#im completely stuck when it comes to this debacle

[otaku-tactician]

pls help me!

there is one thing ive wondered. did medb abuse cu alter or does he serve her of his own free will? i get that summoning him at all was sketchy in itself as it completely skewered him in a way in which hes endlessly suffering but i do admit... i thought it was the kind of relationship where she says annoying things and then he goes "thwap" lightly with his tail and carries on with his life and helps out of his own volition (where they kinda get along). Like i thought it was like he puts up with her and helps out, she relies on him, they kind of get along in a surreal way.

i do notice that some of the FGO mangas licensed by type moon also take this approach as well where its like they got on awkwardly but can teamwork (chibichuki fgo, medb medb medb and the one that has been covering singularities), so i kinda assumed that it was like him making an extreme sacrifice to make up for a guilt towards her in his past life(like lancer bond 4 where he mentions failing important women in his life) or out of a duty to help her to a certain extent... I am aware that this is an interpretation that cannot be confirmed 100% though.

And he does often avoid her too so I'm open to seeing how this interpretation may not be the be all end all.

yet i have also noticed there is another angle seen in a lot of works online where the accepted view is that she abuses him and forces him to submit to the ground and basically assaults him which i can imagine is extremely traumatic and would cast his character in an even more poignant light than before.

in other words IM NOT SURE WHAT INTERPRETATION IS CANON AND WHAT ISNT ANYMORE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

this would help as i write cu alter fanfiction sometimes and i feel like this part of characterization is Essential in writing him well.

[cheeriecherrymain]

eyyoooooo i see you like tropes! can i offer u some viktor x reader soulmate au in this trying time? maybe theyre both from zaun, but they never end up meeting until theyre grown, and they meet in piltover of all places?

this is not my best work but oh well im sleepy XD

Viktor x gn!Reader (SFW)

-So I wanna say that there are probably all different kinds of soul markings. Some people have a red string tied around their finger, some people can only see colour once they’ve met their soulmate, some people have a timer on their wrists, or a name.

-Viktor probably has one of the rarest kinds of marks, and it’s not really a mark at all. You can hear each other’s thoughts…but only when you want to share them.

-He doesn’t know this at first, though. As a young child, he fully believed that he didn’t have a soulmate - which wasn’t really an issue, in his opinion. Most people in the undercity didn’t have soulmates, or at least very few adhered to the bond.

-In his eyes, a soulmate isn’t necessary to have a good life. His parents weren’t soulmates, and they were plenty happy in their relationship. On top of that, he had a hard time believing that anyone would want to be stuck with him for life - none of his peers wanted anything to do with him, so it wouldn’t surprise him if his soulmate would be the same.

-He gets the shock of his life when he’s around eleven years old. He’s tinkering away on his own, working on repairing one of his father’s pocketwatches, when suddenly…a voice.

-He startles slightly, and glances around the room. Surely he’d heard someone, right? Your voice had been clear as day, so close to him you might have been speaking right into his ear - but when he peers around, the room is completely empty. And silent.

-He brushes it off, convincing himself that some noise must have carried in from outside. Until it happens again.

-Hello? A soft voice calls, tentative and questioning. Is anyone there? Mama said I should try to say hi like this, just in case.

-Viktor whips his head around the room, but there’s nothing out of place. Nowhere that someone could hide to play some kind of prank on him. Not to mention…he can’t really tell which direction your voice is coming from. It sounds like you’re…right beside him.

- “Where are you?” he asks, out loud.

-A beat of silence, then, You can hear me?

-You sound wholly surprised, as if you hadn’t ever expected anyone to answer your call. Viktor gets it - if you hadn’t reached out, would either of you have ever figured out you had a soulmate? Without a physical marking -or in this case, without someone else’s suggestion to try thinking at someone in hopes you’re heard- mental soul bonds were hard to discover.

-Viktor keeps it a secret for a couple of days. He knows his parents would want to celebrate, if they ever found out, and he doesn’t really want to go through some big debacle. Plus, he’s still not entirely certain that he hasn’t lost his mind.

-But god, do you irritate him. Constantly asking questions about him, about what he’s working on and where he’s from, his interests, his goals in life. Not just that, but you never shut up about yourself, either. He’s apparently the first person you tell whenever anything happens, whether it be local happenings and gossip, to mundane things like the weird toad you found by the runoffs.

-By day three, he’s sick of having someone in his head. In a moment of impatience, he snaps at you; tells you to leave him alone and give him some damn quiet.

-And you do.

-He expects you to start chattering to him again, after a couple of hours. You’re never able to stay away for too long, far too scatterbrained and excitable: he’s a little bit worried when night falls and your end of the line is still silent.

-He falls asleep thinking about you, but he’s too stubborn to reach out and apologize. He doesn’t realize that he enjoys your friendship yet.

-He grows antsy as another day passes, and there’s still no sign of you. He knows logically that you’re probably just pouting - in the short time he’s known you, he’s learned that you’re extremely volatile when it comes to your emotions. But he can’t help worrying - what if something had happened to you? What if he’d hurt your feelings so much that you’d distractedly tripped over something and gotten hurt?

-The thought only makes him worry more, and he ends up going to his mother about it, tearing up when he admits that he’s scared something’s happened to you.

-His mother scolds him real good for being mean about it, even if it was a necessary boundary to set. You’re both still young, though, and neither of you are particularly adept at socializing.

-He reaches out to you after his mother calms him down, trying to see if you’ll listen to him when he apologizes to you and explains that he’s used to being alone all the time and that he really likes to think in quiet places, but also that he’s sorry he was so mean about asking for some time by himself, so would you please come back so you can talk about things again?

-He’s secretly elated when your voice sighs into his mind, Fine, I suppose I’ll accept your apology. We’re soulmates, after all. But next time, just tell me when you need a little bit of time on your own, okay? I won’t be mad that you don’t want to spend every waking second glued to my hip!

-You become friends after that - good friends. Where Viktor is logical and calculating, you’re emotional and wise. Whatever either of you lacks, the other makes up for - on numerous occasions you’ve helped talk him through some of the rough patches in his projects, from smaller issues like making a pocketwatch tick backwards, to more consequential things, like malfunctioning safety mechanisms on heavy machinery.

-Well into adulthood, you’re his only friend. You never meet in person, both of you too nervous to see each other face to face, but you’re aware that you’re both from the undercity. He suspects you have a little more luxury than he does, often waxing poetic about the stars and the sunsets and tasty foods your parents bring home, but he doesn’t mention it.

-If you were from the upper levels, how would you feel about being tied to someone from down below? It’s a question he keeps to himself.

-You’re sad to learn that he’s leaving for Piltover at age nineteen, but so, so excited that he’s gotten a scholarship to the prestigious academy. You know better than anyone how he strives to do good for people, and how he takes pride in his mind and his creations. It’s a perfect place for him, and you want nothing but the best for him.

-You’re bummed that he’s going to be so far away, but then…you’d never met each other, anyways. You could still talk to each other in your heads, and that was what mattered to you.

-And then, one day, you don’t reply to him.

-He is awake especially late at night, so he thinks maybe you’ve gone to bed…but it had been over a decade since you’d not said goodnight to him.

-He tries not to let it get to him, tries to continue his work and his studies as normal. But it eats at him. As each day passes in silence, it eats at him. Something must have happened, he thinks, calling out your name every couple hours, to no avail.

-He asks around to the few people he’s on good terms with, wondering if anything notable had happened in the undercity over the past couple days - to both his relief and frustration, nothing spectacular had come up, and life was persisting as usual. But it still begged the insistent question - where the hell were you?

-At the seven day mark, Viktor is decidedly stressed. His temper is short, he has a hard time paying attention in his classes; he’s a mess, and he’s fully convinced that something terrible has befallen you.

-Of course, he thinks bitterly. Of course the one person he’d ever loved, the one person who’d ever truly known him, had perished before he’d even gotten a chance to say anything. Before he’d gotten to see you smile, or hear you laugh, or feel the warmth of your skin - before you’d ever really gotten the chance to live.

-He’s stewing in his thoughts, laying on his bed with nothing but the dim light of a lamp beside him. He’s been staring at the ceiling for over an hour now, but he can’t seem to muster the strength to move. His body aches, his heart aches…

-A knock at the door.

-A sound that he ignores, rolling over onto his side to face away from the offending noise.

-Another knock.

-And then, “Viktor!” Your voice.

-His eyes widen. That had definitely been in your voice. Distant and dim, like you were trying to speak to him from behind a-

-Another knock.

- “Viktor, I swear to god, I know you’re awake. Open the door before I pick the lock, I know this is your room!”

-In a flurry of movement, he rushes to the door as fast as he can manage, loudly throwing it open to behold the sight on the other side: you. You, in the flesh. Wearing freshly-pressed clothes that were a tad too big on you, holding two suitcases that had been fastened shut with what looked like old belts.

-He stares for longer than he would like to admit, his mouth opening and closing like some kind of pale, startled fish.

- “Well?” you ask, “Are you going to let me in?”

-He steps aside, and as soon as the door shuts behind you, you’re off on a tirade: Breathlessly explaining to him that your parents had scraped up enough money for you to go live with your cousin in Piltover, where your aunt had then offered to pay for your tuition should you desire to go to school - of course you’d said yes.

-She’d pulled some strings, and by some miracle, you’d managed to get assigned to Viktor’s room. He’s barely able to keep up with what you’re saying, you’re speaking so fast.

- “The student housing office is supposed to stop by in the morning to introduce us, but I was too excited. I wanted to meet you for the first time without anyone else around.” 

-You stare up at him with comically round eyes, practically vibrating with eagerness. He has half a mind to be mad that you’d purposefully shut him out, just so you could surprise him…but he figures he can do that tomorrow. For now, he opens his arms and gestures you into a hug, too relieved that you’re in his arms to feel anything else.

[randomoranges]

good god almighty. here is part 4. somehow longer than the other parts. somehow with more Emotions. i decided to not be vague and call the spades spades. this one is more nsfw because of things étienne mentions. 

again, minor character death and lots of introspection ha ha .

ive been working on the beast for like almost a month now. part 5 aint even done. im so glad i hacked it up in the end. 

PART IV

“The 60s were good with that – for forgetting and moving on. There was – or seemed to be this renewed sense of freedom, as if the people were finding their true purpose in the city. A great big curtain was being pulled back and we were given the opportunity to redefine ourselves. It felt like hope, in a way and with the distance put with the church, I felt I could breathe a little more and I was able to find myself. By the time Expo rolled around, it gave me purpose – something to do. The energy in the city was astounding. The projects people were coming up with – the possibilities they were unveiling – I had never felt something like that. I thought for sure this energy would see us through the next one hundred years; we’d be feeding off of it and returning to it for years to come. It would be our source of creation. Everyone seemed to be excited; the world was literally in our backyard and it felt good to bask in the attention.”

