#i’ve lived here six months and this is the fourth time!! FOURTH!!’ there’s been issues w the water

[lorelune]

i was v excited to have a relaxing chill day at home but Alas my apartment building does not have hot water :)) and there is a massive leak from a crack in the road outside my apartment that i believe they’re going to shut the water off totally to work on 😭

[youryurigoddess]

Good Omens Christmas jumpers, because of course they are a thing now

Glad to see that I’m not the only one clowning about the Good Omens Christmas jumper designs! You know what it means — putting together everything in one thread to make the further speculations more streamlined and, obviously, fun.

On November 20th, Rob Wilkins was present at the “Designing Terry Pratchett’s Discworld” event at Brendon Books. Probably not much to talk about from most of the Good Omens fans perspective, if not for the journalist Kat Brown posting on Bluesky the next morning:

But wait, something’s wrong. Or maybe not wrong, just… different. Why is Crowley the one shielding Aziraphale with his wing in his demonic, black-clothed, black-winged form? That’s a clear deviation from the pattern established in Eden and Before the Beginning.

There was barely enough time to discuss this phenomenon properly though. In the afternoon of November 21st, Rob made a previously unannounced appearance at the Paul Kidby’s “Designing Terry Pratchett’s Discworld” event at Waterstones Piccadilly, where he presented the Aziraphalean version of the jumper. On it — one Forty Years of Discworld pin and a second one in preparation for 2025 as The Year of the Luminous Lemur. Thanks to the phenomenal @basement-jax (I’m not exaggerating, I’ve seen her perform live on stage with Michael Sheen last month) present on site, we got the next photos in real time:

Let’s compare both designs, starting with the most noticeable difference — their color schemes. Both consist of six different swatches, three of which (white, black, and skin tone) repeat. The remaining three are two shades of the fourth color (brown for Aziraphale and red for Crowley) and a fifth, contrasting color (blue and yellow, respectively).

Six is obviously a very important number in terms of the Good Omens lore. Six episodes per season, 666 as the number of the Beast (Antichrist/Adam), 668 as the original title of the unpublished sequel — the ending of this story that will be finally adapted and revealed very soon. Not accidental.

Which brings us to the question of the left angel’s hair. Changing two brown shades to two golden ones, one already used in the other color scheme, not only shouldn’t be a problem for the designer, but would be a cheaper option and ensure consistency with the right angel’s design.

Some netizens have suggested that this discrepancy is caused by the left design representing the book iterations of the Ineffable Husbands. Book Crowley’s hair is dark — could be black, brown, red, even dark blond — and book Aziraphale’s hair is blond, which logically could be depicted as white or light brown.

Their graphic novel iterations created by Colleen Doran use black for Crowley’s hair (much longer than that of the left jumper demon) and blond for Aziraphale, close enough to the yellow yarn already used in this project and not quite the same shape as the jumper angels’ hairstyles.

Since neither seem to be an exact match for the design, could it be reverse Omens? The answer is not as simple. The characters aren’t just swapped; both of their hairstyles have been redrawn, at least partially. Unlikely a technical issue, when wings and clothes stayed exactly the same.

That would be the facts. Now onto the silliness!

My clowning theory is that we’re dealing with two alternative timelines or retellings here.

For Christmas, Crowley wishes for things to stay exactly the same as they are — but with him as Aziraphale’s protector, the romantic hero his angel needs and deserves.

Aziraphale wishes for a past where he doesn’t exist, or at least never meets Crowley. That’s how the latter would stay an angel and his role of the Serpent of Eden would be taken over by someone else — someone like Beelzebub, perhaps, with their small frame and short black hair?

@bardraelyn kindly suggested yet another option, purely out of amusement: “What if the “Aziraphale’ sweater depicts Lucifer and God?”.

What about you? What are your theories?

This clowning is now officially approved by Rob:

[crimsonlyinglilly]

DAY 29: not allowed to die

Day 29 of Febuwhump.

@febuwhump

Happening at the same time as day 13

This, I think, is the fourth time I killed Elijah this month- no I checked it's six.

Sorry Elijah.

—--

He can feel himself fading, the words of doctors and surgeons growing distant. 

As the words of concern and the slowing sound of a heart monitor faded, he found himself in a void, night sky full of stars around him.

His magic had never been normal, for all Grams taught him words and how to channel nature, he could always feel a far more comforting chill to draw his power from.

He had figured out that he was drawing his magic from his original body not long after getting all his memories back, and that his episodes had be caused by others channelling it or the missing shard of his soul before that.

But as he stared at the thousands of lights surrounding him, he suddenly understood something else.

His body was just one piece of a network.

Not stars, souls and he was connected to them all.

Lives of every vampire born from his blood, his sireline.

Tristan, Aya, so many others.

A screaming alarm cut through the calmness he hadn’t notice himself falling into

The void started to dim.

“Don’t leave me, i’ve only just found you.” Klaus had begged at the end of a short life.

The current one was older, it wasn’t too bad comparing his past lives, but he wasn’t ready to let go, he had only just found them all, he didn’t want to go back to being lost and confused.

“Not dying.” Kol had pleaded moments before he had found himself here.

“Charging.” the shock followed and Elijah hand moved with him as he felt a dull ache in his chest watching as the void brightened and the alarm stopped before it returned and the void started to fall dark again.

“Live.” Zach had told him.

“You're not allowed to die.” Damon had snapped, not long after they were first reunited. 

‘not allowed to die.’ The words came in his own voice and he turned around to face himself.

‘I can’t do anything, not with my power locked away.’ it explained and Elijah realised he was meeting the monster hidden behind the door of his longest human life.

But he couldn't worry too much about it as the void started to dull, lights around him falling away from him- them.

Black eyes stared at him, he didn’t need the other to say a thing, as he read the unspoken challenge.

“Charging.” he braced for the ache only to not feel it, the void lit up for a second but fell back into darkness even quicker, the piercing noise of his flatline was starting to fade along with the space around him.

He couldn’t die, he couldn’t face losing everything again, he wouldn’t leave Jeremy to blame himself or let his family kill each other. 

But he couldn’t reach for the power the black eyed one wanted, there was a reason they had locked the conciseness that they had accidently made away from the power. 

So he reached out and stole the light from a few handfuls of stars, took back the lives that were born with his blood, no matter how distant. 

He choked on a scream as the pain of everything returned.

The black eyed version of him smirked at his pain before he vanished along with the void.

Elijah would have to deal with that after he sorted out his family’s issues.

[min-pathologica]

problem alert 🚨 vent / rant below

my dad has to move out of his apartment at the end of the year, probably in late december. according to the snap he sent me, he plans to move in here. no problem at all, he’s my favorite relative and we can handle 4 people in the house and a dog since my grandmother and old dog died in june. besides, he deserves stable living conditions, and having to go an entire town up to do his laundry when he could just stay here sounds like a waste. so why not, i figured? see if my grandfather approves.

but of course, gpa and his stupid secret girlyfriend are a major roadblock. seriously, no good has come out of that relationship except for gpa starting a diet of 40% pineapple juice, getting some naturally-branded dick supplements, and leaving the house more often. and there are two problems here: one, being that gpa clearly wants to marry her and bring her in with her two stepkids. that’s three additions, none of which sound like a good idea. i can barely handle one visitor in the house if it’s not my dad. speaking of, he’d be the fourth. we only have two open bedrooms, and so much space in the fridge. problem number two, gpa’s still keeping his girlyfriend a secret from my dad. i think he’s scared of my dad being mad at him, but i’m scared of my dad being upset at all. i’m pretty sure he’s the only one who was close with my grandmother, so finding out gpa’d been seeing some new girl not even two weeks after her death would hurt like a bitch. he’s super anti-cheating, so i don’t think he’d approve very much of that either, plus there’s a bit of awkwardness between all of us and gpa. so i’m not telling him either. now see, gpa understands he can’t just hop to it with telling my dad, because there’s a brain somewhere in that shiny bald top of his. so instead, he’s chosen to keep it a secret from him for the six months after their relationship started. it started in july, which means he’ll tell my dad in early january. if what i’ve been saying so far lines up at all, this raises a major red flag: he wants to tell me dad around the same time my dad has to move. i don’t think that’s an ideal situation.

usually, when i have dramatic sitcom-type issues like this, there’s the thing i should do, and the reason i should not do that thing. but there is nothing i can do about this i don’t think. slay bye bye

[imaginativeamateur]

[Shikamaru Nara X Reader] Planned

Requested by: @anonymous: Shikamaru asking the reader to move in with him

Pairing: Shikamaru Nara x gn!Reader

Note: Thank you for your request, anon. Seriously, I had troubles coming up with the title and plot for so long lol ;DD. I had a really fun time writing this (this is like I dunno maybe the 4th draft?). Enough rambling, enjoy reading!

Your appetite dissipated as soon as you saw the words written on the letter sent out to all renters at your complex, “To restore the facilities of our complex, the monthly rent, therefore, would increase by 15%.”

After the Fourth Shinobi War, you were in no good financial condition. Working for the Council, your paycheck for the next two months was upheld to recover the ruins of the village. You did not regret your decision to give up your salary to help Konoha, but you were unsure how you would even make it through this month.

The number ‘15%’ kept on repeating in your head. You had to hide this from Shikamaru of course, at least for now. He was already busy enough with paperwork, you could not bother him with your problem.

It had been four days of you hunting for a place to stay, yet it was all futile. You banged your head on the office desk after returning from lunch, sleep-deprived and hopeless. You had three more days before the landlord would literally kick you out of the complex, not a lot of time. You were so screwed.

After all your vain attempts, you were contemplating whether to actually tell Shikamaru about your housing issue or not. Maybe he could help you find a place with his position in the Council. You sighed, you decided to see how today would go first, maybe you would tell him eventually, soon.

Then you heard a familiar voice approaching your table. It was Shikamaru stopping by your department before making his way to the Hokage’s office, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you lifted your face and weakly grinned, “on your way to the Hokage?”

He nodded, “You want to go out for dinner tonight?”

“Sure,” you eagerly replied, momentarily forgot about your nagging burden, “I’ve been craving some noodles!”

Shikamaru smiled wide and smoothed your hair, “I’ll come get you at six.”

After he left, your energy was revived as you stretched your arms up above your head and started your afternoon shift. Then you noticed several colleagues snickering behind, “Y/N, you two look so cute together.”

You blushed, suddenly aware that the whole office witnessed your interaction. Another girl continued, “Why don’t you just ask him to let you move in? You guys have been dating for years!”

Biting your inner cheek, you instantly put down her suggestion with a feigned laugh, “I’ll be able to rent one before I’m kicked out. Besides, we are not that ready to live together, you know.” 

Moving with Shikamaru was an option that never crossed your mind. It was not because you did not love him nor the other way around. But it was just that living together would be on a whole new level of intimacy. And to be honest, you were quite reluctant if your boyfriend would think it was fine. You knew for a fact if you were to tell him about your residency situation, he would immediately pull you under his roof, but it would be... forced. So you decided to wait.

You nodded to yourself, assuring that you would be okay. At least, you could stay at Ino’s for several days and cross your fingers that the blonde would not spill a word to your boyfriend, which was nearly impossible. Again, you sighed.

“How was your day?” Shikamaru questioned after you finished your last slurp of noodles.

“Not so tiring,” wiping the corner of your lips with a tissue, you automatically replied, “I’ve contacted an agency already and I’m going to go see their place tomorrow to see what they have to offer... oh...” 

Oh. You blinked, your mouth was faster than your brain. Great.

You hesitantly glanced at him, trying to find an appropriate reason to cover your mistake, “I meant I scheduled a meeting to see the housing choices that they offer.” The more you talked, the quieter you became, stuttering between your words, “It’s not like I’m going to get kicked out soon, no, actually, I just wanted to move to somewhere... ugh... closer to you? Yeah, I wanted to live closer to your place.”

You gulped, hoping that was a decent scapegoat even though you were sure he saw through your lie in an instant.

“Why do you need to live closer to me when you can live with me instead?”

“What?” You were totally bewildered when the words passed his lips, nearly choking on your water, “Did I hear you wrong?”

“I want you to move in with me, Y/N.”

You lowered your head and stared at your hands under the table, they suddenly felt so small, “Are you sure?”

“Do you think I’m not being serious?” Shikamaru took your hands in his, finger pads grazing across your skin.

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just, living together is really... complicated.”

“I've been wanting to tell you this,” he straightened his back and cleared his throat. “Tonight, I, Shikamaru Nara, will take Y/N under his roof, vowing to provide Y/N with an abundance of necessities, including clothes, foods, drinks, free access to a double-sized bed and a bathtub with hot water available at anytime, a perfectly safe shelter and a an intelligent man.” Kami knew he had been practicing the same lines for days not to cringe at the last few words.

You hugged your stomach, laughing at his testament but there were waves of unnamed happiness fluttering deep down, “Why do you sound like a real estate agent trying to lure me to sign a rental contract? And what’s up with the last term?”

He smiled seeing that you had released all the tension he saw in the afternoon, “If you’re still not satisfied, we can amend the contract when you’re officially moved in. By the way, it’s rent-free, you don’t have to worry about any 15% raise.”

Your eyes immediately narrowed as realization dawned upon you, “You knew about the 15% raise?”

He shrugged, “So are you signing the contract?”

Biting your lips, you growled, “So you did know about my struggle for the last few days, huh? And you probably planned this, too! Shikamaru, I swear I w—um...”

Shikamaru quickly pulled you in and captured your lips, “Be quick, I don’t have a lot of patience, dear customer.”

He smirked, his plan finally worked. The truth was he wanted to ask you to move in with him even before the war started but unfortunately, he did not get a chance to do so. After his eyes happened to skim across the budget allocation and saw the name of your complex on the list one week ago with a mention of a 15% raise to restore the infrastructures, a bulb lit in his head. You were not wrong, it was indeed, very well-planned.

You melted in his arms, already decided to say yes but refused to give up on the outside, “When did you know about the raise?”

“You should know I oversee a majority of the budget here, especially during this period.” He deadpanned, “Besides, it doesn’t matter because you have officially signed the contract. You used one of the services.”

“What? I have never said so and I didn’t use any of your services!”

He pointed at his lips, “Do you still remember the last term?”

“That doesn’t count! You took advantage of me!” Your face reddened in embarrassment, shoving him away with a huff, “And why didn’t you tell me anything?”

Shikamaru retreated, scratching his head, “I had to prepare everything before I take you home, sorry for taking so long. I want to make the experience perfect.”

Your eyes softened, “So I guess I can’t no longer back off anymore, yeah?”

A look of confident spread across his features, “And one more thing, if you want to cancel the contract or withdraw or anything, you will be spending the rest of your life stuck, with, me.”

------------------

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu​ @thenightfallingstar​

[letithappeneverafter]

The last time Tame Impala per- formed in its home country, it was closing the main stage at Splendour in the Grass near Byron Bay in mid-2019, with new music al- most ready for the world’s ears.

