#can you believe some people WAKE UP at this time???

[dragonoftheshadows]

I too, am angry. Yes, communication is easier... but it's communication of EVERYTHING. Lies, truths, doesn't matter - its everywhere and everyone is seeing it. To use the internet is to be bombarded by these things.

What the internet has done that hasn't eradicated fascism is ruined many people's ability to check the truth of things. How often do you see something on the internet and stop to check if it's real before liking/reblogging/commenting? I certainly don't always do so, even if I try to be careful.

People have the power to anonymously say things they might never hope to say out loud, and people can be carried away by the ability to anonymously support these things. I'm not saying anonymity is bad, per se, but this is definitely a factor.

Then you can have people - let's use Donald Trump for example - who can peddle a lie and have literally millions of people believe it before it is disproved. Take the dogs and cats one, right- he was claiming, if you don't know, that Haitian refugees were eating people's pets. That lie was first picked up by the MAGA people, sure, but carried by loads of people who weren't in that group. Even once it was disproved, there are still people who think that's true.

Common sense could tell you that, from a man with Trump's views, this would be a lie, but even just 5 minutes of googling at the time told you the truth, too. Think about where you get most of your news info from, where do you get most of your political knowledge?

Even if people sound politically knowledgeable or are usually honest/correct/reasonable, they are still fallable, ghey could make a mistake or they could have a very specific set of views on one topic and so on. I include myself in this, by the way. I make mistakes, I forget to go to a reputable source, I don't remember to check my facts. Go look up everything I say in this post and let me know if I got it wrong.

And, for news sites... is it a reputable one? Are they usually correct with info? Are they biased left or right? Who funds them? (In other words, regarding this last one, do they have an agenda that could affect what news they produce?) It's a bit of work, but this the world, this is people's lives we are affecting.

Now, back to Trump and his lie about the Haitian people. That's clearly a racist attack on these people and their culture, specifically what foods they might or might not eat. By the way, from a quick internet search, it's nothing that should make people from the US (Listen, I forgot the word for this general culture) uncomfortable, by which I mean nothing they themselves wouldn't eat.

Trump didn't even care whether they ate those animals AT ALL, which is how you know this was a racist attack on their culture and not an honest mistake - it wouldn't have been a mistake anyway coming from him, but I'm trying to be politically neutral here. That took me not even 30 seconds of common sense and a quick squizz at the internet to figure out.

Wake up people. This is what is destroying the world.

TLDR: many people no longer properly understand how to find a reputable source and think critically about whether things are true, in part thanks to the internet. This makes it impossible to eradicate things such as fascism. It makes it easier for people with extreme views to gain support and get into power, even if some (or many) of those supporters don't fully understand or believe in those peoples ideas.

I'm very angry that fascism is possible in a world after the invention of the internet. communication has never been easier and hating fascists is supposed to be a commonly accepted and widespread belief. this is extremely frustrating

[hrrtshape]

fifteen days and fourteen nights. . what i did for the 15 days i was there.

　　day 1 . . . ୨୧

it was a tuesday. woke up disoriented, like a victorian child revived with smelling salts. school was a blur, walls too bright, people too loud. my body knew before i did. the muscle memory of existing somewhere better. at some point, i found out i could drive. just got in a car and did it. nobody questioned it. like the laws of physics had rewritten themselves to accommodate my whims. later, i gave coryo a telepathic nosebleed, just because i could. watched him wipe the blood away, dazed and beautiful. later, walked around the city, let my feet carry me somewhere unfamiliar, found a bookshop, spent hours inside just running my hands over spines. that’s that.

　　day 2 . . . ୨୧

school still. had the best bagel of my life (which you all might know about). a religious experience. warm, toasty, slightly crisp but still soft enough to make me believe in god. i don’t even remember the flavour, i just remember the way it made me feel. a biblical betrayal of my cr bagels. they will never measure up. spent the rest of the day exploring soho, drifting in and out of boutiques, trying on sunglasses and pretending i was famous. ended up in a tiny coffee shop where i wrote bad poetry and people-watched like it was an olympic sport. walked home as the sun was setting, the city glowing, everything perfect.

　　day 3 . . . ୨୧

school, yes. moving through it like a ghost, touching nothing, absorbing everything. i felt untouchable, celestial (???). it’s just school, but it’s also an event. an ongoing theatre production where i am the lead, the writer, the sole investor. after school, went to a little diner with friends, ordered milkshakes and fries, felt like i was living in a john hughes movie. laughed until my stomach hurt. walked home, headphones in, soundtrack to my own life playing in my ears.

　　day 4 . . . ୨୧

school again. the theatre production drags on. long corridors, laughter that isn’t mine, the undercurrent of something electric. i start counting the days like a prisoner scratching tally marks into a cell wall. after school, went to the park, lay in the grass, let the sun paint freckles across my skin. read a book, let time stretch and soften around me. ran into someone i vaguely knew, ended up walking with them for hours, talking about nothing and everything. the world felt infinite.

　　day 5 . . . ୨୧

weekend. first on tried almost every article of clothing in my closet. me and lily-rose (not the actress, but also completely the same person!?!??!) go to central park. we sit on benches and watch dogs like we’re judging a competition that nobody else knows is happening. we get drunk and smoke, the city blurring at the edges, laughter sticky like honey. it’s so cutesy and intimate, i want to bottle it up and keep it forever. we wander aimlessly, end up in a vintage shop where we try on ridiculous coats and pretend we’re in a wes anderson film. later, we stumble into a tiny bar, order cocktails we can barely pronounce, let the night stretch long and sweet. they didn't ask for IDs.....which, like, great.

　　day 6 . . . ୨୧

weekend still. wake up late, the city already alive outside my window. go to a cafe with my dad, order something overpriced but beautiful. wander into an art gallery, pretend to understand modern art, make up stories about the paintings. later, meet up with friends (read: lily), go to a rooftop party, dance under the stars, feel weightless. everything is golden. weird accident happens there.......ahem....moving on.

　　day 7 . . . ୨୧

school. me and coryo (MY LOOOOOVEEEEE) giggle about our philosophy teacher. then me and my mum go to louis vuitton for absolutely no reason. sheer, reckless consumerism. we walk out with new handbags, just because. no birthday, no holiday, no excuse. pure indulgence. it’s euphoric. like a high without the comedown. when i think about it later, i start rioting internally because i want to be back in my dr so bad it physically aches. end the day in my room, staring at the ceiling, feeling the pull of something bigger.

　　day 8 . . . ୨୧

school. had the best pizza of my life. it made me emotional. it was so good i nearly wept into the crust. after school, went to a tiny record shop, spent hours flipping through vinyls, talking music with the guy behind the counter. walked home in the rain, felt cinematic, romantic, tragic. think i got a cold.

　　day 9 . . . ୨୧

school. moving through the motions, existing in the in-between. i think i’m starting to blend in. the idea scares me. went to a bookstore after school, got lost in the shelves, let the smell of old paper wrap around me like a hug. bought a book just because i liked the cover. then me and my mom went to le bernardin where we ordered four courses. gossiped. went home, lit a candle, read until my eyes burned...and then stalked coryo's instagram.

　　day 10 . . . ୨୧

school. had the best pasta of my life. like i was dining in heaven’s personal trattoria. later, watched coryo play basketball. he’s the team captain…..moan. he moved like poetry, sharp and precise. i died a little just watching. afterwards, he walks past me, sweaty and glowing, gives me this look that makes my stomach drop. the world tilts on its axis!!!!! AAAH.

　　day 11 . . . ୨୧

school. again. coryo put his arm over my shoulders. just casually, like it was nothing. like he didn’t just shake my entire existence to its core. i died. full obituary, funeral procession, dramatic weeping. spent the rest of the day floating.

　　day 12 . . . ୨୧

athens!!!!!! to celebrate my friend’s birthday. a friend from my cr, somehow scripted into my dr without me even thinking about it. like my subconscious smuggled them in past security. it feels surreal. like i brought a piece of cr with me without realising it. spent the day exploring ancient ruins, touching history, feeling small and infinite all at once. drank wine under the acropolis, the city glowing around us.

　　day 13 . . . ୨୧

birthday festivities continue. we get way too drunk, but in the poetic, filmic kind of way. like we’re characters in a movie about being young and reckless and impossibly beautiful. athens becomes ours for the night. we dance, we laugh, we exist so loudly it echoes.

　　day 14 . . . ୨୧

back in new york. good old new york city, where the skyline welcomes me like an old friend and the streets remember the shape of my footsteps. i love it here. i love it all. spend the day wandering, reacquainting myself with the city, like a lover returning home

　　day 15 . . . ୨୧

school. then, a full-blown bpd overstimulation attack. the kind that grabs you by the throat and shakes you until reality bends. my brain turns up the volume on everything, too loud, too bright, too much. the walls close in. i shift back. unceremoniously. like being kicked out of paradise for knowing too much.

i simply adore how i managed to do absolutely nothing in my DR. a real stroke of genius. i kept thinking, oh, there’s time, there’s time, and then in the same breath, this is the final act, the curtain call, the last pathetic hurrah. so what did i do???? i oscillated…no, i languished…between school, home, and the occasional social gathering, like a sims character with low free will. and to top it all off, it was september. meaning: cold. meaning: the air had that sharp, academic cruelty to it. meaning: i should have been having moments but instead, i was merely existing. tragic, really.

[luckykiwiii101]

SLEEPING MONSTROSITY

| | IF THIS DOESN’T WAKE YOU UP, NOTHING WILL | |

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

ཐི you might just live this life forever…ouch ཋྀ

And for you extra failure desensitised east siders -> CLICK ME!

