#it is insane how much of your job if you are involved in college education at all is just EMAILS

[squeakadeeks]

everybody stop emailing me.com

[literatikoo]

Jess Mariano's alleged communication problems

If there is one thing the Gilmore Girls fandom agrees upon, whether you're team Jess or Dean or Logan, it's that Jess isn't great at communicating. There's just a consensus that he's not great at discussing his problems and that's the number 1 reason why his and Rory's relationship blew up in their face in season 3. But... this is a (somewhat) unfounded complaint? Don't get me wrong, I know Jess can be harsh and rude and really knows how to hit the nail on the head sometimes but there are also multiple instances where he talks after being pushed a little. Like every single time he's talked to Luke about Rory problems ("The girls I like don't give a damn about me," "I told her I loved her" and the infamous swan episode) or when he tells Rory, a girl he barely knows, that his mom doesn't want him back for Christmas.

The problem with Jess is that he picks and chooses who to communicate too. He definitely doesn't talk about Liz to Luke because he knows that Luke just doesn't believe that Liz is a bad person and a neglectful mother. And seriously, we've seen Luke enable Liz' terrible behaviour multiple times on the show, do you really think he would've believed whatever Jess had to say about her? He talks to Rory about Liz that one time and she doesn't believe him either and both we and Jess know that she has a right to that because she's never met Liz, but this is still enough for Jess to never bring her up again (at least from what we see) because he's a 17 year old kid with a terrible relationship with his parents. NO 17 year old kid who's been treated bad by their parents would want to open up about it because it's pretty strongly ingrained in us that having negative emotions against your parents is WRONG. On the other hand, Jess knows that Luke sees his and Rory's relationship and may even help because he has his own unique relationship with the Gilmore Girls, which is why he's much more open about Rory and even seeks advice on occasion.

Now, let's talk about Jess' less than stellar communication moments:

1. Lying about school and Walmart: Jess skives off school a LOT to work at Walmart and save up money. He doesn't tell anyone about it. Why? Because for everyone else in Stars Hollow, and for most of us too, school is important and education is a positive thing needed for growth. But who knows how often Jess went to school before SH, we already know he has a bad relationship with the educational system but why? When he goes back to NY in s2 it's obvious he's not going to school and we know Liz moved around a lot so he may be a lot more behind in school than we know. Yes, he's smart and he reads a lot but that's not enough to do well in school; you need to be able to conform a fair amount and I don't think Jess even went enough to know that. Jess already wasn't planning on going to college and he knows that living with Luke is temporary, which is why he puts more importance into saving up money. He was already working for the future, just in a different way from everyone else. It's obvious that he also wasn't planning to flunk out of school, it happened because he wasn't attending enough not because he was failing (which pisses me off so much don't even get me started). He was going to graduate and then he was going to use the money he saved up while looking for a job that suited him. And that's a pretty solid plan honestly, especially since he didn't have the luxury to suddenly decide to go to 4 year college because his girlfriend told him too like Dean. But this is something else he just couldn't talk about to Luke or Rory, who both think he's capable of great things within the academic sphere. Mind you, once Luke found out he was skipping school he didn't deal with things in the best way either. He stole his car, effectively cutting off Jess' last bit of independence. I really feel like Jess was just waiting to graduate before he had THE talk with Rory about their future, and it was obvious he was thinking longterm ("22.8 miles"). That is before everything goes to shit.

2. Keg! Max!: Let me preface this by saying that Jess definitely made irreversible mistakes in this episode... but it wasn't for the lack of trying. This is the episode that he finds out he's not graduating and we can see him struggling with this information, he's tense and angry and his emotions are simmering. His interactions with Rory, which are usually so easygoing, are surrounded by this air of finality. At this moment, he knows he's going to lose her and his home with Luke because that's what the deal was. But he still goes with her to that party and he still does the bare minimum of mingling. Throughout the party he tells Rory that he wants to leave, I'm guessing to talk to her about what happened. But they don't (this is NOT Rory's fault btw, she had no way to know what happened either) and instead Jess' emotions get the better of him. This is the first of the two instances where we really see how non communicative Jess can be. However I still maintain that if Dean hadn't gotten involved, Jess and Rory would've been able to talk. (fuck Dean)

3. Jess leaves: This is the second case where we see him being truly non communicative, and unfortunately I don't have much to say in his defence. Except that he probably was still reeling from losing his home and meeting his Dad and just didn't know how to put that insane amount of emotion into words. He also probably thought that Rory just didn't want to talk to him anymore because of how terribly he treated her, especially since he was just going to give her more bad news. He could see himself self destructing, and didn't want Rory to be collateral damage.

4. Smaller instances (Swan song, Not calling Rory, fighting with Lorelai): Okay, I think the swan incident was Rory's fault, because he was telling her the truth and just didn't want to get into it in front of Emily. But she wasn't ready to hear it until she talked to Dean, which honestly was a sucky move on her part. The not calling her when he said he would while they were dating in that one random episode was also a similar misunderstanding. The thing in common with both of these instances was that he was ready to learn afterwards; he said he was willing to go back to Emily's house and he bought them tickets to the Distillers and from what the show tells us they had a lot more consistent date nights after that. This was Jess' first proper relationship and he was really trying. Now the Lorelai thing... he just didn't want her in his business. They had no relation to each other and she was very condescending to him the first time they met, he wasn't great either but when an adult talks to you the way she did after you've just been uprooted at your mothers whims, you tend to hate them a little. And honestly I always thought that Jess being weirded out by Lorelai's involvement in his and Rory's relationship was more normal 17 year old behaviour than Dean being overly friendly with her.

So, in conclusion, because he made two big fatal communication mistakes, he's labelled as the broody non talking type. When we see most of the characters actually do the same (Rory drops out of Yale and cuts off ties with her mother, Lorelai sleeps with Christopher after months of miscommunication with Luke, Luke doesn't tell Lorelai, his fiance, that he has a daughter), seriously, they've all made mistakes and this doesn't diminish the mistakes that Jess has made and the hurt he has caused, but he also doesn't deserve to have non communicative as a personality trait. If it was seriously that big of a problem, he wouldn't have been able to grow from it that quickly (by the end of s4) and by reading self help books of all things. I also think it comes off like that because he was in the show for so little time, and that's what the writers chose to focus on.

So tldr, Jess isn't as non communicative as the show wants us to believe and he definitely isn't broody.

[wtffundiefamilies]

This is from 2013, but holy hell I hope Anna finds it.  Entirety of the post beneath the cut; it’s both long and not something people should read with no warning.  But I wanted to copypaste in case the link goes down one day.  It’s insane to me that these “little details” and “clues” are obvious and screaming red flags to people raised in a normal world.  (And no, looking at legal porn is not a “red flag” that someone is a child molester.  But, like...again, given the circumstances I’m not sure what we’d expect; we all saw what Jessa said.)  It’s part one of a series, and it’s amazing just how much this dude sounds like Josh.  And how much their “courtship” sounds like Josh and Anna’s.

Part of my mission, my purpose in life, is to educate others about child predators.  I’m not here to stir up some kind of crazy hype, but to present the facts and to give you a bit of insight as to what happened in my own life.  How was I so blinded to the fact that for forty years I was living with a practicing pedophile?  How did I not see the signs?  How did I not pick up on something being very wrong with the man I married?  

The truth is that I sensed something was wrong even before we got married, but I didn’t listen to my inner being.  I didn’t pay attention to those nudgings that something was wrong.  Why?  Because as a Christian it had been taught to me from little up that people who went to church were good, honest, moral people.  I was taught to trust people who said they believed in God and followed His teachings.  And, I did just that.  I was, unfortunately, one of the most trusting women who ever walked the face of the earth!

Pay attention to this, please!  Just because a person tells you that they walk by the teachings of God does not mean it’s true.  In fact, the word of God warns us against “wolves in sheep’s clothing”, and I learned first-hand just what that meant.  But, it would be years before my eyes were totally opened to this fact. As a bit of background information, I came from a broken home.  My parents divorced when I was fourteen, a sister of mine died when she was thirteen, my mother was an alcoholic, and my father was by today’s terms a “dead beat dad.”  Needless to say, I longed for a different life, and I prayed constantly that God would send a good, righteous, faithful Christian into my life so that I could build a home on godly principles and a firm foundation.

I worked hard all through high school so that I could go to college.  But, I didn’t want to go to just any college.  It had to be a Christian college because I sincerely believed that was the only place I would ever meet a Christian man to marry.  Because I worked so hard all through high school, I earned a four-year scholarship to a four-year state school.  BUT, you guessed it!  The idea of finding and marrying a Christian man was so ingrained in my heart and mind by now that I passed up the scholarship and instead went to a very small, two-year Christian College.  Little did I know that this one decision would lead to so much heartache for me and for those who are most special in my life — my children.  While it’s true that we can’t see around every bend in the road, there are signs and signals along the way.  I didn’t pay attention to anyone who tried to talk to me.  One thing was on my mind — finding a Christian mate!

Every person wants to feel special, and longs to be told that they stand out among all of the rest.  During the summer between my first and second year of college I met a young man who was articulate, bright, funny, witty, and who also told me that I stood out.  He was spending the summer at college and so was I.  A friendship developed, and even though I was engaged to marry someone else, this young man worked very hard every day to convince me that I was with the wrong person.  He pointed out all of the flaws of the man whose ring I was wearing until he finally convinced me to break off the engagement.  That’s a story in and of itself — maybe I’ll share that with you another day.

