#i owe art to one person then i am able to get back to indulgent stuff for me and reqs and stuff

[moeblob]

They're soulmates in every single universe and I miss them at the most random times.

[starwarsmum]

Day 24! Officially less than a week left. @maribat-calendar-events prompt of the day is Surname

“Come on, Damian,” Marinette coaxed, holding his hand as they walked along the Seine. “I would love to meet your family, and you said that a few of them have been asking as well. Are you worried they won't like me?”

“Tt, of course they will like you,” Damian replied, bringing her hand up to his lips. She waited for him to continue and he gave a sigh. “My family can be insufferably inquisitive, I do not wish to subject you to them so soon. I find the thought of you choosing to end our relationship deplorable and would like to have a more stable base before unleashing them upon you.”

“You're surprisingly sensitive, you know that?” Marinette giggled, blushing lightly when he smirked back at her. “I've already met Tim and Dick, what worse could the rest be?”

“Tt, Drake and Grayson are objectively the least irritating, excepting Cassandra. Todd is the one I am most concerned about, and at any rate it will interfere with our investigation if we take time out to indulge my family's curiosity.”

“Why do you do that?” Marinette asked suddenly, looking up at him. He squinted at her, and she clarified. “Call them by their last names, I mean.”

“I have done it since I arrived with my father. It was…a way to assert my position as my father's one true son originally. Over time I have accepted that my father adores his strays but I have kept to using their last names.”

“But you don't with Cass any more?” Marinette asked, her head quirked to the side as they continued their leisurely stroll. The tips of Damian's ears turned ever so slightly pink and she immediately wanted to know why. “Damian, pretty please won't you tell me why?”

“Tt, that is because you call her Cass,” he admitted, his blush spreading as she looked up at him. They pulled to a stop just before the Pont des Arts bridge, Damian fidgeting ever so slightly. “I also owe her a debt for introducing the pair of us, and continuing to call her by her surname seemed rude.”

“You are the sweetest,” Marinette said, lifting her free hand up to his face and brushing it against his cheek. He huffed and looked away from her so she reached up and kissed his cheek gently. “No, really, you are. You're so incredible and thoughtful, I have no idea how I got lucky enough that you want to date me.”

“Well, you do carry around a pocket sized deity as a good luck charm,” Damian smirked, laughing as she squawked and slapped his chest lightly. “But if you are serious about wanting to meet the rest of my family, I can think of no further reasons not to.”

_ _ _

After a quick message to Dick, Damian resigned himself to most of his family descending upon Paris to assist with the investigation (and meet Marinette). Bruce graciously said that he would remain in Gotham this time, to ensure that the city was kept safe, but otherwise the rest of the Batfamily were ready to get on a plane.

Damian's work towards finding Hawkmoth had begun to show definite signs of pointing to one person and Damian was impressed once again by Marinette's capabilities. Her intuition had pointed at Gabriel Agreste and all of Damian's further research was heading that way.

To help avoid a bias, Damian had not told his brothers of her suspicions and was vindicated by their drawing the same conclusions. If they were quick, they would be able to inform his family that the threat was neutralised by the time they landed.

As it was a Saturday, Marinette was free to move around the city as she wished. Damian and his family had discussed their options, and all had confirmed that he should work with Ladybug as Robin for the actual takedown of Hawkmoth. 

She had been surprised when he had confessed his secret identity, but had been surprisingly accepting. She admitted that she had suspected something had to be going on given his interest in Hawkmoth and willingness to help her bring him to justice. 

He planned to inform Dick and Tim of his plans, to make sure they had back up if things went sideways, but he was confident that Marinette would be able to defeat Hawkmoth quickly if it was a straight fight.

So it was that later that evening, Marinette and Damian as Ladybug and Robin slipped into the Agreste mansion. Silence permeated throughout the grand house, and Damian was ever thankful that he had been trained in stealth from the moment he could walk.

Their first stop saw them slipping into the assistant’s room. She was fast asleep, although her breathing was laboured and Marinette saw a contraption designed to help the woman walk in the corner of the room. Any doubts either of the two had were snuffed out when Marinette retrieved the guardian’s tablet from the bedside table.

When they didn't find the peacock brooch, Damian signaled for Marinette to follow him along the hall. They stalked along it noiselessly, coming all too quickly to the master bedroom. The door was ever so slightly ajar and Damian managed to push it open just far enough for them both to slip in.

And there they were: the peacock and butterfly brooches, lying on the far bedside table. Marinette froze but Damian moved as quickly and quietly as a bell-less cat. He padded across the room and caught up the jewelry, shooting Marinette a look of triumph as he returned to her.

And then they were scurrying out of the house as though they had never been there. As they shot across the rooftops, Ladybug let out a whoop, laughing almost manically. It was over: she was free.

[ladywhistleclown]

Benedict Bridgerton x M!Reader: Valentines Fools

Summary: Benedict does something special. Word Count: 3334 A/N: I read this post about Valentines in Regency England, and found it so interesting that I had to write about it. of course, I made it gay. duh. Also, I wrote the ‘poem’ later myself, but its inspired by many LGBT poets/writers from history who wrote poems like it, about hope for future LGBT folks, just very simplified. This is some of my best work, and I don’t want it to get snubbed just because its not f/m, so like, give it a chance! MLM fic is also fun :) Enjoy! Warnings: Fluff, Drinking, Giggly men doing giggly men things (being stupid) -- Valentines Day, in your mind, was a rather dreadful event. Ladies and Lords spent days agonizing over hand-made letters, writing disgusting poetry about love, or rejection. You had never partaken in the act, partly because you had never had anyone to write to, and partly because even if you had, you had neither the patience nor skill to craft such detailed notes of devotion. You thought it best to leave such things to artists and ladies, of which you were neither. This year was only slightly different. After having met Benedict at Lord Granville's, striking up conversations about art, women, and your places in society, you had developed a rather strange relationship, one that you would almost call a courtship, if it wasn’t so clearly an impossibility. Benedict simply wanted to explore something new, something outside the realm of society and expectations, and you, lovesick fool that you were, happily obliged him. It was nothing more than attraction and curiosity. Second son or not, Benedict could never marry a man. Even if he wanted to.

At least you could drown yourself in booze at Lord Granville's. He was a good listener, with even better advice, and you knew that he understood exactly your pain. It was here you found yourself, a day before Valentines, throwing down your sixth beer and lamenting to Granville, who sat patiently by your side. “Society is not kind to those like us.” You sighed, running the tip of your index finger along the outer edge of your glass, staring blankly at it, as though if you drank enough, the answers would appear in the liquor. “No, it isn’t. But we are kind to each other, and ourselves.” He replied, looking over you with pity. You had never been much of a drinker, not for as long as Granville had known you, but your infatuation with Benedict had brought it out in you, and he wondered if it was a mistake to invite the Bridgerton boy here, if it caused an old friend to suffer in a way that was very familiar and personal to him. He knew the pain of impossible love too well, and saw himself reflected in your morose state. “Of course. You’re too kind to me, Granville. I talk your ear off about my foolish troubles with Bridgerton, but never think to ask of yours.” “I am not nearly as troubled as you are. And as I said, we must look out for each other, as the ton certainly will not.” he lifted up his own drink, pausing just before it reached his lips to glance at you, “Perhaps I should dis-invite Bridgerton from future events?” “Oh hell, Granville, don’t torture the man on my account. He enjoys the art and the company, and besides that,  I’d rather him here than at some brothel.” you grimaced as soon as the words left your mouth, an embarrassing slip revealing just how deeply attached you were. “Apologies. The alcohol has loosened my tongue.” “No bother. I understand that jealousy quite well.” Granville said, his voice still light and amused, and you couldn't help but laugh as he took a sip, winking at you before putting his glass down. “What jealousy?” Came a loud voice from directly behind you. You jumped, Granville almost knocking his drink over in his shock. Of course, he would arrive now, when you were drunk and foolish. You breathed out quickly, praying that you would say nothing incriminating before turning to face Benedict. He looked confused, glancing from Granville's face to yours, before reiterating, “What jealousy, Granville?” “Merely of other artists. I’m sure you know it too.” He recovered, taking another drink before gesturing to the table, “Care to join us?” Benedict sat in the chair closest to you, and you shot Granville a look of pure spite. In your drunken haze, everything seemed too much. His voice was too smooth, his smile too large, and the way he draped an arm across your chair, caging you in, was entirely too casual. You promised to whatever God was listening that you would slaughter Granville for this. “Of course I do. You know better than anyone.” He agreed, sliding easily into the conversation. You remained silent, not trusting yourself in your inebriation to respond beyond a simple hum of agreement or a grunt of displeasure. If you allowed yourself to speak freely, no doubt you would be weeping in Benedict's arms like a little girl within minutes. “What do you think?” You started, retreating from your thoughts to find both Benedict and Granville looking at you. Benedict’s eyes shone with thinly veiled concern, tilting his head and gently shaking you by the shoulder, while Granville simply smiled in amusement. “I..was lost in thought. My apologies.” You said quickly, waving Benedict’s hands away and sitting up completely. You were drunker than you thought, and briefly you wondered if you would even be able to make it to your carriage without help. You figured if you couldn’t, you would force Granville to escort you. He certainly owed you, after pulling this little stunt. “You’re wasted. Perhaps you should head home.” Benedict said gently. You huffed, shaking your head. “Don’t concern yourself with me, I can take care of myself. Now. My opinion on what, exactly?” “Valentines,” Granville supplied, glancing into his empty cup, “we were talking about all the effort that goes into such cards and letters. Artistry, in a way. What do you think of it?” “I find the holiday wholly unnecessary. And it takes far too much time to make such delicate things. A canvas is much more secure.” you huffed. Benedict stiffened beside you, although in your semi-consciousness, you barely noticed, your eyes fluttering between shut and open. “So you wouldn’t make any?” Benedict asked. “No.” “Would you receive them?” “I suppose it would be rude to deny such labors of love. But I have never received one, and I doubt I will this year. Ladies don’t send cards to men like me.” you shrugged, drooping over the table. The longer you sat, the harder it was to hold yourself up. If you passed out, it would be a good escape from such intimate topics with Benedict, so you allowed yourself to slump on the table, sighing. “Alright, that's enough. I’ll help you home.” Benedict declared, standing up and taking you by the arm, heaving you up. You groaned in protest, but didn’t fight as he slung your arm over his shoulder and half dragged you away from the table, Granville following behind. “Apologies, Bridgerton. Next time I won’t allow him to indulge quite so much. You may end up getting more than 10 minutes with him that way.” He said cheerily. “I’m sober enough to know when I’m being mocked, Granville.” you opened your bleary eyes to glare at him, finding his eyes twinkling with amusement. He patted your shoulder. “It’s no trouble. I was about to head home, anyway.” Is all Benedict said as he helped you into the carriage, climbing in after you and seating himself on the same bench. Granville waved you both off as Benedict rapped his knuckles on the carriage, directing your footman to take you home. “Now you have me alone and vulnerable. Not very gentlemanly of you, Bridgerton. What would the ton think?” you teased, leaning lazily against the side of the carriage, away from him. You hoped it was subtle, that he thought you were just drunk and loose and tired. You couldn’t bear the thought of him finding out just how weak you were for him. Then he would leave, and you would be crushed. “They would think nothing, because we’re men.” He pointed out, leaning closer to you. You hummed, acknowledging his words, but didn’t reply beyond that. It was only then that you realized how precarious a situation you were in. Drunk, alone, with a man you loved, who seemed to be moving closer and closer by the minute, although maybe you were imagining that part. Anything was possible when you were this drunk. “They would be wrong, though.” Benedict finished softly. He reached over, brushing his fingers along your jaw, moving downward to loosen your cravat. You sighed, tilting your head back to allow him easier access, cursing yourself but unable to shove him away. You were such a fool. “Are you planning something?” You asked. He finally managed to pull your cravat away, revealing your neck to him. He laughed at your question. “With you this drunk? No. I only wanted you to be more comfortable.” He tossed the cloth onto the other bench, leaning safely away from you to stare out the window after. While you were partly disappointed, you were mostly relieved. You wouldn’t have been able to resist, and only would have brought yourself more shame and confusion in regards to him. But Benedict was a good man, and he would never take advantage of you in your current state. Your heart squeezed. Too good of a man. “I’m sorry to be such a burden tonight.” you blurted suddenly. Benedict looked at you, his head whipping away from the window so quickly it almost made you dizzy. “I shouldn’t have drank so much. It was foolish.” “You’re never a burden to me.” He said, his voice soft and indignant, almost as if he was offended by the mere idea that you had inconvenienced him. “You shouldn’t have to chaperone me home like a weak debutante.” “I’d rather you than a debutante. Trust me.” You chuckled, shaking your head and glancing out the carriage window. You could see the square, and your home, fast approaching. It appeared as though your time with Benedict was over for tonight. Relieved and downtrodden, you sat up and attempted to right your swirling vision as the carriage came to a stop. Benedict stood, helping you up and out of the carriage. After explaining the situation to your housekeeper, he hauled you all the way into your home and bedroom, even being kind enough to help you out of your boots as you lay back in your bed, arm over your eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning. “I’ll be going, then.” He said quietly, standing up and brushing his hands together. You lifted your arm, making certain you weren’t going to puke before crooking one finger, beckoning him closer. “Come here.” You breathed. He obeyed, moving dutifully to your side, remaining silent despite the question in his eyes. You sat up slowly, ignoring your dizziness. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him closer. Benedict, realizing what you were after, leaned down and forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You flopped back into your bed after he pulled away, grinning, although you couldn’t see it, having already rolled over and buried your face in the covers. “Goodnight. I hope you enjoy tomorrow.” He said ominously, the clicking of his heels against the marble floor the only indication you had that he had left. Before you could even think of the meaning of his strange farewell, you were dragged into rest. -- The first thing you registered after waking was the pounding behind your eyes. Moaning in pain, you lifted your arm over your face, blocking out the light that your butler had let in through the curtains. “My apologies, My Lord. Should we have a cure made?” He asked politely, noticing your haggard state. “Quickly.” You begged. He nodded, bowing before swiftly leaving the room to procure you a bit of relief. Sitting up, you turned away from the windows completely, opting to try and find your balance. After a moment, you were able to make your way to your wardrobe, pulling on your breeches and doublet. Today you had no need to dress formally. Valentines was a day you dedicated to staying completely shuttered away from the rest of the ton, tending to your estate and business ventures. It was easier than being bombarded with reminders of love, and much easier than running into any Bridgerton, although one, of course, you wanted to avoid above all else. It would only pain you to see him giving or receiving such intimate letters, especially with the women of the ton. Once your butler had delivered your cure, and you had thrown down the slimy, disgusting mixture, you were feeling much improved. You made your way to your study, smiling at your maids as they bowed before rushing off, no doubt in a hurry to finish their work and make off with their sweethearts for the day. You felt a twinge of jealousy, smiling sadly as you opened the door to your study. Oh. In your study sat piles and piles of cards, all handmade, some gilded with gold while others were trimmed with lace. You picked one up, in awe at its intricate gold-foil flowers, embossed on the front and lined with sharp swirls and embellishments, all clearly hand done with a calligraphy pen. You opened the card. The script inside was as lovely as the rest of the card, although it was the words that brought tears to your eyes. I sit and I look into your face And I see those before us, Who have loved as we do, And I see those after, And I pray that our impossibility Will become their reality. Yours. You choked on a sob, quickly closing the card and setting it down. The last thing you wanted was to ruin something so perfect with tears. It was not signed, and it didn’t have to be for you to know. Benedict. You looked around the room. There were at least 3 large piles of cards, enough to last an entire year, all handmade and intricate. You wondered how long this had taken him. It would take you days just to read them all. Surely, your servants thought you were either the biggest rake in the ton, with all these notes. You couldn’t care less. You gathered them all, handling them as gently as you would glass, slipping them into your desk cabinet and locking it. They were yours, no one else's. Benedict's words were just for you. Dazed, you leaned back into your office chair, holding the first card, running your fingers over the edges and rereading the lines over and over. It wasn't quite a poem, nor a letter, but a sentiment. A dream, a wish. You would be lying if you said that it wasn’t your dream too. A future where love like yours would be special, not sinful. Love. You jolted. And then laughed. How could you ever have doubted him? Surely, it was only love that would drive him to do this. Only love that would have him escort you home, make sure you were safe and comfortable. That would make him sit for what must have been weeks, if not months, working tirelessly on card after card just to take advantage of the one day where letters between unmarried men and women could be sent freely. Of course, he did so for a cover. But was that not also love? He wanted to protect you from ire, from harm, and so he delivered all the letters he felt he couldn’t today, just to keep from drawing unwanted eyes. Crying and laughing all at once, you pressed the note to your chest. How had you doubted his love for a second? His devotion? You truly were a fool, although not in the way you had expected. It took you half an hour to calm yourself, and by that time, your headache was back and worse than before, thanks to your emotional outburst. But another thing was back, too. Your butler, standing in the doorway with an impassive look on his face, glancing about the room, no doubt looking for the heaps of cards the servants had dropped off. “Do you know what card came from which maiden?” You asked, holding up the first card. It was the only card you had yet to put away, and though you were loathe to show it to him, you thought you should make it try and seem as though you had no idea who they had come from. “The cards were delivered mysteriously early this morning, My Lord. No names, no signatures.” “I see. Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. None of them will be receiving a response.” You laughed, setting the card down. “What is it?” “A visitor, sir. The Second Bridgerton. Says he has something to discuss with you, about Lord Granville's gathering last night.” Your heart stuttered. “Send him up. No doubt he wants me to apologize for making such an ass of myself last night.” You joked, and he smiled back, giving a quick nod before rushing off to fetch Benedict. You quickly tucked the last letter into your desk drawer, pulling out a decanter of whiskey and pouring yourself a small glass. “No better cure for a hangover than more drink, right?” Benedict stepped into your study, shutting the door behind him even as he teased you. You laughed, pouring him a glass as well. He took it gratefully, sitting down in the chair across from yours, the desk between you two. “You may mock me if you wish, Benedict, but I am feeling positively delightful.” you said dramatically, lifting your cup in cheers. Benedict touched his glass to yours, and you took a sip. He did not. “Would that have anything to do with any deliveries?” He questioned, a secretive smile spreading across his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” “That’s why I asked.” You snorted, shaking your head quickly. “It would, if you must know.” Dropping all pretenses, he leaned forward, smiling even brighter now. “So you’ve got them. Do you like them?” “Of course I do,” you breathed, leaning in as well, dropping your voice to a whisper, “how long did they take you? They’re beautiful. True artistry.” “Much too long, as you said last night. But they were worth it, if you like them.” You nodded once. Smiling, he brought one hand to rest on your desk, palm up and spread open. You took it, intertwining your fingers. “Do you truly...love me? In that way?” you asked nervously, avoiding his gaze in favor of staring at your two hands. “No, I spent hours of my precious time making hand crafted love letters for a man I consider a friend.” He rolled his eyes. “If anyone would do such a thing, it would be you, Benedict.” “Certainly not. It would be Colin.” You laughed, and he grinned. Standing, he quickly rounded your desk and pulled you up by your still connected hands, pulling you against him and kissing you firmly. It was sudden, but not unpleasant, and you wrapped your arms around him, carding your fingers through his hair before resting your hands on the nape of his neck. After a long moment, he pulled away, eyes shining mischievously. “I do love you.” “And I you.” you said quickly, desperate to reciprocate. You had spent so long convinced that Benedict only saw you as good fun, that the revelation of love had left you reeling. But you would be damned if you passed up this opportunity to tell him of the affections you had kept secret since your first meeting. In response, he kissed your jaw once before pulling away, still smirking. “But you taste of garlic and egg. You truly should not have indulged so much. Now I can’t kiss you.” Groaning, you turned away from him, clamping your lips shut even as he wraps his arms around your middle, pressing kisses to your neck and cheek lovingly, cooing affections like a lovesick fool. You smiled at that passing thought, leaning into Benedict and returning his whispers in kind, leading him with purpose to your bed chamber. Perhaps you were both lovesick fools. You could live with that.

[miraculous-ninjabird]

This is my half of a collaboration I did with @ezlikessharks as a gift for our mutual friend @enbyjaywalker

You can find their half here

the fic is also on Ao3 here

I hope you like it!

