#but i recently had to block someone on instagram who i maybe spoke 3 or 4 times with?

[tomhardysprostate]

x

[toohardtoforgetcth]

Too Hard To Forget

Chapter Seven

5,491 words

Warnings: just a lil’ fighting and swearing as per uje 

A/N: Hi hello pls forgive me for sad boy cal here have some of this enjoy love u all <3 

» » » » » »

Calum had been performing regularly three nights a week at The Wildflower for over a month, and despite the fact that he hated waking up to go to work every morning, he looked forward to every other night at the pub. It was his escape, a creative outlet, a place to channel all the frustration and pain, but also all the joy and passion he felt into music and share it with people who supported him. He had gained quite a few new followers, and many of the faces he saw at his shows continued to show up every week to see him play. It was the highest praise he could have asked for.

Calum had been buzzing from a particularly good show after sharing another original with the crowd, and he left with a high coursing through him that he only ever felt after a really good show. He had zoned out when he stepped out the front door, bumping into someone on the sidewalk and almost knocking them over.

“Fuck, sorry,” he mumbled, picking his guitar case up off the ground where he had dropped it. “I—” Calum looked up finally, making eye contact with the girl. Her eyes widened in surprise, stopping dead in front of him. Words had failed him—it had been three months since he’d seen her last, and his heart was doing flips in his chest.

“Calum, hi,” Parker said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “It’s been a while.”

They were standing close, close enough that Parker could smell his cologne and a flood of memories came rushing back to her. He looked good. He’d gotten a haircut, his hair almost short enough that you could barely tell he had curls. Parker remembered what it was like to run her fingers through it, and she was itching to do it now. Don’t you dare, she told herself.

She watched his eyes scan over her figure, bluntly admiring her and completely unashamed. Her brain was telling her to step back, that she was too close, but the signal didn’t seem to reach her feet, so she stayed rooted in place.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “How’ve you been?” he asked her, leaning to the right to rest his shoulder against the brick wall outside the pub.

“I’m okay,” she answered. Parker wanted to kick herself for telling him the truth. She had been seeing Owen for the past month and things were good, but she still thought about Calum. Every day. She didn’t want him to know that she never stopped thinking about him since the day he left her crying on her front porch. She knew it was wrong—she was with Owen now, and she shouldn’t still be thinking about Calum, but she couldn’t help it. “What about you?” Parker looked down, just noticing his guitar. “What’s with the guitar?”

Calum looked down to his case, then back up to Parker. “Uh, I play here, now. Couple nights a week,” he admitted.

Parker’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wow, that’s—good for you,” she smiled, and Calum had almost forgotten how much he’d missed her smile. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about it.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Gram and the boys talked me into it,” he chuckled.

Parker smiled. “How are they?”

“Boys are good, Gram’s really good,” he replied, smiling. “She came to a show the other night. I think it was too loud for her, though,” he laughed.

They stood in an awkward silence for a moment, before Parker spoke again. “Well, I should get going,” she trailed off, glancing behind him. “I’m supposed to meet Jenna,” she lied. She wasn’t sure why, but the thought of telling Calum she was going to meet her new boyfriend left a sour taste in her mouth.

“Yeah, okay,” Calum nodded. “See you around.” He picked up his case, moving to step around her and heading in the direction of the parking lot.

When he was a dozen feet away, she turned back to him. “Hey, Cal?” she called out.

He turned, and there was an expression on his face Parker couldn’t quite read. Expectant? Hopeful? She wasn’t sure. She opened her mouth, thought better of what she was about to say, and closed it again. She offered him a close-lipped smile. “It was good to see you again,” she said honestly. God, she missed him.

Calum smiled back. “You too, angel.” He hadn’t meant for the nickname he used to call her to slip out, but it did, and he wasn’t sorry. He watched a blush creep up her cheeks before she turned and walked away, and it gave him a small bit of satisfaction knowing he still had that effect on her.

• • • • • •

That night when Parker met up with Owen, he picked up on her visibly shaken nerves right away.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, concern drawing his brows together.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I’m fine. Just—had a close call with another car on the road, and I’m still a bit shaken,” she lied easily.

He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he murmured into her hair, rubbing her back.

He was so sweet. Thoughtful, caring, selfless. Parker liked Owen. She really did. He just—wasn’t Calum. She wouldn’t have hesitated to fall head over heels for him a few months ago. But things were different now. She couldn’t open her heart to Owen, because it didn’t belong to her—it still belonged to Calum.

» » » » » »

Calum was over at Gram’s for dinner after work, enjoying his favourite meal. Calum didn’t mind cooking for himself, and he wasn’t bad at it, but there was something special about someone else cooking for you. He loved Gram’s cooking, and she loved having someone else other than herself to cook for.

“Guess who I ran into the other night,” Calum mumbled over a mouthful.

“Young man, how old are you?” she chided. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

He swallowed, grinning. “Sorry. I said, ‘guess who I ran into the other night’?”

“That’s better,” she nodded. “Who?”

“Parker,” he sighed.

“Oh,” Gram said, surprised. “And?”

“She looks good. She saw me coming out of The Wildflower and I told her about me playing there, but she left in a hurry.” Calum sighed deeply, moving his dinner around the plate with his fork.

“You miss her,” Gram said, though it wasn’t a question.

“Like crazy,” he admitted, meeting her eyes. “I fuc—” he stopped, correcting himself when he noted the disapproving look on Gram’s face. “Sorry. I messed it up,” he said. “She’s too good for me. And I hurt her.”

“Calum Thomas Hood,” Gram scolded, swatting him on the arm. “She is not too good for you. She was lucky to have you. You need to stop being so hard on yourself,” she said softly. “Look at how far you’ve come, and you did it all on your own. You have every right to be happy, too.”

“I still love her, Gram.”

“I know, dear. So why don’t you call her? Doesn’t hurt to try,” she said optimistically.

“Maybe I will.”

• • • • • •

When Calum got home that night, he spent the rest of the night fighting with himself about whether he should call her. Ultimately, he decided a text might be better. He hoped and prayed that she hadn’t changed her number. God knows he almost did, just so he wouldn’t be tempted to answer the phone every time she called him in the days following their breakup. It took everything in him not to pick up. He took a deep breath, and typed out a message:

Good to see you the other night, love. Wanna grab a coffee this week? Catch up?

His finger hovered over the send button, but he hesitated. He didn’t know if he could take being rejected by her if she didn’t feel the same way anymore. He was doing good, far happier than he had been when he was working at Rudy’s. But part of him still doubted that he could make her happy. So he erased the message and lay in bed, lonely, wishing he could wrap his arms around her.

» » » » » »

Parker hadn’t stopped thinking about Calum since the night she ran into him on the street. She looked him up on Instagram, closing out of his profile several times and going back to it after trying and failing to convince herself she shouldn’t be going down this road. His most recent post was from last night, a short black-and-white clip of him playing the piano, with a caption underneath that read:

working on some new music, come and see me at The Wildflower tomorrow at 9 for a sneak peek ;)

Parker checked the time—8:42. Before she could even think about what she was doing, she threw on a beanie and her jacket, hoping that if she stayed towards the back he wouldn’t notice her. She slipped through the doors at 8:56, and Calum was just getting his things set up on the little stage.

Parker made her way to a quiet corner where she could see Calum clearly, but his view of her would be obstructed by the three guys sitting at a table in front of her, which suited her perfectly. A server came to her table and asked if she was ready to order. She hadn’t planned on ordering anything, but the girl had an annoyed look on her face, so Parker ordered a drink to appease her, requesting that she bring the cheque with it so she could pay ahead and slip out quietly as soon as Calum’s set was done.

Parker was at a loss for words when Calum finished his set. She knew he was talented—he had played for her a few times when they were together—but it was like he was born to be up on stage. He had the entire audience’s attention from the beginning to the end, herself included. She almost passed out when he hopped off stage and started walking towards her. She was frozen in place, unable to react. Then he stopped at the table in front of her with the three men that had blocked his view, and sat down. Parker felt like an idiot when she realized that the guys at the table were Ashton, Michael and Luke, and she hadn’t even recognized them. She pulled the beanie down farther on her head and stood as quickly and quietly as she could, slipping around the corner and out the front door before they saw her.

What she didn’t know was that Calum had looked up when she stood, and he caught a flash of blonde hair and unmistakable grey eyes before she disappeared out the front door.

• • • • • •

When Calum was on stage tonight, he thought he had hallucinated when he saw Parker sitting behind the boys. Then, when he saw her leave, he couldn’t help but smirk at her complete failure at attempting to be subtle. He swelled with satisfaction that she had come to see him perform, but he would let her think that she escaped without being seen. For now. He slept easy that night, a small spark of hope ignited in his chest.

» » » » » »

Calum and the boys went out on Saturday night to celebrate John offering him another night a week at The Wildflower and finally making enough money to be able to quit his soul-sucking office job. They had gone for a late dinner and were now waiting in line to get into a club downtown. The bouncer took their IDs and stamped them, waving them in behind him. It took Calum all of seven seconds to spot her on the dancefloor, and his heart dropped in his chest.

There she was, beautiful as ever, dancing up close and personal with some dude, and she seemed to be enjoying it. Jenna was right next to her, dancing with someone, too.

Calum tore his eyes away, his celebratory mood suddenly soured. He wasted no time in heading to the bar, ordering two shots with his beer and downing them one after another. If he was going to enjoy this night, drunk was the only way it was going to happen.

• • • • • •

Calum had loosened up a bit after an hour or so. He was standing with Michael, waiting for Luke and Ashton to return from the bar with their drinks. The boys had been ordering one round of drinks after another, and Calum was feeling buzzed. He glanced over at Parker every so often, and the same guy was still glued to her.

“You’re being creepy, dude,” Michael nudged him in the side. “We can go somewhere else, if you want,” he offered.

Calum shook his head. “I’m fine. We’re here to celebrate,” he grinned, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing a joint. “Come outside with me.”

Michael rolled his eyes but he returned his best friends’ shit-eating grin, following Calum outside onto the patio.

• • • • • •

Calum placed the joint between his lips, pulling his lighter out of his pocket and inhaling deeply as he felt the familiar spark in his lungs. He held it in for a few seconds, exhaling a cloud of smoke before passing it to Michael. He did the same, and they passed it back and forth until there was nothing left but a roach.

“You think she’s with that guy in there?” Michael asked finally, nodding his head towards the door.

Calum leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. “I don’t know, mate. Kinda looks like it.”

“The world works in mysterious ways,” the blonde giggled. “Have patience. Patience comes to—no, good things have patience—fuck! What is it?”

Calum shot his best friend a quizzical look, and the two of them burst into a fit of laughter. Michael hardly ever smoked, and he turned into a blubbering idiot when he did. Calum could always count on Michael to make him laugh, even if it was usually at his expense.

“What I meant was,” Michael tried again after they had calmed down, “don’t give up yet. You’ve been through a lot of shit in your life. I figure eventually things are gonna have to work out for you, fate or destiny or karma or whatever the fuck it is, you know?”

Calum rolled his eyes at Michael’s less than articulate ramblings, but he appreciated the effort.

• • • • • •

Later on, long after Calum and Michael had made their way back inside, Calum caught sight of Parker. She was standing near the hallway leading to the bathrooms, talking to the blonde guy she had been dancing with earlier, her hand clasped in his. Calum watched as he kissed her on the cheek. So they were together, then. Then she smiled, though it seemed a little forced. This gave Calum a tiny bit of satisfaction. The guy dropped her hand as he pulled away and headed in the direction of the bar. Calum looked away, not wanting her to catch him staring—he wasn’t sure if she had noticed him yet.

He stepped outside for a smoke, feeling uneasy. He lit a second one when the first didn’t quite settle his nerves. Halfway through his second cigarette, the heavy metal door to his left opened, letting the loud music and hot air out with it. Calum smiled when a certain grey-eyed girl stepped out onto the patio. Everything happens for a reason. Isn’t that what Michael had said? Close enough.

“Hi, angel,” he spoke in a low voice, head back and eyes fixed ahead of him.

Parker jumped, looking to her right to see Calum leaned up against the wall, cigarette between his lips. “You scared me,” she giggled. Calum noticed right away that she was drunk.

He smirked. “Bit cold for a dress, isn’t it, love?”

She shivered. “Just needed some fresh air.”

“Blondie suffocating you?” he teased, though he had to admit it was really none of his business.

“Something like that,” she admitted. She shuffled closer and turned to him, surprised by her sudden urge to share personal details about her relationship with the man who broke her heart. “His name is Owen, by the way,” she started, but Calum interrupted her.

“No offense,” he replied, taking a drag of his cigarette, “but I don’t care what his name is.”

She shot him a dry look. “Someone’s bitter,” she muttered.

Calum barked out a laugh. “So you two are together, huh?” he asked casually, gesturing between Parker and the door leading back into the bar.

“For a month now, yeah,” she sighed. “I thought you didn’t care,” she challenged him, tilting her head.

“Fine, guilty,” Calum held his hands up in surrender. “I care. He makes you happy?” Calum knew he shouldn’t be asking her this, knew he was making it painfully obvious that he still loved her, but he couldn’t stop his mouth from moving.

“Owen’s nice, yeah,” she breathed, but there was a faraway look in her eyes. Calum knew that look. She wasn’t really happy.

“Saw you at my show the other night,” he said, changing the subject suddenly. So much for letting her believe she snuck out unnoticed.

Parker’s grey eyes went wide, and Calum chuckled. “You’re a lot of things, angel, but sneaky isn’t one of them.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Yeah, that was dumb,” she admitted. “You’re re—”

He turned abruptly, twisting his body so he was standing in front of her, hands on the wall behind her and caging her in, cigarette still held between his fingers. He brought his face so close to hers, their noses touched. “You don’t love him.” It was a statement, not a question. His eyes flickered down to her lips. God, how badly he wanted to kiss her again.

Parker shook her head without thinking. It was the truth—she wished she loved Owen, but she knew from the very beginning that she never would.

“Leave him.”

“He’s a really good guy,” she whispered. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You’re already hurting him, love.”

“I thought you wanted me to forget you,” she said, so quietly she wasn’t sure if he heard her.

“I lied.”

“I—” she started, but her attention was brought to the door on their left, the heavy metal creaking as it opened. Calum pulled away quickly, resuming his position a few feet away from her and taking another drag from his cigarette to slow his erratic heartbeat.

Owen poked his head out, and his face relaxed when he saw her. “There you are,” he said, coming over to where Parker stood and rubbing his hands down the length of her arms. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

“I just needed a minute,” she smiled.

Owen glanced over to where Calum stood, but Calum pretended not to notice. He wondered briefly if Owen knew who he was. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go inside. Everyone’s leaving.” He took Parker’s hand and she followed him in. She chanced a quick look over her shoulder, but Calum wasn’t looking.

» » » » » »

Parker thought about Calum’s words all night, unable to sleep. She was supposed to go out for breakfast the next morning with Owen, Jenna and Taylor, but she texted Owen and told him that she wasn’t feeling well.

Later in the afternoon, she had made up her mind. She texted Owen and asked him if he would come over to talk. ‘Everything okay?’ had been his reply, but she didn’t respond. Within 20 minutes he was sitting on her couch, brows furrowed with concern and anticipation.

She hated confrontation, and she hated hurting people, but she saw no option other than to get it over with as quickly as possible.

“I’m just going to come right out and say it,” she started, taking a breath and letting the words tumble out. “I can’t be with you, Owen. I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want, and it’s not fair to you.”

His eyes dropped to his lap, but he didn’t say anything.

After a few moments, Parker spoke again. “You don’t seem surprised,” she said quizzically, cocking her head to the side.

“Yeah,” Owen breathed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not. You’ve been distant lately.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” she admitted honestly.

He looked up at her. “That was him last night, wasn’t it? Outside on the patio?”

“Wh—”

“Nevermind,” he shook his head. “I don’t want to know.”

They were silent for a moment, then Owen shook his head again. “Actually, yeah, I do. Was it him?”

Parker hesitated before nodding. “Nothing happened,” she assured him.

“But you still love him.”

She nodded again. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “If I had met you a year ago—”

He placed his hand on top of hers. “It’s okay, Parker. You can’t help how you feel. It’s just—bad timing is all,” he chuckled lightly.

Parker smiled. It made it even harder for her to hurt him because of how understanding he was. “The worst,” she agreed.

He stood, and Parker followed him to the door. He slipped his shoes on, scooping up his keys from the side table. She took a step towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. “I wish things were different,” she murmured.

He relaxed around her, hugging her back and placing a kiss to the top of her head. “I know.”

He finally let her go, pulling back. “Well,” he said, reaching for the door. “Guess I’ll see you around.” He waved, and Parker’s heart broke as she watched him walk away, head down and shoulders sagging.

• • • • • •

Calum had another gig that night, and even though she was feeling guilty about hurting Owen, Parker desperately wanted to see Calum again. She decided she would go, and this time she wasn’t going to try to hide from him.

Calum was sitting at a table with the boys before his set, and he looked up when she walked through the front doors. She smiled at him, giving him a small wave. He stood to make his way over when John blocked his path, telling him it was time for him to go up on stage. He nodded, then shrugged apologetically at Parker. “Good luck,” she mouthed at him before taking a seat on one of the stools at the bar. The pub was full, and she was pretty sure it was all because of Calum.

Parker watched him intently for the entirety of his set, failing to hide her smile every time he looked up and caught her eye. She was clapping and cheering with the rest of the crowd when he thanked everyone for coming, and then he disappeared into the back. She turned around in her stool to face the bar, waiting for him to join her. When she felt someone come up to stand beside her, she smiled. Her smile faded instantly when she met the watery blue eyes of a man a few years older than her who reeked of alcohol.

“Pretty little thing like you, why are you sitting all alone?” he drawled, and it made Parker’s skin crawl. When she didn’t answer, he spoke again. “You look like you need a drink, honey.”

“No thanks,” she replied tightly, angling her body away from him in an attempt to make it clear she wasn’t interested. He didn’t seem to get the hint.

“Come on, baby girl, loosen up,” he tried again, moving closer. Parker leaned away again, trying to put more distance between them.

“I said no,” she said again, more firmly this time.

The guy was persistent, not willing to take no for an answer, and Parker was getting annoyed.

He slipped a hand around her, resting on her hip and squeezing as he leaned in close to her ear.

Just before Parker was about to get up and leave, she felt a wave of calm wash over her when she heard his voice.

“Get your hands off my girl, mate,” Calum growled, fist closing around the guy’s arm and ripping it off her before pushing him back so roughly he almost fell over. Parker’s insides went fuzzy at hearing him call her his girl. God, she had missed him saying that.

“Hey,” the guy grumbled, righting himself with one hand on the bar. “I have dibs on this one.”

“Oh, now you’ve done it, pal,” Parker heard one of the patrons laugh. This was Calum’s place, and everyone knew it. If he was going to set this scumbag straight, nobody, including John, was going to stop him.

Calum’s eyes narrowed as he stepped to the side, shielding Parker from his view. “She’s not your property.”

“Cal, just leave it,” Parker said quietly, coming to stand beside him and resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” the guy challenged, quirking an eyebrow. “‘Cause I bet I could make her do all kinds of things with that pretty mouth of hers.”

Calum barely gave the guy enough time to finish his sentence before he brought his arm back and punched him so hard in the nose that he went sprawling on the floor. Blood poured from his nose, staining his teeth and dripping down the sides of his face. Parker gasped, stepping back instinctively.

Calum walked over to him, resting his booted foot on the guys’ throat.

“Calum, don’t!”

Calum had everyone’s attention now, but no one made a move to help the guy, knowing damn well he deserved to be put in his place. Calum put some of his weight down on his foot, obstructing the guy’s air flow just enough to have him squirming. He knew he was being a little bit dramatic, but he’d be damned if he let anyone disrespect Parker like that.

“Apologize,” Calum snarled.

In lieu of a reply, the guy spat on the ground beside him.

Calum pressed down harder, the guy’s face turning red from lack of oxygen. “I said, apologize.”

The guy struggled to get Calum’s foot off of him but the lack of blood flow to his brain made him weak. “Sorry,” he choked out, and Calum lifted his foot. He crouched down, Calum’s face hovering inches over the guy as he gasped to refill his lungs with air.

