#I’d have to apply it like every ten minutes to make an impact

[scary-grace]

me: I always write about Shigaraki’s lips cracking and bleeding, I wonder why that is

me: (basically eating a tissue because my lip split and bled everywhere mid staff meeting) oh

[her-world-on-fire]

Kisses in the Corridor {Tim Drake x Reader}

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

Word Count: 3,604

Request: Could you please write a tim x reader fic where the reader is a superhero (I was thinking like Barry Allen’s kid and the new Kid Flash) and is also Tim’s s/o and maybe Bruce and/or the Flash catch them having sex? 💜

2s. “stop before someone sees!" & 4s. "ten? i only need five."

WARNING NSFW MATURE CONTENT 18+ Tim and reader are 18

I WOKE up to the sound of a loud buzzing. I moved away from Tim’s grip and reached on the nightstand for my phone. I looked back at Tim, he held the same peaceful expression. I squinted at the caller ID and immediately sat up. I tried to be as gentle as possible, not to wake Tim. He was normally a very light sleeper, but he was sleep deprived. I pushed the blankets off and moved out of the room. I gently opened the door and snuck out into the hallway. I looked down at the caller ID once more to be sure before I answered.

DAD

“Dad? It’s 3am, what’s going on?” I whispered, I heard a rustling in the background. There was some kind of conflict, but I couldn’t quite make it out. After a few moments there was silence, then a heavy sigh.“I need your help.”

“What’s going on?” I moved down the hall trying my best to be quiet. “I’m going to send you some files. I need you to get Tim to decrypt them.”

“Okay send them to me and I’ll have him look at them as soon as he wakes up.” I heard a pause from the other side of the line. “When he-” He paused. “He’s with you right now?” I hadn’t exactly mentioned that I had moved in with him. As far as he knew I was still staying with in the house with the others. I faked a yawn. “I gotta go dad, love you.”

I quickly hung up and moved back into the bedroom. I got back into bed and Tim shifted slightly. I moved closer and he put his arm around me again.

I woke up and found Tim looking up at the ceiling. “Did you sleep okay? I noticed you got out of bed last night.” He turned to me, and I sighed. “Sorry I thought I was being quiet.” He chuckled, “Work hazard. Don’t worry about it.” I sat up and grabbed my phone. “Well it was my dad.” He squinted his eyes. “Why did he call you at 3am?”

“He wanted me to send you some files he needs decrypted.” I handed him my phone and showed him the files. He hummed and sat up. “I’m sorry I know you just finished your project-” He shook his head and get out of bed. “I really don’t mind. I’m sure your father wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.” Tim grabbed his laptop and connected my phone. We moved into the bathroom and got started on our morning routines.

Tim’s was straight forward, he wanted to brush his teeth and get to work. I on the other hand had a few steps. I tried to make Tim do them with me as much as I could. “Come here.” I grabbed his face and massaged a gentle cleanser. Wearing masks almost every night didn’t work wonders for out skin. He waited patiently until I was done. I applied some moisturizer, “All done.”

He smiled and pulled me in for a kiss. “I’ll get the coffee started.”

-------------------------------------------------

 Tim spent most of the day working on the files. When it was time to leave for patrol I had to pry him from the computer. “It’s time already?” I nodded and moved to get up. He stretched and then looked around.

I held out his suit and he sighed in relief. “What would I do without you?” He pulled his shirt over his head. My eyes raked over his toned chest. He had come a long way. He used to be lanky, but he had put on a lot more muscle in the past two years. Whatever shape he was in, I loved him.

Truth be told I was still getting used to his chiseled features. I gave him once last glance. “If I stay here any longer we’re going to be late.” I handed him his suit and moved out of the room. I grabbed my phone and noticed a missed call.

DAD: I’ll be by Friday afternoon, Bruce needs me to speak at his proposal. Looking forward to talking to Tim.

As if Tim didn’t have enough on his plate. I still had another 3 days to prepare Tim. I decided to tell him tomorrow. I put my phone down and Tim emerged from the bedroom. We met Dick at the coordinates he gave us. Dick left for the night leaving the two of us in charge. Tim had wired the police scanners to our headsets. The night moved slowly.

That was until the 3rd hour.

“10-44. Any units between 4th street and Palmdale?” Tim and I exchanged looks, stolen vehicle. We were only a few minutes out. Tim used his grapple, seeing as we were nearby. I got there a few minutes before him. “How bad is it?” The scanners had grown more chaotic. This wasn’t a normal stolen vehicle situation. We learned that there were children inside the car when it was taken. On top of it all, the driver was intoxicated. “Can you send out an alert and clear the next two blocks?”

“Done.”

I kept up with the vehicle, doing my best to move civilians out of the path. With the alert Tim had sent out. I was going to get inside the vehicle and stop the driver. “He’s approaching a construction site. You’re going in blind, the city hasn’t updated the maps.”

“Send an ambulance, and make sure the police don’t go into construction.”

“Y/N-” Tim’s voice said sternly. He was too far behind to do anything. “Be careful.”

“Always am.” Now that there were no civilians in the way, I was going to have to get the children out first. He was nearing the end of the map. I moved in and saw two children in the backseat. I needed to take them one by one. It was safer, their bodies weren’t meant to undergo high velocities. I needed to protected them from whiplash.

The first child was a beautiful chocolate haired boy. “Okay, where are you Tim?”

“Magnolia.” He replied immediately. I took the boy and ran him to Tim. By time his older brother blinked I was back. I left them both with Tim and rushed back to the driver. By now he knew that something was going on. He sped up. “What are you doing?” Tim’s worried voice came over the headset. “They’re safe.”

“He could get away.” I used every ounce of my stamina to catch up. I caught up and moved inside the car. I tried to take control, but he wasn’t giving up. The site was less than a mile away. As it grew closer, I saw it was the outline of a building.

If he breached the gates he wouldn’t have time to stop. He would drive through the building’s foundation, which wasn’t secure. It would crumble onto of us. His hand moved to the gun he had by his side. He slammed the gun into the side of my head. I felt the warmth trickling down the side of my face. I threw a punch and felt it connect. He fired a shot and moved my head back. He missed. I lifted my head back up and took the gun. and tossed it in the back seat. I looked up, it was too late. We were almost inside the building.

Tim was screaming in my headset. He heard the gunshot. I opened the door and pulled the driver out. I looked in front of us, the building slowly started to crumble. There was still a chance. There was a small opening where the building hadn’t caved in yet.

I had to make a choice. I needed to risk taking him and him slowing me down. Or I could leave him and get out, guaranteed. I had a fraction of a second to decide. I took one look at him and decided to risk it. I held on too him and used all my strength to reach the opening. I was exhausted. Just catching up to him when he was miles ahead had taken it out of me. Now I was bleeding, and drained. 

I thought about Tim. Memories of us flashed inside my head. I mustered enough strength to run. I threw the man out and then jumped out of the opening. On impact, I knew something wasn’t okay. I had landed on my shoulder. “Tim.”

He was just outside the gates.

-------------------------------------------------

Luckily my body worked hard to fix the broken bone. Being a speedster came with its perks. Fast metabolism, and healing. By the time Bruce’s proposal came around, my wounds were almost completely healed.

“Are you sure you want to go?” Tim asked once more, hands on either side of my face. “I’m fine Tim. I promise. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He sighed, he had seen the x- rays. Physically I was fine. “Fine but if you start to feel even just a headache, we’re coming back.” I nodded and he looked over my face again.

I stuck out my hand and he placed a kiss on it before intertwining our fingers.

We arrived right on time. Tim’s part of Bruce’s proposal was one of the first points. He had to go set up in Bruce’s office. “I’ll be right back.” He took his files and rushed up to the office. I joined Dick, Jason and Damien in the lounge. “Hello, boys.”

They looked up and Dick’s eyebrow’s knitted together. “Are you even supposed to be out of bed?” I laughed, “Dick it was just my shoulder. I’m fine.” Damian snickered at his brother. Dick looked at between his brothers. Jason had a smirk on his face. “What?”

“Speedster. They heal 20 times faster than us.”

“He got promoted to lead of the biotech department of Wayne Enterprises a few weeks ago.”

The boys bickered. My eyes scanned the room for my father. He was incredibly hard to miss. “I’ll be back.” The boys didn’t even turn in my direction. I walked to the other side of the lounge. He turned to me and then patted his college on the shoulder. He approached me, a big smile on his face. “Hey dad.” He opened his arms and pulled me in for a tight hug. I groaned, “Little too hard.” I gasped and he let go. “Sorry, I just haven’t seen you much.”

“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been meaning to visit.” He nodded and looked around. “Where’s Tim?” I pointed to Bruce’s office. “He’s setting up.” My father raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know he was part of the presentation.”

“Wow. That’s fantastic.” He genuinely was impressed. After all he had a background in bio medicine. He knew how hard the work was. “We’ll I’d love to talk to him about it.” I laughed, of course he did. “You can come by our place after and I’m sure he’d talk your ear off.” He turned to me. His eyes narrowing.

Realization struck, and I cursed internally. Eventually I was going to have to tell him, but I was hoping back at home. In front of family and witnesses. Before he could say anything. There was an announcement on the overhead speaker. We were ushered as the presentations were about to begin.

-------------------------------------------------

Tim did fantastic as expected. He kept the crowd engages and said everything perfectly. He approached me as he walked off of the stage. I clapped along with the crowd. He greeted me with a kiss. “You did amazing Tim.” We walked to the back of the room. He didn’t want to interrupt anyone. He gestured for the door. He took my hand and I followed after him. We closed the door behind us and stood in the corridor. Tim let out a deep breath.

He still wasn’t used to speaking in crowds, and this was a lot larger than he was used to. “Are you alright?” He nodded, “I’m glad it’s over.” He moved to take off his tuxedo jacket. I watched as his arms contracted. He slowly rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscular arms.

He put his jacket over his arm and looked over at me. A small grin on his face. “What?” I shook my head and sighed. “How much longer is this?” He looked at the clock. “We still have another hour.” I looked up at him. His piercing blue eyes were fixated on mine. His hair wast neatly parted down the middle, every strand perfectly combed in place. He moved closer and put his hand over the wall near my head. “What’s got you all flustered Y/N?”

I took a deep breath, my eyes fixated on his lips. “You, Drake.” He smirked and pressed his lips against mine.

Barry looked around the room, and noticed the absence of Y/N and Tim. He turned to Bruce. “Where are they?” Bruce looked around. No sigh of them. He looked at the cameras on his watch. He didn’t see them. Bruce shook his head. The two got up and moved into the lounge. Damian, Jason and Dick were there for security. He knew no one would get past them unnoticed.

“Have either of you seen Y/N and Tim?” Bruce asked. Dick and Jason looked at each other and then shrugged. Bruce sighed, so much for security.

“I think I saw them go-” Damian spoke nonchalantly. He looked in front of him, behind Bruce and Barry Dick and Jason were trying to tell him something. Quite frankly, they looked like idiots. They were shaking their heads violently waving their arms back and forth. Damien squinted as he tried to read the boys lips. Dick mouthed something he couldn’t quite make out. Bruce and Barry exchanged looks, they turned around and saw Dick and Jason conversing casually.

“Damian?” Jason motioned for him to keep his lips zipped. A smirk grew on Damian's face. He wanted to see it all play out.

Dick and Jason tried. They weren’t quite sure what they were up to but they knew it was nothing good. They tried to stay in Tim’s good graces, in the blink of an eye Tim could hack everything they owned. As for Y/N, they knew there would be no escaping. Y/N could catch up to them anywhere. In short, they didn’t want to piss either of them off.

They had noticed their brother couldn’t keep his hands off of his date. They were two hyperactive teenagers, it didn’t take rocket science to figure it out. They watched as Damian’s smirk grew. He hadn’t figured it out but he knew it would get Tim in trouble and that was enough for him. “They went down the hall and up the elevator.” Bruce gave a short nod and the two went off.

“Well, we tried.” Jason shrugged, and took a swing of his drink. He wasn’t going to deny that watching Tim get his ass kicked by a speedster wasn’t funny. “Should’ve choked the little bastard.” Dick sighed, the two could only wait.

-------------------------------------------------

“Tim.” I let out a shaky breath, trying my hardest to keep quiet. “Stop before someone sees!" We were in a building full of people, at any moment someone could walk down the corridor. Tim chuckled against my neck, “You really want me to stop?” I bit my lip, he was right. I didn’t want him to stop. I was just worried about being caught. “The next presentation starts in 10 minutes.”

"Ten? I only need five."

At this point I threw all common sense out of the window. I took his hand and we were in his office in seconds. I had closed the door behind us. Tim smirked, “In my office? You little-” I interrupted him by kissing him. My hands moved from his hair and down to his suit. I quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt, and my hands moved to unbuckle his belt.

Without breaking the kiss i discarded his dress shirt on the floor. His hands moved to remove my clothing. We broke away for a moment to catch our breaths. He picked me up and moved us to the couch. His lips reconnected to mine once more. I straddled his waist and moved against him for friction. My hands moved back down to the waistband of his boxers. I pulled them down and ran my hands up and down his length.

He let out a groan. “Fuck.” He got rid of the rest of my clothes throwing them across his office. I didn’t waste time in scolding him. I lowered myself down onto his length. We both let out a sigh, all of our pent up frustrations released. Tim’s hands moved back to my waist. He lifted me and then slammed me back down onto himself. I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet. His lips moved down to my neck, leaving wet kisses before moving to whisper in my ear. “They’re all down stairs, I want to hear you.”

Tim loved hearing vocalization, he couldn’t get enough. He knew every part of my body. He knew exactly what to do to get what he wanted. He speed up, and hit just the right spot. I gave in. “Oh god.” We were both breathing heavily. Sounds of pleasure overtook the room. Our bodies moved against each other hungrily. Tim smirked as he moved back to my neck. He moved right to my sweet spot. “Fuck,Tim.”

I dug my nails into his shoulders, leaving small red lines, He pulled away from my neck, satisfied by his work. His lips moved back to mine and speed up again. I felt a growing knot in my stomach each time he moved in and out. Sensing I was close he sat up and took control. He thrusted up into me, over and over, and I grew louder each time. “Please, Tim.” I could feel his thrusts becoming more sloppy, he was close. My orgasm came soon after, my body gave out. I shook against him. He helped me ride out my high. He came and I felt his warmth spread in my core.

“Y/N are you okay-” The door burst open, in the heat of the moment I had forgotten to lock it. Luckily Tim reached for his shirt. He quickly used it to cover me. “I thought you were hurt or dear god.” Barry looked at the ceiling, trying to avert his gaze.

“TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE!” Bruce’s voice echoed off the walls. Surely the boys down stairs were snickering. “In your office of all places.” He rubbed his hand across his face. Neither of us knew what to say. “Get dressed. Now.” Bruce said sternly before slamming Tim’s office door.

We moved off of each other and tried to find our clothes. Of course Tim in desperation had scattered my clothes. I was kind enough to leave his nicely by the couch. We quickly got dressed and opened the door. Bruce crossed his arms over his chest. Barry glared at Tim.

“Hey dad.” I smiled nervously, he sighed deeply. “I don’t even know where to start. I’m so-”

“Did you finish uploading the files before you-” Bruce couldn’t finish the sentence, Tim pulled the hard drive out his pocket and handed it over. “Go.” He waved us off and I watched as he placed a hand on my father’s chest. I motioned for Tim to go, and I approached my father. Bruce looked between us and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” He nodded, a silence washed over us. Neither of us sure what to say. Finally, he broke the silence. “So, you really love him?” I looked back at Tim who was having his talk with Bruce. I smiled and nodded. “I really do.” It gave Barry comfort. He had seen the strength of the connection when he first met Tim a year ago. He knew that they were growing up, it was inevitable. After all, he was a teenager once. He knew what it was like to be deeply in love. For now, all he could do was try and forget this ever happened. Tim approached us. I looked back and forth between the two. For a long moment there was just silence. The two held eye contact. “I expect to see you during the holidays Timothy.” Tim nodded, “Of course sir.”

We went back down stairs. Damian snickered, and Tim shot a glare at his brothers. Dick and Jason pointed to their youngest brother. “If either of you breathe a word...” Tim trailed off, his threat looming. His older brothers nodded. “And you,” He turned to Damian. “I’ll end you.” I placed my hand on Tim’s chest. He backed away and stood up straight. “You know he-”

“Thank you for the drive, you helped save a lot of people.” And with that he was off. Tim breathed a sigh of relief, “I thought he was going to kill me.”

“I know. In time, let’s just get through this.” Tim sighed, “Fine.”

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

[sadoeuphemist]

We were about twenty minutes in when we realized Brody’s fingers weren’t wrinkling. We’d only just come up with the idea for the competition, all of us splashing around in the pool and clowning on each other, and Kai was going, “You guys ready to have your whole bodies turn into prunes? All baggy and swole up with water? Because I’m sticking it out to the end. You guys don’t want to end up with your waterlogged skin peeling off, you better call it right now!” That got us comparing each other’s fingertips, trying to figure out who’d end up the most pruney, and Brody’s were perfectly smooth and taut, not a wrinkle in sight.

“You been keeping your hands out of the water?” Derek said, squinting at him.

“I’ve been in the pool just the same as you,” said Brody with a shrug. He splashed his hands. “Maybe you guys just don’t have what it takes.”

“What the hell,” said Derek. “Let’s see your feet.”

Now all of us, our toes were pretty wrinkly already, but Brody, again, had perfectly smooth skin, not a single wrinkle or crease. “What the hell?” said Derek.

“Is there something wrong with your skin?” said Tyler. We were all sort of gathered around him now, with Brody leaning against the edge of the pool and floating, bobbing one foot out of the water. “Is this, like, a medical condition?”

Brody shrugged again and looked real smug.

“Are you not affected by water?” said Kai.

“Hey,” said Brody, “you guys don’t think you can beat me, feel free to call it quits right now. Me, I’m real comfortable.” He spread his elbows out on the gutter like he was reclining on a throne. “I could spend the whole summer in this damn pool.”

“C’mon in the deep end, if you’re so comfortable then!” said Kai.

Brody laughed and pushed off from the wall, disappearing under the surface of the water, a dark shape propelling itself across the pool until he surfaced again at the far end. We all stared.

“What the hell?” said Derek. “How is your hair not wet?”

---

The contest was temporarily put aside, as everyone applied themselves to the issue of how Brody’s body was completely unaffected by the water. The rest of us splashed around, got chlorine in our eyes, snorted water out of our noses, watched the skin on our fingers etch themselves into little labyrinths of grooves, and through it all Brody might as well have been on dry land for all it showed on him. It was as if his skin had been sealed off, rubberized, like there was an invisible force field keeping the water from touching him. Brody himself seemed similarly insulated to the bizarreness of what the hell was going on with his body. “I’m feeling great,” was all he would say. “I could spend the whole summer right here.”

I was the first to call it quits after a few hours. “Brody’s going to win,” I said, climbing out of the pool dripping. “How’s this even a contest? He’s got some weird physiology that makes him immune to water!”

“Boooo,” said Tyler. “Don’t even want to try for second place!”

“I’ve swam enough!” I said. “I’m going inside!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Brody. “Acknowledge the champion. All of you ought to give up right now.”

We had a pizza by the poolside as well as a bunch of drinks, but as the hours went by I ordered another, got more drinks out of the refrigerator. Tyler gave up. I went diving a few more times, but then the sun started going down and it started getting cooler. Derek got out, shivering. Kai and Brody had set themselves at opposite ends of the pool, staring each other down.

Tyler broke out the DVDs. Derek went out to yell at them. “It’s been ten hours!” he said. “You fuckers have been emptying soda cans and haven’t left the pool once! That’s piss soup in there! You’re both stewing in piss soup!”

Kai looked absolutely miserable. His fingertips were white and wrinkled and had turned translucent. He was hunched around himself like a wadded-up rag. The moon was out, reflected in milky ripples across the pool. Brody meanwhile looked untouched, like a plastic bottle bobbing in the ocean, stoppered up and completely airtight. “You could quit at any time, Kai,” he said, grinning. “This is my element.”

“F-fuck you,” Kai said. “You gotta crack, sooner or later. I don’t care what sort of genetic mutant you are, you can’t keep sitting in a pool for hours and nothing happens to your body. You gotta reach your limit! You gotta - hit saturation or something, man, I don’t know! Fuck!”

“Suit yourself,” said Brody. He lazily kicked out his legs. “Man, this pool’s real nice. Figure I could just about live here.”

“It’s piss soup!” Derek said.

It took two hours more, but Kai finally gave up. He came out shivering from the black surface of the pool, and we had to wrap him up in towels and rub him down because he looked like he was at risk for hypothermia. Brody did a few more laps, floating unconcernedly, and we had to yell at him before he finally pulled himself out. He sat on the edge, one foot still dangling in the water, and rubbed at the sole of his foot.