Title: An Acceptable Proposal

Words: 2209

Warnings: None. Just self-indulgent fluff

Samuraishipping + background Oppositeshipping

“Zane! I need your assistance!” Pixel bursts into the room. He lets out an undignified squawking sound, dropping the dish he had been holding. Feeling just the tiniest bit guilty about that, she picks it up and hands it back to him.

“Pixal! You startled me! What can I do for you?” He pauses putting away the dishes to look at her.

“I am planning to propose to Nya when we go out tonight, remember? I need you to help me make sure all the preparations are in place.”

“Is tonight the night? Pixal that’s wonderful! It completely slipped my mind. How can I help?”

“I have a number of things that need to be confirmed and some things that need to be collected while Kai and I go to pick up the ring, along with a few other things,” Pixal hands him a list. “It would be very beneficial if you could meet us at the park when you are finished to help set things up.”

Zane takes the list, scanning the contents.

“This seems reasonable. I will get started on it just as soon as I am finished here. When should I plan to meet you?”

“Thank you so much! We will be there around 5pm or so. Jay should be meeting us there also. I have to leave around 5:30 to get ready to meet her, so the three of you will have to finish setting up without me. Can you make sure it’s all ready by the time we come through at 7:30?”

Zane salutes her “Your wish is my command.”

Pixal thanks him profusely once again before rushing off. Not a single moment to waste! Tonight had to be perfect.

“So tell me again why you need me here?” Kai asks as he pulls open the door to the jewelry store. Pixal steps inside, clutching the pick up slip for the ring tight to her chest.

“You’re the only other person who knows Nya as well as I do. I want you to do the final check on the ring to make sure it is something she will like. And I haven’t forgotten you telling me you wanted to do something similar for Zane in the near future. We can’t have that double wedding you and Nya are so heartset on if you don’t get a ring yourself.” She gives him a pointed look, and his face flushes a deep red.

“Touche,”

Kai wanders off to browse the cases, and Pixal makes her way up to the counter.

“Good afternoon! How can I help you today?” The clerk greets cheerfully.

“I have a pick up for Pixal Borg, please,” She hands the slip over. The clerk takes it, reading it carefully.

“Your timing is perfect Miss Borg! This shipment just came in yesterday. Give me a moment to get it ready.” He takes the receipt and hurries away, leaving Pixal to join Kai in his browsing. She finds him staring hard at one of the cases.

“Find something you like?” She inquires.

“Actually, I think so,” He points to a specific ring. “Do you think Zane would like something like that?”

The ring in question has a twisted silver band set with two sapphires, one pink and one blue. It’s beautiful, and simplistic in a way Zane would like.

“That would be a good choice. Though I think Zane would be happy with just about anything you chose for him.” She offers. It was true. Zane loved him so much it wouldn’t take any real effort on Kai’s part to impress him. Kai could propose with a ring of paperclips and the nindroid would be overjoyed.

Pixal doesn’t get to hear Kai’s thoughts on things though, as the clerk calls her back over.

“Here you are! One custom engagement ring, ready to go!” He hands the box over to her. Hesitantly, Pixal opens it. This will be her first time seeing the final product in real life. Inside sits one of the most stunning pieces of jewelry she has ever seen. Nya’s phoenix symbol is carved into it, set with a sapphire eye. The carving is flanked on either side by two small diamonds. Without a word, she shows the contents to Kai. He lets out a low whistle.

“She’s gonna love that, Pix.”

The approval helps to relieve a little of the worried knot that was forming in her stomach. That was a relief. She turns back to the clerk, and Kai wanders back over to the ring from earlier.

“Can I set up a payment plan for the remainder that I still owe on it?”

“Sure thing! I’ll just need some information from you first…”

Once that is sorted out, she collects Kai and they head out. She doesn’t miss the fact that he is now clutching a little pick-up slip of his own. Seems Nya was going to get her double wedding afterall...

The jewelry store had taken longer than she was anticipating, so by the time she and Kai finished up with the rest of the things on their list they were running a little behind. When they finally reach the park, Pixal only has a few minutes before she has to leave. Zane is already there, and so is Jay.

“Pixal! Kai! Over here!” Zane calls out. Once they are a little closer, he continues. “I was able to complete everything on your list. The photographer is confirmed, I got the approval from the city to change the lights in the fountain and hang the lights in the trees, and I dropped your dress for tonight off at home for you. Did you get the ring?”

“Yes, and Kai has the rest of the lights. I appreciate your help in all of this. I wish I could stay, but I really have to be going if I want to be on time.”

“Yes. Go, go. I can handle directing these two here,” Zane makes a shooing motion with his hand. “You go have fun and I promise things will be ready for you when you return.”

Pixal shouts more thank-yous at them as she walks away. She would be eternally grateful, as this was not something she would have been able to do on her own. The only things left to do now were get herself ready, meet Nya, and then...ask her the big question. Simple enough. She could do this.

Maybe asking Nya to meet her at the restaurant was a bad idea. Originally Pixal was thinking it would give her extra time to compose herself, but honestly? It was just making things worse. It didn’t help that she had gotten there early, and that Nya was now running late. What if something had happened to her on the way here? What if there had been an emergency team summons and Pixal had somehow missed it? How long should she sit here by herself? Maybe she should call Nya? Just to make sure she was okay?

Just as that thought occurs to her, the door chimes. It wasn’t the first time it had happened since she’d gotten here, but she whips around to see who it is regardless. A visible weight lifts off her shoulders when she sees that this time, it is Nya. The host leads her over to the table, and Pixal is able to get a good look at her.

It’s a good thing Pixal doesn’t need to breathe.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! Cole took me to a painting workshop today and it ran over. I didn’t want to show up in paint clothes so I ran home first.” She gasps. She must have walked because she doesn’t have that windblown look that comes from riding her motorcycle. She has on a midnight blue tunic dress, paired with dark leggings and a sparkly belt. Instead of her usual ponytail, her hair is pulled into a low braid across her shoulders.

“Nya, you look positively radiant.”

“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself. The butterfly clip is a nice touch,” She winks as she sits down. “This place is pretty fancy. What’s the special occasion?”

Pixal’s brain momentarily stutters, trying to come up with a reasonable answer. She reaches a hand into her dress pocket, clutching the ring box.

“Do I need a special occasion to be able to treat my partner to a night out?” She questions. Nya laughs.

“No, I guess not. I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t forgotten something.”

“Well in that case, don’t worry. There is no special significance to tonight you should be aware of,” Pixal smiles softly. At least not any that Nya was aware of. “So tell me about your day. You mentioned Cole took you to an art class?”

“Yeah! I wasn’t expecting that at all but it was actually really fun…” Nya starts rambling about her day. Pixal listens intently, focusing all attention on Nya. The way her eyes light up when she gets excited was always enchanting. First Master, she was so in love.

The rest of their evening at the restaurant passes without incident. They talk about how busy they’ve been lately, about all the upgrades Pixal is planning to do to her samurai X mech, and about how nice it was to be able to finally have a night to themselves. Nothing out of the ordinary for them, other than the massive ball of nerves that was weighing heavily in her stomach.

It only got worse as they settled the bill and left.

“So do you have anything else fun planned for tonight?”

“I was hoping you would accompany me on a walk through the park?” Pixal offers an arm out to her. Nya takes it, linking them together.

“Of course! I would love too. Lead the way.” She gives Pixal a peck on the cheek for good measure.

Making their way to the park, she hopes against all hope that the three she had left behind had been successful in getting things ready. The park soon comes into view, and she breathes a miniscule sigh of relief when she can make out the lights glittering in the distance against the setting sun.

“Hey, what’s that over there?” Nya asks, pointing.

“Would you like to go and take a look?” Nya nods, and Pixal leads her in that direction. Even though she had planned this whole thing out, she is taken by surprise at just how good things had turned out. Delicate lights are strung through the trees, warm and inviting. The fountain in the center of the plaza she’d picked was lit up with soft blues and purples. She can’t identify where it was coming from, but someone was playing soft music. That was a nice touch. She was forever going to be in Zane’s debt for making sure things went off without a hitch.

“This is beautiful!” Nya whispers, releasing Pixal’s arm. She steps forward, taking it all in. The way Nya looks around in wonder makes her think that all the work that went into planning was worth it. “But what’s it for?”

Taking a deep breath, Pixal fishes the ring out of her pocket. This was it.

“Well, my dear...this is all for you.”

“All for me? What do you mean by that-” she turns around in confusion. Pixal takes that moment to drop to one knee, and Nya’s eyes go wide.

“Nya, you are my everything. You’ve done so much for me. You helped build me a body, gave me freedom. You gave up your mantle as Samurai X to me when you didn’t even know who I was. You taught me what it really means to love, and I love you with every fiber of my being. Every moment I spend with you feels like an eternity. There isn’t a single other person I could imagine spending my life with. So, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

She opens the box, heart thundering in her chest. Nya’s mouth is open in a gasp. With one shaky hand, she reaches out and takes the ring. The sapphire eye of the phoenix symbol engraved on it glints in the light as she studies it.

“Oh Pixal…” Her eyes fill tears, and she launches herself at Pixal.

The heavy weight that had been following her all was lifted as she welcomed Nya with open arms. She had no words to describe the pure elation that was filling her. In one swift move, she bends down and catches Nya’s lips in a fierce kiss. Nya kisses back just as fiercely. When they part, they both collapse into a fit of giggles.

“I take it that you find my proposal acceptable then?” She whispers.

“Yes. Yes I do.” Nya whispers back, pressing their foreheads together. She is grinning wildly, and her eyes shone. Pixal imagines she looks much the same.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you so much.”

“However much you love me, I love you more.”

Pixal pulls her into another kiss, this one softer. As long as she had Nya by her side, the two of them would be unstoppable.

[leviskokoro]

❝ DRIVE TO LIVE ❞ — MARI :: CELESTIAL FORM STORY

Just an extremely self-indulgent personal story for Mari. I hope you enjoy! Art by my friend @Another-magic-user on DeviantArt.

PART 1

??? :: Mari....

??? :: Mari

Mari :: Huh...? Is this a dream? That voice sounds familiar.

Mari :: Wait... Lilith?! What are you doing here?

Lilith :: I don’t have much time so please listen, my dear descendant. Now that you’ve manifested your wings once, it’s time that you learn to control your celestial form.

Mari :: And how do I do that...?

Lilith :: Each angel has a different way of manifesting their celestial form. You must find what drives you to continue living.

Mari :: What drives me... That’s—

??? :: HEY MARI! WAKE UP!

Mari :: Gah!

Grim :: Geez, you’ve been oversleeping a lot lately. I’m the one who had to wake you up this time.

Mari :: Sorry. Let’s go get to class already. We’ll be late.

[—transition screen—]

Grim :: nom nom nom.. Uwahh, food tastes even better when you’ve been so hungry

Ace :: What happened this morning? We didn’t see you two for breakfast. 

Mari :: Sorry, I ended up oversleeping. 

Jack :: Have you been staying up late again? 

Sebek :: Human! You should know better than to stay up late! This is why you’re so short.

Mari :: I don’t remember if I even stayed up at all. All I remember is this dream I had.

Deuce :: It must have been some dream if you wanted to sleep more because of it.

Epel :: What happened in the dream?

Mari :: Well...

PART 2

Mari :: Ace, Deuce, and Jack are aware of where I came from but I don’t believe I’ve shared this info with Epel and Sebek.

Mari :: The world I came from had three realms: the Celestial Realm, The Human World, and the Devildom. The celestial realm is where angels live and the other two is pretty self explanatory.

Mari :: For 1 year, I was taken to the Devildom and lived there as a human exchange student. And in that year, plenty has happened and I learned many things.

Mari :: One of the things I learned was that my ancestor was an angel that was reborn as a human. Meaning that I have angelic blood flowing through me, despite being born human.

Sebek and Epel :: :0!!

Mari :: In my dream last night, my ancestor spoke to me. She told me that I must learn to control my celestial form now that I’ve manifested wings like once during the time we were stuck in Scarabia.

Epel :: You can turn into an angel?!

Mari :: Yeah but problem is... I don’t know how to control them so I’ve only done it once my whole life and that was when Jamil overblotted and threw us out of Scarabia. Everyone was falling and I panicked. The wings appeared and I was able to fly to save everyone else.

Jack :: Well, did she tell you how you can control it?

Mari :: Yes. She told me that each angel has a different manifestation technique and that I need to find my “drive” to continue living.

Mari :: I’m not sure what mine is, though.

Ace :: Sheesh, that’s pretty heavy. Isn’t there an easier way?

Sebek :: It’s important to have resolve and drive for existing! You should follow my example.

Sebek :: MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE IS DEDICATED TO THE YOUNG MASTER!

Epel :: !!

Ace :: ugh, does he ever stop talking about him? It’s so dumb.

Deuce :: Epel, are you alright?

Epel :: Y-Yeah, that just surprised me.

Mari :: Hmm... I’m not sure if that will work out for me.

Jack ::

Mari :: Hey, Jack. Your 「 Unleash Beast 」 transforms you into a big wolf, right? How do you do it? Do you feel anything when you do?

Jack :: Well... I kind of just let my instincts take over when I use 「 Unleash Beast 」 and all my senses are heightened.

Mari :: Instincts, huh? Hmm...

Deuce :: Do you remember how you felt before turning into an angel?

Mari :: I saw everyone was falling, I felt the urge to help but felt useless in the situation. Then there was this really soothing feeling, like I was calm and the wings came, I grabbed everyone and landed safely.

Ace :: So your drive to live...

Deuce :: is to help people?

Jack :: So you’re really just like that, huh?

Sebek :: That is a noble reason to live! I can respect that.

Grim :: Is it really? I can see it being really easy to take advantage of her.

Grim :: She’s lucky to have the Great Grim to save her when that happens.

Mari :: That’s nice and all but I still don’t know how I’ll use that to control my celestial form...

Jack :: Can you just try to remember that feeling you had during that moment?

Mari :: hmm—

Ace :: Wait, shouldn’t she try it outside? It’s going to be difficult if she transformed here

Mari :: Ah, good point. Maybe I’ll try it during PE.

[—transition scene—]

Mari :: Ugh, I’m trying as hard as I can but it won’t work.

Ace :: Maybe it only works when someone really needs help.

Vargas :: You two! Stop slacking off! Your muscles won’t develop this way.

Ace and Mari :: Yes, sir...

PART 3

Grim :: Ow... My body is still sore... Vargas is really thorough when it comes to class.

Mari :: Yeah. I just wanna fall asleep already— Zzzz....

Grim :: Fgnaa?! She passed out on the bed!

Grim :: ...

Grim :: Well, she’s been working hard these past few days. She deserves the rest.

*rustle rustle*

Grim :: There. Tucked in.

Grim :: Time to sleep too... Zzzzz

[—woosh—]

Mari :: Yawn... Wait— This isn’t my bed. Where am I??

Mari :: Grim! Wake up!

Grim :: Hnnnggg.... Five more minutes...

Mari :: Grim, I’m serious! This is an emergency!

Grim :: H-Huh... Fgnaa?! Where are we?!

Mari :: I was wondering that too. Maybe we’re just dreaming?

Mari :: Wait... I see some people in the distance running towards us—

Ace :: Mari! Grim!

Grim :: Fgnaa?! It’s the rest of the first years!

Deuce :: Thank goodness we found you. We just woke up in this strange place and don’t know what’s going on.

Jack :: You’re the only ones I’ve been able to sniff out so far.

??? :: Mari, it’s good to see you again after so long.

Mari :: !!!

Mari :: SIMEON?!

Mari :: Where are we? Do you know what’s going on??

Ace :: Eh? You know this guy??

Sebek :: Explain yourself at once!! You are speaking to a retainer of the future king of the Valley of Thorns!

Mari :: Uhh, guys, meet Simeon, he’s an angel from the Celestial Realm. I met him during the exchange program in the Devildom and he’s a friend of mine.

Simeon :: It’s good to see you again, Mari. You’re all in the Celestial Realm and—

Ace :: WE’RE DEAD?!

Deuce :: MY MOTHER IS GOING TO BE SO UPSET

Sebek :: I NEVER GOT TO DIE PROTECTING THE YOUNG MASTER!!!!

Jack :: Calm down, we’re not dead.

Simeon :: Yes. Fortunately, this is just a shared dream between all of you.

Epel :: But what for...?

Simeon :: The Archangel Michael told me that a new angel was having trouble learning the ropes so I brought you all here in a dream.

Mari :: W-Wait... So you can’t bring me back home?

Simeon :: I’m afraid so. This is what the best of my abilities can do to help you. I’m sure the 7 brothers will figure out a way for you home.

Mari :: Okay...

Ace :: So, I get why Mari is here, but why are the rest of us here?

Simeon :: Mari will need your help, as her friends.

Deuce :: Well, I guess I can’t ignore when a friend needs help as an honor student.

Ace :: Dude, it just sounds lamer the more you say it.

Mari :: So what’s wrong with me? I found my drive to live but I still can’t manifest it.

Simeon :: You know what drives you, but something is holding you back.

Mari :: ...

Grim :: Eh? What would be holding her back?

Simeon :: Mari, it’s about time you started to trust them. You’ve been living carrying a great weight for so long.

Mari :: ...

Simeon :: You’ve been helping everyone, but you haven’t helped yourself.

Simeon :: Unfortunately, I can’t be with you throughout this so please take my words into consideration before you all wake from this dream.

Ace :: What the—?! He disappeared!

Epel :: Who just says all that and disappears...?

Jack :: Mari. Hey. Snap out of it -shakes her-

Mari :: H-Huh..? Oh. Thanks, Jack.

Deuce :: Do you know what he was talking about?

Mari :: Yes... However, I’m afraid of how you’ll see me if I tell you.

Grim :: Why would it change how we see you?

Mari :: I was already the “useless and weak magicless student” to you guys for so long. If I revealed everything, you guys will just see me as weaker.

Deuce :: You never saw me differently after the first time I showed my delinquent side.

Epel :: But... you’re not weak or useless.

Grim :: Hah, if you were useless, the Great Grim wouldn’t have you as a servant!

Jack :: Yeah. I don’t think I’ve met anyone that has lived in Hell, has been nearly killed several times, actually died once and then came here, helped take care of the overblot incidents without showing any fear.

Jack :: You’ve been magicless and yet you’ve survived for this long.

Ace :: Only an idiot will think you’re weak.

Sebek :: Indeed! You may be human, but you’ve proven yourself many times.

Mari :: I... Thank you, guys. I promise I’ll be more honest with you guys from now on.

...

wooooooooosssshhhhh

Mari :: W-Woah!

Mari :: Ah... I’m not used to being complimented so much. It’s kinda embarrassing.

[—Fog fills the place—]

Mari :: Yawn... What a pleasant dream. That’s a firs— Huh?! I still have my wings...

Mari :: So it wasn’t just a dream...

Mari :: ...

Mari :: How am I gonna get through the door? My wings are too big.

[signed-yours-truly-the-whale]

Babes in Chuckletown

OHO BOY, am I angry.

I was in the middle of a very long chapter in my fanfic when my computer randomly decided to restart, costing me NOT ONLY a very long chapter, but the ENTIRE THIRTEEN-CHAPTER DOCUMENT. I thank god that I uploaded it all to AO3 up until the thirteenth chapter (which is going to be a pain the ass to rewrite), but now I have to go in and copy-paste, re-bold and re-italicize everything.

So that’s how my Halloween is going. Excuse me while I cry.

Anyway. Please enjoy this one-shot I’m making up on the fly about Arthur having no choice but bringing his small child to Ha-Ha’s because he has nobody to watch her. Me being in an angry mood helps me to channel Hoyt’s ... Hoytish-ness. Hoyt was definitely an asshole in the movie, but I feel like the lines “I like you, Arthur” and “I’m trying to help you” flew under the radar in light of his dickishness.

I’ve been wanting to write this for a while, I just have no conceivable idea where this would logically fit into my fanfiction, so I gift it here. I’ll let this be a birthday present for the incredible @funsizedshrimp, since they seem to love my Carrie Fleck as much as I do and I absolutely should return the favor for all the lovely art they gift to me. I love you lots, you wonderful person you.

__________________                ______________               __________________

“Hey Peanut, can you do me a favor?”

Arthur’s voice was soft, nearly indecipherable. The pudgy hand that had been grasping at his shirt collar suddenly pushed against him, exerting the energy to be able to lift her head up.

