet yet monumental. Spring is the time for a new start. A stronger, more determined, live-your-life-with-passion start. I feel like spring is wiping me clean and making me happy again.

A post shared by Flora The Explorer (@florabaker) on Apr 4, 2018 at 10:58am PDT

So surround yourself with people full of passion. People who willingly push the boundaries of their industry and the boundaries they’ve imposed upon themselves. Look at your competitors and decide where the last line is. Are they “taking opportunities” from you? Or are they inspiring you to push forward further?

Passion is what drives all of us. Music. Art. Singing. Photography. Writing. All of it is pure, unbridled creativity. It’s the purest way to make a connection – and I can’t believe how easily we sometimes forget about that aspect.

Thank you so much to this gorgeous group of travel ‘influencers’ for putting the passion back into my creativity. Ever in love with puns, we called our choir ‘No Direction’ — but as a group of content creators, I think we’re anything but.

I think the passion that drives us is taking us in exactly the right direction.

What are you truly passionate about? Who inspires you to create more? Let me know so we can inspire each other! 

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