“Hey, whaddya know,” Brody said, looking down. “Finally got a wrinkle. What are we on, hour twelve? Well, took long enough, I guess.”

We all looked, even Kai, who was still waterlogged as a drowned cat. There was in fact a wrinkle on Brody’s perfectly smooth skin - but just a single one, incongruous against his rubberized sole. Squinting at it, I thought it looked like a defect, a flaw in the material. It was like seeing a wrinkle on the taut skin of an inflated balloon.

“Never got one of these before,” Brody said casually, pinching the crease of skin between his fingers. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, seeing it, someone pinching the skin of a balloon. “Maybe you shouldn’t -” I started to say.

And then the piece of skin came off in Brody’s fingers, and all the water started gushing out.

We were all awestruck for a moment, just watching it. It was a perfect arc of water, crystal in the moonlight, so smooth that it seemed like a curve of glass stretching from his foot into the pool, like a sculpture, or a fountain, a perfect pressurized flow. We might have all just watched that for a good ten seconds, twenty seconds, half a minute, just staring in wonder at the sight of it, and then I looked up at the rest of Brody and saw his eyes rolling back in his head, his head and shoulders deflating, sagging, right about to collapse.

“Oh shit, put some pressure on it!” Tyler called out, and we all sort of grabbed at him at the same time and went unbalanced, and Brody toppled right back into the pool, Tyler and Derek diving in, fully clothed, after him.

Between the four of us we must’ve seen that event from every possible angle, and yet none of us could tell what had happened next. We all saw bubbles, the splash, the force of impact, and to my mind it was like watching a balloon popping, the pressure equalizing, Brody disappearing beneath the surface of the water and gone. Tyler and Derek came up gasping, and already there was this murky fog spreading through the water, all skin cells and hair and whatnot, I figured, Brody’s remains. Derek scrambled out of the water, spluttering, rubbing at his skin and pulling off his shirt and immediately ran to hose himself down. Tyler dived back down, looking for Brody, and then came back up again with the growing bewilderment of someone who’d set something down for just a moment and couldn’t tell where he’d left it. Kai was standing by the pool’s edge, probably in shock, and I'd fallen backwards on my ass and was just watching the whole thing like an idiot, while Tyler dived under again and again, feeling around the edges of the pool, possibly trying to find Brody by process of elimination.

Finally we managed to get him to come out, and we all just stood there poolside, staring down at the cloudy water. Brody was gone, not a trace left of him but his trunks.

“Fuck,” I said.

“Yeah,” said Kai. “Fuck.“

“Oh god,” said Tyler. “Oh god oh god he just disappeared, he was there and then -”

The murky pool water burbled, bubbled, spoke with Brody’s voice, if he had been speaking to us from the bottom of a drain.

“Told you guys I could spend the whole summer right here,” it said.

---

So, swimming was out for the rest of the summer. Brody occupied the pool, and the rest of us would come by to skim out the leaves and whatnot, toss some pizza slices or nachos in there occasionally, or empty in a few cans of coke. The water level slowly sunk as the summer rolled along, the pool water growing cloudier and more congealed, until it started to look like Jell-O setting in a mold. The pool drained itself, its contents becoming more and more concentrated, until one day we came by and found Brody at the bottom of the pool, stark naked, his skin still wobbly and not quite fully set, waving up at us.

“Lost my trunks!” he said. “How ‘bout you help a guy out!”

So that was how we spent our summer, and we all agreed that we had definitely not gotten the full benefit of the pool, although Brody maintained he could not reasonably be blamed. That didn’t stop him from lording his victory over the rest of us, proclaiming himself the undisputed Champion of the Pool, a record that would never be broken. Brody being Brody, it got to the point where he was seriously obnoxious about it, but once Derek started calling him Piss Soup that was finally enough to shut him up.

[everlarkficexchange]

On the Hunt

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 39: Katniss has been bumping into the same stranger (Peeta) for months. When they get stuck in an unfortunate situation together, she decides to be the first to say hello. [submitted by @eiramrelyat / @taylerwrites]

Ratings/Warnings: T

The first time Katniss sees him, he takes her breath away. It’s from afar. He probably doesn’t even catch a glimpse of her, but her whole world tilts off its axis.

She’s not sure why he stands out to her. There’s nothing particularly unique about him. He’s not short or tall or big or small. He’s not drop-dead gorgeous or ugly like a troll. He doesn’t move like an athlete or sparkle with the magic of a performer. He appears normal in every sense of the word, but that doesn’t mean she can’t see how special he really is. At least she thinks he might be—if she had a chance to actually speak to him.

That doesn’t happen, though. She’s too far away when she sees him picking up a loaf of bread, and she can’t seem to move once he’s left her line of sight. She stays frozen in the freezer section (the irony!) for several minutes. Hopefully, everyone else thinks she’s considering her options in breakfast burritos, but she’s actually involved in an out of body experience that follows the young man from the back of the store to the registers, out the door, and into the parking lot where he must load his groceries into his car and drive away. His life is no different, but hers will never be the same.

It has to be because she’s lonely. It’s been a very long time since she’s been in a relationship. In fact, it’s been so long since she’s kissed a man, she kind of wonders if she’s forgotten how to do it. Katniss has never been that popular, but she’s enjoyed her fair share of attention. She tries really hard not to spiral out in the freezer section, but Christ on a cracker! Something about that specimen of manhood has made her question her life’s choices. Why hasn’t she run into him before now? Clearly, she’s been living wrong.

Except, she hasn’t. She’s done absolutely everything she knows to do to be a good person. She supports her little sister and sends money to her mother who needs every speck of help she can get. She has a best friend who’s been by her side since they both lost their fathers when they were barely teenagers. She helps out at a shelter and donates money to the food bank because she knows way too well how hunger can impact a person’s life. In other words, there’s no reason her weekly grocery trip should result in an upheaval to her world. It’s simply not fair, and she plans to file a complaint to who it is that runs fate and destiny. She has a bone to pick.

Somehow, she finds everything on her list and heads to the front of the store. When she gets there, she unloads her groceries and watches as the cashier scans each item. Digging into her wallet, she’s stunned to find she only has a twenty and the total keeps rising. Mortified, she watches as the number climbs to $34.15.

“I don’t have… I mean, can you take off the…”

Trying to figure out what she can live without until her next paycheck, she surveys the food and toiletries. Almost in tears, she stammers for a few seconds before the cashier speaks.

“Don’t worry. Another patron paid it forward. He left a twenty and asked that I use it if anyone needed help. Looks like you could use some.”

“I— I couldn’t. It’s not right.”

“The guy seemed pretty adamant that I only offer it to someone who could use a break. It seems like that could be you today.”

Katniss nodded slowly. “Do you have any idea who it is? I’d like to thank them.”

The cashier shook her head. “Young guy. Stocky, medium height, ashy blonde hair, blue eyes. Very polite. Named Peter, I think. Something like that.”

It’s got to be him. The description’s too similar to be a coincidence. It seems the guy that froze her in place with his looks is as kind and compassionate as he is special. Now, he’s even more intimidating.

She nods her thanks and takes the change and her purchases. The five in her pocket gives her a little joy, but the feeling of not having money still bothers her. Maybe it’s time to get a credit card. She’s been warned off them for so long that she never applied for one, but now, it might be something she should do. Maybe. It makes her nervous to think she could get in financial trouble with it. She’s been poor her entire life. It might be too tempting to resist.

When she makes it back to her apartment, her attempt to unpack her groceries is interrupted frequently by long pauses in which she fantasizes about finding the guy who’s rocked her world and given her daydreams about all the ways she needs to thank him (appropriately and not so much) for the rest of her life. It’s not unrealistic at all. Totally doable, she decides. After all, how hard can it be to find him again? They live in the same town.

****

The answer to that question is that it’s very hard. Difficult isn’t even the word to describe the problem she has in trying to find the Boy With the Bread, which is what she calls him even though he’s definitely an adult. The person she saw from afar was all man if the stretch of his shirt across broad shoulders was any indication. Still, the alliteration makes her smile, so she continues to refer to him as such.

It shouldn’t take so long, but it does. Months pass, and she wonders if she’s made it all up and imagined the creature that changed her life. She keeps her eyes open in public, scans the local news and social media sites, and seriously considers setting up an online dating site just to see if he’s looking for someone. She’s getting desperate, but then fate smiles on her again.

She’s sitting in a coffee shop, something she hardly ever does, when he walks in the door. She doesn’t normally have time for such a mundane, normal activity that other people her age seem to enjoy all the time. She’s usually working during the day, and she has no desire to consume copious amounts of caffeine after 5 pm when she gets off work. Today, though, she has time. She’s taken a half day to run errands and go to the dentist, and she needs the jolt the espresso will give her to survive her reduced shift.

He ducks through the doorway just as she’s taken a sip of her hot beverage, and she almost chokes on the liquid. He shakes the umbrella he’s holding just outside the door and shoves a riot of blonde curls off his forehead that have shrunken up and frizzed from the rain. It’s adorable.

He’s wearing an emerald Henley and faded jeans that hug all the right places. The sight of him freezes her in place, but that doesn’t stop her from tracking him as moves past her. She’s close enough to see his eyes are blue before he marches across the café and approaches a man sitting alone in the corner. They clasp hands and grin at each other, and the vision in green heads to the counter to order.

She’s dumbfounded. Here he is again after so long, and she can’t think of a single thing to say to him or how in the world to actually approach him without making her look absolutely insane. She racks her brain trying to think of an intelligent topic, but she’s jolted from that when the barista walks to the end of the bar and calls a name.

“Peeta! Chai Latte.”

That’s his name, she realizes, and it’s like the sun’s broken through thick, heavy clouds. It’s just unusual enough to fit him and still feel familiar. He smiles at the woman behind the bar and takes the cup from her. He ordered chai, and she files that information away for future reference. He might not like coffee, which seems important.

She’s pondering a trip to the bathroom just so she has an excuse to pass by him when she suddenly understands that he’s leaving. He and his friend are talking as they walk to the door, and she catches the sound of his voice.

“—we can change that, the numbers will—”

His words are swallowed by the rush of traffic outside, but that silky tone she hardly had a chance to listen to has already taken up residence in the part of her brain that creates unrealistic fantasies. She daydreams for longer than she should. In fact, it’s only the vibration of her phone against the table that reminds her she has to get to her job. What a chance encounter, but now she has a name to go with that face.

****

She’s tried to find him again. She’s googled and returned to the coffee shop when she’s had a spare minute or two. She’s asked around and continues to check dating sites. Nothing. She’s found absolutely nothing. Without a last name, she has very little idea how to find out anything else. Frustrated, she goes about her daily life with a weight on her shoulders that shouldn’t be there. He’s a stranger she’s glimpsed only a couple of times.

Frustrated and full of pent-up energy, she joins a gym. There’s nothing quite like working up a good sweat to ease tension and kickstart her brain, so she spends her free time running the track, lifting, and participating in every hot yoga class the establishment offers. After a month, she’s leaner and stronger than ever, but she hasn’t managed to come up with any ideas that might help her find the guy she desperately wants to thank for saving her when she wasn’t sure how she’d eat for a week.

She’s two laps into her normal ten when she glances down from the elevated track and spots a pickup game of three on three basketball on the far court. Three blonde men face off against three with dark hair, one of whom looks remarkably like her best friend Gale Hawthorne, who she hasn’t seen since he left town for a job almost a year ago. As she jogs closer to the court, she realizes it is him teamed up with his brothers. The blonde men look like siblings, too, but she doesn’t spare them much of a glance. She’s got more laps to go, and she doesn’t want to draw any attention to herself. Gale didn’t bother to tell her that he’s in town, and she’s a little miffed by that.

It’s another three passes by the court before it hits her that the blonde men look familiar. She puts on a burst of speed to get back to where she can see the men closeup and almost trips over her own feet when she spies him. It’s the guy. THE guy. The cashier had said Peter, and the barista had called him Peeta. She stops in her tracks and grabs the railing when someone bumps into her from behind.

“Watch it!” he yells as the jogger passes her. “You’re not supposed to stop on the track!”

She dismisses him with a wave and sprints to the nearest stairwell. If she can just catch them… She bounds down the stairs, three at a time, and bursts into a bustling walkway. She dodges and shoves her way free and streaks around the corner to find—

“Catnip! What are you doing here?”

“Gale!” Sweat drips down her forehead and stings her eyes. Cringing, she swipes her hand across her face and tries not to cry. “Where are—? I thought you were playing basketball.”

He throws her a bewildered look and nods like she’s lost it a little. “We were.”

“You’re done?”

“Yeah? We’d been at it for a while. Are you… Have you been watching me?”

Katniss rolls her eyes, although that’s not really very fair. She had noticed him. It’s not like that’s not the case. “Who were you playing with? I saw Vic and Rory, but the blonde guys… Who, er, who were they?”

The expression on his face would be priceless if she weren’t so desperate to find out the information. He looks like he’s swallowed something very, very distasteful, and she tries hard not to snort with laughter.

“Why?”

She takes in his narrowed eyes and realizes she’s going to have to lie to get what she wants. Part of the reason they haven’t been as close since he left town is due to his sudden confessions of feelings toward her. She’d let him down easy, but things have been strained since then. There’s no need to rub that in his face when all she wants is to find out about Peeta. With a straight face and innocent eyes, she explains, “I think one of them door dinged my car a couple of weeks ago. The gym won’t give out membership information, but if you know who they are… Well, I’d be really grateful, Gale.”

He falls for it when she bats her eyelashes at him. She should feel terrible, but all’s fair in love and basketball. Of all people, Gale should want her to be happy, no matter if that means she’s interested in someone else or not. She’s no damsel in distress, unless she can’t pay for her groceries or something. However, her simpering works, and that’s really what she needs.

“Mellark is the last name. They all have bread names. It’s weird.”

She rolls the name around in her head for a bit. Peeta Mellark. It’s a nice solid name, and now she has more information to help her figure out how to find him. Almost giddy with victory, she stretches up on her tiptoes and kisses Gale’s cheek in gratitude. Backing away before he can reciprocate, she hears him as the distance widens between them.

“Do you want to grab dinner sometime? Maybe?”

“Sorry, Gale! Got to go. Really good to see you!”

With that, she turns her back and slips down the hall to the women’s locker room. She doesn’t bother to shower before grabbing her bag and heading to her car. She’s barely closed the door before she’s on her phone and typing in the name Peeta Mellark. She has a thank you to deliver.

****

Surprisingly, it’s not much easier to find him now that she knows his full name. She unveils a lot of information about his family, but not him. Apparently, they own a few local bakeries that she tries out and loves. Still, Peeta’s family is not the same thing as Peeta, who is remarkably absent from social media and with no online presence. She’s willing to admit, she got cocky, and now she can’t figure out how to recover from it.

“Where the hell is he?” she mutters as she comes up empty. Again.

Frustrated, she runs over all the data she’s gathered about him. He’s kind, compassionate, and thoughtful; all of those qualities were on display at the grocery store. He drinks tea and has a very good-looking friend who he talks to about numbers; that she learned at the coffee shop. He’s athletic and has two brothers he likes well enough to exercise with them; that information, and his last name, came from the gym. It should be enough to go on. It’s not.

She’s at home on her couch and paying bills when it suddenly hits her that she may never see this guy again. Peeta Mellark seems to be a figment of her imagination for all the good it’s done to try to find him. That and the small number in her bank account are both so unpleasant that she decides she’s going to have to break down and do something she’s been avoiding and delaying for a very long time. She’s going to have to open a line of credit. She’ll only use it for emergencies, but she can’t rely on the kindness of strangers to bail her out the next time she doesn’t have money for groceries, let alone car maintenance or an unforeseen medical crisis. It’s been months since Peeta saved her, but the humiliation of not being able to take care of herself still hasn’t faded. Before she can change her mind, she grabs her purse and heads to the bank. The time is now.

“Can I help you?” A bubbly blonde teller named Delly asks, and Katniss takes a deep breath to fortify herself.

“I’d like to open a line of credit. Can I talk to someone about that?”

“Sure!” she practically squeals. “Let me just call someone to help you.”

She’s led down the hallway and past a few desks to a small office. Once ushered inside, she sits and raises her eyes to view the person across from her.

“Oh…”

The man before her is stunning—green eyes, bronze hair, a swimmer’s build. It’s the guy’s—Peeta’s—friend, the one he was with at the coffee shop.

“Ms. Everdeen. I’m Finnick Odair. Want some sugar?” he asks and nudges a candy bowl toward her.

“No, I’m fi—.”

“Hey, Finn. Can you— Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were with a customer.”

She jerks at the sound of his voice. Peeta Mellark is standing in the doorway, and her heart is in her throat. She has a sudden flashback of the coffee shop, when the two of them walked past her discussing numbers… Now, it all makes sense. They work at a bank together. Of course they do. Peeta turns to leave, and she calls out.

“Wait! Stay with me.”

She claps her hands over her mouth and wills herself not to blush, but it’s no use. She’s just asked a perfect stranger to stay with her, and her invitation sounds much more intimate than she means it to. He must think she’s insane. Maybe she actually is. She pushes down a sudden urge to flee the situation and escape to the safety of her apartment.

This is out of her wheelhouse. Shy, introverted, and intensely private, Katniss worries the end of her braid and bites her lip. Every instinct she has tells her to run, but the temptation of him before her is too great. Rising, she crosses to him and holds out her hand.

“Hi. My name is Katniss. You saved my life once, and I’ve been on the hunt to find you for months. Thank you.”

Peeta and his friend exchange looks, and she fights the urge to shrivel back into herself. Finally, he looks directly at her and takes her palm in his. With a smile so disarming she nearly faints, he answers.

“Peeta Mellark. It’s nice to meet you.”

The touch of his hand on hers melts her insides. She dreads when she finally has to let go, but maybe she won’t have to. With a shy smile, she cocks out her hip and looks up at him through long lashes. Her flirting may be a disaster, but it’s all she’s got.

“It’s so nice to meet you, too.”

The flicker in his eyes makes her knees weak. An hour later, she’s left the bank with a line of credit, a phone number, and a dinner date. The hunt is finally over.

[pixiedoodlein]

I’m so fucking mad that a year and a half into this pandemic I am back to 11th hour debating another year of homeschool. The first stretch of homeschool, in NYC, when the toddler was a baby, and husband was home on unemployment, was good, nice even, a quiet piece of something good when the world outside was falling apart. The next stretch, the Oklahoma stretch, with a particularly climby toddler, husband working 10 hour days, me doing remote contract work, somewhere we had no family around to help w/ childcare, was challenging. I was not always my best self. Some days were delightful, muffins and math games. Other days I was more Miss Trunchbull than Miss Honey, fractions were squeezed in between crying (usually mine) and netflix (way too much of hers), and I held on to any shred of sanity by telling myself “just a little longer, just until the vaccines.”

Well here we are. Husband & I have been vaccinated for months, but the kids aren’t yet. The upstate NY town we moved to is a very small town (pop: 838), was mostly untouched by previous waves. When we got here, I couldn’t understand why everyone was so lax about it- no masks, no panic. Our first day here, when I came home from the market and saw through the window a gaggle of unmasked kids in my living room (the neighbors coming to welcome us, they heard a kid moved in) I almost had a heart attack. In fact, I was so tired from the drive from OKC that for a moment I actually thought I was at the wrong house, that I was hallucinating, because how in the world could there be unmasked bodies in my living room.

Then I started talking to people here. And I realized that the way I thought they were insane for not being deathly afraid of covid, they thought I was insane for being petrified. Because the disease hadn’t hit here; their businesses were destroyed and their kids were out of school (in a rural area with barely functional internet, remote school = a lost year) and their lives were totally fucked up, for a disease that never arrived at their doorstep. I came to understand why they weren’t worried, why here life looked (almost) normal. I told them about what it was like to live somewhere covid tore through, the freezer trucks of bodies on the FDR Drive and my previously healthy 27yld brother so sick with it the first spring he thought he was about to die (but too scared to go to a hospital), my dad’s relative in the next NYC wave on a vent for months and lucky to be alive but may never walk again, the doctors in OKC pleading on the news to please wear a fucking mask because the hospitals were fucking full, and the neighbors stopped thinking I was psycho when I carried extra masks for their kids, and made them put them on, when I took them to town for ice cream. I never stopped masking. But we did indoor dine here (once, BBQ, it wasn’t delicious enough for how anxious I felt) and I did bring all the kids, including my toddler, to a fairly crowded children’s museum in the big (small) city an hour away, where the rest of us were masked but the one with his hands in his mouth, who was all up in other kids’ faces, the one who really should be masked, wasn’t because he won’t leave it on for more than a minute.

