#im watching them get divorced for like the sixth time

[introvert-time-art]

yet another promotional bit that is slowly and very painfully killing me?? when will it end (july 28th probably)

i wish i had intelligent thoughts about this but it's like im watching them get divorced and im gonna be a sniveling fuckin mess if i think any further

so???

"Angel. This is the supreme archangel of all Heaven, your former boss, who tried very hard to cast you into hellfire and destroy you!"

reasonable. hate that guy. crowley knows how aziraphale was treated in heaven, or got a good enough idea ("shut your stupid mouth and die already") that he doesn't want that guy anywhere near either of them.

but aziraphale "greater good" fell just sees a wet rag of a man(?) with exactly one brain cell and makes himself look past it all. and i really want to be able to figure out his reasoning.

he already knows that gabriel lost his memory, that he's essentially a different person (i mean he's eating?? what is that). is it just from the kindness of his heart that he's insisting on helping him? ("He doesn't have any friends so he needs us") or does he see the danger they might all be in and needs to figure out the mystery and is just really bad at articulating it? damn this miscommunication. First with the naked man friend and now this? pull yourself together

but crowley only hears that aziraphale wants to help the dude that tried to end the world and then destroy the one good thing he had. and that's messing me up

and these guys are so good at big stupid dramatic breakups GOD. crowley sounds so frustrated saying "so did i" and he's just exhausted from his living situation and now this... now his angel is putting that all at risk for gabriel.

so he says "the precious, peaceful, fragile existence that i have carved out for myself here." because i guess it's feeling like aziraphale has forgotten how hard they fought to be able to live freely and he can't even begin to imagine having to look at the face of the stuffy, stupid, holier-than-thou and downright dangerous archangel that tried to destroy them.

[artificialqueens]

Everything And More, 1/3 (Blu/Cheryl) - Juno

Summary: Blu and Cheryl discover they are soulmates … at the worst time possible. Does distance really make the heart grow fonder?

(A/N: This is a prequel to another fic I wrote which is on AO3, but can be read on its own too. Just wanted to do something with some DRUK girls, and there will be more to come! No CWs for this chapter. Hope you enjoy this so far.)

“Surprise, surprise!”

Cheryl had only had to open the door to the oddly quiet living room to instantly jump out of her skin the sight and sound of all her friends, the synchronised bangs of party poppers, streams of colours through the air. Something shattered in the kitchen through the open door at the back of the living room (most likely the walking hazard that was Kendall knocking a mug over), but shrieks and cheers covered up most of the noise.

She instantly turned backwards to meet Vivienne’s smug smile, as she stood behind her, and hit her with the paper KFC bag that was in her left hand.

“I knew you were doing this!” Cheryl cried, although really she would never have guessed.

“Give over, Chez, you had no idea. You thought we were just going for nuggets. Anyway, d’you like it?” Viv’s grin was a little forced.

“I love it! Babe, thank you so much!” Cheryl tugged Vivienne down the six inch difference in height to hug her round the neck.

A gentle ahem from inside the front room interrupted them, and Cheryl turned to Divina, standing waiting her turn.

“Divina did the decorations,” Viv muttered, but she needn’t have said; it was obvious by their precise locations and mix of pastels (but no other bright colours) that it was Divina’s hand leading all of this set up. Cheryl just dragged Divina towards them both, happy they’d put their mutual dislike aside even if it just for this.

“You didn’t think we’d let you go off to America without one last party, did you?” Divina exclaimed.

“Guys! You really shouldn’t have! Oh, I’m gonna cry!” Cheryl finally put down the KFC bag, nuggets spilling on the floor, to wipe her eyes.

Divina seized her by the cheeks. “Less of that, Cheryl, no tears today, okay? Come in and we’ll get the party going.” Divina steered Cheryl into the living room out of Vivienne’s arms, and Baga grinned as she handed her a mug.

But Cheryl knew better than to drink it right off the bat.

“What’s this, Bags?”

“Just coke,” Baga shrugged.

“Coke and what?”

“Coke and a mug.”

“Coke and what, Baga?”

But Baga just grinned. “Drink it and find out!”

Cheryl put the mug to her lips and … Oh, yes, coke and some fucking paint thinner, she realised. This was going to be an interesting afternoon. Just Baga feeding them all more and more alcohol from her mum’s special cupboard and topping it all up with water or apple juice or whatever hair-brained scheme Baga seemed to have thought up next.

Speaking of her mum …

“Viv,” Cheryl realised, turning to her, “does my mum know you’re all here?”

Vivienne blinked and looked at the painting on the wall.

“Viv! Tell me!”

“What are we playing first, girls?” Baga ignored Cheryl, steering her to the dining table which was large enough for six, and littered with bottles and cans. “Make space! Cards? Anyone brought cards?”

“Baga, no way, I told you I’m not playing Ring Of Fire again.” Kat folded her arms, glaring at her.

“Shut up, Kat. Who wants Ring Of Fire?”

“I’ve got a deck of cards!” Vivienne declared, producing one from her bra.

“No way am I playing with those.” This time it was Divina’s turn to put her foot down. “Not when they’ve spent all morning in Vivienne’s tits. I might catch something.”

“Only thing you’ll catch is some class, girl.” Vivienne replied smoothly.

“Class? From you? I don’t think.”

“Okay, okay!” Baga huffed. “Jesus Christ, you lot. Someone else suggest something then. Chez, get that down your neck.”

Cheryl focused on drinking while the others argued about the game. Viv and Divina kept shooting barbs at each other, with Vinegar egging them on and Sum waving her hands in the air trying to calm both of them down. Baga’s face grew redder and redder as she fought not to shout at them, while Crystal, Kat and Kendall went to the back door to vape.

Wait.

“Is Blu not coming?” Cheryl asked in the kitchen, but the argument was reaching a crescendo. She drained the mug and went outside to the back garden. Crystal was blowing smoke rings, while Kat and Kendall sat in the grass, legs intertwined, passing Kendall’s vape pen between them and picking at the daisies.  

“Where’s Blu?” Cheryl asked Crystal, thinking Kat and Kendall were too preoccupied for company.

“She’s still got flu,” Crystal replied, blowing a cloud of smoke through the centre of her newest smoke ring. “She couldn’t come.”

——

Fuck this. Fuck the flu.

Blu felt like shit, and not just because of the flu. She was missing Cheryl’s surprise party. God, what irony. She hadn’t missed a day of term over the whole of sixth form, and now she had the worst flu of her life at the end of the summer holidays, right before everyone was going to uni and right before Cheryl was flying to America.

She looked down at her phone from earlier when she’d messaged Viv.

Blu: sorry im still sick

Blu: mam wont let me out the house

Blu: best i can hope for is to be better for monday to come to the airport

Viv: Can’t be helped girl xx

Viv: Hope your feelin better soon xx

She’d wanted to see Cheryl’s face when Viv brought her in for the surprise, because Cheryl would never guess in a million years and her face would be a picture.

She’d wanted to savour every minute she was still with her best friend before he had to get on the plane and go on that scholarship.

She’d wanted to give Cheryl her present at the party. Nothing worth a lot of money, or big, but something that meant a lot to Blu and she hoped to Cheryl too.

Sighing, she looked over at the corner where it was wrapped, ready to go. Where she’d almost fallen on it this morning, getting up and out of bed. Telling her ma she felt fine, before her unsteady legs gave out under her and she crashed into the wall.

It sucks being in bed all day.

She looked down at her watch - one of those new ones with the soulmate-finder on it, to see that the day was moving frustratingly slowly. There was nothing onTV, she’d watched what felt like the whole of Netflix, and she still didn’t really want to eat.

With a growl of frustration, she tugged the duvet over her head and snuggled down, hoping that being good and staying in bed would help her fever hurry the fuck up and leave her in time for Monday.

Then I can say bye.

She couldn’t let Cheryl go without saying goodbye. Cheryl was far more than her best friend.

Coming over from Belfast after her parents’ divorce two years ago felt like wrenching a tree from its roots and trying to plant it in rocks. London was too big, and even now Blu still wasn’t altogether used to central London, but here on the outskirts wasn’t as bad.

In addition to a different country, she’d had to shift her studies here too, and her first day at her new school had felt like all the wires in her brain had been rearranged. Besides, having the badge of honour of being the New Girl among these sixth formers who had already known each other for five years was never going to be straightforward.

But her first lesson, on her first day, Business Studies, had seen the prefect Cheryl toss her hair back from her shoulders and pat the empty space at the desk next to her, her smile charming and so fucking genuine.

It had been all Blu had needed for something hot to blossom in her chest.

She’d been so confused. Back at school in Belfast, she’d convinced herself having crushes on her girl friends was just a phase, as her ma had said, and she would grow out of it. But meeting Cheryl had made her sure that it definitely wasn’t just a phase. The crushes she’d had in Belfast came and went, like clouds on a windy day; like the boys who had entered her life but who had never felt real, and had let her go like the wisp of smoke she turned into. But Blu had never once moved on from Cheryl. Cheryl was the sky beyond the clouds. In her mind now, that was all there was.

Blu had shook when she’d told her ma she was certain now, over Christmas holidays in Year 12 - certain that she didlike girls, this wasn’t going away, and there was This Girl in her life now, and This Girl was incredible, kind, talented, gorgeous … and probably as straight as a poker. And her ma had nodded along with her confession, reassured her, let her cry at the relief.

Cheryl remained This Girl.

Incredible, kind, talented, gorgeous, and Blu was convinced poker-straight.

Blu opened her eyes, stunned to see the clock had moved on to seven pm in what felt like no time at all. She’d slept, by some miracle.

Her throat felt much better, too.