What was a bit strange to me was that the man I would soon marry had a quiet control over me like nobody ever had before.  Even though I had low self-esteem I was used to making my own decisions and being very independent.  For the first time in my life I found I was reporting my every move to this quiet, shy young man. He told me I was special.  He said out of all the girls on campus I was the only one that he thought was pretty and was a true Christian.  He told me just what I wanted to hear.  It was the word “Christian” that nailed me!  I knew he was the one I had been praying about since my youth!

One of the greatest stories my now ex-husband loved to tell was how he spotted me from across campus and said to his roommate, “See that girl?  I’m going to marry her.”  This was totally absurd because at the time he said that we had not even met!  He later told me he would hide and watch me — study me — and he knew my schedule, when I was going to eat, when I’d walk back to campus, when I would go to work.  He said, “I knew everything about you.  I knew where you were from morning until night. I knew I would marry you.”

Instead of being freaked out and thinking this guy was some kind of stalker psycho, I was flattered.  “He chose me.”  Out of all of the girls around, he chose me and that again was more evidence of answered prayers.  Deep inside, though, was a gnawing feeling that something wasn’t right.  He didn’t talk much.  And, for a man who said he loved God, he made fun of people in a mean way.  He mocked people’s insecurities.  Yes, you guessed it!  He mocked me on several occasions and I felt like a piece of dirt he had stepped on.  He made fun of the size of my nose.  He made fun of my feet calling them “hammer head toes.”  He made fun of the space I have between my teeth.  I cried myself to sleep many, many nights, but still……..he was a Christian man, and he was so nice when we were together in public.  He opened the car door for me (it was my car, by the way).  He paid the bill when we went out to eat and left a nice tip.  (It was my money that he used.)  He talked me into giving him my car (which I had since I was 16) and I found myself asking him for permission to use my own car.  This was really weird!

Why did I put up with it?  Why does anybody put up with abuse?  Because they’ve been so used to being beaten down that they think this is the norm. Please, please — if you’re in a situation like this run for your life!!!  This is NOT the way a good relationship works!  And, it’s a red flag indicator of many other problems — in my case, it was a big red flag that I was being masterfully manipulated.  Groomed to be the wife of a pedophile who was already deeply involved in porn and child sexual molestation!  

Learn to listen for “clues” that a decision you’re making might not be right.  I had BIG clues that I passed off as “odd”, “not making much sense”, “silly”, or “not that big of a deal.”

Clue 1:  For the last four months we dated, my fiance was in Israel doing overseas study.  We corresponded by letter only.  We were to get married less than one week after he arrived back in the states.  In his letters he would write to tell me how he would hide behind the grasses on the beach and watch girls changing out of their clothes and swimming nude.  He said he’d skip class and stay there all day.  In other words, he was openly telling me he was a “peeping Tom.”  This was a test of how far he could manipulate me and I passed with flying colors! I never questioned him about it.  Oh, I cried lots, but I never questioned him!

Clue 2:  He told me while we were dating that he and one of his cousins spent the summers together and they would steal cartons of cigarettes from stores and sneak out of the house at night and smoke the cigarettes and look at “porn” all night long.  Another test!  I looked at him quietly but never questioned him.  If you want to know the truth — I didn’t even know what porn was!!!!!  I had to ask my college roommates.  Again, I was being tested.  Could he get away with doing things right under my nose?  Sure he could. I’d never question a man of God!

Clue 3:  He was almost 21 and his favorite job was to “babysit all the little kids at church for free because he loved to give them baths and powder their little butts.”  I’m totally sick now as I write these words.  Why in heaven’s name didn’t I run from this man? There were so many clues that something was wrong, and I passed them off as being a little odd.  Nothing more — just a little bit odd. In fact, I actually thought this was kind of nice.  I never saw my father get involved in parenting like that, and I thought, “Wow!  This man will make a wonderful father!”    

Porn.  Lying.  Peeping Tom.  A young man who loves bathing and powdering little kids.  Masterfully manipulating.  Gaining the trust of adults. (Church people loved him babysitting their kids!)

I was another one of his victims.  I was being set up. I was being groomed  I would be the perfect alibi for his continued evil behavior.  He was calculating.  He studied me.  He used me.  He used my faith as a means to get what he wanted.  He knew what he was doing! His actions were no mistake.  He worked very hard to plan every detail.  

Listen up everyone!  Please don’t do as I did!  If your gut is telling you something is wrong, it probably is!!! Pay attention to the little details and the little voice that is whispering something is wrong!!!

This is just the beginning of my story.  I will share more in the weeks to come in hopes that others will not be blinded to the facts as I was.   We must get educated about child sexual molesters so that we can protect life’s most precious blessings — our children!

Why am I sharing the ugly, sad parts of my life?  That’s simple.  Because children are beautiful.  Children are precious.  Children deserve to be protected.  Statistics (according to information found here ) tell us that 1 in every 3 girls and 1 in every 6 boys are molested by the age of 18.  Please help me to stop this!  Let’s get educated!  Let’s do all we can to make it incredibly difficult for the molester!  Let’s be vigilant on behalf of our children — at all times!!!

Every child should have the ability to grow up feeling safe and loved and whole and pure!

It isn’t easy or comfortable for me to write about this, but I must.  I must take this terribleness and do something positive with it.  I must work for the safety of our children. Thanks so much for stopping by and for taking the time to read this.  Thanks even more for making yourself more aware of what is going on right under our noses — in our schools, our churches, our camps, our homes.  Let’s do all we can to work together to make this a safe place for our children!  

Love, Clara

[jalapeno-princess]

Bad For You Chapter 1

Fuckboy Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff (in future chapters), smut(maybe in a future chapter I’m still debating how I feel about that)

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Being a senior in college with less than two semesters in your entire educational career, you try your best not to get stuck in situations that will bring you any kind of stress. Unlike most of your classmates, you never searched for entertainment and fun in the college nightlife; partying, clubbing, getting drunk, high and hooking up with random strangers. You believed in working towards what will benefit you in the future. One day, your English professor gives you the opportunity of a lifetime; to pass his class without having to do anything at all. Most students would jump at his offer without hesitation. But what happens when what he’s asking of you just so happens to be the last thing you would ever find yourself wanting to do? Tutoring the same person you vowed never to get involved with? Mark Tuan was bad news and you’ve sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t interact with him under any circumstances. However, the offer is too good to refuse, but will it really be worth it in the end?

A/N: Hey guys! So this is the first chapter of my new series and I already have an idea of how I’m going to go about with this story I hope everything works out the way I want it to. I’m expecting to have about 5-6 chapters, but then again I never go through with what I plan. This first chapter is just an introduction as to how the main characters meet and so it might be kind of boring and more of a filler chapter but I’m sure the next one will be more interesting. Please enjoy!

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The sound of a clock ticking during a very important exam that was worth more than half of your grade had to be one of the most annoying and infuriating noises in the entire world; you were sure of it. 

That damn clock on the wall mocked you—with each click, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the brink of insanity. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to scream out in frustration and cause every one of your classmates to turn and look at you as if you were a wild animal. You sure felt like one. 

It was as though every time the big hand moved, you’d forget one important piece of information that you studied multiple hours for in order to memorize. No matter how many all-nighters you pulled in the last week, all the notes that you took and repeatedly looked over—nothing seemed to be clicking. 

Your mind was drawing a blank and it was really upsetting you. Ever since you were a little girl, you ate, breathed and slept your education. All you ever wanted was to succeed and do well in school. 

It didn’t help that your parents put this immense pressure on you to succeed—being the youngest and only daughter out of four children led your parents in to expecting a lot more out of you than they did with your three older brothers. They were also extremely overprotective when it came to you. 

Your brothers could go out and do whatever it was that they wanted; attend all these college frat parties, go to numerous bars only to get drunk off their asses and have your parents go and pick them up, drive all around Los Angeles and even leaving your sunny state of California to travel around cities like Las Vegas, Chicago and even New York. Hell, you couldn’t even cross the street by yourself let alone do anything most people would consider fun and exciting. 

Everyone who knew of your existence considered you to be a goody two shoes; the teacher’s pet. You found fun in reading and watching documentaries about murderous affairs. Most people your age were constantly partying, getting drunk, high or both. You never understood why anyone would waste their time and money on unnecessary substances such as alcohol and drugs, but you were never one to judge. 

Every now and then, your professor would inform the class how much time everyone had left to complete the exam. To everyone’s dismay, the door was slammed open; all eyes turned towards the front of the room—curious about who just entered. As soon as your gaze landed on him, you rolled your eyes in irritation. 

“Professor Lee, I’m so sorry I’m late. I—“

“I don’t want to hear it Mr.Tuan, no excuses. You have less than twenty minutes to complete your exam. There’s no retakes, so instead of trying to get out of this one, I’d suggest you take out a pen, piece of paper and start writing.” 

The boy in question made his way towards where you were sitting and gave you a smirk before sitting right behind you. Anyone and everyone who knew Mark was well aware as to why he was tardy. His tousled hair and swollen lips gave it away; it didn’t take a genius to know exactly what he was up to. 

You couldn’t care less about what he did; you hardly even knew the guy, so whatever he would do in his free time didn’t matter to you. As you began to finish up on your last few questions, you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“Pssst. Y/n.” 

Ignore him and he’ll leave you alone y/n. 

Every time Mark would try and get your attention, whether it was to borrow a pencil or to coerce you in to giving him the answers on one of your assignments, you’d find yourself groaning in frustration. It’s as though he got a rise out of getting under your skin. 

In the three months that you’ve had him in your English 345 class, you observed the fact that he never seemed to bother any of your other classmates except you. He had classmates sitting on either side of him, yet he never once spoke to them. 