That one-off gig came amid a busy global touring schedule that saw the Fremantle-born act booked as a headliner at some of the biggest festival stages in pop music, such as Coachella and Glastonbury.

Since that last Australian gig, what’s changed? “Everything,” Kevin Parker said with a laugh, shaking his head at the enormity of the question, not least because he became a father to daughter Peach in January last year.

For starters, the chart-topping fourth album The Slow Rush was issued in February 2020, just be- fore the pandemic subsumed everything. Strangely, those songs’ themes – rooted strongly in nostalgia and the passage of time – took on new and unintended meanings amid global lock- downs.

“A few months into the pandemic, I remember thinking it was bizarre how suited to the sentiment the lyrics were,” Parker told The Australian on Monday.

“I thought it was as weird as everyone else did.”

A solo project led by the singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist that expands to a five-piece band in the live setting, Tame Impala later swept the ARIAs in 2020 with five awards including album of the year.

On Tuesday night in Brisbane, Parker and his globetrotting bandmates will finally get the chance to play those songs to homeland fans on a long-delayed album tour.

With more than 80,000 tickets sold across six dates, it will be one of the year’s biggest tours by an Australian act, alongside the likes of Midnight Oil, The Kid Laroi and Rufus Du Sol.

“I’ve been fantasising about being in Australia,” Parker said.

“Touring here is such a nostal-gic thing for me, because that was really the start of this music life.

“I have so many memories of being in the airports of Australia; there’s a part of me that’s so happy to be at Brisbane Airport again – hungover, as usual.”

More than a decade removed from the grind of playing pubs and clubs, today the centrepiece of its live production is a light- infused, smoke-belching steel ring weighing six tonnes and resembling a flying saucer.

The ring was originally de- signed for Tame Impala’s head- line set at US festival Coachella in April 2019, and Parker says this tour – which concludes with a hometown concert in Perth on October 29 – might mark the last time it rises above him and his bandmates.

With recent singles including a track with British pop act Gorillaz and remixing an Elvis Presley song for Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis biopic – as well as an unreleased collaboration with 19-year-old Australian hip-hop phenom The Kid Laroi – Parker gave a conspiratorial smirk when asked about his next work.

“I’m always working on new stuff,” he said. “Music is the only thing I know how to do properly, so you can bet on that.”

By ANDREW McMILLEN  NATIONAL MUSIC WRITER

Tuesday, 18 October 2022

[juviaafullbuster]

Can you do 12 for the story list? We never see Juvia ever express how she feels when she's sad. Maybe Gray talks to her about it. Also I really like your blog!

Heyy Anon! Thank you, I'm really glad you do! Also thank you so much for the request. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I hope you like it 💙

Angst - Prompt 12:

"Holding everything in doesn't help, you know."

When Gray first voiced his concern, his friends gave him a questioning look. To them Juvia wasn't any different than usual. She still had her sweet smile on, she still greeted everyone warmly, still clinged to Gray every time she saw him. Same old Juvia.

But Gray knew better. They did live together for six months after all. And he had learned quite some things about her during that time. One being that Juvia tends to keep a lot to herself. It might surprise people because she seems so open with her emotions, especially the ones regarding him, but she tends to keep a lot to herself. Crazy woman, always worrying about being a burden.

Gray stole a glance at her. She was seated with Cana and Lisanna, listening closely to whatever the two were saying. She wasn't engaging in the conversation, just listening and nodding along sometimes. She was smiling. To anyone else it would seem that she was content. But not to Gray.

No, he could see the way her shoulders were tense. How she kept stealing glances towards the clock. How her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. There was a distant look hidden behind her facade. Something was definitely off. And whatever it was, Gray was determined to find out. Because it is Juvia, his Juvia. The one who always looks out for him and makes sure he's alright. And he'll be damned if he doesn't do the same.

***

Later that evening Gray made his way over to Fairy Hills. He knew boys weren't allowed and Erza would surely kill him if she spotted him there but he would have to deal with that when it came to it. For now, his focus was on the water mage that had left the guild hall without telling him goodbye earlier. Yeah, something was definetly wrong. And he was about to find out what it was.

Gray glanced up to the window Juvia had pointed to once. She had told him that it was hers in case he wanted to sneak in. Back then he had just told her she was being crazy. And now look at him, he was doing exactly that. Who is the crazy one now?

Shaking the thought away, Gray focused back on his task. He used his ice magic to form a ladder and climbed up in hope that Juvia left the window open. When he arrived upstairs he had to learn that she didnt. He knocked on the window a few times, hoping to gain her attention. After his fourth knock, Juvia finally came out of the other room, a questioning look on her face. When she spotted him however she froze before breaking out in a huge smile. At least he had accomplished one thing. She came over and opened the window gesturing for him to come in.

"Graysama, what are you doing here? Not that Juvia minds but it is very unlike you to climb into a womans room during the late evening.." He could tell her fantasy was already running wild and he let her imagination run for a little before shaking her out of her trance.

"Alright, spill it."

"Spill what?"

"What's wrong?"

"Juvia is afraid she doesn't know what you mean."

"I mean, what's wrong with you?"

Juvia looked taken aback for a moment before tears started forming in her eyes. "Nothing is wrong with Juvia.. Why would you ask that? Do you think there is something wrong?"

Shit. That was not what he meant. How could he be so bad with words?

"No, Juvia. I didn't.. I didn't mean it like that. Don't take it the wrong way, nothing's wrong with you. I just had a feeling something's off, you've been acting different.. you didn't spend much time around me today."

"Does Graysama feel neglected?"

"WHAT!? What are you talking about. That's not it at all."

"Oh.. Then what is it?"

"Juvia, I like to think that I know you very well by now. And something's definitely going on with you. First I thought I was just being crazy, everyone else said you were being your usual self. But I've been watching you closely and I can tell that you're not like usual. Something must be bothering you."

"Graysama was watching Juvia?" She was looking at him with big eyes, a slight flush on her cheeks.

"No! I mean yes, but- it's not like you think.."

"Juvia understands. You watched her because you were worried about her."

"Exactly."

"Graysama is so sweet, worrying about Juvia." She pretty much had hearts in her eyes at this point and Gray found himself blushing. He turned around, awkwardly scratching his neck. This conversation wasn't going anywhere..  and then he realized.

This conversation wasn't going anywhere for a reason. She was trying to avoid the issue by getting him flustered and drifting off topic. And he almost fell for it.

"Alright, sit down."

"So bossy.."

"I'm serious Juvia. We need to talk. Stop trying to distract me and be honest. What is it, what's going on?"

He stared at her waiting for a response. Juvia tried to hold his stare but he was determined. It took only a few seconds for her to give up and look away, staring anywhere but at him.

Her shoulders dropped in defeat and the mask she had on fell. When she looked at him again, she was frowning, a sad and distant look in her eyes. Seeing her like that, it broke her heart.

"Juvia.. what's wrong?" Gray sat down next to her. It was an unusual sight, seeing Juvia like that.

"It's nothing.. Really, it's sweet of you to worry but Juvia is fine."

"Seriously? Juvia you're obviously not fine so don't pretend to be. I'm not leaving until I know what's wrong. So you either talk now or I'll be spending the night."

"Graysama wants to spend the night with Juvia?" She smirked, looking at him with a gleam in her eyes. Gray felt his cheeks warning up and he looked away.

"Nice try. But don't try to drift off topic."

"Really, Graysama, Juvia is fine. She's just a little tired that's all."

"Listen, I understand. I know what it's like to not want to burden others with your issues. Trying to keep everything to yourself, acting like you're fine when you're not. When my parents died, when I lost Ur. When I found out the truth about what happened to Ultear, when I lost my dad again. I've been there. I shut myself off, tried to carry it all myself. And do you know where it got me? I turned cold, distant. It damaged my friendships. I was a mess Juvia.."

She was listening closely. Gray watched a tear roll down her check. He wiped it away before giving her a small smile.

"I dont have to tell you all that, do I? Because you were there when I finally broke down. While we were living together. When I couldn't hold back anymore, when the nightmares became too much. You were the one who held me and told me that it will be okay eventually. The one who listened to me. Do you remember what you told me that day?"

Juvia looked down, confirming that she indeed still remembered. But he was going to remind her of her words anyway. He put his hands on her cheeks, tilting her head up and making her look at him.

"Holding everything in doesn't help, you know."

It was what it took for Juvia to finally let go. She broke down, crying her heart out while clinging to him desperately. Gray held her close, stroking her back in an attempt to comfort her. Slowly her sobs became quieter until they died down completely. She still clung to him and didn't make any indication of letting go anytime soon. Gray just continued holding her, wishing to shield her from all the pain in the world.

"Juvia is sorry.."

Gray stopped her before she could continue. "Don't be. It's okay to not be okay. Stupid trying to hold everything in. I'm here for you Juvia, whenever you need me. Don't carry everything by yourself. Okay?"

She looked up to him before nodding her head in agreement. He smiled at her softly and she laid her head back on his shoulder. He saw that there were still some tears rolling down her cheeks but at least she seemed calmer, a little more relaxed. Gray held her closer, an attempt to tell her that he's here for her. He always was better with actions than words.

"Thank you Graysama."

"Don't thank me. I didn't do anything.."

"You did a lot."

They sat in silence, enjoying each others presence and comfort. Gray wouldn't admit it loudly, but he needed this just as much as Juvia.

"Hey, Juvi."

"Hm?"

"Want to tell me what happened?"

There was a moment of silence before Juvia moved away from him, freeing herself from his hold, in order to look at him. Gray had to admit that he missed her warmth immediately.

"Juvia will tell you, but.."

"But?"

"But only if you stay with her after too.. everytime I think about what happened nightmares follow so Juvia can't sleep."

"That explains why you appeared so tired. How long has this been going on?"

"Two weeks. Since the last mission I took."

"Juvia, what happened on that mission?"

"You're staying with me?"

"Of course. I'm not planning to leave your side anytime soon."

"So Graysama is spending the night with Juvia?"

"You want Erza to behead me?"

"Juvia would never let anyone hurt you. When it comes to protecting you not even Erza can stand in my way."

"Well, in that case.. I guess there's no reason for me not to stay."

Gray laid down on her bed and pulled her down with him. She rested her head on his chest, while he wrapped his arms around her protectively, pulling her closer to him. He heard her sigh, prompting him to tighten his arms around her. They both stayed silent for a moment, enjoying each others presence and the peace before Juvia took a deep breath and started telling Gray about the mission that she had finished two weeks ago. He listened closely while rubbing her back comfortingly. It wasn't long until the tears were rolling down her cheeks again. Turns out her mission wasn't as successful as Master had first told them. Yes, Juvia did finish the job, but there were some complications she hadn't told anyone about until now.

Juvias job wasn't a hard one, she was just supposed to hold a water show at a little girls birthday party. The girls father however was late. He should have been there an hour ago and they were still waiting. They decided to start without him, despite the girls protest. Turns out her father was her only family. Just a little later however random people came to the house, talking about an accident. By the time the news registered, Juvia was already holding on to the little girl, a desperate attempt to shield her from the world, the pain.

"Gray, she was shaking so bad and then she broke down because she realized what happened. And all that on her birthday. And I was there. I was there Gray. I could have went to look for him after he was late. I could have found him. And maybe it wouldn't have been too late the. If I had-" Juvia didn't manage to finish her sentence. Instead she clinged to him desperately, sobbing into his chest.

"She has noone now. Just another kid, left to the system. Juvia was there. Juvia knows what it's like. If only I would have-"

"Juvia, don't."

"But-"

"No, Juvia. Don't you dare blame yourself for this. None of this is your fault. You couldn't have known. It was an accident. Besides, if anything they're lucky you were there. At least the girl had someone to hold her, she wasn't alone."

"But she-"

"It won't be easy, but she'll be okay eventually. You can't blame yourself for this Juvia."

Juvia seemed to think over his words, before sighing. She still seemed conflicted but he could tell that some weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Gray pulled her closer to him and kissed her head.

"If you want we can go check up on her together? And make sure shes treated well at the orphanage until she finds a good family."

"You'd really do that?"

"Of course, if you allow me to come with you."

"Juvia would love that."

"Alright, then it's settled. Now try to rest."

"You promise to still be here when Juvia wakes up?"

"Not even Erza herself can make me leave your side tonight."

She giggled and Gray couldn't help the small smile. It would take some time for her to deal with this and recover. But she would be fine because this is his Juvia, the strongest girl out there. And he'd stay with her until she does.

"Graysama?"

"Yes?"

"Did you remove the ladder you climbed up with?"

There was a moment of silence before realization hit him. Gray sprinted to the window, ready to break the ice, only to find that he was too late because standing next to it was no other than Erza herself.

"GRAY FULLBUSTER, YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!"

[mxndoscyarika]

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 1

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: food/drink mention

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: I’m so excited for you all to read this story! Special thanks go to Lynn (@mindless--ramblings​​) for always being so supportive and helping me stay inspired! Ever since I found out Pedro now has two characters named Marcus, I’ve wondered about ways I could connect them in one piece of writing. And this? This is that piece of writing. Moreno won’t be making an appearance in this one, but I hope Pike will make up for that 😉 Enjoy!

Ground floor.

First floor.

Second.

Erin He took a deep breath, thankful that the elevator was empty. She straightened the collar of her shirt as the fourth floor approached. At her side was her government-issued laptop, which she’d picked up from the front desk. Her fingers gripped its edges tightly. This was it. She made it.

The elevator let out a soft ding and opened its doors, revealing a floor of cubicles and conference rooms. Austin sunlight filtered through large windows, illuminating the space alongside the bright fluorescent lights.

She stepped out, searching for the art theft department’s main office. As much as she understood the need for technology specialists across all the FBI’s branches, she never quite grasped why she was placed in the art theft department, of all places. She always thought she’d be in the operational technologies department, developing and maintaining tools for others to use. Though she couldn’t blame them; intellectual property was highly valued and often stolen.

The email said to report to the department supervisor’s office for a quick onboarding, but they didn’t exactly mention what it would be. It could’ve been anything from a quick handshake to being told to shadow a coworker. Hopefully the former.

Part of her begged to the gods of computer science that she wouldn’t be assigned to yet another condescending old white man. Her last welcome at a company had been less than mediocre, and lukewarm at best.

The other part of her nagged that she’d signed up for exactly that.

“Ah, there you are. Welcome to your first day, Special Agent He,” the department supervisor–Harold Strauss–greeted as she entered his office. He gestured to the man standing in front of his desk. “This is Agent Marcus Pike. He will be showing you the ropes today.”

Agent Pike looked at her over his shoulder, the corners of his lips curling in a friendly smile. He couldn’t have been much older than her, with his faint smile lines and soft brown hair. He tucked his hands into his pockets and turned around to face her.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied. She shook his hand and then extended her hand to Pike. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking time out of your day to show me around.”

“Likewise,” he replied, shaking her hand. His brown eyes sparkled as he proposed, “Should we start? I have a meeting in about half an hour, and I’m sure you’ll want to meet some of our operational techs and digital forensics team. They’re the backbone of everything we do here.”