——

Three rounds of Ring Of Fire and countless attempts at Among Us later, and Cheryl was warm and drunk and swaying happily to the music from Divina’s Spotify playlist. Among Us had gone to pieces after everyone had collectively decided that Crystal was just always going to be the imposter and Crystal made no attempt to dissuade them; simply flipping her hair back and winking at them.

Cheryl felt the familiar sensation of Vivienne’s fingers at the back of her neck, tugging her hair back to braid. It transported Cheryl to being in Year 7 again, when Cheryl had had her super-long hair, and Viv had been obsessed with braiding it at every opportunity. Now, with long gentle fingers at the base of her scalp, Cheryl let herself ascend to cloud nine of relaxation.

“You having a good time?” Viv asked softly.

It was a tone she didn’t really use with the rest of the group; her own quiet way of caring. Cheryl tried to nod.

“Stop it, girl, your braid is coming out!”

“Sorry. Viv? Mum did know about this party, didn’t she, babe?”

Vivienne cackled in response to Cheryl’s tentative question. “Of course she did, like Divina would have decorated your house like that if your mum hadn’t known about us giving you a party.”

Divina spun round at her name, her red hair seeming to flare up. “Vivienne, if you don’t stop -“

But Divina was interrupted by a sharp nudge in the ribs from Crystal, and a pointed glance to Sum, who Cheryl only just noticed was lying on the ground, her hands in her rucksack. She sat back up with an impish grin.

“Do you want to play some pass the parcel?” Sum asked, her eyelids drooping as she handed a parcel wrapped in brown paper to Cheryl. Her words were slurred; Sum was the lightweight of the group, for sure. Still, Cheryl was drunk enough not to think that pass the parcel was a stupid idea.

“Let’s do it then!” Cheryl shouted above the music. “Everyone get on the floor!”

“Some of us don’t need to go far, do we?”

“Shut up, Kendall, I’m not that short!”

“Just shut up and sit down, Baga,” Cheryl pulled her down to sit with them all. “Right - who’s got the music on?”

“Me,” Divina said, holding her phone up. “I’ll do the stops.”

The parcel took forever to go round everyone, with them all having a turn to unwrap a layer. After the seventh layer was unwrapped, Vivienne realised that Divina was not stopping the music when she had the parcel, resulting in yet another argument. But once everyone had had a turn, as expected, the parcel landed on Cheryl as the music stopped.

It was a small box, big enough to fit in her hands as she cupped it. It had to be the last layer before the gift was revealed. Obviously, Cheryl thought to herself, they’ve planned all of this.

She tore the paper off, and was stunned.

“This is - guys -“

Cheryl had seen the adverts for the soulmate-finding smart watches, but holding it in her hands … it felt surreal.

“We wanted to get you something meaningful,” Sum was smiling warmly as she spoke, “and so we all got together and bought you this watch.”

Sure, Cheryl would have loved to have owned one of these watches before, but they were so expensive and so new, that she thought it would probably be years before she’d own one at least. And now, here was the small box that held one, of her very own.

“God - you must have spent a fucking fortune on me, you didn’t have to do that …”

Cheryl found tears come readily to her eyes as Baga gave her a hug.

“Chez, it’s fine. Maybe now you’ll find an American soulmate!”

“Maybe.”

“And then you can stay in America and not come back!”

Cheryl forced a smile as she patted Baga on the back, letting the tears fall now.

“We’ll need to set you up before you go so when you get there you can meet some American as soon as you land. There’s some, like, personality quiz or something they make you take so they can set you up with a soulmate. Give me your phone and I’ll set you up.” Divina reached for Cheryl’s phone.

“Hey, hey, what makes you think you’re going to be setting her up, Divina?” Viv protested. “We all bought it, so we allget to do it.”

“Why can’t you fucking -“

“Shut the fuck up! Both of you!” Crystal shouted above them both; the only one still seemingly sober. “God, you’re both being fucking childish.”

“We’re all doing it,” Vinegar announced, and her authoritative tone as always caused the rest of the group to go quiet; Divina as docile as a lamb as she handed over Cheryl’s phone and the watch.

The nine of them poured the rest of the spirits and the mixers into each other’s mugs and glasses, and gathered round Vinegar as she downloaded the app onto Cheryl’s phone and started filling in the questions on the personality test.

They’d been a group for seven years, and although they didn’t always all get along now, it was the closest Cheryl felt to anyone. Cheryl glanced round at her friends, close as sisters but loyal as family, feeling tears hot in her eyes once again. The slight unnerving feeling in her gut that she had every now and then threatened to throw her off course again, intrusive thoughts creeping back in.

Is this the right thing?

Divina and Viv weren’t staring daggers at each other for the first time in the last month; instead working in tandem and chuckling softly at each other. Vinegar, her tongue worrying her lip in concentration, tapped answers to the questions as the girls called them. Kendall motioned to Kat with her vape, and the two backed away to the door of the kitchen, Sum following them.

A Levels had been and gone, and school was officially done. Cheryl’s scholarship to the prestigious Iman Performing Arts college in New York City was secured, plus the resettlement grant which would pay for moving costs.

She was the only one leaving England behind.

Blu would get it. Blu knows what it’s like to move countries. But Blu has the flu.

She giggled to herself at the rhyming thought, the only thing she could do to keep from crying again. Baga was already eyeing her to make sure she didn’t. The last thing she wanted was for her makeup to smear any more than it already was.

But it felt so much like her bubble of school, of normal life, was ending; ready for this new world of academia and New York to begin. It was a dream come true and a nightmare rolled into one. But Blu would understand, because she’d already moved to another country.

She wished for Blu more than ever at that moment.

Before she could think about it too much, her phone was thrust back into her hand by Vinegar, the questions all completed.

“There you are, babes.” Vinegar pointed to the bottom of the page. “If you like what we’ve done, just hit go.”

Cheryl didn’t feel as if all the words were going in, as she looked down the page, reading descriptions of herself, answers to family questions, life, hobbies, hopes and dreams. She could see the words, but they didn’t register; and as she read them, they felt as if they were describing someone else, someone who maybe existed in a mirror rather than a physical form.

When she got all to way to the top, she blinked at the ‘looking for’ box. Vinegar had entered Men, but Cheryl hesitated. That wasn’t … quite right.

This is it, Chez. Now or never.

Vodka was great for a confidence boost. She tapped the button where Vinegar had added that she was looking for Men, and changed it to Any gender instead.

A detail that wasn’t missed by Vinegar’s inquisitive gaze.

“Wait, hold on, hold on. Chez? Chez!”

Vivienne turned to look, and so did Divina and Baga.

“Oh, finally!” Baga exclaimed, dragging Cheryl back into a hug. “We wondered if you’d admit it before you left.”

“What? How did you know?” Cheryl cried.

But none of them would tell her; just smirking at one another and alternating her with hugs.

——

Cheryl’s flight wasn’t set to leave until five, but she had to be there three hours early to get through customs - how did that make sense, Blu thought, when she could arrive forty minutes before and still get back to Belfast - and so Blu had wanted to be there early, but there were so many people on the Tube, plus a breakdown at St Pancras, meaning she had barely any time to sprint across the glistening tiles at Heathrow airport.

Where is she?

The departures board said her flight was already going through baggage check in and security. There wasn’t much time. She followed the signs to the bag drop …

“Blu!”

Crystal was coming towards her, and Blu saw behind her Divina, Viv and Baga; all presumably having come down in Divina’s cramped little third-hand Ford KA. Viv was rubbing her eyes, and the telltale mascara lines on her cheeks told no lies.

“That’s it, then,” Crystal nodded, looking gravely at Blu. “She’s putting her bags through and then - well, she’s gone until Christmas.”

“You can still catch her after she comes out of baggage check in, Blu,” Divina said gently.

Blu didn’t pause to second guess; she sprinted past them, towards the baggage drop, watching people queue with their cases, looking at the queues for any sign of her.

And there she was.

Cheryl in the flesh, coming out of the baggage drop and about to ship herself almost halfway around the world; her normally perfect blonde hair tied off her face; her normally flawless makeup not even slightly present. Just Chez in a baggy shirt, denim jacket, and a pair of leggings, ready to fly. Ready to leave this bubble behind.

Blu had never loved her more.

Before she had the chance to call her, their eyes met. Blu watched them expand, the elated grin flood her face, and her arms open as Blu ran into them. Cheryl caught her, squeezed tightly …

Time stopped.

How was she meant to let Cheryl go? They’d only known each other these last two years …

They hadn’t had the time as besties the rest of them had had, but Blu knew that Cheryl just felt like a part of her now; as if each of them were a jigsaw with one piece of each other that fit perfectly.

It’s not the end. It’s not the end.

But as much as Blu repeated that to herself, something churned in her stomach at the thought of Cheryl leaving.

When time finally flooded back into their day, as Cheryl pulled away; Blu watched her green eyes fill with tears and Cheryl hurriedly wipe them away.

“Sorry,” Cheryl muttered, “I knew I was gonna cry at some point.”

“It’s alright,” Blu whispered, her own voice breaking too much to speak louder.

Cheryl nodded, taking Blu’s hand and squeezing, gazing at the ground, giving Blu as reassuring a smile as she could muster when she was evidently breaking in two.

“I’ll be back at Christmas,” Cheryl was murmuring, meeting Blu’s eyes again, “and in summer. That’s not long. Christmas is only, what, four months away. And we’ve got Skype. Facetime. Whatever. We’ve got - we’ve got everything. We’ll stay in touch. We will. We all will. We …”

“I know.” Blu nodded back at her. “We’ll talk - every day if you want, Cheryl.”

Cheryl nodded again, hitching her rucksack higher on her back.

“I have to go through security.”