You’ve known Mark since middle school; he was one year older than you and he lived down your road, but the two of you never really interacted with one another. You came from two different social groups; his group of friends were very well known throughout your entire campus. 

All seven members were apart of a sports team and they had to be the most attractive guys at your university. They were also notorious for being quite the players; none of them were in stable relationships. 

Mark and his friends were known to hook up with random girls whose names they’d never end up learning and none of them slept with the same person twice. That’s just who they were. 

Every Friday night, they’d throw a party at one of their apartments, one of the sorority houses or they’d rent out a hotel room. You made a pact with yourself to never get involved with any one of them. The last thing you needed was to get your heartbroken by an asshole who could give less of a shit about you. 

You refused to allow any one of his friends; Mark in particular, take advantage of your kind hearted and gentle personality. As much as you wish you could be a cold-hearted, selfish person; especially because so many people have done you wrong in the twenty-two years of your existence, you could never hurt anyone or do anyone wrong the way they would so easily do to you. It just never felt right. 

However, Mark Tuan was someone you wouldn’t care about hurting. He obviously didn’t care about anyone but himself and his atrocious group of friends; so you never allowed him to irritate you for longer than a few minutes. Luckily, he never took things further than a couple of snarky comments and throwing paper airplanes at you every now and then, but you could do without all of his childish antics. 

Sometimes, you wondered why he chose you of all people to pick on and disturb. Maybe it’s because you were one of the only people he’s known since childhood, or because everyone was well aware of your friendly and welcoming personality. You were also considered the teacher’s pet for most of your professors. 

A few of them; your biology, calculus—and even your English professor for this class had asked you to be their teacher’s assistant because they were confident they could trust in you to help them with their classes. Unfortunately, you had to decline. 

With having a full-time job and taking on five classes, there was so much on your plate already and you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to give them the support and time they needed from their assistants. You had only three questions left to answer and you were more than happy to finally finish the test. 

The word exhausted wasn’t even enough to describe just how tired you were. You worked a ten hour shift yesterday because two of your co-workers called in sick and you didn’t have the courage to tell your boss that you were tired from pulling an all-nighter the day before. 

All you wanted to do was return back to your apartment and fall asleep for the rest of the week. The constant tap on your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts and for a second, you almost forgot that you were in the middle of an exam. A groan of disbelief was at the tip of your tongue; who did he think he was coming in to class just minutes before it ended, expecting you to help him because it was painfully obvious he had no idea what he was doing. 

“Y/n, what did you get for number 5? Hey—pssst—y/n—“ 

You continued to scribble down a few more sentences on the last question; wanting nothing more than to get out of the lecture hall but Mark adamantly had other plans. 

“Come on, please? I don’t know how to answer this—“

“Mark, this is an exam. I can’t help you—“

“Just this one time. I promise. I’m already doing bad in this class. I can’t afford to fail—“

“Well that’s not my problem Mark. You need to learn how to manage your priorities better—“

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“ 

Right as you were about to retaliate and make a comment about his fuckboy lifestyle, a new presence joined the two of you and you felt yourself tense up at his words. 

“Mr.Tuan, Miss y/l/n, is there a problem here?” 

You shook your head in disagreement and mentally cursed the older boy for putting you in this situation. Not once in your entire educational career have you ever been called out by one of your teachers for not doing what you were supposed to and that was because you never failed to accomplish whatever it was that you were expected to do. There was no way you would let Mark Tuan out of all people get in the way of the reputation you’ve worked so hard to maintain as one of the top students at your university.

“No problem here sir, I was just asking y/n to borrow an eraser.”

Absentmindedly, your eyes rolled to the back of your head at how easily the lie fell from his lips. This happened to be the first class you had him in, but you had a huge feeling he was like this whenever there was something he desired. Whether it was school related, or a way to soothe his carnal urges, Mark would do whatever in his power to get whatever or whoever it was that he wanted. 

It was adamant that he wasn’t going to do well on this test no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t strike you as someone who studied, nor did he seem like he cared about his education in the first place. None of his friends did. College was more about the night life experience; the alcohol, constant partying, drugs, sex—school was the last of any of their worries and you believed that one day, it would all come back to bite them all in the ass. 

“Hm, is that so? Well then, please return back to your exams and if you don’t mind staying back, I’d like to talk to the both of you about something.”

If looks could kill, Mark would be six feet underground with the glare you were now sending him. The universe was not on your side at all today. Not only did the coffee shop get your order wrong, but your botany professor assigned you a group project you weren’t at all excited for and now—you were in trouble for something that wasn’t even your fault. 

To both his and your surprise, you turned around and flipped Mark off. You hated the fact that his stupidity and ignorance was causing you to do all of these spiteful actions that you have never once done to anyone else. He was just that big of a narcissistic asshole and with the way he smirked at you, it was all the more evident that he was enjoying himself. 

Mark got in trouble many times in class—or so you’ve heard people talk about. Everyone talked about him; no matter who it was, every single student on your campus knew of him. Some had nothing but envy and respect towards him and others never understood what was so good about him that the boys wanted to be him and the girls wanted to be under him. 

You were one of the latter; other than his devastatingly handsome looks and how much of an amazing volleyball player he was, Mark didn’t have anything else going for him. He was the definition of a prick; he was cocky and treated people like shit. He also had a brain the size of a peanut which came as a shock seeing as how his younger brother Joey graduated over a year ago and had his bachelor’s degree in pharmaceutical engineering.

In fact, the entire Tuan family seemingly had great heads on their shoulders. Mark’s father owned one of the highest ranking tech companies in all of California. His mom and his oldest sister were realtors. You understood that his wealth and the success of his family were the only reasons why he wasn’t expelled from school. If it were anyone else, they would have been kicked out as soon as their g.p.a dropped below 2.0 like Mark’s was rumored to be. 

“Good going dickhead.” 

He cheekily winked at you before turning his attention back to his exam. You were going to make his life a living hell for what he put you through. Less than ten minutes later, your professor let the entire class know that time was up and one by one, your classmates began exiting the room. You could feel your blood pressure and anxiety levels rising at the thought of getting detention for Mark’s unintelligent disruption. 

As soon as the last person left, you began to come up with what you were going to tell your teacher. You were willing to admit the fact that Mark was trying to cheat and get some answers from you. It wasn’t as though anything bad would happen to him anyway. 

He’d get away with trying to get you to give him answers and maybe even torment you for throwing him under the bus. Oh God, what did you get yourself in to? Your professor sat on his desk as he motioned for the two of you to walk towards him. 

A soft sigh fell from his lips and you were sure you could pass out because of how nervous you were. Even if you knew you didn’t do anything wrong, you were still freaking out about the consequences that came with helping someone on a test. 

“Y/n, I just want to start off by saying you’re not in trouble. So, there’s nothing you need to worry about. However, it has come to my attention that you are looking towards getting an internship at the state capital. You’re majoring in law right? Well, I have a proposition for you, and I know—you might not like this and I’m sorry for asking you to do me such a huge favor like this. I’m sure you’re already busy as it is, but—“ He didn’t even have to ask just yet, you already had a feeling that his favor had to do with the remarkably inadequate boy on the right of you. 

“Could you tutor Mark for me? Well, not just for me. His professors sent me emails about what they can do to help him.” 

He turned over to Mark and released a soft sigh. You felt as though you were going to throw up. Tutor Mark? Seriously? You would rather rip out your eyelashes one by one. There was no way you would do such a thing. Sure, you were willing to stay after class and help your professors grade papers or you could come up with lesson plans in order to cut down the amount of work they had to do, but there was no way in hell you were going to do anything with or for Mark. 

“I don’t like talking negatively about students. I know you’re a smart kid Mark. I acknowledge the fact that you do try; you’re such a great writer, but you don’t put your heart or mind in to anything beneficial. There’s honestly nothing else I can say or do to get you to try harder. You have so much potential, but you fail to use any of it. You could go far in life Mark, but you choose paths that will bring you nothing but destruction. Don’t get me wrong, you’re still so young and I’m sure you want to live your life to the fullest. But sometimes, you need to give up any kind of toxicity that will only bring you down. Y/n—a few other professors and I are willing to write you multiple letters of recommendation and I’m going to give you an immediate A for this class. You don’t have to worry about any other exams or assignments. Most of your time will be taken up trying to help assist Mark. I still expect you to listen in on our lectures just so you can understand and learn the course material, but you don’t have to worry about studying for any tests. I trust that you would pass all of them nonetheless. I know, I shouldn’t be asking you to help another student and please don’t feel like you have to do this. But just know that I and all your other professors would be more than grateful if you do decide to go along with my offer. I’ll give you a week to think about it. You may go now.” 

All the blood in your body immediately began to rush to your head. Everything your professor explained to you went through one ear and out the other. You were being offered to pass the class with flying colors without having to worry about completing any assignments or taking quizzes—anyone in their right minds would willingly accept his proposition. It was the easiest A you could ever receive, yet in order to access it, you would have to go against everything you’ve set your mind to. 

All the pacts you’ve made with yourself regarding Mark or any of his inconsiderate group of friends, were you really going to allow yourself to get involved with someone notorious for manipulating and taking advantage of other individuals without a care in the world? Sure, you wouldn’t have to worry about one of your classes and you’d have more time to focus on your more difficult subjects, but it would be at the cost of your morals and beliefs. 

Mark Tuan was no good—even if it was only tutoring, you had a bad feeling in your gut that he would end up hurting you one way or another. You didn’t consider yourself to be the kind of girl Mark would mess around with or find attractive in any way, but then again—it didn’t matter what the person looked like or what their personality was like. 