 It made sense for Étienne to have Expo, considering how good he was at catering to others – at giving them the good time they wanted. He thrived in giant crowds and lived for the attention. Plus, at the time, Montreal really did feel as though it was the center of Canada. It still felt like an other-worldly experience and there were still times when Edward wasn’t convinced Expo hadn’t been one massive hallucination. And he’d only been a small part of it, unlike Étienne who had lived every stage of it.

 “With the change of decade, going into the 70s, I expected much of the same – moving forward, the endless possibilities of the future and such. For the first time in a long time, I was actually looking forward to having more time – to being immortal and being able to experience every change. To make new connections. Expand and broaden the horizons and such.”

 “And then it all went to shit, starting with the October crisis. There was a lot that happened in the 70’s and not everything was bad, but for me, personally, it was a series of euphoric highs and devastating lows. In the same breath of the Crisis there would be a Cup win, then there was the Exodus, the language debacles and it never seemed to end. Up and down and up and down. One giant roller coaster that never gave me a chance to catch my breath. It was hard to feel anything let alone make it constant. It took a toll – added up and left me reeling in ways I had never thought possible. I couldn’t finish celebrating the Cup that I would get notified that something terrible had just happened. I would be relishing in disco and there’d be a murder. It was too fucking much. I couldn’t take it anymore. Everything I had worked so hard to build was slowly being torn from my hands and what was left didn’t seem to matter enough. The proverbial carpet had been yanked from under my feet and no matter how many times I tried to get up, I just kept falling and falling and falling... there was no end in sight.”

 Their correspondence at that time had petered off, somewhat. They’d both ended up in unpleasant situations and the last thing Edward had wanted to do was to take a pen and write to his friend to let him know how miserable he was. There’d been times when he’d wondered if his friend hadn’t found out about his fate and had left him for dead as well and it had only been later – much later – that he’d found out through Étienne exactly why he hadn’t written as often, if at all, for a few years.

 “I’m not exactly proud of what I ended up doing, but it seemed like the right solution at the time. I was a mess. I needed help but I didn’t realise it and I wasn’t sure there even was such help for such a lost cause. Working the streets and the clubs were as much self-punishment as they were the only place I felt I could succeed. It was easy to spread my legs to let some random guy fuck me in an alley. It was easy to pretend to be someone else. It was easy to get down on my knees and suck them off. It was easy to let others use me as they wanted and write it off as being unworthy of anything else. This was where I belonged – with the outcasts and the has beens.”

 There’s a shuddering breath that’s released and Edward has no idea if it’s his or Étienne’s. He’s astounded his boyfriend is willingly talking of this chapter of his life. It had taken years for Étienne to even speak of it to him and the confession had been a quiet halting thing that had taken him a while to piece together.

 Yet, despite finding out, it hadn’t changed Edward’s opinion of him. If anything, he had found Étienne brave and courageous for telling him about it and his heart had ached for him even more. Étienne was worthy. Étienne wasn’t a failure and he succeeded at so many other wonderful things. In his opinion, he was still as relevant as before and had never been an outcast or a has been. He was still a leader and trail blazer in his own right, even if Étienne himself didn’t always realise it.

 “When they gave me the Olympics,” Étienne goes on, once more showing that he is brave and more than the terrible things that he had gone through, “I hoped this would be the shot I needed – that it would be as wonderful as Expo had. If anything, it would be on a smaller scale than Expo. It would be a piece of cake, I figured. At least, they’d given me the Olympics in a timely way and not last minute. Therefore, there would be no excuses to fail. but for as much as Expo felt like a fever dream doused with magic, the Olympics were harder to get going. There were so many things that went wrong. So many strikes. So much corruption. The magic was gone. It was the opposite of what I needed and it just drove me further down my own spiral.

 “So I went for the drugs and the sex. One made me feel when I was numb, one numbed everything when I felt too much. And the sex was as much a means to an end as what seemed to be the only thing I could properly deliver. So I stuck to it. Went in and out of these phases. Went on the biggest of benders, woke up in places I had no recollection of going to and such. Drove Élyse nuts. But it didn’t matter to me; I’d still be alive, so who cared what I put myself through?”

 Edward wants to say that there were many who cared, but he knows that it would fall on deaf ears. He gets what Étienne means by it, but it still hurts him that his boyfriend had had to go through all of this. He gives his hand another squeeze and if anything, Étienne offers him a small smile, acknowledging the gesture.

 “I was all over the place and when I finally met Koffey, shortly after the Olympics, it was quite by accident and he took me by surprise.”

 “Everything about our relationship was different than the others I’d been in up until then. For starters, it didn’t happen the way the others had. It wasn’t the usual meet, sex and eventually develop feelings. He’d been living in the city for a few years when we met. He’d immigrated here, in search for a new adventure – ahead of the wave that would come later on. He’d decided to open up a restaurant, bringing us the local flavors of his own country. I stumbled there, quite by accident and I was most likely high and not even fully coherent. To be honest, I can’t even say I remember that day; he’s the one who told me later on.”

 “I ended up returning. Later. On a better day.  I think I was convinced it was my first time here, but Koffey was a little wary of seeing me again. Apparently, I had been a little rowdy on my first visit... Yet, he still gave me a chance and was still very polite while he served me, if a little guarded. I felt bad, so I returned and the more I went back, the more I was drawn – by him, his cuisine, and his quiet sense of humour and intelligence.”

 “He eventually realised I wasn’t a complete asshole and he’d start coming to talk to me when the restaurant was quiet. He was – a breath of fresh air, really and at the time the one good thing I had going on. It felt like being thrown a lifeboat – something to hang on to while I tried not to drown – by my thoughts, my life, the shit-show burning around me. A beacon of hope and light I clung to desperately.”

 “I honestly didn’t even think Koffey was interested in men. It surprised me, when one day, I hung around until the restaurant closed. I waited for him out in the back, not wanting to go home just yet. I also didn’t think going home just yet would be wise. I was still all over the place and I knew that if I went home I’d end up using or doing something even stupider. Having a friend helped keeping my thoughts on track. Koffey, without knowing what was going on in my head, helped keep my mind quiet. I wanted to know more about him and his life, so I focused on that. Anyways, it’d been a quiet night and we’d been having a grand old time chatting. I thought maybe we could walk around and bum out in a park. Summer was starting to settle in for good and it was a perfect night out. Warm and this side of humid, with a gentle breeze to make it pleasant.”

 Edward has his own thoughts and ideas about the description of the weather, but he schools his face in a neutral expression and listens on.

 “He was surprised to see me out back, but pleased and we picked up our conversation from where we’d left off. We ended up taking the long way back to his. I didn’t mind having to walk back to mine after and the extra detour would do me some good. However, he invited me in for a beer and I obviously said yes. He was my friend, after all and the thought of a cold beer to end the night sounded great.”

 “We must have spent a few more hours drinking beer and talking and somewhere along the line, he leaned in and kissed me. Completely unprompted. I was shocked and surprised and at first he thought I wasn’t interested, since I hadn’t kissed him back. He must have apologised at least a dozen times. It was quite funny, really. I’d keep trying to tell him that it was fine, but he wouldn’t listen. And the more he went on, the more afraid he was that I’d do something to him – which was quite sobering, let me tell you. I finally took matters in my own hands and kissed him myself. We’d been hanging around together for months, by then and had I known, I would have put a move on him sooner, maybe. The kiss finally got him to stop apologising and for a moment after that all we did was make-out on his couch like all the terrible clichés in movies.” He laughs at that, fond, as he twiddles with an unlit cigarette. “It was so different, though – soft and tender. Nicholas had been very forward with his kissing that first time. I knew we would end up in his bed the moment he kissed me, whereas with Koffey – it almost felt hesitant and cautious and I thought that was lovely.”

 “He still asked afterwards if I was that way, which I thought was both endearing and silly – considering I had just kissed him and wouldn’t have minded him kissing him some more. I assured him that I was and to prove my point, I kissed him again. I recall teasing him about it later, asking him if he needed another kiss to be sure I was into men. He thought I was being ridiculous, which was saying something.”

 There’s a gentle, soft smile that graces Étienne’s features, not for the first time during their talk, and Edward wonders what memories his boyfriend is reliving – what images his brain has conjured for him to revisit. He’s glad, though, that despite the heartache that Étienne still has fond memories of Koffey to go back to.

 “I wasn’t in love with him – not at that point, but I was certainly drawn to him. He was – beautiful. On the outside as much as on the inside; a gentle soul, really. I would have willingly gone to bed with him that night, but he insisted we wait a little and take things slow. This had never really happened and even though I was a little annoyed, I didn’t push the issue and floated back home after one last kiss.”

 “He actually – I swear, the next time I went to see him, he actually asked me out on a proper date. He was too much! And I couldn’t believe that a man like Koffey, sweet and gentle and kind, would want to date me who felt broken and used and soiled in so many ways. But he saw beyond that and insisted we go on a proper date before we went to bed together and so I said yes; because I did really want him and I loved his company.”

 “Our first date was nothing extraordinary, but it was nice – to be taken out – to feel as though I was worthy of someone’s attention and affection again. It was almost as good as a high. He took me out to dinner and then insisted we go to a movie and he was so gallant about the whole thing. He paid for the meal and for the ticket and don’t ask me how the movie ended, because halfway through we started making-out in the back and before the movie ended we left to go back to his.”

 “Koffey was – so very sweet to me. Our first time together felt like something out of a romance movie. There was no frenetic urgency to it. It wasn’t just sex because he wanted a fast way to get to his release. He made love to me. Me! It boggled my mind. He kissed and caressed every bit of me that felt broken and used. It was – wonderful and too much and I tried changing the pace to something that felt less consuming ‘cause I couldn’t handle so much love being given to me, but he kept on finding ways to make it less about the sex and more about us and I couldn’t take it. I eventually broke down in tears.”

 “And get this – he thought he, of all people, had done something wrong to me – that he’d hurt me in some way. I came clean to him. Told him everything. As much as I could. The drugs, the streets – the fall from grace. Every last ugly truth came out as he held me in his arms and made sure I understood I was someone worthy of love again. I felt stupid for breaking down and felt even worse for needing him to comfort me. And despite that, there were still things I couldn’t tell him. He tried asking about what was bothering me – because he could tell. Even when I lied – he could always tell when there was more – when everything in my head was too loud, but it was hard to explain. I couldn’t just say oh by the way, I’m semi-immortal and I represent a city. Yeah, fucked up I know, but I swear that’s not the acid talking.”

 “It wasn’t stupid,” Edward breaks. He knows Étienne is in a better place now, but he also knows his boyfriend is still prone to great bouts of self-doubt that do more harm than good to him. He’d hate to think that Étienne still feels that way.

 “I know,” Étienne responds quickly. Edward wonders if he isn’t deflecting, but he figures Étienne’s heart has been scorched raw enough for the day that he can let it slide for this time.

 “You’ve always been worthy of love,” He adds softly and Étienne stills for a moment.

