#anyway i figured i should draw neil more and that might help me with my neil and kim hangout stuff in the future

[piningpercussionist]

Neil! (+ Lainey bc I Think She's Neat)

I'm gonna be inserting Lainey back into things because I feel she was a missed opportunity, honestly; not certain which design I want to go with, though- or if I wanna Frankenstein a Lainey together from the three. Input appreciated!

[darkblueboxs]

Ursa Major

i.e. the beardrew fic 🐻😉

Read here or on AO3 *

“What brings you to town?” The lodge manager flashes Neil an easy smile as he holds the cabin key in one hand. They clink together just out of Neil’s reach, as though he won’t relinquish them until Neil has provided a satisfactory answer.

“Business,” Neil answers shortly, and reaches for the keys.

“Let me know if you want to squeeze a little pleasure in, too.” The manager, whose name badge reading Nicky is almost lost amongst an array of rainbow pin-badges, winks exaggeratedly. Neil keeps his expression carefully blank as he all but pries the keys from him. “Andrew will show you which cabin is yours. He’s chopping wood out back.”

Neil steps out onto the back porch of the reception building, takes one look at the guy ripping logs apart with his bare hands, and decides that he can find it himself. He tries to avert his eyes, but the man stops to watch him pass, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He looks like such a stereotypical woodsman that Neil wonders for a second if he walked straight out of a Brawny advert, muscles flexing as he heaves a lump of wood half his size onto the log pile, several days’ worth of stubble dusting his jawline gold and a glowing worker’s tan defying the encroaching winter. He’s so stocky that Neil almost misses the fact that the man is somehow shorter than him, and for a moment his brain short-circuits as he tries to match his impossible presence to his impossible height.

Andrew – because this must be Andrew – barely spares Neil’s scars a second glance, eyes catching instead on the camera swinging around Neil’s neck. Neil’s hands go to it automatically – the device is worth more than his life – but he stills as Andrew drops the log with an earth-shaking thud. “Point that thing at me and I’ll break it.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Neil takes a step back, holding his hands in the air as though proving himself unarmed. “Sorry.”

“Whatever.” He turns back to his work, and without looking at him, adds “Yours is the last on the left.”

Neil makes no effort to hide his relief as he turns and heads up towards the row of log cabins, stumbling over exposed tree roots and pushing branches out of the way where the trees have begun encroaching on the dirt path. The place is quiet, which suits Neil perfectly; he didn’t pick wildlife photography because of his love for human company, after all. Of the dozen or so suites clustered around the central building, only two or three appear to be occupied, muddy hiking gear drying on doorsteps, BMWs with kayaks and bike racks strapped to the roofs parked down at the car park below. Neil chose the single bus that runs back and forth to the town across the lake once a day over risking a car rental on the worn dirt track; for better or for worse, he’s trapped there for the night.

Not that he expects to finish his assignment in the span of a day, but old instincts cry out for getaway options. He and his mother spent months in secluded mountain ranges like this one, but they were as much a threat as they were protection. It was easier to hear of visitors as soon as they arrived in the area, but harder to blend in amongst non-existent crowds.

He dumps his rucksack on his bed – he hasn’t broken the habit of travelling light quite yet – and takes in the neat little cabin (cosier than he expected, like it leapt out of a rustic furniture catalogue) before grabbing his kit and heading out into the hills.

He loses track of time quicker than usual, as he always does when he’s in new places, busy taking in the lay of the land, figuring out which trails are worth his time and which are too packed with litter and foot traffic to be of any use. The vistas are breath-taking; glittering pearl lakes studded throughout the endless verdant valleys, mountain ranges that draw across the swirling skyline like theatre curtains. Landscape photos aren’t Neil’s strong suit, but he snaps a few anyway, just for himself. They never had photos on the run, nothing that could be used as evidence, no footprints left in their wake. Neil likes having the mementos now, thin slips of glossy film that prove that he was alive, he was there, that he was real.

Sunset has bathed the woods in rich oranges as he makes his way back to his cabin, legs aching pleasantly with the memory of a good day’s exploration. There’s a packet of instant noodles waiting in his bag and a kettle in his cabin, but the smells drifting from the eatery in the central building convince Neil to forgo solitude for an hour and cough up for a real home-cooked meal.

Either Andrew has shaved since this morning or he has an identical twin; either way, the man who serves him chunky soup and bread does so with the barest pretences of politeness. Neil ignores the chatter of the other guests and staff as much as possible, flicking through the images on his digital display as he chews through a freshly baked roll. Neil’s twin theory is proven correct when Andrew sweeps into the dining room just as dessert is being brought out, windswept and scowling. Neil watches as he begins arranging kindling in the hearth, and soon the room is glowing with dancing light. Andrew stares into the flames, and the flickering glow carves deep shadows into his features, as though his face is transformed by the light. Neil doesn’t do portraits, but if he did, it would be perfect.

He snaps his gaze away as Andrew looks up, unfortunately catching the eye of the man at the next table.

“Photography, huh?” he says, grinning. He’s muscular too. Neil wonders if there’s something in the water here. “Got any good ones?”

Neil hands him the camera in lieu of answering, trying not to twitch his fingers as the stranger handles his most valuable possession.

“Oh, shit. These are seriously good, like, professional standard. Is this what you do for a living?” He hands the camera back and offers a hand with it. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Neil. Yeah, I work for National Parks Magazine.”

Matt whistles. “Fancy.”

“I guess.”

“Well, I’m no expert, but those look great to me. What is it, a tourism piece?”

“Oh, no, these were just for me. I do wildlife photography.”

“Plenty of that out here. I come down most weekends, usually see a few hawks, eagles too. We get lots of bird spotters in the Spring.”

“That’s great,” says Neil, “But not what I need for this assignment.”

“How mysterious.” Matt leans his chin on his hand. “Tell me more, Mister Bond.”

“I’m looking for bears, actually.”

There’s a clatter from across the room that cuts off Matt’s reaction as Andrew’s twin drops a stack of plates.

“Did I hear you say bears?” Nicky appears at Neil’s shoulder as if from nowhere. Neil fights back the impulse to bolt. “Mine is working at the reception desk if you want me to introduce you.”

Matt snorts. “Not that kind of bear, Nicky.”

“I heard there were grizzlies up here,” Neil says. “What do you mean, there’s a bear in the reception?”

“Oh, that’s adorable. No, I just meant my boyfriend. Though he gets a bit grizzly before his first cup of coffee most mornings-”

“There aren’t any bears here,” interrupts another voice, and Neil needs to learn to stop jumping if all the staff are going to sneak up on him like this. He turns to see Andrew’s brother wiping coffee stains from his sleeves. “You might as well leave.”

“Aaron,” Nicky says, “It’s fine, he’s a photographer, he isn’t here to hunt or anything-”

“Pretty fucked up face for a nature photographer.”

“Hey-!”

“It’s fine,” Neil cuts off Matt’s objection. “The scars were my father’s doing. He loved hunting. Me, not so much.”

The group falls quiet, which is the usual reaction his explanation gets. He has never gotten used to the awkward silences that his past invariably invokes, even when he leaves out the years of running, capture, his mother’s slow and terrible death at his father’s hands, his last-minute escape, the months of FBI interrogations and his eventual release. His father had deer heads mounted in his study and Neil remembers vividly the glassy, dead eyes that seemed to watch his every move. No, Neil is not a fan of hunting; he has spent far too long being the prey.

It’s at that moment that Andrew looks up from the fireplace, and Neil can tell from his expression that he has been listening. There’s a strange understanding which has no place on this stranger’s face, and for a moment Neil feels as though he’s stuck in the amber gaze like a fly caught in a honey trap.

“Why bears?” Matt says, and his words are like a hook pulling him from a lake. Neil forces air back into his lungs and turns back to the group. Nicky’s expression has softened, eyes still on Neil’s burns, while Aaron has sunk back into disdain. “Surely there’s less dangerous things to photograph.”

“They’re not dangerous if you’re careful,” Neil replies patiently. “Treat them with respect and they’ll do the same. Besides, I like bears.”

“I hear that,” says Nicky. Aaron pops him in the back of the head, but he waves him off, undeterred. “You should talk to Andrew. He might be able to help you-” There’s a muffled thud which sounds suspiciously like Aaron aiming a kick at Nicky’s shins out of Neil’s line of sight. “-or not, you know, whatever,” he finishes lamely.

Neil glances furtively over at Andrew, who has gone back to staring into the hearth. “It’s fine,” he says, wondering why his mouth feels so dry all of a sudden. “I’m used to finding my own way.”

Desert finished and cleared away, Neil sits with Matt on the couches that occupy the other portion of the communal area along with rows of bookshelves and a desktop computer that looks as though it hasn’t been touched since the nineties. Matt flicks through more of Neil’s photos, stopping on occasion to gasp or croon, while Neil accustoms himself to trusting Matt with his camera. The coffee table is stacked high with leaflets on hiking trails which Neil sets himself to memorising as well as pamphlets on good camping etiquette and forest fire prevention. When Aaron returns and announces that the main lodge is closing for the night by abruptly flicking the lights off, Neil is surprised to realise how late it is already. The fire Andrew started in the hearth has collapsed into flaky grey embers, and when Neil steps out onto the porch the thick smell of smoke clings to his clothes.

Neil and Matt part ways for the night, but only after Matt has extracted a promise from Neil that he will let him show him some of his favourite trails the next day.

Neil thinks he may be unconscious before his head even hits the pillow, and the rustle of the forest follows him into his sleep. In his dreams, wild creatures circle his bed, close, curious, watching, waiting.

He spends most of the weekend letting Matt show him his favourite routes that weave up and down the mountain peaks. Neil wouldn’t usually tolerate so much company, but it’s clear from Matt’s eager nature that he likes having someone to talk to, and his girlfriend, he explains, is on a work placement out of state until next month. Neil is surprised to discover that he doesn’t mind Matt’s presence, and at Matt’s insistence he takes several shots of Matt posing with the valley at his back, which Neil promises to email to him for his girlfriend.

Their hike isn’t all sightseeing, however; Neil pays close attention to any tracks and prints that could point him in the direction of bears, making a note on his map of everything he spots in hope of discerning a pattern. He’s surprised to see a lot of marks close to the popular footpaths, and centred around the lodge, too. Bears usually avoid humans unless driven from their own habitat. Neil wonders if the owners have been less than careful with the bins, encouraging raiders into the foothills scavenging for food.

He spends his evenings in the main lodge, where Matt draws him into conversation with the staff and other regulars. Nicky joins them whenever he isn’t working, and will drag Aaron over when their breaks coincide. Kevin, who is renting one of the upstairs rooms in the central lodge, will occasionally be persuaded to look up from his laptop, upon which he is typing meticulous notes about conservation of historically significant ruins in the area, a topic which Neil pretends to understand on the one occasion that Kevin tries to explain it to him. Andrew, on the other hand, shows no further interest in Neil following their first encounter. Other than occasional odd jobs around the cabins, Neil still isn’t clear on what he actually does, if anything. He seems to spend most of his days out in the wilderness, although Neil and Matt never pass him on any of their walks. Neil almost asks Nicky, but thinks better of it, sensing that such a query would be met with more glee than he is comfortable with.

On Sunday, Matt packs his gear into the back of his pickup and rolls his way back towards the main road, promising to return the following weekend. Neil waves him off, surprised by how quickly the quiet chases away the hum of the engine. He distracts himself from the returning solitude by taking himself off the marked trails and deeper into the wilderness, where the trees grow thick enough to block out the sky and the trickle of springs leads him into sludgy banks that threaten to suck his boots from his feet.

Eventually the earth flattens out as Neil reaches the valley floor, and the springs pool into a small lake that winks at Neil through the trees. Neil finds an embankment to set up on, and is so absorbed in fidgeting with his lenses that he misses the faint crack of branches breaking underfoot.

A shadow looms suddenly in front of him. Neil looks up, and goes still, breath caught in his throat.

The bear hasn’t noticed him yet. He – which he must be, going by the size �� is reared up on his hind legs, eight feet tall at least, nose twitching. Neil would normally be jumping at such a stroke of luck, but the shocking bright blond of the bear’s fur stills his fingers on the shutter. He would say polar bear if he didn’t know better, but he does, and they’re about a million miles too far south for that to make sense. So maybe it’s the surprising colour, or the surprise of being so lucky as to just stumble across him, but some combination of the two causes Neil to do something incredibly stupid.

He opens his mouth.

“Oh, you are beautiful.”

The bear goes still. Then he turns, hazel eyes fixing on Neil.

Neil suddenly feels very, very small. Rule one of tracking bears – don’t surprise them. Weirdly, though, this bear doesn’t react in typical bear-like fashion. There is no reflexive snarling, no intimidation, no panic. Just the faintest twitch of his ears, a huff of… irritation?

“Sorry,” Neil says automatically, then winces, because he is talking to the bear now, for god’s sake-

Then again, it isn’t like he’s doing any harm. “You are just adorable. I hope you know that you are so cute. Look at those chubby cheeks!”

And, okay, maybe he’s using the same voice he uses to talk to stray cats, but in his defence, how often does he get the chance to baby-talk a bear?!

The bear just sort of stares at him, which is… odd, probably, but as long as he isn’t snapping Neil like a toothpick Neil isn’t too concerned. The gaze is piercing, like the bear is seeing right through him, and it’s disconcerting enough that Neil almost loses his grip on the camera.

Speaking of which…

Click.

The bear… pulls a face. Neil is about to apologise again, but the words die in his mouth when he drops onto his front paws with a thud that shakes straight through the earth. The urge to run seizes Neil suddenly, hand-in-hand with a familiar burst of adrenaline, and for a moment he’s twelve years old, tripping over his own feet as his mother yanks him through the dark with heart-stopping urgency.

You can’t run from bears, is the thing.

Slowly, Neil pushes himself up the bank, leaning heavy on his arms because he doesn’t trust his legs to support him. The bear just…watches. No, glares.

All at once, the fear that seized him so suddenly is gone, and Neil lets out a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” he says, because it seems rude, almost, to do otherwise. He taps his camera. “You were amazing.”

He scrambles up the bank and back into the woods, heart thudding in time with his footsteps.

Back at the cabin, he plugs his camera into his laptop with shaking fingers. He doesn’t stop to check the photo preview on the camera’s digital display, wants to see it blown up on his laptop screen in full jpeg glory.

It’s been a while since he backed up all his pictures, and as the loading bar trickles towards 100%, Neil’s stomach starts to growl. Grumbling, Neil leaves his computer to finish compiling and heads down to the main lodge in search of food.

It’s midweek, so the dining room is emptier than usual, although Neil spots Andrew in his usual place by the fireside almost immediately. They’ve been successfully ignoring each other since the day of Neil’s arrival, but the day’s events spur him to take a seat at Andrew’s side. “Nicky said you know about bears.”

Andrew flicks a scrap of newspaper into the flames. “Nicky says a lot of things.”

“I saw…” Neil winces. This is going to sound insane. “He looked like a polar bear.”

Andrew huffs, although it’s hard to say whether in scorn or amusement. “You saw a Kermode bear. They’re a subspecies of the American black bear.”

“You see a lot of them here?”

“No.”

It isn’t that Neil thinks Andrew is lying, not exactly, but there’s something he isn’t saying. Neil knows the shape of a secret, how it weighs in one’s chest, and Andrew is keeping something big in there, bristling beneath his skin.

“He was beautiful,” Neil says. “The most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew replies, and this time Neil swears he can see the bristling. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not? I’m a photographer. Finding beauty is my job.”

“Your job is to take pictures of shit and persuade people to pay you for it. Beauty is a construct.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Exactly.”

“But not in your eye?” Neil guesses. Andrew’s brow creases in irritation. He dismisses Neil’s comment.

“What are you going to do now that you have found your precious bear?”

Neil shrugs. “Onto the next assignment. Wherever that is.”

“Sounds like a strange life.”

“I’m used to it.”

Aaron clatters into the dining room, grinding their conversation to a halt. His irritation turns to an open glare when he sees Neil at Andrew’s side, so Neil moves off to take his usual seat.

After dinner he calls his editor with an update, slouched in one of the communal couches and watching as Aaron and Nicky squabble over a game of pool.

“Neil, I’m telling you, there’s no way you saw a Kermode bear.” Robin says as paper rustles furiously on the other end of the line. “You’re on the wrong side of the continent.”

“But I did. I wish you could have seen him. He was so… calm.”

“Neil,” Robin says, “Are you sure?”

“I have the picture to prove it. I’ll send it over as soon as I’m back in my cabin. Is this, like, a big deal? Do you think there’s some kind of undiscovered subspecies, or… I don’t know, this seems like the kind of thing bear scientists would care about.”

Nicky and Aaron’s bickering suddenly falls silent. Neil doesn’t bother looking up to see why, not when Robin is snorting on the other end of the line. “Bear scientists.”

“I don’t know what they’re called. I’m just the dumbass who takes the photos.”

“Maybe they’ll name it after you. The Josten bear.”

Neil winces. “Poor bear.”

“Alright. I’ll be waiting at my desk. But I swear, if this is another prank or something-”

“I would never,” Neil says innocently. “I know you find my pranks un-bear-able.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Robin says, and promptly hangs up.

He’s eager to deliver on his promise as soon as possible, but Nicky catches him on his way to the door. Aaron disappeared at some point while Neil was on the phone, which is the only reason he accepts Nicky’s offer of a drink on the house, even if he won’t be persuaded from his soft drink of choice.

“That sounded like a big deal,” Nicky says, gesturing at Neil’s phone while not meeting his eyes. Once again, Neil’s neck prickles with the sense that something is being kept from him.

“Apparently I’ve found a bear species a million miles from where it should be,” Neil says. “It could be a big deal for you, too. Researchers coming to the area means more business for you, right?”

“Wow, yeah, sure.” Nicky’s smile is as pasty as it is wide. “Brilliant.”

“Speaking of,” says Neil. “I’ll be checking out a few days early. If you see Matt, can you tell him I’m sorry I missed him?”

“Sure,” says Nicky, although Neil isn’t sure he’s really listening. Neil glances at the amber liquid swirling in the bottom of Nicky’s glass and wonders if it’s stronger than it looks.

The temperature has dropped sharply in the time it took Neil to eat his dinner, and as he trudges back uphill to his cabin on weary legs the wind cuts through his light gear like a blade. His cabin windows spill orange on the path, a lamp left on, dumb, wasteful, isn’t he always complaining about light pollution-?

Neil stops dead a foot from his cabin door. He knows, knows, knows, that someone has been in since he last was there. The lodge offered daily cleaning services, but Neil had opted out for the duration of his stay, uneasy about strangers having access to his belongings even now that he has nothing left to hide. He wants to believe that they made a mistake in the cleaning schedule, but the same gut instinct telling him someone has been in his cabin tells him that it was no accident. Something is wrong.

