#i do not have the time or energy today to unpack this paragraph for paragraph so i will leave this reply as it is

[sphacelating]

As someone who loves Andrew as a character and doesn’t hate on Ashley and recognize both of their flaws unlike most people, I feel like the fandom coddles and sympathizes Andrew even more after Chapter 3 because of his backstory.

Ashley’s behavior is largely a result of her parents’ neglect and lack of effort in raising her. They never made her go to therapy or address her issues, instead enabling her behavior and shifting the blame onto her brother. She never had birthdays celebrated, and her fake friends only used her to get closer to Andy. As a result, no one really supports her, and she never learned how to behave in a healthy way. So, it makes sense why she’d become so dependent on Andy when he’s the only one who’s actually tried to care for her and make her happy.

What people often overlook is that Ashley grew up in the same toxic, abusive environment as Andrew, but instead of being labeled as “evil” or “manipulative,” she’s simply a product of the neglect and lack of guidance she experienced. She craves unconditional love, doesn’t understand relationships, and wears her emotions on her sleeve. Meanwhile, Andrew sees through it, lets her behavior slide, and ends up blaming her for his own actions.

There’s a lot of sympathy for Andrew, to the point where people overlook some of his less admirable qualities—like how he treats Ashley, Julia, Nina, and others. But when it comes to Ashley, she’s dismissed just because her personality is harder for people to like. She grew up in the same neglectful and abusive environment as Andrew, but their personalities turned out differently because she was completely neglected, while Andrew was suppressed. This explains why Ashley tends to act out and demand attention, while Andrew keeps things bottled up. Yet people forget this, and only see Ashley as a product of the same toxic environment that worsened Andrew, without considering that there was nothing in that environment that could’ve helped her improve. She doesn’t know how to initiate positive, prosocial behavior because she wasn’t taught how to.

In many ways, Andrew’s behavior is just as problematic—he rarely does anything genuinely prosocial and sometimes behaves horribly toward people who care about him, like Julia. But because he’s more inward in his attitude and has a more fleshed-out backstory, people tend to accept him more easily. Ashley, on the other hand, hasn’t been given the same explanation or “justification” for her actions.

Ashley is clearly wrong for abusing and raping Andrew, and it's understandable that people sympathize with him because of it. However, let’s not pretend Andrew is some “innocent” person. He’s spied on his sister while she was changing, emotionally manipulated others, used Julia to vent his sexual frustrations about Ashley, cared more about the consequences of his actions than the lives he took, faked nightmares to sleep next to his sister, and continues to engage in inappropriate touching or flirting with her.

In the Shots and Such ending, Andrew wanted Ashley to get drunk with him so they could have "accidental" sex, and he ended up assaulting her while she was intoxicated, trying to repeat what he considered the best sex he ever had. In the Cliffhanger ending, it is implied that Andrew intended to assault his imaginary sister.

In the story, Andrew makes many sexual comments to Ashley but later takes back his consent. Despite this, Ashley continues to press him, which leads to the conclusion that this is rape.

Then Andrew has sex with a wasted Ashley. When she finds out, she has a breakdown. Andrew argues that she "wanted it," suggesting it wasn't rape?

Andrew violently beats Ashley and then becomes drunk. Ashley forces him to have sex with her. Later, Andrew admits he likes to get Ashley drunk to have sex with her and has been trying to recreate it over and over again.

Both individuals are terrible, but it frustrates me that Andrew is not held accountable for anything.

Ashley and Andrew both have difficult personalities shaped by their neglectful upbringing. Ashley seeks attention and is often criticized for her behavior, while Andrew is more reserved and people overlook his flaws. The key point is that both are shaped by their environment and should not be labeled as simply a "monster" or a "victim. "

If you feel sympathy for one sibling, you should show the same sympathy to the other. Similarly, if you dislike one sibling, you should also have the same feelings toward the other.

i don’t know what world you live in where people are sympathizing with andrew after decay and refusing to hold him accountable, nor why you’re dropping all these paragraphs in my inbox to tell me how much andrew sucks and ashley should be coddled more like i’m one of those people.

not a fan of anything you said on the topic of rape, either. mentioning it in passing only to bring up examples of andrew disregarding ashley’s lack of genuine consent after he was raped by ashley and she forced him into a sexual relationship as if to show that andrew is a worse rapist, even comparing his deeply repressed thoughts in cliffhanger to the act of rape by claiming thoughts = intent to act, all of that strongly comes off as trying to justify what was done to him and i am not here for it.

and making sexual comments does not in any way equal consent to sex, so andrew didn’t withdraw consent that he’s never given when ashley raped him. you’re definitely in “andrew wanted it so the rape wasn’t that bad” territory here and it’s extremely uncomfortable.

[livelaughleave]

Late to the Party

I decided to start a blog this morning because the alternative is doing my made up email job and I don't feel like it.

This is not a blog *about* anything. It is simply a thought repository living in the void on a platform clinging to relevancy (analogous to my own life). 

I am also starting this blog because dropping diatribes about Fidel Castro in the group chat at 7 in the morning is, apparently, annoying. 

What I am actually thinking about today is our national inclination towards fascism. I will not call it a descent when we’ve been here all along, but it does feel that way, partially because for a moment in time it seemed like a movement towards liberation was building. Personally, I never felt more patriotic than I did in 2020 when Twitter was full of pictures of burning police precincts. But, much like the precincts fires themselves, that energy has fizzled out and now here we sit in a capitalist hellscape of our own making. 

Cities are unlivable. Land is unobtainable. More and more people are freezing to death on sidewalks in front of unoccupied billion dollar high-rises. Fish are like 80 percent plastic, and the LGBTQIA+ community is under constant attack by politicians and for some inexplicable reason, the lady who wrote Harry Potter.

Since there’s so much to unpack in that last paragraph, I guess I will start with issues facing the LGBTQIA+ community, and because I am feeling particularly hateful towards the Harry Potter lady, trans folks. 

In case any of you reading this are suffering from similar brain rot, I would like to remind you that trans people have existed since the beginning of human civilization and will continue to exist right up until the very end. Our understanding of gender, sex, and sexuality may have changed, but that is an indisputable fact. 

Because of this indisputable fact, the likelihood that you have shared a restroom with someone who is not of your same biological sex is as certain as my mom is that I should have done more with my life. 

There is no nefarious plot by the trans community to infiltrate bathrooms and commit assaults. The moral panic around this completely made up and baseless scenario is alarming on So. Many. Levels. especially because it is mostly centered around a fixation on child sexual abuse. If these toads (no offense to actual toads) really cared about that, they would focus on the areas where it occurs most often - the family and the church, but because the nuclear family and the church are two pillars upholding the white supremacist capitalist patriarchy we call home, that will never happen. 

We must then conclude that this was never really about The Children and was only ever about neutralizing any threat to the aforementioned white supremacist capitalist patriarchy we call home.    

[a-night-at-the-0pera]

Stress Relief, Part 4

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, Chapter Playlists

Pairing: College!Joe Mazzello x Reader

Summary: The start of senior year of college is usually full of bittersweet moments, but returning to campus without your best friend by your side is as bitter as the burnt dining hall coffee. With Joe busy with orientation activities and you unsure about what you want, it is hard to tell whether this last year of college will get off to the right foot, and if the two of you can repair your relationship. 

Warnings: BIG EMO ANGST (sorry, but it had to happen), alcohol consumption, some smut (18+ please!), fluff fluff fluff