 “I know.” He says again, but it sounds different this time around; a little more vulnerable and fragile. Edward wants to gather him in his own arms and hold him tightly, but instead he keeps hold of his hand and lets Étienne carry on with his story.

 “I made it up to him, later, once the storm had passed. I didn’t want him to think that I would be some emotional weight to him. He’d wanted sex so I made sure to deliver. He was still very sweet and loving with me and I tried to ignore it. I focused on making it good for him so that he wouldn’t toss me to the side and in my mind it worked. Yet, thinking back, there were still times when I felt like he was onto me. Like he knew when I was faking it for both our benefits, but he let me be.”

 “Still, for as much as Koffey was good for me and to me, he wasn’t a cure to all my problems. It would’ve been too easy. He helped – more than he probably ever realised, but I was still reckless and I still fluctuated. Bad days and worse days. On those, he’d simply hold me in his arms and let me cry in them.

Sometimes there’d be an okay day. He made it tolerable. To be alive. Made the sharp edges rounder. Made me feel like I could hang on another day. And there were those times when I felt like I genuinely wanted to be around – for him. I wanted to take him somewhere or kiss him again. I wanted to tell him some funny story I had heard or simply go to bed with him one more time. So I stuck it out and tried to survive.”

 “He was so kind and patient with me. He loved me, despite what I was and how I was. He loved me even when I couldn’t love myself. God, I never deserved him. He was too good for me and to me. And somehow, I repaid his kindness by making him sick and killing him!”

 “You don’t know that for sure.” Edward replies quickly, without thinking.

 He remembers the visit. Remembers finding out about the real significance of Koffey. Of going over to visit Étienne and finding him distraught and broken hearted. Of Étienne bringing him to the cemetery. The breakdown and the tears. The trembling murmured admissions of guilt. The dawning connection he’d made.

 Edward had been in his own headspace at the time and their correspondence had petered out, hence his grasp of Koffey’s role in Étienne’s life had been lacking in some regards. But standing by that grave, with his friend opening up about him and telling him what had happened had marked Edward.

 “I may as well have, Edward.” Étienne snaps. He lights up the cigarette he’d been previously playing with and takes a long drag from it. “He died and it was all my fault. I couldn’t even – I wasn’t even there when he died. I was too afraid. And ashamed. I was a coward. He’d chosen me and I may as well have tossed him out.” He flicks the ash with more force than necessary and when Edward spares him a glance, he sees the storm of hate and shame fight in Étienne’s eyes through his unshed tears. “He deserved better – after everything he did for me and I repaid his kindness by being a coward.”

 Edward knows that there’s no sense in telling Étienne that it’s not his fault. His boyfriend will keep berating himself until he runs out of steam and he supposes that it’s best to let him be and wait it out. Yet, it doesn’t sit well with him to have Étienne react this way. Sure, he could have been responsible for Koffey getting sick, but at the same time, there was no actual proof. He hates that it still eats Étienne alive and part of him wants to take him by the shoulders, shake him, and tell him to convince himself otherwise. Especially if it’ll help him move on. But – he’s known Étienne for too long and knows that such actions will do him no good.

 Instead, he waits and starts to itch for a cigarette of his own. He settles instead for a deep breath and then another. He thinks back to his own response to the crises. To the way he’d taken action. The misery and heartache he’d seen and lived. The friends he’d lost. The ones he’d buried. He thinks of running to Montreal to get away from it all and leaning on Étienne for a chance to forget and leave it all behind. There’s an irony here he still hasn’t fully grasped but it’s a reflection for a different day. There’s already enough that’s been looked over for one day.

 “I don’t think he would have wanted you to beat yourself over it,” He offers instead. Étienne sniffs loudly and doesn’t give him an answer. Instead, he remains quiet, fighting with his own demons.

 “You never did tell me why you called him Koffey,” Edward tries again, minutes later, when he feels that the mood has shifted once more and that Étienne has calmed down some. Perhaps this approach will work better, he thinks.

 Étienne sniffles and rubs at his eyes, “Oh,” He starts and a small smile deigns to make an appearance on his face, which Edward is thankful for. “Apparently, his regular customers used to call him that. He thought it was hysterical and he never really liked his own name. I never questioned it beyond that and it stuck.”

 Étienne grows silent after that and turns reflective. Even Mercury seems to sense the shift in mood and nuzzles her way up to his arms for cuddles. The distraction serves its purpose and Étienne focuses on her for a while, caressing her fur and scratching her behind the ears, which she seems to enjoy, if Edward is to judge by the wagging of her tail. He watches and lets them be for a while, glad the dog can help where he can’t.

 “You would’ve liked him,” Étienne quietly says after a while. He’s not looking at him, hands still buried deep in Mercury’s dark coat, but Edward doesn’t mind.

 “I’m sure I would have – he sounds like a great guy.”

 “The greatest.”

 Not for the first time, Edward wonders if Étienne’s feelings hadn’t become tainted with guilt over the years. He doesn’t question Étienne’s love for Koffey, but he wonders if the circumstances of his death haven’t left a lasting grip on him that wouldn’t have otherwise been there if the man had died of natural causes at a ripe old age. The wounds are still too raw and fresh to ask, so he lets the matter rest and figures that there will be other occasions to ask.

 They fall silent after that, both lost again in their own thoughts. He hears the occasional snuffle from Mercury and sends out a silent prayer of thanks to whatever higher power there might be out there for her presence in Étienne’s life. In the few years Étienne has had her, he already sees the difference and impact she’s made in his life.

 Eventually, Mercury settles back on Étienne’s side and his friend leaves a hand around her neck, absent-mindedly stroking her dark coat, while he reaches out for Edward’s own hand with his other. Edward is a little surprised, but he doesn’t mind and let’s Étienne play with his fingers. He traces the lines on his hand with the edge of a nail and draws loops with it afterwards. Edward watches the movement carefully with his eyes and finds it oddly grounding in a way. He hadn’t realised he’d felt a little unmoored by these tales and he wonders, not for the first time, just how attuned to him Étienne really is.

 They settle around each other, the breeze gently ruffling their hair and Edward takes a deep breath to process some of what he’s just heard.

 “And shortly after Koffey died, while I was still mourning him and hating myself for everything I had done, you came along at both the best and worst moment of my life.”

--

Part III Part V

[nadiineross]

title: cheeks get redder, nothing better

pairing: chloe/nadine

note: this is incomplete but basically fluff bc i didnt know how to end it and if im going to be honest i shouldve went a different way with the bathroom scene and ended it earlier

It’s been a month and a half after that whole tusk debacle and while Sam had stuck around, waiting for them to say the word, he hadn’t gotten in the way much. 

Which is to say, he only cockblocked Nadine once. (He also had a boot thrown at him the one time.) 

They’re in America now, wallets considerably heavier and treating themselves to a five star hotel. 

Obviously, she wanted to catch up with her old friends — mostly she just wanted to brag about all the trinkets she’d found on her latest excursion — so she texted Nate upon landing, telling him to go to her, because it’s safer to keep her load of treasure safe if she didn’t parade it across a city. 

It only occurs to Chloe now that she probably should not have given Nate her room number and definitely should not have told him to meet her there. 

She’s just realising that none of her friends outside of Sam know about Nadine yet. She also remembers Nadine telling her that she threw Nate out of a window twice. (She’d chuckled at the time, now not so much.)

Nadine’s always prattling on about foresight and she figures she should probably listen more. 

“Oh bloody hell,” she mutters under her breath, and as if on cue, the barista plops down two to-go cups on the counter and yells for her.

She scoops up the coffees and promptly drops them back down, hissing. Fingers now properly scalded, she slips cardboard sleeves around the cups before she’s off again. 

Thankfully, the Starbucks is right next to her hotel and she has no trouble getting to the elevators. 

There’s a bellboy in the elevator, and she flashes him a smile. “Hey, mate, hold my coffee?”

He clears his throat, nods after a beat, and does as told, watching as she digs her keycard out of her pocket to get access to the guest floors. 

“Thank you,” she says when he hands the coffee back to her. 

She must look a sight; a beaten up Kim Possible who dresses in shades of red and has mismatched socks under a pair of knock-off Nikes. Not exactly the kind of person you’d see running around the lobby of a Hilton. 

You can’t blame her. She’d only woken up half an hour ago, sprawled over Nadine, eyes bleary with sleep. 

She’d texted Nate again last night and forgotten he was coming over, so she scrambled up to get ready. They’d missed the buffet, so she gave a drowsy Nadine a solid kiss on the mouth and hurried off to Starbucks to buy them breakfast. Speaking of which, she forgot the pastries. 

She huffs to herself, mutters a “thanks” to the bellboy, and taps her foot impatiently over the beat of jazzy elevator music. 

The frowning bellboy stays on after she rushes off to get to her room. Oh. She winces when she notices the door is left ajar. She jogs the rest of the way and pushes the door open with her shoulder. 

There, against the wall by the windows, is a barely waken Nadine Ross and a snarling Nathan Drake. He’s got his arm around her throat and she’s preparing to give him an elbow to the gut. 

Nate notices her first, but he can’t get anything out, the wind knocked out of him as Nadine twists and slams him into the wall. 

“Chloe,” he gasps, one hand shoving at Nadine’s face. “If you’re free any time today, could you possibly give me a hand?” 

That spurs her into motion. She closes the door with an audible slam and stomps her way in. “Hands off my girlfriend, Drake!”

“What?”

Chloe dumps the coffee onto the table with a dull clunk and eyes the window right next to them. Nate would have a rough time getting out of that fall. “Nadine, love.”

There’s a beat. Then, Nadine’s backing off, forearm coming off Nate’s throat and swatting his flailing hand away from her. 

“I can’t believe I like his brother more than I do him,” she informs Chloe, ignoring Nate completely.

She’s in a pair of leggings and an Adidas sports bra, hair stuffed in a sloppy ponytail. Chloe has no idea what kind of conclusion Nate came to when he first saw a disheveled Nadine Ross at the doorway.

“Sorry,” she mouths to Nadine, who rolls her eyes and grabs her disgustingly bitter coffee off the desk. 

Nate’s eyes are flicking between Nadine and Chloe, hands rubbing at his neck. “Well!” she starts, clapping her hands together. “How’ve you been?”

Behind her, Nadine snorts into her coffee. Chloe ignores her. Nate follows her lead, ignores them both, and gestures wildly. “That—That’s Nadine Ross!”

“Oh.” Chloe puts a hand to her heart and turns to look at Nadine, bent at the waist to pull a shirt from her bags. “Hear that, china? You’re Nadine Ross!”

“Astounding,” Nadine deadpans. 

Nate is completely and utterly lost. “You...” Here, he sputters and points an accusing finger at Chloe. “You’re sleeping with the lady who threw me across, like, five different rooms!”

She nods, faux serious, and hums in appreciation when Nadine hands Chloe her coffee. “Yes,” she says, taking a sip. “She’s really strong.” 

“You’re unbelievable,” he finally says. 