Neil pushes the door open with the lightest press of his fingers. Adrenaline hums through him, old instincts reawakening as he prepares to be attacked.

The cabin is empty. No, not empty; the furniture, his clothes, phone charger, hiking gear, all still there…

But no laptop. And no camera.

Neil swears viciously. Before he knows it, he’s back at the central lodge, even though all the lights are out and they’re clearly closed for the night. Neil’s hand hovers over the bell at the front desk as the haze of his panic and fury lifts. They’re in the middle of nowhere, meaning the thief was either another lodger or a member of staff. Any accusations he makes won’t go anywhere.

Neil thinks of Aaron disappearing after his phone call, and instead of ringing the bell he clenches his hand into a fist.

The staff and permanent lodgers live over the main building, and although Neil has never seen the upper floor he can tell which windows are theirs by the glow on the other side of the curtains. The walls are made of thick, horizontal tree trunks that make for easy grips. Neil barely has his foot lodged against the first rivulet when he is caught in amber torchlight.

“Can I help you?” Andrew says rhetorically.

Neil drops back to the ground, teeth grinding together. If Andrew’s brother has resorted to a life of crime, there’s no way his twin hasn’t noticed. “Just looking for my things.”

“You won’t find them up there.” Andrew’s eyes flick up. “That’s Nicky and Eric’s room. I can only imagine what horrors would await you.”

“Which is Aaron’s?”

“You won’t find anything in his, either.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Neil snaps. Andrew’s expression is infuriatingly impassive, and Neil knows that arguing any longer will be as productive as shouting at a brick wall. “Tell your cousin I won’t be checking out early after all. It turns out I have more work to do.”

Andrew clicks the torch off, plunging them both into sudden darkness. “I’m not your messenger boy.” Even in the dark, Neil can feel heavy hazel eyes burning into him.

“I don’t care.” Neil storms back off to his cabin, not waiting for a response. He sends Robin an apologetic text and drops onto his bed. Half-formed plans buzz around his mind like flies, but when he eventually falls asleep, it’s with the memory of a ghostly-white bear looking into his very soul. * Thanks for reading! Chapter two is on its way. <3

[mohartproductions]

Why Am I still Here?

Ever since I was in Middle School there were so many things I wanted to be; at first I wanted to be a zoologist or paleontologist, then I shifted my interests towards animation, comics, voice acting and music making and singing. I always had dreams of bringing back hand-drawn animation in theaters, or at least helping to create some new animated shows I could assist on as an additional animator, character designer, or a writer or producer. But my Middle-School and High School never truly taught me, and me specifically.

I thought maybe I'd have better luck in college, but college just expected me to do the work, and if I don't get passing grades I can't get the degree I need to find the job I'm looking for.

I spent the last ten years of my life in college, mainly focusing on trying to do assignments and making them as best as I possibly can while sacrificing time I could've invested in my own personal projects, and maintaining a healthy life because of my neurodeficiency. I've been diagnosed with Aspergers Syndome since I was 3, and I had a hard time performing well in school ever since. And I may or may not have ADD or ADHD, which could also explain why I have such a hard time focusing and performing tasks well; tasks like reading, writing, even riding a bike. I also can't seem to properly control some of my motor skills, including how I talk: a monotone, nasally voice with a limited range which hampers any attempts I have with singing or acting out loud.

All the while I was surrounded by kids, teens, and young adults who were almost always better than me in every way: They're all smart, talented, athletic, beautiful, and have plenty of friends and even some romantic partners, while I'm almost always behind. Turns out, as someone in real life proposed, some of my animation peers specifically turned out so well because they actually got involved in summer programs back in California, Florida, or Chicago, which gave them a head start. Meanwhile I'm at a disadvantage cause I have to learn one on one, but I hadn't gotten that until recently, and now I don't even have hands on tutors because of this global pandemic, so now I'm struggling at home trying to figure out how to do things right for classes I'm not even interested in because I need those points for my graduation plan just to find a job that does interest me.

But you know what... I honestly believe now that I'll never get the career I want. I always wanted to start a career in animation, comic book art, writing, singing or voice acting while I'm still young, at least in my early 20s; just like Alex Hirsch and Rebecca Sugar have, and all the time I look at people on youtube like Brian Hull and Markiplier who all have started successful careers online, and some of them have even started working in television themselves like Cristina Valenzuela has.

They're all smart, beautiful, healthy, and incredibly talented and people love them for their talents; and meanwhile I'm still an obscure artist on Deviantart who's own artwork is still subpar, has not finished any stories I wanted to write, not even a pilot for any of the shows I want to make, which I make not even make anyway because The Owl House exists now, which is already just like the Diary of Aviril, which was my idea I wanted to make.

I could've invested more into voice acting as an alternative, but my voice still sucks, I still lack the proper recording equipment or environment for it, and for the last 2 or three years my grandma moved into my house which made it hard for me to do any sessions, let alone move into the room where I could've turned into a studio.

It just seems like every year I'm thrown with more and more crap that makes it harder for me to achieve my dream; neurodeficiencies, time mismanagement, inadequate work environments and educational methods, family issues, traffic, politics, economics, urban environments, and now a pandemic.

I wasted ten years of my life, ten years of my youth trying to obtain something I possibly might not even have anyway. I feel like I've been working for nothing. I want to give up, but if I do then all that time, energy, and resources I spent would be for nothing anyway. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't.

I want to go back in time, tell my younger self as a little kid about my future; and all the things I want him/me to do and not do so I could make life much better for me and my family now. I should already be proving myself useful, I should already be happy making a career with the things I love doing, but now I'm even starting to dislike drawing altogether because of just how mediocre I am and will never improve on anything.

Damnit if I can't have the life I want to live, why the hell am I still here?! I'm past 27 now, still unemployed, still thin as a twig with bags underneath my eyes, still trying to earn something. I'm a mad dog chasing cars.

I don't know what else to do, and I don't know if I can do it alone. I can't keep relying on my family to pay for me, I honestly feel like a burden to them, still living with my parents, doing most of my work in a messy living room I use for a studio, still feeling bad they work so hard while I'm leeching off of them, while nearly everyone else is fairing better and have careers going for them. I can't stop hating myself, the world I live, and the life I was born into.

I tried being positive, I even tried helping people myself, but more and more the effort I put keeps coming all for not, and every time I try to convince myself that life is good and so are people, the world finds new ways of proving me wrong. I feel like my life is controlled by a bunch of monkeys in a typewriter room, or Destiny of the Endless from Neil Gaiman's Sandman. I can't support myself, I can't focus, I can't do things most other people seem to do fine on their own. I'm lost, and I can never go back. I think wheezer said it best: I may as well enjoy my life and watch the stars play...

[nerianasims]

Billboards #1 1972

Under the cut.

Don McLean – “American Pie” -- January 15, 1972

I grew up without having a clue what McLean was supposedly singing about, so I figured it was some weird fantasy thing. Maybe he meant it to be deadly serious, maybe not. He's always refused to explain it, which is the smart move. I find it fun like a big Broadway song.

Al Green – “Let’s Stay Together” -- February 12, 1972

I'm always predisposed to love soul music. And this is Al Green, singing a heartfelt song to his love that they should stay together forever, through everything. "Loving you whether, whether/ Times are good or bad, happy or sad." It sounds like marriage vows. Great song.

Nilsson – “Without You” -- February 19, 1972

I have to be in a particular kind of mood to enjoy this song. Cheerful enough not to mind pure, unadulterated soft cheese. Sort of the emotional equivalent of eating cream cheese plain. Nilsson sounds like he truly means it, which is what saves the song. It is fun to belt out the chorus along with him.

Neil Young – “Heart Of Gold” -- March 18, 1972

Okay but so why do you deserve a heart of gold? You've been searching and not found one, but maybe if you did things to draw someone with a heart of gold to you, it wouldn't be so hard. Yeah, the narrator of this song annoys me. To be honest, Neil Young's voice kinda does too. It's one of the rare songs where I prefer the instrumental parts to the sung parts. The harmonica's great. Actually I think I might prefer this song if it were entirely instrumental, because it is pretty. Otherwise, meh.

America – “A Horse With No Name” -- March 25, 1972

The subculture you're in is more important to your life than whatever bigger culture it happens to exist within. And in the 90s, my subculture loved Wally Pleasant, the local East Lansing comedy folk singer. On his album "Songs About Stuff," there's a song called "Lost Weekend Las Vegas." He takes off from a Michigan winter to Las Vegas. There, he meets a "real nice showgirl," and in a conversation with her, he brings up "A Horse With No Name." "You know that song/ By Neil Young/ She said you're wrong/ Neil Young didn't sing that song." I can never hear "A Horse With No Name" without thinking of "Lost Weekend Las Vegas."

Wally Pleasant at one point sings, "I've had about enough of this crazy stupid trip." I kinda feel like that silly humor song has more to say about life than "A Horse With No Name." But "A Horse With  No Name" sure sounds good.

Roberta Flack – “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” -- April 15, 1972

Roberta Flack is an amazing singer, and this is a good love song. But I don't like it. It's too drawn out and slow. It was originally about twice as fast, and that doesn't surprise me. When a song doesn't seem to have any type of beat, it can give me a headache, and this one does.

The Chi-Lites – “Oh Girl” -- May 27, 1972

Doing this list, I have come to realize how much I like the harmonica. I always knew I liked it, but never knew before that it's in my top tier of instruments, like the alto flute and cello. The harmonica in this song laments even better than the singer, Eugene Record, who is great. As for the lyrics, the singer has cheated, and it's pretty strongly hinted that peer pressure to be macho had a lot to do with it. "All my friends call me a fool/ They say let the woman take care of you/ So I try to be hip and think like the crowd/ But even the crowd can't help me now." He needs new friends. He's completely helpless, emotionally, without his "girl," and now he's gone and screwed everything up, and he knows it. A beautiful song with much more to say than about just one relationship.

The Staple Singers – “I’ll Take You There” -- June 3, 1972

This is a gospel/funk song about heaven. It's musically good, but so repetitive I can only handle about a minute of it.

Sammy Davis Jr. – “The Candy Man” -- June 10, 1972

So this is a thing that happened. "The Candy Man" is a song from the Gene Wilder Willy Wonka movie, which bugs me in the ways it changes the book's plot, though I still like it. The song should never have been a hit, let alone a #1 hit, let alone one sung by Sammy Davis Jr. He sounds embarrassed singing it, and I'm embarrassed listening to it. Sammy Davis Jr. deserved multiple #1 hits -- he was the best singer of The Rat Pack -- but not this one. It's depressing that this is what he got.

Neil Diamond – “Song Sung Blue” -- July 1, 1972

I don't like Neil Diamond. I don't particularly dislike Neil Diamond either. To me, Neil Diamond exists when I am reminded of his existence and then flickers out as soon as I am no longer forced to think of him. This song sounds like a nursery rhyme. Subject: Everyone gets sad sometimes and sings the blues. There are good songs about that. This is not one of them.

Bill Withers – “Lean On Me” -- July 8, 1972

This is one of them. Not just good, but great. The melody is simple, as is the concept. But it keeps building and building. Truly great.

Gilbert O’Sullivan – “Alone Again (Naturally)” -- July 29, 1972

Well this song is weird. It's jaunty, though it is in minor key. And it's about how the narrator was stood up at the altar and plans to kill himself. And how also his mother was destroyed when his father died. And how his mother died too. And now he's "alone again, naturally." I don't like it at all. It needs to be different musically, and even then I wouldn't like something this wildly depressing.

Looking Glass – “Brandy (You’re A Fine Girl)” -- August 26, 1972

A lot of sailors want Brandy, but she's in love with a man whose only true love is the sea and that's why she turns them all down. That's her excuse, anyway. I think she wants to be a sailor like the guy, and she understands not wanting to settle down because she doesn't want to either. It's a fun song to sing along to.

Three Dog Night – “Black & White” -- September 16, 1972

It's a song about racial harmony. It's simplistic, but that's okay, it's a pop song. I wish it weren't so musically simplistic.

Mac Davis – “Baby, Don’t Get Hooked On Me” -- September 23, 1972

The narrator is telling "you" that he can tell you're falling in love with him, and that you shouldn't. A guy did this with me once. Turned out he was actually falling in love with me and was projecting or something. So that's how I see this song. Except the song is worse, because it's incredibly annoying musically, with a weird beat and strange gaps. Also it's smarmy.

Michael Jackson – “Ben” -- October 14, 1972

Michael Jackson was only 14 when he sang this song, so I'm not going to get into it deeply. It's a friendship song to a killer rat in a horror movie, though so... that's a thing.

Chuck Berry – “My Ding-A-Ling” -- October 21, 1972

It's a 46-year old man pretending to be a little kid singing about his own dick. I can't begin to comprehend why it was a hit, or why it was even a thing in the first place. Yech. Moving on.

Johnny Nash – “I Can See Clearly Now” -- November 4, 1972

In the song, the narrator still has problems, but he can see how to solve them, finally. It's sort of reggae-ish, but very lightly. It's a great, optimistic song.

The Temptations – “Papa Was A Rollin’ Stone” -- December 2, 1972

This song takes a bit to get going, but I don't mind at all. The music and instruments keep changing up, and the great bassline propels it all. It builds up the tension in a great way. Then, finally, a Temptation starts, "It was the third of September." I'm not to that point listening to the song yet, and I didn't look it up. But I know this song. It's in my blood. It's unflinching. "Never heard nothing but bad things about him." The song doesn't try to pretend to any uplifting or hopeful message. But it feels so good. That's the blues, whatever genre it's slotted into.

Helen Reddy – “I Am Woman” -- December 9, 1972

"I am woman, hear me roar." She's not roaring. She's meowing maybe. Maybe if Reddy had sung the song with more power, people would have been scared by it. I like the lyrics, which are sadly still very relevant, though we have come far. But the music belongs with some peppy love ballad.

Billy Paul – “Me And Mrs. Jones” -- December 16, 1972

Oh god I love this song. Billy Paul's a jazz singer, and uses his voice like an instrument. And he gets every drop of sadness out of the song without melodrama. He's not self-pitying, and while he's heartbroken, he's still thoughtful. It's a beautiful song about an adult going through being a cheater. For someone with a conscience, "going through" is the right term. This guy's not sleeping around carelessly. "We both know that it's wrong." He fell deeply in love with someone else. It happens. The song is beautiful and heartbreaking and I adore it.

BEST OF 1972:  "Papa Was A Rollin' Stone" by The Temptations  WORST OF 1972: "My Ding-A-Ling" by Chuck Berry

[midnightswaltz]

Stories I want to write

both @swaps55​ & @theoriginalladya​ said anyone who wants to can & I want to.

Spoilers for some of my future stories, but generally only the ones I may never get to write or it will be so long before I do that this post will be long forgotten.

Tagging: anyone who wants to, I would really like to see other writer's idea

This got kind of long, because I’m good with ideas, writing them is harder.

(First, does it count if I’ve actually started posting it, but haven’t even gotten the 2nd chapter up yet? In a over a year?) Through the Dark Places Dragon Age Origin. Female Surana/Alistair My Warden’s story. How a mage apprentice eventually became The Hero of Fereldan. I have about 60K words on this, but not chapter 2, which is super annoying right now. I want to write it, I even have a general summary of chapter 2, I just keep drawing a blank when I go to write it. I’d say it’s like pulling teeth, but I’ve had teeth pulled - writing is harder.

In the Darkness You Will Reach Dragon Age Inquisition. Female Mage Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford The longfic write up of Irivel “Ravi” Lavellan, my Inquisitor. I started writing down bits while I was playing through the game. Fixing things that annoyed me, or how Ravi would have actually responded in certain situations. Then how she was feeling during certain places, and before I knew it, there was a Scrivner file 100K words full. Unfortunately, it isn’t actually in enough coherent semblance to the story as a whole. I did write the first chapter (6k words!) but I want to rewrite & streamline it, but I’m kind of at a loss as to how right now. There are two stories that take place in this story that I could possibly pull out and write out on their own, but I’m unsure if that would leave holes in the story as a whole when I did finally write it. Title is from Neil Gaiman “And because in the darkness you will reach out a hand, not knowing for certain if someone else is even there. And your hands will meet, and then neither of you will ever need to be alone again” Which is basically her relationship with Cullen. I didn’t intend it, but as her character fleshed out the two of them ended up being almost like opposite sides of the same coin. They’re both very different, but also very much alike.

The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep I wanted to write down what happened before the Conclave and how Ravi got there. It was supposed to be a character exercise, then became something more akin to a prologue that I could would go with ItDYWR, but now, it’s kind of it’s own thing. I’m still considering just polishing up the first chapter and leaving it as a one-shot & let folks fill in the rest, though.

Unnamed DA modern/future/reincarnation story 1 Okay, this story is kind of, well, I don’t know what. Soap opera might be a good description. Basically, it’s a thousand or so years in the future. Whatever Solas did backfired - hard - & magic disappeared entirely. For so many generations that the current world Thedas believes all the stories are just stories. Magic doesn’t and never did exist. Current Thedas has real world 2020 levels of tech (there was a point where I considered this takes place in the Mass Effect Universe & where magic = biotics, but it didn’t really fit). Anyway, magic doesn’t exist. Except it is now returning. Society as a whole still don’t know, but there’s a group (The Circle) that is aware & is basically kidnapping anyone showing any magical talent & using them for their own ends. Cassandra’s future incarnation & Cullen’s are both a part of this group, though they think they’re only policing the dangerous mages. They and others in the group (Alistair, Surana, Blackwall, Bull, Josephine)  eventually discover it’s true ends (which I haven’t entirely figured out yet, tbh) & work to stop it. At one point, I thought Cass & Cullen should discover the sleeping Solas & he would help them open their eyes to the injustices they’re perpetuating, but I’m not sure how that would really work in. Important notes: Cullen’s incarnation has amnesia (yup) and is a mage himself, through the story he keeps meeting with the spirit of a young girl in the Fade. At the end of the story he discovers that The Circle is the cause of his amnesia, and who he was before (though most of the memories don’t come back, yet. There is one, of a red haired elven woman), and that the spirit he’s been meeting with is a living mage girl. Alistair and Surana take over the Circle & announce it’s existence, & magic’s, to the rest of the world

Unnamed DA modern/future/reincarnation story 2 (sequel to the above) 6 months after the first. The first story dealt with The Circle. This one is predominately about the mages in hiding from The Circle. Despite the Circle going public, most underground mages still don’t trust them & society at large is still super wary of magic. Even after losing her arm in Trespasser, Ravi’s spirit has held onto some of the magic left from the Anchor. When magic begins reasserting itself her incarnation (single mother, librarian) finds that she can open small rifts in the Veil & help/kick spirits to the other side of it if need be. Underground mages had banded together against the Circle, learning from and teaching magic to each other. Ravi’s primary teacher is Dorian, her best friend is Varric (still an author, they met when he was doing research for a book). Hawk (mage), Sera (mage), Leliana (hacker who helps hide mages), Mother Giselle (also helps hide mages) are also allies. (Everyone shows up in some capacity or other, eventually) The Venatori are a new group who are trying to destroy the Veil entirely and so they kidnap Ravi to use her ability. There’s a major fight at a mall where she has to leave her daughter hiding in a storage closet. Cullen is the one who finds her & discovers she’s the little girl spirit he’s been meeting in the Fade. And her mother is the red haired elven woman he remembers.

