#i have six cousins and i know I'm on the low end of most of my friends

[callioope]

One thing I've learned about polls is that 24 hours is not enough time (i've missed out on voting in some fun ones), but a week is way too long

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {Epilogue}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: The end. :) Thank you for reading! We've appreciated all the love and support. I'm hoping to start posting a new project soon. Stay tuned!

~ Cassian ~

“What the hell are you doing?!”

I freeze, blinking, and slowly slide my eyes to where Nesta is standing at the kitchen’s threshold, gaping at me.

“What?”

“You can’t have her that close to the stove! What if she catches on fire?!”

I look down to where Evelyn is strapped to my chest, swaddled in the cotton wrap that leaves only her face popping out, her little cheek squished against my chest. She’s sleeping, snoring softly, and perfectly content.

“Nes.” I give my beautiful wife a look as I desperately try not to roll my eyes. “She’s three weeks old. What’s she going to do? Fling herself into the pot?” Nesta opens her mouth to protest, but I go on. “There’s only one burner on, and it’s on low, and it’s the back burner, and I’m letting it simmer. I’m just giving it a quick stir. I can assure you that no infant will be harmed in the stirring of this sauce that will blow your fucking mind. Calm down.”

As soon as those two little words leave my mouth, I know I fucked up. Backtrack. Rewind. The spoon in my hand stills as I clear my throat, scared to even look in her direction. “And…by ‘calm down’...I mean…I love you.”

She approaches, her footsteps light, and she stops beside me. “Be glad I love you too or I’d be tossing your balls into that pot right about now.” 

Pain. I feel physical pain at those words. Cringing, I set down the spoon and turn to face her. She’s not looking at me at all, but at the little bundle of joy we brought home three weeks ago. Nesta’s eyes are soft as she leans down and presses a soft kiss to Evelyn’s forehead. 

We were instantly in love. From the moment she was given to us, we knew that we were meant to be her parents. It’s hard as hell, raising an infant, and although it’s only been three weeks and I know it’s going to get a hell of a lot harder, I have never felt so fucking blessed. 

“Everyone should be getting here soon,” Nesta says, quietly, eyes meeting mine at last. She reaches up onto her toes and kisses me, softly. 

Rhys, Feyre, Azriel, and Elain were all in the waiting room at the hospital when Evelyn was born, but we haven’t seen them since. They’ve given us space to settle into our new roles, into this new life we’ve built for ourselves. The solitude, although necessary and beautiful, has been driving us a little crazy, though. Two days ago, Nesta came to me in tears, partly out of exhaustion, I’m sure, and told me she needed her sisters.

So tonight, I made dinner. 

Evelyn is in a pretty good routine and will most likely sleep for the rest of the night, only waking up to eat, but she can sleep anywhere. I have no doubt we’ll be passing her around so that everyone can get their baby fix. 

They all arrive together, six on the dot, and we greet each other as if we haven’t been all together in years instead of a matter of weeks. I don’t even care that the food has gone cold by the time we sit around the table, too much time being spent doting over the baby for it to stay warm. 

Even cold, it’s delicious, I must say. We eat and talk and laugh, and tell them all about every little detail of the last three weeks. Nyx is smitten most of all, wanting to sit next to his cousin at all times and hold her hand. He’ll be a fantastic big brother and I can’t help but wonder if Rhys and Feyre will have more kids. I know Rhys wants a house full, but he’s not the one doing the hard work. 

Once we’re full and the table has been cleared, we get comfortable in the living room. Elain is holding Evelyn while Azriel rocks a sleeping Sera. I’m convinced the two of them will be best friends and will most likely raise hell together. 

I can’t wait. But then again, yes I can, because she’s so sweet and innocent in this newborn stage that I don’t want that to change. Then again, I can’t wait to watch her grow, to see all those milestones and watch her grow into her own person. 

“Careful, dad, you’re getting teary-eyed,” Nesta whispers, leaning into me and patting my knee. 

I chuckle and pull her closer. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

Nesta rests her head on my shoulder. “Liar.” 

She’s right. It was a lie. I’m overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with love and contentment. We worked so hard to be where we’re at and although it’s not how we originally imagined, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d endure every bout of heartache all over again that led us here, to this, to her. 

Nesta.

Evelyn.

I watch as our family loves on our daughter, watch as our little circle becomes whole. I had dreamt of this, we both had for so long. The fact that it’s now reality is unreal. I feel like I’m dreaming and the fact that I’m not, yes…has me on the verge of tears. 

One must slip past my defenses because Nesta reaches up and wipes her thumb across my damp cheek. 

No one comments on my crying and I feel zero shame. There is no shame in being unimaginably happy. 

“Now I have two cousins,” Nyx says from where he’s climbing onto Rhys’ lap. He scrunches his nose. “When will I have boy cousins? Or a brother? There’s too many girls.”

Rhys laughs quietly. “These girls are going to grow up to kick your butt if you keep talking like that. Especially with these two brutes as their fathers.” 

Azriel snorts. “Cass will have Evie lifting weights daily by the time she’s two. She’ll probably be able to kick my butt.” 

Nyx laughs at this, head thrown back, his giggles loud. 

We stay sitting, talking, reminiscing until even Nyx is snoring soundly in his father’s arms. By the time we finally say goodnight, I’m spent. Exhausted. Can hardly keep my eyes open.

But I don’t care.

Sleep is irrelevant when everything has fallen into place, when every time your eyes are open you feel like nothing can go wrong. We’ve already had our heartbreak, have already faced our trials, and although I’m not naive and know that trials will still come…

I know, without a doubt, that everything will be okay. 

I’m sliding into bed as Nesta lays Evelyn in her bassinet next to her side of the bed. I watch as she stares at our daughter, knowing her heart is bursting with pride and love, mirroring my own. I lay down quietly, my eyes remaining on the outline of her frame in the darkness. 

“She’s perfect, Cass,” she whispers, and those damn tears return. 

“Yeah,” I agree, quietly. “She is.”

She climbs into bed and snuggles up close to me, my arms going around her without a thought. We close our eyes, quickly drifting into the four hours of sleep we’ll be getting, at most, before the soft cries of a newborn fills our silent bedroom. 

Sleep is irrelevant.

Our daughter is perfect.

My wife is the love of my life.

And I am whole. 

[bohemian-nights]

When it comes to relationships Jace, Baela and Rhaena are going to be so f*cked up 🤣 like imagine your parent getting remarried not even six months (which I call Rhaenyra being pretty heated about so why she would not think twice about doing that to not only her children but two other children 🫠) after the death of your other parent. In Jace's case he got screwed over twice because of Harwin who he’s not even allowed to publicly or privately mourn and then again because of Laenor who was the only father he was allowed to ever acknowledge (same thing for Luke but he’s 💀 and Joffrey is six).

And poor Baela and Rhaena who not only have lost their mother, lost their mothers dragon (I mean they didn’t technically loose Vhagar but still that was something binding them to her), they’ve been moved to an entire different country, and to make matters worse they who have always been together are SEPARATED both living with strangers with Rhaena having Daemon who she feels like ignores her 😭

I swear Targaryen parents (especially Targaryen fathers) read the “How To Get My Kid To Hate Me: 101” handbook. Like at least Rhaenyra treated Harwin and Laenor good but if I was Rhaena or Baela I’m never speaking to Daemon again.

Also even though I’m sure someone’s already mentioned it but Rhaena only addressing Rhaenyra as “your grace” or “princess” is odd. Jace and Luke don’t do that with Daemon. So my question is did Rhaenyra ask her to call her that (which is a red flag) or for six years straight did Rhaenyra never correct her and tell her she could call her Rhaenyra or Cousin (also another red flag) 🙃

Like it could’ve been interesting if Rhaena was it saying in a sarcastic way or like as a way of “rebellion” so Rhaenyra (and Daemon) knows she doesn’t like her or isn’t happy but they have her smiling and playing arm candy the entire season. It’s a bit weird and not at all how actual blended families act unless there is some sort of animosity somewhere.

It's all a mess. I really hope that the showrunners don’t actually think they are portraying a normal happy healthy blended family because these are not the faces of happy children🤦🏽‍♀️:

Their parents just died and this is what their remaining parent does to them🫠 Those kids are traumatized. Hell Jace low-key seems like he hates Daemon in episode 10 and that’s totally justified given everything(they could give his boring self personality if they feed into this).

We can not talk about how weird it is that Rhaena calls Rhaenyra “princess” or whatever other formal title. If Rhaenyra never corrected her shame on her and Daemon for allowing that to happen(I love him, but I would have to pelt him with rocks for that).

Rhaena is her stepdaughter and her cousin. She’s not just any girl off the street. She’s family. Future queen or not, in informal settings(I’m talking about the scene where it’s just Rhaena, Rhaenys, and Rhaenyra) she should not be calling her princess.

Putting it in there to as a small act of rebellion is a brilliant idea, but sadly these showrunner’s are short on brilliant ideas(especially when it comes to portraying Rhaenyra as anything, but a saint)🫠

I'm really just disappointed with the storyline for the girls as a whole. The showrunner's idea of characterization for Baela and Rhaena is for them to be pretty puppets.

We better see a change in season two because this is outrageous. Yes, they don’t do much during most of the Dance(Baela’s big moment isn’t until the end of the conflict and Rhaena is tucked away from it all), but if they can come up with plot lines for certain characters they can come up with more for them to do(especially since they are a little bit older than their book counterparts).

[rexcaliburechoes]

I posted 912 times in 2022

63 posts created (7%)

849 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@spidersmiceandeverythingnice

@rexcaliburechoes

@tmae3114

@asylumdream

@overlord-surgeus

I tagged 911 of my posts in 2022

#touken ranbu - 163 posts

#fandom - 119 posts

#tumblr is a dumpster fire but it's our dumpster fire - 98 posts

#shokudaikiri mitsutada - 94 posts

#writing - 52 posts

#rex rambles - 48 posts

#fire emblem - 44 posts

#about me - 39 posts

#the dread persephone (my lady) - 38 posts

#heshikiri hasebe - 35 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#this being said i have tension with her solely based on my trauma which is not reflective od how she should be treated (kindly with respect)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

soon

18 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

#4

I'm gonna play stray again so I can have more educated thoughts on it, but the game, aside from its love of humanity being shown in the companions- how humanity thrives even in the darkest times- is answering the question of what is in a legacy.

okay, I know I know, Hamilton is so out of fashion. it has many issues re American history and how Black ppl are treated and I know all of its critiques but let me have this, please.

but like... who tells the stories of humans when they die off, who sows the seeds of a future without the humans? humans had made a mark on history, good and bad. the obvious choice here is "who lives, who dies, who tells your story", but the line that is seldom referred to that I'm thinking of is "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see."

humans might not have been able to see how humanity thrived on. b12 comments that they are the last human consciousness, which then implies that the companions evolved their code after the humans had died.

that is a response to who sees the flowers after the gardener has died. the companions, arguably more human than the humans, that will tend to the plants, just as their forebears had before them.

21 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

#3

some miscellaneous osafune + chougi modern au headcanons

“but these six swords + chougs in a modern au” - me, to a friend in dms

i can’t get these seven out of my head. they’re just,,, good. i love them. (i’m not quite alive to write longform fics, but i hope this’ll get me thinking of it for when i’m not dying to classes TT)

koryuu’s hair is stupidly fluffy. you cannot blow dry it, or it will stick up and will become an untamable beast. shokudaikiri has already tried. daihannya has also already tried. fukushima has tried. no one has succeeded.

though, if it simply air-dries, there is no problem. no one knows why.

speaking of, daihannya has perfect hair. no knows, not snaggles, smooth and silky to the touch... split ends? what are those? he takes great pride in it and his low maintenance hair routine.

shokudaikiri, on the other hand, will hog the bathroom in order to look presentable. he may be banished to another bathroom to take his pretty prep time. no one knows if he gets bedhead except for fuku, but he’s been sworn to secrecy.

fuku’s hair used to be really frizzy before hannya, who was going into cosmetology, told him his hair is actually wavy, not straight like the rest of his brothers. now his hair looks fine, though hannya makes a show of messing with his hair.

kenshin and azuki have a tendency to get cowlicks if they sleep wrong on their pillows. it’s really cute (though kenshin protests because “it’s not grown up enough”).

fuku wishes for kenshin to stay as a kid for a while and not rush to grow up too fast. all of them do, but fuku most of all. seeing him approach things with an earnestness that kids have, that many adults do not... it’s endearing and a little bittersweet.

speaking of chougi: he’s something of a distant cousin, but koryuu sniffed him out and he’s now in all of their group chats. chougi doesn’t hate it, since he has a place of belonging now, even if he is a bit of a pompous brat sometimes.

god forbid there’s drama happening in the main family unit over a group call, though. chougi will be there, with a bag of crunchy snacks and a slurpy drink, on mute, but enjoying the chaos unfold. there is no way he’s gonna miss out on this. no way.

koryuu studies abroad during college. at first, fuku was a little hesitant, since it can be dangerous in a foreign country, but koryuu can handle himself.

azuki’s working to get his teaching certifications to help teach preschoolers. they’re cute, and he’s good with kids. it works in his favour.

kenshin hasn’t figured out what he wants to do yet. he’s only in grade school right now. no one puts pressure on him to pick.

22 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

#2

some more osafune modern au headcanons that i neglected to mention before // the osafune sitcom

i’d forgotten i had some other hcs that i wanted to add to that massive post from before, so here, have a few more headcanons. they aren’t as numerous as the first post, but they’re fun thoughts that’ve been kicking around in my brain.

these guys basically live in my brain as a sitcom at any given moment, so these aren’t all headcanons, but more funny thoughts i’ve thought of that would work with this large of a group.

don’t ask anyone about the hair spiders that are left behind in the drain. koryuu is the most forgetful, and also sheds the most, and hannya does try to pick them out, but it’s mostly left to the other four.

there is a jar labled “caused a horrible telephone game” sitting on one of the bookshelf that is filled with dollars and some coins. every so often, someone (usually fuku or mitsu) says something that someone else (usually koryuu or hannya) takes out of context, which gets passed around the group chat.

this usually ends in a massive group call to right the chaos, with the culprit of the misspoken words adding a few dollars to the “caused a horrible telephone game” jar. the feeling of the jar is more along the lines of those posts of dogs with cardboard “shaming” them for some naughty act they’ve done. it’s all in good fun, and if it’s actively distressing, the telephone game won’t actually be played.

when kenshin contributed to the jar, he was so darn proud of himself.

when the jar is too full, the brothers go out for dinner. it’s a fun treat afterwards.

koryuu is a fan of vocaloid. specfically, umetora. he knows all the songs by heart, and he isn’t afraid to show off his merch every so often.

don’t challenge him to a trivia fight. you will lose.

fuku likes sappy love songs. if you sneak around his garden enough, you’ll hear him humming them as he prunes his roses.

he also enjoys 80′s era rock.

24 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i feel like spy x family, though technically a shounen, was made for or the ppl who grew up watching like early 2000s-2010s anime. think about it.

it hits the generation growing up with the idea of a “perfect family”. it’s the nostalgia of being a child with a stable home, perhaps unattainable in the circumstances we're in now, for a variety of reasons, but primarily "a lack of peace” in the world, internally, or externally. we have to wring this peace with our own two hands. it’s a hard, thankless, and tiring job, to have to do this day after day for a sense of “peace”.

it's through this show that allows the viewer to achieve that peace, if only temporarily though genuinely, just as how the flowers "that we didn't know could be so beautiful" which bloom in the spring are impermanent, and just how the forger’s family dynamic is just for safety. 

it is "until our missions, our killings, do we part."

111 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[fatimaah]

love like

Should it all be like THIS? No it shouldn't. You know you can change anything anytime. Just by doing something or not doing something. You can tell your parents that ur taking a gap year and university isn't really what u want, at least for now. Even if they don't understand you could tell them that's ur decision and ur not willing to change ur mind. But then it might have some coincidences...and then... should you really do it or should u trust ur mom? Do u want it Fatimah?

These days are low-key sad...not exactly sad, they're just boring? When I was six I thought 17-18 will feel magical. I thought I was going to get the control over my life and do what I want to do, I thought I'd be a cool tennis player or artist or I would create some cool thingies to sell. And people say dreams change, like u might want to be a singer when ur younger and then end up being a business lady, but do they change? I don't know, mine hasn't really changed.

Why should we all study and everything? Like yeah people WANT to study and experience student life and blah blah blah. But at the end of the day, people get higher education to then connect it to their future job. I don't wanna work as a psychologist or English teacher.... maybe Arabic teacher but I want this just to teach Quran not because I'm super into teaching (but we'll hm, doing presentations is fun...) . I don't want to work for money I'll make sure to marry someone nice who knows how to make money. I wanna work for enjoyment. People get a job to get money and they need money to enjoy life so why not skipping it all to "enjoy" part? I hate the feeling of losing time. No way.

