#from calling him inferior and saying if ford lets him back in

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

tried my hand on stancest meta but tumblr ate up my draft that was a fullblown essay like the functioning app that it is, so i'm just going to post my twitter screenshots here lmao

[paper-sunflower-lane]

Bill Twin Theory 2024 (This is messy since I tend to ramble.)

A theory that I've always really liked is that Bill had a twin too so I wanted to point out some things that made me rethink this theory since I've gotten back into Gravity Falls.

(Note: I know Bill probably doesn't have a twin because we never know what Alex will pull, but I'm just rambling at this point)

It always just made perfect sense to me, and yes, I know he didn't target the Pines because they were twins, he targeted them because Ford was exactly what he needed, but just the thought of him being a twin himself.

It made all those snide remarks he made about the Pines siblings even better.

Especially the comment he made to Mabel during Sock Opera…

"Who would sacrifice everything they've worked for just for their dumb sibling?"

We know Alex has said that Bill thinks Mabel is just like him a perfect agent of chaos.

Then there's his constant resentment of Stan even though Mabel and Stan are a lot alike in some instances and that means that in Bill's way of viewing things, Stan is just like him, they are both con artists after all.

In "The Book of Bill" the first time he sees Stan is on the TV and Ford is complaining about him. He calls Stan an inferior clone and suggests that Ford should have eaten him to gain his power.

He calls Stan while possessing Ford to tell him that Ford never loved him when Stan hasn't had contact with Ford for years at this point and he has absolutely nothing to do with this. (That doesn't matter, of course, since Bill just wanted to hurt Ford.)

He then blames Stan for everything, every little thing, not just his plan going up in flames, but for little things as well, even though Stan didn't do it alone… almost like it's not really Stan he's talking about.

If he sees Stan as a better version of himself, someone who got everything he ever wanted even though in Bill's opinion he screwed up everything, then I can see why he resents him so much.

If Bill had a twin, I don't think he ate them, what I do think though is that when he wanted to show everyone in his dimension the stars that his twin told him not to, his twin warned him something bad would happen, and he didn't listen which cost him everything.

And maybe he resents them even though he was the one who did it, maybe he thinks that they should have tried harder to stop him to talk him out of it.

So we're gonna look at this from an outsider's point of view really quick, and see things on a two-dimensional scale like Bill does, stripping the characters down to their bases.

Bill, Stan, and Mabel are all chaotic which is their core.

Ford and Dipper are both logical which is their core.

Stan has Ford.

Mabel has Dipper.

And Bill has…?

Chaos and order are huge underlining themes in Gravity Falls, these forces are always pushing and pulling against one another.

You can say that the Time Baby was Bill's order in this mess, but was he really?

Bill took out the time baby not once but according to his journal twice.

When Stan and Ford go up against one another they are evenly matched in different ways.

When Mabel and Dipper go up against one another they are evenly matched in different ways.

And when they all go up against a common enemy that enemy loses nearly every single time.

They're their own people, but they complement each other.

Bill doesn't have that.

We don't know everything Bill lost when he destroyed his home, we just know it was his fault, and he knows it's his fault.

Bill doesn't want to be alone in that guilt so he tries to make people just like him.

So if we're going with the twin theory which are, let's go back to the comment he made to Mabel during Sock Opera.

"Who would sacrifice everything they've worked for just for their dumb sibling?"

Well…

Mabel would and did, Dipper would and did, Ford would and did, and Stan absolutely would and absolutely did.

Bill is the only one who didn't and he lost everything because of it.

[yourbeauties]

deleted scene from ch 16

This is a different version of the scene where Bill confronts the teacher about Holden’s Matchbox car. It’s far inferior to the scene I ended up posting, IMO, but if you are interested in my writing process, maybe you will find it interesting.

Some context:

- When the story was emerging and I knew that I wanted a toy of Holden’s to go missing and for Bill to investigate, I ended up going entirely the wrong route. I thought the principal would take it, because he was a collector of tchotchkes, and then I had to figure out what Holden’s toy would be based on that. So I spent a lot of time learning about Matchbox cars, only to throw most of it out!

- I wrote a very loose outline of the parent-teacher meeting with only the principal and not Mrs. Reid, that featured the things McNarland had collected in his office. He said he displayed them to show his students how to be patient, because the collectables gained value over time? Or something lol?

- I ended up deciding against this plan because a) collectables weren’t as big a field at this point in time, I think, and b) it wasn’t hitting the profiling theme as strongly as I thought it could. I wasn’t connecting how Bill could figure it out, or how he could “interview” the principal. Once I realized that the actual item didn’t matter, and it should just be about the theft itself, the rest fell into place. RIP all that Matchbox car research! Then I went and created Mrs. Reid and the Campus Creep to be mirrors of each other. (I also decided using the principal would be too close to the foot-tickling principal in canon.)

- When I was first outlining this story, I also kicked around the idea of Holden getting bullied by popular jock-types at school. At some point I was going to have him being hazed, and getting himself out of being hurt by offering sexual favours to the bullies. I was looking for a way to keep the sexual acting-out symptom of abuse that we saw in chapter two alive.

- Dealing with bullies at school was kind of stressing me out though, it seemed like a lot of pipe to lay for what was essentially a C-Story. And while I wanted to keep the thread of his sexual acting-out-ness alive, I didn’t want to go too deep on it. So at some point, it shifted to his teacher. Mrs. Reid was going to be a man, and I was going to have an off-screen scene where Mr. Reid asked Holden to stay after class because he had failed a test or something. Holden would panic and try to offer some kind of sexual favour, the way he panicked and touched Bill’s thigh in chapter two. Mr. Reid would shut it down, but NOT report it to anyone— until Holden got lost in DC on Mr. Reid’s watch. Then that would all come out in the parent-teacher meeting.

- However, because the parent-teacher meeting was going to have to cover 1) the book 2) suspension and 3) the Matchbox car, another element just seemed like too much. The consequences of something like that seemed like they’d take over the story, and again, I thought that wouldn’t strike the right tone with Holden’s symptoms of abuse. I’m not sure if I am reaching the right tone at all anyway, but I think less is more.

Anyway, with all that in mind, here is the scene!

—

Bill went to James Monroe to talk to the principal.

“Hey, about Holden,” he started.

“Mr. Tench, I know you’re in a tough situation with him, but policy is policy,” said Mr. McNarland.

Bill shook his head. “It’s not about the suspension. I totally understand. And I wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday, with Holden’s outburst. I was taken aback, and I shouldn’t have let it get so out of control.”

Mr. McNarland blinked. “Well. I appreciate that, Mr. Tench. Thank you.”

“This business with the Matchbox car, though,” said Bill. He coughed, and shifted. “Holden’s been through a lot.”

Mr. McNarland nodded. “I know. He’s not the only child in care that I’ve had as a student. I know it’s a unique challenge.”

“Yeah. It is.” Bill nodded in return, mirroring the principal’s movements. “He doesn’t have a lot of his own possessions. We only recently started giving him an allowance and he doesn’t even seem to know what to do with it. But he had those cars since he was little. They mean more to him than a typical kid’s toys do. And you’re a collector, Mr. McNarland.” He nodded at the display shelf of aging trinkets. “You know how important a kid’s toys can be to begin with.”

Mr. McNarland sighed. “That’s unfortunate. My heart goes out to him. But…” he shrugged. “Screaming at school staff, and his foster parents, and trying to destroy someone else’s property is not the right way to deal with his problems.”

Bill nodded, frowning, trying to look like he was taking in what the principal was saying. “I’m just trying to help him figure it out. Because he’s very organized. It’s not like him to lose things.”

Mr. McNarland sighed and shook his head. “Well… even the most organized kids lose things, Mr. Tench.”

“Yeah,” Bill conceded. “But not Holden. Not really. You don’t live with him. He’s meticulous. More than any adult I know. And if he says he never took those Matchbox cars out of that plastic bag, I believe him.”

Mr. McNarland fiddled with his tie uncomfortably. “I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at here, Mr. Tench.”

Bill leaned forward. Let his face get a little harder. “Holden didn’t lose his Matchbox car at home. And I seriously doubt he would have taken it out at school. Do you think he would have?”

Mr. McNarland frowned. His fingers fiddled with his tie faster.

“You always wear such cute ties?” Bill asked. “The little boats yesterday. Planes today. The Matchbox people make boats and planes, too. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

Mr. McNarland looked taken aback. “Are you… insinuating something?”

“I’m not insinuating shit,” Bill spat. “You know exactly what Holden was talking about when he had his tantrum. And you know that the only time his backpack was out of his sight was when <I>you</I> were searching it.”

“Mr. Tench—”

“You said you knew how hard that particular car was to find. You said <I>Matchbox wasn’t the same after Superfast.</I> Because you knew <I>that’s</I> why they don’t make Holden’s car anymore.” Bill leaned one arm on the principal’s desk. “I wonder if you happen to know how much a late ‘60s, pre-Superfast, brown Ford Cortina with doors that open is worth these days. Probably not a fortune, but at least two or three times what was paid for it, right?”

The principal sputtered indignantly.

“But the trick is to wait,” Bill said, staring McNarland straight in the eye, “for the value to mature.”

McNarland’s lip quivered. He broke the stare, and shook his head rapidly. “Mr. Tench, this is really out of line.”

“Oh, is it?” Bill stood. “You know what I think is out of line? A teacher that doesn’t <I>do anything</I> about a student trying to trade sexual favours with him, and a principal who steals from poor foster kids.”

“Excuse me!” McNarland stood too, trying and failing to match Bill’s height. “If you have an issue with how we’re handling Mr. Reid, you’re welcome to take it up with the school board. But I won’t stand here and let you accuse me of—”

“You’re fucking right I’m gonna take it up with the school board,” said Bill. “Where’s the car, McNarland? Or do you want me to get the Bureau involved, too?”

McNarland laughed in disbelief. “Mr. Tench, you are not the only law enforcement parent who’s tried to pull strings.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m the only law enforcement parent whose foster kid you were dumb enough to steal from. Give it back.”

“I don’t have it,” McNarland said forcefully, hands fisted in his tie, dropping his gaze on the last word.

“Then maybe it’s not just me who goes to the school board,” said Bill. “Maybe I’ll round up all the other law enforcement parents and tell them how Mr. Reid let a kid make sexual passes at him for over two months and nothing was done about it. Maybe I’ll call all the military parents I know, too. I know some Marines who would be thrilled to hear it.”

McNarland huffed. “You think— you think I don’t see bullies like you day in and day out? You think I didn’t grow up with kids like you, who are used to— to making threats to get what they want?”

“Oh, I’m sure you were well acquainted with <I>bullies like me</I> when you were a nerd in high school,” said Bill. “But the difference between <I>us</I>, Mr. McNarland, is that I grew up and got my head out of my ass. While sad twerps like <I>you</I> grew up into the kind of adults who would steal a toy from a child.” He shook his head and turned to leave. “I guess we’re done. You’ll hear from the school board.”

“Wait.” Mr. McNarland’s voice was strained. He shakily opened a drawer and slapped a little Matchbox on the desk. The brown Ford Cortina.

Bill sighed, half disbelieving. “You’re pathetic,” he sneered, taking the Matchbox and slipping it in his pocket.

“Get out of my office,” McNarland snapped.

“Gladly,” said Bill. “You should get started on your resume, Mr. McNarland.”

He stepped out of the principal’s office and closed the door with a shaky sigh. The secretary stared at him, wide-eyed.

“I think I may have made your life a bit harder, Miss. Sorry about that.”

[jamiescallion]

AMERICAN ANIMAL - (January Recap)

Chapter One

Mr Rawling Rump the Rhinoceros, of Austin Zoo, Texas, plunged his large snout into the cool mud and shut his beady black eyes. Rump, as most knew him, let the sludge cool his horn and daydreamed about the coming celebrations. He was excited. The weather had been stifling of late and the party was exactly what the animals needed.

Rump was the oldest mammal in the zoo. His advanced years hadn’t meant he’d learnt humility. Far from it. He was a proud beast who thought a lot of himself, and he wasn’t shy in sharing that around. His enormous enclosure: Rump Ranch, was named by Rump’s father Big Red Rump, and because of its location, next to the entrance, it was considered prime real estate. This made Rump a very important beast indeed. His father Big Red Rump would say:

“You’re a top mammal, son, and you must act like it. The Lion, Tiger, Elephant, Giraffe, Snake, Wolf, Monkey, Gorilla and Bear can afford to mess up. You can’t, the scrutiny is too great.”

Rump had been excited about tonight's chow down for weeks. It was an opportunity to see all of his supporters and also an opportunity for him to gloat. Just one week ago he’d won a triumphant victory over the ruling Big Cats. Rump had repeatedly insisted that President Zanzibar should provide conclusive proof he is an American Animal. Born in an American zoo. Zanzibar eventually relented and Old Baldy, the American Bald Eagle in charge of History and Births, confirm that Zanzibar was indeed born in an American Zoo, although not in Austin zoo. Rump considered the confirmation a victory and took great pleasure in letting his fellow creatures know. Rump’s swaggering self-satisfaction would soon sour.

Rump pulled his horn out of the sludge, climbed on top of Rump Rock, tipped back his head and let loose a thunderous bellow. Simon the snake slunk into the ranch. Simon, a python, was not very long for a python but he was certainly a python. His silvery scales blotched with oblongs of butterscotch yellow, ringed by lines of burnt orange.

Rump and Simon stalked and slid up the shallow slope to the Big Cat enclosure, where tonight’s stomp would take place. Under the giant arches, they went and into the vast and beautifully maintained Palace. Rump nodded cordially in return to those that greeted him. He took his place next to Senator Elena Forde’s enclosure. Elena, a sleek snow Leopard, nodded coldly toward Rump. They’d been friendly once but things had curdled since Rump had attacked her party leader. President Zanzibar, the Lion, climbed onto the speaking slab and addressed the crowd of gathered animals. Rump gazed up at the leader with barely masked disdain.

President Zanzibar looked down and smiled. “It is wonderful to be here with you at the chow down. As you will have heard Old Baldy released my official origin story and I am officially an American Animal. I was born in America!” The animals snorted in support around Rump. Zanzibar smiled more broadly now. “I hope it puts the doubts to rest but in case there is still any uncertainty, Old Baldy said he will give Mr Rawling Rump a blow by blow campfire retelling of my birth story. He’s called it out of Africa.” The animals laughed with great enthusiasm and Rump felt consumed with humiliation. His horn hot with embarrassment.

Zanzibar put up his paw to quell the laughter. “I should add that my mother was not African. She was born in New York Zoo…” Zanzibar now gazed openly at Rump. “Is New York okay or do I need to get Old Baldy to confirm my mother’s origin story too?” Rump’s eyes watered in shock, feeling the crowds communal stare upon him he attempted to smile back with casual grace. As if he’d been in on the joke. Only an awkward grimace was raised. Which only served to stoke the fire of mirth. President Zanzibar called for the stomp to begin and the animals, in unison, began to thud the ground with hooves and paws, trotters and claws. Rump turned to see Simon beating his diamond-shaped head against the ground with concentrated and joyous enthusiasm. Rump gave the snake a contemptuous glance and made his way out of the palace, through the entranced and stomping animals. He trudged back down the hill to Rump Ranch. With every step the rhinoceros’ fury grew, his stubborn will bent on revenge.

Chapter Two

Rump spent three weeks plotting. June ushered in a ferocious temperature and with it a resolve to get revenge done. The rhino climbed onto Rump Rock, tipped back his enormous head and roared. Simon slithered into the enclosure in record time. “Simon, I want you to gather all the animals together and tell them to come to Rump Ranch.” “Of coursssssse,” Simon hissed. “May I enquire as to what we will be discussing?” he said gazing up at the rhino with a colourless smile.

Rump snorted through bucket-sized nostrils and the python wished for eyelids. "This zoo is not great, not great at all. The zoo in Houston and the one in San Antonio are way better, way way better. Which is just terrible. Now go gather the other animals. I’m going to make some changes around here."

“Of courssssse?” said the snake. “But how do you know?" "Old Baldy told me,” Rump said impatiently.