One bleary eye opened to look at him. Her cheek was rosy from her uneasy resting spot on his collarbone. Neither the time nor the place allowed for such coddling, but he continued to rock her on his hip uneasily.

“Mm?” she questioned.

“Can you put a hand over your ear?” he asked, softer still. “Daddy has to talk to someone and it might be a little loud. Not suitable for a baby’s ears.”

Although Carrie grumbled something that only he could decipher as “Not a baby,” she conceded. The sharp bone in her ear pressing against his collarbone hurt, but in the magical age where she began repeating every colorful phrase she heard from the television, he couldn’t risk anything.

Taking in a wavering breath, clutching the bag in his hand tighter, Arthur opened his boss’ door.

“Oh, how fucking nice of you to ... what the fuck is this?”

Hoyt looked up from his stack of documents -- chiefly the words complaint, absence, and Carnival bore into his head from a yellow slip on his desk -- to see Ha Ha’s resident hooky flinch in protest. What he first thought was an overgrown ragdoll, he realized with some incredulity was a toddler, pressing its head into Arthur’s neck.

“You brought a fucking kid into my shop?” he asked, voice rising.

“Hoyt ... please --”

“Please what? This should be good.”

It gave him no pleasure to watch Arthur be so hopelessly awkward, dropping the paper bag in a vain attempt to hike the kid further up on his person. He knew the guy was going through a rough patch with the wife. That it happened on Hoyt’s dime, though, made him hard to sympathize with.

Fumbling for something to do besides stand uncomfortably and rock his daughter into a sleep that she couldn’t attain, Arthur sat in the green chair across from Hoyt’s desk. He positioned Carrie to be able to rest easier in his lap. At a groggy whimper, his hand instinctively pressed against her arm, hoping it would keep her semi-warm. He didn’t know why Hoyt kept the AC on at all hours of the day.

“Well aren’t you a real mother hen,” Hoyt observed, devoid of anything Arthur could recognize as a positive emotion. “What’s it doing here?”

“I ... I had no other options,” he blurted out. “I can’t afford another day off work, but I have nobody to watch her.”

“Do I look like I’m runnin’ a charity ward, Arthur?” Upon further thought, “You didn’t bring her through the locker room, did you?”

“Nobody else is here,” he said quickly, realizing how bad that might’ve sounded once it reached his own ears. “And I made her close her eyes.”

Two scraggly grey eyebrows rose in vague surprise.

“Your mistake, not mine.”

Arthur felt the tips of his ears burn, unsure if he guessed correctly what Hoyt was referring to. Carrie may have been a surprise, but she was no mistake.

“How are you supposed to keep track of the kid on assignment?” Hoyt questioned, flitting through the ever-expanding pile of papers on his desk. “You’re booked for Amusement Mile today. That’s fuckin’ dangerous.”

Awkwardly, Arthur cleared his throat, feeling unable to meet Hoyt’s disbelieving eyes. His fingers rubbed Carrie’s arm up and down. She burrowed further into the crook of his neck, keeping her hand dutifully over her ear as promised. Her face was hidden from view by a crop of blonde hair -- the little veil he had left that kept work and home as two separate realities.

“I - I, um ...” A giggle got caught in his throat, as thick as a billiard ball. He forced it down. “I was wondering if I could keep her here. Just ... just for --”

“What?”

“Just for today, a -- and tomorrow, I’ll be sure --”

“Are you stupid?” Hoyt cuts in, and Arthur’s hand moves from his daughter’s arm to the small hand over her ear like a reflex. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“W -- well, Randall brought in his kid a few w -- weeks ago ... I thought maybe ...”

“Randall’s kid is twelve already, not three.” Hoyt heard a soft mutter of “she’ll be five soon,” as if it would sway the argument in Arthur’s court at all. “What the hell are you thinking in that fucked-up head? No relatives, no friends?”

“Nobody,” he said, and it surprised Hoyt that he hadn’t seen Arthur ... quite so sad before. He’d been sad, sure, but not pitiful. He couldn’t be more pitiful if he was dressed as Carnival doing this begging. “My -- my wife just left, I don’t know where she is. My in-laws are on vacation in Burbank and my mom is in the hospital. The neighbors won’t take her and -- and the preschool is closed ‘cause of a rat infestation. Hoyt, I’m ... I’m begging you.”

Something about the sight was so pitiful, so unfunny in his desperation, that Hoyt narrowly refrained from cutting back with My mistake for thinking you’d have friends.

“Mmf, Daddy,” the source of the frustration croaked. “My arm hurts. Can I put it down?”

“Yeah, Peanut,” he said quietly. The hand slid out from underneath his warm palm and found its way around his neck once again. A thumb brushed away a few strands of hair from her face, unveiling a curtain for her to view this strange new room.

Hoyt almost let slip a surprised “holy shit” as the kid’s head rose to look around the office, wide-eyed in her wonderment, but he thought better of it. But holy shit, did she look like Arthur, in eyes and face shape at least. Slap on a greasy brown wig and she could’ve been a pint-sized clone.

“A jack in the box,” she said quietly, pointing at the dumb clown statue out of his sight in front of his desk. “Daddy, jack in the box.”

“Yeah, Carrie, I see.”

Hoyt bit his lip, at a loss. It was always harder to turn a kid away when he had a name and a face to set to them. Until then the kid could’ve been a delusion for all he knew, the way Arthur talked about her like there was no god damn tomorrow. Who on this green earth would ever think to --?

Ugh. Fuck.

“You owe me, Arthur. Big time.”

____________________

Nine in the morning rolled around to a relative calm. The kid was, to his relief, quiet and weedy for the most part, like her quiet, weedy father. A long stretch of silence ensued -- half-hour? Two hours? He didn’t fucking know -- where the rhythmic punching of the time cards from the locker room and pen (or crayon) on paper substituted for awkward and mindless conversation he didn’t want to indulge in.

His only indication that she was there at all was the knowledge that his door hadn’t opened since Arthur hurried out to get ready and dropped her in Hoyt’s proverbial lap (had it been a literal instance, he might’ve tossed the kid through the window on reflex), and the occasional kicking of leather sandals and bell bottom pant legs barely visible from his vantage point.

“Hey, don’t get any crayon on my floor,” he warned, wondering internally if she made up for in mischief what she lacked in outward annoyance.

“I won’t,” she replied, too high and cheery for nine in the morning. “I draw pictures to stop Daddy being sad.”

Well isn’t that just fucking lovely. But he had a schedule to amend.

He could send Arthur to the kids’ hospital in Randall’s place -- the kids seemed to really respond to Arthur better ... god, why did Randall have to be such an obnoxious prick of a clown with the kids? It was getting harder and harder to place him--

The rustling of paper and a soft grunt made him look up. Hiding her face from his view, the kid was holding up a drawing of ... colored dots? Big whoop.

She pointed to a bright green one, taking up the center of the page.

“That’s -- that’s my daddy at work,” she explained. He raised a brow. Quite a likeness. “And that’s me, with an ice cream.”

Her little pointer finger trailed to the scribble next to the green -- a flurry of yellow and brown and pink. Was that what she’d spent the last hour on?

“What’s that then?” he asked before he could stop himself, not realizing any words had left his mouth at all until the cap of a chewed blue Bic pen tapped against a blue scribble, neatly tucked away in a folded corner.

“That’s my mommy,” she explained, as casual as though he’d asked for the time. Oh. “She’s taking a break.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to say something he might regret in the hours to come. Before coming to the realization that it was not his business nor his time to care, a question flitted through his mind if Arthur had told the kid about her mom at all.

“I got work to do,” he settled. “Read a book or something.”

____________________

Hoyt never thought he’d ever be disappointed to have a knock on the door that wasn’t Arthur.

“C’min,” he said distractedly.

“Hoyt,” Gary said. “Barney needs the key to the storage closet. Forgot his shoes at home.”

“Second time this week,” Hoyt tutted. Standing up, he allowed himself a stretch that popped his back in several satisfying places, and reached for the key under the strip of tape marked STORAGE. “Tell him this had better be the last damn time.”

“I’ll try.”

Their eyes, as though having just materialized in the room, landed on the girl, still lying on the floor but looking up at Gary, saying nothing. Gary’s face softened.

“Oh, hello,” he said amiably. “Is this your daughter, Hoyt?”

Don’t ever say something like that again --

“Nah.” He shook his head and sat back down. “Arthur’s kid.”

A moment of recognition passed where Gary’s eyes lit up like a damn Christmas tree. His smile grew wider.

“So this is the Carrie we’ve heard all about,” he exclaimed, sticking his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Fleck.”

At the lack of response, Hoyt looked over the desk. A blonde crop of hair was unmoved, and even quieter than she’d been before.

“Didn’t your daddy teach you not to stare?” Hoyt probed.

“She’s alright, Hoyt,” Gary countered, keeping his eyes on the girl. “She’s still very young.”

No time like now to teach ‘em not to stare

“Thanks, Hoyt,” Gary continued. At the door frame again, he smiled once more at the kid. “It was very nice to meet you, Carrie.”

The door closed. As if cued by the click of the lock, she turned quickly to Hoyt.

“He was small!” she whispered.

“Yeah, and you’re rude.”

“How rude?”

“It’s fuckin’ rude to stare at him ‘cause he’s short,” Hoyt snapped, pulling yet another litany of papers in a barely-together manila folder from an overstuffed desk drawer. “He doesn’t stare at you ‘cause you’re a girl.”

“But that was scary.”

“There’s a lot scarier guys to be on the lookout for, kid.”

“Who?”

Your daddy, for one.

“I don’t wanna be rude,” she said quietly, beginning to stand. She swiped a bit of dust from the knee of her bell bottoms, putting a nagging word in the back of his mind to sweep the office soon. “I wanna be like my daddy. He’s nice.”

He looked at her briefly before returning to his papers again. Crudely and off-tune, he made out that she was attempting to whistle the Andy Griffith theme.

Andy Griffith. Sheriff Barney Fife. God damn you, Gary.

The back of a blonde head was cast in varying shades as she stood in front of the window slats, drawing a little pointer finger over the sharpie-marked letters. MIME. WHITE FACE PAINT

I have no doubt you’ll be exactly like your daddy. Good luck with that.

____________________

Two o’clock gave Hoyt his first opportunity to get a real look at the Fleck girl. That still felt weird to say.

“Here,” he said stiffly, digging into his back pocket to produce two dimes. “Go down the hall ‘til you reach the Pepsi machine and get us two sodas. It’s lunch time.”

She swiped the dimes from his hand. The contact of nails against his palm made him shiver more than he expected. She felt startlingly real.

A few hesitant steps later -- and he really had to question how poor Arthur was that she looked at the dimes like she’d never seen them before -- she turned to look at him. The pink clip holding her bangs back suddenly bobbed on her head.

“Daddy not let me have soda,” she said.

“Your daddy’s out working. Skedaddle.”

“But what if he come and sees?”

She was lucky her little girl charm made up for the annoying inconsistency of her grammar. If there was one thing Hoyt hated, it was inconsistency.

“We got two hours ‘til you gotta worry about that.”

He looked down again, swiping a red mark through Randall’s name. Another complaint from a kid’s parent from the latest birthday party. God damn --

A clanking made him look up, and sigh. She couldn’t reach the door handle.

“Every paper I can’t sign ‘cause of lookin’ after you is coming out of your daddy’s paycheck,” he threatened, standing to open the door.

The kid was made all the more startlingly real, assaulting his senses as he had to grab her arms and push her forward to get her to stop gawking at the animal statues and props in the storage closet that swallowed the hallway. At least the locker room was empty.

What the fuck are you thinking bringing her here, Fleck?

Leaning against the opposite wall, he watched with waning curiosity as she rushed over to the machine, concluded she was too short to reach the buttons, and pulled over a yellow chair (the uneven wobbly one that grated on his nerves to hear scraping against the ground in uneven increments) to stand on. Licks of curls rested on her shoulders, reminding Hoyt of her mop-headed father.

Rushing back to him, she triumphantly handed him a blue Pepsi can, keeping the Mountain Dew for herself. Eh, he’s had worse.

“Stay,” he said gruffly, unsure of what else to say. He was more accustomed to dogs than kids, but felt satisfied by her listening skills when she climbed into the yellow chair next to the black trunk-table.

Two minutes later and he found himself in the impossibly weird scenario of not only having lunch outside of the comfort of his office, but tossing a banana to a kid who, by all the laws of nature, should not really be allowed to exist. Cute as she may be, to see physical proof of Arthur Fleck’s sex life made it hard to look at her for more than a few seconds.

Hoyt looked anyway, a little annoyed at her inability to open the soda can with her frail little finger. Weak like her damn dad. He swiped it, opened it with a secretly satisfying hiss, and watched her take a great sip. Scrunching her nose -- thank god for her, it wasn’t like Arthur’s -- she stuck her tongue out in derision before reaching over to set it on the table.

Hoyt switched the cans. He hated Pepsi anyway.

He also hated bananas, and the leftover couscous his wife made the previous evening. Mentally he made a note to pack his own damn lunches from then on.

So the banana went to the kid, less out of concern for her eating and more as a means to stop any bellyaching from either her or his wife later.

“So your dad doesn’t let you have soda,” he found himself asking. Why his brain was unable to catch up with his mouth, he wasn’t really sure.

Through a mouthful, she shook her head at him. Swallowing down a sizeable bite, she said, “The sugar bad for my heart.”

“Hmm.”

“My mommy let me have soda, though,” she said, perkier now in a way that made him feel a little rigid. “She likes Coke.”

Hoyt held back a snort of derision and surprise. There were funnier things to mock Arthur about than his wife hitting it big and leaving. Coke was for the rich, he knew. Poor people ... drank Pepsi, he supposed, looking at the kid and the soda can again.

She seemed much more content with the Pepsi can. Metaphorical? Maybe. He was never one to think of analogies -- nor did he really care.

At the sound of the entrance banging open, her eyes widened and she went red. Her hands stayed firmly around the soda can as her proverbial cookie jar.

Whatever jaunty tune Randall was whistling as though he wasn’t twenty minutes late was cut short upon making eye contact with the kid. Hoyt saw something that looked friendly, but not in the same fashion that maybe Gary had in mind.

“Didn’t realize you paid for ‘em so young, Hoyt.”

An inexplicable burning sensation flared in the tips of Hoyt’s ears.

“It’s Arthur’s kid, now fuck off,” he said quickly. “And you’re late.”

“Car broke down again.”

“Well get it fixed, or don’t let it break down on my time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Randall sighed, breezing past them with his nicotine-smelling clown suit in hand, chief of the parents’ complaints.

The girl’s eyes trailed after the huge man, staying on the hallway long after he’d left. She leaned in just after he took in a mouthful of cold, crunchy couscous.

“What did he mean?” she asked quietly.

“Don’t ask questions.”

____________________

Hoyt’s leg bounced, eyeing the clock out of his peripheral. If Arthur believed Hoyt was letting himself be saddled with the kid for one minute past four o’clock, he was really out of it.

The kid was getting restless, and relentlessly annoying. She surprised him with her expert knowledge on blowing up and tying balloons -- of course Arthur would teach her that, what a valuable life skill -- but the inefficient scraping of two ends of a tightly-woven balloon into a barely-decipherable balloon animal made him wanna pop the thing right in her face. God damn, why did he keep a pile of them within her reach?

She made a snake, she declared. Or a worm.

Upon reaching for another one, it came with an unnecessary avalanche of wormy friends as the corner of a plastic bag scattered a cluster of colored balloons on the carpeted floor.

“Shit,” he grumbled, rounding the desk to collect them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her put back the one she’d originally grabbed. “You’d better hope your dad has money to pay for new balloons, kid.”

“Shhh ...” His eyes narrowed at her, watching her lean down with him to collect handfuls -- albeit smaller handfuls -- of long balloons. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

____________________

Two minutes to four, Arthur came into the office, looking like a man on a mission. It was to his visible relief, Hoyt noticed, that the kid was happy and very much alive.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed, hopping from the chair to take aim around his pant leg, leaving her picture book on the ground. A hand stroked some hair behind her ear and she smiled sappily up at him. “I drew you pictures and -- and I made you a balloon snake, but it popped.”

Groaning, he pried her arms away and bent down to her level.

“Were you good for Hoyt?” he asked, the faintest smile threatening to split on his face. Eight hours of work would not stop him from enjoying how soft her hair was, or how she smelled like cherries when she hugged his hulking, sweaty form.

“Just aces,” Hoyt smiled cloyingly, twisting a pen cap between his fingers. “Get a sitter for her tomorrow or don’t bother coming in.”

“That good, huh?” Arthur questioned, groaning again in achy protest as he stood up. “I’ll find a sitter for her, I promise.”

____________________

Three hours and two much-needed baths later, Arthur was finding a familiar rhythm in twirling his best girl around their little living room, not minding that he got lost in the mask he wore in front of her. Their old turntable warbled and scratched, but he scarcely noticed.

Carrie didn’t smile at anybody the way she smiled at him. He hoped she knew the flip side to that was true as well.

Que sera sera

Whatever will be, will be

The future’s not ours to see

Que sera sera

“I talked with Mom on the phone today,” he mentioned, watching her face brighten into a widening grin. “She said she wants to meet up with us to take you to lunch on Saturday.”

“Is she come back?” she asked. With her left hand enveloped in her father’s, she shifted her right arm so it rested against his chest and she could lean back to look at him. His face fell slightly.

“No, Peanut, I don’t think so. But you’ve been doing so well with school ‘til it closed, I thought you could tell her all the new rhyming words you learned. You learned what rhymes with bit, didn’t you?”

Her eyes traveled up to the ceiling, scrunching her nose to remember.

“Split,” she concluded, aglow in his proud smile. “Now you.”

“Befit. You?”

“Uh ... grit.”

At a very inelegant dip, which sent her into shrieking giggles as she felt her ponytail brush the floor, he said, “Banana split.”

“That doesn’t count!” she laughed.

“Oh, really? How does it not count?” he humored.

“Cause I said split! No cheating!”

“Then tool kit,” he smiled. “But now you have to think of two words.”

“Quit, and ...” She stopped to consider. “Oh, I learned one today! Shit.”

____________________

“Hoyt?”

“What do you want?”

Arthur looked from the paper in his hands, to the area of space between his person and the paper, filled in by the sight of his feet doing an awkward little soft shoe. Should he even question Hoyt about this? He was as honest as he could be, but something about this didn’t seem to add up.

“It’s just, uh ... my paycheck seems higher than it should be?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, no, but --”

“Then what is it?”

A nervous sweat started to form at Arthur’s hairline.

“It’s just that ... I did the math, and -- and it looks like you paid me for one of the days I didn’t work.”

“Are you tellin’ me you don’t think I did my math right? Go get a fuckin’ bank job if you think you know better.”

“So ... I’m -- I’m fine if I deposit the two hundred from the check?”

“Your money,” Hoyt grumbled, signing away another mindless paper. For being a clown business, he sure did have a shitload of paperwork. “Pay your rent, buy a hooker, some booze ... a snazzy divorce lawyer.”

Turning, Arthur felt something air-light in his chest, still disbelieving of the good fortune.

I can pay the rent, he registered. I can pay the rent and I can buy Carrie some new toys.

“Hey, how’s the little ankle-biter, by the way?”

He turned again, slower.

“What?”

“Kelly, the -- the kid you brought in on Monday. Raised hell in my office.”

“Oh ... Carrie?”

Arthur looked down at his shoes again, smiling. Staying with his mom and her newly-broken arm, bellyaching about wanting Hoyt at her babysitter again because “Nana can only make TV dinners.”

“She’s just aces.”

[vcsecretgifts]

Hi! I’ve never taken part before, but I would be very interested in doing so this round. I would prefer to take part in sfw prompts

(Edited this for a few grammatical errors and to clarify my responses a bit better)

Response from mod @i-want-my-iwtv: Excellent! Yep, we’re thinking of keeping this SFW, and perhaps starting up a separate kin/kmeme. 

This ask was re: a possible 2020 VC Secret Spring/Summer Santa, which got a surprising amount of support! 

…so we’re working on it behind the scenes, hopefully will have a setup and signups deadline soon! Responses to the tags/comments on that post below.

Just looking at that gif above, SUCH SIMPLER TIMES. I miss the days when our biggest fandom arguments were so fictionally indulgent and inconsequential, like Louis’ hair length and texture SIIIIIGH THOSE.WERE.THE.DAYS. 