“Before you go -“ Blu had almost forgotten. Her own present. She tugged it from her bag, small as it was, wrapped in brightly-coloured paper. Cheryl would probably guess at what it was from the size and shape, but she still rattled it next to her ear for good measure, before laughing and taking off her rucksack to put it in.

“I’ll open it on the plane.”

“Alright,” Blu replied, but Cheryl was frozen, her eyes wide, pleading. Asking something that Blu couldn’t hear, couldn’t understand.

“You don’t want to miss your plane, do you?” Blu whispered.

“No.” Cheryl took a deep breath. “Thank you, Blu.” And with a shy smile, she leaned in and ever so gently gave Blu a kiss on the cheek.

It was the last thing Blu expected. She held her breath, wishing time would stop again, wishing she could hold on to this moment, or drag Cheryl back off the plane. But they’d had so much time. Over school, over summer, and nowwasn’t the right moment.

“Bye, Blu. Thanks for the present. See you at Christmas.”

Blu feigned nonchalance. “If we let you back in the country.”

Finally, Cheryl managed a laugh. Squeezing Blu’s hand for the last time, Cheryl pulled away, finally letting her go.

Blu let her, and watched her walk away to the escalator up to Security, the first steps to her new life in America.

It was only when Blu reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes that she saw the blue notification light on her new watch. She hadn’t figured out what all the notification lights meant yet, so frowning, she tapped the button on the screen.

‘A soulmate is within a 10m radius. Please press the blue button to start your timer. You have one day for your soulmate to respond. You then have 100 hours to connect. Alternatively, please press the red button to decline this opportunity.’

Blu felt her legs tremble.

No fucking way.

She was frozen to the spot, reading the message over and over.

Turning her head back up, she watched Cheryl reach the top of the escalator. About to head to Departures.

Now was the only chance she would have before she lost her.

But Blu couldn’t move.

Finally, her legs seemed to obey her as she tore to the escalator, taking the steps three at a time, and at the top - sighing with relief - Cheryl was still there, putting her liquid items into the tiny plastic bags, draining her bottle of water to the last drop.

“Cheryl!”

Cheryl spun at the shrill sound of her name, a split second before Blu launched herself at her. She opened her arms and caught her a second time that day.

“Blu? What’s wrong? What -“

“We got you a soulmate watch, didn’t we?” Blu could barely catch her breath, her heart hammering. “Are you wearing it right now?”

“Yeah, it’s here,” Cheryl nodded, and held up her wrist. Something caught her eye, and frowning, she looked at it. “Why is there a light on it?”

Blu didn’t reply; she simply held up her own watch, with the same notification light.

“You’ve got a soulmate watch too? Wait, why is yours like that as well?” Cheryl said, but Blu didn’t need to respond. Cheryl’s mouth fell open, and she turned her eyes from the watch to Blu; who watched her realisation and her every thought as it crossed her face.

Cheryl - isn’t straight either?

“You -“ Cheryl’s eyes filled with the same easy tears that she always seemed to produce; always the easiest cryer of the group of them, always the most emotional. “I can’t believe it. You did, too?”

Blu nodded, weak with relief. “Since the start of sixth form.”

Cheryl gasped. “Since we got paired up for business studies! God, two years! Two years we’ve wasted, not doing this!”

Before she could ask what she meant, Cheryl tugged Blu towards her, closing the distance, kissing her lips; and it was everything and more that Blu had dreamed it would be. Cheryl might not have been wearing makeup, but she still smelled divine, her warmth a solace, a right place to be. Blu wrapped her arms around Cheryl’s waist, hoping to go deeper, but Cheryl let her go suddenly.

Blu saw her eyes cloud over once again.

“How am I meant to get on the plane if we’re -“

But she couldn’t finish the sentence, words failing Cheryl for probably the first time in her life. Blu looked at the Departures gates, ignoring everyone else around them, and took a deep breath, swallowing hard.

“For your dream, Cheryl,” Blu whispered. “This is what you’ve wanted forever. You’ve always said that. Remember - remember that day you got the scholarship through? When we were in class?”

“God, we got so drunk that day,” Cheryl giggled.

“Yeah, well, you need to go for your dream.”

“But - “ Cheryl swallowed, her voice an octave higher than usual. “But we’re soulmates, Blu.”

Her words wrapped themselves tightly around Blu’s heart, and she thought she’d never in her life forget the ice-cold sorrow in Cheryl’s voice … but she couldn’t let that influence anything rash.

She sniffed, trying to hold her tears back. “You have to go, Cheryl. You’ll miss your flight. I’ll be here for you, when you get off it again, at Christmas. I promise.” Blu rubbed her arm. “I’ll be right here, at Heathrow. Go get your dream, girl.”

“God, we’re stupid,” Cheryl muttered, “for not realising sooner.”

Blu pressed Accept on her watch, and a new message came up.

‘Thank you for selecting. Your soulmate has one day to respond. You will be notified when they make their decision.’

“Tap yours.”

Cheryl giggled. “Why? It’s definitely me.” But she did so anyway.

Blu felt her watch vibrate again, presumably with another message, but she didn’t care; Cheryl was here, and the watch had somehow made everything they’d both hidden for two years come into the light, fall into place like the missing jigsaw pieces.

“What - what now?”

But Cheryl didn’t reply; she grinned through her tears as she pulled Blu back towards her for a last kiss; one that felt like sustainment, like life itself. Blu could do nothing now but enjoy this moment, the final one for now.

Cheryl finally let her go, and Blu had to tell her to go before she changed her mind.

“Get your flight! Go and get your dream!”

Cheryl looked at the security desks, then wistfully at Blu.

“I’ll be back at Christmas, alright, babe?”

“I’ll be here for when you land. I promise.”

Blu let her go.

[opinionatedqueer]

Greys Anatomy let your characters go challenge

ot Disclaimer - this is my opinion and you are absolutely free to disagree with me on this! I’d love to have a conversation about it, but please don’t be mean thank you!

Over so many years and seasons it is obvious that some characters are going to leave and new ones will join. And that is normal, and necessary for the show to keep going and to not turn boring. Mostly, that works fine, some people will be upset about a character leaving, others will be happy, same thing for new characters, rinse and repeat. 

Its pretty well known in the fandom that the characters get written off in ways that reflect the way the actor was like on set. Meaning, if they were assholes, they would leave in dishonorable ways, and if they were nice, their character would get a happy or heroic ending. (One big example of this would be Isaiah Washington, whose character Burke left by leaving his fianceé at the altar after he outed TK Knight as gay and harrassed him for his sexuality. TK Knights Character George died from saving a woman who was about to get hit by a bus.) 

However, in most of these situations the caracter left the show because the actor didn’t want to/couldn’t play them anymore for whatever reason.

The other option was characters getting written of for plot reasons, not because of the actor. And here is were Greys Anatomy sometimes can’t let go.

The reason that i was inspired to even write this post was the most recent episode (S17EP14 Look up child). In this episode, the character April Kepner returns to introduce a way to get another Character, Jackson Avery, to leave the show with her. 

April Kepner is a character introduced in the sixth season as a extremely religious and insecure character, who slowly works herself up to being a trauma surgeon. Over most of her plotline, her “main thing” is that she is inexperienced regarding romantic and sexual matters, saving herself for marriage because of religious reasons. At some point she breaks this promise by sleeping with Jackson Avery the day of their board exams, which she ends up failing. They continue to have sexual interactions until they at some point break up and April meets the Paramedic Matthew. They get together and plan to get married, however both April and Jackson still have feeling for each other despite both dating other people. Jackson ends up confessing his love to her at her and Matthews wedding, and they run away together and marry each other in some random small church on the way. They get pregnat, the kid has fucked up bones and dies immediately after birth, following which April decides to join the military as a trauma surgeon for a three month tour. Se ends up staying longer, losing more and more contact with Jackson and they decide to divorce shortly after she comes home. She realises she is pregnant, but doesn’t tell Jackson to not complicate the divorce, but guess what, it does it anyways. They figure it out after a while and want to raise their child as coparents. In the fourteenth season April has another crisis of faith and becomes a really wild partygoer to deal with that, eventually sorts her shit out and gets back together with Matthew. They leave the show to take care of homeless people in seattle, good for her.

Personally, i was glad when she left. I didn’t like April, she was annoying and insecure and holier that thou religious. Even other characters and actors describe her character as that (though in the “and thats charming” way, which... noo...). She had shortly left the show before for a few episodes at a time, for example when she was in the military or for a short while before it was made public that she was back together with Matthew. And every time she came back, and it just felt weird. These could have been good endings for her, but they kept bringing her back.

Similarly, the relationship between her and Jackson kept being revived, despite clearly not working. There were multiple episodes specifically marketed as “Japril” Episodes, and they were all annoying and just ended with them deciding again that their relationship didn’t work, no surprise there. 

And now, in the recent episode, she returns again. And gets back together with Jackson. I get that she just came back to create an open for him to leave, but i still think it wasn’t necessary. Jackson actual argument for leaving is that he wants to take over his family foundation to create more equality in medicine.

 (This season heavily features current 2020/2021 topics, and the episodes about the black lives matter situation was actually pretty well made in my opinion, especially the station 19 episode (i have seen PoC talk positively about the episodes and they felt good to me as someone who is very invested in the movement, but i am a white person so please correct me if I’m wrong here))

And that would have been a good exit already, i don’t understand why April had to come back at all.

I assume it was just fanservice, since she actually had a pretty big fanbase during her time on the show, and a lot of people really like their ship. 

But, to me, it just feels like the writers are too lasy to come up with new storylines for the characters and just keep bringing together and then spltting up their couples. And that is annoying, in my opinion, sometimes you jut have to now when a certain plot point gets boring and you might want to come up with something new. 