“I’ll give you two some space,” Nadine says, stiffly. She shuffles into the bathroom, leaving the door open. 

Chloe sits herself down on the edge of the bed, watching as Nate gapes a little more. 

“Oh, c’mon, Nate,” she scoffs after a moment of prolonged silence. 

Nate frowns. “She shot at me.”

“You shot at her too.”

“Well,” he says, sniffing. “She started it.”

Chloe gives him a look. “Really?” 

Nate sighs, drags a hand down his face, and squints at her. “Okay, but she’s scary.”

“It’s a quality I greatly admire,” she says, grinning. He’ll process this on his own time; she can already tell he’s moving on, because he’s working his jaw and straightening up. 

“I have so many questions for you,” he tells her, sitting down beside her. 

“Later.” She flops onto her stomach, upper body hanging over the end of the bed, and stretches out to haul her suitcase closer. She unzips it and piles her folded clothes onto one side, revealing a myriad of trinkets she’d collected. 

When they’re done here, Chloe’ll probably head back to Australia so she can add it all to her collection at home, but for now, she lets Nate have at it. 

She chuckles when he gasps, grabby hands skimming over the edges of the pile, and waves a hand. “Have fun, cowboy.”

As he marvels over it all and takes pictures to send to Elena, she rolls onto her feet and peers into the bathroom. 

Nadine’s perched on the edge of the bathtub, typing something on her phone with a plastic toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. She glances up at Chloe when the door clicks shut, but only puts the phone down after a moment. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Chloe jokes, eyes following Nadine to the sink. 

“I’m really questioning your taste in company, Frazer,” Nadine says, lightly, after she rinses out her mouth.

Chloe grimaces, letting Nadine cage her against the door. “I forgot to tell him about our,” here, she hesitates, “partnership.”

If this was a month ago, Nadine would’ve ripped Chloe a new one for this stunt. Now, she only tilts her head. “Girlfriend?”

Right. Chloe said that. 

She doesn’t have anything outstanding to say, so she pulls her signature move: go head first and hope for the best. 

“Yes?” she replies, sweetly. 

Nadine snorts, pulling back, but not completely. “We’re fucking.” 

The bluntness of it has Chloe wilting in her spot a little, and if Nate wasn’t less than two meters away, she’d probably be trying to start something just to hide her embarrassment and dismay. Instead, she’s forced to handle it like a functioning adult. 

She nods and slips her fists into her pockets. “We’re fucking regularly.” A beat. “And spending most of our waking moments together. So.” 

“So.” Nadine looks faintly amused and, oh, Chloe wants to thwack her over the head if she could get away with it. 

“So, logically,” Chloe says, “that’s dating.” 

Nadine grows serious, not stern, the softness is still there, but the humour’s gone. “If there’s a question somewhere, ask it.” 

Chloe’s only ever dated when she was in high school. Sure, there were a couple between then and now, take Nate for example, but they’d always asked her first. It’s a little jarring being on the other end. She’s faced armies and imminent death by bomb, and asking a girl out can’t be that hard, so she sucks it up. 

There’s a moment she uses to gather her courage. She thinks about Nate, about when she’d asked him to run away with her so many years ago and the knot of nervousness at the base of her chest when she did. 

“Nadine Ross,” she says, pulling Nadine closer. The warmth of her body quells the rolling in her chest. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Nadine, who Chloe had kept waiting again, surges forward to kiss her, impatient. In her haste, she bumps their teeth together, but Chloe reckons this is the best fucking kiss she’s ever had.

“So that’s a yes?” Chloe asks, into her mouth. 

There’s a sharp inhale. Nadine let’s it out with a breathy laugh. “That’s a yes.” 

Chloe beams. She’s about to say something more, a teasing quip to lighten the mood just a tad more, but there’s a hesitant knock on the door before she can say anything. 

“Uh, guys,” comes Nate, awkward, “I really hope you’re not...”

Nadine looks like she’s going to have an aneurism, so Chloe kisses her again, chaste this time. 

Then, she turns and pulls the door open a crack to glare at Nate. “What?” 

Chloe mourns the warmth when Nadine pulls back. She opens the door fully and raises an eyebrow at Nate. He glances at Nadine, shifts his weight, and wiggles his phone. “Elena said she managed to get out of filming and wants to meet for lunch.” 

“Oh,” Chloe says. She looks over her shoulder to an impassive Nadine. “You coming?”

“No. I’ve got some business to attend to.”

Usually, Chloe’d push, but she figures Nadine wouldn’t have much to say and would be bored out of her mind, besides, they’ve only been going steady for about three minutes. 

Relieved, Nate jerks a thumb at the door. “I’ll wait outside.”

[ohnohetaliasues]

Zila Umbra (Fairy Tail)

 (Kat)

I'm not sure if I've reviewed this before, but I don't think I have. Let's begin.

I was asked to delete the art by the artist, so I have. It was very well done, though.

i haven’t written her complete background yet but i have it written in my minD

This is off to a rocky start...

I’m curious about the issue with putting the ideas down on the profile, but I’m not here to nitpick.

Hello, yes, this is my blog, where I nitpick things. Enjoy your stay!

sOOSOoo her name is Zila Umbra and shes a lil bae and im still kinda n the process of designing her character so yee

Don't describe your OC as a 'bae' or I will kill you violently.

Also, 'bae' means 'poop' in Danish...

ok so when she was younger she found out that she could talk to the dead,

Okay, no. We haven't seen any ghosts in Fairy Tail other than Mavis, but she's only there because of her residual magic and the guild seal that acts as an extension. This is not Supernatural, contrary to the gif I just used.

and it completely paranoid her and her parents.

That's kind of mild....?

Just paranoid?

Her parents where completely religion based and basically thought she was the spawn of satan or something

The only church I can think of in Fairy Tail is the Church of Zentopia, and that was a filler arc. So please explain why her parents are Fairy Tail puritans.

and sent her off to a mental hospital that completely isolated her from others besides her ghosts

And they didn't just say 'Oh, that's your magic'? No, they just jumped to "SATAN!"

and thats really not something a little girl should have to deal with sOOOO she made friends with one specific ghost who actually turned out to be her mentor in magic.

That's... convenient.

She taught her that the reason she hears all the ghosts and voices is because of the eye she was born with is basically the sorce of most her magical energy so she started covering it up and her everlasting headache went away.

...No. Just no. That is not a thing. WHEN DID THE HEADACHE THING COME IN? Body parts are never magic in Fairy Tail, other than Erza's artificial eye. 

She was also taught that if she wore sage it would ward off bad spirits, so she put some sage in a small vile and put that on necklace and put the necklace around her neck and she wears it to this day uwu.

THIS IS NOT SUPERNATURAL.

she still could talk to ghosts and stuff though.

Oh yes, all benefits and no cons. She can still use her magic usually even though she covered up her eye?

Her mentor ( her name is darcy) taught her all the basics of magic and such as she lived in her little cell.

This is too dark for Fairy Tail.

Darcy though specialized in shadow magic, so she passed it on to zila (along with some knowlege on spells that let you use ghosts as your allies and stuff).

This is not okay. 

once zila had been taught all she could darcy taught her how escape and about a guild called fairy tail she could go to for help

Why wasn't she like 'Go to a soup kitchen' or a homeless shelter, but nooo, let's go to a MAGIC GUILD.

Also, Darcy is a ghost. Of course she's an expert at escaping. She can WALK THROUGH WALLS.

Zila made it out succsesfully after 3 years of being isolated ( and thus began her fear of being alone uwu)

i don't think she'd be able to function properly in society after being isolated for three freaking years.

once she made it to the guild she was let in and made friends quickly ( which really suprised her because she haddnt interacted with real people in like forever eheh)

Like I said, she wouldn't be able to function properly. She'd be quiet and reserved.

This is so improbable I CANNOT EVEN.

out of the children in the group

She is a CHILD WHO WAS IN ASYLUM FOR THREE YEARS WITH NOBODY BUT GHOSTS. ERZA WAS TRAUMATIZED WHEN SHE JOINED THE GUILD AFTER THE TOWER OF HEAVEN DEBACLE. SHE HAD TROUBLE MAKING FRIENDS. SHE TOOK A VERY LONG TIME TO ADJUST. THAT'S JUST BEING HUMAN. THIS GIRL IS DEFYING LOGIC. BEING ALONE FOR SO LONG WOULD HAVE A SUBSTANTIAL IMPACT ON HER PSYCHE. 

and was usually the peace maker between gray and natsu bUT ITS ONLY BECUASE SHE LOVES THem,

She literally just stole Erza's job.

once erza came she was always trying to talk to her and make sure she wasnt sad because she felt sorry for her and knew that if she was going to be alone that it would be sad

It feels like this OC is ripping of Erza's struggle. 

anddddddd yeAH THATS A WHOLE NOTHER STORY BUT THEYRE BASICALLY BEST BUDS KINDA ANd they go on jobs together a lot ( like i imagine her being with erza when they came into the story line )

If she's S Class, I will scream.

shes such a little sweatheart too.

I am suffering.

Vehemently. 

She hums when she fights easy battles 

That... makes her sound insane. Nobody does that in Fairy Tail.

and will only cry if someone tells her its okay  

That is not good for your mental health.

Personality wise shes veRY VERY VERY VERY LOYAL AND PROTECTIVE OF HER FRIENDS

Oh gee, I didn't see this cliché coming.

LIke if she let a friend get hurt when she couldve prevented it she would be so dispointed.

Of freaking course.

Like every OC ever.

She DOSENT like seeing a people she cares about in pain

Nobody does, sweetheart.

so she’ll do her best to prevent it like rub natsus back while they’re on a train or in a car or somethin u kno.

Not even Lucy does that. Nobody wants him to puke on them. 

Shes pretty caring and forgiving unless you break a promise or betray the guild or somethin, but shes not overly forgiving of people who used to be bad and are now good unless shes had time to understand them and stuff idk. ALSO PLS DONT TrY TO HURT JUST HER FRIENDS IN FRONT OF HER BECAUSE SHES GOING TO tRY AND KILL U NO MERCy.

Wow, I so haven't seen that before in my three years of reviewing OCs.

ALSO she’ll straight up be like “I love you” if she loves you bUT JUST AS A FRIEND OK if she loves u romantically shes gonna hide it a bunch or iF SHE FInds out that you like her shes gonna blush all the time around you

Please no.

You know, for someone who was stuck in an asylum, alone, for three years, she sure acts like a normal teenage girl.

and just omg i love her.

You don't put that on an OCs profile.

You just don't.

She’s also pretty comfortable around people she knows so like if she’s on a train or somethin she will use grays shoulder as a pillow because iTS COLD AND SHES TIRED AND NOBODY CARES BECause it’s her and it’s completely normal for her.

Juvia would mind. Juvia would mind a lot. And so would Gray, to be honest. 