“He wouldn’t lie to me. He’s a true American Animal." Old Baldy, the American bald eagle, visited zoos all over the state. Animals gathered around the ‘news tree’ most nights to hear Old Baldy broadcast the truth. Simon had not heard the claims their zoo was inferior to others but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.  

"President Zanzibar will surely do something," said the snake.

Rump shook his gnarled head, his yellow straw wig flapping, his beady black eyes rolling and his red necktie swinging.

"That pampered lion won't do a damn thing about a damn thing. He isn’t even a true American Animal. You heard him say his mother was African. He admitted it. How can he be our President if he wasn’t even born in an American zoo?"

“But Old Baldy said he was an American Animal.”

“Do you believe everything you hear?” said Rump.

Simon thought about this. Something deep in his slippery stomach told him Old Baldy had confirmed Zanzibar was an American Animal but perhaps he had it wrong. Did he believe everything he heard? Perhaps he did! One thing was for certain, Rump had never ever lied to him.

“Your right of course,” Simon said. “I will gather the animals. Although I’m not sure the Big Cats will come.” Rump settled the snake a beady glare.

“Tell them exactly what I say. Tell them I am going to clean this crooked zoo up and make it great again. Tell them I’m starting with the big furry hairballs in the White Palace. I’m going to cough them up and use them as earmuffs.”

Simon didn’t understand but nodded all the same. He knew Rump was talking about the ruling big cats but he didn’t know what a hairball was. As he slithered up the hill to deliver the message his thoughts turned to food. Most specifically, lunch.

The reptiles arrived first: Mike the lizard, Toby the toad, Gordon the gecko, Linda the turtle, Eric the skink, Charlie the chameleon and Crazy Tom the one-eyed crocodile, all settled down in the soft brown earth in front of Rump Rock and chattered excitedly as they waited for the great horn (as they called Him) to speak. Rump gave his loyal supporters an exaggerated wink, the enthusiastic reptiles grinned and all winked back. Apart from Tom, the crazy one-eyed crocodile, because a crazy one-eyed crocodile can’t wink.

Next to arrive was the sleek snow leopard, Senator Elena Forde. A senior member of Zanzibar’s administration and the Big Cat Patriot Party, she sashayed into the ranch with what Rump dubbed “arrogant cat syndrome”. Senator Forde climbed the leafy sweetgum tree that stood at the centre of Rump Ranch, stretched her limbs over a thick branch and began to preen her paws. She regarded Rump lazily and said: "What are you going to moan about this week?"

Before Rump could respond with nuclear indignation the heritage mammals ambled through the gates and into the enclosure. Joshua the giraffe, Gaga the albino chimpanzee, Jape the gorilla, Lenny the gazelle, Zee the zebra, Sally the hippo and Archer the toothless baboon. Trailing after them, like a vast grey cloud, plodded, Jacob the African elephant. A kindly and steadfast beast. Jacob was one of President Zanzibar’s most trusted supporters and a well-respected member of the zoos community. He was not known for his quick wit but was universally liked for his honesty, affability and tireless work ethic.

The heritage mammals supported the president with dutiful deference, Jacob going further with a belief that Zanzibar possessed almost godlike powers. The heritage mammals had always aligned themselves with the big cats. Since the dawn of zoos.

After the mammals, came the natives: Butch bear, Woody elk, Hank wolf, Buzz coyote, Rocky raccoon, Henrietta red fox, and Ace the three-legged bison. Rump loved the natives because in many ways he wanted to be one, and the natives loved him back because in many ways they thought he was one of them.

Old Baldy glided into Rump Ranch and landed gracefully on a branch high up in the leafless sweetgum. His friends from the menagerie had already taken up lower positions in the tree. Eric weaver, Sarah parrot, Dodger cockatoo and Reginald falcon were all thinking the same thing: if only the other animals could gain their elevated perspective, they might grasp how ridiculous Rump was, and not hang off his every pompous word.

Next came the rodents. Rump had long labelled them “aliens” because they’d arrived at the zoo from other countries, many of them illegally, or so the rhino claimed. Mohammed meerkat, Zoya mongoose, Ali otter, Baba porcupine, and Jose the Mexican rat. Strictly Jose was a Mexican sereque but only his fellow aliens bothered to learn the distinction. The rodents hung back, near the exit, unsettled and nervous. Ever watchful.

Finally, President Zanzibar wandered through the gates of Rump Ranch, his big cat cabinet marching in behind him. Seven senators: tiger, leopard, panther, jaguar, cougar, puma and cheetah. All lived and worked with the President at The White Palace.

Zanzibar moved through the crowd greeting creatures with an easy smile, the animals beamed back in delight. Only when Zanzibar was sitting on his hind legs, his lustrous golden mane angled upward toward Rump, did the rhino begin his speech…

The lion turned and gave the audience a warm smile and then turned back and looked up at Rump.

“Are we not all aliens in our own way?” His commanding voice silencing the commotion.

“My parents came to New York zoo from Tanzania many years ago. I am a first-generation lion. Does this make me any less of an American animal?”

The big cats and mammals roared in support. Rump shook his horn and looked out toward the assembled crowd.

“You’ve ruined this zoo with your woke snowflakery, Zanzibar. For eight years we have suffered at the paws of your administration. Whilst only the elite or the lowly are cared for. What about the animals in the middle? Enough is enough. We need change. I will do a better job than you. We must make this zoo great again. Do you accept my challenge?”

The gathering of animals roared, snapped, yelped and hissed. Some were noises of support, some of opposition, but all agreed that this was an audacious challenge. Zanzibar had never been opposed before, not even by another big cat, let alone a rhinoceros wearing a straw wig.

After a thoughtful pause, President Zanzibar raised his mane and addressed the gathering.

“It is Mr Rump’s right to challenge me.” He turned his flecked auburn eyes on the rhino. “But I will not stand against you. Another will take my place.” He nodded toward the Leopard lounging in the tree. “I choose Senator Elena Forde to run against you in my stead.”

A clamour of surprise and excitement erupted from the crowd. For the first time in almost a decade there would be an election and on the ballot paper a rhinoceros. Rump let out a high-pitched squeal, a noise that male rhinos are well known for, but try to avoid emitting because they think it’s emasculating. Rump pulled himself together, puffed out his cheeks and thought it through. It was unlikely he would win, the big cat elite was too powerful, their supremacy stretched too far back. However, he was in the race and anything can happen when you’re in the race. Then it came to him, a revelation. He wasn’t a big cat and as such he didn’t need to play by their big cat rules. He cleared his throat and began his acceptance speech.

“I accept any challenge set before me,” Rump began. “and I will fight, fight, fight to expose the lies and corruption the big cat elite have committed for so many years. But, you know what’s more important than anything?” he paused to rear up on his hind legs, delighting the reptiles at the front. “Unity! And you know what I love about it?” Continued Rump. “Unity is love, I’m in love with myself, I’m in love with all of you and I’m sure as hell in love with this zoo. And I don’t just love the animals that already support me, I love the animals that have cat yolk in their eyes. Yeh, that’s right, I’m in love with you because I know you love me right back. Deep down, even if you don’t know it yet. We’re all in love together because we all have one thing in common,” he paused again, glancing toward the exit where the rodents stood nervously watching. “Well, not all of us…and do you know what that thing we have in common is?” he bellowed.

Rump waited a beat and then thundered his final line with slow and purposeful intent. “WE ARE ALL… AMERICAN ANIMALS!”

As the new presidential candidate climbed down from the Rump Rock, a chant started up. Two words. Over and over again: “AMERICAN ANIMAL, AMERICAN ANIMAL, AMERICAN ANIMAL, AMERICAN ANIMAL.”

 Chapter 3

Rump could not sleep that night; he replayed the day's events with growing delight. Excited and restless in his luxurious straw bed. He’d played it perfectly, he’d been cunning, calm and courageous. He knew the odds were stacked against him, but that didn’t matter. If he could just convince half the heritage mammals to vote for him, he’d be in with a chance of prickling some fat cat fur. Besides, win or lose, he was in the game and his daddy had always said:

“Once you get in the game, you can change the rules.” His daddy had also told him: “Winning ugly is still winning.”

It had been decided that the vote would take place in three weeks time. Rump’s campaign strategy was a simple one. Shake the tree and see what falls out. He was going to make sure that this election would be bigger than anything the zoo had ever seen before. It wouldn’t just be unique because Forde was the first female candidate to be selected in the history of the zoo and Rump was the first non-big cat to be selected. It would be unique because Rump intended to break with convention. In fact, he hoped he could break convention altogether. As he lay awake, staring up at the moon, he compiled a list of one ultimate and unbreakable rule: No matter what, however much the big cat elite pressured him, or how compelling the evidence against him was, he would never ever admit he was wrong. About anything. Ever.

One of the first executive decisions the rhino made was to make Simon Python his chief advisor. The other reptiles respected Simon and keeping them onside would be vital. Rump felt sure Simon would make an excellent right-hand snake. Not least because Rump knew he would do everything he asked, without question. He also chose Simon because he was almost as committed to expelling the alien animals as he was. The reptiles had always felt like they’d been treated as second class citizens by the big cat elite, they’d grumbled about it for years. Rump, who once boasted that his Ranch was twice the size of the reptile house, took the decision to make the refurbishment of the herpetarium (reptile house) his first election promise. He would hold a big rally that very day and announce the exciting news.

Rump commenced a run of rallies that quickly became the hottest ticket in town. His impassioned speeches sparking a conversation that divided opinion, animals and even, in some cases, species. Rump railed against the big cat elite with sincere passion, his mischievous charisma and disarming candidness winning over many doubters. He exploded with policies. Opinions that dared talk about real issues; overpopulation, sanitation and animal migration. His election pledges ranged from the wacky and wild to the inspired and necessary. He threatened to dig a vast trench around the zoo to stop the alien rodents getting in. He promised to make all carnivores pay more tax, a vow the big cat elite were most upset about. Rump was vague and direct, unpredictable and cocksure, but most of all he was plain-speaking, no-nonsense and different.

Rump told the animals that if they had a problem, he would fix it. He didn’t get bogged down in detail, he simply said it would be dealt with. If he said a group of animals were corrupt, they were corrupt. Rump didn’t get involved in evidence. Rump dealt in fact. He didn’t get embroiled in proving things; that was what the big cat elite did. He didn’t have time to waste on verifying particulars. Why should he? He knew exactly what was going on. His supporters took his word for it. He didn’t tell them how everything would get better. It just would. Every speech he gave, audience members either chanted and cheered, or heckled and booed. It was a polarisation so stark many animals worried there would be civil war. The middle ground vanished, you were either with him or against him. His detractors were ardent, his followers evangelical.

Every Rump rally ended with the same repetitive chant: “AMERICAN ANIMAL, AMERICAN ANIMAL.”

The rhino climbed onto Rump rock spurred by the sound of fanatical cheering, he gazed out at the assembled animals, his straw wig flapping in the wind. He was pleased to note the new faces. Every day more were drawn to his rallying cry. “We need big talk and even bigger action,” Rump began with intensity.

“BIG TALK, BIGGER ACTION.” Chanted the crowd back at him.

Rump had travelled around the zoo, visiting with animals from all walks of life, talking to them directly, listening to their grievances, promising swift justice or instant resolution. He injected his speeches with their concerns:

“American animals must come first! Let’s make this zoo great again!” he bellowed, waiting a beat so the gathering mob could chant his words back.

Rump awoke on the sixth day of the campaign with an idea. He summoned Simon and instructed him to go and find him a chalkboard. Within an hour Simon slithered back into the ranch, dragging behind him, a thin sheet of grey slate stone.

“Place it at the entrance of the ranch, where all can see it,” commanded the rhino. Rump followed Simon outside to make sure the snake completed the task to his satisfaction.

“What is it for, Mr President-Elect, Sir?” Simon said as pushed the flat stone into place. “I will use it to communicate my important message, direct to the other animals.”

“What a truly ingenious idea, Sir.”

Rump craned his neck and started to write on the board, with his horn. Simon spoke the words as he spoke them: “A leopard can’t change his spots. I don’t have spots!”

The snake wagged his tail excitedly. “What will you call this new form of communication, Sir?”

“Well, let me see, this is a Horn Board!” Rump said kicking the slate tablet. “So I guess the act of committing thoughts to the Horn Board is called Horning,” he added.

The following morning, Rump went to check the Horning Board and was surprised to find a rather large pile of flat stones stacked at its base. Closer inspection revealed each of the slate tiles was etched with a message.

The first of which was written in tall spidery lettering and was signed by the Mexican Sereque, Jose. It was a straightforward opinion: “You’re an idiot!”

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The cover art that received the highest number of likes for the month of January:

Quentin Blake

[vivithefolle]

Proxy by Matilda Bishop Summary: Ron’s role in Harry’s struggle with Voldemort puts unexpected pressure on Bill.

Okay, so this fic has been called one of the best Ron/Harry fics several times, but I never really read more than the first few chapters because of the Bill/Harry thing. I thought it came out of nowhere and made no sense, and the age difference made it all iffy, so I always stopped reading. But after seeing yet another mention of this fic, I decided to just push through and try to read it once more, and I’m so glad I did! (The Bill thing still makes no sense, but it’s not really important to the rest of the story and I decided to just skim their scenes and pretend it had never happened once they stopped seeing each other. And as Harry seemed to forget all about Bill once he realized his feelings for Ron, it’s all good)

The main star of the story is definitely Ron, even though it’s in Harry’s POV. We arrive with Harry to the Burrow, and meet a Ron with serious mood swings, he’s manic one minute and depressed, tired and angry the next, but the manic episodes never last long.  Harry and the Weasleys try to figure out what’s going on, and I don’t want to spoil anything, but the brains from the Department of Mysteries are involved;)

There’s a couple of things in this fic that made me roll my eyes (Hermione has a hair cut, and suddenly everyone think she’s gorgeous is one of them, that she also hits Ron during a tense moment and no one complains is another), but all things considered it’s one of the best Ron fics I’ve ever read. It’s full of mystery and dark magic, but also full of love (both romantic, platonic and familial). And yes, Ron is the main receiver of both.

Vivi’s thoughts: Okay, I just want to thank you profusely for giving me this - even though it’s not complete, boo - because it gave me something I pretty much NEVER find in fic: Ron being comforted, cuddled, protected, Ron’s head in his partner’s lap, Ron’s hair being petted, and all sorts of fluffy things. Gimme more of that vulnerable, heartbreakingly beautiful Ron, please.

All in all you’re right, this fanfic is a great read despite the weirdass Bill/Harry at first that serves absolutely no purpose whatsoever and comes out of nowhere. I mean, okay with Harry having a bit of a crush on Bill before he realizes that Ron is really the one he wants, but for Bill to reciprocite…? Mmmfffnnhh. Luckily, like you said, you can just skip the Bill/Harry scenes and not lose plot-critical info so it’s all good.

Funny enough, I like external PoV when it concerns Ron, because I know what goes on in that kid’s head - low self-esteem, an inferiority complex and depression DON’T give much room for kind thoughts about oneself, believe me. And even though Harry sometimes had thoughts about Ron that made me want to shake him, in the end he waxed enough poetic about Ron for me to calm down. Think I’ll do a lil compilation of my favourite lines after I’m done with this review.

As usual, the Makeover Hermione trope had me cringe, not gonna lie, but luckily she never hooks up with any of the Weasleys during the fic or else I’d really have ground my teeth. And Ginny has Dean Thomas comes to the Burrow for a while, so she’s not heartbroken either. I was a bit angry when Hermione said “it’s a Pureblood thing, I’ll explain it to you” because f**k off Hermione that’s Ron’s role. But it was once so I’ll let it pass. (Geez, my standards for fic are so bloody high, do you see now why I’m insufferable?)

Molly… Molly was really shouty, honestly, and I was kinda disappointed by her characterization? The author had her be super-overbearing and controlling, and while in canon she can sometimes have this behaviour, here it was a bit over-the-top. Ah well.