Word Count: 10.4k

Author’s Note: Thank you all for waiting so patiently for this final chapter in the series! The past few weeks have taken a lot out of me, but I’m excited to share this last piece of the story with you. I’m honestly sad it’s over! I’ve sort of fallen in love with Joe and Y/N myself, and I’ll miss writing their dumbass adventures. I hope you all like this last chapter. Thank you for coming on this ride with me! I’ve been floored at every turn by how much people like this story, and I am so grateful for you all. As always, special shoutouts to @sweet-ladyy, @denimmay, and @o-holynight for being talented people and amazing friends...without you guys and your love, I honestly don’t know if I would have had the energy to finish this story. And, of course, thank you to @o-holynight, my graphic design queen, for the beautiful moodboard! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! I love to hear what you all think! <3

~~~~~~~~~

To say you are restless is an understatement. It is 2am and you are wide awake, trying to not think about the alarm set on your phone for a bright and early 8am wake-up call. The car downstairs is packed, crammed full of boxes and bags, ready for the drive back to college. You even have an outfit for tomorrow all laid out, the comfy pair of shorts and soft t-shirt folded nicely on the chair in the corner. It’s not like this is your first rodeo. After all, tomorrow is the start of senior year. Shouldn’t you feel like a professional at this by now?

You roll over onto your stomach, grabbing your phone from the bedside table and unlocking it. Instinctively opening Snapchat, you scroll to the Discover page and click on the first little Story circle at the top, the screen flashing snapshots of the past 24 hours in your friends’ lives. Mara is watching Dirty Dancing with her sisters. Dylan is at his band’s last concert of the summer. Wren is already back on campus and unpacking their stuff, rocking out to their latest Spotify playlist. Sage’s story is punctuated with giggles, showing her mom attempting to roll a joint, captioned “last night in Colorado.” You smile to yourself, feeling your pre-move-in anxiety beginning to fade a little, replaced with excitement to see your friends again.

Until you reach his story. 

Joe’s face fills your screen, surrounded by a swarm of eager, smiling freshmen, all cheering and laughing. “I met these kiddos today but I would already die for all of them,” the caption says, cutting off a few millimeters of the cute orientation Geotag in the corner. Your heart pangs seeing him smile, even in his goofy orientation leader uniform. Especially in his goofy orientation leader uniform. And, on second inspection of the snap, you notice that Joe has a mustache, too. That’s new. A not-so-subtle reminder of the fact that you have barely seen his face in over a month. Your finger hovers over the screen, debating whether or not you should reply to the video clip. It is really cute, and you could send some innocuous message about the new kids or something. Or you could roast Joe on his new facial hair.  

Honestly, all you want is a response. Ever since your visit to New York, you and Joe have barely talked. No more dumb comments on each other’s summer Instagram posts. No more midnight FaceTime calls. Just a handful of Snapchats and texts, most opened and never answered. The lack of communication, quite honestly, is killing you, but you know that it’s all your fault. You’re the one who built the walls.

Fuck it, it can’t hurt to send him the message. The worst that can happen is that he opens it and doesn’t respond, and at this point, you’re used to that. You swipe up, typing in the little grey chat bar.

omg look at the babies!!! can’t wait to meet them!

It’s wishful thinking to expect a reply, especially at this hour, so you double-check your alarm and place your phone on the nightstand again, fidgeting to find a comfortable position on your mattress. Your eyes are just starting to drift shut when your phone dings, causing your eyes to fly open again. It can’t be. You snatch up your phone, nearly knocking over the water bottle on the table.

Snapchat from Joseph Francis.

It’s almost embarrassing how fast your heart is beating as you swipe open the notification, refreshing the page to load the message. The little blue speech bubble pops up, indicating a typed response instead of a picture. Okay, cool.

Haha yeah, they’re great

Definitely a lackluster response, but still something. You quickly type out another message, hoping that maybe you can start an actual conversation.

Why are you up so late?

You keep the app open, eager to see if Joe will respond again. After a minute, the little dots appear.

Orientation activities

I could ask you the same thing

Again, weirdly succinct for how Joe usually texts, but at least he is texting. Your fingers fly across the keyboard once again.

Guess I’m a little anxious about move-in tomorrow…I mean, it’s senior year, just one year left with everyone. But I’m also excited because I get to see you tomorrow! You’re living in Kennedy again, right?

The little dots immediately spring up, but disappear again after a few moments. You can see that he’s thinking about how to respond, and the waiting is excruciating.

“Come on, Joe, say something,” you whisper aloud to yourself, chewing anxiously on your lip.

Yep, Kennedy again…they renovated the bathrooms this summer, it’s really nice

That’s awesome! Well, I’ll be in Stafford, so we’ll be just across the green from each other. I’m getting to campus around noon tomorrow…after I move my shit in, maybe I could swing by your room to say hi?

Ordinarily, you’d cringe at your paragraph texting, but you are so desperate to talk to Joe that you don’t even care. The little dots pop up again, just for a second or two.

I’m busy, but I’m sure we’ll see each other around

Your heart twinges a little at that message. It is just so…dismissive? Flippant? You know he isn’t lying, since being an OL means he’s busy all the time until classes start, but it feels like he doesn’t want to make time for you.

“Well, even if you aren’t gonna make an effort,” you mutter, “I will.”

For sure! I’ll find you tomorrow somehow…probably by following a pack of lost freshies lmao

Joe’s response is a singular thumbs-up emoji. How can you even respond to that? With that one little picture, he’s basically told you he’s done talking. You sigh, closing the app and placing the phone on your nightstand again. For the first time that evening, a wave of exhaustion washes over you, although whether that’s from genuine tiredness or from trying to interact with Joe is hard to say. You yawn, snuggling into your pillow. Senior year may already be off to a rocky start, but that is definitely a tomorrow problem.

* * *

“I think that’s the last of them,” you pant, wiping a few beads of sweat from your forehead as you straighten up. The friendly sophomore who volunteered to help you puts the box she’s carrying on your bare mattress with a little grunt, turning to you with a smile.

“Well, if you need any more help, let me know! I live just down the hall.”

You smile back at her, “You really are an angel for helping me move in. You’re the RA for this floor, right?”

��Yep,” she nods, pointing at the plastic nametag dangling from the lanyard around her neck, “Kiera, Room 321, at your service!”

“How do you feel about being a sophomore in a building full of seniors?” you ask, beginning to unpack your clothes.

“A little nervous, if I’m honest,” she says softly, “you guys are all cool and smart and I’m just some dorky sophomore who’s job it is to make sure that you all don’t die.”

“Well, I promise that I won’t die on you,” you giggle, “and everyone I know who is living on this floor is pretty chill. I think the worst thing you’ll have to keep an eye out for is a repeat incident of the Walden Shitter.”

“The uh…the what?” Kiera asks, her eyes widening in confusion.

“My freshman year, there was a student who kept…relieving themselves in buckets and leaving said buckets all over Walden Hall. It was disgusting.”

“Did they ever catch them?” the RA squeaks out.

“Nah,” you giggle, “but they did send a hilarious email to the entire campus, and the Shitter was dormant after that. They’ve probably graduated by now. Unless, of course, the Shitter is in my class. Then they could even be living here in Stafford!”

Kiera stares at you, unsure if you’re joking or not. You smile at her, unfolding your tapestry.

“I think the best part of being a senior so far is passing on the lore to the young’uns like you,” you tease.

“Well, if the Shitter makes a reappearance, I’m blaming you,” she laughs back, “thanks for the heads-up, I guess? Anyways, I’ll get out of your hair, but I’ll see you around (Y/N)!”

You give her a little wave as she trots out of your room. It feels weird to have a student two years younger than you in charge of your floor, but you don’t envy her. In your previous three years of college, you’ve seen some really heinous situations that RAs have had to deal with. You smile to yourself thinking about the time someone set a notice board on fire in the student center during sophomore year. College really is a fucking zoo sometimes.

A familiar voice drifting in through your open window snaps you out of your reminiscing.

“…and on the left we have Stafford, one of the most popular dorms on campus. It’s mostly full of seniors though, so I’d call it more of a retirement home than a dorm! Haha...that was a bad joke, okay, yikes…moving on….”

You dart to the window, leaning out and craning your neck to see a mop of auburn hair passing by.

“JOSEPH FRANCIS MAZZELLO, YOU BETTER STOP RIGHT THERE!” you shriek, waving like a madwoman.

Joe turns around and looks up at the dorm with confusion, scanning the windows to see who is yelling at him. The moment he catches your eye, you spin on your heels and run out of your room and down the stairs, throwing open the heavy front door and sprinting down the path. You leap at Joe, enveloping him in a huge hug.

“I fucking missed you!” you breathe out, squeezing him tightly.

“It’s good to see you too,” Joe smiles at you, patting you on the shoulder.

“And I see you’ve decided to grow a new little friend, huh?” you tease, reaching up to poke at his mustache. However, before your finger can stroke the thin strip of reddish hair, Joe jerks his head away from you, clearing his throat. You’re suddenly very aware of the group of freshman staring at you, your arms wrapped around their orientation leader.  You laugh awkwardly, stepping back from your friend.

“Hi everyone, um…welcome to campus!” you offer, smiling at them, “uh…I’m (Y/N), I’m a senior here. Sorry, I just got so excited to see Joe! You know, these are the kinds of friendships you’ll make here at…”

“Why don’t you save the cheesy Dean of Students-style speeches to me, huh?” Joe mercifully cuts you off with a chuckle, squeezing your arm lightly, “don’t wanna ruin your cool-kid senior façade now, do you?”

“As if I ever had that,” you snort, rolling your eyes at Joe before turning back to the freshman, “you all are seriously lucky to have this dork as your OL, he’s the best guy on campus.”

Joe blushes a little at that, digging his toe into the dirt.

“Thanks, (Y/N). Uh, we gotta keep moving though, there’s a barbeque in twenty minutes that we can’t be late for.”

“Oh, can I meet you there?” you ask, “I’m starving, and I can’t wait to catch up with you!”

“I’ll be working,” Joe states plainly, “and it’s just for new students.”

“And what, you won’t sneak me in?” you tease, poking his shoulder.

“No, I won’t,” he says through gritted teeth, looking at his orientation group, “I can’t, (Y/N).”

Your smile falls from your lips and you take a step away from Joe, shocked by his change in tone. Last year, Joe would have offered to sneak you into the barbeque before you could even ask. Maybe it’s just the fact that he’s supposed to be a good example to the new kids. Or maybe it’s because…

You shake your head, plastering another smile across your face, before responding “Of course, I was just joking, Joe! Well, I’ll let you guys get on with your tour, I guess. Um, text me later, okay?”

Joe nods and waves as you walk back to the front door of Stafford. As he walks off with his gaggle of excited freshman, you feel a pang in your heart. A naïve part of you had hoped that perhaps Joe’s lack of communication this summer was just because he was busy with his internship, but it’s pretty obvious now that something is very wrong between the two of you. The idea of Joe hating you is too much to bear. Who is going to call you for 2am pizza parties? Who is going to go to Senior Ball with you? Who is going to be your rock for this final tumultuous and all-important year of college?

There’s only one other person on campus you want to talk to right now. You pull up your video chat app, clicking on Sage’s icon. A few rings later, her beautiful chocolate-brown curls fill the screen, and you smile.

“Hey, gorgeous, how are you?”

She sighs, angling the camera so you can see the stacks of boxes behind her, “Sweaty as hell…unpacking is the worst thing about moving back to college.”

“I thought the worst thing about moving back to college was having homework again.”

“Actually, I take it back, the worst thing about moving back to college is hearing my next-door neighbor fucking her boyfriend.”

You nearly choke from laughter, “Already? Are you kidding? We’ve been back for two hours!”

“Love finds a way,” Sage drawls, rolling her eyes, “anyways, what are you up to?”

You shrug, pausing on the dorm stairs, “I was just going to go back to my room and unpack, I guess.”

“Well, why don’t you come to my room and help me unpack?” she suggests, “we haven’t seen each other in forever, and I can always use an extra set of hands for untangling my necklaces.”

“What an offer,” you reply sarcastically, “unpacking your boxes to avoid doing my own.”

“Hey man, you don’t have to,” she responds, “but I can pay you in summer gossip and chocolate.”

You giggle, “fine, you’ve convinced me. You’re living in Howser this year, right?”

“Yep, second floor. I’ll see you soon, babe,” Sage confirms, smiling as she hangs up.

* * *

Your hand has barely grazed the door of Sage’s room before she calls out, “It’s open!”

“Sage!” you squeal, swinging open the door and holding out your hands, pulling your friend into a tight hug. The two of you bounce around, clinging to each other and laughing, before collapsing on Sage’s overcrowded single bed.

“I missed you, (Y/N)! Looks like you had a good summer, though,” Sage sighs, turning to look at you.

“Yeah, it was okay,” you demur, “mostly working, interning, avoiding my parents…typical stuff. How was working at that summer camp?”

“Kids love me,” she laughs, “can’t say I love the little monsters back, but hey, I made serious bank. Guess that makes getting poison ivy on my ass worth it!”

The two of you spend a few more moments lying on the bed before Sage hands you a fabric bag full of jewelry. You reach in and grab hold of an earring, but when you try to yank it out of the bag, a giant tangled ball of necklaces, bracelets, and other shiny things emerges. As Sage puts on a playlist and gets to work unpacking her suitcases, you diligently start to untangle.

“You went to go see Joe in New York sometime in July, right?”

You nod silently, digging the corner of your nail into a particularly difficult knot in the jewelry ball.

“So…how was it?” Sage presses.

“Fine,” you say simply, “we got ice cream and went roller skating and watched movies…it was fine.”

“Just fine?” she teases, “come on, that must’ve been, like, the most exciting weekend of your summer.”

You shrug, avoiding her eyes. Sage stares at you for a few moments before starting her line of questioning again.

“So are you guys gonna hang out tonight?”

“Why would we hang out tonight?” you splutter out.

“Gee, (Y/N), why would you hang out with your best friend after months of not seeing him?” she drawls sarcastically, “it’s almost like, I don’t know, people can miss each other?”

Again, you shrug, desperately struggling with a particularly knotted necklace to try and divert attention away from the fact that you are avoiding answering. You can feel your friend’s eyes boring into the top of your head.

“Did something…happen? Are you avoiding Joe for some reason?” she asks, dropping the sarcasm in her voice.

You flop backwards on the bed with a sigh, giving in to the pressure to share. If someone has to know, it might as well be Sage.

“I’m not the one doing the avoiding…things got weird over the summer.”

“Ah! The truth comes out!” she grins, turning to face you with her hands on her hips, “alright, spill. Weird how?”

You grimace, hiding your face in your hands. Guilt wracks your body as you realize just how much you’ve hidden from your friends, especially Sage, who has really been there for you ever since the fall of sophomore year, when you suffered through a hellish macroeconomics lecture together. To stay awake during the brutally boring 9am course, the two of you would pass notes back and forth. They initially started as questions about the lecture, but eventually blossomed into little doodles of your horrid professor, hungover confessions about what had happened the night before, and scribbled admittances of classroom crushes. Sage was there for you when you were on the brink of failing Ancient Greek, and you were there for her when her girlfriend broke up with her out of the blue over Snapchat. And she could be there for you now, if you just let her in.

You shakily exhale, sitting up on the bed and pulling your legs under you.

“It’s a long story.”

And it practically spills out of you. The finals week stress in the library. The party with his stupid unbuttoned shirt. Him wiping off your make-up so sweetly. Him making you moan his name, your first orgasm washing over you courtesy of your best friend. The trip to New York, with its movie nights and reciprocal blowjobs and strawberries and roller skating. Its disastrous ending on that moonlit golf course, your best friend’s cum dripping out of you as you biked back to his house in tears. The fact that you barely spoke for the rest of the summer. And throughout the whole re-telling, you keep coming back to how it’s all your fault. You, with your stupid guarded heart and fear of intimacy, are the one who destroyed your friendship before the sex even had the chance to. If it even would have.

When you finish with the story, you let out a deep breath, turning to face Sage again. The sun has begun to set, the golden rays filtering through the leaves outside the window to dapple the walls and linoleum floor. It feels like you just ran a marathon, but it feels good to finally let everything out, to confide in someone. Even if you can’t see this problem being fixed.

“But it would be safer to just be friends, you know? And I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing,” you murmur quietly, grabbing the ball of tangled jewelry again to give your hands something to do.

“But ‘just friends’ don’t look at each other like that, (Y/N), and you know it,” Sage says, flashing you a knowing look.

“Like what?”

“You really are clueless, huh?” she teases, “I swear, I thought you and Joe have been endgame since sophomore year! When you were talking about having crushes on guys, you’d always compare them to Joe.”

You stare at her, “I would fucking not.”

“Yes, you would!” she nods furiously, “Always saying things like ‘Peter and I laughed all class today, which reminded me of the time Joe and I…blah blah blah’. Or ‘Taylor asked me out, but I said no, because I had plans with Joe that night’. Sister, are you serious? Best friends cancel plans with each other to let their friends go on hot dates.”

“Well, I never told him about Taylor asking me out!” you say, throwing your arms up in exasperation, “I’m sure if I did, Joe would have been fine with me bailing.”

“But you didn’t tell him,” Sage says pointedly.

“No, I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean….it doesn’t mean I have a crush on Joe. It’s just my personal business! He doesn’t have to know everything about me,” you huff indignantly.

“Best friends know that shit, (Y/N). The fact that you care so much about Joe but chose not to tell him about Peter or Taylor or anyone else who you’ve hooked up with is kind of telling, isn’t it?”

“I…I…,” you stammer, unable to come up with a reply.

Sage sighs, smiling sweetly at you and squeezing your knee before standing, busying herself with unpacking again.

“I mean, I get why you’d have a crush on him,” she shrugs, “Joe’s really cute. And a good kisser, too.”

You stop dead, the charms of the necklace you’re untangling clinking together. Sage’s words are processing in your mind, the gears turning embarrassingly slow.

“How do you know that?” you venture tentatively, setting down the tangled mass of delicate gold chains.

“What, that Joe’s talented with his tongue? We hooked up a few times freshman year, like super messy, floor-of-the-frat-house make out sessions. He’s a sweet guy, but he definitely wanted something more serious, so we had fun and went our separate ways,” Sage answers nonchalantly, continuing to fold t-shirts into her dresser.

You take a shaky breath in, the world spinning a little around you. The image of your two best friends as stupid, drunk freshman rolling around together on some sticky floor would ordinarily be an equally embarrassing and hilarious thought, but it makes you sick to your stomach.

“You never told me,” you mumble, fidgeting with the hem of your shorts.

“I didn’t?” Sage asks, looking at you over her shoulder, “I thought I did.”

“Why didn’t you guys tell me?” you hiss, gritting your teeth to try and keep tears from falling.

Sage crosses her arms and cocks out her hip, clearly a little frustrated by your reaction.

“Babe, in all fairness, I didn’t know you then. And I didn’t know until five minutes ago that you had feelings for Joe, on top of already having fucked him! I love you, but it’s my business who I hook up with, and to be perfectly honest, I thought Joe would have told you by now, considering he knows how often we hang out.”

You just shake your head, the first few hot tears beginning to slip out. You know she’s right, that it’s unfair of you to be so angry when all this happened years ago, but you can’t help feeling betrayed somehow.

“Still, Sage, you should have…”

“(Y/N), you are getting angry at the wrong person,” she begins, sitting next to you on the bed, “Of course, if we had known each other then and I knew you had feelings for Joe, I never would have made out with him. You know that. But you can’t retroactively call dibs. Plus, you weren’t even friends with him freshman year. But clearly the boy is in love with you, (Y/N), and it’s pretty obvious that you lo…”

“Everyone needs to stop telling me how to feel!” you yell, jumping to your feet, angrily wiping at the tear tracks on your cheeks.

“I’m not trying to…”

“Yes, you are! And Joe tried to get me to admit it that night by the fucking golf course pond, too! Why can’t…why can’t I just…,” you stammer angrily, unable to pin down your emotions.

“Why can’t you just be honest with yourself?” Sage snaps back, “what the hell are you afraid of, (Y/N)?”

Silent, open-mouthed sobs are wracking your body, the swirling cloud of emotions too much for you to handle. You sink down onto the ground, pulling your knees to your chest.

“What are you afraid of, (Y/N)?” Sage repeats, softer this time.

“I…I d-don’t know.”

“Well, sweets, I think you need to talk to Joe,” she suggests, kneeling next to you and pulling you in for a tight hug, “I know it’s scary, but the only way to fix this is to be honest with him.”

“B-but what if…”

“No,” Sage cuts you off with a kind but stern look, “you’ve had enough ‘what if’s’. Why can’t you finally have a ‘why not’?”

You just cry, clutching onto the front of Sage’s sweatshirt as you stain it with tears. She just hums softly, rubbing your back.

“I’m s-sorry that I d-didn’t t-tell you sooner,” you stammer out, the apology punctuated by hiccups.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),” she says, “I mean, am I a little pissed that I missed out on all this tea over the summer? Yes. But I’m happy you’ve told me know, and honestly honored that you confided in me like this.”

You nod, wiping away the tear tracks on your cheeks, “Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime, lovely. And now, the best part about telling me begins.”

“What do you mean?” you ask warily, a little afraid of the plan Sage is undoubtedly cooking up.

“Because now I can help you get him alone,” she says, flashing a wicked grin, “And I just so happen to know where he’s going to be tonight.”

* * *

How you always end up on the porch of Beta Theta Pi is beyond you, but there you are again, nearly four months after that last fateful visit, ready to finally talk to Joe about how you feel. Well, as ready as you can be, six vodka shots deep.

The pre-game at Ollie’s apartment off-campus definitely got a little out of hand, the alcohol flowing freely during some wild games of King’s Cup as ABBA blasted in the background. By the time Sage suggested Strip Go-Fish, it was time to get going to Frat Row, so your small group staggered out the door, cheering incoherently about the first big bash of senior year. Sage kept whispering in your ear about how important it is that you find Joe at the party, and you nodded, the alcohol in your system carrying away your fear of confrontation.

But now, standing on the porch in the rapidly cooling early fall air, seeing the party raging inside through the open front door, your confidence falters. Even through your alcohol-induced haze, you can feel the anxiety bubbling up, burning your throat. Or maybe that’s just the vodka. At least you can get rid of that easily.

Sage and Ollie seem to sense your hesitation and each take a side, grasping you firmly and pulling you into the house.

“I think maybe…,” you begin, looking around at the familiar surroundings of the frat house. Did they clean this place over the summer? Wild.

“Maybe what? We should dance?” Sage offers, grinning at Ollie, who eagerly nods.

“Come on, Y/N, they’re playing Ke$ha,” he adds, pulling you in the direction of roaring music. The darkened living room that’s serving as the dance floor smells of stale beer and weed, the two strobe lights perched on the table in the corner illuminating the room with flashes of rainbow-colored light. The bass line begins to flow through your veins like the alcohol, and you are transported, immediately giving into the music. There’s plenty of time to find Joe, right? You might as well enjoy the party first.

As you, Sage, and Ollie swing your hips and sing along to “Your Love is My Drug”, a smile spreads across your face. This is how the beginning of the school year is supposed to feel; carefree and wild, blasted off your ass and listening to mid-2000s hits with your friends at a smelly frat party. The three of you go absolutely bezerk during the last chorus, jumping up and down and grinning madly at each other, sharing a moment of complete euphoria.

The next song starts, the bass boosted to 100. Your ears prick up, the telltale intro to Beyoncé’s “Drunk In Love” blasting through the frat house’s speakers. Sage taps you on the shoulder and gestures to the kitchen, signaling that she is going to get a drink, and Ollie follows suit, miming that he’ll be back in a minute. Ordinarily, you’d be a little anxious to be on the dancefloor on your own, but for some reason, tonight you feel totally fine. The floor of the house is vibrating from the bass, and you dance to the beat, your eyes closing as you get into the music.

Suddenly, a cheer goes up from the other side of the dark living room, where a huge gang of freshman has gathered. They have formed a circle, dancing up on each other as they yell at the figure bobbing wildly in the middle. Your eyes feel a little fuzzy and you can’t see too far, so you inch your way over to see what the fuss is about.

Lo and behold, the boy you came here to find is breaking it down in the center of the ring of freshmen, still in his orientation leader uniform. His orientation group is shrieking with laughter, clapping and grinning at their OL’s goofy antics. Several of them have whipped out their phones, and Joe hams it up for the cameras, pulling ridiculous faces and winking as he drops to the ground and begins to do The Worm. You can’t help but laugh.

Joe’s eyes immediately snap to you, the laughter sparkling in them quickly fading to apprehension. He scrambles up from the floor, plastering on a fake smile and clapping one of the boys near him on the back.

“Tyler, you take over!” he laughs, his eyes still locked on yours.

Tyler immediately jumps in and the group cheers as Joe slips away. He comes towards you, but swerves left, giving you a weak smile as he tries to skirt around you.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he mutters, heading towards the kitchen.

“They finally played Beyoncé for you, huh?” you say quickly, grabbing his wrist, “that’s why you were dancing, right?”

Joe nods, another tight-lipped smile playing across his face as he tries to pull his wrist gently from your grasp.

“Th’ kids seem to really like you,” you slur, “shouldn’t be surprised.”

“How much have you had tonight?” Joe questions, worry flashing briefly in his eyes.

“A lot, Sage and Ollie and I played King’s Cup, ‘n I had to drink the cup, so” you explain, gesturing vaguely, still holding his wrist.

“Do you wanna dance with me?” you ask, tugging lightly on him.

“I’m working,” Joe answers flatly.

“Come on,” you whine, “you were dancing jus’ a second ago, why won’t you dance with me now?”

“Because I’m busy,” he states impatiently, “gotta make sure no one overdoes it. And I have to make my rounds, so please let me go.”

“No,” you pout, your grip tightening, “dance with me!”

“Let me go right now!” Joe hisses, twisting out of your grip, “What is your problem, (Y/N)?”

“What is my problem?” you repeat back to him, eyes widening, “my problem? No, it’s our problem, Joe. Our problem. The two of us, together.”

He groans, stepping away from you, “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“So when?” you spit out, “when can you pencil me in, Joe? When can you make time for me?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he hisses back.

“You’ve been ignoring me all summer, ever since New York, and I fucking missed you,” you say, feeling a few tears starting to prick in your eyes.

“Oh, so now we care about feelings, I see,” Joe bites back, rolling his eyes and turning away from you towards the kitchen.

“You don’t care about my feelings at all Joe, so stop pretending like you do,” you yell, a few heads whipping in your direction, equally excited and repulsed by the unfolding drama.

“When were you gonna tell me about you and Sage, huh? Or did you keep that from me because you care about my feelings?”

Joe stops dead in his tracks, his back to you. Over his shoulder, you can see Sage and Ollie, gaping at the scene in front of them. The music is still blasting, but all chatter has stopped, every eye in the room trained on the meltdown in the middle of the dance floor.

“That really isn’t any of your business, (Y/N),” he spits out, his tone ice cold, “And besides, you fucking hated me freshman year, so what does it matter?”

“Yeah, I fucking hated your mustache freshman year too, but that doesn’t stop you from growing another set of pubes on your face now, does it?” you shriek back, “it looks like a caterpillar crawled up your neck and died, Joe! It’s fucking disgusting!”

“You know, I really don’t have to stand here and listen to this right now,” Joe retorts, still not looking at you. He walks towards the hallway, clapping another OL on the shoulder, muttering about how he has to go.

“Next time you make out with my friend, you fucking tell me!” you shout at his retreating figure, tears beginning to stream down your face, “you talk to me, Joe!”

The front door of the house slams shut, the sound making nearly everyone in the room wince. Your chest is heaving, tears flowing freely from your eyes as you stand frozen in the living room. It feels like you blacked out. Everything moved too fast. What just happened?

Sage snaps you out of your thoughts by grabbing your arm and pulling you out into the hallway.

“What the fuck was that?” she growls, “that was not what we talked about.”

“Yeah, well, I’m drunk, Sage, and your plan was shit to begin with,” you grumble, eyes lolling shut to avoid the harsh overhead light.

“No, that went to shit because it wasn’t the plan,” she hisses, shaking you a little, “and you really didn’t need to bring mine and Joe’s history into it.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you moan.

“Fine. I will. I’m washing my hands of this whole fucking situation, (Y/N). Good luck. Text me when you’ve fixed it, or when you’re ready to apologize to me,” Sage says coldly, dropping her hands to her side and stalking back to the kitchen.

You stumble down the hallway, flinging open the front door and clambering down the porch steps. All you can think now is that you want to be as far away from this frat house as possible. You wander down the street and turn left onto the main campus, which is softly illuminated by the yellow glow of the streetlamps. The leaves rustle overhead as you walk, kicking stones with the toes of your shoes. A bench appears on your right, and you immediately collapse onto it, pulling your jacket tighter around your body. It’s wet, and you register that you’ve been crying this whole time, tears soaking through the light material.

Tossing your head back, you stare at the moon, rising full and round overhead. It was under this same moon that you and Joe walked home from the frat party in May, giggly and softly wrapped up in each other. It was under this same moon that he filled you so completely for the first time, down in the soft grass on the Hyde Park golf course.

And it’s under this moon now that you realize, fully and honestly, how badly you fucked up. You let your fear of rejection completely take over your life, torpedoing your friendship before any romantic feelings even had the opportunity to consider doing so. Self-sabotage is one hell of a drug, and you’re feeling the effects now. You need to talk to him. You need to set things right if you have any chance of salvaging this friendship.

Heaving yourself up from the bench, you begin to tread in the direction of Joe’s dorm. Kennedy House is an old, imposing grey stone building in the center of campus, famous for its palatial single rooms and horrendously small showers. The façade of the dorm looms like a castle wall, cold and imposing in front of you as you fumble in your pockets for your keycard to swipe into the building, finding nothing but an old gum wrapper and your earbuds.

“Fuck,” you sigh out, “must’ve dropped it at Beta.”

If you knew which window was Joe’s, you might have resorted to throwing pebbles, but just as you were dangerously eyeing the gravel in the flowerbed, another student walks up the front steps of Kennedy, brandishing her keycard. You smile at her.

“Hey, I dropped my card at Beta, could you swipe me in?”