OveRALL SHES NICE AND FRIENDly and shes a pretty strong fighter and stuff and shes calm and optimistic and encouraging even though when shes fighting shes scaRY

There are no flaws anywhere.

a babe ok shes just a babe 

The more you say that, the more I want to kill her.

negative characteristic wise shes really paranoid still due to all the ghosts and shit,

Wouldn't she be used to that? Also, can't she keep away the bad ghosts?

SHE HAS THAT BIG FEAR OF BEING ALONE LIke she will stay by whoever shes with and usually they make sure they stay by her too because they kNOW SHES SCARED AS FRICK OF BEING ALONe.

The creator is trying to make a flaw. But these will not effect the OC in critical moments. 

but if shes confined in a place and has no idea if people are near her or not shes rEALLY SCARED EVEN THOUGH SHES A TOUGH MOMMA SHES SCAREd.

You are running in circles here. What is her weakness? The situation you provided would scare anyone! 

shes forgetfull but wont ever forget things really important eheh,

Yay, another weakness that isn't a weakness. 

I do this all the time. Many people do. You aren't a special snowflake.

she can get really anxious and worried for others, and when you upset her in a fight she might get upset and start being reckless but yOU REALLY GOTTA TUG ON THOSE HEART STRINGS (unless ur like ’ ima kill ur bud’ then its really easy for her to go cray on you, but usually

Okay, no. That is literally Natsu. This person is ripping other characters off.

Also, that was a run on sentence. It stars at "She's forgetful" and ends at "when that happens uwu." USE PUNCTUATION.

if the person being threatened is with her they’ll calm her down and she’ll be able to fight in a less reckless way), but once you do she goes a little insane and is more powerfull but gets hurt eaiser and dosent even care just as long as she fucks the other person up aND SHELL TELL EM TOO idk shes really violent/crazy/scary/blood-thirsty when that happens uwu.

What happened to "She's such a lovable sweetheart?"

Shes super ’ no mercy’ in fights too, mainly because thats what darcy taught her,

Was Darcy evil? Because in Fairy Tail, mercy is a virtue. Lucy would hate her if she showed no mercy. Even Natsu shows mercy, though he goes kind of ballistic if someone threatens his friends (especially Lucy). How did she get in if she shows no mercy? How did she even make friends?

and because she has no trust in the enemy to not hurt her after shes won. 

That doesn't justify that.

She has a bad sense of humor too ok shes a cutie

OH YES, SHE'S STILL A CUTIE.

Zila also has a little ghost friend named Boo ( it’s cliche but idec) who wears a bow with a spell that let’s other people see her on it.

Is Boo more powerful than Mavis now? Because Mavis's residual energy let the members of the guild with a mark see her, but that was the only reason. Nobody else could. But apparently, Boo is so powerful everyone can see her. 

Boo would have to be god-like in terms of power.

I call nonsense on that.

Boo is only with Zila when theyre ina care-free environment but Boo can’t talk and can only use facial expressions. Boo is bae too

If you call something 'bae' one more time, I am going to lose it.

Also, what sense does that make?

None.

(also heres what her eyes look like without her eye patch uwu)

That is such a generic thing to do with an OC.

Literally, just no.

Overall, this OC was terrible. She had no flaws, no weaknesses, and her ghost friend had god-like powers. I cannot even. I'll see you guys later.

~Kat

[spotlightsaga]

Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews... Santa Clarita Diet (S01E07) Strange or Just Inconsiderate? Santa Clarita Diet (S01E08) How Much Vomit? Airdate: February 3, 2017 @netflix Ratings: N/A Streaming Only Score: (S01E07) 8/10 (S01E08) 8/10 ******STRANGE OR JUST INCONSIDERATE?****** As usual there's just too many things going on in 'Santa Clarita Diet' to skip a review, or at least a quick reaction or recap. Slowing myself down by taking breaks in between episodes is literally infuriating. There are few shows out there that make just want to binge to the very end, but SCD is totally one of them. Let's make this quick tho, cuz dammit, this show is more effective than Prozac. Every episode brings a major breakthrough and that's not an easy job. Besides framing Dan and attempting to eat his body in one night, the real exciting moment here is the arrival of Deputy Anne Garcia, played by Natalie Morales - that's right; The Grinder, Parks & Rec, Girls, Trophy Wfe... Her deadpan delivery is a perfect addition to the hodgepodge of comedic styles that make up this kick-ass Horror-Comedy. Natalie delivers her lines in a way where you never really know where she's coming from, so putting her as the lead on Dan's missing person case is fn' perfect. She seems shocked (as would anyone) that The Hammond's liked Dan, because she is very well aware he is (was) an intolerable douchebag. She seems more interested in Lisa, and Lisa seems more interested in Anne's 'perfect fingers' to truly worry about Dan's actual whereabouts... So I think the set-up Eric assisted with leading the troopers to Dan's 'Im a Crooked Cop' box should do the trick. This is a huge win/win for Eric, who was worried about the smoke bomb he had planted in the garden that really just added more humor to Dan's unexpected death... Cuz who can be pissed off if they're already dead? Not Dan... Cuz he's dead, not undead. Loki still remains the wildcard tho, I'm thinking he's definitely going to be popping up very soon and with the way that this whole 'virus' of sorts has effected Sheila and put a pep in her step (sans the missing toe), I can't wait to see Loki in a similar disposition. Its 'Santa Clarita Diet' so I'm going to go ahead and expect pure fn' chaos! Queue up another one! **********HOW MUCH VOMIT?********** I literally had to rack my brain for half the episode... Who the fuck is The Edge?! The WWE fan in me automatically associates it w/the wrestler. The ex-raver in me associates it the famous Raver-Centric South Florida Nightclub (PLUR MAN ✌🏻)... But suddenly that iconic video from the early 90's, (fuck, the 90s were so rad) 'Numb' popped into my head... 'The Edge' is the guitarist dude in U2 who always wore the beanie, and he was in the chair the whole video while they tied him up and did random shit to him. Of course I'm loving 'Santa Clarita Diet' but they hit me with that pop culture reference and I immediately went back to 1993 and now I can't get back. This is completely off topic, but if I had a time machine and I had to pick a year to go back to and live, but as my age now... No doubt just rewind me to 1993. And U2 may be the worlds most hated band after that iPhone debacle, but back in 1993, they released 'Zooropa' and that has to be one of the greatest albums of all time. I'm still stuck over here, but wasn't it so fucking cool that in the 90s that Top 40 meant an array of genres from Indie to R&B to Hip Hop to Rock to Lo-Fi and every goddamn sub-genre in between...and not whatever it means now. Damn you, 'Santa Clarita Diet', Loki is killing everyone with his music and then attempting to kill Joel, Abby is attempting to bring home a dead man to her parents doorstep like a proud kitty cat and all I can think about is a 90's reference that lasted all of 30 seconds... You can't make early 90s or late 80s references or my mind completely goes off the rails. And for the record, Abby, if your mom wants to embrace a look and kill another zombie while looking like the guitarist/occasional vocalist from U2... Never say lose the beanie... Maybe even say keep the beanie and approach that kill with the spunk of Rayanne Graff and the thoughtfulness & reflection of Angela Chase... And YES, that's a 'My So-Called Life' reference!!! Who says we can't have 90s teen angst references with our Comedy-Horror too?! I admittedly snapped back at the end of the episode when Loki broke down their door and tried to kill Joel/exposed Sheila's whole toe issue that she'd been hiding out of obvious embarrassment. They barricaded themselves in their room and Joel gave an excellent '20 seconds or less' speech that assured Sheila that no matter what problem they faced they'd do it together. Joel has proved that double time already being there for Sheila every step of the way through this ordeal, but somehow hearing him say it out loud as Loki attempted to breakdown their barricaded bedroom door made it mean soooo much more... It was the most tender and honestly romantic moment of 'SCD' yet. Comedy-Horror is a hard enough genre to nail, but to pepper it with Romance & Flesh Eating Serbian Zombies, that's the mother ducking trifecta! 'Warm Bodies' couldn't do it, 'Zombie Honeymoon' couldn't do it, 'Life After Beth' almost did it, but 'Santa Clarita Diet' is over here doing it, y'all... And they're doing it well.

[5hfanfiction]

Everything is A Metaphor

Chapter 2

* * *

Listen to: Vienna by The Fray

“Is there really no way to reach me?”

————————————————————————————————————

She feels- as much as she hates to admit it -the same way she did when her dad died. At first there’s a shock, a sudden dizziness and the vivid feeling of all your blood draining into your heart, so that it can beat faster; the nausea, the inability to breathe or form words other than ‘No, you’re lying!’ But then comes the realization that no one, not even the devil himself, would lie about such a thing. This is real. This is happening.

Lauren is in her dorm room, on her bed, barely held together by Lucy’s arms. She keeps trying to speak, wants to speak; but all that comes out is “No, no, no,” over and over again, her head shaking side to side. If she could just focus on the present- on her being in her loving girlfriend’s arms -she’d be able to at least mumble something relatively coherent. Instead, the past keeps replaying in her head.

“Hey, that would be great, actually! I’m Camila.”

“I’m-“ And she freezes right there, her hand half-extended as her face goes white. Her lips tremble for words-any word-but really, what the hell can you say in a situation like this?  Instead, Lauren simply stares at the girl until her vision blurs-from panic or tears or both, she can’t really tell.

“Whoa, Lo! You look like you’re gonna be sick.” Dinah feigns concern, throwing an arm over the shorter girl. “Here, why doesn’t Lucy take you back to your dorm?” She cocks her head out so that Lucy can see the panic in her eyes. “Right, Luce?”

That’s really all Lauren can remember, anyway. There’s Camila, then Dinah, then Lucy, then one more look back at Camila and Dinah. The worst part is, Lauren can see Camila’s face so clearly in her head: her brown eyes, wide with concern; Lips not so chapped anymore, but still bright pink; Hair a little all over the place, but somehow perfect the way it is. She is almost exactly the same, almost exactly how Lauren remembers her. Camila wasn’t freaked out by Lauren’s episode. Instead, she was incredibly worried. And if there’s anything about this girl that Lauren holds close to her heart, it’s her automatic concern for complete strangers. Camila was and, thank god, still is, the type of girl to take a homeless person out to dinner. Talk to them. Learn about their life story, all for the price of a single meal. And in Camila’s eyes, what could be better than that; that feeling of helping another?

But Dinah-…She just stood there. Impatient. Annoyed. Not one fucking look of regret. And that, almost more than anything else, is what really killed Lauren. She knew this was happening. She knew Camila was the new student, all along. And she didn’t do a damn thing.

Lauren launches into a fresh bout of sobs. Camila. Back, as if from the fucking dead.

After what seems like hours, a knock at the door forces Lauren and Lucy to finally depart. The latter runs over to the door, wanting the intruder to go away as fast as possible. The sight of her girlfriend’s concern almost makes Lauren forget how fucked up her life is. Almost, until she recognizes Dinah’s face peeking from behind the doorway.