Now for my favourite lines, those’ll go straight to my “Ron-appreciation folder” (SPOILERS AHEAD, DUH):

Voldemort was inexorably part of his life, but he wasn’t his whole life.  There was school and Quidditch and two best friends, one who needed him badly.  And Harry was determined to help.  After all, Ron meant the world to him.  For years, Ron had backed him up, he’d pulled him out of nightmares and followed him into the all the trouble that came from having a zigzag scar on your head.  Sure, Ron had been the world’s biggest prat about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but Harry had treated him like shit for most of their fifth year.  So they were even.  All in all, Ron, along with Hermione, had been the best friend a bloke could ask for, and he’d been the person who’d given him the family he always wanted.  A surrogate mother and father, a messy jumble of brothers, a spunky little sister, a place to think of as home…

I think the entire goddamn Harry Potter fandom should be reminded of this daily honestly

Harry returned to the living room feeling better.  Bill glanced up in concern and Harry felt his face burn.  He tried to smile to let Bill know he was okay, but really he wasn’t sure what his face was doing.   Ron was back in his chair, having started a new game with Bill.  The chess pieces seemed to be complaining to him about Harry’s performance. “Aw, give him a break, you gits,” Ron snarled.  “His game is Quidditch.”

Oh my god what a cutie *melts*

Hermione looked determined and Harry felt sorry for Ron.  He knew how relentless Hermione could be.

“Promise me you won’t hold Ron’s feet in the fire,” he said.  “Go a little gentle on him, okay?”

Hermione seemed surprised.  “Are you saying I’m hard, Harry?”

“Hermione,” Harry said.  “You’re wonderfully gentle with people like Neville, but with Ron, you’re about as gentle as a blast-ended Skrewt.”

“Oh, all right, Harry,” said Hermione, turning pink.  “But Ron is so thick sometimes, he has the emotional range of a…”

“Not anymore, Hermione,” Harry said firmly.

YES YOU GO HARRY BREAK THOSE DELUSIONS OF HERS

Bemused, he watched Ron, disheveled, half-dressed, slip and slide clumsily on the comics strewn across the floor as he made his way over to his dresser.  There’s something terribly sweet and vulnerable about him, Harry thought.

Yeeeesssss that’s our Ron <3<3<3

He levered up slightly on one elbow.  Ron’s mouth was inches from his.  He dipped his head and pressed his lips against Ron’s, a long gentle kiss on Ron’s full and cushiony mouth.

Ron’s eyes fluttered.  They popped open.

Harry blinked.  Bloody hell, he thought.  Just like Sleeping Beauty.  I kissed him and he woke up just like Sleeping Beauty!  Fuck me, I’m Prince Charming!

Funnily enough I’ve read a one-shot like that once BUT I WOULDN’T MIND SOME MORE OF THAT AU, CAN I PLEASE HAVE MORE

Just look at him, he thought, sliding his hand from Ron’s face to his hair.  At the bright bright hair…at the freckles that make him look like a kid.   At the way his top lip curves and the bottom one pouts.  Has it really taken me five years to see him?  See how… perfect he is?

Believe me Harry some people still haven’t realized it twenty years down the road, I’m as baffled as you are

In fact, Harry had been dreaming.  On the bonnet of the [Ford Anglia] next to Ron, as happy as he’d ever been, he’d been idly planning their future.  We’ll live in the car, he’d decided. I love it that much. We’ll have to engorge the inside, of course, at least the back seat… like a wizard’s tent. We’ll put a four poster back there, a big cozy one with poufy pillows. There’ll be a lounge with a fireplace too, and a kitchen and bath and we’ll magick the whole business to fly again. Sometimes we’ll sit up front and fly wherever we want, stop when we see a likely place. A beach or a meadow or a forest where no one has ever been before. Other times we’ll sleep or make love in the bed while the car flies and the wind and the clouds stream in through the open windows. I’ll hold Ron on top of me and watch his face as his body slides over mine. He’ll lift his eyes to meet mine; I’ll lick the sweat from his jaw and the muscles in his arms and shoulders will roll. He’ll throw his head back for me and I’ll see the moon pass through his hair.

God Harry’s life plans are such a mood, I’m so jealous

Welp, that’s it folks, thank you again so much Anon for recommending that fic to me! <3

[anistarrose]

Illusion (Pokemon x Gravity Falls One-Shot)

Summary: When you're afraid you'll never have a chance to hug your brother again, there's only one thing to do.

Word Count: ~2300

Warnings: Some self-blame and self-hatred

[Can be read without prior knowledge of Pokemon. However, it may be helpful to know that (caesar ciphered for vaguely implied spoiler) Crurdun kdv wkh delolwb Looxvlrq, zklfk ohwv lw glvjxlvh lwvhoi dv rwkhuv.]

July 2nd

It’s only the beginning of my third week in Gravity Falls, and already, I’ve encountered far more strange Pokémon than I could have ever anticipated! Just this morning, Decidueye and I nearly captured a strange creature wearing a decorated rag over its body, as if to mimic a Pikachu! Based on how easily it escaped the trapping power of Spirit Shackle, I’m tempted to classify it as a Ghost-type, but the attack also seemed to do no damage whatsoever to the Pokémon itself, only busting its disguise. We’ll be keeping an eye out for this “shadow of a Pikachu” to show up again it to show up again, of course, in hopes of exposing its true form!

Beheeyem has also been especially delighted lately — I can’t help but wonder if it senses the presence of other extraterrestrials! Perhaps that’s even the origin of all the anomalies in this town?

Stan buried his head in his hands. He’d reread the damn journal four times now, and it was still half useless information and half information he was too stupid to make any sense of.

His Pokémon — except Gyarados, for obvious reasons — were milling about the basement, unsure of what to do to help but too loyal to leave. Pangoro sat cross-legged in front of the portal, as if guarding it, while Persian slowly paced around the room, sniffing things he had definitely had time to sniff before. Even Gabite, who hated the cold and would definitely rather be upstairs under a pile of blankets, was lying at Stan’s feet, wrapping his fins around Stan’s leg for warmth.

And then there was Zoroark — good old, reliable old Zoroark, who’d gotten him through more rough points in life than Stan could count — who leaned over his shoulder, offering a faint murmur of reassurance. There were no words, but twenty years of time spent together made the message clear:

You can do this. We believe in you.

But Stan was tired, so tired. His brain was crying out for coffee, but his limbs felt too heavy for him to get up and make any, his mouth too dry for him to ask any of his Pokémon to bring it to him…

He was tired of being the dumb twin, tired of being the failure twin, tired of being the twin who wasn’t good for anything but protecting others and ultimately just ended up doing the complete opposite. He was tired of being seen as a shadow, as a poor pathetic imitation of something better. He was tired of Ford and everyone who saw him like that not being wrong.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have, because a hand on his shoulder was suddenly shaking him awake.

A six-fingered hand.

“You’re not a failure,” Ford told him gently.

“And you’re not real,” Stan responded.

“I’m saying what he would say if he was here.” Ford’s nose twitched slightly, in a very inhuman — yet still familiar — way.

“Pretty sure just about the last thing he said to me was that I’d never done anything worthwhile in my life. And he was right.”

“He was angry,” Not-Ford replied. “Angry and wrong.”

He gestured around the basement, to where Stan’s Pokémon had all drifted off into sleep. “Was all the time you spent with Persian and Gabite and Pangoro not worthwhile? Was training Gyarados up from a weak little Magikarp you found stranded on the beach one day not worthwhile?”

He rubbed his shoulder, where his trench coat was singed — though subtly, in a way that Stan might have missed if he didn’t know exactly what it meant. “Was convincing your parents to adopt me and Vulpix off the street in the middle of the winter not worthwhile?”

Stan closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “No, it was — it was worth something.”

Still wearing Ford’s appearance, Zoroark wrapped his arms around Stan and hugged him tight, in just the same way that Ford always had. Stan hugged back, and a sob caught in his throat, just in front of his heart, blocking any other sound from coming out.

“If Ford was here right now, he might still be angry,” Zoroark told him. “But I know he wouldn’t say that any of those things were worthless. You’re not worthless, and you can figure this out. We all know you can. That battle won’t be the last one Ford will ever have with us, and calling you worthless won’t be the last thing he’ll ever say to you. I promise. You’ll get to hug him again for real.”

“Thank you,” Stan choked out as the illusion melted away and Zoroark buried his long black snout in his jacket. “You’re right, buddy. You’re right.”

***

From the moment the memory gun slipped out of his hands and clattered to the ground, the end of Ultramageddon dragged on and on for Ford like some kind of eternal punishment, even as it only registered in his memory as a series of blurred and disjointed images. He barely registered the bricks of the Fearamid flying out from underneath his feet as he grabbed Dipper and Mabel and Decidueye and Ninetales and held them tight as stared up to the chaos that was the sky.

The Ultra Wormhole closed itself like cracked glass being melted down into one cohesive whole again, colors streaking from horizon to horizon and until they finally, finally subsided to a uniform blue dotted with white clouds, a faint rainbow forming above the falls in the distance.

Ford thought, for a moment, that he saw the silhouette of a winged creature above that rainbow, lit up from behind by the blazing summer sun — but he blinked and it vanished, and he had a million other things to worry about, the most horrible being the man who wore his face but was no longer his twin.

It wasn’t hard to find Stan (he almost wished it was), because Zoroark, whose bright red mane stuck out in the woods like a sore thumb, was waiting by his trainer’s side, standing down on all fours like he hadn’t since he was a Zorua and whimpering faintly as the others approached.

Mabel, wonderful blessed optimist that she was, ran up to Stan, returned his fez to his head and and was greeted by a confused smile and a question. “Uh, hey there… kiddo. What’s — what’s your name?”

“Grunkle Stan?” Mabel asked. “Grunkle Stan, it’s me! It’s me!”

“We had to erase his mind to defeat Bill,” Ford explained, the words sounding hollow in his mouth — because no explanation could ever make this any better, could ever lead to anything but more sadness. “Stan has no idea, but — he did it. He saved the world.”

Ford let out a ragged breath.

“He saved me.”

Not a full minute ago, he’d made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t expect Stan to still be Stan, wouldn’t expect him to behave like his brother would, wouldn’t say anything to this poor confused man that we wouldn’t say to a stranger.

But he’d known, in his heart, it would been a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. All of a sudden he was hugging Stan and crying, tears seeping into his own trench coat, the coat of the man who should have taken the fall.

“You’re our hero, Stanley.”

Stan remained limp and silent, not making any move to return the embrace.

I’ll never hug my brother again, Ford realized. I haven’t in forty-three years and I never will again.

Soos joined them on the way back to the Shack, his Bibarel tailing after him, and Stan just blinked at them slowly. Zoroark pressed his nose to Soos’s shoulder and let out another mourning whimper, as Soos’s smile melted away and he wiped at his eyes with the end of Zoroark’s tattered mane. Waddles waited for them at the doorstep of the Shack, as if he’d known they were coming, but his expression remained as blank and innocent as a Pignite’s could be as he followed them inside.

Stan settled into his chair in his chair comfortably, his expression a little brighter, a little less confused-looking, and for a moment it was as if a stream of pure oxygen was being blown at the last spark of hope in the back of Ford’s mind. Maybe, just maybe, there was a bit of Stan left —

“Hey, what’s wrong? You guys look like you’re at someone’s funeral!”

And then it was gone, extinguished by the deluge that was reality, and while Ford knew the kids needed him, that their Pokémon needed him, he couldn’t stay, couldn’t keep looking at this — this shadow of a brother.

He remembered the time when he’d convinced himself that Stan had always just been his shadow, an inferior imitation, and hated himself for ever thinking it. He deserved to be hated for thinking it. If anything was a shadow, a warped reflection, a mockery of what it was supposed to be, it was the stranger sitting where Stan should have — which wasn’t fair to this amnesiac man, Ford knew, but he couldn’t keep looking at his once-brother like this, couldn’t stay here —

Hurriedly, awkwardly, he excused himself and rushed to the wreck of a kitchen, where sitting amongst the rubble was… Stan.

Except it wasn’t, because this Stan’s suit was singed and ripped over his left shoulder. The place where Ford’s Ninetales had struck Zoroark with a far more powerful than intended attack in the heat of that fateful battle thirty years ago, an attack that still left a scar to this day.

“Why are you doing this?” Ford blurted out. “Why are you being him?”

“I don’t know,” Zoroark replied, voice close to that of Stan’s yet somehow different, as if with a very faint accent. “Denial, maybe? I — I miss him. I miss him a lot already.” The sorrow in his voice, on the other hand, sounded very, very believably human.

Ford flinched as Zoroark leaned towards him, only to be drawn into a hug just like the one he’d hoped so desperately that he’d receive from Stan back in that clearing.

This isn’t real, he told himself. It’s just an illusion. It’s not really Stan.

But he also hugged Zoroark back.

“He didn’t hate you, you know.” Zoroark murmured between sniffs. “Was frustrated by a lot of things you did, maybe. But he forgave you for all of that in the end.”

Ford nodded slowly. “Do you want to go back to Stan? Together? The kids… the kids need us.”

“Mmhm.” Zoroark let its illusion fade away and withdrew from the hug. When the two of them got back to the living room, Mabel was sitting on Stan’s chair with him and crying, flipping through pages of a scrapbook.

“This’ll work! This has to work! Here’s the first day we came to Gravity Falls, Grunkle Stan, and here are the seals I used on my ball capsules that ended up blinding you!”

“That time we went fishing with you and Gyarados?” Dipper offered. “That time a giant Aerodactyl kidnapped Waddles and you punched it in the face?”

Stan shook his head sadly.

“I’m sorry,” he told them, “but I don’t know what any of this is, or who you are — ah, quit it, Waddles, I’m tryin’ to remember my life story here!”

Ford nearly collapsed with relief, and next to him, he felt Zoroark jump.

“What did you say?” Dipper gasped.

“I said get Waddles off of me!”

“It’s working!” Ford exclaimed, rushing over to Mabel’s side and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Keep reading!”

“Skip to my page! He needs to remember our boss-employee relationship!”

“Hey, just because I have amnesia don’t go tryin’ to give yourself a raise, Soos!”

From somewhere above them, something let out a caw, so loudly that it had to have been from an absolutely giant Pokémon. Between the cracks in the roof of the Shack, Ford could see a rainbow of colors in the sky — and for just a moment, a giant red and white winged creature flying past.

Ho-oh, the Pokémon of rainbows… and revival.

“You okay, uh… Ford? You’re Ford, right?” Stan asks. “My brother? Or is that just short for somethin’, or —”

“No, that’s my name — and I am fine, now. I just…”

He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s not important —”

Stan frowned, and met eyes with Zoroark, who also frowned.

“Alright, fine. Could — could I have a hug?”

Stan got a strange look in his eyes, but Zoroark nodded to him, and he stood up and let his head rest over Ford’s shoulder.

“I missed you,” Ford told him, and for a moment Stan was quiet and Ford was afraid he’d said something wrong, triggered some unpleasant memory to come rushing back without context.

“I don’t know why,” Stan finally said, “‘cause as far as I know I’m the only one who got my mind wiped lately, but… I missed you too. I don’t know what happened, but… I get the sense I’ve been really worried about you lately. And maybe, uh, not on the best terms with you.”

He sniffed. “But I’m… I’m really glad you’re here.”

Ford nodded. “It’s thanks to you that I am. You and your team.”

Overhead, Ho-oh cawed again, and a single feather drifted down between the crack in the roof, shining in red, white and green.

“To new beginnings?” Ford asked, catching it.

“To new beginnings,” Stan agreed.

***

Thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated as always! I definitely have plans for more stuff in this crossover, but also some other fics I want to prioritize over those, so it may be a while.

[rue-by-another-name]

10 Reasons to read Marlie B’s ‘Novelty’

Okay, so I’m sure you’ve all already seen me posting about my good, cute, adorable, passionate, smart, sassy friend Marlie ( @hey-marlie ) and her novel - ‘Novelty.’ But I figured I’d just clue you in to some of the things you’re missing and why it’s such an important piece of literature that you should definitely at least sneak a peek at. Marlie is a really talented writer, whether she believes it or not, and I’d love to share this story with the entire world. 

