#i literally just get donation and fundraiser asks lately like brother.

[bnnuy-wabbit]

considering disabling asks.

[littlepotaaatosimp]

Hi, I am Nisreen from Gaza

My family is in a dangerous situation because of this ongoing war and the situation for my brother who suffers from bipolar disorder is very catastrophic. 😞

I need help for my family, can you share my campaign post from my profile? Every donation means a lot to us! 🙏🇵🇸

I appreciate your help. ❤️

Campaign verified!!

https://www.gofundme.com/f/urgent-help-needed-a-journey-from-gaza-to-safety

Hey everyone, I know I promised a one-shot release, but life has been overwhelming lately! Between school, work, and everything else, I barely have time to breathe. I'm literally tired all the time, and recently, I made the mistake (or the best decision, who knows?) of buying Baldur’s Gate 3, so that’s where a lot of my free time has gone… 😅

But today, it's not about me. I want to take a moment to talk about something important. Recently, some Palestinians have reached out to me, and I wanted to help share their stories. The first person to contact me is Nisrine, and she’s part of a family of 8. They are going through a really tough time, and they need all the help they can get.

To Nisrine and her family: Stay strong. You are not alone. Even in the darkest of times, know that people out there are listening and standing with you. I hope this message reaches more people and brings some comfort to you and your loved ones. 💚

I also want to say that English isn’t my first language, but seeing Palestinians like Nisrine learning English and turning to social media to ask for help has really pushed me to step out of my comfort zone and write this message. If they can do that, the least I can do is try too.

If you have the means, please consider donating to their cause, or simply share their stories and fundraising links. Every little bit counts, and if you can amplify their voices, it could make all the difference. 💔

We often forget that behind every headline, there are real people with real stories. Nisrine and her family are just one of many families in need. Let’s do what we can to support them during these difficult times.

Thank you to everyone who takes the time to share or donate! It means the world to them, and to me as well. Stay safe and take care of each other. 🌸

[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #5:

———————————

A/N: I am posting two outtakes today! Please read the voting poll that will be at the end of Outtake #6. As you know I am on a slight writing hiatus except for this story. I love it so much so thank you to the small amount of you who continue to read it - love y’all.

‼️THIS IS THE 9TH PART IN A SERIES READ THE OTHER PARTS BEFORE THIS ONE: ‼️

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

Aone 1 Year 2 Months Into Crushing On You And Having a Funny Conversation with Kenji, Koganegawa and Katana 💵👮

“Hey! Futakuchi and his friends! Wait up!”

While on the way to volleyball practice, Aone, Kenji & Kanji heard a distant female voice from behind calling them.

The three tall boys turned around, seeing an out-of-breath Katana trying to catch up with them from 20 meters away.

To Aone’s right, Kenji sighed.

“Here we go, He murmured under his breath in annoyance.

Kenji was convinced that he should sign up for the Date Tech talent show and claim that his talent is collecting clingy exes. He wouldn’t even have asked clingy-Katana out if his white-haired best friend didn’t have it crazy bad for her best friend.

Aone grunted and Kanji’s eyes were just wide because the popular cheer captain of the school knew him as Futakuchi’s friend!!!!

“Hi-hi-“ Koganegawa started when she was still way too far away, but Kenji warned him:

“Do not speak again. You’ve already proven you can’t get your shit together around hot cheerleaders and if you don’t want them to label you as the weird first-year for life I suggest you quiet down now.”

Agreeing, Koganegawa shut his mouth and nodded.

Katana finally reached the three giants, taking a moment to catch her breath and fix her hair as she looked up at them.

“Whoa, you guys are huge.”

Kenji nodded nonchalantly. “You needed me?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I just left a cheer meeting with Y/N and...”

Aone went on alert to the sound of his crushes name. The two volleyball boys on either side of him felt his cringe and looked at Aone quickly, then back at the cheer captain.

“.....in the meeting we realized we raised way more than we hoped, which is awesome because we can get a more expensive bus and a better hotel and stuff but....”

your best friend was blabbing on, and Kenji was rather annoyed by her it.

“—I don’t want to interrupt, Katana.... but could you maybe hurry it up? We have practice in 10 minutes and we have to run laps if we’re late just like the cheerleaders—“

“Oops! I totally get it. Sorry. Basically I just wanted to say that we calculated our donations and sent out thank you baskets to our highest donors and well....since you’re the captain of Date Tech’s boys volleyball team—I thought I’d ask you directly if your team would even want a gift basket or maybe something else?” She winked at Kenji flirtatiously.

Girl-crazy Koganegawa’s mind went to very dirty places. “Something else??? Something else like what—“

Kenji reaches his arm out to pound his first-year in the chest so that he would stop talking. As Koganegawa coughed, Kenji furrowed his brows at Katana, addled.

“Huh? Why would WE get a gift basket?”

Katana tilted her head, addled as well. “Well.......your team did donate $1,000 (106,128.50 yen) to our fundraiser, which was one of our biggest single donations so—“

“Oh WE DID?” Kenji’s eyes were wide like Bokuto’s an owls when he heard the amount donated. He was trying to contain his big smile from breaking out as he nudged a very frozen and very guilty mountain man next to him.

Katana didn’t understand why Kenji was so surprised with something he did himself.

“Uh............yeah.”

She looked at the faces of all 3 boys, Kenji’s looking amused and suspecting, the hot blonde in the middle looking angry but shaken, and the one with 3 brown spikes in his yellow hair was staring at her boobs.

Katana snapped her fingers in front of his face and Koganegawa looked back into the cheer captains menacing glare.

Futakuchi tried to steer the attention away from his setter who was stupidly playing with fire.

“Katana,”

“Hm?” She smiled at the handsome volleyball captain.

“No gift basket. Thanks for asking. You guys can just cheer extra loud for us at the next game you come to. Okay? That’s thanks enough.” Kenji smiled sweetly.

Katana giggled in return, melting under Futakuchi‘s smile.