Actually it’s a lie to say that I never stopped masking- I have dashed into little stores here, without one, because I’m vaxed! It’s safe here! Covid felt done. We had friends come here to visit this summer. Friends who are vaxed, but that doesn’t seem to really matter enough anymore. We had the neighbors over for meals, indoors (you see, more indoor dining! A minute ago I was just thinking restaurants, but why would plagues only spread in restaurants?). They had us for meals. The girls are a crew, new best friends, making my daughter’s life here so, so much happier, constant sleepovers (their kids were at our house this afternoon; my kid is at their house right now). The parents and grandparents are wonderful, making my life here, and husband’s life here, so much easier, so much better. We help them with stuff, they help us with stuff, there isn’t a day that goes by that we don’t see each other, unmasked. Some of the adults in their household are vaxed; some of the adults in their household are not. The kids are all too young to be vaxed. But it (living, doing shit again, seeing people again) really stopped feeling scary; it really felt like everything was fine, normal-ish, normal-er. The end of the pandemic felt in sight.

I signed my child up for school here. Real school, not mommy school, school with a school bus. She was a little anxious, I had to talk her into it, I sold it hard, I bought her whatever pair of new sneakers she wanted for her new school (she hasn’t had gym class in a year and a half; for a phase in Oklahoma she wore one boot and one sandal every day, why not). She wasn’t anxious about sneakers or covid; she was anxious that maybe she hadn’t learned enough in homeschool (I am not a teacher! I did not homeschool because I am good at it or love it or wanted to, I homeschooled because I was scared of her getting covid at school and dying), that she would be behind. She isn’t behind. I followed the real school curriculum as best I could (as in: sometimes totally and sometimes not at all), and somehow, when I gave her the standardized “real school” test “at the end of the year” (aka the day I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to focus on my work or I wasn’t going to have an income, the day I’d decided we’d done as much as we could and it was time to be done), she sailed through it, this kid is smart. Smart as in needs to be in actual real fucking school to stay smart and learn and reach her potential.

She got excited- one of the neighbor kids is in her grade. The other kid is older- but the school is small, she’d see her tons. She was excited; I was excited. I registered her for school. Her new teacher sent a nice note. We all were excited. She’s never taken the school bus before but the neighbors take it and she’d be fine on the bus with her besties, the bus would pick her up in front of their house since there’s nowhere to turn around up our hill (we are VERY rural), they’d all get on and off the bus together. She has been backpack shopping. We have been discussing what she’ll have for breakfast (honey nut Cheerios), what she wants me to pack for lunch (she says just Goldfish, I say turkey sandwich, we’re working on it).

But now, 18 days before school starts here, I am thisclose to pulling her out, to embarking on another lovely (not), gratifying (not) year of homeschool, because of covid, delta. When we got to our new home in our new tiny town in June, there was no covid here. Now, our county is listed by the CDC as a high transmission area (is there anywhere in the US that isn’t?). 80% of senior citizens here are vaxed; 50% of the total population is, well below the national average. 15 cases per 100,000, in a county of 100,000. I guess this is less rampant than our previous pandemic locales, NYC (currently 25/100K), OKC (49/100K). This is splitting hairs, everywhere is bad. This is what panic does to me: are we better or worse for every decision we’ve made in the past year and a half, every decision that got us here? There are fewer cases here but fewer people and fewer vaccinated people and fewer ICU beds. We aren’t safe even here, but at least we are happy (happy aside from fear of delta death).

I don’t know whether to send my kid to school in 18 days. There will be masks but masks aren’t enough (how many masks do I make her wear? two, ten, a thousand?). This choice feels crazy— in March 2020, when that covid was mostly sparing kids, I yanked her out of school. Now, this covid does hurt kids. How much longer, how many more years, can parents be in this position to make this nightmare choice? What will hurt her more: school or no school? There are vaccines, more than enough in America. We shouldn’t be having to make this choice.

As it is, because of toddler— not because of toddler, because of being a parent to children in a pandemic— my work life, and husband’s, will be severely impacted this year, again. I can’t send him to daycare because he’s too little to leave a mask on (he won’t even leave his pants on!) in a room full of other unmasked toddlers, whose families may or may not be vaxd, may or may not wear masks (there has been a noticeable increase in supermarket mask wearing since we got here, but still not enough, is any of it enough?), may or may not be going to parties and weddings and funerals, daycare providers who may or may not be doing all the same. This means I can only apply to remote jobs, so I can be home with him. Husband has some flexibility, more than he did in OKC, but god forbid he has to work while I have a work call or meeting or work due I didn’t manage to get done at 4am or 11pm when the house is quiet. He can’t bring toddler to work with him, his work is up on scaffold, stenciling ceilings. This will be another year of me muting myself on Zooms while toddler pulls his diaper off and hurls poop at the cat. Would it really be so much harder to also be trying to teach parts of speech to our daughter at the same time? Yes, it would, but I don’t know if I can send my kids back out into the world until they’re vaccinated. I am counting the days, holding my breath, until they can be.

I used to believe in personal choice. I don’t anymore. I want this shit to be mandated, I want the government to line us up and force mRNA into holdouts’ arms, I want it to be required, to be able to function in and interact with and benefit from society in any way, shape, or form. I have been very lucky in the pandemic. Privilege stacked on privilege on privilege, to be fussing over my Zooms in my hamlet. I had been pretty pandemic perky, baking my pies and playing with my pandemic pets and (thinking about) doing puzzles, but I’ve reached my breaking point. This shit could be done, but it’s not, and I’m scared it never will be.

[dailydnp]

Daniel Howell on queer self-care in a straight world

Daniel Howell came out on YouTube a year ago and now has a bestselling book about how straight and queer men can best look after their mental health. In a weird year for Pride, and for mental health, we asked Howell how the LGBTQ+ community should look after themselves

Being a man is not easy, nor is navigating your mental health as one. But for queer men the problems are both very similar and entirely their own. Finding space in this world to process the hard parts of being queer and making sure we don't bring the worst parts of masculinity into queer spaces isn't easy either. Coming out might seem like the seminal moment in a gay life but, actually, much of what follows is no easier.

Daniel Howell – “a professional internet clown” – has documented his own experiences with coming out, being gay and the struggles with his own mental health on his YouTube channel. Now he's released a book, You Will Get Through This Night, which is currently at number one on the Sunday Times chart. The decision to do a book around mental health was partially inspired by a resistance to doing a memoir – “My entire life story is on the internet, go watch it if you want” – and also by the fact that, “For 28 years, I never even took a slight interest in my own mental health, asking how I was feeling, because if you've had a busy work day the last thing you want to do in your spare time is homework about mental health.”

So the 30-year-old set out to condense all the knowledge he'd found tough to swallow into a more palatable format. “It's a lean, mean mental health machine. I'm not going to go off too deep on one topic and we're not going to waste any time. We're going to give you the information that you need right now.” For Howell, this is a book you can reread over and over again to find the advice you need for the problems you're currently facing. “I'm in this position where I'm opening every wound in my entire life, inviting everybody to stick their finger into it and hoping that I can make it seem more relatable and accessible,” he explained.

As we enter a very odd Pride Month and Pride season, indeed, we asked Howell how LGBTQ+ readers might be able to use this time to find solace and mental tranquility, particularly after the year-and-a-bit the world has had and we start to return to some semblance of normality.

GQ: We are here, as part of this discussion about mental health and your book, to talk about how queer mental health is impacted by heteronormativity, the patriarchy, by straight society, all of our favourite things. You documented your coming out and, since then, your journey with queerness. So I was wondering how your mental health was beforehand and how it changed afterwards?

Dan Howell: I could not have estimated how intrinsically linked my sexuality was to most of the suffering in my life. It really boils down to a single point about authenticity: if you are living a lie, if you are pushing against something fundamentally true and inevitable about yourself, you're just going to burn out and reach a point where you can't do it anymore. That's what happened to me. I had such a traumatising relationship with my sexuality throughout my life. I was one of those people – and many will relate, whether they're queer or not – who said, “I'm just gonna focus on my career. I'm not gonna deal with this skeleton in my closet right now, because I've got to focus on other things.”

What happened with me was I reached that wall, I hit that point where I just couldn't keep going anymore in my day-to-day life. As someone who creates, and is supposed to be an entertainer and to talk about myself for a living, I literally couldn't work anymore until I tackled this topic. It had everything to do with my self-esteem, my world view and my own relationship with my own emotions. Every time I dived down that rabbit hole of anxiety, or I slipped into a depressive mood and felt like I deserved it, it was because there was something that I couldn't escape from yet.

For me, the moment – well, I say “the moment” I came out, it was a year-long process – it was literally a weight that lifted, in a way I can't describe to anyone that hasn't been there. It felt like my entire life I'd been wearing a suit of chainmail that I just instantly dropped on the floor and I felt like a completely different person. And that kind of acceptance of yourself allowed me to re-evaluate every aspect of myself in relation to my mental health. I've just done a complete 180.

We love that for you. But like any of us who come out, you are then faced with a world that is in many ways wildly uncaring once we have done it. What have been some of the struggles you have faced as someone being gay in a fundamentally straight society?

There are a lot of, let's say, “sensitive straight people” that feel like gay people having a moment for themselves takes something away from them. This is true of queerness of any shade, but it also applies to anything else in life: if someone is going through something bad and needs a moment or if they just want any kind of equality, that's not taking anything away from you. To all the racists on Facebook, Black Lives Matter isn't making your life worse, it's just that they want equality. It's the same thing for people coming out: they're not coming out to have an attention parade, that's just them becoming a normal member of society, like you.

I wish I didn't have to come out because I hated all the speculation and attention I had to deal with for the ten years prior to it. Until anyone having to come out, in any way, with their gender or sexual identity, is normal, it's going to be a surprise to you. So I don't know what you're complaining for.

We are all, technically, at one point, part of the straight world and then slowly but surely our relationship with it changes – or at least that's my experience. What has been your relationship with engaging with a world that is, in some ways, in stasis while you have gone on a journey of change?

I had to accept that a lot of the audience that have been with me over the past ten years were, unfortunately, not gay. And that's really sad, but I still want to say that they're welcome and bring them along with me on the journey slightly. Even though I've come out as this alien, it doesn't mean I'm flying away to another planet and you'll never be able to relate to me again.

This is why mental health is a great example for my audience of how my being gay is so linked to my experience of my health, but you can relate to it too, because you're also a human with a brain and you have emotions. We're not so different. So, for me, it's about saying, “Hey, there are certain things that I am going to talk about now and there are parts of my life that I'm going to share.” And you might be like, “Oh, well, I haven't had a leather orgy in the basement, I can't relate to that.” And to that I say, “Well, that's my culture, you just have to accept it.”

But it's important to find the common ground in everything that I do. But I'm aware that, whether I asked for it or not, I am in this position where I'm representing queer people, especially on the internet. So even though my coming out moment has happened, I will never stop having to talk back to people and explaining things for the rest of my life. You don't just come out once. I'm going to have to do it every ten minutes, every tweet, everything I'll ever do for the rest of my life, if ever someone's surprised and goes, “What's that about?”

Have you been intrigued as to the ceiling for some people of what they're willing to engage with as a queer creator, telling stories of your own life, sharing in your own life? Have you been surprised by how far some people are willing to go with you or surprised by where someone's boundaries are?

It was definitely a surprise how positive humanity can be sometimes. That's just my perspective, because I am very much a product of my childhood, which was very upsetting and, as a result, as an adult I am incredibly cynical. My default position is to expect the worst from everyone.

Because I was brought up in a very toxic masculine environment, I have the same mental health struggles that anyone male – regardless of whether they're gay or not – can relate to, which is that pressure to have the stiff upper lip and not show any vulnerability and not ask for help in case you're perceived to be weak. There's still this notion that young people on the internet, people like me, are always complaining about things and asking for attention and talking about their feelings. Can't they just deal with it? There's this idea that they're weak or not being manly, but in my experience it's the opposite of that.

If you are willing to look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself, honestly, “What am I not dealing with? What am I too stressed about? What are the issues with my life?” If you can open up about that and ask for help, that's bravery. It's not a weakness to be honest with yourself and look at the shit that's hiding underneath something. That's what's gonna make you stronger; you have to go there and confront it.

When I come out, I expected that everyone's going to hate me, it's going to be a disaster, my career is going to be over. But the younger generation on the internet today is, by default, much more accepting. Because I just told the truth of my story, it wasn't even about whether I was gay or straight, people just empathised with what I've been through. People who watched my coming out journey might not have been gay, but they had a connection with me. You definitely do get the odd lost Trump Twitter bot that somehow stumbled into the weird gay Zoomer space, but, for me, I have actually been surprised by the people of the internet.

Let's not aim all toxic masculinity in the patriarchy at straight people either: the bad parts of it percolate into our own communities as well. Have you found restrictive parts of masculinity still crop up in your life or in queer spaces?

I am not instantly free of my psychological upbringing and culture and I'm aware of that every single day. I am a miserable bastard. I think men across the world have a certain mindset of being cynical and competitive, but, specifically for British people, it manifests in tearing each other down. We're all comparing ourselves to each other.

You think the moment you come out it's a big gay rainbow parade – everyone's a hippie, all hugging each other – but gay people can be so vicious within their own communities. Hurt people can still hurt people, so you still have all these horrible people in the gay community who are willing to be toxic and horrible. Being gay doesn't mean you're not racist. It doesn't mean you're not an asshole. And everyone has to have a moment where they think about themselves and how they act.

How have you found being queer with accessing mental health provisions in this country?

The current support for mental health in this country is just abysmal. Mental health support shouldn't just be there if you've snapped. Our entire society and healthcare should be trying to prevent it in the first place by educating people about how to look after their own mental health so that we're all fine.

When I first started going to a therapist I assumed I could talk to anyone, but they just don't understand my perspective all the time. For me, this has shown the importance of having a community. One of the good things that the internet has done, especially for queer people, is to allow the only gay in the village – wherever the hell you are in the world – to go onto the internet and to find a community of people like you that are supporting each other.

I look at young people today and they're like: here's a list of resources, services and things that you can read to understand your own body and your sexuality, how to think and feel and mental health. I just think, “Oh, my God, if I had Twitter when I was 13, I might have had a drastically different life.” Because it wasn't until I was 23 or 24 and social media started taking off that I even saw that these spaces existed. So at least people today are using technology to create the resources that aren't already being made for them out there in the world.

Feminism benefits men as well as women and many forms of intersectional equality benefit the oppressor as well in the long run. What parts of thinking about a queer, inclusive mental health system and a queer inclusive society benefit straight people as well?

The most straight, white patriarchal man feels like they're being oppressed by this cage that they built themselves. You want to talk about why the male suicide rate is so high? It's because society expects guys to not share how they feel and to fit a certain role in society that's complete bullshit.

To any man who feels like life isn't fair, because they wish they could have a bit more help, they wish they could open up a bit more, they wish they could be more honest, if we move closer to acceptance we can just be on some even ground here that's much healthier for all of us.

It's exactly the same thing as gays becoming bullies because they're just regurgitating something that happened to them before. It's all a cycle of this toxic relationship with ourselves and our self-esteem and our mental health and how we take out our emotions on others. And people need to be allies in order to have a better relationship with how they see themselves. It's just a fact.

You were talking about how, often, when we tell anecdotes about our pain it can seem like we're dealing with it, but actually it's just another way of being palatable for others. How do you balance making sure that you're being vulnerable and engaging with yourself honestly, while also presenting something that is fundamentally well-crafted for an audience?

There's a difference between me five years ago being like, “I'm depressed, ba-dum-tsch” and how I talk about my mental health now. What was behind that way I used to talk? I think for so many people – and this can apply to any issue that you can be stressed or upset about in your life – humour is this coping mechanism, it builds up a wall but allows you to get something out on the table without really dealing with it.

There's this whole discussion about what are you allowed to joke about and the line before you say, “Hey, you should stop talking about that and take it seriously.” For me, I still think you should be able to joke about your sexuality. I will tell stories about it, you can laugh at me being depressed, it's just that the person doing that has to acknowledge the pros and cons of approaching it that way.

It can also make you feel like you can see other people that are talking about it. Is 10,000 people joking about how depressed they are slightly weird and maybe there's an issue there? Yes, but at least that one depressed person goes, “It's not just me.” So there's a good side to it.

What every single person then has to do is not just let that procrastinate the issue. It can't be a band aid and then we all say, “Oh, there we go, we've done all the work that you have to,” because you can only joke about it for so long until you hit the wall.

For queer people who are confused, who are exhausted from various facets of existing in a heteronormative patriarchal, straight society, what are some good things to be able to do to be able to tuck themselves away to look after themselves?

The biggest thing is realising that it's not a big mysterious force that you can't control. You are actually not built and wired a certain way and there's nothing you can do about it. I used to tell myself this lie when I was feeling really depressed sometimes that I was just having a bad day and therefore on those days I guess I just have to spend the whole day crying into a pillow or something. That's not true. Unfortunately, you don't have that excuse. Because what I've learned from writing the book is there are so many things you can do to change how you think and feel, just in the moment.

For me, I'm that guy that bolts awake at 4am in the middle of the night in cold sweats, thinking about some traumatising gay thing that happened to me when I was 15. Now I'm obsessed with being mindful, trying to do something to indulge your senses to be present in the moment instead. When it comes to lifestyle, I hated this realisation myself, but it's not all therapy. There are lots of little everyday choices that every single one of us can make that have profound impact on how we think and feel. As much as I like to be an insomniac nerd that doesn't go outside and mostly eats takeaways, it's things like your support network, what's your social life like, are you getting a good night's sleep, how much do you move during the day, what's your environment like… Little decisions we make day to day, all of that adds up to create the foundation that your health and happiness is based on.

That's why I think the book is so important. It may make you feel personally attacked, but it's in a good way. If that's what I've had to go through publicly for the past ten years, I think it's only fair that everybody does that for themselves.

You Will Get Through This Night by Dan Howell is out now.

[wreckedhoney]

June 2019 – Highlights of Tristan Harris (Computer Scientist, Design Ethicist, ft. on documentary The Social Dilemma) and others before Senate Commerce Committee regarding large tech companies using algorithms and machine learning to influence the public in the context of radicalization from false information and accountability.

The video is sixteen minutes and transcribed, and I’ll paste the dialogue under a cut for this post with some highlights in bold, but I want to share first just one of the many important insights of this meeting:

“…the business model is to keep people engaged…There's a tendency to think here that this is just human nature – that people are polarized and this is just playing out; it's a mirror it's holding up, a mirror to society. But what it's really doing is it's an amplifier for the worst parts of us.…It's calculating what is the thing that I can show you that will get the most engagement, and it turns out that outrage, moral outrage, gets the most engagement.…the polarization of our society is actually part of the business model.”

“…shorter, briefer things work better in Attention Economy than long, complex, nuanced ideas that take a long time to talk about…But reality and the most important topics to us are increasingly complex, while we can say increasingly simple things about them that automatically creates polarization – because you can't say something simple about something complicated and have everybody agree with you; people will, by definition, misinterpret and hate you for it, and then it's never been easier to retweet that and generate a mob that will come after you… subsequent effects in polarization are amplified by the fact that these platforms are rewarded to give you the most sensational stuff.”

Harris: Everything you said –  it's sad to me because it's happening not by accident but by design, because the business model is to keep people engaged – which, in other words, this hearing is about persuasive technology, and persuasion is about an invisible asymmetry of power. 

When I was a kid, I was a magician, and magic teaches you that you can have asymmetric power without the other person realizing it. You can masquerade to have asymmetric power while looking like you have an equal relationship. You say pick a card, any card, while meanwhile, you know exactly how to get that person to pick the card that you want – and essentially, what we're experiencing with technology is an increasing asymmetry of power that's been masquerading itself as an equal or contractual relationship where the responsibility is on us. 

So, let's walk through why that's happening in the race for attention, because there's only so much attention companies have. They get more of it by being more and more aggressive. I call it “the race to the bottom of the brainstem.” 

So, it starts with techniques like pull-to-refresh; so, you pull to refresh your newsfeed that operates like a slot machine. It has the same kind of addictive qualities that keep people in Las Vegas hooked to the slot machine. Other examples are: removing stopping cues. So, if I take the bottom out of this glass and I keep refilling the water or the wine, you won't know when to stop drinking. So, that's what happens with infinitely scrolling feeds; we naturally remove the stopping cues, and this is what keeps people scrolling. But the race for attention has to get more and more aggressive, and so it's not enough just to get your behavior and predict what will take your behavior; we have to predict how to keep you hooked in a different way. 

It crawled deeper down the brainstem into our social validation – so, that was the introduction of likes and followers and how many followers do I have. It was much cheaper to – instead of getting your attention – to get you addicted to getting attention from other people, and this has created the kind of mass narcissism and mass cultural thing that's happening with young people, especially today. After two decades in decline of the mental health of ten-to-fourteen year old girls, it has actually shot up in the last eight years, and this has been very characteristically the cause of social media and the race for attention. 