Everyone was just another body added to his count of poor unfortunate souls who were tricked in to finding their way in to bed with him. Once your professor excused you, you practically ran out of the building. Knowing that you were his only option, you were well aware that Mark would probably look for you and try to coerce you in to accepting the offer. If that did end up happening, you would stand your ground. 

You weren’t afraid of Mark, nor did you consider him all that intimidating like everyone on campus did. He wasn’t going to get to you that easily, no matter how hard he would put in an effort to. Your professor gave you a week to think about it and there was nothing your school’s notorious bad boy could say or do to influence you to agree in helping him. As you were right about to unlock your car door, you heard feet running in the distance. It didn’t take a genius to know just who the footsteps belonged to. Hell, you picked up your pace in order to avoid him. 

“Y/n, wait!” 

If only you could continue your cold facade; there was a voice telling you to jump in your car and leave without giving him the time of day. You would just deal with him tomorrow. But  you knew being brash wasn’t in your nature—you could never be mean to anyone. Even people like Mark who obviously deserved it. 

There was no way you’d forgive yourself for showing him hostility; you’d only be sinking to his level. You released a frustrated groan—did he not even take a second to think about how much of an inconvenience he was right now? First, he bothered you during a very important exam, then he got you involved in catching the unwanted attention of your professor and now you’re being asked to tutor him. 

Mark Tuan was the devil in human form, he had to be. There was no other plausible explanation as to why he is the conniving asshole you’ve grown accustomed to interact with in the last few months. It’s as if he had vengeance against you. Why else would he include you in his toxic way of going through school? You turned around to face him and crossed your arms in irritation. Right after he caught up to you, he placed both hands on his knees as if he was trying to catch his breath. 

“What? Did you sprint here?”

“Obviously. I had a feeling there was a chance you’d want to talk to me about the deal our professor offered me, but I don’t have the energy to listen to you talk me in to doing so—“

“Come on y/n, you act like tutoring me is the worst thing on this entire earth—“

“Because it is. Look, I have a week to think about this okay? So if I were you, I’d watch how you act towards me and how you talk to me. Whether or not you graduate next spring is all on me. I’m going to warn you right now, nothing you can say or do will have an effect on my decision. If I decide to tutor you, it’s because I want to. Oh, and don’t think it’s because I don’t want to do work or tests. If anything, I would rather complete assignments and study for exams. The option he gave me isn’t an easy way out, so I don’t want you spreading bullshit lies about me just to make me look bad. If I say no, there’s no trying to get me to say yes. Am I clear?” 

This was the first time you’ve ever seen Mark look worried in the many years that you’ve known him for. Almost everyone in his life, teachers, professors, fellow classmates, his friends and even some of his family members—they willingly gave him whatever it was that he asked for. You never understood why; why was everyone so afraid of him? He wasn’t all that muscular or buff. In fact, you’d mentally call him a limp noodle whenever he’d get on your nerves because he was quite the skinny guy. 

But he’s always been like that. Mark was like a chihuahua; he was all bark and no bite. Maybe he used his family’s power and wealth against others, or maybe he would promise financial or social gain to make others succumb to his wishes. Whatever it was—you needed him to know that it wouldn’t work on you. It was obvious that no one has ever talked to Mark the way you currently were just by the way he looked at you in shock. 

You were a force to be reckoned with. If Mark considered you to be a soft spoken, quiet pushover, then boy—did he have something coming for him. He wasn’t wrong to think like that; you were a genuinely kind-hearted soul. However, that was to those who deserved it. Mark wasn’t on that list, nor would he ever make it there. Ever.

“Fine. Just—please think about it? No funny business, I promise. I just—I want to know. Be honest with me. Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to cause you so much anguish and distress? Is it something I said? Did? Whatever it is, I’m sorry. Sincerely. I’m not saying that in order to win brownie points or to get on your good side, I mean it. You are the only person on this entire campus who seems to take a disliking to me and I want you to know that I’m sorry.” 

As soon as the last word of apology fell from his lips, you could feel your throat getting choked up. You wanted to believe he was trying to come up with ways to make you feel bad for him; to get you to really think about helping him out. But there was no malice in his speech—his eyes looked so sincere. If he was lying, then damn—he deserved a fucking Oscar. 

Deep down in your heart though, you knew he was being serious. Why were you now feeling bad that you were vehemently treating him like the scum under your toes? Obviously, you weren’t going to grovel at his feet the way most of the girls at your university did—but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be civil with him. 

Mark hasn’t cared about his attendance or grade in this class since the beginning of the semester—so it really boggled your mind as to why he was trying to be involved in his education right now. That wasn’t your business to have knowledge of. You and Mark weren’t friends. You’d probably never ever be friends, so the reasoning for his sudden interest in putting his focus towards his education wasn’t your problem to deal with. 

You brought your vision to the ground; your converse seemed like the most interesting thing in the world at the moment. There was no way you could look at him, you were sure you’d give him your answer if you were to look at him and see how distraught he was from your hostility. You opened the back seat of your car and threw in your bag and your books before making your way to the front seat. 

Thankfully, Mark had a conscience and moved out of the way. He probably didn’t want to get even more so on your nerves and you appreciated his new timid nature. 

Mark Tuan had finally met his match. 

Once you pulled out of the stall, you rolled down your window and took in a deep breath—not sure if you were making the right decision as the words fell off your tongue; but it didn’t matter anymore. 

“Meet me tomorrow in the library at three. Don’t be late or you can forget about having me as a tutor. Oh, and I don’t hate you. But don’t think so highly of yourself, I don’t think all that highly of you either.” 

The soft smile that was now beaming on his face pulled on your heartstrings and soon you felt a warm sensation in your chest—wait. What? Oh God—no. No, no, no. What have you done? 

You just sold your soul to the devil.

[igotyouniverse]

Breathe Me - Chapter 1 [nct vamp au]

Description: After dropping out of college and coming home for the first time in two years, 22-year-old Ava Lee gets caught up in a mystery surrounding the people she thought she knew for so long. Between friendship, affairs and true love the young women finds herself being pulled into a  nightmare she would never wake up from.

Pairing: Oc x Taeyong , Oc x Johnny [several side-pairing involving Mark, Ten, Lucas and Jaehyun.]

Included Members: Taeyong, Johnny, Mark, Lucas, Ten, Jaehyun, Doyoung, Haechan (maybe more)

Genre: Drama, Romance, Angst, Action, Fantasy

Warnings: none (this chapter)

suggestive content, strong language, violence, blood, death. probably more, not sure yet (later chapters)

a/n: Here it comes! After years of procrestination I finally managed to write the very first (very boring) chapter of my vampire au with nct! Anyway, the main drama will start in the next chapter so stay patient and bear this one with me. It took me long enough, haha. All the warnings will be for later chapters so don't start reading if u dont feel like reading stuff like that qq If someone wants to get tagged please send me a message, ask, comment or whatever qq

I really hope you guys enjoy it, it was a very heavy birth. ♥

ch.2 || ch. 3

                                                   †

The girl sighed deeply and took a look outside the small airplane window. She saw how the plane slowly drove into the prepared parking lot and felt how her level of anxiety rose with each second. Even though the flight was 18 hours long and her legs started to hurt she didn't want to stand up. Standing up meant for her to actually leave the plane, get her luggage and meet her family which would sooner or later lead to them asking all these questions. It wasn't like she didn't miss them.

She missed them very dearly. She missed the Sunday morning brunches with her neighbours, the movie nights where her dad would always pick out a movie because he'd pout if not, she even missed  her little brother Mark bursting into her room without knocking and asking her some totally stupid questions. She missed catching up with her best friend. She missed all these sleepovers when all they had to worry about was who the cutest boy at school was and what they'll do together once they were adults. She craved for all these past memories. The last time she set foot onto this ground was two years ago at her very first spring break after leaving home, moving to a town thousand of miles away, not knowing anyone.

She heard a beeping noise which indicated that the passengers could stand up and get out but she waited. All of them seemed in such a hurry to leave the plane, grabbing their belongings, everyone trying to get out first which ended in a crowded queue inside of the plane. She stretched her legs as much as possible, not making the slightest move to stand up.

Her eyes wandered back to the window, allowing her to take a glance at the sky, she wished to be into again. It was still quite bright outside, even though it was nearly evening, the sun nearly blinding her when she looked up, leading her to cover her eyes with her hand. The sunsets were so different in the States than here, in South Korea. Her eyes tried to focus on the slowly fading sun, leaving the sky in beautiful pinks and oranges with just a hint of soft white clouds.

Her mind started to spin, thinking about all the things she had to explain to her family sooner or later. But for now she needed to stay positive and hide the fact that she – the oh-so-perfect – student managed to drop out of a university, her parents nearly went insolvent to pay for to allow their daughter to get the best medical education they could think of. At the beginning the girl actually thought that it was her biggest dream to become a famous surgeon but after a short while she had to face the ugly truth that the job she so desperately wanted to do as long as she could remember just wasn't her thing.

She tried so badly to keep on and thought that it's just a phase every young adult went through when they started university but every time she talked to her friends at university she saw that that wasn't exactly the case. Everyone was so focused and motivated to become a successful doctor or surgeon they underwent the torture of endless sleepless nights, insane pressure and the feeling of not being able to even cut an onion correctly, which the professor didn't even care to make better. Every day she got told that she would never be able to work in the medical field and could try herself with some more basic and easy studies. It didn't matter how hard she tried to remember all the lectures and do her assignments – she failed miserably at everything.