As if sensing the anger rising behind Lauren’s tears, Dinah instantly raises her hands in defense. “Just hear me out, okay?” She steps inside the room without invitation, brushing past Lucy harshly. “I was going to tell you-“

She freezes. The girl before her is not one she recognizes. They’ve known each other for years, and yet Dinah has never, never seen Lauren in such a distraught state. It doesn’t compare to how she looked when Camila first left. No, this is worse. The girl lay in the same clothes from earlier, though the collar of her black t-shirt is almost entirely soaked-through from tears. Her face is red as a third-degree burn. Her entire body shakes, even when she isn’t coughing out a sob. She looks so small, fragile; like a little kid who’s just been told their dad isn’t coming home.

Something sinks in Dinah’s chest. “Lauren-…” She tries again, but the words keep getting stuck in her throat. Shit. She didn’t mean to fuck up this badly.

To make things worse, Lauren simply stares at the girl, her red eyes seething with tears. There is so much inside her, so much anger, so much sadness, so much of everything. She can’t hold it in any longer. The emotions inside her erupt into two words.

“Fuck you.”

Lauren’s voice is so ragged that for a moment, Dinah isn’t sure she heard her right. She furrows her brow, prompting Lauren to repeat herself.

“Fuck you,” She trembles, shaking her head. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” She screams so loud she can feel her vocal chords tearing apart; so loud that her gag reflex is triggered, and she has to cough frenziedly to avoid throwing up right then and there. Terrified, Lucy runs over to the girl. But Lauren pushes her away.

Dinah tries to speak. “Lauren-“

“You kept this from me,” Lauren continues, barely coherent. “You knew she was enrolling here and you kept it from me! You fucking-!” She breaks down again then, losing her battle to string words together. The worst part is, Dinah’s still trying to defend herself. Lauren knows it from the annoyed look on her face, her crossed arms. It makes her feel like a fucking madman, like she’s speaking to a damn wall. Does Dinah really not realize how much wrong she’s done?

“Jesus, Lauren,” Dinah throws her head back, her eyes rolling. “Do you blame me? Really?” She gestures toward the girl. “You’re a fucking mess! Damn straight I kept it from you. You really think finding out on the anniversary of-“ She stutters then, not wanting to worsen the blow. “Today. You really think me telling you today of all days would’ve helped anything? I didn’t think you’d be in school, Lo! I was going to tell you, I just…I wanted to avoid all of this.” She gestures again.

But Lauren isn’t buying it. “No,” She says through gritted teeth. “You knew for days, you had to of. They wouldn’t just throw something like this on you in a day’s notice. I’m not fucking stupid-“

“Okay.” Dinah uncrosses her arms, as quickly as one would reload their gun with ammo. She takes a deep breath through her nose, focusing a hard stare at Lauren. Make no mistake, Dinah loves Lauren like a sister- hell, like more than a sister. But she’s tired. Tired from Camila, tired from the debacle between her and Lauren, and tired from-

Well, tired from Lauren as a whole.

“Listen,” She continues, her voice low. “Yeah, you’re right, I did find out a few days ago. I didn’t tell you because I know how bad you can get during the week of the anniversary. I didn’t want that to be the only thing in your head the night of. I didn’t want you to suffer like this. Sorry if that was my mistake.”

Her voice begins to tremble with anger.

“But don’t you dare,” She shakes her head. “Don’t you dare turn this on me. You think you have it bad? What if you were the one who had to show her around because you’re the dedicated student advisor? What if you were the one who had to pretend like everything’s okay for her sake? Don’t forget you aren’t the only one who lost someone! You aren’t the only one she forgot.”

The speech is enough to make Lauren feel a pang of guilt, but only briefly before she finds her will to fight again. The thing about Lauren is that she’s stubborn, especially when it comes to Camila. The girl is too sensitive a subject for her to simply submit. “I-“ She begins, but Dinah shoots her a fiery glare to let her know she isn’t finished.

“Take today,” She nods condescendingly, like an uptight parent might. “Take tomorrow morning. Take the entire fucking week, I don’t care. But don’t come near me, and especially don’t come near Camila, until you’re over it. I’m sorry this is so fucking hard on you; it’s hard on me too. But I had to get over it for her sake, and so do you because she isn’t going anywhere and I know damn well neither are you.”

Her words are quiet enough to not shake the walls of the dorm, yet the edge in her voice shakes Lauren to her core. She opens her mouth one last time as a weak attempt to justify herself, but Dinah swiftly turns around and steps through the doorway. Before slamming the door, she adds: “You have a second chance to redeem yourself. Don’t fuck it up.”

The moment she leaves, Lauren crumbles into tearless hysteria. And even as Lucy holds her, coos to her, tries to keep her together, Lauren doesn’t mumble one word. She simply shakes, quiet and open-mouthed.

Maybe brokenness isn’t red-faced and damp with tears. Maybe brokenness comes after all the gunshots of cracked throats and irritated eyes.

Maybe brokenness is the afterthought. Maybe that’s the metaphor here.

————————————————————————————————————

Lauren doesn’t know how long she’d been asleep for. She can’t recall the exact time she fell asleep, and how much she actually rested in that timeframe rather than drowning in her thoughts. All she knows is her bones are heavy, her eyes still burn from crying, and her throat feels like she ate the blanket that’s currently covering Lucy. She must’ve kicked the blanket off in her sleep. In fact, she must’ve kicked Lucy off in her sleep, too, because the girl lay silent a few inches away, curled up with her pillow.

“Shit,” Lauren mumbles, running her hands over her face. Lucy doesn’t move, fast asleep, and Lauren curses herself for expecting something different.

When she checks her phone, her stomach lurches. It’s not because it’s already ten at night, or that Normani’s five text messages are pushy and suspicious. It’s not even Dinah’s apology message. No, it’s the last message Dinah had the nerve to send.

“I’m sorry about earlier. IDK what 2 say, except that im sorry and i love u. And on the bright side, Mila seems already really into u. Idk…i guess I’m sorry if thats hard to even comprehend rn. I just wanted to let you know, I guess, for the future. Maybe to give u some hope. Again, I’m sorry bout earlier. U kno I love u.”

Lauren chuckles dryly.  It would make sense for Camila to be instantaneously attracted to her, whether it’s a romantic interest or not. That’s just Lauren’s luck. She looks up to the ceiling with tired eyes, smiling sadly as she silently asks god, ‘Are you even up there?’

She gets no response, and she laughs again. Typical.

So between the nameless god, the deceptive best friend, and the ex girlfriend who is, essentially, brainwashed, it’s no wonder that Lauren chooses to venture into the night just before the clock turns twelve. It’s also no wonder that of all places to be in, she chooses the student bar.

And with the dreadful Jauregui luck she’s inherited, it’s of course no wonder that after a few drinks, she begins seeing things. Things that aren’t really there. People. People like Camila. Camila herself.

But before Lauren can do anything, she’s pulled out of her stool and dragged to a low-lit corner of the bar.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? A-Are you out of your mind? Have you finally reached that point, Lauren?”

It takes a moment for her vision to focus, but when she sees the short, light-haired girl she hasn’t seen in months, she chuckles.

“Hi, Ally.”

The two girls go as far back as Lauren and Dinah do. In fact, the three of them-no, the four of them, including Camila-all used to be best friends. But after the accident, Ally simply couldn’t look at Lauren the same. Every time she tried, all she saw was a broken shell of the girl she once knew. They still forged a relationship, though. Things only got bad about a year ago, when Lauren got into a fight with Lucy because of the whole Camila-Anniversary-Thing. She’d gotten drunk as a result, and when Dinah stopped answering her calls, she slogged over to Ally’s room in the next building over. Let’s just say that things didn’t go over well with, you know, the whole drunk-over-Camila thing. It just stirred up too many buried memories in Ally.

“So this is your go-to now?“ Ally continues, moving her shoulders so much that the martini in her hand shakes. “Camila’s back, so you have to get drunk? Are you really that weak?”

The insults roll off of Lauren’s chest, her body shielded with armor made from whiskey. She smirks. “Dinah told you.”

“She didn’t have to, asshole! She’s my new roommate.”

That sobers Lauren up a bit. She blinks for a moment, processing Ally’s words. “I-“

“She’s here, dumb-ass. I thought we’d celebrate her first day here but clearly that was a bad idea on my end.” Ally shakes her head in shame. “I really thought you were going to change, Lauren. Do you even remember what you said to me the last time we spoke? ‘I want to change, Ally! I want to do right by her.’ God, was I wrong for believing in you for once.”

The insults batter Lauren’s shield of alcohol, hitting it again and again until it is finally punctured. Lauren wasn’t just drunk off her ass. Camila really is here- here! In this ratty ass bar. What was Lauren thinking? She opens her mouth to defend herself or apologize or just say something. But Ally cuts her off again.

“You need to leave, Lauren.”

After a moment of searching her mind, Lauren finally says, “You can’t kick me out.” Jesus, she’s so drunk she can’t even find it in herself to apologize.

Ally sighs, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Just stay away from Camila, okay? I’m serious; this isn’t a warning anymore.”

“And what are you soooo afraid of? That I’ll buy her drinks? Make out with her?” Lauren smiles sadly. “Offer to drive her home?”

It’s a disgusting comment, even for a drunk Lauren. Ally finishes off her martini before speaking.

“I get that this is hard for you,” She says in a low voice, sounding just like Dinah from hours earlier. “I get that you must feel guilty, and confused, and just…heartbroken. I understand the want to get drunk, to just forget that any of this is happening. But you can’t run from this, Lauren. You can’t run from her. Not again.”

Ally pushes past Lauren before she can even formulate a response.

Lauren focuses her eyes on her hands, noticing the harsh scars circled around her palms. They’ve been there since the accident, she realizes. They haven’t faded- won’t fade unless she gets treatment. The scars are a part of her, and she has to live with that. Folding her hands palm-side down doesn’t make the scars go away, either. Just minimizes the time she has to face them. She has to stop running away.

From the scars, from Camila, from all of this. Lauren can’t continue ruining her life just to compensate for the injuries done to Camila. She-the old Camila, the one she once knew-wouldn’t want that. In fact, if the old Camila was aware of Lauren’s downward spiral, she’d be heartbroken.

And Lauren’s tired of breaking people’s hearts.

She hurries past the crowd of people dancing to get to the bar and pay her bill. She pushes past a couple twerking, another who can’t keep their hands off each other’s pants zippers. At some point, a hand grabs on to her shoulder so fiercely she has to elbow someone near by to get loose. The end result is her loss of balance as she escapes the crowd, stumbling into the person nearest to her.

“Whoa there-“ The voice says, but Lauren cuts them off.

“Shit,” She heaves, catching her breath. “I s-swear I’m not as drunk as that m-makes me seem-“

But as she blinks and fixes her hair, desperately trying to compose herself, her vision clears once again. The girl before her is a figure not drawn by alcohol or depression, but reality.

Lauren trembles as the name stumbles out of her mouth.