Japril just didn’t work, but they still kept getting pushed together just to break up again. I really hope that both of them finally leave for good and don’t just randomly come back.

I guess my point is, the show needs to learn when to get rid of certain characters and plotlines. Even if you have to kick a fan favourite, sometimes thats just what a show needs to be able to grow and get better or even just stay good.

(I realize that starting this blog with a post about Greys Anatomy might be counterproductive, but i don’t care. All my friends are gay and don’t really give a shit about it and i personally dont even think its a good show but i have been watching this shit since like seventh grade and now im just somehow attached to it. Point is no one is actually gonna understand if i were to talk about this show irl, but thats what the internet is there for amirite)

[maknaesdancersrappers]

on the sixth day of kinkmas, my lover did to me:

[ g a g s ]

>>DOYOUNG

>>warning/s: blindfold, light bondage, quick fellatio, cheating, dirty talking, vulgar language, uhh implied creampie??? and breeding kink bc idk its growing on me im probably having existential crisis

a/n: rj gets carried away pt 2 ft doyoung

-

Kim Doyoung was a powerful man; the CEO of his own company at the age of 26, had multi-million franchises across the globe. He had everything; a mansion on an acre land he owned, vacation houses in each province of the country, the latest models of sportscars parked in his garage, a beautiful wife of 5 years—you would include “loving,” but that was only used for publicity.

When Doyoung had married his wife, he had no say in the matter. It was pre-arranged by their families, a contract made by their grandfathers. He didn’t care at first, it’s not like he was in a former relationship or even wanted one. For the first few months after their wedding, they did try to work things out; actually try to fall in love with one another, but in the end, as he had come to find out, she was only in it for the sake of making her family happy.

They had sex, plenty of it. All vanilla and boring—Doyoung wanted more, but she wouldn’t even let him hold her wrists down for a few goddamn seconds. The sex stopped when he found out about her lover: a high school sweetheart she was forced to leave because she had to marry him. And since that day, they’ve established that their relationship was purely just a piece of paper, that their status of husband and wife is nothing but a title to the public and their families.

You only came to the picture when Doyoung had made a surprise visit to one of his hotels in Busan. He parked his matte black Audi s8 beside a white Jeep Wrangler.

He steps out of his car to stretch his limbs and hears squeaking from behind him. As he turns, he sees you through the rolled down window of the Jeep; panting and sweaty, hair disheveled.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize you were riding someone—and from the look of disdain and annoyance on your face, it wasn’t going to knock your socks off. You notice him and he doesn’t move a muscle, unashamed of being caught watching you. You didn’t even care that he had seen you because the man beneath you was coming—quite loudly and finished with a smile on his face and a scowl on yours.

When you look back up to the man that had been watching you, he was gone. You almost felt embarrassed, only because he had to watch such a pathetic excuse for sex.

“You didn’t have to walk me to the elevator.” You quipped, clicking your heels against the polished floors.

“If I didn’t have to go to this emergency meeting, I’d walk you all the way up to your room.”

You spare him a sarcastic smile, “If it really was an emergency, you would have just dropped me off.” You turn the corner to where the elevators were and found the man from earlier. He has his hands in his pockets and gaze to the floor.

“Can I see you later tonight?”

“Nope.” You snapped, “Beauty rest for the wedding.”

The elevator doors open after a ‘ding’ and you briskly walk inside after the man.

“How about after—”

“I’m driving back to Seoul next morning. I’d rather not.” You swipe your keycard on the sensor and press your floor number.

The man you were with frowns, “Oh, well, then I guess I’ll see you at the wedding.”

You forced a smile at him before the elevator doors close and once they do, you groan, rolling your eyes until they land to the male who had witnessed everything. “Sorry you just had to watch the worst free live porn ever.”

He smirks, shrugging “I can’t say I’ve seen worse. I was wondering why a Seoul city girl like you would be with a Busan boy like him, he must be your partner for this wedding you’ve mentioned.”

“Oh, you know how it goes, single bridesmaids and groomsmen, yada yada, getting lucky and all that—well, he did. I did not, I definitely did not.” You’re reminded of the ache between your legs that you had to deal with back in your suite.

The elevator dings again and it opens to the lobby; no one gets in and you raise a brow at the man. “Aren’t you gonna get off?”

He looks at you, contemplatively.

The doors close and the elevator starts making its way up to bring you to your floor.

“I work for this hotel. I think it’s only right I escort a customer to their floor, especially after such a traumatic encounter that happened within the building, and make sure you have everything you need.”

“To say you work for this hotel is an understatement, Mr. Kim.” You laugh, finally recognizing his face under proper lighting.

“So you know who I am.”

“That handsome face of yours has been on the news a few times, so yes, I do know you.” You hum, warily eyeing him, “Your wife and I went to the same high school. She’s my junior.”

Doyoung scoffs, “Then you must know her lover, they were high school sweethearts.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed. “I-I do… I’m sorry.”

“My wife and I have come to terms that we’re only binded by a marriage contract. We’re just waiting for the right time to file for divorce. There’s no need to appologize.” The elevator doors open and he places a finger against the button to keep it that way, politely smiling at you. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay, Miss…”

You say your name and begin to step out of the lift.

He repeats your name with a slight purr. “If there’s anything else you need, let me know.”

Everything began there; and six months later you don’t regret the encounter. You can still remember how you came undone once from his fingers, another with his mouth, and three consecutive orgasms with his cock. Even though you were completely spent, sensitive and overstimulated, you wanted more.

Doyoung gave you more and more every time you meet. You didn’t need an exchange of words to know what your bodies wanted; he wants complete control while you wanted to be used.

“I don’t understand how the men before me let you go to waste. They’re idiots.” He grumbles, taking off his wristwatch.

You chuckled, the little vibrations from your throat stimulating his cock as you sucked it. He had called you over to his house in Anyang when he found out you had a meeting nearby; that had been cancelled due clashing schedules so here you were, on your knees before him.

“They didn’t let me go. I let them go. They’re idiots for not knowing how to pleasure me even though it’s the simple concept of ‘give and take,’ hmph.” You quietly say after pulling away from his shaft, pumping it with both your hands. “What about your wife? Didn’t she find pleasure in this?”

“I guess it’s different if you’re in love with someone else.” Doyoung tosses the accessory aside as if it didn’t cost a hundred thousand dollars and starts working on untying his tie. “Also, can you stop calling her my wife?”

“She still is, though, until you file for divorce and until then, I’m still technically your mistress.” You push his cock closer to his stomach and lean forward to kiss his balls. “I thought you two had the papers already?”

“Our parents want a grandchild—and while both our grandfathers are still alive, they’re more than eager to hold their great grandchildren before they die.” He groans and you don’t know if it’s because of his dilemma or your mouth playfully nipping at his testes. “And of course they had to mention that when we were about to announce our divorce.”

You kiss his cock one more time before rising to your feet, “I’d offer you help, but I don’t know how aside from letting you use my body as a stress reliever.”

“It’s enough, trust me.” He smiles, tipping your chin with his finger and kissing your forehead, “Open your mouth.”

You look at him incredulously at his request, hesitantly parting your lips.

He jams his rolled up necktie in your mouth, holding you steady by your nape. The sweet smile on his face was now replaced with the expression of what you can only describe as the face of a predator, which meant you were his prey. “Enough talking. Do what you do best, sweetheart, and be a good slut for me.”

He pushes you over the bed and pulls your tight shirt up your body, leaving it around your eyes and kept your arms by your head. You feel him palm your breasts for a moment before the strapless bra you wore came off.

There was a soft sigh before you felt his mouth closing on your left nipple while fingers tweaked the other. You arch yourself towards him when it ended so quickly, his mouth leaving your skin with a pop before you feel him working to get your pants off.

After your slacks came off with your panties, you lay there; waiting with a necktie in your mouth and a shirt above your eyes. You knew what he was doing. He was standing there by the bed, shedding the remainder of his clothing and watching you; daring you to do something he wouldn’t like so he could punish you for it. But tonight you wanted to be rewarded.

He probably hoped you’d grow impatient and shrug your shirt completely off, but instead he watched you spread your legs apart and invited him to stare at your pussy, pink and sopping with anticipation.

You feel a lone finger quickly trail from your entrance to your clit, eliciting a gasp muffled by your gag and your hips lifting upwards to chase the contact.

“If I had you like this everyday, with that tight pussy of yours just waiting to be pounded by my cock, I’d be a father in no time.” He scoffs and you hear an appreciative hum that tells you he brought his finger to his lips.

The mattress by your feet dips down and you feel his hands run along your inner thighs, teasing you as he avoids contact where you wanted it the most.

You whine through your gag but he seems to ignore it, moving your legs so they would be draped over his thighs.

“I’ve always been one to use protection, but I remember the first time we met. You were just begging to be fucked by me, crying about not caring if I had a condom on or not.” His weight shifts on the bed again and then you feel the tip of his member pushing into you. You’re moaning through his necktie, jaw already aching at being jammed open for so long. “I came twice in you that day and you know what, sweetheart?”

He starts to thrust all of a sudden, pounding into you so quickly that your walls struggle to adjust to his girth and are rubbed raw. You feel his fingers digging into your hipbone with a bruising grip as he surges himself into you repeatedly. “It. felt. so. fucking. good.”

You cry as loud as you can through your gag, wanting to move your own hips to meet his thrusts.

“I’ve never thought about kids, [Y/N]. Have you?” He hisses, switching the angle of how his cock enters you and causing you to moan again. With your lack of response, he shakes your hips against him, “Answer me.”

You vehemently shake your head, tempted to take your shirt off so you could look at him, but you kept them overhead and held your forearms. He resumes his actions, letting go of your hips to fondle your chest.