Hey Upper East Siders.

Lately i’ve been thinking about how big of failure you are. And how you keep coming up with more stupid questions to ask bloggers because you can’t accept that life is just easy. I’d call you sleeping beauty, but unlike you, she actually woke up.

I want you to ask yourself how it feels knowing that even though you have all the power, you still don’t have the will to save yourself. Yet you think it’s all going to be okay. You still think you’re going to eventually manifest your dream life, and that this nightmare will come to an end.

Pardon my harsh words but that’s pathetic. Why? Because you told yourself the same thing months ago, and look where you are. You haven’t gotten anywhere. You may understand the law better but you haven’t done anything with it. And knowledge is useless when it’s held by…well, you. A lazy, hopeless, pathetic dreamer.

What actually makes you think that you’re going to be living your dream life by the time it hits 2027. You’re just staying still, and you’re going to continue to. You’re not on an escalator, you’re on a treadmill. Getting absolutely nowhere.

And as i’ve said before, leave those Pinterest boards on Pinterest. I can’t imagine how painful it must be to doom fully stare at something you know you’ll never give yourself. And save your dreams for nap time because that’s the closest you’ll ever get to seeing them.

The amount of people that have left this app, without their dream lives…and you’re just going to end up being another one of them. Another day you take to procrastinate turns into a week, then into a month, 6 months, a year, two years, five years…twenty.

“I’ll persist later!!!” Yes. Exactly. You’ll persist “later.” Later as in, next week? next month? next year? Seconds turn into minutes, minutes turn into hours, hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, months turn in to years, and years turn into decades, and decades turn into small little segments of your tragic little life, spent doing what? Trying? Procrastinating? Sulking? Or living the life of your dreams? Call it Russian roulette, but YOU’RE the one holding the gun to your head. Nowhere to run.

“I’ll try to enter the void state again tonight.” Yes. Exactly. You’ll TRY again. And you’ll try again the night after that, and the night after that, and the night after that. and so on…and so on…

But you know what’s the most shocking of all? The fact that you actually believe that everything is going to be okay. “I know i’ll win in the end.” Are you sure? Because you don’t win by staying the same. And that’s all you’ve been doing since forever.

You’re going to wake up tomorrow and make the same decision you’ve been making all your life. You’re going to deliberately and willingly choose to be someone you don’t want to be. As usual. Because that’s what’s comfortable to you. What can I say. You’re only human. And that’s all you’ll ever be.

But for someone like Blair Waldorf, failure is the end of the world. Because she’s uncomfortable with something she isn’t used to experiencing. But it’s only if she gets used to it, that she gets comfortable, and starts to let it in. And take over her. Sound familiar? Because it’s exactly what you’ve been doing to yourself. You’re so desensitised to failure that you read wake up calls in your sleep. Shrug them off, and move on. As if the words on this screen aren’t literally your reality.

If this doesn’t make your heart sink, i’m not sure what will. For some, the pain of knowing this might be too intense to ignore, for most of you, you’ll feel nothing. Your desensitisation to failure will be the death of you. What have you done to yourself…

Ouch!

- gossip girl

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina, hope you're doing well!!

I've sent you similar asks a couple of times before over the years, but everytime I see it I just can't help but express my frustration. As someone who works in marketing and hears the words "do something that'll go viral" almost everyday from different brands, I get so disappointed in Louis's PR.

Everytime he comes back in the news a little again I get my hopes up thinking that it might actually lead to something but then it just suddenly stops. I feel like his team doesn't actually have a marketing plan and they just wake up one day wanting to make Louis's name trend and then forget about it or get bored after a week.

Even now - going to Zayn's show (not saying it was completely for PR, but definitely planned), then the walls promo, collaborating with youtube and spotify instagram pages, and now going to the superbowl which will be filled with celebrities (you cannot make me believe ever that he's actually there for the American football) - it's all to get him in the news. But why? My guess it for absolutely nothing!!

As always he'll be active for a bit and disappear again, having done all this for nothing, because I don't see an album or even a single coming anytime soon, so this bit of PR will also be forgotten like everything else!!

It took me a couple years, but I've given up all hope in his team at this point!! I really really hope he meets some better people at some point who can position him better, because he definitely deserves and has the potential for it!!

Sorry for the rant. Have a great day!!!!

Hi sweetheart. I was actually just talking about this with @apparentlybychance yesterday. Ah was saying she was checking his social mentions (or whatever the hell it’s called) and he had a huge spike when he went to Zayn’s show, and then nothing. And he’s barely been mentioned in connection to the Super Bowl.

I have no idea what his team is doing. The meet up with fans seemed only for fandom. The Super Bowl attendance isn’t making a blip outside of fandom. It’s just weird.

[utilitycaster]

Imo (as someone who didn't watch the finale, so I'm happy to be wrong), one of the bigger problems with the ending that isn't being discussed is that religions don't work like that. I'm not talking about cosmology or divinity, which people have already spoken on plenty, but the people who actually believe the beliefs.

There are people who believe their god was in some way mortal (Buddhists, some Christians), but they still practice the belief. I'm Jewish, and if it was definitively proven that God isn't real, I would still be a practicing Jew. The gods of Exandria becoming mortal would definitely cause schisms and theological debates, but the gods as concepts would continue to hold power regardless of their mortality or continued existence. Vasselheim would change, but it wouldn't be rocked to its knees.

Obviously, the cast has their own biases and thoughts on religion. That's understandable, but in a campaign and world that is increasingly about How Religion Amd Gods Shape Things, why is religion treated only as a plot point and not a dynamic of understanding the world, yaknow?

This is a hard question to answer since I think to truly give a good answer I'd need a thesis statement and several weeks of writing, but in short, as myself a practicing Jew and philosophically somewhere between weak and apathetic agnosticism I agree that Exandria as a setting did a good job of exploring individual faith/devotion to divinity, and a very bad job of exploring the concept of religion on an anthropological level.

I do think the fact that most of the people with whom I can have a conversation about this are either fellow non-Christians existing in a Christian dominated society; left-leaning Catholics from a rigorous intellectual tradition in the Protestant-dominated US; or people who left a more conservative Christian sect for a more progressive one and in doing so interrogated the nature of religion and faith is telling. I think if you were raised strictly Christian and either swore off religion entirely (the ex-Evangelicals who never unlearned lack of empathy/self-centeredness and simply applied it in a different direction) or were raised Christian but not particularly religious and live in a culturally Christian society in which that is the norm and thus you never had to see yourself as a person with an identity and a practice outside said norm, you are far more likely fail to adequately notice this as a problem with Exandrian worldbuilding.

Something that struck me as I thought about this (on my solo walks to and from synagogue today, no less) is that I am someone who for various reasons, academic, religious, and otherwise, has spent a lot of time thinking about the role of ritual in daily life. And the thing is, "ritual" has in many cases been coopted into a thing you do very much for yourself, often with a capitalist slant - self-care as consumption as ritual. (If you look up companies named Ritual, it's zero proof spirits and vitamins/supplements and takeout). It is individualist and is intended to soothe one's self.

Ritual is far more than that. Ritual is a sign of community. It is a means of remembrance. It is a reminder to look outside of yourself. We light candles on Friday night not for ourselves - indeed, we are prohibited from using them as a light source - but to welcome someone of something else. We blow the shofar to wake ourselves and our community up to what we can can change and do better.

Jester and Caduceus are in my opinion the strongest practitioners of ritual across campaigns, but both are from very small groups of practitioners. We meet many clerics and adherents, but their stories or their experiences with religion as part of daily life are largely untold.

And this is just about ritual, which is in many cases neutral or even positive, but as discussed there is no real hegemony - Vasselheim holds respect and serves as a vault for divine secrets, but outside of that has little political sway. Caduceus and Fjord do not answer to Hierophant Ophera. We also see very little of those theological questions or debates - one must imagine they occur, but it, like the world of ritual or religious service, feels oddly empty. There are temples, and there are keepers of those temples, but the temples always feel like they pop into existence for the PCs and vanish when they're not present. I remember during Campaign 2 there was a great discussion of how D&D offers a concept of religion without the need for faith in the unseen - the gods exist definitively - and it just feels like that's never been reflected meaningfully in the world of Exandria, and that wasn't really a problem with Campaigns 1 or 2 and it very much was with the concepts C3 attempted to tackle.

[mcflymemes]

"TAKE ME BACK TO EDEN" BY SLEEP TOKEN PROMPTS *  assorted lines from the album, some slightly reworked to suit a roleplay format, adjust as necessary

it was no accident.

you keep me sharp and test my worth in blood.

you've got me in a chokehold.

it's all the same to me.

it makes no difference.

i've seen my days unfold.

i've done the impossible.

show me that which i cannot see, even if it hurts me.

show me the way.

you've got my body.

raise me up again.

take me past the edge.

i want to see the other side.

won't you show me what it's like?

did i mistake you for a sign from god?

are you really here to cast me off?

maybe you're here just to turn me on.

i would be lying if i told you that i didn't wish i could be your man.

you won't ever have to talk about it.

i was more than just a body in your passenger seat.

you were more than just somebody i was destined to meet.

i see you go half-blind when you're looking at me.

you gave me nothing whatsoever.

you say you want me, but you know i'm not what you need.

you sit there acting like you know me.

if you had a problem, then you should've told me.

keep an eye on the road.

i can't get enough.

no wonder my ears are still ringing.

you have become the voice in my head.

my life is torn.

are you in pain like i am?

will the pain stop if we go deeper?

i wanna go where nobody else will ever go.

there is always something in the way i wanna have you to myself for once.

you take what you want, then leave.

who made you like this?

tell me you met me in past lives.

won't you come and dance in the dark with me?

anything's better than the way i feel right now.

you make me wish i could disappear.

don't you know i was trying to hold back the darkness?

are you really okay?

you woke me up one night, dripping crimson on the carpet.

i saw it in your eyes.

don't you know i could see it in you even now?

i cannot fix your wounds this time.

i don't believe you when you tell me you are fine.

please don't hurt yourself again.

why are you never real?

i am trembling with fear.

this scar will never fade.

just let me go or take me with you.

do you wish that you loved me?

is there something you give that you will never receive in return?

do you know what it is?

are you trying to live like everything is a lesson to learn?

can you ever forgive yourself?

do you ever believe that we can turn into different people?

it's getting harder to be myself.

for so long, i have waited.

i don't wanna get in your way.

touch me again.

you have got your hooks in me.

you get what you give.

i can hear you say my name.

no one told you where to go.

i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired.

i need you to see me for what i have become.

we've no idea what we've got until we lose it.

it was no accident.

give me five whole minutes.

call me when you get the chance.

do you remember me?

do you still believe that nothing else matters?

the night belongs to you.

i must be someone new.

you will not be mine.