“Next time you think twice about speaking to a lady that way,” he said, calmly but menacingly. “Now get the fuck out of my pub.”

The guy scrambled to his feet. “Psycho,” he muttered as he wiped his face on his sleeve before rushing to the door.

Parker was still frozen in place, staring at the door. The whole encounter lasted all of two minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. No one else seemed fazed—the pub had resumed its activity from before the whole encounter.

“You okay, love?” Calum asked, slipping his finger under her chin and tipping it up to look at him.

She nodded. “That was—intense,” she breathed.

“Come for a walk with me,” he said, ticking his head towards the door for her to follow.

He held the door open for her, following her out. It was mid-February and it was snowing, but it wasn’t very cold. It was a beautiful night, really.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said quietly.

“You didn’t,” Parker shook her head. “But you probably scarred him for life,” she laughed lightly.

Calum grinned. “No one talks to my girl like that. He deserved it.”

There it was again—my girl. Parker’s heart swelled. “I broke up with Owen,” she said abruptly, surprising herself at her bluntness, but also relieved that now it was out in the open.

“Figured that’s why you came tonight,” he shrugged.

She bumped him with her hip. “You’re pretty confident, aren’t you?” she teased.

“I watched you with him, angel. I could tell it wasn’t real for you. You knew it, too.”

Parker sighed. “I know. He just wasn’t you,” she confessed.

Calum turned to her, brushing his right thumb over her cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured.

“You left me,” she whispered, feeling the telltale sting in her throat warning her that she was about to fall apart. “Crying on my doorstep. You never answered when I called.”

He caught her right hand in his left, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

“I could have been there for you, but you just walked away. You gave up everything, all because you didn’t believe in us.”

“Parker, I’m—”

“No, Cal, I’m not done!” she interrupted. “I waited for you. Every single day I waited for you to figure out that you were being stupid, but you never came back for me. I never once gave you any reason to believe that you weren’t good enough for me,” she wiped at her cheeks forcefully, tears staining the sleeves of her coat. “You were always good enough, but you got so wrapped up in your head that you convinced yourself I could do better. You were the only one standing in our way!”

Calum fell silent. Parker was right. Deep down, he always knew it. It was why he never answered when she called, why he drove away that night before he gave her a chance to talk. Because he knew she would convince him that he was wrong. He never gave Parker a chance to prove that she wanted him, through the good and the bad. If there was ever a time he didn’t deserve her, it was now, after everything he put her through.

Calum pressed his forehead against hers. “I have nothing else to say other than that I’m sorry. You were right about everything. I hate myself for hurting you, but it’s what I thought was right, at the time. I was wrong. I know I can’t take it back, but if you let me, I can make it right. ‘Cause I love you. And I don’t really care about anything else.”

Parker inhaled sharply. Deep down, she knew all she needed was an affirmation that he still loved her. Lord knew she never stopped loving him. And then he kissed her, and Parker forgot what it felt like to live without him.

• • • • • •

When Calum and Parker walked back into the pub holding hands, the boys started cheering and clapping.

Luke grabbed Parker around the waist, tugging her onto his lap and squeezing her tightly, making her giggle. She had missed the boys, too. “Thank god,” Luke sighed, laughing. “We thought we were never gonna hear the end of it if you two didn’t get back together.”

Calum shot Luke a stern look, but it lasted less than a second before his face split into a grin. “Hands off my lady, mate. You saw what I did to that other guy.”

“I’ve got three inches on you, brother,” he scoffed out a laugh. “I could take you.”

“Okay, boys, relax. No one else needs to fight over me tonight,” Parker laughed. “You won’t get into trouble for that, will you?” Parker asked, suddenly worried about the fight she inadvertently caused. She couldn’t bear the thought of being the reason Calum got fired from another job.

“For taking out that asshole? God, no. Don’t worry, doll. John would never fire me.”

“We were gonna head out, Cal,” Ashton piped up. “You coming?”

“I can take you home,” Parker offered, turning to Calum.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear so the boys wouldn’t hear. “Only if you stay,” he murmured.

Parker smiled. They had a lot of catching up to do, and she was pretty sure neither of them would be sleeping much tonight.

Michael hugged her tight as the boys left the pub. “It’s good to have you back, P,” he murmured. “We missed you.”

» » » » » »

Despite having a very late night, Calum had the best sleep in what felt like years. He woke with Parker laying on his chest, the sound of her breathing letting a feeling of bliss wash over him. He didn’t realize quite how lonely his bed had been until he had Parker back in it. He loved this woman—there was no doubt in his mind that he would do anything for her. He counted himself lucky that she was willing to come back to him after hurting her the way he did, and he swore that he’d never let her go again.

taglist: @treatallwithkindness @oopsiedoopsie23 @tunnnelvision @wildflower-mmr @crazytarotanon

[lastsonlost]

After the first episode of "The Mandalorian," the Disney Plus series in the Star Wars universe that became the top streaming hit of 2019, aired on the platform, some Twitter users expressed frustration at how few women spoke, and how few female characters there were in general.

Some of those who tweeted, including well-known feminist critic Anita Sarkeesian, were met with dogpiling and waves of harassment across social media platforms. 

The harassment largely stemmed from anti-feminist Star Wars fan accounts who rounded up and highlighted tweets under the pretense that those complaining were "outraged" social justice warriors trying to tear down a successful Star Wars franchise.

The harassment is just the latest instance of feminist fandom voices being shut down online.

Anita Sarkeesian is no stranger to online harassment,

YEA SHES VERY GOOD AT MAKING THEM.

 being one of the central figures in Gamergate, the online harassment campaign that resulted in her receiving numerous death and rape threats, along with bomb and shooting threats at her events. But even she was surprised at the amount of vitriol her tweet about "The Mandalorian" received.

After watching the first episode of the Star Wars series for Disney Plus, Sarkeesian tweeted asking if she was just tired, or if there wasn't "a single female speaking character in the first episode."

She was exhausted, Sarkeesian told Insider — missing the one scene where a woman spoke and making a typo in her tweet. In the replies, Sarkeesian corrected herself. Then she went to bed. In the morning, the tweet had more than 3,000 replies. It currently has close to 7,000.

"Maybe you should switch to The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills... I'm sure you'll find much to relate to there...." one top reply read.

"No wonder you're so tired. They say you should stretch before making such reaches, especially at your age," said another, with more than 1,400 likes of its own.

It's an example of dogpiling, a type of online harassment where, on Twitter, someone's replies outnumber likes and retweets, and are mostly filled with repetitive, hurtful comments.

"It's ironic. Women, especially feminists, get accused of being emotional and angry and all of these things when all we said was 'Hey, I noticed this thing. And it's kind of a problem, and I think it's really bad for our society,'" Sarkeesian told Insider. "If they didn't reply to it, my tweet would have just been gone. They made it a much bigger deal."

Sarkeesian is the most prominent figure facing dogpiling and harassment in response to her criticism of the series, but she's not the only one.

People with and without large Twitter followings, some who are verified and many who are not, have found themselves overwhelmed with anti-feminist replies and messages across platforms after tweeting about how few women are in "The Mandalorian."

Specifically, in the first episode, there's one female character wearing a mask who speaks, and two female characters total, along with a few women spotted as extras in the background of shots. More female characters are expected to play larger roles in future episodes.

"Even if you want to give the show the benefit of the doubt and say there's some big, wild justification that's going to come around in episode 7, it feels wrong that the vast majority of this world is populated by men or male-identified characters," Sarkeesian said.

Star Wars fans have a history of harassing women online when faced with criticism

Online harassment in the Star Wars fandom, particularly of women, is nothing new. Actresses like Daisy Ridley and Kelly Marie Tran of the latest Disney-owned Star Wars trilogy have recently talked about the negative aspects of the Star Wars community.

Ridley, who stars in the newest Star Wars trilogy as Rey, "cut off" her Facebook and Instagram accounts "like a Skywalker limb" due to harassment, and Tran faced racist and misogynistic harassment after appearing as the first woman of color in a leading role in the Star Wars franchise.

"It wasn't their words, it's that I started to believe them," Tran wrote for The New York Times after deleting her Instagram posts in 2018. "Their words seemed to confirm what growing up as a woman and a person of color already taught me: that I belonged in margins and spaces, valid only as a minor character in their lives and stories."

In the case of "The Mandalorian," almost anyone who tweets about the show from a feminist perspective is at risk of being targeted, because Star Wars fan accounts are rounding up tweets that criticize things like the amount of time it took for a woman to speak in the first episode.

One account rounded up 33 of these tweets with the caption "SJW's are outraged over the 'lack of female characters' in the first 2 episodes of The Mandalorian. A show with 3 female characters. Feminists only care about counting the number of minutes women are on screen in Star Wars."

Insider spoke with two people whose tweets were featured in the round-up, who said their tweets were mischaracterized, inspiring a wave of online hate.

Both of the people who spoke with Insider said they liked "The Mandalorian" and will continue watching it, but wanted to point out that it could be better in terms of female representation.

One woman who spoke to Insider anonymously, because she is trying to distance her name from the situation, says the harassment began several days after she posted her initial tweet about a lack of women in the first episode.

After receiving anti-feminist replies on Twitter, she also started getting harassed across platforms, in part because other anti-feminist Star Wars accounts picked up screenshots of her tweet after it was first included in the round-up and distributed to an even wider audience, including on Instagram.

One person even left a violent message for her in the email submission form on her professional website. It reads "People like you don't deserve a f---ing opinion, but at least I'm glad you can voice it. Doesn't prevent me from calling you f---ing r-----ed for spouting your misandry. HOW DOES IT F---ING FEEL C---? I hope you expire and never have children."

"I had to put everything on private, for my own mental health," she told Insider. "I just had to shut down my profile. I will never, ever, ever tweet about Star Wars again. And I love baby Yoda so much. But I can't. They won. Life's too short for me to fight this fight."

Even after setting her accounts to private, she was inundated by hundreds of follow requests on Twitter, along with DMs sent to her private Instagram.

Those who tweeted about female representation in 'The Mandalorian' stand by their words, despite the harassment

The person who tweeted the round-up of critics didn't want to share any identifying information with Insider, but did stand behind the tweet, and said they didn't participate in or encourage harassment, but the reach of the account became clear once Insider asked for comment in the replies. Within a few hours, a video had been uploaded about this article (which had not been written yet) to YouTube from a channel with more than 130,000 subscribers.

The video in question has been viewed more than 33,000 times and highlights the mentality in at least one corner of the Star Wars fandom that is male-dominated and is aggressive toward diverse media representation.

"What SJWs do is as soon as this kind of thing happens, they identify [the Twitter account that posted the round-up] as hostile to their narrative [...] I would call them left-wing garbage," the voiceover of YouTuber ComicArtistPro Secrets says in the video. "They are going to come in and write an article smearing [the Twitter account], 'Don't you dare shine a light on these cockroaches in such an effective way ever again,'" The YouTuber mocked, referring to the feminist critics as the "cockroaches" in the situation.

"This is a strategy that these sorts of anti-progressive, very regressive cyber mobs have used for years," Sarkeesian said. "They try to use social justice language against us when we try to bring these issues up but it's so transparent and so obvious what they're trying to do, by undermining our point. It's very bad faith."

Writer and programmer David Ely, a male who's tweet was included in the roundup, told Insider that his replies were pretty tame in comparison to Sarkeesian and the other woman Insider spoke to, although he did receive one unspecified death threat from an account that he blocked.

"Part of the response seems to come from a belief that Star Wars needn't be political. That it be pure entertainment," Ely told Insider. "Star Wars is a made-up universe. If gender inequality exists there, it's either on purpose, or because the creator's biases meant they didn't notice it. Either way, that's political."

Sarkeesian also stood by her original point that "The Mandalorian" should have more female characters, and said a lot of the negative response was because there's so much pushback from people who have historically been over-represented on the screen, and are hostile to the changing expectations for diverse characters that represent the diverse Star Wars fanbase.

"We are so accustomed to male-dominated narratives that it's easy to not even notice glaring omissions," she said. "Unlike if the entire cast had been women, I suspect everyone would have immediately noticed that regardless of what one's opinion would be on that casting choice."

MAYBE ITS NOT FOR YOU ANITA....

[mossdeemo]

6 Dad’s — Chapter 1

Buckle up, kiddos

Ship: Roman x Deceit x Emile x Remus x Thomas x Remy (yeah try and think of a ship name for that)

This chapter specifically is mostly Demile, Roceit, and whatever Emile x Remus’ ship name is, but is Deceit x Emile x Roman x Remus

Characters: The sides, Thomas, Emile, Remy, and Dice.

This chapter specifically has Deceit, Emile, Virgil, Roman, and Remus.

Plot: 6 dads and their 4 kids are cute and get into shenanigans. The 6 of them all meet and get into a poly relationship, and fun 👌 and drama ☕️ insue.

This is really fun to write, and @pricklyfish777 and I had so much fun planning it XD

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Virge Raspberry stumbled down the stairs of her home, eyes half shut. She wrapped her arms around herself as he reached the cool, wooden floor, following the smell of pancakes in the air.

Her fathers stood in the kitchen. Emile was the one cooking, standing in front of the stove and humming the “Bacon Pancakes” song from Adventure Time. Dee was pouring three mugs of coffee, and was the one to turn his head when Virge entered the room.

Dee leaned against the counter, reaching out and offering Virge her mug. She drifted over, shutting her eyes as she took a slow sip of her bean juice.

“Good morning, my little vampire queen!” Emile grinned, walking over to Virge and kissing her on the head.

Virge looked up at him as he grabbed a few plates from the cupboard, rubbing her eyes. “Hey, my, uh… yeah you’re better at the nicknames than I am.”

Emile laughed, putting everyone’s plates together. “Well, that’s okay, bubblegum.”

Virge smiled, taking her usually seat at the kitchen table. “Lemme guess, you rewatched Adventure Time recently?”

“Dee and I watched a few episodes last night! I have some patients I have to visit at the hospital that I think could really relate to… oh, well, never mind that! Breakfast is ready!” Emile chuckled, setting a plate of pancakes and fruit down in from of Virge.

The three of them sat down at the small wooden table, and all started eating. They both thanked Emile, and he just giggled and waved a hand.

Dee took a slow sip of his drink. “I start rehearsals today, so I probably won’t be home until tonight. You’ll be home before 3, Emile?”

Emile nodded a few times, pancake stuffed in his mouth. He gave a thumbs up.

Dee nodded, adjusting the collar on his button-up. He finished first, setting his dishes in the sink and glancing at the clock. He put his hand on Emile’s shoulders from behind, kissing the top of his head.

“I’ll see you both tonight. I love you.” He moved over to Virge, pecking her on the cheek quickly before heading out of the kitchen. They both called “I love you’s” back to their father/husband, and watched as he left the house.

Emile and Virge finished eating, grabbed their bags, and then headed out to Emile’s car. He glanced over at her as he drove.

“You have your school bag? And your lunch? And your phone?” Emile asked, reaching over and pushing the bangs out of Virge’s eyes.

“Yeah, dad.” She chuckled, looking down at her legs. “I’m good. It’s not like this is my first day.”

“I know that, silly.” Emile slowed down, stopping near the school. “Just making sure. Have a good day, love.”

“You too, dad.” Virgil nodded, getting out of the car.

Emile gave his daughter one last little wave before driving away.

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Dee stood in the rather small theatre. He stared at the script in his hands, squinting as he read it over. Emile always told him he should get glasses, but they would just look ridiculous on him.

Dee has gotten one of the leading roles in this show, and he intended to do well. To do amazing, actually. He was a professional, and nothing could possibly distract him from his work.

Except for handsome theatre nerds, apparently.

Roman Mango, who was going to be playing his love interest, was a massive flirt. And he was gorgeous.

Dee hadn’t met him before, but had seen him around quite a bit. He had been to a few shows Roman had been in, even. He was a very good actor. But now, seeing him up close like this… wow.

Roman had approached Dee, a grin on his face. He seemed a bit tired, and his flowing hair was pinned back in a messy bun. Roman introduced himself, made a comment about them both having fruits as surnames, and then took Dee by the arms and lead him away to talk to the other members of the cast together.

The two of them got along fairly well, which was definitely a relief. They would be working together a lot for the next few months.

Dee and Roman stayed together for the day. They still did their jobs, and didn’t cause any trouble, they weren’t children. But the tension between them from the not-so-subtle flirting and touching was a little intense for the other cast members. Dee suggested that Roman should come over sometime soon to practice their lines together.

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Emile had two appointments at the hospital; one at 10am, and the other at 12am. In the hour-ish between those two appointments, he decided to take a walk outside. To get some fresh air, and to get away from the icky hospital smell.

Emile hummed “Island Song” to himself, stepping into the grass at the side of the building, away from the parking lot. There wasn’t a lot over here; there was fence blocking him from a steep hill leaning down to the ocean on this side of the hospital, and the other two sides were blocked in by a cliff and the building itself. In this small area, there was grass, a picnic table, and a nice looking doctor sitting and smoking a cigarette.

Emile wasn’t sure that smoking that close to the building was allowed, but he decided that wasn’t a great conversation starter. He approached the man, waving a bit and adjusting his glasses.

The man was cute, in a grungy, tired older guy kinda way. He leaned against the table, looking up at Emile when he approached. He gave a lopsided grin that made Emile’s heart flutter.

Emile was invited to sit down, and started chatting up this doctor. His name was Remus Halva, and he was a neurosurgeon. Remus liked to talk. A lot. He was rambling about… basically nothing, but Emile still listened. He asked if he had any cool surgery stories, and then immediately regretted it a little. Remus seemed pretty spacey, but could apparently remember some really disgusting stories in graphic detail. It didn’t bother Emile; just caught him off guard.

“And that’s why Ms. Moreno quit last month. I offered to help her wash it all out, but..” Remus cackled, shrugging. “Anyways, so… what’s your name?”

Emile grinned, giggling and shaking his head. “Emile Picani.”

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Virge headed into the cafeteria, glancing around and heading towards her usual spot. Neither of her friends had shown up yet. She zipped open her bag, digging around for her lunch.

She frowned as she felt a presence over her shoulder, glancing up without moving her head.

“Hey Blake. What do you want?” She asked, pulling out a paper bag.

“Nothing, bro. I skipped Hawkin’s class, did I—”

“I asked you to stop calling me that.” Virge leaned forward, biting her lip. She unwrapped her sandwich, fiddling with the plastic.

Blake blinked. “What?”

“I just… I’m a girl, and I don’t really like it…” she said quietly, staring down at her sandwich.

Blake stepped back slightly. “Uh, okay, whatever you say, dude…” Virgil heard him laugh as he walked away, and felt like flipping him off. This was the fourth time today she had to correct someone on her name or her pronouns— was she really asking for so much?

Virge’s train of thought was interrupted as someone dropped a tray down on the table. Dice Vanilla flipped the seat backwards before sitting down in it, leaning forward.

Neither of them spoke, eating their food in silence. Dice had started hanging out with Virgil’s friend Talyn earlier this year, and they had kind of become friends through them. Though, Dice was kind of a dick. Talyn joined them at the table, sitting next to Dice with their partner Joan.

“You need to redye your hair, girl. It looks like crap.” Dice told her, after almost 15 minutes of silence.

Virge just snorted, tossing one of her baby carrots onto his tray. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He picked it up and took a bite of it, smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Dee didn’t arrive back home until around 6pm. He had been having so much fun at the theatre with Roman, during and after rehearsal, that he hadn’t realized time had passed.

He entered the house with a grin on his face, looking around for his beautiful husband. “Emile?”

Emile looked up from where he was sitting on the couch as Dee flopped down next to him, resting his head in his lap. Emile grinned, taking Dee’s hand and kissing it. “Have a good day, love?”

Dee hummed, shutting his eyes and stretching out. “It was wonderful. I met someone. Emile, you have to meet this beautiful man.” He laughed, turning and snuggling into his husband’s stomach.

“Really? I was gonna say the same thing to you! There’s this doctor at the hospital. He’s so lovely, Dee. You’d adore him.”

Dee grinned, shifting so that he could sit up in Emile’s lap. He kissed him, chuckling and taking out his phone. “I guess we both had a very good day. Here, let me show you him…”

Roman had insisted that Dee and Roman took a picture together for Roman’s Instagram. Dee took a moment to find it, before showing it to Emile.