They acknowledged their supervisor once more and then left to begin the tour.

As her personal guide gave her the rundown of the floor’s organization and workflow, Erin couldn’t help but sneak a couple more glances at him.

He was taller than her by a few inches, but not in such a way that she felt like shrinking into herself. And he always stayed at her side, never walking ahead or lagging behind. His strong jaw led her gaze to a pair of soft lips, which seemed to be in a perpetual smile as he talked about the breakthroughs the department had in the past days.

“Do you know where your desk is?” Pike asked.

“Yeah, they told me the other day,” she answered, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ears. They walked over to her assigned desk, which was barren save for a standard computer, box of pens, and notepad. “If you’re going to ask if I need help with setup, I think I should be alright for now. Nothing a few installations and linux commands can’t fix.”

He chuckled softly and nodded. “You’re living up to your title, Agent He. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I could’ve been much help even if I offered. Have you done work similar to this before?”

She shrugged. “I worked in cybersecurity and software development,” Erin replied, setting down her bag and laptop on her desk. Slipping off her black blazer, she continued, “But I figured I should do something more than just build products for tech companies. Use my skills to aid in investigations.”

He nodded in understanding. “I see what you mean. Actually, I was originally studying to be an art history professor. But then I found this job and figured I could use my knowledge to help find and preserve artworks.”

Hm, noble.

“Sounds like we aren’t so different,” she observed, following him across the officespace. “Let’s hope that I can be of help around here.”

He chuckled softly, the dimple in his cheek showing as he smiled. “I think you’ll fit right in.”

---

The words on the screen blurred into the white background of the screen, as if they were mocking her. Each line of test slowly lost its meaning, turning into mind-numbing strings.

Erin pushed her computer away and rubbed her eyes defeatedly, sighing. The department was launching an investigation regarding a museum that was broken into and wiped clean. What little data was left on the computers, from what she gathered after hours of poring over them, was largely useless. Hopefully, one of the other agents would find something helpful in the other remnants. Perhaps an address, or some sort of signature that could be traced to a group. Her, on the other hand? She just wasted hours of work.

A steaming cup of coffee was set down onto her desk, along with some sugar and tiny cups of cream.

She looked up to find Marcus–Pike, she reminded herself–standing at her side, looking down at her with a soft smile. “Find anything?”

“Nope,” she sighed. It turned out that Pike was one of the best agents in the department, and that meant he spent most of his time leading and organizing investigations. What that meant for Erin, then, was that she had to answer to him. Thankfully, he was never weird about it. Quite the opposite, actually. Tapping the side of the cup, she asked, “Is this for me?”

He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah! Sorry; I would’ve fixed it, but I wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee.”

“Well it’s nothing complex, if that’s what you’re nervous about,” she teased. Two sugars and a drizzle of cream turned the pitch black liquid into a deep brown. She took a sip, the placebo of caffeine already kicking in. “When you’re in STEM, you learn to appreciate caffeine in any form. But I like it like this.”

“Noted,” he said, his voice a soft timbre amongst the flutter of papers and clacking of keys. Hands resting on his hips he asked, “How long do you think it’ll be before you find anything?”

“Anywhere from an hour to another three...or five,” she sighed, lazily scrolling down the file. Basking in the steam from her cup, she continued, “I’m gonna need a lot more of this coffee. There has to be something useful in this file, I just need to find it. I might need to cross-reference with some of the other evidence to notice anything.”

A headache was already descending upon her, and she was only six hours in. Weak–she’d stared at a computer much longer without any problem many times before. Why, of all times, did it have to happen when she was talking to her coworker?

“Well, I’ll be here pretty late tonight, so if you need anything, just let me know,” he replied, patting her shoulder. The crease between his brows deepened as he squinted down at the screen. “Maybe you need a fresh set of eyes on it. Take a break, Erin.” At her responding pout, he reasoned, “It’s been almost a month and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you rest.”

Of course he noticed her breaks, or lack thereof. She rolled her eyes, hiding a bashful smile in her cup. “I work best in sprints.”

He hummed amusedly. “But even sprinters need breaks, don’t they?” Then, his eyes lit up. “Actually, why don’t you take a break now?”

Erin raised a brow. “Am I not taking a break right now?”

His laugh was warm. “I mean a real break. Let’s get lunch; my treat.”

“Are you really going to make me choose between food and digital forensics, Agent Pike?”

Nodding definitively, he replied, “Yes, Agent He.”

Unable to resist the prospect of free lunch, she gave in and followed him out to his car. The work would still be there when she returned. For the moment, she could just enjoy Marcus’s companionship.

He drove out to a local diner about ten minutes away, his turns confident as if he’d gone there hundreds of times before. Judging by the way his eyes had sparked with joy at her agreement, he probably had.

They let their shoulders relax in the serenity of the car, shedding the formalities and passing time as if they were close friends.

The diner was small and cozy, booths worn with age and serving breakfast all day. Erin’s lips curled up in a little smile as the hostess recognized Marcus. So he was a regular, after all.

They sat down across from each other in a booth. Erin shrugged off her navy blue blazer and smoothed her dark hair back into a thick ponytail.

As she fixed her hair, Marcus gave her his recommendations, leaning in with the menu so she could follow along with her eyes. He seemed particularly fond of the pancakes, so she decided on those. Surely he wouldn’t lead her astray.

And with the way his voice rasped just slightly, she could listen to him speak for a whole day.

“Honey? Did you hear anything I said?” he asked, tilting his head slightly with a little smirk.

Erin snapped out of her reverie, cheeks burning. “Oh, um. Yeah. Sorry, I spaced out for a bit.”

“No worries, it happens to all of us,” he reassured, laying the menu flat on the table. “What were you thinking about?”

Less than an hour had passed before they were back in the office, stepping out of the elevator with full bellies. The familiar clicking from computers and buzz of conversations filled the air, and they were officially agents again.

Erin turned to him and nudged his arm. “Hey, thanks for the break.”

“Anytime,” he replied, walking with her along the perimeter of the room. They stopped at the hallway leading to the conference rooms and offices. His large hand moved to rest on her arm, his thumb rubbing gently. “I guess this is my stop. You know where to find me.”

“And you know where I’ll be.”

The next day, Marcus was greeted in his office by tupperwares containing homemade fried rice, some cut up fruit, and a sticky note.

Thanks for sticking with me yesterday. -E

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he tried to refrain from grinning like a maniac, though he was sure anyone who happened to pass by would’ve thought he looked like a schoolgirl with a crush. Erin’s handwriting was soft and curved, so similar to calligraphy but simple in a way that made the note feel that much more intimate.

She had an interesting way of showing her care for others, he found. Perhaps it was a byproduct of the work she dedicated her life to; she seemed to always be one step ahead, ready to pull out small details that others would dismiss. He wondered what she might know of him.

There were a few things she clearly knew; things that surprised him every day. Just as he’d learned her usual coffee order, she’d learned his. When he’d walk in every morning, her head of dark hair would tilt to peek over her cubicle, as if she could sense his presence. And when their eyes would meet, her smile was better than the best espresso in the world.

Marcus shook his head to himself as his heart fluttered. Years of failed relationships and a divorce later, he still couldn’t keep his feelings in check. His mother always said he had a soft heart, one that would be his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. But Erin was anything but a weakness.

She wasn’t a weakness, but a strength. A constant in his life, making each day feel just a little more special. He didn’t need a relationship to be happy, but….he wouldn’t be opposed to one either.

Yet, as he spotted Ian Malarkey standing a bit too close to her, he forced himself to backtrack. What if she didn’t want him? What if they were meant to be just as they were: just friends?

Maybe it was time for him to move on.

After a few months, their friendship had grown well past a workplace acquaintance. It wasn’t as if she was trying to get attached to him; it just...happened. And it was only a little surprising to her; she tried to stay as professional as she could in the office, but outside? Outside, she could just be Erin, not FBI Special Agent He. Outside, she could shed her jacket and swap the button-down shirt for a ribbed sweater and some jeans. Outside, she and Marcus could sit as close together as they wanted without drawing unwanted attention.

She knew it was silly to fantasize. After all, Marcus was a coworker, if not a superior. And with the way he fussed over her water intake and made sure that she wore her glasses at the right times, he could easily see her as a little sister. As nothing more than a new agent who happened to be friendly.

But if that were true, why would he go through the effort of bringing her lunch on Thursdays? Why did he call her little names like “honeydew” and “sweetheart,” and why did it feel so natural coming from his mouth?

The commotion coming from the direction of the conference rooms told her that the team was back from the investigation. Maybe Marcus was there; she knew he’d gone, but he hadn’t texted since morning. It wouldn’t hurt to pop in to check on him; he did that often enough with her.

When she entered the break room, her heart sank. Sitting off to the side, by the wall, was Marcus asking Teresa Lisbon out on a date. She wasn’t sure why she felt defeated;  it wasn’t like she had any plans on asking him out.

But then why did it hurt her to the core to see him giving those puppy eyes and little smiles to Lisbon? The woman didn’t even look interested in him; if anything, she looked confused and hesitant.

Ian caught her eye as she surveyed the room once more, his lips pulling into a tight-lipped smile. He knew about her feelings for Marcus, having spent hours going over evidence and making small talk. In fact, he’d even encouraged her to tell Marcus her feelings, out of fear that she might never get the chance.

Perhaps her chance had passed after all. Turning on her heel, Erin decided that, for once, it was time to go home. Marcus would come to her when he was less busy.

The thing was, though, she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to go over and say hello, and check to make sure he wasn’t injured in the scuffle. Moreover, she didn’t want to be a fill-in for Lisbon’s absence. She didn’t want to be his second choice. And she knew it wasn’t her fault, nor Lisbon’s, that Marcus didn’t choose her. But it still stung.

She watched as their shared lunches became less frequent, the senior agent replacing her space by Marcus’s side. When the elevator would ding at 7AM and she’d glance up to see if it was him, she found him searching the room for Lisbon. They never drifted over to her desk. That fact always made her grip her pen just a little tighter.

On the days when he did grace her with his presence, she felt like a tornado of emotions.

Happy, because she had missed her best friend.

Sad, because she knew the next time she’d spend time with him was in a few weeks rather than a few days.

Grateful, because she knew how hard it was to socialize after a work week of at least 50 hours.

Envious, because of the stories he told.

Relieved, because he still cared.

Plastering a halfhearted smile on her face, Erin listened to Marcus practically worship his girlfriend. His summer breeze of a smile and sparkling eyes made the pain that came with listening worth it. The only other time she’d heard him talk that passionately was when they’d visited an art museum.

At least one of them was happy.

She thought of trying to date again; it had been over a year since she’d been in a relationship. But she couldn’t do it. More than once, she’d put on some simple makeup and casual clothes, ready to head out to the bar, but no. She couldn’t bring herself to leave the apartment. The apartment was where she and Marcus watched movies, where she would cut up fruit and bring them to him on a plate while he pored over reports in the warm lights of the kitchen. It was where he’d navigate her cupboards and fridge to make her a mug of his special hot chocolate. It was her safe space, the one place in her life where she could just be Erin, and he could just be Marcus.

The knife cleaved the melon in half with ease, revealing its pale green interior.

Marcus leaned up against the counter next to her, hair tousled and necktie loosened against his chest. He absentmindedly started rolling up his sleeves, undoing the cuffs of his shirt and folding them up.

She tried not to stare too long at the way his forearms tensed with the movement.

He broke the silence first. “I got the job in DC,” he said, voice soft like velvet.

“That’s great.” A simple response, though Erin cringed internally. Was that any way to react to her best friend’s job promotion? Surely not, but a part of her–a selfish part of her–knew that it meant he was leaving. Leaving not just his position, but her. Texas. The apartment.

It would’ve been disingenuous for her to say anything more.

Then, he added, almost sheepishly, “I also asked Teresa to marry me. And move to DC so we can be together.”

The blade of her knife hit the cutting board a little harder than normal. “Oh. That’s nice.” Cutting away the tough outer skin, she forced herself to ask, “What did she say?”

He sighed and crossed his arms, biting his lip as if to contain a smile. “She said she’d think about it. But I think she’ll come around. I kind of, uh, sprung it onto her the other night.”

And yet there he was, standing next to a woman who would’ve been ready to say yes. But even so, she said, “I’m sure things will work out between you two. You’ve already given so much to your relationship; it would be a shame for her to not see how great you are.”

She slid him a bowl of perfectly cubed melon.

Smiling softly, he took the bowl into his hands. “You’re the best, honeydew.”

The best, but not the one.

“You’re just trying to get on my good side before you leave for DC, brown eyes,” she jested, nudging him with her elbow. Her chest filled with warmth at his laugh. She tried her best to hang onto that feeling, to that sound. “When are you two leaving?”

“I’m already about halfway packed,” he mused, chewing on a cube of honeydew thoughtfully. “So maybe within the week? I hope that’s enough time for Teresa to make a decision.”

There was less time than she thought. She hummed softly. “Are you sure that’s what she wants? That it’s what you want?”

He nodded confidently. “Yes, I...I know that I don’t have the best track record with relationships, but something about her feels right.” The bowl was set into the sink and filled with water. “I’m happy, honey. You don’t have to worry.”

Erin’s eyes burned as she quietly replied, “Okay.”

< previous chapter | next chapter >

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[anobscurename]

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART IX — masterlist

concept: awkwardness was inevitable after the drunken birthday kiss you shared, but avoidance was near impossible given your living situation. confrontation comes when you help chris learn some lines for a romantic role he's pursuing. the slowest of slow burns. part ten of many

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: strawberries and cringey dialogue, aNgSt

author's note: can't believe we're on part 10 what the fuck i started this on wednesday—?

You had avoided him successfully for a little over three days when you finally ran into him again. You had been going for a perfect fourth, but in spite of all the space the house had to offer, there were only so many rooms you could duck into, and so many midnight snacks you could sneak into your room to sustain yourself as the hours ticked by.

Having lived with Chris for six months, you knew his schedule. It helped in your goal of steering clear of the awkwardness.

He never outright saw you, anyways, always catching you just as you disappeared around a corner or into a room.

The first day had been the hardest. Chris was a firm believer of confronting an issue head-on – best way for cohesive living – and so there were soft knocks on the door, mugs of coffee – cold by the time you finally thought it safe to leave the room without encountering him – left behind for you on the kitchen counter.

He had even texted you. Can we talk?

He had managed to corner you in the bathroom once. That was entirely inevitable, considering you both shared it.

You had been brushing your teeth when you heard the door handle turn and squeak, and you were quick to spit out the frothy toothpaste to call out a dismissive "occupied!"

"Oh, sorry," Chris had mumbled sheepishly before shutting the door again. But he didn't leave. "I... I really think we should talk about last night."

You rinsed out your mouth, hoping to let the running water drown out his voice.

Patting your mouth dry, you pulled open the door. Chris practically fell into you, having been leaning against the frame, weight balancing on the forearm he had propped up.