“Uh, sure,” she says, looking you up and down once before swiping her plastic ID through the slot next to the door, the lock releasing with a loud clunk. You thank her and begin to roam the first floor, checking the little nameplates on the bedroom doors. The RA on this floor apparently chose a Disney theme, with each student getting a different character from the most popular films. Tragically, amongst all the princes and animal sidekicks, there is no Joe to be found. You decide to try your luck on the second floor, the doors filled with images of famous cereal brands. The third floor is equally adorable with zoo animals, but equally frustrating with its lack of Joe. You’re starting to believe that you misread his message about where he lived. Finally, while roaming the fourth floor, you find his door. A little paper peach is taped to the painted wood, his name spelled out in thick, inky block letters. Farmer’s market theme? How wholesome.

Your fist hesitates in front of the door, your mind racing as you pray that he is in his room. It’s now or never.

“Joe, it’s me,” you say softly, knocking gently on the wood.

No response.

“Are you asleep?” you ask, knocking again, “Joe, I really wanna talk.”

A few faint voices float in from the open hallway window. The students smoking on the front stoop are loud enough that, if you hadn’t been listening to the door so intently, you would have missed it. The tiniest of sniffles from the other side of the peeling paint.

“Joe, I know you’re in there!” you bark, voice cracking in desperation as you begin hammering on the door, “please open the door.”

The creaking of bed springs and the shuffle of feet alert you to the fact that Joe has gotten out of bed. You step back from the door, ready to see him, but the door does not open.

“Go away, (Y/N).”

“Did you seriously get out of bed to tell me that?” you scoff, banging on the door again, “I am not gonna go away until we talk, Joe!”

“So now you want to talk?” Joe bites back. You can almost hear the angry curl of his lip.

“Yes, Joe, I do,” you say firmly, “please.”

There is a long pause, punctuated with shaky breaths from both sides of the hard wood. Finally, the lock clicks and Joe opens the door just a crack, his eyes peering out from the darkened room.

“So talk.”

“I’m not doing this out in the hallway, Joe.”

“Fine,” he mumbles, opening the door further and turning quickly around, flicking on the string lights by his bed before sitting heavily in the wooden desk chair, “close the door behind you.”

You shut the door as you step into the dimly lit room, the orangey glow of the lights flickering across Joe’s stone-cold and clean-shaven face. You blink your eyes rapidly, staring at the newly-bare patch of skin on his upper lip. He must have just shaved it when he got home from the party.

“Your mustache…” you murmur, absentmindedly reaching out to cup his cheek, your thumb grazing lightly against a bead of blood weeping from a razor nick. Joe’s eyes flutter closed at your touch, a tiny sigh escaping his lips as he lets himself be held by you. But the moment does not last long, his eyes flying open wildly as he swats your hand away.

“I shaved it off, “he spits out, shrinking away from you, “because it was just so ugly, right? Are you happy now?”

“I…I didn’t mean…”

“To fucking roast me in front of my orientation group? In front of every goddamn person in Beta? There’s an awful lot you do that you don’t seem to mean, (Y/N), and I’m really tired of you making a fool out of me,” he says, eyes full of fire.

“What have I done to embarrass you, Joe?” you return, heat rising in your cheeks, “you’re the one that started all of this last May! You’re the one that permanently fucked up this friendship, you and that mouth of yours. So why am I the one to blame now?”

“Oh, please, (Y/N), you’re the one that said yes!”

“And you’re the one that said it wouldn’t change anything between us.”

Joe swivels in his chair, his hands fisting frustratedly in his auburn hair, squeezing his eyes shut and tugging at the roots as he responds.

“We both chose to believe that, though, didn’t we?”

He’s right. If you had truly thought it was a bad idea, you wouldn’t have accepted Joe’s offer, right? But you did. And you enjoyed it. A lot. You exhale a shaky breath, leaning against the wall near his bed.

“But why would you offer to do that, then, if you…if you maybe thought things would be different after?” you ask, your eyes searching for Joe’s.

There’s a softness to his brown eyes when he finally meets your gaze, a softness that betrays more feeling than he probably would want to, if he could see himself.

“Maybe…maybe I wanted things to change.”

His words squeeze the breath right out of your lungs.

“(Y/N), I’ve been crazy about you ever since Spring Weekend during Freshman year. Why do you think I was standing outside your room before vomiting all over it? I wanted to ask you out even then. I just…just used too much liquid courage to hype myself up for doing it, and well…” he pauses, scratching the back of his neck.

Your back starts sliding down the wall, your legs folding under you as you sink slowly to the floor. What is happening right now? Did Joe really just confess that he has feelings for you? Everything needs to stop. You need time to catch up. But Joe just keeps talking, a freight train of emotions barreling out of his mouth.

“And then when I saw you in that English lecture the next fall, I swear I truly believed there was a God. I was so pumped when the professor sat us next to each other, so I could apologize for being a dick in the spring and maybe get to know you. The more I learned about you, the more I wanted to spend every minute of every day around you. And finally you wanted to hang out. And finally we got closer. But the closer we got, the more you started to see me as a friend.”

You nod your head slowly, eyes glazed over. It feels like you are a million miles away from campus right now, with Joe’s voice seeping hazily into your brain. You wish he would stop talking.

“And I love being your friend, (Y/N)! I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty or anything, or to make you feel like you owe me anything…god, I really sound like an incel piece of shit. I just…that night last May, after the party, it broke my heart to see how stressed out you were, and my idiot brain just blurted out whatever it was thinking. And when you agreed, all I could think was ‘finally, I get to worship this beautiful girl like I’ve always wanted, like she’s always deserved.’”

“Joe, please…” you moan weakly, head resting in your hands.

“But then, you didn’t want anything between us to change. And when you visited me in New York, you kept saying that, too. So I tried my best to just enjoy what we were doing, and believe me, it was great,” he chuckles, running his hands through his hair again, “but I had to try and squash down all these years of feelings, and they all came spilling out on that golf course. Seeing you on top of me, your eyes shining in the moonlight…God, (Y/N), you really don’t know how amazing you are. And I tried again to be vulnerable, to let you know how I feel, but you clearly didn’t feel the same way. That hurt. And it still hurts. But if you really want us to go back to just being friends, I’m willing to try. Because I can’t lose you...because…because I...”

“Joe, please stop,” you croak out again, tears flowing freely, “I can’t do this.”

Joe snaps out of his monologue, finally realizing that you’re slumped on the floor at the side of his bed. He slips out of the desk chair, kneeling in front of you and gently placing a hand on your knee.

“What are you afraid of? Please, (Y/N), just tell me…”

“We are running out of time,” you choke out, digging the heels of your hands roughly into your tear-soaked eyes. You can feel the fine, dark grit of running mascara on your skin, but there isn’t really a point now of trying to not make it worse. Joe tries to pull your hands away from your face but you jerk away from him, curling in on yourself. A few tears start to prick in the corners of his eyes.

“What do you…”

“There’s an expiration date on all this, Joe!” you explode, whipping your face to look at him, “We get one year together, just nine more months! And then what? We find jobs, go to grad school, get scattered everywhere across the globe? How can I feel good about starting a relationship that I know will end in heartbreak?”

Joe recoils from your outburst, sitting back on his heels as you seethe in front of him.

“So you’re saying that no matter what, we would have to break up in May?” he begins slowly, clearly trying to keep his temper, “What if we ended up in jobs in the same city? We could do long distance. Are you really saying that this wouldn’t be worth it? That we wouldn’t be worth it?”

You groan, throwing your head against the wall, “It’s fucking hard, Joe! At graduation, you say bye to your friends knowing that when you see them again, it’ll be just like old times! You’ll pick up where you left off. And I don’t want us to change. I don’t want to leave you in May and drift apart because of distance or whatever.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Joe grits out, firmly grabbing your leg.

“Well, you let it happen this summer.”

That makes Joe freeze. Anger is dancing in his eyes, and you can tell you hit a nerve.

“I was fucking hurt, (Y/N). You crushed my heart that night on the golf course.”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, Joe! You ambushed me with wanting to talk about your feelings, apparently feelings you’ve had for forever. You can’t just do that!”

“Well, what was I supposed to do then, huh?” Joe fumes, his voice full of acid, “just keep fucking you, pretending there wasn’t any emotion in it? Keep biting back all the things I wanted to whisper in your ear while I was deep inside you? Where would nine more months of that get us, huh? Because just a few months of that has gotten us here, and I fucking hate being here.”

“So then go!” you shriek, scrambling to your feet, “you got what you wanted! You got to fuck the girl you’ve had a crush on for years, and you even got some free fashion advice and a trip to the roller rink out of it! You basically just admitted that that was the moment you’ve been waiting for for all these years, so just check me off the conquest list and fucking go! But I’m not going to spend my last year of college playing ‘will-they-won’t-they’ with someone who doesn’t respect my need for time and space and…and…”

“You aren’t making any sense, (Y/N), just listen to yourself!” Joe yells, jumping up and gesturing wildly at you.

“Well if I’m so fucking insane, Joe, just tell me to shut up and kick me out of your room, then!” you shriek back, stepping towards him. Joe growls at you, low and deep from the back of his throat, his eyes dangerously dark.

“I’ll make you shut up.”

And suddenly, his lips are on yours, feverishly angry and hot, pressing you up against the wall. One of his hands immediately finds your hip while the other tangles in your hair, tugging harshly. You moan into his mouth, your teeth grazing his bottom lip. This should not be happening, but both your bodies are saying quite the opposite. Joe grinds against your thigh and you whimper, reaching down to palm him over his jeans, but as your fingertips graze over his hardening length, he breaks the kiss and pushes you away, blinking rapidly.

“No. No. This…this can’t happen again,” he stammers out, shaking his head with wide eyes, “I can’t.”

You just stare at him, your lips swollen and still hanging open.

“I can’t do this anymore, (Y/N).”

“Well you’re the one who kissed me just now, Joe,” you reply, matter-of-factly.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he says, sinking down onto his bed, “I just want to know what this is. What we are. If this is going to go anywhere. Because if it isn’t, we need to stop this. Quit cold turkey.”

You nod silently, praying that your mind could stop spinning for long enough to make a decision. It is now or never.

“Can you say something, please?” Joe whispers, picking anxiously at his nails, “I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

On shaky legs, you slowly walk over to the bed, sitting gingerly down on the soft comforter. Joe’s eyes are glued to you, desperate for any indication about where your mind is at. You pick a spot on the wall to stare at, stabilizing yourself.

“I’ve known…ever since I visited you, I’ve known that I really like you, Joe. And ever since we fought at your house, I’ve known that I don’t like my life when you’re not in it. I just…”

Joe visibly deflates, sighing, “There it is. The whole ‘I like you, but’ speech.”

“Joey, let me finish,” you plead, gripping his thigh, “please.”

He nods, delicately placing his hand over yours, squeezing lightly.

“I like you. I want this. I don’t know how long I’ve wanted this, but I know it’s what I want. But I don’t think you want me.”

“What? (Y/N), that’s ridiculous!” Joe scoffs, “haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?”

You just shake your head, feeling your throat close up as the tears return, streaming in torrents down your face. It is just like the night in Hyde Park all over again. Joe being his sweet, earnest self, and your brain trying to take you down from the inside. But you can’t stop it.

“I’m not enough for you. I’m not good enough. And I don’t deserve someone like you, Joe! You are the kindest, sweetest, funniest person I’ve met. Everyone you meet likes you, and I’m just…me.”

“Don’t say that, please don’t…” Joe begins, but you cut him off with a shake of your head, self-hatred spewing like venom from your lips.

“And if we start dating, sure, it’ll be fun, but one day you’ll wake up and realize just how fucking mediocre I am and you’ll leave! I can’t handle that, Joey, because I wouldn’t just be losing my boyfriend…I’d be losing my best friend.”

“(Y/N)…”

“No, Joe, I can already see it happening!” you choke out, gesturing at him, “it already happened. This summer. I was a piece of shit who couldn’t commit and you just left. And I don’t blame you, I really don’t. Why would you want to be with someone who can’t make up her mind? But when I left New York, we stopped talking. And I can’t lose you like that again. The hole you would leave would be too big to fix, so why even open up the space in my heart in the first place?”

This last sentence hangs in the air like a crystal chandelier, costly and deadly heavy. So there it finally is. The real reason why. Free from the swirling currents of anxiety in your mind, released into the stillness of Joe’s dorm room.

“So, dating would…not be…worth it?” Joe asks, slowly and without malice. He genuinely seems to want to figure out why you feel the way you feel.

“No, no!” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut, “I want to be with you, Joe, really. But I don’t want to burden you with me. With all this.”

“What if I told you,” Joe smiles softly, gingerly taking your hand in his, “that you would never be a burden to me, (Y/N). Never. In fact, you’re the opposite of a burden! A, uh…balloon? Free ice cream? A day with no homework?”

For what feels like the first time in forever, the two of you giggle together, genuine smiles spreading across both of your faces.

“You’re really dumb,” you sniffle, playing with his fingers.

“Yeah, I really am,” he grins, “but dating you would be the smartest decision I would ever make.”

“Oh, stop.”

“I won’t! Not until you know how much I love you.”

At those words, your eyes snap up to his, round as saucers.

“Joe, you don’t mean…”

“Yes, I do mean that. I love you, (Y/N). I have for a long time, and I never stopped,” he insists, “not even when you were roasting me at the party about my shitty pube mustache.”

Still dumbfounded, you giggle again, “you looked like Michael Cera.”

“Hey, I’m a firm believer in a relationship having a solid flirt-to-roast ratio,” Joe jokes, “so I’ll take that with grace. As long as you’re okay with me saying that you look like a raccoon right now. Just like you did in May.”

You pull away to try and scrub at your face, but Joe gently grabs your wrists and pulls them into your lap, smiling sweetly at you.

“Stop it, (Y/N), you look beautiful.”

“No I don’t!” you gasp, playfully wriggling away from him.

“Most beautiful raccoon this side of the Atlantic!”

“Ew, don’t say that ever again, Joe,” you tease, “people will think you’re a furry, and then I’d have to break up with you. My reputation is on the line.”

“Oh yeah?” he scoffs, tackling you on the bed, “and what reputation is that, exactly?”

“Okay, you got me there,” you laugh, looking up at him, “I’m a woman of ill-repute.”

“Perfect,” he hums, “just how I like ‘em.”

Joe leans down, kissing you for the second time that night. While the kiss before was undoubtedly hot, the sincerity of this one sends heat rushing through your entire body. Of all the kisses the two of you have shared over the past few months, this one feels the most perfect. The most complete. It makes all the heartbreak and anxiety worth it, in a way. You feel like finally, you’ve found each other.

Joe’s thigh is perfectly situated between your legs, and you scoot down the bed, beginning to rut your core needily against his khaki shorts. He moans into your mouth, squeezing your hips.

“We don’t need to do anything tonight if you don’t want to, (Y/N), I know it’s been a lot.”

“Clearly,” you pant, circling your hips again, “I want to fuck you right now, Joe.”

“Well, if you insist,” he chuckles, helping you sit up and remove your shirt before ripping his own off.

“I’ve missed this,” you sigh, running your hands across his smooth chest.

“You could’ve had it for years, you know” he teases, his usual Joe humor returning at full force.

You groan from both frustration and the friction between your thighs, “Don’t remind me. Next time I’m being such a dumbass, please tell me.”

“With pleasure.”

In between heated kisses and soft moans, both pairs of shorts are haphazardly tossed to the floor, wandering hands making up for months and years of lost time. It feels as if you two have never touched each other before, each stroke and squeeze sending sparks shooting through your bodies. Joe’s fingers find their way to your core, rubbing your clit firmly through your panties.

“Fuck, (Y/N), you’ve soaked these all the way through,” he murmurs, tugging the material to the side to swipe a finger through your folds.

“So take them off then,” you moan, back arching off the bed, “I need you, Joe.”

“Ordinarily, I’d tease you for being so needy,” Joe pants, “but I’m pretty fuckin’ needy too.”

The bulge in his boxers is too prominent to ignore. You reach out to touch him, but he pulls away, fishing through the bins under his bed.

“Joe,” you pout, “come back, I can…”

“No need, babe, I swear if you put your lips on me I’ll come right then and there. And, as lovely as those lips are, I would much prefer to be inside you.”

You swallow thickly as you shimmy out of your panties, a sticky thread of your wetness pulling away with them. Joe has been busy unwrapping the condom, but when he sees you, lying ready, eager, and soaked in front of him, he stops mid-roll, cock twitching.

“You’re so fucking hot, (Y/N). God, I’m lucky,” he groans, hastily rolling the condom fully on.

“Stop flattering me and fuck me instead, Joe.”

“Why not both?”

“Touché,” you grin, reaching out and grabbing his biceps, pulling him in for a rough kiss. The feeling of skin on skin sends another thrill through you and you grip him tighter, looping a leg around his hip and nudging him towards your core. Joe lays you back on the bed, softly, pressing kisses down your chest as you squirm underneath him, gasping.

“Are you ready?” he asks between kisses, murmuring gently against your skin.

“God, yes,” you keen, running your fingers down his back, “I want you inside me, Joe.”

“Whatever you want, gorgeous,” he smirks, running his cock through your slick folds a few times before pushing inside you in one fluid motion.

The sensation of being so completely filled by Joe makes you cry out, your nails digging sharply into his shoulder blades.

“You okay?” Joe asks, concern overtaking the pleasure on his face.

“Yes, yes,” you sigh out, “it feels so good, Joe. So perfect.”

“I was gonna say the same thing,” he smiles, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple, “I’m gonna start moving now, is that good?”

You nod, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure as Joe sets a steady, deep rhythm. With each stroke, his cock brushes against your sweet spot, causing your pussy to clench tightly around him.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” he growls out, reaching a hand down to rub furious circles on your throbbing clit.

“I’m not either,” you whine, “I’m so close, Joey.”

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess? All over my cock?”

You nod silently, feeling your orgasm build with shocking speed in your core. Joe keeps thrusting into you, hips stuttering as you come undone around him. As you arch off the bed with a scream, he grabs your waist, pulling your body flush to his as he releases into the condom inside you, a deep, satisfied groan coming from the back of his throat.

The two of you come down from your highs together, sticky and sweaty and tangled in each other’s arms. Joe’s breathing is ragged in your ear, his nose rubbing against your temple softly.

“That was…”

“Really fucking…wow,” you finish, smiling lazily at him.

“No regrets yet?” he playfully asks, pulling at your waist gently to get you to roll onto your side and face him.

“No regrets yet. And I have a feeling that I won’t have regrets ever.”

Joe rubs small circles against the soft skin at your waist, humming softly, “You’ve really changed your tune, huh?”

“It was a little off-key before,” you mumble, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Well, good thing I have perfect pitch,” Joe smirks.

“Oh, as fucking if, Joe!” you gasp, smacking him lightly on the chest, “I’ve heard you sing in the shower.”

He feigns hurt, collapsing backwards on the bed, “you wound me, woman! I shall never recover from your barbarous implication.”

“How tragic,” you mock, a sweet smile dancing on your lips, “just as I was starting to fall for you.”

“Really?” Joe sits up, staring down at you with wonder. Years’ worth of hope is beaming from his beautiful brown eyes.

“Yeah, really, Joey,” you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, “I love you.”

No words are needed from Joe for you to know he feels the same way. He peppers kisses all over your face, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead. He curls up next to you, pulling you into his side as you rest your head on his chest. The two of you stay there together, bathed in the warm glow from the string lights overhead, breathing in each other’s scents as you drift off to sleep.

“Joe?”

“Mmm?”

“I think senior year is gonna be really, really good.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles sleepily, “I think so, too.”

~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist (message me if you want to be added!):

@queenbbarnes @denimmay @bensrhapsody @queen-frodo @blisshemmings @istill-loveyou39 @rogers-sweatbands @sunflower-borhap-boys @goodoldfashionedloverboyy @joefucksdonuts @panicatttckiss @a-kind-of-magik @hotspacedefender @itsme690 @catch-a-deak @sweetgcreature @rogerloveshiscar @rogahhtaylahh @fatbottomedstyles @caffeine-girl @drowseoftaylor @manuosorioh @sherlollydramoine @posh-hersh

[neshabeingchildish]

Poly Wanna?

A/N: So, I had some different ideas rushing through my head of who and how I wanted these characters to be. They may start in a place that you would not expect or can’t imagine, but just keep in mind that I try to write things a little differently each incarnation of a fic and hopefully nobody checks out within the first few paragraphs. Gimme a chance. It’s delicate content, and I promise I’m trying to do their relationship justice, not just write some trash that throws them all together. I will say that this may be the most adult content of all the content that I bring into this fandom, but STILL no sm*t, okay? Will definitely mention some things that take and have taken place. Enjoy, and let me know how you feel, unless you hate it. Then, Chile stop reading and go. I don’t wanna waste neither of our time with that situation.

And just to tag the folk who initially expressed interest the first time, and lemme tell y’all… This tagging was a little difficult for me, so I shalln’t be doing it again, I don’t believe. You ain’t gotta read it, either. I just wanted to extend the invite for anybody who might have been interested: @adorkable-blackgirl  @chenoahchantel @cactus-con @up-the-tube @riebellion  @itsyaapollochild @oof–musicals @lesbian-so-what @woahjusttakeiteasy-man @meadowstryingtobepretty @imma-sensitive-btch @okaygal21 @midernacht @divinereign4ever @xoxoemille @starry-nightschool

Plot: Pansexual Playboy Henry Hart finally decides to settle down, with his two best friends, Jasper & Charlotte. Each have a history with him and a present with each other, and he simply can’t let either of them go… Not this time around.

01. Reality Bites

Charlotte had just moved the last of her things into Jasper’s apartment and was not even the least bit interested in trying to unpack, yet. She had packed two all encompassing luggage bags with all of her necessities to live out of for a moment, just in case it didn’t work out wonderfully and she had to abort this mission. In the meantime, the beginning of their little life together was at least cute. Jasper had cozy surroundings. His parents didn’t like for him to have things growing up, so he was one of those people who was satisfied with less. But… Charlotte was used to high quality and high maintenance, so she would definitely be turning this place around, if they lasted.

She was having some trouble getting on her feet. It wasn’t that she wasn’t qualified to do things. She definitely was. She went to school. She got degrees. She applied for jobs. She worked them. The thing was that she had this bad habit of putting in less effort than the company wanted. A lot of productivity rules were just busy work and programming. She only wanted to do what was necessary to get her work done. Bosses hated her for that. She was constantly getting fired and had gotten to the point where her parents were sick of it and forced her to get out of their place. “You could always go back to the Man Cave,” Jasper had suggested. Yeah, right. Where Henry was? 

He was part of the problem. She had put so much into him, into them and he simply moved on as soon as it got a little bit difficult, as was his romance method of operation. After that, she wondered why even try to hard when you could simply to whatever you had to and get good results. To be fair and honest, had she thought more about it, she might have realized that what she was actually experiencing was heartbreak and depression. But, she thought that she was just tired of people taking advantage of her.

Jasper, on the other hand had been doing fine. He wasn’t doing great, but he was at least working regularly and was able to afford to take care of himself. Then again, he didn’t eat healthy, keep groceries stocked, or have the best products in the place. In fact, at the moment, he had wine on the kitchen counter, half a bag of tortilla chips in the pantry, and one shelf of condiments on the door of the fridge, with beer on the top rack. So… He didn’t have himself together, but he did have working water, electricity, a vehicle, a home… stuff that she was lacking on because she couldn’t be happy in any career path she had tried, thus far.

But, they found each other again, after some time apart and some distance. Their friendship faltered slightly when he admitted to her some years ago (some months after she and Henry were over) that he and Henry were together. WTF? She didn’t know what part of bro-code,girl code… (friendship? code) was being violated by that relationship, but she felt in her bones that it was betrayal and so, she was good on him. She was good on him a couple of years later when he apologized and told her that karma had caught up to him, because Henry had broken things off. She was good on him up until she came into this bar to meet up with a friend for a promotion celebration and he was serving drinks and let her drink for free. 

It became her thing. She certainly wasn’t able to buy her own drinks, not regularly, anyway, and she’d forgotten how good of a listener Jasper was. She could complain about her problems and drink them away, and she had a good listener available who wasn’t going to take advantage of her if she got too drunk. After a while, it started being hanging out socially, then talking on the phone, texting, social media and finally, she began spending nights. 

They didn’t put any label on things. Labels made Charlotte nervous and Jasper was simply in a headspace where he just wanted to try to enjoy life, with or without someone in it, but it was wonderful to have somebody in it that he had known for so long. It was also good to know her in this new way.

By the time that she was moving in and looking for another job, they had been seeing each other for five months. That was also around the time that Henry called about his opportunity to be on a reality tv show. He called Jasper, not Charlotte, but upon learning that they were together, invited her along, as well. The last thing that she wanted to do was see Henry, but she also didn’t trust him around her Jasper, so she went along just to feel him out. 

Whenever they got to the place, Junk N Stuff was gone, as were several of the neighbors to it and now there was this brownstone and Charlotte was confused, but Jasper went right inside, like he’d been here before. There was a doorman there that looked familiar to Charlotte, but she didn’t know why. “Hey, Gooch. What’s up?”

“Gooch?” She repeated and took a look at the guy. He did look like the Gooch she remembered, but he was much younger. “Wait, did Schwoz find some kind of way to reverse aging or something?”

Jasper laughed and said, “It’s Gooba’s son. Finding out about him was one of the reasons he left. Anyway, we can talk about that later.” Gooch’s son was staring at Charlotte. He looked a little bit younger than them, but not so much that he wouldn’t have been a full kid whenever they initially worked with Gooch. Anyway, she smiled politely and kept following Jasper. 

“How long has this been here?” She wondered.

“Couple years.”

“It’s conspicuous. What does Henry even do that people would reasonably believe that he could have this built and live here?” She wondered.

“You… really have chosen to fully avoid him, huh?” Jasper asked.

“He’s the worst. I don’t need that kind of energy. Mine already sucks.” Whenever they entered the place that she guessed was Henry’s she quickly had that confirmed by the huge, wall sized painting of himself, nude, but covered gingerly with flowers, in a flower crown with flowers what, falling from the sky? She sighed at the painting, rolled her eyes and they followed his voice. 

“Well, I don’t have the time for that type of contract, Levi! I’m about to be in talks for my new show…” He noticed them and smiled, waving them inside, “And I have guests arriving now. No, not clients. I told you, I don’t have appointments today. Look, just fix it. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and turned around, “Char!” He said, excitedly and rushed to hug her and pick her up from the ground. “You look gorgeous. I see your teeth are still perfect and you’ve let your hair and skin join the perfection club, as well.”

“They always were, but thanks for noticing.” She blushed and looked at the ground as Henry went to hug Jasper, too. 

“And you! Buddy… You gonna cut the beers, or nah?”

“Char’s fine with the beer belly.”

“It’s not a beer belly,” she cut in. “He’s always been a little bit gooey.”

“He wasn’t with me,” Henry said and gave Jasper a smile that said that he was thinking of those days, or nights, or… whatever. 

Charlotte stepped in between them and reminded him, “Well, he isn’t with you.”

“Right! The two of you, now. So… That’s interesting. Unless both of you have changed drastically, I never would have pegged you two to be sexually compatible.”

“What, are you a professional sexual compatibility… person?” Charlotte asked.

Henry smiled and corrected her, “Liscensed sex therapist, with special focus on sex positive therapy.” She sighed. Of COURSE, he’d get a degree on sex. “Don’t look like that. My work is very important! I help save marriages. I help people not hate themselves for being normal. What kind of fancy schmancy science is keeping Charlotte Page’s attention these days.”

“The kind where I bring drinks to tables until I get back into another lab.”

“Her bad attitude gets her fired a lot,” Jasper said.

“Not my bad attitude. Corporations’ insistence on overworking people who know better than to allow themselves to be used,” she corrected.

“Having a money issue?” Henry wondered.

“I haven’t found the right lab yet, that is it,” she insisted.

“Okay. Well, if, while you’re looking, you don’t mind having a camera or two pointed in your face, I want to invite you two to be a part of the cast for my new reality show adventure.”

“How the heck are you gonna have a reality show whenever half of your life is a secret?” Charlotte wondered. “Wait… Are you no longer Swellview’s hero? Because, I will definitely work in the Man Cave if you’re not gonna be there.”

“I am the new hero man of Swellview. Captain Man is still working, because he is indestructible and not super old yet. But, yes, we are partners.”

“Are you Man Danger?” Charlotte asked.

“He’s Dr. FeelGood,” Jasper said. 

“MISTER FeelGood. Dr. Feel Good is copywritten.”

“Both are corny,” Charlotte said.

“You’re a waitress who has like seven degrees,” Henry said.

“Ouch,” she replied. 

“To answer the question you asked before the cascade of shade that you threw me, I’m gonna do the show with production that knows that I’m Mister FeelGood, so they will never record or release anything that has me working in that way, because they work for me.” Charlotte raised her hand. “Yes?”

“So… Was Man Danger unavailable in the superhero names database, Danger just too vague? Captain Danger too much like Captain Man? Like… what possessed you to go to Mister FeelGood?” 

Henry smiled and rolled his eyes then pointed to Jasper, “You in?”

“In? Like… What is the show even about? Just following you around and recording all of your life when you aren’t fighting crime?”

“It… Is about me coming out of the shadow of all of my Swellview celebrity friends and trying to become a Swellview celebrity, in my own rite.”

“Swellview has celebrities?” Charlotte wondered.

“Whenever I go places, people still say things to me like, “Hey - you used to be friends with that science girl, Charlotte. Whatever happened to her? Or, hey - do you ever still talk to Jasper Dunlop? It was so cool that he was a real hero, much like Kid Danger. I thought WAS Kid Danger, at some point! Or, what’s happened to the guy who used to own that junk shop? He doesn’t get voted for as the most handsome man in Swellview anymore. Did he die?” Charlotte and Jasper were both laughing and leaning on each other. Henry said, “I have my own private practice. I help people in my daily life and I’m a superhero. I would like to be seen as something other than the guy who’s dated TWO girls from Kids in the Woods.”

“OH MY GOD!” Charlotte said and cackled.

“I totally forgot about that! And I just had spa day with them last month!” Jasper said.

“With Bianca and Chloe?” Henry wondered.