Don't wanna be THE BEST, wanna be the one who enjoyed THE MOST.

today is terrible not only did I wake up with this stupid headache but also firuza didn't come and it's so lonely without her. It's cool but yeah would be better with her.

why am I even sad, I'm just worried. Life terrifies me. Not that I think I will be so poor and ugly I'm just afraid...what if one day I'll just stop enjoying life? What if I will marry someone I don't love, what if I will just like him, those are different, right? And what if I won't love my future job? What if I'll just like it? At least I won't hate life cuz if I do I won't be able to stop living, I'll just accept it

I'm being too dramatic. Everyone has problems. Frzn is too f up because of her education abroad, kmll is also probably stressed out about it, Assy might be too tired of expectations about her, I would definitely be tired of it. Firuza...oh she is definitely going through some shit. And I'm not even talking about adults, about my cousins, about Amina, about others..

It feels like I'm living in the world where someone made those stupid rules on how to be happy "the right way" and everyone else is following it tho it doesn't feel right. I will follow it too probably. I'm too confused about my own dreams for a gap year.... I'm not taking a gap year. Don't want to f everything up it's better to do what everyone else is doing. I'm too tired

And I'm tired of school too, I'm low-key happy it's coming to an end , I'll miss some people but that's just how things always go, nothing new

Exhaustingly boring day,

May 15, 2024

[bangtanreadingcorner]

despite it all • park jimin

chapter one — bandaid

plot — you never could ignore someone who needs help. not even a gang member.

words — 3.1K

You were walking home from a night out with friends, the pleasant buzz of alcohol in your veins making you feel giddy and floaty as you hummed softly. The street was quiet but in the distance you could hear people laughing, sirens of an ambulance, a barking dog and it gave you a sense of security and familiarity.

What was most definitely not familiar was the man rounding a corner, and almost slamming into you. You yelp, taking a quick step backwards, heart stopping before it skyrockets. You have apparently underestimated the amount of alcohol you've had to drink because that quick step causes you to loose your balance, and unable to regain it, you fall to the ground, landing ass first.

You contemplate just sitting there until the morning but when the man you almost bumped into lets out a pained groan, your eyes flicker up to him. Horror fills you as you take in his blood stained appearance. There is blood on his shirt, his pants, his face. His one hand was holding his side and his knuckles are bloody.

You scramble to your feet, suddenly much more sober than you were two seconds ago, "Oh my God, are you okay? Ah, nevermind, stupid question. You're covered in blood, you couldn't possibly be okay. Is there someone I can call for you? Ohhh, I know, I can call an ambulance."

A hand grasps around the wrist of the hand going for the phone on the inside pocket of your jacket, fingers strong and grip tight. His voice is low and husky when he speaks, "No. No ambulance."

Trying to press down the mounting panic in your chest, you swallow thickly. "Dude, not to be stating the obvious, but you are covered in blood."

"Most of it's not even mine." He says around a cough, eyes drooping, bracing himself against the wall.

Your eyes widen when you process his words and you twist your wrist in his grip, wanting to pull away and run. You clear your throat, running your eyes over him. "Well you look like you're going to be fine, so I'll just go."

He nods tiredly, letting go of your wrist, a strand of his blonde dyed hair falling into half closed, exhausted eyes, his breathing hard, and your heart twists. You want to help him and you're about to offer, when you remember his words from just seconds ago.

Most of it's not even mine.

Which means that he probably hurt whoever's blood is on him. Which means that this is a dangerous person, the kind of person you run from, not help. Judging from the tattoo in his neck, he's in a gang. You don't know what exactly everything about the different gang tattoos and what every stripe or cross means but everyone knows that anyone with a serpent tattoo is part of the most dangerous gang in the province. Maybe even the country.

You walk past him, intent on going home and forgetting about this incident. Your try putting it out of your head as you cross streets and your small apartment comes closer, but it doesn't work. At the next street you have to cross, you look back, and see the man still bracing himself against the wall as he walks slowly. He stops, resting with his back against the wall.

You bite your lip, your heart at war with your head, torn between doing the right thing and the safe thing. You look at the man again – gang member or no, he's still a person who needs help – and your heart wins the fight.

"Fuck it." You mutter to yourself before taking of in a light jog, back to the injured man. His body tenses up, like he's preparing for a fight, and his eyes snap open when he hears you approaching, hard and cold and it terrifies you a little. It's almost enough to make you turn around again. But then recognition flashes in his eyes and his tensed shoulders relaxes. You look at him silently for a moment and then you blurt out, "Where are you hurt?"

"None of your fucking business." He breathes, moving his eyes from you to the night sky.

"Rude." You clack your tongue at him, risking a step closer. "Are you bleeding anywhere? Or is all of this blood the other guy's?"

He looked at you again, something feral and definitely dangerous glinting in his eyes. "Who says there was just one?"

Instead of fear, you can feel your annoyance rising, "Can you answer the question and stop deflecting?"

His brows furrowed, clearly confused. "What are you doing here? Weren't you on your way home or something?"

Fully annoyed now, you glare at him. "I'm trying helping you, you ungrateful ass."

Amusement flickers in his eyes, "Well you're not doing a very good job of it."

"Well, you're not making it very easy." You retort, deciding to just take matters into your own hands. You step close to him before taking his arm and bringing it around your shoulders, noticing that he winces when you lift his arm. "Let's go." You tell him, tugging gently until he starts walking in the direction he came from and where you're going.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" He asks. You glance up at him, seeing a smirk on his lips.

"I have some idea." You say, giving a pointed look to the tattoo in his neck.

"So, you know I'm in a gang." He concludes. "And that I most likely got my injuries from doing something illegal."

"Yes." You nod. "And speaking of injuries, are you bleeding?"

"Not that I know of." He answers. He wobbles a bit and you stop, waiting until he regains his footing before continuing. "And you don't care?" He asks curiously.

"Of course I care and in normal circumstances I'd probably call the police, but you're hurt and you need help, not the police. So, I'm going to help you."

"What if I'm an assassin with a thing for cutting woman into pieces?" He sounds amused, like this whole situation is a source of entertainment for him.

"Wouldn't that be a way to go." You deadpan.

He snickers and then goes quiet for a while before asking, "Are you going to call the cops?"

"Are you going to hurt me?" You ask instead of answering.

"No." He sounds like he means it but that doesn't really reassure you. "Not unless you give me a reason too." And that actually does make you feel a little better.

"Well, there you go then." You tell him.

"I should just take your word for it?" You can feel him looking at you, but you ignore his gaze, focusing on watching your step. He wasn't resting all of his weight on you, you could tell, but the added weight still slowed you down and caused strain on your muscles but you ignore it, intent on helping him.

"Considering the fact that I'm taking a stranger who is a literal gang member and a potential killer into my home, you really don't have any ground for that argument." You inform him matter-of-factly. You rewind your words and lament that maybe your are as crazy as your cousin accuses you of being.

"Your home?" He whistles, but starts coughing halfway through. "Buy a guy dinner first."

"Hah!" You scoff, ignoring the way your cheeks burn from his teasing. "I'm helping you. If anyone is going to be buying dinner, it's going to be you."

"I'm Jimin, by the way. If you're going to help me, the least I could do is tell you my name." He says, and when you look at him, he looks sincere and a little shy.

"Y/N." You tell him.

You reach your apartment without any incidents or without running into anyone – a man covered in blood would have raised questions – and you navigate it in the dark, leading him to your couch before going back to the door and locking it and flipping on the lights. You turn back to him, watching as he looks around your place. You couldn't help but feel a little self conscious. "I know it's no palace, but it's mine and you're only gonna be here for one night. Unless you plan on leaving directly after I help you."

"I like it, it feels comfortable. Like a home." Jimin tells you, face softer than its been since the moment you met him. You stare a little, but then you notice the blood on his face again and you look away.

"You should go and take a shower. I'll give you the biggest clothes I'll have, so don't worry about that. I'll wash yours and put it in the dryer, so it will be clean for when you leave. I'm pretty sure if you walk down the street with blood stained clothes in broad daylight, someone is bound to call the police." You are rambling and you're perfectly aware of it, but you're nervous.

He nods and gets to his feet, wincing. "Which way is the bathroom?"

You point, "Down the hall to your left. Do you need help?"

Jimin gives you a slight smile, "I'll manage."

You wait until you hear the shower running before you go to your room, hunting down your biggest hoodie and pair of sweatpants. You knock on the bathroom door, letting Jimin know you're leaving the clothes outside the bathroom door.

You wait on the couch for Jimin to finish, wondering what your mother would say if she could see you now.

You bite down a smile when Jimin comes out of the bathroom, towel drying his hair. The sweatpants are obviously too small, ending high above his ankles, the fabric stretching over his thighs – and if you spend an extra second looking at those muscular thighs then it was no one's business. The hoodie seemed to fit just right, but he didn't zip it up. Your eyes is glued to his chest, not because it was eye-catching – oh and it was eye-catching alright, a defined six pack was waving at you almost mockingly – but because of the bruises.

"Like what you see?" Jimin's teasing voice brings you out of your staring stupor.

"I-" You cut yourself off, suddenly choked up by emotion.

His eyes widened and he walks as quickly as he can to you. "Hey, no, no, it looks worse than it is. You should see the other guys."

"That doesn't really make me feel better, but thanks for trying." You tell him, blinking hard, and getting up from the couch. "I'm going to get my first aid box."

While in the bathroom, you toss Jimin's bloody clothes into your cleaning bucket, making a mental to wash it as soon as you're done helping him.

You walk to where he's sitting on your couch, going down on you knees so you could face him. You notice the gun laying next to him and your heart almost jumps out of your chest. You give him an unimpressed stare, "Seriously?"

He gives you a smug smirk, "It's for protection."

"From what? My bandaids?" You ask sarcastically.

"Gang member, remember?" Jimin says, like you need the reminder, and you pull a face at him.

You ignore his chuckle to inspect his face, and the first thing you notice is how attractive he is. (But that doesn't matter because you're only helping him and then he's leaving.) The second thing you notice is that there is just a few scratch marks on his face, nothing too serious. You clean it up with some antiseptic, a little impressed that he doesn't even wince.

"Okay, I need to take a look at your chest now, make sure none of your ribs are broken, so will you sit a little forward?" You ask him and Jimin does as he's asked.

"You don't seem too bothered by the presence of a gun." Jimin comments, obviously curious as you run your hands over his ribs (he tenses for the first five seconds then relaxes), pressing against it, feeling carefully.

You shrug, "My dad was a cop, and while he didn't parade his around, I got used to them nonetheless."

"Past tense." Jimin observes, eyes on your face. You can feel his gaze and it causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. "Is he dead or retired?"

Your hands falter for a moment at the blunt question. You swallow thickly, continuing your path over his ribs. "He died in the line of duty."

"What happened?" He asks.

You look him in the eye, "He got caught in the crossfire of a gang war."

"Oh." Jimin sounds like someone knocked the breath from him. Silence falls around you and it lasts until you finish your exam of Jimin's chest before he says, "I'm sorry."

You look up, "Are you really?"

"What's that suppose to mean?" He frowns at you.

"Don't say something you don't mean. I'd prefer it if you said nothing at all." You eye the bruises on his chest, wondering how people can do that to each other. "There doesn't seem to be anything broken but you definitely cracked a few of them and it's gonna hurt like a bitch, come the morning."

"How do you know all of this?" He questions.

"I'm a paramedic." You answer, reaching for his left hand, remembering that his knuckles was bloodied before the shower.

"That explains a lot." He grabs your wrist with the hand you're not holding, holding onto it almost gently. "Look, about what you said just now, you're helping me despite the fact that it could have been one of my people that killed your dad." He squeezes your wrist, looking into your eyes imploringly. "I mean it."

You shrug, tilting your head. "Yeah, well, my mom always said I can't hold a grudge to save my life."

When you're done cleaning up and bandaging his hands, you pick up the bottle of pills you brought with you. You shake out a few pills before standing to go and fetch him a glass of water. You held out the water and the pills onto him, "Here. You've got to be in a world of hurt right now."

"What is that?" He asks, eyeing the white tablets laying on your hand.

You sigh, "Just some paracetamol. It's all I have. Just because I'm a paramedic doesn't mean I keep hospital grade medicine stocked in my home."

"Four of them?" Jimin's eyebrows went up. "Are you trying to overdose me?"

You squint at him, "Don't be such a baby. I take three at a time for my headaches and I am willing to bet my right kidney that you're hurting worse than my headaches usually are."

You pack up your first aid box and when you put it away, you bring the bucket with Jimin's bloodied clothing. You filled it halfway with water and then walked to the kitchen. You empty half your salt supply into the water before using your hands to rinse the clothing.

"Why are you washing my clothes with salt?" Jimin's voice comes from behind you.

You startle for a second before taking a deep breath and answering him, "I'm not washing it, I'm rinsing it with cold water and salt, to get the blood out of your clothes."

"Seriously? That works?" Jimin asks, surprise clear in his voice.

"Yep."

"I could have saved so much money that I wasted on new clothes each time I had a bloodstain on something, if I had known that." He whines and you look over your shoulder, finding yourself strangely endeared when you see the pout his lips is pulled into.

"I'd rather not know." You snort, shaking your hands off and heading to the sink to wash them. You dry your hands, leaning against your counter as you let the clothes soak for a bit.

"You haven't asked." Jimin says out of nowhere. He was leaning against your fridge, looking exhausted, but his eyes watched you intently.

You know what he was talking about. The bruises, and where he got them, the other guys he mentioned. He had been expecting you to ask, and you never did. You cross your arms over your chest. "It's none of my business."

"It's not." He agrees.

"See." You give him a slight smile.

"Still. Most people would ask." He says, tilting his head as he looked you up and down.

"Yeah, well, I figure I'm better of going down Plausible Deniability avenue and Better Of Not Knowing street in this case."

That gets a genuine laugh out of him, his eyes scrunching and a breathtaking smile on his lips. It's bright and cheerful and your stomach swoops. You are unable to not smile back at him.

After rinsing his clothes and putting it in the washing machine, you go back to the living room, only to find Jimin fast asleep on your couch. Something inside of you goes very soft as you watch him sleep. He looks years younger, completely relaxed.

You take the step ladder from your kitchen and tiptoe back to your room, getting the extra duvet from the top of your closet. You grab one of the four pillows on your bed and you head back to the living room. Gently, you lift Jimin's head and slip the pillow underneath it, half afraid he would wake up. When he doesn't, you breathed a quiet sigh of relief and throw the blanket over him. As you tuck him in, you spot the handle of his gun, pressed into the back of the couch.

You hope the safety is on.

***

When you wake up the next morning, Jimin is gone.

Placed on top of the pillow and folded duvet stacked on your couch, is a piece of paper with writing on.

Y/N,

I put your clothes in the washing machine after getting dressed, so you just have to dry it. I figured it was the least I could do after all the trouble I gave you.

I mean what I said last night, I really am sorry about your dad.

If you ever need my help, doesn't matter if it's something dumb like a lift somewhere or something a little more serious like taking someone out for you, you can find me at the bar on 17th Street. Chances are, I'll be there. If not, ask for Taehyung and tell him Jimin sent you.

Thank you for everything.

- Jimin -

P.S. I hope I see you again someday.

***

chapter 2

A/N: this is going to be a multi-chapter/part story. I don't know how many yet, just that there will be more!! Also, I am not a medical professional, so just go with the medical inconsistencies. I promise they won't be too far fetched.

[cocastyle]

Change - Ch. 1 | E I G H T

Pairing - Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 5,455

A/N - another chapter! finally lol! I’m so sorry for the long wait! basketball just ended (which was my last time playing so I was kind of depressed not gonna lie and had no motivation to do anything) and I’ve had a lot of school work lately which has been so much fun (note the sarcasm), but I was finally able to sit down and write an update which I really hope you all like!

if you would like to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

C H A N G E

Change Series Masterlist

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E I G H T -  Well House

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Since most of the group didn't want to go into the house, it had been decided that they would each draw a stick from the pile that Mike had collected off the ground. It was already known that Bill was going in and it had taken only one glare in Stan's direction as he tried to pull his cousin back to his side for them to realize that Y/N would be going into that house whether they liked it or not.

That meant that the two people with the shortest sticks would be accompanying Bill and Y/N into the house and, much to their dismay, Richie and Eddie were the unlucky two.

Y/N had to ignore Stan's worried gaze as she walked towards the front door of the house, knowing that it was hard for her cousin to be separated from her in a situation like this. But if she were to turn around, if she were to look him in the eyes, the courage she had somehow been able to muster would disappear and she wouldn't be able to go inside.

So Y/N didn't even look back at her cousin before walking in behind Bill. The two hesitated in the entryway and Y/N gulped slightly as she subconsciously took a tiny step closer to the boy. Both of their hands were shaking slightly, but as soon as they were able to grab onto the other and intertwine their fingers, their shaking had subsided.

It took all of Y/N's willpower not to gag at the sight of the interior of the house, but lucky for her, she was too distracted by Richie's complaining to even get a good look at everything as she began to walk forward once again with her hand gripping onto Bill's.