“God, I love your pussy, sweetheart. Always so tight, no matter how much I fuck you. So fucking delicious—always so wet when I see it, always eager to take my cock. Your pussy is just perfect for my cock, don’t you agree, sweetheart?”

You’re breathing heavily through your nose now, almost choking on your saliva when you tried to breathe through your mouth. You shake your head.

“No?”

You mumbled back something, but obviously it was obstructed by the makeshift gag. You do your best to swallow the saliva that’s accumulated in your mouth despite the necktie and repeat yourself. “Yours.”

“Mine?” Doyoung repeats, and in your head you can see the confused expression he tends to make, “Are you trying to say this pussy is mine, sweetheart?”

You nod, writhing under his hold and finally able to meet his thrusts with your own fervent movements.

“Really? This pussy is mine, sweetheart?”

You nod once more and he stills, length halfway inside of you. His hands are no longer on your boobs, but resting back on your hips. Before you can complain about his inactivity, he drives himself back into you with a force strong enough to send your body further up the bed. It’s creaking this time with the headboard hitting the wall and creating the softest thud.

Doyoung brings his thumb over your clit, rubbing furious circles upon it, relentlessly, until you’re crying out loud and struggling.

Unable to keep still, you try to remove your shirt but he catches you, pushing your arms back down above your head.

“If this pussy is mine, sweetheart, I would want nothing more than fill it up with my cum. Is that okay with you?”

You shake your head in agreement.

He groans, continuously thrusting. “And if I get you pregnant, sweetheart? What will you do, huh? Will you keep it?”

You don’t know how but you were able to scream out a discernible and resounding “Yes!”

Without ceasing his movements, he tears your shirt off from your face and limbs, and your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. When you finally focus on him; with his eyes lustfully glaring down at you, jaw strained, and his entire body tense as he brings you closer to your climax, he asks through gritted teeth, “Do you want me to get you pregnant, [Y/N]?”

He fishes his necktie out of your mouth, disposing the damp thing on the floor, and cluthes your jaw to pull you in for a kiss.

You break off the kiss, placing your hands on his hot skin, “I want you to fuck me until I do.”

Doyoung growls, rolling your bodies until you were on top. “Then go get it for yourself, sweetheart. Chase that chance to have my children.”

Like a maniac, you ride him; gyrating your hips, clenching around him. The beautiful sound of his moans is music to your ears and merely fuels you to move faster. You reach your climax first, throwing your head backwards and jerking erratically above him; which triggers his own, ejaculating deep within you.

Your lower abdomen feels hot as you calm down from your high, still gently moving your hips despite being sensitive to ride his orgasm out, each sporadic squirt of his seed making you flinch.

With his cock still seated comfortably inside of you, you feel yourself fall backwards, making him sit up and guide you gently down the bed and lay between his legs.

“Aren’t you on birth control?” He asks, voice completely raspy and out of breath.

“No.” You confessed, “They make my boobs too sensitive. I just take ‘morning after’ pills after we fuck.”

“Do you plan to take them tomorrow?”

“Do you really want kids?”

He shrugs and you snort, “Doyoung, will you even take responsibility if I get pregnant?”

“Of course I will! What do you take me for?” He exclaims, obviously offended. He smooths his hands over your thighs, “I just don’t have experiences with kids to know how I’ll fare with them. But I do know I’d like an heir to my company.”

You gesture for him to help you sit up, both of you wincing when he does as your bodies are still connected. “I’ll take the pill, only because it feels wrong to try and make a baby when your parents want you to have one with your wife.”

“Again, can you stop calling her that? She doesn’t even call me her husband anymore. Also, I never said they wanted me to have a kid with her. Technically, they never specified who the mother of their grandkids can be—they’re only assuming her because they don’t know what’s really going on between us.”

“So no pill?”

“It’s up to you, really.” He chuckles, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Is that why you’re still hard?” You lick your lips at how his dick is throbbing inside of you.

“I’m telling you,” Doyoung sniggers into your ear, “There’s just something about your pussy that makes me want to fill it up.”

[fictionalboysarejustbetter]

Friendships from Afar

Distance creates a barrier of trust. There are no worries. There is always a safety net to fall back on that protects from hurt or pain. Beginning in second grade, my personal goal had always been to find a singular, perfect friend who lives far away. We could talk openly with each other, and I would have the ability to be myself. The plan is that years later, I would meet this person in the weirdest of circumstances, and we would be best friends forever. It’s even better if this friend is a guy, so then we can both fall in love and get married to live happily ever after.

In second grade, the entire class received school pen pals, and while my fourth-grade pen pal was not ideal, I knew I loved this “secret” letter writing system where I am just Rebecca, nothing more or less. Moving into fifth grade, Mrs. Smith found me a pen pal from China. Through our teachers, we would send each other letters back and forth until the school year was over. From this moment onward, I was hooked; pen pals didn’t care what I looked like or how shy I was or how involved my mother was with the school, I could just be me, and they only knew the information I told them. Without asking for help, I scavenged through the internet, trying to collect pen pals as if they were Webkinz. I was convinced this perfect friend could only be found on pen pal websites that look like they were made by my fellow fifth graders.

Starting in sixth grade, I would spend night after night stalking the profiles of random teenagers on Students of the World, a supposedly “safe” pen pal website for kids. Gender? Who cares. Age? About 10-16. Likes? Reading, of course. Language? English please. I would then press search and sift through hundreds of profiles, finding the perfect candidates to be my best friend. This process was extremely predictable, including:

The teenage boys “looking” for a relationship:

Nathaniel, Age 14, UK

HOBBIES:

Photo

Trips

Cinema, Television

Sports

Reading

Painting, Drawing, Art

Hi! Are you looking for a cool guy to write to? Send me a nice message otherwise you’ll miss something priceless. 

I can speak:

English, French

The liars that claimed they like everything and speak every language:

Janhvi, Age 16, USA

HOBBIES:

Photo

Trips

Clothes

Cinema, Television

Sports

Sciences

Music

Reading

Animals, Nature

Cooking

Collections

Painting, Drawing, Art

Hello !!👩I'm Janhvi .I like to travel.I have traveled in to many countries .Such as india , sri lanka, china, france and more.I like make new friends.message me soon guys.👭👫OUR LIFE IS CHANGE , BUT FRIENDSHIP NEVER BE CHANGE.

I can speak:

English French German Italian Spanish Arabic Chinese Japanese Korean

The students making a profile for class:

Chaya, Age 13, USA

HOBBIES:

Clothes

Cinema, Television

Music

Reading

Animals, Nature

I am looking for a penpal for our school project. I would like to find some in Atlanta, Georgia.

I can speak:

English

I would scroll through these profiles so constantly that I rarely found new profiles. I was judging every profile based off of the person’s name, biography, age, likes, languages, everything. Most people without a profile picture wouldn’t receive an email from me. I tried to avoid messaging anyone from the United States unless they sounded like a major fangirl or fanboy over the books I liked. I automatically favored anyone from Europe, especially if they had an interesting name. But regardless if anyone from anywhere sent me a message first, I would respond back at least once.

Shortly after the search began, I received a message from a girl named Julia from Australia. She and I were the same age, we both needed a friend, and we both liked reading, animals, music, and clothes. Quickly, my life began to revolve around the fourteen hours that always stood between Australia and the United States. Throughout sixth and seventh grade, we would be constantly messaging on the messaging app “kik,” confiding everything deep and useless to each other like best friends do:

Becca says:

Hey, how are you?

Julia says:

Everyones well... Mum and dad start the long drive to melbourne this weekend so everythings kinda topsy turvy :p

How is your family and pets? Im sorry for my rudeness that i didnt ask earlier

Nearlytime for school?

Becca says:

Lol that is fine! I get to school around 8, so normally ill drop off right before, lol i try to remember to tell you but i tend to forget. Theyre good though. Willie and Apricot are happy my grandma left :-P mom and dad are helping me with my ancestry project and exploding of happiness because I got a position in that volleyball club and my sister has been working and spending money :-P her favorite thing to do

Julia says:

Ahh the christmas spirit... Lol is there anyone in the house who loves your grandmother?

Becca says:

Lol we love her because shes family, but no one loves her when shes here if you know what i mean.

What’s up?

For two years, the conversations would continue for hours, as we both wait anxiously for the “ding” on our tablets, indicating a new message. Julia’s father was a firefighter who fought the nasty bushfires that haunted their country. I interviewed him as my hero for my final paper and presentation in my eighth grade English class. I interviewed him through email after our initial plans to Skype were sidetracked by the active wildfires, and I so proudly presented the information about him that you would have thought he was my father.

One day, Julia told me about her divorced parents. Then, she told me about the twins her mom just gave birth to. Then, she explained that she actually has a twin brother and no younger siblings at all. Then, she became an aunt to twin nephews. Then, her house burned down, and she had to move across the country. Then, her parents just moved across town. The stories continued and continued only within months of each other, not adding up in any way, shape, or form. With hope still in my heart, I sent her all three books of The Hunger Games trilogy since she really wanted to read them, but two months later, the books came back in the mail as undeliverable. The address did not exist.

Unable to admit defeat or accept the idea that my best friend might not be real despite all of the evidence, I started to panic. What if she is catfishing me? I’ve seen that show before, and I even gave “her” my address. Whoever this person is could easily come to my house and kidnap me...maybe I should tell my mom and warn the police. But maybe, she just has a really hard life, and she compulsively lies to make herself feel better? Maybe, she just really wants attention, and that’s why none of her stories are adding up. Besides it could still be her, she may just be scared. She could have just lied and is younger than she said and is trying to sound cool to impress me.