——

@orangedarcy: Can I ask just a general question about fic posting in the VC fandom?  I know most fic is now posted on AO3, but is there another more community driven place like LiveJournal used to be? I have fallen so far behind on the fic world, where does one post stories these days? Is it all here on Tumblr or is it mainly AO3 now?

Very good question. AO3 is the main place for just fic, some comment threads there, and ppl sometimes posted drabbles here on tumblr, and there are roleplayers here who do threads that are like collaborative fics… you can check my #RP tag to try to find them, but I admit I am out of date myself having taken a big step back from tumblr to focus on real life. 

There were LJ-esque places on Dreamwidth long before Tumblr, and I believe they’re all abandoned except for VC-Media where I’m a mod. You can find it through @vcmedia, ppl do post fic there, mods post drabble prompts weekly, and there have been some wonderfully lively times!

I had started the VC-Media tumblr blog a few yrs ago when we (the mods) wanted to try directing some traffic to the DW comm, to bring in some fresh blood (pun intended), but I hadn’t promoted it much bc I didn’t want the tumblr anti-shippers and/or trolls flooding it and trampling ppl. At that time, I had seen the antis in other fandoms choosing targets to bully on tumblr and twitter, using social justice window-dressing that was really only about them wanting attention. In our fandom, I’d seen similar bad-faith arguments over problematic characters/ships and I didn’t want to engage with it or invite it to a comm setting, bc that’s not what fandom is about for me.

Not to go on a rant here but I need to say it: Criticism is going to happen, and everyone has a right to criticize media. What was lost for a few years there is the concept that no one owes you their time or engagement in a conversation, especially not one in which one side demands complete submission from the other, and nothing less. Whether or not the criticism is the “One True Interpretation,” no one owes you their time or engagement. 

That’s still a concern of mine, but I am confident that my wonderful co-mods of VC-Media are ready to freeze comments and ban ppl who attempt to bully others or provoke arguments in bad faith.

There are a few other obscure places, but I don’t like to promote them publicly, bc they have little traffic, or are older, or I’d rather that AR not be aware just in case she changes her stance on fanfic (she had waged war on it in the 90s).

So that was a long answer but AO3 is probably the best if all you want is just finding fic to read, but please check out VC-Media to post your fic and have a lively discussion, it’s still thirsty for fresh blood! 

@the-disgruntled-vc: I would like to participate but I don’t know what I have to do.

We’re not sure what the setup will be yet, but we appreciate your enthusiasm! We’ll post about it when we’ve decided and then you can choose to participate.

@the-disgruntled-vc: NYC is hell in a handbasket right now. 😰

I knowwww. I left NYC on 3/17, with 2 pairs of pants and 2 tops. I’m with my parents about 5 hours away. Wearing my dad’s clothes now :,-} Strange times.

@annabellioncourt: I’m not sure I want to commit to a direct gift exchange, but if it was done as an inktober style prompt filling thing, and we could just tag it/submit it as we did it, then maybe? I’m not sure what kind of free time I’ll have in the upcoming months as I job hunt.

Totally understandable, and I like your suggestions! We want to be able to accommodate ppl in your situation, so this is a good thing for us to keep in mind. Good luck in the job hunt! If running an awesome tumblr blog was a job, you’d be all set ;D

@amelthebravennian: //I would truthfully enjoy doing it!

We would love to have you back!

requiemforrose: Count me in. I need something to help my anxiety over the current climate

YES THATS EXACTLY THE POINT ^________^

@lestatthebiprince: Sign me up for the gift exchange!!

YASSSSS (let’s hope you still want to if we change the format ;D )

@pour-some-aspartame-on-me: I would be interested in participating in the vc secret gifts

Awesome! Would love to have you!

@desanctii: //I’d be in favor. this time around I even have the time to participate ;)

We need you for those Santino prompts! 

@amadeo-child-of-the-renaissance: //Count me in for the kink (obvs) XD

We love to see enthusiasm for the kin/kmeme… And your art is just *chef’s kiss*

@good-night-kick‘s tags: #great idea :3#It would be a good chance for me to get an excuse to draw art properly… I haven’t been drawing so much recently

Yes! We love your art and your comics and we need more of it, how can a person be so talented and so hilarious in their artwork, too?? Did you make a deal with the devil? (Sign me up.)

[burntchickennuggetskrrt]

Dream in a Dream (One shot)

pairing : jeno x reader

reason: because it's jeno's birthday 🥺💚

warnings: please forgive me for any errors that you might meet along the way. i did not proofread this and just wrote this because it's jeno's birthday ㅠㅠ don't get mad at me for my lack of vocabulary or my grammar mistakes ㅠㅠ

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

"Are you going to the coffeeshop again?" Your bestfriend asked whilst you were checking your reflection in her vanity mirror.

"Yeri, stop saying "again", it's not like i always go there." You reapplied your lipstick to finish your light make-up look.

"Yn, you basically go there every fucking day just to check out the barista for the last 2 months, who are you even kidding?" Yeri rolled his eyes at the embarrassment that is her bestfriend, yes, you.

"Geez, chill down, Susan. It's not like i have nothing else to do. I mean, it's not my fault that my body needs caffeine every single day." Of course that's just your shitty reasoning which Yeri catches without blinking.

"Bitch, don't even give me that same lame excuse. Just say you're a simp and go." Yeri is tired of you simping around this barista for the last two months without doing anything about it.

"I AM NOT SIMPING OVER HIM! I'm just admiring art." You sighed dreamily as you remember the handsome barista who takes your order and makes them with those beautiful hands.

"Yn, you're not admiring art, you're a creep! I told you to say hi and introduce yourself and not just order coffee and sit on the farthest corner oogling at the poor guy." You rolled your eyes at the stupid suggestion of your bestfriend. How could she even think of you introducing yourself to that beautiful boy? You can't even function well when he give you that beautiful smile that makes his eyes formed the shape of a crescent moon.

"Just do it. It's been two months, Yn. Two months of me listening to your simp words of how beautiful his smile is, or how his eyes would go minute when he smiles, or how he looks like that meme of a smiling dog, or how his arms looks so wonderful in his uniform as he "skillfully" make your order with those "beautiful hands"--", your bestfriend's flow of words was put on a halt as you covered her mouth as she protested.

"STOP. I know, okay? I'm pathetic. I can't help it. He's beautiful, like really beautiful. I'm pretty sure Ten only hired him because he will make his cafe famous. I mean, he's not wrong. Ever since he started working in there, Dream in a Dream got more customers, teenage customers." That's basically the reason why you were not able to find confidence in properly introducing yourself, not when there are tons of pretty girls gawking over him on a daily basis.

"Yn, you are fucking beautiful, plus your personality is fucking wonderful. If he doesn't like you by now after the countless times you sashayed your ass in there, he's dumb and he's not worth your attention." Yeri put and emphasis on the words she has spoken just so it can be etched in your mind.

"Damn, hype woman, chill. But thanks Yeri, I mean I have developed this huge ass crush and I'm scared that when I make a move the illusion will break and he's nothing like I imagined him to be." Of course that's just part of your worries, because the main one is still related to how you're not confident enough.

"Are you boo boo the fool, Yn? Of course you wouldn't know about that if you won't talk to him. You'll just end up putting more and more illusion in your head if you continue on lurking around instead of speaking to him. The worst case scenario is he will decline you because he has a girlfriend, though it will suck more if he declines your invite and yet he's single, like bitch, he just plainly doesn't like you."

"See this is why I'm not sure if you're my bestfriend! You hype me and then you bring me down!" You sat beside your bestfriend on her bed as the other just continued lying down.

"I'm just giving your the possible scenarios that would happen if you ask him out or just talk to him after his shift. Or maybe just ask him if he's single, so you can stop simping and wasting your time."

"He's worth my time." You heard Yeri fake-gagged at your response.

"Simp culture." You smacked her ass playfully before you stood up and walked towards the door to signal your departure. But before you left you looked back at your bestfriend and she's looking at you warily.

"Fine, maybe I'll say something more to him later, aside from my order."

"You better be, or I'm revoking your bestfriend benefits."

--

The walk towards Dream in a Dream was stressful since you kept on weighing Yeri's advice. Can you really dare to speak to the beautiful barista?

Even before arriving to the counter, you already saw him looking like some shining, shimmering, splendid prince who got sent by the King to work in a cafe for his humility training or something.

And like some coming age movie, he slowly looked up from the cash register and your eyes locked and he smiled at you, fucking smiled at you. Can i have that smile forever? You can only dream.

"Hi Yn, how are you?"

"Hi Jeno, I'm fine, I guess. Thanks for asking. How are you?" You felt your stomach did a some tumbling stunt as you heard your name rolled down his tongue perfectly.

"Better now that my favorite customer is here." Damn, those beautiful eye blinding smile again. You've seen it countless of times and you still can't get over it. Why are you like this?

"Liar." You smiled shyly at the boy you are obviously fucking whipped for.

"Can you two stop flirting in front of my salad?" The little moment was now gone, fucking Ten and his single ass being all bitter. He's basically just seating on his owner's table not so far away from the counter, yet he still noticed.

"Damn Boss, stop interrupting. You're making me miss my shot." Jeno just smiled at you apologetically but you on the other side is obviously on some trance. What the hell?? What does he mean by missing his shot? Jeno, shoot your shot! I'll be yours way before you could ask me out! You're obviously being delusional again, but who cares? A girl can dream.

"I don't care if you flirt all you want. Just not in front of my salad, and not when you're working. We have customers, Jeno." Ten's obviously just playing around, not that you and Jeno will notice. The owner obviously noticed your admiration for his 2 month old barista, you've been a constant customer since then, never missing a day and always visits on Jeno's shift.

"Got it boss. Sorry about that, Yn. My boss and his boyfriend had some fight, so he's being too sensitive." Jeno said to you in a fake whisper. He's too close, you thought.

"That's fine, Jeno. You don't have to excuse his annoying ass. Anyways, I'll take the same order." You smiled and gave your card to the boy to pay. But Jeno waved his hand instead.

"Don't pay. This is my treat." He again smiled sheepishly, he should really stop doing that. You've already have this huge crush on him, no need to get it bigger.

"Ten will kill you. Let me pay please."

"What he doesn't know won't kill him." He winked at you like his eyes is not already small from his smile.

"Are you sure? Because it's really fine, Jeno. You don't owe me anything."

"Believe me, I do. So just say yes, please?" Damn, Jeno, if this was him asking your hand in marriage you would say yes without stuttering. But you thought, a coffee would be a good start. And what does he mean by he believes he owes you something?

"Fine, Jeno. But just this time." You brought back your card back to your sling bag and Jeno mayhaps that said something like "yippee" or "yeheey", you really don't know, he was too cute for you to stay sane.

--

You were mindlessly sipping your drink whilst looking at the people outside outside Dream when Jeno started walking towards your seat, you did not notice him though, at least not until he spoke.

"Yn?" Your daydreaming was put to an end when you heard Jeno's voice calling your name.

"Oh, hey, Jeno." You smiled ever so shyly, just like you always do when he's the one you're talking.

"Oh, hey... so I was wondering... my shift will be over in like 30 mins. Do you mind, uh, going out with me? Like just walk around the park and maybe have some dinner?" The boy scratched his ear just like he does when he's feeling shy and/or awkward.

You look at him like he just said some foreign language you haven't had the honour to learn. What did he just say? Go out? Park? Dinner?

"Earth to Yn?" Jeno spoke softly like he's talking to something small and fragile, which obviously at this point, are the words best to describe you.

"What did you just say?" You replied in almost like a whisper; but Jeno is looking at you closely so he was still able to hear what you said and that's when Ten walked by.

"He's asking you out on a date, idiot. Isn't that what you wanted?" Ten laughed as he made his way back to his table.

You swore to the heavens, that you will be snitching Ten to his father about all his shenanigans. He's like the worst cousin in the world, i mean not really, but he sort of is, right now.

"I swear to God, he's like the worst cousin." You sighed, exasperated.

"He loves you though, he always talk good things about you behind your back."

"Oh, does he now?" You raised your eyebrow for emphasis and Jeno smiled shyly in return.

"Yes, he does. I may have indulge him because I like hearing things about you."

"Oh." That was the lamest reply you have given ever since your birth. STOP EMBARRASSING YOURSELF, YN!

"Before my confidence ran out, what do you think about my invitation?"

"Oh... Yeah, s-sure. As long as you don't bite." Maybe at least now now.

"I won't. Unless you asked me too." He winked, fucking cassanova knows what he's doing. You can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks.

"I'll see you in 30 mins then?"

"Yeah, sure, Jen." Jen? Who gave you permission to give him nicknames? Get a grip of yourself, yn!

--

30 minutes later, Jeno came back. Now with his casual clothes, still looking some dashing model from a magazine.

"Ready to go?"

"You bet."

Whilst you were both about to go out the door, Ten shouted something that made you winced.

"Jeno, you can take a day off tomorrow. Sorry for making you work on your birthday, bud." Ten smiled apologetically but Jeno just smiled like the good boy that he is.

"No worries, boss. Thanks for the day off! We'll get going now. Let's go, Yn."

"Oh, yeah. Just give me a minute. I'll catch up to you. I remember I have to say something to Ten, a message from my Mom." Jeno eyed you curiously but he let it passed and told you he'll just wait outside.

You walked back to the counter and saw your cousin with sitting casually with his feet up on his table.

"Hey, Ten. Can you give me that cupcake? And maybe some candle."

Ten gave out a laugh before standing up amd getting what you ordered.

"You're fucking whipped, Cous. Be fast though, you're not the only customer eyeing him."

"Shut up. I'm trying, okay? Yeri is already on my back. Stop yourself from hopping in."

"Well, you always need a very hard push. Don't pay me for now." Ten put the cupcake in a small box with Dream in a Dream logo. You put the box carefully in your sling bag and borrowed Ten's lighter with a promise of returning it tomorrow.

When you walked out of Dream in a Dream, you saw Jeno casually leaning on his motorcycle. He has a motorcycle? Damn, he looks hotter. What the hell, yn?

"Hey, right here." Jeno waved his hand as if you'll never catch him in a sea of people. But you always do, he has that presence, at least that's the case in your eyes.

"Are we riding that?" Jeno laughed at your expression.

"Yes we will be riding this. Don't worry yn, I'm not a reckless driver." He winked. STOP WINKING, JENO.

"I still have a lot of dreams, so that's good to hear. Let's go?" Jeno nodded and gave you a helmet before putting his. Does this mean I can hug him? You felt your cheeks grow hot again with that thought.

You indeed end up hugging him during the ride to the park; since he also advised for you to hold tight. It was not a hard instruction, and definitely not against your own judgment.

--

Jeno found an empty bench near the children's playground and you both sat in there silent for a few minutes before you heard him clear his throat.

"Thank you for coming with me, Yn. It means a lot to me. I'm almost technically a stranger, but you still came with me." You looked at him and maybe it's the light playing tricks on his handsome face but you could've sworn his cheeks is a little red.

"No worries, Jeno. You're not really that of a stranger. Ten knows you. I've known you for like 2 months. So that's hardly a stranger." You gave him a genuine smile, happy that Jeno invited you, or it would've been you embarrassing yourself to invite him.

"2 months, 3 days, 15 hrs, and 2 minutes."

"Huh?"

"That's the exact time I've gotten to know you." Jeno looked down, embarrassed at how he remembers clearly the time you first entered Dream in a Dream, like you're some fantasy brought to his reality.

"Oh... wow, that's quite precise." Your eyes where everywhere but on him.

"Yeah, you could say that. I almost messed up your order and would've been fired if Renjun wasn't there to help me out." Jeno smiled remembering his friend who now take an early shift.

You find your courage to be honest now that Jeno is being honest. What could go wrong, right?

"Don't worry, Jen. I messed up too. I ended up ordering Matcha Latte when I hate that drink with all my heart."

"You do? So that's why you never ordered that drink again. I remember extending my shift that day to practice how to make it perfectly though."

"You did? You're so silly." You laughed at Jeno not because he's being silly, but because he is looking like some cute puppy doing something silly, you still find yourself liking him even more.

"Yeah, people do crazy things when they're in love." It slipped Jeno's mouth before he could stop it. It felt like it was the most natural thing to say. But after looking at your shocked expression he almost feel his heart sinking. But then you smiled and hope trampled the fear as fast as it could even crawl further.

"I guess they do. So you love me, then?"

Jeno hummed before answering.

"I guess you could say that."

You raised your eyebrow.

"So you're not sure?"

Jeno sighed before looking at you straight in the eyes, with the most serious look you have seen on him.

"I love you, Yn. I'm not just sure if it's the first thing I should say after mustering up to talk to you the first time."

"Jeno, can you close your eyes?"

"What?"

"Can you close your eyes? Please?"

Jeno felt weird by the sudden request. The boy thought what if you'd run away after his sudden confession? He thought he can't blame you if you do that, he was being stupid for confessing on day 1.

"I won't run away." You said as if being able to read Jeno's thoughts. He sighed but proceeded on closing his eyes.

You immediately took out the box you've carefully arranged in your bag and lit the candle using your stupid (yet somehow still helpful) cousin's lighter.

"Jeno, you can open your eyes now." You felt the excitement in your voice, it was weird being able to hear it. But you didn't care, who cares if you're going too fast? You can get to know about each other after today.

Jeno saw your smile first before his eyes dropped on the red velvet cupcake you are holding with a candle on top of it. He find himself smiling, not just because of the effort you've exerted, but because of how beautiful you look.

"Happy birthday, Jeno. Before you make a wish, I have a fun fact for you... Did you know that I have been going to Dream in a Dream every single day for the past 2 months, 3 days, 15 hrs, and 20 mins now because I fell in love with the newly hired barista?"

Jeno laughed hard, like that kind of laugh a boy gives out which sound anything but soft. He has head thrown backwards due to laughing and you just stared at him, dumbfounded yet still in love.

"So to simplify that fun fact, you love me?"

"You could say that. Now make a wish before the wind blows your candle out."

Jeno moved closer and closed his eyes.

He doesn't have a wish anymore, he's got one already answered. He's got you. But he still finds himself wishing, because humans are after all selfish creatures.

Please, please, make this work. I love her, please make her love me more in the future.

Then Jeno opened his eyes and blow his candle. You smiled at each other like some giddy teenagers even if Jeno just turned 20, which means he's a young adult now.

"Do you mind saying it again?"

"Saying what, Jen?"

"I love that nickname by the way. Tell me how you feel about this barista."

"Demanding but fine, since it's your birthday. I love you, Lee Jeno."

"Damn, that feels good to hear. I might be asking you to say those 8 letters in the next coming minutes. But for now, let me tell you that I love you too, Yn."

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and a tight hug. It was perfect.

Two months ago a dream was born in Dream in a Dream. Two month later on the day Jeno was born, it became a reality. Now you'll find yourself celebrating two special events every April 23rd; Jeno's birthday and the birthday you now both share, hopefully for a long time.

- end -

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

an: that's all. it's short i guess but i really wanted to write some one shot, so thank God it's jeno's birthday and i have an excuse. hope you enjoy it! - 고양이 🐈

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEE JENO! EVEN IF YOU ARE NOW A 20 YEAR OLD ADULT, YOU ARE STILL A BABY TO ME 💚 (i'm same age with the nct pig liners 😉) love you, baby!

[antivancoffeelover]

2018 fics, a year in review

i’m a madman, but even my crazy ass probably won’t finish and post another fic in the last 6 hours of 2018, so here are all the fics i posted on ao3 this year, plus some thoughts on each!

Hemlock Honey and Silver

this was my last ever supernatural fandom fic. literally the end of an era for me since i was in the spn fandom for so damn long and wrote so much fic, about two-thirds of which has been orphaned on the archive at this point because i didn’t like the stories anymore lol. 

i do like that one, though, and i’m actually alright with it being my last ever spn/destiel fic

Fire In Your Veins

this was my first time posting thorki fic! i was so, so nervous about it, but everyone in this fandom is so chill and lovely. i still like this one, and i don’t think i write enough 69ing lmao. also this fic was obvs the start of something bigger bc. i mean. i’ve written so much damn fic now lol since i only started posting in june. i was worried that i wasn’t going to be writing anymore, or that i’d never be posting on ao3 again because it had been literally 2 full years between hemlock honey and silver and the fic that preceded it. then i fell into thorki and i started writing fic and it’s just been such a huge, huge thing. bc i’m also writing original stuff again for the first time in forever.