"I can't believe I pulled the short straw," Richie whined. "You guys are lucky you're not measuring dicks."

"Shut up, Richie," Eddie muttered as he looked around the house with wide eyes, the creaking noise coming from the settling of the house making him jump every now and then.

Eddie glanced to one side and winced at the decaying living room. "I can smell that," he whispered in disgust.

"Don't breathe through your mouth," Richie quickly told him causing the boy to look at him in confusion.

"How come?" Eddie asked almost afraid for the answer.

"Cause then you're eating it," Richie replied making Eddie gag and Y/N grimace. Y/N reached out with her free hand to pat Eddie on the back in comfort. Once the young boy had composed himself, he glanced over at Y/N and gave her a small thankful smile before his eyes flickered to where she was holding onto Bill's hand.

A look of shock crossed his face before his eyes flickered back up to Y/N's. He gave her an almost amused look and raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. Y/N's eyes widened a little and her cheeks turned red as she quickly looked away from Eddie who was chuckling softly to himself while also warily looking around at his surroundings.

Thankfully Bill hadn’t noticed this interaction at all and Y/N let out a small sigh of relief before looking around only to find Richie standing on the opposite side of the room. His body was trembling as he stared at something in his hands. Y/N couldn't help but furrow her eyebrows in confusion and say, "Richie?"

The boy didn't respond and merely turned around, his eyes not leaving the object in his hand which Y/N could now tell was a piece of paper. But the paper wasn't what concerned her. No, it was the absolutely horrified look on Richie's face, a look that she had never seen cross the boy's face since she first met him when they were six.

"Richie," Y/N said again as she gently let go of Bill's hand and begin to walk over to the boy. Bill noticed the sudden lack of Y/N's hand and went to glance at her only for his eyes to follow her gaze and latch on to Richie.

"What?" Bill asked as he followed after Y/N and over to Richie, Eddie right behind them.

"It. . .it says I'm missing," Richie muttered, his voice a little shaky as he stared at the paper that Y/N was now able to get a good look at. What Richie said was right. It was like one of the missing flyers that they had seen plastered throughout town only this one had a picture of Richie with his name, age and more listed below.

"Y-Y-Y-You're not missing, Richie," Bill tried to assure him but the boy shook his head, his eyes wide as the paper trembled in front of him.

"Police department, City of Derry," Richie read off. "That's my shirt, that's my hair, that's my face. . ." Richie began to yell and Y/N was quick to grab his arm in comfort while Bill tried to take the paper from him.

"It's not real, Richie," Y/N tried to tell him while Bill nodded in agreement, but Richie continued to yell.

"Calm down, this isn't real," Bill insisted.

"That's my name, that's my age, that's the date. . ." Richie yelled while Bill finally managed to crumple up the paper. Richie was latching onto the paper and Y/N had to try and pull him away while Bill tried to calm the boy down.

"This isn't real, Richie!" Bill yelled.

"What the fuck? It says I'm missing. Am I missing? Will I disappear?" Richie cried out before Y/N grabbed his arm and spun himself round so that he could look at her.

She put two hands on his arms and softly said, "Calm down, Richie. Listen to me."

"What the fuck?" Richie cried while Y/N looked at him.

"Take it easy," she whispered. "Look at me, Richie. Look at me." It took a moment but the boy eventually managed to stop yelling and let his eyes flicker over to the girl. Y/N frowned once she saw the tears that had sprung in his eyes and she didn't even hesitate before hugging him, an act that made Richie tense in surprise before he relaxed and hugged her back, gripping onto her so tightly like he thought he was going to disappear.

Bill and Eddie watched in silence, Eddie's eyes on Richie as a look of worry and concern flickered across his face while Bill stared at Y/N with a dazed look in his eyes like he was in awe.

"This isn't real," Y/N assured him as she rubbed a hand up and down his back, a trick she often used on Eddie to stop his small panic attacks. "It's playing tricks on you. That's all."

Before Richie could respond, a shaky voice called out, "Hello?"

Instantly, Richie and Y/N pulled away from each other, their eyes wide as they looked to the staircase where the voice had come from. Bill and Eddie were just as tense and all four gulped while Richie squeezed onto Y/N's arm which he still had ahold of.

"Hello?" the voice called out again and Y/N didn't know why they started doing it, but the group slowly began to walk towards the staircase where they could hear the voice calling out to them from upstairs. "Help me please!"

Y/N gulped before she began to walk forward and out of Richie's hold. The boy instead took a step closer to Eddie while Bill went to stand by Y/N's side, the four then beginning to make their way up the stairs.

Once they reached the top, Y/N couldn't help but hesitate. The others seemed to be trapped in a trance and before she knew it, they had all left her side and were now walking in front of her. Y/N gulped and had to force herself to continue walking, shaking slightly as she felt like something was watching her every move.

"Betty?" Y/N heard Bill whisper causing the girl to realize just how far behind she had gotten from the boys. She was quick to jog the rest of the way over, but froze at the sight of the open door at the end of the hallway, a girl around her age lying on the ground of the room the door led to.

"Ripsom?" Eddie whispered causing Y/N to realize that the girl was the one who had gone missing. The word barely had time to leave Eddie's mouth before the girl was suddenly being pulled back, a loud scream leaving her lips.

Tears began to fill Y/N's eyes and she had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet as she held back a sob. Bill and Richie began to move forward, but all Y/N could do was shake her head as she tried to calm herself down. She didn't even notice Eddie who was standing back behind her as he whispered so low that it was barely audible, "Guys, do you hear that?"

But he had spoken so low that none of them could hear him or what he was talking about. As for Y/N, it was like the world was beginning to spin all around her and she wasn't quite sure why. She had never had panic attacks before, but she felt as if she couldn't breath and it suddenly felt like something was forcing her into one of the empty rooms.

She couldn't even register what was happening before the world suddenly went still, the door slamming shut before her very eyes and making her scream. "No! Guys!" Y/N cried out, tears begging to fall out as she banged her hand against the door.

She could hear footsteps and before she knew it, she could hear banging from the other side and the juggling of the door knob as Bill yelled, "Y/N? Y/N!"

"Open the door! Open the fucking door!" Y/N cried out in the dark room that only had a small bit of light streaming in from the window as she desperately tried to open the door.

"It's locked! We can't-!" Richie began, but he was cut off by Eddie crying out before Richie yelled out, "What the fuck? The floor just caved in in the middle of the hallway!"

Y/N didn't even have time to register what was going on before she felt something wet around her ankles. The girl gulped and looked down, her eyes widening as she saw the water that was rapidly beginning to rise in the room.

"Guys! Help! There's water!" Y/N cried out. "Get me out of here!" She was full on sobbing by now, the water rushing into the room from who knows where so fast that it was now up to her knees.

"Y/N!" Bill yelled, but his screams were muffled by the gushing sound of water. All Y/N could register from the other side of the door was screams coming from all three of the boys before a loud crash was heard.

The water was up to her waist by now and Y/N was stumbling around the room trying to find anything that could break down the door. She began throwing things at the wood, even going as far as to use a chair which instantly broke from the force.

"Help!" Y/N sobbed, the water now to her chest as she clawed at the door. The door was suddenly banging much louder now and if Y/N didn't know any better, she would say that Bill and Richie were now trying to kick the door down.

All Y/N did was blink and then the water was up to her neck, the water level rising faster than she could think. She cried out one last time before taking a deep breath as the water filled up the whole room. Her lungs were burning as she tugged on the door knob, willing for it to open up and to get out of this death trap.

And just when she was close to slipping away, the door was suddenly kicked in and it was like all the water had disappeared. The only sign of there having been any water at all was the soaked Y/N who was lying on the ground gasping for air as her eyes frantically moved around.

Before she knew it, a figure was above her, hands cupping her face before moving the hair from her face as a voice whispered, "It's okay. You're okay. I got you."

It took a moment of her trying to breath and finally blinking the excess water from her eyes before Y/N managed to focus and lock on a pair of green eyes. At the sight of them, Y/N began to weep, her eyes squeezing shut as Bill pulled her up into a sitting position and held her close. He didn't even care how wet she was, only that she was in his arms and that she was alive after almost two near deaths just that afternoon.

Y/N gripped onto Bill like her life depended on it, her fingers digging into his shirt as she sobbed into his shoulder. Bill felt tears of his own prick his eyes and he held the girl tighter, kissing the side of her head as he continued to whisper, "It's okay. I got you. You're okay."

The two didn't even get a chance to hold onto each other for very long before a chorus of screams yelled, "Help! Help!"

Y/N and Bill could recognize those screams anywhere and Y/N was quick to pull away from Bill, their faces mere inches from each other as tears streamed down her face. "Eddie," she whispered and that was enough to have them both scrambling to their feet.

They made it to the stairs at the same time as Richie who was doing who knows what while Bill comforted Y/N, but obviously something that had him shaking from fear. The three practically fell down the stairs from how fast they were running and followed the screams until they were close to the kitchen.

"Eddie!" Y/N and Richie yelled as they ran into the kitchen with Bill behind them. All three of them froze at the sight of Eddie sitting on the ground with a broken arm while It was practically on top of him with his hand over the boy's face and his teeth showing.

It turned to look at them and dropped his hold on Eddie as he smirked at the three. His gaze was enough to make Y/N shiver and she suddenly felt a lot colder than she did by just being wet from the water.

"This isn't real enough for you, Billy?" It asked, his voice making Y/N gulp while Bill subconsciously took a small step in front of Y/N. "I'm not real enough for you?"

"Holy shit!" Richie muttered in disbelief while Y/N shook in pure fear.

"It was real enough for Georgie," It said and that was enough to make Bill go pale. Before the three could blink, It was running at them. Y/N cried out in fear and grabbed onto Bill while Richie hugged her side. All three of them could only watch in horror as the clown moved at an inhuman like speed.

However, he was instantly stopped when from out of no where Beverly appeared, stabbing the clown in the head with a steel pipe. The other Losers ran in not too long after her and they all watched with wide eyes as the clown froze, it's blood floating into the air while it made a sound that sounded like a sob.

Y/N was the first to snap to attention and she pushed all of her fear and pain aside to run past the clown and over to Eddie who was on the verge of an attack. For she could protect Eddie if she was by his side.

"Get Eddie! Get Eddie!" Richie yelled once he saw what Y/N was doing.

Y/N was still drenched but Eddie didn't seem to care as the girl pulled him into an embrace, holding his head to her chest as she gently rocked him back and forth while the two desperately tried to calm themselves down.

There was a lot of incoherent screaming as Bill, Beverly, and Richie rushed over to the two who were gripping onto each other for dear life as they struggled not to cry. Eddie held onto Y/N with his one good arm so tightly that she knew there would be bruises from where he was holding her, but she didn't care.

"Fuck! Fuck!" Eddie yelled once he saw It turn to them, a chorus of screams leaving everyone's mouth at the sight of the deformed clown. It began to move to them which only made Y/N and Eddie panic more. But unlike Eddie who was screaming for dear life and crying, Y/N had her eyes squeezed shut and was rocking her and Eddie even faster as she sobbed.

"Look at me! Look at me!" Richie yelled at Eddie as he tried to help Y/N in calming him down, but only Y/N was able to calm Eddie down the way they needed him to be and they all knew she was losing it at that moment so that wasn't helping.

There was the sound of laughter and Y/N let her eyes open up for a second and instantly regretted it as she watched It claw Ben across the stomach. "Ben!" Y/N shrieked, her whole body going numb as she watched the clown with pure fear coursing through her body.

To everyone's surprise, the clown slowly began to back out of the room leaving everyone a mess except for Bill who was watching It leave with a bit of confusion before he got up and began to run after the clown as he yelled, "Don't let It get away!"

Mike and Stan were trying to help Ben while Beverly slowly slid down the wall into a sitting position with her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. As for Richie, he was trying to calm Eddie and Y/N down, but that was before he saw Eddie's broken arm which was hanging at an odd angle.

"Fuck!" Richie yelled, instantly drawing attention to the boy's arm and making Beverly gasp in pure shock.

She hurried over and gulped before yelling out, "Bill, we have to help Eddie." The boy came back in an instant while Eddie shook his head violently in Y/N's hold and yelled out, "Nooooo, Nooooo!"

"I'm gonna snap your arm into place!" Richie exclaimed while Eddie looked at him with a death glare and screamed, "Do not fucking touch me! Do not fucking touch me!"

Y/N knew what was about to happen and stopped her sobbing in order to focus on the situation at hand. She tried to steady her breathing and held onto Eddie tighter as she whispered, "It's okay. You'll be okay. It's okay."

The words seemed to work for a moment as Eddie got distracted, but that was enough time for Richie to say, "Well, one, two, three." He then snapped it back into place and Eddie cried out in pain before falling back against Y/N, completely drained both physically and emotionally.

The two began to sob as they held onto each other and Bill gulped before grabbing their arms, "Come on! We need to get out of here!"

The group helped the two to their feet, but Eddie and Y/N didn't dare let go of each other, both knowing that they wouldn't be able to walk out there without the other by their side. They were each other's lifeline at the moment and that much was evident by the way they gripped onto each other's good arms and ran out of the house with the others surrounding them.

They didn't stop running until they were far away from the house and it was then and only then, with the house so far gone that they couldn't even see it, that they all broke.

Everyone was hugging each other as they desperately tried to come to terms with what had happened, but Y/N swore she would never forget the moment that she collapsed into her cousin's arms, muttering out a weak, "Stanley," before breaking down while he held onto her so tight she could barely breath.

One thing was for sure—Y/N Uris never wanted to see that fucking house ever again.

- - -

"You! You did this," Mrs. Kaspbrak hissed as she pointed at each of the children. "You know how delicate he is," she pointed out as she grabbed the back of Eddie's neck and dragged him towards their car.

"We were atacked, M-M-Mrs. K," Bill tried to argue while Eddie was shoved by them and towards the car. Eddie and Y/N locked eyes and both were teary eyes as they looked at each other, both knowing this wasn't going to end well.

"No, don't. Don't try to blame anyone else. . ." Mrs. Kaspbrak spat before closing the car door behind Eddie who had begun to silently cry in the car as he cradled his arm to his chest. Mrs. Kaspbrak, shaking from anger, dropped her keys onto the ground which Beverly went to pick up.

"Let me-" Beverly began in a kind voice as she bent down, but Mrs. Kaspbrak was quick to stop her as she grabbed the keys herself.

"Get back!" Mrs. Kaspbrak yelled aggressively making Y/N frown and grab onto Beverly's arm before pulling the red head to her side. Mrs. Kaspbrak glared at Beverly and muttered, "Oh, I've heard of you Miss Marsh. . .and I don't want a dirty girl like you touching my son."

"Mrs. Kaspbrak, will all due respect, you are supposed to be the adult and Beverly is a child. So if you could please get out of her face and be reasonable for a second, maybe we can talk-" Y/N began as she gently pushed Beverly behind her and put herself in between the red head and the older woman.

Mrs. Kaspbrak scoffed, instantly shutting Y/N up as she began to laugh and took a step closer to her. "Well if it isn't Y/N Uris. It was better when you stopped coming around here. It made everyone's life better and look what's happened now that you're back. Your parents were bitches when they were here too, but I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh? I don't want you near my son ever again, you hear?" she practically hissed, chuckling at the tears that had sprung in the girl's eyes as she bit her lip.

Eddie watched with horror in his eyes from his car and as soon as his mother had walked away, he looked to Y/N with an apologetic look as tears rolled down her face. The girl's lips only trembled and she looked away, an action that made Eddie let out a small sob as he looked away.

They both knew that she wasn't mad at him, but Mrs. Kaspbrak's words had struck a nerve even if they weren't true. After all, if she knew all that Y/N did for her boy, she would probably be praising her rather than degrading her.

"Ms. K, I. . ." Bill began, trying to lower the blow of this conversation despite the redness of his cheeks that had formed out of pure anger at what she had said to Y/N.

"No, you are all monsters, all of you!" Mrs. Kaspbrak yelled. "And Eddie is done with you, you hear, done!" She then stormed away and got into her car before driving away as fast as she could, taking a crying Eddie with her.

Y/N found herself running out into the street, staring after the car which was driving far away. The others quickly joined her and Bill was by her side in a second, his hand gently brushing against hers before latching on to let her know that he was there. Stan appeared on her other side not even a second later and the two cousins shared a look before looking back at the car.

Y/N watched the car go and felt her heart ache for the boy who was like her brother. And knowing that she could possibly never see him again hit her so hard that she couldn't stop the tear rolling down her face as the car drove out of sight.

The car hadn't even been gone for long before Bill turned around to look at the others, momentarily letting go of Y/N's hand in order to turn before grabbing her other one once he was turned around.

"I saw the well," he announced making everyone look to him, some confused while a few looked at him in shock. Was he seriously going on about this now? After everything that had just happened? "W-W-W-W-We know where it is and next time we'll be better prepared."

"Next time?" Y/N blanched, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach at the thought.