“Alright! Sure thing!! Thanks a lot by the way. The cheer team will have the best trip ever and we owe a lot of thanks to your team!” Forgetting the blushing first year on the end that she was going to rip apart, Katana bounced away happily.

Aone turned and started walking briskly to the gym.

“We’re going to be late.” He stated simply, training his eyes forward.

aone!!!! Get your sexy simping ass back here—

The two teammates caught up with him, sandwiching him as they walk.

“Aone Takanobu. You gave that team of bimbo’s 106,000 yen?! And tried to hide it from me—your best friend?!”

Kanji set a hand on his middle blockers shoulder. “Takanobu-senpai. You are whipped, dude!”

Kenji continued. “Look. I know your monthly allowance is twice what you donated to them, but, you can’t just give Y/N 106,000 yen!”

Aone growled in defence. “I didn’t. I gave it to the struggling Date Tech cheer team—“

“Oh cut the shit, Takanobu-san. You wanted Y/N to have a good trip 🙄”

Aone nodded tightly. “I will admit that is a large part of my donation, indeed. But—“

“—Aone senpai, you even disguised it as a donation from all of us? You’re so smart! That way Y/N won’t peg you as a creepy stalkerish guy. That’s like—“ Koganegawa paused, his eyes lighting up. “Wait. If you said it’s from all of us, then that means your donation might work in my ‘date me’ favour with the cute first-year cheerleaders......!” He sported a shit eating grin.

Turning the corner before the other two, Kenji called over to the underclassmen. “Kanji. I do think the 1st year cheerleaders will love you for this, but DIDN’T you already donate to them individually?”

Kanji gasped as he internally cringed. “Shit, I forgot!” He exclaimed. “I did! On three separate occasions 😱!”

Aone shrugged. “That is not my problem, Koganegawa-san.”

“No shit it isn’t your fault...... but I mean I wouldn’t have given them 32,000 yen if I knew you were donating 106,000 on the teams behalf! My allowance is only 43, 000 yen a month!!!”

On the other side of Aone, Kenji smirked. “You still would have done it even if you knew..... big boned setter 😑.” The captain rolled his eyes. It served his underclassman right to let the cheerleaders take advantage of him even though Kenji warned the whole team not to fall for it!. “You’re powerless around hot girls all the time, let alone ones that ask you for help when dressed as sexy mermaids, genies, or cats.”

“Actually, it was just the cop.....” He admitted shamefully. Looking at the ground as he walked, shaking his head. “She just asked me three times and I couldn’t say no.” He bowed his head in embarrassment.

Throwing his head back, Aone let out a loud hearty laugh as the three members of the Iron Wall entered their team’s locker room just in time. Kenji held the door open for his upperclassmen, a little in awe because a laugh from the mountain man was a huge rarity!

“So thaaat’s why you asked me to spot you for lunch!” Kenji laughed too, ruffling the hair of the blushing boy who he now considered to be a little brother.

Aone ruffled his hair too as he walked through the door Kanji held open. “At least I’m not whipped for the entire team, only one girl.” Takanobu teased.

“Oh, fuck you guys.” Grumbled Koganegawa as he fixed his hair that they just attempted to ruin. He was pouting. “You guys are the worst senpai’s ever.”

———————————

You, 1 year And 6 months Into Being A Losty and hear of Aone for the first time? 🙄⏱

“Hey guys, so how much did we raise at the Halloween fundraiser again?”

You called as Katana and yourself left your kitchen to meet all of the pyjama-clad cheerleaders in your den.

You still couldn’t believe that you guys were even able to call it a fundraiser!

As Cheer captain, Katana literally just told the team to wear cute and sexy Halloween costumes every day the week of Halloween in random places like the malls, outside of the grocery stores, the school field...make a few flyers, set up tables with a sign saying CHEERLEADING FUNDRAISER🤸‍♂️ and that’s that. The team gave nothing in return, Katana just told everyone to ask boys everyone but mostly boys politely for donations.

Surprisingly, it worked very well!

Since all of Date Tech’s stupid school funding went to the major sports teams, and your team used the leftover budget on the new uniforms, you had no money for Regionals. Each member was able to pay for most things but travel was too much. The team needed $3,500 to pay for the coach bus to and from regionals.... but they ended up raising around....

“Just over 7K (USD).” Responded one of the cheerleaders as she braided another’s hair.

Katana smiled. “I’m so proud of you girls!”

Kusa, the vice captain nodded as she dug into the s’mores. “Personally, I’m just happy that we got such huge donations from the hottest guys in school!”

Lost, you sat down on the couch and widened your eyes. “We did???”

Katana rolled her eyes at you. “Don’t act surprised, Y/N. You raised the most money....” Katana started clapping for you and the entire team joined in, congratulating you.

Your jaw dropped under the attention you didn’t ask for. “Shut up, Katana! Guys, really—“

“That’s awesome, Y/N! But I mean you did look amazing as a genie! You made me want to donate!” Kusa smiled, shaking your knee encouragingly. “Did any boy even say no to you??”

You looked down and played with your fingers. “Well, no, but...”

Kusa gasped. “Wait. Was it you who got the volleyball team to donate 106 000 yen?!”

The room silenced in anticipation.

“No! I didn’t—maybe Justin Bieber look-a like did it because he wants to get back with Katana I don’t know.....”

Katana scoffed before blowing on her toenails that she started painting.

“Nah. He doesn’t want me back....yet. But he will. That team did it on their own. Without anyone even asking.”

“Either way, they are so hot and they must like our team!!” Kusa squealed, and the other cheerleaders murmured excitedly in agreement.

“Especially Aone Takanobu!” One of them added.

Remembering that you heard that name before, but you forget where, you looked at your teammate. “Who?”

“Only the hottest blonde at the school! He’s in your year. Don’t tell me he’s on the long list of guys you don’t notice, Y/N.”