[itsallpoliticsstupid]

I find it funny when the ultra-wealthy try to claim that the public sector are being corrupt with your tax dollars.

As somebody who was a senior finance officer in the public sector, do you realise how much red tape there is to spend a single cent?

There are strict controls around how money is spent. Every single dollar has to be accounted for. It has to be checked by some of the highest people in an office.

They are making you believe a lie. It is almost impossible to fraudulently spend money as a federal worker. And if you did, you would have been arrested a long time ago and jailed.

They are making you believe this so they can get richer.

Wake up.

Just to add this photo. My entire budget for my last team was approximately $27m. If I spent $7m in a week I’d have lost my job.

[lovelynim]

Vidyadhara's preferences

Honkai Star Rail - Caelus x Dan Heng

Collab with @otomiyaa

A/N: I'm sooo excited to announce that I could count on no other than @otomiyaa herself for this little project - in case you guys don't know where this came from

It was really fun to write this fic and I just want to thank Ginny for accepting my request. Hope I get the chance to repeat the dose again some other time, heheh ~

Summary: Did you know that the vidyadhara prefer cooler waters over hot baths? As for Caelus, not so much.

Word count: 2727 words nice

Pressing his eyes close, Caelus let out a soft groan as he woke up. What time was it, anyway? He was still struggling to understand the passage of time of the people from Okhema. Even the people inside Herta’s Space Station had nights and days, how come the people in here didn’t invent a better way to tell the hours apart?

Caelus brought his hand up to his face, rubbing the corners of his eyes to try to get rid of the drowsiness from his sleep. “Hnngh.. ahh ~” He gasped softly, sitting up and stretching his arms high above his head.

“Good morning, Caelus.”

The familiar voice coming from the other side of the room made his eyes open wide. Caelus looked around, his eyes quickly spotting Dan Heng’s figure, sitting inside the bath, all naked and- wait, naked?!

“D-Dan Heng- caham, you, ahm, did you wake up early?” Caelus ratched his cheek with his index finger, feeling a bit of heat under his digit while his eyes battled to not stare at Dan Heng’s bare silhouette like a hungry beast glaring at its prey.

Dan Heng smiled slightly, turning around to look at Caelus and leaning on the border of the bath. “I can’t tell. There was some noise outside when I got up, but I’m not sure if it’s the bath house’s workers or if it's open to visitors.”

“Right- ahm, d-did you-”

“No, I was waiting for you to eat something. I figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to have a meal by myself - or just with the company of the Heirs,” Dan Heng explained, leaning his head on his hand.

The clear water didn’t exactly do a good job covering Dan Heng’s body, neither did the small soapy bubbles floating around. Caelus wasn’t exactly the one to get shy - in fact, between them, he was the one to usually make the first move whenever they were at it - but being greeted with a naked man first thing in the morning definitely caught him off guard.

“Ehh? ~ Is it?” Caelus grinned, pushing himself up from his ‘bed’ and already tugging at the hem of his white tank top, taking it off in a swift move, “can I join you? A nice bath sounds like a good way to start the day ~”

“Got it,” Caelus coughed, trying to keep himself composed, “then, are you waiting for long?”

“Not really,” Dan Heng muttered, turning back around and sinking a little into the water, lifting his hand from under the water and letting it drip down his arm, “I decided to take a bath shortly after I got up, it must’ve been just a couple minutes I’m here… I must admit the water is, indeed, as relaxing as Aglaea promised it to be.”

“Be my guest,” Dan Heng replied quietly, resting his head back on the border of the bath.

Eager to join, Caelus noted Dan Heng’s subtle stare when he stripped his lower half as well and left the garments in a messy heap on the floor. However, without commenting, Dan Heng calmly watched Caelus as he dropped himself into the water right beside him.

A quick action he regretted very soon.

“AYEHH!” Caelus screeched at the sudden cold. The water was freezing! His yell still echoed through the room as he slowly turned his head to shoot Dan Heng a horrified look. Dan Heng calmly stared back.

“Is something wrong?” 

Pffft! “O-o-obviously! Why so c-cold?!” He would’ve jumped out immediately, but he found himself frozen, literally, as if an invisible force kept him trapped here in the bath next to his lover.

Dan Heng scooped some water up and eyed him quietly. “It’s not that cold.” 

Caelus couldn’t believe him. He sat down and crossed his arms over his chest, his whole body shivering. Scooting closer against Dan Heng, he pouted and tried to breathe in and out, trying to get used to the temperature. 

“Y-you’re right. It’s - f-freezing,” he whined. 

Dan Heng shook his head. “You’re exaggerating.” 

It definitely felt better when Caelus was pressed against Dan Heng whose body felt warmer than the icy cold water, but it didn’t stop him from shivering. Goosebumps were all over his body, and he leaned even closer against Dan Heng.

“Dan Heng~” he whined. He just couldn’t get used to it. He was pleased when Dan Heng finally responded by wrapping his arm around his shoulder, welcoming the cuddle.

“It’s really not that cold,” Dan Heng chuckled. 

Caelus rubbed against him. “It is. But I can handle it if you warm me up.”

“I’m already warming you up.” It indeed felt better with Dan Heng’s arm around him, but Caelus didn’t feel warm enough yet. 

“I n-need to get warmer,” he answered huskily, hoping to have the other to read between the lines of his actions. ‘Take the lead, dummy’, he repeated inside his head, pouting on the outside.

“It will no longer be a good bath if the water gets any hotter,” Dan Heng explained, his eyes staring at nothing as he rubbed Caelus’s shoulder with his thumb. “The water is perfect as it is right now.”

Tsk, for someone that smart, he was surely dense when it was convenient. Caelus rested his head on Dan Heng’s shoulder - refusing to unwrap his arms from around his own body. He could feel the cold piercing his skin, each new inch of skin soaked in that thing - that could be described as ‘liquid ice’ instead of water - making him shiver and tense up all over again.

Well, guess it was on him for trying to get steamy at his dragon boyfriend’s cold bath. Still, would it kill him to be a little romantic?!

“L-Lizards are supposed to like basking in t-t-the sun and things to warm their cold blood, not this,” Caelus tried to sound upset and make his scolding convincing, but his shivering jaw would barely allow him to speak.

Still, those words were clear enough to get into Dan Heng’s nerves. “‘Lizards’?” Dan Heng repeated, scooping some of the water with the bathing spoon and pouring it on Caelus' back, making him screech.

“D-D-DON’T DO THAT!” Caelus cried, arching closer to Dan Heng’s body.

“Hm? I just figured you’d need some help to clean yourself since you’re still getting used to the water,” he explained, barely bothering to hide the mischief as he settled the spoon away and wrapped his arm around Caelus’ body again.

“I-I told you to w-warm me up, not to mAHah- D-Dan Heng!”

It took Dan Heng a single poke against Caelus’ upper ribs to stop his complaints. He grinned, looking at Caelus with the corner of his eyes as he tapped the same spot again, teasing the other since he was ‘too cold’ to fight back anyway. 

“Yes?” He feigned ignorance, his finger tracing down from Caelus’ ribs to his side, leaving a trace of goosebumps and cold water on his skin. “Is there another problem besides the water?”

“D-d-don’t do t-that either,” Caelus hissed. He felt his face getting red instead of pale. There was a mischievous glint in Dan Heng’s eyes, and he recognized that look.

“Don’t what?” he asked. Caelus refused to say it, to fall for such a lame joke, but he didn’t need to. Suddenly Dan Heng’s finger tracing his side was joined by his four other fingers and they started to dance playfully up and down, tickling him effectively. 

To think a body could feel so cold and so frozen, but still be this ticklish. “AHHhah Dan Heheheng nohoho!” he whined dramatically. He tried to pull back, but Dan Heng grabbed him and held him tightly while continuing to tickle him.

“What’s wrong? I’m warming you up like you asked.” Well, Caelus couldn’t deny that. The way he was suddenly laughing by force, his body pressed against Dan Heng and with this strange tingly feeling rushing right through him, he was definitely feeling a little warmer than earlier.

Still, this was bad.

Caelus couldn’t help but to squirm, kicking and splashing the water around them. He wanted to run from the tickles and avoid that devious hand torturing his poor, cold side, but that would also mean he needed to crawl away and sit amidst the freezing water again, away from the slightly warm haven he just began to create.