It's not enough just to get people addicted to attention, and the race has to migrate to AI, who can build a better predictive model of your behavior. And so, if you give an example of YouTube: You're about to hit play in a YouTube video, and you hit play, and then you think you're gonna watch this one video, and then you wake up two hours later and say, “What just happened?” The answer is, because you had a supercomputer pointed at your brain, the moment you hit play, it wakes up an avatar voodoo doll like version of you inside of a Google server, and that avatar based on all the clicks and likes and everything you've ever made – those are like your hair clippings and toenail clippings and nail filings that make the avatar look and act more and more like you. 

So, that inside of a Google server – they can simulate more and more possibilities. If I pick you for this video, if I pick you for this video, how long would you stay? The business model is simply, “what maximizes watch time?” This leads to the kind of algorithmic extremism that you've pointed out, and this is what's caused 70% of YouTube's traffic down be driven by recommendations; not by human choice, but by the machines. And it's a race between Facebook's voodoo doll, where you flick your finger – can they predict what to show you next? – and Google's voodoo doll. And these are abstract metaphors that apply to the whole tech industry, where it's a race between who can better predict your behavior. 

Facebook has something called loyalty prediction, where they can actually predict to an advertiser when you're about to become disloyal to a brand. So, if you're a mother, and you take Pampers diapers, they can tell Pampers, “Hey, this user is about to become disloyal to this brand.” So, in other words, they can predict things about us that we don't know about our own selves, and that's a new level of asymmetric power. 

And we have a name for this asymmetric relationship, which is a fiduciary relationship, or a duty of care – relationships the same standard we apply to doctors, to priests, to lawyers. Imagine a world in which priests only make their money by selling access to the confession booth to someone else. Except, in this case, Facebook listens to two billion people's confessions, has a supercomputer next to them, and is calculating and predicting confessions you're gonna make before you know you're gonna make them – and that's what's causing all this havoc. 

So, I'd love to talk about more of these things later. I just want to finish up by saying this affects everyone even if you don't use these products. You still send your kids to school where other people believing the anti-vaccine conspiracy theories impact your life, or other people voting in your elections. And when Marc Andreessen said into 2011, that the quote was, “Software is going to eat the world,” and what he meant by that – Marc Andreessen was the founder of Netscape – what he meant by that was that software can do every part of society more efficiently, because it's just adding efficiencies. And so, we're going to allow software to eat up our elections, we're gonna allow it to eat up our media, our taxi, our transportation – and the problem was that software was eating the world without taking responsibility for it. 

We used to have rules and standards around Saturday morning cartoons, and when YouTube gobbles up that part of society, it just takes away all of those protections. And I just want to finish up by saying that I know Mister Rogers, Fred Rogers, testified before this committee fifty years ago, concerned about the animated bombardment that we were showing children. I think he would be horrified today about what we're doing now, and at that same time, he was able to talk to the committee. And that committee made a choice differently, so I'm hoping we can talk more about that today. Thank you. 

Senator Thune (R-South Dakota): We know that internet platforms like Google and Facebook have vast quantities of data about each user. What can these companies predict about users based on that data? 

Harris: Thank you for the question. So, I think there's an important connection to make between privacy and persuasion that I think often isn't linked, so maybe it's helpful to link that. 

With Cambridge analytic – that was an event in which, based on your Facebook Likes, based on a hundred and fifty of your Facebook Likes, I could predict your political personality, and then I could do things with that. The reason I described in my opening statement that this is about an increasing asymmetry of power is that without any of your data, I can predict increasing features about you using AI. 

There's a paper recently that, with 80% accuracy, I can predict your same Big Five personality traits that Cambridge analytic got from you without any of your data. All I have to do is look at your mouse movements and click patterns. So, in other words, it's the end of the poker face. Your behavior is your signature – and we can know your political personality based on tweet text alone. We can actually know your political affiliation with about 80% accuracy. Computers can calculate probably that you're homosexual before you might know that you're homosexual. They can predict with 95% accuracy that you're gonna quit your job according to an IBM study. They can predict that you're pregnant. They can predict your micro expressions on your face better than a human being can. Micro expressions are your soft reactions to things that are not very visible, but are invisibly visible. Computers can predict that. As you keep going and you realize that you can start to deep fake things. You can actually generate a new synthetic piece of media, a new synthetic face, or synthetic message that is perfectly tuned to these characteristics. 

The reason why I open the statement by saying we have to recognize: That what this is all about is a growing asymmetry of power between technology and the limits of the human mind. My favorite socio-biologist, E.O. Wilson, said, “The fundamental problem of humanity is that we have Paleolithic ancient emotions, we have medieval institutions, and we have godlike technology.” So, we're chimpanzees with nukes, and our Paleolithic brains are limited. Again, the increasing exponential power of technology at predicting things about us, the reason why it's so important to migrate this relationship from being extractive to get things out of you, to being a fiduciary, is you can't have asymmetric power that is specifically designed to extract things from you – just like you can't have, again, lawyers or doctors whose entire business model is to take everything they learn and sell it to someone else. 

Except, in this case, the level of things that we can predict about you is far greater than actually each of those fields combined when you actually add up all the data that assembles a more and more accurate voodoo doll of each of us. And there's two billion voodoo dolls by the way; there's one for one out of every four people on Earth with YouTube and Facebook are more than two billion people. 

Senator Peters (D-Michigan): Thank you, Mister Chairman, and thank you to our witnesses. This is a fascinating discussion. I like to address an issue I think is of profound importance to our democratic republic – and that's the fact that, in order to have a vibrant democracy, you need to have an exchange of ideas and an open platform. And certainly, part of the promise of the Internet, as it was first conceived, is we'd have this incredible Universal Commons, where a variety of ideas would be discussed and debated, and it would be robust. And yet, it seems as if we're not getting that. We're actually getting more and more siloed. Doctor Wolfram, you mentioned how people could make choices, and they could live in a bubble, but at least it would be their bubble that they get to live in. But that's what we're seeing throughout our society as polarization increases, more and more folks are reverting to tribal type behavior. Mister Harris, you talked about our medieval institutions and Stone Age Minds. Tribalism was alive and well and in the past, and we're seeing advances in technology, in a lot of ways, bring us back into that kind of tribal behavior. So, my question is to what extent is this technology actually accelerating that, and is there a way out? 

Harris: Thank you. I love this question. There's a tendency to think here that this is just human nature – that people are polarized and this is just playing out; it's a mirror it's holding up, a mirror to society. But what it's really doing is it's an amplifier for the worst parts of us. 

So, in the race to the bottom of the brainstem to get attention, let's take an example like Twitter. It's calculating what is the thing that I can show you that will get the most engagement, and it turns out that outrage, moral outrage, gets the most engagement. So, it was found in a study that for every world word of moral outrage that you add to a tweet, it increases your retweet rate by 17%. So, in other words, you know the polarization of our society is actually part of the business model. 

Another example of this is that shorter, briefer things work better in Attention Economy than long, complex, nuanced ideas that take a long time to talk about, and so that's why you get a hundred and forty characters dominating our social discourse. But reality and the most important topics to us are increasingly complex, while we can say increasingly simple things about them that automatically creates polarization – because you can't say something simple about something complicated and have everybody agree with you; people will, by definition, misinterpret and hate you for it, and then it's never been easier to retweet that and generate a mob that will come after you. And this has created a callout culture and chilling effects, and a whole bunch of other subsequent effects in polarization that are amplified by the fact that these platforms are rewarded to give you the most sensational stuff. 

One last example of this is on YouTube. Let's say we actually equalize; I know there's people here concerned about equal representation on the Left and the Right in media. Let's say we get that perfectly right. As recently as just a month ago on YouTube, if you did a map of the top 15  most frequently mentioned verbs or keywords in the recommended videos, they were: “hates,” “debunks,” “obliterates,” “destroys” – in other words, you know, “Jordan Peterson destroys social justice warrior in video.” So, that kind of thing is the background radiation that we're dosing two billion people with, and you can hire content moderators in English and start to handle the problem, but the problem is that two billion people in hundreds of languages are using these products. How many engineers at YouTube speak the twenty-two languages of India where there's an election coming up? So, that's some context on that. 

Sen. Peters: Well, there's a lot of context. Fascinating. I'm running out of time, but I took particular note in your testimony when you talked about how technology will eat up elections, and you were referencing, I think, another writer on that issue. In the remaining brief time I have, what's your biggest concern about the 2020 elections and how technology may eat up this election coming up? 

Harris: Another example of how we used to have protections that technology took away – we used to have equal price campaign ads, so that it cost the same amount on Tuesday night at 7:00 p.m. for any candidate to run an election. When Facebook gobbles up that part of media, it just takes away those protections – so, there's now no equal pricing. What I'm mostly worried about is the fact that none of these problems have been solved. The business model hasn't changed. And the reason why you see a Christchurch event happen in the video just show up everywhere, or, you know, any of these examples – fundamentally, there's no easy way for these platforms to address this problem, because the problem is their business model. 

Harris: This is one of the issues that most concerns me. As I think Senator Schatz (D-Hawaii) mentioned at the beginning, there's evidence that in the last month – even as recently as that, keeping in mind that these issues have been reported on for years now – there was a pattern identified by YouTube that young girls who had taken videos of themselves dancing in front of cameras were linked in usage patterns to other videos like that, which went further and further into that realm, and that was just identified by YouTube, as a supercomputer, as a pattern. It's a pattern of “this is a kind of pathway that tends to be highly engaging.” 

The way that we tend to describe this is: If you imagine a spectrum on YouTube on my left side, there's the calm Walter Cronkite section of YouTube. On the right hand side, there's crazytown, UFOs, conspiracy theories, Bigfoot – you know, whatever. If you take a human being and you could drop them anywhere, you could drop them in the calm section, or you could drop them in Crazy Town. But If I'm YouTube and I want you to watch more, which direction from there am I going to send you? I'm never gonna send you to the calm section. I'm always gonna send you towards Crazy Town. So, now you imagine two billion people, like an ant colony of humanity, and it's tilting the playing field towards the crazy stuff. 

The specific examples of this: A year ago, a teen girl who looked at a dieting video on YouTube would be recommended anorexia videos, because that was the more extreme thing to show. The voodoo doll that looked like a teen girl – there's all these voodoo girls that look like that – and the next thing to show is anorexia. 

If you looked at a NASA moon landing, it would show Flat Earth conspiracy theories, which were recommended hundreds of millions of times before being taken down recently. I wrote down another example. Fifty percent of white nationalist in a study had said that it was YouTube that had “red pilled” them; “red pilling” is the term for the opening of the mind. The best predictor of whether you'll believe in a conspiracy theory is whether I can get you to believe in one conspiracy theory, because one conspiracy sort of opens up the mind and makes you doubt and question things and, say, get really paranoid. And the problem is that YouTube is doing this en mass, and it's created sort of two billion personalized Truman Shows. Each channel has that radicalizing direction, and if you think about it from an accountability perspective – back when we had Janet Jackson on one side of the TV screen at the Super Bowl, and we had 60 million Americans on the other, we had a five-second TV delay and a bunch of humans in the loop it for a reason. But what happens when you have two billion Truman shows, two billion possible Janet Jackson's and two billion people on the other end? It's a digital Frankenstein that's really hard to control, and so that's the way that we need to see it.

From there, we can talk about how to regulate it. 

Senator Sullivan (R-Alaska): Anyone else have a thought on a pretty important threshold question? 

Harris: Is it okay if I check in? Thank you, Senator. The issue here is that Section 230 of the Communications Decency section – 230 has obviously made it so that the platforms are not responsible for any content that is on them, which freed them up to do what we've created today. The problem is if, you know, is YouTube a publisher? Well, they're not generating the content, they're not paying journalists, they're not doing that, but they are recommending things, and I think that we need a new class between, you know… 

The New York Times is responsible if they say something that defames someone else that reaches a certain hundred million or so people. When YouTube recommends flat earth conspiracy theories hundreds of millions of times, and if you consider that 70% of YouTube's traffic is driven by recommendations, meaning driven by what they are recommending, what algorithm is choosing to put in front of the eyeballs of a person, it's if you were to backwards derive a motto, it would be, “With great power comes no responsibility.”

[keyofjetwolf]

Xena and M’Lila

I genuinely and sincerely love this show, and no question it was progressive in a lot of ways for its time. But there’s been nothing made by human hands that’s perfect, and I can’t help but wince a bit as I watched this episode, featuring M’Lila, the slave from “The Land of the Pharaohs”, and keep in mind that we’ll soon meet Lao Ma from “Chin”, and how both of these women were deeply impactful in the course of Xena’s life, recognizing her potential, teaching her signature skills, and then dying so the white woman can live and use their shit better than they did.

IT DOESN’T SIT SO WELL IN THIS THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2020.

That won’t be the focus of my discussions, but it would be disingenuous to not acknowledge it. It’s an ugly mark, and if the show ever gets a reboot, as has been rumoured for a while now, I hope the new creators do better on this front.

Xena meets M’Lila on the same day she meets Caesar. IT’S A BIG FUCKING DAY. Unfortunately, M’Lila is short-changed, not just by the episode, I think, but by the series as a whole. For as HUGE as her role in Xena’s life, she’s astonishingly under-mentioned (particularly versus Lao Ma, who comes up every other second once we learn of her). “Destiny” itself doesn’t really give her much either, what with the language barrier and then her going and dying and all.

Here’s a brief list of shit M’Lila does for Xena in this episode:

Did and then undid The Pinch on Xena’s leg (this is a bad episode for Xena’s leg)

Did and then undid The Pinch on Xena’s NECK (you know, the whole “you’ll be dead in thirty seconds” thing)

Taught Xena HER PIRATE CAPTOR how to do and undo The Pinch

Cautioned Xena against trusting Caesar and being wholly ignored

Hid well enough on a boat that an entire Roman legion couldn’t find her

Solo-invaded a Roman camp to rescue Xena from death by crucifixion

Dragged Xena for who the fuck knows how many miles to a healer

Took an arrow for and died for Xena

CAME BACK AS A SPIRIT TO SAVE HER ASS AGAIN

Inspired Xena’s breastplate armour and arm cuff design, probably.

YOU DESERVED BETTER M’LILA I’M SO SORRY

I really do wish the episode had done better splitting its time between Caesar and M’Lila, or at least taken a moment for her and Xena that was about THEM. We can infer a lot, and I’m not against that, but when we have AN ENTIRE MINUTE AND CHANGE for a slow ass sad sea montage, I start throwing side eyes.

Obviously, in their time together (I’d say months, at minimum), Xena makes a huge impact on M’Lila. I mean, fuck, what she winds up doing for Xena is proof enough of that. But ... what, exactly? It seems reasonable to assume that Xena spent most of her time with Caesar BONING Caesar, and she spends her time between Caesar leaving and Caesar smashing her legs in PINING for Caesar (if our 80-something second Sad Sea Montage is anything to go by), so Xena and M’Lila became bosom mates when? And WHY, I mean Xena’s functionally an angsty sixteen year old who can kill you on a whim, if I’m M’Lila, I’m thinking about running off with those dolphins from the montage.

AND XENA TOO. M’Lila’s death basically sets off TEN FUCKING YEARS OF CARNAGE. And the show goes out of its way to make sure we know it IS M’Lila’s death that does it, too, and not just Xena being sad about not having Karl Urban for a boyfriend.

We take several pointed seconds with Xena searching herself for an answer. ANGER IS XENA’S GO-TO IF SHE WERE TRULY ANGRY SHE’D FUCKING KNOW IT. All of her aside comments, too, indicate that Xena’s definitely having a bad time, quite possibly a little depressed, almost certainly embarrassed and feeling foolish and used, but angry? Nuh-uh.

Xena does make her choice tonight, a choice she’ll make again and again over the next decade-ish, but interestingly enough, that choice has little to nothing to do with Caesar. And so I wish SO MUCH that the episode had spent more time showing us why M’Lila.

Consequently, I feel I’m not really able so much to do a great job on this topic (WHICH SADDENS ME), because we just don’t have the same tools to build with as we do Caesar. BUT LET’S SEE WHAT WE CAN DO.

A lot of M’Lila works best, I think, as a collection of ideas and possibilities. When we first meet her, she fights so much like we’ll come to see of Xena, she almost feels like a spirit. M’Lila is TOUGH and FAST, and honestly how the fuck anyone was able to keep her enslaved is beyond me, but okay. She’s bested by Xena, only just, and really becomes quite amendable after that. We don’t see it happen, but she most likely taught Xena a lot about fighting beyond just The Pinch, and those are lessons Xena still applies to this day.

Alongside Future Xena, though, M’Lila represents a different path Xena might have walked. The world they live in is pretty god awful, with the strongest routinely and violently taking from the weakest, We know Xena rallying her village to stand up to warlords didn’t go super great, but they DID win the day, and Amphipolis DID remain an independent town after Xena put her “all enemies of Amphipols get to eat my sword” plan into action. Does that mean Xena had to become the thing she was defending against to keep from possibly being enslaved and dying? Hell no, that’s the entire point of the fucking show. Xena makes her choices, XENA CONSISTENTLY MAKES HER CHOICES. But not making a choice is also a choice, and choices have consequences. These might have been Xena’s.

We also can’t overlook M’Lila’s compassion (though in the same breath I laughingly note how she left all her other shipmates strung up, OOPS). Assuming Caesar’s assessment was correct, M’Lila has been a slave since she was a child. Presuming she had only recently managed to successfully escape, her time with Xena may well have been the first in memory she’d spent it free. From what we know of Xena to that point, M’Lila is the first and possibly only person since her own family drove her away to show her kindness.

But at the end of it all, sadly, M’Lila’s purpose is to die show Xena the way she COULD be, the things she COULD do with the skills and abilities she possesses, so that Xena can go “Mm, no thanks.”

M’Lila is an excuse. A really good excuse, don’t get me wrong! However I wish the episode had done a better job with it, I truly believe Xena’s pain and grief at M’Lila’s murder. Xena has loved and trusted so few people in her life, and when the world hurts her, all she wants is to hurt the world in return. (***MAKE A MENTAL NOTE WE WILL RETURN TO THIS IDEA***)  But really, M’Lila is the excuse Xena wields, the fuel she uses to burn down EVERYTHING.

And you know, I say that, and I think I’ve talked myself into a good headcanon for why Xena doesn’t bring up M’Lila more. Oh the shit she’s done in her name. Even if she never said it, that’s what it was. Of all the things M’Lila didn’t deserve, that has got to fucking rank. Yeah, I’m not sure I”d feel worthy of evoking her again either.

Really though: SORRY M’LILA YOU DESERVED BETTER

[acdeaky]

love, miss nurse

warning: pure fluff, mentions of blood, war and death

note: i’m sorry that this took me so long! like so so long! (like two (three?) weeks long) even though i had a plot line i still couldn’t find inspiration :(( i hope you still like it

word count: 2.0k

requested: eugene imagine where you’re a nurse and take care of him when he gets injured? Love the writing x @honeyandtulips

the war in the pacific seemed to have dragged on. many soldiers had come and gone through the medic tent; most alive, but some succumbing to the inevitable end. thank god for penicillin else you'd be saying goodbye to more men than you would have liked.

the battle of peleliu in the autumn of '44 saw over 2,000 men dead and over 8,000 men wounded, many of them seen (and saved) by you. the battle had finally reached its end, and, still, nearly 100 men were in your care. none of them had made impacting impression on you, until an auburn haired soldier was dragged into your tent.

he had minimal injuries, but they would definitely leave scars. when he arrived, he was unconscious, but breathing. the soldiers who brought him in said he had only been out for a short while. 'he fainted when he saw his blood' they said, patting his shoulder before running out of the tent.

as you looked over the soldier, you noted that he had a reason to faint. his badly bandaged arm had bled through the material, but, luckily, the wound was clean. both of his ankles were swollen, light bruising slowly appearing. there were a few scars on his face, only little ones which would usually be on every soldier's face.

you tended to his wound first, removing the bandages and cleaning up all of the blood that hadn't been cleaned earlier. the wound was still raw, bright red at that, notifiying you that it wasn't infected. it didn't take you long to rewrap his wound, applying the right amount of pressure to stop the bleeding. his ankles were easy; nothing that some ice couldn't help.

once you were happy with how you dealt with his wounds, you grabbed your clipboard, ready to write down the soldier's injuries. luckily, his dog tags were clean and legible, clearly showing the man as eugene b. sledge, k company, of the 1st marine division. 'finally,' you thought. 'a name to a pretty face.'

eugene stayed out for the night. he slept through peacefully, his ankles reducing slightly in size by the morning and his arm stayed clean and uninfected. when he woke, you were nowhere in sight, only a cup of water and a bowl of, what looked like, oatmeal on his bedside table.

although he had never been before, eugene recognised the tent as the medic tent (and not due to the medical equipment surrounding him and the other wounded soldiers). the tight wrap around his arm and the coolness of his ankles reminded him of the events of the day before. the screams. the shouts. the sounds. all too vivid for his liking.