Underdressed and All Out of Time

a direct sequel to fire in your veins, i really like it. i felt like i was able to characterize loki fairly well in this one bc i was very insecure about the way i wrote loki when i started out

A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them

who doesn’t love a fic title from a hozier song? i remember writing this fic and wondering if it was any good and if my characterization was okay and still being nervous and insecure in my writing, but it’s been very well received so i kinda got my inner critic to stfu which is nice lol. i also really enjoyed doing this vignette style story

To Always Face the Sun

what if :) loki was happy :) and thor had his brother back :) lol i really liked writing this and having loki being such a little shit tbh. can we tell that i like a happy ending in fic?

Blue On Gold

so i wrote an arranged marriage fic where they never actually get married and it’s still 15.8k lmfao. also the return of the vignette style, which was fun bc i got to do short, impactful scenes and build the narrative with them. i remember sitting at my desk at work, on my phone, writing this fic, then coming home and editing on a damn tablet bc my laptop bricked earlier this year

the warmth of your doorway

i meant to capitalize the title but at this point i’ve decided to leave it lol. i really loved writing this bc i felt very confident in the way i was building the scenes and the detail i was able to incorporate. i feel like this is where i really kinda go my voice back and i start to come into my own, if that makes sense? one of my fave fics i’ve ever written tbh. there’s a longer ‘verse for this, but after i finished this fic i got too distracted by new projects to try and continue it lol

Tell Me

this was my first trans!loki fic and he’s a trans man, and god i love it. i’ve got another ftm loki story as a WIP in my gdocs bc this story showed me how much i fucking love writing trans characters, and i really enjoyed the dynamic i put into this fic. there’s a sequel planned lol it’s gonna be dirty

Interwoven

i still haven’t managed to ever find the post that inspired this damn fic and if you wonder whether that drives me up the wall the answer is yes (: and fun fact! i intentionally never describe loki’s genitals in this fic, bc i was picturing him as a trans guy since i’d just written tell me and now i have a massive obsession with writing trans romance and erotica

Tie Breaker

in this house we love and appreciate bottom thor!!! also i loved writing the sparring at the beginning. it makes me wanna write more fics w/ brutal fight scenes lol. thor’s slutty drunk cape outfit is iconic and i’m gonna read that comic just for that outfit honestly

Pretense of Subjugation

i became drunkenly obsessed with loki manspreading on the throne of asgard and this was the result. this was the first thorki fic of mine that i’d had beta’d and it was vastly, vastly improved by it. the tips @ktspree13 gave me when she helped with this fic have affected literally every single fic i’ve written since

Double and More

so this is not the first thorki fic i ever posted, of course, however it is the first i ever started writing. i got to the point where loki’s in thor’s lap and then i kinda blanked out and let the fic sit for like... 2 or 3 months? then i opened it back up and i was like “oh i like this i should finish this” which is why i don’t delete anything anymore bc there’s always a chance i’ll come back to it

Ringback Tone

y’all owe @thotki for the wondrous idea they presented in discord that ended up creating this fic. i think i wrote this fic in like 3 days bc of how much fun i was having with it. the dirty talk was my favorite thing to write in this and i remember distinctly having this [:< moment when i was daydreaming about it

Seldom All They Seem

there was an impromptu bottom thor day back on 20 oct and this fic was my contribution. we can never have enough time travel, can we? i remember i think i took like a four day weekend from work and part of my motivation was literally wanting to finish this fic in time to post it lmfao

Fluffy Thorki Sunday Ficlets

i started doing fluffy thorki sunday back when i was on bourbonbucky and i continued it here, and i’m proud that i’ve written at least 1 piece for fluffy thorki sunday every sunday since i started. i love doing fluff and smut, and honestly even when my mood has been shit, i’ve always felt motivated to try and improve it at least enough to write some nice fluff. i put all of these on ao3 once i moved blogs

Let Love Disrupt

this is another fic we owe to discord lmao. i remember posting this when i was either very drunk or very tired and having to keep going onto ao3 on my damn phone browser to correct minor shit, and some not so minor shit like a typo in the title bc at first it said “distrupt” and that’s why i only post when i’m awake and sober now lmfao

Without Fear

i love werewolves (: a whole bunch (: and this fic is something dirty and wonderful that i’m proud of and THERE’S ART bc @nekokat42 is a blessing and takes commissions. kot i love u :3

On the Other Side Like Always

i have a lot of feelings about this fic. there’s an entire future in this ‘verse that i would so love to write, but i’m stuck on where to go with it. as it stands i am satisfied with this as a story of thor and loki coming together, and a story about how loki does something out of desperation but is finally given something genuine and comforting in his life like he’s always deserved. THERE’S ART from the wondrous @boltplumart / @mrhiddles bc allie is perfect :]

Runaway

when i tell y’all i’m a trash gremlin king. i do have a thing for writing underage characters with adults (probs due to messy personal history lmfao ain’t gonna look at that too closely) and so writing this one was a fun little bit of self indulgence. also it’s dirty and really plays into codependency, which i always like writing bc it’s a fun thing to explore in fiction

Sunset Rhapsody

this fic. was supposed to be. two thousand words. at most. then thor smiled at me, as the writer, and was like “i want to own him” and we ended up with 11k of thor’s obsessive bs and loki being brutal. joking aside, i love this fic, i love what i did with it, i have an original story i wanna write for my size kink anthology that will follow a similar thread to this one. also that torture scene. i don’t recall if i ever properly wrote torture before, but this did kinda make me squirm a bit when i was writing it and if you’ve read it you know precisely which scene i’m talking about lmfao

Right to Guard

this fic was honestly very emotionally satisfying for me in a pretty visceral way. writing thor just surrendering to love and spoiling the fuck out of loki was pretty damn cathartic. 

A Bite of Lamb

me making sure i never lose my title as a trash gremlin king. honestly writing thor’s POV in this fic was like >.> at myself a couple times bc it felt distinctly dark in a way i’d never written another character. a very, very unhealthy kind of obsession and this twisted logic where he’s trying to make it all okay. i really fucking love this damn fic tho and i’m happy with how it came out. 

Seamless

i was so, so frustrated and pissed off at work that i needed to let that shit out, so that was channeled into this very guilt-ridden turned tender fic, and i really enjoyed writing it. loved writing thor taking care of his baby sister. also! KOT IS FUCKING AMAZING and drew this bc they’re such a good fucking person ;A; like they sent me a message and just said “really liked this scene” and i was D Y I N G and i still am. thank you again, kot!

The Way A Rose Blooms

this was written for the thorki secret santa exchange! i drew @chickcheney and honestly the list of prompts was so, so good. bottom thor, arranged marriage, semi-public sex and trying not to be caught, body worship. i was like “damn did i draw myself wtf” bc that is all up my alley. 

Sugar Cookie

i honestly could not think of a better fic to finish off 2018 for me than sugar cookie. porn and emotions that’s all this is, but it features loki as a trans woman being loved and appreciated as she is with nothing extra expected of her and it was so satisfying to write. it makes me want to write original romance with trans women, which i’ll definitely do bc i loved writing this hungry and tender story and i’m very happy with how i ended it. 

so that was 2018 for me! 

[sleepingsagittarius]

Guide to Venus in Retrograde 💔❤️Part 2

The 5th House 💝

I look with child-like wonder at my life creating refreshing insights and experiences.

The 5th house rules children, creative projects, hobbies, sports/recreation, gambling, pleasure, fun, romance/true love. When Venus dips back into this house, a very common occurrence is something involving children, conception, pregnancy comes back into focus.  Sometimes a child needs attention, or new information is needed to have a successful pregnancy. Creative projects that fell into the back drop or ideas from the past resurface.  Often the creative projects relate also to a way that money was made in the past or could be made in the future but sometimes they are projects that are “just for arts sake” without a concern for income. Sometimes a love relationship “cools off” in the retrograde.  

People will often come to the conclusion that “things aren’t working”.  If it is a relationship of substance and value, it is best to avoid big decisions if possible until the energies are more clear/you are seeing things more clearly.  If things come up, it is a GREAT time to try to work them out. Romance from the past often comes back during Venus in retrograde in general but especially when the retrograde occurs in the 5th house, as it rules romance, also called the house of True Love. Indulgence in anything in the past that was not positively serving could have repercussions surface during the retrograde.  For instance, if there was a gambling debt forgotten about, payment could come due.  Or if money was borrowed for the 5th house agenda of “having fun” then this could transit could create a reality check.  I have seen situations where people using “substances” have had backlash from those choice, especially showing up during the retrograde, or temptation or “tests” coming up to have a chance to make a different decision. The chance to clear up addictions could come at this time. Ways of having fun from the past could come up for healthy interactions, too.  

Fun is such an important part of life, especially when well-balanced with responsibility, so Venus dancing backwards in this area of the chart can bring a refreshening of the fun factor. Also, for people already in their desired romantic relationship, the retrograde could bring magic, fun, and spark into the romantic relationship. More fun and magic could also come for interactions with children (either the ones by birth, adoption, other caregiving, or someone working in fields with kids not related to them). Inspiration from how to live more with the fresh eyes of a child could come at this time. Retrogrades test “weak links” so if there are aspects of relationships with children or romantic partner that need to be addressed and strengthened, they are very likely to come up to support the goal of better relationships. 

Similar to the Venus retro in the 1st house, things involving wardrobe, fashion, beauty may come up now.  It is a great time to go “retro” rather than cutting edge innovative focus.  Going back to things that worked in the past in this area of life can bring much satisfaction.  Also finding second-hand things is a great idea.  Where I used to live, my friends and I would have “Clothing Swap” parties where everyone brought their clothes and wardrobe items they didn’t like, that didn’t fit, or in other ways didn’t resonate with anymore and emptied the bags of garments in a pile in the middle of the floor and everyone would just have at everything!  We would have a pot-luck style meal set up and chat, eat, play, sing, dance, and find new perfect clothing without having to spend money. This type of event is PERFECT for the Venus retograde energies.  After you do these long enough, you may find clothing you gave away come back to just when you want it :)

Some questions you can proactively address during or that may naturally come up during Venus retrograde through the 5th house:

What lessons from past/present romantic relationships are showing up for me to work with?

How can I have more fun in my life?

How has having fun in the past negatively affected me now and how can I rectify this and shift future trajectory?

The 6th House 🌶

I easily create and maintain an effective and fulfilling routine

The 6th house rules pets, health, medicine/medical diagnostics, procedures, treatments, daily work environment, self-employment, how one does their work/gets things done, routine, diet, supplements, exercise, etc. Venus going backwards in this area of life can bring questions about the workplace or self-employment methods.  Great opportunities will often come during this time from the past somehow, like past connections, ideas, or efforts.  It may be easier to find business and solutions when getting back to basics and tried-and-true principles than new development or ideas. 

Things involving a situation with a pet may surface from the past.  For people who are in businesses involving animals, or who want to, this could bring up financial opportunities that relate to making money this way.  It is not advisable to launch a new business that involves financial or other major investment, or one with the intention of being long term, at this time. Short-term ventures can be fine to implement during the retrograde, as long as a lot of money or resources or risk is involved. Money owed to you from past work could come in at this time.  Bonuses from work for past performance could also show up. Recognition, raises, or clients from past work could show up but when it comes to asking for a raise, you may have more luck when Venus is in its full power.  Feel into your specific situation and assess if this general recommendation is true for your case. Issues or dissatisfaction with how you make money, income level, workplace dynamics are very likely to come up or escalate if this has been a theme that was already present or swept under the rug of daily consciousness. It is not generally advisable to quit a job under this transit because your emotions could get the better of you and may not factor in long-term consequences.  It is definitely a great time to start researching your escape plan/plan B.  

Again, ideas and connections from the past could prove helpful in your investigation of a better situation. Sometimes love from the past that was related to work could resurface at this time.  Also, sometimes the return of a love interest could come from something else you do every day - grocery store, run, yoga, neighbor, etc. Nagging health symptoms could get stronger during this transit or an event with someone close to you could spark some motivation to get them checked out.  Learning about the options you are already paying for you with current insurance or work-related benefits may bring some surprises.  There are often more things on a health plan than people utilize. Do your homework.

Some questions you can proactively address during or that may naturally come up during Venus retrograde through the 6th house:

Do I love my job?  if not what can I do to have a better work experience in the future?  What are some ideas for “plan B”?

How can I leverage past accomplishments and connections to boost my current business/income/improve my work life?

Do I have nagging health symptoms that are begging for attention?  How can use resources available to me to investigate these?

Do I need a new health, exercise, diet regimen?  What support options are there for me?

Does my pet need some attention?

The 7th House 💍

I choose to sharpen my listening skills (as it relates to self and others)

Venus rules the 7th house so like the transit through the 2nd house this placement can carry more oomph.

Questioning/addressing issues in/restoring magic of relationships is one of the number one ways energy manifest during this transit.  Another is opportunities coming from personal and business relationships from the past.

Doubt will be cast on many relationships during this time and also there is a great chance for wonderful things to be restored from past experiences or people.

As people come in from the past, it is ok to “dance” with the potentials but it is better to do so in a way that is “trying things on” rather than a long-term commitment if possible, leaving intact a return to the “pre-dance” situation.

Some questions you can proactively address during or that may naturally come up during Venus retrograde through the 7th house:

In what ways do I perceive my current relationship (of any kind) as helping me on my highest path? serving to hinder me on my highest path?

Are my perceptions correct or am I projecting my internal issues on the person/relationship?

How can I shift out of my negative patterns in relationship?

How can I create win-win relationships?

How can I be better heard in relationship?  better hear others I am in relationship with?

What patterns are present in this relationship that have been with me ever since I can remember?  Am I willing to see that I am the common denominator in all of my relationships so that blaming the other won’t get me very far in correcting the pattern?

What contacts from my past might be helpful to my visions?

What people from my past am I feeling drawn to reconnect with?

What do I really want?  What do I need to do to be able to communicate my needs and desires?

The 8th House 🕷

I attract amplified synergistic connections

The 8th house rules “other people’s money” so when Venus is retrograde in this house or sign money or resources such as inheritances, family money/resources, marriage or partnership money/resources, lotto/sweepstakes/other winnings, venture capital funding, loans or financial gifts of any kinds, credit cards, stocks, and anything like all these are more likely to come up as a hot topic.

It is a great time to look for money/financing from connections in the past. It is also a great time to consolidate, manage, or pay off debt.

Past romantic interests are very likely to return, as are issues in marriage or intimacy.  Deep intimacy work could be done at this time.

Making money from or a return to a fanatical interest in Scorpio-related things that are tied to ones past experience or interest such as psychology, mystery, research, esoteric topics, astrology, ancient wisdom/tools all have an increased chance in showing up.

Some questions you can proactively address during or that may naturally come up during Venus retrograde through the 8th house:

How can I add more substance to my life?

How can I connect in with powerful partners and create synergistic outcomes with our combined resources and efforts?

How can I PAY OFF/ MANAGE DEBT?  Being smart with money is a big theme at this time.

P1//P3

[salamoonder]

Dark Side |  [ch. 1]

Patton is hunger.

He’s self aware; he knows what he looks like from the outside. Knows that everyone thinks of him as the sweet one, the innocent dreamer. No one can see how empty he feels inside, how he’d do anything to get rid of the nagging, clawing feeling that he isn’t and never will be enough.

Logan is helpless.

What’s the point of having an above genius level IQ and a scholarship that’ll more than take care of him for the next four years if he can’t protect his family? Time has always been comforting to him, assuring him that ever second will be the same exact length, dividing the universe into neat, even fragments. Now it’s turned against him and he can’t do a thing to stop it from running out.

Roman isn’t real.

Yes, he’s consistently cast in every lead role he applies himself to, yes, they all say he’s brilliant and daring and larger than life. But does any of it mean anything? Does anybody actually care about the person behind the persona? Is there even a person left?

And Virgil? Well, Virgil’s a complete mess.

Plagued with anxiety and panic attacks since before he can remember, the very last thing he wants to do is leave his boring but safe hometown to go to university. But he’s been following Patton around all his life and he’s not about to stop now.

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Panic attack, nausea

A/N: Welcome to my Sanders sides College AU!!This fic gets pretty dark so I would advise you to proceed with caution and always check the warnings. In other news AHHHH I’M 50K INTO THIS AND IT IS OFFICIALLY THE LONGEST PIECE OF WRITING THAT I HAVE EVER POSTED PUBLICLY even if the other 47k isn’t available yet (rip). I’ll release the playlist as soon as I’m done with it.

|| Read it on AO3 ||

“Virgil, breathe.”

“Can’t,” Virgil pants, and grips the edge of the counter till his knuckles go white. The sky is so bright it’s hurting his eyes, so he closes his eyes and shrinks further into the snack booth.

He’s vaguely aware of Patton coming around and unlocking the door. He wants to tell him to get back on the stand and keep lifeguarding, because he’s not worth this, not worth Patton getting written up, but he knows Patton won’t listen. Even if it means risking his job.

A second later Patton lays a hand on his shoulder, but he flinches away. “Don’t touch me. I just. Just need.”

He takes his hands off the counter and curls them into fists.

“I’m sorry, Virge. Please breathe?”

“It’s not-” Virgil makes a huge effort to take a breath, in through his mouth, and suddenly he’s hyperventilating.

“Hey, hey, easy. Look at me.”

Virgil shakes his head to clear it, tries to focus on Patton.

“Breathe in-Virgil, just try-”

“Trying.”

Virgil sits down heavily on the concrete floor in the corner of the snack booth, fixes his eyes on the ceiling, and breathes in. His throat stutters over the air and he resists the urge to just continue hyperventilating. Patton’s sitting down too, ignoring the stool in front of the counter in favor of sitting on the damp concrete with Virgil.

It takes him a couple of minutes, but he’s able to breathe without getting dizzy again. As soon as he’s able to speak, he says, “Patton, you’re gonna get fired.”

Patton shrugs. “No one’s come in in the past half hour. It’s not like Sam cares. And Felicity’s out there keeping an eye on things.”

“Or sleeping,” Virgil mumbles.

Patton swats his arm gently. “Hush, you. She’s covering for me, isn’t she?”

Virgil shrugs. He’s always gotten the feeling that Felicity doesn’t like him very much. Then again he’s never gotten the feeling that anybody particularly liked him, so Felicity’s pretty much the norm.

Patton stands and offers him a hand up, but Virgil’s still feeling a bit weird about touch and so he gets up himself, glancing guiltily at Patton’s hand. But Patton drops the hand, looking thoroughly unbothered. “What do you say we get out of here?”

“But we’ve still got-”

“Half an hour. Last day, Virge, Felicity doesn’t care.”

“You already asked her?”

“No, but I covered for her last week, she owes me.”

“You think she can run things by herself?”

“Do I think she can watch an empty pool for half an hour? Absolutely.”

Virgil lets out a half laugh and Patton’s face splits into a grin. “There we go. Feeling better kiddo?”

“I’m...three months older than you.”

“Even so.”

“Ugh.”

“Well, are you?”

“A little,” Virgil admits as he follows Patton outside. His hands have stopped shaking, anyway. But it’s been getting worse lately, and he’s worried he’s just going to keep going downhill.

“You wanna talk about what set it off?”

Virgil scrubs a hand over his face, and instead of answering fishes the keys out of his pocket and yells across the pool. “Hey, Felicity!”

Her head jerks up and she catches the keys after he flings them across the deep end. “Virgil!” she complains. “I could’ve dropped those in the water!”

“Do you think you could keep an eye on things for us?” Patton asks, tone coaxing and sweet.

Felicity’s arms uncross from her chest and her demeanor immediately brightens. Everyone likes Patton. “Sure, is something wrong? Do you need help?”

“Nothing really,” Patton tells her. “It’d just be a really nice favor to me. Thanks, Felicity.”

“Of course.” She tucks the keys into her pocket and goes back to staring listlessly at her reflection.

Patton nudges into Virgil’s shoulder as he’s sliding into his flip flops at the gate, nearly causing him to overbalance and fall. “You don’t have to tell me, but I think it might help.”

“Uh. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Virgil hunches his shoulders. “Can I drive?”