So, that being said, let me just Buzzfeed this bitch and tell you the Top 10 Reasons why YOU should be reading ‘Novelty’ :

1. Fallon Ford - The main character is an aspiring writer working on her senior capstone project. She’s spunky, short, affectionately called a ‘Tiny Demon’ by her ex-best friend (and total hottie). Fallon Ford is a strong and confident woman, and she may be a hot mess in her brain about her writing, but she’s got some serious power moves out there with the way she handles her work life, academic course load, friendships, and free time. Her fashion is kind of basically the cutest mix of vintage boss-ass bitch, and she’s a literal fucking ray of sunshine. We need more more strong female protagonists in our lives, and Fallon’s main goal in this novel isn’t to find a man and be happy - I mean, sure, she’s Out There and Getting It with some total hotties that I will mention later, but her main goal and aspiration is to become the best writer she can be and do her best. And that, my friends, I think is super awesome. 

2. Diversity - The cast of ‘Novelty’ is super diverse and it’s not the kind of diverse that is trying to make a statement, but the kind of subtle diversity that is a part of all our lives and should be talked about more. When asked about her diverse cast of lovely characters, Marlie responded by saying: “initially i don’t really think i noticed that my ‘cast’ per say was quite diverse. my college campus is 50% international students - on a campus of less than 1,000 students - and so having extremely diverse classes, or diverse ‘friend groups’ and all that is super normal. we have a really active lgbtq community, and so that’s a huge norm in my life and so i really wasn’t questioning it until i was pinteresting and realizing that i’ve got a really good group of kiddos that i’m molding to perfection and helping them be the best versions of themselves. so i think it’s obviously important to have representation, and i think it should be second nature that we don’t have to think ‘oh i have to have a character to fill out ____ quota’ because then what’s the real reason you’re doing it, ya feel ? so yeah … definitely a diverse squad, but that’s how it should be. and i’m really happy with the characters i have so far and i’m looking forward to what’s to come ! thanks for the shout out ! it means a lot and it’s good to reflect on these things.” Her characters represent multiple members of the LGBTQ+ community, multiple POC - African American, mixed-race, Vietnamese, Bangladeshi, and Puerto Rican. Marlie also tackles body image and represents all her characters in all shapes and sizes. 

3. Friendship - The friendships in ‘Novelty’ are the kind of healthy relationships with a bit of banter and tough-love that I think we can all learn lessons from. The relationship between best friends and roomies Fallon Ford and February Vale is one for the books. They are supportive of one another, basically co-habitating grannies, who help each other dress, motivate the other in their fields of study, and also find the time to hold each other accountable for their actions and emotions. There’s no judgment, no secrets, and while their friendship is a central part of the novel, it’s not something that Marlie overdoes or feels the need to include in every chapter. It’s authentic and organic, and it’s a great lesson in how a friend can be supportive in multiple situations. Honestly, they’re just super cute, and it’s nice to see how they interact with one another both in private, in public, and respect the other with utmost love and adoration. 

4. The Enemy - The main plot and conflict of the novel comes in the form of a tall drink of water known as Dane Jacobs. He’s a year older than Fallon, a post-graduate teaching assistant at their university, and he and Fallon share quite the history. They’re the best friends to enemies trope wrapped up in an angst blanket that makes your heart throb whenever they’re alone together. But what sets Dane “The Enemy” Jacobs apart from other enemies to potential-lovers trope is that he’s not diminished to an abusive or degrading male who sees the female as inferior to himself. Yeah, the fall out he and Fallon had was not quite the separation many of us would ever want to feel in our lives. But Dane doesn’t put Fallon down in any way when he’s assigned to be her advisor for her project. If anything, their banter and quippy remarks to one another show the deep rooted friendship they once shared, and how their separation from one another since the breaking off of their friendship has impacted them in a more emotional way then they’d care to admit. He still supports her writing and is honest with her - sometimes a bit too honest - and only wants her to do best. He masks it by saying he wants her to do well so he can be graded fairly on his work ethic as a teaching assistant, but I think we can all agree he’s doing it because deep down, he still loves Fallon and wants to see her succeed. Plus, he has an adorable puppy named Watson who makes an appearance whenever we need him most. 

5. Breaking Masculine Norms - Where the obvious pairing a lot of us are hoping for is the reunion of Fallon and Dane, there is one character that has waltzed into Fallon’s life in a big way - Lawyer Tom, the ultimate hottie. Marlie writes Tom in a very specific way - he’s not buff, or strong. He’s a freckly, unruly red-haired, tall and lanky man with bony shoulders and a nose that wrinkles when he laughs. He’s not your typical heartthrob, but he’s mouthwateringly perfect in every single way. He comes into Fallon’s life at a time where her love life is in a bit of disarray, and in the past couple chapters we’ve come to learn that Tom is the gentlemen-status all men should aspire to be. He lets Fallon stay overnight after a night out clubbing and doesn’t expect anything from her but her company over dumplings. He visits her at work when she tells him she’s nervous about getting back to her normal shift. He even finds time to make morning runs with Fallon fun by going out for breakfast quiches at a little cafe every morning. He’s quarting her platonically and it’s so goddamn adorable and quirky. Yeah, they kissed once and it was hot hot hot, but he hasn’t kissed her since and he’s letting her take the relationship at the pace she wants. She’s the one who has to ask him on dates, and he’s the one who’s always justifying her emotions and actions whenever she’s feeling down or insecure. He’s a great support system and is open about his emotions and the fact that his home life hasn’t been the absolute best in the past. He’s confident in his work, is constantly calm and at peace with his surroundings, and enters every situation with grace and poise. Not to mention he has the most amazing relationship with his younger brother Cody, and honestly, is my new ultimate hero. He’s the role model all men should be aspiring to be, and the fact that he’s being so patient and kind and wonderful with Fallon is a huge turn on. 

6. Success in Art - The legendary roommate February Vale is a goddess not only casually in life, but also in the art department. I know this is only a little tiny thing, but February is also in her senior year of university and she’s already had great success in her art career. It’s not often we see characters studying art portrayed as successful, or as having a grip on their education. The concept of the “struggling artist” is romanticized and oftentimes degraded to nothing more than just a hobby. But February expresses everything that’s wonderful about art - immersing yourself in your project, applying to galleries and exhibits, and being raw with your art in a way you sometimes can’t express yourself in words. When February came out as bisexual to her parents, it wasn’t received well and she took those feelings to the canvas, winning her awards and slots in galleries all through London (the characters’ home base). Marlie also never explicitly mentions what kind of art February is most interested in or establishes as her signature, and so I think that is truly important for us as readers to depict what we consider to be successful art and know that it can not only come from a student, but a woman, and a damn wonderful and courageous one at that. 

7. The Banter - One of Marlie’s greatest triumphs in writing is her dialogue. She’s taught me so much about how to find multiple voices in your characters and to embody those personalities within their conversations. The banter between all the characters - primarily the snippy and sometimes crass comments rapidly fired back and forth between Fallon and Dane - is exceptional. The characters come to life through their words and expressions, and it’s a great way to not only connect to the characters yourself, but to really feel as if you’re standing there watching these characters interact. The office scenes between Dane and Fallon are truly amazing, and the flat scenes Fallon and February bring to life are hilarious. You can tell that these characters are can portray different versions of themselves depending on whether they’re in public or in private, and I believe that’s a great attribute to the great writer behind the words. 

8. Pinterest - Per a request from an anon, Marlie has constructed an entire Pinterest account dedicated to storyboarding the personas of her characters. Every outfit mentioned, every studio described, and every action played out by each individual can be found within the boards of the Novelty Pinterest, and is a great outside resource to gaining a better understanding of who these characters are and how Marlie is envisioning them. They’re super fun to scroll through, and I oftentimes find myself going back to the characters mentioned in each chapter and attempting to find the outfits they were wearing, or the coffee shop they were sitting in. Seriously, it’s the absolute most unique thing I’ve ever seen a writer do and I’m fascinated by it. 

9. Updates - Marlie is extremely good at making sure the updates are on time every single week. She updates every Saturday mid-morning and provides her own thoughts on the chapter as well as some insights to her writing mind. If Marlie has received any donations to her ko-fi page that week, she works hard to make sure the updates go up faster. She’s even posted on a Wednesday before. So really, you’re always getting new content and always learning more about the characters and the story, which is really truly wonderful. 

10. Marlie - Obviously I’m going to talk about my girl. Marlie has been writing for ages, but has never really shared anything with anyone in public like this before. She’s taken what little concepts I had about these characters and this world and she’s run with it. I get the most random texts from her at 3am saying she has this great idea for how to develop a specific relationship, or introduce a certain character. She thinks everything through and edits the shit out of whatever she’s written so that it’s pristine by the time it’s published. She works so hard, and she lives with these characters in her mind 24/7. The thought and care that goes into her writing after each chapter and how she interacts with her readers is so important, because she will write paragraphs depicting specific, seemingly minute moments from the previous chapter, only for your mind to be blown as you learn something that you may have missed. She’s a lovely human and cares so deeply for her writing. She’s been helping me for years, YEARS, with my own writing and the fact that she’s out here creating this whole world and community of her own now is fascinating to me. There is nothing this girl can’t do, and I am constantly in awe of each chapter and the emotions I feel even if it’s what she considers a ‘filler’ chapter. She’s a keeper, that’s for sure.

-----

SO, those are the top ten reasons why you should be out there reading ‘Novelty’ and supporting our girl Marlie B. There are so many other reasons why the novel is as amazing as it is, but I think what it all comes down to is having a writer who cares about her readers, cares about her writing, and cares enough to want everything to just make sense. I’ll put all her links below so you can explore it all you want, but let’s support some new writers on here and make sure you’re reblogging what you like. Circulating what you’re reading is so important! And this girl deserves our love for sure. 

Thanks for everyone who is already out here representing our girl and for all the questions and donations you’ve provided for her! She loves it! And she’s going to kill me for posting this! But I love her so freaking much! If anyone ever wants to freak out about each chapter with me, I’m always here to fangirl. No doubt about it. Thanks for your support, everyone! Have a great weekend. 

Read ‘Novelty’ HERE Support Marlie B HERE Find the Pinterest Boards HERE Ask Marlie B a Question HERE

[apex-academy]

Chapter 2: Inhale. Exhale. It’s Probably Not Going to Be Okay (#13)

After an enthralling discussion of our arbitrary ruleset, we split into our teams. Arthur gets the ball to start the game, and our team will get it in the second half. Fair enough.

He bounces the ball a few times as he approaches center court.

“You ready for a whoopin’, Kanagi?”

“Yeah.”

“Yours.”

“All right, everyone!! I’ll start the game with the buzzer, just to make sure it’s functioning properly! Please be prepared!”

“Huuuuu, I hope no one gets hurt...”

“Me, too...”

“We’ll be fine, y’all. Just don’t go too crazy.”

I try to get in position—what the heck position am I even supposed to be in?—and the buzzer blares. Aside from nearly giving Kokoro a heart attack, it doesn’t affect much until Arthur finally starts dribbling. After a good five seconds of nothing, he suddenly takes off. Yuki isn’t nearly quick enough to get in his way, so the rest of us have to scramble after him.

I end up guarding Mahavir, probably because he’s the only one here shorter than me. At no point in the possession is he actually given the ball, so I could be doing a great job. Hard to say. Either way, I still barely know what’s going on beyond a lot of squeaking shoes.

Aidan’s voice over the speakers is nearly as loud as the buzzer.

“Mister Riseiin goes in for the drop shot, and—scores!!!”

“...Why are you saying that before it gets to the basket?”

Peanut gallery commentary aside, the ball does go in. I have to duck to keep it from hitting me in the head.

“Nahaha! Perhaps his elusive talent was Super High School Level Basketball Player all along?!”

“Who knows, brah?”

Aidan continues his unnecessary narration as Tsunyasha brings the ball to our side of the court.

“Yo!! I’m open!”

“Openly inferior, perhaps.”

Itsurou knocks the ball from Tsunyasha’s hands, but she snatches it right back.

“Fool!”

She sidesteps him and chucks the ball at the net.

“Oh, and a near miss from Miss Tsunyasha!”

The ball skims the hoop before falling sidelong. I’m just close enough to pop it back up.

“And red team scoooores!! Two points!!”

Arthur hollers as the scoreboard updates.

“Oi!! Quit callin’ the shots before they make it to the basket!”

“What?! It’s obvious when it is and isn’t going to go in! But fine!!”

Kanagi swoops in front of Arthur.

“Quit being a sore loser, dude!”

“We’re not even losin’, loser!”

“Like, we’re not, either!”

“Do you guys want to play or just trash talk each other?”

“Both.”

“Both is good.”

With that, we go to Arthur’s side. Tamiko puts up a good-looking shot, which Kanagi blocks the everloving crap out of. The ball hurtles into the stands and nearly takes out Aidan’s scoreboard operation table.

“Hyiiiii—!”

Kokoro dives out of the way—even though she wasn’t in its path—and the basketball rebounds towards us. Mahavir jumps to catch it before it can cross the whole gym. Somehow Aidan seems to have paused the game clock on time despite his close brush with death.

“Uh. Uh. Foul ball.”

“Is that supposed to mean ‘out of bounds’? How sad...”

“The terms are interchangeable!!”

“In baseball, maybe...”

Blue Team gets the ball, but no baskets for them this round. I attempt a shot on the other side of the court, but no dice. Sadly my keen sense of aim isn’t adjusting to large airborne projectiles that well.

Arthur gets the rebound and flees to the other side of the court, where he immediately sinks a three-point shot.

“TOUCHDOWN!!!”

“There are no touchdowns in basketball, Aidan.”

“Then what do you call that?!”

“A three-point shot!”

“I am well-aware of the point value of a touchdown, Miss Kogamino!!” He gestures to the scoreboard. Since the clock’s still running, I should probably give up this debate.

Kanagi dribbles the ball back to our side. After one shot to the rim, Tsunyasha snags the rebound by jumping high enough to nearly kick Mahavir in the head.

“Ack!”

“Oh? Is there a problem, little foolish creature? Far, far above you is my natural position, after all.”

“I can’t tell if she’s trash-talking or just talking.”

“I don’t believe there’s a difference with her. Sigh...”

Eventually Tsunyasha gets the ball to Yuki, who lobs it up. Doesn’t look like it’s going in as-is, but if I can just...

“And an alley-oop to Miss Kogamino!”

I slam the ball to the hoop, at which point it bounces off and flies almost directly into Kaichi’s hands. Kanagi gives me the stink-eye.

“Come on, dude!”

“I’m sorry! Aidan used an actual basketball term and I got distracted!”

“Hey, Aid! Tone down the color a little, will you?”

“I don’t see how it could possibly be that distracting!”

“Aidan, please.”

“Fine...”

Though he manages to quiet down for the rest of the half, apparently it’s not helping us much. I stare at the scoreboard once I’ve recovered from the buzzer blast.

“18 to 27, huh?”

“Geeeez, come on, you guys! We’re way too far behind!”

“Us come on...? The last ball I threw to you just got smacked into the rafters...”

“You threw it too fast!! Like, what do you think my instinct is for that kinda thing?!”

“Don’t fight...! Life is tragic enough without making your own misfortunes appear...!”

“Can we just grab some water and get ready for the second half?”

“Ah, I suppose you mortals do need such sustenance. I’ll allow it.”

Since it’s right next door, we run to the kitchen for water instead of the fountain. And it looks like Blue Team had the same idea. Arthur comes marching towards us.

“Oi~! If it isn’t the losin’ team!!”

“Game’s not over yet, dude.”

“You sure are losin’ now, though!”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t assume it’ll stay that way.”

“ ‘S a pretty fair assumption.”

“That’s no excuse to let our guard down!”

“Truly.”

“Is it not obvious we’ve merely been toying with you thus far?”

“We... We have?”

“Then I look forward to seeing your serious game, hmm?”

He doesn’t get much of a chance. Two possessions in and Itsurou’s having too bad of a coughing fit to continue, so Aki gets dragged into the game after all. Sadly that makes things go better for Red Team, and I don’t think Aki’s happy about it. At least Aidan downplays all of her turnovers, even if he’s reached the limits of his patience in regards to not spitting out as many words as humanly possible.

The fight is fierce, but in the end...

...We’re the away team, sadly.