"morning, mr sledge," you smiled as you walked around to collect his now empty cup and bowl. "did you sleep well?"

"if my memory serves me well, i believe i was knocked out over the night, so my best guess is that i slept fine, miss nurse." the small smirk on eugene's face made you giggle.

"well, mr sledge, you're one of the lucky few to survive the night," your smile sadden as you broke the news to him. "it seems some of your friends in the 1st division didn't make it. infections and pain really take their toll here."

"oh," was all he could manage. "how did you know my name? my division?"

all you did was tap the dog tags which were still around his neck. the warmth of your hand compared to the cool skin of eugene's chest as you brushed against him didn't go unnoticed by him.

"are you cold?" it was a simple question with a simple answer. but eugene couldn't answer truthfully; getting a chill when your nurse lightly touched your chest was laughing material in k company, in any company.

"a little, yeh." eugene slightly shivered again, trying to convince you of his chills.

"i'll grab you an extra blanket, they aren't for everyone." as you stood up, you sent a wink in his direction, meaning what you said about the blankets; even you couldn't get an extra one on cold nights.

as soon as you dropped off eugene's blanket, the calls and shouts of worried soldiers outside of the tent caught your attention.

"i'll be back in a minute, mr sledge." you smiled sweetly before turning and rushing to see the commotion. luckily, it was only a small disbute between some lieutenants, but had drawn attention from others around them. only a short while later and you were back attending to eugene. his cheeky smile as he saw you walk over to him made you giggle.

"call me eugene," was the first thing he said. "we're fightin' a war, i don't need formalities."

"as much as i'd like to, mr sledge, i have to have formalities."

"no one needs to know. call me eugene to my face and mr sledge to everyone else."

the charm and persistence he had desperately made you want to call him eugene to his face. it suited him. the name, eugene sledge, suited the person you saw in front of you. the slanted smile, the wound arm wrapped in soft bandages, the swollen ankles, the eyes that have seen more than they should have at such an early age. his slightly matted auburn hair, which was beginning the curl at the tips, suited him. you dare say that you were beginning to have a crush on the wounded soldier.

but you had to keep professional.

"please, miss nurse." you could slip on the formalities, surely?

"alright, just for you, eugene. can't have the others thinking i'm going soft, now, can i?" hearing his name fall so naturally from your lips made him smile, causing you to giggle once again. he made a obvious attempt to move over in his bed a little, silently inviting you to sat next to him.

"i promise i won't tell a soul." he raised his hand, holding out his pinky finger towards you.

"a pinky promise? now, that is something serious, eugene."

"i'm all about seriousness, miss nurse," obeying his silent wishes, you extended your pinky out to his as well. wrapping them around the other's caused a wide grin to appear on eugene's face.

"call me Y/N. since we're on a first name basis now, right?" you smirked at the solider, leaving his bedside before he had the chance to reply to you.

———

eugene had come in almost three weeks ago now. his arm wound had almost healed fully now, but his ankles were still giving him a hard time. he had tried walking many times, but the pain just brought him back down onto the bed. everyday, you had made a conscious decision to help eugene with his ankles, knowing he'd be needed for the war again and knowing he needed to walk again.

"please, eugene," you sighed, holding onto his hands. "please, just stand and try to walk. i'm here, just squeeze my hands if it hurts." you were practically stood between his knees as he rested on the edge of his bed. his hands were held tightly by yours, mainly for support, but you also wanted to hold the helpless soldier's hands at least once.

many times that day eugene had tried, and failed, to stand up without falling back onto the bed in pain. it was frustrating the both of you; he wanted to walk again and you needed him to walk again (for, you know, possible future dates and stuff). lunch came around and you let him rest for a while. he happily sat and ate his small lunch and downed his cup of water and tablets quickly, ready to try again.

"i feel as if you need some encouragement, genie." that was a new thing; calling him gene or genie. he had told you that his family and friends called him that and you had taken the liberty of calling him those, too.

"and what would that be, miss nurse?" that was not a new thing; him calling you miss nurse. you had told him countless times to call you Y/N, but he refused, saying miss nurse suited him better.

"if you stand up and walk," you start, placing your hands in front of you, "even just a few feet," eugene took them, holding onto them tightly, awaiting your last words, "i'll give you a kiss."

"well, that's an offer i can't refuse." he smiled, preparing himself to push off of the bed.

"i knew you wouldn't," you smiled back. "now, let's get you walking, soldier." as soon as you said that, eugene pushed your hands down as you helped him stand up. he winced a few times, the stinging of his ankles hurting him, but once he put his full weight onto them, he seemed okay.

"is this okay?" you asked, seeing the slight discomfort in his face.

"i'm okay, love. just need to get used to it." you just nodded, understanding this would be hard for him. before you were even ready for him to move, he stepped forward towards you, closing the gap between you and him. the sudden movement made you stumble backwards slightly, but eugene's grip on your hand tightened to keep you upright.

both of you giggled as you continued to walk backwards and eugene walked forwards. quicker than you expected, you and eugene had made it more than a few feet. you were now both on the other side of the medic tent, still holding hands. the amusement of almost tripping the other up had erased all the pain caused by his ankles.

"i believe this is more than a few feet, miss nurse," eugene smirked, removing his hands from yours and placing them on your hips.

"not yet, gene," you giggle, pressing a single finger to his lips. "let's get you back to bed, that's enough excitement for today." eugene groaned quietly, grabbing your hands again and walking back to his bed.

he reluctantly laid back down, getting comfortable before you pulled his sheets over his body.

"i'll be back soon, gene, i just-"

"have to check on paul and roupy? i know."

"i'll be ten minutes." you smiled at his brilliant memory before leaning down quickly and pressing a short kiss on his lips. almost as quickly as you leaned forward, you backed away and left eugene alone.

———

it had only take eugene a few days to be back in his feet. each of those few days he was last in, he had gotten and walked about the medic tent, stepping outside a few times to smoke his pipe or for just a breath of fresh air. whenever he went back inside, he always caught sight of you fussing around his bed, no matter what. you made excuses as to why you were there. to you, they were work related excuses. to eugene, they were feeling related excuses. or so he had hoped.

since your short kiss with one another, nothing much had changed except eugene's flirting noticeably increased. as did yours. but you wouldn't admit that.

one afternoon when eugene arrived back at his bed after a smoke, he noticed the bed sheets had been removed and new ones were neatly folded at the foot of the bed. his marine uniform was folded semi-neatly on the bare pillow, the traces of his and other's blood was no where to be seen.

a note from you sat on his bedside table,

genie,

unfortunately our time together has to be cut short. you've been given the all clear to return to active duty, hence the lovely marine uniform and the cleared bed. i'm sorry i cant be there for your return to war, but i'm sure you'll see me again. just don't get injured for the sole reason of visiting me. please.

love, miss nurse x

-

part 2?

-

TAGLIST: @never-kept-the-same-address @j0hn-deaky @sohoneyspreadyourwings @brian-maybe-not @deakysbabybooty @1001-yellow-daffodils @retromusicsalad @hardcoredisneynerd @painkiller80 @leatherjacketmazzello @scarecrowmax @mebeatlized @seesiderendezvous @alright-mrfahrenheit @someone-get-a-medic @miamideacon @chlobo6 @teenagepeterpan @spacedust1124719

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

If money is tight, please do not contribute to this fund. If you're struggling, please do not contribute to this fund. If you're poor, please do not contribute to this fund. If money is, in any way, a worry for you, please do not contribute to this fund. It's a long read, but if you don't fancy reading all of it the TL;DR is the place we're living at is slowing killing us.  My doctors and counselor have been urging us to move for awhile now.  The place my husband is currently working at is a toxic environment that treats most of its employees like trash.  We're going to be moving in July 2020 when the contract for our current place expires.

1. The place has been fraying on our health.  The air quality has me messed up due to the fact people here would rather use wood-burning fire places instead of cleaner safer options to heat their homes.  Fire season has messed with my asthma, allergies, and done a number on my anxiety and mental health. 

The dry air hasn’t helped with my breathing; I went from using my emergency inhaler maybe two or three times a year to using it almost daily (and every time we leave the house).  My husband’s allergies have gotten worse since moving here (his sister, who convinced us to move here, said his allergies would basically vanish here), resulting in a lot of headaches, frequently requiring a third and even fourth allergy medication to control them (both meds make him extremely drowsy). I feel like I'm inhaling sand, and my lungs feel like they're made of rice paper.  Within ten minutes of talking, my voice is gone.  I'm easily winded, having a difficult time catching my breath just walking across the house.  We have two air purifiers, but with the air at barely 20% humidity (sometimes getting as low as 5%), they tend to make the air drier.  UPDATE: *I have two humidifier now, one for the bedroom and one for the living room.  I'm able to do more in my home now because of them, but going outside for more than a few minutes is unacceptable according to my lungs.* Not only has this affected my asthma and our allergies, but it's impacting my mental health and epilepsy.  I've had PTSD since I was 18, made worse by the house fire we survived in 2017 (I have an intense fear of fire).  I also have severe general anxiety disorder, made worse by our current situation.    Mental illness affects epilepsy, and my seizure count has gone up.  My seizures will never be 100% controlled.  I've participated in a seizure study and had a heavy-duty EEG.  From the study we learned I don't qualify for surgery or seizure controlling implants.  I've been on over 20 seizure medications since I was 11.  Many of these drugs are blacklisted and have left me with permanent damaging side-effects.  I have brain, nerve, and muscle damage from the thousands of seizures I've had as well as injuries I sustained while having seizures.  I'm at high risk of SUDEP (sudden unexpected death from epilepsy), made worse by our current living situation. 2.  Rent is horrible here, and our landlady keeps raising the rent every year. Finding a new place is nearly impossible due to 1) high rental prices on very small places ($800 for a 350 sq ft studio apartment) and 2) few places available (a lot of people live in RVs because there’s nowhere else to live). When we moved in to our current residence back in 2017 after a fire took our previous home (yay for renter’s insurance) rent on this place was $900. It’s now $1090 and she plans on raising it another 10% every year. If we sign another contract for this place, rent will be $1110.  We can’t afford it with my husband's current income and my SSDI (I'm permanently disabled). 3.  Well-paying jobs are hard to find in even the restaurant industry in our current location. They all want to start my husband at state minimum wage.  He has 30 years working in the restaurant industry; $12/hour isn't acceptable.  UPDATE: *We've done a lot of research, spoken to people who live on the west side of the Cascades, and the happy news is he'll be able to find a job with general ease and pay will be better.  He may even have a job waiting when we move in July.  No certainties yet though.* 4.  Finding good doctors and counselors here that can provide me with the treatment I need is difficult.  This is a rural region.  We have to drive over an hour to get to my neurologist, who’s a very unpleasant doctor, but the only neurologist who accept Medicare.  My primary physician is well-loved and as such is booked with appointments going as far as six months ahead.  It took almost five years to find a counselor who’s qualified to treat me and accepts Medicare and Medicaid.  My primary physician as well as my counselor have urged me to move to the other side of the Cascades as soon as we are able. 5.  We have exactly zero friends here.  The two we called friends are moving to the other side of the Cascades by the end of November 2019.  One is the former sous chef** at the restaurant my husband works at, and the other is his wife. They have family on the other side of the Cascades who will help cover the cost of moving over their. **On November 2nd, 2019 the sous chef at the restaurant my husband works at was fired.  The owner told my husband he’s expected to work that job as well as his current responsibilities (he currently works as the prep cook, handles all the catering, as well as a providing lunch on a weekly basis to a local construction area). Today the owner said the position will no longer exist, he won’t get a promotion or pay raise, and that he needs to be a “team member". Husband is still going to work the job because he'll get overtime every week and tip-outs from the servers.  UPDATE: *His hours have been cut from 40/week to 32/week.  He's going to speak to the owner regarding this. For several weeks he’s been looking for a better job with better pay.  He has 30 years experience working in the restaurant industry.  Earlier this year the head chef quit and someone with very little experience and no management skills was promoted to the position.  No one likes this guy, and he's been screwing everything up.  Husband should have gotten that job, everyone but this guy feels the same way, and the owner refuses to listen to reason. The owner claims to be a “good Christian” but is a hardcore capitalist and treats his employees as slaves, giving raises only because the state has increased the minimum wage. He’s raising wages a little bit every year only because the state requires it, and would have everyone at minimum wage if he could. 6. Husband is on the verge of a psychotic break from all the stress at work, finances, and taking care of me (I’m disabled and he’s my official caretaker). I want to help with the finances, and am doing my best by making and selling quilts .  Thus far I've had very little luck in regards to people actually buying my work. 7. We generally hate the area and it benefits neither of us to remain here. We simply can’t afford to actually move, but we know where we want to move to (Springfield, Oregon, but currently living in Prineville, Oregon).  There are well-paying jobs in that area, rent is affordable, and the air quality is fantastic. We’ll need a minimum of $3k.  Why?   We can’t physically pack and move everything ourselves.  Our physical health will be put at serious risk of injury.  We have a lot of heavy furniture and no one to help us pack and move it.   I cannot physically help beyond packing smaller things and putting the boxes in piles for Husband to move them with a dolly.  He will be doing all the heavy lifting on his own, risking serious injury.  We need to hire professionals or people in general to at least help us move everything into a truck we rent.  UPDATE: *Husband may have found the help we need to load the truck, but we won't know for sure until July.* Then there’s the cost of the rental moving truck (U-Haul or Penske). We’ll likely put a lot of our things in storage and rent a smaller place if we can’t find a place of similar size to what we’re living in now (a double wide, 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, trailer/manufactured home). Husband says he’s fine with a one or two bedroom, and I’d get the largest room/space for my sewing and home-activity stuff because I’m home 90% of the time and need the space. We also need to put money together to apply for housing (prices range from $20/adult to $50/adult), security deposit, and first month's rent.   My SSDI (social security disability income) is $752/month, which covers most of our monthly bills, but not nearly enough to be livable or help out with the move save for paying bills. All funds selling my quilts will be applied to the move. The stained glass quilt would cover half the cost. If all the others sold before the move, that'd be fabulous and take a lot of the stress off our shoulders.

[lifepros]

#9655

When i was young i saw a need to change my life. So i compiles 16 rules to live by. I would read them every day and try to apply them and work on them. I had copies in places i could see them many times a day. On my fridge, locker, binder and bedroom door.

Accept everything the way it is This is law one. Before you can continue with the other fifteen laws you must accept everything the way it currently is, in your life. Accept your job, accept your relationship - just accept everything the way it is. The only way you can evolve as a human being is to firstly accept that you need to evolve. Accept there are things in your life that are not going to plan, things you feel you deserve more of. When you accept all these things you are in control. To be in control of your life is to have the ultimate power over your destiny and overall purpose here on this planet. Take a moment to think about the way your life currently is, think about your financial situation and think about your social situation and everything else you have going on. Once you've done this, move on to law two.

Take Responsibility You need to take complete 100% responsibility for everything in your life that you thought of in law one. Everything you are today is because of you. You are your own doing. After you've accepted what you are and you've taken responsibility for the entire course of your life you can begin the process of improving areas you are not happy with. Work on yourself, not others Think of a person you are just getting to know. How do they make you feel? Do they make you feel nervous? Is their opinion important to you? Do they make you feel that you've got to impress them at every step? No. They don’t make you feel anything. You make yourself feel this way. There is no need for you to work on them by impressing them, since the issues of you thinking you need to impress them are all internal. It's yourself that is the issue. You've taken responsibility for who you are. Now you can start unwinding the negative parts of your situation. If you spend the majority of your time ‘working' when you're interacting with a people, you're doing it wrong. It should flow. Stop making identity meaning from external events, things or people You are not your car. You are not your house. You are not your money. You are nothing external, (external will be everything that is outside of you), so there is no need to think you are. You need to severe the connection you have with associating yourself as anything external. When you are called a name, let's pick ‘loser', that does not mean you are a loser. This is an external event and therefore has no impact on your inner identity. These things should be shrugged off as mere childish behaviour from the person providing it. If you are struggling with inner identity issues then most likely you are accepting external events as being true and you question yourself. Questioning yourself will allow the external event to grow inside of you like a cancer until you start believing it's an internal identity that you carry. Let go of all external events and issues that you currently carry and from this second onwards, deny all further external events, things or people that judge you in anyway shape or form. You make your inner identity decisions, no-one else. Failure is great; it's the best learning process Without failure you wouldn't be half the person you are now. When you successfully complete something you gain what you want. When you fail something you don't gain what you want. There is only one major difference with success and failure and that when you fail, you learn a great lesson. Learning that lesson in most cases is more important than what you gained for succeeding. This means you should go for that new job, you should do it because whatever happens you will gain something. Compare your progress only with yourself Everyone is different and there will always be people better than you and worse than you, this is just a fact with the amount of people running around today. When you achieve something you should only compare it to your previous achievements and see how far you've come personally. Comparing to other people will put your achievements in the hands of the external and as we covered earlier, you need to stop making internal meaning from external events. If you don't measure up success wise to one of your friends, this doesn't mean you're a failure. It means you are on a different race track and you're running a different pace. You may have a friend who scores 95% on tests. This is not something to beat or challenge and you shouldn't be reading posts such as this to do such a thing, because it will almost always end in failure and as we talked about earlier, failure leads to a great learning. So I'm saving you time by telling you now that the great learning you will learn is that you don't need to compare yourself against other people, only yourself. Evolve constantly Do you read? If you don't, you should. If you do, you should read more. I'm not being mean by saying that to you, I'm just saying that you should evolve constantly. Always move forward towards what you want. Always improve yourself with new ideas and information developed by other people. Always develop yourself with new experience by doing new things. Ever climbed a mountain? Go for it! Evolving constantly should be something you do for yourself. Make sure you remember that you are not evolving for your wife, your boss, your friends or that girl you want. You are evolving for yourself, which brings us to the next law. Stop seeking approval You do not need approval for anything you do. You especially do not need approval from strangers in the sense that you approach them and basically ask for it by feeding them something like "Can I ask your name?" Approval seeking is bad because it shows your inner confidence and how much you lack it. The only person that should give you approval is yourself. When you've done a good job, you should congratulate yourself and pat yourself on the back. Don't do things to achieve approval from others because in the long run you will be disappointed. Make yourself the centre Do you hold any beliefs such as extremely good looking or successful people are above you? Or are not equal to you in any way shape or form? If so, you need to delete that belief. You need to make yourself the centre. This basically means that you are in charge of you. There is no-one above you that has the ability to dictate to you your way of life. Being the centre, everything revolves around you. Most people assume when I say that I'm asking you to be selfish and arrogant. Believe me I'm not saying that. I'm merely saying that you should hold yourself in high regard instead of holding people above you. Everyone else is your equal. When someone looks up at you and thinks you are above them, help them. Show them how they can be the centre too. Do not get an ego around this law. Aim for long term gratification This means that you should completely stop your short term thinking. Short term thinking involves you doing something to gain here and now. For example, did you think this post would have gave you 16 perfectly good laws that'll change your life in 5 minutes as you read? I bet some of you did. Instead of thinking about things short term, think long term. This means you need to plan the next year, 5 years, 10 years or whatever, instead of just planning tomorrow. By planning long term you put yourself in the frame of mind of a successful person and you will enjoy long it more. Short term is easy to plan, easy to get and easy to lose. Long term plans are the plans that last the rest of your life. Never whine or complain The first ten laws were very universal in their use. The last 6 laws will focus more on what you should do in order get what you really want. Never whine or complain. Whining or complaining is the trademark of low status individuals who are not worth much. By whining or complaining you are basically telling everyone who sees you do it, that you have no control over your life and you are completely lost. Eliminating all whining and complaining is the way forward. Control your emotions I don't mean become a robot. I simply mean for you to control your emotions that show weaknesses. To a certain extent, weakness can be helpful but for now I'd just like for you to limit the weak emotions you may show. This goes hand-in-hand with the previous law on no whining or complaining. Be honest and direct This is one of my favourite laws by far. By changing this simple thing about you can change so much in your life. Being honest and direct gives you so much status with people that it's unbelievable. I assume it's because it's not so common these days to find a person who will speak their mind and be completely blunt, honest and direct about anything. This shows complete self-confidence and strength as a man or women to be able to speak your mind without fear of repercussion. Lead As a strong person you are bound by certain traits that you are born with. These traits include dominance, strength and leadership. People are hardwired to notice people who are leaders, they find them very commanding. Being a leader is a massive advantage in the real world since you have the power to command. If you aren't the leader of your social group now, maybe you should create another where you are the leader to test this out. I assure you that leadership is one of the gold coins of life. Don't be boring or predictable Being boring or predictable will leave people wanting more. People want the excitement and uncertainty of you being unpredictable. They find it very thrilling. If you find yourself repeating the same routine day in day out, change, because you are boring. Turn everything into an adventure This again is one of my favourite laws. Being a person of adventure is a tough thing to do, but the rewards are endless. If you treat everything as an adventure not only will the masses notice but they will queue up to go on the adventure with you. This is an extremely important trait to show and this is the final law of the 16 that you need to be successful. Be that person of adventure.