You covered your face as the girls collectively booooooooooo-ed you, throwing popcorn and pillows at your body jokingly. You giggled and shielded yourself.

“I’m sorry! I have no idea who he is!”

“You don’t know anybody. I swear you’d forget us if we somehow were kicked off this team. Just know that he’s gorgeous. Super tall, really serious and silent, one of the best on the volleyball team........ but most importantly................he has washboard abs. Total hottie.” Kusa explained and the rest of the cheerleaders fanned themselves as she did and pretended to faint.

“Maybe one day I’ll meet him.” You laughed, catching the base who pretended to faint in your lap. You tickled her side.

Uninterested in the conversation because it wasn’t about her favourite Dateteko volleyball boy, Katana took the reigns of the conversation again. “By the way Kusa. I think it was you who convinced the volleyball team to donate so much!”

“What?! Why me?”

“Well, I saw that giant first-year starter donate 3 times to the donation table after you spoke to him. You know the only with the three brunette antennas???”

Kusa blushed furiously. “Oh my God, I didn’t want him to donate three times! The first time I asked and he did, but the other times I just said hi to him because I kept running into him and then he just blurted out that he’d love to donate more money!! Geez, I kind of think he thought I was a real cop or something and that he would go to jail if he didn’t donate.”

You and the team bursted out in laughter until your stomachs hurt, exchanging all of the amusing stories from this fundraiser all night long.

———————————

1 year 11 months into Aone Crushing On You and Kenji Tries To Ship Him With Someone Else 📲💔

“Hey man, look. She’s pretty like Y/N and she’s a cheerleader too. She goes to Karasuno where that short ginger you like goes.”

Aone shrugged his shoulders, trying his best to study in the library. He ignored the Instagram page link Kenji texted to him.

“Will you at least answer her dm? That ginger told me she’s like obsessed with you ever since we last went over there.”

Aone shrugged again.

That was the wrong girl obsessed with him. “Maybe.”

Futakuchi sighed, wishing he could take the pain away from his best friend.

Ever since Aone realized that the girl he loves likes doesn’t even know who he is, he has been in somewhat of a slump.

There have been no more extraordinary games, even if Y/N was there cheering because Aone knew that even if he played extraordinarily well, you’d still probably ask the teacher who he was.......

he thought about that everyday.

Aone’s shoulders slumped a bit at the thought and Kenji noticed.

Aone just didn’t understand how he could like you this much when you two haven’t even had a conversation yet. He guessed it was because he knows almost everything about since you literally expose all of your business in class when Aone is listening. He knows your likes, dislikes, your hobbies, your fears, your favourite foods, etc. Every time he hears you he falls a little bit more because you were so perfect, not to mention pretty.

So, so pretty.

That’s why Kenji has been trying to steer his attention away from you and onto the many girls who do notice Aone, the ones who wish they were riding his dick every night.

a.k.a me 🙋🏾‍♀️

“If not the Karasuno chick what about this other girl from Inarizaki? The distance is further so she won’t expect as much face-to-face time but she really wants to meet you.”

“No thank you, Kenji-chan.”

Kenji frowned, watching Aone stare at the same page in his textbook in sorrow.

“Ok well........,..There are a lot of girls on our Date Tech cheer team who are interested.....” Kenji suggested quietly, trying to pull any emotion from him to know he’s still alive.

Aone looked away from his textbook for the first time since they’ve sat down, meeting his brunette friend’s eyes.

“Why would I want Y/N to think I’d ever date one of her friends, Kenji-san? If she believes I am taken, then she will never want me.” Aone explains with a heavy heart.

Kenji knew he’d say that. 🙇🏽 It definitely wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but at least Aone was still predictable to him. For the past few months Aone has been acting quite different, being extra silent at practices, lunch, and walks home now. He didn’t call Kenji for Y/N advice anymore even though he continued to have occasional wet dreams..... so Kenji was thoroughly concerned for his best friend. Aone must be lovesick, in a depressing way, and for the first time Kenji felt helpless. He hated seeing his friend like this.

“You can’t keep torturing yourself like this, Aone.”

Aone tried to collect himself. “I’m not—“

“You are. Everyday you just sit in your sorrow about Y/N. Meanwhile I can tell your feelings for her are still strengthening every day. You either need to man up and ask Y/N out or take one of these girls on a date to forget about her. You have fan girls, man. Hot ones. And I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore.”

Aone frowned.

“None of them measure up to Y/N.”

Kenji was surprised at his response. “W-well no, but—“

“Futakuchi, I am aware that I have been acting rather pathetic. I am aware that you, my parents, and the team are concerned about me. I apologize for making you all worry. But as of right now, and as much as I do wish it was different — my heart is held by Y/N-chan. She’s the first thing I think about when I wake up, she’s the last thing I think about before I fall asleep...and as you know she’s in my night dreams and day dreams. She is the perfect girl for me and she is right there all the time; she’s in all my classes, at our games, she’s in the caf, the halls, the library...I know that you and Koganegawa want me to ‘shoot my shot’ with her or even another girl but I don’t think you two understand. Before, I’ll admit that I was just shy to pursue Y/N. That is true. But it’s been two years. My feelings have grown so strong for her....and I’m not shy to pursue her, per se. Given the opportunity I strongly believe I would.”

“So what’s stopping you then, Aone-san?”

“.......I’m scared.”

Kenji’s eyes bugged out. “Scared?! Aone, you’re the bravest person I know—“

“Not when it comes to her. Even so, I’m not scared as in the fear of horror movies or heights. I’m scared of how much it might break me if Y/N rejects me.”

☹️☹️☹️☹️💔💔💔💔💔

Kenji frowned, understanding. “I see...”

Kenji thought back to over a year ago how upset Aone was back when Y/N was in a flirtmance with that tool from the baseball team, then he thought of Aone’s dejected face every time you’d walk by him in the halls like he didn’t exist, and the worst and most recent—he thought of Aone’s face a few months ago when he fled the classroom because he realized you had no idea who he was when he was standing right behind you. He had been devastated.