Terra Incognita Mass Effect Andromeda. Female Ryder (Evelyn)/Jaal My Evelyn Ryder’s actual story (I consider “Recombined” an AU of this. Some events mentioned in Recombined come from my headcanon & work on TI). Similar situation to Ravi’s story, I just have 80K on it.

Unnammed MEA Post-Game, Evelyn/Jaal established relationship This one I don’t know if I will ever write. I don’t feel qualified to do it justice. Basically, Jaal is captured by the Kett & sent to a labor camp where they are rebuilding the exaltation temple. (In TI, some resistance soldiers used the chaos after rescuing the Moshae to sneak in and destroy it) The new location is deep in the Scourge and no ship carries the navpoint. One of his fellow slaves is the brother that stole Allia from him, I’ve named him Esan. He’s been captive for years. He has some knowledge of the Milky Way species because some are also in camp. Esan has pretty much given up all hope of rescue & tries to make Jaal do the same. Jaal has a great deal of faith that Ryder will find him, but after a some time (I keep thinking he’s at camp total of maybe 2 weeks) remembers that even she has limitations. He, with help from a few others, sneaks into communications (or something, I don’t have it really figured out) and manage to send an SOS. They are caught but Esan arrives and distracts the guards. They are still almost killed, then Ryder with a whole bunch of Resistance back up arrives. (I have a very clear scene in my head, where Vetra and Liam are the first crewmates he finds & when he asks after Evelyn before they can answer there’s a very, very loud explosion & the lights flicker & Jaal’s just like “Ah, there she is.”) Ryder/Jaal reunion scene after the battle is where this started in my head. Esan survives (I’ve gone back and forth as to whether Allia does to, I kind of want that scene, but she’s never in my mind when I imagine this story) and gets ferried home to Havarl on the Tempest (along with some other Angaran survivors). I feel like this is a dark story, I mean given the subject it really should be, but I’m not great at dark & I’m very much a happily ever after sort of person, which is why I feel like I couldn’t do it justice.

[staticscreenwriting]

All you have to be is here - Part 1 - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who’s smile is phenomenal and who is way too nice to him. 

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that. 

Part 1 of ?

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please. Also It’s 2:30 am here so I’ll make a header image later after I’ve slept a little. K thanks.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don't have to hide, don't have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever's just for now We're on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

There’s a thing about waiting rooms, Billy thinks, where they try to make them look alive by putting everything up on the walls they can find. All the bullshit abstract paintings and clocks in weird shapes and bright color. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s a waiting room though, and people here aren’t happy. 

The walls are the offest white Billy has ever seen and the sad thing is he’s fairly sure they deliberately chose this color. He can hear the ticking of the clock shaped like a daisy flower, hammering through the silence. 

Everything here seems too much. The walls are too off-white. The clock is too loud. The paintings too bright. There’s people on the brochures and flyers that are so neatly placed on the table in the middle of the room. Those people stare at him with their shiny colgate smiles that are just a tiny bit too wide to be reassuring and end up looking more creepy than anything.

He really has to give it to them, they tried it here. Tried to make the place feel less sterile and more homely and warm. The seats in the waiting room are cushioned and comfortable and there’s music playing faintly in the background.

And yet this is still a waiting room and no one wants to be here.

A cough sounds from his right, followed by another one. It’s the 12th cough in the matter of 5 minutes. He’s counted. The man next to him looks about Neil’s age and he’s built like a tank. And he looks positively miserable. 

In the corner of the room sits a girl who seems to be a little older than Billy. She has bright red hair pulled up in a crazy bun and she’s nervously fumbling around with a hair tie. Twirling it around a finger then twirling it back. Tangle, untangle, tangle, untangle. 

“ Billy ? “ 

He looks up at the voice and his heart sinks all the way down to his stomach. I am not sick. I am not sick. I am not sick and I don’t need to be here.

But the facts are that he is here, he has to be. And waiting for him in the doorway of the waiting room is a doctor. A therapist. Dr. Ryland Kapelsky.

Who the fuck calls their kid Ryland ? 

He’s got a thick bushy mustache and glasses that look two sizes too big for his tiny head. Everything about him seems far too comical. This has to be a caricature come to life, straight off the pages of a sunday newspaper.

This man, Billy is painfully aware, knows more about him than he wants him to know. He’s most definitely read his file. He surely knows this therapy session is court ordered.

And still, caricature man holds no judgement in his eyes. 

“ Billy ? “ he asks again, now looking straight at Billy as if his deep brown eyes might look right into Billy’s soul, “ that’s you, right ? “ .

Billy nods and gets up “ yeah that’s me “.

Dr. Kapelsky has a firm handshake and Billy think that this guy is not one to bullshit. Which is quite tragic because bullshitting is something Billy absolutely excels in. 

“ Nice to meet you, if you’d please follow me to my office “.

His voice is stern but not mean or angry. He seems professional enough which is a bit surprising compared to his comical look.

As they move down the hallway, more off-white walls left and right, Billy glances at the various plaques and certificates proudly displayed.

He wonders if there’s one for winning the caricature look-alike contest. Suppressing a chuckle he follows the man into a spacious office and sits down in yet another cushioned chair by a big oakwood desk. 

Dr. Kapelsky closes the door before joining Billy by the desk. He sizes him up, tries to figure him out by just initial impression. Billy can tell. He’s probably trying to come up with a way to approach the situation, to get him to open up and spill all his deep and dark secrets and emotions. 

Billy can see it all happening and yet all he can concentrate on, is the taxidermy racoon on the shelf in the corner of the room. Why the fuck did this comic-figure-looking guy have a taxidermy racoon in his office ? 

“ So, Billy. Let us start with introductions. I am Dr. Ryland Kapelsky but you can call me Dr. K. It’s what most of my younger patients do.” 

Billy hates this, not the guy but the attitude. He’s not going to win him over by pretending to be cool and down with the kids. He’s not a kid. 

He’s not a patient either. Because he is not sick. 

“ a’right. “ 

“ And you are ? “ 

“ Billy Hargrove, you know this. You’ve read the file. “ 

“ I did, indeed. “ 

“ So you know this is court ordered. I’m not here because I want to be or need this is any way. I have to be here or I’m going to juvie. That’s the only reason. Sorry to disappoint but we’re not gonna end up making daisy chains and talking about our feelings. “ 

“ I understand that you don’t want to be here “ Dr. K. says and slides the too-big glasses down his nose “, no one really does. I need you to understand though, that this is a chance for you more so than a punishment. “ 

That’s easy for him to say, Billy thinks, he’s the one getting a big ass paycheck.

“ I see you’ve also been assigned 60 days of community service. Is that correct ? “ 

“ Yes, sir. “ 

“ I was asked to suggest an institution I find suitable for you to work those days. One that I think will benefit you. “ 

“ Wait wait wait. What ? I thought I was gonna pick up trash at the side of the highway “.

“ Billy, “ Dr. K says and does that thing adults do where they look at you and sigh and pretend to care “ this is supposed to help you. It’s a chance. Picking up trash is not gonna do anything now, is it ? I want you to take something from this. “ 

Oh he has taken something from it. Don’t punch rich kids whose parents have the funds to get a good lawyer and press charges. No matter how deserving those rich kids are of a fist in their face.

“ Alright then, what’s the verdict, doc ? Where you gonna send me off to ? “ 

“ Well. There’s a place in Huckley, it’s a tiny town about a 30 minute drive from Hawkins. It’s called the Huckley home from troubled children and youth. There’s kids and teenagers from troubled homes who struggle in life. They’re all a bit younger than you. Most of them come from abusive homes. “ 

“ What are you saying, sir ? I’m not a troubled youth. I don’t need to attend some looney institute, bad enough I have to sit through this shit here.“ 

He doesn’t like this man insinuating stuff about Billy’s home life. He doesn’t know shit. No matter how many plaques and trophies and certificates. This man doesn’t know the first thing about Billy’s family. His home. 

“ Oh no you’re supposed to work there. Help out in activities. Attend the group session and listen to the kids. Also, and I mean no offence, Billy. I only judge by what I am familiar with. By what I’ve learned over the years. I see your father was asked to accompany you to today’s appointment. He’s not here. “ 

“ I’m almost 18 my dad doesn’t need to be here. “ 

Truth is, Neil wouldn’t have come no matter what age Billy is. 8 or 18 it doesn’t make a difference. Neil laughed at him when the letter came. Then gave him a black eye to go with. His taunting words are still ringing through Billy’s ears. 

“ Yes but we usually like the parents to be there. To asses the situation and to — “ 

“ Well he’s not here so can we drop it ? “ 

“ Sure. “ 

Billy can see him scribbling something into his notebook. Probably another assumption. It’s ridiculous, really. The fact that he has to sit here and let a complete stranger make up a story of what he thinks is going on in Billy’s life.

“ Look doc, I don’t need you to figure me out or anything like that. It’s bullshit anyway. All I need is for you to sign my notes every session for the next 8 weeks so the court knows I’ve been here and that’s about it, okay ? You get paid either way so it shouldn’t matter. “ 

“ This is my job, Billy. It always matters.”

“ Well this time it don’t. Now tell me about that troubled youth center thing so I can get that over and done with.” 

- XXX -

The Huckley home from troubled children and youth stands at the end of a cul-de-sac with a little lake and a whole god damn forest behind it. There’s two other houses down the street but they’re all about 10 minute walk away from the big red brick building.

He takes one last puff from his cigarette before stomping it out on the floor and walking up the gravel driveway towards the big oak door.

There’s gold ornaments on the door handles and up and down the sides. He wonders if this is one of those fancy looney bins that rich parents send their kids to when they don’t wanna deal with them or can’t bother to bring them on their trip to Aspen.

The inside looks nothing like Billy has expected it to look. There’s wide big walkways and windows that let the sunlight stream through the halls. Every wall is plastered with drawings and macaroni picture frames and certificates that all hold little shiny star stickers. 

It reminds him a little of his elementary school back home in California. His mom used to be a teacher there and even before he was old enough to visit the school himself, sometimes she took him with her to sit by her desk while she taught the kids a new letter or help her put the shiny stars onto an especially well done assignment. 

But his mom is gone now and sticker stars don’t mean shit in the real world. He wonders if they ever really did. If so, he’d like to know when they stopped mattering.

“ Can I help you ? “ a voice speaks up from his right. There’s a girl there and she doesn’t seem to be much older than him. She’s wearing a white shirt that proudly displays the letters HHTCY. Ah great, uniforms. 

She’s cute though, he has to admit that much.

“ Hi. I’m Billy. Billy Hargrove. I’m here for — uh community service “.

“ Oh! Oh yeah just let me — let me see if I can find someone to … “ she doesn’t finish the sentence, just hurries back towards the way she’s just come from.

Billy uses this time to look around the halls a little more. The certificates all seem to have been rewarded for different things. Exceptional Storyteller. Hide & Seek champion. Queen of hopscotch.

He wonders what certificate he’d get. Biggest disappointment ? Lousiest life ? Best hair ? Probably all of them. 

“ Sooo, seems like Janet was supposed to show you around but she’s had a family emergency so she’s not here aaand that means I’ll show you around since literally anyone else is currently busy. “ the girl appears again, her mouth spitting out words a mile a minute. 

“ I’m (Y/N) “ .

“ Billy. “ 

“ Hi, welcome to —” 

“ Look sweetheart, I don’t need to whole spiel, okay ? I’m here on court order so just tell me where to go and what to do and let’s get this over with. “ 

She looks defeated for a moment which makes Billy feel a little bad about his harsh tone but really, the quicker he’s started the quicker he gets to leave. Once this is over he’s not gonna see this girl ever again, so who cares ? 

“ Oh, alright. Well here’s a schedule that Janet made and a floorplan. I need to show you around before you get to actually do anything but I am scheduled to sit in on a group talk so I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me. Now look, I get you don’t want to be here. Honestly I don’t give a shit about that. But these people, these kids, they are here because we care and because they need someone to care. Don’t be a dick in there. Don’t ruin this for them. If you do, I’m gonna kick your ass into the next dimension. Is that clear ? “ 

Billy is stunned. He doesn’t know who this girl is but it’s not the same one that he’s interacted with just minutes before. This one isn’t timid or sweet. She’s spunky and feisty and interesting and — kinda hot.

“ Whatever you say, ma’am” 

“ Yeah, whatever I say. Now let’s go !” 

Damn. What the hell has he gotten himself into here.

- XXX -

The room that the group talk is held in is big and airy with light colored walls and even more paintings. It’s not at all as small and cramped and sad as he had imagined it. 

There’s a bunch of people here, about 6 or 7 kids who range from what Billy assumes can’t be much older than 6, to people who look to be around his age. Then there’s (Y/N) and a woman that had introduced herself to Billy as Dr. White, though all the kids seem to refer to her by her first name, Lydia. 

Some of the kids are smiling, radiating with energy and joy while others hardly speak up and mostly keep their eyes focused on the floor. Though even those kids are always attentive, Billy notices. Always listening. Still a valid and active part of this conversation even when they don’t even speak a single word.

This whole talk is so different from what he expected it to be. There’s no pressure. No one is forced to do an emotional strip and lay bare all of their darkest secrets and innermost feelings. it’s mostly the kids talking about their day. The good and the bad. Things that scared them and things that gave them hope. Lydia seems genuinely interested in what they have to say too. (Y/N), Billy notices as his eyes keep drifting towards her, hold a warm smile on her face the entire time. And it’s not fake or overdone. It seems so genuine, so honest. He wonders if anyone has ever smiled at him like this.

“ Abby, you haven’t said anything yet. How was your day ? “ Lydia asks, looking at the girl across from her in the circle of chairs. Abby must be around 7 or 8 years old. She’s small and has a big mop of blond hair on her head. Her sweater seems a few sizes too big, she’s practically drowning in it. Billy isn’t sure he really wants to know her story. If she’s here, he’s sure it’s not a happy one.

“ It was — alright. Grandma and Grandpa came to visit. They took me to get ice cream, mom wasn’t here though. Not this time. They said next time she’d come. Maybe I get to see her for my birthday. “ she says the words with a sprinkle of hope, one Billy knows too well. A hope he has tried to hold onto for so many times in his own life. One that’s but a mere illusion. It’s a trick. It’s not real.

He hopes this little girl never has to find out about that. He hopes, sincerely hopes, that she gets to keep this hope in her heart for as long as humanly possible. Because losing it comes with pain and suffering and heartbreak. And this little girl doesn't deserve that. 

“ So how would you rate your day from 1 to 10 ? “ Lydia asks. 

“ Like a 7 maybe ? “ 

“ Are you asking me ? “ Lydia smiles at Abby.

“ A solid 7 “.

“ That’s good then. “ 

They’ve done this with all the kids that had wanted to share something, ask them to rate their day. Billy’s days are usually 4s sometimes when it’s a real good day their climb up to become a 6. Then there’s days, those when Neil is home, that are no better than a 2. Those ones come with at least a bruised cheek or a bloody nose and at worst with a broken rib. 

“ So, I guess that’s it for today. Thank you guys for sharing your stories with us. Those of you to stay, please go get some lunch. Those that go home, I’ll see you next monday and I hope your week becomes a solid 10. “ 

Something in the way Lydia speaks, makes Billy feel a little more at easy. She has a softness to her words, like they’re made of cotton. His mom used to talk like that to her students. All gentle and kind and wonderful. 

“ Hey you “ a hand waves up and down in front of Billy’s face “ let’s grab lunch then let me show you around. “ 

It takes a moment for Billy’s eyes to fully focus on the person in front of him, only to be met with (Y/N) who’s wearing a huge scowl on her face. 

“ Huh ? “ 

“ I said let’s go eat. Oh and uh — thanks for not fucking this up. “ 

He doesn’t think behaving like a decent human being deserves any kind of thanks, he appreciates it anyway.

- XXX -

“ … and this is my office. Well technically it’s Janet’s office but she mostly does our paperwork and accounting and so she does that from home most of the time aaaand that means I get to use the office while she’s not here. Even though I’m only volunteering and I’m not supposed to have an office actually but uh —  “ 

“ You talk a lot, don’t you ? “ Billy asks as a smirk pulls up the corner of his lip. 

“ I’ve heard people say that, yeah. You on the other hand talk very little “ (Y/N) says before sitting down on the big oak desk. 

“ Yeah well I don’t got nothing to say to you, babe. “ 

“ Ah man, you gotta stop with those pet names. “ 

“ Huh, and why’s that ? Does it make you nervous ? “ there it is, the smooth suave Hargrove charm that his mother always said was gonna cause her sleepless night and gray hair. He always scoffed at that, now he wishes he could see her with gray hair. Older and — alive. 

“ Pretty much everything makes me nervous really but no, it’s just unprofessional. “ 

“ You’re a volunteer and I am here on court’s order. We’re hardly professionals. “ 

He can see a small smile threatening to cross her face, it’s so subtle he almost misses it. Almost. 

“ What’s the deal with Abby ? “

“ huh ? “

“ The little girl. “ 

Something about this girl reminded Billy so much of himself when he was younger. Her whole demeanor was so familiar like he was looking into some kind of distorted mirror that allowed him to look into the past. He just had to know what her story was, even if it meant to feel the all too familiar pain. 

“ I can’t tell you any specifics but well, her mom has — issues and her dad is not in the picture. She used to stay with her grandparents but they are getting older and feel like they can’t provide her with all the things she needs at this moment. So she stays here with us. “ 

“ Do all the kids ? “ 

“ Nah. Some of them stay here permanently. Some temporary. Some just come around certain days of the week. It really depends on their individual situation. We provide them with what they need even if it’s just a place to stay and some open ears. “ 

Billy wonders if things would’ve turned out different for him had he had someone who cared. Who was willing to listen. To his sadness and his anger and all the pent or emotions he had to keep inside for the longest fucking time.

“ Well good for them. “ 

“ Yeah. I hope it makes a difference. “ 

Billy smiles at her. He hopes it seems genuine, because it is.