“And that’s the game!!! Red Team 40, Blue Team 56! It’s a spectacular victory for the Blue Team! Congratulations!!”

Arthur responds to his success the same way he responds to most things.

“Kahahaaaaaa!”

Watching him try not to literally fall on the floor laughing is almost worth the defeat.

Kaichi goes to retrieve his surfboard from the bleachers and salutes us.

“Get wrecked, brah.”

“Crap... Sorry you guys had to use me.”

“Why are ya apologizin’, hon? We won.”

“Somehow.”

“Huuugh... I knew it was wrong to ever hope for anything but a tragedy... Life is never so kind.”

Looks like we’ve all learned to ignore him by now. Yuki stares at the hallway door.

“Is Itsurou doing okay...?”

“Mmm-hmm. Should I go tell him his team won?”

“No way, mate!! That’s my job!”

“Eep! I’m sorry!”

“Excellent... job, everyone!! Mister Ford, certainly... let me know if you... decide to try that cricket competition!”

Somehow he’s more out of breath than any of the actual players.

“Will do!”

“Here, I may as well go through the equipment closet now.” He nods at us. “Thank you for the game.”

“Welc...”

Aidan hurries after Mahavir.

“Allow me to help!!”

“...What does cricket equipment... look like?”

“I’ll leave you all to it.”

Yuki’s already cleaning up, so there’s not really anything left for me to do. Time to go take a breather, I guess.

Tamiko catches me on the way out.

“Hey, Kakumi! Good game!”

“...Yeah. You too.”

She nods and heads back to the court to chat, leaving me to stand at the hallway door for a minute. Eventually I get it open. Despite the exertion, the voices behind me are raucous until I’ve left them behind.

“...”

This was a good idea. Maybe some of us got a little too competitive, but I think it did more to bring us together than shove us apart. And... it was fun. We need that right now. Whenever we can manage it. I think I’ll sign up for the cricket thing if we end up doing that.

For now, I really need to take a shower.

[BACK] [NEXT]

[sp4c3-0ddity]

If you're still doing prompts... Bridge troll for Pidgance!

i honestly don’t know what to say about this except that I meant for it to be humorous but then it ended up being kinda…sad?? anyway, I hope you like it!!

Many a traveler tried any number of tactics to pass Pidge’s bridge, from either direction. Some picked fights with her, some offered bribes, and some made a disastrous attempt to ford the swiftly flowing river below. During one memorable instant, a girl that couldn’t be older than eight even asked politely to be allowed passage. But never, in the decades she’d guarded the bridge, had someone tried to charm his way past her.

Pidge heard the two voices before she saw their owners, the cheerful conversation disturbing her fitful doze.

“…sworn she was Altean, Hunk!” one voice said.

“Just because a woman has pointy ears doesn’t mean she’s Altean,” the other said in a long-suffering tone. “She could’ve been a troll, you know.”

Pidge touched the tips of her own ears. Humans, were they?

“Okay, first of all,” said the first voice, “just because no one’s seen an Altean in hundreds of years doesn’t mean they don’t exist anymore”–Pidge covered her mouth, muffling her laughter at the irony–“and second of all, she was too pretty to be a troll. Trolls are…ugly, right?”

Pidge snorted and rolled her eyes. Oh, she couldn’t wait to see how these two would try to pass her. The other didn’t seem too bad, but she might have to convince the second that the river wasn’t as dangerous as it looked just for the pleasure of watching him drown.

“Well, we’ve never seen trolls either,” the other remarked.

Their footsteps stopped about ten yards away, and the first warily said, “I have a feeling we’re about to meet one.”

“You think bridge trolls are real?” asked the other.

Before his companion could answer, Pidge emerged from underneath the bridge, climbing over the lip of the ravine and taking her usual place at the bridge’s entrance to see two men - human as she expected - still keeping their distance while they spoke. Where one was broad, the other was lean, though they were about the same height.

Both were armed, the broader with a crossbow and a battleaxe, and the other with a longbow. Not too bad, but Pidge still fancied her odds if it came down to the fight. Besides, the leaner looked light enough she could probably tip him into the ravine without much difficulty.

That was the one that stood with his back to her as they spoke, though even the other didn’t spot her immediately. Pidge smirked to herself; if they were so inattentive to their surroundings, what right had they to request passage over her bridge?

“Bridge trolls have to be real,” the first voice - the lean one with the longbow slung across his back - was saying as Pidge gripped the hilt of her knife. “We’re about to enter ancient Altea. If there are no trolls here”–Pidge cleared her throat–“then where? Bless you,” he added without missing a beat.

Pidge counted. On two, the broader man finally looked over his companion’s shoulder, eyes widening as he spotted her.

“Uh, Lance?” he said. He tapped the other on the shoulder.

“What?” he said, glancing back. His gaze passed over her, scanning the ravine, but they snapped back to her when she waved. He jumped and spun around, stumbling backwards into the other traveler. “Hunk!” he exclaimed, alarmed. “That’s a…is that a troll?”

“Guilty as charged!” Pidge called out to them, making sure to speak loudly enough for their inferior human ears to hear.

“But you’re–but she’s–but–” The lean man - named Lance - pointed at her, gaping.

“Not ugly?” Pidge suggested, crossing her arms.

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean–” He cut himself off again and grabbed the other - Hunk - by the arm and tugged him back, careful to make sure Pidge stayed in his line of sight.

She obliged, and didn’t bother informing them that they hadn’t retreated far enough to prevent her from eavesdropping.

“This changes everything!” Lance said, sounding excited.

“It does?” Hunk said, skeptical. “Just because the bridge troll is…pretty?”

Pidge snorted and turned her back to them; might as well give them a semblance of privacy.

“Yes,” Lance insisted. “Look, we can’t afford to bribe her, right? And maybe two of us could fight our way through her”–how deluded could he be?–“but now I see another solution.”

“Oh no,” said Hunk. “Please don’t say what I think you’re–”

“I’m going to charm her!” he interrupted. Pidge imagined him hammering one fist into his open palm.

“You mean seduce her,” Hunk said.

Pidge blinked, surprised for once.

“What? No!”

“Lance, really?” said Hunk, and Pidge thought she could hear him rolling his eyes at his companion. “And if that works”–which it wouldn’t–“what makes you think it would have failed if she was an ugly bridge troll?”

“It never would’ve occurred to me,” Lance admitted without any shame.

Of all the shallow idiots… Pidge, annoyed, unsheathed her knife. Her vows prevented her from straying far from the bridge with violent intent - even to defend - but now she was tempted to test her limits.

They were quiet, with Lance likely smirking hopefully at Hunk, while he considered his idea. Then:

“It’s better than being dismembered, though I think I’ll die of secondhand embarrassment anyway.”

A smack on the shoulder, and Lance said, “Hey, have a little faith in me, buddy. If she’s anything like Nyma, charm is the perfect solution!”

“Nyma stole your horse,” Hunk deadpanned.

“Fine, bad example,” Lance muttered sheepishly. “Just…let me do my thing.”

“So long as it doesn’t get us killed.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me,” Pidge said under her breath. Out loud, she shouted, “You gonna stand around talking all day, or do you wanna try crossing?” She turned to face them, making sure they saw the glint of the sun on her knife.

Hunk frowned, but Lance seemed to steel himself, a smirk on his face as he sauntered over to her. “Are you a thief?” he asked.

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him. “Charming,” she quipped.

Lance didn’t falter and continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “Because you’ve stolen my heart.” He swept her an exaggerated bow, one arm outstretched as he bent at the waist.

“I could stab you through the back and end this hear,” Pidge told him, voice calm.

“And then you would fulfill my prophecy, dear bridge troll,” he said, standing up. There wasn’t a single trace of fear on his face, for which Pidge had to commend him - or else he underestimated her thanks to her short stature and slight build.

“Well, dear traveler,” Pidge retorted, pointing her knife at him and pretending she hadn’t overheard his planning, “what other than your heart do you offer as toll?”

“Alas,” said Lance, resting a hand against his chest, “I am but a poor traveler, without alms to spare to pay your toll. But please, allow me to pay you a compliment instead.” He kept his eyes on her, and she saw that they were blue.

Pidge cleared her throat and took a step back. “I decline,” she said. “Try again.”

Lance wasn’t deterred. “But oh, how valuable they are!”

“Not to me they’re not.”

“But your eyes shine like twin moons, and your hair–”

“No.” Pidge didn’t look at him. “If you wish to force a crossing, now’s the time. Hurry, before I grow bored and attack.”

To her surprise, Lance still smiled. “Stubborn and devoted,” he said. “I like it!”

For some reason, this compliment - and that smile - struck Pidge as more genuine than the rest. Not that it mattered.

Pidge took two steps towards him, touching the tip of her knife to his throat, with enough pressure to warn but not enough to injure. “This is your final warning,” she said through gritted teeth. “Either pay your toll, or I kill you while your friend watches.”

Lance swallowed, and Pidge followed the motion with her eyes. His smile finally faltered, sweat beading on his forehead, and he sighed. “Look, I need to get into Altea.”

“Then pay your toll.”

“Like I told you,” Lance said with a hint of impatience, “we don’t have any money.”

“That is not the toll I accept anyway.” Pidge’s heart beat rapidly, hoping he could pay the toll.

“Then what–”

“Why?” Pidge demanded. “Most travelers seek Altea for glory or wealth. Are you one of them?”

“Well…” Lance chuckled, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t say no to any of that.”

“But?” she prompted, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Why?” Lance wondered.

“What?” She was so startled by him turning the question onto her that she lowered her knife and stepped away from him. “Why what?”

“Why guard the bridge and demand a toll?” he asked, shrugging. “Isn’t there something else you’d rather do?”

Dreams Pidge stifled long ago resurfaced, dreams of traveling and learning and flying, but she shoved them back under, remembering vows she was forced to honor to protect her family.

“Darkness reigns in Altea,” Pidge told him, a response spoken many times. “It’s unsafe and unwelcoming for humans like you.”

“So you…kill people who want to cross?” Lance retorted, raising an eyebrow at her. “How is that any safer and more welcoming?”

Pidge sighed and sheathed her knife. “I give anyone who wishes to cross the chance to turn back,” she said, resting her hands on her hips. “Some accept, others don’t.”

Lance mirrored her pose. “Is this my chance then?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Please take it.”

His eyes swiveled to her now-sheathed knife before they met hers again, and held. He frowned thoughtfully, and Pidge held her breath until he shook his head and said, “No.”

Pidge could’ve torn her hair out, as aggravating as he was.

“Then pay the toll.”

“Then tell me what the toll is!”

“Why do you want to enter Altea?” Pidge said, glaring at him. “For money? Fame? Love? Why?”

“For my family.”

Pidge wasn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t that. Her eyes widened, lips parted slightly. “Oh.”

“My nephew is sick,” Lance explained, in his intensity not paying much attention to her reaction, “and nothing we’ve done has helped, no potions or spells or anything. And even if it doesn’t exist, our only hope is Altean magic, so–”

“I accept your toll.”

“What?” He stared at her.

Pidge rolled her eyes, tearing them away from him. “Don’t make me say it again,” she muttered.

“Th-thank you!” Lance said, smiling so gratefully that Pidge’s chest filled with a pleasant warm. “I could kiss you!”

“Please don’t,” she said, unable to resist the urge to laugh.

“Does my friend have to pay separately?” he then asked, tone sardonic.

Pidge crossed her arms and stepped aside, leaving the path to the bridge clear for him. “His payment is traveling with another,” she said. She shrugged and added, “It’s safer that way.”

Lance turned away from her and raised his hand towards his companion. “Hunk!” he said, grinning. “We can cross without losing an arm!”

“Oh, good!” Hunk said cheerfully, jogging up to join them. He shrunk away from Pidge though, despite a rather tentative smile.

Pidge watched them go, crossing the steady bridge spanning the ravine. Even on the other side, she could still overhear snatches of conversation:

“Told you I could charm her!”

“Oh, I never doubted you.”

Pidge didn’t retreat back into the ravine until their figures disappeared into the thick forest on the other side, and even then she found herself praying for their safety, hoping their path wouldn’t cross the witch’s.

Even in her time guarding the bridge, several travelers evaded her and managed to cross, but not even one returned to cross again. So Pidge hoped Lance and Hunk would prove to be the first.

[ibulletin12]

Sneak Peak

Sneak peek in everyone’s life. How did they feel about the unprecedented pandemic and what have they been up to during the lockdown. Some emotions and feelings we would like to share

Bharathy Sivan

Our husbands’ being soldiers, they do not have the option of Work from Home. When they come back home, they are quarantined in a room. But then this is how we, ladies supported each other and quarantined our families as a community with our own volunteered group efforts.

The families of Raksha Nagar decided NOT to step out for at least 45 days. But luckily, we got used to the system and its been continued successfully for the past 3 months.

Even before the lockdown 1.0 was announced our volunteers for main and sub teams were ready. We divided the families into groups (approximately 30-40 members each) according to the location and one member administrate each group through WhatsApp.

We tied up with an agricultural farm and two vegetable vendors.

We convinced and trained the two grocery shops outside the camp and liaisoned with a FMCG dealer & a medical shop owner.

We have ties with Godrej chicken company of Pune who can deliver our order at Nashik.

We started supporting a cold press oil business started recently.

To simplify the process, we ladies discussed the approximate grocery requirement to be stocked up for 45 days for a 4-member family. And created template lists with 4 options.  And the grocery shop packed them for all after their rush hours. We appointed 4 guys as delivery boys. After They door delivered them through the small electric vehicle available in the camp.

The choices for vegetables, non veg and other perishables are forwarded by the individuals to the WhatsApp administrator, 2 days in advance and she compiles and forwards to the chief coordinator (me). And I Forward it to the farms and shops. We staggered distribution by groups in different days to avoid cluttering and confusions.

The bill copies are sent on WhatsApp and the amount is compiled as an excel sheet and posted in groups. The families are paying it through digital means and send the screen shot on WhatsApp. End of the day the payment from the families are verified and order closed.

It appeared like a chaotic task in first week. There were raised eyebrows that is it going to work? But once the templates are ready and the system of payment got regularised it became a simple and smoother operation.

In fact with group communication, digital  transaction  and door delivery administration in place, we could actually do wonders. We adapted an orphanage which was in struggle without support. The migrant walkers had food collected from our homes group wise. Women turned entrepreneurs by baking cakes and crafting gifts for birthdays as shops were closed. Few prepare food material for long storage with traditional methods and supply everyone on payment.

We share, care and remain happy and safe as a community with just little more efforts on our day today life. It’s is not tough. It just requires an attitude.

Household chaos, cooking for kids, and I have some social responsibilities here as a military wife. I’m in charge of arranging essentials for 300 families, plus my business.

Literally tongues out…!

Saravanan Subramanian

As it all happened so suddenly, we happened to work from home. I chose to stay in my village, away from the city chaos in pursuit of peace and calm. I moved away from Chennai, went to my small remote village, where I was born. Here no shops, no cars, no bikes, even no small shops available. Entirely agriculture-based village.

After moving away from Chennai, settling in a small village, and continuing to WFH was a massive challenge for me for one month due to inferior internet quality... Later I managed to get a fiber net connection, which was very surprising for me even to find it here.

Due to COVID 19, My Company, Ford India,  planned a massive purchase pipeline, so I am managing my team sitting from this village...

Significant reasons why I moved away from city life-

1)  No worry about social distancing in my village. A very remote place with limited population

2)  In Chennai, after a few days, we need to depend on supermarkets for groceries and vegetables. Here everything is available in the house for the next year or forever.

3)  I am happy that I am spending more days with my parents after my schooling in my village. I was reminiscing all my childhood memories like sleeping on the terrace under the sky, cooking dinner with fresh homegrown vegetables, taking a walk with my kids in the village roads breathing clean air.

Fortunately, I got an opportunity to relive the life I always missed, and that is so close to my heart.

Divya Kulkarni

MY INSPIRATION ABYSS

There she stood - with a beaming and powerful smile on her face - honoring our country with that prestigious tiara!

As I watched a recording of this historical moment, my jaw dropped!