[bulletproofice]

Connor RK800 - Hurt

Reader: Female, human Warnings: Swear words and injuries Word Count: 4021

Y/N - Your name Y/LN - Your last name Y/EC - Your eye colour

Y/N's POV

I sat at my desk, mindlessly scrolling through deviant case files. Half of them were pointless. Most deviants hadn't even committed crimes, they just wanted to be free, but then again, I’m not getting paid to sympathise.

I read through about two more until I started to get restless. Today had been a long day and I decided that now was the perfect time for my third cup of coffee. I walked tiredly over to the machine and switched it on, placing my mug underneath and waiting for it to do its job. 

Swinging my legs as I sat on the counter, I listened to the various conversations that were loud enough to reach the break room. Nothing very interesting had happened today and I was quite ready to head home. I yawned tiredly and stretched my legs out, craving my bed.

Hank soon joined me at the coffee machine, handing me my mug as he put his under. I closed my eyes and took a short sip before turning my attention towards the lieutenant.

"How're those deviant cases going, Hank?" I asked boredly.

He scoffed and shook his head, facing me with an irritated expression, "Fucking fantastic." I let a breath out of my nose in appreciation of his sarcasm as I took another sip of coffee.

"Yeah, I've got the same luck."

The lieutenant sighed and pulled a chair out to sit on.

"Man do I wish this was scotch." He mumbled into his cup. I cracked a smile at his grumbling but said nothing else, allowing a comfortable silence to sink into the room. That was until a certain android walked in hurriedly.

"Lieutenant Anderson, Detective Y/LN. A deviant has been reported downtown and we have to leave now if we wish to catch them." He stated, ignoring our resistant attitudes. I slid off of the counter, downing the rest of my coffee in one go and trudging towards the exit, not happy that I would have to put effort in so close to the end of my shift.

"Detective, your facial expression and body language suggests that you are frustrated and irritated, are you alright?" The Android sounded so sincere, I almost felt bad for being grumpy.

"I'm fine Connor, I'm just tired and want to go home." I smiled at him tiredly, not wanting him to worry. "And Connor, call me Y/N. You're basically the only other person I'm friends with except from Hank." He nodded and turned to the old man who was still prying himself from his comfortable sitting position.  

___

Hank drove to the scene whilst mumbling grumpily. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but I could guess that it was a string of profanities and complaints. Connor sat peacefully next to him, completely ignoring Hank's behaviour and instead taking in his surroundings. I could tell what he was doing from the yellow flashes that his LED made every now and then. In a matter of minutes I had dozed off in the back seat, grateful for the opportunity to get some rest.

___

I woke up to Connor gently shaking me, I wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep for, but I could tell that it wasn't long enough. I swatted the android's hand away and curled up so that I faced away from him, keeping my eyes firmly shut.

"Now Detective, this is very unprofessional. I think it would be best if you got out of the car without anymore resistance." I shook my head. I knew that Connor and Hank could handle this without my help. I didn't care if I was acting childish, sleep had taken me and I'd be damned if someo-

"Connor! Put me down." I cried out in surprise. I had hoped that he would let me be, but now he was carrying me bridal-style towards the building where the deviant was last spotted.

He placed me down gently next to Hank as he looked at me and smirked, "Nice of you to join us Y/LN."

I scowled at him and then turned towards Connor who had a slightly amused expression on his face.

"Fine. Let's just find him and get him back to the station."

I stalked off in determination, not caring about the case file or any other information. I just wanted to catch him quickly and get home to my bed.

___

Hank, Connor and I had scoured the first two floors of the building, finding absolutely nothing. I was ready to walk out until I heard some footsteps from upstairs. I turned automatically to Connor, who seemed to have heard it too. I nodded at him and we moved cautiously towards the staircase. From what little information Connor had forced upon me, I knew we were dealing with a hostile threat. I silently drew my gun and made my way up the concrete stairs, Connor following close behind.

As soon as I reached the top my attention was drawn to a figure at the end of the hallway, carefully opening a window.

"Detroit Police! Freeze!" I yelled out, causing the deviant's LED to flash red as he whipped around and saw me. Without a second thought, he jumped through the window.

Fuck it.

All or nothing.

I charged towards the window as I heard Connor yell after me. I shook off his protests and jumped through the window, grabbing on to a drainage pipe so that I didn't fall straight towards the ground. As soon as I landed, I spotted the deviant running down the street. I didn't have to blink before my adrenaline kicked in and I charged down after him, weaving in and out of the pedestrians that were still wandering around this late at night. He seemed to take every twist and turn possible, making it very hard to catch up to him as well as staying a good ten metres in front of me during the chase which was infuriating. I could hear Connor and Hank running behind me, but I still pushed my body further to catch the deviant.

I watched as the his hat flew off, revealing short blonde hair underneath. I was gaining on him and from the expression on his face every time he turned around I could tell that he was panicking. However, he still had the upper hand. Although I trained everyday and adrenaline was pumping through my veins, my stamina would not last forever like the deviant's.

I continued sprinting down the streets of Detroit until I felt a large, hard impact on my right side. Before my brain could comprehend what was going on I was sent hurtling through the air, landing harshly on the sidewalk.

It was as if all the breath had been forcefully punched out of my lungs and I struggled to gulp in air. My head had hit the concrete very hard and I could feel a sticky substance underneath it. My grazed arms immediately clutched my side and I winced as I felt where the vehicle had impacted me. I then looked down to my legs that were still lying halfway in the road. The exposed skin underneath my leggings and above my trainers was red raw and stung like a bitch. I couldn't help groaning in pain as I looked around me, my head was spinning and I found it hard to focus.

However, I could still see the deviant running down the street and I hurried to push myself back up, but every muscle was fragile and shaking and I found myself unable to regain balance. I couldn't even sit upright.

Though my ears were ringing loudly, I could make out the panicked yells of my name being called from somewhere close by. I blinked quickly as I tried to recognise the figure that was running towards me.

Connor.

Knowing that he would reach me soon I laid my head back on the ground and continued trying to breath as black spots dotted my vision. My eyelids became heavy and most of my body hurt but I fought off the temptation to fall asleep, knowing it could be fatal.

"Y/N! Stay awake, stay awake for me, come on." Connor's voice was almost unrecognisable now that I listened to it. It was dripping with worry that I didn't even know he could formulate. His soft hand cupped my cheek and moved my head carefully so that I faced him. I tried to smile but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Connor. I just wanted to take a nap in the fucking car. Now look at me... Never say that I don't do my job." I croaked out, reaching my hand towards his for some comfort through the pain. He didn't seem to recognise my attempt at humour as he looked at me in distress, however he immediately gripped on to my hand.

"I- I'm sorry Y/N. I didn't think this would happ-" he started worriedly but I cut him off.

"It's alright Connor, I'm only joking. It's not your fault." I smiled at him gently as I squeezed his hand. His other hand still cupped my cheek as he stroked it with his thumb comfortingly.

"I've called an ambulance, it should be here in six minutes and thirty seven seconds. You've got to stay awake until then." He sounded desperate now. I guess he could tell that I was close to passing out. It was probably from the head injury - I had no way of knowing if there was any blood loss and I wasn't sure if I wanted to know.

I nodded as I looked into his face. I had never seen him hold this much emotion before.

"Shit Y/N. Why the fuck did you run like that? You should've just let him get away." Hank suddenly said, my eyes pried themselves away from Connor and towards the Lieutenant. I let out a painful breath of laughter as I watched him pant.

"I realise that now, Hank. If only I could see the future."

He shook his head at me and moved my legs out of the road. The sudden movement of my body caused me to let out a cry of pain. I only just noticed how injured I was.

As I let out my strangled cry, I felt Connor's hand grip mine tighter. I looked back over to him to see a distraught look on his face, he was scanning my body as his LED flashed yellow and occasionally red. What was going through his head?

"Y/N. You have a sprained ankle as well as three broken ribs and a head injury. I cannot detect any internal bleeding but several layers of skin are missing from your legs and causing you to bleed as well as the injury on your head. I won't apply pressure to it for comfort's sake even though it is also bleeding, however it is not fatal. You have a seventy three percent survival chance and I suggest not causing anymore movement from here on out." Connor explained in a hurry.  

I squeezed his hand reassuringly and nodded slowly. My chance of survival wasn't great but I didn't care. Whether I died or was saved, my pain would still come to an end and I could finally get some fucking rest.

I felt my eyelids begin to grow heavy and it was getting harder and harder to keep them open.

"Y/N. You cannot fall asleep. You have a bad concussion and if you fall unconscious you could die. You've only got another 2 minutes and seven seconds but you have to stay awake!"

If I had been in any good state of mind I would have questioned Connor's terrified voice, but instead I listened and tried my hardest to stay awake. I decided that talking was my best bet.

"So... Connor. How's Android life treating you?" I asked in a desperate attempt to maintain consciousness. Connor picked up on this and started talking straight away, still gripping on to my hand.

"I was doing very well with my mission until you got hit by a car." He said, uncertain of what answer to give. I smiled amusedly, enjoying the honesty in his voice.

"Y/N, how's human life treating you?" He asked back, a reluctant smile creeping on to his face.

I smiled back. "I was doing pretty well with my chase until I got hit by a car."

I heard Hank chuckle somewhere close by me, "You sound a lot more positive now that you're dying than you did when you were fine."

I glanced over in his direction, feeling Connor tense at the word dying.

"I prefer being a bitch when I'm certain that I can live to apologise. Which reminds me, Hank, I'm sorry for being a bitch in the office. You just get on my nerves sometimes." I chuckled dryly, trying not to think about the fact that I could die here.

"Don't apologise, apologise when you're dead." Hank smiled.

I felt Connor start stroking my cheek with his thumb again, I leant against his hand comfortably until I heard sirens blaring in the distance.

"That's my ride guys. I'll see you later then?" I smiled.

Hank scoffed.

"We're going all the way to the hospital with you and staying until you wake up and we know that you're better." He said firmly. I smiled and looked up at the sky, enjoying the comfort that Connor was giving me. I refused to die, but this wouldn't be the worst way to go.

I heard the screech of brakes and sirens come to a halt.

I was safe now.

___

Before I had even opened my eyes I could tell that the room was bright. The pain that I had felt all over my body however long ago had now disappeared. My rib cage was sore, as was my head and legs, and there was a warmth in my hand that I couldn't explain but appreciated.

When I finally managed to open my eyes, the first thing they landed on was Connor. My heart fluttered as I realised he was still holding my hand, just like he had been when I finally closed my eyes and blacked out. He appeared to be deep in thought as he hadn't yet noticed that I was awake. With as much strength as I could muster, I squeezed his hand so that he was aware of my presence.

His head immediately snapped towards me and I watched relief flood into his eyes. I smiled weakly at him as he pulled his chair closer towards my hospital bed.

"Y/N, you're awake." He said softly. I melted at the sound of his voice, not knowing that he had such a caring side to him.

"Better than ever."

He frowned at this statement.

"I don't think that's true. You still have some bones broken and I think you'll find it difficult to walk." He said worriedly.

I laughed quietly to myself and watched as he smiled in confusion. My smile faltered though, as I realised how painful laughing was.

"It's just a thing people say, Con. Thank you for being here, it means a lot to me." I told him sincerely, leaning into his hand as he once again cupped my cheek. His warm brown orbs stating into my Y/EC ones.

"Hank and I said we'd be here until you felt better. He had to get some rest but I'm not going anywhere. I promise." Connor said sweetly, "But I'd avoid laughing or breathing too quickly for the time being, when your lungs expand they push against your rib cage, which will cause you a lot of pain... I don't want you to feel anymore pain, Y/N." His cheeks appeared to have a tinge of blue dusting them after he had finished speaking.

If I wasn't already melting inside, I certainly was now.

I had always liked the Android a bit more than I should have, but having him in this environment solidified my feelings for him. I didn't care if they could be returned or not, I was still just enjoying his company.

"Thank you Connor, I'll keep that in mind."

___

Connor and I talked until Hank got back to the hospital. I felt a lot calmer having the two of them by my side, none of my family lived in Detroit so if Hank and Connor weren't here for me I'd be very much alone.

After about an hour or so, they were both called out for another deviant case. I wasn't as upset as I thought I'd be; I had some time to sleep now. Connor seemed to find it difficult to leave my side, which was very sweet, but I told him that he had a job to do and couldn't look after me 24/7.

Each day went like this for another week, every time the pair came into the hospital I sensed tension. Although I didn't know what had happened, the story of deviants demanding equal rights and justice was all over the news. I had to be in hospital for another five days and therefore wasn't allowed back in the field. I was slightly relieved by this, because the more reports I saw on the hospital tv opposite my bed, the more I began to question what side I was on.

___

The date was November 11th when I woke up from a nap, glancing at the TV absentmindedly as I scanned the room, but something on it caught my eye and pulled me out of my dazed state.

There on the screen stood Markus - the leader of the Android's revolution. He was surrounded by darkness and snow, not to mention the thousands of Androids that crowded around him. He stood on top of what appeared to be a metal storage unit, with some other androids around him.

I listened to his speech and smiled at what he had accomplished, finally realising who was right and who was wrong. But as I looked closer, I noticed a familiar face in the background.

"Connor?" I mumbled confusedly.

It was definitely Connor, and there he stood at the front of a revolution. My face lit up as I realised what this meant; Connor was a deviant. He had finally broken through his programming. I couldn't have been prouder. I could tell from his mood changes that he'd been fighting off emotions recently, he always seemed conflicted when we spoke of his work.

I waited patiently for the next hour, knowing that no matter what the situation was, Connor would still come to check on me after he'd finished with the day's tasks.

Just before I was about to doze off again, the door to my room opened and in walked a flustered looking Connor. As soon as his eyes met mine he smiled brightly. I couldn't help but beam back at him, admiring how adorable he looked with a smile.

"Y/N, how are you feeling?" He asked me as he took his usual seat next to my bed.

I smiled up at him and took his hand, not missing the baby blue shade that his cheeks had turned.

"I'm feeling a lot better, Connor. The question is, how are you feeling?" I asked grinning.

"I'm afraid I have deviated, but I am finding it a rather... enjoyable experience." He said shyly, as if his deviation would irritate me in some way.

"Are you enjoying all of your new emotions?" I asked him curiously, wondering what he had already been able to feel.

His soft brown eyes met mine as he thought about what to say. I had always found it very cute that Connor spent so much time choosing the right words for things.

"I'm liking some emotions more than others..." he trailed off.

I looked at him but frowned as he looked away, almost... embarrassed?

I bit my lip and decided to ask him more about his view on things. I knew he was probably confused about what he was feeling, heck, even I was sometimes - and I'm human.

"Like what?"

Connor finally met my gaze, fiddling with my fingers as he held my hand. I smiled warmly as encouragement.

"Whenever I spend time around you, I'm filled with this pleasant sensation. I suppose you'd call it happiness but... it's stronger than that. There's this... unexplainable warmth inside of me, and when you're not there, it goes." He paused to see my reaction and immediately noticed my burning cheeks. This seemed to give him a spout of confidence.

"Y/N."

"Connor?"

He cautiously moved towards me, leaving his seat and instead leaning against the side of my bed. I bit my lip as his hand cupped the side of my head.

"Would it be alright if I kissed you?" He asked quietly, his head cocking to the side.

I nodded in response and closed my eyes as my hands wound their way up Connor's arms and rested at the back of his neck. It barely took a second for his lips to land on mine. The kiss wasn't heavy or heated. It was careful; calculated. It was soft and warm and loving. My heart seemed to stop for a few seconds before beating twice as fast.

He pulled away far too quickly for my liking, but stayed in the same position.

"I'm aware that humans kiss when they are romantically interested in another." He stated innocently.

I laughed lightly and kissed him again, pulling away to see the stunned look on his face.

I smirked, "Guess I'm romantically interested in you too."

___

As soon as I had been released from the hospital I had to go back to work. I didn't mind - it kept me busy. Connor insisted on driving me to work, saying that driving myself would be too dangerous. I disagreed. I knew that I could drive just fine with a half-broken ankle, I just didn't want to put myself in that much pain. Connor seemed different since the Android revolution. He seemed happier and more relaxed. He was still invested in his job but wasn't as fixed on specific tasks. I liked it. He had also gotten rid of his LED and no longer wore his Cyberlife jacket.

Once we arrived at the DPD, Connor told me to wait in the car for a few moments. I could guess what he was doing and smiled as he opened the car door for me, offering his hand out to help me up. I wobbled a little but quickly found my balance.

Connor then shut the car door and locked it, before taking me by the waist to help me indoors.

Once the two of us had checked in to the building, I looked up at the large flight of stairs.

"Well, Fuck." I mumbled before edging towards them. I didn't get very far before I felt a tug on my hand. The handsome Android behind me pulled me towards him, frowning slightly.

"Y/N, I think you'll find it quite painful to walk up those stairs." He said softly.

I laughed lightly, "I know Con, but it's only one flight and there's no lift, why? Were you going to carry me?"

Although I knew I was joking, Connor didn't hesitate to pick me up and hold me in his arms. I let out a small squeal and wrapped my arms around his neck. He smiled down at me and pecked my lips quickly before walking up the stairs.

"Although you'd re perfectly capable of walking to work, I have no problem with carrying you for a minute." He murmured.

"I don't have a problem with it either." I chuckled.

As soon as we arrived at the top, Connor set me down gently, ensuring that I didn't put too much pressure on the wrong leg. Before I limped off to my desk, he quickly kissed my cheek and wandered off to join Hank, who was gaping at the two of us. I only laughed and shook my head. The office was going to be a fun place to work.

[nomadmilk]

Why the God Isn’t Bored on Midgard - Loki x F!Reader Drabble - 3

Summary: With Ragnarok decimating Asgard, Thor and Loki and their people return to Earth searching for refuge. Everyone else has seemed to settle, except for Loki - the God of Mischief and Chaos - who isn’t willing to live the domesticated Midgard life, and getting utterly bored out of his mind... Until he discovered you.

Word Count: 2.2K 

Warnings: Rated M/18+ Strong suggestions of sex, and flustering, flustering, flustering

Author’s Note: I wanted something calm to lead up to this part. I was really excited to write this immediately posting the previous one. So here ^-^ Hope you like, and enjoy!! And, let me know what’s up :D <3

Here are the links to the other parts of this series: Part 1     Part 2 Part 3     Part 4 Part 5     Part 6 Part 7     Part 8 (First Half)     Part 8.5 (Second Half) Part 9

“Wrong door.”

“If you gave me a heads up to all of this, Loki, I’d be less pissed off with you than I am now.”

Even after a few weeks, you weren’t used to the new layout of the apartment. Sometimes you’d try to find your oven mitts in one drawer, and you’d find the gloves hanging somewhere else. When you were cooking, you weren’t used to the stove and sometimes burnt everything. The first few times you tried working the faucet or taps in the bathroom, you weren’t sure in which direction to turn them, or what button to press, in order to get the water warmer or colder, or get any water running at all.

Loki would sometimes see you in your moments of confusion and watch you try and figure out things that he thought any normal Midgardian can understand. Your usual invisible wall, where it helped you blindside him, had crumbled a little since the shower incident. You were a little clumsier; bumping into him, and almost walking into walls. Sometimes you enter the room in surprise, as if you forgot he lived there.

After being entertained by your minor struggles, he would confront you on them.

“Are most humans this inept with cupboards?“

You face him, your cheeks beginning to burn. You continue trying to reach a high shelf. “Go away, Loki.”

“If you’d like some help-“

“No, I’m fine.”

So, this was what made you angry. Or riled up.

Every query Loki had for you was always met with a trying snide remark. And it would entertain Loki further. “Let me.”

You hear footsteps approaching you. “What are you-“

You freeze up as you find his body approaches behind you. You don’t move as you see his arm extend and reach over, and as he does so he presses against your back further. He effortlessly grabs the popcorn bag you had been hailing at for the past ten minutes.

You snatch the bag out of his hand, turning around to face him. A smile spreads on his lips as he looks down on you. “You’re welcome.”

For a moment, Loki could see it; that inkling to yell or snap at him. Your lips parted, and your cheeks flush pink; he was so close that you could feel his low voice. He continues looking into your eyes; his moss coloured irises dart slightly across your expression.

You clutch the popcorn bag tighter.

Letting out a breath, your shoulder collides with his chest, and the impact makes him stumble back. But, instead of a change of demeanour you were hoping for, he stifles a laugh as you leave the room.