“ Oh I’m sure it does. “ 

- XXX -

Billy is exhausted once he arrives home. (Y/N) took him around the entire building doing several different chores and tasks to make sure he got acquaintanced with everything that needed to be done. From tidying up the community lounge rooms to helping prepare food to paperwork. She made sure he saw and did it all at least once. And my god, this girl was thorough.

As he steps through the door, he can hear the scrapping of cutlery against the porcelain plates. They’re all sitting around the kitchen table like a perfect little family. Neil, Susan and Max. A sight for sore eyes, if he’s ever seen one. There’s no room for Billy on this table. There never really was.

Neil’s eye shoot up as his son enters the kitchen, a snarl makes its way onto his lips and the gross mustache twitches disgustingly. God, Billy can’t even put into words how much he detests his father.

“ Look who returned home. The prodigal son. My boy. Tell us Billy, how was community service ? Did you work real hard ? Did you make them proud ? “ 

The teasing is hardly hidden in his words. It’s ugly and taunting and Billy is sure those words are gonna ghost through his head for much much longer. If Neil could just shut up for once. Just once.

“ It was alright. Can I go to bed now ? “ 

“ Alright ? What kind of answer is that ? “ Neil snarls, taking another sip from his can of bud light. Susan and Max avert their eyes down towards their plates, nervously pushing their food across the tableware. 

“ What do you want me to say, dad ? That is was good? It wasn’t, it was fucking exhausting ! That I’m sorry ? Well I’m not. The dude had it coming. I did a shit thing and now I’m suffering the consequences, what the fuck else do you want me to do ? “ 

He knows, as those words leave his lips, that he’s fucked up. Before he can even register what happens, a loud smash echoes through the room before. Then Billy feels the smooth surface of the fridge pressed against his back and Neil holds him by the face in a grip so tight, Billy is sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow. 

“ Is that a way to talk to your father ? I give you everything you ungrateful little shit and this is how you thank me ? Grow up, Billy ! Start taking some god damn responsibility “ 

Smack. 

He’s used to it by now. It stings a little less each time. He hates that it does. He hates that he gets used to this. From his dad of all people. The one who should be sheltering him from bad is the one bringing it upon him.

“ Do you hear me ? “ 

“ Yes sir ! “ 

Another smack. This time he can feel his lip split open. He’s used to that one too.

“ Excuse me ? What was that ? A little louder please. “ 

“ Yes, Sir !” 

When Neil lets him go and sits back on the kitchen table, Billy carefully steps over the broken plate and hurries towards his room. The rage in his system says “slam the door” but he knows that would make things worse. So much worse. 

Though he can’t help himself but punch the wall. Once. Twice. Three times. He loses count at some point but gets pulled back into reality when he notices a red sheen covering his knuckles. 

As if a split lip wasn’t shitty enough he had to add bleeding knuckles and a bruised fist to it. Great. 

The rage feels all consuming. Like it’s taking over everything and swallowing him whole. He needs to get out. Needs to get away for a moment. Out of this house where misery lives and anger seems to inhabit every corner, every wall. If he doesn’t get out now he’ll explode.

So he opens the window, quiet as a mouse, like he’s done so many times before and rushes towards the camaro. If Neil notices he’s gone, that’s something he’ll have to deal with later. It doesn’t matter right now. All that matter now is getting away. As far away as possible.

- XXX -

There’s a perpetual red glow in this 24h convenience store. It comes from the neon signs in the window that advertise hot dogs and cream soda. Billy thinks it gives the place a realy creepy vibe. 

He fumbles around the freezer before taking out a popsicle package and holding it to his swollen knuckles. It’s soothing sure, but it’s uncomfortable holding that stupid box to his hand.

“ Have you never seen a movie before ? You gotta use frozen peas, man “ 

Recognizing the voice immediately, Billy turns to see (Y/N) stood next to him, a white grocery basket hanging from her arm as she holds out a packet of peas to him. 

“ They properly take the shape of your hand. Works way better, trust me ! “ 

“ Oh yeah “ Billy replies, taking the peas from her hand and holding it to his injured. Goddamn she’s right. “ You some kind of secret nurse or something ? “ 

“ Not really but that’s common sense. “ 

“ Not something I can pride myself with apparently. “ 

And when she laughs at that, it’s like for a second his knuckles don’t hurt and he forgets about the dried blood on his lips.

“ Man, you just got ordered community service for punching someone. Thought you’d have learned. “ 

“ You should see the other guy “ Billy jokes. But really, it’s not funny. Not even close.

“ Yeah ? Big guy ? “ 

“ Huge. Made of drywall “ 

“ Huh. Did you win at least ? “

“ Ya betcha, baby. I always win “ and if only that was the truth.

“ Come on Rocky, lemme get some stuff to fix you up. “ 

It’s a few minutes later that Billy sits in the bed of her pick-up with (Y/N) standing between his legs, dabbing alcohol onto his lip and knuckles. If this wasn’t such a ridiculous situation it could even be a little romantic. With her so close to — certain regions of his body. Fucking hell Billy, get it together !

“ So uh — do you wanna talk about what happened ? “ 

“ Not really. “ 

“ You sure I could — “ 

“ Look (Y/N) I don’t have the best life at home, okay ? But that’s all you need to know. I’m not one of your kids that spill their heart and emotions out to you I just needed to get away from home, is that alright with you ?  

“ That’s perfectly fine “.

He can almost feel how genuine her words are. She doesn’t judge or pry. And he is eternally grateful for that. 

“ Why are you here so late anyway ? “ 

“ Had to get some groceries. We’re gonna pretend I didn’t just come here because I had a huge craving for ice cream, okay ? “ 

He scoffs. This girl is ridiculous. And something about that makes her incredibly charming.

“ So, I assume you don’t wanna go home tonight ? “ 

He doesn’t. If Neil has discovered him gone, he can’t show up home again tonight. Not under any circumstances.

“ Not really, no. “ 

“ I have a pretty comfortable couch. It’s big enough for you and it comes with an extra fluffy cuddle companion. “ 

“ What does that mean ? “ 

“ I have a cat. His name is Luke Skywhiskers and he’s fat and orange and very clingy. So if you don’t mind that — “ she shrugs her shoulders in a way that shouldn’t be nearly as cute as it is. 

Billy isn’t particularly fond of cats, then again he’s never really had a lot to do with any cats. Never being allowed to have any pet because they’re “dirty” and “cost a shit ton of money” according to Neil, Billy was never given the chance to really bond with an animal.

But then again, everything was better than going home.

“ Sounds alright. “ 

“ Okay, cool. “ 

“ Thank you, (Y/N). “ 

“ It’s no problem. Just follow my car and I’ll see you at my place then “ (Y/N) says, pats his chest and gets into her car.

As Billy get into the Camaro and  slumps down in the seat he wonders how his night managed to end like this. Bloodied and bruised and one the way to spend the night at a complete strangers house. 

A stranger who’s shown him more kindness in the last 24 hours than his dad did in the last almsot 18 years. 

Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe it was a solid 5. 

[scripted-dalliances]

Faithless Fairy Tale

Title: Faithless Fairy Tale

Word Count:  5432 words

Summary: Laura and Sweeney get a happy ending. (Canon up until the last episode.)

Author’s note: I haven’t posted to tumblr in six million years and it shows by the fact that I still don’t know if I even posted this right, and if I mess up I’m sorry and just tell me. All of this is Neil’s and it’s pretty obvious I’m only playing in his sandbox. *There are a few direct lines from the book, between Laura and Shadow, freakin’ important ones I hope they one day put in the show.

Despite what one might presume given…well, his everything. Mad Sweeney does better in the company of women than he does men. Sure, he can drink and fight with the lads, take the piss and make them do the same with a dirty joke, but when it comes to the grit of his bones and silence of the night, its women that make him feel more at ease.

Its just the nature of his being really, women believe in the likes of fairies and leprechauns more easily than men. It is their kind that want something a little bit wild and uncontrollable, and free. Its really only a woman who could understand and appreciate a dual nature. Not good nor evil, not nice or mean but ever changing in opinion given the direction of the wind.

Men. Men wanted firm rules. Give and take, all the details finely written down like a bloody equation.

I pray this much, I sacrifice this much and in return by this time I shall have received my list of demands or else some other bloody God gets my belief.

Men wanted Gods of War. Gods that kept their dick hard and Gods to take away their pain.

Leprechauns were by nature then, seen more as little devils. Annoyance that were more likely to steal and trick them than to help.

So its hardly a thought given to him, that when all settles down. When the three of them fall into a routine of travel; making pit stops every five hours it seems to either piss, eat or pray, he keeps closer to the bitch dead wife rather than the Genie Rubber.

“Why are you on my side?” Laura bitches, the second he sits down. The worn red seat of the ancient Waffle house is at best, a fucking bench with a whisper of a pillow above it. His weight makes it whine and crack, like a living beast about die.

“Shut up and order. Oh, that’s right you can’t because you’re dead, so how about you shut it anyways or else you can go back to the cab and rot.” He bitches right back, only to get her tiny fist shoved into his side. Clearly she is holding back, as he does not fly across the room, but it does make him keen like a whelp and curl up to protect the rest of his insides. “Fuckin hell!”

“Tell me to shut up one more god damn time, Ginger minge and I swear I will give you a very unwanted vasectomy with a fucking fork.”

Across the table, Salim with his wide doe eyes and soft heart begs them to stop.

“Please, we are in public.” He says, like he is their mother and they are just two rowdy kids as opposed to what they really are. A 6'5 leprechaun and 5'1 dead woman about to fist fight in a Waffle House at three am.

It continues on like this, him without thought keeping to her, even when she breaks his bones and insults everything about him seven ways from Sunday. Like she’s got a stick up her pert little ass a mile long and just as wide with his fucking name on it.

He can’t say he doesn’t probably have a matching one with her name on it.

He pays no mind to it, but of course she does.

“Is it the gay thing?” She questions  apropos of nothing. They had been sitting, watching Salim pray on the side of the road from within a little coffee shop. Its shit, the coffee but they have amazing doughnuts that Sweeney eats several of.

“What is?”

“Why you never seem to want to be near Salim.”

He tilts his head toward her, “I’ve just spent three days stuck in a fucking mini piece of rolling shit with the man, with hardly a breathing inch between us. If I was any fucking closer, I’d be inside the bastard, and it’s my fucking name he’d be thanking five times a day.”

She waits a beat before answering.

“So do you want him to be? Are you jealous because of the God thing or the sex? Or is it a weird combo where you are just a repressed homophobe with God Issues?”

“…What the fuck.” He whispers in ancient tongue. “Did they pickle your fucking brain, dead wife?”

“Just an observation.”

“Oh. Is it now? JUST A FUCKING TERRIBLE ONE.” He roars, the patrons of the shop sleepily look over but ignore him after a second. He shoves a doughnut into his mouth and chews through his anger. “I ain’t jealous, Gods are fucking high horsed pricks. Fuck the lot of ‘em. And I ain’t got nothing against any bloke who can take it up the arse with a smile, not my slice of cake but you don’t live as long as I do and not get curious.”

Laura smirks, as if he has confirmed something for her. Like a child, he has the sudden need to steal it from her and horde it.

“-and before your pickled brain can get too many rotted ideas. No. Salim isn’t the ugliest bugger I’ve laid eyes on, but he isn’t making me twitch down below.”

“Gross.”

“So are you, dead wife.”

She rolls her eyes but continues. “So what is it then? You always seem to hang out with me, and we both know its not my winning personality.”

Sweeney takes a sip of the shit coffee and looks out the window to Salim. “Does it matter? Maybe I just want to keep track of you. You and my coin.”

“That’s not it. For one, we both know if I wanted to lose you I could. Two, you can’t keep track of shit, example A.” She gestures to herself, “-and its weird.”

“Is this your shit way of saying you don’t want to be friends, dead wife? And here I thought we were on our way to braiding each others hair and trading friendship bracelets.”

“Fuck off.”

“Heaven above, you have no idea how much I wish I could.” He sighs deeply, wishing he had such a choice. That she didn’t have his coin, that she didn’t look like-

But she does. She fucking does and maybe that’s the part of it. Laura Moon is the haunting mirror of Essie, the color of their hair different, and skin not as freckled but there she sits. Just as mouthy and unwilling to bend against the course of nature as ever. The only difference being that Laura did it out of pure stubborn will, where Essie had done it out of faith. Faith that had brought him with to the new world, and just looking at Laura reminded him of that fact. Made it feel like there was a hole in his chest, missing something vital.

The worst part was that, given different circumstances he wouldn’t have minded. In another reality, where she had a beating heart and no husband to chase, he would have chased that feeling. Stupid as it was, as mean as she could be. He would have tried to fix the feeling with crass words, rough sex and shades of affection. Try and figure Laura out, what she believed in and try to make her believe in him, as a lover or a man.

He thinks in a different life, he would have been happy to try.

-but they aren’t in that world. No, instead she’s dead as a fucking door nail and he’s just the unlucky tool that did it. Her piece of shit husband the reason why, even if he didn’t know it.

Instead, the hole in his chest just gets infected by guilt. With what feels like several bleeding centuries of it. From the loss of Essie, to the own sad truth of what he has become and even if she is a cunt, Laura hadn’t deserved to become a pawn in some God’s half assed plan. She wasn’t meant to die, scraped across pavement like roadkill with a man’s cock in her mouth.

“Come on, he should be done soon.” She says, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Sweeney nods, finishes his drink and follows her out. Salim is just packing away his rug and hat as they approach the cab. Laura making a beeline for the passenger seat (is if her tiny legs could somehow beat his stride if he put his mind to it.) And he once again attempts to shove his frame into the back seat. As always he fails. Curled up, with his knees bent, his boots still push against her seat.

If he was in mood. He’d kick it.

Kick it like a fussy toddler on a six hour flight.

-but decides he likes how his balls are attached to his body and keeps himself in check.

+

They lose Salim, the cab and the helpful buffer between within seconds. In hardly a days drive from that, Sweeney finds himself face first in a fucking window with an red, white and blue popsicle up is his arse like it’s fourth of the fucking July.

And his coin.

His fucking coin had, by the grace of gravity knocked right out of Laura’s corpse. His problems solved, he had it back. Not freely given per say but his once more never the less.

But then he looks down at her; once more smeared ungracefully and undignified on the road, this time dry and hollow. Her chest split open, showing him the pale white curve of bones that protects her heart and lungs. She is flayed open, and he should want nothing to do with her.

Still he does not walk away.

He roars, stomps and loses his god damn mind. All in his ancient tongue, all but lost to time, to the heavens above.

He isn’t evil. He isn’t.

(He puts it back, because there is a hole in his heart, a renewed sense of self and it’s the biggest middle finger to fucking Odin he can think of. He doesn’t want a new start, doesn’t want to be absolved of this sin and mistake, he wants Laura to have her revenge, even if it means she’ll probably wring his neck. Even if it means his own death. He’s done being a fucking coward.)

He puts the coin back into her and they continue their journey.

+

“What do you believe?”

“Everything.”

Death has done a lot of damage to Laura Moon’s insides. She feels empty, like there is a growing hole in her chest -but not physically. No, physically she can feel the cold, the dry pull of limbs as they move with every step. She can feel the odd heavy weight in her guts, of fluid never fully drained and of maggots growing. Making it feel like she has to puke or shit, but not really. She is in her body, she feels it, but it’s obvious to even her that the decay is setting in.

She thinks about Mad Sweeney and his stupid words. Yer meat will slide off your bones

She hates that his words manage to stick, place a bit of fear in her. She hates that even for a second, she believes him.

-but the truth is, she is coming apart at the seams.

Can there even be a resurrection if she’s a pile of moldy meat?

Laura watches Easter break out the big guns, watches in passive disillusionment as the woman draws life out and back into her, like breathing. Watches as she seemingly turns into a bundle of brightly colored flowers as the Earth turns hollow and dead as Laura herself; and all she can do is feel is pissed off. A Goddess of this power, who could have brought her back to life, can’t. All because she wasn’t just dead. No not just murdered.

She was a fucking sacrifice. A lamb slaughtered for an uncaring God.

So she politely clears her throat, to get their attention.

“I’d like to have a word with my husband.”

Shadow smiles up to her, like she’s a gift for all of three seconds,before his expression falls. As if remembering something.

(And it pierces her heart, like a bullet, because she isn’t stupid. It doesn’t matter what those gods of death had said. He’s not grateful for her return, he’s not able to forget or forgive her sins. He isn’t her puppy any more. Confessed by the man himself.)

Wednesday takes one glaring look at her, and then to Mad Sweeney behind her and butts in like he’s reading from a dramatic play, “Might have to take a rain check on that m'dear. As you can see, things are heating up, might not be too good for you…considering your,” He pauses, eyes going over her appearance, as if he can taste the rot on her, “-let’s say delicate condition?”

“I’m dead, not fucking pregnant you asshole.” Laura spits out.

“Laura-” Shadow attempts to call out to her; but he does it in that stupid soft voice of his, the one that she’s so familiar of. The one that is to calm her, to gently tell her to reign it in and not start a fight. He’s used it at her family’s dinners whens he got to mouthy with her mother over something stupid, and it’s the last straw. 

She will not stand by and let him protect this asshole god from her wrath.

She starts walking down the steps, hears Sweeney follow, and makes her way to the group. Intent on ripping them all a new hole, physically and mentally. First Wednesday, then Shadow and then maybe the rest of them too. Sweeney as well. Fucking everyone.

-but she gets about a foot away before Wednesday gives her a smirk.

“What is it that you really want, Laura. Your man or your life? What are you really afraid of? Death or being alone? What is it that you believe in, that makes you chase Shadow?”

“Fuck you, I want both, I love him. His love brought me back!”

The old man’s devil of a smile, grows wider and she can see his two colored eyes sparkle with amusement. He is laughing at her. It makes her want to break every bone in his body, slowly.

“Did it?” He questions, looking back at Shadow curiously, “Did you?”

Shadow, looks like he’s a deer caught in the head lights. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and Laura’s rage turns into dust. The bright light he seems to effortlessly shine with starts to dims. Flickers like a candle in the wind and all she wants to do now is cup her hands around it, protect it.

Please. Please don’t go out.

“I…I gave her the coin, but I didn’t-” He admits slowly, confesses each word with a stutter before it all comes out. “I didn’t know it would bring you back Laura.”

The light goes out.

He gave her a gift he didn’t mean to give, it’s not his love that keeps her on this plane of existence, it’s a fucking mistake. She’s been following him blindly, just like Salim and his Jinn, just like him and his Gods but here she is. Before him, and the truth is a little less like heaven and more like the hell she probably deserves.

She doesn’t really know what to do with that.

“He killed me Shadow,” She spills the secret with a lot less gravity than she thought it deserved, but now she’s not even sure he’d care. “He might have ordered Ginger minge over there to do it, but it’s him that wanted me out of the way. It’s him that sent you to prison. That ruined my perfect plan. He is the reason our lives went to shit.”