“Thahat’s so unfahair!” Caelus giggled and cried, both at the same time. He held onto Dan Heng’s free hand with both of his, too stunned by the cold to do anything but to take the tickling. “Y-your- AhAHA, yohohour hand is cohohold too!~”

“I wonder why,” Dan Heng mocked, smiling along with his shivering boyfriend as he clawed a bit lower, dragging his nails around the curve of Caelus’s waist and up towards his back. Of course, he also needed to make sure Caelus was enjoying the bath to the fullest. “The more you avoid the water, the longer it will take for you to get used to it.”

“B-but ihihit’s cohohOHOLD!” Caelus gasped, not even sure of how he should react when Dan Heng suddenly shifted his attention back to his waist. “L-lehehet me o-out! H-hahHa, I-I dohohon’t want to bahath anymohore!”

Despite not having a proper answer - only managing to get some soft, quiet chuckles from Dan Heng - Caelus knew he wouldn’t be getting anywhere until Dan Heng said so. 

Ticklish. Cold. Ticklish, then cold again. His nerves flicked between both stimuli like a switch, leaving Caelus laughing like a dork in Cold Dragon Young’s embrace. As cruel as Dan Heng could be (according to Caelus’ records of this story), there was no denying in how he was, indeed, becoming more comfortable and used to the bath’s temperature as each second passed them by.

Warmth started flowing through his body again, starting from his chest and spreading through his limbs. While he continued to laugh and squirm in Dan Heng’s embrace, Caelus tried to move his arms, and when he noticed he was getting control back over his body in the freezing water, he immediately acted.

“I can see you’re warming up a bit. See? It does help when I’mー” Dan Heng did not get to finish whatever smug comment he was about to make. Before he could realize it, Caelus caught the hand that was still tickling him mercilessly and stopped it on its tracks. Uh oh. “Cael–”

Caelus tightened the grip around Dan Heng’s wrist, making sure those fingers weren’t coming back anywhere near his body anytime soon and using his returning strength to block that tickle attack. “Yeah, it was really helpful,” he sighed, taking a deep breath to let the air back into his lungs, his breathing still a bit erratic after the ticklish assault, “I think it’s only fair I return the favor”.

“But,” Dan Heng hissed nervously, trying to pull his hand free, “the water is perfect to me, I don’t need help with it.”

Flashing a playful, mischievous grin, Caelus pulled Dan Heng’s hand and dragged him closer. In a matter of seconds, he turned around and got himself on top of the other’s lap, his hand latched just above Dan Heng’s hip, digging his thumb in and rubbing circles on the tender (and cold) spot. “Then maybe help you bath should make us even, right?”

“Y-you’re nohot hehelping at ahall!” Caelus smiled to hear Dan Heng’s restrained giggles as he continued to touch him just lightly, rubbing and stroking his hip and moving up slowly. He wasn’t even really tickling him yet, but the soft touch and anticipation alone were enough to make the usually cool Dan Heng already react this way.

“Oh, but I’m going to,” Caelus sang. Dan Heng jolted as soon as he dug his fingers in, just slightly, but enough for it to tickle so much that water splashed all around them because of Dan Heng’s strong reaction. A water drip rolled down Caelus’s cheek and he cocked his head, a smirk stretching his lips when he noted Dan Heng’s cute, flustered expression.

Caelus felt a shiver slide down his back with the sound of that giggly cry. Part of him actually wanted to go a little harder and have Dan Heng cackling like an idiot for a change, but there was something so charming about this quiet laughter, the contained mirth and the held back gasps that Caelus couldn’t bring himself to go over it - at least, not now.

“Don’t you dare,” Dan Heng warned, trying to sound strict and firm, and Caelus admired his attempts. He would have to remind him later that he started it, but first… He dug his fingers into Dan Heng’s lower side again, wiggling his fingers up and down while he rubbed his palm against his cold skin in some sort of wannabe washing-movement. “N-nononohohho, Cahahaelus!”

He was nearly laying on top of Dan Heng while tickling him, trapping his boyfriend under his own weight while letting his fingers do the dirt - or, better saying, “cleaning” work. “I can’t get my job here done if your hands keep getting in the way, Dan Heng,” Caelus teased, prodding at the spot just below the other’s ribs.

“Yohou a-are not suppohohosed to be dohohoing this!” Dan Heng insisted, did he really think he could argue his way out of this? To appeal to Caelus’ reason and convince him that there was no need for tickles in their bath?

“Right,” Caelus rolled his eyes, his hands stopping and laying flat on top of Dan Heng’s waving chest. “I won’t get you clean like this… where did they leave the brushes-”

“!!!”

Caelus loved that adorable twitch and surprised reaction from Dan Heng when he managed to grab one of the nearby brushes. He could already tell this was going to be good.

“I-I’m seherious, Caelus…” he whispered huskily, his laughter still visible on his face as he gaped at Caelus and tried to reach for one of his hands.

Smirking, Caelus caught Dan Heng’s arm and yanked it to the side so he could drag the brush up and down his armpit. Now that did the cleaning job better, and it didn’t seem to tickle him any less, heh.

“CahAHahaelus!” Dan Heng screeched, his laughter almost going as loud as a dragon’s roar. He kicked his feet behind Caelus, splashing the water and causing ripples to go all around the once peaceful bath.

Working on his ticklish boyfriend, Caelus had long forgotten about the cold temperature of the water. He now only felt warmth. Warmth and pure enjoyment, and his body was still tingling, not because of the tickling earlier, but because of Dan Heng’s sweet pleasant giggles. 

Well, could he really help it? Dan Heng himself started it himself after all. 

Speaking of him, it was only when Dan Heng’s free hand landed on Caelus’ face that the trailblazer snapped back to his senses. The skin under his boyfriend’s skin was starting to look as flushed as his cheeks, but Caelus couldn’t really feel bad for it when his eyes quickly spotted the large, breathless smile on Dan Heng’s face.

“T-thahank you…,” Dan Heng sighed, his chest waving as his lungs tried to work for the lack of air. He looked so beautifully wrecked that Caelus couldn’t help but to blush a bit at the sight.

“You look like you’re about to go into your next incarnation,” Caelus joked, loosing the grip he had around Dan Heng’s arm. “And that was just half of my cleaning serv- pfftt,” he giggled, unable to hold back his reaction was Dan Heng stared at him completely frightened at the idea of going through that again.

“Fine, you can do the rest yourself,” Caelus hummed, tossing the brush over his shoulder and dropping himself on top of Dan Heng, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You were right, Dan Heng…”

“Hm?” Dan Heng arched an eyebrow, hesitating for a moment before resting his body on the bath’s border and wrapping his arms around Caelus’ shoulders, “about what, exactly?”

“A cold bath can be quite comforting… once you get used to the water, I mean.” Caelus smiled, kissing and nuzzling Dan Heng’s cheek. “We should do this more often.”

“Thanks to you, the water isn’t remotely close to ideal, but… yes, let’s make this a habit while we are here.”

[spiderziege]

can you tell us more about your characters please please please???

ooohh yes i will tho i honestly dont have that much actual story, im just. worldbuilding atm. heres a map! (i posted this before but i cleaned it up a bit and improved the dragon, it was looking kinda weird before lol)

still work in progress though! the dragon is asleep under the earth and has been there for a long long time, shaping the landscape. most people believe its some sort of legend but some do believe its real and might wake up on day and destroy everything

and here's the 6 main guys and also their locations in the world (roughly)

Eshiel & Luz both didnt grow up in the steppe/plains area they live in now; Eshiel grew up very far west deep in the forest pretty isolated from the rest of the land. Luz was born in the mountainrange along the dragons spine, but he spent most his childhood travelling with a circus so i dont think he'd really think of that as home anyway. those two are sort of runaway criminals (as in they pissed off one very powerful and very evil guy). also Eshiel isnt her real name she just changed it so its harder to find her

The town Valérie lives in is very historic, not technically a capital city but sort of a central point for travel and trade. Valérie grew up there and works as a farrier. i havent really decided in what way magic exists here but Val is definitely the one who'd be into it the most.

everything south from that city until you reach the ocean (basically along the dragons neck & shoulders) is completely abandoned and forbidden to enter except for once every couple years for a tournament where people try to cross that land on horseback. which is dangeorus cause theres monsters/sort of demonic forces down there but theres good prize money & glory involved so people do it anyway. all 6 of them end up taking part for various reasons

The last three all come from the snow kingdom in the northeast. Kokoro is a princess and Caliott & Cäcilia are both knights. Koko basically runs off on her own to search for her older brother who took part in that tournament a few years ago and never returned, Caliott & Cäcilia are sent after her to protect her

i think thats it? heres a pinterest board lol. thank you for asking about them :') hope this all makes sense kinda. talking about ocs is so scary why is it so scary

[rdr2enjoyer]

Hi sweetheart! Was wondering if I could have some headcanons for how Arthur would look after you if you were sick/ how he’d comfort you if you were crying. Don’t worry if not, cancer’s been kicking my ass and I thought this could be a pick me up! All my love 🫶

Of course I can do this for you! Honestly, Arthur has a much more caring and nurturing nature than he gives himself credit for, and I believe he would do very well taking care of a sick loved one.

I'm sure you also get this all the time but, I'm so sorry you have to deal with this. I'm sure it must be exhausting in more ways then one. I wish you all the best, and I sincerely hope it turns around soon. Sending you so much love <3

How arthur would care for you if you were sick

I imagine Arthur would really struggle with feeling helpless when you're sick. He's not a doctor, not a miracle worker, and all he wants to do is take the suffering away from his sweetheart. He would try to hide it, of course. He doesn't want to put any more stress on you and the last thing he wants to do is make you worry about him, but it would just kill him that he couldn't take the sickness away.