With these panicked thoughts raging through my body like wildfire, I blocked her from kik and began to ignore her emails. I forced myself to just disappear, so then I would have nothing to worry about. I cannot trust that Julia is really Julia, so I will just watch “her” occasional emails come in, analyzing from afar who “she” may be. I’ll search for her on Google and Facebook and Instagram and Students of the World and anywhere else I can look. The emails would keep coming for years and years, but they never held much content to them, and I’m still left to question who “Julia” is.

My Julia investigation was stalled for now, and the void of not having a constant penpal to talk to quickly came back. Therefore, my search to find the perfect best friend needed to be expedited since Julia was certainly not cut out for the position. I continued to search Students of the World with my new smartphone every chance I had. In between games at volleyball competitions, Hope and I could be found by the nearest outlet on my phone, scouring the website for the perfect answers within someone’s profile. We would send out messages together to the nerdy fangirls and fanboys around our age. Every day during the bus ride home from school, Jenna and I looked through the website on our phones, judging everyone’s biographies and pictures. Jenna created a profile too, and we would have three-way Skype sessions with Sylvia from France until the two of them became too close and stopped inviting me to Skype with them.

Finally in April of ninth grade, I received a promising email from a 16-year-old boy from France:

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

My name is Kristopher and Im from France !

I watched a few days ago Divergent and it made me want to read the books !

I see you like tv shows and video games as I do !

I am not fluent in English but I can talk to you !

If you want I can learn you French ! :)

Typically, I would spend about twenty minutes every day responding to emails from random penpals on my way home from school, but within the first three or so emails to a person, one of us would just stop responding. In regard to Kris, I generally liked video games, but I wasn’t obsessed with them, and I had a weird taste in TV, so we probably couldn’t talk about that much. But Divergent by Veronica Roth was my all-time favorite book. As soon as I read that word in the email, I knew I would be responding until he stopped responding to me. It had always been my goal to fall in love with a fanboy, especially one with the same taste in books and movies as me, so I immediately responded with:

To: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com From: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com

Hi Kristopher!

What part of France are you from? I live near Pittsburgh, PA, USA.

Yes, definitely read the books! They are amazing! I find myself gravitating towards video games and shows more than sports! :P

I don't know much of French as I take Spanish in school, but I'd love to learn some and help you with English as well!

Rebecca

He emailed me back within minutes, and we emailed for most of the evening, talking about books and food and the differences between the United States and France. That night though, my phone battery had died, and it was only for a few hours. After plugging it in, I found five unread messages from him, making sure I was okay.

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Lol it works ! :) Good courage to go back to school ! :)

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Hey sweetie 😆

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

How are you Miss ?

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Do You use words like ain't or gonna ? 😆

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Are you OK ?

As soon as I read these messages, my heart fluttered a little. This was just the beginning of our constant messaging and talking. I happily responded to him, and within days, Kris was my perfect, new best friend. The random space he left between the last word and the punctuation of a sentence would drive me insane, but I didn’t have the heart to explain the process to him. We talked so consistently that it would probably be considered unhealthy, discussing pets, family, being the youngest child, aspirations, atheism, languages, food, books, video games, and everything else under the sun. I was stuck to my phone all day, and every time I picked it up, I waited in anticipation for a notification with his name and the random spaces between his words and the punctuation.

The six-hour time difference between the two of us meant nothing, with him staying up late and me getting up early. Between classes, we would sneak each other messages about how our days were going. My week-long field trip to San Antonio, Texas was spent either messaging him or scouting out an outlet to plug my phone into so that I could talk to him. The more access I had to Kris, the further I distanced myself from my friends and family. When my phone would die or I wouldn’t have reception, I would look around, annoyed by whoever the people around me were. Kris was the perfect friend I always wanted; he was my best friend, and I was his. Neither of us needed anyone else, and hopefully, all of our talking and flirting would lead to love which would lead to marriage.

The summer before tenth grade came, and Kris seemed to be growing distant. Supposedly, he was travelling all summer, and he would rarely have access to wifi. I counted down the days until he would be back home, and after one measly conversation, he disappeared again. I sent message after message, finally receiving a response about his brother pushing him in the pool and his phone being in his pocket at the time, so it was destroyed. The summer seemed to be surrounded by disappointment, but hopefully when we went back to school, our relationship would continue to be as strong as it was before.

Tenth grade began, and Kris was still busy all the time. Apparently if he kept up his hard work, he would be valedictorian. Since I couldn’t spend lunch chatting with him anymore, I bragged that I was basically dating this amazing French guy who is valedictorian at his school. Until October hit, and then I would receive the dreadful message that he has a girlfriend. Ironically, this only made our conversation stronger than it had ever been, and he even picked out my new haircut, sending me endless compliments on it. The next day, he sent another message, explaining that his girlfriend didn’t want us talking anymore so it would probably be best if we just stopped. I was bad at listening to these directions, following this conversation up with many, many new messages in attempts to strike a conversation with him again. These messages earned me a nice block from Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat.

My only method of contact would now be email, so night after night instead of stalking Students of the World for new pen pals, I would send Kris emails. I now began to understand that feeling that I caused upon Julia, who may or may not have been Julia. Throughout October and November, I received a few responses that sounded like an automatic email reply, but one email in mid-November stood out, as it was one of the last ones I would receive from him.

To: thisismyname@gmail.com From: thisiscoolfrenchboysnewemail@gmail.com

Hello Becca,

I did act stupid and didn’t answer your messages at all. When I emailed you first, I never thought our friendship would get that strong !

Guess what, there used to be a time I was really in love with you, but I haven’t dared say so … The one biggest reason was the 6000 km that stand between us ! You were the one I loved talking to ! So I talked to you and you never waited to answer and neither did I.

I don’t know, something went wrong, time changed, I’m sorry I haven’t answered you for long, this is all my bad. I wish I could go back to past to fix this.

This message will never ever be able to patch things up, but it (I hope ) will tell you that I never forgot you .

My mother would tell me time and time again that any type of relationship separated by physical distance would never work. I had never believed her, but after receiving this email, I understood. Why had I ever believed that the perfect friendship would be through time differences of at least five hours? These relationships do not automatically create a barrier of trust, often making it even harder to trust. There are always going to be worries about who that person is and what their intentions are. There is no safety net to keep you from being hurt or feeling pain. Once there is a roadblock within your barrier of communication, you cannot simply get it back after running into each other at Walmart or flashing them a fake smile as you pass them in the hallway at school. As soon as one person blocks the other or the number of unread emails increases substantially over months, that person is gone forever.

[thequeenofadream]

Somebody that I used to know (Ben Hardy x Reader)

Summary:   you used to be ben’s and ben used to be yours, but you broke up due to distance and media pressure. you both decide that beings friends is for the best, but ben barely even sees you anymore.

Words: 2,473

Notes: drinking is done (i’ve never drunk bc im not an illegal yes yes so sorry if this is not accurate i tried to do research) get rEKTT BY THE ANGST TRAIN.

A/N:  i know it’s valentine’s but uh yesa.. um HAPPY VALENTINES!! <3 ps. this will probably be a three part series and if this flops u never saw me