“Yep. They started taking me with them after you and I broke up. There’s a Henry Hartbreak Plan, so you’re definitely not riding on just our forgotten celebrity alone.”

“A Henry Hartbreak Plan?” Charlotte repeated.

“It’s a boost of vitamins and painkillers, a punching bag workout set to music, a shower. massage, detox, and a long snuggly nap. The spa owner has some history with Hen, too.”

Henry sighed and pointed at finger at Jasper, “That was mostly in her head!”

“That spa day sounds valuable. You didn’t tell me about all that. You just said Girls Day with the Hartbroken Club.”

“Come next time,” Jasper said. 

Henry watched the two of them talking. They were both still extremely attractive and each had that lovers’ glow with each other. It made him miss them, both. He missed their friendships and he missed being with them. Of course, those were two separate relationships, but he missed those relationships. He had never had anyone like either of them before. He thought that he would never get over Jasper and still wasn’t, but the surprise of seeing Char again, and her being even more perfect than he’d remembered… He was unsure of how he had ever gotten over her. Looking at them both right now, he realized that he hadn’t. He just thought that he had. “It’s only a thousand dollars per episode for this first season, if it even goes beyond that, but…”

“I’m in,” Charlotte said.

“I could use an extra couple of thousand, as well,” Jasper said.

“Cool… Why don’t you let Bianca and Chloe know. Of course, everyone will have to speak with my production team on camera to see what they think, but… I believe that they’d like to have all of the components of my celebrity associations for this thing.”

“So, does that mean that Piper is involved?” Charlotte wondered.

“We can’t really pay Piper to be involved, but she did tell me that if the show makes waves, then we’ll talk…” He was barely done with his comment and Charlotte was laughing at him. “She told me that you two still talk, though. She didn’t give me your number.”

“I girl coded her not to years ago, when I changed it,” Charlotte said. 

“My assistant Levi will need it, to let you know about appointments and stuff.”

“It’s cut off. Just call Jasper. We live together,” she said with a shrug.

“You live together? It’s… that serious?” he wondered, a little bit heartbroken, though he wasn’t sure from which one, but leaning towards both.

“I mean… It’s going great,” Jasper said and wrapped an arm around Charlotte.

Henry nodded, and blinked away the sadness that he felt might show in his eyes. “Well, congrats on that. You two deserve to be happy, more than anybody else that I know.” He reached forward to pull both of them into a hug. Jasper returned it, but Charlotte froze up, and he noticed that she’d done so earlier too. He pulled back and looked at the two of them. They clung to each other as they both fought to tear their eyes away from Henry’s face, so neither of them had seen their reactions to him, but he had seen both. “Later,” they said. Henry smiled and saw them out. So, they were in for the show at least. He hoped that the cameras wouldn’t catch too much of all of that emotion that was floating through the room.

[wearesorcerer]

Ioun Bloodline Arcana

Whenever you have an ioun stone orbiting you or implanted, you bond with that stone. You may telekinetically recall one bonded stone within 20 feet per Sorcerer level, causing it to orbit your head as a swift action. You may use ioun stones as thrown weapons that function as darts and deal bludgeoning damage, and you are considered proficient with them. The stones count as magic for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction. You lose your bond with any stone out of your possession after 24 hours.

I need to unpack this a little. My evaluation is fairly mean, but this ability is a C+/B- - because of the Bloodline Powers.

First of all, the paragraph needs to be reorganized:

Whenever you have an ioun stone orbiting you (or implanted, for that matter), you bond with that stone. You lose your bond with any stone out of your possession after 24 hours. As a swift action, you may telekinetically recall into orbit one bonded stone within 20 feet per Sorcerer level. You treat ioun stones as thrown weapons with which you are proficient; they function as darts, but deal bludgeoning damage and count as magic for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction.

There we go: actions required before effects, passive abilities before active ones, generalities before specifics, normal rules before exceptions, and relevant tangents in parentheses.

Effectively, this gives you an ability slightly better than a cantrip, but in contradictory ways.

The first contradiction:

As a swift action, you may telekinetically recall into orbit one bonded stone within 20 feet per Sorcerer level.

Bonus Feats: Acrobatic, Craft Wondrous Item, Magical Aptitude, Quick Draw, Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Skill Focus (Knowledge [history]), Throw Anything.

You won’t want to use Quick Draw (iterative attacks [like you have any] for thrown weapons) because of the action restriction. Now, the recall ability exists both for the attacking and to combat kleptos from yoinking your stones, so maybe that’s for balance. However, given the capstone power, I suspect it’s because someone thought returning (a +1 enchantment that makes thrown weapons work like how they say boomerangs do) would be too powerful for first level characters to have.

(<3 Bowie-sama.)

The second way it’s contradictory is in range. Most attack cantrips work at Close range (25 ft. + 5 ft./2 levels, meaning 25 to 75 ft.). Darts have five range increments of 20 ft., with a cumulative -2 penalty on increments two through five. Yes, your maximum range with recall becomes available at 5th level. However, you will always take a penalty to match the maximum range of the cantrip (even though you can exceed it). Further, since most attack cantrips use ranged touch attacks¹ and you still have to roll against armor, you’re not going to hit shit.

You are still better off with a crossbow, given that to use either you need to be within closing range of, say, an enemy Fighter. (I will make a big stink about this point when I review Reserve feats.)

So, onto the second question: how exactly are these

(DMG 3.0 and 3.5, but art with similarly sized stones exists all over.)

comparable to something like this?

The dart used in D&D/Pathfinder (pictured above: late Roman plumbata) is most closest to today’s lawn dart, not the tiny things used in the game of the same name (though they do descend from the military ones). The comparison this Bloodline uses is a bit of a misnomer chosen for the sake of mechanics.

See, darts are mechanically nearly identical to sling bullets:

One dart weighs 1/2 pound (in D&D, at least). Sling bullets come in groups of 10 and such a group weighs 5 lbs. Math: it’s what’s for dinner. (Bum bum bum.)

Both the dart and the sling deal 1d3 (Small) or 1d4 (Medium) damage.

Both have a crit of x2 with a normal crit range.

Both are simple weapons.

They vary in three respects: price (pft, we’re using magic items, which are loads more expensive than either), damage type (already accounted for), and range. As I explained above, slings have a range increment of 50 ft. (nice!), whereas darts have one of 20 (sad face!). So, the comparison is more to this:

Still, this seems off; ioun stones are usually shown to be really small, like pea-sized. Does any source (3.x, Pathfinder, fifth edition, something else) provide sizes to corroborate or contradict the art? Not that I could find.

Thus, I tracked down the stones’ origins: Jack Vance’s short story “Morreion,” coincidentally also about finding the sources of ioun IOUN stones. The ones in D&D are lifted from that (with Vance’s permission; yes, they are copyright Vance, not TSR/WotC/Hasbro or Paizo). It took me a while to acquire the story (I had to use the regional interlibrary loan consortium), but right there at the beginning of chapter 2 (of 41 pages²) was what I sought:

“each approximately the size of a small plum.”

A brief Wiki Walk told me that plums are about 2 to 7 cm (3/4″ to almost 3″); Google confirmed about 1-3″ plums.

How big is a sling bullet? Well, Wiki claims about 1″ in diameter, though they’re oblong. The key is that they’re often made of lead. Ioun stones don’t get weights, but that’s easily waived (or else presumed to be irrelevant because of telekinetic force).

So yes, this ability is reasonable in principle.

In application, could/should this have been better? In all ways, yes. I will give my version of how this should have worked come the end of the week.

Is it a bad Arcana? Not really; I’d give it a C+/B-, but mainly because of its interactions with your Bloodline Powers.

¹ The main exception to this is telekinetic projectile, which launches an item out to close range as a thrown weapon attack. The trade-off is that it deals 1d6 non-magical bludgeoning (regardless of what you throw) rather than 1d3 magic of an energy type. However, it’s an abomination for one reason: it also deals damage to the object thrown.

² Bear in mind the 41-page count while I explain some things - or, rather, go on a rant.

Jack Vance’s Dying Earth series is one of the primary sources used to develop Dungeons & Dragons - hence “Vancian casting” (and Vecna, an anagram and homage). Had he not inspired the casting system, we likely would have had a spontaneous arcanist from the beginning. (Psionics have been spontaneous since Eldritch Wizardry [OD&D Supplement III, 1976]; had they not earned a reputation for being broken af, the would-be Sorcerer of 3rd edition would likely have been a Psion instead.)

I say all of this because neither H.P. Lovecraft nor Gary Gygax, both noted for their use of strange words, hold a candle to Vance. So horrendous is his diction that it took me several days to get through those 41 pages.

Mind you, I have a Master’s in English with foci in literature (specifically Shakespeare) and linguistics; I’m used to word choices people don’t like and trained not to get annoyed by them.

This did.

It’s like he sat down with a thesaurus and consulted it for the least-used words he could find for every word in dialogue and many words in narration. On top of that, the plot didn’t make a lot of sense (there were lots of weird jumps in logic, in part because of the diction, but also just bizarre behavior). In the end, I felt I had wasted an interlibrary loan (What if I had accidentally damaged the book? I’d have lost ILL privileges on this tripe!) and a lot of reading time I could have put towards The Starless Sea (which is due sooner and has a line waiting for it, but I wanted to get this post done).

I cannot speak fairly of the Dying Earth series because I haven’t read enough of it, but the diction is something that Vance is noted for. I don’t want to write off Gygax’s tastes, but so many of the things I detest about D&D go back to his personal preferences, in particular Jack Vance. I’m unsure if I will try again another time because I think I’m being highly unfair, but seriously, I hated this.

At least we have IOUN stones. (No idea why Vance insists on the capitalization, but he does.) And grues. And robes of eyes. And several other nifty things.

[choulatte]

Happy Happy Valentine’s Day to my love buddy @djunnsworld <3 <3 I had lots of fun writing this and i hope it puts a smile on your face <3 This is a small Fic for the @ererievents V-Day event. Thank you so much for organizing this as well <3 And Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you!!

Read below or on Ao3

The past few weeks hadn't been too great for Levi. Not only was the weather depressing as fuck, rain pouring down as if the sky itself was weeping - no, his deadlines were creeping up on him as well. Having Erwin constantly breathing down his neck wasn't a feeling he particularly enjoyed, even if he sometimes brought it upon himself with his spiteful nature; handing his manuscript in late just to fuck with the blond.

This time was different though. He knew that he had to finish the damned thing by the end of the week.

With a weary sigh leaving his lips he grabbed his laptop, coat and the next-best umbrella, trudging his way through the piss-poor weather to reach the destination he had in mind. Carla's Tea House.

During the last few months the small teashop had become a much needed reprieve from his bleak apartment, his little sanctuary so to speak. Not only was the atmosphere peaceful and relaxing, but the tea the young, adorably cute barista named Eren brewed was even better than his own. And that was saying something.  

Eren was a like a fresh breath of air; a witty, head-strong young adult that didn’t shy away from his grumpy demeanor. The brunette enjoyed their teasing banter just as much as Levi did. Not that he would openly admit to it; nor the fact that it had been Eren that had helped him find his inspiration again after months of aimless writing.

If that in itself hadn’t been enough to make him a regular at the boy’s late mother’s tea shop, the younger also had this uncanny ability to sense his mood perfectly, surprising him with a delicately balanced cup of comforting jasmine and green tea when he returned irked from a call with Erwin; or brewing him his favorite blend of black tea when he required a surge of energy from staring at his laptop for hours at end.

So with high hopes of his day turning for the better, he sped up his steps, throwing an annoyed glance at all the couples lingering about. Was something going on today or was it just national swapping-spit-in-public-day?

The mop of chocolate hair was the first thing that greeted him today as well when he entered the small shop. A bright smile graced the tanned features of his current crush and reached all the way to the mesmerizing emerald eyes in which Levi just might lose himself one of these days.

Frowning slightly at the amount of sap that had infiltrated his mind, he let his eyes wander around the decorum of the teashop. His frown quickly morphed into a full-blown scowl when he noticed the tacky Valentine’s Day decorations that were hung around the entire area. Little hearts were dangling from the ceiling, red and pink the main color scheme, and even Eren had donned a heart-shaped apron. Not that Levi minded the last change; he just couldn't get on board with having the fake holiday shoved down his throat so much.

That at least explained the couples. Well fuck, maybe he should've just stayed home today.  

"Hi, Levi," Eren greeted him happily, smiling brightly and nervously fiddling with his ridiculously frilly apron that was tucked around his waist. And just as quickly as the thought of returning home had appeared it was gone again.

"Hello, Eren," he returned the greeting, eyeing the multiple kissing pairs occupying the tables to his left and right with well-hidden dismay. Valentine's Day really wasn't his thing, and contrary to shitty glasses’ firm belief, it had nothing to do with the fact that he was perpetually single.

Settling down onto his usual chair at the counter he started unpacking his laptop, not bothering to order. It had become their little routine for Eren to surprise him with something.

"How have you been?" Eren asked, a subtle, nervous tilt audible in his voice as he went about preparing a new blend Levi hadn't seen before.

"Just outright lovely," he answered sarcastically, "I've never been better. Deadlines are my new best friend."

"Ah, another one?"

"There's always another one," he muttered sullenly, opening the document that was his current enemy number one. Adulting was shit. Anyone begging to differ could gladly take it up with Erwin.  

Trying not to get too distracted by the sight of Eren in that silly apron, silver eyes languidly flicked over the last few paragraphs he had written. Not too bad. Maybe his last visit here hadn’t been as unproductive as he’d thought.

The sound of hot water being poured had him lifting his gaze upwards again, watching how delicate fingers handled the porcelain with a refined grace one could only possess after years of practice. Eren poured his whole heart into his craft and even an unknowing eye could tell at a single glance. The way the young man’s brows furrowed in concentration over a simple task such as measuring the amount of leaves needed for the perfect brew was truly inspiring.

A soft yet shy smile tugged at plush lips as Eren proudly put his favorite mug in front of him.

The lovely aroma of black tea quickly enveloped him in a small cloud of bliss, making any lingering irritation fade into oblivion as he inhaled the new blend.  A subtle sweet note was detectable, dried peach and papaya Levi mused with a hint of blackberry leaves, mixing smoothly with the savory quality of the black tea.

A content sigh escaped his lips as he warmed his hands on the steaming cup.

“New blend?” he asked, reveling in the soothing scent. “What’s it called?”

“Ah… uhm, well…” Eren stuttered and started fiddling with his apron again.

The nervous tick that would have usually made his eye twitch in annoyance was surprisingly cute when done by the now blushing brunette. But what exactly had gotten into Eren? Gunmetal orbs narrowed slightly as he pondered over where exactly this new shy side came from, when viridian eyes suddenly met his, new-found determination sparking within them.

“It’s called… WillyoubemyValentine?” Eren blurted out, so quick that it took Levi a moment to understand the meaning of the words.

He had to suppress a sarcastic eye-roll at the poor name the lovely blend had been bestowed with – a true shame in his opinion. Especially for something so exquisite.

“Won’t that get confusing as fuck?” he ended up settling on, trying not to be too negative in his response to something Eren was obviously nervous about.

“H-Huh?”

“When people order it. Won’t it get really confusing when someone walks up to you and asks for that blend? Not to mention that it’s a pity that you can only serve it on a shitty fake holiday like Valentine’s.”

Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“O-oh… yeah, I guess,” Eren replied, looking utterly crestfallen.

Well done Levi. Now you fucked up.

���I mean it’s really lovely. The blend. It would be a shame if you could only order it today,” he back-tracked, raking his brain for another compliment to wipe that saddened look off Eren’s face.

“You think so?” Eren asked quietly, still refusing to meet his gaze and staring dejectedly at the row of mugs to his right.

“Definitely,” he assured.

“You’re not a fan of Valentine’s Day then huh?” Eren mumbled under his breath, but Levi caught it.

“Not really, no. I’ve never been a fan of public display of affection, and an entire day being shoved in our faces where you’re supposed to act all romantic and shit like that is just plain ass stupid. If I want to be romantic, I’ll be romantic. That doesn’t require a damn calendar entry or an entire day dictating that you buy your loved one overpriced roses or chocolates,” he huffed.

“I see,” Eren muttered, and despite the small phrase indicating that the topic had been closed, his brows were still furrowed; the spark Levi had seen in those gem-like orbs when he had entered suddenly diminished.

It was in moments like these where Levi wished that he wasn’t a 32 year-old socially awkward grump, without a damn clue how to salvage the situation.

So instead he deemed it wise to just give the brunette some time, focusing on the beast of a document that was awaiting his edit. Yet he couldn’t help but notice how sigh after sigh left Eren’s lips, how his head hung low and how he didn’t even perk up when new customers arrived; something that usually always lifted his spirits.

After an hour more of the miserable moping and the brunette clearly avoiding any eye-contact with him, it was truly starting to bug Levi.

Was he that dejected that Levi had found the name ridiculous? Or was he disappointed that the blend hadn’t been ordered once this entire time? Then again it wasn’t like the new beverage was displayed anywhere. No signs were advertising the new Valentine’s Day special, nor did he see the name mentioned on any of the menus.

How could other customers order something if they didn’t know it existed? And why was Eren not advertising the delightful blend? Was there something special about this tea?

Eren had only offered it to him so far. Hadn’t mentioned or advertised it anywhere. But wh-

Wait.

No.

No way.

Had he- … seriously?

Levi wanted to fucking smack himself over the head for his stupidity.

Leave it to Eren to come up with something like that. No wonder the brunette was looking crestfallen and dejected. He thought that Levi had rejected him. Silly brat.

“Oi, Eren,” he called him over, wanting to see the look in those breathtaking eyes when he set him straight.

“Yeah, Levi?”

Making sure those huge teal eyes were trained on him he uttered a simple “Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, Eren.”

“I… I still don’t get it. Yes, what?” Eren asked, bewildered.

“Seriously, you shitty brat? Don’t make me spout embarrassing nonsense, especially not today,” he grumbled. But one look at the adorably confused frown on the brunette’s face made it clear that he did indeed have to spell it out for him.

“Yes, Eren. I’ll be your shitty Valentine, that is, if you will be mine.”

“R-Really?” the brunette gasped.

“Really," he assured, loving the bright, brilliant smile that slowly spread over Eren's features as the realization settled in. "When does your shift end?"

“At 5… why?” Eren asked; cheerfully beaming at him as he leaned over the counter towards Levi, viridian eyes shimmering with delighted curiosity.

“You didn’t expect me to agree to be your Valentine and not take you out on a date afterwards, did you?” he drawled, watching with avid satisfaction as the gears started turning in the brunette’s head.

The smile on Eren’s face suddenly turned almost bashful - as if he hadn’t actually dared to think that far ahead.

“Well, you’ve got something to look forward to then, brat,” Levi smirked, gently stroking a stray strand of chocolate hair behind a slowly reddening ear; the touch feather-light as if in fore-shadowing for the things to come.

‘As do I.’

[elizabethrobertajones]

The Dean Is Bi Meta Masterpost

Full credit to @jenmisheel‘s masterpost, which I was looking for in my own tag, for my masterpost masterpost, and about 3/70 pages in I was like... I keep making masterposts of everything and one day I might want to do this one. Maybe today is “one day” - except “today” was “several days ago” and I still don’t think this is finished even excluding the knowledge new stuff will get added as long as the show keeps happening. But there’s enough here to get you started.

In interest of making it clear I’m not ripping off the other more famous masterpost etc here’s my usual disclaimers turned up to 11

- most of this is stuff linked on my blog unless it was under a cut anyway (because if this masterpost exists under the cut, so will all the links on my blog ‘cause you know I’m still here :P) This time I wandered around looking further afield a bit, but I linked from blogs that don’t seem likely to go anywhere (and I hope they don't!). 

- for the most part this focuses on discussion and fandom reactions more than 100% scientific proof. I mean obviously there’s loads of “this happened therefore Dean is bi” but I love the discussion and metaphor unpacking so there’s some lengthy and/or abstract posts, or things mired in fandom fun that make terrible told you so arguments but are very interesting reading.

- on the other hand a well-crafted shitpost of a paragraph to a line in length or even a no comment gifset can absolutely make the cut if it says everything as neatly as possible

- there is a great deal of discussion about how and why we ship and of course if we are “allowed” to. Most of these posts occur because someone attacks a meta blogger for saying “cucumber water makes you gay”, the meta blogger gives them a bemused look, a pat on the head, and whips up a long essay on the validity of shipping and defence of the humble sea cucumber in context as the resounding counter argument. So there’s a chunk of fairly argumentative & wanky posts.

- it’s relatively Destiel light because there’s a weird bias (addressed in some of these posts I put deliberately near the top :P) that “bi dean” meta isn’t valid when you make it all about your ship. Nevertheless I do ship Destiel and I’m not gonna punt a post from the selection process for being shippy or using Cas as an example to a wider concept than just Dean being in love with him & if you’re allergic this is not the masterpost for you.

That’s probably enough disclaiming. Enormous collection of links under the cut :)

General/Misc. discussion and enormous overviews

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/164131134635/bidean-by-episode http://lotstradamus.tumblr.com/post/21354448571/pink-and-satiny-an-exploration-of-dean-winchesters http://peter-pantomime.tumblr.com/post/117576391831/masculinity-and-queerness-in-the-media-a http://flyingfish1.tumblr.com/post/99106374003/spn-and-ellen-how-to-out-your-main-character-in-a http://fansofcollisions.tumblr.com/post/41321239879/sexual-violence-in-supernatural-a-study-regarding (images hosted on photobucket >.>) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/102041094908/dubiousculturalartifact-wordsinhaled-but-why https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/102082234683/i-notice-that-the-anti-dc-crowd-often-like-to https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/163383248603/wait-when-did-sam-say-that-dean-was-more-like https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/161560839553/if-you-find-the-energy-and-willingness-to-do-so http://destielhiseyesopened.tumblr.com/subtextseries (& https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/107633266648/storytelling-vs-real-life) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/154083967343/this-has-been-bugging-me-for-awhile-im-really https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153956865933/having-an-interest-that-goes-against-stereotypical http://defilerwyrm.tumblr.com/post/42840432902/the-subversion-of-deans-masculinity http://impostoradult.tumblr.com/post/125213198581/more-dean-winchester-queer-coding (NSFW) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/150907327828/i-cant-be-the-only-one-who-is-queer-and-unable-to (9x06, 7x20) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/150879657423/obsessionisaperfume-ilovedean-look-what-i & https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/150881510648/kayanem-elizabethrobertajones (8x01) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/150819943013/nothing-to-see-here-carver-era-bacon-edition https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143608287823/littlehollyleaf-hamburgergod-replied-to-your https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143158840778/deathbycoldopen-elizabethrobertajones-tbh-i https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/128793917913/deathbycoldopen-f-ckyeahfutbol-dottewa https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/124164290783/hey-so-i-was-reading-your-tags-in-the-jensen https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/124164575098/if-jensen-has-been-told-dean-was-bi-from-the https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/122335404453/if-destiel-haters-think-destiel-meta-writers-r https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/117680593593/masculinity-and-queerness-in-the-media-a http://bisexualdeanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/96699057717 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/109345790763/f-ckyeahfutbol-impostoradult https://floralmotif.tumblr.com/post/160816413647/dean-and-his-sexuality http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/156113501892/mittensmorgul-chiisana-sukima https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158682173693/what-are-you-gonna-look-up-more-anime-or-are http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/155001527202/f-ckyeahfutbol-postmodernmulticoloredcloak http://thecaptainsoiree.tumblr.com/post/80028018892/the-weight-of-the-world-is-love-masterpost http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/141728433310/f-ckyeahfutbol-on-a-more-serious-note-what-i https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/115286237308/could-you-maybe-re-post-that-answer-to-the

Podcasts

https://soundcloud.com/superspecpod/super-thirsty-interrupting-zombie-cows https://soundcloud.com/user-407851647/episode-1-the-politics-of-reinterpreting-a-character-as-queer https://soundcloud.com/user-407851647/episode-2-shorthands-coding-meaning-making-in-fiction https://soundcloud.com/user-407851647/episode-3-queerbaiting

Thanks Jared

(not meta per say but this keeps happening & is handy to have around)

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/163425672783/itsokaysammy-x https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/149894206412/cloudatlascas-awed-frog-electricmonk333

Arguments Against Bi Dean Suck:

https://argumentsagainstbideansuck.tumblr.com/misc https://argumentsagainstbideansuck.tumblr.com/thisisaboutshipping https://argumentsagainstbideansuck.tumblr.com/itsnotqueerbecause https://argumentsagainstbideansuck.tumblr.com/falseequivalences https://argumentsagainstbideansuck.tumblr.com/Deansaidheshetero https://argumentsagainstbideansuck.tumblr.com/bisexualitysdiscontents https://argumentsagainstbideansuck.tumblr.com/biasedperception https://argumentsagainstbideansuck.tumblr.com/authorialintent

The Pie Vs Cake Thing:

http://consulting-cannibal.tumblr.com/post/70754630875/based-on-this-chat-post-i-just

Multi-ep comparisons

(for sake of not cluttering, longer meta is anchored in the main episode it's to do with; these are mostly gif & picture posts putting several moments together to see side by side - labelled with episode numbers where the URL didn’t make it obvious)

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158722736974/rosewhipped22-0508-0908-1115-flustered https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/157246545752/prairiedust-what-a-great-callback (4x14 2x11) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/155469972108/some-people-call-it-tragic-3x04-4x06 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/154043379143/castiel-knight-of-hell-elizabethrobertajones https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153539923128/i-was-admiring-the-infamous-gifset-of-dean-staring (4x14, 8x01, 9x06) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/149536260552 (5x08 & 11x15) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140271017481/theexecutionerssong-dean-meeting-one-of-his (9x08 & 11x15 - & https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140270288793/i-gasped-out-loud-when-it-hit-me-that-this-ep-was) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140259608471/marilynmay-11x11-11x15 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/148339710639/some-people-call-it-tragic-au-where-dean-is-bi https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/148272658383/some-people-call-it-tragic-dean-is-bi https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/146934985146/andythanfiction-this-is-actually-the-list-of https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/146648808681/novaks-dean-last-night-on-earth-speech https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140047068736/windean-dean-men https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/139742445830/theexecutionerssong-dean-needing-men-to-be https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/137035917583/rockandrollchick-dean-being-awkward-in-front-of https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/131898101404/f-ckyeahfutbol-deanlovesdudes-bidean (7x12 & 11x03 - & https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/131894840035/strangegalaxyhopper-f-ckyeahfutbol) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/128033267136 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/121274803543/quantumbanana-306-807 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/112748599963/camwelgrace-im-really-experiencing-some-deja-vu (1x13, 10x05) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/111906270313/dubiousculturalartifact-lisabreaden-yeah (3x04, 4x06, 8x07, 1x03, 8x12) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/104599695698/memitims-406-1008 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/108245507408/bakasara-does-it-ever-feel-like-something-is https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/101580566428/thebloggerbloggerfun-castiel-knight-of-hell https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/99939736188/ok-but-how-in-the-world-was-dean-flirting-with https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/99985203203/justanotheridijiton-6x09-7x12-8x07-9x09 http://bisexualdeanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/46983634575

Bi Episode

(Ctrl & F may be your friend here)

1x01

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/129304161441/bidean-origins http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/150315530650/thoughts-on-dean-toxic-masculinity-ive-been https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/161672658823/mittensmorgul-elizabethrobertajones

1x02

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/161717830876/1x02-dean-vs-roy-everyone-gifs-the-bit-in-1x01 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/129307670095/supernatural-rewatch-s1-e2-e7 (& 1x03, 1x04, 1x05, 1x06, 1x07)

1x03

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/161821493693/elizabethrobertajones-1x03-deans-happy-place

1x04

https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/129206934616/okay-im-going-to-talk-about-phantom-traveler-a

1x07

http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/91642742503/obsessedwith-castiel-dean-sam-can-we-just-talk https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143824642789/rockandrollchick-just-a-casual-reminder-that https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/141944986141/f-ckyeahfutbol-f-ckyeahfutbol-some-of-you

1x08

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/129643499148/supernatural-rewatch-s1-e8-e12 (& 1x09, 1x10, 1x11, 1x12) http://awed-frog.tumblr.com/post/142949607522/1940sdeancas-moments-that-made-me-fall-in-love (& 5x04) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/155669957328/postmodernmulticoloredcloak-mittensmorgul

1x10

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/160569817902/awed-frog-caffeinedeathwarrior-awed-frog https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/137427332398/f-ckyeahfutbol-rainbofiction https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/167226425343/bidean-meta-idk-if-this-has-been-said-or-not

1x11

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/162491675922/some-older-guy-recognizes-deans-rockstar

1x12

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/115201725418/bisexual-in-the-subtext-since-s1

1x15

https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/129571030981/postmodernmulticoloredcloak-f-ckyeahfutbol

1x16

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/130171134979/f-ckyeahfutbol-something-interesting-happened

2x02

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/117515997573/drsilverfish-sandraugiga-f-ckyeahfutbol

2x03

http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/121793969228