He still is.

Even with Takanobu’s permanent scowl, people a step away from Kenji or his parents (like the team) could tell that he wasn’t the same.

“I know I’m being a coward, Futakuchi. But I don’t think I can handle any more pain—from liking Y/N and her definitely not feeling the same—than this. At least not until the volleyball season ends. That way I can deal with it myself in the summer. But if I knew now I’d ruin the season.”

Internally appreciative to be the only confidant of Aone, Kenji closed the pages of Instagram girls he planned to show his friend, exchanging his phone for his matching Japanese Literature textbook.

“What page were you on?”

———————————

Taglist: @crushzone @galagcica

Outtake #6: CLICK HERE

Outtake #6 has bare dramaaaaa & y’all are finally starting to date

Pls do not forget to read the poll at the end of it and vote!

[bytheangell]

Support System - Chapter 5

When Alec's favorite show gets cancelled and he takes to messaging customer service repeatedly to show his support, he doesn't expect to connect so well with the support representative he keeps getting paired off with.  (Read it from the start on AO3!)

Alec feels the heat in his face as he stutters something out - he isn’t even sure what at this point because his brain shut down entirely in his flustered panic. But the attractive man he spilled coffee on like a total klutz is still smiling, laughing and shrugging and disappearing into the coffee shop with a wink. The thought occurs to him to follow - to buy him a coffee, at least. But he remembers how late he’s already running, and it’s the easiest excuse to cling to as he turns to leave.

Still, his thoughts linger on the man - those dark brown eyes that seemed to flash with flecks of gold when the light caught them (though he never make eye contact long enough to tell if it was just the light playing tricks on him), the way the sleeves of his dress shirt clung to his impressively large biceps, and how the tailored plum vest he wore over it suited him so perfectly. And those maroon highlights in his hair…

...the blush was back on Alec’s face even though he is now an entire block away. He needs to stop. It isn’t like he can go out for drinks in the city his entire family lives in! He didn’t have a choice but to say no; what if someone sees him? Izzy is the only one who knows he’s gay, and if his brothe,r or parents, or even any of his parent’s friend’s see him out and say something… he just isn’t ready for that. But it still feels nice to be hit on, even if he did chicken out on the follow-through.

So he forces the thoughts from his mind the best he can as he steps through the door of the shop. Or at least he thinks he does.

“...what happened?” Izzy asks immediately.

“What?” He asks, confused, placing his coffee and bag down on the nearest counter.

“Your face is right red and you have a dopey grin on your face.”

Shit.

“Oh, I ran into someone at the coffee shop. Literally. I spilled coffee on them and it was embarrassing and we’re going to pretend it never happened now.”

“And on a scale of 1 to 10, how hot was he?”

“Izzy.” He chastises, rolling his eyes, but when he’s met with nothing more than crossed arms and a defiant stare he sighs. “11.” And since he knows she won’t let it go that easily he pauses only briefly before adding (and not without a hint of satisfaction). “I offered to pay to have his shirt cleaned and he said I could pay him back with a drink instead.”  

“You got a date?” Isabelle asks incredulously, but Alec shakes his head quickly before she can get her hopes up too high.

“No. I said I couldn’t and left.” He sees the disappointment all over her face. “You know I can’t, Iz. If someone saw-” “I know, I know.” And her tone is understanding but laced with sadness. “I can’t tell you how to live your life, big brother, but I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a thousand more times if I have to - you deserve to be happy. No one who matters is going to judge you for that. And if they do, I’ll kick their asses.”

“I know you will,” he says with a fond smile. “Thanks.” He braces himself for more but Isabelle drops it there and the Lightwood siblings get to work opening the store.

--

The day passes by slowly and uneventfully after that, and Alec is back home and falling into what is quickly becoming a new routine. Eat, sleep, wake up to a midnight alarm so he can catch a chat or two with Magnus, universe willing. The queues are down to 3 or so minutes each time now, still holding strong, and he passes the time in between by sending out tweets and e-mails, and writing brief exchanges with the first two support reps he gets connected to who aren’t Magnus, until:

Support: You are Chatting with Magnus B. Magnus: Just the name I wanted to see.   Alec: Hello again to you, too. Magnus: One of these times I’m going to come across another Alec L. and things are going to get hilariously awkward. Alec: You could always use a regular greeting, you know. Magnus: Where’s the fun in that? I like living on the edge. Alec: I wish I had some of that mentality. Magnus: You can take some of mine. I have plenty to go around.   Alec: Heh, thanks. Alec: Any word on the show? Magnus: Unfortunately, nothing new on my end. Same old blanket statement. Alec: Damn. Alec: Sorry, can I curse in here? Probably not. Magnus: If you think you’re the first person to swear in a customer service chat, boy do I have news for you. Alec: Good point. So where are you in Season 2 now?

They chat about the show for a few minutes before Alec realizes he’s still far too tired for this right now. Every time he blinks his eyes stay shut for longer and longer, and it isn’t like Magnus doesn’t have an actual job to do here. Alec: Well, I should let you get back to work. Maybe I’ll try and pop back in later. Magnus: I hope you do. This chat has ended.

Alec decides to try and sleep the rest of the night and wake up early enough to catch Magnus before the end of his shift in the morning. A plan that would’ve worked great if a massive rumble of thunder followed by a tremor that rattled his entire apartment didn’t wake him up at 2:34 am, and try as he might he just can’t fall back asleep. He pulls his laptop off of the bedside table and boots it up, browsing through the #SaveTheHunt tags for a few minutes before donating to a fundraiser set up in the campaign’s name for an amazing LGBTQ+ Nonprofit. And then, when it becomes clear he isn’t about to fall asleep any time soon, he decides to try the support chat again.

This time there is no queue, which is good, because it takes three tries to get to Magnus.