 🎊 tagging:   @obsessedwithrogertaylor @malekdarling @i-padfootblack-things 

~~~~~~~~~

You were a mess; much like a painting, a thousand words hid behind your gaze. Words of anger, words of sadness, words of relief; they all raced through your mind. He was a mess; much like liquor, he’d try to numb the pain, but he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. The day had come where he couldn’t hide behind a pillar of excuses.

You and Ben had been dating for a year now and six months in, you decided to go public. There have been many downfalls and peaks within that time. Ben was always out either shooting or doing press tours; meanwhile you were almost always on the other side of the world, busy with your own tour. Whatever time you had together would be miniscule; the way time flew when you were together was almost surreal.

You met on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody. You were called upon to do a cover of “Killer Queen” along with a small part in the movie; You obviously could not say refuse. You cleared your schedule for the next two weeks, right before you’d leave for tour, and packed your bags. When you got there, you were lost and late, but luckily a blonde british boy found you wandering the halls.

“Hey, are you (Y/N)?”

“Uhm, yeah.”

“Lots of people are looking for you.”

It blossomed from there, and it was what a feeling it was. You only spent two weeks in production, but you could feel the strong friendly energy radiating off of everyone, it was particularly amazing to watch Rami become Freddie Mercury. You had gotten acquainted with everyone, and even exchanged social media handles, but Ben was especially ‘friendly’. About a week before you had to leave, the blonde finally asked you on a date.

You were honestly completely oblivious to his efforts, because everything seemed to good to be true on the magical sets of Bohemian Rhapsody. You thought he was  just being his kind, generous and chivalrous self, however all those intimate moments between you two did spark butterflies in your stomach. It kind of baffled you, trying to figure out what about you caught his attention. He took you out to see London, and at the end of the day he brought you to a cozy bistro where you were spent time alone. At the end of the date, he had built up enough confidence to ask you if you wanted to try and be a thing. With the adrenaline pumping in your veins, you accepted a million times over.

You spent the last week, absolutely smitten over one another and when you left you both called each other everyday. On your sixth month together, he flew all the way to one of your concerts. He surprised you after the show and you almost cried.

“I want the whole world to know you’re my whole world.”

That was when you cried. You agreed and you both went public. It had been a rough seven months, from cheating allegations to pregnancy rumours to the constant harassment from paparazzi and others. It was ripping the both of you apart, and there was so much pain because of your love. It was like being together, unravelled the both of you. The only reason you were still strong was because of him, but all the consequences had struck you down. You felt like you couldn’t be yourself without being associated to Ben, and he felt the same. You loved each other dearly, but you still wanted to have your own careers.  

And this was where you stood, in Ben’s London apartment. You had a show tomorrow night, but you figured you had to talk to him.

You both at looked at each other, your faces full of sorrow and disbelief. You thought you could somehow last forever, but almost is never enough. You both knew what had to be done, you just didn’t want to imagine each other apart. You decided to speak up, sobbing softly.

“Ben, we can’t go on like this.” You held his hand lightly. You felt weak and tired, but you were holding onto whatever you had left.

“I know.” He said simply, tightening his grip on your hand. He seemed almost mad at himself.

“So that’s it?” You asked tears trailing down your cheek. You thought he would have something more to say. He took you by the waist and held you close.

“All we do is hurt each other. It’d be better for us to be friends.” He paused, running a hand through your hair.

“We just hurt each other, I knew this since before. I just didn’t want to believe it, but now I see that it’s unhealthy. I’m not worthing of saying I love you when I’m the cause of your everyday agony.” He speaks softly, his voice cracking at the end.

“You’re not the cause of my everyday agony. In fact, you’re my sunshine. ” You say quietly, hugging him as close as humanly possible.

“But you wouldn’t be in so much pain if it weren’t for me.” He replies, taking in your scent, holding onto it. He clung onto you as if you were never to see one another again. You just stayed in each other’s embrace, one last time in silence. It was a somewhat comforting silence, knowing the pain would be over, but you were going to lose who you thought was the love of your life.

After you had both said your goodbyes, you left. You agreed you would both still be friends, but it just didn’t seem right to you. Maybe, if you had both met in much more normal circumstances you would have reached the end, but that wasn’t going happen. You had to go on and put the best happy face for your concert tonight.

“(Y/N), Are you okay?” Lucy asked snapping a finger in front of you. She had gone backstage to check on you, before you went out. You had invited the cast to your concert, but you weren’t sure if Ben would even come which was understandable.

You were zoning off into the distance, unable to process anything. Ever since yesterday, everything had been a blur and you couldn’t get your mind off of him. You hadn’t been able to sleep, eat, and think straight. You missed him so much, and it was bad.

“(Y/N)?” Lucy asked once more, shaking your shoulders.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You finally said, sighing deeply. You were most definitely not, but who could tell? Ben usually did, that’s who.

“If you say so. You’re gonna kill it tonight!” She said smiling softly. She knew what happened, but you had basically told everyone to not mention it and told the media to ‘piss off’. You really needed to do well tonight. You flashed a weak smile, assuring her you were ‘pumped’. She left you to it and went back out into the crowds.

She sat down with Rami, Gwilym and Joe, who immediately started asking about you.

“Not so good.” She sighed as the rest of them sighed in unison. They had been trying to comfort you and Ben, but that was proving to be difficult as it seemed like everything reminded you both of one another.

“Where’s Ben?” Rami asked, worrying about his other friend.

“He’s probably watching a livestream of the concert. He said he was going to practice drumming, but we all know that it could be very much code for well..” Joe trailed not even daring to put them in the same sentence. Suddenly, the lights went out and the show was about to start. Gwilym quickly added “We’ll have to split up later.”

It wasn't that they wanted to meddle between your relationship. It was more like seeing their parents divorce or something. They didn't want to choose any side, and they didn't want to see either of you looking terribly miserable.

The show was typical. It wasn’t anything grand, but it wasn’t boring. Although if you looked closely, you could see hurt written across your face. You remember how you would send Ben videos of the concert and he would express how proud he was. Almost every love song you sang was inspired by him and you couldn’t avoid him while pouring out your emotions on stage. You had to physically restrain yourself not to become a sad and depressing loser who had broken up with her boyfriend. You started feeling hazy towards the end of the show, so you were pretty loose in those last moments.

“Goodnight everyone!” You chriped, faking confidence, before stepping off stage and heading to your dressing room, lying across your sofa. You had literally told everyone that you'd deal with whatever they needed later, right now you just needed to breathe.

Your closed your eyes, trying not to think of him.You blamed yourself for the downfall. Maybe if you hadn’t gone too fast, you both wouldn’t end up crashing and burning. Maybe you shouldn’t have said yes to being the girlfriend of a guy you had known for a week. You had let everything go to your head. It was all a mistake, a beautiful yet tragic mistake.

You decided that if you wanted to get over him you needed to get rid of everything that reminded you of him, but you didn’t really know how to. You weren’t ready to just throw everything away. You needed start small. You fell asleep whilst mindlessly thinking; honestly you just wanted to sleep for a thousand years.

Lucy and Rami arrived to see you passed out on the sofa. At first they were filled with absolute dread, but someone had informed them that you had just taken a nap. You weren’t sure you were taking a nap though, if it was possible you didn’t want to wake up. Rami shook you shoulder lightly, trying to wake you up and it was indeed enough to awake you.

“Hi, sorry, that really wore me out.” You said yawning as you sat up straight.

“It was a phenomenal concert afterall! I know exactly what would do you some good.” Rami said happily, desperately trying to brighten the mood.

“We should go out for drinks, maybe some dancing?” He continued, seeing your eyes somewhat light up at the idea. It was at least brighter than the darkness that had clouded your pupils since the break up.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” You said nodding, feeling a genuine ping of joy. “But where are Gwil and Joe?” You asked looking around the dressing room. Lucy suddenly panicked trying to find an excuse or explanation to where they had gone.

“They had to head over to the pharmacy! Something about joe drinking a milkshake earlier.” She came up with a pretty believable excuse, enough for you to believe. You just nodded and let them take you.

The three of you wasted the night away drinking and singing karaoke; getting drunk also meant you letting loose which was just what you needed. You were actually drunk enough to mingle with other people on the dance floor.

“Hey I’m (Y/N) and-”

“(Y/N) (L/N)? Didn't you just perform a few hours ago?”

“Yeah yeah whatever, so I was thinking you looked cute and I think I look cute sooo..”

“(Y/N)!” Lucy interrupted your attempts at flirting and dragged you back to the booth the three of you had gotten. You were drunkenly protesting against this, wanting to go back, but she had a strong grip. She sat you down at booth, before she sat down, keeping you from leaving.

“Aww, party pooper.” You said teasing her.

“I don't think you should make rash decisions when you're drunk, love.” She said slightly annoyed by your complete ignorance to the situation. Hey, at least you weren't mopping about Ben. Rami came back with two drinks handing one to Lucy and sitting on the other side of the booth.

“How about me?” You whined, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Sorry,, but I think it's for the best.” Rami said taking a swig from his drink. You just grumbled in response, annoyed by his validness. He was most definitely right. The night went on with the three of you just hanging out; they shared funny stories on set and you shared funny stories on tour. You wish you could’ve stayed longer, but everyone has their responsibilities. Speaking of responsibilities, Rami looked at the time to see it was getting pretty late and they had an early day tomorrow.

“Hey (Y/N), We have an early day tomorrow so-”

“Say no more! I’ll just call a cab home.”

“Are you sure, you could go with us you know?”

“Nope, it’s totally fine, promise.” You smiled as they got up from the booth. Lucy gave you a knowing look so you just raised your hands in defense. “No rash decisions, promise.” You held out a hand and she took it, shaking on it.

“Get some rest, (Y/N).” Rami let out a chuckle, linking arms with Lucy. You nodded and watched them go off. You were left to your thoughts in a bustling and rowdy club. You thought about taking our your phone to call a taxi, but the fire coursing through your blood said otherwise. You ordered another drink or five, despite Rami’s past wishes, and sat all by yourself, wallowing in alcohol.

You liked it. You couldn’t feel anything, pain, regret, gloom, they were all gone. You had completely lost yourself, in the chaotic atmosphere. You didn’t feel guilty or sad or mad, You felt insanely confident. You decided to go back out to the dance floor and mingle.

“Hello there.” You smirked slyly.

Meanwhile, Ben was with Gwil and Joe watching action movies to get his mind off the subject of romance. Little did they know that this was yours and Ben basically watched every genre together, so it didn’t really work. He has spent the whole night watching your concert, before the two came along with ice cream.

Frankie was in his lap and he pet her gently as the movie played. He wished he was a better boyfriend; maybe he wouldn’t be guilty out of his mind. He should of visited you more often, he should’ve told you how much he loved you; but that was all in the past and he can’t do anything anymore. The mere thought of being in love with you made him feel liable for his actions.

He would always hold himself responsible for everything that came crashing down.

He looked on the brightside, you two could still be friends. Maybe without the media suffocating you both into romantic endeavors, you could spend time together openly. He kept telling himself everything was going to be better, but was it?

~~~~~~~~~

[richmegavideo]

#FanFiction: This Story Imagines What It Was Like When There Was Trouble In The Carter Household

Source: Kevin Mazur / Getty

Before Beyoncé‘s sixth studio album dropped back in 2016, it was considered treasonous to question her relationship with longtime love Jay-Z. Up until Lemonade, the pair had been intensely private about their marriage and family—but when the album dropped and featured songs like “Pray You Catch Me,” “Sorry,” and “Hold Up,” Bey let the world know that, at some point, there was trouble in paradise.

Then, on 4:44, a sort of response to Bey’s accusations…Jay apologized and said it took having kids for him to be able to see life through a woman’s eyes. I’ll f*ck up a good thing if you let me/Let me alone, Becky…

While the Carters let us in, there was still so much to know… for instance, who is Becky with the good hair? What was it like when they weren’t on the same page? Did our relationship goals nearly split and call it quits? We don’t have the details, but one Beyoncé fan page is imagining some of those moments for us…and we can’t. stop. reading.