2x05

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/122020133523/a-detailed-look-on-dean-and-ash-pt-2

2x07

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/155597321993/fucktoydean-i-just-saw-a-post-on-my-dash-with-a (& 9x06)

2x11

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158045220898/it-honestly-astounds-me-that-there-are-people-who https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143500372237/bakasara-f-ckyeahfutbol-jenn-stiel-on-the https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/142339228474/cuddlebabies-this-is-so-fucking-sad-what-the https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/104753875783/so-you-know-that-post-you-reblogged-with

2x12

http://platoapproved.tumblr.com/post/93897526140/i-didnt-know-deanvictor-was-a-ship-oo-im (& all subsequent Victor episodes)

2x15

http://angelswatchingover.tumblr.com/post/133541616153

2x17

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/130424008586/bert-and-ernie-are-gay-deancasheadcanons

2x19

https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/99336916291/letangs-spn-10-countdown-challenge-day-5 http://bisexualdeanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/101281111027

2x20

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/146720918728/elizabethrobertajones-elizabethrobertajones (& season 2 in general, plus comments on Mary in season 12 from the season 11 hiatus based on 2x20)

3x01

https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/111110553706/sandraugiga-f-ckyeahfutbol-f-ckyeahfutbol https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/111201224271/sandraugiga-f-ckyeahfutbol-rainbofiction https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/111072716338/double-the-pleasure

3x04

https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/111608641146/dean-and-ritchie-have-history-and-you-can-bet

3x05

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153324866693/hazeldomain-deancasheadcanons https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/125588649218/convictioncas-apologies-in-advance-to-the-op http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/151697180913/postmodernmulticoloredcloak-saucynewf-dean

3x08

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/162594020272/3x08-merry-christmas-dean-is-bi

3x10

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/127963545416/deifysam-who-were-you-dreaming-about-what-no

3x12

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/134059647133/mittensmorgul-elizabethrobertajones

4x05

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/130691093948/f-ckyeahfutbol-dean-is-hecka-bi http://pinkandsatiny.tumblr.com/post/7447156378/monster-movie-in-which-dean-is-the-shifter-once https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/124908386973/dirtyovercoats-i-cant-believe-the-dracula

4x06

http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/151056070938/shower-thoughts-harping-on-season-4-because-being (& 4x14) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/112130073793/f-ckyeahfutbol-yaelstiel-manhandling-in-4x06 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/111964079103/hey-so-i-was-watching-that-video-of-all-the (french dub canonises this? maybe??) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/97984184588/deangirl-supernatural-notes-1-dean https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/125955769383/f-ckyeahfutbol-rockandrollchick-the-way

4x08

http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/139479853865/f-ckyeahfutbol-sandraugiga-f-ckyeahfutbol (vaguely NSFW)

4x11

http://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/148094869126

4x14

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/147765511673/ive-been-seeing-arguing-about-the-siren-episode https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/162625493203/do-you-think-deans-whole-thing-with-the-siren https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158361983952/actually-richard-speight-theres-a-lot-of http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/125513601548/spn-hellatus-rewatch-4x14-or-honestly-this http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/147614438213/bluestar86-findmyjaffa-mishabethyname https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/157230806993/12-i-can-literally-understand-all-of-your https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143013081386/postmodernmulticoloredcloak-littlespoondean https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/137902673453/so-my-parents-got-me-all-ten-seasons-of-spn-on-dvd https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/136113358918/you-do-realize-the-siren-is-not-a-sign-of-deans (  http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/136116679110/you-do-realize-the-siren-is-not-a-sign-of-deans ) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/125530302227/part-of-why-it-was-always-such-a-challenge-to (writer commentary) http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/80074121719/im-really-confused-about-something-and-was-hoping https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110630671598/filleretive-fjf1085-purplesummer91 http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/156636059597/argumentsagainstbideansuck http://angelswatchingover.tumblr.com/post/136115203978

4x17

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/126058336346/good-stuff-big-things-who-is-dean-smith-really http://bisexualdeanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/46695420055

5x05

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/127294045191/f-ckyeahfutbol-samuelandeanedits-dean

5x07

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143000690753 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/141804117383/1940sdeancas-dont-juge-me-im-a-fangirl

5x08

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/150551958163/can-you-please-help-me-understand-how-else-im https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/149538421901/b0ttomdean-one-part-of-what-makes-doctor-sexy https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/149803183155/jenmisheel-im-still-baffled-how-some-people https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/115026718248/lookatthesefreakinghipsters-so-i-was

5x09

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/99920043248 https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/114962565781/so-lets-talk-about-the-real-ghostbusters-id (& 9x06)

5x11

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/155891337678/so-lets-talk-about-your-father-dean (& 12x05, 12x08)

5x15

http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/152275008818

6x01

http://jensenandmisha.co.vu/post/132890630003/f-ckyeahfutbol-since-we-just-met-a-sidney-in https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/155603095133/sunshine-anon-the-line-about-sugarsweetness-was & https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/154950394051/soluscheese-601-exile-on-main-st http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/130232794973/i-think-id-like-to-take-you-up-on-that-beer (& https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/130232842193/6x01-rewatch-or-amazingly-i-thought-i-was-gonna for Sid and Samuel's dislike of Dean)

6x06

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/147703693583/bunkermouse-f-ckyeahfutbol https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/137083467666/sandraugiga-f-ckyeahfutbol-captaindevta

6x09

http://tinkdw.tumblr.com/post/161477963477

6x10

https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/117966800386/just-a-friendly-reminder-that-while-castiel-was

6x15

http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/142168123335/f-ckyeahfutbol-im-posting-this-because-it

6x18

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/134153685403/knightfrog1248-destielhiseyesopened (& 5x08) http://perpetuallycaffeinated.tumblr.com/post/4949592470/in-which-anne-over-analyzes-frontierland

6x19

http://deangirl.tumblr.com/post/45166898949/according-to-sam-sibling-support-and-deancas

7x07

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/147792694863/f-ckyeahfutbol-bold-sartorial-statement

7x12

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158046167978/rosewhipped22-replied-to-your-postit-honestly https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/156343273346/codestielckles-reminder-of-how-much-dean-fanboys & https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/155965663553/first-things-first https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/139906346653/windean-actual-bisexual-puppy https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/97126005288/gillasue345-sometimes-i-just-have-to-remind https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/94330580003/skyejems-queer-dean-month-favorite-queer

7x14

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/141748965607/rainbofiction-i-happened-to-be-passing-by-this https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/122682048593/suricattus-im-not-going-to-say-on-pride

7x20

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/155516926933/so-i-was-looking-at-the-flirting-scene-in-7x20 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/154899004570/mittensmorgul-elizabethrobertajones https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/121833724803/lookatthesefreakinghipsters-purplesummer91 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/154759138938/awed-frog-godshipsit-7x20-the-girl-with-the

7x23

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/107645779933/i-was-watching-7x23-when-i-noticed-an-interesting

8x01

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/107625642583/mishabethyname-benny-couldnt-call-out-deans http://bisexualdeanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/46616975961 (& a medley of bi Dean stuff up to 8x13)

8x06

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/98342871673/persephoneshadow-shoot-me-down-on-the-roof https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143273014408/1940sdeancas-i-just-want-to-know-what-deans

8x11

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/156289514517/geek-lore-and-real-fairy-tale https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/151662901753/bisexual-dean-winchester-i-was-just-rewatching https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143843492841/inspired-by-a-wait-what-did-dean-really-take http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143818434178/8x11-rewatch-or-what-a-wonderfully-subversive http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/98348884223/changelings-queerness-and-supernatural https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/151662901753/bisexual-dean-winchester-i-was-just-rewatching https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/156092690068/ok-so-do-you-think-charlies-did-you-break-up http://bisexualdeanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/46900827111 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/94449409953/rhymeswthfrenzy-and-this-is-why-ill-never#notes

8x12

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143052986160/mishawinsexster-they-both-distinctly-remember http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/77272144091/silvenhorror-littleartemis-whishawmaster (& http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/78204651653/a-ckleholic-marilynmay-hes-pointing-at-dean )

8x13

http://bladedpetals.tumblr.com/post/121810309740/elizabethrobertajones-after-rewatching-2x03-i http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/158781804255 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/151344577409/s-cornelius-oh-this-face-breaks-my-heart-into http://agentmapal.tumblr.com/post/42592058827/the-fucking-badge-scene http://lookatthesefreakinghipsters.tumblr.com/post/48247349734/aaron-bass-schr%C3%B6dingers-gay https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/150092418885/so-i-completely-adore-you-and-your-blog-i-was https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/127418738413/ben-he-jensen-did-amazing-in-this-phil-he-was (director's commentary & https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/98236219618/interruptingpanda-jayndmitri the video of it) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/121665359638/deanlovesdudes-o-k-ok-i-love-8x13-but-i-mean https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/113336904035/deancasheadcanons-the-cock-in-cockles https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/111900480028/oh-man-i-was-staring-mesmerised-at-those-aaron-x http://lookatthesefreakinghipsters.tumblr.com/post/48247349734/aaron-bass-schrodingers-gay http://bisexualdeanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/46809225877 http://bisexualdeanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/46373205787/spnmeta https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/95492724838/skyejems-queer-dean-month-favorite-queer https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/91138554513/assbutt-in-the-garrison-fantasticalmemories

8x15

http://defilerwyrm.tumblr.com/post/43613502247/sorry-im-still-choking-over-the-cat-dude

8x16

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/136026642467/f-ckyeahfutbol-f-ckyeahfutbol-in-remember

8x17

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/98245185798/castiel-knight-of-hell-in-honor-of-bisexual

8x19

http://bisexualdeanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/47546652333 (& all the other Benny episodes)

8x23

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/108245542128/castiel-knight-of-hell-garageblues (& 9x06) http://bisexualdeanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/70351450022 http://defilerwyrm.tumblr.com/post/50914508901/the-823-bar-scene-chekhovs-bow-and-other

9x05

http://s-cornelius.tumblr.com/post/72737102860/ssjdebusk-as-stupid-as-that-episode-was-and-how http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/151743069538/f-ckyeahfutbol-in-the-first-episode-they-ever

9x09

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/149999817635/oh-season-9-more-i-was-going-to-make-this (& 9x06, 9x15)

9x12

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/109720513223/flyingfish1-clusterjamwildmustard-replied-to

9x13

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/133467861169/hello-i-just-saw-your-post-you-made-recapping https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/125785911071/sandraugiga-f-ckyeahfutbol-f-ckyeahfutbol https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/109322303868/its-not-the-salted-caramel-pudding-its-the http://defilerwyrm.tumblr.com/post/75652008197/so-to-recap-913-gave-us-a-lot-of-innuendo-that

9x15

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/150042421548/awed-frog-elizabethrobertajones-dean-vs http://impostoradult.tumblr.com/post/164159852936 http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/78828364438/so-many-queer-subtext-drsilverfish-reviews-spns

9x18

http://greekedtext.tumblr.com/post/83320576781/drsilverfish-muriel-rukeyser-the-us-poet

10x01

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/151659241243/wait-wait-wait-im-all-for-canonbi-dean http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/111695024514/dean-winchester-completes-me-the-jilted-king (& other season 10 Dean/Crowley episodes) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/107308000183/the-misadventures-of-crowley-and-dean (& 10x02, 3, & 4) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/99585619873/coolification-elizabethrobertajones https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/99559328443 http://ssjdebusk.tumblr.com/post/99470499530/okay-but-truly-saying-dean-and-crowley-had-a-orgy http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/99543391632/crossroadscastiel-for-beestiels-okay-that http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/99632380053/f-ckyeahfutbol-finally-someone-giffed-these (& http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/99632447698/obsessionisaperfume-starborndean-so ) http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/99544587587/thecaptainsoiree-obsessionisaperfume http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/99639720508/bob-singer-picked-imaginary-lover-you-think-bob

10x02

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/109901038363/f-ckyeahfutbol-so-the-flamingo-lounge-was-a-gay https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/100147167663/thebloggerbloggerfun-so-i-know-that-there-have http://sleepsintheimpala.tumblr.com/post/130491453429/you-cant-spell-subtext-without-c-a-r-v-e-r-or http://defilerwyrm.tumblr.com/post/100201993030/hey-what-did-you-think-about-all-the-deancrowley

10x04

https://treefrogie84.tumblr.com/post/164135203307/starstruckspnenthusiast-pietoperdition https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/101589433493/crossroadscastiel-idratherhavefreedom

10x05

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/102610505853/bunkermouse-so-elle-pointed-this-out-in-the http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/102512492993/ceeainthereforthat-replied-to-your-photosetso (& 4x14)

10x06

http://messier51.tumblr.com/post/103025696867/its-a-metaphor http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/103269675243/clue-characters-in-1006-ask-jeeves

10x07

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/109592164828/sandraugiga-f-ckyeahfutbol-the-luckless-lord https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/103755449418/greekedtext-f-ckyeahfutbol-well-you-make (& 8x07) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/103751394833/trai-all-crossroadscastiel-10x03-10x07 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/103411922138/why-would-deans-women-be-a-paniky-reaction-to (10x05) http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/103030738628/defilerwyrm-bettydays-important-things-about (writer trolling)

10x08

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/123887497024/f-ckyeahfutbol-i-was-rewatching-hibbing-911 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/104610423083 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/104482571208/larinah-fireintheimpala-f-ckyeahfutbol https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/104287727788/is-this-likea-challenge-i-need-you-to-be

10x09

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/105128719203/f-ckyeahfutbol-sandraugiga

10x11

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110211419358/changelings-queerness-and-supernatural (amendment about this episode - originally 8x11, 6x09) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/109534377583/season-10-is-all-about-sexuality-when-it-comes-to

10x12

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114086130173/bold-sartorial-statement-littlehollyleaf (& 10x13) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110251130653/it-wasnt-even-good-cake-too-dry https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110251311848/orangemeta-mittensmorgul-it-wasnt-even-good http://susurrantpetrichor.tumblr.com/post/110297995640/its-a-new-soundtrack-i-could-dance-to-this-beat http://bakasara.tumblr.com/post/110067091268/defilerwyrm-sorry-to-be-that-guy-but-man-i https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/110146290741/okay-people-have-been-talking-about-cake-and https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110246397123/has-anyone-talked-about-the-bit-at-the-beginning https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110259424328/heres-my-confusion-ive-always-thought-the-most https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110198451218/vyos-castiel-knight-of-hell https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110156618893/why-does-dean-have-to-like-ballads-and-other http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/130152254835/so-that-last-thing-i-reblobbed-reminded-me-of-this https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110286584928/i-was-basking-in-the-awesomeness-of-the-fact-that https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/122765353203/hi-so-this-has-been-bugging-me-for-awhile-but-do

10x13

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110911533273/hello-i-love-your-meta-and-i-have-a-question https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110898566538/you-asked-in-one-of-your-tags-when-dean-checked https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110916897198/six-shades-of-spn-subtext https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110761968913/i-dont-know-if-its-been-mentioned-yet-but-at https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/110760714303/clusterjam-obsessionisaperfume-casmya

10x14

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/111692536848/clusterjam-elizabethrobertajonesoh-no-this-is-a

10x15

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114065529713/drsilverfish-pirrofarfalla-the-things-they https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114059168128/obsessionisaperfume-drsilverfish-filleretive https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114125114188/lipglosskaz-1015-i-feel-like-the-water https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114043428798/poor-dean-in-season-8-it-was-all-youre-not https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114061951888/squee-for-joy-as-much-as-dean-loves-pie https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114124167968/im-glad-you-also-framed-the-cake-as-the-call-back (& 10x12) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114059168128/obsessionisaperfume-drsilverfish-filleretive

10x16

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114792445918/clusterjam-fireintheimpala-i-like-the-purple-and https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114780706438/am-i-the-only-one-who-heard-go-a-little-deeper https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114727669738/man-every-time-theres-something-that-happens-in https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114722023628/crossroadscastiel-so-in-the-same-episode-where https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114715905088/obsessionisaperfume-peter-pantomime-ok-ive https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114702774398/wasnt-it-established-that-dean-wants-that-like https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114671547418/thebloggerbloggerfun-habitatfordeanwinchester (nsfw?) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114671157973/deanswingsbothways-dean-winchester-went-on-a-rant http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/114900385813/purplesummer91-crossroadscastiel-okay-but-when https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/114759349028/i-read-several-metas-on-bar-imagery-in-s09-do-you

10x17

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/115759833784/dean-winchester-bars-and-m-m-encounters http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/115678785044/10x17-detective-work https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/115697600503/drsilverfish-f-ckyeahfutbol-glassclosetcastiel https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/115623082288/oh-no-so-basically-my-first-part-was-just https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/115609009138/it-just-struck-me-what-a-momentous-gift-the-scene https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/115316118278/iwatchthepie-so-a-couple-weeks-ago-march-10-why https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/115296695643/defilerwyrm-lookatthesefreakinghipsters & https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/115314439878/deans-actions-in-the-episode-were-a-little http://deathbycoldopen.tumblr.com/post/115267926392/defilerwyrm-to-recap-donnie-the-bartender-is (& 8x23)

10x18

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/116665922428/iwatchthepie-how-many-million-years-of-human (& 10x17) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/116552591988/and-once-again-babes-is-the-word-we-expect-but

10x22

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/119352723330/i-just-got-a-message-about-deans-freddie-mercury https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/118951947903/havent-seen-the-new-episode-yet-so-maybe-i-miss http://angelswatchingover.tumblr.com/post/120868226460

10x23

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/128805221373/elizabethrobertajones-impostoradult-well (deleted scene) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/119767578728/i-know-dean-choosing-juans-diner-for-his-date-w

11x02

http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/131101984260/idfk-if-i-heard-right-but-what-how-was-cutie

11x04

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/162337702642/tinkdw-margarittet-so-this-ties-to https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/133402210281/wait-i-dont-understand-why-people-think-that-dean http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/132366156045/ok-but-are-we-not-going-to-talk-about-the-fact https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/132300278903/nice-legs-daisy-dukes-makes-a-girl-go-this-show (& http://larinah.tumblr.com/post/132280408607/hey-just-saw-your-tags-on-that-booty-shorts-meta )

11x07

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/133563794378/hamburgergod-oh-yeah-how-did-i-forget-to-make-a

11x08

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/134344270053/why-is-dean-incessantly-combining-words-this https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/134293516193/filleretive-lousy-portmanteaus-are-the-new https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/134291427193/littlehollyleaf-thecwspn-an-imaginary-friend https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/134290634698/convictioncas-you-cant-be-a-vampire-and-a

11x12

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/138742943988/postmodernmulticoloredcloak-mittensmorgul http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/138741930150/postmodernmulticoloredcloak-treefrogie84 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/138727393904/obsidiandean-lol-dean-wants-a-bumper-sticker

11x13

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/151734749029/mittensmorgul-f-ckyeahfutbol https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/139124221678/something-i-meant-to-add https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/139228778208/nerdylittleshit-remember-that-post-about-deans http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/139392338475 http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/146678636165/f-ckyeahfutbol-i-wasnt-going-to-comment-on http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/151690149435/i-just-rewatched-love-hurts-from-s11-and-i-find https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/139077037483/littlehollyleaf-windean-dean-in-11x13-sneak

11x14

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/139624575848/i-havent-seen-any1-commenting-on-this-but-all https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/139555396483/one-of-my-fav-parts-was-dean-failing-at-being-an http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/139665788760/f-ckyeahfutbol-so-a-few-words-on-the https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/139503694128/littlehollyleaf-starbucksdean-new-promo-of

11x15

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/151544096797/shirtlesssammy-i-worshipped-you-growing-up https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/147659783173/mittensmorgul-f-ckyeahfutbol-are-we-gonna (& 11x11) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140052246513/1115-sam-dean-and-parallels https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/139991719573/firstdrafted-deanfightswithmonsters https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140000119503/1115-dean-walks-into-a-bar https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140583695628/by-the-time-gunner-was-waiting-for-dean-at-the-bar https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140583097868/profound-salted-caramel-bond-i-am-pretty-sure https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140392216628/i-am-not-sure-who-to-bring-this-to-but-you-seemed https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140327572448/actually-if-youre-looking-for-another-good https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140180315068/deanlovesdudes-casthegrumpy-how-bout-that https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140147972253/beyond-the-mat-is-all-the-ho-yay https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140147249028/deathbycoldopen-aside-from-all-the-adorkable https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140107062433/jenmisheel-dean-checking-out-gunners (& https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/139935088588/ksenianovak-5x08-11x15 linked in connection with this one for reasons) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/140093595417/jenmisheel-gunner-was-literally-waiting-for http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/139951739810/beyond-the-mat-is-all-the-ho-yay http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/140183830225/spn-11x15-doing-the-right-thing

11x17

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/161646358973/thejabberwock-interpretation-vs-headcanon-i https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/142021074775/angelswatchingover-deancasheadcanons-peak

11x18

http://angelswatchingover.tumblr.com/post/142464278411 http://devil-with-a-soul.tumblr.com/post/143132785602/himneskir-bluestar86

11x19

https://k-vichan.tumblr.com/post/151895771179/unless-your-hides-need-saving-no-no-were https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/164038498998/argh-the-thing-on-my-mind-after-watching-11x19-is https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143551963748/do-you-have-a-meta-on-the-bisexual-colored-sign (& https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143598401448/i-dont-know-if-anybodys-noticed-but-when-dean & http://verybidodie.tumblr.com/post/143522709488/can-we-just-talk-for-a-sec-about-that-beautiful-bi re: signs and colours in the background not strictly about Dean but proving the point) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143549375273/12-trying-really-hard-not-to-rant-further-on https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143744534673/the-closet-in-the-chitters-11x19 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143626491633/11x19 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143555063038/the-chitters http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/143534538700/mittensmorgul-so-dean-had-been-comparing-jessie http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/143548805060/the-times-they-are-a-changing

11x20

http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143943621453 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/150999818885/yeah-casually-making-god-canon-bisexual-really (& 11x21) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/159768172853/i-hope-you-have-a-great-holiday-i-have-this (& 11x21)

11x21

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/145249443748/hi-ive-not-seen-anyone-mention-this-but-after (& 8x13) http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/144345239555/f-ckyeahfutbol-millionsofbooks

12x01

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/151870620355/on-led-zeppelin-as-criteria-for-a-mans (& 4x14 and reader-supplied hindsight) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158397935253/john-winchesters-ghost-and-the-haunting-of-s12 (& most of season 12)

12x02

http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/162830011860/oh-my-god-ben-edlund-just-said-that-deans-men-of (& 8x13) http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/152380493375/f-ckyeahfutbol-postmodernmulticoloredcloak http://charlie-minion.tumblr.com/post/162105909347/a-little-chat-about-your-mate https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/152310631023/have-you-come-across-or-written-any-meta-involving (& Benny episodes)

12x04

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/152901112818/dean-has-such-a-complex-relationship-with-pie-p https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/152741977293/hang-on-a-tick http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/154764854797/randomdestielfangirl http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/152733803820/sandraugiga-postmodernmulticoloredcloak

12x05

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153065853453/hitler-as-a-john-mirror-spn-12x05 https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158155443248/tenoko1-impostoradult-tenoko1 (& 12x11) http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/152885028045/aaron-doesnt-have-to-be-in-more-than-2-seconds-of http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/153094326592/postmodernmulticoloredcloak http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/153067324192/dean-and-sublimation http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/153017717068/ooh-and-dean-doesnt-turn-down-pie-in-front-of-his & http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/153061800953/mittensmorgul-cake-alert-im-halfway-through

12x06

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/159762934543/clusterjam-grey2510-sooooo-im-rewatching https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/154178871168/ahh-tysm-for-shedding-light-on-that-deanbucky https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/154142139843/a-quick-thought-on-12x06-shared-with https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153606180588/mittensmorgul-elizabethrobertajones & https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153618126598/mittens-lizbob-vs-12x06 http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/153331394200/so-we-were-all-thrilled-in-1123-when-dean https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153518552058/lack-of-labels-in-12x6https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153386835323/can-i-just-point-out https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153352165213/honestly-after-reading-thevioletcaptain-pointing https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158604911160/12x0612x11-on-bulls-and-riding-as-usual https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153604884658/still-re-reading-my-old-rewatch-notes-and-just https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153476816360/rachelhaimowitz-hazeldomain-ltleflrt https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153442292199/postmodernmulticoloredcloak https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153379027645/postmodernmulticoloredcloak-wait-a-mother-and-a https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153352191492/deangirl-the-dean-winchester http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/153390786670/can-i-just-point-out

12x07

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/154210477963/thevioletcaptain-so-its-probably-already-been https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/154073344373/drsilverfish-elizabethrobertajones https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/154046815408/well-i-like-history-gladiators-outlaws https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/153987674253/postmodernmulticoloredcloak-hang-on-ive-never http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/154764708892/f-ckyeahfutbol-burmabeast-f-ckyeahfutbol