Anything he can do, he would. When he's not by your side he's in the fields, forging for medicinal herbs to help with the pain, insomnia, and fatigue. every second away from you has him wracked with worry. He'd return as quickly as possible with a satchel full of different herbs - some he's not even sure what they do but hopes are helpful - and makes a tea for you.

Even if you didn't have much of an appetite he'd push you to eat and drink, telling you that you need to keep your strength up to fight this thing. If you're in such bad shape that you don't have the strength or will to feed yourself, he'd lift the cup and spoon to your lips himself, "That's it...doing good. Thank you, darlin'." He only hopes he has the capacity to be as gentle and patient as you need him to be.

When he's gone he puts only the people he trusts most to watch after you; that would be Grimshaw, Charles, or Sadie. But he's never gone for long; he can't handle the worry and anxiety he feels when he's away from you. What if you suddenly turn for the worst and he's not there? Waht if you wake up looking for him?

On the days where you're feeling a little stronger and want to try doing your chores again, Arthur would hover around you like an overprotective bird. You can tell how anxious he is as you struggle to rebuild your strength and stamina. Every groan of effort has him reaching out towards you, ready to catch you or whatever it is you're working to lift. Every time you assure him that you're okay, he'd deny even worrying. He doesn't want you to feel weak, but even more than that he doesn't want you to hurt yourself or tire yourself out.

He'd be a quiet listener as you confide in him how much your struggling. The exhaustion and pain in your voice would break his heart, but he would try not to show it externally. He wants to be strong for you, a rock. Words of comfort don't come easily to him, but he can quietly wrap his arms around you and hold you against him. His hands smooth down your hair and back as you cry into his shoulder, and he's grateful that he can at least do this for you.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

A Curse [Chapter 3: Flower District]

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap relationship, entertainment industry misogyny, some body dissatisfaction/dysmorphia, medical stuff, a creepy dude, a special surprise is found in Aegon's office!!!

Word count: 6.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

You sleep in late and wake to the sound of excited voices out in the kitchen. When you follow them, you find Baela using a pink Click ‘n Flame utility lighter to ignite the candles on a sloppily but lovingly homemade cake, Pillsbury Funfetti according to the blue box left upturned on the countertop, lumpy white icing dotted with multicolored sprinkles. Jace must be responsible. You panic, thinking that you have forgotten a birthday, but no: you quickly recall that Baela is a Sagittarius and Jace is—somewhat improbably—a Capricorn.

“What are we celebrating?” you ask.

Baela looks up from the cake, the candlelight luminescence radiant on her face. She is beaming, she is glowing, she is definitely meant to be an actress. She shines too brightly to belong anywhere but among the stars. “I got the part.”

“Which part?”

“The one in the new Yorgos Lanthimos movie!”

“No way!” you shout, and you rush over to hug her; but already there is a sinking feeling that you are dimly aware of through the rush, and when the revelry is over you will lie in bed alone with these thoughts, treasonous yet true: When will it be my turn? Why can’t this happen to me? “That’s so exciting! I’m so happy for you!”

“It’s about the French Revolution,” Baela says when you pull away, still grinning hugely. “I’m getting third billing, my name will be on the promo posters! I’m flying to Paris for filming next month!”

“Wow.” Your smile is frozen on your face. “Wow, wow, wow, I can’t believe it. This is so awesome!”

Then Baela realizes how it must feel for you, and she is sympathetic, rubbing your shoulder as her expression twists into something soft and bashful. “But hey, your luck is turning around too!”

“Yeah,” Jace says. “You got to be in Episode 5,000 of Grey’s Anatomy.” Baela gives him a reproachful glare. “What?” he asks, clueless.

“No, it’s totally cool,” you insist. “I’m really, really thrilled for you, Baela. You have to take a million pictures in Paris so I can see all the architecture and desserts and hot French dudes!”

Jace snorts. “Are French dudes even hot?” He sounds skeptical.

“You can be my date to the premiere,” Baela tells you. Jace gapes at her, incredulous. “We can pose together on the red carpet and you can do some networking! Maybe Yorgos will even like you and cast you in his next project!”

But something about the way she says it makes the prospect sound ludicrous, fantastical, fictional. Baela’s breakthrough is reality, yours is unicorns and mermaids and the Loch Ness Monster. “You are so wonderful, but you should take Jace.”

“Yeah, you should take Jace,” Jace says.

Baela pulls a knife out of the bamboo block on the kitchen counter. Her parents bought it, like they bought almost everything else in the apartment; they believe in her, lots of people do. “Do you want some cake? When’s your appointment?” The appointment you didn’t cancel, contrary to Aegon’s explicit instructions. Technically, you never agreed to, so you haven’t lied to him. That makes you feel better. Baela glances at the calendar and reads the time written there in red ink. “Oh good, not until noon. You definitely have time for cake!”

“Babe, you gotta blow out your candles first,” Jace says. Baela closes her eyes, becomes still and serene, extinguishes the tiny golden flickers of light with one delicate puff. Then she begins cutting the Funfetti cake. You get three forks from the silverware drawer. Jace hands you a plate from the cabinet as he complains about having to go to class today: Music Aesthetics, Analysis, and Philosophy.

“Just a little one, please,” you tell Baela. A moment later, she plops a skinny slice of cake onto your plate. “Thanks, Becca! Wait, no, I mean Baela. Sorry.”

She laughs, still wielding a knife covered in white frosting. “Who’s Becca?”

“Aegon’s fiancée.”

“Oh, your agent’s future wife? The agent that you are definitely not into at all?”

“Yeah, that one, you got it.” You give her a wink and take a bite of cake: frosting so sweet it hurts your teeth, tiny kaleidoscopic flecks of candy like gold in a stream.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So, which one are you liking the feel of?” Dr. Cunningham asks, smiling in a way that is effervescent and yet impersonal, vaguely impatient, a real estate agent type of charisma. He must be in his mid-fifties, and yet his face is nearly entirely purged of wrinkles, smooth and shiny and evenly tanned. His teeth are too perfect to not be veneers. People keep suggesting those to you too; you need more time to wrap your mind around the idea of having your canines and incisors shaved down to helpless nubs.

“Um…” You go down the line again, squeezing all three samples that are arranged on the stainless steel utility table that Dr. Cunningham wheeled over to you. “I walked in wanting the gummy bear implants, and I think I feel the same way now.”

“Excellent!” he says, wearing that same smile. His eyes, very blue, never change; they are alert yet vacuous, like the fatal error screen on a Windows computer.

“And they’re safer, aren’t they? The gummy bear ones?”

“Statistically, yes,” Dr. Cunningham agrees, somewhat briskly, as if he is eager to change the subject. “But I wouldn’t worry about that. I hardly ever see ruptures in any of my patients.”

Hardly ever, not never. “That’s good!” you say spiritedly, like a star pupil.

“As I mentioned earlier, they are a bit more expensive than the other options, but we have several financing options available.”

“My parents are paying, so no worries there.”

“Fantastic.” He’s still smiling. You kind of wish he would stop. “You want to be an actress, I assume?”

“I do, yeah! How’d you know?”

He chuckles as he rolls the small metal table away. “That’s what all the girls are doing out here, right? And if it’s not acting, it’s singing, or modelling, or…what do you call that, when you make money on TikTok or wherever?”

“Being an influencer.”

“Right,” Dr. Cunningham says. “Well, I wish you the very best of luck.” It’s chivalrous but hollow, an echo of the encouragement he’s given to thousands of women just like you, except probably more beautiful and more talented and actually getting some of the parts they audition for.

I got a part, you think, and your mood lifts a bit. Aegon finally found me one. And he believes I’ll get more.

“Is it okay if I take a look?” the ever-smiling Dr. Cunningham says, and your heart begins to pound beneath the gown you’re wearing, scratchy white polyester-blend fabric that opens in the front. But this is all standard procedure, and you knew to expect an exam, and you should not feel like you’re lining up for the firing squad.

“Of course!” you exclaim too enthusiastically; your voice cracks. You undo the tie down by your waist and the fabric across your chest and belly goes slack. Your tan TOMS wedges are scattered on the linoleum floor that’s supposed to look like wood. The sundress you wore to the appointment, patterned with large sunlit palm leaves, is folded on a chair. Your eyeshadow matches: matte green Thorns by Anastasia Beverly Hills, sparkly gold Whisper by Natasha Denona.

As Dr. Cunningham opens your gown and begins the exam, you stare at a framed print of Venice Beach on the wall, and you pretend you are there under the hot glaring daylight instead of here in a frigidly air-conditioned office being prodded and manipulated, measured not to be admired or understood but only to be improved upon.

Dr. Cunningham is saying: “Just so you’re aware, due to how firm a gummy bear implant is, we typically have to make a slightly larger incision in order to insert it. Saline and traditional silicone implants, being more flexible, can be squeezed in through a smaller opening, for example using a transaxillary incision in the underarm. But they’re also more prone to wrinkling and rippling, and they must be replaced more frequently, so that pliability comes at a cost. I think gummy bear implants are a very good choice for you.”

“And…where exactly would the incision be?” Your heartbeat is still thunderous; you can hear the scorching red blood flow throbbing in your ears. Dr. Cunningham either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mention it.

“We’d go in right here,” he says, skimming his gloved fingers just beneath your left breast, your raw heart just two inches away. Goosebumps prickle on your arms. “It’s what we call an inframammary incision, and it gives us more room to work with to ensure the implant is placed properly, and…”

He loses his train of thought, interrupted by a commotion out in the lobby. Through the closed exam room door, you can hear people arguing and then something being spilled—the jar of pens on the receptionist’s desk? the glass bowl of mints?—and heavy sprinting footsteps. Dr. Cunningham pulls his hands away and you snatch your gown shut just as the door bursts open, and Aegon stands there breathing heavily from the exertion, hair in disarray, white Nike Killshots with a red slash of a Swoosh, dark jeans, salmon-colored t-shirt that’s too big for him, tan sport coat jacket yanked off of his shoulders. His attacker, the elderly receptionist, has chased him to the doorway.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she’s shrieking. She smacks him with a massive leather purse. “You can’t just go barging in on patients! What are you, some kind of druggie? We don’t keep any opioids in this office!”