The first-ever Indian woman to be crowned Miss Universe (1994); that’s right, the gorgeous Sushmita Sen for you :)

Soon after, Sen adopted not one, but two daughters eventually, and won my (& million others’) respect once again!

And she wouldn’t stop -- a few years later, I joined social media only to learn she is a Yogini. Inspired by her dedication and progress, I took to Yoga in 2018 and became an Internationally Accredited Yoga Instructor and also recognized by the Ayush Ministry, the Government of India.

P.S. I had lost touch with Yoga for a long time, but 2020 and this lady have given me a chance to bounce back and upgrade myself through such beautiful balance poses🙏🏽

You may find more of me and #everydaystories on a yoga-full life at @​divyoham_om​ on Instagram. Because Yoga is for everyone! XOXO

Dipan Kumar Rout

*During the Lockdown*

Well, the lockdown started with numerous things and my effort to inculcate things that I saw on social media. While some people started the so-called 30 Day challenges and posting their workout routines, I was struggling with the basic push-ups. The good part of this is, once you start doing it and do it regularly, you will begin to realize the amount of strength you had in you.

Oh, that new coding language, I was yearning to learn but could never find the time. I finally started and completed the entire learning too. Crazy how a unified and focused effort can bring change in two months. I got into this habit of jotting down things I learned and made sure that I learned at least five new things a day. You will be amazed by the end of the year how to have 2000 new things in your head that you never knew. Good that I started.

This lockdown made me way nearer to myself than I ever was. The path to self-discovery might be different to different people. For me, it was more of accepting myself for who I’m—that feeling of being comfortable in your skin. Sometimes acceptance got me over these body complexes I had, being the skinny guy I’m.

I began to develop habits, specifically, the ones that can be life-changing or something as simple as taking a daily walk in the evening or washing the dishes as soon as you’re done with eating. I began to develop new tastes. Suddenly Jazz felt like never before. I started listening to a lot of Indie music. I came across this band, “That Boy Roby.” The track name was “Lost in Shimla,” and damn, you just can’t help yourself feeling lost in the melody of the guitar. As the name suggests, the track takes you on those untrodden, meandering, mountain tracks of snow-laden Shimla.

Self-discovery took me through a path I had never considered before—the path of getting connected to people you love and care about. I started talking to dad about things we never discussed. I asked him about his memoirs of his old man and how he felt about him, how he felt when mom passed away and what he went through when I was a rebellious teen and started getting into bad habits. He spoke about his youth days and gave me advice about things that I should do in life. Damn, I realized how less I knew about him and how much he loved me.

I went through all my love letters and began pondering about the ups and downs, my wife and I have gone through the last ten years of our relationship. Let me tell you something that I realized, and most men wouldn’t admit. No, not the fact that we are all trash ;) but we put so much effort into winning over someone and return to our own(lazy) selves after we have them in life. Sometimes this awareness is necessary, and it makes you realize that relationships are not a one-time thing, rather a continuous effort to keep things kindled. I learned that sometimes saying “I Love You” in person means much more than writing essays about your never-ending love on social media (funny how we live life and behave everything as if it were a recording to be put in social media and forget about actually living the moment). I began to have more and more of those 2 am conversations. I understood the fact that our lives need not be a long narrative, and it’s best when it’s filled with small random bursts of happiness. To summarize, I started living life again.

Ravi Kollipara

I planned to visit my hometown before the lockdown started as I could never have gotten this opportunity to spend so much time with my family and wfh parallelly. I coincidently happened to meet my childhood friends. We were sitting and chatting, and it was appeasing to know how they were contributing to help the small business in Machilipatnam during a difficult time. I immediately joined them in this cause. Five of us found that it was logistically impossible for a  retail business to keep running due to zero movement during the lockdown. It was difficult to generate demand and move stock from one place to another. We created a Facebook business group for a targeted set of audience, mostly local retail businesses. The critical aspect is to have genuine people joining the group for which we allowed only those who had proof of running a retail shop. We added 300 people in the last 15 days. It covered mostly all retail businesses like cement, hotel (food), groceries, professional services, etc. Our place was constantly fluctuating from the RedZone to the orange zone and back to RedZone. The administration was changing rules dynamically. Our Facebook group happened to be one information source for these retailers to know the regulations and amendments announced by the government now and then.  

Help is two-folded. it served as a  

Channel to provide latest updates on rules and traffic adjustments to the retailers

It is attracting even the customers to the group that would help us to generate demand for the businesses. What was required from the businesses is to publish product rates that have demand.

Once the order is confirmed, we were also helping them to get appropriate permission from the government for the transportations for the goods.

We instantly had 300 businesses registered to this group and saw decent demands coming in too. It is still a small initiative but makes a lot of difference to those small businesses who would die if they do not get some direction during this time. It gives us immense pleasure to become a helping hand to the local businesses that are the strength of our country at this time. Cheers!

[funkymbtifiction]

A journey in typing (ft. Olivia Benson)

SUBMITTED by howtotallyamazing

Hello all, I’m someone who has been an adamant follower of this blog for quite some time and has also changed MBTI types like changing socks (same functions, different order for the most part - save for the time I thought I was an INTP) which I believe to be part of my very overactive Ne (is it inferior? is it dominant? Is it aux? Is it tert? Trust me, I can give you arguments for each). So as of right now, I’m in yet another pickle and describing myself as an xNFP because when it comes to typing there are a lot of things to take into consideration: looping, being in the grip, cognition, etc.

So I’m going to compare my own journey to one of my typings. That of Olivia Benson from Law & Order: SVU.

If you’re not an SVU viewer, let me break it down for you: I had to take into consideration that there is now 18 seasons worth of character development for Olivia. The writers on this show thrive on dramatics and this is a character who has had everything and the kitchen sink thrown at her.

My first initial typing? ISFJ. It seemed simple enough. Olivia’s the stereotypical caregiver who wants to help people but it’s looking at functions. Does Olivia have any sign of Si or inferior Ne? No. When Olivia has to, she will put her foot down and change things more quickly than an ISFJ might. If you’re even a casual SVU watcher and you want to find a better embodiment of an ISFJ? Look at Cragen. Duty and detail oriented, thoughtful but also the embodiment of team dad when his detectives get out of line. He knows how to appease IAB when they get involved in the fold whereas other characters aren’t so apt to do that. He’s always the one to remind everyone to work within the system, reminding them how it works.

So I went back to the drawing board realizing that Olivia did not possess Si (nostalgic, often compares the present to the past, traditional? Nope.) nor did she possess Ne, especially inferior Ne. (Any impulsive behavior she had wasn’t indicative of an ISXJ nor did she possess that “WE’RE ALL SCREWED” attitude. Again, look at Cragen or Stabler for an ISFJ and an ISTJ. Stabler is a “bulldog” who is so by the book and will never admit to any wrongdoing, Fin himself said this in around season 8 or 9. If Stabler’s environment changes, he has an inferior Ne freak out of biblical proportions. Does Olivia? No. She rolls with the punches very well.)

Next typing? ISTP.

Where I got particularly screwed up? Looping vs inferior functions. At first I thought Olivia had inferior Fe which in retrospect makes me think really? She’s described as “the heart” of SVU by her own colleague (Munch, an ENTP). She is good with people and not in a Harrison Ford/Han Solo/Indiana Jones xSTP sort of way where she gives off that lovable rogue vibe. Want an ESTP? Look at Fin. Fin is good with people, good at getting them to open up or sometimes using his Fe to play them but he’s more… detached. He uses his Se better than Olivia does. He uses his Ti better than Olivia does.

Fin’s approach to questioning suspects? “You’re screwed, now tell me what happened or you’re going to go to jail. Here’s how we can tie you to the crime. Help me and I’ll help you.”

Olivia knows how to tailor fit her approach. There’s the emotional understanding approach. 

And then there’s the “I will use my Fe to antagonize the living hell out of you because I know where your weak spots are”

The biggest difference between Fin (ESTP) and Olivia (INFJ)? Her indisputable dominant Ni. The biggest evidence of this on the show in a single episode is back in season 7 I want to say? The episode called “911”.

A 911 call is transferred to SVU where a little girl named Maria talks to Olivia and says she’s trapped in a room. The number is traced to someone else thanks to the suspect having cloned the cellphone that the little girl got a hold of. The restaurant she claims the man gets her food from burned down. Whenever the little girl calls back, the signal bounces from one part of the city to another. Cragen and Fin are both completely adamant that this might be a hoax between this and the looping background noise the suspect had playing in the background to throw people off to the little girl’s location. Olivia is hellbent, gung ho that this is not a prank or a hoax. That this little girl is real and she needs their help; she never wavers from this whereas Fin with his higher Se is seeing the facts as they appear. Olivia’s theory is being debunked left and right until the pieces come together slowly. The girl is real and rescued in the nick of time after the perp gets rid of her.

Hell, this happens a lot. Olivia will have an over arching hunch that can be refuted by solid physical evidence but she doesn’t waver. When her colleagues debate with her about it, she emotionally appeals to them that they have to do something. When she has a “feeling” that someone close to a suspect can be helpful, she is excellent at baiting them. I watched an episode last night where she lied and said the suspect’s wife had planted evidence to frame someone else and to be at court at 9:30am to testify against him or else she’d be arrested.

What do you know, the suspect’s wife shows up to testify and she did plant the evidence, after all, despite the fingerprints having been “inconclusive”.

So, how in the hell did I get ISTP as my first official typing after realizing her functions? It’s clear she’s not emotionally detached. It’s clear that she’s a feeler. Her Ni is higher than an XSTP’s “I have a hunch but I’ll believe it when I see it” approach. That, my friends, was thanks to looping. Olivia loops. A lot. Ni/Ti. Her Fe can completely go away because she tries to access it so much for her job that she simply… fries the aux-Fe motherboard.

Olivia’s Se is her weak point. She’s great at going undercover and thinking on her feet but… she gets caught in the cross hairs of hostage situations and near death experiences so many times because she’s too busy chasing her Ni. She’s not as in tune with her Se as say, Fin is with his. He’s reckless physically but the one instance I remember (him running into a house with a meth lab to retrieve an infant inside) is because he has to be, because he’s not going to wait for back up, he’s simply better with his Se. It comes naturally to him. Olivia’s Se also leads her to overindulgence and spontaneous decisions outside of her work (um, hey Olivia, you might not want to pursue that relationship… WHY ARE YOU GOING INTO THAT BUILDING WITHOUT BACK UP? YOU DON’T HAVE TO).

It’s easier, for the most part, with a fictional character. It’s easier when there’s distance between you and who you’re trying to type. As the mods on this blog have said so many times, you have to be honest with yourself about your faults and what you’re good at. I’ve gone from INFP to INTP (I thought I had a case of inferior Fe but then realized it was Fi, always Fi.) to ISTJ (my anxiety can be construed as WE’RE ALL SCREWED inferior Ne) to INFP to XNFP (is it my Te or Si that I’m worse with? Do I go into Fi/Si loops or Ne/Te loops? Hey remember that time you read about ENFPs being the most introverted extroverts? Hey, isn’t that a paradox? That could be you!).

My advice? Identify your functions first. Then you’ve narrowed it down to four out of sixteen possible types and that’s less daunting. Then it’s a matter of putting together a puzzle. I’m still trying but as they say, Rome wasn’t built in a day and sometimes self reflection and getting down to the nitty gritty of your cognition as well as your strengths and weaknesses can be daunting. However, being one type vs another type doesn’t make you a better or worse person. Remember that.

ENFP Mod: solid advice. Also, I feel you on the confusion over your type. Been there, done that, drove my four friends nuts for years with my bouncing back and forth while I tried on different hats. Yes, I said YEARS. Take heart, internet. You’re not stupid if you can’t figure your type out right away. There’s nothing wrong with you. Give it time. :)

[mbtizone]

Jacob (Lost): INFJ

Dominant Introverted Intuition [Ni]: Everything Jacob does is in service of the big picture. He’s always thinking about the future. Jacob knows that the island will need a protector once his time is over and spends years recruiting people. His primary objective is to defeat his brother and find someone to take his place on the island. After he has selected his candidates, he draws them to the island. Jacob is remarkably patient in his quest and has an instinctive understanding of what he needs to do to accomplish his goal. Although Kate accuses him of being the reason that the others died on the submarine, Jacob does what is necessary in order to protect the island, because he understands its importance. He’s skilled with symbolism, as evidenced by the metaphor he uses to explain the island’s purpose to Richard.

Auxiliary Extroverted Feeling [Fe]: Jacob has a warm disposition and knows how to relate to others. He sees potential in other people and has a way of making them feel special. Even though his mother raised him to believe that people are bad, Jacob sees the good in humanity. Despite her wariness about people, Jacob doesn’t have a black-and-white outlook on them. However, although he doesn’t share her views about them, he doesn’t like to cross his mother or do anything that will upset her. He embraces potential candidates for their flaws and doesn’t pass judgment on others. He continues to hope for the best in people, and, up until the moment Ben killed him, Jacob continued to hope that he was wrong about him. Jacob knows how to adjust his approach to get what he needs from people, and he realizes that one method won’t work for everybody, which is why Jack needs to be shown things, but Hurley can be told. Jacob personally identifies with the people he chooses as candidates, because they are flawed in the way that he is.

Tertiary Introverted Thinking [Ti]: Because Jacob’s ultimate goal is to find someone to replace him as protector of the island and defeat The Man in Black, he needs to be able to think up ways of meeting that end. He rarely shares his process with other people, though, which can lead people to become frustrated with him. His plans are always developed internally and Jacob doesn’t let other people in on what he’s doing. He tells Hurley to bring Jack to the lighthouse, but doesn’t explain why. When Jack destroys it after seeing his childhood home in a mirror, Jacob is completely unperturbed, which is confusing to Hurley, who is later told that Jacob’s only intention was for Jack to see that and realize that he is important. Jacob is curious about humanity and engages in debates regarding their true nature with his brother.

Inferior Extroverted Sensing [Se]: Though he’s usually quite calculated, Jacob can make impulsive decisions in the heat of the moment. After his brother kills his mother, he wants to punish him. Since he is unable to kill him, Jacob throws his brother into the Heart of the island instead. However, this move wasn’t as advantageous as he had hoped, as doing so turned the Man in Black into the Smoke Monster, who goes on to terrorize the people Jacob draws to the island. He’s skilled with weaving, and created both a tapestry and a rug for his shelter out of thread that he spun himself. Jacob prefers to be on the sidelines instead of in the thick of things, which is why he appoints Richard as his representative. He watches the people that his brother lives with because he wants to know whether they’re good or bad. He doesn’t trust his mother’s assessment or what she tells him about humanity, but what he can observe for himself.

Enneagram: 9w1 So/Sx

Quotes:

Jacob: Think of this wine as what you keep calling hell. There’s many other names for it too: malevolence, evil, darkness. And here it is, swirling around in the bottle, unable to get out because if it did, it would spread. The cork [he corks the bottle] is this island…and it’s the only thing keeping the darkness where it belongs. That man who sent you to kill me believes that everyone is corruptible because it’s in their very nature to sin. I bring people here to prove him wrong. And when they get here, their past doesn’t matter. Richard: Before you brought my ship, there were others? Jacob: Yes, many. Richard: What happened to them? Jacob: They’re all dead. Richard: But if you brought them here, why didn’t you help them? Jacob: Because I wanted them to help themselves. To know the difference between right and wrong without me having to tell them. It’s all meaningless if I have to force them to do anything. Why should I have to step in? Richard: If you don’t, he will.

Jacob: I take it you’re here ’cause of the ship. The Man in Black: I am. How did they find the Island? Jacob: You’ll have to ask ’em when they get here. The Man in Black: I don’t have to ask. You brought them here. Still trying to prove me wrong, aren’t you? Jacob: You are wrong. The Man in Black: Am I? They come. They fight. They destroy. They corrupt. It always ends the same. Jacob: It only ends once. Anything that happens before that is just progress.