12x11

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158604911160/12x0612x11-on-bulls-and-riding-as-usual https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/157225007511/k-vichan-faramaiofnerdwoodforest-dean-riding https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/157206090073/the-burger-jointbull-riding-pickle-jerker https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/157198735633/elizabethrobertajones-shower-thoughts-harping https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/157175921652/obsessionisaperfume-hamburgergod https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/157171279568/didnt-dean-say-something-about-skinamax-and-then https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/157168020033/ok-this-is-awful-but-i-keep-seeing-the https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/157125407723/did-dean-poke-a-donald-trump-doll-because-the-hair https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/157120902383/just-something-ive-noticed-about-the-last http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/157118507477/postmodernmulticoloredcloak https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/157109805493/do-you-really-think-people-will-say-that-destiel & https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/156989852288/weallneedcastiel-was-it-really-necessary-12x11 http://goodfemalecharacters.tumblr.com/post/157043682096/why-im-on-the-dean-is-bi-train-wed-never-get http://obsessionisaperfume.tumblr.com/post/157046918532/about-bi-dean http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/157065051205/i-feel-down-after-the-new-episode-do-you-think-it http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/157079963845/i-want-all-the-meta-on-that-bar-like-whats-that http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/157082194059/regarding-dean-regarding-alice

12x14

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/159468635883/elizabethrobertajones-elizabethrobertajones (& 12x15) https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158085185378/impostoradult-ketch-talking-to-dean-the-men http://bluestar86.tumblr.com/post/158716973693/spn-12x14-in-which-mr-ketch-literally-tries-to

12x15

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158245351968/wow-the-drowley-was-strong-in-last-nights

12x16

http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/159087391150/sam-and-deans-sexuality

12x18

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/163812502572 http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/159601144729/agents-stark-and-martell-12x18 http://angelswatchingover.tumblr.com/post/159502129528 http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/159605561150/was-it-me-or-did-ketch-just-touch-more-than http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/159768914415/dean-is-grossed-out-to-hear-sam-talk-about-moist

12x20

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/160652821519/k-vichan-i-just-have-to-get-this-off-my-chest http://rosie-berber.tumblr.com/post/160388258828/thoughts-on-12x20-season-12-as-a-year-long-lesson https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/160518044628/sandraugiga-bold-sartorial-statement-dean https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/160516576866/12x20-a-mother-of-an-episode https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/160505822173/ozonecologne-yall-i-just-fucking-realized-that (NSFW) http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/160336997350/what-the-heck-is-the-deal-with-the-grenade (pre-12x22 in the best possible way. 12x05, 12x08, 12x11) http://angelswatchingover.tumblr.com/post/160318469835

12x22

https://postmodernmulticoloredcloak.tumblr.com/post/161174930232/drsilverfish-impostoradult-mittensmorgul http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/160852735695/what-are-your-thoughts-on-the-granade-launcher-as

[davonnerochelle]

A Lesson on Triggers and the Wounds they Stem From 

Many of you may have heard the phrase “I’ve been triggered!” Some of you may have rolled your eyes in response to the person saying it. Or laughed it off as some new age, cry baby thing Millennials do when their feelings get hurt (chill I’m a Millennial! #eldermillennial). I’m here to tell you being triggered is a very real thing, linked to very real trauma, and in need of very real healing. Some of us may have triggered as a result of physical events (i.e. accidents or abuse). Others of us may have triggers formed from ancestral or generational events. Situations that happened before we were born or as a result of happenings in a different lifetime that we carried over. Whatever the cause of the wound, the resulting trigger is real and you shouldn’t ignore it. 

Today I was triggered in a big way that made me aware of a wound I didn’t realize I had. I suffered a very real physical injury because of it and was left to stew in the pot of the why’s and what the fucks of it all.  This part essay, part venting mess, is part of the three-part process I took today to recenter and figure my shit out. My hope is that you find something in this tower moment that you can relate to. And/or you are better prepared for when you’re triggered in the future and how to work through it. 

WARNING! The following paragraphs have some very strong opinions about humanity that you may or may not agree with, that may end up triggering you, or may not be entirely politically correct. My advice is that you take care of yourself. Proceed as far as you can and stop when you feel you cannot any longer. Practice self-care always. Not everything on the Internet is meant for you. Further, note that I am including myself in a lot of these generalizations. I usually avoid generalizations in my writing as a rule. As a person of color, I find them to be short-sighted and limiting. But, based on my recent observations, there was no other way to tackle how I was feeling in the written form. If you’re offended, that's an indication that there is something here that you need to work through. I hope you take the time to do so. All my love!

My Trigger

Entitlement is the plague of humanity. What do I mean by this? Think about all of what is toxicity in our civilization. Even down to the things that seem mundane or minuscule: someone cutting you off in line or while driving; someone running a red light; someone asking you to do something for them when they know you have plans; someone making plans for you and not including you in the process. What is at the core of all of these behaviors? Someone who feels they are entitled to, or have the right to do what they want without consideration for the people around them. 

There may be a moment after reading that paragraph where you think to yourself, that’s not really entitlement, that’s just people being people. But when did thinking your needs are more important than others to the point where you expect your needs to be honored over the needs of others, become “people being people?” You might also think: surely this is not the plague of humanity. Not all of humanity's evils are initiated from entitlement. You’re right. Not all but most. Why do members of our government, our economy, our law enforcement system, feel they get to lie, cheat, steal, murder, and prosper, independent of what that means to the rest of us? Why do we, and I am including myself in this generalization, feel it is okay to eat animals without showing gratitude for their contribution to our nourishment or use resources without considering the repercussions for that use? Because some of us feel it is our right to do so. We feel entitled to it. 

Now, many are probably offended at this point and wondering why I’m taking time and energy to vent about humanity and entitlement in a very public way. Especially after Christmas when we’re all supposed to be grateful and joyous. The reason is that today I was triggered by another person’s entitlement and it ignited some epiphanies in me. It made me aware!! And my ancestors insisted I share this with you all. 

What Happened? 

Earlier today, my husband and I were walking from a local breakfast place, where we parked our car, to Starbucks, which was only a short distance away. We didn’t see the need to drive there, which we normally do, because there was an accident on a major road running parallel to the main street in our town, and traffic was locking up. We thought it smarter to walk. When we came out of the breakfast place, a woman was standing next to her SUV, which was double-parked, blocking in three cars, one of which was parked in a handicap spot. She said in our direction, “is one of these cars yours?” She gestured toward the cars she was blocking. We said in unison: No! She responded, “are you even parked in this parking lot?” Again, in unison, we said, “yes!” and proceeded to continue walking. My husband, ever the problem solver, started to gesture to her that a number of different parking spaces were open (at least two). It looked like he was starting to walk to our car, but I said to him, “ I don’t care what’s happening in this parking lot. Let’s go get coffee.” He responded, shaking his head as if becoming aware of what he was doing, “True!” and we proceeded out of the parking lot toward Starbucks. When we rounded the corner I heard “Well Happy Holidays Asshole!”  

At the time, I didn’t know what compelled me to turn around and walk back. But I did. She was getting into the car and I said to her, “is there a problem? Do you have another question for us?” She continued to get into her car and roll up the windows. I, an idiot, stood in front of her car yelling “why did you call us an asshole!? Why did you call me an asshole?! There’s a parking space right there? Why did you call me an asshole?” She kept gesturing to me to move out of the way. At this point, I was standing right in front of her vehicle. I was determined to hear her answer. Eventually, she said, “ I wasn’t talking to you!” I gestured to her “ok!” mouthing, “That’s all you had to say,” and walked away. I didn’t make it two feet before I heard a snap and felt pain radiate up my leg. I’d stepped wrong along the sidewalk and sprained my ankle...that I had sprained the year before (and when I was a teenager). 

Why does all of this matter and what does it have to do with entitlement and triggers? 

Now! You may be interrupting this story in a number of different ways. Keep in mind there are three sides to every story. I will be the first to admit that. You may be concluding that I put my life in danger (as my husband pointed out, she could have hit the gas and killed me at any moment) for no reason, over a dumb parking space and some petty insult that I couldn’t be certain was directed at us. My husband and I feel very strongly, however,  her insult was directed at us. She only said it wasn’t to get me out of her way (i believe, she didn’t want to admit that her insult was meritless…. But more on that later). We were the only people in the parking lot. 

I needed to tell you this story, to lay out this situation, so that I can illustrate the soul evolution and epiphany that proceeded and how that relates to my conclusions and how I worked through my trigger.  

After I snapped my ankle, leaning on a nearby metal post, forcing myself not to cry in public, I hobbled to the Starbucks with my husband close at hand. After I placed my order, the sweet barista who took it gave me some ice as she realized what had happened. While sitting waiting for my coffee, my husband and I talked about what happened, why it happened, and what it meant. The epiphany is in the why. 

I immediately, upon sitting and allowing myself to feel the pain and embarrassment that came along with the sprain thought to myself, I failed. I saw the whole situation as a test and I flunked. I just new, in my new age, witchy mind, that I was going to have to start all over, forced to repeat this test again in a few months time, hoping that when it came back around, I wouldn’t “go dark” and lose my temper in public. During this tear-filled realization, I began to vent about why I went back. Why I put my life in danger to insist this woman fess up to why she called us assholes: I was tired. I was tired of humanity! I was tired of people, forcing their entitlements on me and assuming that what they wanted, whether it minor or significant, is my responsibility to oblige. Further, if I choose not to oblige, they feel it okay to insult or punish me for recognizing my right to set boundaries and standing my ground. Further still, not admitting that what they, in fact, were doing, was being selfish enough, entitled enough, to project their desires over another human being. I’ve been seeing this a lot lately. Especially before the holidays. People taking liberties where most civilized and well-mannered individuals would not because they feel they can. Friends, making decisions and imposing plans the way they want them to be, without consideration for the other person involved, their needs, or their plans. I lost my temper. I lost my mind. And said enough is enough. In other words, I was triggered. 

Moving through the trigger and understanding what that looks like. 

Knowing now that the situation was a trigger and not a test, what then was the test? Recognizing the trigger. Unpacking the trigger. Acknowledging the conclusions that rose up in me as a result of the situation. Would I take the time to recenter and unpack everything? Or would I just wallow and become the victim, ignoring what happened, and move along as if nothing was wrong?  This isn’t the first time I’ve lost my emotional resolve as a result of someone else being inconsiderate. Scenarios such as these usually bring me to blackout and hot tears. Why? Because I feel very strongly that no person is better than anyone else and we should not be subject to someone else’s entitled tyranny. The questions I asked myself after naming that trigger: now what? What do I do with this new discovery? How do I move on? 

When I got home, I told my husband that I needed to be alone today. I had a lot of things to consider. First and foremost, what does life look like now that I know this trigger is real (in other words, similar situations from my past were not erased because I have found spirituality. Those were not isolated incidents explained away as  “I was young and hot-headed”. I really have a sore wound around people, entitlement, and my existence). Second, continuing to breakdown the why: why did I go back? Why did I care? The answers to these questions are simple: I felt it was my responsibility to make her see the wrong in her behavior. Why did I see it was my responsibility? Because I am a healer? Because I’m tired of people and their entitled behavior? Because at some point in my life…..past lives….that was my responsibility and I’m still trying to fulfill that purpose? 

I spent time today meditating and journaling on everything. My conclusion was that I am not a healer of many, but a healer of myself. It is not my responsibility to point out to others that they are entitled and inconsiderate, suggesting that they need to work on and unpack those behaviors. As I did it for myself, they need to do the same. People are not my responsibility.  A tarot reading later, I realize this is not true. I am a healer and my calling is to be of service to others and support in their healing. I just need to go about it in a different way. I need to understand that I can only go with them so far. I need to learn to detach and release what/who I cannot change when it comes to healing (a post for another day). 

Where does my sprained ankle factor in? 

In August 2018, right before my bridal shower, I sprained my ankle. It was a message from my spirit guides to slow down. I was doing too much, seemingly distracted, and things were slipping through the cracks. Pay attention was the overall message. I believe the message this time around is similar. Except what they are asking me to pay attention to is the root of my problem: identifying and unpacking this trigger and its subsequent wound. The last time I sprained my ankle I did a lot of rootwork. I didn’t feel secure or grounded or supported. This time around my roots are wounded and I need to tend to them. I wish this didn’t happen. I wish I would have seen the dip in the sidewalk and maybe stopped and thought through the consequences of going back and yelling at the woman, but I didn’t and such is the destiny of my poor left ankle. I’m not sure how much more this ankle can take so I really need to make sure I’m slowing down, paying attention, and considering all the factors involved in a situation (literally and metaphorically). 

What is my conclusion around all of what happened and what resulted? 

Being triggered is real. They are true indications of wounding present in your life. Don’t ignore them. The test isn’t in the trigger, it is in acknowledging that trigger, unpacking it, and learning from its existence. LIke trauma (a possible cause of a wound connected to a trigger), it takes time to alleviate and heal. In some cases, it may not heal at all. But the awareness and the commitment to working through it is where evolution lives. Evolution is learning how to live with these wounds and show yourself love and compassion throughout the processes. 

On our drive home, stuck in traffic that resulted from the accident I mentioned earlier, I said to my husband, “I really hope that woman has a better day.” He mentioned that was big for me to say and I said I meant it. Something was clearly going wrong for her that steamed far beyond that parking lot. It was just unfortunate that our lives and lessons crashed into each other in such away. 

image from 2012 Movie

[simplemlmsponsoring]

New Post has been published on http://simplemlmsponsoring.com/attraction-marketing-formula/copywriting/chief-content-officer-a-year-of-insights/

Chief Content Officer: A Year of Insights

Has it been a whole year already? Well, not really. As I write this it’s still November and as you’re reading this, it’s the third week in December. A lot can happen in that time. But, assuming this ball of rock we live on successfully completes its routine circuit of the sun once more without major incident, it seems as good a time as any to reflect on how much has changed over the previous 12 months.

One of the biggest changes for Chief Content Officer magazine happened at the beginning of 2018. After seven years and 36 issues, Clare McDermott handed the editor’s red pen over to me in an emotional ritual involving arcane incantations, a branding iron, and a pledge to forever cast out the Oxford comma. (Stares hard at the blog editor. Get out of that!) (Blog editor’s response: Sorry, we use that comma here. We can’t afford any penalties resulting from missing commas.)

While I waited for the burning pain from the ritual to subside so I could sit down again, Clare’s final issue in February set a high bar for me to follow.

Finding the right words (February 2018)

The theme of content effectiveness – never mind how many people clicked on the content but is it any good – popped up more than a few times across 2018. Fergal McGovern kicked things off in February with an article on the UX of words.

I’m a word nerd, grammar pedant, and clarity zealot in the same way a car mechanic is a pedant about the right and wrong way to connect the flange to the whotsit. (The last sentence is also why I don’t service my own car.) So, Fergal’s article felt like a rallying cry for me and any other writer who has had to argue with stakeholders about why their buzzword bingo content does not sound more “professional.”

Fergal points out that the average U.S. resident reads at a seventh- or eighth-grade level. Before you complain about the education system, a user’s experience isn’t just about reading capability. As he argues, “even highly educated people disengage rather than spend the mental energy to unpack dense, complicated prose.” If you’ve ever struggled to get past the opening paragraphs of an overly formal, dry-as-biscuits white paper, you’ll know what he means.

People don’t have the mental energy to unpack a dry-as-biscuits white paper, says @kimota. Click To Tweet

“While web analytics can show page views, dwell times and usage paths, they won’t reveal issues with the content itself,” he writes. Now that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.

Also in February, Dan Hatch explained How to Train Your Journalist. Disappointingly, his piece wasn’t a low-budget sequel to the popular animated film series about dragons. Instead, Dan described how to overcome the challenges many journalists face when they first start to write on behalf of a brand.

“Journalism is a vocation,” he writes. “It’s also a profession that has a special place in democracy – holding governments, corporations, and individuals accountable.

“Gosh, but that can give you an ego. For some reporters, that can be hard to let go. And what you, as the person employing them, end up with are writers who think they’re too good to be writing the content you’re commissioning.”

Ouch. But before you think Dan is arguing that journalists are prima donnas to be avoided, he provides advice on how to harness a journalist’s nose for a strong story and knack for compelling and highly readable prose.

“They will adjust, I promise. But they might find this uncomfortable to start with – after all, someone who likely isn’t a writer is telling them how to write.”

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT:

A Primer to Boost Your Content’s Readability 4 Real-Life Ledes: Why They Work (and What Could Be Better)

Changing tools and strategies (May 2018)

The May issue was my first as editor, so I’m incredibly indebted to the rest of the team for helping me to make it such a great one. I still adore the cover by CCO designer Crystal Madrilejos, who has an enviable knack for turning vague, half-baked ideas from me into incredibly striking imagery.

Inside, I interviewed the always fascinating Joe Chernov to get to the bottom of account-based marketing (ABM) and why content marketers should care. “Yes, the funnel still has a top,” Joe explained. “It’s just a narrower top.”

You still need that top-of-funnel content, but you need to resist the temptation to aspire to a larger audience. What you want is a greater composition of the right audience.”

ABM resists the temptation to aspire to a larger audience in favor of the right audience, says @jchernov. Click To Tweet

A couple of pages later, Clare talked to strategist and cultural mythologist John Bucher (winner of this year’s coolest job title award) about whether the oft-heralded virtual reality boom is ever going to arrive. “VR is a popular buzzword, but as far as everyone having a headset … we’re not quite there,” he said.

VR is a popular buzzword, but as far as everyone having a headset … we’re not quite there. @johnkbucher Click To Tweet

However, John’s enthusiasm for VR isn’t dampened. He is encouraged by the ways in which some companies have begun to experiment with augmented reality (AR), which he sees as a gateway into VR for many people. “Creators of this technology are using the tools people already have, their smartphones, to add practical functionality to their daily experiences – something that lies at the core mission of so many brands,” he said.

If you’re still not convinced, Clare and John provide examples of how brands are using AR and VR successfully today. AR/VR may not be everyone’s reality just yet, but it has certainly become enough of a reality for some brands to create powerful new experiences for their audiences and consumers.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: 13 Smart Brands Using Technology to Power Their Content Different pathways to great content (August 2018)

The August issue celebrated the gaming theme of this year’s Content Marketing World by turning the magazine into a choose-your-own-adventure book, which some of you may be old enough to remember (please don’t let me be the only one). Every article concluded with a series of options to determine which article to read next and which page to turn to.

Whether any readers followed these options from article to article or merely chuckled at the running gag, I don’t know. But I can assure you, all the possible pathways through the magazine link up to lead the intrepid reader to the final confrontation with Andrew Davis’ Unsolicited Advice column on page 54. I know because I spent far more hours than I should have making sure all the options and pathways worked.

Click to enlarge

Speaking of Andrew, one page is never enough to contain his genius. I was more than excited when he agreed to also give me (and you) a feature article for this issue as well – Capture and Keep Your Audience’s Attention. This article was also the perfect appetizer for his knockout keynote at Content Marketing World, which kept the audience hooked to the end while telling us how to hook an audience to the end.

“If your ‘learn more,’ ‘download now,’ or ‘buy now’ buttons are the destination and your content consumers never make it to the end of the video, how can you expect them to take action,” he asked.

Andrew described how to create suspense within your content – not by adding monsters or serial killers but by keeping the audience curious, holding back the answers to central questions until the end. “When someone says, ‘Your content is too long,’ what they’re really saying is ‘I ran out of questions before you ran out of content,’” Andrew writes.

Create suspense within your #content by keeping your audience curious, says @DrewDavisHere. Click To Tweet

One of the most fun articles I worked on this year was Comics: The Most Powerful Medium You’re Not Using. Not only could I release my inner geek, but I got to interview content marketer Buddy Scalera (about his other life as a comic writer) and Darren Sanchez of Marvel Custom Solutions.

“We are visual learners,” Buddy said. “A picture can help somebody to understand what you want them to do, whereas prose requires an abstract to concrete translation that not everybody’s going to be able to do.”

Of course, most people associate comics with certain genres and particularly superheroes. In the same article, Elissa Johnsen of Takeda Pharmaceuticals described how partnering with Marvel resulted in a graphic novel and ongoing comic series designed to spread information and provide support to people suffering from inflammatory bowel disorder. “Using superheroes and the world of graphic illustration allowed Takeda to help empower people living with IBD to overcome the unpredictability, anxiety, and stigma around the disease,” Elissa said.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT:

The Content Marketer’s Guide to Story Structure 2 Things to Know About Visual Content Strategy in 2019

Data crunching or data crunched (November 2018)

The November issue delved into data-driven content, with a series of articles that explored data’s changing role at different stages of the content strategy. Carmen Hill spoke with Julie Wisdom of London agency ALIAS Partners about the types of data that can sharpen the focus of your content strategy before you really begin. Meanwhile, Clare discussed data’s role in the production stages, and how conducting some original research can give your content greater authority.

Finally, Sarah Mitchell took to her soapbox in 20/20 hindsight to argue that some commonly used metrics don’t actually reveal very much. With additional comments from Rand Fishkin, Sarah describes why certain metrics might look impressive but are quite useless when determining how the content impacts the business bottom line.

Too many marketers mistakenly rely on the same metrics regardless of #content’s purpose, says @SarahMitchellOz. Click To Tweet

“The marketing metrics we use are disconnected from the things that actually impact the business goal,” Rand said.

Beyond the numbers

My wrap-up started with Fergal McGovern arguing that most metrics don’t reveal that much about content quality. It ended with Rand Fishkin making a very similar point.

So what is quality content? What are the opportunities (and limitations) of data? I think it’s safe to say these are just two themes CCO will continue to poke with variously shaped sticks — and expert opinions — throughout 2019.

Ready for one more spin around the sun?

Want to make sure you’re one of the first to know when CCO 2.0 arrives on site? Subscribe today to the free weekday newsletter.

Cover image by Joseph Kalinowski/Content Marketing Institute

The post Chief Content Officer: A Year of Insights appeared first on Content Marketing Institute.

Read more: contentmarketinginstitute.com

[lucyariablog]

Chief Content Officer: A Year of Insights

Has it been a whole year already? Well, not really. As I write this it’s still November and as you’re reading this, it’s the third week in December. A lot can happen in that time. But, assuming this ball of rock we live on successfully completes its routine circuit of the sun once more without major incident, it seems as good a time as any to reflect on how much has changed over the previous 12 months.

One of the biggest changes for Chief Content Officer magazine happened at the beginning of 2018. After seven years and 36 issues, Clare McDermott handed the editor’s red pen over to me in an emotional ritual involving arcane incantations, a branding iron, and a pledge to forever cast out the Oxford comma. (Stares hard at the blog editor. Get out of that!) (Blog editor’s response: Sorry, we use that comma here. We can’t afford any penalties resulting from missing commas.)

While I waited for the burning pain from the ritual to subside so I could sit down again, Clare’s final issue in February set a high bar for me to follow.

Finding the right words (February 2018)

The theme of content effectiveness – never mind how many people clicked on the content but is it any good – popped up more than a few times across 2018. Fergal McGovern kicked things off in February with an article on the UX of words.

I’m a word nerd, grammar pedant, and clarity zealot in the same way a car mechanic is a pedant about the right and wrong way to connect the flange to the whotsit. (The last sentence is also why I don’t service my own car.) So, Fergal’s article felt like a rallying cry for me and any other writer who has had to argue with stakeholders about why their buzzword bingo content does not sound more “professional.”

Fergal points out that the average U.S. resident reads at a seventh- or eighth-grade level. Before you complain about the education system, a user’s experience isn’t just about reading capability. As he argues, “even highly educated people disengage rather than spend the mental energy to unpack dense, complicated prose.” If you’ve ever struggled to get past the opening paragraphs of an overly formal, dry-as-biscuits white paper, you’ll know what he means.

People don’t have the mental energy to unpack a dry-as-biscuits white paper, says @kimota. Click To Tweet

“While web analytics can show page views, dwell times and usage paths, they won’t reveal issues with the content itself,” he writes. Now that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.

Also in February, Dan Hatch explained How to Train Your Journalist. Disappointingly, his piece wasn’t a low-budget sequel to the popular animated film series about dragons. Instead, Dan described how to overcome the challenges many journalists face when they first start to write on behalf of a brand.

“Journalism is a vocation,” he writes. “It’s also a profession that has a special place in democracy – holding governments, corporations, and individuals accountable.

“Gosh, but that can give you an ego. For some reporters, that can be hard to let go. And what you, as the person employing them, end up with are writers who think they’re too good to be writing the content you’re commissioning.”

Ouch. But before you think Dan is arguing that journalists are prima donnas to be avoided, he provides advice on how to harness a journalist’s nose for a strong story and knack for compelling and highly readable prose.

“They will adjust, I promise. But they might find this uncomfortable to start with – after all, someone who likely isn’t a writer is telling them how to write.”

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT:

A Primer to Boost Your Content’s Readability

4 Real-Life Ledes: Why They Work (and What Could Be Better)

Changing tools and strategies (May 2018)

The May issue was my first as editor, so I’m incredibly indebted to the rest of the team for helping me to make it such a great one. I still adore the cover by CCO designer Crystal Madrilejos, who has an enviable knack for turning vague, half-baked ideas from me into incredibly striking imagery.

Inside, I interviewed the always fascinating Joe Chernov to get to the bottom of account-based marketing (ABM) and why content marketers should care. “Yes, the funnel still has a top,” Joe explained. “It’s just a narrower top.”

You still need that top-of-funnel content, but you need to resist the temptation to aspire to a larger audience. What you want is a greater composition of the right audience.”

ABM resists the temptation to aspire to a larger audience in favor of the right audience, says @jchernov. Click To Tweet

A couple of pages later, Clare talked to strategist and cultural mythologist John Bucher (winner of this year’s coolest job title award) about whether the oft-heralded virtual reality boom is ever going to arrive. “VR is a popular buzzword, but as far as everyone having a headset … we’re not quite there,” he said.

VR is a popular buzzword, but as far as everyone having a headset … we’re not quite there. @johnkbucher Click To Tweet

However, John’s enthusiasm for VR isn’t dampened. He is encouraged by the ways in which some companies have begun to experiment with augmented reality (AR), which he sees as a gateway into VR for many people. “Creators of this technology are using the tools people already have, their smartphones, to add practical functionality to their daily experiences – something that lies at the core mission of so many brands,” he said.

If you’re still not convinced, Clare and John provide examples of how brands are using AR and VR successfully today. AR/VR may not be everyone’s reality just yet, but it has certainly become enough of a reality for some brands to create powerful new experiences for their audiences and consumers.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: 13 Smart Brands Using Technology to Power Their Content

Different pathways to great content (August 2018)

The August issue celebrated the gaming theme of this year’s Content Marketing World by turning the magazine into a choose-your-own-adventure book, which some of you may be old enough to remember (please don’t let me be the only one). Every article concluded with a series of options to determine which article to read next and which page to turn to.

Whether any readers followed these options from article to article or merely chuckled at the running gag, I don’t know. But I can assure you, all the possible pathways through the magazine link up to lead the intrepid reader to the final confrontation with Andrew Davis’ Unsolicited Advice column on page 54. I know because I spent far more hours than I should have making sure all the options and pathways worked.