“Camila.” Her mouth fills with a vile taste, like burnt food.

The girl smiles warmly, brown eyes widening with surprise. “You remember my name?”

And as much as Lauren wants to make a snarky remark, she can’t bring herself to say anything more.

No, instead she bends over, holding her stomach.

Instead of word vomit, she, well-

She actually vomits.

————————————————————————————————————

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s not the first time I’ve been puked on. You’re fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, really.”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s then that she breaks down. She hugs her knees to her chest, buries her face in-between them, and cries; huge, ugly sobs that tire her shoulders out. Lauren can feel her face growing red, her throat raw. This episode is even worse than the one from earlier, which-frankly-was previously thought impossible. And yet, the pain feels lighter tonight. As she’s crying next to Camila, sitting on the sidewalk in the chilly New York night air, there is something different. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the argument with Ally. But the crying feels more like venting, how it should feel to a normal person. It feels like the pain is escaping through every tear. And it is awkward and weird and fucking insane to be sobbing in Camila’s presence, but the moment reminds Lauren that this isn’t the first time she’s cried in front of her. For Lauren to not let it out would be running away. Fuck that.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Camila finally musters, eyes darting every which way as if to confirm that this is really happening. Then she latches on to Lauren’s arm, tugging at it gently as a means to get the girl to look up. But she doesn’t. Instead, Lauren sobs harder, louder, as if to block out Camila entirely.

“Those shoes were like $20 anyway!” Camila shouts, feigning a smile. “I can buy a new pair at Target for probably less! It’s all good!” But Lauren keeps on sobbing, drunk off-amongst other things-the release it gives. Camila pleads, “Don’t cry, blue skies? Please?”

And Lauren lifts her head up, as if feeling a new wave of nausea come on; a new wave of memories; flashbacks; nostalgia. She stares at Camila, eyes glassy with tears but-

But there’s something more. Her lips quiver as she starts, “You still-?”  She knows she can’t finish the sentence. You still say that? Instead, she shakes her head, letting it fall back between her knees. Fresh tears roll down her cheeks, but her eyes are closed for the most part. She tangles her hands together over her forehead, trying to grasp the reality at hand. Then she-

Well, she laughs. It’s a tired, broken sound, but the two girls make a mental note that it’s much better than the sobs.

One of the best memories Lauren can recall is, surprisingly, when Camila first told her she was moving away. They were sat at the edge of Lauren’s roof, like always, passing around what little alcohol they had managed to steal off their parents. This mixture in particular combined brandy, whiskey, and rum all in one flask. (Gross indeed, but Camila had insisted that it’d be better for them to learn to hate alcohol early.) There was really no proper way to announce the news, so Camila simply interrupted Lauren once she was tipsy and rambling.

“I still really want to go to NYU. I know you think I’m just applying for your sake, but-“

“I’mmoving.”

Lauren eyes her with a look of suspicion, raising a brow.

Camila refuses to meet her gaze. She keeps her face angled forward, her eyes hidden behind locks of stray hair. “Friday.” She manages. “I’m moving. To Texas.”

A silence moves in between them, separating them to such a degree that not even Camila’s dad could achieve it. Lauren fumbles mindlessly with the cap of the flask, her eyes staring at Camila. Looking, but not seeing. Hearing, but not listening.

“Please tell me you’re drunk.” She says, throat suddenly dry.

Camila shakes her head.

“Camz, please-“

Camila shakes her head more violently, turning her gaze towards Lauren for the first time. Then, seeing the truth in Camila’s eyes, Lauren shakes her head, too. “No, there’s no way-“ She begins, but the sight of Camila’s eyes becoming glassy with tears pushes Lauren over the edge. She propels herself off and away from the edge of the roof, dropping the flask of alcohol as she does so.

“No, no way in hell. If he really thinks he can just up and ship you off to fucking Texas of all places, he’s got another thing coming.” She paces carefully up and down the slope of the roof. “You can stay with me, or, or-!”

Camila mumbles softly,“Laur.” She meets Lauren’s eyes, then drags her gaze away again. “It’s over.”

Lauren shakes her head. “No. We can figure something out-“

“I’m moving in three days.”

“No, no, don’t tell me that! We can’t just give up-“

“We aren’t giving up, Lauren. We never had a chance, not with my dad. You know that.”

Lauren slips down the roof with each statement. “Are you forgetting that he’s a bitter, tired-ass! You can’t-“

“I have to.”

“Camila!”

“Lauren.”

“Please,” Lauren finally skids next to Camila’s side, taking a seat on the edge. “This is my fault! He shouldnt be punishing you. I-I’ll promise to keep my distance from you in public. I’ll sign a restraining order if that’ll make him happy! Just please-“ Her voice cracks as her eyes fill with tears. “Don’t let him take away the only good thing I have in my life.”

That’s when the both of them broke down, sobbing into each other’s shoulders. Lauren had never been so intimate with Camila, not in this way. The honesty, the aching in her voice-

The fact that she really did believe Camila was the only good thing in her life brought Camila to tears. Then, of course, came the revelation that they were losing each other, probably for good. This was a split no one could control.

After a while, Camila whispered, “Don’t cry, blue skies.”  Lauren only remembers it now because it was such a stupid, yet adorable thing to say in the midst of a disaster.

“I think I’m just drunk,” Lauren says now, wiping her face with one hand. She musters up enough courage to look into Camila’s eyes, and she notices the same jolt of concern darkening the brown in them. A few fresh tears roll down her cheeks, but not out of sadness; a drunken anger or disdain. No, these are tears of hope. Hell, maybe even joy.

Maybe memories can be forgotten, erased. But there are some parts of you that you just can’t change; certain aspects that are hardwired into your chemical make-up. Maybe Camila forgot about Lauren, but maybe there are parts of her that haven’t changed. Maybe the parts of her Lauren loved most haven’t changed.

Seizing the moment, Lauren speaks before Camila can say a word.

“Walk me back to my dorm, please? I promise I won’t cry anymore.”

Camila looks at her with shock, her mouth dropping open before curving into a ridiculous smile. She shrugs, shaking her head. “You’re crazy.”

“Is that a no, Cabello?”

Camila raises a brow. “You know my last name?”

Panic. “We-“ Lauren begins, but stops herself in all her drunkeness. We knew each other, once. We were actually lovers at one point, haha. She shakes her head, mouth suddenly dry.

“Dinah told me.”

“And did Dinah tell you anything else about me?”

Lauren raises a brow. “Should she have?”

“Mm, not from her, no. But from me? You have a lot to learn-…” She pauses, at a loss for words.

“Jauregui,” Lauren answers. Then, smirking, she puts out a hand. “Lauren Michelle Jauregui, at your service.”

Camila takes Lauren’s hand, pulling the girl up with her as she rises from the curb. “Karla Camila Cabello,” She says, stepping closer to Lauren. “But don’t tell anyone.”

And the two of them are so, so close, faces inches away. And Camila is smirking, like she’s discovered the most clever saying in the world. And Lauren is smiling anxiously, trying to convince herself that if she drunkenly stumbled and crashed her lips into Camila’s, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

But then she hears Dinah and Ally’s voices mixing in her head. Don’t blow it. Don’t fuck it up.

Instead, Lauren grabs Camila’s hand. “Lead the way, Brown Eyed Girl.”

Camila freezes at the nickname, her head tilting as she observes the lightness to Lauren’s eyes. She doesn’t say it, but the way her brow is furrowing tells Lauren she’s confused.

She mumbles, “Why does that sound so familiar?”

And there’s that shred of hope again.

Lauren tries to hide her smile, shrugging like the most oblivious girl in the world. But as they start towards the Arts and Sciences dorm, Lauren thinks to herself:

It should sound familiar. It should, it should, it should.

———————————————————————————————-

AHHHHH thank u all so much for the positive feedback pls keep it coming Im terribly self-conscious with my writing lmao 

have a nice day!! hopefully this didnt make u too emo (:

[topicprinter]