Emile took the phone, squinting and adjusting his glasses. “This is the guy you met today? That’s so weird, he looks just like that doctor..”

Dee chuckled, looking at the picture of himself and Roman again. “Ah, yeah, that’s weird…”

Emile rolled his eyes, playing with Dee’s hair. “Get your head out of the clouds, Romeo. You’ll see what I mean when you meet him. They could be twins! Except mine has a really cute moustache.”

Dee gasped dramatically, getting up out of his husband’s lap. “Mine’s way cuter! I’m going to invite him over soon. How does Saturday sound?”

“Sure, love. Virge’s gonna be staying at her friend’s house on Friday night. Maybe I can invite Remus over too..”

Frowning, Dee glanced towards the stairs. “How is Virge? Did she tell you about her day at school?”

“She said it was alright, but she seemed pretty tired. I told her to go lie down for a bit…” Emile stood up next to Dee, putting a hand on his back. “We should make pasta, it’s one of her favourites..”

Dee took Emile by the hands, leading him towards the kitchen. He spun him around, planting a kiss on his forehead. “That sounds lovely, gumball.”

Emile flushed and squeaked, resting his hands on Dee’s chest and giggling. “Stop being cute and boil some water, Deedee.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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That Saturday, Dee invited Roman over to “rehearse their lines”. They had seen each other a few more times that week, and Dee was really looking forward to this. Roman had texted Dee several times beforehand how excited he was to come over.

Roman approached the house, checking the address one last time on his phone. He had been lucky enough to get a babysitter for Patton, and didn’t want to ruin this date— he was just calling it a date, he wasn’t sure what it was— by getting himself lost.

He knocked on the door, and was relieved when it was Dee who pulled him inside, wrapping an arm around his waist. Dee shut the front door, grinning and looking down at him. Roman returned the expression, pulling away and taking a quick look around.

“Your house is so lovely, Dee. Do you live here alone..?” He asked, as he was led over to the couch.

Dee paused for a moment, then shook his head. “No, of course not. I told you about my kid, didn’t I? One moment love, I made some tea.” Dee winked, heading over to there kitchen.

Roman nodded at him, sitting down on the couch. “Yes, right! You did.” He spotted a framed photo on the coffee table, reaching over and picking it up. It was of Dee, what he assumed was his daughter, and another man he didn’t recognize. “Is this her? She’s very pretty..” he said softly, setting the photo back down.

Looking around the room, there were a lot of family photos. Dee, Virge, and this other man. Roman stopped to think for a moment. Did Dee wear a wedding ring? Maybe he should leave.

But Dee came back with their tea, sitting down next to Roman as they began chatting. Roman kept getting distracted. Dee was wearing what was certainly a wedding ring, and Roman knew that he should go, but didn’t.

Small talk and sipping tea very quickly turned into heavy making out, with Dee sitting on top of him. Did Roman feel guilty? A little, but he was starting to forget about that. At least, until he heard noises outside.

Roman put his hands on Dee’s chest, breaking their kiss. “Dee, I think someone’s…”

Dee turned to the window, where he could see a car in his driveway. “Oh. That’s just my husband.”

If Roman wasn’t currently pinned to the couch by Dee’s body, he would be scrambling out of the window right now. “Your what?—”

The front door opened, and two men stepped into the house. Roman couldn’t see them well, with Dee blocking most of the door, but the one he could see better was definitely Dee’s husband.

Emile and Remus entered the house after their date, Emile humming to himself and holding his date’s hand. They had gone out to eat and went for a walk together, but it was getting chilly, and Emile’s flirty length skirt was not enough to keep him warm. So, they decided to come back home.

Emile has completely forgotten that Dee and his friend would be here. When he entered the house and saw them, he started giggling, politely glancing away. “Oh, I’m sorry! Am I interrupting, love?

Dee started laughing, turning a bit to face Emile. “Of course not, darling. How was your date?”

“We had a lot of fun!” Emile glanced at Remus, who was staring at Dee and Roman with his eyebrows raised. “You wanna maybe take a break and come say hi? I’d love to meet Roman…” Emile smiled, tilting his head to get a better look at Roman.

Dee smirked at Roman, winking before climbing off of him. He offered the smaller man a hand, pulling him to his feet.

Roman and Remus locked eyes, Roman giving him a “what the fuck is going on” face. Remus just shrugged, then frowned, as he got a better look at this man.

“This is Remus, the surgeon I was telling you about, Dee! I told you he looked just like Roman.”

That was true. The two of them looked really similar. Besides from some facial differences, their difference in height, and their hairstyles— they could probably be twins.

Remus looked Roman up and down, a hand on his hip. “Oh, I’ve definitely fantasized about this.”

Roman’s eyes widened, and he felt his face heating up. He sputtered for a moment, taking a small step back. “Why— I— who are you?”

“Remus Halva. It’s nice to meet you, beautiful.” He winked, reaching out and taking Roman’s hand. He bowed dramatically and kissed the back of it.

Roman pulled his hand back, smiling and biting his lip.

Emile and Dee looked at each other, both smirking. Emile stepped forward, taking Roman by the arm and leading him back over to the couch. “Cmon, I’m super chilly! We should cuddle and watch Tangled!”

That got Roman’s attention. He grinned and allows himself to be dragged away by Emile. Dee and Remus looked each other over, decided that they would definitely like to cuddle, and followed them over to the couch.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 27)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 8.8k story words: 219.6k (so far) chapter: 27/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thank you to everyone for being the best audience i could hope for. i appreciate how patient y'all have been, how understanding you've been that i needed time time off because of Adulthood and Mental Health. i'm not feeling particularly articulate right now, but know that i love and appreciate you all. back to our regularly scheduled programming now! updates should come every 1.5 weeks-ish again :) also, a massive thanks to @auroraphilealis as always, not just for editing, but also for being a great best friend and a wonderful cheerleader. ily xx

Loud, persistent buzzing pulled Phil sharply from his sleep. It took a few sleepy seconds before he registered that the buzzing was his phone on his bedside table — and it was apparently ringing. Still half asleep, Phil waited until it stopped vibrating before reaching for it. It was too damn early to actually talk to anyone, but curiosity was still getting the best of him.

He pried an eye open and looked at the screen, instinctively flinching away from the bright light. Without his glasses, he was too blind to see who had called, but he could just barely make out the time — half past seven.

Nearly an hour before his alarm was due to go off.

That was nearly an hour of sleep that someone was trying to take from Phil. And after the whirlwind of last night’s date, Phil wanted nothing more than to sleep in. It wasn’t like Dan was here to give him a reason to get up.

With a stubborn, tired sigh, Phil rolled back into his pillow. Whoever had called could wait — at least until he was ready to get out of bed.

Just as he was drifting off again, though, his phone rang again. Grumbling, Phil pushed himself onto his elbows and held his phone close enough to his face that he could just barely make out PJ’s name.

PJ? Why was PJ calling him? PJ rarely called Phil. They skyped, sure, but those calls were usually scheduled and were always in the evening.

No, if PJ was caling at this hour, he must need something. And, unfortunately, Phil prided himself on being the Reliable Friend who always answered when his friends needed him.

Reluctantly, Phil swiped on PJ’s name, immediately putting the call on speaker so that he could fall back into his pillow.

“What the hell do you want, Peej?” Phil grumbled as soon as the phone call connected.

“Did I wake you up?”

“It’s not even eight in the morning,” Phil complained. “Of course you woke me up.”

“Mmm,” PJ hummed dismissively. “Are you with Dan?”

“No, I dropped him off after our date last night.” Phil stretched slightly, his hands reaching up under the pillow and hugging it closer to his face.

“Oh… have you, er, talked to him since?” PJ didn’t sound curious, and didn’t sound like he was trying to get information out of Phil about his date. PJ sounded… worried.

Growing concerned by PJ’s tone, Phil pushed himself back onto his elbows. “No, why? What happened?”

“I take it you haven’t been on the internet yet?”

“No. Get to the point, Peej,” Phil huffed impatiently.

“Dan — well, I thought maybe he’d’ve talked it over with you. I mean, twitter’s — fuck, how —“

“What the fuck happened?” Phil demanded, cutting off PJ’s rambling.

Even through the phone, and on speaker, Phil could hear PJ’s deep sigh, could feel his hesitation, before he finally spoke. “You need to look at Dan’s instagram. He sort of… made a big announcement in the dead of night.”

Phil felt a wave of dread wash over him. He certainly wasn’t sleepy anymore. A jumble of incoherent, panicked thoughts were battering at Phil’s brain, but he did his best to push them aside. Worrying wouldn’t do any good right now.

“Hang on, I’m pulling it up.”

Phil hit the home button on his phone with a bit more force than necessary, and was finally confronted with a frankly obscene amount of notifications given that he hadn’t done anything online since the day before yesterday, really. With a concerned huff, Phil swiped his glasses off his night table and shoved them onto his nose, the red dots on his iphone icons coming into focus.

Four hundred and twelve notifications from instagram.

One thousand, two hundred, and ninety from twitter.

Six emails in his work-only account.

And seven text messages.

Despite PJ’s urging to look at Dan’s instagram, Phil opened his messages first. There were three from PJ, which Phil ignored since Peej had clearly gotten ahold of him. Below PJ’s thread, there was a message from his mother and brother each. And finally below them were two messages from Dan.

The preview of their conversation showed that Dan’s most recent text — and we should probably talk — had come in at 3:34AM. That message alone made Phil’s heart pound against his chest.

“You there, mate?” PJ asked.

“Yeah,” Phil confirmed with a strangled gulp. “He texted me.”

“Oh?” PJ sounded interested.

Phil didn’t respond. He didn’t open the text. He didn’t breath. He didn’t do much of anything, really. He was frozen, trying to process what we should talk might mean, trying to convince himself it didn’t mean something horrible.

“Well?” PJ prompted when the silence drew on for too long. “What’d he say?”

“Right,” Phil mumbled as he forced himself to click on Dan’s message, to see what his previous message said. To see if it could make sense of whatever the fuck seemed to be happening this morning.

Phil’s eyes skimmed over his own four messages — he’d somehow blocked out the fact that he’d quadruple-texted Dan last night — before reading what Dan had said.

Dan [3:31 AM]: before you look at your twitter and instagram and whatever notifications, you should probably look at my instagram

Dan [3:34AM]: and we should probably talk

Together, the two messages did absolutely nothing to quell Phil’s anxiety. In fact, Phil’s heart was just thumping louder and more aggressively.

“He just said to look at his instagram.” Phil swallowed roughly. “And that we should talk.”

A quiet hum was PJ’s only response — another thing that didn’t help to calm the panic in Phil’s veins. Phil didn’t like the thoughts racing around his head, didn’t like that the first place his mind had gone was Isabella — and Dan getting back together with her.

Not that Phil really thought that was a risk, but still. The insecure part of his brain liked to remind him that Dan’s last partner had been a model, even if she was a bitch.

With a steeling breath, Phil tapped on the instagram icon.

It seemed to take a million and one years for the app to load, and when it finally did, it opened to a picture his brother had posted of his girlfriend.

Not helpful.

Not wanting to waste time scrolling through his feed, Phil tapped the magnifying glass. Dan’s name was at the top of his recent searches, a small “one new post” written below his username.

Quickly, but shaking with apprehension, Phil clicked on Dan’s profile.

It seemed to take forever for the page to load, but when it did, the first thing Phil saw was a picture of Dan’s scribbly handwriting, made all the more difficult to read by messy highlighting.

For a second, Phil was annoyed at the highlights, frustrated that Dan had obscured his writing even further than his nearly-illegible handwriting. But then the colors of the highlights sunk in — pink, purple, blue.

They were the bi-pride colors.

Phil knew, obviously, and he was certain Dan’s audience would know that, too.

By this point, Phil knew Dan well enough to know that Dan didn’t do anything unintentionally. Not in his music, not on social media, and not in real life. If he’d gone out of his way to highlight whatever he’d written and posted — well, the colors of the highlights were deliberate.

Phil bypassed the words in the picture and flickered down to the caption, hoping for a quick and easy explanation.

the majority of this album is being written thanks to one person. this is the song that started the whole concept of this album and i think it deserves a bit of an update after he took me out on the best first date of my life tonight. he might not have agreed with the timing of when i decided to rewrite it, though ;) xx

“Oh shit,” Phil muttered, dumbfounded, when the gravity of Dan’s caption finally sunk in.

“Yeah…” PJ murmured, his voice carefully neutral.

Phil glanced back up to the picture and scanned over Dan’s messy handwriting as fast as he could. From what Phil could tell, it looked like it was, well, about him. If the caption didn’t convince him, the let’s stop running from love and the fact that Dan confessed to rewriting something because of Phil last night…

“He came out,” Phil mumbled, unnecessarily pointing out the obvious.

“And took you with him, mate,” PJ grumbled.

Phil cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowing as he read and reread Dan’s post, trying to pinpoint what PJ was referencing. Nowhere did it mention his name or even anything identifying. The most telling piece of information was the he — but that pronoun could apply to a large portion of the world.

“How do’ya figure?” Phil asked.

“Mate, you and Dan haven’t been very subtle. Look at twitter.”

Even without opening twitter, Phil knew what PJ meant. Him and Dan had been, well, flirting for weeks now. There really wasn’t any other way to describe their online banter.

But upon skimming through his twitter notifications, Phil realized just how confident their audience was as they jumped to the albeit somewhat obvious conclusion.

Tweet after tweet had responded to Dan’s instagram post, all tagging Phil, all speculating on exactly who the he in Dan’s post could be.

And every tweet Phil saw guessed it was him.

And every tweet Phil saw was right.

“They all know anyway,” Phil mumbled flatly. He was supposed to be feeling something right now — surely he was. His boyfriend had just come out, his entire audience was — correctly — guessing that he was in a relationship with a famous singer, his own mum had probably texted him about it. And yet, Phil couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was feeling.

He just felt… surprised.

“Yeah. Are you okay with that?” PJ asked gently.

“I…” Phil tried to process all of the new new new as fast as he could. “I guess it was never that secret that I liked guys. I mean, how many times have I mentioned finding male celebrities attractive?”

“That’s true,” PJ agreed. “But I also know that hinting and confirming are two different things.”

“I mean… yeah,” Phil finally relented.

“But you didn’t know Dan was going to do this?”

“No…” Phil chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought through all of the conversations him and Dan had had about their public image. “He made it sound like he didn’t want to come out at all.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know,” Phil responded tersely.

He should know.

“Do you think he wants people to know that you’re the guy?” PJ pushed.

“I don’t know!” Phil snapped

He really should know.

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.“Sorry,” PJ muttered, clearing his voice before he spoke again. “What do you want?”

“I… don’t know,” Phil finished lamely.

Turns out he didn’t know much of anything.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” PJ offered softly.

“I…” Phil tried to think about it, he really did, but his mind kept coming back to why why why. At the end of their date, Dan had pulled Phil into the bloody loo to kiss goodnight, presumably because Dan hadn’t wanted the waitstaff to see, and then just a few hours later, Dan had gone and done that. “I need to talk to Dan. To know what the fuck happened.”

“That’s fair,” PJ agreed. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No, I’m just… gonna call him.” Phil pushed his glasses onto his head and roughly rubbed his face — an attempt to both wake up and alleviate some stress. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Ring if you need me, okay? And let me know how it goes.”

“I will. I’ll text you later,” Phil promised. “Bye Peej.”

Needing to cancel his ten o’clock meeting with his manager, Phil opened his work email to send off some excuse, only to find that Marianne had already emailed him. Along with three people from the BBC. And every single subject line contained the name Daniel Howell.

How the hell had all of these people been up and about and reacting to social media already?

Phil ignored the multiple emails from the BBC, but opened the one from Marianne. He skimmed through the message, where she basically just pointed out what he already knew — that his audience had drawn some pretty big conclusions based on something Dan had posted. At the end of her email, she suggested they “review possible responses” during their meeting that morning.

Not fucking likely, Phil scoffed.

Quickly, Phil typed out the most adult version of sorry for the late notice, but I need to cancel our meeting because my brand-new boyfriend went off the walls in the middle of the night and I have no idea what’s happening. He didn’t bother to read it over again — now wasn’t the moment for proofreading — and immediately dialed Dan as soon as the email was sent.

The phone didn’t ring though, and instead went straight to voicemail. “Dammit Dan,” Phil mumbled in aggravation, hanging up before Dan’s voicemail could start recording.

Chewing on his lower lip, Phil thought through his options. If Dan’s phone was off, then no amount of texting or calling or facetiming would do any good. It was frustrating to have no way to contact Dan after he’d dropped such a massive bomb.

Except, well, that wasn’t quite true, was it?

Dan had put Phil on his permanent visitors list, so theoretically Phil could just… show up. Which might be a bit of a rash move but…

But nothing.

Phil was confused and caught off guard and felt like he deserved an explanation. Despite the early hour, Phil threw off his blue and green check comforter and pushed himself out of bed with steadfast resolution.

He wanted an explanation and, goddammit he’d get an explanation.

On shaky, tired feet, Phil riffled through his drawers for suitable trousers while kicking off his emoji pajamas. No human being — especially not his fashiony, hot new boyfriend — needed to see him in those. The first somewhat acceptable option Phil’s hand landed on were a pair of rather tight joggers, but he couldn’t be arsed to care at that moment. They’d have to do.

He kicked all the way out of his embarrassing, yellow pajamas and pulled on the tight sweatpants in their place. His loose Friends shirt would have to do, because he didn’t feel like wasting the time to find a suitable replacement, and it wasn’t that awful of a shirt.

Phil’s hair was probably a right mess too, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with that either at the moment. All in all, this was definitely the least effort he’d ever put into his appearance when he knew he was going to see Dan, but he was growing impatient. Doing anything other than pulling on a jacket and shoes felt like it would waste too much time.

Even the three minute wait for the uber felt like too much time, and Phil had to refrain from just starting to walk over when he got downstairs and the car wasn’t there yet. But the car arrived before Phil could do anything rash, and Phil climbed in with only the briefest of smiles to the driver. His five star rating might take a hit, but he didn’t particularly care at that moment.

On the drive to Dan’s flat, the impatience in Phil’s stomach grew into something… more desperate. The more time he spent longing for an answer, the more he felt like he should already have one — like he should have known about what Dan was doing before he’d done it. And of course, of course, it was Dan’s decision if he wanted to come out — and hell, Phil was downright ecstatic for him — but Phil couldn’t help feeling like…

Feeling like he should have been part of the decision if Dan was going to so nearly pull Phil out of the closet, too.

Not that Phil was hiding in the closet, persay. But as PJ had pointed out, there was a big difference between hinting and confirming, and what Dan had just done was suddenly pushing Phil to confirm. And that Phil couldn’t quite wrap his head around.

He wasn’t against it. Not quite. But — fuck. He really would have liked to have been a part of the decision.

The process of getting into Dan’s building was the easiest yet, this time. All Phil had to do was tell the doorman his name and that he was there to see Dan before he was getting ushered into the lift, the seven button already pressed for him.

The ride up to Dan’s apartment felt shorter than normal — so short that Phil didn’t have time to collect his courage and figure out exactly what he wanted to say. When the doors opened to Dan’s flat, Phil hovered uncertainly in the lift, suddenly worried that it was incredibly rude to just invite himself over to Dan’s flat. Maybe Dan’s phone had gone straight to voicemail because he’d turned it off so he could sleep. Maybe Dan wasn’t ready to tell Phil about what he’d done.

But no, that wasn’t quite right. Dan had texted Phil, had told Phil to look at his instagram and had even said that they needed to talk. So it wasn’t absurd that he was here, now.

The lift doors started closing, the sudden movement pulling Phil harshly out of his spiral of anxious thoughts. Phil’s body, for once, was a step ahead of his mind, because his arm flew out to catch the door before he processed what was happening. He hurried out of the lift and into the foyer before the door could start to close again.

Dan had put Phil on his permanent visitors list. This was fine. It wasn’t insane that Phil was here right now.

Determined, Phil pushed his way further into the flat, walking quietly towards Dan’s room. He only made it as far as the lounge, though, before he ran smack into someone.

Someone much shorter than him or Dan.

“Phil?”