Jacob: You call him “the monster.” But I’m responsible for what happened to him. I made him that way. And ever since then, he’s been trying to kill me. It was only a matter of time before he figured out how, and when he did, someone would have to replace me. And that’s why I brought you all here. James “Sawyer” Ford: Tell me something, Jacob. Why do I gotta be punished for your mistake? What made you think you can mess with my life? I was doin’ just fine ’til you dragged my ass to this damn rock. Jacob: No, you weren’t. None of you were. I didn’t pluck any of you out of a happy existence. You were all flawed. I chose you because you were like me. You were all alone. You were all looking for something that you couldn’t find out there. I chose you because you needed this place as much as it needed you.

Jacob: How’d it go? Hurley: Where were you, man? Jacob: Doesn’t matter, he wouldn’t have been able to see me anyway. Hurley: Yeah, well if you’d told me that and I’d like, explained everything, then maybe Jack wouldn’t have freaked out and smashed your mirror into a billion pieces. Thanks for the seven years of bad luck, by the way. Jacob: You’ve got ink on your forehead. Hurley: I have ink on my forehead? That’s all you have to say? Jack broke your lighthouse, dude. Mission un-accomplished. Whoever you said we need to help get to the island is totally screwed. Jacob: [unconcerned] Well I’m sure they’ll find some other way. Hurley: So…everything you wanted me to do didn’t get done, and you don’t even care? [Jacob looks over towards Jack, Hurley does the same.] Hurley: Wait a minute. Did you want Jack to see what was in that mirror? [Jacob smiles] Why? Jacob: It was the only way for him to understand how important he is. Hurley: That was your plan? I think it backfired, man. Jacob: Jack is here because he has to do something. He can’t be told what that is. He’s got to find it himself. Sometimes you can just…hop in the back of someone’s cab and tell them what they’re supposed to do. Other times…you have to let them look out at the ocean for a while.

Jacob: Do you think he’ll come back? Mother: No. Jacob: He said you killed our mother… Is that true? Mother: Yes… If I had let her live, she would have taken you back to her people; and those people are bad, Jacob–very bad. I-I couldn’t let you become one of them. I needed you to stay good. Jacob: Am I good, Mother? Mother: Yes, of course you are. Jacob: Then, why do you love him more than me? Mother: I love you in–in different ways. [touching his cheek] Will you stay with me, Jacob? Please? Jacob: Yes. [she chuckles and snuggles up to him] For awhile.

Jacob: [about his tapestry] You like it? I did it myself. It takes a very long time when you’re making the thread, but, uh… I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it?

Man in Black:: She know you visit me? Jacob: She never asks about you. Man in Black:: Then, I’m sorry I asked about her. Why do you watch us, Jacob? Jacob: [mutters] I watch because I wanna know if Mother’s right. Man in Black:: Right about what? Jacob: About them. Man in Black:: Oh, you mean my people. You wanna know if they’re bad. That woman may be insane, but she’s most definitely right about that. Jacob: I don’t know. They don’t seem so bad to me. Man in Black:: That’s easy for you to say. Looking down on us from above. Trust me, I’ve lived among them for 30 years. They’re greedy, manipulative, untrustworthy, and selfish. Jacob: Then why are you with them? Man in Black:: They’re a means to an end. Jacob: What end? Man in Black:: I’m leaving, Jacob. I found a way off the Island. Jacob: No, it’s impossible. There is no way off the Island.

Jacob (Lost): INFJ was originally published on MBTI Zone

[chromatic-demon-blog]

Mental Disorder Headcannons for the Pines family.

Dipper Pines- PDD and minor to moderate anxiety.

 Dipper strikes me as someone with a disorder called Pervasive Developmental Disorder or PDD which is a form of autism that cannot be pinned down to an exact location on the spectrum and as someone who has PDD myself I notice many similarities between Dipper’s behavior and my own at his age like the abnormal intelligence but somewhat slower processing speed especially when Mabel was able to come to a conclusion on something faster than Dipper with Dipper technically being the brainy one. His social skills are also a little lack luster which is also something PDD effects which is often depicted in the show when he tries to talk to the opposite gender which most will say is merely an age thing but I disagree seeing as Mabel can confidently talk to boys being the same age as Dipper. He also seems uncomfortable in some social situations like with Wendy and her friends where Mabel was able to easily mingle with them. He also strikes me as someone with minor to moderate anxiety seeing he often questions things a lot and often looks nervous in certain situations often concerning things with Ford’s journals while Mabel often seems at ease or reasonably concerned. One major scene where I see his possible anxiety get the best of him is the portal scene where he is more adamant about shutting the portal down than trusting Stan and by extension his own sister.

 Mabel Pines- ADHD

 Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder seems to be the only problem I can see in Mabel mentally because dear god the energy this child produces is unreal and again speaking from the viewpoint of someone diagnosed with ADHD I was damn near the same as her at twelve only difference is she acts like me without any medication which is to say hyper and practically bouncing off the walls which makes me think Mabel may not have any detrimental problems that associate with her ADHD to warrant medication such as a stimulant which also leads me to believe her ADHD makes her oblivious to how her Mabel Juice reacts with others seeing as Stan describes it as “if nightmares and coffee had a baby” and we all know coffee is stimulant and if any of you know anything about ADHD stimulants have little effect on people plagued by this disorder so where Mabel Juice may wire someone up it may be used by Mabel herself to calm her down or keep her at an even energy level.

 Stanley Pines- Bipolar Disorder, slight Kleptomania and Depression

 Okay so Stan was a little harder to come to a conclusion to what was wrong with him but I have deduced he is quite possibly bipolar to some extent. Reason being his moods in the show often changed rapidly sometimes without reason and can often appear happy or sour for no specific reason or rather odd reasons seeing as with my bipolar I often get confused why I feel a certain way at a certain time. Since bipolar disorder was not made an actual diagnosis until 1980 chances are Stan would have never gotten tested or even cared to be in any case seeing as he would probably add it to his list of flaws making his low self-esteem worse. His next mental problem stems mainly from a survival habit which in my opinion is a slight Kleptomania or uncontrollable need to steal because let’s be honest Stan probably stole a lot of shit to survive in the beginning since he was out on his ass at seventeen or eighteen years old and I bet if you look at his criminal record you’re gonna find theft or theft related crimes on there. I mean hell he even stole from a witch in the show and lost his hands over some damn chintzy watch this right there shows minor kleptomania seeing as he didn’t need it he just wanted it. Also Ford even says in Journal 3 that the golf cart we constantly see in the show is stolen too! Finally a huge thing with Stan is depression caused by multiple factors like his low self-esteem, his feeling of inferiority compared to his brother, the science experiment accident and everything leading up to and after the portal incident. However I think after the show Ford would have helped him with his kleptomania or helped him control it or utilize it to benefit them seeing as Ford is far from an honest saint the fandom seems to paint him to be and Stan would have all but managed his depression now that he had his brother back and helping him build his confidence and self-esteem as well as making an effort to make up for the past.

 Stanford Pines- PDD, slight Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Insomnia and PTSD.

 Okay finally onto Ford who I can honestly say is the worst of the Pines family when it comes to being screwed in the head. Now like Dipper I believe he also has Pervasive Developmental Disorder and could very well be the one Dipper inherited from seeing as Dipper and him share a lot of behavioral characteristics and I can honestly say Ford and I both being adults share minor behavioral characteristics such as savant like intelligence in certain areas and lack luster social skills like when talking to or romanticizing with the opposite gender which can contribute to why some people with my disorder feel better being around, talking with or romanticizing the same gender (I mean there are literally no straight ships for this poor owl [i.e. Stancest, Billford, Fiddauthor, RICKFORD…need I go on.]) Ford would not have been diagnosed much like Stan’s bipolar due to the fact it was not a diagnosis until 1980 also and like Stan I doubt he would have cared seeing as he was a freaking genius and by then cared more about his work than his social skills past present his findings to important people in the future. His slight Body Dysmorphic Disorder I can see stemming from his negative focus on his sixth finger which in my opinion is pretty cool and I would say that right to his face but with this disorder he cannot accept this is just part of his features and often has nothing positive to think about the extra digit leading it to be a psychological detriment due to the excessive bullying it brought upon him. Now the insomnia is a newer disorder that is brought upon him post Bill’s betrayal when he was desperately trying to stay awake in order to dodge Bill’s possession and could have quite possibly trained his body to not need as much sleep as a normal human thus developing insomnia where sometimes he won’t sleep at all. Another play on his insomnia could be his mind associating sleep with danger even though Bill can’t actually possess Ford after he returns home to his dimension. Finally his PTSD or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder could have happened after coming back from his thirty yearlong portal excursion where he could have seen things that mentally scarred him or post Weirdmageddon after Bill tortured him and turned Gravity Falls into a reasonable depiction of Hell.

 All in all this is my headcannons for mental disorders for the Pines family which I think adds more character and depth to each Pines and what may honestly make them tick and act the way they do. And yes some of this is written from personal knowledge since I have PDD, ADHD, Bipolar Disorder, and Depression and have had a klepto habit when I was younger on top of knowing people personally who are insomniacs to an extent and people with anxiety. I also know a lot of military people with PTSD. I am not an expert with Body Dysmorphic Disorder but in my days in the psych ward I have developed enough of an understanding to understand that Ford is definitely a poster child for this disorder. These are mere headcannons but I just can’t ignore some of the signs in each of the Pines family that resonate with me and some of my personal experiences.  

[runawayforthesummer]

Chapter 29: Tortoise and Hare

AND WE’RE BACK.

Where were we?

Let me tell you, I did not miss this boring book at all! 

Hamilton is at his meeting in Amboy, where the German general won’t meet with just an aide.

These aristocrats! Alex thought with some annoyance.  Their infatuation with rank and face make their own lives ridiculously difficult!  And even worse, they don’t recognize how it inconveniences the lives of the rest of us.

Yeah, uh-huh, says the dude OBSESSED with this stuff.

Ham is mad his meeting on trading prisoners is such a wash, especially because it means troops will suffer longer.

But what made everything worse was that now he had no excuse to stay away from Morristown, which meant that he would be in town when Eliza married that Livingston bounder.

Ah, yes, your romantic problems are much worse than being a prisoner of war! 

Larpent, of course, is excited because it means he’ll get to attend Henry’s bachelor party. They ride back to Morristown through the rain and find the Ford mansion empty, without any fires lit.

Ham is pissed and collapses on his bed, making Larpent start a fire for him. I bet Larpent is pissed about his rank and having to do everything you say, Hamilton!

Alex hardly noticed him.  He had shucked off his wet coat and rolled himself in his blanket like a caterpillar wrapping itself in silk, his head buried beneath his pillow.  With one half-open eye he watched as Larpent knelt before the grate, expertly arranging wood shavings and splinter into a neat cone, then striking the flint against steel in steady streams of sparks.

Why don’t you help him so it goes faster????

[Alex] had failed at today’s mission, had failed at securing a command, had failed at winning the hand of the girl he loved.

1. Well that was sort of your fault, I guess.

2. You got the command but something else came up.

3. You got the girl but her family got in the way.  I mean, I guess you don’t know this part but you could probably figure it out if you thought about it for two seconds.

….I can’t believe I’m trying to bolster Alexander Hamilton’s self-confidence.

Me @ me: STOP

Larpent changes and goes to find them something to eat but comes up empty.  Of course. 

And like I think we all know they’re at Henry’s party.  But I HIGH KEY do not believe George Washington would be there or that the house would be empty.  Whatever.

“I say, sir, why don’t you come along to the party?  There’ll be food there and wine and good cheer, and you look as thought you could use all three.”

Alex couldn’t help but laugh.  “Go to my rival’s pre-wedding celebration.  Yes, that does sound like a fine time.”

Yeah, that was pretty dumb to suggest, Larpent.

“You wouldn’t have to see him, Colonel.  The party’s in the barn by Gareth’s Field.  It’s a huge building.  You can keep as far from him as you like.”

Hamilton, of course, remembers that’s where the Infirmary was and gets very upset when Larpent tells him the wards were moved to a brothel. 

Hamilton decides the correct thing to do is…

“I’ll call him out!”  Alex hurriedly pulled at his pistol.  “I’ll change him to a duel.  Don’t you see, if he’s dead he can’t marry Eliza!”

JFC.

You know how some people think the Hamilton-Burr duel was over a woman?  Guess Melissa de la Cruz heard about that and decided to use it here.

Larpent tells Hamilton that’s a shitty idea and Ham agrees, except that what he’ll do instead is make Livingston challenge him to a duel instead of the other way around.

“You know those milquetoast aristocrats!  They cannot bear to lose face in front of their peers, but even less so in front of their inferiors!”

….sounds like two guys I know in 1804.

Do you ever wish someone had been at the duel and yelled at Burr and Hamilton about fighting like when Big and Aiden got into that fight on Sex and the City and Carrie was like “YOU’RE MIDDLE AGED!”? 

I do!

Larpent is still like: nah, bro.  Your girl chose him.  Suck it up.

Larpent was right; Eliza had accepted Livingston’s proposal, while he, Alex, had never even proposed.

The moron then realizes that’s the problem!  He let Angelica talk him out of it.

Who was he to think he could be worthy of such a girl as Eliza Schuyler?  An American princess.

But the thought of that bright, wonderful girl marrying that slug filled him with an intoxicating brew of anger and hope that he picked up his pace, grabbing his damp hat from the tree in the hall and dashing out the front door.

Maybe it wasn’t too late.  Maybe he could still do something about it.  Call the man out, duel him for her honor.

It was his last chance to save Eliza.  To save himself.

Ok, see, why does he still think he needs to duel?  Why doesn’t he just go and at least talk to Eliza.  So much has changed in the story, they might as well go elope too!

Also, my god, can he not white knight like this?  Let Eliza save herself.  Damn.

Hamilton and Larpent arrive at the barn but he cannot find Henry Livingston.

BTW there are strippers at this party.  Everyone is drunk and he runs into Corporal Weston and finds out Livingston is gone.

“Gone!  But isn’t he to be married to Miss Schuyler tomorrow?” Alex demanded, his frustration rising.

Stop taking it out on innocent drunks, Hamilton!

But then Weston tells him some dreadful news: Eliza has eloped.  Alex tries to correct him that it was Angelica, but Weston is certain.

“Miss Elizabeth Schuy’er, and I know she eloped.  Gone since yes’erday mor’ing.”

[thatonepsychoticbipolar]

In the beginning (first revision)

I woke up at about 10 o’clock that hot, July morning. I was on the floor, in a sleeping bag, surrounded by emptiness. I could hear my anxious breaths starting, as I started to realize what day it was. It was a very anticipated and dreaded morning. That day, was July 31, 2009, and that was the day that my life would change forever.

I quickly unzipped my sleeping bag, because it was so hot and I was sweating. I had the bright idea of leaving the window open, as a last chance to breathe in the Arizona air. I stood up, and looked around, reminding myself that it was the last day I would ever be in that house, the house I grew up in. It was also the last day I would spend in the city, or even in the state.

I shared a room with my sister, but she had decided to sleep in the living room with our other two siblings, while I, decided to be in my room for one last night. My sister and I had never really gotten along and sharing a room with her was pure torture sometimes, especially when I had friends over and she decided that she had to be in the room as well.

I walked out to see more emptiness and some unzipped sleeping bags on the floor. I was the last one to wake up. Sleep was good for me; it was the only time I wasn’t depressed or anxious, which were two things I was no stranger to.

If I wasn’t experiencing anxiety, I was experiencing depression, and on really bad days I would experience both at the same time. My emotions were difficult for me to control or predict but when I tried to explain to the many therapists I have seen in the short time I had been alive just shrugged it off as me being an adolescent and that it was normal.

However, it didn’t feel normal. I didn’t see my classmates bursting into tears over things that were small and didn’t matter, or experiencing extreme anger that I would have subtle tantrums by taking heavy steps and being short to anyone that talked to me.

At home I was always in trouble because of my emotional outbursts. My privileges were revoked most of the time, including: my cell phone, ipod, and access to the internet. It was even more depressing when I would have nothing to help calm me down when I was experiencing deep emotions that I didn’t always understand; that I never understood for the entirety of my lifetime.

I walked slowly to the garage, where I knew my parents would be. My mom, was working on a paper for school and my dad was on the phone. My siblings were talking to the neighbor that we had grown close to.