Shadow glares -there’s just enough righteous fury in his eyes to make the light flicker back on, but then Wednesday is once again talking and swaying the breeze.

“Am I?” He questions, and Laura goes to kick him.

“Shut the fuck up, with your stupid questions. Yes, yes you are!”

-he moves out the line of her kick too fast for her to track.

“Ah. So. It was me then who planted that dangerous plan to rob your place of work?” No. That was Laura. Fed up and bored with her life once more. “It was me, that asked you to get Shadow involved?” No. That was Laura again. “It was me, that after a year and a month…a baker’s dozen of months, that caused you to start fucking Robbie? That pushed you to bend over and suck his dick?”

Her own words, phases and classless tone comes back to haunt her. She doubts that Shadow told the bastard any of this, and knows that it’s just him. As a God, reading her sins like they are printed on her face. The truth of her actions, that still would have damned her even if she was still alive. That was all Laura, screwing herself over.

“Tell me. What would have happened if you had lived that night. If you hadn’t of died.” He opens his arms, looking to the crowd now as if they have the answer. Everyone is silent, old gods and new, even Shadow. Laura feels suddenly, like she’s on the chopping block. Like she’s once again, sitting before the God of Death, and being told to weigh her heart against a pure white feather.

She already knows the answer.

“Tell me Laura Moon -Laura McCabe. Who used to try and suffocate herself in a hot tub with bug spray when no one was looking, when her husband didn’t make her feel any more -what was your life going to be?”

It’s in that moment, that Laura realizes she’s too dead to cry. There’s nothing to give, even though there’s a growing crack in her being. Wednesday’s rips her apart, with his accurate accusations. Spilling not her blood, but her secrets. The one she never thought she’d ever have to share.

“Oi, you fucker!” A voice finally rings out, Sweeney’s roar. He dares to venture into the fray. Pointing a finger at the Norse God, “You are on trial here, not her. Whatever her life might have been, good or fucking terrible, that was her right. It was her fucking life to live! You bastards,” He glares out to all them watching and sneers, “Old Gods. New Gods. Fuck the lot of you. Same pricks, different fucking names that’s all. All greedy, all selfish. When was the last time any of you did anything fucking productive? You scramble and you fight, and you demand worship, like any of you deserve it. Well, surprise. You fucking don’t. None of ya, and all this is,” He waves his arms out, striding forward to Wednesday to spit directly into his face, “All this bloody is, is a war to find out whose the bigger cunt to a bunch of dumb mortal motherfuckers who don’t fucking need you.”

Sweeney laughs, “They never have, and that’s why they forget. That’s why, you can suck the life out of his whole damned planet-” He points to Easter, with a grin , “Like a toothless whore, and it won’t matter. They’ll just assume it’s nature. It’s the planet dying. They’ll fuck off to space before building you an alter, love. And maybe they’ll have their gadgets and their little stories on the box, but once again they’ll be focused on survival. Those things will be pushed into dark little boxes of the old times, won’t they?”

“He’s…got a point.” Techno Boy Wonder says in reply, he isn’t exactly eager for this war. He just wants his kicks, his slice of pie and then honestly, to fuck off and mind his own business again. “Why are we fighting them. Like really. If it doesn’t matter if they win or lose, then what does it matter if we fight? This is twenty-first century. No one is going to start plucking out eyeballs for the old geezer unless they’re already crazy.”

Media is slower to reply, but even she softly admits, “And then they’re nothing but mad men. Delusional. Cults do have a nasty habit of burning out before too long…”

-and just like that. The tides and winds are changing.

“There won’t be a war.” Media decides. Grabbing her hat off the ground. “Too much trouble. This was…impressive.” She says to Easter, “but he’s right. Without our meddling, they’ll figure it out. Call it something else. Cover it up and forget it.”

-and just like that, Media and Technology Boy leave.

Easter too, sullenly walks back into her home. Her earlier joy fading with every step.

It’s not a fitting end, but it’s an end never the less.

+

There’s a fight of course, a violent one, but it’s just between Mad Sweeney and Odin. Laura breaks it up by slicing Odin’s head off with his own blade. Just as he was about to snap Sweeney’s head off.

It’s not really important, because honestly, Laura doesn’t want it to be.

He’s better left forgotten.

+

“You didn’t mean to bring me back.”

“No.”

“You don’t want to see me.”

“It wasn’t that,” Shadow hesitated, “No. I didn’t want to see you. It hurt too much. At first I just thought…I don’t know what I thought, but looking at you, it hurts.”

Laura bows her head, it’s not surprising. This talk with Shadow. It’s simple and blunt, like a hammer doing it’s job, and nailing in her coffin once more. It’s time to bury what is between them, because it’s pretty clear even if she wasn’t dead, their marriage was.

“I want to bring you back. I don’t want you dead.” He tells her, but it’s not with passion as so much guilt. He wants to right a wrong, not get her back. Not fix things because he wants to be with her.

She is, of course hurt by this fact. Splinted between knowing she’s lost such a good man because of her own stupid fault and the growing sense of fuck it, you never really wanted him, did you? You were bored with him before you died, before he went to prison. You were just holding on to something you didn’t deserve, a Goddess with a single mindless devotee.

“I love you,” She said, dispassionately. “I know you loved me. You spoiled me, gave me everything…and it would have been enough. Should have been.” Admitting it is easier in death, because what does she have to fear? Wednesday was wrong. She doesn’t fear the nothing that comes after death, and even when she was with Shadow she was alone. Laura doesn’t fear anything, just as she doesn’t believe in anything. All she wants is something in her life that doesn’t make her feel like she’s dead. She wants to feel her blood pumping inside her veins, not just because her heart is pushing it but because something is causing it to. “I wasn’t unhappy with you Shadow, I was unhappy with life, and I suppose in a way I guess that does include you even if I never thought of it like that. It’s only in death that I can admit that to you without holding back. And that’s the truth of it. I was always holding back.”

“You could have shared. I would have-”

“You would have told me you loved me. You would have told me it’s okay. Maybe taken the step to get me to a doctor, who would have medicated me to hell and then I would still be this. Dead on the inside.” She points out, “I’m not a nice person with a lot of issues. I’m broken, Shadow and that’s just who I am and you’ve always been too good of a man to say so. That’s why I think…I think I followed you, I believed in you. Or rather I wanted to. I mean, I don’t believe in any Gods or that shit…but I knew you were a good man, and you could do something. Anything to fix me.”

“…You still don’t believe? After everything you’ve seen today?” Shadow asks her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the kitchen counter. Easter had all but disappeared into her rooms. Leaving the trio to themselves. Sweeney was recovering in the living room while they had gone off to talk.

Laura shrugged, indifferent. “Nah. I mean. Ginger Minge out there said it didn’t he? Doesn’t matter what they are or aren’t, they’re still pricks. And anyone can be a prick, so it stands to reason anyone can be a God. Seems kinda like that’s a shit existence any how.”

Shadow cracks, smiling just a bit. “I suppose it does…but what about you? You’re still dead, Odin might have been the only one to bring you back…”

“Actually, I’ve got a theory about that.”

+

“Let’s make a deal.”

Sweeney attempts to open his eyes, but really his face is bruised and swollen he only manages to see out of one. And all he gets for his trouble is the smug mug of the bitch dead wife. He frowns.

“Fuck off.”

“I mean it. Let’s make a deal, Lepercunt.”

“I also mean it. Fuck off.”

She pinches the skin between his wrist and his hands, causing him to scream so loud the house windows rattle.

Laura smiles. The bitch.

+

It goes like this.

“I’ll believe in you if you believe in me.”

“That’s not how it fucking works, dead wife.”

“Oh yeah?” She questions, standing before him. Despite being half his fucking height, she manages to make him feel nervous. “How does it work, because I’m going out on a limb in saying that you’ve got no fucking clue. Hell, I’ll gamble and say, none of you dickwads do.”

Maybe. But he doesn’t tell her that. Just glowers and mutters under his breath in another language how he can’t believe his fucking luck. Lack of luck.

“You told me you were a king once. Don’t you want to be one again?”

Sweeney stays silent, giving her any words is like selling his soul. Maybe he owes it to her, but fuck her, he’s not giving it without a bit of a fight.

“All you need is someone to believe. Really believe, and maybe a new story right? A reinvention. A rebirth.”

He catches on, what she is selling ain’t new, but fuck him…it sounds good.

“A resurrection.” He adds.

+

There is a new story.

One of a man, of a bird, of a saint and a trickster. Who came to America on broken wings and lost his crown, his coin and belief. (Oh yeah, Americans love a good immigrant story, of someone who lost everything and got it all back, Laura laughs.)

A hundred years, give or take, he spends wandering like a curse. Each road familiar, each day a repeat of the last. He makes deals with the devils, with the angels and even the ghosts but none of them change anything for him. All his pain, all his luck good or bad, doesn’t matter. It’s fleeting and he starts looking for an end.

He finds the end in a girl.

He murders her, leaves her dead on the side of the road because a mean ugly God told him to. Told him this was an important piece to bury, to shove out of the way for the grand end the once king was looking for.

-but the dead girl, she doesn’t stay where he puts her. She leaves the comfort of her grave, she tracks the sun and the moon until she finds him and once she finds him, she puts her hands around his throat and demands life.

The man who was once a bird, whispers to her he has none to give. None to share. All he has is the name of the God who wanted her dead. The girl takes it, though no heart in her beats or blood in her veins and she has nothing but luck of the damned on her side; she finds that God.

Hidden behind the shadows of the moon and sun, he stands and judges her.

In any other story, she and the trickster would be punished. She would have been struck down for her disobedience. For thinking she could get her way, just because. The trickster would have been killed, just like he wanted.

In any other story, neither of them are heroes and therefore their story ends with death as punishment. The bitter lesson of what happens to the boys and girls who don’t follow the rules.

-but that isn’t this story.

In this story, the girl doesn’t have a drop of fear in her and so she spits in that God’s eye. She blinds him, steals his blade and cuts him right out of the sky. The girl, who is just a girl and nothing more, kills a God.

She sheds her death, her mortality and becomes a God Slayer; something feared by those who rightfully should, and unknown by those who don’t.

It’s in her new embrace, that she brings the faithless man’s story to an end.

Because now he believes.

So she gifts him with a new crown, one of bronze and steel. She gives him wings not of a bird, but of hope of a new world. She takes his heart as payment, but fills it with something stronger than just faith.

She fills it with love.

+

“That’s a bit sappy.” Laura muses. Bright and warm, more so even before all this. Next to her, Sweeney fiddles with some precious trinket -that he promptly shatters between two fingers. He is still getting used to having his strength back.

The God of Death, Anubis as she now knows looks up from his brother’s book. Where their new story is written. Ink fresh to the point it’s still semi-wet.

“Gods and mortals alike, like a good love story.” Is all the man says. He is not pleased per say by the events. He still feels like he’s been cheated, after all. Laura McCabe should have died and vanished into the nothing of the world. It had been his job, and for whatever reasons, that had not come to pass. Not by his own lack of powers, but because the budding of hers.

She’s not a God. She is not holy or known enough to garner attention of mortals…

but she is something new.

Free of the restrictions dealt by most, she is a story now. Told between Gods like a promise. She can not be killed, she can not be reasoned with or bribed. She is an end and a beginning and there is something simple and absolutely terrifying about that truth.

All she needs is Mad Sweeney; not because of love, but because of everything else. He is now the start of her story as much as he is the end. He makes her, unmakes her and cycles between the two. He is her murderer as much as he is her savior. Without him, there is no life, no death and no story.

Doesn’t mean she’s nice to him, though. Why would she?

“Come on, Fire Crotch. I want Burger King.”

“They have shit fries, Wife.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Laura waves him off. A gold band around her finger catches the light. It’s a matching one to his own. A melted down version of the coin, split between them. Forged into rings by some God too afraid to tell them no, and given back to the other in a ceremony of marriage. Not a pledge or a vow to some other God, but to each other.

Laura puts her sunglasses on, and slides her arm between his. She’s strong enough to still throw him across the room, but now he’s strong enough to take it. She likes that. Seems fair.

“Come on, husband, let’s get the fuck out of here before I get bored.”

He laughs, “I can always throw you into the fucking river, wife. Try and drown ‘ya like old times. Would that amuse you? A little of tickle of death?”

“Little tickle of death? Sounds like a good name for your dick.”

His laughter turns into a bark, “We both know what I pack ain’t little, wife.”

They leave the funeral home, bantering like this all the way until Anubis can’t hear them any more. After which he sighs deeply in gratitude.

They exhaust even death.

[bluesfortheredj]

Modern Romance Pt. 3

The sound of her phone ringing from the hallway finally jolts us out of our moment and she apologises quickly before rushing to her bag. I hear her talking to someone who is obviously concerned as to her whereabouts and she reassures them repeatedly that she is safe and will be home later. My heart sinks at those words even though I know this must all come to an end, and she returns just in time to lift my spirits once more.

“Sorry about that,” she smiles as she slides back into her seat, “the struggles of being 28 and still living at home; always someone checking up on you!”

“A common occurrence these days. Nice to have someone making sure you’re okay and not in a strange man’s house having dinner though...” I wink and she laughs a hearty laugh that puts a smile on my face straight away.

“Somehow I managed to leave that bit out actually,” she giggles as her laugh trails off, “do you, er, do you live with anyone?”

Is this a roundabout way of asking if I have a partner? I smile at her question, I can’t help it. I look down at my now finished plate of food as she takes her last bite, then I tilt my head back up again to face her.

“Just me,” I reply, “I take it you’re close with your parents then?”

“Yes,” she smiles, “very much so. Are you a family man?”

“Absolutely. See that beautiful drawing on my fridge? One of my nephews made it for me.”

She rises from her seat to take a closer look and grins as she turns back to me.

“We’ll be seeing his work in the Tate one day,” she nods, “it’s fantastic.”

“Looks like he takes after his uncle then,” I smirk as I pick up the empty plates from the table and take them over to the sink.

“Modest,” she says as she raises her eyebrows and collects the glasses from the table then joins me, “you wash, I’ll dry.”

“I’d never allow a guest to help me wash up,” I gasp, “I insist you go and sit down in the living room with a topped up glass of wine and put your feet up.”

“Well I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter,” she smiles as she grabs the tea towel from behind me, leaning in so close her perfume fills my nostrils. All I can do is grin back at her as her scent overwhelms me and causes my mind to go completely blank. Somehow I manage to fill the washing up bowl and start cleaning the crockery, then she leans against the counter as she takes each plate and wipes it with care before gently placing them in a pile.

“So what have you been in that I might have seen on the telly then?” she suddenly asks as she tilts her head with interest at me.

It’s refreshing to hear someone ask that rather than reeling off things I’ve been in, and I quite like being an unknown person to her. She gives me a reassuring smile and suddenly I want to tell her my whole life story, not just what I’ve acted in. Her face is so kind, so genuine, so full of intrigue as she awaits my answer, ready to scan her memory to see if she’s seen me on the screen without realising it.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she chuckles softly after my long pause.

“Oh, no, it’s not that,” I grin, “I just forgot what I was going to say. Your eyes are… distracting to say the least.”

She looks away from me obviously embarrassed by what I said, and all I want to do is kiss her, so I make my move. I lift my hands out of the washing up bowl, flick the excess water off of them, then gently place my hands on the tea towel she still holds, so they’re covering her hands without getting them wet. Her gaze lifts from the floor to my face, hovering at my lips for a moment before she meets my eyes, and she holds her breath as I lean in slowly. She meets me half way then our lips connect in a tentative kiss and a fire is ignited in my soul as our mouths move together; the softness of her plump lips like a comforting blanket after a long day, and I want to feel this every single day for the rest of my life.

“Oh,” she giggles once we part, and her laughter is like music to my ears, “is that the length you’ll go to, to avoid a question?” she jokes, and I smile but I can tell that there’s a self deprecating humour there that acts as a defence, which saddens me.

“I’d never avoid a question from you,” I say, “but I would go to some extreme lengths for another kiss from you.”

There I go again, laying it on thick and being about as subtle as a frying pan to the face. I just can’t help myself with her though, she’s doing something to me that I’ve never experienced before, and I’m loving every second of it. I crave more and it concerns me that I know this night has to end eventually.

“Good to know,” she says shyly, “now tell me your entire IMDB history.”

We laugh as she takes my hand and leads me into the lounge as if she already lives here, and it’s so natural, so easy, I’m in heaven in my own house. How has this happened?

“It’s not very interesting really...” I say, trying to play it cool.

“You’ve been on Midsomer Murders I see,” she smiles as she points to a photo with me and Neil in it, “how long did you last, and have you got the footage of your death?”

Our bodies fall onto the couch at the same time and she curls her legs up on the cushion so she can face me, her arm propping her head up as her elbow rests on the back of the sofa. I can’t remember if I switched the light on in this room or if it’s just her smile illuminating it. I let out a small laugh before I turn my body to hers and bring one leg up onto the couch, making sure it rests against hers so I can feel her warmth.

“I survived, actually,” I smile, “I played a policeman.”

“No way! That’s amazing!” she gasps, “how long were you in it?”

“I was in three series.”

“Three?! Oh my god, now I feel bad for not recognising you,” she chuckles, “and Gwilym isn’t exactly a name you’d forget.”

“Don’t worry,” I grin, “ever heard of a show called Jamestown?”

“You’re going to have to stop listing shows because I’m feeling awful about seeing these things and- wait a minute… Samuel Castell?!” she asks as true shock crosses her face and her hands cup over her mouth.

“Yes,” I laugh, “that’s me! Well, was me...”

“Oh, poor, dear Samuel,” she sighs as she brings her hands down and places them on mine, “he was such a sweet soul. I guess it didn’t take much acting for you to be the perfect gentleman?”

“You think I’m a perfect gentleman?” I question, and her cheeks redden.

“You definitely could have taken something else from what I just said,” she laughs nervously as she slips her hands away from mine. I clumsily reach for her again which ends up looking so strange as my fingers almost miss her and practically grab at hers in desperation for contact, but she smiles at me and I know that everything will be okay as our hands find each other once more.

“Shit!” she suddenly gasps as she gets a look at the time on my watch, “fuck! I’ve missed the last train.”

My mouth opens to say something reassuring and I’m fighting against the fact that all my lips want to do is turn up into a smile at this news. She looks panicked, flustered, and she’s let go of me again as she runs a hand through her hair frustratedly while the other taps anxiously on her knee.

“I’m so sorry for swearing,” she says, “I’m just… I should’ve kept an eye on the time. How did it get so late?”

“Don’t be sorry,” I smile, shaking my head slowly, “time flies when you’re having fun, right? Sorry, not helpful.”