“If you’re asking because it’ll give you something constructive to focus on and take your mind off stuff, then yes. If it’s because you’re feeling reckless, then absolutely not.” Patton puts one hand on his hip and Virgil has the sudden urge to laugh at his sternness even though there’s not really anything funny about the situation.

“I’m fine, Dad, it’ll help me calm down.”

Patton chews his lip. “Alright, but we’re pulling over if it gets to be too much.”

“Patton, my house is literally like two minutes away. We could’ve walked.”

“Still.”

“You sound like me,” says Virgil, half smirking as he climbs into the driver’s side seat. “Stop worrying.”

Patton walks around, straps himself in, taps Virgil’s seatbelt. “And you sound like you’re trying to deflect.”

Virgil says nothing as they pull out, nothing as he turns onto the smooth main road of his neighborhood. They’re almost to his house before Patton says, “If you really don’t want to talk about it I’ll shut up.”

“No, it’s…” Virgil grips the wheel a little harder than necessary as they approach his house, anxiety spiking through him again. “Patton, um...I haven’t started packing yet.”

“What?” Patton screeches, and Virgil winces. They’re in his driveway now, but neither of them makes a move to get out of the car. “Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly. “But Virgil...what the heck? Are you okay?”

Virgil shrugs and buries his face in his hands. Both of his arms itch to do something, but the thought of everything he has to do before tomorrow morning at five am makes him want to lie down and never move again.

“Virge?” Patton’s unstrapped and is leaning over him, concerned. “Let’s get you inside, mkay? When was the last time you ate?’

“Not sure,” Virgil mumbles. He can feel himself falling back into panic and shoves his door open, gets out and begins to pace to stave it off.

“C’mon, Virge, stop that. It’s okay.” Patton takes his hand and leads him inside and Virgil’s skin itches again but he doesn’t want to let go of Patton, even if it’s uncomfortable.

Patton taps in the house code and they both slip off their flip flops at the door and walk inside. It’s almost too cold in the house; Virgil gasps as his feet hit the gleamingly white tile. The air conditioner’s made it like ice.

Virgil’s always been a little embarrassed of his house. The ceilings are indulgently high and the whole first floor is impeccable tile and ikea furniture. The kitchen is far too large for a family of three, especially one that usually doesn’t eat together and is more likely to order takeout than not. The staircase looks like an art installation, and his mother keeps the place clean enough that it doesn’t even look lived in.

Truthfully, it’s barely lived in. Virgil’s the only one in the house all the time, and he’s not sure he could call what he does living. The first time Patton slept over he couldn’t stop staring, reverently wandering the house and gazing at the abstract art that Virgil’s mother filled the house with, taking care not to touch anything, even at the age of twelve. Sometimes it felt like staying in a museum, Virgil the only living display. The rare Depresso anxietus.

“Virgil?” Patton squeezes his hand, trying to shake him out of his reverie. “Is there food in the house?”

“Uhh…” Virgil opens the fridge, eyes flickering over the overstocked shelves. “Yeah...yeah, there's food in the house.” He steps aside so Patton can see. “What should we make?”

“Sandwiches,” says Patton, already pulling out the bread. Virgil hops onto the counter to watch. He doesn't feel like making decisions, however small, so he's grateful to Patton for not making him think much. One question at a time. “Do you want pickles?” “Swiss or cheddar?” This or that, yes or no, low energy things. It would probably seem silly to somebody else but right now Virgil is sure that sandwich ingredients, handled indelicately, could probably send him into a spiral of panic.

They eat at the breakfast bar almost in deathly silence. Virgil can see Patton sneaking concerned looks at him but he doesn't volunteer up any information. He feels too guilty.

Tomorrow morning he and Patton are going to pack Virgil's car and make the three hour drive up to Riverpoint University. It should be exciting. What kid wasn't excited the day before move in? Virgil wants to kick himself. Patton is clearly looking forward to it. Riverpoint is Patton's entire dream. He’s going to go off and win a Nobel peace prize for environmental conservation and stage large scale protests and plant new rainforests in South America and photograph penguins in Antarctica. He'll be a reporter for National Geographic or a famous blogger or something, no matter how unlikely it looked. Patton is charismatic and determined and he’ll undoubtedly rise beyond any expectations set for him, Virgil has no doubt of that.

On the other hand, all Virgil wants to do with his future is not have one. He wants to curl up in the back of his closet and be left alone. All his interests are nowhere near as passionate or as deep as Patton's. You can't make a career out of folding sad poetry into paper cranes. Well, maybe Patton could figure out a way to make that work. Patton could save the entire world if he wanted to, Virgil is sure of it.

He’s half smiling into his sandwich now. Maybe all he wants to do with his future is live vicariously through Patton.

That’s kind of the reason why he’s going to RU. He can’t fathom being apart from Patton for even a day. They’d grown up together, elementary through high school, and when they’d gotten older they’d started hanging out on the weekends, every weekend, and some days Patton felt like the only piece of life Virgil was holding onto. So naturally at the midpoint of junior year when nearly every class was interrupted by an office assistant sending someone or other to the counselor’s office to “discuss future careers and higher education”, Virgil panicked. It’s what he did best. What he still does best. Because of course while all Virgil wants is to have the world stand still around him, to sit up in his room and read and pretend that everything outside doesn’t exist, Patton has kept going. Kept moving. Patton wants to do something with his life.

When Patton applied for colleges, Virgil applied for colleges. He wrote cheery, over enthused entrance essays (he always was good at fiction), compared tuition costs (not that it mattered), scoured school websites for information. Patton’s top choice was Virgil’s top choice. Patton’s safety schools were Virgil’s safety schools. When Patton got his acceptance letter to Riverpoint, Virgil had pretended his hadn’t come yet, waited two days, and then pretended to be surprised when his showed up in the mailbox again, taped shut.

He doesn’t want Patton to know that the only reason he’s going to college is because he can’t stand the thought of being without Patton. It’s the most pathetic thing he’s ever done, and he’s starting to regret it.

Before it wasn’t fully real. It was just something he had to do. Get into the same college as Patton, stay with Patton. Right now the full implications of “college” are starting to cloud out the reality of “Patton”.

What was he thinking? He can’t do college! Much less college three hours away with parties and shared bathrooms and classes that are not with Patton and eating by himself and-

Patton’s reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Kiddo?” he says gently. “You okay?”

Something must’ve shown on his face.

“M’fine.” says Virgil, and forces himself to take a deep breath. He takes a bite of his sandwich for something to do and chews slowly.

“We should get started soon,” says Patton. “I don’t want you up too late.”

Virgil nods and stuffs the remainder of his sandwich in his mouth. He collects Patton’s plate, which is already empty-when did that happen?- and put both in the sink.

When they get up to Virgil’s room, he’s scared the sandwich might come right back up again. There are boxes and clothes everywhere, but nothing actually in the boxes. None of his books have been taken down from the shelves either. It actually just looks like Virgil’s normal messy room plus boxes, which is pretty much what it is. He’s been locking his room and telling his mom he’s packing while actually playing Fortnite for weeks now.

Patton must sense his panic, because he leads him over to the bed, makes him sit down, and tells him to close his eyes. Virgil does.

“Not looking at it isn’t going to make it go away,” Virgil mumbles. He can hear Patton shuffling around.

“I know,” says Patton. “Just cleaning things up a bit, kiddo. It’ll take no time to pack. You’ll be fine.”

A couple minutes go by, and Virgil says, “Uh,” and then stops. Patton doesn’t press him, and for once Virgil wishes he would give him a gentle push in the right direction.

But Patton doesn’t push. He waits, and he listens, and sometimes he makes Virgil feel like a wild animal in that he handles him very, very carefully- and like he might get bitten. “Patton?” he says carefully, on an exhale. Like the name got lost on his breath, and he’s not quite sure if he wants to say it.

“Mhm?” the response comes from somewhere over by the window, so Virgil turns his head in that direction.

“I’m...scared.”

“Of what?”

Virgil listens to Patton moving, shifting boxes and the soft thump of clothes.

“College,” says Virgil, and immediately feels stupid.

“Okay…?” says Patton, leaving the word open on the end, as though he’s waiting for Virgil to finish whatever he was saying. Virgil doesn’t want to finish whatever he was saying. “Can I open my eyes now?” he asks plaintively.

“In a minute,” says Patton. “Why are you scared of college?”

“I dunno…” says Virgil, trying not to immediately summon all of his fears just by touching the subject in his mind. He’s unsuccessful. “It’s- it’s not home.”

More shuffling. “I never got the impression that you particularly liked it here,” says Patton conversationally.

“No,” Virgil concedes. “But it’s. Home.” he says again, feeling unable to come up with anything more. “It’s...familiar,” he tries, and it fits. “I don’t like unfamiliar,” he says, finally putting his finger on it.

“Open your eyes,” says Patton, and he does. Patton’s sorted his clothes into two piles, apparently clean and dirty, and all the boxes are stacked inside of each other near the closet. His books are on the floor in neat, even towers.

“Oh,” says Virgil, and smiles. It’s symmetrical. Comforting. Patton smiles back at him. “More doable, hm?”

“Yeah,” says Virgil softly. “I still don’t see how we’re going to get all this done by tomorrow morning. And still sleep.”

“Easy, Virgil. One piece at a time.” He walks over to Virgil’s desk, opens his laptop, and pulls up Spotify. “Classical or modern?”

“Mm...modern.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Yours.” Virgil doesn’t feel like making any more choices today. He’s listened to all of Patton’s playlists hundreds of times anyway, and he likes all of them, even if they’re not his. Today’s not a My Chemical Romance kind of day though.

According to Patton, it seems to be an Owl City and Postal Service kind of day. That’s fine. It’s bouncy and light and thoroughly optimistic.

They sort through the clothes systematically; bring or leave for clean, fold, bring or leave for dirty, throw in a load of wash, lie on the bed and do nothing, dryer, fold. The books are harder; Patton’s trying to be gentle but he’s also trying to keep Virgil from bringing his entire library and Virgil would sooner leave one of his own limbs at home than leave a book, if he thinks he might need it.

“Is 1001 mushrooms and fungi really necessary, Virgil? Really? You don’t even go outside.”

“I do, sometimes,” Virgil says, around the dictionary sized book in his arms. He doesn’t. He just likes the idea of knowing what’s poisonous and what’s not. Of knowing what would sustain you if you got lost in the woods for any reason. In the end they leave it, but not without a considerable fight from Virgil.

After that he’s somewhat at a loss. What exactly do you need besides clothes and books? Tons of things, he’s sure, but Patton keeps telling him they’ll pack toiletries in the morning and if he’s really forgotten something crucial they can just buy something new at the campus store.

“Or in town,” he says. “It’s a really nice college town, Virgil, I can’t believe you got out of orientation. I can’t believe you wanted to.”

Virgil shrugs “They wouldn’t have let me stay with you, would they?”

“No, the rooms are randomly assigned. But, Virge, that’s a good thing! You get to meet new people! Get thrown right into the thick of things.”

Virgil shudders. Thick of things sounds like thicket. Maybe he’d prefer that. Being thrown into a jumble of thorns sounds better than meeting new people.

“Patton?”

“Mm?”

“Can you stay over tonight?”

Patton hesitates, and Virgil feels horrible. He has a family to go home to. This is their last night at home, both of them. Virgil’s family (if you could call it that) probably wouldn’t even notice if he was out at a club till four in the morning. They’d probably be relieved, actually, at their son actually being normal. Patton’s little siblings shriek and cling as soon as he’s walked through the door, like over excited dogs. Or like he’s Santa. They shriek and cling at Virgil too, who tries to pry them off as gently as possible while internally freaking out.

But he doesn’t want to be alone in this big house tonight, so big that you couldn’t tell anyone else was in it, even if his parents do come home. Even if they want you to know they’re there.

He’s being incredibly selfish, and he hates it, and he’s halfway to telling Patton to go home when he smiles and says, “Sure, Virge.”

They pull Virgil’s high end sleeping bags out of his closet and pop popcorn and watch Coraline on Virgil’s laptop. The tv downstairs is bigger, but Virgil’s feeling unusually attached to his room tonight. And there’s a higher concentration of Patton per square inch when they’re in a small space.

That sounds stupid, but Patton always uses math to make him feel better. More orderly. Patton can make it sound like all the numbers in the universe are falling together for him.

“What are the odds?” he’d ask. “What are the odds that in all of time and space, between all the planets and space dust and dinosaurs-”

“Space dust,” Virgil had snorted.

“Space dust,” Patton confirmed. “That you and I would be human? That we’d be born on the same planet, in the same country, in the same town, go to the same school? That we’d exist at the same time? What are the incredible odds?”

“What are the odds that you’d like me?” Virgil mumbled, and Patton had cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. “How could I not like you, Virge? That’s the only sure statistic.”

Patton’s asleep now. Virgil’s laptop, which is balanced on his stomach, rises and falls every time he breathes. Virgil takes it carefully and pauses the movie, then gets up to turn off the lamp.

When he lies down on the sleeping bag again, Patton rolls over and rests his head against Virgil’s chest.

“Did I wake you up?” Virgil whispers.

“A little bit,” says Patton sleepily. “ ‘M falling back asleep tho. Love you, kiddo.”

Virgil huffs out a tiny sigh so he won’t disturb Patton’s head on his chest. “I love you too.”

[ssauronn]

personal art rant below the cut \o7

long ass rant post TLDR im mad about a non issue and my brain sucks sometimes

i swear. i SWEAR

im.. sleepy angry

blowing th hell up at unsolicited critique that rly wasn’t insulting but i’m frustrated because i’m fucking inspired to make ANYTHING for the first time in such a long fucking time and the thought of having dumb tiny garbage stuck in my head stagnating me with this piece makes me want to throw my phone across the room and shriek into a pillow until i pass out. just please i didn’t need nitpicky shit i could have done with an “ok yeah looks cool bro” and ik im flipping the hell out over nothing, but i have a lot of brain worms and if i fixate on them then i will literally never be able to create anything and i’ll wither away with nothing to my name and i’m simply upset that i even have to think about it!!! here i am again in a vicious cycle

im so fucking sick of trying to make shit perfect i fucking swear if it doesnt look off immediately i literally don’t fucking care

i appreciate where the critiique comes from but i simply did not ask for nitpicky bullshit. it’s very small and unnecessary and i’m fucking sick of not ever producing anything because of stupid perfectionist shit. i’m really trying to affirm myself that i am okay and everything i’ve worked on for this fucking piece i was? am? happy with so far that literally no one is going to scrutinize that hard. i don’t need to fucking add more to the laundry list of problems i had already figured out myself to please anybody, because it straight up will not fucking matter. it genuinely doesn’t contribute to the feeling of it. it’s definitely not supposed to be perfect and damn, i don’t even know if it’s good at all but holy fuck

like sorry to be that bitch that can’t take crit or whatever but it literally. it literally isn’t even anything, it’s one tiny thing that will objectively only serve to slow me down in finishing and not add to the piece overall.

the thought that one day I will be dead and not having put out something because ONE curve got picked out and made me stall and stall until i got bored of the piece for trying to fix a non issue is making my blood boil

it’s why i dont fucking post! i’m tired physically and spiritually and i don’t care!!! i don’t fucking care!!!!!! let me make shit and let it be bad!!! fuck it all. fuck it all

anyway it wasn’t insulting or anything, rather i’m tired of getting 1000000 pieces of pointless tiny bullshit stuck in my head while creating for no fucking reason, and i can think of a ton of reasons why i don’t actually have to take this non-critique into consideration, and i absolutely do not owe it to anyone to make the alteration! and like. to hear it from a person with the same issue is making me more sure that i just don’t have to do it. no one’s requiring shit from me and the only person that needs to be happy with it is me. i want to use the image i am creating and i goddamn will until i think it looks shitty.

i fucking wish i didn’t fixate on the one negative thing that makes me fucking nervous to keep going. it doesn’t make any goddamn sense to do and i know i should just be able to make the thought go away but goddamn. no fucking beta viewers for non professional endeavors ever again, i’m only using my own eyeballs. if sharing any of my shit was my raised-by-narcissist-borne compelled to overshare trait jumping out, well ig i’ll keep everything even closer to my chest lmao. if i didn’t ask, then i didn’t ask.

i think that’s it and i would like to turn off the emotion spigot to go back to my silly little self indulgent doodles

but yeah i’ve been making things and feeling the fun of it. it’s wild and i don’t want anyone getting in the way of my healing or trying to help myself. it’s better to end on that note i think

[webwych]

This is your Han Solo now ...

So we had the first as-yet-untitled-Han Solo project cast photo this week, wow, the “SW” Facebook page deteriorated into the childish and moronic “if you don’t want this; you’re not a fan” generation-gap mentality argument pretty damn quickly.

I don’t know how alone I am in this, but being one of the people who were part of the last Lucasfilm/fan focus group; I, at least, can say that I have pretty much directly told Lucasfilm in no uncertain terms what I thought of this particular project and I assure you that my comments were not very pretty and, in my opinion, rather scathing.  I must state for all purposes that I did that knowing that the “go/no-go” point to have this project green lit was at least 18 months ago and understand that anything I had to say had absolutely no effect on the outcome.

I can see that this film has currently split the fandom somewhat evenly, but I think the “don’t want” have the edge for the time being.  I know that there will be fans who are not happy about this project now who will be swept up in the coming months as more BTS shots are released, and there might be a “something” at this year’s Celebration to give buzz about, and there are many fans are looking forward to it.  Yes, there will also be those fans who will see it 6 times (at least) and whom will take to the myriad of social media platforms to tell just everyone who watches or listens or reads just how much they hated it every single time they saw it.  

But is this project a good idea – no, it is not.  Personally, for those of us who continue to feel Solo’s fate in TFA deeply, simply have not been allowed to grieve by Disney/Lucasfilm and this as-yet-untitled-Han Solo project does very much feel like the character is barely cold in his grave and we are being presented with a new step-father and told to call him “daddy”.  OK, that’s probably a bit too Drama Queen-y, but, gorramit, it’s how I feel.

These standalone projects highlight Disney’s business model need for this franchise - a “SW” film every year ad infinitum.  They are also, unfortunately, the embodiment of Lucas’ extremely ill chosen and inelegant analogy made during his Charlie Rose interview in 2015.  However, the decision for the return to the May release date is in itself fascinating (for those of you interested in the business of distribution) as it actually doesn’t give the title the potential longevity of theatrical release as keeping the mid-December date does, but hey; that’s likely to be all about getting it onto the home entertainment market ASAP to recoup that ROI, but I digress ... Would it have been better if the decision had been made to simply find a new director for the Boba Fett project and proceed with that?  Yes and no.

I say yes, because following the character’s somewhat gauche exit in ROTJ, Boba Fett’s “myth” has become even more entrenched especially being one of the remarkably few (and I am counting the fingers on one hand) OT characters that has a rich (read cinematic) backstory exploitation potential. And, hey, his costume’s, like, really cool!

I say no, because it doesn’t take away the “meat-grinder” element of what this fandom has to now accept.   And those canon novels, comics and video games will simply not write themselves.

As a 1 of those characters ripe for cinematic exploitation – Han Solo has it all.  Being the eldest of the original OT triumvirate, his backstory is an untapped source, which if handled correctly, could go for more than 1 film (and I don’t care what Hidalgo vehemently countered last year on his Twitter regarding the “news” of possibly more than 1 Han Solo film; potential further Solo sequels or similar is likely to have been considered due to Disney’s business model and the last thing the studio want is to keep negotiating with Alden Ehrenreich’s reps especially as this could open big enough).   Considering the career that Harrison Ford went on to have; Solo has audience brand awareness like you wouldn’t believe and is consistently voted as The Favourite “SW” CharacterTM.  This was very much put to maximum use for TFA when that film was sold to the general public on Ford’s back.  

Disney, like all companies, has its shareholder obligations and therefore quarterly projections to meet.  And I have no doubt whatsoever, that numbers have already been run for this as-yet-untitled Han Solo offering (but please, indulge me a second time while I contribute some title suggestions:  “21 Jump Falcon” or “48 Parsecs” or tapping into Kennedy’s western idea, “Butch Calrissian and the Sundance Solo” or maybe it should just be “Firefly” …  Oh, wait, that last 1 already happened, didn’t it?) so there’s an idea of possible BO both domestic and worldwide that will be gaining traction within the Mouse House.    Just add the audience …

As a Han Solo/Harrison Ford fan for 4 decades I have a number of issues with this as-yet-untitled-Han Solo project (bet you’re surprised by that, huh?)  The primary one is this:  Following the events regarding this character in TFA, why on Earth would I, as a consumer, want to buy into a Han Solo film, especially when it has been written by 2 of the architects of the character’s fate and personality in TFA?