Of course, her family didn't know. She was way too afraid to burst the bubble her parents created around her, leaving her in that perfect, white spotlight, portraying her like some sort of angel on a pedestal for everyone to see. They loved to talk about her in front of everyone, telling them that she'd be a successful surgeon, working hard and publishing groundbreaking articles, making herself a name in the medical community. Maybe even getting some famous award. Everyone in that small town knew about the smart daughter who got into one of the best medical universities in the United States, who worked so hard she was barely home.

She couldn't bear to see the disappointment on their faces once they see what she really was – a failure. She managed to hide her dropping out of university so well, she created her web of lies carefully over the last year, she sometimes even believed what she was saying. But as soon as her alarm clock went off, remembering her to go to work at a small corner café to pay her rent and even save some money in case her parents might throw her out, she had to face real life again. The life in which she dropped out only one year after starting, loosing hundreds of thousands of dollars and leaving the incident in her resume forever.

She was glad she got a job in the café as it belonged to the parents of one friend she met at college, who managed to get in because of a scholarship. They allowed her to work as much as she could to save money and even helped her sometimes.

“Excuse me, Miss?”, a soft and gentle voice made the girl leave her deep thoughts and look up. A beautiful, young flight attendant smiled down at her. “You need to leave the plane, please.”, she said in sweet yet demanding voice  and got her luggage out of the cabinet above for her. The girl didn't realise that the plane was already as good as empty. She thanked the attendant, grabbed her bag and went out of the plane into the airport, feeling her legs shaking more with each step she took.

She pulled out her smartphone, turning off flight mode only to get bombarded with dozens of messages, mostly from her mom asking if she already landed and that they waited for her at the gate. After that she only texted emojis. Hearts, heart-eyes and some other stuff which made her feel even more anxious. How could she disappoint a mother as proud as her? No, she needed to keep her secret for a bit longer. Maybe until her brother messed up. But what could he possibly mess up which would overshadow her dropping out of college? Maybe if he committed a crime.

Mark was different from her, She didn't know how but he actually managed to tell their parents that he doesn't want to become a doctor or lawyer, and instead insisted of becoming an author or journalist. To say her parents were unhappy would be an understatement. They were more than angry and told him to pay the tuition himself. They believed it was just a small teenage dream he had but when he finished High School and started working at the local bookstore to save some money to actually study creative writing they realized that he was serious. That small incident happened just 14 months ago, yet he continued to work there and save up. He even managed to visit her every couple of months, as she didn't want to come.

When she arrived at the luggage claim the suitcases were already out on the baggage belt and she waited as long as she could, watching her lonely suitcase making its turns on the device, purposely ignoring it until it was the only one left and she had to grab it. Her phone vibrated in her pocket again.

Mark [06.07pm]: Where r u?

She rolled her eyes and just put it back in the pocket of her jeans as she headed towards the exit. The girl took a deep breath, putting on the brightest smile she could manage and stepped out of the doors. Her family wasn't hard to notice. Her parents held a way too big and bright  banner in their hands

WELCOME HOME AVA

Ava tried to keep her smile up and waved at them. “Oh, honey welcome home!”, her mother shouted as she lowered the banner to hug her daughter tightly. “I'm so happy you're finally home again, our doctor!.”, she said and patted her back softly. She felt her dad joining the hug and giving her a warm smile as well, joining her mother in telling her how happy he was to have her back home. Ava clenched her jaw, trying to smile as honest as possible.

“You're really squishing me to death guys.”, Ava chuckled and was glad when her parents finally let go of her. She looked up and saw her brother Mark smiling at her.

“Come on, give your favourite sister a hug.”, the girl laughed, making her brother chuckle before embracing her in a loving hug as well. The last time she saw him he visited the campus a few months ago. Of course he didn't know she dropped out then and nearly choked on his water when she told him. She knew he wouldn't tell their parents but he thought it would be better if she told their parents as soon as possible, which she didn't of course.

“Happy to have you back.”, Mark said and squeezed his sister one more time before he let her go and took her suitcase.

Ava stretched her body slowly before getting into their car, really not wanting to sit down for another hour but apparently she had to. As soon as she sat down and put on her seat belt her mother turned around to look at her and smiled.

“Tell us, honey, how is Stanford? Is it going well, yes?”, she asked and Ava felt like she needed to throw up.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I handed in all assignments last week and I have a good feeling.”, she chuckled and felt guilt crawling all over her body. She smiled slightly and turned her eyes away to avoid her mother proud gaze, yet she could feel Mark eyeing her.

“Ah, that's so great, honey. Your father and I just talked to the Lee's from across the street and they told us their son wants to apply to Stanford, too. We told them you could talk to him and give some advice.”

“Sure.”, she just sighed and pulled out her phone again, hoping her mother would understand her silent plead to leave her be. Her mother smiled again and turned back to talk to her father about what she'd make for dinner on this special occasion.

Ava checked the other texts she got, scrolling through them. She smiled when she saw a text from her best friend, sending her a picture from her in her nurse uniform. She looked so cute, proudly standing in front of the mirror in the dressing room, posing with a finger heart.

[Ava 06.54pm] Cute! Just landed, on my way home. Wanna hang out later?

[Yunmi 06.57pm] Can't. Night shift today but pick me up tomorrow morning and get breakfast? The café next to the bookstore finally opened!

[Ava 07.00pm] absolutely! Can't wait. Miss you so much ♥

She scrolled through the remaining texts just to feel a little disappointment in her body after not seeing what she so desperately wanted to see. But then again, she didn't expect to see a text from him after he ignored each and everyone of hers the last two years. He didn't even care enough to wish her a happy birthday in November so he probably couldn't care less texting her when she came home.

She sighed lightly and looked outside the car window, seeing how the landscape came and go in front of her eyes and how the sky got all these beautiful colours in it, she could even see the moon already. A wave of tiredness crashed over her exhausted body as she decided to close her eyes for just  a moment.

The girl felt someone poking her arm multiple times, calling her name.

“Wake up, we're home.”, she heard Mark say and groaned, before rubbing her eyes.

“Yes, I'm awake, you can stop poking me.”, she said when her brother continued to poke her arm with a grin on his face.

“Don't make me hit you.”, she warned and slapped his hand away.

“Pff, please.” he answered mockingly and jumped out of the car before her fist could reached his body.

Ava chuckled , getting out of the car stretching her stiff body slowly, hearing all her joints crack at once.

“How old are you? 80?” Mark said teasingly, getting out her suitcase from the trunk.

“Trust me, I feel like it.”, she yawned loudly and slowly got up the stairs to their house.

She inhaled the sweet and calming scent of her mothers vanilla candles as soon as she set foot into the house, taking of her shoes before she walked further inside. It hasn't changed a bit. The beige coloured walls still had pictures of the family on them. Ava smiled and looked at the picture of her and her family from her Highschool graduation three years ago. She smiled when she saw the exact picture her parents had chosen. Mark and her making some weird pose while her parents rolled their eyes.

“Honey, dinner will be ready in half-an-hour, okay?” she didn't realize that her mother was standing right next to her and flinched a bit.

“Yeah, sure, thank you, mom. I'll start to unpack then. Love you.”, Ava said, kissing her mothers cheek softly before going up the stairs into her old room where Mark already put her suitcase and bag.

Her room hasn't changed either. Of course, it looked a bit colder as she took all her personal stuff with her to the US when she moved out, but it still felt comfy with it's cozy beige sofa and her queen sized bed, which her mother already prepared for her. She closed the door behind her and looked outside the big windows, which connected to a small balcony, which was only hers. She remembered how mad Mark was when she got the room with the balcony and not him and grinned. She stepped outside for a moment to breathe in the still warm air, listening to the rustling sound of the trees as a mild breeze blew through them.

The small wooden bench she made herself with her dad back when she was younger still stood in the very same corner and even had pillows on it and a blanket, indicating that someone still used it even while she was gone. Probably her mother when she wanted to have some time and space for herself, she thought and smiled before going back into her room.

She stretched her stiff body once again before squatting down and opening her black suitcase to unpack her things. Ava only brought some clothes and other necessities with her as she didn't believe of staying home for a longer period of time. She rented her tiny apartment, or as she preferred to call it, her shoebox to a friend from university who looked for her own place as long as she stayed with her parents so she didn't need to worry about paying rent. So she just packed her essentials and hoped to keep her pretty little lie for some more months to figure out what she actually wanted to do with her situation now. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to stay in Stanford . She just knew, she didn't want to stay here in this tiny town where everyone knows everyone.

She loved the size of New York, she loved the vibes, the people and even the stink it had. It was charming in some kind of way and she enjoyed the anonymity she had. She liked living in the famous city which never sleeps but it didn't feel like a complete home to her yet and maybe never would. Not to mention, that she was just working in a café which was barely enough to live so she needed to get something more permanent very soon. But she had no idea what that could be. Maybe she'd apply to another university, maybe she didn't want to go to college at all. But what were her options anyway?

Ava groaned, throwing a stack of clothes into her closet in frustration, before squatting down again to fold them neatly. She felt her phone vibrating in the pocket of her jeans and sighed when she saw the name of the person who messaged her blinking in front of her. She opened it and thought about her answer for several minutes before she decided to ignore it for the moment and maybe get back to it later, unsure about her wanting to meet the sender or not.