Loki leaves you be once more, preparing himself with some tea for the afternoon ahead of him; the university, that Nick Fury had recommended him at, had hired him and wanted him to start immediately. After a few times of lecturing to a class, the schedule flowed, and teaching became almost second nature to him; anything that made him command the room seemed to fare well. He was sceptical of the location at first but, the more he roamed the halls and the more he took his breaks in the gardens, he began warming up to the place.

He didn’t realise that it would supply him with work to do at home. In the home office, he’d read and mark essays, writing notes on a piece of paper. He used his sorcery to map out learning plans and profiles for the students he had in his classes, and even catches a few who have been unreasonably absent.

He hears a knock on the door.

His eyebrow raises. “Come in?” It wasn’t usually like you to try and have a conversation with him, so he didn’t expect you to knock on his office door during his marking process.

You unlock the door. “Loki- Uh…“

You stop at the floating images that surround him and his desk. It didn’t look like it was being projected by anything.

Loki watches you gawk, scanning you from head-to-toe. You were wearing make-up, a black long coat, and a stunning dress; it hugged your figure, and a colour that complimented your skin tone and brightened your eyes.

You looked delicate and alluring, and Loki wanted to-

“Oh.” You blink at him. “So that explains everything.”

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t have just some weird name for no reason.”

He frowns some more. “Excuse me?”

“Uh, an Avenger came to the apartment while you were out.”

Loki waited for more details; it’s been a while since someone did a check up on him, so he was waiting for your answer as to who it was.

“It was your brother - Thor?” You walk towards his desk. “Why didn’t you tell me he was your brother? Why didn’t you tell me you were some kind of- kind of alien- no offense.”

The god exhales. Was this how he could have gotten you to talk to him?

Loki grimaces. “It’s not like you were that bothered to know me for the past few weeks or so. Now, my brother shows up and you’re suddenly curious?”

“Yeah, because my roommate is the Prince of Asgard.”

Loki couldn’t help but smile at your acknowledgement of the reality of his status.

He swipes the holograms out with his Seidr. “What else has my oaf of a brother told you?”

“We just chatted.” You say, your eyebrows knitted at his side comment on Thor. You resume, starting to sound shy. “With everything happening lately, it was super nice. I didn’t get his number or anything, but could you let him know I said thanks?”

Sentiment; Loki was still in debate on whether he liked the word or not. He never really gave true sympathy or empathy a go, unless if it was onto his brother, and if it was a rouse to then stab him for fun later on.

So, Loki decided to give it a try. On you. “I’ll pass the message. What’s been happening with you?”

Your expression flashes; you were caught off guard. “Uh. A lot. Nothing interesting for you, really.”

He gestures to chair in the corner of the room. “Please.”

You pause. “Okay.” After a second, and still in bewilderment, you walk over and grab the chair, and sit opposite of him, a sigh escaping before saying your piece. 

As briefly as you could, you explain your predicaments; your previous relationship, your sucky job, and getting fired from your sucky job. And now, you’re fed up with your life going sideways, so you were looking for a new and better job. And, also dating again.

But really, you didn’t have much confidence in your near future.

Loki passively nods, deliberating. “So, you’ve been dating? Is this a long-term thing, or is this – what do you Midgardians call it – a rebound?”

You shook your head. “I honestly don’t know, I was gonna’ leave for a date tonight, hence-“ – you indicate to your outfit. – “This. But he cancelled last minute. I’m in the middle of seeing if my friends are wanting to come out, though.”

“Right.” Loki nods some more, getting up from his chair. “And how’s job hunting now?”

“No luck, either.” You reply.

He leans against the desk in front of you, folding his arms. “Do you know why?”

“I think it’s my interviews – I always have a great application, but I think I tank all the questions they ask me... Wait-” – you look up at him. – “Your brother mentioned you have a silvertongue, like, a legit one. Do you have any tricks you could teach me? Or something that would help me out? Or like transfer your powers to me, or something?”

“Transfer my powers to you?” He repeats. “Like a legit one?”

“Hey, I read up about you after speaking to Thor – silvertongue, god of mischief, fucking foxes-“

“It was a wolf, and Midgard’s teachings of ancient Norse is incredibly inaccurate. It’s considered mythology, which is the first thing.” He says, reminding himself of the books he has to memorise for the curriculum. He needed to write his own.

“Well, are you going to teach me silvertongue, or not? Or are you rusty, or something?”

Loki hesitates, pondering the next few minutes of the conversation. He examines your body language; your arms were folded, you were getting snippy again, and your lips seemed fuller than the last time he saw you…

“What?” You begin, “Or is your silvertongue some kind of fake magic trick?” 

Loki’s jaw clenches. 

Magic trick?

His eyes shut close for a second, then open. Out of all the things to come out of your mouth, it was the first to ever anger him. However, he was confused; he didn’t want to hurt you, but he sure as Hel wanted to punish you.

“How about this...” His voice could cut the air. “You ask the interview questions, I’ll answer them accordingly.”

You were taken aback by the change in attitude, but you try to make your reaction unknown. “Uh, okay.” 

You stand and step towards him. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m the department manager, and I’ll be your interviewer today.”

You present your hand to him. He takes it, and shakes it with no falter. “Hello, Miss Y/N. My name is Loki. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Your speechless look extends the handshake a little longer than you expected; friendly Loki was slightly freaking you out. 

You let go, faking it as a way to wipe away a strand of hair. You clear your throat. “Please, take a seat.”

As he sits on your chair, you go behind the desk and sit on his. “So, what made you decide to apply for this job?”

“In all honesty,” he begins his response, “I heard that this department was run by you, and I’m an incredible fan of your work.”

“I assure you, Mr-“

“Odinson.”

“Mr Odinson,” you proceed, “flattery won’t help you here.”

“Well,” he glances at the floor for a second, then locks eyes with you, “it might help with something else.”

“And what would that be?”

“It might allow me to show you how valuable of an employee I can be for you.”

“Okay.” You were growing wary. “How would you prove yourself to be a valuable employee?”

He sees you look away, the familiar colour flushing your cheeks was making Loki struggle to fight back his grin. “From what I could tell from your life, you seem to be experiencing some... Frustrations. I’d like to see if I could help you with any of them, so your life becomes a little bit easier.”

“Frustrations?” The word comes out broken by the tenure of your voice and the volume it projected. 

You shift as you feel your authoritative character dissolve, and he wasn’t helping with his gaze undressing you. He obviously wasn’t going to be professional about the whole thing. 

“Frustrations with my job?” You try not to stutter with the redirection. “And-and that would be?”

“If you would let me, I’d like to ease these frustrations of yours any way I can.” His words flow smoothly with the timbre of his voice. “These dilemmas you have are personal - intimate. If you would allow it, I would love to have you for one night – Just one – to be close, to be intimate… To have your lips – forgive me, but they look delectable when you bite them…” He chuckles into a a devilish smile. “You have no idea what I want to do to you when I see you like that.”

You stop biting your lip. Loki’s words were temptation in poetry. His voice alone was like silk; you never realised how listening to him was like running your hands against the fabric itself. But you wanted friction. You desired more.

He chuckles, reading your mind. “I desire you. And I would happily sate you, in every way possible, to make you happy. To make you mine.”

He sees your throat gulp. Your legs, already crossed, flinch a little and tighten together. Against Loki’s cool presence and lustful gloss, your complexion was pink; the right shade Loki liked it to be.

The resonances of your words are weak. “And that’s how you’d prove yourself as a valuable employee?”

“I would hope so.” He finalizes, his cold cobalt eyes not leaving yours. “I think I’d be a perfect addition to your team.”

Your phone rings, sending a jolt for your arms to pick it up.

Loki watches you intently as you greet the person on the phone and, after a blunt chat, end the call.��

“I gotta’-… I gotta’ go.” You get to your feet, placing the phone back in your pocket, your dazed fluster replacing with the smack of reality. “This wasn’t much help.”

He stands in front of you in obstruction, and innocently letting the tense moment fly by. “Why’s that?”

“Loki, none of those things are something I would –  or should – say at an interview. Thanks for nothing.”

“You wanted a new relationship, and a new job. It’s hitting two birds with one stone-”

You slap him.

His face reacts late to the action, and his head slowly turns to you.

But you try to have the last word. “There was one other thing Thor wanted me to know,” you state, “you’re not as clever as you think.”

[portalford]

Nothing to Stop Us Now

AO3

“If I see one more purple mosquito thing, I’m gonna fling myself out of this tree,”  says Stan, scratching furiously at a souvenir from one of the aforementioned pests.  He’s pretty sure he killed that one, and that helps a little.

Just a little.  It still itches like the blazes.

“That would be regrettable,”  says Ford, not looking up from his sketchbook.

“You sound real regrettable,”  Stan mutters.  He gives up on the bug bite in favor of better entertainment: baiting Ford.  “This is your fault.”

Ford, unlike the bugs, doesn’t bite.  “If I remember correctly,”  he says, in a tone heavily implying that he’s never forgotten a thing in his life (which is absolutely untrue) and still without looking up from his damn drawing, “I was perfectly happy to stay in my study and had no comments about ‘stretching my legs’.”

“Don’t quote me at me,”  Stan snaps.  “You needed to get outta that dusty closet anyway.”

Ford finally takes his eyes off his page, but it’s only to lean out for a better look over the branch he’s sitting on, far enough that Stan is tempted to yank him back before the idiot falls.  “It’s fortunate that it isn’t able to climb trees, at least,”  he says, going right back to his drawing.

‘Fortunate’ is not a word Stan would apply to any part of this situation.  It’s hot, he’s thirsty, he scraped his arm climbing this tree, the branch he’s on is too skinny for his butt, and there’s two rows of sharp, slobbery teeth about ten feet below his ankles.  

Ford, predictably, has ignored these and every other grievance Stan has tried to air over the past five minutes, so Stan just snorts.

Ford ignores that, too.  He just says, “Watch out for the seedpods—my research indicated that these pods release a smell similar to hydrogen sulfide if they’re crushed.  Probably to deter predators,”  he adds, mostly to himself.

“Hydrogen what?”

“Rotten eggs, Stanley,”  Ford says solemnly, before getting sucked back into his drawing.

And yeah, Stan’s feeling pretty petulant right now, but he’s not gonna make this experience worse.  He scoots over a little, just to be safe.  Now he’s sitting on a really knobby, more wobbly, part of the branch.  Fantastic.

Stan’s pretty much over his fear of heights these days, but he’s definitely got a normal, healthy, self-preservational fear of falling.  Especially when it’s a long drop and a short stop to being a devil dog’s lunch.

Said devil dog is still staring at him with all three of its ugly yellow eyes, tongue lolling hungrily over ugly yellow teeth.

Ford, who wouldn’t know things like ‘normal’ or ‘healthy’ or ‘self-preservational’ if they bit him with all the teeth in the world, teeters out over thin air again.  He’s higher up and to the left, on a branch that looks even thinner and more uncomfortable than Stan’s, but he hasn’t said anything about it.  Stan doubts he’s even noticed.  “I wonder if there are more of them.  Surely they would have heard the racket and come looking?”

“Ford, I will literally give you a dollar to shut up,”  Stan says.

That, of all things, gets Ford’s attention.  “Really?”

“…Would you go for fifty cents?”

“No, I was just shocked that you were offering to part with money for any reason.”

“Yeah?  Well I was shocked that you were offering to shut up for any reason.”

Ford flashes a smile, sharp and challenging.  Stan’s about to meet him with another insult when the devil dog, apparently unable to handle not being the center of attention for ten seconds, rears up on the tree trunk and makes a noise like a stuck pig.

Stan makes good and sure he’s got a solid grip on the branch before screaming back.

The thing squeals louder and lunges, jaws snapping shut just below Stan’s boots.  Stan promptly pulls his feet up on the branch.  These are new boots, and if they get chewed to pieces before he’s even broken them in—

His perch shivers and bounces as Ford scrambles to his feet above him.  “Stanford for the love of God and money sit down.”

Ford does not sit down, choosing instead to hang halfway off the branch, talking all the while about “cross-species” and “evolutionary advantages” and other stuff Stan doesn’t bother to follow.

Instead, he finds himself a long twig and swats Ford’s leg with it, hard.

Ford cuts off, glaring.  “What was that for?”

Stan pokes him again.  “I know you’re super excited about this dog thing, but I am tired and sweaty and almost lost a chunk of my leg climbing this tree that I’d really like to keep and please sit down.”

Ford sits, and he even has the grace to look somewhat contrite.  He promptly ruins this by saying, “iI’s not a dog, Stanley, it’s—”

“Sixer, I literally could not care less.”  There’s a moment of silence while Stan nurses his physical bug-related injuries and Ford nurses his mental Stan-related injuries.  Stan sighs.  “Sorry.  Rough day.”  It’s more explanation than excuse, but it’s the best he’s got right now.

The devil dog yips.  Stan almost wishes he was a bit lower, just so he could try to kick it in the face.

“It’s fine, Stanley.”  Ford leans over to put a hand on his shoulder.  Stan doesn’t waste his breath telling him to stay put, because the last six warnings have made no impact whatsoever, and it’s kinda nice anyway.  “This creature is fascinating, but there are plenty of of other anomalies that can be studied without resorting to hiding in a tree.  Besides,”  he adds, sitting back and waggling his sketchbook,  “I finished my drawing.”

Stan rolls his eyes, but he can feel a smile coming on in spite of himself.  Ford has always been the most uniquely frustrating person Stan’s ever known—and Stan has known a lot of frustrating people, himself included—but there’s a kind of oblivious honesty to his frustrating-ness that Stan hasn’t found anywhere else, did without for thirty years, and would really like to never be without again, regardless of how much Ford pisses him off at times.

“Well, as long as you got your drawing.”  Stan looks at the devil dog.  The devil dog looks back.  It feels really unfair that it’s got three eyes to stare with, but that’s life for you.  “What do you wanna do about this?”

“I would suggest running for it, but that didn’t prove especially effective the first time we tried.”  Ford considers the monster below.  It hisses at him.  “Also, it’s ready for us now.”

“It’s gonna take us time to get down this tree, too,”  Stan says.  He really doesn’t want to lose these boots.  Or that chunk of his leg.  Or anything else, really.

“Hm.”  Ford stands up.  “If I can jump on it, I think it would stay stunned long enough for us to get a head start back to the Stan O’ War."

“Okay, hold up,”  Stan interrupts, loud enough to make the dog squeal.  He ignores it.  “I’m heavier’n you—if anyone’s gonna jump, shouldn’t it be me?”

“An additional nine feet should give me enough velocity to match your weight on impact,”  Ford says, like this is a reasonable thing to be talking about.  The way he’s eyeing the branch over his head is worrying Stan; he decides to nip this whole thing in the bud before Ford gets really into it.

“Yeah, no.  Way too many ‘should-be’s’ in that plan, bro.  I want to get out of this with all my bits attached.”  Redirect, redirect, redirect— “How about we throw sticks at it?”  Fantastic plan, Stan.  That’s gonna win awards for sure.

Somehow, it does.  Ford brightens like Stan said something genuinely smart and impressive.  “Stanley, that’s brilliant!”

“Throwin’ sticks?”

“What?  No, not sticks.”  Ford reaches up for one of the fist-sized green pods from the foliage around them.  “These.”

The last fifteen awful minutes are suddenly worth it, and better.  Stan knows he’s grinning like a moron and he doesn’t care.  “We’re gonna stink bomb this dog?”

“We are.”  Ford’s got that crazy glint in his eye that Stan recognizes from their wilder childhood escapades, and he doesn’t even correct Stan about the dog thing.  He hefts the pod in his hand.  “How’s your throwing arm?”

Stan puffs out his chest, brandishing a stinkpod of his own.  “You’re lookin’ at the reigning dart champion of Joe Shmoe’s Bar and Grill.”

“That was forty-odd years ago, and you cheated.”

“Still won!”

Ford rolls his eyes.  

The best way to shut the critics up is with a practical demonstration, so—

Stan lets it fly.

It hits the dog square in its ugly face and bursts.

“Moses that’s bad.”  Between the dog’s shrieking, the awful smell, and the shakiness of his seat, Stan’s not sure if he’s riled up or terrified.

Probably both.

“Impressive throw, though,”  Ford says, lining up a headshot of his own.

Thirty seconds and about half that many stinkpods later, the devil dog is but a distant memory.  Or would be, if not for the lingering stench and fading squealing of its flight.

“That’s right!”  Stan shouts, high enough on adrenaline and the choking smell that he doesn’t feel any kind of worry when he leans out over nothing.  “Tell your friends!”

“Here’s to hoping he has no friends,”  Ford replies, flinging his last stinkpod into the woods.  His mostly-level voice does nothing to hide the fact that he’s practically vibrating where he stands.

“Hell yeah,”  Stan says, fervent.  

It takes him a minute to get down, what with his legs being almost numb from sitting on that useless skinny branch for so long.  Ford has an easier time, probably on account of his near-constant jittering and jumping around.

“So I’m all for coming back here with my knuckledusters,”  Stan says, after a moment where they both just sort of stand there staring at each other across burst and battered stinkpod shells, “but can we do it tomorrow?”

“That might be for the best,”  Ford says, lifting his arm over his face and wrinkling his nose.  “I’m going to try that new odor remover I’ve been working on,”  and Stan didn’t know about that but he’s not even a little surprised,  “because I like this coat.”

“You might wanna use that stink cleaner on yourself too, Sixer,”  Stan says as they’re walking back down the beach.    “You smell like a skunk’s nightmares.”

“You could use a bath yourself, Stanley,”  Ford replies, and trips him into a tide pool.

Stan yanks him in after, and he’s laughing all the way down.

[momtemplative]

Nine Days. (COVID-19)

To say day-to-day life has changed since I last posted (March 9)  feels like a gross understatement. Nine days feels like the gestation period of some unknown force that continues to grow.  

I’m writing, but my words feel like sheets of paper in a cyclone. Nothing cohesive. Self-judgment says, does anyone really want to hear what you have to say in the midst of this barrage of COVID-19 thoughts/opinions/posts/news? Then I shut up and write, even if it’s just something, even if it’s not pristine.

Nine Days, in list form:

1. Thursday, March 12, 2020—THE OUTSIDE TURNS DOWN. 

We get the news that schools are going to be shut down for many weeks, probably more. When that happens, the lighting in our house shifts. It’s as if the outside turns down, like half-drawn curtains. And those who live inside the walls of our little house—Jesse, Opal, Ruth, myself, and the pets— take on a fresh-rinsed potency, as if we know we are on the brink of something big and we are in it together.

2.  Friday, March 13, 2020—TARGET

We take a trip to Target. Ruth begs to wear her tap shoes, which I reluctantly agree to. The people at Target are amiable; nobody is concerned about keeping a distance yet. We are pushing carts as two-way traffic down aisles, brushing elbows, as we would on any large-crowd shopping day. Moms exchange nods of camaraderie, like fellow Harley drivers on the highway. The overall feeling is generous and very much we-are-in-this-together. What is different, what is startling, is the very, very low inventory. Some of the shelves are completely empty, (toilet paper, cleaning agents) which, in spite of the music, crowds and fluorescent lighting, feels eerie. 

The lines are 10-12 people long, cards filled to the brim, and even though I don’t hear one short-tempered word, most of the people in the lines are wrapped comfortably in the tiny glare of their smart phones. It’s amazing how deeply grownups crawl into those little screens, even in public. Ruth walks by them with her tap-tap-tap shoes, duct taped at the buckle and two sizes too big. They make a startling, gloriously sharp sound against the linoleum. 

Imagine a line of adults raising their gaze with each step of her foot, like a face-only version of the wave, a beautiful cascade of heads that rise to meet the sound. Each face spreads into a smile when they see where it originates: tiny girl, impervious to her impact, shiny-star tank top and tutu, like a Disney+ version of Madonna’s Like a Virgin.

Back at home, emails flood our inboxes with some variation of ‘COVD-19 closure’ in the subject line. The library. The Rec center. Stores dropping from Main Street like birds shot from a wire. Restaurants and coffee shops are sweating hard, offering discounts on gift cards for later and curbside take-out.

We are getting wind of the fact that we need to slow the spread of this virus so as not to overwhelm the healthcare systems—to ‘flatten the curve.’ We need to stay in as much as possible. Not be in big groups. Probably not see the grandparents for a while. Wash our hands like crazy, scrubbing while singing the ABCs from start to finish.

It sure looks as if we won’t be going to Target (where Ruth who touches every surface with all ten fingers then promptly rubs her eyes and picks her lip) for a while.

3.  Saturday, March 14, 2020—SHOULD WE??

Every out-of-house action feels strange and other-worldly. Even the most benign of outings suddenly beg the question, wait—should we?? Do we really need to?? Going to the kid-gym and kid-yoga just two days earlier suddenly seems outlandish. A planned gathering with friends that felt wonderful yesterday feels out of the question today. 