Dr. Cunningham yells: “Will you call the police, Barbara?!”

“No wait, I know him,” you say, and both Dr. Cunningham and the receptionist stare hostilely at you. You ignore them and look at Aegon instead, stunned. “Hi.”

He straightens his jacket. His eyes, that dark and turbulent blue, are fixed on your face as you hastily retie your gown so it stays shut. “Hi. What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s just a consultation.”

“For a surgery you’re not going to have?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “How did you know I was here?”

“I just had this feeling you weren’t going to cancel,” Aegon says. “So I went to your apartment and you weren’t home, but your roommate told me where you were and gave me the address that you wrote on the calendar.”

“Oh.”

“She’s very nice. Your roommate, I mean.”

“Yeah, Baela’s cool.”

“She offered me a piece of Funfetti cake.”

“Did you take it?”

“No. I was in a hurry to get here.”

“Right.” You remain seated on the edge of the exam table with your hands clasped together in your lap. The receptionist and Dr. Cunningham’s bewildered gazes fly between you and the intruder.

Aegon sighs and nods towards the hallway that leads out to the lobby and the front door of the office. “Come on,” he says gently. “Get dressed. Let’s go.”

“I can’t,” you reply.

“Why not?”

You don’t answer; your eyes dart to the print of Venice Beach on the wall and stay there as they begin to water. Aegon crosses the room—the receptionist and Dr. Cunningham shuffle around the cramped space to keep away from him—and stops when he is standing right in front of you, his hands in the pockets of his rumpled tan jacket.

“Why not?” Aegon asks again, very softly now.

You look at him. Your voice is a quivering whisper. “I don’t want to have to give this up.” The city, the potential, the dream.

“Hey,” Aegon murmurs, leaning in close. You can smell the ocean and sunlight and Juicy Fruit gum. Strands of blonde hair, ripped from the sheen of gel, shag over his forehead. “You’re bright as hell just the way you are. You don’t need surgery to be an actress. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

And immediately, you are ready to leave. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” You wriggle down off of the exam table, check your gown to make sure you’re still covered, and turn to Dr. Cunningham. “I guess I’m not interested anymore.”

“Please never set foot in my office again,” he says.

“No problem,” Aegon snaps. And then to you: “I’ll meet you outside. We’ll get lunch.”

“Sure,” you reply, still a little dazed.

Aegon hurries out of the exam room before the police are summoned. Dr. Cunningham and the receptionist leave too, muttering to each other and casting you appalled glares. When you are alone, you throw off the gown and put on your bra, wedges, and sundress…and as you are smoothing the creases from the soft cotton patterned with palm leaves, you smile to yourself, kind pink heat swirling in your cheeks.

Aegon is in the parking lot and leaning against his white Chrysler Sebring convertible. He has put on his black aviator sunglasses to blot out the intense afternoon sun. Dr. Cunningham’s office is on a busy street in Beverly Hills; you can hear car horns, pedestrians shouting into their cellphones, toy dogs yapping, Shape Of You chiming from a passing Mercedes. Across the street is a series of shops in a row, Starbucks and Neiman Marcus and Gucci. Aegon says, pointing to your 2003 Honda Accord: “I’ll drive you back to get your car later.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“Chinatown,” he says, opening the passenger’s door of his Sebring. “And from now on, you listen when I tell you to do something, just like you said you would.”

“I’ll be your best client ever,” you promise, climbing into the car. The top is down, the wind blowing in from the Pacific Ocean to the west.

“I’m here for a reason. It’s not to be ignored. I can be your advocate, but you have to be honest with me.”

“I completely understand. I won’t mislead you again.”

“The Grey’s Anatomy people really liked you, by the way.”

The hope unfurls across your face like dawn over the earth. “Really?”

Aegon gives you a teasing, crooked grin. “Don’t pretend you’re shocked.” He shuts the car door, jogs over to the driver’s side, drives east through thick midday traffic.

At the same restaurant you went to the day you met, seated beside the same large fish tank, you and Aegon place the same orders: moo goo gai pan, boneless spare ribs. The waitress, Lanying, asks Aegon about how his siblings are doing before she speeds off to tend to her other customers.

Aegon watches the malevolent ember-colored oscars for a while, then taps his paper Chinese zodiac calendar, rimmed in red and gold. “Which one are you?”

You laugh, thinking he’s joking. “You already know.”

But Aegon doesn’t smile; he only stares at you blankly. “What?”

“I told you about my zodiac sign. The first time we had lunch here.”

And he looks at you as if his skull is as clear as the transluscent blue-tinged water of the fish tank, all the lights on but nobody home, and for a split second you almost feel as if you don’t recognize him, as if he is a stranger wearing Aegon’s windswept blonde hair and ill-fitting clothes and the crow’s feet around his eyes. Then Aegon repossesses himself and he is flippant, casual. “Oh yeah, right. Totally. I remember now.”

But you have the sense that he doesn’t. You try to hide how much this wounds you. It must not have been memorable. It must not have meant anything to him. “I’m a dragon!” you say brightly, and hold up your hands as if they are claws, opening and closing your hooked fingers.

Now he does smile, a little preoccupied, a little forced. “Of course you are.”

You scan the calendar. “What year was Becca born?”

“Uh…1994, I think.”