You looked up at him innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

And that was the end of that. He stopped trying so hard the day after, and when the third day came around, he had decided to give you your space.

You knew you were being entirely unfair on him, not telling him what was wrong, but at first, you didn't even know. It wasn't as simple as a touch of the shoulder, not as mundane as jealousy. You hated that you had thought it was jealousy, and shuddered at the very idea of Chris thinking it might be. You were not a jealous person by nature.

And then you realised what that feeling was that had plagued you since that kiss – that kiss that you could still taste on your lips when you closed your eyes at night. It was fear.

It was fear of not being good enough. But not only that, it was fear of rejection, fear of losing one of your bestest friends.

Fear of being homeless if things were to end badly, and given the circumstances, things weren't running smoothly as is.

You weren't naïve enough to believe in a happy ending. In the words of the great philosopher Jane Smith – played by the ever great Angelina Jolie – "happy endings are just stories that haven't finished yet."

Fact of the matter was that the chances of the two of you making it were slim to none. You were both too different. Similar on a human level – Anthony would even say perfect – but different on almost every other. Financially, emotionally, physically. You couldn't contend with everything Chris had to offer.

You had served him drinks. You looked after his dog, his house, watered his plants. You lived in that home as his employee.

You weren't a pessimist. Only a realist. And realistically, you'd run the numbers and promptly concluded that while you'd ultimately fail as a couple, you'd soar as a friendship.

That was the final answer, come day four.

"Hey..."

You had stepped out of the sanctuary of your bedroom, only to see Chris stood at the kitchen counter, bent over something that grabbed his full attention. It was late at night, the rest of the lights in the house off, leaving only the warm glow of the kitchen lights. He looked up when you entered, a pained expression overcoming his features. "Oh, so we're talking now?"

You ignored the question, padding over to see what he was doing. The best way to continue on was to pretend that nothing happened. So that's what you did.

Reminiscent of a time before you knew what Chris' lips tasted and felt like, you easily hopped up on the counter beside him. You noticed the bags beside the front door, and curiosity got the better of you. "Where are you headed this time?"

His attention shifted back down to the manuscript that was before him. "I have an audition tomorrow morning in New York, I'm just going over the dialogue one last time before the flight."

The conversation was stilted, and so, to break the silence, you reached for a strawberry. There had been a plate of strawberries between the two of you, half eaten, stems brushed to one side. A playful slap on your hand halted your action, and you cocked an annoyed and inquisitive brow at Chris.

"Don't eat the props."

"I'm sure you won't miss just one."

"Well, it would be easier for me to learn my lines with someone else if you...?" He trailed off, the rest of the request piecing together in your mind.

"The things I'll endure for some food in this house," you jokingly groaned.

It was like his laugh shattered the awkwardness entirely, and suddenly it felt like normal again. And you realised how much you missed it. Missed being his friend.

He slide the manuscript over to you, telling you which character your were going to play. He had already memorised his lines, and was pensively watching as you skimmed over the dialogue.

"It's...?"

He chuckled sheepishly. "A romance, I know. If you don't want to–"

"It's okay," you said quickly. The guilt you felt for basically ignoring him the past few days with little to no explanation heavily outweighed your common sense. You just wanted to help him out – your way of apology. "From here?"

He nodded at the prompt you had your finger on, already shifting himself into the cocky persona of the character he was playing. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him pick up a strawberry, ready for his cues.

"It's a real shame nobody asked for your opinion," you read.

"I've had plenty of relationships," he shrugged, arrogant. "Makes me the authority on these types of things."

"Don't make me laugh," you chuckled. The film was by no means Oscar worthy, but it was a fun indie project, judging from the script. "I bet the longest relationship you've had is with that strawberry."

He looked down, contemplating it for the longest time while you flipped the page. This part was new, and as your eyes skimmed over it, you knew you'd made your fatal error. Guess that's where being a good person gets you.

Gentle hand on your cheek, he tilted your head to look at him. Making full eye contact, he bit into the strawberry. The perfect arch of pearly white teeth sank into it so slowly, you felt like time was frozen. "I don't know," he growled, licking the sweetness from his finger. "You can't fault a relationship when she tastes so good."

He plucked another strawberry from the plate, beckoning you over. You felt yourself lean forward, enraptured in his performance. But at what point did the line blur between acting and reality?

The touch of the strawberry against your lips was cold, fresh from the fridge. The script told you to reject him with a shake of the head, and without its guidance, you probably would've just dissolved before him. You denied him, whimpering a small "no."

“Open,” he commanded, voice authoritative but soft. His gaze was intense, eyes darkening as you slowly opened your lips to eat the offered fruit.

He watched your lips – a whispered “fuck” under his breath – and slowly threw the stem back onto the plate. His eyes never left your mouth.

And then his fingers came up to swipe the juice from your bottom lip before telling you to open again. You complied, but something in the back of your mind nagged at you: this wasn't in the script.

His finger slid easily into your mouth, smooth against your tongue, and you instinctively sucked on them gently, tasting the sweetness and suddenly he was ducking his head down, intent clear, and you just–

"Stop," you managed to get out, your lips so dangerously close to his that the feather light brush of your spoken words caused tingles to flow through you. The goosebumps were back, your skin cold, but body on fire. He withdrew, and you hated how your heart fell, plummeting to your stomach when he did. "We can't."

And then you explained to him why. And to his credit, he listened, didn't once try to interrupt or persuade you otherwise, and he understood.

He understood, because deep down, he knew you were right.

You explained it all, and at some point your eyes were stinging, but you didn't cry, and when it was all out, and what needed to be said was, he simply pulled you into his arms in a fierce hug.

Your breathing was ragged as you clung to him, hands bunching the fabric of his shirt. You never wanted to let him go. As a friend, of course.

And then he said his goodbye with a chaste kiss to your temple, and left, front door shutting behind him, bags in hand.

He left you alone to your thoughts, and the tears came tumbling after.

[danideservedbetter]

Alright so, here’s how things are gonna work.

First off, welcome to this side blog. Since it won’t be jolly fun fandom content and will be a little more personal I decided to separate my health and writing journey from my fandom stuff, although all my fandom content will still be linked on my main blog here.

(I write Izuocha/bnha content which isn’t super popular so if you’re not here for that then yeah, I don’t blame you. But if you are I have a link to our discord and community content pinned so def check it out if you’re interested.)

Secondly, you guys will hear details about stuff relating to my health like what kinds of things affect my disorder based on the tests some doctors are ordering, how I’m trying to improve my diet and activity, and routines and goals I’m attempting for myself. I am underweight, and that’s something I’m going to be talking a bit about, so if that’s triggering following this blog might not be the best thing for you. Details under the cut.

So, what kind of disorder do I have and why did I decide to make a health journey blog? My disorder is called idiopathic hypersomnia. Basically what that means is that when my disorder is acting up (based on factors like stress especially or my generalized anxiety rearing its ugly head) I have the capacity to sleep. And sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep. My longest recorded uninterrupted “sleep-attack” was 26 hours long and ever since I caught Covid in January, my body had been slowly growing weaker to the point I was starting to develop atrophy. I’ve had this ten years and my neurologist suspects inactive cells from mononucleosis I caught at 14 was the cause, because other IH patients have linked their sleeping problems to a case of mono or have had it at some point in their lives.

This disease stole many years and many things I’ve looked forward to from me. I lost friends and experiences and failed so many college classes I had to drop out.

I’ve decided I’m taking them back.

It’s not going to be easy. Just as it took ten years to convince myself that my tiredness was something I chose to give into, it took several extra years and many fights with my family to convince them that I had a real actual neurological disorder and that I need help sometimes. My parents and grandmother finally understand that I have to finish college and find a very special boss willing to work around my erratic progress on projects, but the outsiders they married are not as convinced. My grandmother’s husband kicked me out of their house because he wants to be the center of attention and doesn’t like that some days I’m so weak that I needed my grandmother’s help, and my father’s wife thinks I’m a lazy and ungrateful leech who “gets anxiety just being around” me. Both told my father I’ll never be happy so why even bother with me, but my dad is actually striving to understand his own recently-diagnosed PTSD so while we still butt heads he’s understanding that I have to take things day by day because every tiny circumstance affects my disorder.

Now, why did I decide to air all this out? Well, being open about my disorder and how it affects me has helped at least two people that I know of find out that the tiredness they experience isn’t the typical “American work force exhaustion” they were trained to believe is normal. So if I can help even one more, I’ll gladly talk about what this entails and how I deal with it day to day. Another reason is that I’m also one of those big advocates who believes talking candidly about mental health destigmatizes it and sharing ideas can help us grow as people and maybe make it a little easier to deal with.

So now that you know a little bit about me and my disorder, here are my big goals for the next three months provided my university takes pity on me and actually lets me go back.

First up: create routines to train my body to get used to living a full day fully awake. This includes waking up at the same time and going to sleep at the same time. It means getting dressed and going out and doing things, even little things— which I’ll get to in a sec.

Second: I write. I have a novel in limbo and I write fanfics. Writing is a big part of who I am and I’ve written one thing this year, which for a whole six-month stretch is upsetting and disappointing. Today is my reset. In the next 569 days I want to to finish the six stories I have in limbo (except the larger one) and finally reach my goal of posting 200k words in a single year. I wont be hard on myself if I can’t accomplish this because honestly finishing anything in the chaos of my life is going to be a miracle but. There ya go.

Third: go back to freakin college. I don’t care what it takes. Sit down with every official, every lawyer, and every professor it takes to get me back enrolled in classes in the fall.

Fourth: I have several smaller things I have to do, short term goals, stuff like that. I’m gonna create a to do list each day of small tasks I want to get done and while some of these things will be part of my daily routine I am throwing in like one or two things a day that just need to be done. My writing goal will change daily and I’ll keep y’all updated on that with every post I make.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Dani! That’s so much!! Well, a few months ago I remembered hey!! I basically have a computer in my hand, why make it hard on myself. So I downloaded certain apps to help me out. This isn’t me saying “hey go subscribe to these apps because I said so” it’s just that through a lot of trial and error I’ve come to find that these certain apps work for me and I’ve yet to come across one that has the functionality of everything I need.

Tiimo — so this is an app I found developed by people with autism for people with autism to help them develop good habits and routines. It has preset daily schedules (things like morning routines or nightly routines or work routines) and an internal alarm to let you know when to move on to the next task. I myself have extremely low-level aspergers (to the point where my doctor won’t give me an official diagnosis because I didn’t want people think that *it’s* the reason I have issues with school), so moving from task to task can be difficult sometimes and I also deal with getting distracted. This widget also appears on my home screen so I know what I have to do at a glance. You can program in weekly and daily tasks to fully customize your schedule, which is fantastic for someone like me who wants to for example rotate chores. This is hopefully going to help me get my body in the habit of adjusting to routines and transitioning from one task to another, as well as getting important things done responsibly.

Promptly Journals — I’ve been told for a while that journaling is helpful mentally to kind of recenter yourself, so a bit ago I downloaded several journal apps to add to my morning routine. Now some will prefer more creatively free journals, but I prefer this one that gives me small prompts I can do in a short amount of time that just allows me to get my thoughts down. I can even add pictures at the bottom that go with the theme! I’m scared I’ll run out of prompts eventually lol but until then this app works very well for my needs.

Stretchingexercise — Now idk if it’s from lack of sleep from my disorder, the position I sleep in when I do sleep, all the physical labor I’ve had to do in the past couple weeks, my medicine, or w h a t but I suffer from body aches like no one would believe. I know stretching is supposed to help with that, so I downloaded this app to help me do non-demanding physical activity that wakes me up in the mornings and helps relieve pain so I don’t keep having to take pain relievers. This one has different plans for things like muscle tension, back pain, warm ups— and it also gives you rudimentary weight updates (I’m underweight lololol so we’re looking to fix that) or plan updates. It’s worked really well for me so far and gives you animations and descriptions of the workouts (some taken from yoga) as well as timed breaks and a narrated guide. It’s been pretty helpful in temporary relief and if nothing else gets my blood flowing in the mornings.

Widgetsmith Step counter — in addition to the stretching thing one thing my doctor and I discussed that helps with the sedentary lifestyle is simply walking. I’ve needed so bad to relieve my stamina and reverse the atrophy, and walks have been stellar for that. Now I live in the New Orleans area so humidity and heat force me to go at the crack of Dawn, but honestly my weenie dachshund Charlie really enjoys our time out so he goes with me! The CDC recommends 10,000 steps a day which seems like a lot and it is if you don’t get out much. But this gives me an excuse to get dressed and do the hygienic thing and help Charlie be healthy too, as well as give me time for brainstorming because we walk in a truly beautiful area. I’m sure everyone installed widgetsmith with the last iOS update (Apple users anyway) and while at first the step counter was just interesting I’ve since come to rely on it! We do our 5000 in the morning, which of course is half, and I find that other things I do throughout the day typically drive the counter higher. Anything leftover can easily be accomplished by an evening walk in our neighborhood. Now the caveat is that I have to remote have my phone in my pocket because I don’t own a watch or anything fancy lol, but honestly I need to keep it on me anyway so that serves as a good reminder.

Todoist — this one is my FAVORITE. Ever since I’ve decided that I have trouble keeping track of things I need to do and small stuff I need to keep in mind and appointments, etc, I decided to find a list app. This is the one I found that absolutely helps me for everything from my list of room supplies I need to buy, to my reading list, to general tasks I have coming up I need to complete. And its widget functionality keeps it right on my Home Screen! More organized individuals can just use tiimo, but I’m definitely not one of those individuals so this app is sorely needed and appreciated.

And of course, I know building habits the first few weeks is HARD. So for days my body doesn’t respond to my alarms, I have a checklist of the key things I have to do to keep my life as functional as possible.

So that’s that on that. I’m going to try to keep writing updates and my daily goals in a post in the morning, and reblog what I accomplished in the evening. It’s gonna be tough. But I’m thinking if I can start small I’ll be able to build my stamina enough to return to college and be successful when I do. I hope that anyone watching this journey draws some kind of meaning or inspiration from it. And you guys can even follow along if y’all want! Especially for writers or people trying to get healthier. I can’t promise what works for me will work for you (and honestly I expect things to change especially if I get accepted into college again) but hey, I figure it’s worth a shot.

I hope you guys enjoy watching this journey, if nothing else I hope it’s entertaining. And maybe it’ll be successful. I do know that I’m just gonna try for it, and hope it works out.

First daily update to follow

Xoxo

Dani

[roibinmacaoibhill]

Yes indeed, I am Still Alive

Just in case anyone cares or is interested to know, yes, I am in fact still alive. 

As usual, I apologize for my ongoing silence. As you will probably understand, seeing how we all had a rough year in the form of 2020, and so far 2021 doesn’t look like it’s going to let up or become too easy anytime soon, my life has been crazy as hell the past several months. 