Click to enlarge

Speaking of Andrew, one page is never enough to contain his genius. I was more than excited when he agreed to also give me (and you) a feature article for this issue as well – Capture and Keep Your Audience’s Attention. This article was also the perfect appetizer for his knockout keynote at Content Marketing World, which kept the audience hooked to the end while telling us how to hook an audience to the end.

“If your ‘learn more,’ ‘download now,’ or ‘buy now’ buttons are the destination and your content consumers never make it to the end of the video, how can you expect them to take action,” he asked.

Andrew described how to create suspense within your content – not by adding monsters or serial killers but by keeping the audience curious, holding back the answers to central questions until the end. “When someone says, ‘Your content is too long,’ what they’re really saying is ‘I ran out of questions before you ran out of content,’” Andrew writes.

Create suspense within your #content by keeping your audience curious, says @DrewDavisHere. Click To Tweet

One of the most fun articles I worked on this year was Comics: The Most Powerful Medium You’re Not Using. Not only could I release my inner geek, but I got to interview content marketer Buddy Scalera (about his other life as a comic writer) and Darren Sanchez of Marvel Custom Solutions.

“We are visual learners,” Buddy said. “A picture can help somebody to understand what you want them to do, whereas prose requires an abstract to concrete translation that not everybody’s going to be able to do.”

Of course, most people associate comics with certain genres and particularly superheroes. In the same article, Elissa Johnsen of Takeda Pharmaceuticals described how partnering with Marvel resulted in a graphic novel and ongoing comic series designed to spread information and provide support to people suffering from inflammatory bowel disorder. “Using superheroes and the world of graphic illustration allowed Takeda to help empower people living with IBD to overcome the unpredictability, anxiety, and stigma around the disease,” Elissa said.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT:

The Content Marketer’s Guide to Story Structure

2 Things to Know About Visual Content Strategy in 2019

Data crunching or data crunched (November 2018)

The November issue delved into data-driven content, with a series of articles that explored data’s changing role at different stages of the content strategy. Carmen Hill spoke with Julie Wisdom of London agency ALIAS Partners about the types of data that can sharpen the focus of your content strategy before you really begin. Meanwhile, Clare discussed data’s role in the production stages, and how conducting some original research can give your content greater authority.

Finally, Sarah Mitchell took to her soapbox in 20/20 hindsight to argue that some commonly used metrics don’t actually reveal very much. With additional comments from Rand Fishkin, Sarah describes why certain metrics might look impressive but are quite useless when determining how the content impacts the business bottom line.

Too many marketers mistakenly rely on the same metrics regardless of #content’s purpose, says @SarahMitchellOz. Click To Tweet

“The marketing metrics we use are disconnected from the things that actually impact the business goal,” Rand said.

Beyond the numbers

My wrap-up started with Fergal McGovern arguing that most metrics don’t reveal that much about content quality. It ended with Rand Fishkin making a very similar point.

So what is quality content? What are the opportunities (and limitations) of data? I think it’s safe to say these are just two themes CCO will continue to poke with variously shaped sticks — and expert opinions — throughout 2019.

Ready for one more spin around the sun?

Want to make sure you’re one of the first to know when CCO 2.0 arrives on site? Subscribe today to the free weekday newsletter.

Cover image by Joseph Kalinowski/Content Marketing Institute

The post Chief Content Officer: A Year of Insights appeared first on Content Marketing Institute.

from https://contentmarketinginstitute.com/2018/12/cco-year-insights/

[a-breton]

Chief Content Officer: A Year of Insights

Has it been a whole year already? Well, not really. As I write this it’s still November and as you’re reading this, it’s the third week in December. A lot can happen in that time. But, assuming this ball of rock we live on successfully completes its routine circuit of the sun once more without major incident, it seems as good a time as any to reflect on how much has changed over the previous 12 months.

One of the biggest changes for Chief Content Officer magazine happened at the beginning of 2018. After seven years and 36 issues, Clare McDermott handed the editor’s red pen over to me in an emotional ritual involving arcane incantations, a branding iron, and a pledge to forever cast out the Oxford comma. (Stares hard at the blog editor. Get out of that!) (Blog editor’s response: Sorry, we use that comma here. We can’t afford any penalties resulting from missing commas.)

While I waited for the burning pain from the ritual to subside so I could sit down again, Clare’s final issue in February set a high bar for me to follow.

Finding the right words (February 2018)

The theme of content effectiveness – never mind how many people clicked on the content but is it any good – popped up more than a few times across 2018. Fergal McGovern kicked things off in February with an article on the UX of words.

I’m a word nerd, grammar pedant, and clarity zealot in the same way a car mechanic is a pedant about the right and wrong way to connect the flange to the whotsit. (The last sentence is also why I don’t service my own car.) So, Fergal’s article felt like a rallying cry for me and any other writer who has had to argue with stakeholders about why their buzzword bingo content does not sound more “professional.”

Fergal points out that the average U.S. resident reads at a seventh- or eighth-grade level. Before you complain about the education system, a user’s experience isn’t just about reading capability. As he argues, “even highly educated people disengage rather than spend the mental energy to unpack dense, complicated prose.” If you’ve ever struggled to get past the opening paragraphs of an overly formal, dry-as-biscuits white paper, you’ll know what he means.

People don’t have the mental energy to unpack a dry-as-biscuits white paper, says @kimota. Click To Tweet

“While web analytics can show page views, dwell times and usage paths, they won’t reveal issues with the content itself,” he writes. Now that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.

Also in February, Dan Hatch explained How to Train Your Journalist. Disappointingly, his piece wasn’t a low-budget sequel to the popular animated film series about dragons. Instead, Dan described how to overcome the challenges many journalists face when they first start to write on behalf of a brand.

“Journalism is a vocation,” he writes. “It’s also a profession that has a special place in democracy – holding governments, corporations, and individuals accountable.

“Gosh, but that can give you an ego. For some reporters, that can be hard to let go. And what you, as the person employing them, end up with are writers who think they’re too good to be writing the content you’re commissioning.”

Ouch. But before you think Dan is arguing that journalists are prima donnas to be avoided, he provides advice on how to harness a journalist’s nose for a strong story and knack for compelling and highly readable prose.

“They will adjust, I promise. But they might find this uncomfortable to start with – after all, someone who likely isn’t a writer is telling them how to write.”

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT:

A Primer to Boost Your Content’s Readability

4 Real-Life Ledes: Why They Work (and What Could Be Better)

Changing tools and strategies (May 2018)

The May issue was my first as editor, so I’m incredibly indebted to the rest of the team for helping me to make it such a great one. I still adore the cover by CCO designer Crystal Madrilejos, who has an enviable knack for turning vague, half-baked ideas from me into incredibly striking imagery.

Inside, I interviewed the always fascinating Joe Chernov to get to the bottom of account-based marketing (ABM) and why content marketers should care. “Yes, the funnel still has a top,” Joe explained. “It’s just a narrower top.”

You still need that top-of-funnel content, but you need to resist the temptation to aspire to a larger audience. What you want is a greater composition of the right audience.”

ABM resists the temptation to aspire to a larger audience in favor of the right audience, says @jchernov. Click To Tweet

A couple of pages later, Clare talked to strategist and cultural mythologist John Bucher (winner of this year’s coolest job title award) about whether the oft-heralded virtual reality boom is ever going to arrive. “VR is a popular buzzword, but as far as everyone having a headset … we’re not quite there,” he said.

VR is a popular buzzword, but as far as everyone having a headset … we’re not quite there. @johnkbucher Click To Tweet

However, John’s enthusiasm for VR isn’t dampened. He is encouraged by the ways in which some companies have begun to experiment with augmented reality (AR), which he sees as a gateway into VR for many people. “Creators of this technology are using the tools people already have, their smartphones, to add practical functionality to their daily experiences – something that lies at the core mission of so many brands,” he said.

If you’re still not convinced, Clare and John provide examples of how brands are using AR and VR successfully today. AR/VR may not be everyone’s reality just yet, but it has certainly become enough of a reality for some brands to create powerful new experiences for their audiences and consumers.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: 13 Smart Brands Using Technology to Power Their Content

Different pathways to great content (August 2018)

The August issue celebrated the gaming theme of this year’s Content Marketing World by turning the magazine into a choose-your-own-adventure book, which some of you may be old enough to remember (please don’t let me be the only one). Every article concluded with a series of options to determine which article to read next and which page to turn to.

Whether any readers followed these options from article to article or merely chuckled at the running gag, I don’t know. But I can assure you, all the possible pathways through the magazine link up to lead the intrepid reader to the final confrontation with Andrew Davis’ Unsolicited Advice column on page 54. I know because I spent far more hours than I should have making sure all the options and pathways worked.

Click to enlarge

Speaking of Andrew, one page is never enough to contain his genius. I was more than excited when he agreed to also give me (and you) a feature article for this issue as well – Capture and Keep Your Audience’s Attention. This article was also the perfect appetizer for his knockout keynote at Content Marketing World, which kept the audience hooked to the end while telling us how to hook an audience to the end.

“If your ‘learn more,’ ‘download now,’ or ‘buy now’ buttons are the destination and your content consumers never make it to the end of the video, how can you expect them to take action,” he asked.

Andrew described how to create suspense within your content – not by adding monsters or serial killers but by keeping the audience curious, holding back the answers to central questions until the end. “When someone says, ‘Your content is too long,’ what they’re really saying is ‘I ran out of questions before you ran out of content,’” Andrew writes.

Create suspense within your #content by keeping your audience curious, says @DrewDavisHere. Click To Tweet

One of the most fun articles I worked on this year was Comics: The Most Powerful Medium You’re Not Using. Not only could I release my inner geek, but I got to interview content marketer Buddy Scalera (about his other life as a comic writer) and Darren Sanchez of Marvel Custom Solutions.

“We are visual learners,” Buddy said. “A picture can help somebody to understand what you want them to do, whereas prose requires an abstract to concrete translation that not everybody’s going to be able to do.”

Of course, most people associate comics with certain genres and particularly superheroes. In the same article, Elissa Johnsen of Takeda Pharmaceuticals described how partnering with Marvel resulted in a graphic novel and ongoing comic series designed to spread information and provide support to people suffering from inflammatory bowel disorder. “Using superheroes and the world of graphic illustration allowed Takeda to help empower people living with IBD to overcome the unpredictability, anxiety, and stigma around the disease,” Elissa said.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT:

The Content Marketer’s Guide to Story Structure

2 Things to Know About Visual Content Strategy in 2019

Data crunching or data crunched (November 2018)

The November issue delved into data-driven content, with a series of articles that explored data’s changing role at different stages of the content strategy. Carmen Hill spoke with Julie Wisdom of London agency ALIAS Partners about the types of data that can sharpen the focus of your content strategy before you really begin. Meanwhile, Clare discussed data’s role in the production stages, and how conducting some original research can give your content greater authority.

Finally, Sarah Mitchell took to her soapbox in 20/20 hindsight to argue that some commonly used metrics don’t actually reveal very much. With additional comments from Rand Fishkin, Sarah describes why certain metrics might look impressive but are quite useless when determining how the content impacts the business bottom line.

Too many marketers mistakenly rely on the same metrics regardless of #content’s purpose, says @SarahMitchellOz. Click To Tweet

“The marketing metrics we use are disconnected from the things that actually impact the business goal,” Rand said.

Beyond the numbers

My wrap-up started with Fergal McGovern arguing that most metrics don’t reveal that much about content quality. It ended with Rand Fishkin making a very similar point.

So what is quality content? What are the opportunities (and limitations) of data? I think it’s safe to say these are just two themes CCO will continue to poke with variously shaped sticks — and expert opinions — throughout 2019.

Ready for one more spin around the sun?

Want to make sure you’re one of the first to know when CCO 2.0 arrives on site? Subscribe today to the free weekday newsletter.

Cover image by Joseph Kalinowski/Content Marketing Institute

from http://bit.ly/2rJtM0s

[democratsunited-blog]

If Bill Clinton had never been president, Democrats would be better off today

https://uniteddemocrats.net/?p=5675

If Bill Clinton had never been president, Democrats would be better off today

AS FLEETWOOD MAC took the stage in January 1993, awkwardness hung in the air. It was, after all, the full band’s first performance since an acrimonious breakup many years earlier. When the familiar chords of “Don’t Stop” filled the stadium, Lindsey Buckingham managed to ape his acrobatic guitar playing from the ’70s. His voice, however, refused to come out of early retirement. Stevie Nicks wore an unfortunate Mad Hatter cap and a confused, bug-eyed expression that hinted at some kind of hostage situation.

Yet as soon as a band member called out, “Sir, would you join us, please?” everything began to feel right. The youthful president-elect, Bill Clinton, looking dashing in his tux, glided onto the stage for a gala on the eve of his inauguration, joined by his wife and daughter, and then Al and Tipper Gore.

Clinton smoothly tapped a tambourine as he sang “don’t stop thinking about tomorrow,” the hopeful refrain that the Man from Hope had selected as his campaign theme. Watching him light up the place, two observations were unavoidable. First, history was being made. The 46-year-old president-elect — the first boomer to win the White House — was taking the baton from an old-fashioned elder who had been born during Calvin Coolidge’s presidency. Second, not only couldn’t Al Gore dance to the beat, but he seemed to have trouble even clapping to it.

The next evening, departing from the presidential tradition of simply making an appearance at each inaugural ball, Clinton projected vitality all night long, soaking up the energy from a dozen different celebrations held in his honor. Whether playing the saxophone with Clarence Clemons, swaying to the music with Michael Jackson, or cracking jokes with Jimmy Buffett, Clinton never seemed to want to leave.

Get Today’s Headlines in your inbox:

The day’s top stories delivered every morning.

At the “youth inaugural ball,” he bit his lip to signal a serious note and told the young crowd, “You and your generation are a lot of what this election was all about, and I hope you felt like you won today.” As thousands of elated Gen Xers roared their approval, he continued. “I hope that this day will always be something you want to tell your children and grandchildren about, something you’ll always be proud of.”

Related Links

The backstory on this alternate version of presidential history

Imagining a Bill Clinton loss to George H. W. Bush in ‘92 reveals where Democratic party ideology went off the rails.

A quarter-century later, I challenge you to find a beaming Gen Xer who reminisces to her kids about that magical day when she helped usher in the Clinton years. (I mean besides Chelsea — and who knows if even she is doing much beaming these days.)

In the #MeToo era, it has become a common lament for progressive Democrats to wish Bill Clinton would just go away, especially after his latest round of tone-deaf, remorseless comments about “that woman, Miss Lewinsky.” One reason: As long as his ghost of sexual misbehavior hovers in the air, it undercuts Democrats’ ability to call out similar malfeasance by other powerful men, most notably the current president.

In reality, that lament is far too narrow. Sexual misbehavior represents just one of the many ghosts from the Clinton years that continue to haunt the Democratic Party.

Here’s a provocative alternate reality that, with the benefit of time, is just starting to come into focus: All those joyful Democrats who tearfully celebrated the generation-shifting results of the 1992 election would likely be better off today if Bill Clinton had lost and George H. W. Bush had been reelected.

In erasing Bill Clinton’s victory, I am not suggesting we also erase his ’92 campaign, or adopt a George Bailey “better off if I’d never been born” scenario from It’s a Wonderful Life.

Clinton is an enormously important figure in the history of the modern Democratic Party. By pushing his “Third Way” moderate-reform agenda on issues like welfare and crime, he proved the Democrats could once again be viable competitors in postindustrial presidential politics. He stopped the bleeding and may have helped spare them from a Whig-like demise into nothing-but-a-congressional party, and then nothing at all.

Just how far into the wilderness of presidential politics had the Democrats drifted by the time Clinton made his run? Consider this simple arithmetic: Count all the electoral votes that the Democratic nominees for president received in 1972, 1980, 1984, and 1988, add them all up, and you’d still be 80 votes shy of the 270 it takes to win a single election. The Democrats’ only win in the nearly three decades between 1964 and 1992 was Jimmy Carter’s improbable victory in 1976, an asterisk made possible by a powerful post-Watergate backlash. When Carter ran for reelection four years later, the sitting president garnered a whopping 49 electoral votes.

No, the Democrats wouldn’t be better off today if Clinton had never run — just if he’d never won.

BEFORE WE GET TO WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN, let’s review what actually was. We’ll start with a pop quiz for Democrats: Name the three most important domestic achievements of the Clinton administration.

Chances are you’ll say a booming economy — the byproduct of responsible financial stewardship that converted record budget deficits into healthy surpluses. If you lean centrist or buy into pollster sabermetrics, you might mention welfare reform, which finally neutered the devastating if cynical tactic Republicans had used to paint their Democratic opponents as defenders of lazy “welfare queens.” Or maybe you’ll cite the assault weapons ban of 1994, a high-water mark for gun control that no pol of that persuasion has managed to come close to since, despite the numbing frequency of mass shootings.

Follow-up question: Which achievements from the Clinton years still hold up today?

Do you need more time?

I tried this exercise with several presidential historians and public policy pros, and the most common answer turned out to be “very little.”

PEP MONTSERRAT for the boston globe

If you’re a policy wonk with a good memory, you might mention the expansion of the earned income tax credit or CHIP, the Children’s Health Insurance Program. Those are both worthy achievements, but hardly the kind of legacy granite that would get you anywhere near Rushmore.

As for all that hard-fought budgetary discipline that produced a booming economy and an across-the-board rise in real wages, all of that got swept away like confetti the morning after an election party. Not long after Clinton unpacked his things in Chappaqua, his successor was presiding over a sputtering economy, increased poverty, and yawning deficits.

Much of the blame for that financial recklessness, of course, rests with George W. Bush. But the fickle nature and uncertain authorship of boom times explain why historians generally don’t focus much on the economy when calculating their presidential rankings. What’s more, the ease and speed with which the gains from the ’90s were erased helped expose profound miscalculations that Clinton made in economic and social policy.

Take welfare reform. Clinton is now roundly criticized by progressive Democrats for having pushed an overhaul of the welfare system purely for reasons of political expedience. In fact, that characterization is close to dead wrong.

Going back to the early 1980s, Clinton as a young governor was showing his determination to fix the abundant problems in a welfare system creaking with age, inefficiency, and perverse incentives. His Third Way/New Democrat approach made him attractive to voters nationally not just because it was smart politics, but also because it was sound public policy. And he knew he had a winning issue. He repeated his promise to “end welfare as we know it” so often on the campaign trail that aides began using the shorthand of EWAWKI.

Where the pure political expedience kicked in with Clinton was his decision during his 1996 reelection campaign to jettison all his years of seriousness in trying to find a fair, workable welfare reform plan. After vetoing two unserious, mostly punitive Republican welfare bills, Clinton signed one that was only marginally less bad. How bad? Three of the smartest social-policy minds in his administration resigned in protest.

One of them was Peter Edelman, who served as an assistant secretary in the Department of Health and Human Services. (He had been close with Hillary Rodham for decades, having introduced her in 1969 to his wife, Children’s Defense Fund founder Marian Wright Edelman, who became one of her best friends.)

Today, Edelman tells me he knew the president he went to work for was not a fellow liberal. But even if the train chugged along more slowly than he might have liked, he always assumed it would move in the correct direction. Not so. When Clinton signed the Republican welfare bill in 1996, Edelman says, “I was shocked. It was an unspeakable blow to millions of utterly powerless people.”

As for Clinton’s justification that he risked losing reelection if he didn’t sign it, Edelman calls that “pure bull — just rationalizing.” He points to a meeting when Clinton polled his top advisers. Even the most centrist or politically savvy voices in the room — Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin, chief of staff Leon Panetta, and senior adviser George Stephanopoulos — sided with the liberals in encouraging him to veto it, confident that it would not cost him a second term. Only domestic adviser Bruce Reed and Commerce Secretary Mickey Kantor recommended that he sign it.

The damage, Edelman says, was masked by the rising tide of the late-’90s boom, which lifted all boats and led to record-low poverty rates. But when the economy turned bad, it became clear that the welfare law Clinton had signed effectively dismantled the safety net for millions of vulnerable people. That helped pave the way for today’s near-record-high income inequality.

The assault weapons ban produced a different kind of failure. Clinton deserves lots of credit for getting this sensible legislation passed. Still, it was packaged with an overall crime bill that, we now know, did far more damage than good. It significantly accelerated the growth of the prison-industrial complex, and its “truth in sentencing” components greatly increased both the amount of time criminals spent in prison and the racial disparities within our justice system. Across Clinton’s eight years in office, the number of people imprisoned in this country grew by nearly 60 percent.

That’s why it was so easy for Bernie Sanders to score points with progressives in the 2016 campaign by blaming Hillary Clinton for the fallout from her husband’s crime policies, which she supported. In fairness, though, crime was an incredibly hot-button issue with voters in the early 1990s. Fears about carjacking and crack dens, fanned by the emergence of 24-hour cable news, were prominent in people’s minds. Democrats who wanted to stay in office could not be seen as soft on crime. Remember that the darling of the left, Mario Cuomo, added more prison beds as New York governor than all of his predecessors had combined. Also remember that the list of congressmen who voted in favor of Clinton’s 1994 crime bill included a certain Vermont socialist with a Brooklyn accent.

And how about that assault weapons ban? To squeak it through Congress, the Clinton team accepted a compromise letting the ban expire after 10 years. Clinton’s legislative affairs director Patrick Griffin says in his oral history that the price Democrats paid for it could not have been steeper. He argues that the National Rifle Association’s rage over the ban was the biggest factor in propelling Newt Gingrich’s “Republican Revolution” takeover of Congress that same year, which thwarted Clinton’s entire agenda.

The Clinton years offer plentiful examples of noble goals married with clumsy execution producing devastating consequences. Health care reform blew up badly enough to render it a crime scene that no one dared go near for another decade and a half. The president who attempted to keep his promise to young, progressive supporters by allowing gays in the military ended up signing the retrograde Defense of Marriage Act.

The Republican wave in ’94, framed around Gingrich’s “Contract with America,” sapped much of the policy ambition out of Clinton. Overnight, his focus shifted from persuasion to survival.

For Gingrich, the Republican Revolution was part of a grand plan he began scripting four years earlier. That’s when, as the House minority whip, he had infuriated President George H.W. Bush and the entire Republican leadership by reneging at the last minute on his support for the 1990 bipartisan budget agreement. The budget deal, which required Bush to raise taxes and break his “read my lips” campaign pledge, turned out to be the critical scaffolding on which Clinton’s deficit-reduction plans were built. But it also turned out to be the start to a ferocious revolt within the Republican Party.

“You can draw a direct line from Gingrich’s decision to break with Bush in 1990 to the Contract with America,” says historian and Bush 41 biographer Timothy Naftali. And that line continues long after 1994. The anti-elite, starve-the-beast Gingrich Republicans, he says, paved the way for the drain-the-swamp Tea Party crowd.

And Gingrich clearly had loftier ambitions than simply being elected House speaker in 1994 and upending Clinton’s presidency. As Bush budget director Richard Darman had predicted two years before that, “Newt is on a path for himself to be president of the United States.”

Associated press/file photos

Although Clinton argued he needed to sign welfare reform to avoid losing reelection, his savviest aides argued otherwise, including, from left, Robert Rubin, Leon Panetta, and George Stephanopoulos.

LISTEN TO TODAY’S CRITIQUES from the leaders of the left, Senators Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders. Sure, they bash Donald Trump and George W. Bush, Mitch McConnell and Paul Ryan. But if you trace their indictment back to its roots, you’ll see they’re really talking about Clinton.

When they complain about how “billionaire bankers” from Wall Street hijacked Washington, “rigging the system” against the little guys, they’re largely referring to the decisions made by Clinton and his most influential economic adviser, Robert Rubin, as well as Rubin’s deputy and successor, Larry Summers.

As with so many of Clinton’s instincts, his shift on economic policy came from a sensible place. After decades of relying on the New Deal/Great Society playbook rather than working to craft a plan better suited to a changing economy, Democrats had developed a reputation for being reflexively antibusiness and pro-bureaucracy. Clinton and others in the centrist Democratic Leadership Council argued that Democrats had to do a better job of listening to business interests.

Again, it’s important to remember that the ’90s were a different time. How different? Millennial progressives, you might want to sit down for this one: Elizabeth Warren was, until 1996, a registered Republican.

Instead of listening to Main Street, however, Clinton ended up embracing the corporatist ideology of Wall Street, whose evangelists arrived overflowing with both confidence and campaign cash.

The Clinton economic approach began with deficit reduction. He hadn’t paid much attention to that issue during the ’92 presidential campaign until Ross Perot hopped into the race, built his entire third-party campaign around it, and improbably garnered 19 percent of the vote. So Clinton began zooming in on the deficit almost from the moment he entered the Oval Office, presumably right after he finished reading that inimitably classy letter of support that outgoing President Bush had left for him.

Leon Panetta, who headed up the Office of Management and Budget for Clinton before becoming his chief of staff, recalls how committed the new president was to doing fiscal discipline the right way. “I can remember almost a day after the inaugural that we sat down with him in the Roosevelt Room and began walking through the budget, line item by line item,” Panetta tells me, pointing out how rare it was for a president to get that granular. That, he says, was Clinton’s great gift — possessing the policy mind of a Jimmy Carter and the communications skills of a Ronald Reagan.

Yet fiscal discipline was only one component of the Clinton economic policy that came to be known as “Rubinomics.” It also featured financial deregulation and pro-corporate trade policy, all set against a largely unquestioning embrace of globalization. Remember that it was during the Clinton administration that derivatives were deregulated, NAFTA was approved, the Glass-Steagall Act separating investment and commercial banks was repealed, and China, despite its record of rampant rules violations and human rights abuse, was welcomed into the World Trade Organization. In championing NAFTA, Clinton assured displaced blue-collar workers they would get a real safety net of job retraining and additional support so they could successfully transition to the new economy. Even though Republicans roundly blocked that kind of spending, that didn’t stop Clinton from pursuing additional trade deals.

It was an agenda that could have been gift wrapped for Goldman Sachs, where the well-liked Rubin served as cochairman before joining the Clinton team, and Citigroup, which he joined immediately after leaving the administration.

“Clinton presided over a huge amount of financial deregulation, which set in motion the extreme speculation that ultimately led to the financial collapse in 2008,” Robert Kuttner, cofounder of the progressive journal The American Prospect, tells me. “It led to a worsening of income inequality and also made the Democratic Party more captive to Wall Street.”

Kuttner, who wrote a prescient profile of Rubin a year before the financial meltdown, says the upshot is that today, “Democrats have less and less credibility with ordinary Americans on pocketbook issues.” (Panetta concedes, “A lot of people dropped the ball, not just in the Clinton administration.”)

What the Democrats ceded was the ability to distinguish themselves as the party not beholden to powerful Wall Street interests. That’s why a New York billionaire like Trump could in 2016 make such light work of painting Hillary Clinton as a tool of Goldman Sachs, even though he would go on to stack his Cabinet with Goldman Sachs executives and billionaire financiers.

AP/File

Clinton’s sexual misbehavior with Monica Lewinsky is just one of the many ghosts still hovering from his presidency.

Of course, Bill Clinton’s biggest unforced error was his affair with 22-year-old intern Monica Lewinsky. Infidelity by Clinton was not surprising, given all the drama prior to the New Hampshire primary in 1992 about “bimbo eruptions” — the term coined by Clinton deputy campaign chair Betsey Wright to describe the fusillade of rumors about extramarital affairs. People who voted for Clinton knew the sins of this Southern governor involved a lot more than just lust in his heart.

Russell Riley, the head of the Presidential Oral History Program at the University of Virginia’s Miller Center, says Clinton’s aides were so determined to avoid scandal that they had protocols in place to prevent the president from being alone with women. (Maybe that’s where Mike Pence got the idea for his never-alone-with-a-lady-besides-my-wife rule.) How did the system fall apart with Lewinsky? The government shutdown in November 1995 cleared the White House of everyone except senior leaders and lowly interns, and that left Clinton unchaperoned.

Despite Clinton’s past, his aides were nonetheless shocked by his recklessness. Panetta worked with Democratic and Republican presidents from Carter to Barack Obama. “I never saw someone who loved being president more than Bill Clinton,” he says. “I never in million years thought he’d risk it all like he did.”

The Republican House impeached Clinton, led by Gingrich, whose moral outrage was undiluted by the fact that he was cheating on his second wife and had reportedly pressed his first wife, who had been diagnosed with cancer, about a divorce while she lay in a hospital bed recovering from surgery. After the impeachment push turned out to be a giant overreach, Clinton not only survived but saw his approval ratings rise.