She furrowed her eyes as she looked at the clock hanging at one of her walls, showing that it was way later than she expected and her mother still hadn't called for dinner yet. She put the last of her belongings in the connected bathroom she shared with her brother and checked her phone to make sure she didn't receive a text from him telling her dinner is ready. Ava didn't realize how hungry she was until she thought about the dishes her mother was probably busy making and her mouth started to water. She really missed good Korean food. There were quite some Korean restaurants in New York but of course nothing tasted as good as her mother's home cooked meals.

Just as she wanted to open her door and check downstairs she heard her mother shout from the kitchen that dinner was finally ready. She opened her door and could already smell the kimchi and meat her mother apparently made and couldn't wait to finally taste it.

“Coming! I'm getting Mark”, Ava shouted back and wanted to knock on Marks door, telling him to come down but the boy who opened the door wasn't her brother.

“Oh, hey Ava. Haven't seen you in forever. How are you?”, Johnny asked, seemingly surprised but a small smile appeared on his pretty face.

He hasn't changed a tiny bit. He still looked as gorgeous as three years ago when she left and never heard of him again. His hair was still black but a tad longer than before. It framed the contours of his face just perfectly which made it hard for her to look away and think about how she was mad at him for ignoring her for the past years, even though the last thing she remembered with him was actually something very nice. Or that's at least what she thought it was. Apparently he thought differently and had to treat her like air. Not even daring to step a foot in their house when she came home for spring break once.

“Umm, fine. Are you staying for dinner?”, she asked, trying to sound as calm as possible but she couldn't hide a tint of anger in her voice, yet the anger mixed up with other feelings she was way too bad at hiding.

“Yeah, I invited him. He basically lives here anyway.”, she heard Mark say behind Johnny who didn't seem to sense her displeasure over his invitation. Why do they have to be best friends? She asked herself and secretly hoped for Johnny to disappear or something. But of course that wouldnÄt happen.

“Please, the food gets cold, come down.”, she heard her mother saying from the foot of the stairs with her hands stemmed in her hips, still wearing her red-dotted apron.

“Actually, I'm not hungry.”, Ava said taking a step away from Johnny as his simple presence made her legs feel stupidly weak.

Her statement got quite unbelievable when her stomach started to growl from the heavenly scent of her mother's food.

“Doesn't sound like it.”, Mark said and raised his brow looking at his sister questionably.

“I'm really not hungry and I'm meeting a friend. Can we postpone our family dinner to another time?”, she said while purposely emphasising the term family to show her displeasure about the clearly unwanted guest guest.

Before her mother could answer something Ava ran down the stairs, giving her mother another short kiss before running outside, leaving her house behind.

She took a deep breath before letting out some vulgar curses towards the situation and especially the person causing her to still feel all these things.

Ava pulled out her phone and messaged the only person she could think of, who might get her thoughts somewhere else, even if she might regret it in the morning.

masterlist

[musedrevolution]

On teaching Practice

Imagine you (or your child, if you're a parent) were in a math class. You probably expect to be assigned specific problems with a standardized set of steps. Instead, your teacher tells you to go home and "practice your math!" and reminds you that there is a test coming up.

That sounds insane, right? No one could ever learn like that! If those were your first thoughts, I absolutely agree with you. But it's also exactly how we teach instrumental music to young children.

In the classroom, beginning instrumental educators do a great job: we teach students skills sequentially, we reinforce previously taught skills, and keep students engaged with fun and familiar melodies. The problem comes with assigning "homework." Most beginning teachers simply tell their students to "practice" the assigned materials.

This sounds simple enough: each exercise in a method book has a specific focus, so when a student plays that exercise they are improving that skill. That idea sounds really nice, but it is unfortunately untrue. A student does not necessarily get better at an exercise each time they play it. They just get more of whatever they are. If a student practices well, they will get better at the exercise and the skill it teaches. If they don't practice well, they will reinforce bad habits which become more difficult to break over time.

So what do we do as educators to help our students practice well? We teach them how to practice. For many educators, this idea is a little alien. Most of us learned to practice on our own, around the time we got really serious about music. I don't think that I personally really understood how to practice productively until around my senior year of high school. But younger students can and should learn practice strategies.

These strategies start with the ones we're occasionally good at teaching: the ones that don't involve the instrument. Students should, if possible, practice at the same time and in the same place each day. All of their materials should be easily accessible from wherever they practice, including their instrument, any additional supplies like reeds, their music, a pencil, and a metronome.

Strategies should then be demonstrated in class. In my clarinet section in my college marching band, I hate rehearsing sixteenth note runs. It feels like a waste of time, because everyone learns the runs at a different pace, making it frustrating for at least half the section when we spend a lot of time on them. I will, however, teach one set of sixteenth note runs each season. While I teach it, rather than taking an entire hour of sectionals to make it sound good, I spend 10-15 minutes walking the group through how I practice runs in my solo music with a portion of the piece we're working on. I tell the section members to go home and do this with the rest of the runs, and give them an estimate of how long it will take them. For non-music major college students, I usually estimate approximately double the time it took me. I know this would be different with younger students.

Many educators will say "class time is for large ensemble work. Students can practice on their own time." This is, of course, technically true, but it is important to acknowledge that students will practice much more effectively if we are willing to spend a few minutes introducing them to the strategies we use. More effective practice leads to rehearsals where we have to spend far less time woodshedding. We don't even have to research new Strategies! When I want to teach someone how to practice with a metronome, I'll work with them on a short section of their music exactly how I'd work on it myself, then instruct them to continue the method with the rest of the piece.

Teaching practice strategies doesn't just increase the effectiveness of a student's practice, it also increases the amount of practice. We all know how frustrating it is to engage in an activity when you're not making progress. Without effective practice strategies, students don't make forward progress. If they feel like they can't progress, they don't practice. This isn't a character fault on the part of the student. It's completely understandable that many of them don't want to put their time into something that's not fun since they're not getting better. So if we want our students to practice often, we should give them the tools and skills to make that practice time enjoyable for them.

If we're going to spend class time teaching practice, both we and our administrators are likely to want some form of accountability for our students: are they practicing? This makes teaching practice difficult, as we don't want to penalize students for having a busy week, and we can't expect every student to improve at the same rate. So how do we evaluate practice? I propose that we ask our students to evaluate themselves.

Students can submit a weekly evaluation where they create goals, state whether or not they felt they achieved their goals, and note which strategies they used. You might even get some new strategies from your students! My evaluation has four questions:

What was your goal this week?

Do you feel you achieved this goal? If not, what could you have changed in order to achieve it?

How did you work towards this goal? Which strategies were effective and which were not?

What is your goal for the upcoming week?

I really like this form for a couple of reasons:

1. It allows students to be at their own level. A fourth grader could fill this out. So could a senior in high school, although they may need a bit more space. Even students at the same grade level are given flexibility. While one student may be trying to play one measure at the correct tempo, another may be trying to play the same piece all the way through to work on endurance.

2. It's easy to grade. Did you answer all four questions? Yes? 100%. It gives you the discretion to give any student the A, even if they just had a bad week. If a student was sick for most of the week, they can easily say "I was unable to practice much this week" in response to how or whether or not they achieved their goal. If a student set their goal to high and they didn't quite meet it, there's no real penalty, as long as they reflect on that.

This is opposed to a practice log, which often expects students to quantify their practice. This forces students to conform to a single model of how to practice, and we all know that different students take different amounts of time to master material. I believe the self evaluation is also superior to the playing test to encourage practice, as students can set their own goals, leaving no one bored and no one overwhelmed.

When I've discussed this idea with both colleges and the some parents I know, I get one question a lot: how will you be sure your students aren't lying on the evaluation? The short answer to this is that I won't. I can't ensure that my students are all really working on their practice goals. But no system will let me know exactly what my students are doing outside of my classroom. I want to give them the tools to practice well, and I feel confident that a self evaluation does this better than a system that penalizes more students.

The self evaluation also gives students an incredibly valuable skill outside of the classroom: critical reflection. Every skill takes time to develop, and students can use the reflection skills they learned from instrumental practice in any field. Administrators love easily transferable skills.

Teaching practice benefits your students, your ensemble, and your school. It takes minimal time and saves you lots when working on difficult music. I can't encourage it or praise it highly enough.

[touchmycoat]

HX/LQG!anon: oh, Ella!LQG just pings my kinky heart - he's SURE HX is just messing with him, but there's just a tiny bit of his brain that says, but what if he really needs it? And he just. Wants. He wants to give HX what he needs. And there's that other bit of him that just feels really really good doing what HX tells him to do, a weapon put in good hands. LQG is all-in/ ride or die if he trusts (loves) someone, even if he tries to pretend that's not happening. (Such sub energy!!)

p.s. First David and Second David???????!!!!!! *SCREAMS* I HAVE TOO MANY FEELS! Talk about emotional whump... *bites nails in anticipation*

--

YES YES YES YES AAAAAAHHHHH lqg honestly wants to be the weapon SO bad, just do as he's told because he knows he's in trusted hands. SUB!LQG IS YUMMIEST LQG. And He Xuan, well, he thrives off of control, that much is obvious. Not to be cliche but I want them to do every single con that involves He Xuan coming in and posing as LQG's debtor or employer or owner in some way, and at some point he just impatiently beckons LQG over, asks LQG why the job's all screwed up, and backhands LQG. LQG murmurs a "sorry sir" with no prompting at all, and HX nods, satisfied, before returning to the job.

BABE. BABE. I ALL OF A SUDDEN REMEMBERED NATE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A CATHOLIC PRIEST. WAS THAT WERE HX WAS HEADED?? NOT CATHOLICISM BUT DEVOUT DAOIST SCHOLAR, MAYBE HISTORIAN??