Are you curious to know a small taste of some of the insanity I’ve gone through the past few months? Well, here we go: 

Losing a couple of friends to covid. Losing the support of my aunt for about a month or a half, who helps me take care of my elderly grandparents, because her own parents caught Covid. My grandmother’s dementia progressing, causing life to get more interesting, upsetting, and frustrating all at the same time. My grandfather’s parkensons progressing, causing him to trip and fall on occasion and breaking several bones along the way. The worst of which, was the most recent time where he broke one fourth of all of his ribs in one go. 

A small explosion igniting at our local power plant right befor the holidays, causing everyone within a six mile radius in the least to fear our lives, as everyone here knows that everything within that area at the very least will be nothing but ash and dust if said power plant ever truely and completely explode on us. 

Finding out that several small health issues I’ve been dealing with for the past ten years or so is due to a form of Thyroid condition, causing me to have to take another medicine on a regular basis, and getting used to the changes that are involved in my life. Dealing with the worst bout of Non twenty four hour sleep disorder I have ever had the displeasure of suffering through, causing me to go nine months straight with my days and night almost completely switched on me.

Dealing with a crazy psycho ex-girlfriend who stalked me, my family, and my friends. Dealing with haters who found me through some of my online presence and causing me all kinds of problems. The outcome of that has me changing a few things in how I express myself online in certain ways. 

Making the huge decision of officially going into semi retirement from making videos on Youtube, due to the further progression of my eye condition and eyesight in general. Slowly gearing up to start podcasting full time sometime later this year. Getting involved with and falling in love with one of my best friends, causing us to start an amazing and interesting relationship. 

Yeah, as you can tell, the past few months has been full speed ahead into the depths of shenanigans land. Anyway, I’m going to try and start becoming active on here again in good time. 

Speaking of which, I have since updated my blog description, which now reflects some changes in my practice. I am officially practicing Hellenic Paganism, am in the middle of building a devotional relationship with Tyche, and I am also starting to practice a bit of Kemetic Paganism as well, now that I have an active relationship with Wepwawet of all gods.

Anyone still waiting for the Lokean Equinox Divination should read the previous paragraphs of this post to fully understand the extent of my delay on finishing and posting such readings. I’ll get back to them as soon as I can, though at this percise moment I am gearing up to do some major soothsaying and magic for a couple of friends. Such workings will probably take a good deal out of me for a bit. But I will get back to working on those readings sooner or later, so keep checking back here, or keep an eye out for the tag connected to the topic for further updates and fulfilled readings in the near future.

[koriandrsucker]

Hey it’s miss geek here I’ve finished the story I will need to post it in sections so I will label them part 1 by MG part 2 by MG etc

Thank u so much! It was really sweet. Reading Jason getting some love is always the best. If you want me to erase this, I will, but, I’ll post it whole here.

AU where Kori is the best baby sitter in the entire universe… or is she?

by Miss Geek.

“What the hell is this Harper”

“Well I’m pretty sure it’s called playing Jaybird”

“No you moron I mean why is Kori here” Jason growled in Roy’s ear away from the giggles and laughter.

Roy gives him his signature shit-eating grin and replies “I would have thought Bruce would’ve given that talk Jay, Ah well seems I have to do it you see young grasshopper when two people love each-“

“Shut up Harper, I meant why is Kori in your house” Jason was seething, to say the least.

“Ok jaybird listen Lian wanted Kori to babysit her. Jade and I couldn’t say no to her she gave me the eyes ” Roy said, looking at his girlfriend and daughter chatting animatedly with Kori.

Jason sighed, he knew those eyes pretty well. Lian Harper was one of those very few that could get through the lone wolf that was Jason Peter Todd. The five-year-old knew she had him wrapped around her small pinky finger and Jason, being her godfather, only added to the fact he could not say no to her.

“Ok, whatever she’s here to babysit that means I don’t have to be here. I’ll see you-“

“Uhhh well yeah you see about that-“ Roy said sheepishly.

Jason turned his steely blue-eyed gaze at his best friend (if he’s being honest his only friend) and said, “what did you do Harper."

“Well if we are being accurate I didn’t do anything it was your goddaughter that requested to you both being here,” Roy said while he glanced at his girlfriend getting ready to leave for their date and giving Kori any last minutes things she would need to take care of Lian for the night.

“So, Kori and I are babysitting Lian,” Jason looked at Roy in absolute skepticism.

“No...Kori is in charge and technically babysitting Lian you are just here for Lian's entertainment. She said, and I quote, ‘unca jay is funny’“ Roy said smirking the whole time.

“Why can’t I be in charge I can take care of her just fine on my own. I survived the streets on my own until I was 12 so I can handle babysitting her myself for a few hours” Jason protested.

Roy looked to his best friend/brother/partner in crime and replied “I love you like a brother Jaybird and I know without a doubt you will protect Lian with your life but..you can be a walking hazard at times”.

“What? How?“

“Well there was the time you burnt water while trying to heat her milk in her bottle-“

“That was years ago Harper, give me a break-“

“Ok, what about last week when you put the toaster on fire trying to make Lian cheese toasties”.

“I still can’t figure out how a five-year-old knew how to use a fire extinguisher. In my defense, that incidence speaks volumes about your household Harper”

Jason really didn’t want to be alone with Kori.

It’s not that Kori was horrible to be around, in fact, she was the nicest person Jason has ever met. Korina Marie Anders was a pleasant girl who he had been acquainted with six years ago at his adopted brother's 21st birthday. She introduced herself to him and Jason found himself lost for words for the first time in his life, much to the amusement of his entire adopted family.

Even to this day he still thought about her but he was always wary to talk to her for many reasons, one of them due to her history with his brother, “Prick” Grayson (no he didn’t get his name wrong, in Jason's mind that is the name he had christened his older adopted brother). Kori had a brief dating history, by brief meaning literally under three months. The reason why they broke up was unknown to everyone.

However, Jason was not afraid of his brother. If he didn't approach Kori, it was more the fact that he convinced himself of not being good enough and that she would never see him in that way. After all, if she didn’t want Grayson, who all of Jason’s life had known to be Bruce’s golden child, the best son, the prince of Gotham, and everyone’s favorite guy, why on gods green earth would she want him. HIM. Jason Peter Todd, the street kid Bruce Wayne took in, the troublemaker, the dark prince of Gotham.

The only people who he can handle their presence are Roy, Jade, Lian, Alfred, and maybe Tim, on a good day. It’s safe to say Jason got rid of any hope to catch the eye of Korina Anders, but that did not mean his crush went away.

He got out his trip down memory lane as Roy spoke again.

“I don’t really think your problem is about me trusting you.”

“What do you mean,” Jason narrows his eyes at his friend.

“The real issue is you can’t trust yourself around Kori,” Roy replied.

As his best friend, Jason did confide in Roy his crush on the redhead and since then Roy was on a mission to get the two together. Unfortunately, Jason always dodged every plan Roy had. Well, all except this plan. Unbeknownst to Jason, Roy knew what he was doing putting Lian into this. It would make Jason unable to say no.

His plan was working so far, he only hoped it would work in everyone’s favor. Jason’s silence was enough to convince Roy that he still had feelings for Kori. With that reassurance, he called over to his girlfriend. 

“Hey babe come on, we will have to leave now, our reservation is at 7. Thanks again Kors for the recommendation and for looking after Lian tonight.”

Jade turned to Kori gratefully. “We honestly can’t thank you enough it’s been a while we have been out without Lian.”

“Babe, please, she knew how to swear in Vietnamese at three years old, and I sure as hell can't speak a word of Vietnamese, so where would she get THAT from.” Roy retorted, knowing full well he won that argument and the look on his girlfriend meant she knew it too.

Instead, she rolls her eyes at him and turns to her daughter. “Lian be a good girl for your aunt Kori and uncle Jason, ok? Mommy and daddy will be back soon, and Kori, you have both our numbers don’t hesitate to call if you need us”.

“Ok, mommy, I’ll be good me. Aunt Kori and unca Jay will have buckets of fun, won’t we?" As she turned to her uncle and aunt.

Kori answered with, “yes, we will Lian”

Jason was still wrapping around his head that Lian called Kori her aunt. 

“Aunt Kori?” Jason whispered to Roy.

Roy’s reply was not what Jason expected. “Well, actually, Jade and I were hoping that title will change to godmother if all goes well.”

That left Jason lost for words while Kori and Lian waved goodbye.

Lian turned to her uncle and aunt. "What are we gonna do first? Can we play princesses? Oh, what about pony island instead or how about -?” 

Lian Harper was a talker and Jason didn’t know how to control, as he liked to call them, Lian's sugar rush mode.

Kori turns to Lian and says “Did you finish your homework from school?" 

Lian went sheepishly quiet and told Kori “Umm, no aunt Kori.”

Kori gave Lian a smile.

“Well, if you finish your homework we can do what you want.”

Lian thought carefully for a minute and to Jason’s surprise, she calmly replied. “Ok aunt Kori, do you pinky promise?”

She stuck out her pinky only for Kori to take and wrap it around her own. Satisfied that her aunt Kori won’t break her promise, she moved into the kitchen to start her homework. Kori then turned to Jason who had a blank expression.

Kori was concerned so she asked, “Hey Jason everything alright?”

“How did you do that,” he asked still in a daze.

“Do what?“

"Get her to listen to you. She never does that willingly, she usually needs to be bribed.”

Kori smiles at him and he feels his knees buckling. He sometimes forgets the effect she has on him.

“I’ve had a lot of practice with my brother”.

“Ah, right.” He replies and resists the urge to ask her what’s been on his mind.

Instead, she speaks. “Lian tells me you are favorite uncle,” Kori says with a knowing smile.

Jason gives her his signature smirk and tells her, “I’m her only uncle that she sees regularly, so there’s no competition. Not really”.

In a way, Jason has indeed been there for Lian since the beginning and she sees her other uncles, from Dick to Wally, only time to time as Roy isn’t hostile towards them anymore but still, the friendship will never be how it once was. Jason knows fully well how burnt bridges are beyond repair.

However, Kori shakes her head “No, I’ve seen her interact with others. It’s not the same way she looks at you. You should have seen her face when Jade told her you’ll be coming over. Her face lit up like the Fourth of July.”

Jason gives her a genuine smile, something she has not ever seen on the man before her. Always a smirk or a tight smile. So seeing this new smile she realizes it’s an expression she would like to see more of. Hopefully.

Before Jason has the chance to say anything, Lian comes back from the kitchen, finishing her work.

They all decided to play some games much to the embarrassment of Jason. Lian made both of them play pretty pony island. Kori thought Jason cooperating with Lian's demands was adorable. Jason thought he might die.

Kori then went to start making dinner for them all.

Lian turned to her favorite uncle and said “I like aunt Kori, unca Jay”

“Me too, kid.”

“Can you marry her then?”

Jason didn’t think it was possible to choke on air but he proved himself wrong.

“Wait what??? Who told- hold on a minute” Jason tried to get his bearings right before answering his goddaughter. “What are you talking about.”

“Daddy said you like her, so if you marry her she can come round all the time with you right?” She asked innocently and again she used those eyes.

Jason sadly replied, “I don’t think she likes me like that, kid.”

“Why not? your the best unca ever”

She ran over to him to give him the biggest hug she could give. Jason had a habit early in life not to live up to people's expectations because he felt he always fell short on those expectations. However, with Lian, it seemed he could do no wrong and with that, he hugged her back as much as the five years could handle.

That’s how Kori found them and she didn’t want to split them until they did themselves. They both turned to Kori as she explained dinner was ready.

Dinner surprisingly went smooth Lian didn’t make a fuss. It was then time for bed and Lian wanted a story. Jason knew her favorite story was Robin Hood, so as he read the story animatedly to her, Kori watched on the sidelines, smiling the entire time.

Lian then got put to bed as Kori left the room Lian turned to her uncle.

“Unca Jay, aunt Kori is the best babysitter in the universe but you're the best unca ever. I love you unca Jason,” and she drifted to sleep.

Jason smiled, kissed her forehead, and slowly crept out the room.

To his surprise, Kori was right outside the room.

“I told you, you're her favorite uncle. Not that I blame her,” she said with a smirk.

Is she flirting? Jason can say he wasn’t sure, so he tested his theory.

“Oh really,” he said.

“Around the people you love, you don’t pretend to be something you're not. It’s clear as day how you feel about them. You don’t hide behind a mask” Kori replied.

Immediately, Jason had the answer to his question about her flirting with him.

This must be why Prick Grayson and her broke up. Grayson was known to hide behind a mask, he portrayed one image but had another behind closed doors. As friends, it would not be as much of an issue, however, in a relationship, it’s another playing field and with a relationship with Korina Anders, who wears her heart on her sleeve, Jason was sure it caused them to clash.

“It’s difficult to show emotions when you're being raised by Bruce Wayne,” he isn’t sure why he was sticking up for Grayson or maybe it was for himself.

“Well you seem to be doing alright for yourself,” she said shyly.

“I won’t lie to you it’s not like that every day. Some days are better than others,” he admitted.

This is why he didn’t want to be alone with her. Stupid Harper.

"Why won’t you lie to me, I wouldn’t be offended if you did,” she said looking confused.

Without his brain's permission, he blurted out “You’re too good to be lied to.”

His face sure turned the color of Kori’s hair.

Kori smiled at him and admitted, “I heard what you said to Lian about me not liking you in that way. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise."

She suddenly turned, ashamed of Jason thinking the worst of her. However, Jason just wanted to crawl in an imaginary hole. Anywhere, please, Lord Almighty, but here with her.

“Please Kori just forget you heard that” Jason pleaded.

“Why” she whispered.

“Because I’d rather forget than you reject me.”

“Who said I would reject you” Jason looks at Kori stunned.

Kori is looking at her feet because she, like him, spilled her feelings.

“Are you serious? Since when?”

“Remember last summer in Gotham? You came back for a visit. I tried to go up to you but it was hard, I didn’t know if you saw me in that way, you always had that too cool for school vibe since I met you. I’m a nerd with an Astrophysics degree. Like I said I didn’t think u would look my way”.

Jason was floored. He never thought this would ever be a conversation but now it’s out in the open. He can’t help but wonder what if.

So right then and there he decides to throw caution to the wind and take the risk.

If anybody knew Jason Peter Todd, they would know he loves to take risks. He moves closer to Kori until there are barely inches apart and whispers to her.

“Trust me, I’ve been seeing you that way for six years, I’m pretty sure I won’t change my mind”.

Kori now was blushing and she couldn’t fight it down. This man in front of her could bring out emotions she never knew she was capable of but she accepted it.

“Me neither.”

She whispered back, afraid if she talked any louder their moment could break. And so with that, reassuring him, his feelings were reciprocated he went in for a chaste kiss. However, the moment his lips landed on hers, Kori turned it more passionate. Even if he was not expecting that from her, Jason allowed Kori to explore all she wanted, after all, he thought she might as well get used to what will be hers and hers alone.

So Jason could agree with Lian that Korina Marie Anders was indeed the best babysitter in the universe.