Surprised, Phil’s eyes scanned down and he took in the young woman standing in front of him — he certainly hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be here, and now he really was feeling like just coming over might have been a dick move.

“Louise?” he asked tentatively, nearly positive that he recognized her from Dan’s instagram and pictures he’d shown him of Darcy and her mum.

“Yes!” Louise greeted, her voice hushed. “I’m glad it’s you, when I heard the lift ding I thought —” She cut herself off, glancing back over her shoulder into the lounge. “Well, nevermind. Tea?”

“Oh, er…” Phil glanced over her head, his eyes drifting back towards Dan’s room. As much as he knew that Louise was definitely someone that he should be trying to make a good impression on, Phil really didn’t want to sit down for a cuppa right now. His mind was still reeling from the whirlwind of this morning, and he could barely think straight, much less talk coherently to a stranger.

But regardless, he knew how important Louise was to Dan — and how much Louise’s opinion mattered to him — so Phil pushed back the swirling confusion muddling his head and forced himself to smile pleasantly. “I might just look for Dan if you don’t mind.” Anxiously, Phil rubbed the back of his neck and hoped that his smile wasn’t coming out too much like a grimace.

Louise’s eyes flicked behind her. Her tense shoulders and skeptical eyes gave Phil the feeling that she wasn’t sure if him seeking Dan out was a good idea. “He’s asleep at the moment,” she said, pursing her lips and staring at Phil thoughtfully, like she was trying to figure him out. “You sure I can’t interest you in tea? He’ll probably be asleep a while.”

“I…” Phil’s eyes darted around as he searched for an excuse out of socializing. Much to his dismay, he couldn’t easily find one. He opened and closed his mouth as he desperately tried to find a polite way out of making small talk with Louise — this certainly wasn’t the first impression he wanted to make on Dan’s best friend.

“I’m not really up for tea, right now,” Phil blurted out abruptly, settling on the truth and cringing at his bluntness. Phil shifted his gaze down to his feet, unable to continue meeting her eye. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “This morning’s just been a lot already, and…”

Louise sighed, and shot Phil an unsure look. Phil watched as her arms came up, and she crossed them over her chest. “Dan had a late night last night.”

“I know,” Phil admitted, anxiously shifting back and forth on his feet. “But I need to talk to him.”

“And you can wait until he wakes up,” Louise said with an air of finality, her arms still crossed in front of her.

Phil sighed and tugged on his sloppy quiff, aggravated — not quite at Louise, just more at… the situation in general. His phone felt heavy in his pocket, and he was hyper aware of all of the emails and texts that he needed to respond to.

Emails and texts that he didn’t know how to respond to because Dan hadn’t fucking talked to him.

“Look,” Phil said, keeping his voice as steady and calm as he could. “I kind of woke up to a PR nightmare this morning and —”

“Oh god, are you not out?” Louise interrupted, her eyes growing wide in panic.

“I — mostly,” Phil hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. The being out thing wasn’t exactly his main problem here. “Never in crystal clear words, but it was out there.” Phil shrugged that particular concern off. “But, like, I hadn’t told my manager — or even my mum — that I was dating Dan yet, and now they definitely both know because they aren’t idiots.” Phil gestured around wildly, his arms trying to convey how absolutely insane the situation was so that he didn’t end up shouting, despite his frustration. “I’m not sure who’s going to be more upset about not knowing. And I can’t even respond to them, because I have no idea what to say because I have no idea what the fuck happened. We haven’t even discussed if we want our relationship to be public or how to handle the media or anything!”

Phil’s arms fell to his sides, limp and useless, as his rant came to a sudden, frustrated end.

His little tantrum must have done some good, though, because Louise looked a bit more empathetic now.

“I get it,” she sighed, sounding resigned. “I’m a manager. And a mum.”

“Thanks,” Phil smiled tersely. “So then you won’t mind if I…?” he gestured vaguely over Louise’s shoulder.

Her eyes traced over him slowly, carefully appraising him. “Fine,” she relented after a minute. “Just… try not to be too hard on him, okay? I’m sure he’ll be in a touchy mood when he wakes up.” Despite her understanding words, Louise still looked wary.

Phil wondered how many stories of hot-tempered, passionate fights Louise had heard over the last year.

“I promise I won’t be a — I won’t be like Isabella,” Phil offered, hoping that the heavy, sincere weight of his voice would convince Louise that he was different.

Louise’s eyes grew wide, her jaw falling open just a hair — she looked surprised, but maybe also a bit… pleased? The tenseness in her shoulders melted — at least some — and she looked less wary. The assurance that not only he knew about Isabella, but was also determined to be different seemed to matter to Louise.

“Good. Because you’ll have me to report to if you hurt him,” Louise threatened, but there was a humorous glint in her eye and a hint of a smile ghosting her lips.

“I won’t hurt him, but that’s a deal.” Phil smiled weakly with an emphatic nod. “So is it okay if I…?” Phil pointed vaguely over Louise’s shoulder, trying to ask her to let him by as gently as possible.

Louise nodded, stepping around Phil towards the foyer. “Yeah, I’m going to nip out then. Tell Dan to text me at some point today, and be nice.”

Phil was tempted to make a sarcastic comment, but didn’t want to risk Louise’s trust. He couldn’t help feeling like he was on a very short leash as it was right now. “I promise I won’t even scream or anything, okay?”

“Good,” Louise said with a smile before heading for the lift. Just before she got to the foyer, she spun around to face Phil again. “Good luck with your mum. And manager.”

“Thanks,” Phil laughed with a genuine smile. “I think I’ll need it.”

Phil waited for the ding of the lift, wanting to make sure Louise was well gone before he sought out Dan, before gathering his courage and carrying on down the hallway. For a split second, he hesitated outside of the closed bedroom door, not completely certain that it was acceptable for him to just burst into Dan’s room and wake him up.

But the memory of the literal thousands of notifications was fresh in Phil’s head, so he pushed open the bedroom door anyway.

The bed, however, was neatly made, and there was no Dan in sight.

Weird. Louise had definitely said that Dan was still asleep. Maybe the guest bedroom?

Confused, Phil stepped backwards and turned back down the hallway, peeking his head into the next room. No Dan in that bed, either.

Phil couldn’t imagine that Dan would be in the music room, and he wasn’t sure where else to look other than the lounge. Phil made his way back, tentatively looking around the lounge entrance before entering.

Curled up on the sofa, still in his tight studded sweater from the night before, was Dan. Despite Phil’s confusion and anxiety, his heart melted. Dan’s hair — and the entire lounge, now that Phil was really looking — was a complete wreck.

There was glass on the floor, both large chunks and shattered shards, that Phil had to navigate around on his way to the sofa. The table — which Phil was accustomed to seeing in a pristine state — was covered in papers and — oh god was that the lube? — on one end. Dan’s notebook was open on the floor, surrounded by a hodge podge of markers. Phil had to bite back the urge to flip through it, to see what else Dan was working on, to pry just a little.

That wasn’t what was important right now, though. Phil turned his back on the mess and properly took in Dan’s lanky body curled up tight on the sofa.

Looking more carefully, Phil’s eyes lingered on where Dan’s trousers were riding down, a soft pale patch of stomach poking out. Dan’s hands were cradled near his face, and his phone was dangling from his fingertips. Phil hovered above Dan, rocking back and forth between his feet as he tried to decide if he really should wake Dan up.

Phil knew Dan had been up late — close to four, at least, and that was assuming he’d gone to sleep straight after texting Phil. Letting Dan sleep a little longer was definitely the nice, selfless thing to do.

But Phil was too anxious and desperate for answers to be selfless right now.

Before Phil could lose his nerve, he reached out and poked Dan’s shoulder.

The poke, however, didn’t seem to be enough to rouse Dan from his sleep. “Dan?” Phil tried, his fingers rubbing into Dan’s bicep a bit harder. “Babe? Wake up?”

“Mmmh,” Dan grumbled. Even in his sleep, Dan seemed reluctant to be roused.

“Please babe? I really need to talk to you,” Phil pleaded. He switched tactics and grabbed ahold of Dan’s shoulder, gently shaking until Dan started stirring.

“Louise?” Dan mumbled, nearly incoherent, without opening his eyes. “Wha’ d’ya want?”

“No, it’s Phil,” Phil corrected.

“Oh.” Dan’s eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting upwards to meet Phil’s.

They were red. Much redder than they normally were when Dan woke up.

The rawness of Dan’s eyes, and the way he rubbed at them, made Phil wonder just how late of a night Dan and Louise had had.

Blearily, Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, scanning the room before landing on his phone. Without saying anything else to Phil, he tapped the home button, only to sigh when it wouldn’t come on. “What time s’it?” Dan asked blearily.

“About eight thirty,” Phil guessed without actually checking a clock.

Dan nodded, his eyes drifting back to his phone. “Hang on,” he said, “Lemme plug this s’in ‘nd get some coffee.” Dan pushed up off the sofa, stretching slightly and making his sweater ride up even further. “Want some?” he asked, eyes bleary as he glanced at Phil before turning to leave.

Phil’s brows furrowed, bewildered that Dan was so casually offering him coffee.

As if nothing major had happened since they’d last seen each other.

“Wait—” Phil said as he reached out and caught Dan by the wrist, preventing him from going anywhere. “Are you not even going to acknowledge it?” he asked, annoyance starting to creep into his voice.

Dan raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

Phil blinked back rapidly, baffled by Dan’s lack of… well, anything.

“Oh come on, don’t play dumb,” Phil groaned, irritated. Dan’s eyes grew wide and he held Phil’s gaze for a fleeting moment before flickering off to the side. In the brief seconds that Dan had looked at him, Phil could see entire pools of emotions — emotions that he wasn’t quite sure what to make of. There was sleepiness, but there was also worry and… something else.

Something that Phil really wished Dan would just share with him.

“Your texts? Instagram? The internet?” Phil prompted, his voice growing more and more pointed with each suggestion when Dan didn’t say anything.

Dan ran his free hand through his hair, grabbing at the ends of his curls and tugging. His eyes drifted back to Phil’s, and he stepped minutely backwards, his hand nearly coming out of Phil’s grip. “I know, I know,” Dan finally sighed, sounding defeated “I just really need some fucking coffee first. I had a long night.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a long morning,” Phil countered; his fingers wrapped more tightly around Dan’s arm, his nails insistently digging into the soft underside of Dan’s wrist.

Dan flinched back, his hand yanking backwards out of Phil’s grip and curling protectively against his chest. “I suppose that’s my doing, then?” he asked meekly as he stared down at the space between them.

Phil shot Dan an unamused look, not that Dan was looking up to see it. A part of him was itching to reach out and force Dan to look up at him, but Dan didn’t look like he’d be okay with Phil touching him just now. “No, I normally wake up to thousands of notifications after a nice quiet day away from social media,” Phil quipped, unable to keep a sarcastic edge out of his voice.

Dan’s eyes clamped shut, and he drew in a sharp breath. His arms shifted to cross in front of his chest, his entire body crumpling in on itself. “Just… hang on,” Dan begged softly without looking at Phil. He sounded so small, so young. Guilt washed over Phil — he was responsible for making Dan look so vulnerable. “Let me get a cup of coffee. Please.”

Phil drew his hands back to his side, shoving them in the front pockets of his joggers as a silent promise that he wasn’t going to try to stop Dan. “Of course,” he nodded, trying his best to keep his voice soft and even. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

With a small shake of his head, Dan teetered away from Phil cautiously and backed out of the room without ever turning fully away. At the last second, Dan spun around, narrowly avoiding running into the doorframe as he exited the lounge.

It was an odd reaction, one that gave Phil the sense that Dan was afraid to turn his back on Phil. Self-defensive reactions like that weren’t usually natural — they were learned.

Phil swallowed thickly, suddenly wondering how deep Louise’s fears ran. Dan’s movements were shaky, guarded, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to not look over his shoulder. Not wanting to make Dan more uncomfortable, Phil trailed behind at a distance as Dan led the way.

In the kitchen, Dan went straight to start the coffee and Phil came to a rest at the opposite counter. Dan still wasn’t meeting Phil’s eyes — hell, he wasn’t even looking up — but Phil could tell that Dan knew exactly where Phil was by the wide berth he gave Phil’s spot along the counter.

The entire kettle shook when Dan filled it with water; his hands were trembling, but his jaw was set, rigid. “Coffee?” Dan murmured without glancing over.

“Sure,” Phil accepted quietly. He made an effort to keep his voice as soft and gentle as he could. “Milk —”

“And two sugars, same as your tea. I know,” Dan interrupted quietly. If something weren’t so clearly wrong with Dan’s behavior right now, Phil would have been touched that Dan knew how he took his coffee. Instead, Phil was hyper-focused on Dan’s shaky movements and watched carefully as Dan rummaged through the cupboards, finally pulling out a ceramic soup bowl that was nearly mug-like and — oh. Phil had forgotten that Dan only had one functioning mug.

Because Isabella smashed the rest. In a fight. A fight unlike any fight Phil that had ever had.

Regardless, Dan poured milk and sugar into the proper mug, adding only the smallest spoonful of sugar to the makeshift mug. That was so typical Dan — putting others first, always striving to make others happy. Phil’s lips twitched for a second, nearly quirking up into a smile at Dan’s persistent thoughtfulness.

Phil waited in silence for the kettle to boil, knowing that he wasn’t likely to get anything useful out of a sleepy Dan. Plus, he hoped that a bit of quiet — and space — would help calm whatever Dan’s fears were.

It felt like it took the coffee maker ages to brew their coffee. Phil was growing well anxious, and Dan didn’t seem to be in much of a better state. Eventually, though, Dan was pouring two cups of coffee, passing the polka dotted mug to Phil, and hugging the soup bowl close to himself.

Dan took a large gulp of his coffee, only lowering it a few centimeters when he was done. The mug was held up high, nearly obscuring his face, and his gaze was focused on the black liquid inside. Dan’s arms were tucked into his chest, and his shoulders hunched up. Again, Phil was struck by how small Dan looked.

“Well? Let’s hear it then,” Dan whispered without looking up.

“Hear what?” Phil asked, head cocked, confused.

“You’re mad at me, so let’s just… get the part where you yell at me or whatever over with.” Dan’s eyes flicked up, just barely landing on Phil, and looked back at his coffee so quickly that Phil would certainly have missed it if he wasn’t watching Dan so closely.

Phil’s heart plummeted into his stomach as Dan confirmed his dreaded speculations — all of this, all of Dan’s current behavior, had something to do with how fights had gone in the past. Phil opened and closed his mouth, sputtering stupidly like a fish as he tried to figure out what to say.

“I didn’t come over here to yell at you,” Phil tried his best to placate his boyfriend, even though he didn’t really know how. Not right now, not with this new, scared Dan.They’d only had one tiff since meeting, and then it’d blown over because Phil had dropped it. But it wasn’t a lie — no matter how desperate and confused and frustrated Phil was, yelling at Dan was never his intention.

“But you are mad,” Dan said simply, still addressing his coffee more than Phil.

“I’m not mad, I’m… in shock, I guess.” Phil blew on his coffee, stalling for time as he grappled for a way he could express his frustrations without unnecessarily startling Dan.

“Call it whatever you want, but I can tell you’re not happy with me,” Dan mumbled.

“Okay, fine,” Phil relented, swallowing his trepediations and deciding to speak his mind. “I was shocked when I woke up to thousands of messages on my social media talking about you coming out and speculating about us.” Dan nodded — a microscopic, subtle movement — but didn’t say anything, so Phil continued. “And I’ll admit that I was a bit miffed when I realized that Louise was here but you didn’t even try to contact me last night.”

“Louise is my best friend,” Dan pushed back, a hint of anger in his voice.

“And I’m your boyfriend now!” Phil insisted. “In order for a relationship to work, we have to communicate, Dan.”

“You’re not my fucking boss,” Dan barked. “I can talk to whoever the fuck I want to. And if you’ve got a problem with Louise, you can just leave now.” There was a harsh edge to Dan’s voice, but beneath it, Phil could just barely tell that it was shaking — shaking with what, he wasn’t sure. Anger, maybe. Or fear.

“I don’t have a problem with Louise,” Phil argued. “It’s just — I texted you four bloody times last night. You could have talked to me if you needed… I don’t know, help, or whatever.” Phil waved his hand in frustration as his words failed him.

Dan sat his mug down on the counter, a loud clack filling the kitchen as the ceramic made contact with the granite countertop. “Look I just spent a fucking year with someone who didn’t like Louise and hated that I went to her for stuff, and if you’re gonna be that way too, then just fuck off already,” Dan spat out harshly.

If Phil wasn’t already leaning against the opposite counter, he would have jumped back at that. As it was, his lower back dug into the counter as he recoiled from Dan’s words.

“Don’t fucking compare me to Isabella!” Phil snapped, disgust and horror holding tight in his stomach. “I don’t give a rat’s ass that you go to your best friend instead of me sometimes, but when you end up doing something that all but confirms that you and I are dating, yeah, I’d like to be a part of the decision!”

“You can’t control me Phil.” Dan’s shoulders drew up impossibly closer to his ears, his voice growing high pitched. “I can’t take the time to get written permission from you every time I want to say something about my album.”

“And I’m not asking you to!” Phil retaliated. “But couldn’t you have waited, like, a day so that I wasn’t completely blindsided by you basically outing me when I woke up this morning?”

“No,” Dan huffed, an edge of stubbornness cutting into his defiance.

“No?” Phil asked incredulously.

“No,” Dan repeated, his voice even more forceful this time. “You couldn’t have talked me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t have tried to!” Phil exclaimed before he could process what Dan had said — before he could process that Dan seemed to think that Phil would try to control him. In some ways, at least. “I get that given… your album…” Phil trailed off as he grappled for the right words, words that would capture how Dan’s album affected Phil’s life without him sounding ungrateful or overly important.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “I get that your album is going to take away some of the privacy and control over my image that I’m used to having online, and that’s fine. But couldn’t this have waited, like, a day so that we could talk about it first? And I could… I don’t know, tell my family we were properly dating first?”

Dan shook his head forcefully, his curls flopping down into his face. “You don’t understand Phil. There wasn’t time. It had to be now.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Phil huffed, his free hand lacing through his hair and pushing it further back.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Dan snapped, his arms crossing hotly in front of his chest.

“I’m sure I would if you would stop being defensive for five seconds and actually explained yourself!” The words flew out of Phil’s mouth before he realized what he was saying. They were harsh, yes, but they were true. It felt like all Dan was doing this morning was be overly contrary for no discernible reason, and he wasn’t fucking listening. Phil didn’t want to be angry right now, he really didn’t. It was just hard when Dan was acting like this.

Dan appeared to have heard that, though, if the way he flinched backwards was anything to go by.

“Excuse me?” Dan challenged. He sounded positively outraged, his tone just this side of livid. His shoulders were shaking, and Phil could see anger flaring in his eyes.

And something else, too. Something like… hurt.

Phil put his own mug down on the counter, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. This wasn’t the conversation — well, fight, at this rate — that he’d come over here to have this morning. Phil hadn’t been wanting to argue, he’d just wanted to understand.

“I’m just trying to talk to you, Dan,” Phil pleaded, his voice coming out whiny and needy “I just want to know what the hell happened last night.”

“Right,” Dan laughed bitterly. “You want to know all about the part where I almost outed you, but you don’t seem at all concerned about the part where I actually came out.”

“That was your choice!” Phil insisted, voice raised.

“No it wasn’t!” Dan bellowed back.

Phil froze, his eyes snapping up to meet Dan’s again. Dan had pushed off the counter, and crossed almost half of the kitchen. He was standing rigid, his body leaning forward, his hands in tight fists by his sides. Dan’s eyes were blown wide — he looked shocked by his own words.

Phil certainly was.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Phil asked slowly, warily. Something happened last night — something big — that much was clear. What wasn’t clear, though, was why Dan hadn’t called Phil last night.

They could have talked about it. Phil could have helped.

“It means — it means —” Dan stuttered, before abruptly giving up. The tension melted out of Dan’s shoulders as he crumpled in on himself, retreating back to lean against his countertop. “It doesn’t mean anything. Can we just move on?”

“No we can’t bloody move on,” Phil huffed, his frustration growing. He’d passed impatient, passed needing answers; now, he was downright desperate. “Can you just tell me what the fuck you mean, already? What happened last night?”