“She’s a dog,” you say. You read the description silently to yourself as the tea and wonton soups are brought to the table: Loyal and honest, you work well with others. Generous yet stubborn and often selfish. Look to the horse or tiger. Watch out for dragons.

~~~~~~~~~~

You arrive at Aegon’s office twenty minutes early, mostly because you miss him. It’s Wednesday, June 25th, and you park your Honda on the narrow sloping street and step out into 80-degree sunlight, ambient dog barking, powerlines crossing overhead. A lady walking her chihuahua waves at you and adjusts her sunglasses. Window air conditioning units whir. The trees, ginkgos and pink trumpets and Victorian boxes and palms, are still in the bright breezeless afternoon. The skyline of Downtown is a mirage on the horizon. From the barber shop across the street, you can hear a radio playing Bailamos by Enrique Iglesias.

When you clop into the lobby in your TOMS wedges, you see that Aegon’s door is closed. At his desk, Brandon is on the landline phone and jotting notes down in his planner, his flower pen scribbling rapidly across pink paper. When he spots you, he covers the phone speaker with his hand. “Hey girl!”

“Sorry, I know I’m early. Is he busy with another client?”

“No, go on in!” Brandon reaches down to dig around in the minifridge and sets a Perrier on the ledge of his desk. You take it, thank him, and go to Aegon’s door. You are puzzled to hear people talking on the other side, muffled indistinct voices. You wear an ocean blue sundress and cool metallic shades on your eyelids: Shellshock by Urban Decay, Strike by Natasha Denona. You open the door.

Aegon has his Nike Killshots up on his untidy desk and is playing the Nintendo 64. Mario is running through what appears to be some sort of underground maze, foggy and strewn with gold coins. The greenish haze must be toxic. Mario’s Power Meter is slowly ticking down; each time Mario snags a coin, it is partially restored. Aegon is watching the screen as he talks to a woman whose back is turned to you: tall, willowy, long dark hair. They don’t realize you’re here.

Aegon is saying as he clicks the transluscent orange Nintendo 64 controller: “That’s great, babe.”

“And the charity thing is on July 19th. I got a custom suit from Tom Ford, it’s powder blue, all you have to do is show up to the fitting.”

He sighs euphorically. “You’re the best.”

She giggles. “I know.”

Then Aegon notices you, and for a moment he seems shaken—not in a good way—and for some reason you feel like you’ve made some horrible mistake. The woman spins around to see what he’s looking at. She is stunning and ethereal and wearing a plain sack dress that hangs perfectly on her, a young Cher, and she smiles at you, kind and dazzling.

“Hi!” you say. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m a little early, I mixed up my appointment time because I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re fine,” Aegon replies, but he’s still distracted. Mario suffocates in the maze and drops over dead. Aegon turns off the game. He clears his throat. “Uh, this is Becca.”

You shake her hand when she offers it. Gold bangle bracelets jangle on her wrist. “It’s so nice to meet you, Becca!”

“And you must be the new client!” she says warmly. “The one from…where was it, Michigan?”

“Minnesota,” you reply.

“Oh, brr!” Becca says, pretending to shiver, and you laugh.

“Yeah, I’m really happy to be here. And you’re getting married soon, I hear!”

Becca beams, clapping her hands together. “Yes! I’m so excited but so stressed. The planning is endless.”

“Are you going to do it here in the city somewhere?”

“Aegon didn’t tell you?” Becca is perhaps a tad disappointed. “It’s a destination wedding.”

Aegon says from his desk, somewhat recovered: “Turk…something.”

“Turkey?” you say doubtfully. An interesting choice.

“Turks and Caicos,” Becca clarifies.

“No way! My sister just got engaged there, she said it was gorgeous.”

Aegon asks you from his desk: “Have you ever been?”

“I wish. Not yet, maybe one day.”

“You’ll have to come to the wedding!” Becca says cheerfully.

“Me?!” It’s ridiculous; you’re a nobody, you barely know her, you have a crush on her future husband.

“Yeah, all of Aegon’s clients are invited. Aren’t they, babe?” Becca glances at him, and then her eyes catch there and they stare at each other, Aegon slumped in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, Becca standing next to you, and there are several slow awkward seconds of silence. Aegon gets a piece of Juicy Fruit gum from a pack on his desk and shoves it into his mouth. Becca looks at you and then back to Aegon, who is pretending to organize the clutter on his desk. You notice for the first time that there is a ceramic bowl of Honeycrisp apples there.

“I thought you didn’t like those,” you say to alleviate the tension that you don’t understand.

“Well, Brando eats them,” Aegon explains.

“That makes sense.”

“And I guess they’re growing on me.”

“They’re really good for you,” you say. “Helps to balance out all the boneless spare ribs.”

Now Becca is studying you, and instead of being warm she is now cold and rigid and perplexed. After a while she asks stiffly: “What are you two up to today?”

“We’re going to the Flower District,” Aegon tells her as he rolls his gum wrapper into a ball between his palms. “I’ll be done in a few hours, I just have to get some current pics of her to send to people. So we’re going to do a quick impromptu photoshoot.”

Becca nods, still scrutinizing you. You open your Perrier and start gulping it so you have an excuse not to talk.

“What’s for dinner tonight?” Aegon asks Becca, and she perks up a bit.

“Beef bourguignon. It’s a new recipe, I’m really excited to try it.”

Aegon pretends to drool. “Amazing. I can’t wait.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Becca says, and goes to leave.

“It was so nice to meet you!” you call after her.

Becca replies curtly without stopping: “Yup. You too.” You hear the two-inch heels of her gold sandals tapping on the scuffed wood floor and then the rough opening and closing of the front door of the half-duplex.

“What just happened?” you ask Aegon.

“Nothing,” he says, standing from his desk. His shoes match his shirt, a green plaid Ralph Lauren button-up that isn’t tucked into his jeans. His hair is slicked back and shiny with gel.

“I’m sorry, did I…did I do something wrong…?”

He sighs. “No.”

You toy anxiously with your Perrier bottle. You don’t want Aegon to fire you; you don’t want to lose him. He’s the only person who understands. “You should have told me we were going to be taking pictures. I would have done my hair and worn normal eyeshadow.”

He smiles. “I wanted you to look like you.” Then he heads off to his Chrysler Sebring, and you follow him.

The Flower District is on the other side of Chinatown in Downtown Los Angeles. It’s the largest wholesale flower market in the country, six blocks of vendors selling every plant imaginable, from ordinary daisies and tulips to bamboo shoots, ferns, herbs, cactuses, succulents, baby trees, house plants like monstera and ivy. The aroma is overwhelming; when you breathe deeply, you imagine prismatic blossoms bursting up through the alveoli of your lungs, roses and irises and calla lilies and orchids. Aegon weaves through the aisles and frowns at the magnificent flowers, none of them right for some reason. You are endlessly pausing to sniff petals and gingerly graze your fingerprints over leaves. Aegon has to backtrack to find you when you stop to watch a demonstration of a Venus flytrap being fed.

“Here we go!” Aegon announces triumphantly when at last he is satisfied, and he lifts the large bouquet from a plastic bucket for you to see: massive sunflowers, water dripping off the cut stems. “They’re sunny, just like you. You like them?”

“I love them,” you say, taking the bouquet and beaming. Aegon pays in cash.

Outside under the harsh cloudless sunlight, he poses you in front of one of the flower shops, pedestrians walking behind you and a rainbow myriad of blooms out of focus. He uses his phone to take a series of photos, some up-close and some full-body shots, and you had assumed it would be awkward but it’s not, Aegon is making jokes and you are laughing and trying weird angles and spinning around so the skirt of your sundress swishes despite the lack of a breeze.

“Cool, got some good ones,” Aegon says, scanning through his phone. “We’re done.”

“What should I do with these?” you ask about the sunflowers. “Do you want them back?”

“Why would I want them back?”

“I don’t know. You paid for them, it feels weird for me to keep them.”

“They’re yours. Enjoy.”

You inhale the faint floral scent that emanates from the yellow petals. “I’m going to put them in a vase on the kitchen counter and buy them flower food so they live as long as possible. And I’m going to talk to them, because that’s supposed to be good for plants.”

Aegon chuckles. “You are ridiculous.” He slides his phone into the pocket of his jeans and sees an ice cream vendor up the street, then gestures for you to come with him. The ice cream is allegedly homemade and only comes in five flavors. Aegon orders for you both. “Hi, one vanilla and one strawberry.”

The vendor scoops the ice cream into two waffle cones. Again, as he always does, Aegon pays in cash. You locate an available bench and you and Aegon sit together with the sunflower bouquet lying between you, watching the pedestrians stroll by with their friends and partners and children and dogs.

“Tastes better when you make it,” Aegon says, licking melting strawberry ice cream from his waffle cone. “I might have another job for you.”

“Really?! Yay!”

“It’s a little unorthodox, but you said you’d take anything.”

“I definitely will.”

“It’s a music video for Maroon 5,” Aegon cautions. “It’s honestly pretty uninspiring and stupid, but it’s work. It’s another last-minute thing, at first the girlfriend of one of the band dudes was supposed to be in the video but I guess now they’re fighting all the time and the guy doesn’t like the idea of having a permanent reminder of her if they break up, which seems likely.’”

“I want to do it,” you say immediately. “When?”

“They’re planning to film the first week in July at a mansion in Beverly Hills. They already have a male actor cast. And you don’t even have to kiss him or anything, you get to argue with him in the first scene and then the rest of it is mostly you just moping around the mansion in designer outfits. Again, it’s super unoriginal. Boy and girl have a miscommunication and split, boy regrets it afterwards, they both secretly and photogenically yearn for each other. It’s very Edward leaving Bella in New Moon.”

“Sounds fantastic! Do I get to meet Maroon 5?”

Aegon is disappointed. “Are you a fan?”

“Well…not really.” You both laugh. “But I feel like it’s always cool to meet celebrities in real life.”

“Yes, you get to meet them.”

You cheer. “You are the most talented agent ever!” You take a lick of your ice cream; it’s almost gone now. You look over at Aegon, serious now. “You’re the only person who doesn’t think I’m absolutely insane for trying to do this.”

He crunches his waffle cone with his teeth. “Your roommate’s an actress, right? She must get it.”

You shrug. “Baela is confident, and magnetic, and she wants to be famous. She’s very obviously meant to be in this industry, and agents and directors respond to her. But I’m not like that. Most people don’t notice me. And that’s okay, I don’t really want to be famous. I just want to be able to be a working actor and get to stay here. If I’m not making significant progress by the end of the year, I have to choose between going back to Minnesota or being disowned and impoverished.”

Aegon watches you, thoughtful, maybe a little sad. “I like you the way you are, sunshine.”

You smile shyly at him. “Thanks. I like you too.”

“And I don’t want you to change. It’s horrible to watch someone disappear.” He devours the rest of his waffle cone. “You know…I think helping you get to where you’re going, and making sure it’s done the right way…that will be the last good thing I ever do here.”

“You don’t have to retire.”

He shakes his head. “Circumstances change. Priorities change.”

“Do you want kids?” If Becca is in her thirties, perhaps now is the time to start planning for that.

“No,” Aegon says, flinching. “Definitely no kids. You’re anti-horse, I’m anti-kid.”

“Then what’s the rush to leave L.A.?”

“It’s the right time.”

“Not for me.” You grin. “I just got here. You can’t abandon me yet.”

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of before I go. I’ll get someone I trust to sign you.”

“But I don’t want another agent.”

“The music video director asked to meet you before filming,” Aegon says, deflecting. “It’ll be quick, just ten or fifteen minutes. We’ll swing by his office on the way back to Elysian Park.”

“Okay,” you agree. You take a makeup compact out of your Patricia Nash purse and use the mirror to make sure you don’t have any ice cream on your nose or chin.

“I haven’t worked with him before,” Aegon says. “But I’ve heard very good things and obviously I’ll be there at the shoot.”

You snap your compact shut. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

In a spacious, glass-walled office in Downtown, the director introduces himself as Dan Sacco. He is tall and broad through the shoulders and extremely welcoming, offering you drinks and snacks and asking about your hometown as Aegon stands in the corner of the room, his hands in his pockets and his eyes watchful. Two jobs in two weeks; Aegon is a miracle worker.