I was never a particular fan of the former EU, so I never bought into the Han/Leia white picket fence around the Millennium Falcon scenario as was presented.  But I most definitively do not buy into the never around father and husband as presented by J J Abrams and Lawrence Kasdan in TFA (which is being currently cemented by both Chuck Wendig and Claudia Gray into a man who felt confined in his relationship and impending fatherhood, more interested in racing and general itchy-feet in their “canon” novels) as it would appear that their Han Solo remained as we first met him in ANH.  My Han Solo grew up without knowing who his parents were, very much lived a hand-to-mouth existence on whatever planet’s streets – an “SW” version of the Artful Dodger if you will, and yet was able to pull himself out of wherever to make it to the Imperial Navy to pursue a dream.   I, personally, have great difficulty in acknowledging how that Han Solo would condone his child to a similarly emotionally difficult life.  Han Solo was at that point in ANH and by the end of ROTJ, he’d found enduring friendship (the people he’d dismissed at the beginning rescued him at great danger to themselves), companionship (he’d developed love) and a sense of belonging (he stayed with the Rebellion – yes, in the beginning it was likely for ulterior motives, but not by the closing shots of ROTJ) – that is a character arc which someone who has experienced the worst that life could throw their way would not easily give up.  As it stands, for me, the Han Solo of TFA is tantamount to character assassination solely for our leisure cash.

Of course, I understand that the Han Solo we will be presented with in the as-yet-untitled-Han Solo project will be the Han of ANH as the Messer’s Kasdan can put the character in more thrilling situations, and minus Leia, give him a passing, but no doubt intense love interest.  But we’ve seen how this character’s story ends - being callously murdered for narrative purposes on the modern screenwriting altar of cheap audience manipulation; so, again, why should I spend my hard earned money on this?  And anyway, with Woody Harrelson admitting that his character’s name is Garris Shrike, I can only wonder just how much of this film will be owe to A C Crispin’s 1997 Han Solo trilogy novels (yes, OK, former EU has no place …  Right …) The very sad thing is that if this film has scenarios recognizable to her novels there is likely to be no credit for Ms Crispin which is beyond awful while the Messer’s Kasdan will call it their own work.

The last fan focus group survey was about this project and it would appear that I was one of very, very few people who actually knew who Ehrenreich is and could recognise a photo of him.  I have seen his performance in “HAIL, CAESAR!” and enjoyed it; in fact it was of a standard that I would expect of a Coen Brothers production, so do I think he will give a poor performance?  Most definitely not; but his Han Solo will not be my Han Solo and creatives/business involved in this ignore that at their error.

Rightly or wrongly, I feel that a lot of this has to be with clearing the copyright decks of Lucas’ vision (and again whatever you think of Lucas IN THE SLIGHTEST; you feel it BECAUSE you bought into his original creation) and as I’ve stated earlier, there is an element of churning out product.  I am of a certain age where I feel that quality is superior to quantity, but I also accept that there are fans (regardless of age) who are extremely happy with the thought of a film every year ad infinitum and all good luck to you.  If your question is do I think it will be a bad film?  No; no it will not, no one spends the money these days on film production expecting to make a bad film!

Once upon a time, the former EU evolved from the foundation of the OT and weaved its own path for 6 years until the announcement was made in ‘96/97 regarding the PT.  By 2005, Lucas expressed that in his opinion there were 3 streams for “SW”:  The films which was his vision and which were canon (just think, kids, there was a time when if it wasn’t on screen it simply wasn’t canon); then there was the merchandise, which included the EU, comics, etc; and lastly there was ours, the fans’, “SW” – and none of those necessarily met in a neat junction, but all ran parallel with the films trumping everything, and Lucas (whether you remain supportive or dismissive) very much recognized that, and as long as the fandom played that game, acknowledged the fandom in a manner in which no other entertainment producing entity every has or is likely to again.

The last word I have to make regarding this as-of-yet-untitled Han Solo project is this:  I can not wait for the utterly ridiculous blustering explanation that will come from Pablo Hidalgo and the Lucasfilm Story Group either in a direct social media proclamation or a canon novel which addresses how a mature adult male in his mid-20s grew 5 inches by the time that mature adult male was in his mid-30s or will that physical element simply be part of the “this is your Han Solo now” mentality?

[glittership]

Episode #74 — "Best for Baby" by Rivqa Rafael

Direct download here!

And here’s the RSS feed: http://glittership.podbean.com/feed/

Episode 74 is part of the Autumn 2018 issue!

Support GlitterShip by picking up your copy here: http://www.glittership.com/buy/

    Best for Baby

by Rivqa Rafael

When I jack in, I shove the plug into its socket harder than I should. The disconnect–reconnect tone combination sounds; the terminal is as grumpy as I am. Who wouldn’t be? I’ve been kept back late in the lab to finish a job. Which was stolen from me. By the person who asked me to do this, as a ���favor.” Who also happens to be my supervisor, so I can’t say no.

I load up the interface, drilling straight down to the zygote’s chromosomal level. Hayden’s been a bit careless, like he always is on the rare occasions he actually gets in the wet lab. I get to work, fixing his mistakes. Back in my body, I’m grinding my teeth and hunching my shoulders. Before I sink deeper into the VR, I take some deep breaths and roll my shoulders the way Lena showed me. Her yoga obsession has fringe benefits for me—my body needs to be relaxed if I’m going to do my job properly. Just for a moment, I’m back in our living room with Lena coaxing Kris and me to stretch with her. It’s enough to refocus me.

For all that it’s a science, there’s an art to working in the interface. The prion scalpel is tiny—obviously—and delicate; it needs to be handled with care, the type of care that only comes from being completely in tune with your neural implant and the system it’s connected to. It’s something Hayden seems to lack. Keeping my movements graceful (thank you, Lena), I begin to repair the damage. In here, I’m both the pipette and the hand depressing the button; I’m the prion scalpel; I’m the machine. The translation overlay is just a guide; I’ve been able to recognize bases by shape for a long time now. When I started, I thought I’d never remember the sequences, but I know our most common mods by heart now.

[Full story after the cut.]

  Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 74 for June 17, 2019. This is your host, Keffy, and I’m super excited to be sharing this story with you. Today we have a GlitterShip original, which is available in the Autumn 2018 issue that you can pick up at GlitterShip.com/buy, on Gumroad at gum.co/gship08, or on Amazon, Nook, Kobo, and other ebook retailers.

If you’ve been waiting to pick up your copy of the Tiptree Award Honor Listed book, GlitterShip Year Two, there’s a great deal going on for Pride over at StoryBundle. GlitterShip Year Two is part of a Pride month LGBTQ fantasy fiction bundle. StoryBundle is a pay-what-you-want bundle site. For $5 or more, you can get four great books, and for $15 or more, you’ll get an additional five books, including GlitterShip Year Two, and a story game. That comes to as little as $1.50 per book or game. The StoryBundle also offers an option to give 10% of your purchase amount to charity. The charity for this bundle is Rainbow Railroad, a charity that helps queer folks get to a safe place if their country is no longer safe for them.

http://www.storybundle.com/pride

Our story today is “Best for Baby” by Rivqa Rafael, but first, our poem, which is “Aubade: King Under the Mountain” by Tristan Beiter.

    Tristan Beiter is a poet and speculative fiction nerd originally from Central Pennsylvania. His poems have previously appeared in GlitterShip, Eternal Haunted Summer, Bird’s Thumb, and Laurel Moon. When not writing or reading he can usually be found crafting absurdities with his boyfriend or shouting about literary theory. Find him on Twitter @TristanBeiter.

  Aubade: King Under the Mountain

by Tristan Beiter

  I wake to the crackle of the thousand-year hearth in the center of the room, to the bells tolling. Never church bells, but the deer harness hanging on the wall.

I stretch towards his space, removing my earplugs—which I have taken to wearing since even the tomtes snore something terrible. Luxuriate in the furs: big piles of wolf pelts and

bear skins that make up our bed under the intertwined roots of these seven great pine trees which are our roof, warm, with the wind through them and older than even Klampe-Lampe,

who has risen already and left. But he’ll be back soon. I can see the pile of battered, burnished gold and silver, still waiting to bedizen him, bracers and torcs and earrings

and necklace upon necklace—careless ugly riches that have lasted generations of trolls living hundreds of years, all mounded up and displayed on knobbled bodies

and in untamed hair. I pluck my earring, bracer, heavy silver beads from the ground and put them on. When he returns, he’ll carry me in his left hand to the throne room under the mountain.

    And now for “Best for Baby” by Rivqa Rafael, read by A.J. Fitzwater.

Rivqa Rafael is a lapsed microbiologist who lives in Sydney, Australia, where she writes speculative fiction about queer women, Jewish women, cyborg futures, and hope in dystopias. Her short stories have been published in Defying Doomsday, Crossed Genres’ Resist Fascism, and elsewhere. She is co-editor of feminist robot anthology Mother of Invention.

AJ Fitzwater is a dragon of repute living between the cracks of Christchurch, New Zealand. Their fiction appears in such venues as Clarkesworld, Lackingtons, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and Glittership. A collection of their Cinrak the Lesbian Capybara Pirate stories will be out in May 2020 from Queen of Swords Press. Their stranger than fiction can be found on Twitter @AJFitzwater

    Best for Baby

by Rivqa Rafael

When I jack in, I shove the plug into its socket harder than I should. The disconnect–reconnect tone combination sounds; the terminal is as grumpy as I am. Who wouldn’t be? I’ve been kept back late in the lab to finish a job. Which was stolen from me. By the person who asked me to do this, as a “favor.” Who also happens to be my supervisor, so I can’t say no.

I load up the interface, drilling straight down to the zygote’s chromosomal level. Hayden’s been a bit careless, like he always is on the rare occasions he actually gets in the wet lab. I get to work, fixing his mistakes. Back in my body, I’m grinding my teeth and hunching my shoulders. Before I sink deeper into the VR, I take some deep breaths and roll my shoulders the way Lena showed me. Her yoga obsession has fringe benefits for me—my body needs to be relaxed if I’m going to do my job properly. Just for a moment, I’m back in our living room with Lena coaxing Kris and me to stretch with her. It’s enough to refocus me.

For all that it’s a science, there’s an art to working in the interface. The prion scalpel is tiny—obviously—and delicate; it needs to be handled with care, the type of care that only comes from being completely in tune with your neural implant and the system it’s connected to. It’s something Hayden seems to lack. Keeping my movements graceful (thank you, Lena), I begin to repair the damage. In here, I’m both the pipette and the hand depressing the button; I’m the prion scalpel; I’m the machine. The translation overlay is just a guide; I’ve been able to recognize bases by shape for a long time now. When I started, I thought I’d never remember the sequences, but I know our most common mods by heart now.

Finding my rhythm, I begin to work a little faster; I’ve almost forgotten about Hayden and his insistence on getting his grubby hands all over this project. I don’t have forever in here—the zygote needs to go back on ice—but I’m in the zone now and there’s still plenty of time. I’ve got this. Sure, I’m not going to get any credit for it, but Hayden’s going to owe me. I’m logging everything, so he can’t conveniently “forget.” If I play my cards right, this might be the last step to me finally getting a promotion. Goodness knows I deserve one. Maybe Hayden would even back me up.

I zoom out to look back at my work so far, and gasp. Something’s wrong. I should be about halfway done, but it’s like I was never here. No, worse. There are deadly cancer mutations here, lots of them, right where I was working. All types that wouldn’t show up until later in life, too. None of it was here before, and time is short.

  You had to know Hayden pretty well to pick up his aura of desperation as he talked up the state-of-the-art equipment. PCR machines and centrifuges just look like boxes with touchscreens if you don’t understand what they do, after all.

The couple lacked the air of anguish that infertile couples usually have when they walk through. Or the wonder often displayed by more-than-twos and gonadically incompatible—my heart panged as I thought of what it would take for us, how we’d—stop, it was pointless even to think about it, I told myself for the millionth time. I just worked here; I’d never be a client. Kris had already banned me from talking too much about work. Like me, she was implanted. You grow up knowing your place, not rocking the boat, aiming for what’s feasible. Lena was more willing to indulge me the fantasy; would we split everything evenly, or would one of us provide the mitochondria and the other two a set of chromosomes each? Both could work. I snapped myself out of it. Kris was right about this one; I just wished I could convince myself to believe it as thoroughly as she did.

These two eyed the machinery with indifference. Probably here for mods, and mods only. If they weren’t using a surrogate, I’d drink my Taq polymerase.

“Impressive. How do you guarantee your results, though?” Mom-to-be glittered with diamonds—genuine, I could only assume. Closest I’d ever got to any, anyway.

“As I already explained…” Hayden caught my eye before I could look away. “Perhaps you’d like to meet one of our geneticists? Merav can answer your questions in far more detail.”

Dad-to-be’s suit was so well-cut and so fine, it might even be real wool. His hair was immaculate and he smelled of expensive cologne. His HUD glasses were shiny, a model too new for me to recognize. “That would be excellent.”

Setting my face into a neutral expression, I swiveled on my stool to face them properly while Hayden introduced them as Mr Blake and Dr Ashdowne. The names rang a vague bell and they were obviously capital-I Important, but I didn’t work it out until later. Hayden scolded me later for not standing up, but it just didn’t occur to me. As it was, I was going to have to start mixing my reagents again by the time this interruption was over. “I’d be happy to.” I did my best to distill and explain the years of research into genetic variables, what we could reliably reproduce and what we couldn’t, how we managed successive generations of mods, and how we tested each zygote’s chromosomes before allowing it to progress to blastomere—all non-invasive.

They nodded along as I spoke; I couldn’t tell if they really understood, but Hayden smiled at me, which was a rare occurrence, so I was lulled into feeling grateful.

At some point, they started talking to each other, right over the top of me. They dithered about hair color, wondering whether the stereotypes about blonde hair still held. Did they notice the irritation in my voice as I tried to explain how many other variables might be at play in their child’s success?

“We just want the best for our baby,” Ashdowne said, almost pleading, but there was an edge to her voice that made me think that “best” meant something different to her than it did to me.

“Of course. But this is just the beginning. We can’t control much of growth and development when upbringing plays such a large part. And epigenetics have an effect as well.” Keeping my voice even and patient was hard; there were only so many ways I could say the same thing. “Think of it as… venture capitalism. You’re making the best possible investment with every tool at your disposal, but that doesn’t guarantee that things will work out exactly how you planned.”

Ashdowne nodded, but Blake’s eyes were flinty. “You’re saying our child might crash, and it won’t be your responsibility?”

“I’m saying your kid might dye their hair one day, and that’s not something we can control for. We’re very clear about what we promise and what we don’t. It’s in the contract; I assume you’ve read it. It’s up to you.” Maybe it wasn’t the right PR line, but I wasn’t PR.

They signed the contract.

  I put the zygote back on ice and try to log into another. This couple only wants one child; that’s part of why they want it perfect. Still, each client typically has more than will be used; we need that margin for error as much as the IVF specialists do. There are four more zygotes. This should be salvageable. But each one gives me an “unavailable” notification. What is going on?

Returning to the first zygote, I allow myself a tiny sigh of relief when I can still get back in. It’s a mess, but I can fix it in time. I think. I set up an extra firewall, the best I can code on the fly. We’re down to the wire here. Last chance to get it right, assuming the other zygotes are gone for good. If this one doesn’t work, doesn’t stick, we’re going to have to fess up and get more samples—if they don’t cancel the contract, which wouldn’t surprise me. I’d heard that Ashdowne had found the induction and retrieval unusually difficult, and it wasn’t fun at the best of times. So much for the Important clients. Fucking Hayden, honestly.

Working in the same order I always do, I begin cleaning up the chromosomes. Again. It’s almost easier this time. The errors are so obvious, it would be comical if it weren’t so dire. As though someone used a pickaxe instead of a prion scalpel.

I’m wincing, I realize, just looking at these errors. I’ve never seen so many cancer mutations in one place. Forcing my body to relax, I get back into my rhythm. This is definitely within my capabilities to fix, and with the logs I have running, maybe I’ll get some recognition for it. Maybe even that bonus Hayden had hinted at, even though it’s seeming less and less likely that it’ll be him authorizing it.

My firewall pings; someone’s trying to log in. Hayden.

“That firewall is going to look very suspicious to the auditors,” he says, using a private channel on the company comms.

“Standard protocol when there’s a security breach, which there certainly seems to have been. I hope you’re looking into it, Hayden?” I’m pretty sure he isn’t, but I choose my words carefully, aware that my logs will pick this up along with everything else.

  Hayden added me to the team officially, and I had to sit in on endless meetings when I should have been doing real work. He assured me that it would be worth it; that there were bonuses for jobs like this. That is, jobs for billionaire corporate royalty like Oliver Blake and Penelope Ashdowne. So I did my best, and that seemed to be good enough. From what I could tell, they liked having an “expert” on board, even if they didn’t actually listen to me very often.

But then one day, Hayden was in the meeting before I arrived, chatting to “Oliver” about the stock market and complimenting “Penelope” on her outfit. After all these weeks, I was still calling them by titles; Hayden had said it was important I was respectful. That didn’t seem to apply to him, though. He ran a hand over his sleek hair, as though checking it still hid his neural implant. “Oh, Merav, didn’t you get my memo? I really need you on that rush job. I’ll take this from here.”

“But—” I bit my tongue quickly. Hayden was my supervisor and he was within his rights to do this. Outside the room, I checked my work datapad.

I hadn’t missed any messages.

  “Oh, this doesn’t look like a security breach to me. Seems like an internal error.”

Staying quiet, I carefully roll chromosome 19 back up while I think through my options. There’s no way an audit would incriminate me; my logs are streaming as they should. What is Hayden playing at? “Have you checked on the zygotes in meatspace?” I ask finally.

“Some kind of lab mishap. Terrible, isn’t it?” So that was why the other zygotes were “unavailable,” with this one only missed because I’d been working on it.

My heart thunders in my chest. “That’s going to suck for whoever made that mistake. What’s worse, do you think, the docked pay or having to apologize in person to the parents?”

“Tough one. Sure is a shame for that person.”

“Still, one zygote is better than none.”

“Fuck me, you’re actually trying to fix it,” he says. It takes me a second to notice he’s swapped to socmed comms, the one that’s supposed to be the most secure on the market. No logging options at all.

“No, I am fixing it. It’s my job.” Frantically, I switch to loudspeaker mode, and my datapad to record ambient sound. It’ll catch all the lab noises as well, but it’s the best I can do. The red light blinks at me; I allow myself to exhale and return to the chromosome I was working on.

Instead of replying, Hayden changes tack. “You have a long-term girlfriend, don’t you?”

“Two, actually.” In ordinary circumstances, I’d enjoy flustering Hayden with that. It’s not a secret and we encounter plenty of polyamorous folk in our line of work, but I’m completely unsurprised that he hasn’t paid attention. But I’m too stressed and wary to enjoy the moment.

“I, ah, huh.” He falters for a second; I hear skepticism that I, of all people, could possibly have not just one but two lovers. But he’s clearly a man on a mission and plunges on. “Ever wanted a baby of your own? The… three of you?”

I finish up the short arm of chromosome 2; no colon cancer on my watch. “We might adopt one day, if we can afford it.”

“What if you could, though? Have a biological child, I mean. You’d want to?”

“I don’t want things I can’t have. Waste of time.” I borrow Kris’s words for this lie, but it’s hard to imagine a person I’m less interested in having this discussion with than Hayden.

He does this fake laugh, short and barking. “Lots of other things to spend that money on anyway, right?”

“Sure, if you had it.” Just a couple more silent mutations and I can move on to cleaning up the epigenetic layer. Time to work out the end game. “What’s this about, Hayden?”

“What if I told you there was better money in just… stopping now, if you know what I’m saying?”

I recalibrate the scalpel and begin clearing the methylation around the DNA; there’s way too much, because of course—Hayden fouled up everything he could. “No, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Jesus, are you stupid, or are you being deliberately obtuse?”