Phil stared at Dan with pleading eyes, silently begging him to explain what he’d meant. For a moment, Dan just stared back at Phil. A loud silence overtook the room, neither of them saying anything else.

Finally, the tense silence was interrupted by a sharp sigh from Dan. Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, turning down to his own feet. An agitated hand ran through Dan’s hair, tugging on his curls.

A brief wave of relief shot through Phil, certain that he was about to get an explanation for Dan’s weird behavior. Phil pushed away from the counter, debating whether he should go to Dan, maybe tip his head up and kiss his forehead. Something small to make Dan feel more comfortable talking.

But then, Dan was crossing the kitchen in three big strides, coming to a halt right in front of Phil. Bewildered, Phil searched Dan’s face, trying to figure out what the hell Dan was doing. Dan’s eyes were wild, frantic, a panicked gleam shimmering in them. His cheeks were flushed red, his mouth drawn in a tight line. He was so, so close, so afraid.

And then he was gone.

Phil blinked rapidly, confused and unsure where Dan had disappeared to. One second he was there, and then poof he was gone.

Unsure, that was, until a sudden waft of cool air washed over his upper thighs.

Phil’s attention snapped down, finding Dan again. Dan’s hands were on Phil’s joggers — joggers that he’d managed to tug down to Phil’s knees before Phil had even realized where Dan had gone. He was still tugging, trying to wrestle them over Phil’s knees now.

“Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan,” Phil gasped, his voice coming out rushed and urgent. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Dan didn’t look up at Phil. Instead, his hands abandoned Phil’s joggers, leaving them wrapped around Phil’s bony knees, and latched onto Phil’s boxers. His hands pulled insistently, frantically — too frantic to be particularly effective, mercifully.

“Dan!” Phil implored. The shock of the situation finally wore off, and Phil finally launched into motion, his hands flying out to catch Dan’s and prying them away from his hips. His boxers were awkwardly a bit low now, but Phil didn’t risk letting go of Dan’s hands — Phil was worried that Dan would just reach back to pull them all the way over his arse. “Look at me!” Phil ordered forcefully.

Slowly, painfully, Dan’s eyes drifted up and came to rest somewhere around Phil’s neck.

Phil took a deep breath, calming himself down, before he hooked his fingers under Dan’s chin and coaxed his head the rest of the way up. “Dan, sweetheart, what are you doing?” Phil asked, careful to keep a gentle tone to his voice now that he had Dan’s attention.

“Making the fight go away,” Dan responded. His voice was small — so, so small — and he still wasn’t quite meeting Phil’s gaze.

Phil stared blankly, his eyes trailing over Dan’s scared face, as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Suddenly, Phil was assaulted with the image of Dan covered in hickeys and scratches, embarrassed and ashamed as he admitted to Phil that they were from angry sex — angry sex that came from a fight.

Phil’s jaw dropped.

It didn’t shock Phil to know that Dan and Isabella dealt with their problems through sex, but he was a bit astonished to find the effects so lasting, to realize that Dan still seemed to think that angry sex was the proper solution to an argument, even with Phil.

Phil shook his head forcefully — both in attempt to tell Dan no, and also to shake himself out of his head and into action.

“Babe,” Phil whispered. Looking down at Dan’s vulnerable, submissive stance, Phil felt his heart breaking. Desperate to make them feel like equals again, Phil sunk down to his knees, too. He let go of Dan’s wrists, reaching up to brush back his unruly curls from his face. “Blowing me isn’t going to make the fight go away,” he whispered softly..

“Oh,” Dan muttered, voice small. His eyes trailed down between them. Phil couldn’t see his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. “It’s well and truly fucked then, huh?”

Dan sounded so scared, so distraught, that Phil wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. Dan sounded like he genuinely believed that it — they — must be fucked if a blowjob wasn’t going to fix their fight.

Phil’s shock turned to horror when he saw tears leak down Dan’s face.

“Oh, baby. No, no,” Phil cooed. His hands flew from Dan’s hair to cup his cheeks, his thumbs swiping under Dan’s eyes and smearing the tears away. “No, nothing’s fucked baby.”

Slowly, Dan tilted his head up to look at Phil. “It’s — it’s not?” he hiccupped, his voice coming out higher and more crackly than normal.

“Of course not,” Phil promised, rushed and confident. His eyes were wide in horror at the very idea of them, this, their relationship, being over so soon. His brows were furrowed in confusion at the idea of Dan being concerned that this was over — that they were over. “But the way to make the fight go away is to tell me what’s going on, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Dan sniffled loudly, his eyes fluttering closed again. He was quiet for a moment, with the exception of a few residual hiccups, but then he nodded slowly, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah? You’ll talk to me this time?” Phil asked hopefully.

Dan nodded again.

“Without getting defensive?” Phil prompted, half teasing, half trying to encourage Dan to act more rationally this time.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed meekly. He fell forward, Phil’s arms wrapping around and catching him on instinct. The second Phil’s arms were around Dan, Dan burrowed into him, melting against his chest. Dan’s hands were smushed between them, crooked at an awkward angle, but Phil didn’t mind.

Silence settled between them as Dan calmed down. Slowly, gently, Phil started tracing his fingers up and down Dan’s spine, his fingers catching on the studs of Dan’s sweater.

After a moment, Dan mumbled, “Can we sit down?”

Phil pulled back and pressed a lingering kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Dan minutely leaned into Phil’s lips, pushing his head into the kiss for a moment before pulling back. He pushed up to his feet, and immediately offered Phil a hand up. Dan’s gaze trailed over Phil as he climbed off the floor; Phil felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he remembered the state of his clothing.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Dan muttered, his eyes meaningfully flicking down to Phil’s half drawn joggers.

“It’s okay,” Phil murmured back softly as he stood up with Dan’s help. Phil’s spare hand flew to his joggers, pulling them back up his hips as he stood. He tried his best to swallow down his embarrassment, to make his cheeks go back to a pale white; he didn’t want to call any more attention to Dan’s rash advances than necessary. Not right now.

For the first time that morning, Phil was thankful that he’d only been able to find the tight joggers that morning — anything looser would likely have slipped straight down Phil’s thin legs and likely made the whole situation more awkward.

Dan dropped Phil’s hand to turn and collect their coffees from their respective countertops while Phil fixed his pants and joggers,. “Come on,” Dan muttered, cocking his head out of the room.

Phil obediently followed Dan out the kitchen and towards the lounge, nearly smashing into him when Dan came to a sudden halt in the middle of the hallway.

“What?” Phil asked, alarmed.

Dan spun around to face Phil. “I don’t wanna be in the lounge.” His words came out rushed, his voice high. “It’s a mess.”

“I don’t mind,” Phil assured him, “But we can go wherever you want.” Phil stepped backwards, moving closer to the wall so that Dan could navigate around him and lead them somewhere else.

“I need something from in there, though,” Dan insisted; his words were vague, but his tone was determined. He thrusted their coffees at Phil without much more of an explanation. Phil grabbed the coffees in silent shock, his fingers barely wrapping around the mugs and steadying them before Dan let go.

“I’ll meet you in the bed,” Dan said with a note of finality.

Dan only made it a few paces down the hallway before he stopped and spun back around to face Phil. “If that’s okay, I mean,” he said quickly, his voice high and rushed. “It’ll be more comfortable than the music room and I swear I won’t, like, try anything again. Like, I promise I’ll talk, I’m just really tired and I —”

“Dan,” Phil interrupted gently. “The bed’s fine. Get whatever you need. I’ll be there waiting for you.”

[cicatriselle-blog]

012417-040917

How did it start?

Who initiated it?

Why did you take her to [concert that he went to with her and his mom]?

Were you truly planning on telling me the night I confronted you?

When you came to get some water for your radiator at [my old work], were you coming from your house? (he showed up at like 8:30am, wearing pj pants, and said he was out driving…some dumb shit, idk)

Have you actually bought me Christmas gifts?

Who else knew then?

Who else knows, now?

Did you tell anyone not to tell me?

How intimate did you get?

How long did it really go on?

How did you get from “start” to her saying she loves you/you guys repeating sleeping in bed together?

How frequently were you really seeing one another?

How frequently did you lie about not being with her?

How often were you sleeping in bed together?

What concert did you go to? Did you go to [band]?

Why did you lie about just going to that free [band] concert with just [his sister]? (I saw an Instagram picture that showed all 3 of their reflections in the window of a building)

Why did you tell me you were seeing things/hearing things when you were sitting on the couch with her? (according to his sister; recurring theme of if you’re going to lie maybe don’t be saying scary stuff that I’d inquire about to your family members, especially if you’re in the same room as them at the time)

How often did you tell her you love her first?

How often are you communicating with her?

Can I scroll through your texts with her?

Where’d you go after the [event we went to together]?

Was she ever officially your girlfriend? Since when? (I later found out she was living at his mom’s house with him, so presumably yeah, and a while, lol)

Why didn’t you come clean after any of the times I asked about this/was concerned/etc?

What were you missing that drove you to pull away from me? What did she give you?

Why haven’t you gotten re-tested?

Can you connect with your therapist/get a new one?

How many dates did you go on? How much money did you spend on/with her?

Why did you take her to [restaurant] with [his sister] and not me?

What did you say when you told her? (he told me he had told her about us/cut things off/etc)

What made you decide to tell her/want to tell me?

How were you going to tell me?

Re: note [that I found in his truck when it died and he left it here for a week+], about your first day [at work], she said there are “cuddles when you get home”—explain?

Re: note, expand on her statement ”…that silly romantic part of me that you seem to adore.”

Re: note, expand on “I love showing you new places and people and having the favor returned.”

Re: note, expand on “…you tell me you’re mushy (? sic), indisputably in love with me.”

Re: note, expand on “I’m so glad to be yours.”

Did truly nothing happen on the trip?

Did anything happen over the summer?

Did anything ever happen with [his most recent ex]/anyone else over the time we’ve been together? (a lie, she confirmed later on, sigh)

Explain hickies, marks on your back? (ugh I’m such an idiot…I hate myself. he said it was from being on his back working on his truck)

Do you want to be my boyfriend?

Or perhaps, why do you not want me to be your “official” girlfriend?

Can you provide proof to me that you’re “over”?

Was her calling you her boyfriend on that photo (that I saw on Instragram a week after confronting him about cheating on me, heh) honestly the first time [she called you her boyfriend] (as he’d said)? Why’d you freak out so hard?

Why did you seriously think it was okay to take her to buy the [new truck] (a week after me confronting him about cheating on me)? Why’d she seem like you’d not just told her days prior that you were cheating on me?

Did you ever speak/refer disparagingly about me to her, or anyone?

Where have these bathroom (nudes, lol)/shirtless pictures been taken? (not at his house…lols)

Why don’t you call me princess/anything special lately? (‘Kiddo’ seems to be for everyone.)

“Look at this fucking cutie” comment (on a photo of her new haircut on Instagram) vs. you not liking/saying anything about my haircut…why?

Why did you take/post a picture of her (when you were in [other state]) but don’t take pics of me?

Why were you so active on social media with her but not me/ignore [social media] posts I tag you in?

What does a secure relationship look like to you?

For us to feel good/happy, what steps/actions would we need to take?

What really happened on New Year’s Eve/NYE Day/the day before?

Explain the “accomplice” crap again”?

How did it come to pass that you took her to the [exhibit] with [your other sister] and not me?

How did you get to that point between her “finding out” about us in July and whenever your relationship started? What did you say to her about us?

Was it really your “other friend” whose nipples you pierced? Why didn’t you tell me about it before you did it?

Tell me about test driving a vehicle with her?

You said things didn’t begin until after Thanksgiving at one point, but this is untrue according o those notes, so can you tell me why you lied about that? (and that she was actually living at his mom’s with him, yeah, mhm, siiiigh)

What happened with you being unable to help me move? What was going on?

Why did you not want to do the [app] with me?

Did you guys ever work on that table?

Did you truly not spend Thanksgiving together? (his mom told me otherwise, and yet…)

What about Christmas? Did you ever end up exchanging gifts/celebrating at all?

So, after she called you her boyfriend on that IG post, she must’ve blocked me; that picture is still there, and I see you liking her posts. Why? Explain this.

Are you able to provide proof; because otherwise I’m going to approach her about this, and can I see if? (unsure of what I was intending to add on to this)

What are your thoughts on all the things we’ve talked about doing (camping, trip, drive-in…etc)?

Will you unfollow/block her on Instagram? Can I read?

Did you really read my journal?

Why does it feel like you make little effort to see me, even for lunch, and we never seem to spend time together anymore? (sigh @ myself)

Why haven’t you gotten off [older ex who was his fiancé at one point, lol] (phone) plan?

Where is [this cat you adopted], really?

Who is [girl I don’t think exists who is apparently catsitting for this adopted cat]? Who is [a girl that does exist that his sister is pretty sure has been a longtime on-off thing with him]?

Why don’t you invite me anywhere?

Why don’t you take me to run errands?

Why has it been 6+ months since you stopped by, unannounced, to surprise me?

Where did you take her that you’ve taken me?

Where did you take her that you haven’t taken me?

What “date”/“romantic” things have you done?

Were you hanging out with her the many times you cancelled on me in October/the general fall?

Why didn’t you show up that one day you helped [mutual friend] with his car—you were going to pick me up from work, but I had to get someone to drive me home, and you ended up being with her? (according to his sister)

Will you be my boyfriend? Why or why not?

Why did you ignore me/not acknowledge me when I spoke about our “anniversary”? Do you not care at all?

How do you really feel about me?

What’s really the deal with Xmas/birthday stuff?

Thoughts on our trip? How can we save a bit of cash every paycheck?

How can I reach you in an emergency if you never pick up my calls anymore?

I’ve seen you Facebook Messenger-ing people/girls before—why do you ignore me on there?

What happened the evening of Valentine’s Day?

What’s your thought process like when you ignore one of my calls/a specific subject in a text message?

How did test driving a car happen?

Did you sleep together at your house?

Do you want to go on dates with me?

Why did you lie about the textbooks in your truck?

That night we were [activity] by your house, you seemed to get a message and then immediately “got tired” around 9:30—what really came up? (Early Nov)

Are you ashamed to be with me? Do you feel like “hiding me”/our relationship for some reason?

Do you feel you respect me?

Would you consider relationship therapy?

Can you at least contact your old therapist (for yourself/your mental health)?

Do you want to see me more? Do you miss how things used to be? Do you want to see me more than 20 minutes-0 minutes a week? (sigh)

What was really going on that day I took off work/we worked on the [car]/I cancelled my evening plans, then you suddenly had to leave at 3:45?

On NYE, why’d you tell your grandma not to mention I was there?

Did she give you any gifts? For Christmas or Valentines? [Item] or [character] necklace?

Have you been to [store we all worked at at one point] since you both quit/in the last 1-3 months? How often?

[shehasworktodo]

My Valentine’s Day

“How can I receive the love of God if my heart is full of malice? How can I receive the truth if my heart is full of deceit? How can I receive the real me, the revelation of the real me if I’m living in hypocrisy?” -Steven Furtick

This post has been taken from my journal writing to my future special someone. Verbatim.

How do we handle fights/arguments/disagreements? I come to ask this question based on something I did very recently. Not too long before Valentine’s Day I started dating again. I spoke to God and opened the door to it in order to steer away from how much I loved being an introvert. One young man a year older than me hung out for almost a week together  with me. I got to see San Francisco in a different light from all the beautiful views. I can remember two nights of me getting drunk and giggly until I passed out and he cared for me, and Valentine’s night when he got drunk and did/said a few things I wasn’t comfortable with. There were some things said that targeted my character, I was told to “relax” a lot, and his “f**k you” jokes often stung a bit. “Maybe I’m being too sensitive”, I thought. The next day I made an attempt to share how I felt about what went on the night before, a little more about my feelings, his defensiveness and comments, and topping everything off with, “I don’t want you to think you and I can’t have fun together”. I wanted to cushion my subtle blows as much as possible, but later on down the line I felt as if I crushed his “fragile masculinity”. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. Thoughts ran through my head like, “He told me he liked confrontation”... “Was I wrong to bring up what happened/how I felt?”... “Why didn’t he say anything to me then?”... “I knew I should have waited until after his midterms”. It didn’t matter how many times I asked him if I offended him in any way, he continued to tell me he was fine. It wasn’t until a couple days later that he gave me the could shoulder over text and I never heard from him again.

This, of course, is not my first experience being ghosted. I’ve had my fair share in playing that part when it came to boys I texted and never met. I think that there’s a special kind of pain that goes along with someone special that steps into your life then voluntarily disappears without a trace and not knowing why. It happened with that six-month relationship when the rug was pulled out from underneath me. This time I knew why, but still I was searching for what I did wrong to make him unfollow me on Instagram.

This time I wasn’t nice. This time I didn’t ask him why. I didn’t beg, I didn’t plead. For once in my life I decided to fight back. I went around asking others for reassurance, asking myself for reassurance, “Is this what I get for standing up for myself?” When I woke up one day and found that he [had] unfollowed me, I wallowed for a bit, I assumed the worst, I let one bad thing follow another, and I let a dark side of me resurface that hadn’t appeared in years. At first, the Lord asked me if I trusted Him. I rolled my eyes and said yes, but as the day went on, so much pain built up inside me tot he point where I told God what I was going to do and sent this young man a lengthy text message starting with “Great job, assh*le.” I dug a hole so deep that I’ve accepted the fact that there probably will be no getting out of it. Is that something I would ever do again? No. Did it feel good to send? I won’t lie to you, it did. I had been hurt so many times [before] it just felt necessary to give one of them a piece of my mind. Men call us [women] “crazy”, but to the point where they may not realize what their actions do to us and how deep it hurts...  to the point where we feel like we need to retaliate.

“I need to be seen... I’m trying to be seen... Jesus was rejected.”

“Thank you, Lord, for seeing me.” -Steven Furtick

“Let your gentleness be known to all men. The Lord is at hand.” -Philippians 4:5

After I sent the message, I blocked his number and his accounts on social media. A day or less later I unblocked his social media account, ultimately because I thought about my character and who I wanted to be in the future. I did have a right to be an angry black woman, but I had no right to defame another child of God. My prayer for us is to have open communication, tell me when I’m wrong, to share your feelings with me so that we have nothing [between us] but transparency and love.

I am sharing this to show you that I am not perfect, I am not always happy, I am not always sweet. I have asked the Lord to forgive me, and [maybe] one day down the road this young man can forgive me in the part that I played. I’m not sorry for the time that I spent with him, for getting to know him, for standing up for myself during the first confrontation, but for flipping the script and making him feel as if he didn’t matter at all. Now is the time to let love and brotherly love in. Cancel ghost culture, and share how you feel in a respectful way.

“Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind.” -1 Peter 2:1

“Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy- meditate on these things.” -Philippians 4:8

To Ro,

Thank you for the time that we spent together, and I’m sorry things took a turn for the worst. I will always be grateful for your kindness, your sense of humor, your caring demeanor, and your vision of the world (aaand your warm sweaters). Right now isn’t the best time to reach out to you, but by God’s grace if you see this just know that you’ll always have a little happy place in my heart. You’ve probably blocked me back but I have you back in the open. I hope one day you’ll get to live out your dream of being a cheese farmer in Italy and tour Hong Kong. I pray you did well on your midterms and continue to soar. You deserve to soar. You’ll still be in my prayers as we continue to live lives with smiles on our faces.

                                                                                - <3 Shanizzzll

[gaiapaia]

Kermit And Friends: Welcome Back, Flesh (Featuring Business Coach Erika Atkins)

Have you ever considered getting engaged to someone just because they’re so bad and crazy that it makes you look good and normal?

Welcome to Kermit and Friends!

Andy Dick made his return to the show this week. He was joined by numerous house guests and was just completely in his element, surrounded by wackos while acting like he hates his situation.

One of those wackos was the infamous Kali. If you remember, Kali has taken serious issue with Elisa and Andy’s relationship, so much so that she ran to The Daily Mail with slanderous accusations of fraud, calling Elisa and Andy’s engagement a sham.