Support: You are Chatting with Magnus B. Magnus: Welcome back. Alec: I couldn’t sleep, and this seemed better than tossing and turning for another hour. Magnus: Not that I’m glad you can’t sleep, but it’s been an uncharacteristically quiet night here. I thought I’d be glad to see things die down but I kinda miss it. Alec: I’m sure it’ll pick back up. We’re far from giving up - in fact, there was a new fundraising campaign started today in the show’s name, benefitting LGBTQ+ youth in honor of all the representation and impact the show has in the community. Magnus: That’s amazing! I’ll have to check that out after work. I’d be remiss not to give back in honor of the positive bisexual showing so far. It isn’t often you find something in pop culture that goes out of its way to give us such a good rep.  Alec: Oh, you’re bi? Magnus: Sorry, tmi. Alec: No, it’s cool. Alec: That’s cool.

Alec hesitates, hands hovering over the keyboard as he thinks back to earlier at his desire to live on the edge a little more. To the missed opportunity at the coffee shop. To Isabelle telling him that he deserves to be himself. His pulse is racing, but that’s stupid, because it’s just a word. It’s just a word to a person who doesn’t even know him. A person he’ll never meet. And there’s a certain safety in the anonymity of the internet, isn’t there? He’s just a name here, and not an uncommon one at that. He can be anyone, anywhere. And if he can’t bring himself to type the words to a stranger on the internet how will he ever say them out loud to the people around him? It seems like the perfect starting point.

What does he really have to lose?

He takes a deep breath and starts to type.

Alec: I told my sister I was gay after watching the first two seasons with her, so I get it. It’s important. Seeing the support the everyone gave, even after the whole wedding fiasco, had a huge impact on me. I’m not sure I ever would’ve done it otherwise. Magnus: Oh wow. That is big. Congratulations! Alec: Thanks, but it isn’t that impressive. I’m 22 and she’s the only one I ever told. Magnus: Everyone moves at their own pace. I’m sure you’ll get there.

Alex exhales the breath he didn’t realize he’s holding. Admitting that truth about himself to someone other than Isabelle is so freeing, no matter what the context, and Alec feels a small sense of peace settle over him. Nothing as intense as what he felt talking to Isabelle, but nice in its own way.

The conversation seems to flow so easily after that, and Alec forgets his nerves almost entirely. They talk about a mixture of personal anecdotes and things from the show (with Alec carefully treading around spoilers from things beyond the point Magnus stopped at in his reactions and replies) for much longer than Alec realizes, both of them losing track of time. It starts to feel like he’s talking to a close friend rather than some faceless stranger across the internet when the tone of Magnus’ text takes a sudden, abrupt turn.

Magnus: I need you to end this chat right now, but I promise I’ll explain later. Alec: What? Magnus: Please. This chat has ended.

And Alec sits there, feeling a bit lost and more than a little confused, staring at the blank screen of the ended conversation. It is difficult to pick up on intonations through written word, but he could sense the urgency behind Magnus’ request enough to not question it. But something uneasy sits in the pit of his stomach as he wonders if he said something wrong. They talked a lot more this time, and about personal things, not just the show. But it all seemed alright at the time. So what happened? What changed?

Alec wonders exactly when ‘later’ is -  if he’s supposed to try to talk to him again right away, or in an hour, or maybe not for the rest of the night?  He has nothing to go off of. He resolves to wait at least an hour but before the time is up he dozes off, and doesn’t wake back up until the sunlight is already pouring in through the window. What time is it? Maybe he can still catch--

But the clock reads 8:05, and Alec’s heart drops. Magnus’ shift is over, and if he’s going to get any answers he’ll have to wait for them now.

[sun-writer-blog]

The Library

Inspired by a post I saw on here, here's a piece of what's been stuck in my head. Any feedback is welcome and appreciated! I hope you enjoy. There's two more parts after this.

Part 2 | Part 3

Mike adored it when Ms. Jane came to read to the kids.

Her eyes - which often appeared distant and closed - now twinkled with an inner radiance. An unabashed grin played across her lips as the kids giggled at the story she read to them - something called Frog and Toad are Friends. She sat “criss-crossed applesauce” (which is how she described it to the kids, her nose crinkling up as she did so) surrounded by kindergarteners. Her pale blue dress stood out as she sat on the yellow carpet that covered the children’s section of Hawkins Public Library. The kids hung onto her every word. She seemed most alive with them.

Surprisingly when his best friends would come around to mess with him as he worked, Mike wouldn’t deny what he thought about the social worker who read to the kids once a week (“Mostly on Wednesdays, but sometimes she comes in on Tuesdays to practice reading the book to herself,” he would tell them when they asked). She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Well stop staring forlornly and ask her to the ball already!”

Lucas was always the practical one of the group, and all of this unrequited love that had his friend acting like a sick puppy for the past few months was ridiculous to him. The library had a fundraising gala once a year along with Toys for Tots to get new children’s books, and since Mike was the Head Librarian for Children’s Books he was obliged to attend “with a guest”. Since Lucas was in the Marine Corps Reserve, he would also be in attendance at the Gala. Mike had tried to sucker his sister Nancy into going with him, but it hadn’t worked out in his favor.

“Go ask a girl who’s not your sister for a change, Mike.”

“It’s Hawkins, Nancy, I know everyone like they’re my sister.”

That was a bit of an exaggeration, but the underlying truth was that Mike was another one of those poor unfortunate souls who was born, raised, and destined to die in a small town. The only new kid who had moved here in the past ten years was Max, and Lucas had started dating her within a few weeks. Will was already going because his brother Jonathan was hired to take photographs of the event and had an extra ticket, and Dustin was going because he wanted to donate and had bought a ticket himself. So that left Ms. Jane.

Dustin started playing with the scanner on Mike’s desk to check out books, which made him irritated. Mike wasn’t a neat freak, but he liked everything on his desk to be in a certain place. Dustin, therefore, always moved things around whenever he had the chance. “Just ask her dude. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She’ll think I’m a weirdo for talking to her.”