4.  Sunday, March 15, 2020—COMMUNITY.

There is an amazing video going around of a community in Italy who are quarantined, but still singing from their balconies as an etherial chorus. 

A family-walk around the block feels potent and perennially safe. Our next-door neighbor joins us with her dog. We wave at another family of neighbors who are perched on their porch in the sun, their toddler wearing the hilarious mirrored sunglasses of a studly lifeguard. Then we cross and take the bike path behind the houses that are on the other side of our street. Another neighbor exits from her sliding back door, her dog lurching out from behind her. Yet another neighbor steps out into the light wearing pajamas and with his small dog under his arm. Everyone feels hungry for sunshine and familiar connection, but we all keep our distance.

When I was 13, I took a spring break vacation with friends to Arizona, where we visited the “Biosphere2.” The headlines read: “Eight explorers join together in a daring, high-profile study of sustainability and the new science of biospherics—the study of closed systems that mimic Earth’s environment.” Essentially, eight people lived in a sealed-up dome, a mini-earth, for two years to study sustainability. We could see them all through the glass. I remember waving, though I don’t know how accurate that is. I think of that right now, as I wave to my friends through their windows. 

Even Opal is weighing her options. Just after lunch, she says to me, “I’m going to try and make Ruth my friend. We may be together for a long long time and I want to have fun with her.”

The girls laugh so hard at dinner tonight, we wind up calling a moratorium when they are unable to take a drink without spraying it across the table. This is very unusual.

5.  Monday, March 16, 2020—RAGE

The media is rich with photos of college kids whooping it up over the weekend for St. Patrick’s Day. Seeing photos of hundreds of young bodies smashed together in a bar makes my blood curdle. I can practically see the virus spreading. 

Let’s talk about neuroscience for a minute. The brain isn’t fully developed until the age of 25. Therefore, to leave hundreds of thousands of 18-24 year olds to their own devices to make good choices around self-quarantining is like requesting the same from a litter of wild animals. Is there a psychiatrist out there observing this with some sense of concern? Where are the leaders in this? I don’t just mean parents. I’m also wondering about teachers, staff, the adults who own the bars, ANYONE who has some sense of perspective and enough maturity to help float those who aren’t as evolved.

Concurrently, parents are home from work, doing their human duty of staying home/keeping kids home to slow the growth of this thing. Healthcare workers are AT WORK so we can stay home and everyone can get a handle on this thing. Grr. It really is infuriating.

6. Tuesday, March 17, 2020—WHAT IF IT WERE MY IDEA?

Today I have a random memory of having insomnia for close to a year when I first moved to Colorado fifteen years ago. It was agonizing: the mealy brain that would wake me up with an indifferent shrug and leave me unsettled and restless for hours—a fate far worse than jolting into a leap of wide-awake!—left me feeling dead-brained and disconnected for weeks at a time. The only thing that helped me to recover was to pretend it was all my idea. I have no recollection of how that notion ever came to me but there it was. I’d wake up at 3am and force myself to say, well, super! I was hoping to be up tonight! I have so much to do, after all! Filing, for example, was a big one. Before going to sleep at night, I’d actually pile things by my bed to do when I’d wake up during the night. It positively worked. In under a week, I was sleeping like a mouse.

I got to wondering if that hypothesis could be applied to this COVID reality. Perhaps, I could say to myself, now is as good a time as any to face down some mortal fears and learn about what it’s like to live in quarantine with a four and a ten-year-old. I’m not talking about Pollyanna-Sizing in the least. Just talking about broader perspectives to keep sanity in check.

7. Wednesday, March 18, 2020—A FEW GOOD THINGS

Some parts of this feel tenable, dare I say nurturing. The first few days of this have felt like a combination of a snow day and a meditation retreat. It is part family love-fest, part novel bio-spheric experiment. The weather is warm and inviting so we triple our number of family walks and clock in hours in the backyard. (Backyard, oh how I love thee.) Time feels abundant and luxurious. The slow-drip news of this international trauma infuses the ordinary moments with a sense of urgency, of faintly (or not) facing our individual mortality. Each choice is whittled away by the updated COVID rules du jour. Gratitude lists brim with things that may have previously been taken for granted: health, family, running water. 

I clean the hell out of the bathtub today and enjoy every moment of it. I cannot for the life of me remember an instance when I took my time cleaning the bathtub like this, doing small circles on the tile like Mr. Miyagi. I typically rush through my cleaning with some sense of discontent, feeling that it’s taking up space that could be used for something worth relishing.

I typically feel paycheck-to-paycheck with regards to time. But now, time is one thing we have more of than we could possibly use. Usually, my brain has the feeling of being pulled down the road by pack of strong wolves. A lurching feeling. Now—not the case. I feel a shit load of feelings, but rushed and overwhelmed are not on the list.

While I clean? The girls are content reading books in their individual ways. Jesse is in the living room in the rocking chair he continues to scoff at, feet up on the rocking foot-stool, MacBook in his lap as if he’s rocking it to sleep. In that moment, there is a settled feeling inside the places where rushing and overwhelm are usually expected. This is one part I do not mind about the new norm.

8.  Thursday , March 19, 2020—SNOW / CREATIVITY IS REQUIRED FOR SUSTAINABILITY 

There is at least ten inches of snow on the ground—an abrupt change in weather—and I want to start drinking well before lunch. Cozy as it is, all I can think of is our lack of ability to escape into the out-of-doors. 

Yesterday I felt heavy and blue, like the adrenaline was wearing off and the novelty of our situation was waning. My face felt leaden and I was short-fused with everyone, making audible sighs of exasperation that drive me bonkers when done by someone else. I miss my friends. I miss my routine and my work and Sunday morning writing-then-yoga. I know everyone does, but I do too. I want my Big child to continue to enjoy being with my Little child without constant management. I want to know HOW THIS IS ALL GOING TO UNFOLD. 

Then, moments later, I am telling Opal how we need to try and be patient with each other. We can get what we need with kind words. We are a team. 

I am struggling to find balance. One moment, I am a parent who remembers that Opal feels the same feelings as I do around all of this, yet with less perspective and practice on how to be with those scary inner-bits. The next moment, I am fed up with her vague grumpiness and I just want everyone to work together dammit!

The koan is how to feel spacious in a scenario where there is very little limited space.

Today I awoke feeling brighter. Opal has a Girl Scout meeting over Zoom at 2pm. Something for the schedule that did not originate from a member of Grimes Home Base! Yay! We are both as excited as eager peaches. Facetimes, Skype, Zoom calls are going to be the wiring the keeps us tethered to our relationships. Such irony, when, not long ago, the internet felt like the very thing that perpetuated our universal disconnection. 

People are starting to get innovative with their use of the Web, and it’s inspiring as hell. Creativity will save us. Some of my favorite local musicians are doing “QuaranTours”—live shows on line. A famous kids’ book author is teaching the art of doodling. Late night Talk Show hosts are doing shows from their living room, with kids climbing on their shoulders and cheeks shiny without the help of a make-up crew.

9.  Friday, March 20, 2020—WE NEED A BROCHURE.

Last weekend, we invited our dear next-door neighbor over to watch Frozen 2 with us. She ate our Pirate Booty, sat on our furniture. The things you do with a friend on any given, normal day. This weekend, she texted to see if we wanted to watch another movie, this time with her fiancé who had been traveling last weekend. I felt the need to explain that so much has changed since last Sunday, at least for us. Had it for them? Our tactics had been distilled down to the essence. At this point, we have decided not to let anyone else in the house right now. They totally understood.

Then I ran into them while on a walk today. They were walking towards Elvis and I on the sidewalk and I crossed the street away from them, not at all realizing who they were. I was just doing my usual COVID-cross-the-street-to-give-room move. I was also absorbed in a Podcast. 

I crossed-back to see them. I was genuinely giddy with the prospect of their company. I realized I hadn’t been with any adult other than Jesse during the past week. I must've oozed with fervor! But, quickly I felt awkward because I was standing only a few feet away from them! I stepped back but that also felt wrong. Then I was aware of them being aware of me, and I thought, what is happening to us? These are my friends! But because we are not all on the same page, it can feel a bit clunky. Even still, our interaction was supremely satisfying. I wanted them to stay with me for the rest of my walk, but they had plans to go play Scrabble.

Oh how hungry I was for diverse conversation! Those few minutes on the sidewalk together were rich with talk-points and humor. Memorable. I’m still finding my way with enjoyable FaceTimes, but long-distance sidewalk chats are thus far my jam. I had a fantastic chat with a neighbor a few doors down while we were shoveling, and with another neighbor from my porch to her on the sidewalk. Both were far enough away to comfortably toss a softball. Both lasted only a few moments. Both were lavish with depth and hilarity, but concise, as if there were no time to waste.

March 20, 2020

Photos—Top: gel print by Opal. Middle: quick portrait by Ruth. Bottom: me rainbow-organizing markers (who has time for that on an average day??)

[ohprettyweeper-moved]

A Summer Story

Age 23

Pairing: Tyler x Kansas Word Count: 2540 (whoops) Warnings: Some drinking. Lots of fluff. Like, A LOT.  Challenge: Kansas’s YouAU Writing Challenge Tags: @takenvysleep​ @breadbinishigh​ @svintsandghosts​@xtina2191​

After my sixteenth birthday, Tyler and I did a lot better about staying in touch. We even managed a few visits over the years I was in college. The kiss and our camp crushes never came up, although I know I thought about addressing the matter more than a few times.

“What’s the point, though?” I would ask Red. “We were twelve and sixteen. It was forever ago.”

“But obviously not long enough to be forgotten,” Red would tease in return.

And that would end the conversation.

After I finished off my bachelor’s degree, I still had my master’s and my doctorate to go, but I was fortunate enough to have already found a job with a stormchasing team. I was low-man on the totem pole, but it would pay the bills while I worked through the rest of my education -- until I could start my own team.

The summer after college graduation, my friend Freddie invited me to Los Angeles for a visit. She had been a photography major, although she was talented enough to not need the extra education, honestly. She had been taking pictures for up-and-coming bands while she was up-and-coming, but landed a gig for the iHeartRadio music festival straight out of school. She invited me along, and I agreed -- mostly because I knew Tyler was going to be there. I made her promise not to tell anyone that I was going to be there, not by name, anyway. Tyler’s band was on the roster, and I wanted to surprise him.

“Or you could just tell him that you’re gonna be there,” Freddie suggested.

I smiled to myself. “Yeah, but I owe him a surprise like this.”

Freddie frowned, not really sure what I was talking about. I’d tell her later, but for now, I was too excited about my surprise to spill any details.

.&.

While Freddie and I got ready for the first night of the festival, I asked about the latest with her and her love interest.

“Tell me the truth,” I said, cocking one eyebrow, “did you only take this job because of Brendon?”

Freddie laughed, causing her mascara to smudge just above her eyelid. “Damn it. No, I didn’t not take this job because of Brendon. I didn’t have to. He and I -- well, we’re a thing.”

I squealed. “A thing? Okay, so like a serious thing, or what?”

Freddie nodded; she didn’t need makeup to put a blush across her cheeks. “Yes, a serious, committed, boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”

I waited, and when she didn’t say anything, I could have shook her. “Dude! Stop holding out. Tell me how it happened!”

Freddie put the mascara back into her makeup bag and hopped up on the bathroom counter. “Well, you know we’ve crossed paths at shoots in the city several times over the last few years. And my part of my last portfolio project, he let me use him as a subject for some shots. And right before graduation, I was out here visiting some photographer friends, and on a whim, I called him. We kept talking and now, we’re a thing.”

She ended her story with a shrug, hopped off the counter, and went back to finishing her makeup. She made it sound like being in a relationship with Brendon Urie had come naturally, almost.

“It did, kind of,” Freddie said, getting out her book of false lashes and selecting a pair. She squeezed out the appropriate amount of glue, let it get tacky, then went about the tedious process of applying the lash. “So, you gonna tell me about this Tyler kid, or what?”

I tilted my head from side to side. “Short version, we met at camp when I was twelve. I had a crush, so did he, but obviously nothing came of it. Then, when I was sixteen, Red had him come to our hometown for my birthday. Everything was really crap then, but Tyler -- he was my first kiss. And it turned things around. We’re really good friends, but we don’t get to see each other that often. This seemed like a good opportunity to surprise him, so … here I am.”

Freddie raised her brow. “Well, that’s adorable.”

“Stop, Freddie. It’s just one of those things. It’s nothing.”

“Mmhmm. Now who’s blushing?”

We both laughed then, and put away the conversation about boys to speed up the getting ready process -- although, I did warn her that regardless of Brendon Urie’s success in the musical world, he was still going to get the protective best friend speech when I met him.

.&.

“We’re Twenty One Pilots and so are you!”

That was the line he ended every show with, and I loved it. I loved the connection Tyler and Josh had with their fans, both from a general perspective, but also for Tyler and Josh’s sake. They had wondered several times over the years if the two of them alone were enough for the stage and a label -- turned out what I told him every time he voiced his concerns was right. They were more than enough.

Thanks to the pass Freddie and Brendon had scored for me, I was waiting for Tyler when he came offstage. Confetti was still falling over the outdoor crowd, and the cheering hadn’t even begun to die down. Josh spotted you first, at the end of the line of people waiting to high-five them or shake hands or whatever else after the show.

“Well, look who’s here,” Josh smiled, high-fiving me before stepping away so Tyler could get a good look at the surprise guest.

“Kansas!”

“Hey,” I laughed as he swept me up into his arms. Even though he was sweaty and in desperate need of a shower, I flung my arms around his neck and set my dry cheek against his sweaty one. “Had the opportunity to return the surprise and I couldn’t pass it up.”

Tyler hugged me tighter. “I’m so glad you’re here. C’mon, let’s go to the bus. I’ll get washed up and then I’ll take you out for food.”

“I never say no to food!”

Tyler laughed, slinging a sweaty arm across my shoulders. “Trust me, I know.”

.&.

“So, you two really met at a camp?” Freddie asked, somewhat incredulous. “You’ve known each other for ten years? I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time wrapping my mind around this.”

I looked at Tyler, who was already grinning over at me. “Yeah, well, after a few glasses of wine, I’d imagine it’s difficult to wrap your mind around pretty much anything.”

Freddie made a face at me, then leaned over to kiss Brendon. I looked down at my own drink, intentionally avoiding Tyler’s gaze. I’d only had one beer, but it was enough to keep me from thinking about anything but the kiss we had shared on my sixteenth birthday. There had, of course, been other kisses since then, but none of those kisses, and none of those guys, had quite the impact on me that Tyler and his kiss had.

Brendon stopped Freddie from ordering another glass of wine and instead asked for the tab. “I should probably get this one back to the hotel. Tab’s on me tonight. You guys want to share an Uber back?”

I managed to get past thinking about kissing Tyler long enough to look at him and shrug. “Up to you.”

Tyler considered the options for a few seconds. “Nah, you know what, we’re so close to the beach, and this one hardly ever gets out of the Midwest. We’ll walk down to the shore and go back in a little.”

“Suit yourself,” Brendon replied, handing the check and a few bills to the waiter. He lovingly pulled Freddie from her chair, made sure she had all of her belongings, then escorted her to the sidewalk.

Tyler rose from his chair, too, and extended a hand out to me. “Shall we, Kansas?”

“Let’s,” I replied, taking his hand and sharing the effort it took to get me to a standing position. “Lead the way.”

And he did. Tyler didn’t let go of my hand until we reached the sand. Even then, it was only long enough for both of us to slip out of our shoes, then his fingers were laced through mine again. The first few minutes of the walk were silent, save for the distant mumblings of the crowd and the waves as they came towards us before pulling back out to the sea.

Finally, I couldn’t take the silence any longer. “I’m really glad this ended up being a good surprise. I wasn’t sure if you’d be up to having an unexpected visitor.”

“Are you kidding me?” Tyler scoffed. “This is the best night, because you’re here. And tomorrow, we can go to Brendon’s show together. Honestly, I wish it was like this all the time. Having you around makes such a difference. I can’t even explain it. I’m good, you know, most of the time, when I’m on the road. But when you’re here -- it’s real.”

I gnawed on my bottom lip while I tried to come up with an appropriate response that didn’t give away how my heart was likely to beat out of my chest at any moment. How was this so effortless? Tyler was exactly right. Life was real and different, in a good way, when we were around each other. The furtive smiles and inside jokes and hand holding seemed to happen so naturally when we were with each other. There was never more kissing, never anything more than friendly cuddling. Still, there were moments, in person or otherwise, when I felt like we were only waiting on time to tell us that it was time for us to happen.

“Hey, checkout the moon,” Tyler said, squeezing my hand to get my attention. He pointed out at that big, glowing orb that seemed to hand in the sky like a Christmas ornament on a pine tree.

We stopped there in the sand, with my back against Tyler’s front, and his arms hugging around my shoulders. I tucked my hands between his forearms and tilted my head to one side.

“It’s so pretty. I mean, it’ll never beat seeing the moon through dissipating thunder clouds, or seeing the moon shine over the prairie, but I’ll take it.”

Tyler laughed and kissed my cheek. “My Kansas girl.”

A quiet giggle escaped my throat as I returned the gesture and kissed his cheek. I turned away, but Tyler hooked a finger under my chin, guiding my mouth close to his.

“Tonight feels like another special night,” Tyler commented. His voice was magically soft and rough at the same time. “Or is that wishful thinking?”

I swallowed hard, once again not sure what to reply. I wanted him to kiss me; I wanted it bad. I couldn’t find the words to tell him that, though. Instead, I nodded as much as I could force my muscles to do in that moment. One end of Tyler’s mouth turned up, and his thumb grazed over my lips before the touch was replaced by his mouth on mine.

The kiss was everything I remembered, but still somehow brand new. I lingered in the moment, wishing it would never end, but knowing that it had to at some point. Maybe the time had come, and things would be different, but in a perfect sort of way.

Tyler’s arms were still wrapped around my shoulders, but I turned to face him, and my arms rested perfectly over his hips. I could feel his fingers playing with the ends of my hair. I don’t think I had felt that content since I was sixteen.

The kiss ended too soon, and too suddenly. Instead of resting comfortably around my shoulders, Tyler’s hands held me at arm’s length. The look on his face read something akin to confusion, and maybe fear.

“Kansas, listen.”

I hung my head and stepped back. “Not really the words I wanna hear after a kiss like that, Ty.”

He licked his lips. “I know. It’s -- see, the thing is, there’s this girl in Nashville that I’ve been seeing. It’s not serious, and she’s not you, but I -- it’s enough that I shouldn’t be kissing you.”

“Oh. I see.” I wiped the last of his taste off my lips and took a step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t ever want to ruin something that made you happy.”

Tyler took my hand and pulled me a little closer, but not touching. “That’s the thing, you know? You make me happy, and I want to be kissing you. But I don’t want to hurt her, either. I think I need some time to figure things out. I hate saying that, I hate saying it to you. But I think we both need to know for sure if we want each other, or if this is nostalgia. You know?”

I didn’t want to agree with him, but he was right. So, I nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Tyler let out a breath of relief, then cupped my face in his hands. He looked me directly in the eyes and said the thing I needed to hear most. “This was not a mistake, and I’m not going to regret it tomorrow, okay?”

I couldn’t help but give a sad smile. “Okay. Thank you.”

Still holding my face, he placed a quick, chaste kiss on my lips. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Okay.”

On the ride back to the hotel, Freddie texted to tell me that Brendon was going to crash with her, since he had been booked a room with his manager, thanks to all of the festival bookings. She asked if I would mind staying with Tyler, and I texted back that was fine.

“I can sleep on the floor or something.”

Tyler’s head fell back. “This is going to be awkward now, isn’t it? I ruined everything.”

I laughed at him and patted him on the back, unable to stop myself. “You didn’t ruin everything, stop being so dramatic. I don’t want to make things awkward for you or get you into hot water with this girl.”

Tyler shrugged. “I’m sure it’s fine. You can bunk with me.”

So, it was decided. I got my bag from the hotel room I had intended on staying in with Freddie, and returned to Tyler’s room. He was ready for bed, which gave me the bathroom to do my nighttime routine. Once I was ready to knock out, too, I settled on the free side of the bed against the pillows.

“You can leave the TV on,” I offered, “I prefer to fall asleep to the sound anyway.”

Tyler positioned himself next to me, an arm around my shoulder again. I settled with my head against his shoulder and chest, and one arm draped over his abdomen. I was tired, but Tyler was sure he’d be up for a while.

“If the noise starts to bother you, let me know.”

“I will,” I promised through a yawn. “Night, Tyler.”

“Night, Kansas.”

The last thing I remembered before drifting off to sleep, was Tyler’s warm lips against my forehead.