Hi all, I recently wrote this post about how Drip screwed over its most loyal customers and I thought perhaps /r/Entrepreneur would get value out of my lessons learned.----If you’re not familiar, Drip is email marketing software that’s pretty heavy on the marketing automation front. I won’t do them the courtesy of a link, so you’ll have to Google them if you want to check it out.They’ve been around since 2012 or so, founded by someone I trusted, but he sold the business to Leadpages a few years ago, and it’s been going downhill ever since.I’ve been using them for years as the backbone of two “side” businesses: IndieHive, which covers this website for freelancers and the related products and services that I sell, and Everleads, a curated lead generation site for freelance designers and developers.In 2016 and 2017, I really dug deep into Drip. I built out dozens of interconnected workflows to carefully shepherd my subscribers through various funnels and sequences with duplicate emails or annoying content that’s not relevant to them. I integrated my web front-end with their APIs so that I could customize the site for subscribers. I wrote bridging scripts to connect it to Mixpanel for analytics, and I used Zapier to hook Drip up to even more services. It was the heart of my entire business, and it was awesome.But throughout 2018, things started to go awry.I kept experiencing glitches in the workflows where people would get stuck on workflow steps that should be instant, like “remove tag”. Or people would end one workflow and start another, but not have any of the data that the first workflow had set. There were honestly dozens of these little glitches, but individually they were minor.Also troubling: deliverability started to slip. Not precipitously, and I can’t prove that it wasn’t just my emails, but I have heard from others that they were having issues with getting their emails into people’s inboxes in 2018.But the most egregious thing for all of this was that support was basically no help at all. I probably opened two dozen support requests in 2018 and I’m not sure they actually resolved a single one. We’d spend hours going back and forth so they could even understand the problem. Then they’d almost always say one of two things:“For a workaround, just insert a number of delays between steps in your workflows so that the system doesn’t get confused!” So all my workflows had little 5 minute delay steps to try and make sure things worked correctly. Which they still didn’t. Wtf.Or they’d just say they need to escalate to the developers and then I’d get an email weeks or months later from some random support engineer letting me know they were still looking into why the most basic functions of their software don’t work right. Awesome.Alarmed by this, I repeatedly researched alternatives throughout 2018, but nothing seemed worth going through the pain of migration and the risk of just having similar issues somewhere else. So I kept resolving to be patient with Drip and hope (pray) that they were hard at work at undoing whatever architectural disaster had led us here.And then…In early January 2019, while I was on a relaxing cruise with my wife for our 15th anniversary, I got an email from Drip:https://ryanwaggoner.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/drip-bullshit-pricing-email-2.pngSo basically: “Hey, we’re raising our prices in 12 days! You can keep your current price if you switch to an annual plan!”And if you read it carefully, there’s something pretty important missing from this email.It doesn’t say what the new pricing is**. Seriously wtf.**So I emailed to ask. They responded the next day (so now I have 11 days) to reveal they were doubling my monthly price.Drip raised my price from $184 / month to $368 / month with 12 days notice.That’s just about the worst way imaginable to treat your oldest and most loyal customers.And it was the last straw for me.Now, to be clear, I completely understand wanting to grow a company in a new direction, or thinking that you need to raise prices to reflect more value.But you don’t do it when your platform is half-broken, you don’t do it with 12 days notice, and you grandfather in existing customers, at least for long enough for them to migrate. Also, you tell them the price when you tell them that prices are rising.It’s hard to imagine how Drip could have been more disrespectful to their customer base than what they did here.So as of last month, I switched all my subscribers to ConvertKit and ActiveCampaign for Everleads and IndieHive, respectively. That’s thousands of dollars that Drip won’t be getting from me. I managed to get both setups completely migrated off just before their billing renewal dates, in one case with literal minutes to spare.It was a pain and required some late nights but it was worth it to deny them another penny.I’m not alone in feeling upset about this. Twitter was ablaze for weeks with people who were angry and bailing for greener, more respectful pastures. I’ve taken a sick joy in watching a lot of people migrate off Drip with much larger lists than mine.I also cancelled Leadpages in favor of Instapage. I was already unhappy with Leadpages, mainly because it feels pretty clunky and dated, they aren’t very responsive to user feedback, and they’re still missing some pretty basic things (like being able to pass form data to the thank you page. Seriously?).Side note: I was going to link to the Leadpages idea portal, but they apparently shut it down. Makes sense, since it was filled with hundreds of good ideas with many, many customer votes that had been ignored for years.Regardless, even if Leadpages was awesome, they own Drip and I won’t give another penny to such an unethical company that treats its customers so poorly.And this migration was a huge pain (which is what they were counting on), partly because of how complex my Drip setups were, but also because ConvertKit and ActiveCampaign are both pretty different from each other and from Drip. On the surface, they all do some of the same things, but once you dig in, things diverge, which made the migration especially painful.Drip is complicated. Stupidly so. In fact, it’s so complicated that there are a number of problems using it:It doesn’t really work. I mean, it does like 99% of the time, but that last 1% means that some of your subscribers are going to have a bad time. And it’s not just that their emails won’t show up. They might just get stuck in a workflow, or skip some emails in a sequence, or get things at the wrong times, or lose data, etc. And since this happens randomly, the number of subscribers who experience it accumulates over time.The customer support reps don’t really know how it works, because it’s too complicated. So you end up spending hours writing up descriptions of the problem and putting together screencasts to show how things don’t seem to be working, and the only response you get is that they’ll have to ask the developers.It encourages you to setup really fancy complex automations which, even if they did work, are way beyond what you actually need. Just imagine: you can do anything! You can track everything! You can have an unlimited number of tags and fields! Track and automate all the things!Your setup can end up being really brittle and deeply tied to the Drip architecture, which is a problem if you want to migrate off. And it’s hard to expand and modify over time without breaking all kinds of things for your subscribers who are in those automations.The setup is hard to document. It’s easy to end up with a large collection of documents and spreadsheets and screencasts to try and explain not only what you did, but why you did it.It’s hard to audit and debug when things go wrong. And things will go wrong. It’s hard to tell exactly what’s happening with your subscribers, where things went off the rails, and how to get it back on track without screwing things up further.In the end, Drip for me felt like a really shitty programming language. Technically possible to do almost anything, but so painful that in the end you wish you hadn’t bothered.By contrast, ConvertKit is simple. And yes, I think it’s too simple in places. I think there are some genuine gaps in the functionality that makes it a little too hard to get done the things you want.But I’m also aware of the fact that I’m coming from Drip and a really convoluted setup, so being forced to simplify is probably a good thing.And ActiveCampaign is not simple, but it’s powerful in a bunch of ways that Drip should have been. Additionally, it has the distinction of actually being, you know, functional. Crazy, I know.Also, ActiveCampaign apparently is more open to feedback than Drip. I posted a Twitter thread listing some things that I like about it and Jason VandeBoom, the founder of ActiveCampaign, setup a call with me to go over some of my feedback. And ActiveCampaign isn’t a tiny company; they have hundreds of employees and are much larger than Drip. It meant a lot to me that Jason would just jump on the phone with a random customer to see how they could improve.Meanwhile Drip’s emails aren’t even signed by an actual person. During this whole debacle, I don’t think anyone from Drip actually responded to anyone’s tweets or complaints. A couple days after the initial announcement when things were blowing up on Twitter, they sent this out another email that was basically "sorry, not sorry"Just like their price increase, all of their corporate communication just screams “We don’t care about you. Go away.”So I did.I’m actually really glad that I dropped Drip, after all that. Partly because of how much better ConvertKit and ActiveCampaign are as tools, but mostly because it taught me a lesson about how you need to be careful when you’re a small company about who you integrate with, because while your interests may align now, that could change at any point.But this rant has gone on long enough, so I’ll save that point for a future post.Disclaimer: just in case Drip decides to sue me (which would be so on-brand for them at this point), ALL the descriptions of Drip’s functionality, failings, and communications is to the best of my recollection and should not be taken as a literal word-for-word account.----Happy to answer any questions about my experience with Drip, ConvertKit, or ActiveCampaign. Would also love to hear anyone else's experiences with any of those (or others you'd recommend in the space of email-based marketing automation).Original post: https://ryanwaggoner.com/drip-pricing-review/

[cliveboney]

i just want to give an update on that whole upsetting fic debacle since i kept posting abt it, for closure. feel free to skip this as it’s kind of heavy and very personal; i just want to let myself talk it out so i can let it go and move past it

((warning for depression & vague talk of my personal experience w/ it))

so!! i finished it, the whole thing, it was almost 130k words & it was excruciating & it made me completely miserable and i need to never ever do something like that to myself ever again!

i have a problem, a Thing I Do, where if i start watching/reading something, i want to finish it. i will rarely deliberately drop something altogether because no matter how much im not enjoying it i want to see it through, because theres always something i still do like about it, you know? thats why i finished the first season of k-on, even though i hated it (tho im loving s2 actually), and why i watched all 13 episodes of amagi brilliant park, including the special, even though i hated it, and why i stuck it through to the end with comic girls despite its very fucking best efforts to get me to stop watching, and same with darlifra and many other things because i just. wanted to finish the job. there’s a satisfaction in bringing something to a close, so you’re not leaving any loose ends behind. i may not have liked the story, but at least i finished it.

that’s kind of how it was with this fic. i started reading it because one of my coping mechanisms when im feeling really sad or having a bad depression night is to read angst fanfiction kind of as a cathartic release of those negative emotions, it feels good to embrace them and let them wash through me via the opportunity for projection that fanfiction provides. a lot of the times the content of the fics i read are extremely heavy because that’s just what works for me. so when i saw the content warnings on this particular fic, i wasn’t particularly fazed because it was just. stuff i was used to consuming- i mean honestly the content warnings are often the reason i picked the fic in the first place

this one though. uh. it was a lot heavier than im used to, which was becoming rapidly more apparent the further along i got. i mean, it was fine for a couple chapters because it was hitting very close to home in that satisfying kind of way that i needed that night, but after i got over that initial release of emotions it started going downhill, um, a Lot

two chapters was enough to get me invested, but this was a Depression Fic, about depression, with themes centering explicitly around how mental illness destroys lives and friendships, and its aim was to explore these themes in the most realistic way possible. thankfully, it was also about recovery and rekindling lost friendships, and it did ultimately end well, but it was a very long, painful journey. the author did an excellent job conveying these struggles.

it was a very, very hard story for me to read. i wanted to stop, many times, and i fucking should have. it was a very bad time for me to read a story like this- due to a recent surgery, my thyroid levels are very low, leaving me feeling more sluggish than usual and in effect worsening my depression. im taking medication for it, but the medication takes several weeks to kick in and i’ve only been on it for a little over a month now, so i’ve been feeling very low. i shouldn’t have read this fic. i should have stopped after i realized what kind of story it was going to tell, and how it would affect me, and i was only lucky that it ended as well as it did, because the trigger warnings listed above the very last chapter had me so upset that i didn’t know what to do with myself & it was only after i forced myself to read that chapter that i was able to feel better because it turned out that those warnings were extremely misleading out of context and there was a happy ending after all.

putting that much emotional dependence on a story is unhealthy. this fic made me feel like shit, and that’s unhealthy. it took me back and showed me a very dark place that i haven’t been to for years, reintroduced thought processes that i have moved past indulging in for a Good Reason, and made me feel hopeless and sad about my own future despite the recent positive feelings i’d been starting to have. i saw myself in the characters and their struggles. i saw both my past self and the ugly side of my recovering self at the same time. i related to these characters so deeply and integrally that i couldn’t handle the thought of anything but a happy ending, and i don’t know how i would be feeling right now had things gone wrong in the end. that’s unhealthy.

i’m proud of how far i’ve come. i have come a long way since my darkest days. i’ve learned a lot about self love and what it means to take care of yourself. what it means to find meaning in the little things and to keep pushing forward for them. to hold onto the happiness in my life and keep finding more things to be happy about.

this fic felt like a huge step backward, and i knew it was even as i continued to read it. i ignored every voice in my head telling me to stop, to just let this one go. i wanted to see how the story would end. i wanted the emotional satisfaction of seeing everything turn out okay, of conflict resolution and watching characters get back on their feet. it’s okay to want that, but when the journey to get there is so bogged down with these harmful paths, it’s better to just take a different route altogether and leave it behind. it’s a part of my life that i’ve worked so hard to leave behind me; dragging it back in was the wrong thing to do. 

like i said, im lucky everything turned out okay in the end. but im still dealing with the emotional repercussions. it may have ended well, but all the rest of those 125k words of misery still happened. they still brought my mind back to those bad places. i’ll be able to move past this, i know i will, but i only just finished reading it yesterday, so it’s still pretty fresh in my mind. immediately after i finished the last chapter, i went looking for the happiest and most wholesome fics i could find in comparison. a part of what had upset me so much, besides everything else, was the fact that my favorite relationship from the show was broken almost beyond repair in this story, so i found fics with those characters that showed unconditional love and friendship instead, and that helped me feel a lot better immediately. this fic had been one of the first ones i read for this fandom, so i think it was kind of acting as the defining example of this fandom’s fic for me; repairing that mental connection is helping me move on from it, because there are so many other stories to be told and i’d much rather have those define my experience here instead.

so, ultimately, what did i learn?? listen to ur fucking logical brain when it tells u to stop forcing urself to do something that’s hurting you!!!!! sure i would have been worried over that fic for a while, wondering how it all ended, if everything worked out, but i would have gotten over it, replaced it with better things, and i wouldn’t have had to go through the intense emotional labor i did while reading it. if you’re not enjoying something, it’s okay to just drop it!! it’s not as big a deal as it feels like in the moment. remove toxic things from your life, the quicker you can the better. live to better yourself and keep working at your own improvement. forgive yourself for messing up, take a deep breath, and move on. it will pass, and you will have become stronger for it. hold onto that strength and use it to keep moving forward. 

you can do it. 

i am proud of you.