“We already think you’re a weirdo for talking so much about her.”

“Thanks Lucas. I always knew you were my best friend.” Mike leaned back into his leather chair and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“2:53. You have seven minutes to figure out how you’re gonna ask a girl to the dance.” Dustin looked at his watch. “Shit-”

Mike shoved Dustin and shushed him immediately. “There are kids man!” Lucas laughed and ruffled Mike’s shaggy black hair - another thing that drove him insane - and Mike slapped his hands away while Lucas teased him for his librarian shushing skills.

“Alright, I gotta go. I’m gonna late for an interview at school. I’m going for Mr. Clarke’s old job. You coming guys?”

Will shook his head and put his hands in the pockets of his brown leather jacket. “You guys go ahead, I rode my bike here.”

“Suit yourself.” Before he turned to leave, Dustin turned a stapler upside down on Mike’s desk and stared at him in the eyes, pointing a finger between him and the girl in the blue dress. Ask her! He mouthed as Lucas dragged him out. Will rested his elbows on the desk as he and Mike casually watched as Ms. Hopper began to wrap up another adventure of Frog and Toad. “Do you really think I should go for it, Will?” MIke asked cautiously. He and Lucas might have been best friends, but Will and Mike had grown closer while Dustin went off to a different college and Lucas joined the military.

“What’s the most attractive thing about her?”

“Her voice.” Mike answered instantly. “I love the way she pronounces words. Like they’re all new and strange and wonderful. I love listening to her read.”

Will smiled softly to himself, the two boys still not making eye contact with one another. They might have been close, but they both were uncomfortable with the vulnerability. “Ask her, Mike. I think she’ll say yes.”

“Why’s that?”

“She’s been looking at you for the past 15 minutes while we were talking.”

Mike tried to control the butterflies in his stomach when he heard that, and let out a shaky breath. The next two minutes felt like an hour, but slowly the kids rose from the ground and their parents began to trickle in one by one to pick them up. Mike started to rise from his chair, but two boys rushed over to him with a few books in their hands. He smiled at them. “Hello, boys!”

“Hi Mr. Mike!” The kids answered in unison. They were twins, and the most avid readers Mike had ever met. Last week he had suggested they pick up some copies of an adventure novel he loved as a kid, and they must have already finished them. “We wanna return the first book and check out the second, third, and fourth!”

“If that’s okay” one of them added quickly. Mike pursed his lips.

“I dunno...how fast are you going to read them?” He joked. The kids beamed gallantly.

“All of them today, Mr. Mike!”

He laughed and nodded as he began to scan the books. “I guess I’ll make an exception for you two, then.” Will had disappeared among the crowd of parents and kids, and as Mike glanced up from his desk he couldn’t see the social worker either. He gave the books back to the twins and started to put his desk back in place as the parents trickled out, cursing Dustin and Lucas for messing with his things. Every few seconds he would glance up from his work, but after a few minutes the children’s library was very empty, yet again.

Mike slumped back into his chair and stared at his desk clock. The red lights seem to mock him. 3:01 PM.

“Excuse me?”

Mike looked up and felt his heart in his throat. It was her, black hair and chocolate brown eyes and pale blue dress and all. Her name tag read “Hi! My name is Jane” in big bold letters, and underneath in much smaller font “Hawkins Social Services”. Her eyes were wide, as if she hadn’t expected Mike to answer her, and Mike was sure he looked like a deer in headlights as well. “Um, h-hi! Did you, uh, have a question?”

“Stupid stupid, Mike. You’re blowing it.” He thought to himself.

“I, um, wanted to ask about a book. For next week. We just finished up all of the books in our series.” She picked at her fingers and tried to force a nervous smile. “If you have any suggestions?”

Mike nodded quickly - probably too quickly to play it smooth. “Yeah! Frog and Toad was good, i’m sad to hear it’s over.”

She smiled a little more easily and raised an eyebrow. “You were listening?”

His eyes widened further and he stumbled over his words, his cheeks blushing. “I-I mean, just a little bit. Do you want to try The Chronicles of Narnia next? I loved those books as a kid.”

“Yeah! Those would be great.” There was a painful silence for a moment, and she bit her lower lip - another thing that made Mike’s heart flutter. He suddenly reached out his hand.

“I’m Mike. Short for Michael.” Everyone knows that, dummy, he thought. “You’re Jane?”

“You can call me Eleven.” She corrected quickly, nervousness in her tone. “Jane is pretty formal.”

Mike smiled and let out a shaky breath. He would ask her about that name later. “Okay, how about El? Short for Eleven.”

El nodded, another smile tugging on her lips. “Perfect.”

“Um, so, El, there’s this ball here at the library this friday. Not like, a literal ball, just a dance. It’s actually a gala, or whatever. But I have an extra ticket and I wanted to know if you would like to go. With me. Because you spend a lot of time here reading ot the kids and the gala is meant to fundraise for the library and -"

“What time?”

Mike stopped babbling and looked into El’s eyes again. She was biting her lip - a nervous habit, he decided - and she almost looked like she was holding her breath. “I could pick you up at 5?”

“Okay!” She replied, so quickly that they both started laughing. Mike was grinning from ear to ear, and their cheeks were both fiery red. “Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?” Mike instantly handed the items to her - including his favorite purple pen he used specifically for Dungeons and Dragons campaigns - and she scribbled something down, putting it in the inside cover of the last book of Frog and Toad. She handed the book to him, wiggled her fingers as a good-bye and flashed a brief smile before hurrying away. Mike watched her go through the door as Will entered, a knowing smirk on his face.

Mike mouthed Thank you to his friend before opening the cover of the book and reading the scrap of paper. Her handwriting was bubbly, which distracted him at first from the actual words she wrote after her address:

Thank you for the invite. See you Friday.