Now he owed the smug Roy a huge favor.

Hmm, maybe playful revenge is how he’ll show his appreciation. After all, he can’t lose his touch now, can he?

[paths-of-my-childhood-candid]

Lover Conquers All

By: Mark Sutherland for Music Week Date: November 4th 2019 issue (published online on December 13th 2019)

She’s the world’s biggest pop star, but despite her global success, Taylor Swift is also the music industry’s greatest advocate for artists’ and songwriters’ rights. And, with a ground-breaking new record deal and a bold new album, Lover, she’s not about to stop now. Music Week meets her to talk music and business...

Around this time of year, the Taylor Swift anniversaries come at you thick and fast. Nine years since her third album, Speak Now, every note of which was written entirely by Swift, hit the shelves. Five years since she released her mould-breaking pop album, 1989, and went from the world’s biggest country star to the world’s biggest pop star overnight. Two years since her Reputation record saw her become the only musician to post four successive million-plus debut sales weeks in the United States. And so on.

But today, Swift’s mind is drawn further back, to the 13th anniversary of her debut, self-titled record, and the days when her album releases weren’t automatically accompanied by mountains of hype and enough think-pieces to sink a battleship. Her journal entries from the time - helpfully reprinted as part of the deluxe editions of her new album, Lover - reveal her as an excited, optimistic teenager, but also one with a grasp of marketing strategies and label politics way beyond her years, even if she was reluctant to actually take credit for her ideas.

“It always was and it always will be an interesting dance being a young woman in the music industry,” she smiles ruefully. “We don’t have a lot of female executives, we’re working on getting more female engineers and producers but, while we are such a drastic gender minority, it’s interesting to try and figure out how to be.”

And, of course, when Swift started out she was, as she points out, “an actual kid”.

“I was planning the release of my first album when I was 15 years old,” she reminisces. “And I was a fully gangly 15, I reminded everyone of their niece! I was in this industry in Nashville and country music, where I was making album marketing calls, but I never wanted to stand up and say, ‘Yeah, that promotions plan you just complimented my label on, I thought of that! Me and my Mom thought of that!’

“When you’re a new artist you wonder how much space you can take up and, as a woman, you wonder how much space you can take up pretty much your whole period of growing up,” she continues. “For me, growing up and knowing that I was an adult was realising that I was allowed to take up space from a marketing perspective, from a business perspective, from an opinionated perspective. And that feels a lot better than constantly trying to wonder if I’m allowed to be here.”

In the intervening years, Taylor Swift has released six further, brilliant albums, growing from country starlet to all-conquering pop behemoth along the way. She takes up “more space”, as she would put it, than any other musician on the planet: a sales and now - having belatedly embraced the format with Lover - streaming phenomenon; a powerhouse stadium performer; an award-garlanded songwriter for herself and others; and a social media giant with a combined 278 million followers across Instagram, Twitter and Facebook (which would make the Taylor Nation the fourth most populous one on earth, after China, India and the US).

But her influence on music and the music industry doesn’t end there. Because, over the years, Swift has also become a leading advocate for artists’ and songwriters’ rights, in a digital landscape that doesn’t always have such matters as a priority.

In 2015, she stood up to Apple Music over its plans to not pay artist royalties during subscribers’ three-month free trials (Apple backed down immediately). She pulled her entire catalogue from Spotify in 2014 in protest that its free tier was devaluing music, sending Daniel Ek scrambling to justify his business model. When she returned in 2017, it was a crucial fillip for the streaming service’s IPO plans.

More recently, her ground-breaking new record deal with Republic Records contained clauses not only guaranteeing her ownership of her future masters, but also ensuring Universal Music will share the spoils of its Spotify shares with its artists, without any payments counting against unrecouped balances. And when her long-time former label boss Scott Borchetta sold Big Machine to Scooter Braun’s Ithaca Holdings, taking Swift’s first six albums with him, the star publicly called out what she saw as her “worst-case scenario” and stressed: “You deserve to own the art you make”. She may yet re-record her old songs in protest.

In short, Swift has, for a long time now, been unafraid to use her voice on industry matters, whether they pertain to her own stellar career or the thousands of other artists out there struggling to make a living.

All of which makes Swift not just the greatest star of our age, but perhaps the most important to the future development of the industry as a more artist-centric, songwriter-friendly business. Hers is still the life of the pop phenomenon - she spent today in Los Angeles doing promotion and photoshoots (or, in her words, “having people put make-up on me”) as Lover continues to build on huge critical acclaim and even huger initial sales. But now, she’s kicking back with her cats - one of whom seems determined to disrupt Music Week’s interview by “stampeding” through at every opportunity - and ready to talk business.

And for Swift, business is good. The impact of her joining streaming, and the decline of traditional album sales, may have prevented her from posting a fifth successive one million-plus sales debut, but Lover still sold more US copies (867,000) in its first week than any record since her own Reputation. It’s sold 117,513 copies to date in the UK, according to the Official Charts Company.

Even better, while Reputation - a record forged in the white heat of a social media snakestorm over her on-going feud with Kanye West - was plenty of show and rather less grow, Lover continues to reveal hidden depths. Reputation struck a sometimes curious contrast between the unrepentant warrior Swift she was showing to the outside world and the love story with British actor Joe Aiwyn that was quietly developing behind closed doors, but Lover is the sort of versatile, cohesive album that the streaming age was supposed to kill off.

It contains more than its fair share of pop bangers (You Need To Calm Down, Me!), but also some gorgeously-crafted acoustic tracks (Lover, Cornelia Street), some pithy political commentary (The Man, Miss America & The Heartbreak Prince) and the sort of musical diversions (Paper Rings’ irresistible rockabilly stomp, the childlike oddity of It’s Nice To Have A Friend) that no other pop superstar would have the sheer musical chops to attempt, let alone pull off.

“Taylor’s creative instincts as an artist and songwriter are brilliant,” says Monte Lipman, founder and CEO of Swift’s US label, Republic. “Our partnership represents a strategic alliance built on mutual respect, trust, and complete transparency. Her vision is extraordinary as she sets the tone for every campaign and initiative.”

No wonder David Joseph, chairman/CEO of her long-time UK label Virgin EMI’s parent company Universal Music UK, is thrilled with how things are going.

“Love Story was a fitting first single release for Taylor here - she’s loved the UK from day one and has engaged so much with her fans and teams,” says Joseph. “She really respects and values what’s going on here creatively. To see her go from playing the Students’ Union at King’s College to Wembley Stadium has been extraordinary. Taylor is an artist constantly striving for perfection, and with Lover - from my personal point of view, her most accomplished work to date adore working with her and whilst it’s been more than 10 years this still feels like the start.”

And today, Swift is keen to concentrate on the present and future. She has a starring role in Cats coming up (and a new song on the soundtrack, Beautiful Ghosts, co-written with Andrew Lloyd Webber) and, after a spectacularly intimate Paris launch show in September, festival dates and her own LoverFest to plan (UK shows will be revealed soon). Time, then, to tell the cats to calm down and sit down with Music Week to talk streaming, contracts and why she’s “obsessed” with the music industry...

Unlike with Reputation, most of the discussion around Lover seems to have been focused on the music... Absolutely! One of the ideas I had about this record, and something I’ve implemented into my life in the last couple of years is that I don’t like distractions. And, for a while, it felt like my life had to come with distractions from the music, whether it was tabloid fascination with my personal life or my friendships or what I was wearing. I realised in the last couple of years that, if I don’t give a window into distraction, people can’t try to look in and see something other than the music. I love that, if you really pour yourself into the idea that an album is still important and try really hard to make something that is worth people’s attention span, time and energy, that can still come across. Because we are living in an industry right now where everyone’s rushing towards taking us into a singles industry and, in some cases, it has become that. But there are still some cases where clearly the album is important to people.

Does it matter that some new artists won’t get to make albums the way you always have? It’s interesting. Five years ago I wrote an op-ed in the Wall Street Journal and said, maybe in the next five years, we would see artists releasing music the way that they want to. I thought that each artist would start to curate what is important to them, not just from an artistic standpoint but from a marketing standpoint. It’s really interesting to see different release plans, if you look at what Drake did and then what Beyoncé does, incredible artists who have really curated what it is to drop music in their own way. We all do it differently, which is cool. As long as people dropping just singles want to be doing that, then I’m fine with it, but if it feels like a big general wave that’s being pressured by people in power, their teams or their labels, that’s not cool. But I do really hope that in the future artists have more of a say over strategy. We’re not just supposed to make art and then hand it to a team that masterminds it.

Were you worried about putting an album on streaming on release day for the first time? Well, there are ways that streaming services could really promote the [whole] album in a more incentivised way. We could have album charts on streaming. The industry follows where they can get prizes. So you have a singles chart on streaming services which is great but, if you split things up into genre charts for example, that would really incentivise people. It’s important that we keep trying to strive to make the experience better for users but also make it more interesting for artists to keep wanting to achieve. But I really did love the experience of putting the album on streaming. I loved the immediacy, I loved that people who maybe weren’t a huge diehard fan were curious and saying, ‘I wonder what this is like’ and listening to it and deciding that they liked it.

You’d resisted streaming for a long time. Have you changed your mind about the format now? I always knew that I would enjoy the aspects of streaming that make [your music] so immediately available to so many people. That’s the part of it that I unequivocally always felt really sad I was missing out on. There wasn’t ever a day when I woke up and I was like, ‘Oh, I’m really glad that multitudes of people don’t have access to my music!’ So I always knew that streaming was an incredible mechanism and model for the future but I still don’t think we have the royalties and compensation system worked out. That’s between the labels and their artists and I realised that me, to use a gross word, ‘leveraging’ what I can bring to cut a better deal for the artists at my record label was really important for me.

How big a factor were things like that in you signing to Republic/Universal? That’s important to me because that means they’re adopting some of my ideas. If they take me on as an artist that means they really thought it through. Because with me, come opinions about how we can better our industry. I’m one of the only people in the artist realm who can be loud about it. People who are on their fifth, sixth or seventh album, we’re the only ones who can speak out, because new artists and producers and writers need to work. They need to be endearing and likeable and available to their labels and streaming services at all times. It’s up to the artists who have been around for a second to say, ‘Hey guys, the producers and the writers and the artists are the ones who are making music what it is’. And we’re in a great place in music right now thanks to them. They should be going to their mailbox and feeling like they’ve got a pension plan, rather than feeling like, ‘Oh yay, I can pay half my rent this month after this No.1 song’.

Did you have more creative freedom making Lover than on your previous albums? In my previous situation, there were creative constraints, issues that we had over the years. I’ve always given 100% to projects, I always over-delivered, thinking that that generosity would be returned to me. But I ended up finding that generosity in a new situation with a new label that understands that I deserve to own what I make. That meant so much to me because it was given over to me so freely. When someone just looks at you and says ‘Yes, you deserve what you want’, after a decade or more of being told, ‘I’m not sure you deserve what you want’ - there’s a freedom that comes with that. It’s like when people find ‘the one’ they’re like, ‘It was easy, I just knew and I felt free’. All of a sudden you’re being told you’re worth exactly, no, more than what you thought you were worth. And that made me feel I could make an album that was exactly what I wanted to make. There’s an eclectic side to Lover, a confessional side, it varies from acoustic to really poppy pop, but that’s what I like to do. And, while you would never make something artistic based on something so unromantic as a contract, it was more than that. It was a group of people saying, ‘We believe in what you’re making, go make what you want to make and you deserve to own it too’.

You’re obviously not happy about what’s happened at Big Machine since you left. But will the attention mean artists don’t find themselves in this situation in the future? I hope so. That’s the only reason that I speak out about things. The fans don’t understand these things, the public isn’t being made aware. This generation has so much information available to them so I thought it was important that the fans knew what I was going through, because I knew it was going to affect every aspect of my life and I wanted them to be the first to know. And in and amongst that group, I know there are people that want to make music some day. It involves every new artist that is reading that and going, ‘Wait, that’s what I’m signing?’ They don’t have to sign stuff that’s unfair to them. If you don’t ask the right questions and you sit in front of the wrong desk in front of the wrong person, they can take everything from you.

Songwriters are in dispute with Spotify in the US over its decision to appeal the Copyright Board decision to boost songwriting royalties. Do writers need more respect? Absolutely. In terms of the power structure, the songwriters, the producers, the engineers, the people who are breathing magic into our industry, need to be listened to. They’re not being greedy. This is legitimately an industry where people are having trouble paying their bills and they’re the most talented people we have. This isn’t them sitting in their mansions going, ‘I wish this mansion was bigger and I would like a yacht please’. This is actually people who are going to work every single day. I got into writing when I was in Nashville and it was very much like what I read about the Brill Building. You would write every day, whether you were inspired or not, and in the process I met artists and writers. Somebody would walk in and someone would say, ‘Oh, he’s still getting mailbox money from that Faith Hill cut a couple of years ago, he’s set’. That’s not a thing anymore. Mailbox money is a thing of the past and we need to remember that these are the people that create the heartbeat that we’re all dancing to or crying to.

You were clearly aware of music industry machinations from a young age... Reading back on the journal entries, I forgot how obsessed I was with the industry as a teenager. I was so fascinated by how it works and how it was changing. Every part of it was interesting to me. I had drawn the stages for most of my tours a year before I went on them. That really was fun for me as a teenager! A lot of people who start out very young in music, either don’t have a say or don’t have the will to do the business side of it, but weirdly that was so much fun for me to try and learn. I had a lot of energy when I was 16!

Are you doing similar drawings for next year’s LoverFest? Definitely. And that’s why it’s still fun for me to take on a challenge like, ‘Oh, let’s just plan our own festival’. Let’s create a bill of artists and try and make it as fun as possible for the fans. I’m so intrigued by what that’s going to be like.

Finally, when we last did an interview in 2015, you said in five years’ time you wanted to be “finding complexity in happiness”. How has that worked out? That’s exactly what’s happened with this album! I think a lot of writers have the fear of stability, emotional health and happiness. Our whole careers, people make jokes about how, ‘Just wait until you meet someone nice, you’ll run out of stuff to write about’. I was talking to [Cats director] Tom Hooper about this because he said one thing his mother taught him was, ‘Don’t ever let people tell you that you can’t make art if you’re happy’. I thought that was so amazing. He’s a creator in a completely different medium but he has been subjected to that same joke over and over again that we must be miserable to create. Lover is important to me in so many ways, but it’s so imperative for me as a human being that songwriting is not tied to my own personal misery. It’s good to know that, it really is!

[loquaciousquark]

Cut for talk of COVID and irresponsible failure to social distance (my own). Also, some updates on what’s been going on here for the last month or so.

part one:

Very very long story that I am truncating as much as possible. As you all know, I am an optometrist and professor. When we shut down in March, our university made a huge, painful shift to remote learning and our student clinic ceased operations altogether. Neither students nor faculty saw patients from March 15 - the the middle of May. At the end of May, faculty began seeing patients directly in an extremely reduced schedule, and at the beginning of June, we began adding in very limited numbers of students in a rolling schedule that minimized exposure to all involved.