“It’s true,” she half laughs, “oh god, do you know of any places around here to st-”

“Here,” I interrupt, “stay here. I think my spare room is clean enough… Might have to quickly go and check though.”

“Are you sure?” she asks with a frown, “please don’t feel like you need to do this.”

“I know I don’t need to. I want to. You can figure out my kitchen, right?” she nods as I get up slowly from the sofa, “how about you make us a cup of tea while I make sure the spare room is presentable and find you something to sleep in, yeah? I take mine with milk, one sugar.”

“I think I can manage that,” she smiles and I hover by the sofa as I watch her get up and walk into the kitchen.

Once I’m up the stairs I take a moment to fist pump the air and clap my hands together as I look up at the ceiling to thank the universe for making this possible.

“Thank you thank you thank you,” I whisper to the loft hatch.

I look like a fool, but I’m climbing the dizzy heights of love. Love? It must be. To feel this strongly about someone must be love.  I rush around the guest bedroom putting away clothes, paperwork, and boxes of stuff I didn’t even know I had to be honest, then shake off the duvet and plump up the pillows to make the bed look inviting. When I get to my room I stand in the doorway panicking a little as I wonder whether I have a clean pair of pyjamas somewhere, and thankfully when I open up a drawer there’s a grey t-shirt and shorts combo just waiting to be worn by her. I pick them up carefully and take them downstairs with me where I find her rinsing the tea spoon after having just finished making the tea.

“Found these,” I smile, causing her to turn around.

“Thank you,” she sighs, “I’m so sorry again, I should have kept an eye on the time, it’s completely my fault.”

“Don’t worry,” I chuckle, “honestly, it’s fine. Have you told your parents you’re safe?”

“Yes,” she laughs, “I definitely wasn’t believed when I said I was staying with an old friend from uni, but sometimes a white lie is necessary. I’m safe here, anyway, so it’s fine.”

She is safe here, she is so safe here, and it fills my heart with joy to hear her say it. She takes the pyjamas from my hands and her fingers brush against mine lightly as they hold onto the clothes, then she balances them on one hand as she points to one of the mugs of tea.

“That one’s yours,” she smiles.

“Out of curiosity, how do you take your tea?” I ask, already planning to get up before her and bring her a cup for when she wakes.

“Milk, no sugar.”

“Sweet enough?”

“Something like that,” she giggles.

“Right, well follow me and I’ll show you to your room,” I say as I pick up my tea and she does the same.

‘Your room’ sounds nice coming from my mouth, but our room would sound so much better. She’s close behind me as we climb the stairs then I turn left at the top and hold my arm out when we get to the spare room for her to enter before me.

“Hope this is okay. Bathroom is opposite you, and I’m just the other side of stairs if you need anything. Telly works fine so feel free to use it if you can’t sleep… Umm, do you want me to leave the hall light on? And do you want some water?”

“Gwilym,” she grins, “calm down. I won’t leave you a bad rating on trip advisor, I promise,” she winks.

“Sorry,” I frown as I shake my head in embarrassment, “I’ll let you get to bed then.”

“Thank you. For everything,” she smiles, then leans up and places the sweetest, softest kiss to my cheek, “I’ll see you in the morning. Or during the night if I get lost,” she giggles.

I laugh with her but I don’t want to leave her, I want to keep my eyes on her as long as possible if she’s not leaving my house, I want to make the most of every second and learn every single inch of her skin so that I can never forget her face. She shuts her door slowly and I sigh a little too loudly, then walk to my own bedroom with the cup of tea she lovingly made for me; the only warmth I’ll feel tonight.

@painthatiusedto @winnielinleigh @queenslandlover-93 @excellentbecca @ametaphorbrian @peachllobotomy @lovemarvelousfics @lovemelikeyou1997 @readinghorn @godohammers @timeandpixiedust @lv7867 @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @nina-sayerz @theborhapbois @wolfgirlxslytherin @the-baby-bookworm

[bloodydamnit]

Hey! I really love Bloodsport and it's exciting to see a figure skating au, so first off, thank you so much for all your hard work writing and drawing it!!! The drawings are gorgeous btw. I was wondering what your fancasts for the skaters were since you mentioned Mikhail Kolyada for Andrew. I think you might have put it somewhere before??? but I can't seem to find it so I'd thought I'd ask. I was just watching his short program from the 2017 Cup of China, which is so amazing.

Hey hey hey! thank you so much!!!!!!! that means a lot to me! Bloodsport is literally my baby. I was just sitting and writing Cracker Dust, then quickly hopped back to BS to fucking write chapter 8. I’m pathetically in love with this world lol!!!! 

So my fancasts!!!! okay. So, I had a long post detailing why I chose the skaters to pair with the characters. Unfortunately, that was deleted when my account was. However, heres a short summary!

Mikhail Kolyada IS my Andrew as a skater. And omfg. His short program from the 2017 Cup of China is literally the EXACT REASON WHY I MADE THAT DECISION. I am literally making that Andrew’s short lol! For many reasons, which will become more clear as the fic goes on. 

Nathan Chen is my Neil - for many reasons. As a skater, he’s both impressive and inconsistent. You can see his growth from just this year, to the last. When he jumps he may have a wonky landing, but he fucking holds on. And that is very much how I see Neil. Pushing the boundaries and climbing in the ranks. He’s still very much a young skater and it shows. but I literally cannot find anyone more perfect to fit Neil than Nathan. Also, his program Nemesis is my fucking everything and it is Neil’s short. 

Yuzuru Hanyu is Riko - fucking obviously. I mean, I dont think there should be much explanation for that. He’s polished, he’s experienced, his technique is stunning, but he still has his slip ups. I know many dont think him and Nathan can compare, but I honestly think those that believe so are sorely mistaken. Nathan may be inconsistant, his artistry may lack, but their styles are VERY different and I’m sorry, but Nathan’s spins rival that of Patrick Chan’s imo. Anyway, back to Yuzuru. He’s also quite cocky lol. So I think in many ways, he’s perfect for Riko (in the sense of skating and on ice presence). 

Javier Fernandez as Kevin. What a fun fucking skater. I’m not saying that kevin isnt fun - but like. He’s not. However, I cant find anyone to fit Kevin better than Javier. At first, i was going to point him towards Evan Lysacek

Patrick Chan as Jean Moreau. I think it fits perfectly tbfh. Gorgeous skater, fluid, amazing presence, subdued, it fits. 

The shibsibs for dan and matt. I mean, I know they're siblings and obviously, because of that, their dances are different. However, they have an energy that i LOVE. Also I mean, come on.  

Karen Chen is my Renee. Small, spunky, subdued, out of this fucking world. She also choreographs a lot of her programs. 

Allison and Seth I’ve always had a hard time thinking of. If anyone has any ideas, let me know! For now, I have them as Tatiana Volosozhar and Maxim Trankov but that is subject to change. I also want to find someone that would match Allison as a single skater very well. because in bloodsport, she was a single lady before she teamed with seth after an injury. So, any ideas shoot em at me!

Nicky is Adam Rippon - the entire reason why I even started this fucking fic, deadass. Like?! Do I need to explain?!?!?!?!???!? NO. I DONT. 

That’s all I have so far! OH I ALSO HAVE JEREMY AS KEEGAN MESSING! because come. the fuck. ON OF COURSE I DO. I still have to think of Alvarez and Laila, but yeah! Hope this helps and if anyone has suggestions, send em my way!

[fmlfpl]

Lineup Lamentations - GW28

Our Transfers, Captains, and Starting 11s for the week.

Sorry for late as fuck Lambs here we go.

WALSH

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Rash & Kiko

IN: Smashley & Robbo

Already discussed a bit on the pod, but basically removing an extremely ded guy and a maybe sorta kinda ded guy for two great guys this week. Saving last week ended up working out quite well as it got me to Robbo pretty painlessly. One of the worst moves of my season was doing Robbo to Trent way back in GW8 to free up money. It feels good to be back with Robbo and not have to get burned every time Pool keep a clean. He really helps solidify my defense for the near term so things are looking good back there generally speaking for the first time in a while. Smashley with his stats off the page, no blank, and I already own Rondon...so he was an obvious pick and allowed the money to get to Robbo. Wasn't too difficult of a decision. Rash might not be too injured but I had a benching dilemma anyway and I had to take someone out of my front eight to allow an upgrade in defense. Not too bothered by it. If he / United are fit and firing again I can always get him in for the 32 double and then on my WC if need be.

GK:

Patrício (hud)

Rui. Die.

DEF:

Bennett (hud)

If Bennett gets 2 points I'd be completely ecstatic.You know the drill. Hoping for 2..expecting 1.

Robertson (WAT)

New lad Robbo has a nice home fixture on paper, but in practice, Watford have been a lot less like Twatford lately just playing good stuff. Gracia has them in a good place, but it is still difficult to imagine them scoring at Anfield. Livp a clean shout in literally every fixture from now until the end of the season so hopefully they keep a tidy win to nil and get back on track.

Lascelles (BUR)

Finally, Jamaal is home Burnley in what used to be a banker but is now a bit of a tricky one. Think this game will be really gritty and filled with tackles all over the pitch. Hope a clean comes in but it seems like a 1-1 type of game to me. We'll see.

MID:

Sterling (WHU)

Raz comes back in after the blank although who the fuck knows if he'll be in the XI or not. I sure don't.

Salah & Mané (WAT)

Mo and Mane double up marches ahead this week as I sit here waiting for Liverpool to go back to looking like Liverpool. Famous last words as they prob grind out a 1-0 or some bullshit. Bleh.

Son (che)

Private Suon has a tricky on paper fixture but with Chelsea in shambles I don't really have any clue what to expect in this game. Regardless, Son is fantasy gold so if Spurs do actually do some good things I expect Son to be in and around it. I'm sure Spurs will be trying to hit on the counter which we all know is where Son thrives.

Pogba (cry)

Finally, Paul goes to Selhurst. We are suddenly rocking at the back a bit with 1b and now Mama out ded. Ward was actually not diabolical against Leic last week so maybe playing only 1 game every 2 months is just what the doctor ordered. Dann will deputize for Mom which is an unspeakable upgrade from if Kelly was going to get in there so we should still be business as usual at the back. That said, as Alon mentioned on the pod, United will dominate the ball and Paul could easily get something here.

FWD:

Rondón (BUR)

Big Sallyboy with another home fixture will be looking to keep the train going against Burnley. Will be a much tougher task, but, I still think Mee and Tarkowski are utter shitebags and while Burnley set up to block everything under the sun he could find joy with his noggin. Except there is Tom the god between the pipes so eh. Will be a tough game. tbds.

Jiménez (hud)

Jim goes to Hudd in what should be an absolute walk in the park. Jim farewell tour has begun and I can't wait to fuck him off soon.

BENCH:

Barnes (new)

Chambers (sou)

Wan-Bissaka (RIP)

CAP:

Salah (WAT)

It is with a heavy heart I am here to report that I will be capping Mo this week. I know what I said on the pod...but to frame it...I am generally trying to give a more negative view on Livp when we bring them up on the pod to counterbalance Alon's homerism and ridiculous positivity about them. You know..yin and yang or some shit. That said, I just can't justify sticking on Raz - I don't want to sweat the team sheet with my cap. Have been there before and it's not fun. It really came down to Jim and Mo. I'm going with Alon's guidance on this one and remaining faithful to Mo. I don't have confidence in Wolves to do anything on any week, I frankly have no fucking idea what they are up to ever, and capping Jim in an away felt a little too psycho even for me. Mo still has a good home fixture and while they've been bad and I don't see any real reason to believe they will suddenly not be bad it's still Mo. Plus, they can always just draw a pen and then we're fine. Feels like a relatively safe choice and that's sort of where I want to be in this moment.

ALON

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Rashford

IN: Vardy

As mentioned on pod I was either going to WC this week (I’m not on WC) or WC for next GW and therefore take a punt this week... Vardy is my punt, Vardy for this week is my cunt. He’s such a brat fucker, all of the Leicester players are, Hazard should really be targeting a move to Leicester where he’d fit in perfectly................. I digress - Puel out I feel will give the team a massive boost of positivity and they’ll want to go out and express themselves and send a message and blah blah fucking blah. Akin to Mou out for United and Ranieri out for Leicester back when that happened. I now sort’ve expect Leicester to go on a little run of scoring and Brighton at home is nice fixture so let’s go dilly ding dilly dong.

GK:

Etheridge (EVE)

Man everything in my life was nicer not watching Silva’s Everton play a football match in two and a half weeks; unfortunately they’re back. I just have to hope that Silva, Rich, and co. have not figured anything out and are still complete trash so Neil can clean them. But I’m a little bit worried here not gonna lie. Last week Cardiff reaaaaalllllyyy fell apart and I’m worried of a downward spiral. TBD.

DEF:

van Dijk (WAT)

The cleans keep coming for Liverpool and VVD and you have to imagine that it will continue at Anfield vs. Watford. Even though Watford are in very good form.

Jonny (hud)

Meh here we go again. I expect: 1. No cleansheet and 2. Jonny to hockey assist either Doherty or Jiminez and get no points for it... Maybe he’ll throw in a yellow card too who knows??? No Wolves players for me starting next GW. Legitimately so excited for that.

Lejeune (BUR)

Burnley’s attack has been really consistently good for a while now. I’m hoping Rafa and St. James’ can rattle them. Come on Lejeune BAP magnet genius human go on there. I’m starting Lejeune over Bennett because doubling down on fucking Wolves sounds a nightmare and by betting odds and shit like that Newc’s probability of cleaning is not significantly worse then Wolves’ chances so just diversifying and going with the better player / team / defense despite the worse fixture.

MID:

Salah (WAT)

I expect an attacking bounce-back from Liverpool at Anfield under the lights against Watford. Salah will most likely return to the #9 with Bob having left Old Trafford on crutches and I expect Keita and Shaq to come in for Bob and either Hendo or Fab. Also, most importantly, we should see a return from Trent (unless Klopp is hiding an injury) and Mo / Liverpool score a lot more and attack a lot better with Trent in there. Go on Mo.

Son (che)

Almost depends more on how Chelsea setup vs. how Spurs and Son play and setup. We’ve seen a bunch of top defensive performances from Chelsea this season, even against the top teams, and we’ve also seen them get completely ripped to shreds. We shall see.

Pogba (cry)

Paul has now been completely anonymous and shit in two out of the last three matches and like we talked about on pod it’s a little bit worrying that United are going to be running out a bunch of backups instead of the A squad... That said Manchester United’s B attackers are the best and most expensive and most experienced of all time with Rom and Alexis... United should dominate the ball by default against a defensive and injured Palace side so hopefully Paul can get his shit together and kick back into form.

Jota (hud)

Jota’s farewell match in my side is the second best fixture you could possibly have (second to home Huddersfield). He’s blanked in the last two but still looked pretty positive - maybe one day on Earth I’ll own Jota and he’ll outscore Jiménez but what’s more likely to happen is Jota will not start and Jim will shove a hatty up my ass. Great, can’t wait.

FWD:

Aubameyang (BOU)

I can’t even talk about Aubz without being triggered. Emery better start him and he better fucking haul at home against Bournemouth.

Vardy (BHA)

My punt, my cunt, my very own Vardy party. Take me to the promised land Jamie you racist piece of shit bellend.

Mitrovic (sou)

It’s rare for someone to be this bad for me in FPL for this long and still be loved by me. But here we are... Love Mitro, I still rate him very highly and I think he’ll get a nice move to a better team, a mid-table team, after Fulham get relegated this season. One last hurrah for me against the diabolical defending of Southampton. Go on Aleksandar.

BENCH:

Bennett (hud)

Stephens (lei)

Schindler (WOL)

CAP:

Aubameyang (BOU)

As I’m typing lambs I honestly believe that Salah is the better captain. But fuck it I’m stupid and bad at FPL and everyone is telling me to cap Aubz and that Aubz is the best cap and everything and fucking hell fuck it. I need something to go right for me one day and maybe it’ll be an Aubz demolition of Bourney on Wednesday... Lambs: When there’s still some hope to cling to before the darkness.

[nickireadstfc]

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 11 – Orange Sportsball Gets The Fuck Real

In which the Foxes play their first match of the season, I have questions about American college sports, my Percy Jackson obsession has a brief cameo, and I’m sadly less excited about Actual Sportsball Games than I should be.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

           Thursday’s excitement had nothing on Friday’s. The whole school got decked out overnight with vibrant orange and white streamers. Ribbons and banners hung off every sidewalk lamp. Live student bands took over the amphitheater for short concerts and the student newspaper released that morning gave details for the afternoon parade.

Is that, like…………. Normal behavior on game days?? Actual American high school/college students, please confirm. Is this an actual thing???

I mean, I know y’all are big on sports and school spirit, but this big??

Please understand my confusion: At my school, no one fucking gave a shit about the sports teams. I didn’t even know when anyone had games/competitions unless we got told afterwards who won what brilliant award now, and even then like 5% of us cared. And I can’t speak for my uni yet, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same there as well. Do German unis even have sports teams?

I always liked to make fun of High School Musical 3 for having those giant ass banners displaying the athletes hanging in the halls. I am now starting to realize that might be perfectly normal for American schools.

What the fuck.

Also, Neil officially came out now – as a member of the Foxes, that is, of course.

           Neil wanted to cut class and hide at Fox Tower until game time, but athletes weren’t allowed to call out without a legitimate medical excuse. Someone from the athletics committee went around all day counting heads through classroom windows, and Wymack would be the first to hear Neil was absent.

They seriously stalk their students all day in fear they might be skipping class? And these students are in college, they are grown adults, not 14-year-olds. Again, is this a thing, what the fuck??

Then again, we’re talking about the country who invented hall passes. This is probably not the craziest thing around.

Fortunately, the Foxes decide to display their first sign of group solidarity in these trying times and guide Neil from class to class. This is a really small detail, but I love it.

I’m imagining Neil as a lil baby duck who obediently follows a big spikey-haired Matt duck, a small white-pastel-y Renee duck or a glamorous blonde Allison duck, wagging behind them in a tiny duck-sized jersey.

Although, when you think about it, they’re all just lil baby ducks following a big Wymack momma duck.

(Someone draw me fanart, I’m BEGGING YOU.)

I’m getting off track. Back to the plot.

           Andrew hadn’t lied to Neil back in May. In almost every article that talked of Neil’s pathetic experience Kevin was quoted as having high hopes for him. Kevin really had said that Neil would one day be Court.

Because this is the second time this has come up: What exactly does “being Court” mean?? Like, being Captain? Being MVP? Also, is this a regular sports expression or is is Exy-exclusive? Exyclusive?? Help.