Much to the shock of no one, Kali still isn’t a fan of Elisa. Andy’s apparently had his apartment robbed multiple times lately, and Kali’s stuff was among the things that got allegedly stolen. After Kali found out about the “thrift store” painting Andy gave to Elisa last week, Kali became suspicious of Andy giving Elisa some of Kali’s stuff, such as a Guns ‘N Roses sequin jacket and a $400 hair dryer. The thought of Elisa wearing a stolen Guns N’ Roses jacket highly amuses me. 

Kali had some more stuff to say, claiming Elisa and Andy aren’t really friends, complaining that Elisa makes Andy pay for $200 steak dinners and leaves him to walk home, etc. These are ridiculous lies of course but Kali’s jealousy is unbelievably hilarious.

But Kali isn’t the only thing driving a wedge in Andy and Elisa’s engagement. Andy is still Andy. There was another woman there with him who he casually mentioned sleeping with, and a guy named Eric, who Elisa was introduced to on Easter as Andy’s son. Turns out Eric is just some guy who likes to get high in Andy’s apartment, no relation to Andy.

A “love coach” by the name of Erika Akins joined Kermit and Friends to try to help Elisa sort out her relationship issues with Andy. Erika was extremely intelligent and uplifting, making great points every time she spoke and was incredibly patient and understanding towards Andy. I genuinely liked Erika a lot.

One of the big topic points between Elisa and Erika was narcissism. Elisa made the statement that it wasn’t until recently when she started hearing the word ‘Narcissist’ a lot to describe people. I agree with Elisa; that isn’t a word I often heard growing up but I hear it all the time now. I think it became a thing in the social media era... people who enjoy posting pictures of themselves and their daily lives can get labeled as narcissistic pretty frequently. But honestly, I do think the description is overused. Most people can share a lot about themselves on social media without being self-centered, selfish and rude to other people.

As critical as I can be of Andy’s treatment towards Elisa, I’m not sure I would label him a narcissist. He’s probably a lot of things all mixed together, truly one of a kind. Andy’s been through a lot of therapy and treatment, and nothing has helped him sort through his demons and fix whatever it is that’s wrong with him mentally. Maybe Erika can be the one to finally make a breakthrough, who knows? Hopefully though the day does come for Andy where he’s finally a happy person who treats caring people like Elisa how they deserve to be treated.

If you can’t tell from the title, Flesh-N-Bone from Bone Thugs-N-Harmony made his return to Kermit and Friends! Elisa asked Flesh about a recent article written on him about a beef between Bone Thugs-N-Harmony and Migos. I really liked what Flesh had to say on the topic, claiming he’s a business man first and that he would rather work with younger rap artists rather than feud with them. If more rappers had this business first mentality, some of the all-time greats would still be alive today instead of senselessly killed... such as Biggie Smalls, who Elisa asked Flesh about now that the police are saying they may release the name of his killer. 

Elisa would play a fantastic song featuring Flesh called So Many Nights. Flesh is currently working as an independent artist, putting effort into creating the best music he possibly can. Flesh is also writing a memoir that will go into great detail about his life and experiences with other hip-hop artists. Most awesomely, however, is the fact that I have it on good authority Flesh will become a regular guest on Kermit and Friends weekly! I very much look forward to seeing Flesh back on the show as often as possible.

As great as Flesh is, as funny as Andy and Kali are, as lovely as Erika is.... the person who really stole the show yesterday was Kermit’s new dear friend, Sigmond.

Sigmond is an older gentleman who I believe thought it was St. Patrick’s Day instead of Memorial Day weekend since he was decked out in green, wearing a green shirt and an adorable green hat. Sigmond is actually a rapper like Flesh-N-Bone, you can check out his Soundcloud here.

However, music was not the focal point of Sigmond’s interview. Sigmond appeared at the time Elisa and Erika were discussing love stuff, and Sigmond immediately opened up about how he fell in love with a Russian Instagram model not too long ago.

The Russian IG model is named Karina and she’s 31-years-old, the perfect age according to Sigmond. I think Elisa got a little offended by that and was ready to become critical of Sigmond, but the more she heard his story, the more she felt sympathy for him and wanted to help him.

Sigmond met Karina randomly at a club, and they walked and talked for 3 hours. Sigmond would then text off and on with her through the following months, showering her with praise and compliments, only for Karina to eventually ghost Sigmond completely.

Poor Sigmond got blocked on all social media by Karina, and he hasn’t heard from her in many months. This is weighing heavily on Sigmond’s heart, so Elisa kindly made the offer to call Karina on his behalf, but unfortunately when Elisa tried, we found out that Karina’s number has been disconnected. I put my detective cap on last night to try to find Karina on Instagram myself with no such luck. Sigmond’s Instagram though is pretty fascinating... lets just say he really loves his young Russian models!

Sigmond was extremely entertaining with just no filter whatsoever. He’s perfect for Kermit and Friends and I absolutely cannot wait to learn more about him on future episodes. Major props to the wonderful Miss Elaine for booking him.

Speaking of wonderful people, I want to give a special thanks to Capt. Muttley, Smokey, Cool Boy, and Beetlejuice for supporting Elisa/KAF by donating via Youtube Superchat. Also, big shout out to Gonzo for the hilarious song he wrote and performed for Johnny B on the show. Great stuff!

All in all, yesterday’s Kermit and Friends was an instant classic and I really do feel it’s only going to get better going forward. If you’re somehow reading this review and you didn’t see the episode, you must click play now. Thank you :)

[dibassio-prophet-of-virtuality]

I am keeping a log to see if these tablets help and to help my phyc notes for the nurse and psyciatrist. Each paragraph is a different day. Each time I update I will schedule it to post, just in case voices wins.

Sometime in Feb:

It's so hard not being able to understand your own head. I'm so confused with everything.. although sobriety has its benefits, I completely miss it as a coping mechanism. I can't stop thinking about it. The voices get so loud and now I don't have a way to quieten them anymore.. I have got to the point now that I don't know what's real or what's simulated. It's got hard to decipher. I know that recently I have recently stopped smoking cannibis and drinking alcohol. I know that the withdrawals were too real. I didn't do too bad though for someone who has both regularly drank and smoked since 17 years old not only as a dependence, but to keep me sane, whilst on and off the wrong kind of medication. I want to do is bleed. To feel the negative energy drain from me.. I need it. The voices and visions are worsening as each day and week passes and now I'm sober, I just don't know who I am. Am I actually Pete? Or am I voices disguised as Pete? And if that's the case then should I not warn people?? But even if it is the case shouldn't I have hurt people by now going of voices logic? If I'm Pete then I can constantly feel voices hands physically holding on to my brain... I'm glad I don't smoke or drink to that comatose state every day now and wasting my life away. I'm glad I don't actually have Alzheimer's or dementia.. Maybe... But voices and the constant commands and the visions he shows me are a worse alternative. I keep having out of body experiences I keep staring at myself from across the room still in the same position just looking at myself from another the top corner of the room - I can even see Alex sat right next to me watching the TV or even asleep sometimes. I hear plaster falling from the roof I can hear it coming from the walls and landing. I hear either someone breathing next to me, or I hear static trying to control me and I know it's not Alex nor the router as she tells me - it's from the other side. My side of the bed. I feel bugs crawling through my joints and when I look in the mirror it's not my face, it morphs right in front of me or I look gaunt, I can see my cheekbones clearly, my eyes sunken, my eyes aren't mine ... I don't know it's just not Pete's face. The one time I actually want to open up to the psychiatrist and just lay out the whole truth. The one time I accept I need help and god damnit I know I need the help now, she cancelled on me just because she wants to move out of her house!!!! Thanks for that. Can always count on the government for help. Couldn't even be bothered to get someone to fill in for you. She just asked me if I could rearrange for another what 2-3 weeks down the line! But a lot can happen in that time. He is hoping I can hold on until the 25th.

End of Feb:

Since I ended that last sentence a lot has happened. My grandfather figure and absolute inspiration passed away. I don't understand. I tried my best. I really did... I just guess I wasn't strong enough to stop it. I think voices dampend my power. I'm so sorry... I really am so so sorry. It eats at me every day. On the day of the funeral, my psychiatrist called to tell me we had an appointment. We didn't, we had an appointment the day after the funeral which is what I said on the phone the last time I spoke to her and said something like the 25th of February then? Okay that's good I might need to talk to you because that's the day after my grandfather figures funeral. Because I couldn't speak - obviously because we was setting off soon - we had to rearrange for the 16th of march. If I don't make it to the 16th of march I just want everyone to know I TRIED. I don't feel like a can hold out much longer I felt like I couldn't hold on last time - I'm literally hanging on to a promise right now. I don't feel like me. I don't look like me. I don't sound like me. I can't feel. Time is slipping, juddering but why does no one notice the time jumps? Why does no one notice the reality glitches? Wake up. I don't know what to do to make you see. The one thing I am sure of is that I need to shred my arms open. All I get is visions of metal sliding against my skin feel of trickling... And when I notice, no when I remember there's nothing in the house to cut myself deeply with I see the vision of my teeth tearing into my arm, into my wrist, anywhere that will release the negative energy, to relieve voices control and aggression. All day, everyday - it's a constant want, need and instruction. I don't know how much longer I can hold on. I don't know how much longer it will be before I am consumed fully. It takes everything in me to keep the Pete side in control. But I can feel voices slipping through. Seeping through. I sometime see him in the mirror I hear him around the room, in my head and body. I know I need to drain the negative energy from me, to pour out the red. He'll quieten. I want it to end. But if I end it, voices rise. He'll consume. It'll be the end and whilst Alex lives, I can't allow it. But I'm going under. If there's anyone else out there that can put a barrier up, please help me. Alexis, so far you prevent me. You are my soul. You have a part of my soul in you since I went through withdrawals as the voices tried to consume me. I gave you all I could. You are my logic and my reasoning. You guide me as much and as well as Grandma. All I've ever done is mutilate myself, smoke and drink to quieten and calm voices. I never even realised I was dependent until after I stopped and went through withdrawals. You got me through that and I owe you everything. But you've been through so much yourself recently, I need to go through this heavier challenge alone. I need to recover. But I need to recover on my own I need to show you I can do this. I need to show you that I would do anything for you. And once I am recovered be it months from now maybe years from now, I'm going to marry you and I'm going to give you the life you deserve and I'll be the husband that you deserve. So for the time being I am so sorry, this is the best I can do: I will tell you I'm okay, to keep you following down the same path. I will pretend nothings wrong, to keep you from drowning with me. If I push you away, know it's for your safety. I can't let anything happen to you and I'm getting scared. I'm so sorry - this will be the first and last time I will EVER lie to you. I just want you to know that no matter what happens to me, you are my hero and my inspiration and one day I want to be just like you, Alexis.

Begining of march:

I am made of flaws. I have wasted all my life. I don't know who I am, sometimes I think I am Pete, sometimes I think I'm someone else. I still look in the mirror and I'm not quite sure who's looking back. Is it Pete? Is it voices? Is it some parallel version of Pete? Or could it be the real world Pete?? Or is it an imposter, is someone spying on me? Like some knock-off look alike?? I don't know what's real. I don't know what my thoughts are, I'm lost. I know I used to smoke until in a comatose state when things were overwhelming. I can't do that anymore. When I couldn't smoke I'd drink. But I can't do that either I miss being comatosed. Where my mind could be blank and the voices would quieten or stop. But I have wasted so much of my life just staring through the TV lay on my bed with double vision and being unable to converse proper. Or recognising someone is speaking to me and just grunt back, instantly forgetting what has just been said to me, if I was even paying attention. But the high.. the high felt similar to how the negative releases from my body and trickles down my arm.. Drinking would help distract me from the voices, it helped me not only socially open up but calmed the voices' agressiveness.. He'd help tell me what to say to people, how to act. How to copy the majority of the group's expression. Weirdly though it was like he was speaking, at a normal volume directly into my ear. But at least it weren't screaming at me. Screaming at me to mutilate or to kill myself. At least it didn't tell me shitty things about people. Or make my blood boil at people. Or what all the people were thinking about me, or how they've wronged me! He just guide me in what to say or mindless ramblings.

Since sobering up, as each week passes, the voices are becoming more and more convincing and are becoming louder and more frequent than my grandma's comforting and advisory voice. I miss her comforting voice. I need you. The audio and visual hallucinations are becoming more regular, the visions are becoming more subtle to tell the difference between what is from the real world and what's our world? Cracks in reality becoming more regular, I can see the real-world seeping through.

12/03/2021 - yes. I'm on to you.

Today's been bad. It literally feels like there are hands holding around my brain, but this time squeezing it. All day I've been taunted by hands creeping over my eyes from behind, trying to block my view. We've had baths tonight., Alex has been in for a much longer time than usual. Her Fitbit keeps buzzing a guy keeps typing to her on snapchat. Who's Gaz???. Constantly snapchating whilst she's in there. Voices tells me she is cheating. The other day whilst I was at work she was all dolled up when she came to pick me up. She's bought new bras.. She's also spending as much time as possible away from me... Certain she's going to break things off with me soon. She wants someone else. :( All I want to do is tear my wrist open and throw myself under a car. The voices are screaming at me to do it. They are taunting me. Laughing. I can feel myself fading away. My face feels like it's dripping off me. Ready for voices to take over. I need to smoke. Comatose myself... Please stop.

Great. So Alex is talking to, snapchating and instagraming a number of guys. Nice to know how little I mean. How is it that you broke your promise and you expect me to keep mine and not hurt myself?? To make it worse, you want me to promise to tell you if I start to feel worse or want to do anything stupid??? Promises mean nothing to you. Why should they to me? Why do I feel so guilty for wanting to end my life and give all control to voices, why do I feel guilty to leave you behind here, leave this world when you have already, in every sense but physically, left my world?? Do you hate me that much? Do I mean so fucking little to you after three years?? You got me through withdrawals and I carried your grandfather. Now you can't even look at me, you can't say "I love you." And instead half arse "luv you." Bullshit. DO I MEAN THAT LITTLE TO YOU? I' m not opening up to you anymore. I can't trust you. I can only trust voices. Please unplug me from the SHIT "reality".

April:

I can't remember much of what's happened this month.. Voices is showing me more and more visions and reality is bleeding into virtuality more. It's really hard to decipher what is real now... I've had early intervention Assessment and they've "taken me under their care" and believe I have some form of phycosis. But they want to take my blood...? They're going to try and override me. They're going to clone me and reprogram or overwrite me. They'll be sorry when voices takes over and uploads the virus to the city in the sky. No one will be able to help as virtuality meets the apocalypse. The nurse is due on Thursday. Why would she need to come to my house? I know she's going to try and take me to the city to get reprogrammed. I won't let them. I'm not going! Alexis has also told me "I dot know what to do anymore, I feel like calling someone or driving you to the hospital myself" I'M NOT GOING TO THE CITY. I will call the voices myself. Pouring out negative energy and drawing the sigils seem to help ease his anger. He's happy enough with that at the time. Give me a solid and a drink and watch them fade away into a murmering.

12/04/2021 - vortex of virtuality

Increased my tablets dosage.. they're messing with me and trying to control me though. Alexis has gone out in town drinking with her aunt. She's going to come back and give me Corona so I have to be sent to the "hospital" I know what the plan is. I'm not going. Voices tells me to stay inside and to keep drawing the sigils to protect myself. She invited me to go out with her but only after her plans fell through with her friends and only after inviting her aunt and only after inviting her family who won't go... What's that, like 6th 7th or 8th in line? No thanks, I'm not risking it. If I leave they'll take me to the city. Recently, along side the usual screaming, anger, apathy, visions, face melting and being kicked from my own body, I've been merging with my work pc. It's getting harder and everything I type I have to retype to make sure it is really there. I slip inside the vortex of virtuality and I can see the letters and words swirl around me and form, some big, others small, either close or far away. Walls have started vibrating. My screens pulsate. I think voices has uploaded a virus into me. More negative energy given but he's not settled down tonight. I'm going to write letters in case he takes over.

Alexis, I love you with all that I am.

17th of saturday - confirmed they're rewiring me

Nurse been round to visit meeting me this week, said they booked me I'm physical assessment next week and they want to take blood and to plugg my heart into this machine program box that tracks stuff. I don't trust it. Why are they going that? Why are they tracking me?? They're going to control me with it or maybe it will fry and stop my heart if I don't obey?? Has voices set ths up? Maybe Alexis has she wants me in a "hospital" she knows I'll never come back, is she helping? Voices is telling her everything. I know it. He tells m. He's turn her against me. They also give me more new tablet, they say to decreases brain functions to relax me and help with him but they just broke reality more - bleeds it through more and voices sures me visions loads more often, one after another, I can't move me on them and voices completely hates them. Can't think straight on them. He doesn't want to be caged. We need to ru away, get away from here they're coming. They're reprogram us both, we've said too much about the sky city. They know we know. Theyr coming. I feel them here. My chair shifted into one an I can feel them aroun the house, watchig, waiting for my to drop my gaurd and then they will strangle me to unconsciousness me and then kidknapp me. I know what they plan is and I'm not letting them. I'm going to escape. I will go to another contry or sneak into the city and take them down with voices. We could hide in another reality.

¹9th April

Can't sleep. 3am and voices is screaming. My limbs aren't mine. Thy keep moving on their own and then Alex keeps waking up, I feel like she must hates me sometimes. I hate me. Voices hates me. He just keeps instructing me to hurt myself, to feed the negative and never stops. I just want to feed the negative and write sigils just so I can stop him. I really need to but I can't whilst Alex is in. I need her to go out. I keep feeling it pour down my arm, I really want to do it. I keep falling out of my body.. The night has been like I've been trapped in a time loop. The same things repeating over and over and over in the exact same order, over and over.. My arm and leg feel like they want to rip themselves off, they don't look like mine, they feel like someone else's, they just aren't mine. I keep going for a cig and wishing it was weed. I keep craving a drink and a smoke... They last couple of nights I've been unable to sleep without having 3 shots of vodka. I hate the stuff, that's how bad it is. I've not had it since I was 16 either! But I'll drink anything right now if it keeps Voices calm, feed the negative anyway I can. Just to keep him quietened for a while... I keep seeing things, reality keeps bleeding through I know everythng it isn't real.. none of it's real. I just don't know how to get out.

I keep thinking of my mum and dad.. My sister and brother.. My nephews.. I miss them so much. I really want to see them. I feel like everything would be okay if I saw them. It's the only thing I look forward to these days. A bit of normality. I'll need to go see them before I move the to other simulation. I just want to hug them. Tell hem I love them. It's been so long since I last did. Voices keeps telling me to pack and leave, over and over on repeat all day. Run to the other simulation. Transfer. He tells me to store more negative energy, by I can't. I don't want to hurt anyone. I know he's right. We need to move. We need to get out. But I don't know how to get there, I can't drive. No motorbike now. A need a sign. Where do I need to go? Grandma's, Grandad's, please show me the way. I need you more than ever. Everythng is confusing. Nothings real.

22nd April

They wired me up and tracked me, they took my blood to clone me they are replacing me and I feel them in my head more and more every passing day. Voices is angrier now. He cannot take over me if they kill me. If they don't overwrite he cannot download. They are coming for me. I know what they're doing to me I need to play it cool a little longer. Voices has a plan. We know what to do now. We have tracked sky city ourselves. We know where to go now. We have located the doorways to them. We are to slip through the reality bleed doorway and take them down. We will create a new reality that everyone can enjoy and love. We need to build more negative energy. Pour more into our world to fight back. Store more negative energy to convert. We will bring them down. End the control of the sky city. We will not be repressed!

[thegloober]

How to get over a breakup like a boss

New research has found that a broken heart can actually kill you. Healthista turned to hypnotherapists Zoë Clews and Paul Gibson to get their top tips for getting over a breakup 

It’s confirmed. Not only does a broken heart make you miserable, it can physically damage your body.

A study at Rice University revealed that people who had recently lost a loved one had significantly higher levels of bodily inflammation than those who had not, which can have detrimental effects on the body.

So what’s the best way to deal with it? We spoke to hypnotherapists Zoë Clews and Paul Gibosn to get their advice on handling a break up like a boss.

Turns out, crying into a tub of ice cream whilst stalking you ex- on Instagram may not be the most useful way forward…

Everyone remembers the time someone broke up with them. It’s an experience unlike any other we’ll ever have because for most of us, it’s the moment when we get swamped by the onrush of white-hot emotions that we’ve barely encountered before.