"No! No next time, Bill!" Stan exclaimed as he glared at the boy and gently tugged his cousin to his side, effectively pulling the two's hands away from each other. "You're insane!"

"Why? We all know nobody else is going to do anything," Beverly said while Y/N looked at her and Bill with wide eyes.

"Eddie was nearly killed, Y/N got her leg sliced up and almost drowned, and look at this motherfucker, he's leaking hamburger helper!" Richie yelled as he gestured towards Ben who was holding onto his bloody stomach.

Y/N winced and Stan wrapped an arm around her protectively, grimacing slightly at how damp she still was but holding her tight nonetheless.

"We can't pretend it's going to go away," Beverly insisted. "Ben, you said yourself It comes back every 27 years."

"Fine!" Ben exclaimed. "I'll be forty and far away from here. I thought you said you wanted to get out of this town too."

"Because I want to run towards something, not away," Beverly argued, a look of pure surprise and disbelief on her face as she looked at Ben.

"I'm sorry but who invited Molly Ringwald into the group?" Richie questioned causing Y/N to sigh and Beverly to flick him off.

"Richie. . ." Y/N and Stan sighed, both of the Uris cousins looking to the boy who shrugged.

"I'm just saying, lets face facts. Real world Georgie is dead," Richie said causing Y/N's mouth to drop open at the boy in disbelief. "Stop trying to get us killed too."

Richie went to walk past Bill who grabbed onto him in anger and said, "Georgie's not dead."

"You couldn't save him but you could still save yourself," Richie insisted as he once again tried to wall away but Bill was quick to stop him.

"No! T-T-T-Take it back," Bill said, tears filling his eyes. "You're scared and we all are but take it back." The boy then shoved Richie as hard as he could and Y/N looked at him in shock.

"Bill!" Y/N exclaimed, but Richie was already shoving Bill back who quickly grabbed Richie and punched him in the face causing the boy to fall to the ground.

"Holy shit! Bill, what the fuck?" Y/N yelled as she pushed the boy away, tears in her eyes and anger evident on her face. Bill's eyes locked with hers and she stood before him staring at him in disbelief while the others were quick to help Richie up.

She couldn't believe Bill had just done that. She understood that he was upset about what Richie had said but that gave him no right to punch his friend like that especially when Bill knew that Richie would never go as far as to punch him. That was not the Bill she knew and quite frankly, she didn't like this side of him.

"What are you doing?" Y/N finally whispered, tears rolling down her face while Bill just looked at her in shock, his heart breaking at the disappointment evident on her face.

"You're such a fucking loser!" Richie exclaimed once he was back on his feet. He tried to lunge for Bill and that was enough to have Bill snap out of it and go to lunge at Richie. Y/N's eyes widened and she quickly grabbed Bill and began to pull him back while Stan and Mike grabbed Richie who was freaking out.

"You're a bunch of losers!" Richie exclaimed while he was struggling against his friends' grasps. As for Bill, he was trying to get away from Y/N who was holding onto him, but couldn't help himself from relaxing slightly in her hold, especially once he knew she was watching him. "You're gonna get yourself killed trying to catch a stupid clown!"

"Stop!" Y/N finally yelled and both of the boys ceased their struggling to look at her as she stared at them. She was still holding onto Bill and even though she was mad at him, let her head fall against his arm as she let out a small sob.

Why was this all happening? The stuff with It, Eddie being taken away, their fighting? Why? And why the fuck could she not stop crying?

"This is what It wants. It wants to divide us. We were all together when we hurt it. That's why we're still alive," Beverly told them as Y/N moved her head from Bill's arm to look at the girl, using a hand to wipe away her tears as she did.

"Yeah? Well I plan to keep it that way," Richie muttered as he walked past them, bumping his shoulder against Bill's on purpose as he left. Stan began to walk after him, but hesitated before looking back at his cousin who was still gripping onto Bill's arm.

It was then that Y/N knew that she had to make a choice and when Bill looked to her, they both knew what her choice was. Both of them looked at each other with tear filled eyes and Y/N shakily pulled away from the boy.

She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something, but no words came out as the two just stared at each other. Bill shook his head ever so slightly, a tear rolling down his face that only made Y/N's face contort in pain at the sight.

Knowing it would hurt the longer that she took, Y/N turned and was quick to run over to her cousin, the two instantly linking arms before beginning to walk away and to their bikes. Y/N glanced over her shoulder once to find the rest of the Losers staring after them, but it was Bill's face that broke her. It looked as if his heart had just been ripped out of his chest and stomped on, tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared at her heartbrokenly.

Y/N had to look away and hopped onto Stan's bike before he began to pedal away. It was then that she came to terms with what had just happened.

But she couldn't have stayed. She didn't want to die. And after today where she had almost died twice, she never wanted to be put into that situation again nor see her friends in that situation. She was only a kid after all. Why should she have to deal with this when this summer was just supposed to be a time for her and Stan to enjoy themselves?

A sniffle had the girl snapping out of her thoughts and she turned her head to look at Stan who was biting his quivering lip as a few tears fell from his eyes. The sight made Y/N's heart break and she was quick to wrap her arms around him tighter and lean her head against his back, a sign that she was still there. This was enough to make Stan sigh as he leaned back and into his cousin’s hold.

For as long as they had each other, they would never be alone. And they would be there to help each other get through this just like they always would.

And with that, everyone began to go their separate ways.

The Losers Club was over.

* * *

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[obsessedwiththebatman]

Joel T. Schumacher

(August 29, 1939 – June 22, 2020) was an American filmmaker. Schumacher rose to fame after directing three hit films: St. Elmo's Fire (1985), The Lost Boys (1987), and Flatliners (1990). He later went on to direct the John Grisham adaptations The Client (1994) and A Time to Kill (1996). His films Falling Down (1993) and 8mm (1999) competed for Palme d'Or and Golden Bear, respectively.

Director of films, including: The Incredible Shrinking Woman, 1981; D.C. Cab, 1983; St. Elmo's Fire, 1985; The Lost Boys, 1987; Cousins, 1989; Flatliners, 1990; Dying Young, 1991; Falling Down, 1993; The Client, 1994; Batman Forever, 1995; A Time to Kill, 1996; Batman & Robin, 1997; 8 mm, 1999; Flawless, 1999; Mauvaises Frequentations, 1999; Tigerland, 2000; Bad Company, 2002; Phone Booth, 2003; Veronica Guerin, 2003; Phantom of the Opera, 2004. Director of television movies, including: The Virginia Hill Story, 1974; Amateur Night at the Dixie Bar and Grill, 1979.

Awards:

National Association of Theater Owners (NATO) ShoWest Director of the Year Award, 1997; NATO ShowEast Award for Excellence in Filmmaking, 1999.

Sidelights

After more than three decades in the film industry, Joel Schumacher has earned a reputation as one of the most respected and well–liked mainstream

Joel Schumacher

filmmakers around. Schumacher's films are glossy; he delights moviegoers with his staggering sense of style. Movie companies love Schumacher as well because he completes his films on time and on budget. Over the years, the costume designer–turned–director has generated a long list of credits to his name, including the 1985 hit St. Elmo's Fire, which helped launch the careers of the "brat pack" kids, including Rob Lowe, Demi Moore, Andrew McCarthy, Judd Nelson, Ally Sheedy, and Emilio Estevez. His biggest blockbuster was 1995's Batman Forever, starring Val Kilmer in the feature role and Jim Carrey as his nemesis, The Riddler. That movie grossed $184 million at the box office. For Schumacher, it is a dream come true. "I'm very lucky to be here," he told Jim Schembri of the Age. "I have a career beyond my wildest dreams. I've wanted to make movies since I was seven. I have my health, I conquered drugs and alcohol.… I've survived an awful lot."

Schumacher was born on August 29, 1939, in New York, New York, and grew up an only child in the working–class neighborhood of Long Island City in Queens, New York. Speaking to the New York Times 's Bernard Weinraub, Schumacher referred to himself as an "American mongrel." Said Schumacher: "My mother was a Jew from Sweden; my father was a Baptist from Knoxville, Tennessee."

When Schumacher was four, his father died. To make ends meet, his mother went to work selling dresses. She worked six days a week and also some nights. "She was a wonderful woman, but, in a sense, I lost my mother when I lost my father," Schumacher told Newsweek 's Mark Miller. By the time he was eight, the unsupervised Schumacher was on the street taking care of and entertaining himself. He found comfort reading Batman comics and spent long afternoons in darkened movie theaters watching Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant on the big screen. "Those were my two biggest obsessions before I discovered alcohol, cigarettes, and sex," Schumacher told Miller. "Then my obsessions changed a little bit. I started drinking when I was nine. I started sex when I was eleven. I started drugs in my early teens. And I left home the summer I turned 16. I went right into the beautiful–people fast lane in New York at the speed of sound. I've made every mistake in the book."

As a child, Schumacher also dabbled in entertainment. He built his own puppet theater and performed at parties. To help his mother make money, he also delivered meat for a local butcher. Walking the streets, Schumacher became interested in window displays and volunteered to dress the store windows in his neighborhood.

After he left home at 16, Schumacher lied about his age and landed a job at Macy's selling gloves in the menswear department. From there, he became a window dresser for Macy's, as well as Lord & Taylor and Saks. Later, Schumacher worked as a window dresser at Henri Bendel's and earned a scholarship to the Parsons School of Design in New York City. He also attended that city's Fashion Institute of Technology. Next, he worked as a fashion designer and helped manage a trendy boutique called Paraphernalia, long associated with Andy Warhol and Edie Sedgwick. In time, Schumacher found work with Revlon, designing packaging.

With a keen eye for style, Schumacher became a big star in the fashion world, but sunk lower into drugs. He favored speed, acid, and heroin. Schumacher refered to this period of his life—the 1960s—as his "vampire" years, according to Newsweek 's Miller. He stayed inside all day, covering his windows with blankets. He only went out at night. One day in 1970, something snapped, and Schumacher quit the hard–core drugs. "I guess it was the survivor in me," he told Weinraub in the New York Times. "I just knew I had to stop." He did, however, continue drinking, a problem that plagued him for two more decades.

In 1971, Schumacher relocated to Los Angeles, California, and got his foot in the film industry door when he landed a trial job as a costume designer for Play It As It Lays, which was released in 1972. From there, he picked up jobs as a costume designer for movies like Woody Allen's Sleeper and Blume in Love, both released in 1973. Through these movies, Schumacher made contacts and landed his first directing job for the 1974 NBC–TV drama The Virginia Hill Story. He also began writing screenplays, including 1976's Car Wash, and the 1978 musical, The Wiz. Finally, in 1981, he got his first shot at filmmaking, directing Lily Tomlin in The Incredible Shrinking Woman. Reviewers frequently commented on the atypical color scheme he chose for this film.

One of Schumacher's early successes was a 1983 film about a metropolitan cab company run by a group of misfits. Called D.C. Cab, the film featured Mr. T. Other early hits included 1985's St. Elmo's Fire, and 1987's The Lost Boys. The latter film, a vampire flick, helped launch the careers of Corey Haim, Corey Feldman, and Kiefer Sutherland; it was a hit with the teen audience. He followed up with the 1990 thriller Flatliners, and the psychological drama Falling Down, starring Michael Douglas, in 1993.

By the early 1990s, Schumacher was coming into his own. Legendary author John Grisham asked Schumacher to adapt his best–selling legal thriller, The Client, for the big screen. Schumacher cast Tommy Lee Jones and Susan Sarandon in lead roles in the film that told the story of a street–savvy kid in danger because he had information about a mob killing. The movie, released in 1994, was well–received and Sarandon received an Oscar nomination for best actress.

Next, Schumacher earned directorial rights to Batman Forever, released in 1995. The first two installments of the series were directed by Tim Burton, but were thought to be too dark and serious. Schumacher was charged with brightening the series. Val Kilmer replaced Michael Keaton as Batman, and Jim Carrey joined the cast as The Riddler. Under Schumacher's direction, the movie became the blockbuster of the summer, raking in $184 million. Batman & Robin followed in 1997 but was terribly unsuccessful, putting an end to the Batman series.

Over the years, Schumacher has become known for his perceptive ability to cast unknown actors and turn them into hotshots. His films have given rise to the careers of the "brat packers," as well as Matthew McConaughey, cast in Schumacher's 1996 adaptation of another Grisham novel, A Time to Kill. Schumacher also "discovered" Irish actor Colin Farrell, giving him the lead in the 2000 Vietnam drama Tigerland, which proved to be Farrell's breakthrough performance. Schumacher later cast Farrell in his 2003 suspense thriller Phone Booth, which was shot in an amazing 12 days.

Another actor who gained prominence under Schumacher is comedian Chris Rock, who starred in 2002's Bad Company. Like many actors, Rock enjoyed working with Schumacher and was amazed by Schumacher's ability to handle the whole operation of movie–making. As Rock told Film Journal International 's Harry Haun: "Joel is like a general, like Patton or something. He really knows how to whip up the troops. Doing a big movie is a lot of directing. It's coordinating a whole town. It's like being a mayor, and he's totally up to the task—of being a general and making it artistic."

What makes Schumacher stand apart from other directors is his eye for style. Characters in his films appear polished and classy, yet sexy. According to Haun, a Movieline article by Michael Fleming once proclaimed, "Why Don't People Look in Other Movies Like They Look in Joel Schumacher Movies?" For that, Schumacher credits his childhood spent in movie theaters where he inhaled a steady diet of films with stars like Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman, Cary Grant, and Marilyn Monroe. As Schumacher explained to Haun, "You went to the movies and saw—Grace Kelly—these staggering images on the screen, so I think my early film influences are these archetypes—Audrey Hepburn, Gary Cooper. It's very much how I see film."

With about 20 films under his belt, Schumacher has had nearly every kind of review possible but says, for the most part, that he ignores them. Speaking with Film Journal International 's David Noh, Schumacher said he does not read reviews. "Woody Allen taught me a long time ago, 'Don't read them. If you believe the good, you'll believe the bad.' When they think you're a genius it's an exaggeration also, so somewhere between genius and scum is the reality of life."

After his foray into the blockbuster, high–budget world of the Batman series, Schumacher pulled back from big–name titles and returned to making grittier, chancier films. In 2003, he branched out into true crime, directing the film Veronica Guerin, which starred Cate Blanchett as the Irish journalist of the title. Guerin was killed by a heroin kingpin in 1996, who was angered by her investigative reporting. Schumacher made the movie in Ireland on a budget of $14 million—whereas $70 million is the average cost for a studio film. Once again, Schumacher was like a general. He kept everyone focused, shooting at 93 locations in 50 days.

The film won praise for its straightforward approach to the topic. Schumacher refused to glorify Guerin post–mortem, a trap many directors fall into. Speaking to the Age 's Schembri, Schumacher spoke about true stories this way: "You want to be sure that you're approaching the subject matter with integrity and not just trying to glorify the person, but trying to be honest with the facts, even if it upsets some people." Schumacher has also tried his hand at producing a musical. His film version of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical masterpiece The Phantom of the Opera, was set for release in 2004.

Schumacher is also openly gay but refuses to get into discussions about how his sexuality affects him in the movie business. "It never was an issue," he told Film Journal International 's Noh, noting he does not believe in labels. "I think we're all villains and victims, as long as we live in a culture which keeps defining people as African–American lesbian judge, gay congressman, Jewish vice–presidential candidate, etc. You would never say that Bill Clinton was a Caucasian heterosexual WASP president, you just say he's Bill Clinton. That means the only norm is white WASP male, because everyone else must be defined. I'm totally against that."

Despite his success, Schumacher has no plans to rest on his laurels. Though he is considered a veteran filmmaker by many, Schumacher still sees himself as a student. As he told the Guardian 's Peter Curran: "I hope I haven't made my best one yet, I'm still trying to learn on the job. So I keep stretching and hopefully I keep making better and better films.

[diarheise]

Explore the story behind my personality!

It was Saturday and the wind blows coldly outside in the ***** day of ******* year 200*. The tick-tock-tick-tock of the clock rings and the time says it was eleven fifty six in the evening (11:56 P.M), the daughter of Mr. ****** and Mrs. ****** ****** was born and named the baby “Heidie ****”. I’m a blessing from God for them and I’m proudly to say that I am their first born.

Green grass, fresh air and a wide sugarcane plantation is the place where I lived and grew up. ****** ***, ******** had a special place in my heart because this is my home and where I truly belong. This is my hometown and this place is my comfort zone.

When I was two months old, my grandmother took care of me since my father and mother always go for work. I am Lola’s girl since then until now. I slept in my grandmother’s house even though our house is just few steps away. As time went by, another blessing from God for our family was born and my younger sister named “****** *****” who was just three years younger than me.

All of us in the family are Iglesia Ni Cristo member and proud of our divine election. I am also a church officer where I always fulfill my church duty every Thursday and Sunday. When I have a problem, I always go to the church to pray and let God help me to pass all the struggles I’m facing.