When you get home to your apartment, it’s empty. Baela and Jace must have gone out somewhere for dinner. You put the sunflowers in a vase and then scroll through Instagram. Aegon has posted a new story: a photo of you standing with your bouquet and smiling, not sexy or alluring or arrogant but simply happy, and he must be very knowledgeable about filters because you think you look great.

Future Hollywood Walk of Fame star recipient, Aegon has added as a caption. If you want to book her, you know where to find me. He finished with a sunflower emoji. You press the heart button in the bottom right corner of the screen to like the story. Your own heart is racing now in the best way possible, feverish and loud, intoxicated, needful, seams ready to rupture.

You look up Becca’s Instagram, but her account is private. You send her a follow request. She doesn’t accept it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The night before the shoot, there is a knock at your door. It’s 8:30 p.m., a strange hour, not early enough for Amazon deliveries or a visit from one of Jace’s eccentric PhD program friends, not late enough for a drunk tenant to have mistaken your apartment for their own. When you open the door, you are at first so shocked you can’t place him. Then you remember where you know the hulking man in the tan suit from. It’s Dan, the director of the music video.

“Oh my God, hi!” you welcome him. You have just gotten home from Cold Stone Creamery and are still in your drab grey uniform. You always drive to and from work now, per Aegon’s insistence. You promised you’d listen, and you’re trying your best. Jace is in Baela’s bedroom banging on his Yamaha keyboard. From the velvet orange couch in the living room where she is watching The Vampire Diaries, Baela peeks curiously over at where your visitor fills up the doorway.

Dan seems pleased by your enthusiasm. “Hello again.”

“Can I help you with something? I know the shoot is tomorrow, I’m really excited. I was about to get ready for bed so I can go to sleep early and be well-rested. There’s not a problem with the music video, is there? Please don’t say it’s cancelled or that I’m fired or something.”

Dan chuckles, a deep slow rumble. “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to give you a heads up that we added a scene to the script.” He holds up a thin packet of papers held together by a single staple. “I’m not allowed to leave it in an unsecured location, so I have to take it with me when I go. But I thought you should be aware so you’re prepared when you show up to set.”

“Aw, that’s so thoughtful of you!” You take the packet and flip through it, skimming for an unfamiliar scene. “Did you get my address from Aegon? Or Brandon, his receptionist?”

“It was in your file that they sent over,” Dan says, perhaps a bit guardedly, and before you can ask anything else you stumble upon the scene, and your stomach drops. The actress—me, you think, that’s not some other woman, that’s me—will be lying in a vast empty bathtub, soaked hair, dripping skin, black lingerie, writhing and whimpering as she mourns the loss of her lover.

“Um…the bathtub scene?” you squeak.

“It’s going to be so cinematic,” Dan says, his large hands painting a picture with dramatic gestures. “Sunlight streaming in through a window, your skin glowing, you’ve drained the tub but you’re too heartbroken to get up so you’re just sprawled there, still drenched from the bathwater. Obviously it would make more sense if you were naked, but…we can’t do that in a music video.” He laughs. “But the aesthetic will be divine, like sexy mourning widow. And we’ll get all kinds of shots, you crying, you angry, you pining, you flirting and beckoning the camera closer, and we can get creative, you can just kind of crawl around all over the tub and we’ll see what you come up with.”

You gaze at the script until all the words vanish, imaging a room full of men watching you roll around in underwear, black lace wet and clinging to your skin, no secrets, nowhere to disappear. I can’t do that. But you can’t say no. “Is there going to be a woman on set to…you know, to…like…supervise, or, or something…?”

“You mean an intimacy coordinator?”

“Yes, thank you, that’s the term I was looking for.” Does Aegon know about this? He has to, right?

“Well, it’s not a sex scene,” Dan says rationally. “It’s not even a kissing scene. So we would never pay to have an intimacy coordinator around for this, it’s completely unnecessary.”

“Oh.” I can’t do that. I can’t do that. You feel nauseous; you feel dizzy, like you might stagger if you try to move.

“Look, if you’re uncomfortable, that’s totally cool,” Dan says. “I get it, a job like this isn’t for everyone. I have a list of backups I can call, and I can find somebody else—”

“No!” you cry out, then give the script back to Dan and manage a smile. “No, sorry, I was just a little confused, but I understand now. Thank you for letting me know about the new scene, and I can absolutely handle it.”

“Great.” He grins proudly. “I knew I could count on you. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

Dan lumbers down the hallway, and you close the door when he’s out of sight. Baela asks from the couch: “What do they want you to do?”

You swallow noisily. “Roll around essentially naked in a bathtub.”

Baela nods; she doesn’t seem alarmed. Is this normal? Are you unreasonable? “Bikini?”

“Lingerie.”

“Want to know a trick?” she says. “After you shave, run a Stridex pad over your skin. I have a container of them in the bathroom cabinet, use as many as you want. It’ll burn at first, but it kills any bacteria and prevent razor burn. No bumps or ingrown hairs!”

“Thanks,” you reply weakly.

Baela squints at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” A lie.

“It’s not that bad,” she says reassuringly. “I know it seems like the end of the world, but once you do a nude scene or a sex scene once, the nerves go away and it’s just another day at work. You’ll get through it. You’ll do an incredible job.”

I don’t want to give up the dream. I don’t want to leave Los Angeles. I don’t want to leave Aegon.

“You’re probably right,” you tell Baela, and you pretend to be fine so she won’t worry, or pity you, or be further convinced that you don’t belong here.

You shower, shave, scrub your skin with stinging Stridex pads, and long after you were supposed to be asleep you’re still staring up at your bedroom ceiling, a deep blue shadowscape with no stars.

[calebslittlecrow]

I'm baaack… to yap. Because I can. And I want to talk about something that greatly helped me on my journey. Come here. Closer. A tiny bit closer. Perfect.

Restarting your shifting journey. Wow. So simple, I'm proud of myself. I know some people are a bit hesitant when you throw that sentence around, because it feels like you are getting told to delete the entire progress you made in whatever months or years you have been trying. Like deleting the save file of your favorite game that has hundreds if not thousands of hours, but it's not like that.

It's more about getting rid of all the negativity and misinformation you probably involuntarily absorbed over your time researching and learning about shifting, reminding yourself on why you actually started this whole journey. Getting rid of all the stupid shit is amazingly freeing.

I've seen so many shifters say they nearly shifted on their first try. Why? Because they probably didn't had their mind full with "do this and not that", "you can't do this", "you cannot shift to any other reality, shifting means changing to a better outlook on your current reality". Shit, I shifted before I knew what it was and tried again after finding out and the only reason I didn't shift was because I chickened the fuck out. And the only thing I had was my stupid self, two sentences in a notes app on my phone stating my DR name and where I wanted to go, and the first YT ambience video that vaguely resembled where I wanted to wake up. Become aware. Whatever.

Worked perfectly fine and then I ruined it by researching and joining the reddit community, which was decent back then. Don't go there now, the few good posts are not worth the absolute horrendous shit I see getting posted.

Just… take a break. Doesn't need to be long, just long enough to take a few deep breaths. Calm down a bit. And then turn around and look at the roots of why you started this. Ask yourself "why do I want to shift". For love? Fun? A better life? Keep that close, maybe write it down to remind yourself from time to time. From shifting itself only take the most basic concept: becoming aware of yourself in a different reality of your choosing.

Build your believe up from that, completely from scratch. Forget everything else you ever read about shifting. Find that little spark again you had in the beginning and that a lot of shifters lost along the way of trial and error. Concentrate on yourself and what your intuition tells you, not what random_user33455 claims on some website. No one can help you better than your own intuition and subconscious can ^-^

[nightshade-shot]

Latest doodle of the fantasy steampunk yuri. Left is Miriam, Right is Enith.

Been REAL obsessed with this song lately.

[pigeonclaw]

the amount of times I have potentially controversial opinions that I type up and then save in my drafts forever because I still feel them but am too shy and afraid to choose violence in any way

[shoplifting]

Laois's party would see post-Shibuya Incident Tokyo as another dungeon. Tokyo Jujutsu Tech students would see the island's dungeon as a vacation.

[itsallpoliticsstupid]

I've been involved in Politics for a really long time. I'm not even 35 yet and I have already studied and worked in this area for more than half of my life.

A lot of the reason I got into Politics was I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to give something back and serve my country. Not because I'm particularly nationalistic. I'm not a huge fan of most of those in power, and I don't really like the monarchy all that much. It's because I was always taught to do what I can to make the world a better place. And in my role I can do that.

But it's so hard sometimes when I go into work with the knowledge that those who have been elected constantly belittle and demean us just because we are public servants.

Yes, the civil service has massive issues. But widescale fraud is not one of them. People not working 'hard enough' is not one of them. People wanting to spend one day a week at home to work, where they can work in a quieter atmosphere and be more productive, is not one of them.

Because the reality is, as I pointed out in another post, fraud is basically impossible to be involved in whilst being a civil servant. Almost all Western Democracies have strict fraud management and money laundering policies. Every dollar is accounted for. Everything is signed off to a high level. Fraud is not your biggest issue.

Neither is civil servants not working 'hard enough.' I have friends who were in Ukraine and Russia when the war escalated in 2022. Friends who were in Kabul when the Taliban reclaimed Afghanistan. Friends in Yemen, in Syria, in Lebanon, all when regional conflicts started. I have friends who were in Paris during the terrorist attacks, and Brussels. And all these people were just ordinary people, who were caught up in a bad situation. And you know what they did? They didn't run away.

They stayed behind and helped. They helped to support our citizens overseas in getting out of these countries. In finding loved ones when things were chaotic. They didn't shy away from this, even though in many cases it wasn't their job to do it. Because they are good people, who work extremely hard.

Even me, I haven't been in those situations, but I work on one of the most challenging and complex Foreign Policy issues in the world right now. It's hard. It's physically and mentally draining seeing what I see. But I do it because I believe in my work. I enjoy it. I'm good at it. And every day I go in I work damn hard, because I want to make the world a better place.

Even with the tide turning against people like me, I will still fight. I will do what I can to help.

Don't get me wrong. I would much rather be in a situation like somebody like @mishacollins. Have a good platform and uses it to try and educate people on what is going on. It would be far far easier for me. I wouldn't spend every waking moment staring at the news, making sure I was up to date on what was happening in world events; working 70 hours a week and then learning a new language on top of this. But I don't have that, so I do this instead.

I guess my point in all this is, it angers me so much what is happening to my fellow public sector workers in the United States. Of course, some will be your average career civil servants who landed a good job and never left. But there are those like me who just want to make a difference, and this is how they do it.

And now, if they don't align themselves with a philosophy that they don't agree with, they will be forced out.

And that is absolutely disgusting.

I don't expect many people to engage with this post. But I just needed a place to rant, and sometimes this is the only place I really can.

Now, I will enjoy my weekend and come back on Monday fresh and ready to take on the world. I just hope it doesn't fall apart during my limited time to enjoy myself.