Jane "El" Hopper

[johnboothus]

Bar Tab Venmo May Ease the Sting of Media Layoffs But Its Far From a Safety Net

Push alerts are the scourge of our #mobilefirst existence, so it makes sense that Megan Greenwell had turned them off for all her most used apps. It also makes sense that Venmo, the ubiquitous platform that allows strangers to seamlessly transfer one another funds by phone, was not one of those apps.

After all, who walks the earth expecting strangers to simultaneously begin sending them funds with little to no warning? In this economy?! And yet, one fateful late-October afternoon last year, that’s exactly what happened to the editor of Wired, who had helmed the sports blog Deadspin for 18 months before resigning in protest of what she saw as improper editorial meddling by the executives running the site’s parent company.

“All of a sudden like my phone was like too hot to touch because of all the Venmos coming in,” Greenwell told me in a recent phone interview. The money wasn’t for her, not all of it at least. In fall 2019, 20 of the editor’s former Deadspin colleagues began walking off the job in a principled stand against the firing of one of their own, and the site’s fans (who included millions of regular readers per month and many NYC media insiders) wanted to show their support. Greenwell had stepped up as a digital bagwoman on Twitter, posting her Venmo handle and offering to run point on disbursement of any funds collected.

And lo, did the funds roll in. To buy the erstwhile Deadspinners drinks, strangers on the internet ultimately pooled together a “healthy five figures,” says Greenwell. (This went to more than drinks; we’ll get to that in a moment.) “I was like, ‘Holy fuck, I have to figure out how to turn off my notifications!’”

‘In lieu of a better safety net’

Such is the power and majesty of the “bar tab Venmo,” a digital-age rite borne of journalistic tribalism, smartphone connectivity, and the excruciating death shudders of an ever-collapsing American media ecosystem. It’s a fairly simple exercise: When journalists find themselves out of work, other journalists — plus rank-and-file subscribers, fans of a free press, and so forth — toss a few bucks into a digital bucket as consolation beer money for the newly unemployed.

Unfortunately, layoffs have been a nearly omnipresent specter in the media business for the entire decade I’ve been in it. (This story, in fact, is expanding on an essay I wrote for my drinking culture newsletter after being laid off, for the first time, from a media gig of my own. Fun!) In that time, as shop after shop has shed writers and editors, hard-nosed reporters and soft-handed listicle jockeys, the bar tab Venmo routine has become a bit of a funeral rite.

(Apparently this is a thing that people also did with former staffers of failed Democratic presidential campaigns, which is different and honestly a little weird to me in ways that I can’t quite put my finger on right now. Anyway!)

Given how often journalists get laid off, it’s impossible to say how many of these booze-focused fundraisers have hit the timeline since Venmo was created in 2009. But in the past few years, as the digital-media balloon has deflated in an atmosphere of impossible growth goals, video pivots, and impatient, inept venture-capitalism and private-equity opportunism, they’ve gotten bigger. Due to the site’s stature and its writers’ popularity, the drive for former Deadspinners was arguably the highest-profile of the bunch. The last year and a half alone seen has similar ad-hoc efforts for journalists at BuzzFeed News, Sports Illustrated, The New York Times en Espanol, Outside Magazine … and on and on.

“I’ve spent a lot of time over the past four years or so specifically … donating to bar tab Venmos,” says Maya Kosoff, a freelance writer and editor who, back in the Before Times, wrote movingly for GEN on “the human toll of the 2019 media apocalypse” that put 3,000 journalists out of work. (Smash cut to 2020 and that number looks downright adorable next to the toll taken by pandemic-related media layoffs, which The New York Times ballparked at 36,000 back in April. And uh, folks, things have not gotten better since April!)

“It feels like you’re trying to help your fellow peers get back on their feet at a time when there’s complete instability in the industry, and no guarantee that you’re gonna find another staff job in journalism,” she added. Bar tab Venmo “is kind of in lieu of there being like a better safety net — for reporters, writers, editors, and freelancers.”

“I don’t know where I first saw people doing this,” says Amanda Mull, a staff writer for The Atlantic whose tweet about the Deadspin walkout was among those that prompted Greenwell to offer up her Venmo handle last fall. “Maybe it was an early round of BuzzFeed layoffs? I saw people doing it, so I sent some money. It seemed like just a nice thing to do, people who are losing their jobs or who are in an unstable employment situation.”

Mutual Aid in the Modern Era

Speaking of which: As the coronavirus pandemic continues its literal and figurative death march through the American economy, rolling layoffs and gobsmacking unemployment numbers have become a de rigeur part of the national discourse. There are a lot more workers (both in the media and beyond) in unstable employment situations than ever before.

As such, new conversation has sprung forth about the shortcomings of America’s dismal system of meat-grinder capitalism and what average folks — buried in student loan, perpetually renting, and/or clinging to garbage jobs they hate because the bad health benefits they get are still better than the obscenely expensive alternatives in our cartoonishly corrupt privatized healthcare industry — can do to help each other survive. Like, beyond buying each other drinks, I mean.

Workers, neighbors, marginalized groups, and more have been passing the hat to help their own cover the costs of sickness, death, and bad luck for centuries. That’s neither new (it was a staple of 19th-century fraternal lodges), nor particularly mainstream, in the United States at least. But things are shifting, according to Max Haiven, an author and professor at Lakehead University in Ontario, Canada. Rank-and-file attitudes toward mutual aid were “changing already very quickly before the pandemic, [and they’re] changing even faster right now. … What we’ve actually begun to see is that since Covid, a lot of workers who previously were not unionized are now taking forms of collective action.”

At the very least, people seem more aware of the idea. Google Trends indicates that interest in the phrase “mutual aid” has been higher than normal for virtually the entire duration of the coronavirus pandemic. That tool also suggests searches spiked directly after a police officer killed George Floyd in the street this past spring, which makes sense because American capitalism and American racism are “different” in the sense that Bud Light and Miller Lite are “different,” which is to say sort of but also not really.