Three weeks ago, my dear friend Jasper contacted me and said that an old friend of hers, whom I will call Carol, was in dire straits after losing her job overseas. Carol has an extremely rocky history: a terrible car accident that left her legs and feet permanently damaged which directly led to a very bad divorce, significant student loan debt (just shy of six digits I think, compounded from the accident, since she used her student loans to pay her medical bills--for anyone reading this, do not EVER EVER EVER DO THIS--student loans are never touched by bankruptcy declarations and you will owe them until you die), and something of an inability to put down roots. She is an English teacher who has taught and traveled all over the world: Prague, Bahrain, Czech Republic, Los Angeles, Rio, etc.

When I first met her about ten years ago, she had come back to Alabama from Prague because a job had fallen through. She was completely broke and living out of two suitcases and a carry-on. She lived with us for three months for free, sleeping in Jasper’s bed because we had no other room for her, and eventually got a job in Boston and moved on. She lasted--I think--about two months in Boston before quitting and taking a job in the Middle East.

On top of her student loan debt, Carol also has significant IRS debt and is in debt to several of her friends. Over the last few years, she took several ill-advised positions overseas back to back without ever consulting a lawyer on her contracts, and did not realize until recently that one of her positions classified her as an independent contractor instead of an employee, so she owed US taxes on all her income for that period of time. Her most recent job in Prague she lost in February because she filed her visa (again, without a lawyer) incorrectly, and what should have been a brief three-week stay outside of the country became a six week stay on the couch of strangers in the Czech Republic while she waited for her visa reapplication to process. However, it was denied, and then COVID hit, and she returned to Alabama with only a portion of her possessions and tons of important paperwork left behind in her Prague apartment. She then unfortunately had two emergency surgeries on her stomach for an acute, unpredictable medical issue, and while she is well healing now, it also added on another forty thousand dollars of medical debt to what she already owed.

She stayed with her mother and sister while she was recovering from the emergency surgeries, but her family is emotionally abusive and very unkind to her, and after a few weeks she left their home and went to stay with Jasper. However, Jasper is also 8 months pregnant with her fourth child, and they both knew it was a temporary thing. Jasper knows that I have a large home with several spare bedrooms, and asked if I would be willing to host Carol for a period of time while she got back on her feet. I knew what I was agreeing to when I said yes, and Carol and I settled on a period of two months. She has now been here almost three weeks.

Frankly, I do not like Carol very much. We are unbelievably different people in every way--personality, temperament, proclivity to crying in front of other people, hobbies, interests, religion, all of it. She is a very nice person, and I think she truly does mean well. But she is the most emotionally needy and energy-sapping person I have ever met, and I cannot tolerate her company in more than small chunks. It is not possible to hold a conversation with her about any subject tangentially related to her difficulties; if I try to sympathize with her loans by mentioning my own, she shuts me down by saying at least I will have the chance to ever pay them back. If I just try to listen without commentary, she’ll wrap herself up in her own stories and talk for hours without ever needing more than “mm”s and “hm”s and my undivided attention the entire time.

She will often work herself up into sobbing tears over her situation(s), and she always informs me immediately of any new development in any of her numerous trials: which are usually negative, considering the situation, and usually resulting in more tears. She has cried on me probably more than a dozen times since she moved in, and she wields “I love you” like a weapon, more to hear the validation of the response than to truly express the sentiment. She constantly asks for advice on her situation but does not listen to any of it--seems more to just want to relive each tragic detail of her life over and over again with an audience, wondering why she’s continually “screwed over in her life.” (Really, really poor financial decisions and constantly trusting her own “intuition” over getting competent legal advice before signing contracts, are I think the biggest contributors.) She has told me so many private details about her personal views, relationships with her ex-husband and mother and sister, her financial choices, and her extensive travel and job history over the last few years that I probably know her history better than my own at this point.

I think she thinks by sharing so much that she is justifying to me her need to stay with me. What is actually happening is that I am forced to help shoulder this enormous emotional load that compounds my own mental health problems I’ve been having since all this started. I have told her more than once that she does not need to justify herself to me and that my home is open to her for two months, no strings attached. I believe she is making all the steps she needs to and do not need reports on her daily activities to “pay” for her lodging or electricity or internet or whatever. This has changed the behavior a little for the better but not stopped it.

There are moments that are not bad. As I have mentioned, she does mean well and want well for most people. She likes Hamlet and loves Jasper, who is extremely important to me. But she is extremely difficult to be around in so many other ways, and the way she constantly exclaims over how we basically think alike on all things (absolutely untrue) makes me think she either will not or cannot read my reluctance to engage on any of these topics.

(An example: I was watching footage of the SpaceX launch and despite my feelings on Elon Musk, really excited about the implications for space travel. She came in, and after misunderstanding for some time that I was not watching Space Force with Steve Carell, decided that the SpaceX program was morally bankrupt, obviously borne of shady backroom government deals, and everyone involved should have used the money to solve world hunger instead. For the record, she had not heard of the shuttle launch, SpaceX, or Elon Musk at all before the seeing the footage.)

(She also until last week had not heard of Playstation, Xbox, streaming as a concept, or any game more modern than the original Mario. Trying to order a grocery delivery online was an excruciating torment for her [took her over four days to get through selecting the items, selecting allowable replacements, and actually paying] and I will not ask her to do it again. She frequently makes comments about video games being a waste of time, and when she sees children playing outside, comments on how glad she is they are not inside playing video games. She doesn’t seem to realize her comments are a direct commentary on me; I think she genuinely does not understand that those games are what I am playing most of my free time.)

Right now, everything seems to hinge on her passing some teacher recertification tests next week and the week after. She spent $150 to give herself less than a week to study from scratch for a test she described as the hardest she’d ever taken. There were several other dates later in the summer she could have chosen, and her deadline is December, but she picked the soonest option for reasons I can’t fathom. She is also in the process of trying to get a car--right now I’m driving her everywhere--and she was ready to hand over $3800 yesterday for a ten-year-old Hyundai with a check-engine light on without even thinking of getting any kind of inspection. She is far more concerned with the color and “energy” of the car than its function, and would not have even checked the headlights and blinkers if I hadn’t prompted it.

She will be here another five weeks or so. We move around each other now better than we did before, and I hope it will continue to improve. But it’s a lot like a rock grinding a groove in the streambed from the repetitive friction, and it’s not the struggle I wanted to be having right now.

part two:

As I mentioned above, Jasper is having her fourth child in a month or so. One of her friends, someone I don’t know, contacted me and said she wanted to do a drive-by “baby sprinkle,” where no one gets out of their cars. You drop off the gifts, talk to the recipient a few minutes from the car window, and move on. I told her that I work in health care and am exposed to patients, so that sounded good to me.

The shower was this morning. Carol and I got up and drove the thirty minutes to Jasper’s house. There were four other families in cars right around the corner, and the “hostess” gave us all balloons to tie on our side mirrors. She told us we would drive around the corner, drop off the gifts, and loop around. Jasper’s husband would arrange for her to be in the front yard at the right time.

Cute enough. We go around the corner with little honks and Jasper sees us and starts crying, and it’s all wonderful and emotional and a fabulous surprise and I’m genuinely excited about it. And then people start parking and getting out of their cars, and Carol and I start looking at each other. They’re full families, too--three of the other moms brought all their kids, and soon enough they’re playing with Jasper’s three boys in the front yard and coming up asking to pet Hamlet through the car window. No one was wearing masks.

And what’s worse, when they all started looking at us expectantly through the car window, we didn’t know what to do. They were handing Jasper her gifts and obviously settling in for a good long chat; the women were hugging, talking about how they are “so over this COVID stuff, please come visit soon,” and Hamlet of course recognizes his original owners in Jasper and her husband so he’s freaking out, and after a few moments, we decided to just get out of the car.

It was the first time I really felt the social pressure to participate in an event I wasn’t comfortable with. I have no issue maintaining my social distance and my mask and my handwashing at work because that is where I have the position of authority, and I have the responsibility to model it for the students and patients--but here, I was a guest at someone else’s house at someone else’s event, and I really, really felt how they might perceive me as rude. While I didn’t know the other women, my relationship with Jasper is extremely important to me, and I didn’t want to make this special event for her difficult in any way.

So we got out of the car and joined the group. I tried to keep my distance as much as possible, especially since I had Hamlet on the leash and there were a half-dozen small children around, but at least twice I looked up and there was someone right at my elbow, and we made small talk for five minutes or so before either she drifted back to the group or I moved Hamlet into the shade away from the rest.

Cars drove by and slowed down more than once to look at us. Jasper’s husband made a comment about rolling his eyes if he saw their family on Facebook that evening. The women planned play dates, all standing very close together, and Jasper opened her gifts (that part was excellent). All in all we were probably there about twenty minutes. 

I should mention that on the drive there, we passed a public park that has a very pretty waterfall right next to the road, and there were probably a dozen families out playing. There was a festival/outdoor market right outside the the park that had a sign up about social distancing, but the fifty or so people we saw shopping there were not adhering in any meaningful way. No one wore a mask.

And what annoys the bejeezus out of me is that I didn’t either. I didn’t even think about it until after we finally got back in the car to drive away. This is the first social event I’ve gone to since the first week of March, and while I wear masks for eight+ hours every day I go in to work, it didn’t occur to me even a single time to put on even my little cloth one that I keep in the car until we were driving away afterwards. I was so flummoxed by every little thing happening differently than I expected--people getting out of cars, how surprised I was by my own susceptibility to not rocking the boat, how normal everyone else made it to stand so close they could bump elbows so that Carol and I became almost excluded from the circle--that it never once crossed my mind. I know masks are more for the protection of those around you, not to keep you from catching what other people are carrying, but I could have set an example. I could have been the health professional I should have been in the moment.

I’m just so disappointed in myself. Disappointed in my own carelessness, irritated that I didn’t say anything, continually frustrated in a deep, gut-wrenching way by the whole situation that requires this in the first place. Bewildered that so many people are “back to normal” while this thing is still spreading, and in brutal honesty wishing I could be like them and just give up the fight myself. I’m not even mad at them. I WANT TO BE THEM. Why am I continually bothering to care and sanitize and mask and stay at home when no one else is? Literally no one would judge me in this state for it more than I’m already being judged (in most cases impersonally, though I felt the potential for it today in specific) for still watching the recommended guidelines.

I am really, really sick of this. I am so sick of feeling alone in this (of being alone in this, and Carol doesn’t count). Hearing other people saying “there there, you’re doing the right thing” honestly makes it even worse. I want people to stop patronizingly telling me to do things I already know are the right thing to do. I want other people as mad as I am that I can’t do the things I want to and need to do instead of being endlessly patient and noble about all the lives they’re saving by staying home. I’m top-of-my-head-blowing-off furious that so many people are shrugging and saying “well this is just the way it will be forever and alas, so it goes” and acting like those of us who did the right thing and cancelled our plans and our trips and our visits to dear friends but who are mad about having to do it are overreacting. I’m so fucking mad about it. I’ve stayed home for two months and I’ve isolated and I’ve quarantined and my hands are cracking from the constant sanitizer/washing at work and except for today I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do for this, and I don’t want to do it. And seeing people be so heroically virtuous and longsuffering on Facebook feels as alien and upsetting to me as the people who go to the beaches with a hundred of their closest friends.

That’s probably unfair in myriad ways. I’m really too angry, including at myelf, to soften it right now.

I want a vaccine and I want to be back in my classroom teaching to fifty faces instead of a screen in my living room, and I’m honestly freaking sick of waiting at home for them to figure this out. And watching everyone else move on with their lives back to the normal I would kill to have is just one more crack in the dike.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

hello this isnt abt batfam or batman but i saw your age and was wondering how do i survive till 23? i am 18 now and 5 more years is very hard to survive please help

Interesting question. I turn 24 in ten days, and sometimes even I’m not sure. I guess I’ll talk about how I personally stayed alive this long before I try to give advice.

The very first thing I would say is that I am religious, and that worldview makes a difference. I don’t mean that in a “everything happens for a reason” kind of way, and as a matter of fact, I very much dislike that line of thinking. It does a lot of damage, and I’m aware that it rightly puts a lot of people off from religion in general. 

I hold two beliefs that I think are helpful in terms of survival. First, I believe that humans are by nature bad. Counterintuitive in this conversation? Stick with me. Every day, but especially at my lowest moments, I hate the things that I am. In a metaphorical sense, my mind whispers to me that I am selfish, that I am cowardly, that I think bad things and I am capable of worse. I’m hateful, I’m terrifying, and I am absolutely broken. At my core, there is something fundamentally wrong, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t fix it. 

I am disgusting. I’m several thousand evil things in a trench-coat pretending to be anything but myself, and I’m not fooling anyone. 

Well, yeah. Yeah, I’m all those things and more: manipulative, lying, self-obsessed, angry, unforgiving, and judgmental. I could, of course, go on.

Here’s the thing-- everybody is. I am no better and no worse than any other person in the universe, and though I am ever abhorrent thing, I am. I have the same dignity, the same worth, and the same life as any human anywhere. The dark things are part and parcel of my humanity, but although I am not good, I do good. 

I will never be perfect because that just isn’t possible, but I can be kind. I can be loving, I can be strong, and I can be wise. 

Shit, doesn’t that set me free?

There’s a lot more to this conversation, and the rest goes, in brief, like this: at the bottom of the darkness that is every soul, we have one great fear-- if I am truly evil, no one will ever love me. Good news on that front, there is a God who does. If that’s something you want to talk about, hey hit me up. I’ll evangelize on my own time. 

Back to it. My second belief is a kind of understanding about the passage of time, and it’s sort of hard to boil down into a few sentences, but I’ll try my best. I believe in a grand struggle between good and evil. I know the beginning of that struggle. I know the end of that struggle: that good will win. I am a part of the middle. 

I see my role in the universe as extraordinary small but absolutely necessary. I have a two-fold purpose-- love God, love humans. I interpret both as a call to help others in any way I can, and I think in the way my life has worked out so far, that’s really the most important thing keeping me alive. 

I see all of this through the frame of my religion, but I would argue that everything I’ve said so far is applicable outside of that frame, because a lot of folks get to the same place from a fully secular point of view. I cannot be perfect. I should care about and fight for other people. That’s really all we’re working from here. 

A few years back, when people asked me this question-- how do you stay alive?-- I used to answer “spite,” and that’s not untrue. I am a very angry person, and the grand majority of that anger is directed at what I perceive as unjust acts. I have a deep-seated hatred of establishments (including the established church), and you’d be shocked at how much of a motivator that can be. 

I grew up in an environment that was very intentional in teaching me to identify injustice. Though I have radically departed from many of the teachings of my childhood, the part about fighting for others was something I learned at day one, and that bit has stuck around. For the most part, I grew up in an environment where everyone was on the same page about it. 