I really love cooking. Since when I was a kid, I always watched my parents cooked our food and eventually it became one of my hobbies. I also love music even though I can’t play any instrument because music feels so good and relaxing when I am perplexed or distraught. Reading and writing poems and stories are one of my favorite things to do when I’m bored. These help me a lot in expressing my thoughts and feelings and these also help in improving my skills that might be useful for me in the future. Photography is also one of my hobbies, I always capture the beauty of nature because it gives calmness and peace for me. Nevertheless, I felt disappointed in terms of behavior when someone is selfish, self-centered and irresponsible. There’s no improvement when they won’t stop in doing these kind of attitudes.

“Let your weaknesses be your potential strengths” is my motto in life because it inspires me even more to fight and overcome my weaknesses and not just easily give up when I can’t do anything I want. Being motivated by my weaknesses help me to do something great and let it be my strength for some reason.

My Childhood memories is really worth-remembering. During Saturday morning, my cousins and I played tumbang preso, Chinese garter, piko and hide and seek. When my grandmother shouted, I run fast going back home because it’s time for our lunch. We ate lunch outside, under the tall trees while fresh air blows. During Sunday, I woke up early to attend worship service and when the time reached 6:00 P.M, I’m going back home from playing because it’s time to watched my favorite kid show “Goin’ Bulilit”. It was great to look back and reminiscing the days when I was a kid, only outdoor games make me tired, only the games make me hurt. No problems, no worries. But now, we grew up and our childhood memories will remain in our hearts forever.

Year 200*, when I graduated in Day Care and I was just four years old that time. The time passed by and I entered a new school who became my home for six years. I was just five years old when I began to study and be one of those Grade one students once I passed the examination given by our principal. Despite of my young age, I can also do what my classmates do. Way back then, I'm also one of the Band Majorettes in school, that's why, dancing becomes my passion but as I grew up and I entered High School, shyness and low self-esteem filled my system and I wasn't able to dance in school again. Age is just numbers and dream is huge from it. Six years in Elementary was fulfilled and 20** when I graduated. Another chapter in my life book ends and a new chapter began.

Junior High School days are really unforgettable. These days shaped my skills and capabilities. ****** National High School has been a home for me where I can look back because this is where I truly found where I am good at. But just like a movie, it has an ending and 20** marked the calendar, it’s time for us to bid our goodbye to our beloved school.

SHS in *** truly challenged me not just only as a student but also as an individual. This is where I showcase my skills and capabilities as a person. From being a shy type person turns to a new me that I thought I couldn’t be in the past. I study hard and strive hard to make my parents proud. I also learned in my senior high school journey that time is really important because every seconds passed, opportunity comes, so, don’t waste it. I know one day, I’m going to wake up and new school welcomes me, this year will be a new milestone in my life. Few months to go and we’ll finally hear “Congratulations Batch 20**-20**” and when that time comes, I could finally say that I survived being a senior high school student and I survived being a Humanities and Social Sciences (HUMSS) student. “I am a Humanista and proud to be one” a quote that will stick in my mind and will mark in my heart.

School days won’t be memorable if I’m alone. These people whom I always get along with plays a special role in my life. They’re one of those people who completes my life as a student. They are *******, *****, ******, ******** and ******, my best friends. We’re together in studying hard for our dreams and we’re together in achieving it.

Here's ****** *********, a person who’s also special in my heart. She’s my best friend for life. I met her when we’re junior high school. We’ve study in different school, I’m on ***** while she’s on ***, but despite of this situations, we find time to bond and get along with each other.

Another person a place in my heart. He’s ****** *****, my guy best friend. Distance really matters that’s why we don’t see each other often. He’s also an Iglesia Ni Cristo member and we only see each other in church activities. Despite of the distance, we always supporting and cheering each other whenever there’s a problem or even achievements.

I’m not here to brag, I just want to inspire someone by saying this, I am a consistent honor student since Day Care. Being an honor student isn’t easy. Pressure is always on top. But for me, failures are great because I know I have my weaknesses and failures thought me not to give up and it creates a lesson that I always remember for the rest of my life. Failure is an experience and we shouldn’t be afraid of falling because chance is always there and we need to stand again after we fall and fight for our dreams.

“Proud kami sayo ng Papa, Ate”, these was the words from my mother when I announced to them about my achievements in school. Tears started to fell in my eyes when I read the message of my mother thru SMS. That time, my mother was in the hospital to take care of my aunt who gave birth to my cousin while my father was on work. Deliberation of card was held and my grandmother was the one to attend because my parents weren’t home. Sadness filled me but that loneliness turned in gratefulness because of those message. I’m not expressive to my parents about my feelings and also they are and these message is truly unforgettable one.

I am an aspiring Psychologist who would like to be successful someday. Nobody knows what our future will be but I'll let God help me decide appropriately according to His will and plan. I would like to be a psychologist someday because I was being depressed in an early age but unlike others I'm not suicidal because I believe life is precious, I just lost myself and not being able to find where I'm passionate at. I thought my life isn't interesting but God lead my way and woke me up from the nightmare of depression. I fully regained myself and confidence again and I would like to help those people who undergo depression and motivate them that there's more to life. I am proud to be a depression survivor and life is a blessing, so, make the most of it memorable. God made us and he will never forsake us in different situations we encounter.

Participating in a church activity is really exhilarating but participating in Worldwide Walk for a Cause held in Roxas Boulevard that got a Guinness Book of World Record is extravagant and being one of those choir members who represent our cluster and compete for the District Chorale Competition is truly a great opportunity for me, a worth-participating event it is! It was really unforgettable not just only for me but also for all the brethren around the world. To God be all the glory!

"We have our own purpose in life but we can't see it immediately, we need to strive hard to look for the main reason why God let us live in this world. We need to persevere to make our life worth-living for. Dream high, soar high and aspire, success is on our way if we endeavor for it."

-Heidie **** *****

[antti-nannimus]

Once I lived the life of a millionaire Spending my money'n I did not care care Carrying my friends out for a good time Buyin’ bootleg liquor, champagne and wine Lord but I got busted and I fell so low Didn't have no money and nowhere to go This is the truth, Lord, without a doubt Nobody wants you when you're down, I mean Nobody wants you when you’re down

Lord, the other day I asked a man for my rent He told me, boy, the money he had spent But I tried my best to try one or two That's everything that I could do Lord, nobody let me have one lousy dime I now get worried now all the time But I'm gon' tell you this is the truth, Lord, without a doubt Nobody wants you when you're down Nobody wants you when you're down

Lord, if I could get my hands on a dollar again I would hold it till that eagle grins I would try just for one little house Nobody knows me when I'm down and out Lord, I tried for another day To make troubles in my own way But I'm gon’ tell you the truth, Lord without a doubt Nobody knows me when you’re down, I mean Nobody knows me when you're down

"…Bob Dylan said, "There is a strong line in all our music that can be traced back directly to Scrapper Blackwell. He was a truly great musician …" Hell, even Robert Johnson covered one of his tunes. But who remembers Scrapper Blackwell? Between 1928 and 1935, Scrapper Blackwell and his partner, pianist Leroy Carr, were the most popular blues duo in America. Their first hit, “How Long, How Long Blues,” was the top blues song of 1928. In fact, so many copies were pressed, causing the original metal masters to wear out! Vocalion Records called Carr and Blackwell back into the recording studio twice to record “How Long, How Long Blues No. 2” and “How Long, How Long Blues No. 3!”

Unlike the tragic stories of many other bluesmen, Vocalion paid the duo fairly, each netting $4,000, which translates to $55,000 in today’s money. And they continued to get royalty checks every six months.

For the next few years, Leroy Carr and Scrapper Blackwell continued their string of hits, including “Kokomo Blues,” “Blues Before Sunrise” and “Mean Mistreater Mama.” Feeling slighted for Carr’s top billing (and often omitting Blackwell’s own name on the label), Scrapper entered the recording studio in 1931 and 1932 to cut some incredible solo records under his own name. As a former bootlegger, he often sang of making and drinking homemade whiskey, such as “Down in Black Bottom.” Listen to his fluid fingerpicking, recorded four years before Robert Johnson ever cut anything to wax…

Blackwell’s solo recordings were hits on their own, guaranteeing his name to always be included with Carr’s on their duo recordings.

Blackwell and Carr continued to record together until 1935, ending with a bitter recording session in February of that year. Both musicians left the studio mid-session and on bad terms, stemming from payment disputes. Two months later, Blackwell received a phone call informing him of Carr's death due to heavy drinking and nephritis.

Blackwell soon recorded a tribute to his musical partner of seven years ("My Old Pal Blues") and then walked away from his recording career, working in an asphalt factory.

Blackwell was rediscovered in the late Fifties, poverty-stricken and living in his cousin’s house. He didn’t even own a guitar. When one was provided for him, he immediately went back to his old chops, not missing a single lick. The folk music boom was on, and Blackwell was just the hero they were looking for. He was brought back into the studio and cut three albums' worth of material. He also started planning festival appearances.

All his plans were cut short October 7, 1962, when Blackwell was gunned down in front of his house in an apparent mugging. The crime remains unsolved to this day.

Blackwell left a wealth of recordings, showcasing his single-string leads that influenced generations of performers (whether they know it or not). Bob Dylan said, "There is a strong line in all our music that can be traced back directly to Scrapper Blackwell. He was a truly great musician who did deserve more than was ever given him…"

[artificialqueens]

But I'm A Cheerleader! - Chapter 30 (Aja x Farrah) - Millie

A/N: Happy 1 year anniversary to this fic! The first chapter was submitted on April 7th last year, hence why I decided to publish this chapter at the same time. I can’t believe it’s taken me a year to reach 30 chapters! Also during the time of writing this chapter I met a load of queens including Farrah which was literally the best night of my life and she was incredibly sweet. As a little celebration I made a Spotify playlist for this fic :)

 When Monday came around, the cheerleaders received an announcement from Miss Visage, with Cynthia standing by her side. They’d both come to the conclusion that they’d need to host auditions to acquire new cheerleaders in time for when the seniors graduated. There were six in total - Charlie, Cynthia, Nina, Alexis, Kimora, and Peppermint - and they needed to fill every spot to fit the routines that they did.

 "Since RuPaul’s Glamazons won this season, we decided that they could be in charge of auditions,“ Miss Visage had told them all first thing in the morning. “B-52 Bombers: you can attend if you’d like, but the Glamazons will get first pick from the lineup if you don’t.”

 "I’ll definitely be there,“ Cynthia had assured. "You can go to your classes instead and I’ll pick the best girls!”

 A feeling of excitement had bubbled in Aja’s stomach. She missed cheerleading so dearly since football season had ended and they were waiting so desperately for their results from the tryouts. She’d never had the privilege of attending an audition as a judge before, as previous captains had been much stricter and the teachers less involved. Even if she wasn’t going to perform, it filled her with happiness to witness someone else do it. Plus, she got to wear her cheer uniform, which she hadn’t even looked at since the tryouts.

 They organised to host the auditions in a week’s time, and Shea got to creating the advertisements. The end result was a giant header, reading, “Cheerleader Auditions,” in a sparkly, pink font that resembled the format of some text from Microsoft Publisher, with, “Monday after school in the gym - GOOD LUCK!” written underneath in cursive. It looked very girly (not to perpetuate stereotypes, Aja reminded herself) and almost childish, but all of them were happy with it and it got straight to the point.

 So, when next Monday quickly arrived, everyone was raring and ready to get this going. They put up signs on the gym door to less-than-subtly remind people of the auditions, and provided sheets outside for people to put their name, age, grade, etc. down so that they were easy to keep track of. Aja admired her team’s organisation skills, and everything felt very professional.

 Sitting at the table in the gym were all of RuPaul’s Glamazons, as well as Cynthia, Valentina, and Eureka. The rest of the Bombers had decided that class was more important, even if it was almost the end of the year, and so had passed on this opportunity.

 "Who’s next?“ Aja asked, who was sitting on the right-hand side of the table.

 Cynthia, who was next to her, flipped through the application forms for a moment. So far, most of the girls had been fairly disappointing.

 Her eyes widened once they landed upon the name at the top of the sheet in her hands. "Oh, my God,” she said.

 "What?“ Aja questioned. "Someone famous or something?”

 "Well, kind of,“ Cynthia replied. "Brianna Cracker - that’s Bob the Cheerleader’s younger sister! And Peppermint’s cousin!”

 Aja’s expression mirrored Cynthia’s, as did the rest of the table. “You mean Miz Cracker?” she asked. “Apparently she goes by that now.”

 "Have you guys seen her cheer before?“ Jaymes asked. "I saw her with who I presume is her old team a couple years ago at a convention centre and she won some trophy.”

 "Then I imagine she’s pretty good,“ Shea said. "Should we call her in?”

 Cynthia nodded. “Miz Cracker!” she called towards the door, and a second later, a petite, blonde girl walked in.

 She looked nothing like Bob. First of all, she had extremely voluminous, blonde waves, and was about a foot shorter than Bob was. However, all of them were sure that their talent would be on the same level, or at least, they were hopeful.

 "Hiya,“ Cracker said with a grin.

 "Hey,” Sasha said. “What kind of position are you auditioning for?”

 "Preferably a flyer,“ she replied.

 "Alright; go ahead,” Sasha said. “Show us what you have.”

 Cracked nodded curtly, and quickly tied her hair back into a low ponytail. She leapt forward into a front handspring, looking almost weightless as she did it. Next, she did a backflip before cartwheeling, landing in the splits. Compared to other people they’d seen, this was quite advanced, especially for a sophomore. A lot of the current cheerleaders had only learnt moves like that from being on the team, certainly not before that.

 She pulled herself up and bowed, receiving a round of applause form everyone.

 "Seniors? Any requests?“ Sasha asked, looking around the table. They had agreed that the seniors could have the most say in who would join the team, especially considering that they were the ones being replaced - the new girls had to carry on that talent.

 "Can you do a back handspring?” Eureka asked.

 "I can try…“ Cracker said. She took a visibly deep breath before bending her knees and throwing herself backwards into a shaky back handspring, landing precariously on her feet. Eureka seemed impressed, raising her eyebrows.

 “Great!” Cynthia said, smiling. “Can you cheer?”

 “Sure…!” she replied hesitantly. “What do you want me to say?”

 “We are RuPaul’s Glamazons; got our cheering panties on,” Aja piped up. She was impressed thus far, and if she heard the Glamazons’ words come out of her mouth, she could be even more convinced of Miz Cracker’s talents. “Our beat is unstoppable; our hair is unclockable.” Cracker got her gist and went ahead.

 “We are RuPaul’s Glamazons; got our cheering panties on!” she belted, a grin spread across her face. “Our beat is unstoppable; our hair is unclockable.“ She concluded with one hand on her waist and the other up in the air, shaped into a triumphant fist. It was convincing enough.

 "That was great!” Sasha encouraged. “Thanks for coming. We’ll let you know at the end if you made the cut.”

 "Thanks!“ Cracker nodded at her before leaving the gym, more spring in her step than before.

 -

 The next girl to impress everyone was surprisingly a freshman: Aquaria. However, Aja wasn’t pleased at this. Sure, she was quite talented, but she had a vibe about her that made her seem, frankly, unlikable. She looked fairly similar to Miz Cracker and had pretty much the same skill set as her, which was even more annoying; there would certainly be fights over who got who.

 Kameron was another very impressive student. She had the biggest muscles that Aja had ever seen on a girl, especially someone of a sophomore age, and was strong enough to lift a person by herself (which she demonstrated on Cynthia). She seemed quite sweet, too, and her cheers were filled with enthusiasm.

 The cheerleaders went through several other girls before they finally landed on another talented person, and that was Monét. Aja knew Monét through Bob and Luis, and knew she’d tried out for the team a couple times in the past. She had no idea why they hadn’t taken her on previously; her stunts were absolutely phenomenal.

 Yuhua was straight after that, and was just as charismatic. Her cheering was loud and clear, which was exactly what they were looking for, and her stunts were some of the smoothest they’d seen so far.

 To finish, there was The Vixen.

 Cynthia had first addressed her as simply, "Vixen”, which she wasn’t pleased about.

 ”The Vixen,“ she had corrected immediately, which at first gave her the same air as Aquaria. However, after that, she was perfectly nice, and her performance was sharp. Aja would watch out for her if she ended up with the Glamazons. Shea had been to middle school with her and they were close friends, and apparently she was notorious for her dancing.

 -

 "Is that everyone?” Aja asked, trying to peer through the door that The Vixen was leaving through. The rest of the girls that had auditioned were still standing there restlessly, some tapping one foot or shifting between legs to stand on.

 "I guess so,“ Cynthia said.

“What’s the verdict?” Shea questioned. “Does everyone know who they want?“

 "I think it’s obvious who the best are,” Alexis said. “I mean, everyone else was boring as fuck compared to Cracker, Kameron, Monét, Yuhua, and The Vixen. And, dare I say it, Aquaria.”