Interpreting a photo of Jay-Z trying to pick Blue Ivy up as she cries and clings to her mother in Antibes, France, Joy Mechell writes…

“‘Go to daddy’ Bey whispered to her daughter. When Jay went to reach for her, Blue snatched away and buried her face in her mother’s neck.’Please,’ Bey asked. Eventually Blue let him take her but Bey could tell this was far from over. When they got to their hotel, Jay laid Blue down for her nap before he opening the door. ‘Where are you going?’ Bey asked. She honestly didn’t want them to be on bad terms right now, especially over something that happened over a year ago. He didn’t answer her but he didn’t leave either. Eventually he closed the door and mounted the bed, pulling Blue into his arms carefully as not to wake her from her peaceful slumber. Bey watched them interact, the guilt sinking in as she tried to keep her original reasoning. ‘You’re the reason she’s acting like this’ he said, breaking the silence. ‘I’m the reason? You’re lucky my child is sleeping or—’ ‘OUR child Bey. She’s our child and you took her from me,’ he says in a strained tone. ‘You act as if I wasn’t going to let you see her ever again, you know I would never do that’ Bey argued. ‘I don’t know you at all. Not after I came home to an empty house and y’all stuff missing. So when was I supposed to see her Bey? When you decided to stop ignoring my calls? Not telling me you were in a whole different country so I could find you?’ he asked trying to keep his voice down. ‘I needed a break Shawn! I deserved a break and no I wasn’t going to leave her behind. I’m sorry it seemed like I did it out of spite but in that moment I was just reacting. I didn’t even plan on staying long, I just couldn’t be around you after hearing that’ Bey said as she thought back onto the most painful time of her life. ‘I would never keep her from you, or any kids we might have, just because we’re fighting. Even if we divorce I—’ ‘We’re not getting a divorce,’Jay interrupted. Bey sighed as remembering to pick her battles. She couldn’t see them divorced either but she can’t say separation never crossed her mind. Jay was about to say something else when Blue squirmed, wrapping her arms tightly around him while he rocked her. He knew he messed up but he couldn’t imagine losing them.Those two weeks were the wake up call he needed. Straighten up or he’d lose his wife #fiction.”

How do you think it went down? Head to Joy’s page for more fan fiction about your unbreakable faves.

The post #FanFiction: This Story Imagines What It Was Like When There Was Trouble In The Carter Household appeared first on .

from WordPress http://www.richmegavideo.com/fanfiction-this-story-imagines-what-it-was-like-when-there-was-trouble-in-the-carter-household/

[themoneybuff-blog]

The death of Anthony Bourdain: Thoughts on productivity, pleasure, and depression

Shares 141 Warning: This is a rare GRS post that contains salty language. If you dont like salty language, dont read this article. Anthony Bourdain killed himself Friday morning. So what? you might be thinking. Hes just another fucking celebrity who didnt know how good he had it. Maybe youre right. But his death has weighed heavy on me all weekend. On Friday morning, as I wrote the weekly Get Rich Slowly email, I thought about Anthony Bourdain. On Friday afternoon, as Kim and I worked in the yard, I thought about Anthony Bourdain. On Friday evening, as we soaked in our new hot tub with a friend, I thought about Anthony Bourdain. Yesterday, I thought about Anthony Bourdain. Today, I thought about Anthony Bourdain. Now Im writing this article as an act of catharsis. Maybe itll help me to stop thinking about Anthony Bourdain. The Depression Trap I believe Anthony Bourdains death touched me deeply for a couple of reasons. I was a huge fan. Since listening him read the audio version of Kitchen Confidential a decade ago, Ive loved his work. Parts Unknown was probably my favorite travel show: raw and real and filled with food. Bourdain connected with everyone he met. His joy for life was contagious and his mind was sharp.Like Bourdain did, I struggle with depression. All my life, Ive experienced periodic descents into darkness. The first time this happened, I missed five weeks of sixth grade. In the nearly forty years since then, Ive developed a variety of coping mechanisms but they dont always work. In recent months since the middle of March the darkness has deepened and I dont know why. (And just as I missed five weeks of school back then, Ive been unable to get my work done in the present.) Let me make it clear that I am not suicidal. Right now, the biggest symptom of my depression is my inability to get shit done. But whereas suicide seems strange and senseless to most everyone else, depressives understand the appeal even if wed never consider it personally. One of the many stupid things about depression is that the condition doesnt care how awesome your life is. It doesnt care how successful you are. It doesnt care how much money you have. Depression is not rational. If it were, itd be easy to think your way out of it. Paula Froelich, one of Bourdains ex-girlfriends, put it like this:

Bourdains death didnt just make me introspective. It also led to a couple of interesting conversations about pleasure and productivity and about what really matters in life. The Productivity Trap Friday afternoon, I received email from a GRS reader well call Michael: Im sure you saw Anthony Bourdain killed himself. This to me was a telling quote: When asked during a recent interview with The Wall Street Journal whether he ever thought about stepping back from the breakneck pace of a job that kept him on the road 250 days a year, he replied, Too late for that. I think about it. I aspired to it. I feel guilty about it. I yearn for it. Balance? I fucking wish.' Obviously I didnt know Bourdain personally, or even know much about him as a public figure, but I think that mentality is common: Once youve become successful, the thought of ever ratcheting back seems unthinkable. Obviously, suicide is rare, but I think this mentality is common among successful people they stay in an unhappy status quo simply because they have so much invested in their self-image and public perception of themselves as successful people. I think Michael is onto something. Ive seen this in my own life, in the lives of friends and family, and the lives of colleagues. They fall into what you might call the productivity trap. (Heres an article I almost linked to the other day about the productivity trap: If youre so successful, why are you still working 70 hours a week?) I have one friend, for instance, with an enormously successful career. He has a popular blog, a popular podcast, best-selling books, and even an annual conference that attracts attendees from across the planet. Yet hes never satisfied not with himself nor with anybody else. Hes always looking for ways to make things bigger and better. He seems unhappy with who he is and what he has. Hes written publicly about his struggles with mental illness, but he hasnt revealed its full effects. Its not just my friend. Its me too. I see this pattern in my own life, and its something Ive deliberately decided to approach more mindfully. Why do I want to have a hot tub or travel to Ecuador? Why did I repurchase Get Rich Slowly and how often should I publish here? Why do I keep agreeing to public speaking gigs? Do I really want these things? Are they aligned with my personal mission statement? Will they really make me happy? (Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes the answer is no.) In his email, Michael continued: I think this is really the key to personal finance and early retirement actually stepping back and figure out what is important to you, and doing it, even if it seems like youre turning your back on a great career, or a nice house or whatever. That is the hardest part, which keeps most people in a life they dont want. They think I went to school X or work at company Y, so therefore I must live in this city or have that job or have that wardrobe and never ask themselves what, as individuals, makes them happy. The Pleasure Trap As our email conversation continued, Michael brought up another interesting point. He noted that our culture and this is especially true in the world of financial independence blogs is obsessed with experiences, such as travel. Yet in many ways, collecting experiences is no better (nor any different) than collecting things. Heres Michael again: [Bourdain] had the ne plus ultra of modern life: rich, famous, a job that 99% of the population would kill for, saw everything he wanted to see, ate everything he wanted to eat, Im sure slept with tons of women if that is what he wanted, took all the drugs he wanted. You name it, he had it. And, he hung himself in a hotel room in France, a twice-divorced man a continent away from his daughter and girlfriend. Im not bagging on him. I just think he illustrates something: A meaningful life doesnt consist of a series of cool experiences, or traveling or eating cool stuff. Bourdain did that stuff to an incredible degree, and it still didnt make him happy. I think that is what our society has forgotten. I feel like were always being told we should move a lot, travel a lot, be vaguely or overtly dismissive of the town or state we were born in, move for college and never move back homein short, basically be a free agent with fewer and fewer personal connections, or weaker connections. And, we get this [higher suicide rates]. [] I think this relates to personal finance. There is always this thought that thrift requires these huge sacrifices less travel, fewer new experiences, fewer new restaurants. But what if [these arent sacrifices]? What if irrespective of cost, that stuff isnt really a source of happiness? I mean, people accept that with respect to possessions nobody says a Cadillac or a 5000-square-foot home is the key to happiness but many, many people in our culture think new experiences are crucial to a happy life. It may be the opposite the continuity and free-time to invest in loving relationships may actually be the key to happiness. I told Kim about my conversation with Michael. Its the pleasure trap, she said. People fall for the lie that momentary pleasure equals happiness. But pleasure isnt the same as happiness. Shes right, of course. Happiness is like planting a garden, watching it grow, then enjoying the harvest. Pleasure is simply eating the fruit. Happiness is deeper and richer and longer lasting. Pleasure is fleeting; happiness is not. But happiness involves time and work and patience. Now, Ill admit: Im guilty as anyone else of falling into the pleasure trap, and in oh-so-many ways! I have to make a deliberate effort to look past immediate pleasure in order to consider long-term happiness. This often requires enduring unpleasant activities. Do I really want to go out in the cold and the rain to dig in the mud and plant my garden? No, not in this moment. Id rather sit in the hot tub. But if I dont plant the garden, Im sacrificing greater happiness in the future. Final Thoughts While I think that Kim and Michael are onto something the productivity trap and the pleasure trap are both real and both problematic I keep coming back to Anthony Bourdains battle with depression. During my recent road trip through the southeastern U.S., I talked with two friends who are fighting depression in their own lives. One friend has a spouse who cannot shake the condition despite counseling, despite exercise, despite a loving family. The other friend fights the condition himself and its led to weight gain and addictive tendencies. Therapy has helped some but its not a cure-all. As for myself, I havent yet returned to therapy although Im considering it. (Not so long ago, I spent a year working with a therapist to find ways to cope with anxiety and depression. It helped.) I want to stress again that I am not suicidal. But the depression has most definitely affected my daily existence, including my relationships, my health, and my work here at Get Rich Slowly. It sucks. It sucks. It sucks. But I know that itll get better someday. Shares 141 https://www.getrichslowly.org/death-of-anthony-bourdain/