And theeeeeeen I went to undergrad. Hello, Texas A&M. I hit campus as an 18 year old fully incapacitated by anxiety. I was the kind of person who didn’t-- in fact couldn’t-- speak in front of others. I had always lived my life in a way that minimized myself, because if I never spoke, if I never disagreed, if I never drew attention, I would never make anyone angry. I knew from experience that angry people hurt me, and I was afraid of pain. 

Then I experienced the absolute shenaniganry of conservative Texans. The culture shock sent me to space and back, and on the return trip I decided that I couldn’t be quiet anymore. 

I learned to speak my freshman year so that I could scream FUCK YOU. It was incredibly painful, and I can’t tell you exactly how I managed it other than I was angry, and I didn’t want to lose. 

I fought a similar battle on my homefront against parents that didn’t know how to deal with a daughter that disagreed, or even worse, a daughter that wasn’t okay. I wasn’t a perfect child anymore. I knew I had anxiety, I knew I was depressed, and we all knew who I blamed for that. They hadn’t been the perfect parents they thought they were. 

I found myself growing, little by little, into a person that could write and argue and hold her ground. That’s personal growth for sure, but it didn’t necessarily help my mental health. As a matter of fact, my health declined all through undergrad, and in my third and final year, I cracked.

I was desperate. I was isolated. I was flooded by fear and despair, and I was falling apart. I don’t remember huge chunks of undergrad because I was so depressed that the memories didn’t stick, but I do remember my tipping point.

It was something small. The ceiling fan in my bedroom was broken. The lighting chain worked fine, but if anyone pulled the fan chain, the whole thing would stop working. I mixed up which chain was which, pulled the wrong cord, and broke it for the fourth time. 

For some reason, that was it. I lay down on my floor and cried for an hour, and while I did, my mind went to, as the kids say, a dark place. Finally, I called my mom and begged for psychiatric medication, something I had always been afraid to ask for. At the time, my parents believed that antidepressants were overprescribed, and they mocked parents that let their children take them. 

At around the same time, I was deciding what to do with my life. I was about to graduate, and I had always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. Instead, everyone in my life pushed me towards law school. I didn’t know what to do, but I began fantasizing, not about going to law school exactly, but about being the kind of person that could go to law school. 

I knew that law school would be entail public speaking and constant conflict and the kind of work that would be hard for a person who sometimes couldn’t leave her bed. I wanted to be someone who could do all of that, but I didn’t believe I was.

Enter Donald Trump. Post-November 2016, I struggled to understand how something like that could happen, and I watched everyone else deal with it too. I began confused, moved to distraught, then returned to what I always am: angry.

January 2017 was the inauguration and shortly afterwards, the “Muslim ban.” I read the news on my bedroom floor, and there was one specific part that stuck out to me. There were pictures of lawyers flooding the airports. There was a court case headed for SCOTUS.

I suddenly realized that one group-- one very select group-- was doing what I was powerless to accomplish. I hated establishments, and there was one group that could challenge and change them. Some people could fight in the way I wanted to, and those people were lawyers.

I have a very distinct memory of looking into the bathroom mirror of my third-year apartment and thinking, “I will be miserable for the rest of my life, no matter what I do or what career I pick. I might as well be a miserable lawyer.”

So I took my antidepressants and I went to law school. I’m not going to rehash everything that happened there in this particular post, because in this topic, I don’t think it matters. The relevant part is that I went, and I had my reason why.

Sure as hell can tell you that law school wasn’t good for my health. The last three years have been, in terms of sheer stress and despair, the worst of my life. I picked up a self-harm habit, endured consistent humiliation, cycled through six different antidepressants, had horrible relationships, and developed a psychotic disorder. Don’t get me wrong, there were good things too. I met people that are important me, and beyond that, I grew. 

I know that 18 year old me would be absolutely flabbergasted by the woman I am now, cracks and flaws included. I wouldn’t say I’m healthy or okay, but I am more healthy and more okay. I’m coming out of this mess with the institutional power I wanted, and now I get to decide what to do with it. 

I was wrong three years ago when I looked in that bathroom mirror. I know now that I won’t be miserable for the rest of my life. I’m going to be happy someday, and to the parts of me that say otherwise: fuck you. I’ve learned to say it now. 

I graduated law school this week, and this month, I’ve felt better than I ever have before. I’m singing again, I dropped two medications, and suddenly, everything is so, so funny. I’ve been laughing so hard my face hurts the day after. 

This is a huge turning point in my life, so I’ve been meditating on my past. I’ve come to the conclusion that in most of the ways that matter, I won. My family has been forced to accept what I am. I became the person I wanted to be, even though I thought I wasn’t capable of that. 

I know for sure that there will be times in my life where I hit rock bottom again, and that’s not gonna be fun. It’s likely that with my mental health issues, I will always have to work harder than my peers to get the same results. That’s unfair. 

I also know that high points exist, and I will have them. I am having them, and I will again. 

I guess in recap, I know that I have deep flaws and ugly parts, but I am at peace with that. I know that I must help others, and in pursuit of that goal, I became a person I like more than the girl I used to be. 

You have exactly the same potential. I want you to know that whatever you are now, that’s not your forever. Circumstances change, and you will change too. We’re human, you and I, and that’s an exciting thing to be. 

Your worth comes from your humanity itself, both evil and good, not the things you do or the fights you win. You never have to compare yourself to others because you are exactly the same as everybody else-- no better, but certainly no worse. You’re a person. That’s enough. 

I’m telling you all those things, and as advice, I’ll say this: get angry and fight. Fight for others. You can help them, and you should. Fight for yourself. You are worthy of respect, and everyone else should give it to you. Fight yourself. Any part of you that preaches despair is wrong. 

Find the thing that makes you angry and use it. Things are fucked up! There’s a lot to be angry about. I put it this way to my classmates, now my attorney peers: you get one hill to die on. What’s your hill? Go and defend it. 

Here’s an interesting thing, anon. Your hill can be yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re right. Five years is a lot, and all the years beyond that are more. Take your antidepressants and go.

[ashsblurbs]

Peter’s weekend

“Peter! He will be here in ten minutes are you pack?” Tony sat at the base of the stairs typing away on his phone with his ex. Steve called two weeks ago and asked if he could see Peter. Tony was reluctant at first. Steve hadn’t been around for a few months with missions back to back. There might be one or two calls with Peter, but it wasn’t like Peter cared. Ever since Steve and Tony got divorced a year ago Peter had been distanced with them both. More with Steve then Tony and it concerned Tony very much. No matter what was going on between the two he wanted Peter to know he was loved by both parents; Steve might just struggle showing it.

“Yeah, I’m packed but do I really have to.” Tony looked up to find his angst-driven son trying to carry his suitcase down the stairs.

“Need help there, bud.”

Peter just rolled his eyes. “No, Dad, I got it. Also, you didn’t answer my question. Why do I have to go with Steve?” Tony looked up from his phone and gave his son a stern look. “You have to go because he is your father. You do not call him Steve. You will call him papa like you have since you were two years old. Do you understand me, young man?”

Peter just rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He mumbled.

There was a knock at the door which Tony answered. On the other side stood the man he thought he would love forever and maybe a little bit of him still did but all of that was in the past. “Hello, Steve, he’s all packed and ready to go.” Peter pushed past the men to get into Steve’s truck. “It’s good to see you, Tony. How’s life?”

Tony chewed onto his lip not sure if he should tell Steve what was going on his life or keep it a secret. Then he thought this weekend wasn’t about him or about him and Steve’s broken relationship. This was about Peter. “Life’s good. Just been busy with work you know. Taking care of Peter. What about you? How was your mission in Romania?”

Steve shrugged. His life has been lonely and sad for a while. He does all of those missions to fill a void, but he would never say any of his inner thoughts out loud. “Yeah, life’s been good. The mission was a success. We got some excellent intel but I’m sure Fury will brief you on that.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck to ease his anxiety. The silence between them became unbearable. There was so much unsaid between them that they both wanted to say but they were finally ripped from their thoughts when Peter honked the horn. “Well, I guess um. I will drop him off on Sunday. I will text you what time we will be back.” Tony nodded in agreement and Steve headed out.

“So, how’s school bud?” Peter looked out the window not saying anything. This was the fourth conversation starter his Papa tried. He wanted to talk to him like it was old times. Like it was before the divorce, but Peter couldn’t get over the fact Steve left him, and he never apologized for it. “Come on, Pete, please talk to me. There can’t be silence all weekend.” His Papa really underestimated him. There wasn’t going to be a single word coming out of him.

They were still an hour out and the silence was becoming unbearable. What happened to their relationship in such a short period of time, Steve thought? He knew it was all his fault. He was away because he needed to deal with what was going on with his emotions but that was selfish of him. His son needed him, and he just left with little communication here and there. Steve had really messed up and he didn’t know how to fix it. Steve turned on the radio and the song Smells like Teen Spirit by Nirvana came one.

“Hello, Hello, with the lights outs, it’s less dangerous.” Steve looked over to his son and noticed Peter was singing along. He wasn’t loud but he definitely knew all of the words. “Hey, you know this song, son.” Peter stopped abruptly and looked over at Steve shyly. “Yeah, all I’ve been listening to is Nirvana since you left.” He trailed off. Steve paused the music hoping that for the first time during this trip his son would open up to him.

“Really, I love Nirvana. It’s my favorite band.”

“Yeah, I know that’s why I’ve been listening. It reminds me of the good times. When I was six and you would take me to the park and crank up the music. Papa this music was all I had of you when you were gone before and after the divorce.” Steve sniffled and turned the music back on where the silence settled between them once again because now it was Steve’s turn not to talk. He didn’t know what to say.

Peter looked up at Steve’s new home. This was supposed to be his home too, but it was never going to be as long as both of his parents weren’t there together. Peter pulled out his phone to call his dad but there was no answer. Of course. There was always no answer even when they were in the same room together. Peter couldn’t wait until August when he went off to college. He would then be on his own and wouldn’t have to deal with both of his fathers’ issues.

“How do you like the house bud? Your room is kind of empty right now but after dinner, we could go to the store and pick some things up to decorate it. I really want this house to feel like a home for you.”

Peter just stared at Steve with disgust. Without another word, Peter went into his room and close his door behind him. He knew he was being a brat but it’s a lot to take in. Peter sat his suitcase on his bed and looked around. His Papa was right that the room was bare but for the single picture frame that had had him, dad, and papa. They looked so happy. Dad and Papa looked in love. Where did it all go wrong? Peter held the picture close to his chest and cried. This was the first time Peter let himself feel anything. He felt grief, he felt anger, and he felt a weight finally lift.

“Hey, Peter are you okay. I heard crying.” Steve pushed Peter’s door open to find a shaking Peter in the corner. Peter turned around with the picture frame still in his hands with tears streaming down his cheeks. Steve paused taken back by the sight in front of him. It was like looking at his little boy once again. Whenever Peter would have nightmares he would come into his and Tony’s room holding onto his teddy bear and his big brown eyes would stare at them with sadness in them. Steve wrapped Peter into his arms. “It’s okay Petey let it out. Papa is right here.”

Steve navigated his son over to the bed where they both sat down. “Peter what’s wrong.” Peter sniffled. He handed Steve the photograph that Steve had placed in his room. Steve thought it would have brought Peter comfort but that was the opposite effect.

“Peter, tell me what is going on.”

“I feel like I don’t have a home anymore. I feel so alone, Papa.” Steve wrapped an arm around Peter pulling him in closer. He buried his face into the side of Steve’s arm just like he did when he was younger. Steve gently rubbed Peter’s back to soothe him.

“Peter, I’m so sorry.”

“Why did you leave us? Why weren’t we good enough for you? Why do you love Bucky more than your family?” Steve just kept rubbing Peter’s back not knowing what to say. He was a terrible man for abandoning his family. He should have allowed Tony to help when he had the chance.

“Peter, I’m sorry.”

Peter pushed away. “Is that all you have to say is I’m sorry. Did you ever love dad? Did you ever love me?”

“Son, how could you ever ask me that? I love you very much you are my son. Whenever I don’t see you or talk to you, I get really low. I also loved your father. I still love your father. I hope he knows that”

“Well do you know that dad moved on. Yeah, he’s with a new guy that won’t break his heart and leave as you did.” Peter got up and left the house. Steve didn’t move from his spot. Tony had moved on. Steve hoped he was happy. Right now, he needed to worry about his son. Steve knew what he had to show Peter that he loved him more than the world. Maybe his idea will change everything. Maybe he could make it up to him for everything that has happened.

“Please pick me up. I don’t want to be here anymore dad.” His dad had finally picked up after trying to call him for the third time that day. Peter just wanted to go home. “Peter, it will be fine. Your Papa wants to spend some time together. It’s just for two days. I got to go now Peter. I love you.” Peter slammed his phone in his pocket. Yeah, it was just two days in hell he thought.

“Peter come here. I have something to show you.”

“No!” Peter kept walking down the path not paying any attention to Steve.

“Peter, please. Just ten minutes.” Peter turned around with his arms crossed looking up at his Papa. “Fine, then afterward leave me alone for the rest of the weekend.” Peter sulked.

Peter sat in the living room waiting for Steve to come back. Whatever Steve showed him wouldn’t change his feelings. He just wanted to go home.

Steve walked in with a cardboard box in his hand with a variety of items in it from the past. “What’s this?” Steve handed Peter the box and he looked inside. It had his old teddy bear and his favorite blanket. There were also several photo albums and envelopes. Peter looked over at Steve curiously. Why was he showing him this stuff?

“Explain.”

“When I moved out, I wanted to make sure I had things I could pull out when I couldn’t see you. I look at those photo albums every night and laugh and cry over the memories. Those letters are letters I written during missions over the last eighteen years. If you would like you can read them. Each one was about how much I love you guys and all I wanted to do was go home and be with you two.” Steve got up leaving Peter alone with the items.

Each letter made Peter cry more and more. His dad really needed to read these. Maybe he was being a little harsh on his Papa. He really did love them even up to the last minute. Peter dropped everything and ran to Steve. He slammed into him giving him a hug. “Woah, Peter.”

“Papa, I’m sorry. I judged you too quickly. I love you and miss you so much.” Steve pulled his son in tighter never wanting to let go. “I love you too bud. Let’s start over and get some dinner.” Peter shook his head yes.

Two days later

Tony went to the window after hearing a car pull in. He watched as Steve and Peter got out of the truck laughing and joking around. This was so nice he thought. All he wanted was Peter to have a loving relationship with his father.

“It looks like y’all had a good weekend.”

“Yeah, dad. The best. Is it okay if I go back next weekend?” Peter was beaming with happiness. Tony had a slight tear well up in his eye. He was so happy to finally see his son happy.

“Yeah, that will be okay. Now go unpack while I talk to your father.” Peter rushed upstairs leaving Steve and Tony alone.

“Tony, thank you for this weekend.” Tony looked over at Steve missing what they had. Missing their family together. “Steve, would you like to stay for dinner? Think Peter would like that. Well, I would too.” Steve smiled. “Thank you, Tony. I think I will.”