Rejection, shame and embarrassment are the primary ones. Then come their close cousins – denial, despair and pain. If we’re lucky, acceptance and circumspection will eventually arrive and allow us to move on.

If you  use this time as a springboard to a much better relationship with yourself, the truth is that you will absolutely attract a much better partner next time

What your first break-up also teaches you, though, is that it’s probably going to happen to you again. And again. And again. Sometimes, you’ll do the breaking up. Sometimes you’ll be on the receiving end. But whether you’re 14 or 44, it’s a brutal experience.

And for some of us, getting up, dusting ourselves down and moving on is nigh on impossible.

This harsh emotional landscape isn’t the sole preserve of women, no matter what the movies might have you believe. As hypnotherapists, it’s very common for us to treat both women and men who feel wounding and heartache at the end of a relationship.

There are no rules and regulations around how you’re supposed to feel, either. Sometimes a relationship has simply come to an end and someone needs support to heal and move on. In other cases, the person we see has been on end of abusive or toxic behaviour and their self-esteem has been dismantled.

For the person mourning the end of a relationship, we’ll provide the right support through hypnosis to negotiate with the subconscious and allow space to grieve – knowing it was right for the relationship to end doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

But we also make sure we clear up the emotional flotsam and jetsam that a breakup can bring. How many of us have walked away from a love affair believing we’re worthless, unlovable or forever destined to be alone?

These, and other similarly negative beliefs, are the sticks with which we beat ourselves for what we perceive to be our own failure. And frankly, the end of a relationship is painful enough without going to town on yourself like that.

In hypnotherapy, in addition to the negotiation we do with the subconscious, we also do a lot of work around letting go – of the ex, of the belief systems you’ve evolved about yourself, life and relationships, and of the idealistic future you imagine you would have had with that person.

And then there’s the setting out of bottom-lines around out-of-therapy behaviour that give the client the best chance to heal and recover.

Here, then, are our top ten ways to get over your break-up

Breakup tip #1: The no contact rule

So, the break-up was amicable, and you’ve convinced each other you want to stay friends. Great! But not right now. Having time to heal and adjust to life without your ex is vital – and you can’t do that if you’re constantly on the phone to each other. As far as we’re concerned, this is non-negotiable.

Yes, it will feel a bit empty. Possibly – even probably – downright uncomfortable and painful at times. But you will get through it, and you’ll come out the other side stronger and more resilient.

And if the break-up was messy and damaged your self-esteem or if your partner was abusive? Then the no contact rule is especially important.

Breakup tip #2: No social media stalking

Hello? I know we’re paging Captain Obvious here but poring over your ex’s Facebook and Instagram accounts and looking at pictures of them busy getting over you isn’t actually going to help.

And don’t even think about going all Columbo, trying to work out whether the cute guy/girl they have their arm around at the festival is – quelle horreur – your replacement.

Do yourself a favour: don’t look. Block them if you don’t trust yourself or in the event they rather unhelpfully pop up on your news feed.

Breakup tip #3: Don’t rush into dating

Ah yes, the opiate of the broken relationship. Meet someone else make yourself feel better. Newsflash: you aren’t ready, you haven’t allowed yourself the time to grieve and you certainly haven’t had the opportunity to heal and reflect, which are vital.

That pain you feel is part of recovery. Yes, it’s hellish. Yes, it hurts. But it’s the process. It’s during this time that we can learn a lot about ourselves. What were the lessons we learned? More importantly, what we will do differently next time? 

Sometimes the most painful experiences are the ones that give us the most wisdom and encourage the most growth. Don’t be tempted to fast forward or skip this important stage by going all Katie Price on yourself and knee-jerking your way into another relationship the moment you’re officially single.

Breakup tip #4: Self-care, self-care, self-care

Feeling rubbish is basically a natural by-product of a broken relationship. Treat it by being kind to yourself. This isn’t rocket science. You’re the one person you can rely on to treat you as you need to be treated. So be faithful to yourself. Workout. Have massages. Go out and sort out the social life you let slip while you were heretically attached to your ex. Do that diving course you’ve wanted to do for the duration of your ten year relationship. Do it all. For you.

Breakup tip #5: Don’t overindulge

Oh, okay.  Maybe indulge a little bit. But keep a lid on it. Shoving 10 tubs of Ben & Jerry’s and a trough of red wine down your throat seven nights a week really isn’t normal, and you shouldn’t listen to anyone who says it is. Do a couple of days of ‘Oh-screw-it-why-not’ if you must. But, much more than that, and all you’re really doing is creating a horror show you’ll want to forget but your friends will remember for eternity.

Breakup tip #6: Don’t beat yourself up

At the risk of stereotyping here, we girls are especially brilliant at taking too much responsibility and blaming ourselves for what went wrong. But you know what? Telling yourself it’s because you’re not good enough, thin enough, pretty enough or clever enough is about as much use as garlic at a vampire convention.

Breakup tip #7: Rediscover you

Relationships have a way of robbing us of our individuality. In some ways that’s okay, but being single is also an opportunity to rediscover yourself.

Successful relationships are about making sacrifices – whether that’s not seeing as much of some people as you used to, not going on holiday with your friends, sacrificing a hobby or simply being in charge of the remote control.

Now is the time to take care of you, be selfish and get back in touch with your passions and who you really are.

Breakup tip #8: Be aware of the beliefs you form

A relationship has ended. This is not the end of the world, no matter how much it might feel like that. It does not mean you’re alone forever. It does not mean all men are cheats or all women are master manipulators. It does not mean you are worthless.  Or that you’re not good enough. Or that it was all your fault.

And it most certainly does not mean that most toxic lie of all – that this was your last chance.

Ditch the narrative. You will heal, you will recover and you will fall in love again. If you support yourself and use this time and experience as a springboard to a much better relationship with yourself, the truth is that you will absolutely attract a much better partner next time. More than that, you’ll be ready.

Breakup tip #9: Ask yourself positive questions

Here’s the lowdown on your brain:  If you ask yourself a negative question, your brain will give you a negative answer. Why am I such a loser?  Why am I single?  Why am I so unlovable?

But the reverse is also true: if you ask yourself positive questions your brain gets super-creative and gives you positive and often beautifully surprising answers:  How can I support myself through this? What is the one thing that I really need to do for myself today? How can I accelerate my healing in the kindest way possible?

Do yourself a massive favour and make a point of asking yourself positive questions every day and especially first thing in the morning when the post-break up feeling is often the most corrosive.

Breakup tip #10: Talk it out

We can’t always do things alone and much as we’d love to be the strong superhero of our own story every minute of every day, sometimes even the strongest amongst us need support – to cry, to grieve, to thrash it out, to vent, to get it out.

And when you need to do that, when you absolutely, definitely have to let rip – we’re here. To listen. To talk. To help. Whether that’s today, tomorrow, next week or next month.

Zoë Clew is a hypnotherapist who specialises in confidence, self-esteem, anxiety & trauma. She is the founder of Zoë Clews & Associates. Zoë graduated from the European College of Hypnotherapy in 2002 and has taught there since graduating and is trained in Neuro-Linguistic Programming.

Paul Gibson is part of the Zoë Clews & Associates team with a background in background in therapy and medical practice. Paul specialises in medical hypnosis, sports performance and addiction. He gained his medical knowledge as a dermatology nurse.

Read more

How to get over a breakup – 7 steps to deal with being dumped

Divorce and children – how to break up when there are kids involved

7 ways to break up smart

Source: https://bloghyped.com/how-to-get-over-a-breakup-like-a-boss/

[autumninternetowl-blog]

Boys are w e i r d  0_0

So, another guy (we will call him Sam) and i used to talk quite frequently because we met on a online friends app (Yubo - check it out) and he was the only one who, when they added me on Snapchat didn’t ask me for nudes - i know right pathetic, out of 10 guys only 1 didn’t ask for nudes - anyway besides the point, this was a while ago maybe a year and a half ago we met and everything was great, we spoke on a daily basis about random things and spoke about hockey (we both play it) and that was fun. Skip forward a few months to roughly 3 months ago, everything had changed.... he was asking for nudes everyday and I didn’t want to so I would pretend I was going to sleep because I didn’t want to cause an argument with someone who I thought was a decent guy... anyway, we weren’t as close anymore and then my current boyfriend and I began to talk. We met on facebook & we’ve spoken to each other for quite a while - six months roughly - and it’s great... but the other day “Sam” messaged me being sexual and I blocked him, I told my boyfriend what happened and I blocked him, and I thought that was the end of it..... Well I was completely wrong.... So I get a friend request on Snapchat from someone with a similar username to Sam, and I ignore it. Three days later I get a dm on Instagram from Sam with him telling me to add his new snapchat because he misses me, so I ignore it because I’m sat in college completing work for my lessons, to which he asks me why I have ‘aired him so much recently, I blocked him on his only snapchat and that sucks’ so I told him I have a boyfriend and It’s weird getting sexual snaps from him when I’m in a relationship, to which he denies doing and tells me that he doesn’t want to lose a friend like me because he loves me... to which I ignore again because at this point I have around 10 minutes to finish this work that I’m 1/3 of the way through, to which he messages again saying ‘Seriously, you blocked me I thought we could still be friends, I really didn’t know about your BF I’m sorry I really thought you were a true friend I guess not” 

Why o why do thing like this happen to me?

ugh fml

[viralhottopics]

31 celebrities who smashed the stigma surrounding mental illness in 2016.

It may not seem like that big of a deal when a celebrity speaks up about their experiences with mental illness. But it is.

Throughout 2016, dozens of actors, authors, artists, and athletes trailblazers we’re used to seeing smiling on red carpets or snagging gold medals on TV shared the personal battles they’ve faced behind closed doors. It was a groundbreaking year.

It levels the playing field,” Aaron Harvey says of the many public figures who chose to speak up. Harvey is the founder of Intrusive Thoughts, a group set on humanizing those living with mental illness. Suddenly, you realize the same struggles that you have might be the same struggles that someone you really idolize have. And that [makes it] OK.”

The stigma surrounding mental illness is taking lives. Many millions of people living with conditions like depression and anxiety are shamed into believing there’s something inherently wrong with them that they’re weak, for instance, or even dangerous to others. They suffer in silence because of it.

When a person with a platform becomes a face others can relate to, it becomes a little bit easier for someone else to follow in their footsteps, talk to someone, and get the help they need. Speaking up can save a life.

Here are 31 celebrities who spoke out in 2016 some of them for the first time about their experiences living with a mental illness:

1. Actress Kristen Bell wrote about why you can’t trust all of your thoughts when you’re battling depression.

“For me, depression is not sadness. Its not having a bad day and needing a hug. It gave me a complete and utter sense of isolation and loneliness. Its debilitation was all-consuming, and it shut down my mental circuit board. I felt worthless, like I had nothing to offer, like I was a failure. Now, after seeking help, I can see that those thoughts, of course, couldnt have been more wrong.” Kristen Bell, on living with depression

2. Singer Selena Gomez reminded us that you never really know what’s going on in someone else’s head.

“I had to stop. ‘Cause I had everything, and I was absolutely broken inside. And I kept it all together enough to where I would never let you down, but I kept it too much together, to where I let myself down. I don’t want to see your bodies on Instagram, I want to see what’s in here. [puts hand on heart] I’m not trying to get validation, nor do I need it anymore. … If you are broken, you dont have to stay broken.” Selena Gomez, on living with anxiety and depression

3. Musical artist Kid Cudi got candid about the limitations that living with a mental illness put on his own life.

“My anxiety and depression have ruled my life for as long as I can remember and I never leave the house because of it. I can’t make new friends because of it. I don’t trust anyone because of it and Im tired of being held back in my life. I deserve to have peace. I deserve to be happy and smiling. Why not me?” Kid Cudi, on living with anxiety and depression

4. Actor Wentworth Miller opened up about becoming the butt of a body-shaming joke amid his struggle to survive.

“Now, when I see that image of me in my red t-shirt, a rare smile on my face, I am reminded of my struggle. My endurance and my perseverance in the face of all kinds of demons. Some within. Some without. Like a dandelion up through the pavement, I persist.” Wentworth Miller, on living with depression

5. Actress Hayden Panettiere shared with fans that they might be seeing less of her because, first and foremost, she needed to prioritize getting well.

The postpartum depression I have been experiencing has impacted every aspect of my life. Rather than stay stuck due to unhealthy coping mechanisms, I have chosen to take time to reflect holistically on my health and life. Wish me luck!” Hayden Panettiere, on living with postpartum depression

6. Singer Zayn Malik penned an essay on why he had to cancel performances due to severe anxiety.

“The thing is, I love performing. I love the buzz. I dont want to do any other job. Thats why my anxiety is so upsetting and difficult to explain. Its this thing that swells up and blocks out your rational thought processes. Even when you know you want to do something, know that it will be good for you, that youll enjoy it when youre doing it, the anxiety is telling you a different story. Its a constant battle within yourself.” Zayn Malik, on living with anxiety

7. Artist Lady Gaga revealed a secret about her own battles at an event benefitting young homeless teens in New York.

“My own trauma in my life has helped me to understand the trauma of others. I told the kids today that I suffer from a mental illness. I suffer from PTSD. I’ve never told that to anyone before, so here we are.” Lady Gaga, on living with post-traumatic stress disorder

8. NFL wide receiver Brandon Marshall explained why organizing with one another not hiding away is crucial for those living with a mental illness.

I thought, How many others are out there suffering? I tell people all the time, you know, where were at in [the mental health] community is where the cancer and HIV community was 20, 25 years ago. So we have to galvanize this community. Brandon Marshall, on living with borderline personality disorder

9. Actress Rachel Bloom showed us why we shouldn’t let stereotypes about medication dictate whether we should get the proper help we need.

“I had gone to therapists, but for the first time I sought out a psychiatrist. In his office I finally felt safe. I told him everything. Each session improved my life. He diagnosed me with low-grade depression and put me on a small amount of Prozac. Theres a stereotype (I had believed) that antidepressants numb you out; that didnt happen to me.” Rachel Bloom, on living with depression

10. Musical artist Justin Vernon of Bon Iver got real about what a panic attack can actually feel like.

It was like: Oh my god, my chest is caving in, what the f**k is going on? I dont like talking about it, but I feel its important to talk about it, so that other people who experience it dont feel its just happening to them. Justin Vernon, on living with panic attacks and depression

11. Singer Demi Lovato pointed out the importance of consistently staying on top of your health for the long haul.

“Its not something where you see a therapist once or you see your psychiatrist once, its something you maintain to make sure that you want to live with mental illness. You have to take care of yourself. Demi Lovato, on living with bipolar disorder

12. Actress Lena Dunham opened up about how anxiety affects her day-to-day routines.

Ive always been anxious, but I havent been the kind of anxious that makes you run 10 miles a day and make a lot of calls on your BlackBerry. Im the kind of anxious that makes you like, Im not going to be able to come out tonight, tomorrow night, or maybe for the next 67 nights. Lena Dunham, on living with anxiety

13. NFL guard Brandon Brooks discussed the difference between game-day jitters and the type of anxiety he experiences.

I wanted to get to the bottom of whats going on. Basically, I found out recently that I have an anxiety condition. What I mean by anxiety condition [is] not nervousness or fear of the game. … I have, like, an obsession with the game. Its an unhealthy obsession right now and Im working with team doctors to get everything straightened out and getting the help that I need and things like that. Brandon Brooks, on living with anxiety

14. Actress Evan Rachel Wood spoke out about how our world’s tendency to overlook or dismiss certain groups can complicate a person’s mental health.

“For so long, I was ashamed. Youre dealing with the shame that the world has imposed upon you, and then on top of that, the shame of identifying that way. Youre totally looked down upon in and out of the LGBT community. A good way to combat that and the stereotypes is to be vocal.” Evan Rachel Wood, on living with depression and coming out as bisexual

15. Actress Cara Delevingne got real about her early struggles living with a sense of hopelessness.

“I’m very good at repressing emotion and seeming fine. As a kid I felt like I had to be good and I had to be strong because my mum wasn’t. So, when it got to being a teenager and all the hormones and the pressure and wanting to do well at school for my parents, not for me I had a mental breakdown. I was suicidal. I couldn’t deal with it any more. I realized how lucky and privileged I was, but all I wanted to do was die.” Cara Delevingne, on living with depression

16. Comedian Patton Oswalt laid out the difference between living with depression and surviving the devastation of losing a loved one.

Depression is more seductive. Its tool is: Wouldnt it be way more comfortable to stay inside and not deal with people? Grief is an attack on life. Its not a seducer. Its an ambush or worse. It stands right out there and says: The minute you try something, Im waiting for you. Patton Oswalt, on living with depression and the grief brought on by his wife’s death

17. Singer Kesha opened up about what led her to a rehab program focused on treating eating disorders.

“I felt like part of my job was to be as skinny as possible and, to make that happen, I had been abusing my body. I just wasn’t giving it the energy it needed to keep me healthy and strong.” Kesha, on living with an eating disorder

18. Author John Green wrote about the dangers of romanticizing mental illness.

“Mental illness is stigmatized, but it is also romanticized. If you google the phrase ‘all artists are,’ the first suggestion is ‘mad.’ We hear that genius is next to insanity. … Of course, there are kernels of truth here: Many artists and storytellers do live with mental illness. But many dont. And what I want to say today, I guess, is that you can be sane and be an artist, and also that if you are sick, getting help although it is hard and exhausting and inexcusably difficult to access will not make you less of an artist.” John Green, on living with depression

19. Musical artist Halsley discussed her attempt at suicide as a teenager.

I had tried to kill myself. I was an adolescent; I didnt know what I was doing. Because I was 17, I was still in a childrens ward. Which was terrifying. I was in there with 9-year-olds who had tried to kill themselves. Halsley, on living with bipolar disorder, and once staying in a psychiatric hospital

20. Prince Harry addressed the problem with assuming people who seemingly have their lives in order aren’t struggling with an invisible issue.

You know, I really regret not ever talking about it. … A lot of people think if youve got a job, if youve got financial security, if youve got a family, youve got a house, all that sort of stuff everyone seems to think that is all you need and you are absolutely fine to deal with stuff. Prince Harry, on living with grief after his mother’s death

21. Actress Rowan Blanchard explained why living with a mental illness can be a learning opportunity.

“I learned this year that happiness and sadness are not mutually exclusive. They can exist within me at the same time in the same moment. While also becoming more forgiving of myself and my emotions, I became more forgiving of others, specifically other teenagers.” Rowan Blanchard, on living with depression

22. Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps spoke candidly about why even gold medals couldn’t truly make him happy.

I went in with no self-confidence, no self-love. I think the biggest thing was, I thought of myself as just a swimmer, and nobody else. … I was lost, pushing a lot people out of my life people that I wanted and needed in my life. I was running and escaping from whatever it was I was running from. Michael Phelps, on living with mental illness

23. Actress Jenifer Lewis talked about how the AIDS epidemic led her to realize she needed help.

“Sometimes I suspected that something was not quite right. Especially during the time when the AIDS epidemic was at its height and my grief was pretty much out of control. No one was talking about bipolar disorder and mental illness back then. I had lost so many friends and loved ones. My spiral into depression was overwhelming; I could not function. Thats when I couldnt ignore the fact that something was wrong anymore. Jenifer Lewis, on living with bipolar disorder

24. Singer Adele highlighted why not each form of mental illness manifests the same way in every person.

“My knowledge of postpartum [depression] or post-natal, as we call it in England is that you dont want to be with your child; youre worried you might hurt your child; youre worried you werent doing a good job. But I was obsessed with my child. I felt very inadequate; I felt like Id made the worst decision of my life. … It can come in many different forms.” Adele, on living with postpartum depression

25. Actor Jared Padalecki launched a new “I Am Enough” campaign, selling shirts to support initiatives that fight depression and self-harm.

I am enough. And you are enough. … I know I can keep fighting and I know that Im trying to love myself, but sometimes you feel like youre not enough. So this message is helping me kind of understand that I am enough just the way I was made. Jared Padalecki, on living with depression

26. Actress Amanda Seyfried nailed why we should be treating mental illness just as seriously as any other disease or condition.