I take my time replying. I’m working, after all, and this part is fiddly. “You’re going to have to explain yourself either way.”

He only hesitates for a moment. “I know some powerful people. People who have an interest in seeing Blake and Ashdowne suffer.”

“They’re last names now? You were such pals.” Methylation is at regulation levels now. Next, I sculpt the histones to the shape that centuries of research has determined to be ideal. Working quickly, I correct the errors to the surrounding proteins. A perfect zygote.

“You know what your problem is, Merav? You have no idea how to play the game. You think hard work is rewarded. It isn’t. You have to be daring. Take a risk. Not as though the modded are ever going to give us a hand up, right?”

  That first meeting. “You’ve got one of those implants, I see,” Ashdowne said, eyeing the side of my head, where my undercut showed off the neural implant. Like my early adopter parents, I was proud of my body hacks and what they could do. No gen mods in the world can tune you into tech like an implant can. Wearables? VR headsets? Ha.

Blake dragged me back to reality. “They’re illegal if you’ve been modded, aren’t they?”

“Yes. Unfair advantage to have both, right?” I struggled to keep the sarcasm from my voice. A thousand years on my salary, and, by inference, my parents’, wouldn’t be enough to pay for mods. I might like my implant, but I didn’t like being treated like dirt for having it.

Hayden was all polite formality. “Merav’s implant allows her to interface directly with our machinery. We couldn’t do what we do without our ‘planted staff.” Hayden was quite willing to keep his implant covered to keep the clients happy, and he was pretty enough to get away with it.

“Ah.” His expression didn’t change, but the sneer was evident anyway.

“We just bought that little company that makes this brand, remember, dear?” Ashdowne raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Whatever it takes to get the best.”

“That’s right!” Hayden said. “You get what you pay for in this industry. It’s a cliché, but it’s true. If you’ll come this way? You haven’t seen the clinic yet.”

And then they were gone, leaving only the scent of cologne and perfume.

  They’d deserve it. They would. They care as little for me as a person. For a terrible, shameful second, I’m tempted. I imagine it; going off the grid, doing illegal mods for the rest of my life. Holding a baby, my baby, our baby, in my arms.

I zoom out and look at the zygote in its entirety. Regardless of how horrid this baby’s parents are and my dead-end job that undervalues me and underpays me, after I’m done, doctors and nurses will make every attempt to give this tiny clump of cells the chance to become a person. And these days, they tend to get it right, especially with a proven surrogate. The mutations that are left won’t kill this child, only make their later life a misery of radiotherapy and chemo. Teach the parents empathy? I don’t think so. In an instant, it’s clear what I need to do.

“You’re right, they want us right where we are.”

He chuckles with relief. “I knew you’d come around.”

“But I’m pretty sure assaulting their offspring isn’t going to change that.” I terminate the call with Hayden and send everything to head office; the logs of my work on the zygote, all of today’s communication between the two of us. Everything. Highest level alert, coded “suspected bioterrorism”; that should take care of it. They’ll deal with him better than I can.

“Time check,” I command the interface.

“Five minutes, twelve point four seconds.”

It’s enough time. Carefully, making sure not to introduce any last-minute errors, I unwind one 3p25 and fly up to OXTR. Just a couple of small changes are enough; a haplotype here, a couple of extra copies of an allele there, and I’m done and zipping the chromosome back up.

It’s a tiny change; there’s so much beyond one gene at play here. Goodness only knows what kind of methylation, and socialization for that matter, lies ahead for this kid. But the way I see it, a little extra empathy never hurt anybody.

  END

    “Best for Baby” is copyright Rivqa Rafael 2019.

“Aubade: King Under the Mountain” is copyright Tristan Beiter 2019.

This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library.

You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, leaving reviews on iTunes, or buying your own copy of the Autumn 2018 issue at www.glittership.com/buy. You can also support us by picking up a free audiobook at  www.audibletrial.com/glittership.

Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a reprint of “The Chamber of Souls” by Zora Mai Quýnh.

Episode #74 — “Best for Baby” by Rivqa Rafael was originally published on GlitterShip

[marcusssanderson]

50 Self Care Quotes on the Importance of Taking Care of You

Our latest collection of self care quotes on Everyday Power Blog.

In your quest to achieve your dreams and live a happy and fulfilling life, self care isn’t just important, it’s crucial. There are many reasons why self care actually helps you become more efficient and make progress faster.

Due to the nature of our busy lives, taking a break to look after yourself might sometimes feel like a luxury. We often believe that pushing ourselves to the point of exhaustion will lead to a bigger reward. But is that really the case?

Without self care, it will be hard for you to function at your best. To prevent burnout and keep stress from taking over, you need to take the time to look after yourself. Besides, taking breaks to look after yourself will help you refocus especially when solving complicated problems.

As fuzzy as the phrase may sound, self care is just a few basic habits that are crucial for us to get the best out of our Everyday Power. For instance, you should always take time to exercise and look after your body, no matter how busy you might be. Another way to look after yourself is to practice good emotional hygiene by learning to control your feelings. Additionally, you should always protect your schedule and spend your time and money on what matters.

No matter what stage you are in life, taking care of yourself should be a priority. Here are some inspirational self care quotes to remind of that.

  Self care quotes on the importance of taking care of you

  1.) “I have come to believe that caring for myself is not self indulgent. Caring for myself is an act of survival.” — Audre Lorde

  2.) “As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.” — Maya Angelou

  3.) “Nourishing yourself in a way that helps you blossom in the direction you want to go is attainable, and you are worth the effort. ” – Deborah Day

  4.) “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance. ” – Oscar Wilde

    5.) “Learning to love yourself is like learning to walk—essential, life-changing, and the only way to stand tall.” – Vironika Tugaleva

  6.) “It’s not selfish to love yourself, take care of yourself, and to make your happiness a priority. It’s necessary.” – Mandy Hale

  7.) “The only person who can pull me down is myself, and I’m not going to let myself pull me down anymore.” ~C. Joybell C.

  8.) “An empty lantern provides no light. Self-care is the fuel that allows your light to shine brightly.” – Unknown

  9.) “Be you, love you. All ways, always.” ― Alexandra Elle

  10.) “Do something nice for yourself today. Find some quiet, sit in stillness, breathe. Put your problems on pause. You deserve a break.” ― Akiroq Brost

  Quotes about self care to inspire and motivate you

  11.) “Love yourself enough to set boundaries. Your time and energy are precious. You get to choose how you use it. You teach people how to treat you by deciding what you will and won’t accept.” – Anna Taylor

  12.) “If you look into your own heart, and you find nothing wrong there, what is there to worry about? What is there to fear. ” – Confucius

  13.) “Self-compassion is simply giving the same kindness to ourselves that we would give to others. ” – Christopher Germer

  14.) “Self-care is how you take your power back.”– Lalah Delia

    15.) “I am my own experiment. I am my own work of art.” ~ Madonna

  16.) “Put yourself at the top of your to-do list every single day and the rest will fall into place.” –Unknown

  17.) “My mother always says people should be able to take care of themselves, even if they’re rich and important.” ― Frances Hodgson Burnett

  18.) “Practice self-rescue first before you ‘help’ someone else” ― Maureen Joyce Connolly

  19.) “Self-care has become a new priority – the revelation that it’s perfectly permissible to listen to your body and do what it needs.”― Frances Ryan

  20.) “If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete.” – Jack Kornfield

  Self care quotes on why taking care of yourself matters

  21.) “Rest and self-care are so important. When you take time to replenish your spirit, it allows you to serve others from the overflow. You cannot serve from an empty vessel.” — Eleanor Brown

  22.) “The most powerful relationship you will ever have is the relationship with yourself. ” – Steve Maraboli

  23.) “When we give ourselves compassion, we are opening our hearts in a way that can transform our lives.”– Kristin Neff

  24.) “Self care is not a waste of time. Self care makes your use of time more sustainable.”– Jackie Viramontez

  25.) “Be kinder to yourself. And then let your kindness flood the world.”― Pema Chodron

    26.) “Do something every day that is loving toward your body and gives you the opportunity to enjoy the sensations of your body.” ~Golda Poretsky

  27.) “You aren’t doing “nothing” when you choose to put your wellbeing first. In fact, this is the key to having everything.”― Brittany Burgunder

  28.) “When you can’t find your purpose in a day, make it to look after yourself.” ― Dodie Clark

  29.) “Find what makes your heart sing and create your own music.” – Mac Anderson

  30.) “Self-care is taking all the pressures you are facing right now, and deciding to which you will respond, and how.” ― Imani Shola

  Self care quotes on why you need to nurture yourself.

  31.) “There is enough time for self-care. There is not enough time to make up for the life you’ll miss by not filling yourself up.” — Jennifer Williamson

  32.) “When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and brings joy, care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life. ” – Jean Shinoda Bolen

  33.) “When the body forces you to STOP it’s saying, hey buddy, you’ve gone too far.”― Jacqueline Escolme

  34.) “The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.” ~ Anna Quindlen

  35.) “You owe yourself the love that you so freely give others.” –Unknown

  36.) “Taking care of myself doesn’t mean ‘me first.’ It means ‘me, too.”― L.R. Knost

    37.) “Your subconscious mind is paying attention to how you treat yourself.” ― Sam Owen

  38.) “Take the time today to love yourself. You deserve it.” ― Avina Celeste

  39.) “My brain and my heart are really important to me, I don’t know why I wouldn’t seek help to have those things be as healthy as my teeth. I go to the dentist. So why wouldn’t I go to a shrink?”– Kerry Washington

  40.) “I always give myself Sundays as a spiritual base of renewal—a day when I do absolutely nothing. I sit in my jammies or take a walk, and I allow myself time to BE—capital B-E—with myself.” – Oprah Winfrey

  Other inspirational quotes about self care

  41.) “Self-care is never a selfish act—it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer to others.” – Parker Palmer

  42.) “Those who think they have not time for bodily exercise will sooner or later have to find time for illness.” – Edward Stanley

  43.) “You can’t pour from an empty cup. Take care of yourself first.” –Unknown

  44.) “Gard the doors of your temple, do not let anyone pollute it with there mess.”― Patricio Telman Chincocolo

  45.) “For us to feel good emotionally, we have to look after ourselves.” ― Sam Owen

    46.) “Talk to yourself like you would to someone you love.” – Brené Brown

  47.) “The only person you shouldn’t be able to live without is you.” ― Chris Mc Geown

  48.) “Lighten up on yourself. No one is perfect. Gently accept your humanness.” – Deborah Day

  49.) “Caring for your body, mind, and spirit is your greatest and grandest responsibility. It’s about listening to the needs of your soul and then honoring them.”– Kristi Ling

  50.) “For me, recovery and self-care are inextricably connected. My recovery from abuse, addiction, and a suicide attempt required dumptruck loads of self-care.” ― Steve Austin

  Which of these self-care quotes is your favorite?

  No matter how busy life gets, we must never forget to take care of ourselves. Without self care, it will be almost impossible for you to live a happy and fulfilling life.

When faced with life’s challenges, taking the time to look after yourself will help you refocus and regain the strength to tackle whatever is infront of you. Hopefully, these quotes have reminded you why taking care of yourself is not only important but crucial.

Did you enjoy these self care quotes? Which of the quotes was your favorite? We would love to hear all about it in the comment section below.

The post 50 Self Care Quotes on the Importance of Taking Care of You appeared first on Everyday Power Blog.

[chiefpaperdonut-blog]

day 1 journal

so

here i am

after all this time

make the changes you need

and stop being a broken record

it feels good being able to type on a keyboard again. strange that i haven't been able to for months.

i like not being a computer slave though.

also, this computers HDD may die soon

it's probably worth getting some sort of HDD that you can collect all your various datas and throw them together

it'd be nice to have the photos. even if photos make me sad.

i think what's sad is just what you've given up

and for nothing of lasting value

nor people who valued you for you

well maybe that last point is a bit dramatic

maybe just write out your emotions and let yourself cry and be a human again

====

you got to love/shake your head at the excuses used for the various drug addictions i ended up stacking on top of one another

the reality is that you are intelligent, but you've not lived intelligently

stop handicapping yourself. it's illusionary pleasure, distraction

it could be a videogame addiction. but it wasn't. it was drugs.

the cheapest shortcut

and of course, there's a lot of price to pay eventually

it doesn't seem like it at the time but that's how it transpires.

i'm sick of being a drug addict and not reaching my true potential. not facing the reality of life. of course it's hard. but you've made it harder, through short term thinking.

you're midway through your 20s. this is in someways the most productive period of your life.

it hasn't all been a waste. you've been relatively functional. but you don't see things through enough. you could have done far more. also, you need to get out of this environment.

this house has been fun. it's also been illuminating. the place has been mostly a total fucking sty. indulgent nothingness. you had some fun times with friends, who you thought would always be there for you. the reality is that some of those friendships are not like that, and are built on very shaky foundations.

i want to hold myself to a higher standard. i want to do more good in this world. i want to be able to properly look after myself.

it's ok for it to be hard. it's ok for this to be a struggle. believe believe believe

i've had enough signs from god to know it'll all be fine.

don't forget the signs. they are telling you to change path. this is a time of change.

even if it's hard. not fun. even if sobriety fucking freaks you out, or stresses you out

eventually that'll fade. and you'll be free. and infinitely better off.

the whole living with high people sitting on a couch playing games or watching tele, doing fuck all, messy place, no money, it's too sad and empty. it's not what i want for myself or for anyone else, there's a lot more to life. you used to know this. you still know this, but you've made the decisions.

time to make another decision. the decision to not use today.

just a day at a time. you don't need to quit forever. plenty of people have slip ups anyway.

just one day. one day is more than none.

===

i just saw someone walk by my window. and middle aged but poorly aged woman smoking a cigarette, wearing baggy, cheap, scrappy looking active wear / salvos stock. you see a lot of the older, poor people in the kilburn area. even the people your aguish at savers (sam commenting what was she doing with her life). that is a result of decisions by and large. it begins with the decision to smoke a cigarette. then drugs, alcohol, whatever - it ends up coming before alll else. even appearance. showering.

their lives aren't necessarily bad. it's not my place to make a value judgement about the content of their character. because that so easily could be you. it's a result of decisions, one after the other.

these people may be carrying burdens that you have no idea of

at the end of the day though, i don't want that

i don't want to be poor as shit on a pension, scraping by

getting the bus because there's no other options

picking cigarette butts off the ground

prioritising alcohol or whatever substance above all else

it's the relationship with it, and the decision one makes around them

is it a healthy relationship?

for me, obviously not. it's not the path i wish to walk down.

drug addiction very rarely ends in a positive manner, excluding stories of going straight. even the famous people for example who made it work would have likely been more effective / lived longer if they'd nipped it in the bud.

it's a crutch but you already knew how to walk

but you used it so much that you ended up forgetting how to walk

and was then afraid without it you'd fall flat on your face

----

(−)-trans-Δ⁹   --  -tetrahydrocannabinol

anhedonia

----

you already quit your opiate addiction earlier this year.

don't replace drug addiction with laptop addiction

you already know the sort of stuff you are good at and the work you can do

the goals you can and do hold

time to stop wasting

---

i want to quit

that's why i'm on /r/leaves

that's why i'm going to make an account to keep accountable.

---

other thing about living situation - no matter how many problems you think you have and that you've neglected through drug use, it's not like that applies just to you. ky is the same, hence that list i wrote earlier talking about his actions. how they reveal a lot of flaws in the way he interacts with others / honesty. that's the other thing about weed. oh, it's so chill. people who smoke like ky are so chill. well, not really. it's artificial and fake. you've seen him lose his shit. act in a pretty crappy way. he's human like the rest of us, but he is still stuck in using weed and as soon as he gets back, he likely will again. it makes more sense then him going sober, paying his bills, changing the way he interacts to be more honest instead of trying to remove any amount of difficulty / disturbance from his life.

---

think of all the times you scraped for res

searched the ground for bud

smoked weed covered in cat  hair

checking stash spots that you know you don't have any weed in

but MAYBE

maybe there'll be something

opening baggies and collecting particles

filtered bong water to collect plant matter that had fallen through

didn't it make you feel rather grubby? to take a drug to such an extent, to never not try maximise etc.

instead of just waiting until the next time, it had to be MAXIMUM

no waste

but that sounds too positive, no waste

considering every second spent on that behaviour was a total waste.

don't ever go back to that.

----

a random catholic covered a church being robbed for 1000 dollars. that's a spirit of awesome generosity. you could be that type of person if you make the necessary decisions.

---

by the time you are sober , by your next bday, you'll have three years essentially

three years to work it out, get your shit together and make something of yourself

not that 30 is a deadline for life. but for me, i'd like to be well on the way then.

the sooner the better

----

you're reading weed defenders defend their drug on redid and it's hilarious in a sense, sad in another. it really drives home the bad stereotypes about the drug and the obvious delusion most daily stoners labour under. 'i'm still productive, i've still achieved things' - like what? - not much -

think of people like mark carey . supposedly smart, knows a lot about science blah blah blah. yet he's mid 30s , achieved fuck all and that doesn't appear to be changing anytime soon.

maybe the debauched lifestyle is romanticised to help those who live with it. shame that it convinces others, such as myself, to jump deep into that pool. especially with it's connections to art and music. the reality though - you and everyone else for that matter would be better off (bar those with seizures / genuine medical use eg. NOT ANXIETY OR DEPRESSION IT MAKES IT WORSE EVENTUALLY)

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if you get through all this mess, it'll be something to be proud of and proof of the strength i have to draw on.

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SOBER

Stop,  observe - with detachment - how do i feel?

Breathe - deep slow breaths

Examine - why do i feel like this?

respond - not react.

10 minutes meditation

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remember zoe from work commenting about how i should just leave instead of wanting to get evicted. i was annoyed at the time because of course i was thinking it's not that simple.

there's ky, the band, cats, money owing , shared responsibilities yada yada yada

but the reality is it is that simple

you've accepted so much that is unacceptable through acquiescence through drug use.

kyrons constant fucking around with money.

it's been months and months of being fucked around.

so come on. time to wake up.

it is that simple. and necessary.

mum will help you. you can then rebuild, and change your life.

i could be in a position where i could move to japan if i hadn't smoked weed.  i probably would have finished university, if not prior to working at  child support, certainly the next year and a half of not really being that employed.

you still did a lot of things in a sense. they just weren't very productive. time spent at salvos. working writing jobs. won that writing competition. wrote an entire film script. made music, improved skills , and exposure.

you may be entering in some senses your golden period.

plenty of people make use of themselves later then 27

sure, we hear plenty about the young who are already running out the gate

you made decisions to build friends, have memories, different experiences and exposures to different lifestyles. that is valuable and this part of your life is not wasted. in fact, by recognising how much more i am capable of, and by beating numerous difficult drug addictions, i'm proving my ability as a human, growing. i don't think it's true that weed puts you in a COMPLETE stasis, but maybe i was lucky because i still liked doing things / reading / learning. plenty just sit about playing fortnite. the reality though is that i could have done A LOT more. and that makes a difference. you've gained an interesting perspective into different ways of living / people. even if you think about high school, nearly all your friends were kinda middle class and well off and not turning to drugs. now you're with the drudgers , it's all dysfunctional , single parent homes. maybe that's a bit harsh and inaccurate. at the end of the day though, hardcore drug use is dysfunctional and dysfunctional people will be drawn to this.

you have been dysfunctional. this is why you've alienated a lot of former friends, through treating them inappropriately. things won't get better unless you make a proper effort at becoming functional. and you can. a lot of the things that motivated you to take drugs initially - lack of being cool, having friends/fun, trying new , different things, and even though i probably didn't think of it, taking the easy way out to feeling good and ignoring the bad of life and my self-esteem issues from not fitting in as a younger person. i wasn't very assertive when i first came back over. i found it hard to talk to others blah blah blah. even though socially things were better in wales then melbourne/rose park, there was still plenty of mistakes and growing pains. these are not problems anymore. i'm a lot wiser. and there's still a lot of mountains to climb, but different ones. not just sitting at the top of the one i climbed years ago. in fact, i've been atrophying and going backwards in a lot of those areas - DUE to drugs. it has kept me static but also dysfunctional, and over time, i've had that manifest through bad behaviour that has alienated my friends. at a certain point they have to give up. it's for their own health as well.

day 1 for weed, day 7 for tobacco. keep it up.