A small silver lining of future hilariousness appears on the horizon: An Exy kickoff banquet is going to happen sometime in the next few chapter, and I am HYPED. This chaotic mess of a team + all their rivals + dates + drinks can only equal a Massive Fun Time™.

Fun for us, not for them, might I add. I am dying to see this.

           “[Renee] hasn’t asked [Andrew] yet, but it’s inevitable. (…) Money’s on the table as to whether or not he says yes. Pot’s getting pretty big, so get your bet in fast.”

           The only thing the Foxes had in common besides Exy and hardship was their strange obsession with betting on the stupidest things. Neil had figured that out only two weeks into practice. A week didn’t go by when there wasn’t money on something or another.

A team after my own heart <3 Can I join? I can never find anyone to bet on dumb things in my own circle of friends.

Will I throw this piece of paper in the bin on my first shot? Will the bus be late? Will Friend A and B hook up tonight? Will I lose my (nonexistent) emotional sanity to this series before the last book is over?

I don’t know about the others, but the last one is 100% happening.

           “There’s something we haven’t told you yet,” Dan said. (…) “So Andrew’s technically legally required to take his medication, right? (…) He struck a bargain of his own with Coach. The only reason he signed with us is because Coach agreed to let him come off his drugs for game nights.”

Is this supposed to come as a big plot twist? Because I kind of saw that coming. 10 bucks says Andrew comes off his meds for all Important Moments.

*insert yet another rant about the negative portrayal of mental health meds as barbaric mind-numbing, mania-inducing ~happy pills~ here*

Anyways, back to game day!! Our beloved foxy nutcases are playing against the Breckenridge Jackals, which is shaping up to be a Fun Time™ as they are apparently the biggest bullies around (second only to the Edgar Allan Murder Mob Clique, of course).

However, when faced with his impending wipe-out on the court, our favourite Sassmaster McSavage reaches new levels of Hell Fuckin Yeah:

           “[Gorilla] will break every bone in your body if you give him the chance.”

           “Don’t worry, though,” Matt said. “He’ll probably be too busy killing Kevin and Seth to notice you.”

           “This is my reassured face,” Neil said, pointing up at his blank expression.

SAVAGE.

I actually laughed so hard at that. This is some Percy Jackson level of sass right there.

Come to think about it, I want the entire AFTG series narrated by Percy Jackson, especially the chapter titles.

“I Am Offered A Foxy Deal”

“My Troubled Past Comes Back To Haunt My Ass”

“I Get Dragged Into Some Gay Shit”

“We Kick Serious Jackal Butt, Sort Of”

Remind me to make a full post of that once I’ve finished the series.

Off topic again. Sorry.

Before we finally begin the actual match (and wow, it’s 1.1k words already), Nicky seems to finally get the mental slaps I’ve been sending him since a few chapters ago:

           Nicky looked at Neil. “Hey,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. “We haven’t really had a chance to talk after… Well. I wanted to say sorry, but I kept chickening out. Are we okay?”

           “I don’t know yet,” Neil said.

           Nicky weighed that for a minute, then sighed and said, “Fair enough.”

Deep sigh. Who are we kidding, I can never resist a self-aware comic relief, Nicky, you’re still one of my faves. At least he knows he fucked up.

And now, finally: It’s Orange Sportsball time!!

Time for fast-paced sports action, balls flying, racquets hitting, body-checks left and right, a flurry of energy and emotion… that I simply can’t get behind.

I’m sorry, you guys, but I found myself having to double- and triple-read passages here in order to keep up with who is standing where, who is passing to whom and just generally what exactly is going on. Maybe it has to do with my own lack of interest for any sports involving balls (or actually any sports that isn’t dance, cheer, or anything involving performance), but I’m not really excited about this whole game part, to put it mildly.

Don’t get me wrong: I am loving the emotions attached to it. Solidarity, passion, group dynamics and character development shown on the field, give me all that good shit. I just couldn’t care less about who’s passing to who. Forgive me.

Did someone say passion and group dynamics?

           Neil’d watched his teammates fall apart to in-fighting all summer long, but now he finally saw them as a whole. As much as the Foxes disliked each other at times, they disliked their opponents more. They were still too fractured to be truly great, but they were good enough to give him chills.

This is shaping up to be good, you guys.

I can only imagine the sheer gloriousness in the upcoming books when Kandreil finally get their shit together and play on the field as a beautiful unstoppable three-way killing machine. I WILL DIE.

Twenty minutes into the game, Seth is crushed against a wall by three hundred pounds of pure douchebaggery – and I actually do feel sorry for him, not gonna lie – which means it’s time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for:

           “Going on for Seth Gordon is freshman Neil Josten, number ten, of Millport, Arizona.”

           Neil wondered if casket lids sounded like court doors being shut.

Ah yes, thank you for reminding me, even in the face of impending doom, how incredibly extra our boy Josten is.

           “A national champion and an amateur? South Carolina’s gotten even crazier than usual.”

           “An amateur and a cripple, you mean,” the dealer said.

           Andrew slammed his racquet against the goal, making several athletes jump and drawing more than a few wary looks his way.

This is such a small detail but it’s the /best/. Nobody insults my boyfriends in front of me, fuckface.

Bla bla bla more sports bla bla, I’m putting everything remotely interesting that’s happening in a bullet list because let’s be honest, it’s not fucking much.

Neil scores! Twice! Good boy.

Matt takes a card for the team by punching the fuck out of Gorilla, what a babe.

Also, his mom is a professional boxer? When can we meet her. I’m always a sucker for strong women who could kick my ass.

Gorilla has been hitting Kevin’s hand on purpose all the time, which is not cool, yet not surprising, ain’t no honour in Exy injuries, apparently.

That is it, my dudes.

Writing the next chapter on a coach (yet again) as I’ll be visiting some friends in NRW, so I’ll be coming to you live from my Prime Flixbus Office Space, let’s see how that works out. Till next time, ily all. <3

[eatatozziscom]

Many hopeful creators put in a really long time, alone behind their PCs

Many hopeful creators put in a really long time, alone behind their PCs tap, tap, tapping without end. At that point those hours transform into months, and obviously, the months slip into years.

This is splendid. In case I’m sure of anything, it’s that to be a writer you must will consume hours of your time on earth identical to whole years out of your life slaving endlessly composing. I’m only without a doubt that you have to peruse in any event the same amount of.

One thing that gets tragically neglected by many is that you additionally must will leave your books and your PC behind now and then. To draw in others.

Not that you can’t be a self observer. A great many broadly respected effective creators were self observers. That is on the grounds that here and there or another they could survive, but in some cases just quickly, their limitations and venture outside of their customary ranges of familiarity.

That is on the grounds that while composing can take numerous structures; journaling, pastimes composing, individual letter composing. Initiation is a calling, and that implies that it falls inside a business structure. Regardless of how truly you trust that Jack Kerouac went from nothing to a fabulous book inside about fourteen days of drinking (which FYI, actually, he didn’t). On the off chance that you need to move books from racks, you should approach the errand truly. With a modest disposition that is available to working with others.

The matter of composing, planning, altering, distributing, advertising, and moving your books requires a large number of outsiders. Notwithstanding whether you have a little spending plan, or you’re JK Rowling.

Indeed, the little your financial plan, the methodology is more qualified to including an expansive number of individuals each with little, conceivably volunteer style undertaking. For example, having companions finish a story alter before offering it to an expert editorial manager, to lessen the measure of paid time the supervisor needs to spend on the original copy.

For your first book, I exceptionally propose having a solid gathering of individuals who can offer different items, administrations, and experiences to enable you to remain engaged, roused, and up-to-speed on the consistently evolving independently publishing scene.

Being an effective writer requires much something other than composing an extraordinary book. You need to get into the weeds, change out of your author’s top and into an assortment of different caps relying upon where you are simultaneously.

You might not have what it takes or eagerness to handle everything with your own two hands, and that is the reason it’s so imperative to build up your own document of go-to assets en route.

Here are 30 additional assets to take advantage of en route!

While this rundown is generally independently publishing centered, in case you’re going the customary distributing course, you should even now have a thorough move through them to ensure you know about what is out there.

Helpful Blogs and Sites

1. The Write Life

This workhorse blog is a one-stop-shop offering all you have to make sense of how to function with customers, explore the changing scene of distributing, take in the intricate details of online networking, grow a following for your blog and discover a network that will bolster you en route. You’ll generally discover something valuable for your book business here. Do whatever it takes not to become mixed up in the rabbit opening however. There is so much accommodating data here I endeavor to time my visits to ensure I’m not eating into my composition time!

2. Kindlepreneur

On the off chance that you need to delve profound into the goulash of promoting your books, Dave Chesson of Kindlepreneur is your man. His techniques are pivotal. Each fruitful writer needs to wear numerous caps, and Dave shares his long stretches of advertising knowledge and accomplishment to demonstrate to you generally accepted methods to advance the hell out of your books.

3. The Book Designer

Joel Friedlander, the maker of The Book Designer, says “Authors change the world one peruser at once. Yet, you can’t change the world with a book that is still on your hard drive or in a crate under your bed.” This epitomizes the Community Writer attitude. Joel gives you all that you have to get your book out of the crate with an assortment of independently publishing aides, guidance, formats, and toolboxs. With his involvement in book structure and publicizing, Joel has the creds to enable you to deliver and move an extraordinary looking book.

4. The Creative Penn

The Creative Penn is controlled by Joanna Penn, who has been fiercely effective with fiction and true to life. In her blog and digital broadcast, she covers each part of what it takes to begin and maintain a fruitful creator business. She likewise has a get pack of books on different independently publishing subjects on the off chance that you can’t get enough on her blog.

5. Jane Friedman’s site

Jane has over 20 years of involvement in the book and magazine distributing industry, with mastery in advanced media and the fate of creation. Her site is brimming with significant substance and nitty gritty techniques for the hopeful creator from somebody who’s been there and done that multiple occasions over.

Digital recordings Worth Your Time

6. Digital recording – Neuralle (Uncommon)

If you don’t mind excuse the bold self-advancement here, yet beside the way that I will be probably showing up on this digital broadcast sooner or later, Neuralle is a fabulous self-improvement webcast and as I would like to think an unquestionable requirement for any hopeful creator or business person.

Past visitors have included Venture Capitalists, Entrepreneurs, Chefs, Restaurant Owners, Body Builders, Strength Coaches, Activists, Winemakers, Filmmakers and many, some more.

7. Tim Ferris Podcast

This show is the primary distributing related web recording that I pursued, it’s as yet an unequaled top pick. It’s facilitated by Tim Ferris an American top of the line creator, business visionary, self-broadcasted “human guinea pig”, and open speaker.

8. Sentence structure Girl Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing

Each green author should bookmark this digital broadcast. With accommodating and canny tips on sentence structure and narrating, Mignon Fogarty’s web recording is certain to enable you to enhance your story and specialized composition aptitudes.

9. The Writer Files

Facilitated by Kelton Reid, The Writer Files is a long-running digital broadcast that digs profound into propensities and environments of acclaimed essayists. Reid interviews essayists from an expansive range, allowing every audience to see into the brain of a cultivated scholar inside their type or intrigue.

Gatherings

10. Neil Gaiman Board

Neil Gaiman’s Official Message Board. End of conversation.

11. Goodreads Groups

Goodreads is the uber site (with more than 20 million individuals) for writers and perusers. They have more explicit gatherings than you can tally, and in the event that you can’t discover an answer or motivation here, it doesn’t exist. You may feel a bit overpowered, yet here’s a savvy article on utilizing Goodreads to help your writer business.

12. Scribophile

There are huge amounts of composing gatherings out there to look over, so I propose you have a play with a couple of them. This one works a bit distinctively which is the reason I like it however. Scribophile gives definite and accommodating evaluates from a part trade. The examinations you’ll get are far beyond only a gesture of congratulations – you’ll inspire significant approaches to enhance your composition.

Composing Tools

13. Scrivener

Scrivener is an amazing composition device for creators that enables you to focus on forming and organizing your archives. Get a free 30-day preliminary and watch some concise YouTube instructional exercises to get to know the framework rapidly.

14. Grammarly

This editing application is an enhanced rendition of your standard spellchecking program. Simply reorder squares of content into Grammarly, and it will check your composition for basic oversights. The reason it’s superior to anything most spellcheckers is that it gives helpful criticism that will enhance the general nature of your book. You will take in a ton rapidly by noticing the side bar proposals and clarifications.

15. Hemingway Editor

Incredible composing is regularly clear composition, and Hemingway was the ace at that. Regardless of whether you’re composing fiction or true to life, your story ought to come to the heart of the matter with basic dialect. With the Hemingway programming, you will figure out how to improve your composition.

Book Publishing and Freelance Help

16. Chief heavenly messenger Ink

Chief heavenly messenger Ink is a one-stop answer for preparing your book to distribute. Lead celestial host offers a scope of administrations to assist you with cover plan, altering, arranging, book recording creation and substantially more. I feel that in the event that you haven’t distributed before you take in a great deal by physically experiencing the way toward finishing your original copy by means of Scrivner, discovering editors/cover makers through say Reedsy/Freelancer and afterward transferring it to KDP/Createspace. Anyway it very well may baffle, so I totally comprehend tossing down some money and giving of a few or the majority of this to another person. I’m right now considering utilizing Archangel Ink to create and book recording for me.

17. 99 Designs

This is where you post a plan venture, similar to your book cover, and many specialists submit deride up precedents. You at that point select finalists dependent on the entries and pick the victor to work with you to make a concluded variant. 99Designs can be expensive, yet it’s an incredible alternative in the event that you need an expert cover plan for your book.

18. Grammarly

I won’t tirade on this a lot as of now do that every now and again enough on the off chance that you don’t have the free form of this you have to get it now. What some of you probably won’t know, is that by means of the paid form they have an alternative to interface you with an expert editor. I haven’t utilized this previously however considering the bore of everything else they do I believe it merits researching.

19. Consultant

One the most huge sites for procuring independent ability. In the event that you need to locate the biggest pool of individuals, this is an extraordinary place to look. The application makes talking with forthcoming specialists consistent so you can deal with your undertaking and determination of the ideal hopeful in a hurry.

20. Reedsy

Reedsy offers a boutique involvement in altering and cover structure. Generally f

from Promote your Coaching or Speaking Business Through eBooks http://eatatozzis.com/many-hopeful-creators-put-in-a-really-long-time-alone-behind-their-pcs/

[reputationiseverything]

Why Being the Loudest Makes You the Weakest

email marketing for authors

What’s one thing that you are constantly seeing on the web? Especially if you are on Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube?

Come on, take a guess…

No, I am not talking about people taking half-naked selfies of themselves or posting their lunches. I’m talking about people showing off. From taking pictures of their cars or money and even their homes to standing in front of private jets and yachts.

You know… one of those images like the one above. And if you are wondering, that isn’t my car. A friend took that picture of me when I was at the race track… heck I don’t even drive anymore (or have any more hair!).

But do you want to know a little secret?

The loudest one in the room is the weakest one in the room

Now, I didn’t come up with that quote. It’s from the movie American Gangster that stars Denzel Washington.

But sadly, that doesn’t stop people from taking advice from all of the “loud” marketers our there showing off.

But I’ll let you on in a little secret…

People who really have money don’t need to run ads showing off how much cash they have and they surely don’t care what others think about them.

I learned this from my parents, as well as a few other valuable things.

So what did my parents teach me?

I didn’t grow up with money, and I didn’t have rich parents. My first job was picking up trash, cleaning restrooms, and sweeping up vomit at a theme park.

And I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me either. My life wasn’t bad at all. I didn’t grow up poor either.

My parents worked really hard as immigrants and eventually, they were able to provide a middle-class lifestyle for me and my sister.

But as I was growing up, my parents taught me that showing off only draws more attention and causes problems.

That’s why I don’t have “lifestyle” photos of myself. Heck, I don’t really even talk much about my personal life as I prefer to keep things private… as much as possible at least. That’s the main reason I don’t use Instagram.

See, when I was growing up, I was thankful for whatever I had.

When I was growing up, that’s the car my parents gave me to drive. Luckily for me, my parents were generous enough not to make me pay for the car or even the gas.

Sure, the car had a sticker in the back window promoting my mom’s daycare business at the time, but I didn’t mind. When I would go to business meetings people would make fun of me but that didn’t bother me either.

Want to know why? I had a free car. 🙂

I took a business meeting in Bel Air once, which was a far drive from my parents’ house. When the meeting ended, I was one of the first people to give the valet my ticket. I remember people kept coming after me with their ticket and everyone got their cars before me.

I get it… I was driving a beat-up Honda Civic with a “Tina’s Day Care” sticker on the back.

This experience, as well as a few more similar ones, taught me that people make assumptions based on appearances.

And that’s what you are doing when it comes to getting marketing and entrepreneurship advice.

Don’t believe me?

I know what you are thinking… “no Neil, I don’t believe those ads on YouTube of people showing off their homes and fancy cars.”

And I know you don’t believe them because they are running ads or selling get rich quick products. But let me ask you a question.

Who would you rather take advice from?

A random kid who does magic tricks for fun, barely has any money, and is telling you how to grow your website traffic…

OR…

Someone who lives in a multi-million-dollar house, drives a Ferrari, and is wearing a $20,000 watch.

I bet you are going to take advice from the person with a fancy car over the kid. And that’s where a lot of marketers and entrepreneurs go wrong.

In an ideal world, you should hear both of them out and pick the advice that’s most relevant to you.

Just like how I met up with the kid who does magic tricks because he was an up and coming SEO and there’s always a chance that he can teach me something new.

The big mistake people make is that they only listen to rich people. Just because someone has money, it doesn’t mean they know what’s best for you.

In many cases, the person who is rich may not know your space well. For example, two friends of mine, Matt and Tom, have done well in the financial space and they have a blog called Signals Matter.

Just because Matt and Tom have done well, I would never take advice from them about marketing.

Sure, I listen to them about business and financial advice, but I know when to listen and when to stop. At the same time, Matt and Tom are humble, they never show off, they don’t talk about their success, and they don’t ever try to give me advice on things they aren’t experts on… such as marketing.

So, what’s the point I am trying to make?

Know your audience. Just because someone looks successful, and maybe even potentially is, it doesn’t mean you should go to them for all sorts of advice. Know what they are really good at, pick their brain, and get advice related to what they know well and that’s it.

So, should you ignore these flashy people on Instagram and YouTube?

Funny enough, I know a lot about them. And similar to the advice I gave you above, I look at them from a different perspective.

I don’t care about their ads or their products. But what I focus on is how they do their own marketing.

How are they building up their following? What are they doing to get such high engagement?

I believe that you can learn from everyone. Instead of looking at the bad, focus on what you can learn from them and use it to grow your own business.

For example, a lot of the info marketers sell aggressively, but the tactics they use, such as selling through webinars are great. And instead of just ignoring them, I’ve taken their strategies and applied some of them to my own companies.