“Im on [antidepressant] Lexapro, and Ill never get off of it. Ive been on it since I was 19, so 11 years. Im on the lowest dose. I dont see the point of getting off of it. Whether its placebo or not, I dont want to risk it. And what are you fighting against? Just the stigma of using a tool? A mental illness is a thing that people cast in a different category [from other illnesses], but I dont think it is. It should be taken as seriously as anything else.” Amanda Seyfried, on living with anxiety and depression

27. Musical artist Keke Palmer opened up about how her own mental illness postponed the release of a new album.

I stopped trying all together because I allowed people to make me believe that being an artist meant having big budget music videos and big record producers backing you. When in reality, all being an artist means is to be fearless in your creative pursuits. My anxiety, caused by the habit of unconsciously holding my breath, coupled with the stress of my personal life at that time created a lot of hard years of depression for me. Keke Palmer, on living with anxiety

28. Actress Catherine Zeta-Jones said she’s in a good place right now, thanks to identifying her struggle and finding the help that was right for her.

“Finding out that it was called something was the best thing that ever happened to me! The fact that there was a name for my emotions and that a professional could talk me through my symptoms was very liberating. There are amazing highs and very low lows. My goal is to be consistently in the middle. Im in a very good place right now.” Catherine Zeta-Jones, on living with bipolar disorder

29. Actor Devon Murray used World Mental Health Day to share his own ups and downs with fans on Twitter.

“I’ve been battling depression in silence for ten years and only recently spoke about it and [it] has made a huge difference. I had suicidal thoughts this year and that was the kick up the arse that I needed! Open up, talk to people. If you suspect a friend or family member is suffering in silence [reach out] to them. Let them know you care.” Devon Murray, on living with depression

30. Musical artist Jade Thirlwall discussed a dark time in her life that looked picture-perfect from afar.

“My periods stopped and things were getting out of control, but I don’t think I really cared about what was happening to me. I felt so depressed at the time that I just wanted to waste away and disappear. … It should have been a really happy time my career was successful, ‘Black Magic’ was doing well, and we were traveling and performing. On the surface I was happy, but inside I felt broken.” Jade Thirlwall, on battling anorexia

31. Musician Ellie Goulding explained how her panic attacks often came at the worst possible times.

“I was skeptical [of going to therapy] at first, because Id never had therapy, but not being able to leave the house was so debilitating. And this was when my career was really taking off. My surroundings would trigger a panic attack, so I couldnt go to the studio unless I was lying down in the car with a pillow over my face. I used to beat myself up about it.” Ellie Goulding, on living with anxiety and facing panic attacks

Many celebrities have helped bring the conversation around mental health into the mainstream. But it’s on us to make the real change happen.

While its amazing to have celebrities out there blazing trails and introducing a radical new transparency,” Harvey notes, “the most important thing is that individual sufferers communicate with their everyday connections. If we really want to make an impact on stigma, it cant just be a headline.”

If you need help, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1800273TALK (8255). If you want to learn more about mental illness, visit the National Alliance on Mental Health.

Read more: http://u.pw/2oCny2M

from 31 celebrities who smashed the stigma surrounding mental illness in 2016.

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: Bagels, Burgers, and the Branding of Bushwick

Screenshot of a new Dutch campaign for McDonald’s, from TBWA\Neboko (all images by the author for Hyperallergic)

Yes, graffiti and hip-hop and bagels are authentic New York. And sure, McDonald’s is also a part of New York … though no more or less than it’s part of every other big city. If McDonald’s wants to sell bagels in the Netherlands as if McDonald’s bagels are a New York thing — uh, fine. America’s with you. But for McDonald’s to sell bagel–burgers in the Netherlands by tossing old-school graffiti and hip-hop and gentrified Bushwick and bagel-burgers into a blender, hoping to churn out the next baseball, apple pie and Chevrolet — uhhhh … we … uh … no. We have to take a stand. It’s 2017, so chew on this while you’re brunching, Bushwick: it’s the Bushwick Collective who’s bottled up your Bushwick vibe, added a soundtrack, and shipped it off to the Netherlands, all for the New York Bagel Supreme.

As Adweek’s Gabriel Beltrone  recently reported, “the fast-food giant flew in a half-dozen street artists from the Brooklyn-based mural project Bushwick Collective, and is paying them to paint stylized versions of the sandwich on a series of billboards. McDonald’s is filming all this, and will turn it into TV ads.”

A billboard posted over a mural by the Bushwick Collective (2015)

It’s clear that marketers were hoping to capture some of that sweet, sweet graffiti flavor to spread on their bagels. People I spoke to were unimpressed with the four-minute documentary-style video (which was removed, possibly over rights issues —more on that below). Bucky Turco, who founded long-running (but now dormant) arts and culture site ANIMAL, has been a collector and followed graffiti for years; he even hosted a GHOST show in 2003. Turco told Hyperallergic: “The art is good; the campaign is horrible and an abomination. It also sucks that we live in a time where graffiti artists as good as GHOST and GIZ even have to consider doing commissioned work for the nation’s top cheeseburger maker. Maybe this will inspire their fans to buy more work; Instagram love doesn’t pay rent.”

People may buy more bagels in the Netherlands after the campaign, but graffiti and street-art fans are rolling their eyes, not seeing McDonald’s as edgy for the spots. A jingle about flavor is still advertorial at three minutes long, and a faux-vandalized billboard presents graffiti’s style but not its context. McDonald’s is consistent, corporate, and cheap, and so far, even with graffiti and hip-hop, the brand remains well within the margins of this well-defined space. As Beltrone points out, McDonald’s even adds cringey disclaimers to its own video: “All Bushwick murals are painted with permission of the owners. McDonald’s loves street art when done legally.”

The mini-doc introduces the six (male!) artists — Strider, Poem One, Sipros, Such, Ghost, Giz — as they open their sketchbooks, or draw, or paint a wall. (Note: on March 12, the music video and short film were removed from the Internet. Vandalog reported that several artists had not granted the Collective permission to use their work for an ad campaign and were upset to hear about that happening. Vandalog notes that some of the work featured was not even “Bushwick Collective” work. The Collective’s founder, Joseph Ficalora may now be facing angry artists and an angry client, if he represented the work as okay to film. Some definitely wouldn’t have given consent, in particular to McDonald’s, Vandalog wrote. I sent several questions about the project to Ficalora last weekend, and as of press time, he has not replied.)

Biiboards over Tina’s Restaurant in Bushwick

In the video, Poem One shows framed pictures of trains painted more than 30 years before the Bushwick Collective was founded. These remembrances — one artist mentions Bushwick “before gentrification” — are interspersed with beauty shots of murals, as Joe Ficalora, describes his five-year-old mural project. The narration reprises a role he’s played for press before: the project is about the neighborhood; Bushwick is where he is from; this is about love of the art. Really? Then, why all the promotion? Bushwick Collective leans heavily on its claims of authenticity. It even declares its legal status as a 501(c)(3) organization on its social media pages, as if this confers certifiable purity.

Oh, please.

Purity? In street art? Okay, sure, let’s talk about authenticity, Bushwick Collective, since you brought it up. It is true that Bushwick Collective is registered with the state of New York as a not-for-profit corporation. However, Bushwick Collective Studios is also registered as a corporation. This entity was registered first, as Bushwick Collective Corp., in April 2014. It filed for non-profit status sixteen months later — possibly after some criticism? “I thought that Bushwick Collective isn’t in the ad business,” Turco said when I asked him about the McDonald’s gig. “I also never trust the motives of an entity with the word ‘collective’ in its name. It usually never is,” he explained.

What makes it collective, exactly, has always been hard to understand, because Ficarola, a non-artist, is the guy in charge and artists involved in his collective don’t seem to vote as a group, elect members, or have much say over what happens to their work — how it’s filmed or used, and when it’s destroyed.

A wall piece by Anthony Lister

It’s not just ownership of the artwork that’s confusing, it’s how the Collective fits into the neighborhood that even locals don’t understand. From the beginning, many assumed Bushwick Collective was affiliated with Arts in Bushwick, because it produced events during that group’s weekend-long festival, Bushwick Open Studios. Bushwick Collective brought in food trucks and sold T-shirts and beer to another entity’s crowds. A small, self-funded, entirely separate organization did much of the work creating free events to bring the community together, while the annual block party attracted tourists, leaned on corporate sponsors, and grew into a professionally produced nightmare for many artists. Eventually Arts in Bushwick gave up the weekend entirely, in part to separate itself from the frat-party atmosphere cultivated by the Collective.

Just before 2015’s Bushwick Open Studios, billboards began to be installed around the neighborhood, which comprises adjacent residential and industrial areas. One was even nailed right on top of a mural.  Suddenly, there were billboards everywhere, and to many, this was curious and surprising. I know a guy in advertising who called it out to me right away: “Of course you need murals,” he said. “They help the advertising blend in. Otherwise — just ugly billboards!”

Bushwick Daily took up the issue at the time and interviewed Ficalora, who, like many others, was unhappy with the billboards. Why was he unhappy? As Bushwick Daily noted, 16,000 people came to the Bushwick Collective Block Party that June.  (Um … well … it was also Bushwick Open Studios, but ….) Did crowds come “for billboards or for street art?” Ficalora asked, adding, “their Instagram photos included these billboards as well even though the building owners didn’t want to participate or support The Collective.”

The billboards didn’t support … What!?

A random advertising sticker in the neighborhood

In the project’s early years, most artists weren’t paid anything for their work. They donated their time and supplied their own paint. The walls belonged to someone else, and the block-party was piggy-backing on, while not supporting another organization’s event. But according to Ficalora, it’s billboard companies who should support the Collective, because the murals boosted the exposure that the ads received? It’s tough to follow the logic.

For all my critique — and I have never been a fan of the way the project is run —Bushwick Collective offered some artists free walls, a luxury when legal walls are hard to come by. It’s true: exposure can sometimes lead to other work, can help build a reputation. The attention economy exists. For an artist, building a following and spending time in New York around other artists can be important. But the capitalist economy still sits there on top of the attention economy, and this is the system many street artists overlook in their gratitude for walls. Wherever artists are invited to paint “for exposure” only, there is usually some suggestions that they are giving a gift to the community, doing a good deed. But is that true? If rents are going up and businesses are opening wherever murals appear, an artist should ask: Why am I working for attention, while everyone around me is working for money?

The tour groups and hotel rooms and new restaurants and even the server gigs — an entire economy is springing to life in Bushwick, in part because Ficalora and his sponsors have used murals to birth a tourist destination. The art makes this hub appear that it’s growing out of what was already there, but really, this new ecosystem is being retrofitted into the old — the same way billboard companies buy space around murals. That’s how real estate-driven gentrification works.  So why not get paid?

If we all, artists, critics and cultural producers, started treating work as work, it would become obvious to artists whether they are helping communities, or are instead in the real-estate business.

If it’s not cool to the Collective that billboard companies leverage artwork for exposure, it would be equally uncool for artwork to leverage authenticity to attract a whole new residential demographic — but that’s what’s happened in Bushwick. If we think of the Collective as a neighborhood developer, then taking cash from McDonald’s to send artists to Europe to paint billboards, then leveraging those billboards to market the brand seems like a win — to a businessman, perhaps less so to the artists. So we can close the book now? Bushwick Collective is a brand; it develops neighborhoods using art. It gets paid. So artists, get paid.

A mural on a business available for lease in Bushwick

Is that too blunt? In this year of obfuscation, propaganda, and lies from our leaders, let’s try not to lie to each other. Life is too short. I believe Bushwick Collective exists not to improve its community but to commodify it. Bushwick is becoming Brooklyn’s Times Square for the Tinder-date crowd.

I’m not the only one who credits Joe Ficalora and his artists with commodifying Bushwick; he does it himself. Complaining about the billboards in 2015, Ficalora told Bushwick Daily, “I made this part of the neighborhood desirable and now they are cashing in on it while doing nothing for the community.”

Here let me briefly digress on the weirdness of gentrifying a neighborhood while cashing in with McDonald’s. Photographer and writer Chris Arnade has invested substantial time engaging with people at McDonald’s restaurants around the country and writing about McDonald’s-as-signifier for The Guardian. Yes, the food is cheap in cost and quality, so even with free Wifi, people who have other options aren’t hanging around Mickey D’s. Who does that leave? Arnade says McDonald’s attracts — and, significantly, does not kick out — people who are homeless, people looking for a place to get high or to be high, myriad groups who arrange social meetups there. They spend long hours in McDonald’s because they have nowhere else to be, and because they like it there.

Arnade feels strongly that McDonald’s knows who its customers are and is cool with being what he describes as “de-facto community centers and reflections of the surrounding neighborhood.” His work suggests there are interesting discussions we could have about how we find meaning and community in spaces that are both  public and private, and how McDonald’s functions as a community amenity somewhere between the two. Through this lens, McDonald’s appears to offer a real value to low-income communities — accessibility — that the constructed fabric of a neighborhood like Bushwick, focused on trendy restaurants and bars, does not.   

I thought about Bushwick when I recently read about Delmira Gonzalez and her efforts with neighbors in Los Angeles’ Boyle Heights to resist gentrification-by-artwashing. Boyle Heights used to be similar to Bushwick — a large immigrant population of working-class families, close enough to a city center to be a target for developers who want the land. Neighbors there are fighting the changes that Bushwick has mostly halfheartedly fought. Small art spaces are opening, along with big-money galleries, as if all cities read from one script.

Boyle Heights, like Bushwick, suffered the same scourges of crime, drugs, gang violence. How did it come to attract big money from Beverly Hills? Ms. Gonzalez described for Link TV how “women organized to create safe passages to escort children to school … occupied known drug-dealing spots by setting up impromptu barbeque grills and serving free food,” and that “dealers, when interrupted, accepted plates of hot food before scurrying away.”

Neighbors persisted through bold, hard work for years. This sustained effort has built up a reservoir of resilience the community can tap as it fights gentrification. Under a coalition called Boyle Heights Alliance Against Artwashing and Displacement (BHAAAD), activists from groups like Defend Boyle Heights and Union de Vecinos confront what they call “the current crisis of evictions and abusive real estate practices in L.A.”

The Alliance points out that it’s not art, per se, that Boyle Heights is rejecting, noting on its website that “many artists and cultural workers in Los Angeles are sick and tired of being used in the process of gentrification and are seeking meaningful ways to refuse their participation in the cultural economy of displacement.” In other words, not every community aspires to a “Bushwick Vibe.” In fact, an art gallery recently closed in Boyle Heights, and locals consider this a win.

I wonder if Boyle Heights has a McDonald’s.

The post Bagels, Burgers, and the Branding of Bushwick appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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[rae-ism]

Set yourself free

I hardly post anymore - i thinks its been a year, i lost quite a number of followers. but to those of you who are still with me, thank you for still leaving me there on your follow list. I must say, many things happened in this time and I had hit my rock bottom a number of months back. its going to be a long post, but to anyone who chances upon this, or genuinely cares about my life, i just hope you read through.

I have always been an uptight person - i care too much about what others think, i want to go to the best school, do the best things, i am a perfectionist, i want everything to be perfect. the perfect weight, skin, grades, room, boyfriend, instagram account - the perfect life. i always thought to myself i need to earn more, do more. my mind wasn’t peaceful and there isn’t a moment in my life i could be happy with myself because i wanted more all the time.

but in recent times, i got fired from my job for refusing to do something illegal - with no savings in my bank from settling my dad’s debts, and spent the remainder of whatever compensation they gave me on again helping my dad and shopping for myself because i felt like i deserve it and that i’d find another job soon enough.

its true, i found a job soon enough - high paying (more than i ever earned or thought i would at my age for a job that isn’t of high risk). but i’d never think it got me into the worst mental state i had ever been in a job. i mean, i’ve been through lots, but this was the worst i ever felt because of a job. dragging myself, crying everyday, praying to fall sick so i dont have to show up. i was very much a victim of my own choices.

So to all of you out there, suffering today, and wanting to get your shit together, and need some advice, i hope this post of my lessons learnt can do something for you:

1. STAND UP FOR WHAT YOU THINK IS RIGHT

given that i hate my new job so much - you’d think i regret standing up for myself and what i believe is right which got me fired - but no, i am proud of myself for it. the people around me were proud of me for doing what i did. and yes, good things come after that - like i said i got a compensation, and i found a job soon after, one that at least valued my integrity and won’t force me into illegal shit. good things come your way, when you constantly make the decisions you know to be rightful even if its hard.

2. SAY NO TO WHAT DOESN’T SERVE YOU

i think people say this all the time, but what i mean is, say no to whatever you think won’t benefit you, or especially, that would harm you. SAYING YES WILL ALWAYS BACKFIRE IN SUCH CASES - trust me. i was offered 2 other jobs before my current one and i knew they weren’t what i wanted - 1 wouldn’t work out so i said no, and i said yes to the other just because. turned out it put me in a tight spot after i got my current job - and of course caused me much more mental turmoil than i hoped, and almost cost me a friendship.

When i got this job and it caused me so much mental turmoil, i was so afraid to leave - because of 2 things - money, and judgment. so look at point 4 about money, and remember, saying no to what doesn’t serve you can also mean blocking out what doesn’t do good for you. if you know doing something is best for you, whatever that is - quitting a job, taking a break from school, cutting off your used to be best friend, do it and don’t fear what others think. they will say something whatever you do anyway. its their mind, life, and mouth. but just live yours.

3. LIVE AT YOUR OWN PACE

think about it this way - chasing after success, money, fame, friends or relationships - what do they do for you? i’m not saying be passive about your dreams and goals, but don’t let them be the only thing that gets in your head. don’t allow the lack of these things to ruin the good things you have. having all this won’t make you a better person, won’t serve the world, won’t necessarily make you happier. because it is what lies within. breathe now, and then hear this: when you come to terms that life is NOT a competition, and that if you say ‘so what?’ to the people who try to compare you - you will feel much better about yourself, and in a better state to work through the problems that come, because you won’t be too distracted thinking about what others have that you don’t.

4. LOOK WITHIN YOURSELF

what is it that really matters to you? standing up for not doing the illegal thing made me realise i stood for something. i had values and i had lines that i didn’t previously define. so i made it a point to define them - what are your limits? what will push you to quit a job? what will make you end a relationship that isn’t working? what will make you say “enough is enough”? know these things about yourself and you will feel much more free, because its your black and white, and you will always know when someone crossed the line.

5. LIVE ON LESS THAN YOU MAKE

you may think that the one uber ride you’re about to take, or that sandwich you’re about to eat at that artisanal cafe won’t cost you much, or break your bank. but trust me, its the small, accumulated expenses that slip through which really breaks your budget. i had zero savings when i got fired from that job, not just because of my dad’s debts, but also because i let myself get away with one too many rides/sandwiches or some small thing i thought wouldn’t matter. take a look at your expenses now - and think, where can i eat that can get me cheaper food? what can i do so that i spend less on an outing this weekend?

6. TAKE A MOMENT TO BE GRATEFUL

i know its freaking hard to be when you feel like all odds are against you. you forgot your document at home, or the deadline is up. your spilt coffee on your table, and stubbed your toe in the door. and then your boss added some work to your load, and your colleague gave you the cold shoulder. your family is breaking apart or maybe much worse. i won’t undermine your feelings - but i just wanna say look within you and be grateful for yourself. your own strength, your surviving this without jumping off a cliff, or running onto the road to get hit by a car. be grateful that you a person strong enough to survive this bad day. and remember that someone else is always watching you - your kid, your best friend, your little sibling, me - there is always someone who will admire your strength and be grateful you exist - so be grateful for yourself.

I know you’ll probably read another article like this somewhere - but this is really personal to me, it helped me gain back my mindfulness. it took me a long time to understand this. for those who wanna know, i’m still in the job i hate because i am practicing point 4 for long enough while i stay here so that i can save up a sum of money, and point 1 and 6. I spoke up for myself and told them i couldn’t take the workload and thankfully am offloading some things now, and point 6 - remaining grateful. there is alot to complain about, i still complain, but in my mind i remind myself to be thankful for what i did for myself, i am thankful for being given the chance to offload the work, i am thankful for the people who try to make things better, thankful for this space to share my thoughts. it keeps me wired and going. 

i hope everyone has a blessed day - and that someway, somehow, you feel inspired a little more now to grow in a happier direction