(then HX's entire backstory got a revamp so warning, this got super fucking long)

Like, he and his sweetheart got engaged during undergrad, and for HX's last year he got this huge grant to travel to China to do his research on, I dunno, the original sutras that brought buddhism to the mainland and the daoist sociopolitical interests that propelled the translations. His fiancee makes a joke about how he's like Tang Sanzang from Journey to the West, but will he be okay all by himself, all the demons out there wanna eat his flesh y'know. HX laughs it off and goes—but it's during this time that SWD's entire shit strikes. It's probably a real estate thing to begin with—HX's dad's little Chinese diner refuses to sell to the rich corporate developers. They send people to smash things up, and the first time dad gets hospitalized HX tries to come home, but his mother convinces him to stay put, bc she's heard the real estate developers have some internal issues and are going down.

Sure enough, the company does, and the Hes thought it was over. HX reluctantly stays in China bc they really do have so much money riding on this, but a little while later, he hears about his baby sister falling sick. He and his mother argue for a period of time, but in the end it's HX's father's sudden death—complications due to his injuries from before—that makes his decision for him. So HX drops the research grant, comes home, realizes it wasn't just his sister sick, it was his mother as well, and takes academic leave to take care of his mother and sister.

But he realizes something's wrong. He's already pretty clever, and through mild grifting figures out there's something hinky with the whole "real estate company going down" thing. At the same time, this guy who just calls himself the Reverend shows up, and tells him look, you seem pretty desperate. Your family's sick, you're working yourself to the bones just trying to keep getting them treatment, you'll probably never return to school. But how about you come work for me?

HX puts on a damn good show. He pretends to refuse at first, forcing the Reverend to show him more and more of the business they got running. Then he "accepts" the Reverend's jobs, but tips off the people who were supposed to be the victims, and has them escape or resolve the situation in ways that wouldn't reveal it was HX behind it all. But it was all just a matter of time, of course, and he wasn't trying to trick the Reverend for the longterm, he was just trying to ferret out the people behind the Reverend. Why did they want HX's dad's shop badly enough to kill him, and why do they keep sending goons to smash up the storefront every time HX tries to clean it up?

Meanwhile, his fiancee, who's always helped out at the diner, is getting sick too. That's how HX put the pieces together, that it's...something like radiation poisoning (gotta figure out the deets),, and the real estate situation was an entanglement of coverups to hide what was probably improper waste disposal way back when.

Some good news though—there's a treatment being offered through a special program at the hospital for the thing HX's mom and sister are sick with, and its rep? A bubbly young corporate heiress out to perform some philanthropy, Shi Qingxuan. SQX befriends HX's fiancee first, and after learning about HX's situation, she prepares a whole grant application to the parent medical insurance company, says if it goes through HX wouldn't have to pay a dime. HX's naturally skeptical, but SQX is like "don't worry, I know people high up, wink wink"

But halfway through this the Reverend figures out HX is compiling evidence. Instead of confronting him straight, they want to tie HX down as an accomplice instead, so they send him on another "job" that's totally a set-up. HX's clever and figures it out, sends people packing, and in the end confronts the Reverend like, "the state police are coming, I have evidence and testimony to your crimes, you're going down."

But then the Reverend goes ahead and says, "good job then, you wanna keep patting yourself on the back or go see your mom and sister for the last time?" And plays for him a message from the hospital about his mother and sister's situations suddenly worsening. HX knows this is their doing, but what else can he do? He rushes to the hospital, and finds his fiancee weeping, SQX trying to comfort her. HX's mom and sister are already dead.

At this point, there are strains and fractures in HX's relationship with his fiancee, because of course there is—they're both still so fucking young. Miao-er had wanted to go on academic leave too, but HX refused, saying one of them needs to graduate college at least. The Hes are paying for her tuition anyways, and he kind of strong-arms her into continuing her education. Then he started taking the jobs for the Reverend, and Miao-er knows it's bad news because she sees the way HX's going kind of dark-sided. She always tries to bring him out of his funk, with varying levels of success, but she also kind of wishes he would just stay, and be there, and make this simple instead of diving into what kind of looks like a crazy conspiracy theory.

So here, that confrontation happens. The Reverend had given HX a gun for the set-up job from before, and HX turns right back around at the hospital room and goes to kill the Reverend. Miao-er tries to stop him, finds out he has a gun, is like jesus shit what the fuck dude, SQX's in the background trying to calm things down. HX ends up storming off anyways, and Miao-er is crying. SQX gets a little pissed off too and runs after HX to tell HX that Miao-er needs treatment too. She's really, really sorry that HX's mom and sister didn't make it in time, but the case went through for Miao-er, she can get the full course of treatment with all costs covered, and if HX storms off for revenge right now and gets caught, that means Miao-er gets left completely on her own, you know? The Hes are basically her adopted family, she doesn't have anyone else here in the States, and she just needs HX, please, calm down.

HX listens, manages to calm down, but when they go back, Miao-er's gone. Figuring she just needs time to deal with things herself, HX makes arrangements for his mom and sister's bodies. SQX continues to keep him company, and when she learns about the Reverend, she brings all her personal lawyers to help out. Together, they successfully resolve the entire Reverend ordeal. The Reverend goes down for everything, from the initial improper waste disposal to the real estate situation to getting HX's entire family killed. HX gets a payout, and wonders what to do next.

But then, Miao-er never came back. HX gets all tense and intense about searching again, but then SQX hesitantly informs him that according to the medical grant, Miao-er is currently receiving the full course of treatment. As for where, she's not at liberty to say, but, well, it kind of looks like she's just avoiding him? Maybe he should give her time?

Then HX gets smacked with an insane amount of student debt, both his and his fiancee's, which made no sense, unless Miao-er had cashed out the year's tuition that the Hes gave her and paid for school with a loan instead? And Miao-er continues to be gone, not answering any of HX's calls, and it just doesn't seem like something she would do but over time, HX doesn't know anymore. In the span of months, he's lost everybody, and the only person who still gave a damn enough to check up on him all the time, no matter how much of a bastard he is, is SQX.

Then SQX tells him her brother is hiring. "Look, we're an insurance company, we need case investigators. Normally they only hire out of prestigious schools but I can vouch for you, alright? I've seen what you can do. Take the job, pay off all these debts, smooth things out, and see where to go from there."

HX listens. He works under SWD and becomes the firm's top investigator. He pays off his debts, helps out his neighbors with zoning shit, and somewhere along the line starts dating SQX. SQX loves loves loves him, and keeps proposing to him ("but hahaha no pressure only if you really want, because I really want, like, spice girls really really want"), so finally, HX accepts.

Soon after their engagement though, HX suddenly gets a call. It's an unknown number, but he recognized the voice immediately. It's Miao-er.

She's crying, she sounds weak, she says she's sorry, so sorry, she let them lie to her for so long, that she never should have trusted them. She says he's been right all along, that there's been a cover-up, and now they're going to kill her for it—

The line goes dead. HX doesn't really remember how, but he loses consciousness. When he wakes up again it's to SQX telling him the doctors said he had a panic attack.

HX's brain puts the pieces together faster than he's really aware, and he has a fist in SQX's collar. He asks her where Miao-er is, what she knows, what happened to the treatment payments, did SQX lie to him about Miao-er taking—

But SWD's also there. They're staying at the Shi mansion, post-engagement. SWD pulls him away from SQX and has security take him down. SQX tries to protest, says HX's not feeling well. HX just keeps demanding to know where Miao-er is, and SWD just coolly opens HX's phone, shows him he hadn't received any calls, and basically calls off the engagement, gaslighting HX into thinking he's had a psychotic break triggered by the engagement to SQX.

Everything goes downhill from there. HX knows what he heard, and knows if something really did happen to Miao-er, then SQX must have had something to do with it. Their relationship completely falls apart, SWD fires him, and HX leaves a complete and utter mess. He drinks himself stupid, lives out of his car, sells his car, and ends up running in the dark side of town, where he mostly just wants to be left alone, but ends up making a name for himself anyways as someone immensely powerful and dangerous.

Then he meets Xie Lian. Everything kicks off again from there.

[darkagcs]

💀  * [ benjamin wadsworth + cismale + he/him ] —— have you met oliver garcia-moreau? they are a twenty-two year old junior currently studying history. they live on decker house, and word around campus is that this gemini is adaptable + intelligent, as well as neurotic + insincere. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. switching languages mid-conversation. piles of half-read books. cigarettes held between trembling fingers.

well this took fucking forever but HEY GUYS!!!!! admin dana here to with her idiot genius child, oliver.