And now I am able to generate 3.6 sales at $997 for every 100 webinar registrations. That’s not too shabby… $3,589 in revenue for 100 webinar registrations.

In other words, always look for opportunities to learn from.

As a teacher, my mom taught me that you can learn something from everyone… you just have to be willing to listen.

It’s up to you to listen and decide what advice to follow.

So what else did my parents teach me?

There’s probably a bit too much to break down, but sticking with the theme of the loudest person in the room is the weakest, here are a few things to keep in mind:

Respect is earned, not bought – sure, people will look up to you if you show off your wealth. But you build fake friends who only care for one thing… your money. Real respect is earned by your actions, your knowledge, your accomplishments… not how much money you have in the bank account.

Knowledge is power – value knowledge more than wealth. Successful people don’t care to only hang around with other rich people. They thrive to learn more and be around smart people. Never stop learning and always have a thirst for knowledge.

Wealth is built, not spent – you won’t build wealth if you burn your money on fancy cars or showing off. You’ll build wealth by reinvesting and putting your money to work. The last thing you want to do is tie up your cash in assets that don’t produce any income. If you ever get to a point in life where you have more money than you know what do with, then, by all means, go buy whatever makes you happy.

Think before you talk – when things start going well, showing off and talking about how well you are doing won’t help. All it will do is create more competition. The last thing you want is other people copying you because it will slow down your growth and potentially cause you to earn less. So, think twice before telling people how well you are doing.

Life isn’t that bad – entrepreneurship is like a rollercoaster. There are good moments as well as bad ones, happy ones, and even scary ones. You need to stay level headed and be logical at all times. An easy way to do this is to always remember that when things are going well for you, there is always someone else out there who has it better. And when things are getting bad, remember, there is always someone out there who has it much worse than you.

Arrogance will kill you – don’t think you are better than other people because you are not. Sure, you might be a good person, but money doesn’t make you better than everyone else. And not having money doesn’t make you worse than everyone else. Find your place in life and do what fulfills you. I know it sounds cheesy, but it is true.

Optimize for contentment – people strive to be happy, but why? Happiness is an emotion and it doesn’t last forever. People aren’t happy 24/7, so don’t optimize for it. It’s just unrealistic. Instead, optimize for contentment.

Conclusion

There will always be people that are going to show off. Just remember, the loudest person in the room is typically the weakest.

People who have real wealth in most cases have nice things, but they know not to rub them in your face and show off.

The moment someone shows off their wealth, it typically means they don’t really have it. It’s what they call 6-figure millionaires, in which people spend all of their money creating the illusion of wealth.

So, when you see these people or even people with real wealth, don’t focus on what they have. Focus on how some may be trying to scam you for your money with their get rich quick schemes.

You are too smart for that anyway.

Instead, I want you to focus on what you can learn from them. For example, a lot of those Instagrammers who are flashy understand marketing concepts that have helped them build an engaged community. Learn from that and use the tactics that work for you.

A lot of those YouTube and Facebook advertisers might be selling products you don’t approve of but some of their ads are really clever. Again, learn from them. Look at their ads, their copy, their landing pages… see if you can adapt any of their strategies and apply them to your business in an ethical way.

So what do you think about all of the people who show off?

Youtobe

[marketingcomcaio]

Why Being the Loudest Makes You the Weakest

What’s one thing that you are constantly seeing on the web? Especially if you are on Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube?

Come on, take a guess…

No, I am not talking about people taking half-naked selfies of themselves or posting their lunches. I’m talking about people showing off. From taking pictures of their cars or money and even their homes to standing in front of private jets and yachts.

You know… one of those images like the one above. And if you are wondering, that isn’t my car. A friend took that picture of me when I was at the race track… heck I don’t even drive anymore (or have any more hair!).

But do you want to know a little secret?

The loudest one in the room is the weakest one in the room

Now, I didn’t come up with that quote. It’s from the movie American Gangster that stars Denzel Washington.

But sadly, that doesn’t stop people from taking advice from all of the “loud” marketers our there showing off.

But I’ll let you on in a little secret…

People who really have money don’t need to run ads showing off how much cash they have and they surely don’t care what others think about them.

I learned this from my parents, as well as a few other valuable things.

So what did my parents teach me?

I didn’t grow up with money, and I didn’t have rich parents. My first job was picking up trash, cleaning restrooms, and sweeping up vomit at a theme park.

And I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me either. My life wasn’t bad at all. I didn’t grow up poor either.

My parents worked really hard as immigrants and eventually, they were able to provide a middle-class lifestyle for me and my sister.

But as I was growing up, my parents taught me that showing off only draws more attention and causes problems.

That’s why I don’t have “lifestyle” photos of myself. Heck, I don’t really even talk much about my personal life as I prefer to keep things private… as much as possible at least. That’s the main reason I don’t use Instagram.

See, when I was growing up, I was thankful for whatever I had.

When I was growing up, that’s the car my parents gave me to drive. Luckily for me, my parents were generous enough not to make me pay for the car or even the gas.

Sure, the car had a sticker in the back window promoting my mom’s daycare business at the time, but I didn’t mind. When I would go to business meetings people would make fun of me but that didn’t bother me either.

Want to know why? I had a free car. 🙂

I took a business meeting in Bel Air once, which was a far drive from my parents’ house. When the meeting ended, I was one of the first people to give the valet my ticket. I remember people kept coming after me with their ticket and everyone got their cars before me.

I get it… I was driving a beat-up Honda Civic with a “Tina’s Day Care” sticker on the back.

This experience, as well as a few more similar ones, taught me that people make assumptions based on appearances.

And that’s what you are doing when it comes to getting marketing and entrepreneurship advice.

Don’t believe me?

I know what you are thinking… “no Neil, I don’t believe those ads on YouTube of people showing off their homes and fancy cars.”

And I know you don’t believe them because they are running ads or selling get rich quick products. But let me ask you a question.

Who would you rather take advice from?

A random kid who does magic tricks for fun, barely has any money, and is telling you how to grow your website traffic…

OR…

Someone who lives in a multi-million-dollar house, drives a Ferrari, and is wearing a $20,000 watch.

I bet you are going to take advice from the person with a fancy car over the kid. And that’s where a lot of marketers and entrepreneurs go wrong.

In an ideal world, you should hear both of them out and pick the advice that’s most relevant to you.

Just like how I met up with the kid who does magic tricks because he was an up and coming SEO and there’s always a chance that he can teach me something new.

The big mistake people make is that they only listen to rich people. Just because someone has money, it doesn’t mean they know what’s best for you.

In many cases, the person who is rich may not know your space well. For example, two friends of mine, Matt and Tom, have done well in the financial space and they have a blog called Signals Matter.

Just because Matt and Tom have done well, I would never take advice from them about marketing.

Sure, I listen to them about business and financial advice, but I know when to listen and when to stop. At the same time, Matt and Tom are humble, they never show off, they don’t talk about their success, and they don’t ever try to give me advice on things they aren’t experts on… such as marketing.

So, what’s the point I am trying to make?

Know your audience. Just because someone looks successful, and maybe even potentially is, it doesn’t mean you should go to them for all sorts of advice. Know what they are really good at, pick their brain, and get advice related to what they know well and that’s it.

So, should you ignore these flashy people on Instagram and YouTube?

Funny enough, I know a lot about them. And similar to the advice I gave you above, I look at them from a different perspective.

I don’t care about their ads or their products. But what I focus on is how they do their own marketing.

How are they building up their following? What are they doing to get such high engagement?

I believe that you can learn from everyone. Instead of looking at the bad, focus on what you can learn from them and use it to grow your own business.

For example, a lot of the info marketers sell aggressively, but the tactics they use, such as selling through webinars are great. And instead of just ignoring them, I’ve taken their strategies and applied some of them to my own companies.

And now I am able to generate 3.6 sales at $997 for every 100 webinar registrations. That’s not too shabby… $3,589 in revenue for 100 webinar registrations.

In other words, always look for opportunities to learn from.

As a teacher, my mom taught me that you can learn something from everyone… you just have to be willing to listen.

It’s up to you to listen and decide what advice to follow.

So what else did my parents teach me?

There’s probably a bit too much to break down, but sticking with the theme of the loudest person in the room is the weakest, here are a few things to keep in mind:

Respect is earned, not bought – sure, people will look up to you if you show off your wealth. But you build fake friends who only care for one thing… your money. Real respect is earned by your actions, your knowledge, your accomplishments… not how much money you have in the bank account.

Knowledge is power – value knowledge more than wealth. Successful people don’t care to only hang around with other rich people. They thrive to learn more and be around smart people. Never stop learning and always have a thirst for knowledge.

Wealth is built, not spent – you won’t build wealth if you burn your money on fancy cars or showing off. You’ll build wealth by reinvesting and putting your money to work. The last thing you want to do is tie up your cash in assets that don’t produce any income. If you ever get to a point in life where you have more money than you know what do with, then, by all means, go buy whatever makes you happy.

Think before you talk – when things start going well, showing off and talking about how well you are doing won’t help. All it will do is create more competition. The last thing you want is other people copying you because it will slow down your growth and potentially cause you to earn less. So, think twice before telling people how well you are doing.

Life isn’t that bad – entrepreneurship is like a rollercoaster. There are good moments as well as bad ones, happy ones, and even scary ones. You need to stay level headed and be logical at all times. An easy way to do this is to always remember that when things are going well for you, there is always someone else out there who has it better. And when things are getting bad, remember, there is always someone out there who has it much worse than you.

Arrogance will kill you – don’t think you are better than other people because you are not. Sure, you might be a good person, but money doesn’t make you better than everyone else. And not having money doesn’t make you worse than everyone else. Find your place in life and do what fulfills you. I know it sounds cheesy, but it is true.

Optimize for contentment – people strive to be happy, but why? Happiness is an emotion and it doesn’t last forever. People aren’t happy 24/7, so don’t optimize for it. It’s just unrealistic. Instead, optimize for contentment.

Conclusion

There will always be people that are going to show off. Just remember, the loudest person in the room is typically the weakest.

People who have real wealth in most cases have nice things, but they know not to rub them in your face and show off.

The moment someone shows off their wealth, it typically means they don’t really have it. It’s what they call 6-figure millionaires, in which people spend all of their money creating the illusion of wealth.

So, when you see these people or even people with real wealth, don’t focus on what they have. Focus on how some may be trying to scam you for your money with their get rich quick schemes.

You are too smart for that anyway.

Instead, I want you to focus on what you can learn from them. For example, a lot of those Instagrammers who are flashy understand marketing concepts that have helped them build an engaged community. Learn from that and use the tactics that work for you.

A lot of those YouTube and Facebook advertisers might be selling products you don’t approve of but some of their ads are really clever. Again, learn from them. Look at their ads, their copy, their landing pages… see if you can adapt any of their strategies and apply them to your business in an ethical way.

So what do you think about all of the people who show off?

The post Why Being the Loudest Makes You the Weakest appeared first on Neil Patel.

Why Being the Loudest Makes You the Weakest Publicado primeiro em https://neilpatel.com

[reviewandbonuss]

Why Being the Loudest Makes You the Weakest

What’s one thing that you are constantly seeing on the web? Especially if you are on Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube?

Come on, take a guess…

No, I am not talking about people taking half-naked selfies of themselves or posting their lunches. I’m talking about people showing off. From taking pictures of their cars or money and even their homes to standing in front of private jets and yachts.

You know… one of those images like the one above. And if you are wondering, that isn’t my car. A friend took that picture of me when I was at the race track… heck I don’t even drive anymore (or have any more hair!).

But do you want to know a little secret?

The loudest one in the room is the weakest one in the room

Now, I didn’t come up with that quote. It’s from the movie American Gangster that stars Denzel Washington.

But sadly, that doesn’t stop people from taking advice from all of the “loud” marketers our there showing off.

But I’ll let you on in a little secret…

People who really have money don’t need to run ads showing off how much cash they have and they surely don’t care what others think about them.

I learned this from my parents, as well as a few other valuable things.

So what did my parents teach me?

I didn’t grow up with money, and I didn’t have rich parents. My first job was picking up trash, cleaning restrooms, and sweeping up vomit at a theme park.

And I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me either. My life wasn’t bad at all. I didn’t grow up poor either.

My parents worked really hard as immigrants and eventually, they were able to provide a middle-class lifestyle for me and my sister.

But as I was growing up, my parents taught me that showing off only draws more attention and causes problems.

That’s why I don’t have “lifestyle” photos of myself. Heck, I don’t really even talk much about my personal life as I prefer to keep things private… as much as possible at least. That’s the main reason I don’t use Instagram.

See, when I was growing up, I was thankful for whatever I had.

When I was growing up, that’s the car my parents gave me to drive. Luckily for me, my parents were generous enough not to make me pay for the car or even the gas.

Sure, the car had a sticker in the back window promoting my mom’s daycare business at the time, but I didn’t mind. When I would go to business meetings people would make fun of me but that didn’t bother me either.

Want to know why? I had a free car. 🙂

I took a business meeting in Bel Air once, which was a far drive from my parents’ house. When the meeting ended, I was one of the first people to give the valet my ticket. I remember people kept coming after me with their ticket and everyone got their cars before me.

I get it… I was driving a beat-up Honda Civic with a “Tina’s Day Care” sticker on the back.

This experience, as well as a few more similar ones, taught me that people make assumptions based on appearances.

And that’s what you are doing when it comes to getting marketing and entrepreneurship advice.

Don’t believe me?

I know what you are thinking… “no Neil, I don’t believe those ads on YouTube of people showing off their homes and fancy cars.”

And I know you don’t believe them because they are running ads or selling get rich quick products. But let me ask you a question.

Who would you rather take advice from?

A random kid who does magic tricks for fun, barely has any money, and is telling you how to grow your website traffic…

OR…

Someone who lives in a multi-million-dollar house, drives a Ferrari, and is wearing a $20,000 watch.

I bet you are going to take advice from the person with a fancy car over the kid. And that’s where a lot of marketers and entrepreneurs go wrong.

In an ideal world, you should hear both of them out and pick the advice that’s most relevant to you.

Just like how I met up with the kid who does magic tricks because he was an up and coming SEO and there’s always a chance that he can teach me something new.

The big mistake people make is that they only listen to rich people. Just because someone has money, it doesn’t mean they know what’s best for you.

In many cases, the person who is rich may not know your space well. For example, two friends of mine, Matt and Tom, have done well in the financial space and they have a blog called Signals Matter.

Just because Matt and Tom have done well, I would never take advice from them about marketing.

Sure, I listen to them about business and financial advice, but I know when to listen and when to stop. At the same time, Matt and Tom are humble, they never show off, they don’t talk about their success, and they don’t ever try to give me advice on things they aren’t experts on… such as marketing.

So, what’s the point I am trying to make?

Know your audience. Just because someone looks successful, and maybe even potentially is, it doesn’t mean you should go to them for all sorts of advice. Know what they are really good at, pick their brain, and get advice related to what they know well and that’s it.

So, should you ignore these flashy people on Instagram and YouTube?

Funny enough, I know a lot about them. And similar to the advice I gave you above, I look at them from a different perspective.

I don’t care about their ads or their products. But what I focus on is how they do their own marketing.

How are they building up their following? What are they doing to get such high engagement?

I believe that you can learn from everyone. Instead of looking at the bad, focus on what you can learn from them and use it to grow your own business.

For example, a lot of the info marketers sell aggressively, but the tactics they use, such as selling through webinars are great. And instead of just ignoring them, I’ve taken their strategies and applied some of them to my own companies.

And now I am able to generate 3.6 sales at $997 for every 100 webinar registrations. That’s not too shabby… $3,589 in revenue for 100 webinar registrations.

In other words, always look for opportunities to learn from.

As a teacher, my mom taught me that you can learn something from everyone… you just have to be willing to listen.

It’s up to you to listen and decide what advice to follow.

So what else did my parents teach me?

There’s probably a bit too much to break down, but sticking with the theme of the loudest person in the room is the weakest, here are a few things to keep in mind:

Respect is earned, not bought – sure, people will look up to you if you show off your wealth. But you build fake friends who only care for one thing… your money. Real respect is earned by your actions, your knowledge, your accomplishments… not how much money you have in the bank account.

Knowledge is power – value knowledge more than wealth. Successful people don’t care to only hang around with other rich people. They thrive to learn more and be around smart people. Never stop learning and always have a thirst for knowledge.

Wealth is built, not spent – you won’t build wealth if you burn your money on fancy cars or showing off. You’ll build wealth by reinvesting and putting your money to work. The last thing you want to do is tie up your cash in assets that don’t produce any income. If you ever get to a point in life where you have more money than you know what do with, then, by all means, go buy whatever makes you happy.

Think before you talk – when things start going well, showing off and talking about how well you are doing won’t help. All it will do is create more competition. The last thing you want is other people copying you because it will slow down your growth and potentially cause you to earn less. So, think twice before telling people how well you are doing.

Life isn’t that bad – entrepreneurship is like a rollercoaster. There are good moments as well as bad ones, happy ones, and even scary ones. You need to stay level headed and be logical at all times. An easy way to do this is to always remember that when things are going well for you, there is always someone else out there who has it better. And when things are getting bad, remember, there is always someone out there who has it much worse than you.

Arrogance will kill you – don’t think you are better than other people because you are not. Sure, you might be a good person, but money doesn’t make you better than everyone else. And not having money doesn’t make you worse than everyone else. Find your place in life and do what fulfills you. I know it sounds cheesy, but it is true.

Optimize for contentment – people strive to be happy, but why? Happiness is an emotion and it doesn’t last forever. People aren’t happy 24/7, so don’t optimize for it. It’s just unrealistic. Instead, optimize for contentment.

Conclusion

There will always be people that are going to show off. Just remember, the loudest person in the room is typically the weakest.

People who have real wealth in most cases have nice things, but they know not to rub them in your face and show off.

The moment someone shows off their wealth, it typically means they don’t really have it. It’s what they call 6-figure millionaires, in which people spend all of their money creating the illusion of wealth.

So, when you see these people or even people with real wealth, don’t focus on what they have. Focus on how some may be trying to scam you for your money with their get rich quick schemes.

You are too smart for that anyway.

Instead, I want you to focus on what you can learn from them. For example, a lot of those Instagrammers who are flashy understand marketing concepts that have helped them build an engaged community. Learn from that and use the tactics that work for you.

A lot of those YouTube and Facebook advertisers might be selling products you don’t approve of but some of their ads are really clever. Again, learn from them. Look at their ads, their copy, their landing pages… see if you can adapt any of their strategies and apply them to your business in an ethical way.

So what do you think about all of the people who show off?

The post Why Being the Loudest Makes You the Weakest appeared first on Neil Patel.