 "Do we really have to have her?“ Valentina complained. Being a freshman herself, she was perfectly aware of Aquaria’s irritating tendencies. Aja thought they would’ve been friends, considering that they were both up their own asses. Maybe Aquaria wasn’t quite with the whole backstabbing thing yet.

 ”Someone has to take her,“ Shea said. "I think we should get first pick - we have two people leaving and you guys have four, so chances are you’ll get at least one person you want.”

 Cynthia didn’t seem happy about this, biting her bottom lip. However, she decided to just suck it up - she wasn’t the one who had to deal with the new girls.

 "Alright,“ she gave in. "You can have first pick.”

 Shea beamed, and instructed the rest of the Glamazons to head to the other side of the gym so they could discuss each performer. They sat down in a circle, hunching over to contain the volume.

 "So, who’s everyone’s favourites?“ Shea asked quietly. "Obviously, I have to go with my girl, The Vixen.”

 "I really like Cracker,“ Aja said. The tiny sophomore had really made an impression on her; she was so talented for such a young cheerleader, and according to Jaymes’ anecdote, she was experienced too.

 "I have to agree with Aja,” Jaymes said. “Plus, I thought Kameron was great.”

 Alexis hummed in approval, nodding. “She could replace me as a base.”

 "I think The Vixen was great,“ Nina said. "But Monét was my favourite.”

 "I loved Yuhua,“ Sasha added, "and Miz Cracker. She’d be an amazing flyer.”

 "I agree. Cracker was one of the best, as was The Vixen,“ Charlie chimed in.

 "So, we want Cracker?” Shea asked. “I’ve got to admit, she was pretty good.” The rest of the squad nodded.

 "I think our second pick should be Kameron,“ Aja advised. "Like Alexis said, she’d make a great base.”

 "I can see that happening,“ Sasha said.

 Shea furrowed her eyebrows. "I’d love her too, but there’s so many other girls that we could have on our team. It’s a hard choice.”

 "They’d still be cheerleaders,“ Aja said. "But they’d be Bombers. And we’re good with the Bombers now, so it’s not a total travesty.” Not to toot her own horn, but the peace treaty was all thanks to herself and Farrah.

 "Yeah, only because you’re banging one of them,“ Sasha teased, poking Aja in the shoulder. The group snickered, and Shea put her hand in front of her mouth so she wouldn’t burst out laughing.

 "Whoa!” Aja said, trying not to raise her voice louder than a normal speaking volume. “Who said we’re banging?”

 "You haven’t yet?“ Alexis asked. "Charlie and I totally thought you had.”

 Aja’s forehead creased. “No, we haven’t,” she said. “Maybe that’s weird for you, Alexis, but it’s not that weird.” She threw Alexis a half smile. She mocked offence, laughing a couple seconds later.

 "Anyway - off topic,“ Aja said, concluding the very brief discussion. "Let’s get back to the others.”

 The pushed themselves off of the ground and walked back over to the table where Cynthia, Eureka, and Valentina resided, their footsteps echoing throughout the mostly empty gym.

 "Have y'all made a decision?“ Eureka asked.

 Aja nodded. "We want Cracker, first and foremost,” she told them firmly. “And…”

 "Kameron,“ Shea whispered to her, as did Sasha and Alexis a second later.

 "Kameron,” Aja repeated.

 Cynthia wasn’t totally devastated - she had girls who were just as talented, even though she wanted Miz Cracker the most. However, Aquaria was just as skilled, and the remaining Bombers would have to make do, especially with that attitude.

 -

 "How were auditions?“ Farrah asked, strewn across her bed with one arm on her stomach, the other fiddling with the hem of Aja’s cheer shirt. Aja was sitting next to her, the arm closest to Farrah’s head propping her up.

 "Mostly boring,” Aja said. “But there were some really talented girls. You know Miz Cracker?”

 Farrah’s eyes lit up. “Of course,” she exclaimed. “Last year, when Bob was on our team, she took us to a tournament where Cracker was performing - she was amazing!”

 "We took her on,“ Aja said with a smile; she loved when Farrah got excited. "She’s a Glamazon, now.”

 Farrah scowled. “Why not a Bomber?” she questioned.

 Aja shrugged. “We got first pick.”

 "So, who’s on my team?“ she asked, eyes beaming. Aja just couldn’t help but want to kiss her when she had that happy expression.

 "Aquaria Needles, Yuhua Hamasaki, Monét X Change, and The Vixen. I don’t know what her last name is,” she replied. “And Kameron Michaels is the other Glamazon.”

 "I know Monét,“ she said. "Her and Cracker are, like, best friends. And I’ve spoken to Kameron a couple of times.”

“They all seem really nice,” she said. “Well, apart from Aquaria - she was quite full of herself.” She let out a yawn; the stress and exhaustion of the auditions was finally catching up to her, and she was suddenly feeling tired. The gym contained nothing but harsh overhead lights, which really made her, and all the cheerleaders’, eyes ache.

 "Those auditions tiring you out, huh?“ Farrah commented, shifting on the bed so that she was sitting up, opposite Aja. She caressing her cheek, sliding the pad of her thumb slowly over her skin and supporting her head with her fingers.

 Aja nodded as she yawned again, her eyes closing in a slow blink, feeling very much how she imagined Farrah felt when she was indulged in this way.

 "Can I make you feel better?” she asked, looking up through her lashes at her girlfriend. “Relieve some stress?”

 Aja raised her eyebrows at her, suddenly perky, and stifling a disbelieving laugh - she’d never heard Farrah speak like that before, although part of her knew that Farrah could sweet talk her way through anything, as if sweet talk were her native language.

 "Go ahead,“ Aja responded. "Relieve it.”

 Farrah pushed forward until her lips met Aja’s, and her hands slid to her girlfriend’s bare shoulders, her skin sunkissed and warm. She squeezed softly, her pastel pink, chipped nails digging into Aja’s skin ever so slightly, and her lips matched the slow pace. Gently, but with confidence, Aja was pressed flush against the wall, her Dutch braids slightly uncomfortable against the flat surface, but she didn’t mind - it was Farrah, who could always manage to distract her from something.

 Farrah pulled away a couple of centimetres, immediately dipping her head towards Aja’s neck, and the sudden, new contact sent a flame down her back, forcing out a shiver and an almost silent whimper.

 Farrah smiled at the results; Aja could feel the twinge in her lips. “You okay?” she drawled, gliding her hands down from Aja’s shoulders to her ribs, running her thumbs along the exposed parts.

 Aja, far too distracted, suddenly realised she should reciprocate. Her hands dove to Farrah’s thick, blonde hair, tugging lightly as an encouragement.

 "I’m great,“ she breathed out, sighing heavily.

 "Good,” Farrah replied, planting soft kisses all the way down to Aja’s collarbone, all previous kisses feeling suddenly cold without the contact.

 Aja untangled her legs and wrapped them around Farrah’s hips, feeling kind of ridiculous being the taller out of the two, but she didn’t pay it much attention. Farrah took that as a cue to go further, her hands travelling even higher to the hem of Aja’s cheer shirt. They both froze.

 "Can I?“ Farrah asked, tugging at the edges.

 Aja thought for a second - what did she have to lose?

 She nodded. "Do it,” she affirmed.

 With a little help, Farrah managed to lift the shirt over Aja’s head, the warm summer air hitting her chest. Maybe, she thought to herself, Alexis had foreshadowed this during the auditions today.

 Farrah glanced down at her chest: the bra was a pretty simple, everyday-wear design, but the blonde looked at it as if it were an intricate, lace garment that someone had slaved over for hours. Aja pulled Farrah’s face to her own again, kissing her more forcefully and tightening her grip around her waist. Farrah’s hands wandered further upwards, playing with the material of Aja’s bra, sliding forward until her right hand was on the cup, and she squeezed gently.

 Aja broke away, gasping lightly, her forehead leaning against Farrah’s.

 "Is this okay?“ Farrah asked, her hand supporting the material still. "Have you done this before?”

 Embarrassed, Aja shook her head. She’d never even had a relationship before, let alone an occurrence like this. “I’m okay, though,” she said, her voice coming out more timid than she’d expected. She wasn’t used to sounding this vulnerable.

 “You sure, baby?”

 She nodded quickly before diving back in, bouncing off the springboard into the kiss once more, further confirming her answer. Farrah squeezed the same place again but with more force, eliciting a moan that surprised both of them.

 Aja reached around the back of Farrah’s shirt and pulled it up from the hem, peeling it off of her without complaint, the two of them only separating so it could be removed completely. Farrah’s skin felt hot and smooth, reminding Aja of honey. She was just as sweet, too.

Before she closed her eyes again, she noticed the vast amount of freckles dotted along the tops of Farrah’s shoulders and back. They were barely visible when she had something like her cheer shirt on, and she didn’t realise how many there actually were. It was cute.

 Farrah’s hands travelled further down, snaking across Aja’s waist and landing on her ass. She began to undo the zipper on her cheer skirt, but not before breaking away to check with Aja that this was alright. And it was. She continued to tug the zip, which was getting stiff after three years of wear, and soon the item of clothing had been removed, tossed over the bedpost along with her shirt and any worries that they had.

 “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” Farrah said softly, kissing the corner of Aja’s jaw. Aja beamed as Farrah pulled away to regard her, her eyes glazing over her chest.

 “Hmm,” she feigned thought, “I think you have, but I’d love to hear it again.” 

Farrah giggled; a gentle sound that vibrated through both girls’ chests, creating a warm feeling of closeness. “You’re beautiful,” she reiterated. “Inside and out.” She craned her neck up again to reach Aja’s lips, holding on to her shoulders for support.

 Aja pulled back. “Let me make this easier for you,” she laughed. She leant them to the side so that Farrah’s head slowly fell into the pillow, and Aja positioned herself above her, straddling the blonde’s hips. “Better?” she asked, smirking.

 “Infinitely,” Farrah said. She pulled Aja down with her index finger under her chin, resuming the kiss, before both of her hands took their place along Aja’s back, running along the length of her torso as the kiss deepened. Instead of being full of energy like Farrah had “planned”, Aja felt like she could just melt into nothing right now, under Farrah’s gentle but confident touch. There was no place she would’ve rather been in that moment.

 Farrah’s hands followed the shape of her figure, all the way to Aja’s ass once again, squeezing with more intent, her nails marking the skin with no shame. Afraid of making a noise that Farrah’s mom could hear, Aja attempted to distract herself, hooking her finger around Farrah’s bra strap and playing with the delicate lace that decorated it. It felt natural, almost calming, and Farrah didn’t seem to mind - if anything, she knew it was nerves.

 Aja’s lips left Farrah’s momentarily, and the blonde tilted her head towards the lack of touch, practically begging for it. Instead, Aja dove downwards, directing her lips to Farrah’s neck; she sighed, sounding relieved, and muttered a very quiet, “Fuck”, when Aja trailed down to her collarbone, dragging her lips across heated skin that was becoming blotchy. She kissed all the way down to her chest, pausing at her bra and resuming again over the plane of her toned stomach. Within a matter of seconds, her lips reached the border of Farrah’s skirt - she didn’t dare go any further, no matter how loud the voice in the back of her head was screaming at her to do so.

 Farrah, fighting an urge as well, slightly disappointedly motioned Aja to come back up to eye level, using one hand to tug her upwards. But with the disappointment came relief; she valued Aja’s comfort over anything, and for someone who rarely expressed how she felt, she could tell that her girlfriend wasn’t ready in the slightest just by the way she suddenly froze below her navel.

 “Are you comfortable right now?” Farrah checked.

 Aja nodded. “Of course,” she replied. She noticed how swollen Farrah’s lips were. She also clocked the bright purple lipstick she always wore with her cheer outfit that ran down like animal tracks across the whole front of her body, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

 “What is it?” Farrah asked, looking down at whatever Aja was staring at. Once she noticed the trail of makeup, she joined in with the laughter. “I look like a radioactive leopard or something.”

 Aja sat back up, tracing the path of her lipstick with one finger. 

Something about its presence gave her a sense of pride; she’d left her mark on her, physically and probably emotionally. It reminded her that Farrah was hers (in a non-possessive way, obviously), and that she was Farrah’s.

 “What now?” Farrah asked, bringing Aja away from her thoughts. She was looking up at Aja with great, big, doe-eyes. Her breathing was slightly laboured and her heart-rate was still through the roof, she could feel it all under the one finger laying on her stomach. Aja thought she looked absolutely beautiful.

 She shook her head. “Nothing,” she lied. She wasn’t going to spew some sentimental crap after everything that had just happened, and even thinking about doing so made her cringe internally.

Despite knowing that “nothing” was certainly “something”, Farrah decided to not press on. Besides, if it were serious, Aja would tell her at some point. Instead, she sat back up, pulling Aja towards her. She looked into her eyes and then at her lips, where the purple lipstick had been just a few minutes before, and kissed her very softly, and Aja felt a gentle smile appear on the other girl’s lips. She raised her hands and tangled them in blonde waves which were now slightly mussed up, bringing her face closer and deepening the kiss for the millionth time that afternoon. It had been so long since either of them felt so close with another person.

Just as Farrah was pressing Aja against the mattress, the sound of a door moving across carpet interrupted them. Aja’s blood froze in her veins and her eyes shot open, and Farrah grabbed her t-shirt, as if that would do anything. Aja propped herself up on her elbows when she heard no other noise, only to realise what had caused it.

 “Fuck off, Fluffy,” Farrah huffed, exasperated.

 Aja laughed at her annoyance, and the calico cat chirped at her as soon as he saw her face, running over and waiting for Aja to extend her hand for a scratch.

 Farrah had received Fluffy as a birthday present when she was eight years old. Needless to say, he wasn’t what poor little Farrah had expected a cat to be. He refused cuddles, petting, any toys that were bought for him, and often resided in his bed, playing with something he’d found himself. However, after Aja had been to Farrah’s house several times, he immediately warmed up to her, much to the aggravation of Farrah - he absolutely adored her (except, who wouldn’t?).

 “Go away, you annoying cat,” Farrah demanded not-very-threateningly, sitting up and pointing her finger at the feline in question.

 “He just wants some attention,” Aja said. “Don’t you! You adorable, little thing,” she cooed. She always caved in front of animals. “Hey, you two have something in common!”

 Farrah’s jaw dropped open, and she swore she could see Fluffy smirking at her menacingly. But she knew Aja was right.

 Aja patted the bed so that Fluffy would jump up, and he did so, purring and rubbing his head against Aja’s. He rolled over next to her, inviting her in for a belly rub.

 “Such a little cockblock,” Farrah muttered under her breath, although Aja clearly heard it, but she was too busy stroking Fluffy to care.

 A few minutes went by, filled with contented purring and what could be considered hate speech from Farrah directed at her cat. Aja was happy, though. She had her girlfriend (albeit, not as amused) right above her, the cheer teams were more or less organised, and, most importantly, there was a very pleased calico next to her.

 Farrah huffed for what was probably the seventh time in those few minutes, tired of the attention not being on her, but instead on this miserable, grumpy animal. Aja looked up at her, raising one eyebrow, and her eyes met Farrah’s annoyed ones.

 “You want to be the focus now?” she joked. It wasn’t unusual for Farrah to stir up a fuss when Fluffy was brought into the mix. Aja just loved him too much, and gave in far too easily. Farrah pouted, nodding, and shooting a glare towards an oblivious Fluffy.

 Aja pushed herself upwards and shuffled along the bed, pulling Farrah with her before lying down, the blonde following suit. She smiled, content, and tucked a wisp of purple hair behind Aja’s ear that had escaped from her braid. Aja wrapped her arms around her, the feeling of skin on skin still unnatural to her, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just new.

 “You remind me of Tinkerbell,” Aja blurted out.

 “Hmm?” Farrah hummed. “Why’s that?”

 “You need attention or you’ll die.” Aja laughed when Farrah let out a noise of disagreement. “And you’re small.”

 “I’m not that small!” Farrah protested, but the fact that the top of Farrah’s head only reached Aja’s chin begged to differ.

 “See, you didn’t disagree with the attention thing,” she countered.

 “Shut up and cuddle me,” she said, grumbling, and pulled Aja closer to her. Aja did as she was told, wrapping her arms further around her girlfriend and stroking her hair. Meanwhile, Farrah traced lines across Aja’s skin, their paths having little meaning, but were subconsciously drawn denser in the places Aja had mentioned one night where she wanted tattoos. Her finger glided perfectly, like ink to paper.

 -

Aja expected herself to be asleep after such an exhausting day, but that wasn’t the case right now.

After washing the stray lipstick off in the shower, Farrah had got changed into pyjamas, getting into bed and forcing some affection on Fluffy, who’d surprisingly stayed in Farrah’s room for so long. Before that, she’d chucked Aja something to sleep in: an old t-shirt and shorts, the t-shirt previously belonging to Aja because she gave it away to her; everything else Farrah owned was slightly too small for her. After getting changed, they’d both crawled under the covers with the intention of sleeping, but Aja couldn’t seem to do it.