While they were doing all of that I decided to go for a walk down the street I had lived on since I was four years old. As I was walking down the street, I passed the house of my seventh grade crush. Nothing ever happened between us mainly because I had no idea how to act around people I wanted to be in a relationship with.

I would go into full obsession mode and stalk them with the core of my being. Facebook made that easy to do. I wasn’t very smart about either, I would go very far down on their page and like and comment on old statuses, completely exposing the fact that I was down right stalking them.

I was very immature for my age, due to the emotions I couldn’t control, and my dad had no problem pointing that out and making me feel like I was the problem and that I had to fix myself. I could never fix myself though, no matter how hard I tried. I would get frustrated with myself and a growing self hatred began to grow.

I walked down a few more houses and then turned around and began to head back to the house. I knew this was it. I knew it was the last time that I would ever see this neighborhood again. I cried a little as I approached the house.

I went inside and rolled up my sleeping bag and gathered the little bit of things that I had left off of the moving truck: the first twilight book that I was finally able to get my hands on, my diary and diary writing pens, my flute that I didn’t want exposed to the heat, my cellphone, my ipod, my wallet, and my Nintendo DS. In a small suitcase was an overnight bag, containing toiletries and another comfy outfit because we would be stopping about halfway through the drive.

I grabbed everything and made my way to the garage again and set them down on the ground, just waiting for us to leave, growing more anxious by the second as I waited. I had no way of knowing what this new place had to offer me and I didn’t like the idea of having to leave the place I grew up in, but my fate was sealed and all I could do is see what this new place had to offer.

When my mom closed her laptop, I knew it was time. I watched her put it in a travel bag and put it in her SUV. It was a red, Ford Expedition, and it was old yet functionable. I wondered, quietly to myself if it would even make it as far as she intended to drive it.

I was the one riding with my dad, in his maroon, Ford F-250. The three younger ones were riding with my mom. I wasn’t too particular about the riding arrangements, it was forced upon me, much like this whole relocation.

I loaded my stuff into the back seat and I stepped up and into my dad’s truck. That was the moment in time where I cried over leaving Arizona one last time. I had no idea what it was going to be like where I was going. I had no idea what school was like there, what the kids were like there, or what the band program would be like there.

I had built a life, though not a good one, there in Tucson, Arizona and I was sad to see it go, a feeling that I do not understand to this day. I was bullied constantly in middle school, and who’s to say high school would have been any different? I had friends, but they were shallow and often using talking to them as a privilege, and the two friends that didn’t do that weren’t much help through that difficult time

However, I was most sad about leaving the opportunity to have my first real relationship. It was the first time I hadn’t gone overboard and acted crazy about liking him. We had gone way back and I was comfortable with him. I had known him since sixth grade and he was always super nice to me. We had a lot in common because he too, had problems controlling his emotions.

We had spent the summer on the phone and growing closer together, but we were both awkward and inexperienced so to have an actual relationship with him, it would have needed a ton of patience and lots of guess work.

All the kids in that part of the city had already started school, and I too, would have already started my freshman year in high school. However, my mom didn’t want to start us because she knew the schools where we were going started in late August. I remember arguing with her about her not letting me start school. I would always say it would help me have closure with the area. To her that wasn’t a very sound argument, therefore, I did not start school with the rest of my classmates.

As we started to back out of the driveway and into the street, I watched with tearful eyes, the house I knew and loved get further and further away. This was it. It was really happening. As we drove down the Tucson streets on the way to I-10 I was in deep thought. I was thinking about everything that was leading up to this point in time. It was a better opportunity for the family; my mom wouldn’t have to work from home anymore, running a home daycare, and just concentrate on school because my dad was offered a better job.

It was that deep thought, at the very beginning of the journey to our new home, that I started to understand that this was my chance to start over. I was on to a new adventure. I remember feeling a half smile as I came to this realization. A fresh start where no one knows my name. Maybe things were going to be okay for me.

Maybe age 14 was the age where things started to look up for me. Maybe I was finally going to live a normal life without people at school calling me every name in the book, stealing my homework, and making me feel like an inferior person.

“Maybe I’ll be popular like I had always dreamed of,” I thought. “Maybe I’d be desired by many boys and have to turn a lot of people down. Maybe I’ll have a chain of friends that never ended, that would always have my back if one of the popular boys was being an asshole, or if I forgot my pencil black eyeliner to touch up my waterline during lunch.”

My hopes and dreams of my new home, a house or place I had never even seen pictures of, started to grow within the first hour of our two day journey. Little did I know, that it was that dream, though just thought of, was the start of something only a psychotic woman would do. I was determined to live that life one way or another.

I could see it before my eyes, me being the leader of the pack, of people of all ages, Them all adoring me and walking in a formation in the mornings and after school in the hallways. If we’d have the same classes, we’d tell each other test answers and copy each other’s homework before class.

Maybe one would be a cheerleader. Young, yet excelling. Of course some band mates, maybe one that plays the clarinet? A Japanese girl, most definitely a Japanese girl, one where we’d have to teach to walk in wedges and dress in skirts. Older boys, like seniors, maybe brothers of people closer to my age, and if any of them had sisters that are older, them too for that matter.

Feuds only come naturally with being so beloved and popular. Girls would try to steal boyfriends by being slutty and tempting. Girls who would say mean things about me and presume I’m a slut or a bitch or a hoe for having so much success in a social circle.

I just sat there in thought, watching the numbers on the exit signs get bigger and bigger, feverishly picking my nails to the point where I was exposing the skin underneath the nails, and bleeding in some cases. It was a nervous tick that I had acquired in middle school that had gotten worse and worse as it continued. It would cause so much pain, to the point where I had trouble playing my flute and sometimes gripping a pencil.

I looked down at my wrist. The top of my left wrist had a scar that ran across the length of the wrist. That was the sight of my first cut. I didn’t have much resources so I was taught by some girls at school how to scratch the skin by scribbling on a piece of paper with a mechanical pencil, creating a point, and pressing and running it back and forth on the area that I wanted to cut.

I thought of how it felt. It hurt, but took my mind off of the emotional pain I was feeling. I knew after the first and only time I had done that, that there was going to be more times it would be done.

It was an escape from all the emotional pain and gave me something to concentrate on. It was like a trip, where I felt my emotions become numb and my mind finally relax. It was a dangerous drug that I was in the early stages of becoming dependent on it. If only I knew what I was getting into, and if only my parents knew, then maybe, just maybe, I could have been spared from such a self destructive path

As we continued to drive, I closed my eyes in thought. I began hypothesizing how my new life was going to play out. Starting dreams of meeting my first boyfriend quickly and dreams of a beautiful first kiss and maybe more. I mean, if I’m gonna be popular I’d have to have an open mind or those boys would lose interest. It’s high school after all, that’s all boys want.

With my dreams in mind, I started to drift asleep. I was not anxious at that point in time and I was trying to take advantage of that fact. When I dreamt as I slept, the characters I had recently started to make up were given names. That was way more of a downfall than I realized at the time. It was in it’s early stages, but it started a process deep inside my psychotic brain that had already began to consume me.

[jaydanosaurus]

I’m a leader, not a boss.

Story Time!

So I worked at JCPenney in my hometown my senior year of college. My time there, I learned a lot and grew, taking opportunities and moving up.  It wasn’t long before I was the visual merchandising associate (my favorite job I ever had).

Then, upon graduating college, I decided to move to Chicago where there were “more opportunities.”  Really, my boyfriend was going for grad school and I wanted to finally leave that godforsaken small town. Side note, while Chicago is amazing and huge and great for business people, try getting a fashion job that isn’t retail... you can’t.

So when I moved, I transferred to the closed JCPenney until I could find something “better” for me to do.  Most of my peers already had fancy jobs awaiting them in New York or California, but not me. I could not find anything Chicago.  So alas, I stuck it out in hopes of at least moving up and making more dough.

So there I was, demoted back to sales associate in the men’s department making barely minimum wage for Chicago. Let me interject by saying that I worked really hard to get 3 raises in my time back home to be making great money, but in Chicago market that was nothing.  So I worked hard, in a VERY urban, big store unlike the store I was accustomed to. I searched and searched for opportunities but alway lost out to people with “more experience.” Finally, after nearly quitting and moving back home, my store manager asked me to be the temporary supervisor for the holiday season.  Around that same time, I applied for a manager program that I thought I damn near deserved but probably would never get into.

By November, guess what. I made the cut. I got it. I was the new Assistant Manager Trainee for the Chicago market. While this doesn’t sound that great, it was. Only 12 Trainees were in the program nationwide, and Managers in big-time department stores are no joke. I started my first big boy job out of college, and while it wasn’t necessarily designing clothes or buying like I wanted, it was a decent job.

I transferred to my 3rd JCPenney in just under 2 years with the company to the notorious and infamous Orland Park JCP for my Training. There I met some of the best people I’ve ever known. I grew more than I thought I would and became a success. Mind you, this is one of the biggest JCPenney’s in the whole company, and is notorious for corporate visits. While there, I got to meet the CEO, tour the store with all kinds of people, lead major projects, and takeover the launch of the New Major Appliances. Once I completed my 3 month training, I was rightfully so, an Assistant Store Manager. All the while, my partner was growing more and more pregnant. Finally, she gave birth and took her leave, allowing me to take her spot while I awaited my final placement. (I’m going to brag a little and just say that the other managers all told me that I was the best Trainee they ever had). It was like home, family. I loved this store and wanted to stay forever, but I always knew I wouldn’t get to. Which brings us to Chicago.

The day came when my District Manager finally started to give me news about being placed in my very own store. It was exciting and nerve-wracking. So I had to conference with a general manager at the store in Fort Wayne, which made me super hopeful because my friend from home who went through this program the year prior was placed there. Fort Wayne is also where my boyfriend is from close to home for me. But then, two days later, just after Black Friday, when I thought my DM was going to say Fort Wayne, he said Ford City Mall.

I had always heard of Ford City, but it was never good words. The trainee from the year before me was placed there and was already leaving. This store had gained a reputation as hard, crazy, dangerous, and worst of all just plain awful.  They went through managers left and right, for many reasons. Either way, I had no choice in the matter, and this was my new place to work. 

I found out on a Thursday and had to report to my new drill sergeant, I mean General Manager, on Monday. Everyone at Orland Park was sad to see me go after nearly 10 months. But it was like a promotion, so I should have been happy. Right? After the sweetest going away party in true Orland Park fashion, I said my goodbyes and hugged and cried with my peers.  Shout out to the best boss I could ever ask for, a man who changed me and taught me so much.

 So all weekend my head was spinning a web. All I ever head of Ford City was negative press, so I didn’t know what to think. I knew that the guy I was replacing never liked it there, so what was I about to get into. I loved JCPenney so I went in as optimistic as I could. Monday came, it was 7am, and I was now the assistant manager at JCPenney in Chicago... the only JCPenney in Chicago...on the southwest side.  But the first day, I set up my office, met everyone, and had a great day. I was actually very excited and hopeful. 

 Cut to a few weeks later and I completely understood the rumors. This store is very urban, meaning very different and challenging. It is also huge. And I had to learn things I thought I already knew, without much help. My boss was everything I heard he was and more. The micro-managing devil who wanted everything done exactly his way or no way. I was working roughly 70 hours every week. Being “coached” about every decision I made, made to feel inferior and small. I went from the best boss ever to Donald Trump. But I decided I would prove myself, prove what I could do, and do my absolute best even though the other manager was not. 

There were countless things I could go on about forever which made it awful to work there. But there were some positive lights at the end of that tunnel. I made connections with people that will always be there because of this experience. The other two assistant managers and myself are very close now because we all know the struggles. And some of the people who worked and shopped at the small are the best kind of people. Also, because this store is the only one in the city, and right next to Midway Airport, it got frequent corporate visits. For me, seeking a career in buying at corporate level, this exposure was priceless. I also made hella bank, like really good money for a 23 year old. Oh, and it was a shorter commute, which can be EVERYTHING on your drive home.

But all this was not enough for me. I came into work every day afraid to see what challenges I’d face that day. I would wake up to 10 emails almost everyday, 30 or so on my days off. And I was expected to work like a dog. All this would be okay if my boss cared, recognized it, or even said please & thank you.  

After months of unhappiness, and me taking this experience for granted a little bit, and complete mental breakdowns every week, I finally decided to do it. I was going to put in my 2 weeks.  But I stuck it out again. You see, I have never felt like I am great at anything, but rather just good or okay at a lot of things. But this, my work ethic and my hardworking nature, that is the one thing I know I am amazing at. And I had always gotten praise for it. I got to be a manager in under 2.5 years in the hardest store in the midwest. So yeah, I think I should be happier in this circumstance. I had never been told I wasn’t working hard enough or that I wasn’t good enough at my job. Until now.

My mother always said you need to work somewhere at least 3 months to give it its fair shake, and to decide if its you or the job. Well after 5 months, I finally, finally, finally just quit one day.  I worked really hard, my hardest I could despite hating life, slipping into a deep depression again (first time since high school), and despite not having support from my boss. Side bar, I asked for transfers, I asked for guidance, I even started sticking up for myself to him.  The thing is, I am close with my family, my family who lives 5 hours away. I want to see them on holidays and my weekends off, which only happens once or less a month. Easter was approaching and my boss was riding me hard.  I finally just blew up at him and I felt an air of confidence, serenity, and approval in myself for standing up for myself to him. And to some extend, I think he was waiting for it to happen because I think in a way I earned his respect. And he stopped coming for me for a couple days. But then the next week, he was at my throat again, and I threatened to walk out. He quickly stopped and apologized. Then it was calm for a few more days. I had the weekend off and just contemplated how worth it all this was, for the millionth time. I worked Monday with a different mindset over me, like I knew something needed to change. And on Tuesday, I called my mom, my boyfriend, and dad, and just said I’m doing it. I decided today is the day, and I’m off today. I am quitting. I wrote a letter and sent it to my boss and my District Manager. I resigned effective immediately. Right before Easter Weekend (HA!).

The funny thing is that every time I wanted to quit and didn’t, I thought things could change. It finally hit me that they wouldn’t. And all the times I should have but didn’t quit, I was so upset and mad. This time was different; I was calm and clear headed. This was my choice. I quit and I was proud of myself for choosing my happiness. I didn’t look at it as me giving up but rather me standing up. And it made me feel just a little vindictive to give him no notice in a holiday peak. Honestly, he didn’t care about me so I didn’t care about him.

Reflecting back on this whole story that has been my life for almost 3 years now, I see things could have been done differently. But thats life. I share this story because I need to. For me. My journey upon graduating college has not been what I always thought it would be. I am finding myself now more than ever.

Recently I have been struggling to find a job. I don’t know what I want to do with my life after quitting managing a store I used to love but now resent.  I apply and apply every day, get a handful of interviews, but never land the job. I try to pick things I think I’d like, because after all, I’m not putting myself through that torture again. My depression that started from this job has stuck around, and some days around great. I start regretting my decision to leave abruptly, a thing I swore wouldn’t happen.  My parents wished I would have found something else before quitting. My mom wished I had given two week notice so I could be re-hirable. But to me, none of that matters or is worth it.  All that matters is that I ended that book and now I am starting a new one. I’m in the prologue awaiting to start the first chapter.

All things considered, I am still happy I left. I just wish things could have gone differently. The whole point of me moving to Chicago was to experience the city, to grow, and to find a job that is right for me. I’ve done two of those things. I just need to find myself and then the career.

The challenges I’m facing now are finding the career path that is right for me, as I now know managing isn’t. In a way, it was always me settling. I look to buying as my next conquest, however who really knows what’s next. The future is real, the struggles are real, but the happiness is real too.

I do thank that awful boss though. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t know just how special, important, and awesome I am. I wouldn’t know my limits. I wouldn’t know that while he thought I wasn’t a good manager, I KNOW I am. I learned a lot about what I am looking for in my life in order to be happy at work.

I have gone to a few interviews where they ask what my managing style is and I ALWAYS SAY, “I believe in being a leader, not a boss.” Managing isn’t about being a tyrant, its about empowering, teaching, and leading by example. 

It is now 3:32am, I am tired, rambling, and clearing my soul. With that I am done. Thank you for reading, or not. 

Good night. Hire me.