Yet the collateral damage for the Democrats was massive, and enduring.

Before the Lewinsky scandal, Fox News was a distant third in prime-time cable news. Because of it, the conservative channel’s ratings grew a staggering 400 percent. In his book, The Loudest Voice in the Room, Gabriel Sherman writes that during the scandal, Bill O’Reilly and Sean Hannity “were reborn as cultural bulwarks against a growing number of contemptible influences: Bill Clinton’s libido, the media, environmentalists, gay activists.” He quotes a former executive for the network saying, “When Bill [O’Reilly] started wagging his finger at the president and raising his voice, that was the genesis of the modern Fox News.”

If Clinton didn’t pay for his transgressions — and continues to resist owning up to them — others around him sure did. Aside from Lewinsky, the biggest victim of the scandal had to be his handpicked successor, Al Gore.

AND NOW, AN ALTERNATE VERSION OF HISTORY . . .

PEP MONTSERRAT for the boston globe

Let’s get the disclosures out of the way. Yes, I understand you can’t go back and change the past. Even if we could, we’d never be able to predict with confidence how events would have unfolded. As Quantum Leap taught us, just the attempt to alter the past can introduce all manner of unintended consequences.

If your mind won’t let you get past the limitations of this counterfactual imagining of a Clinton loss to Bush in ’92, I won’t protest if you stop reading now. For everyone else, please buckle up and remember to keep your hands inside the car at all times as you hop on this alternate-political-reality ride. It begins in 1997 as George H. W. Bush completes what would have been his second term in office . . .

George H.W. Bush sat down at his desk in the Oval Office on the last morning of his presidency and began writing a letter to his successor. Right thing to do. “When I walked into this office just now, I felt the same sense of wonder and respect that I felt all those years ago,” he began. “You will be our President when you read this note. I wish you well. I wish your family well. Your success is now our country’s success. I am rooting hard for you. Good Luck — George.”

He dated it January 20, 1997. He addressed it, naturally, to his successor, Bill Bradley.

[Or maybe it was Al Gore. Or Jay Rockefeller, George Mitchell, Ann Richards, Paul Wellstone, John Kerry, or Howard Dean. Or maybe even, at long last, Hamlet on the Hudson himself, Mario Cuomo. It might even have been a Democrat with an unfamiliar name. This is, after all, the imagined part of our alternative version of history. The point is: Bush, after two terms, would have been handing off the presidency to a Democrat who was not Bill Clinton.]

 As Bush reflected on his tenure, the word he kept coming back to was “exhaustion.” The 41st president was 72, and, after two terms as president and two terms as Reagan’s vice president, he was more than ready to leave Washington for good. Time to relax with Bar and the dogs in Houston and especially in Kennebunkport.

Bush was being sincere in wishing his Democratic successor well. He was a proud Republican, had been all his life. But first and foremost, he was an American. Why wouldn’t he root for the president? The American president?

And if he was being completely honest with himself, Bush shed no tears for the Republican nominee who had just lost the 1996 election, Newt Gingrich. Never trusted that guy — too slippery. That’s why Bush had been so crushed when Gingrich cruised past both Dan Quayle and Bob Dole in the primaries to get the ’96 Republican nomination.

Bush’s mind flashed back to that meeting in the White House during his first term, the one when Gingrich had agreed to stand with him in support of the 1990 bipartisan budget deal. United front. Good of the country and all that. But when they started walking out to the Rose Garden for the press conference, Bush asked an aide, “Where’s Gingrich?” Turned out, the guy had headed up to Capitol Hill. CNN even caught his betrayal on camera as he walked away. Then Gingrich had wasted no time in bad-mouthing the deal. Could tell even back then how thirsty for power that fella was, how he wouldn’t stop until he was president.

Bush wasn’t crazy about the budget deal, of course. Knew the critics were going to savage him for breaking his “read my lips” campaign promise. But if he was prepared to take it on the chin for violating his Dirty Harry pledge, why shouldn’t some guy who’d been House minority whip for only one year? Bush also knew if they didn’t tackle the deficits, none of the economic prosperity that the country had begun to enjoy during his second term would have been possible. Sometimes, even Republicans had to raise taxes. For crying out loud, even Reagan knew that.

Bush had heard all about Gingrich’s blame game trying to explain away his loss in ’96. So like him to point fingers instead of taking responsibility for his mistakes. Be a man. Instead, Gingrich had been peddling some cock-and-bull revisionist story to anyone who would listen about how the Republicans would have been better off if Clinton had actually beaten Bush. Imagine that, a Republican leader talking with regret about a Republican president winning reelection!

Bush knew Gingrich had been a history professor before entering politics, so people took him seriously when he talked about historical patterns. How new presidents tend to get clobbered in midterm elections. How, if Clinton had actually beaten Bush in ’92, the timing would have been perfect two years later for some kind of fierce backlash. How it would have produced a Republican wave across the country in ’94. Not just enough to win back the Senate, mind you, but enough to finally break the Democrats’ hold on the House. Gingrich was telling people now that, instead of being stuck in the minority, he would have become speaker and been able to reshape national politics. Dream on, Newt.

AP/File

If Bush had beaten Clinton in 1992, his second term would likely have been a long intraparty battle with the ambitious Newt Gingrich. Instead, Clinton became Gingrich’s chief target.

The fella now insists all the philandering that got Clinton into so much trouble during the campaign would have resurfaced if the Arkansas governor had actually managed to win in ’92. Would’ve doomed his presidency. To Bush, that seemed like to a whole lot of nonsense.

Bush never shied away from tough politics. He was proud of his record as an honorable and principled guy while in office, even if he knew he was sometimes less so when vying for it. Campaigns weren’t for the faint of heart.

That’s why he looked the other way in 1988 while Lee Atwater did his thing and some PAC ran that Willie Horton ad savaging Mike Dukakis. A decent man, Dukakis was. Still is. If you want to Monday-morning-quarterback it, Dukakis probably didn’t deserve all that Horton business. But he probably shouldn’t have been running for president, either.

Even if you campaign aggressively, though, Bush knew there had to be limits. Had to keep it about policy, not personal lives. That’s why, during the ’92 race, he had no interest in turning Clinton’s womanizing into a campaign issue.

Besides, where does Gingrich get off talking publicly about bimbo eruptions and all that? Back in 1980, after he argued with his first wife about the terms of their divorce while she was in the hospital, didn’t he tell his aide that the poor lady battling cancer wasn’t “young enough or pretty enough to be the wife of the president”? Disgraceful. And he was already angling for the White House when he’d been in Congress for just two years!

The only excuse for Gingrich’s loss that seemed legitimate to Bush was that Ross Perot probably had cost him the ’96 election by running as a third-party candidate. Back in ’92, Bush had feared that Perot might screw up his own reelection bid if the Texas billionaire jumped into that race, but he had stayed on the sidelines. And Bush had the same worry four years before that, when that blowhard Trump kept running his mouth about how he was going to run for president as an independent in ’88. Buying full-page ads in the papers, campaigning in New Hampshire, and whatnot. Good thing that turned out to be just empty talk. Like so much with Trump.

Bush had to admit that his first term felt a whole lot more fulfilling than his second one. Amazingly, managing the end of the Cold War and the international coalition that forced Saddam out of Kuwait had turned out to be less soul-sapping than trying to negotiate, over and over, with the obstinate right wing of his own party.

How many times had he sat Gingrich down on that cream-colored sofa over there and tried explaining it all to that son of a so-and-so? How, if a Republican president couldn’t count on his own party to get things done, he’d have no choice but to make deals with Dick Gephardt and George Mitchell. How, if Gingrich couldn’t get past his purity tests over taxes and insisted on carrying out a civil war within their party, he’d ensure that a Democrat — and not Gingrich—would be the next occupant of the White House.

“I don’t doubt that you’re a smart cookie,” Bush would tell him. “But the American people want to see Washington get things done. Not going to twiddle my thumbs for the next four years while you say no to everything.”   

Clinton may have lost in ’92, but because he had turned it into such a close race, after a generation of blowouts for the Democrats, his party realized the Arkansas governor had been on to something after all. It dawned on them that if they found someone like Clinton — maybe a little less centrist so the liberals wouldn’t get so worked up, and with a much more normal personal life — they’d have a real shot the next cycle.

Bush figured that’s why, after years of stalling, Democratic leaders had finally been willing to tackle welfare reform during his second term. Gingrich should have welcomed the opportunity, given how long he’d been talking about the broken system. But Gingrich refused to support any reform that didn’t slash funding. Didn’t take a Rhodes Scholar to figure out that would be a nonstarter with a Democratic Congress. So Bush had cut a deal with Mitchell and Gephardt that gave millions of poor mothers the kind of training and support they needed to move from welfare to work. What kind of person wouldn’t support that?

In pivoting away from Gingrich and toward bipartisan deals, Bush had been replicating some of his biggest successes from his first term. Take the Americans With Disabilities Act. Let the old cranks at the diner whine about all the money being wasted on ramps, or all the best parking spaces now being off-limits. Just thinking about how that one law improved the lives of millions of disabled Americans — including lots of wounded veterans, this nation’s true heroes — made Bush smile. And every time he sat out on his patio in Kennebunkport and took in the clean, salty air while watching the Atlantic waves crash into Walker’s Point, he was reminded of how precious this planet is. And how proud he was of his work to help keep it that way by signing the Clean Air Amendments back in 1990.

Having to deal with a Democratic Senate meant that when Bush had the chance to name two more justices to the Supreme Court in his second term, he had no shot of getting another lightning rod like Clarence Thomas through. Mitchell and Joe Biden assured him that if he chose another moderate like his first appointment, David Souter, the nominee would sail through. A lot of Republicans had grumbled that Souter was some kind of “stealth” nominee, a closet liberal. Bush was surprised Souter turned out to be so moderate, especially since he’d been championed by Bush’s conservative chief of staff, John Sununu. Still, Souter seemed like a decent, smart, sensible fella. Reminded Bush of his own father, a rock-ribbed New England Republican who was star quality in everything he did. A couple more Souters on the court wouldn’t be so bad. Especially since Bush knew he’d never have to run for reelection again and be forced to listen to those self-important bores at the Federalist Society chewing him out.

The only times Bush secretly wished he had lost to Clinton in ’92 were when that pest Lawrence Walsh held yet another press conference or announced yet another indictment in his endless Iran-Contra probe. No doubt that whole investigation would have withered on the vine if Bush had not been reelected. Instead, Bush’s win breathed new life into Walsh, who could be as single-minded as Millie was when biting into her chew toy. Bush had considered pardoning Caspar Weinberger, his pal from the Reagan administration, at the end of his first term, but knew the Democrats would accuse him of obstruction of justice. So he waited until the end of his second term.

Bush glanced at his watch. It was getting late. He sealed the letter for his successor and left it on the center of the desk blotter. As he stood up and admired for one last time the luminist landscapes hanging on the Oval Office walls, his son walked in.

“Dad, it’s almost time,” George W. Bush said.

“All set,” Bush replied. He wondered what would be next for his son. George W. had cycled through so many assignments in the White House during his father’s two terms, never quite finding the right fit. He’d begun talking about maybe running for governor of Texas in ’98, but that didn’t seem very likely.

Bush prized his son’s loyalty. Nothing more important than loyalty. But being a successful politician took a lot more than that. Bush thought back to his first term, when his son had volunteered to play the enforcer role for his father. Bush went along with it, even giving his son the thankless assignment of being the one to tell Sununu he had to resign. And yet Sununu had emerged from that meeting with W. convinced he still had the job. Some enforcer W. was. Just thinking about that incident again now, Bush felt a smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

As he exited the Oval Office for the last time, Bush knew there was no chance George W. would ever get a turn behind that desk.

 But there was always Jeb.

Neil Swidey is a Globe Magazine staff writer. E-mail him at swidey@globe.com. Follow him on Twitter @neilswidey. 

Read full story here

[hoorayfornicepeople-blog]

February 26, 2018

Where to begin? Probably with a deep breath. Two months from today, I will be on a plane back to the States, which means I have reached the half way point. Time certainly doesn’t slow down. Today I went to the immigration office in Kampala to swap my tourist visa out for a student visa, symbolic of some sort of greater permanence, of this becoming a kind of home and less of a quick stop along the way.

This week is probably also the busiest week of the semester so far (or so it feels). Last week was spring break, which I spent on my rural homestay, with a family in Soroti, in the Serere district of Northern Uganda. We left last Friday on the 16th and returned just last night (Sunday). The week left me with an awful lot to process through, which made jumping into this busy week quite challenging. Today, I struggled to balance the need to prioritize processing, with some of the pressing academic tasks that needed to be done. This has been a consistent thread this semester, but it felt particularly heightened today. I spent the week totally unplugged from technology and the rest of the world and reentry last night brought me 169 new emails and zero desire to read any of them. The emotional energy required to talk with people and explain my week to them proved difficult to find. Many of you have already responded to my inability to explain with understanding and grace.

Tonight, in an attempt to sort through the emails remaining unread from last night, I read the notes from the first La Vida training, which happened last week while I was away. (Update in case I haven’t told you— headed to the Adirondack’s to Sherpa in August!!) Per usual with God’s timing, the “devo thought” from the training was so poignant and relevant to my inner dialogue that I could have cried. It was taken from Elton Trueblood:

“The man who supposes that he has no time to pray or to reflect, because of social tasks which are urgent and numerous, will soon find that he has become fundamentally unproductive, because he will have separated his life from his roots….A man has made a step toward a genuine maturity when he realizes that, though he ought to perform kind and just acts, the greatest gift he can give others consist in being a radiant and encouraging person. What we are is more significant in the long run, than what we do. It is impossible for a man to give what he does not have.”

Yesterday, Will had reminded me to give myself permission to prioritize my mental, emotional, spiritual health/need for processing and reflection, even if that meant temporarily setting aside an assignment or other academic task. You know me enough to know that this advice is a tough pill for me to swallow, even though I know it’s true. Today, it was abundantly clear to me that lack of processing, even briefly, was leaving me “fundamentally unproductive,” no matter how much I tried to discipline myself. And so here I am, engaging in one of the most cathartic exercises I’ve ever known, writing. As usual, I am grateful for your willingness to sit patiently and listen while I attempt to sort through the richness of this experience and put it into words.

Spring Break 2k18… last year during spring break there was a giant blizzard. This year, in Sortoti, the average weekly temperature was somewhere around 100 degrees (not even hyperbolizing here). I went into the week expecting I would sleep in a hut, slaughter a chicken, carry water on my head, and milk a cow. I did none of the above. There’s a lesson on perception and expectations in there. When I was dropped off on Saturday, my host mama matter-of-factly informed me— “This week, it will be too hot for activities, but we will prepare food, eat, and sit.” That turned out to be an incredibly accurate synopsis of the week. In addition to the heat, we are currently on the tail end of dry season, which contributed to the lack of activity, since my host parents primarily farm. The third and final factor that shaped the level of activity of the week was that both of my host parents are in their 70s,  incredibly strong and fit, but still doing less physically demanding work at this stage of life.

However, here are some things that I did get to do:

Bucket bathed… a lot

Drank 4,000 Nalgenes a day (don’t worry Mom, I stayed hydrated)

Rested

Star gazed

Ate food

Went to church

Visited the village center

Learned to remove the internal organs of a chicken prior to cooking it

Washed dishes

Did laundry

Drank tea

Swept and mopped the house

Learned to cook a lot of things in the outdoor kitchen— posho, lots of different kinds of potatoes, soup, greens, millet/potato/sorghum bread…

Constructed an underground oven and cooked sweet potatoes in it

Rested

Read 600+ pages (spread between three books)

Sat in silence

Listened to the radio

Beat, winnowed, and separated millet

Rested

Ate more food

Visited the neighbors

Sewed pillowcases

Shelled G-nuts

Picked, cut, and ate jackfruit

Spent too much time in the pit latrine after eating jackfruit

Watched thunderstorms from the porch (It rained four nights in a row. Before leaving for the week, Eddie told us the mzungus always bring the rain to Soroti. I thought it was a crazy superstition, but it turned out to be absolutely right.)

Drank more tea

Rested

Picked and ate fresh oranges

My mama’s favorite phrase was “you go rest now,” since my room was like an oven during the day, this usually meant finding the shadiest spot and reading my book or journaling, rather than taking a nap. In combination with the amount of time I already spent sitting in silence with my host parents, or by myself in between other activities, this was wild. Before leaving, I asked people to pray for my ability to be present. God responded by providing opportunities to be present in excess. Retrospectively, the time that I had this week to reflect, contemplate, learn, and rest was truly valuable, but my impatience made it difficult to recognize in the moment. I experienced a week of simplicity, with little urgency. A culture not enslaved to clock time or schedules, but guided by the needs of the present moment, subsistence, and the daily rhythm of the earth. It was simultaneously one of the most challenging, defining, and enriching (still convincing myself of the last part) parts of the week.

The week included some of my most challenging experiences in communicating cross-culturally– navigating difficult conversations, pushing myself not to be dismissive of a differences of opinion rooted in cultural conditioning, doing my best to practice humility and openness, and learning that I have an accent that is at times hard to understand. This is something I still need to unpack, but you can ask me about it if you’re curious.

Much of what I learned this week came through lots of observation and listening. I learned a lot about the historical and current politics of Northern Uganda and it’s rocky relationship with President Museveni, who punishes the region by withholding government resources or using discriminatory policies, because of the imbalance of power based in tribal/ethnic divisions. I learned about theology, community, he education system, marriage, death, parenting, family, environment, land and agriculture, politics, and history all as they’re shaped by the culture and context of Northern Uganda. Detailing each of these would  take an incredible number of words.

I also learned about some of the most prominent poverty related issues Ugandans are experiencing, particularly related to education and medical care. Serere is and has been one of the most impoverished areas of Uganda. However, hear me on this. When you close your eyes and picture poverty in Africa, that image in your mind is not a universal representation. I learned that about myself and my own preconceptions this week for sure. I wrestled (and still am, present tense) with the task of attempting to define and understand poverty and all that is wrapped up in that. In the West, one might look at my host parents and consider them poor. But they do not struggle to put food on the table, they sustain themselves through the land they own and the food they grow. They understand conservation, care for what they own, and work very hard. If measured, their land and animals could translate to monetary value that would increase their material wealth significantly. At the same time, in the village this week, I observed acute poverty that has been unmatched by anything in the previous two months. All the while, I was reading “The White Man’s Burden,” a convicting critique by a former World Bank economist of Western involvement in the developing world, particularly through aid, military and political interference, and all forms of residual neocolonialism. I don’t think I will ever stop grappling with the irreparable damage we have done in our pursuits of materialism and power, and our misuse of resources and privilege. This paragraph is insufficient to express my questions and tangled thought processes about this particular topic, but for now, it’s what I’m capable of writing.

By the end of the week, I had more questions than answers. Honestly, what else is new. On Friday morning, we were picked up and drove to Kapchowra, about an hour away, where we spent the weekend. On Friday night, we spent time in intentional debrief, which was helpful, but in many ways only began to scratch the surface of our 25 different experiences. Saturday, we had a day of emotional (but definitely not physical) rest. After a lovely breakfast, we hiked Mount Elgon, an extinct volcano and home to the famous Sipi Falls, one of Uganda’s bigger tourist spots. The ten mile hike was exhausting, but refreshing and breathtaking. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

We had a quick thirty minute respite after the hike before we began a “coffee tour.” Kapchowra is the OG home of the Arabica coffee bean, discovered long ago by a lucky farmer who just wanted to find out why his goats were getting hyper after eating the leaves of some tree with redish colored berries. On the tour, we got to learn about and help with the process of making coffee, from picking beans  to pouring a steaming cup and everything in between. Definitely a highlight for me, even if it was a horribly touristy activity. Shown in the photo below is me shelling coffee beans. Not pictured was the slap happy, caffeine induced state my roommates witnessed me in after the effects of having more coffee than I’ve had in two months kicked in. Let’s say I was laughing at everything and didn’t get the most sleep I’ve ever gotten, but it was quite worth it.

On Sunday morning, we hiked to the top of the little hill above the guest house for a small worship service before our departure. I was asked to give a brief testimony about what God has been teaching me in this first half of the semester (in 5-10 minutes??). I spoke about patience. presence, and newness, the ways that He has been revealing my restlessness to me, but it felt next to impossible to come up with some concise summary of the work He has done in me in the past two months (and is surely continuing to do). Thanks for sticking with me and reading this long post to the end. If it feels open ended, that’s because my thoughts are open ended in so many ways right now. I don’t want to settle for a pretty packaged or over-simplified version of the week. In some areas, I settled for brevity in this post, because I don’t want to risk sounding like I have the answers.  I know the week was hard; I know the week was valuable. I know it left me with even more to ponder than I already had, which I didn’t know was possible. As I talk with you individually in the coming weeks, don’t be afraid to ask me questions, because they will help me in my pondering, but know that I am unresolved and still figuring out how to understand.

A brief post-script. Some people (not necessarily any of you) have made comments to my USP friends and I that come with a perceived bravery or accomplishment in what we did last week. “You lived in a rural village in Africa?! That must have been so hard, you are so brave!” or something of the sort. All I will say is that I am not brave. My attitude at points during the week was not even in the ballpark of praiseworthy. This whole thing is as far from being about me as possible. I felt like an outsider this week, even though I was being welcomed into a community. Don’t hear me being dismissive of your encouragement. But I challenge all of you to not let your perceptions of African poverty to shape your visions of my experience. I think these kinds of comments, while well intentioned, are rooted in subconscious (read: often distorted) pictures of the reality of a place like this. I hope that as I communicate to you, the things I say will never glorify or manipulate the things I am experiencing as a result of my own pride and desire for affirmation. Please call me out if you ever see or hear this in my words. Thanks again for being in my corner.

All my love,

Abs

Spring Break February 26, 2018 Where to begin? Probably with a deep breath. Two months from today, I will be on a plane back to the States, which means I have reached the half way point.

[myidentitystudy]

Tonight I lie in my room somewhat at peace. I did a lot this weekend. I did a couple loads of laundry, went through a lot of things I had yet to unpack and took a lot downstairs, packed up other stuff to put downstairs, made a lot of food for this week's lunches at work, cleaned the kitchen and organized the recycling, and decorated bits of my room.

I also saw Walter for the first time in a long time, and we were intimate with each other for the first time since long before the move. By that I don't just mean sex, I mean he took me grocery shopping, I made him dinner, we cussed on the couch talking, and as I was going to go to bed [he was on the couch because he says my twin bed is too tiny for him to sleep on alone, let alone share with me] he climbed in and started kissing me sweetly. It was so good.

Today I was supposed to have seen my "partner" [more of a flirt friend] Mike from Seattle, but he ended up not coming to town [he was going to come into town for his hs reunion]. I guess he had a really hard week. I would have really liked to see him.

Being without a car is really driving me crazy [lol that pun was unintentional]. I have lost so much freedom. I getmy water pump tonite and hopefully it will be all fixed then.

I've been lonely to the point of being suicidal lately. I've been trying to double up my meds [with doctor permission of course] but keep forgetting.

Yesterday morning I decided to do a ton of self care. I made my shampoo, took a long luxurious shower, waxed my legs And bikini line, and spent quite a while messing with lotioning/oiling my skin and hair.

I also organized all of my bathroom supplies, and actually folded all of my laundry and put it away.

Kyle kind of started talking to me again, barely responding to the really long, sweet message I sent him last week.

All in all it was a very productive weekend. Now I need to get a bunch of stuff on Amazon to make my life easier.

I really hope Tumblr didn't delete my paragraph breaks again because I ready don't have the energy to deal with that tonight and will definitely just leave it as a giant block of text.

Goodnight :]

[lifeasarandomdudeknowsit-blog]

Entry #326 - Grinding Has Lost Its Luster

As of today, I have managed to plow through nine bins' worth of stuff, and I have returned home with three.  Two of those have nothing but books in them, and one is what I am going to refer to from now on as a “relic box.” Essentially, that is going to be my container for items I am keeping for sentimental reasons.  I am actually going to allow myself one more relic box, possibly two, but nothing more than that.  I have been carrying around far too much stuff with me for the past ten years, and I do not want to continue in that manner.  I will admit that probably the majority of the bins left to unpack are bins that have items I have already sorted (like movies and music), and will probably not go through those again.  But as far as the boxes full of random crap are concerned, I've managed to cut that down significantly.  It has been a difficult road so far, but the end is well within sight.  And I will be very happy the next time I decide to unpack all of my possessions.  If I only end up having two or three relic boxes after all that, I will consider myself a very happy man.

And with that pleasant thought out of the way, it's time for the downer that will probably take up the remainder of this entry.  I find myself having become almost entirely uninterested in Final Fantasy: Brave Exvius anymore.  What really struck home for me was the last event, this big “raid” event that had three ways to earn rewards: individually, as a collective player base, and as a competitive player base.  For me, I found it nigh impossible to continue farming the event once I had reached the last individual item, since I had obviously not spent my in-game energy as efficiently as those players who spent lots of money on the game to build much stronger teams with many powerful trust master rewards. Those players could farm the highest difficulty dungeon to gain far more event currency than I could muster, and once the second week of the event reared its ugly head, I basically gave up.  I would run the dungeon three times a day in order to receive the daily reward of 5 lapis, but other than that, I forgot about the event.  It isn't as though I had much of a chance to get in the top 100,000 players as it was, so why bother spending my time trying to work my way up a ladder with 50,000 rungs that change place on a minute-by-minute basis?

So I decided to give trust mastery grinding a try.  I lasted about three days.  What I (as I'm sure many more diligent FFBE players out there) did was take a team of five characters with strong trust mastery rewards and send them repeatedly into the dungeon with the lowest energy cost.  I've talked about trust mastery mechanics before, but it bears a quick refresher for those who don't play the game: nearly every character in the game has a 10% chance to increase their trust mastery by 0.1% every time they clear a dungeon.  So you have a pretty decent chance of increasing a character's trust mastery once per ten battles.  Since my account has 75 energy and the cheapest dungeon costs 1 energy to run once, I can run it...well...75 times in a row before needing to wait for my energy to recharge.  It's a very tedious and dull process that is much simpler if automated, but that whole realm of emulation is a little too much in the gray area of legality for me to risk using. So I did it the old-fashioned way: by hand.  And, as I mentioned in the first line of this paragraph, it took me about three days to get utterly sick and tired of the process.  Not only was the grinding itself dull, I had to break my concentration once every 30 seconds from any other activities I was performing in order to start the dungeon all over again.  I did actually make a decent amount of progress on my five characters (probably about 2-3%), but really, it isn't worth it for me.

The thing about trust mastery grinding is that, as far as the main story is concerned, it is a complete waste of time.  The main story's difficulty is pathetic when compared to the event dungeon difficulty, which, at the elite level, can range from “difficult but feasible with a very strong friend” to “why even bother trying unless you have all the best six star rank characters with all the best trust mastery abilities and items.” It just feels like a huge time sink (which it is, seeing as how it's a free to play game with microtransactions that range from $1 to $75(!)), and I've gotten to the point where I no longer feel the need to sink my time into it.  Does this mean I'm completely finished with the game?  Not quite yet.  But I'm finding fewer and fewer reasons to bother picking up the game every day other than picking up the daily login rewards and completing the daily quests.  Which, again, doesn't really hold much of a point, since it's all just part of the grind. I will give the game credit: it managed to hold my interest for almost six months, which is pretty impressive.  Even more so when you consider that it's a free to play mobile game with microtransactions and a pay to win mentality.  Perhaps it's time for me to move on from FFBE.  It's been a good run.  I suppose I'll see how I feel the next time I fire up the game.

I've had a weird moment each of the last three days where I get really tired around 5 PM.  Though, at least yesterday and today, all I had to do to somewhat recharge myself was to take off my glasses and rest my head on my desk for a couple of minutes.  It doesn't necessarily make me any less tired. It just gives my eyes a little while to relax.  At least it keeps me from laying down in bed and falling asleep for two hours, further ruining my sleep schedule.

I probably should have attempted to write some sort of ending into that paragraph, but oh well.  So here's a lame attempt at one.