What’s the connection between neighborhood grocery deliveries and strangers paying each other’s medical bills, and random Twitter avatars throwing beer money at unemployed bloggers? Ah, so glad you asked, my dear rhetorical device!

Drinks Do Not a Union Organize

To Haiven, journalism’s money-for-booze routine isn’t quite a pure expression of solidarity — it’s long on symbol, but short on substance, and is probably predicated a bit too much on journalism’s romanticized “brand” and the popularity of individual outlets and writers to constitute real movement-building action.

On that, all the journalists I spoke with for this story agreed emphatically. “Part of me is a little unsettled by the popularity aspect of it,” says Greenwell. The success or failure of a bar tab Venmo is “not determined by who needs it the most, and it’s not determined by whose circumstances were the worst in terms of their layoff or firing or whatever, it’s determined by popularity on Twitter.”

Kosoff, who received some Venmo dough herself after leaving “new Gawker” over ethical concerns regarding the site’s leadership, echoed that reservation, warning that the practice is potentially exclusionary and even “clique-y” — words more or less incompatible with true solidarity.

Another aspect of bar tab Venmo that makes it more a “solidaristic” behavior than a true form of solidarity is that the stakes are relatively low. With the exception of alcoholics who’d be wracked with delirium tremens in the absence of drink, buying rounds for writers online is not really in the same category as, say, passing the hat to help the family of a union brother slain on the job to cover funeral costs.

And contrary to what you’ve heard, not every journalist unwinds at the end of the day with several glasses of Scotch. “Sending money for booze is a heartwarming gesture and a good expression of love and solidarity for people who have been laid off,” says Hamilton Nolan, a labor reporter for In These Times and a former staffer of the various companies that have owned Deadspin. “But speaking as someone who doesn’t drink, I would suggest that an even better practice would be just donating cash to laid off workers. They can buy their own drinks, or pay the rent.”

Still, Haiven says, if labor activism occurs on a spectrum, with strikes and solidarity actions between different unions or workers organizations on one end, “on the other end of the spectrum are these like small almost seemingly insignificant acts of mutual aid, where people say ‘actually, our fates are connected.’”

“It’s kind of a culture of solidarity that could then turn into the structures of solidarity,” he adds.

Beyond the Bar Tab

Those structures, it should be noted, are already being built both outside media — and within it. After five decades of declining union density in the United States, the digital-media industry was a bright spot in the second half of the 2010s, with a wave of successful union drives, with workers at publications like Vox, New York Magazine, Deadspin, Vice, HuffPost, Salon, and many more organizing themselves to bargain for better conditions and more stability. (Disclosure: I organized at Thrillist, another digital shop that went union in that wave. We won, but it took awhile.)

So while bar tab Venmo is an imperfect vessel for building coalition across the industry, it might act as sort of a gateway drug to more substantive acts of solidarity. For one thing, it’s more for newly activated workers to send fallen coworkers beer money with a few taps on an iPhone, than to, say, write them a check for a portion of their rent, or baby formula, or whatever.

“It’s a perfect way to say like, ‘Hey, I’m thinking about you, when we’re not close enough to say “I’m thinking about you,” so here’s 20 bucks,’” muses Greenwell. Under the guise of sending a round of send-off shots, contributors were able to offer financial support that could cover actual necessities. And it did: The Deadspin fund fueled several outings with Greenwell’s former staff, but also went toward paying months of rent and buying half a dozen laptops for those writers who had previously relied on their company-issue machines. Many of those workers went on to launch Defector, one of several promising new worker-owned media co-ops seeking to reinvent a broken business with good blogs. (Maybe the drinks helped!)

Greenwell imagines mutual aid in an ideal world simply as money doled out to people who need it most, donated by those with common cause who weren’t swayed by individual popularity or, as Kosoff put it, “the stereotype of journalists as miserable sad sacks want to drink together at the bar.” Something less like a bar tab Venmo, and more like the Journalist Furlough Fund.

Launched in late March by Seattle Times reporter Paige Cornwell as a GoFundMe, the JFF is a by-journalists, for-journalists effort to plug the gaping holes in both the media industry’s broken model and the United States’ shredded social safety net. The fundraising target was $60,000, but to date the campaign has raised over $96,000 from journalists, local businesses, public-relations pros … you name it.

Speaking on the phone while coordinating wildfire coverage in Seattle, Cornwell was intent to note two things. First: “I do this independent of my employer,” she says, noting that, though the Seattle Times has been supportive of the effort, it is not a company initiative. (The Times, for what it’s worth, is a partly union newsroom; its digital journalists are currently fighting for their right to join their already-organized colleagues, of which Cornwell is one.)

The second thing Cornwell was adamant about was something every other journalist I interviewed also brought up: The sheer deficiency of crowdfunded mutual aid, even $100,000 of it, when compared to the scope of the problem at hand. Even though the JFF is much more explicitly oriented around aid than a bar tab Venmo, it pales in comparison to the broad, systematic dysfunction of the media industry.

“This isn’t a way to make up for [a laid-off journalist’s] loss,” says Cromwell. “It’s for keeping someone from the edge.” As the administrator of the fund, she’s disbursed cash to journalists across the country for daycare tuition fees, medical bills, equipment, and more. The JFF can help some journalists in a pinch, but still, “it’s not enough,” she says.

That doesn’t mean she plans to wind it down anytime soon, though. After surging in the spring, contributions to the fund have slowed, but considering that things are only getting worse in the American media business, she’s hopeful that people will contribute again if they can — if not to “fix” the media, then at least to keep more writers and editors from the meat grinder. “Someone else can figure out how to save journalism as a whole, [the JFF] will just make sure that someone will be able to buy their daughter school supplies,” she quips.

“It’s just so ridiculous that we even have to have those conversations.”

I’ll drink to that. (Please Venmo me.)

The article Bar Tab Venmo May Ease the Sting of Media Layoffs, But It’s Far From a Safety Net appeared first on VinePair.

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