She was lying there on her back, staring up at the numerous Farrah Fawcett and Christina Aguilera posters that adorned the room, pressed against the cool, pink wall next to Farrah’s narrow bed. Farrah was turned to the side, her arms wrapped around Aja’s midsection and her head resting on her shoulder. Aja’s arm held her snugly against herself, outlining the curve of her shoulders.

With her free hand, she reached for her phone from underneath her pillow. Doing absolutely nothing was boring, so the least she could do was tire herself out by actually doing something, even if it wasn’t productive. She turned down the brightness on her screen so she wouldn’t wake a fast-asleep Farrah, and clicked on various social media until she found something vaguely interesting. After a while, she settled on Instagram, and mindlessly scrolled through posts in the hopes that her boredom would eventually soothe her to sleep. Beside her, Farrah remained unawake, her mouth slightly open, and Aja was envious.

After scrolling for a minute or so, Aja came across a photo of some old friends (if you could even call them friends anymore): Kandy, Momo, and Dahlia. Once again, they were hanging out without her somewhere, and the photo made them look like they were having the time of their life. The last time they’d invited Aja somewhere was over six months ago, and all the “invite” really was was, “We need to see each other more!”. Aja had made efforts to see them, she really had, but they always seemed to be busy. In times like this, she was more than grateful for Sasha. Even though they rarely hung out either, they were always in contact no matter what, and they could tell each other pretty much anything.

It was then that something clicked in her mind. Without so much as a second thought, Aja clicked on Kandy’s username which took her to her profile, and she firmly pressed the Unfollow button. She did the same with the other girls, and once her feed was clear of selfish friends, she felt herself breathe more easily. Years of friendship were gone at the click of a button, but there was no sense of loss. Besides, she was pretty sure they’d all unfollowed her at some point as well.

She tucked her phone back under her pillow and closed her eyes, sighing heavily. She opened them again a few seconds later and looked over at Farrah, peaceful, breathing slowly and steadily. A smile grabbed at the corners of her lips.

“I love you,” she whispered, even though everyone in the house was asleep. It wasn’t like anyone would hear.

“You’re the sweetest, you know that?” she continued just as quietly, not expecting any kind of response from her, but she felt it was important she said what she was thinking. “You deserve everything good that happens to you. And even more than that.”

Fluffy suddenly awoke and stretched his legs before jumping off of the bed. He didn’t seem happy that Aja was still directing all her attention on Farrah. Maybe the two were too similar to ever get along.

“One day, I want to get you a cat that will actually appreciate you,” Aja told her sleeping figure. “I’ll make sure it’s the nicest cat in the world, and it’ll be any colour you want.” Fluffy opened the door with his paw to exit the room, probably outraged at what he was hearing.

“See? He’s an asshole. He loves me, but he doesn’t love you, and what kind of animal wouldn’t love you? An asshole one.” She kissed the top of Farrah’s head, her hair as soft as silk against her lips. “You deserve everything.”

With that, Aja closed her eyes for good, her lids becoming more and more heavy. Her heart was warm and buzzing with a sensation she couldn’t name, but she always felt it around Farrah. And, right now, it was lulling her to sleep.

In moments like this one, Aja asked herself how she got so lucky. How so much drama and prejudiced hatred turned into a blossoming relationship, and how she’d fallen so hard. How, if she hadn’t been walking home so late, none of this would’ve happened, and the Glamazons and the Bombers would’ve still been sworn enemies.

With one last gentle and weary squeeze, Aja practically passed out from tiredness. The thoughts clouding her mind cleared, and a beautiful view of sleep was revealed.

Farrah pretended she hadn’t heard a single word. She pretended that the sudden light of Aja’s phone hadn’t woken her up, and she wasn’t kept awake by her girlfriend’s little monologue. She pretended that she didn’t want to break character and hug her until her arms gave out, and she pretended she wasn’t grateful for everything. She pretended she wasn’t about to cry from happiness, as she felt both of them drifting off back to sleep.

[janiedean]

Ok, I know it may come as quite offensive for some people, but it's a real question. I'm upper middle-class, as my parents were before me, I was still living with them during the econonical crisis and I barely felt it and now I have my own job, I have no problem having money for myself. And fortunately or not, all of my friends either come from this social class or got into it with their jobs, so I never had a real talk with someone considered "poor". I'm not trying to brag or anything, (cont)

I'm just explaining where I stand and why everyone in my family (including me) is right-winged (not far-right, thanks god, but very liberal). So there is my question, I see so much talk and post about how the situation is awful for people (and mainly young people) and I don't know if it's an exaggeration (aka the opinion of 90% of the people I know, friends + families) or is there a real problem I fail to understand. Thanks for taking the time to read (and maybe answer) me.

Sure I can answer you XD

So, given that the economical crisis hit differently in different countries so there’s different perspectives to be had, the short answer is: it’s not an exaggeration. Long answer:

if you come from an upper middle-class background it’s highly likely you won’t have felt the repercussions, and if you were living with your parents when the crisis hit because you weren’t old enough for college then I suppose you’re in your early-mid twenties, right? If you are, congratulations, you dodged the millennial bullet, which I will rant about further later. Anyway, it’s not like it’s a fault or anything, but like, upper-middle class = you have some degree of privilege.

Now, I also am middle class, though in Italy, which is a whole different thing than being middle class in the US - now I can’t be knowledgeable about the details of how it works in the US tho I know a few things that might give you extra perspective further down, but anyway, I do have the middle-class privilege that comes with having managed to dodge the economical crisis, but... I’m late twenties/early thirties, which means that I finished studying right when the crisis hit here the worst - it caught up with us a bit later than in the US but when I finished university there was literally nothing for anyone with my background and most people my age I know either are working from home somehow or working jobs that have nothing to do with their skill set or what they studied for or are freelancers or work without benefits and/or it took them years to get to economical stability - like, my cousin got first in this year’s chart to teach middle school in her area and she got two schools (if not three) for one year and is still living with her parents and it took her six years if not more to get there since getting the degree, her brother has worked for an ONG for years but his contract’s is meh and he compensates renting a room in a house his parents bought for him and as far as I’m concerned... it took me two years to get a shitty paid state job for one year and now I have to look again and I might end up trying to end up in a program to get a teaching certification that I don’t even want to do, but it’s STATE MONEY with BENEFITS and after four years and so of working without benefits I’m freaking out about retirement and shit, which brings us to another problem.

My parents’ generation (and the previous one) found jobs in a moment of economical growth. When my mother retires and when my father does, they’re going with the old pension system which means they get 90% of their last paycheck. As it is right now, I haven’t put money towards it at all because I don’t have it, and I’ll have to work until I’m like seventy and I’ll get.... an abysmal amount of money, with the current system, sure as fuck not 90% of my last paycheck. I couldn’t buy a house without my parents’ help or without them backing me up (banks don’t let you have a mortgage if your parents don’t grant for you). And like, the generation before mine all managed to lend decent jobs because the economy was pre-crisis, the one after mine is getting better jobs because we’re out of it and everyone is hiring again, and the one I’m in is fucked because we’re too old or too young or too qualified because if you don’t find work you go back to studying and get titles that then mean you should get PAID WHAT A TRAVESTY or not qualified enough because we ended up taking jobs without proper contracts that you can’t put on your resume and so on. Given that I don’t consider myself old and that I come from a background where I’m more or less covered because the parents have good jobs, the situation for me and my entire age group is shitty af because unless you have uber rich parents and you come from money your retirement money will be shit and our retirement funds are shitty af, and good luck when our parents retire and don’t feed the system with their retirement money.

Like, if I wanted hypothetical children (THANK FUCK I DON’T) I could never afford to give them the same level of wealth/living that my parents gave me and that their parents gave them. I could never. Because even with someone else in the house, if they were my age and in the same work conditions it’d be an utopia.

Now, given all this, I’m still middle class. If I, a person with a relative amount of *privilege*, am fairly screwed when it comes to job perspectives (I mean, in this country you work as soon as you finish uni if you studied engineering or economics and that’s it...), how do you assume someone who actually comes from a low middle class or poor background is faring? Spoilers: a lot worse than me. The unemployment level in between young people here is tremendously high and working jobs without a contract to bring money home doesn’t help either. And like, at least here a lot of people my age just dump everything and leave Italy (and I honestly sort of wish I had when it’d have been easier but never mind) because finding a job tied in some way to what you studied for here is a lottery gamble and then people don’t understand that if all the young people leave who pays for their goddamned retirement money? Anyway, tldr: obviously if I had found a government job at 24 just out of university I wouldn’t be here worrying about my retirement money as much, but I don’t have a government job and the majority of people doesn’t, and given the current times it’s not shaping up to look that much better for us, at least.

On to the US, since I assume you’re from the US: thing is, from what I understand especially right now the part where if you work hard enough you make money and climb into upper-middle class is kind of a myth especially when in order to attend university you have to get loans unless you’re on a scholarship and/or come from money, which means that you end university and you have already 40k of debt to repay on you, which already puts a hinder on anything you do because you’ll have to pay that shit off, same as your car, same as your house and so on, which means that if you’re *poor* it’s a lot less likely to get into college or find a good job unless you go in the military (which is imo another whole level of fucked up but never mind), not counting the people who from what I understand end up in debt or broke because they can’t pay off hospital expenses/insurance expenses if they get sick. Never mind that the entire 2008 crisis spiraled from the Reagan/Thatcher ridiculously terrible economical liberalims that people decided was AMAZING in the eighties, but if I don’t remember wrong, what kickstarted it was basically the fact that a lot of people took loans to buy houses with money they didn’t have and the banks defaulted and it all came tumbling down. Now, the people who lived in those houses basically lost everything and got fucked thrice over, and how do we assume their kids are faring? Not well, most probably.

Now, idk how the situation is there because it looks like by the end of his term Obama had managed to create more jobs and send things back on  a better track (if Trump doesn’t fuck that up obv) but like... Obama was there eight years. It took that long. Anyone who finished college and/or was in my age range and on the job market during the crisis or when it hit most probably got very much fucked, never mind that I’m 99% sure that the US don’t have the same retirement system as here when it comes down to it so people are nowhere near as sheltered when it comes to their retirement. Or to get benefits. Though from what I gathered we have more benefits than the average US worker, government or not, so... a lot of people have real issues finding a job or moving on from their crappy one or meeting the living standards their parents had and which from what I gather they’re expected to have (see the credit cards post I reblogged yesterday). And that’s going to be the majority. And since ‘young people’ are usually considered my age range these days and my group (the millennials of doom) was the one most hit by this fuckery when it came to finding jobs... no, it’s not an exaggeration. I can say it’s not from another country where things are marginally better and coming from a background more like yours, I can’t even begin to imagine how worse it is for people who had it worse growing up and have less welfare to fall back on.

also, we’re talking young people but here a lot of older ones got fucked over thrice because the pension reform hit them badly, and most of them weren’t wealthy and worked time/health-consuming jobs, a lot lost their job and who’s going to re-hire you when you’re fifty-five, and that’s without having lost your savings as it happened in the US. if these people had kids, those kids didn’t fare well, most probably. the crisis was a problem for people from every age, not just for young people.

So, again: yes, there’s a problem, and no, it’s probably hard that you’d notice because if you managed to miss the crisis’s effects and you don’t have the retirement/pension funds problems we have here you wouldn’t have any reason to. However, it’s not an exaggeration at all and like, I don’t want to sound condescending or anything and I have nothing against moderate liberals so like don’t take it as me insulting you or anything because I swear I’m not, and I know it’s hard to know people outside your sphere which is usually someone in your same economical conditions, but if you get the chance to talk to someone who’s less economically well-off than you/your friends/your family is I’d suggest listening to them because a) they’d give you a better idea of it than me since I only know my country’s situation well, b) it’s always a good thing to go outside your bubble (but that’s valid for everyone - all people should, from all backgrounds) and check how things are. I can give my perspective (which is bad) but someone who actually lived it worse than I did could give a better one. Anyway, I hope it was a satisfactory answer - it’s not in any way shape or form comprehensive but as I said I can only speak for what I’m sure of. :) 

[justagayguysworld-blog]

Not sure what you will think of this one, but my mind inhabits the most unusual of places.

It was the last beer and we'd shared it on the way to town for another twelve-pack. I barely knew Antonio. He'd only been there a couple of weeks, but it was the damnedest thing I'd ever seen. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, could talk to a horse the way he did. I thought it was a fluke the first time. Then he did it again and I knew it couldn't be natural.

We had a contract with the state for wild mustang management. It wasn't the easiest job in the world, but I liked the outdoors and it beat hell out of watching my old man slap his third or fourth wife around. Maybe Sheila was the fifth; I'd stopped counting or giving much of a shit by that point. For my purposes at nineteen, it was a godsend they'd hired me and paid my bus fare to Utah. We rounded them up, checked them for diseases, tagged them, sold off the limit, gave them their shots and then trucked them back to the desert.

I'd been at the ranch for maybe three months when he came up one night seemingly outta nowhere and sat next to me at the fire. I greeted him in what little Spanish I knew. "Save it, dude. I speak English." And that was that.

One of the stallions was raising bloody hell in the pen and stirring up the other horses. I stood up to see if I could go quiet him down. Antonio braced a hand on my knee and said as he was standing, "Can I borrow that? Thanks." He took the beer out of my hand, turned it up and walked over to the corral with it in his hand. Sitting the bottle on the post, he hopped the fence, picked the bottle up and walked straight over to the hellraiser.

Just walked inside like he owned the place. He was fixing to get trampled to death near as I could tell, when he grabbed that bad boy by his mane and said something. The horse shook its head side to side. Antonio jerked harder on a handful of hair, the horse quieted down and lowered its head. Then the crazy fuck turned up that bottle, and I swear to God, I saw a mustang down the rest of my beer.

Tossing the bottle over, he walked back to the fence and hopped it again like nothing had happened. Picking up the empty he came back to the campfire and said, "Sorry about that. Can I get you another?"

Stunned, I asked, "What the fuck was that about?"

"Horses can smell fear. And some of them like beer." He walked away leaving me gape-jawed and went to the bunkhouse for another round. When he came back with our longnecks, he twisted the lid off one with his forefinger and thumb. I'd never seen anyone do that either.

Bottle in hand, I asked, "Where you from?"

"Can't say exactly. I tend to move around a lot. Guess you could call me a restless spirit." Bending down, he placed the same hand on my knee again to sit like an old man trying to find his bearings and steady himself. I hadn't noticed it earlier, but the chill of his touch radiated through my jeans to my kneecap.

The hand was just as icy when he extended it. "Antonio. What's your name, cowboy?"

"Jason. Jason Sparks. But most people just call me Rufus or asshole. Seems I'm the low man on the totem pole around here."

He laughed and said, "Not anymore. I just blew into town. I'll be working the night shift."

"Night shift? I wasn't aware we had one."

"Yeah, I'm something of a specialist. These positions can be hard to fill. Not everybody can handle an alcoholic horse with bad dreams."

I literally fell off the log laughing. Struggling to get up, Antonio grabbed the collar of my jacket and pulled me back to an upright position. Without any real effort on my part, I found my ass firmly planted on the log again. If he was superman, I didn't see where he could be hiding the muscles. We were about the same size and weight from what I could tell. He chuckled and mumbled something about horses not being the only alcoholics in those parts.

"I'll drink to that. Let me get us one more beer and then I guess I'll turn in for the night. Where are you bunking?"

"Next to you if there's room still available at the inn. Larry said to grab any empty bed I could find. And yours kind of looked like a mess when I was stowing my gear. But at least it didn't smell like shit."

Stopping to take a piss I wondered how he knew which bed was mine, but in the quest for brewskis I'd forgotten the question by the time I returned. As if reading the mind I was in the process of losing, he stated very matter-of-factly, "You don't smell like a cowboy or a horse with a drinking problem."

Not knowing exactly how to or if I should reply, I thought a moment and said, "Generally speaking, I don't go around smelling cowboys or their sheets, and I damned sure ain't smelling a horse's breath to see if they've been drinking."

He must've sensed my unease. Clinking his bottle against mine, he offered, "Sorry, I have a really weird nose. It smells the strangest damned things. Guess that's why I'm good with the horses. I smell what they smell."

"Ain't nothing wrong with your nose, Antonio," I blurted out. "You have a real nice nose. Most of these ugly old bastards have had their's broken in so many bar fights, I don't really want to think about it, much less how they smell."

Bumping his shoulder against mine, he clinked his nearly empty bottle to mine and said, "Yeah, I'll take loving over fighting any time I can. Probably why I get along with the horses and avoid divorces.

We had minimal contact after that. Other than rolling over or the occasional fart, I didn't hear much out of him for the next two weeks. Except in my dreams if I'm going to be perfectly damned honest about this. And generally speaking, I didn't have much of a habit dreaming about other men, at least not in that way. But there he was, more than once, pretty damned specifically. If I'd been anyone else, it would've been hard to ignore. Only I'd learned to master any direct concern for my actual feelings, and dick management had never been an issue for me personally.

The crew I was working was out on range management. I'd barely been back to the place long enough to sleep, much less for fireside chitchat. Then Saturday night came, we were going to take a couple days off and there he was. Just like in my damned dreams. I have no reason to lie. It was disconcerting when I saw him sprawled out there next to the fire. Not a care in the world, acting as if he'd grown up right out of the ground on that very spot, he smiled.

Looking me directly in the eye as if he hadn't invaded my dreams, he said casually as a cousin, "Hey Jason Sparks, if you're going to the house, could you grab me another cold one?" It had been a particularly hard week, I was bone-ass tired and his nose still wasn't broken in six different places. Two beers later we were left alone with a raging fire and the feelings I was experiencing that matched that blaze. I really wanted to kick his ass. Antonio had seriously fucked with my head, and he didn't seem to know or at least care.

He got up for the third round. It wasn't my knee he touched that sent icy shivers up my spine this time. It was my thigh. About three inches below the part that separates the men from the boys. Close enough for discomfort, I met his glaze and that fire was dancing in his eyes. His nose still wasn't broken, but the quiet smirk on his face made me seriously think about rearranging it.

Fucker scratched my head as he walked away like I was some kind of damned puppy in love. Brought back another round and said, "These are the last ones, Jason Sparks. Let's polish them off and make a run into town. I'm still thirsty. If you'll drive, I'll buy."

That was the night and I guess the moment that changed or ended my life. Something deep inside me could hear it slowly rumbling. I'd seen it in those dreams. I simply didn't have the power to say no or the least of will to fight him. And we weren't struggling. I guess that was what's so odd about it. Everything in my body and soul knew it was happening, even if my conscious mind was slow in catching up. I wanted him. I'd be the worst kind of liar if I said I didn't. And I knew he knew it.

He took my hand and pulled me up off the ground. I could've just as easily staggered to my feet of my own accord. But he wanted that ice running through my veins clashing with my toasted toes inside those boots. And I felt it. Felt it thoroughly as we climbed in the truck and started the motor. Only once did he touch my body on the way to the store. It was completely casual and anything but innocent as the shivers raced up and down my spine.

He went in and came out. I felt very strange. Almost in an out-of-body floating feeling I drove away into the darkness of the rural night. I still remember. It was as vivid, quiet and unstoppable as a freight train bearing down on the family sedan stalled on the side of the tracks.

"Pull over." I could've kept driving, but the truth was that I'd pulled over two weeks before. "I said pull over, Jason Sparks." He didn't have to ask again. And the truth, as he very well knew, is that I'd been wanting to pull over my whole life. The cab of the truck was full of echoes and whispers as I floated above my body while it and he crawled into the back seat. Voices were everywhere, the engine was running and for the first time in my life I didn't give a damn.

I thought in some delirious way I was about to kiss a boy, but that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. My feelings, those secreted desires weren't important. We weren't boys. I'd become a man without realizing or acknowledging it, and that brief period of my life was about to end abruptly.

It was brutal. How could I possibly forget when he folded down the lambswool collar of my jacket and sunk his teeth into my flesh? I could've fought him off, but I'd already struggled my whole life to be something different than what I was. Antonio was reconciling my conflicts, meeting my innermost longings and he'd bought the beer.

[consulting-celiac-in-the-tardis]

30+ Simple to Surprising Suggestions That Won't Cure Celiac Disease

New blog post! One of the very first things my doctor told me after my celiac disease was this: "Right now, there is no celiac disease cure...you can only manage your symptoms by sticking to a strict gluten free diet." And yet, over six years after that moment, I still regularly bump into people who say that they "used" to have celiac disease.

Yeah. The phrase "used to" boggles my mind just as much as it does yours! But thinking about these "past" celiacs (as well as this awesome post from Carb Counting Mama about mythical "cures" for Type 1 Diabetes) got me curious. I found myself asking: what are some of the most common "cures" that are suggested to people with celiac disease like me? And, even better, what are some of the weirdest? So I scoured gluten free Facebook support groups, Reddit and Quora threads, and polled my own Insta followers...and here's what I came up with! Keep in mind...as I wrote above, there is presently NO celiac disease cure (though there are some cures being tested in various research studies). All the celiac disease "cures" are listed below solely for entertainment purposes, as well as in hopes that they will serve as a reminder to take other people's advice - especially about your health! - with a grain of salt.

Let's begin with three of the MOST common incorrect celiac disease "cures":

1. You need to go gluten free to heal the intestinal damage initially caused by celiac disease...but once your antibodies test at a "normal" level, you're cured and can eat whatever you want! Cue the booing audience soundtrack, because this is definitely very false! Yes, you will test negative for celiac disease and not show any intestinal damage after going gluten free, but that's only because you're not eating gluten. As soon as you start, all that damage will come back...and "once again", you will have celiac!

2. Now, let's discuss "cure" number two: keeping or adding a little gluten back into your diet so that your body can slowly become more tolerant of it. This is a practice called oral immunotherapy, and it's becoming a more common treatment for people with food allergies. You can also read here about how injectable immunotherapy may be helpful for people with celiac disease in the (likely far) future. However, it is important to keep in mind that celiac disease is NOT the same thing as a food allergy, and exposing someone with celiac disease to low doses of gluten will not "improve their tolerance" of it. 3. And finally, the infamous, "Oh, I bet you'll grow out of it!" Beep. Wrong answer! When you're diagnosed with celiac disease, you have it for life. But maybe the friends or coworkers talking about how their aunt or cousin magically "healed" their celiac disease credits a different technique.

You know...something a little more alternative-medicine-like.

Here are just a couple of real-life suggestions people have gotten on how to cure their celiac disease:

"Heal your gut." Yes, working on creating a happy gut by eating probiotic-rich foods, avoiding foods that mess with your body, etc. may help you feel better in the long run...but it won't let you just magically go back to eating Papa John's pizza.

Use a detoxing diet protocol or product line...and I'm not gonna name any names, but if you've ever been in a Facebook group related to eating gluten free, you've probably seen at least a few posts talking about the latest miracle pill or juice line.

Do a parasite cleanse.

Clear up the yeast infection that caused celiac disease in the first place. Now, there are studies linking yeast infections or fungal infections and celiac disease, and some even suggest yeast overgrowth could be the trigger to celiac disease or the reason why some people with celiac disease don't feel 100% even after going gluten free. But the only site I found saying clearing up a yeast infection "fixed" someone with celiac was selling a yeast cleanse product...and repeatedly used "celiac" and "gluten intolerance" to mean the same thing. Sooo...do with that what you will.

Try Chinese acupuncture to "reset" your immune system. People in the comments did report their seasonal allergies had improved via acupuncture...but from what I've seen, no celiacs have yet been cured via needles.

And now, drum roll please....we get to the food. Currently, eating gluten free is the only science-backed treatment for celiac disease...but that doesn't keep other people from suggesting different or even more restrictive diets.

Dietary Choices That Can "Cure" Celiac Disease:

Eating gluten from Europe, since its different processing protocols or ingredients make it "safe" for people with celiac disease. Unfortunately, wheat is wheat...and all wheat, gluten and barley are dangerous for people with celiac.

That you actually just need to avoid pesticides covering food, not the food itself. I'm pretty sure pesticide-free wheat will still hurt me. And so far, one of the only studies linking pesticides with celiac disease (in a causal relationship) was later said to have made conclusions "not supported by the available scientific evidence."

Only eating organic fruits and veggies and free-range meats. Which is basically just one form of a gluten free diet, which doesn't "cure" celiac disease but does treat the symptoms.

Guzzling bone broth. 

Drinking celery juice on the daily. 

Eating allll the bananas. At least this celiac disease cure has history, considering that doctors first treated people with celiac disease by prescribing a banana-only diet.

Eating a plant-based diet. You can certainly eat a plant-based and gluten free diet, and you may even find eating plant-based makes you feel healthier overall...but it won't let you eat gluten again if you have celiac disease.

Avoiding GMOs. 

Only eating whole wheat versus refined flours. Because whole wheat is definitely what someone who can't tolerate gluten or wheat needs to heal? Yeah, I'm lost on this one.

This is when my research really started getting fun (in a twisted sort of way, I suppose). Because the more I searched, the more weeeeird celiac disease "cures" I discovered.

We'll start off pretty tame with just three "healthy living" hacks that are often suggested to pretty much anyone with a chronic illness.

Doing yoga. I can confirm that doing hot yoga regularly will not sweat out your inability to eat gluten.

Juicing. Unfortunately, I don't believe fruits and veggies can change our genes...

Drinking hot water every morning. Apparently, this is what everyone in Cambodia suggested one celiac traveler should try...

And then there are the countless things you can buy to "fix" your digestion, your mood and, of course, your autoimmune disease. Just to name a few examples, here are some marketable celiac disease "cures" many celiacs recall being pitched:

Essential oils...because what CAN'T essential oils do these days?!?

Probiotics. Taking probiotics has definitely transformed my gut health for the better, but there is a major limit to their "healing" powers.

Chinese medicine. Again...these cure everything, right?

Digestive enzymes. Possibly helpful when at risk for cross-contamination while eating out or if you have gluten intolerance. Not helpful for de-activating your celiac gene.

Activated charcoal. Sammmme as above.

And finally, the grand finale: a bunch of celiac disease cure suggestions that I saw on my computer screen and couldn't help but think:

"This is too weird to make up."

Get pregnant and your body will "magically" fix its celiac disease. Who knew we all just needed a bun in the oven to suddenly eat wheat?

Prayer. I know this is a touchy subject, and I don't include this "cure" in this grouping as an intentional attack on anyone who believes in the power of prayer. I agree that miracles can happen...but that it's also irresponsible to suggest that people with celiac disease can or should just pray about being able to eat gluten and still put their body in harm's way...

Meditating regularly and reducing stress. Definitely beneficial in helping you cope with the stress of having an autoimmune disease. But that's about it.

Exorcism?!? Yeah...I'll just leave that one here. (And note that the person who shared this story considers the wannabe celiac "exorcist" an ex-friend. Not surprising, I'd say!).

Thinking positively. 

Communion wafers that are made with gluten. As the commenter put it, "I know God loves me, but God's gluten wafer definitely doesn't."

Going to a psychologist or therapist. Celiac disease CAN have a psychological impact on the people who have it, but it's not rooted in our minds.

Waving vials of wheat near your body to "desensitize" it to gluten. A mom heard this tip from her daughter's doctor. Safe to say, they soon found a new practitioner to visit.

What I Hope You Take Away From This Post

At the end of the day, I would be ecstatic if there was a celiac disease cure...not necessarily even for me to use, but as a great option for my children, should they inherit my celiac disease. 

Right now, though, there is no cure for celiac disease - just eating gluten free to treat celiac's symptoms. 

I know that fact can be hard to accept, especially if you're newly diagnosed or struggling with celiac-related issues right now.

But also know this: over six years after my celiac diagnosis, I can honestly say that I'm living pretty dang happily while eating gluten free. And you can too.

So if friends or coworkers do suggest a less-than-scientific way to magically "fix" your celiac disease, I hope you can laugh off their suggestions and be grateful for everything you still can do, even while living with celiac disease.

Has someone ever told you they "cured" their celiac disease or know someone who did? I'd love to hear your stories in the comments! via Blogger https://ift.tt/2HSKFOk

[jacktheabsoluteass]

[GB&U] No.1 The Wealthy

Summary of experiment:

Before conducting this survey, I had the impression that the wealthy were as bad as the media tells you they are. Five individuals within the span of three hours were questioned, ages varying between twenty four, twenty nine, thirty six and all appeared to be male. Two questionees were quickly discarded as the gentlemen had intentions far beyond what I had asked of them thus no further inquiries were made. What asked these men was: when they realized they were well off? These were their responses...

Subject A: Subject A stated that at the age of thirty six, they had hired their first stay-in nanny, who resided in the guest house. After this response, Subject A stopped replying during the three hour window and thus concluded their part of the survey. Much after the time frame had closed, Subject A did respond.

Subject B: Similar to Subject A, Subject B realized they were well off later in life, however Subject B had this moment when they had paid off a villa in five years. I had asked what kind of occupation they were affiliated with and the subject stated they had a "simple job not worth mentioning" and proceeded by saying though they had paid off a house, most of the money was given and/or paid by the subject parents.

Subject C: Subjecr C seemed to have had many experiences throughout his life that added great value to the research conducted. The subject had come to terms with the fact he was well off when his father took a year off work and nothing from what they were used to had changed. The subject also said it could have been at the purchase of the third house. I asked weather or not the subjects father had saved a lot of money, enough for a whole year. The subject appeared to be frusturated, as though I had just insulted them. Little did I know I did. The subject replied with, "It's not the saving alone that makes you wealthy. It's busting your ass. My dads worked 40 years of his life. Minus the one he took off. So 39. He wakes up at 3:30. And comes home at 5, 5 days a week, sometimes 6. For 39 years with no excuses." Continuing on to say "Most people arent willing to pay that price" and proceeded to state various activities everyone indulges in such as, watching Netflix or YouTube, working out, investing in hobbies and such. After this I expressed that, this was all wonderful and I too would one day want to live such a life but first I would have to finish my studies and then I'd give it a shot. Subject C then went on to say his father had not completed anything above a sixth grade level and that he stopped attending school when he couldn't afford school clothing. I wanted to know what his father worked in, since my whole life, I've been told; without an education, you won't amount to anything, so all of this seemed surreal. The subject said his father was a contractor and that his job wasn't an easy feat. The subjects father had worked along side his employees for forty years. After going off on a tangent, I asked the subject how they are now, regarding his financial situation. Asking if they rely on what their father had made. From which the subject replied with, "Yeah. Always will. It's an addition to my lifestyle. It's whatever I make + whatever he gives me every month that determines how I live. All rich parents do this. You don't want to live a lavish life and see your kids suffer regardless of why they're suffering... a parent with excess in their lifestyle will always do what's in their power to not let their kids drive shitty cars, or live in a less than nice area or in a shitty apartment. Everyone who I know who's parents have more than 7 figures do the same exact shit." This all came as a surprise to me, however it was at the same time, it was to be expected. Of cource parents with more on their plate would give some to their kids, especially if their kids didn't have much on theirs. The surprise was from the way everything felt so similar. Meaning that no matter how much your parents make, if you have less, I'd even go as far as to say: Even if you have more than your parents. They'd still do anything to at least give you a little bit of this and a little bit of that.

Not only did Subject C give me more than enough to work with, the subject directly gave me the bad that I can easily just quote without further explanation needed. It's currently two fifty one AM, demons hour is in nine minutes and I'm trying to be asleep by then so here it goes. "It has ups and downs just like anything. You can't make legit friends with broke people because you can't invite em anywhere. You can't date far below your lifestyle because you can't relate really, you plan to insult your futur qife with a prenup, successful parents are mostly never around because they're busy. Other family become leeches. You end up fighting siblings over land and inheritances and property and family jewlery. You hope your kids learn how to work hard and not be total bums by too much privilege. Just as high as the highs are, the lows are equally as low when you find out your family's backstabbed you over some money. I like my life... but it's my life... and if I had another life I would like it just the same. They all have ups and downs but people only want to see the ups. Like for example my dads probably not gunna make it to 59 because the doctor told him he's worked so much his hearts gonna give out before that. He's 53 rn and I would trade this life for a lesser one if I knew he was gunna make it to 80. To be at the top, the price has to be paid. People forget or don't want to see it. But success and wealth come at an expense. Imagine your father dying. Younger than he should have, just so when he died he could leave you with enough that your own kids wouldn't have to worry. It's hard for me to swallow that shit because if I had the choice I wouldn't have chosen all this money. We could have had less and been good. Idk man. No money can replace someone who loves you like that. When people are wealthy it means someone in their ancestral past made the decision to exchange their time and hours and body and life and made the decision that they were no longer gunna let their proceeding family suffer even if it means them not fully living their life. For me it was my dad. It would be different if it was his dad or his fathers dad. I know people who inherited a lot of money when one of their parents died. And believe me, the would give that money right back if it ment they could have them back. It's sad to see someone who's worked all their life to have shit, and see them dying fast not having even taken a real break from it to the point where you'd say it was worth it. A point where he knows how to reuely enjoy all he has because it's not even in the person. I'm not saying there isnt people I know without these problems. But you'd be surprised the things success can bring. Siblings who haven't spoken in 25 years, early deaths or Alzheimer's caused by over working. Disconnection from lack of time spent together. Deep drug habits fueled by easy money to cope with a lost loved one. Aimlessly shooting through life because parents are so busy to do anything but throw money at their kid hoping that's the solution. The thing is. It doesn't matter if its 1,000 or a 100,000, the true colors will show and that's what sucka. It's the act more than the amount. Some siblings won't mind splitting it 50/50. Others try to snake the whole 100 from you. You lose a lot of family having more money. It's just the way it goes. Uncles, aunts, cousins, brothers, tou name it. So if you know you're going to make it ar least until 30 still having your pops man, I suggest you value the small things in life. Because to someone else that might not be within their power. Not even with money."