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

(tw: somewhat detailed emotional abuse, brief reference to physical abuse)

if you ask oliver where he’s from, he’ll basically short-circuit. born in serbia (in the good ol’ days of FR yugoslavia) to a mexican-french couple, and with a childhood spent moving all around the world thanks to his mom’s job as a diplomat, he doesn’t really have much sense of cultural identity.

on paper, being a diplobrat was pretty cool; by the time oliver hit puberty he was fluent in four languages, proficient in a couple more, and had already seen more of the world than most people do in a lifetime. not only that, but he lived only in the nicest houses, got the best education and was driven around in fancy cars, all expenses covered.

still, there were some downsides. some are obvious, like having to say goodbye to your friends and basically restarting your life every three years. others most people don’t think about, like how stressful it can be for a seven-year-old to attend political events where he’s required to behave perfectly or face the consequences.

no matter how many times his mother harshly told him to just suck it up and power through, oliver always panicked before attending any event of that sort, both because of how overwhelming being around so many people could be but also out of fear he’d screw up and make his mother angry — which he always found a way to do. still, with time (and his mother’s scoldings and slaps and pinches) he learned: he was not to speak his mind; when asked how he was doing, he was supposed to lie and say he was doing great, sir, thank you. he was to speak only when spoken to, and his interests — especially the most eccentric ones — were to be kept to himself.

as time went by, he mastered the art of socialising. he learned how to read any room, to charm anyone, to talk his way out of anything. he learned what people wanted to hear and how to say it. but most importantly, he learned how to hide his real self. he crafted a mask of perfection, presenting himself as the princely, polite young man his mother demanded he’d be — but still not one good enough to satisfy her. 

she controlled every aspect of his life. if she didn’t like a friend he’d made, she’d forbid him from seeing them again. if she didn’t like a book he was reading, she’d make a show of tearing it to shreds. if he didn’t behave as immaculately as she wanted him to, she’d lock him in his room without dinner. but she always justified her own behavior. “you must learn how important image is,” she’d tell him. he’s still trying to unlearn these teachings.

for years his life was nothing but this cycle; moving to a new country, creating a new persona to match it, making some friends, saying goodbye, rinse and repeat. it was both tedious and exciting, and oliver hated it even if he’s grateful for so much of it.

he’d only been to the united states a couple of times before he decided to go to college there. there was something about america that just seemed normal. he applied to holloway on a whim; getting into college really isn’t that hard when you’re a rich polyglot with recommendation letters from world leaders. what is hard, as it turns out, is living life on your own when you’ve never had to do anything for yourself, and never got to decide what your next move is going to be. not only that, but being on his own has made him realise he doesn’t really have any idea who he is or what he wants.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

always proper and polite.

very persuasive, especially when it comes to authority figures.

great at reading people but only as long as he’s not emotionally involved, at which point he overthinks every little thing and is unable to get a clear image of what’s going on.

comes across as confident, but is insanely insecure with major imposter syndrome.

can come across as a pretentious asshole, not realising how privileged he is and far removed from most people’s reality his life has been.

at his core, a big nerd who’s incredibly passionate about his interests (especially history) but only lets that side of himself show with select few people.

king of overthinking. his thoughts’ thoughts have thoughts.

desperate for a purpose and/or direction. wants to make life count for something. feels completely lost and has no clue at all about what to do with his life.

acts like an extrovert because he’s been conditioned to do so, but is really more of an introvert and rarely shares his real feelings so he’s like an open book where 80% of the words have been censored out and another 10% is in a dead language.

actually pretty easy to get into his bed, though his princely vibe might make it seem otherwise. desperately craves human connection/doesn’t get attached easily/is afraid of commitment so really he’s more than fine with casual sex (though he’s the type to make them both coffee the morning after or leave a note for the other person instead of just leaving without a word).

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎

(tw: illness?) partially deaf on right year from a bad case of meningitis when he was 13 that also left him with a slight limp. he absolutely hates it, despite it being nearly imperceptible.

learned spanish and french simultaneously while growing up, but feels more comfortable with spanish than any other language and usually speaks it when talking to himself. if he’s around other spanish or french speakers he might switch language for a few words in the middle of the sentence.

so much anxiety!!!!!!!!!!

really bad insomnia.

straight-A student now that he’s in college and studying something he’s truly passionate about, but was actually not very good in high school and mainly got accepted into holloway because of his background.

so bi it hurts.

mom friend energy. if he’s truly your friend, he’ll make sure you’re doing okay and taking care of yourself.

has superficial knowledge on an incredible amount of different subjects.

addicted to caffeine.

weed turns him into a conspiracy theorist.

an absolute mess. can’t handle the most basic house chores. won’t remember to do laundry until he’s down to his last shirt, changing the bed sheets takes him hours, can’t even boil water.

fascinated by old stuff and doesn’t care much for technology. barely even uses his phone. has auto caps on and texts like a grandpa in general.

awful driver with an awful-ler sense of direction.

actually not as rich as he sounds?? like he has money, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not like... yacht-owning levels of wealth. his family mostly just led a luxurious life without having to pay anything for it thanks to his mom’s job, so he finds money to be a confusing concept.

have you read the raven cycle? because not to be super embarrassing but a certain dick gansey might give u a sense of what im going for here. (also sprinkle some amy santiago in there)

HERE is here connection page, HERE is his pinterest board and HERE are some stats.

[buggy-d-hoe]

Odds for your new oc

Wow! Thanks Anonymous! I’m not sure which OC you specified, but I’ll do Felicity since I did a similar one with Alicia :) 

Answers after the break :3 

What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about?

Bill calls her “Lissie” because that was her nickname growing up, given to her by their grandmother. 

James and Q call her T because it’s easier to differentiate between the two when Felicity and Bill are together. James was the first one to come up with it. 

How tall is your OC?

5′6″

What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night?

Felicity has a penchant for nice dresses in the office unless she is in the field. She dresses in whatever attire is needed. She isn’t one to shy away from casual clothes outside of work. 

A special night, she’s a fan of the LBD. 

Does your OC have any markings, such as a birthmark or a scar?

When they were younger, Felicity was well known for being a tomboy and often returned home after a long day with cuts and bruises. Some notable ones are the scars on her arms (especially her forearm) from when Bill chased her and she fell into a rose bush, one on her back of her left shoulder from a bullet graze. She did inherit a new scar on her hip when a bullet cleanly passed through; luckily no vital organs were hit. 

What does your OC’s bedroom look like?  His/her living area?

Very plain since she’s usually at Bill’s place majority of the time because she is too lazy to cook or doesn’t want to order takeout. Probably monochrome colors and enough for a bed, nightstand, a mirror stand and a dresser. On her bed, it’s just a pillow and a blanket since she isn’t one for excessive things. It’s enough for her to sleep in. Maybe throw in a plant in the corner to decorate, but that’s pretty much it. 

Her living area is even plainer with just a couch and a tv. Her walls aren’t decorated 

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her mother?

She has good days and bad days with her mother. She disapproved of her daughter’s area of work and wanted her to be more “feminine”, so any opportunity she gets to persuade Felicity to find another job, she takes it and it drives Felicity insane. Bill tries to talk some sense and deviate from the topic, but it usually never works. 

When she isn’t harping on her daughter, their relationship is solid. Whenever Felicity is home, she’ll always want to go out for lunch and they sit and chat. That is until the topic of switching careers comes up and Felicity cuts the outing short. 

How many siblings does your OC and what is his/her relationship with them?

Felicity is the younger sister of William “Bill” Tanner, the Chief of Staff at MI6. He was the reason she has a job because she dropped out of college and refused to listen to their mom about what career path she was supposed to follow. He helped her attain a desk position until she wanted to be a field agent. He was very much against this, due to being overprotective, but she wanted to prove to their mother and him that she was capable on anything when she put her mind to it. 

She does come over to his place frequently for food because she can’t cook, is lazy, or doesn’t feel like take out. She also loves to drink wine at his place, so he makes sure to stop by the store to grab a bottle to replenish the ones she finishes. 

What was your OC’s childhood like?

Both Bill and Felicity had a loving childhood with their parents. Bill was the more responsible of the two and frequently tried to keep his sister out of trouble or push her away when he played with his friends. Their father worked in the government while their mother stayed home to care for them. Bill and Felicity would often fight in typical brother-sister fashion, but they never lasted longer than a day. 

What is your OC’s imagination like?

It depends on her mood. When she is serious, she adopts that mindset because of her line of work. When she isn’t, she is playful and creative. She sometimes bothers Q with ridiculous requests for weapons which may or may not find their way into her or Bond’s hands. 

What does your OC think of children- either in general or about having them?

Felicity is very nervous around children and terrified at the thought of having them. She doesn’t think she would have the patience for them. Her mother is always on her case about being a grandma and Felicity kindly points out that Bill is also available. 

Who are your OC’s closest relatives?

Out of the three other members, it is definitely Bill. Their dad was usually busy with work and never devoted enough time to the kids and their mom was the one who mainly raised them, but even Felicity gets tired of her mom’s constant nagging. Bill had always been them for Felicity and he is virtually irreplaceable. 

Who are the people your OC surrounds him/herself with?

Felicity does have best friends outside of work from her childhood, but she is mum about her line of work to them. At MI6, she originally kept only to herself when she was at her desk job, only socializing with her brother when he could manage to visit. She does befriend Eve Moneypenny when she eventually is promoted to field agent and they have gone on missions together. Bill INSISTS that Felicity stay away from Bond as he is afraid that his little sister would be defiled by him. She does have a cordial friendship with him but has nearly succumbed to his charms several times, much to Bill’s annoyance. Q is another person that Felicity spends some time with, who is both annoyed and grateful for her presence when she chooses to spend her free time in Q Branch. 

If your OC has a soulmate, who is it?

Felicity is very intrigued with Q because he was one of the first men to not really be stunned by her looks and because he interests her with his babble. She often finds herself wandering into Q Branch often and seeking Q, despite him being uncomfortable at first. When she sits down to listen to him or watch him tinker away, they find some small talk that both are grateful for because it takes away from the hecticness of their work. 

What are some things your OC admires about his/her soulmate?

Felicity likes the simple life Q lives. If he isn’t at work, then he’s at home working on drafts of a new prototype for Bond (hoping he doesn’t break or lose any more of his inventions). He rarely goes out, probably just to the store to grab groceries or wander around the local park. Felicity also likes how Q doesn’t seem to care for attention, keeping to himself and his work, a total 180 from the people she is accustomed to. He also gets into one of those moods whenever he is working that Felicity finds charming. Despite him wishing she would either leave him alone or stop distracting him, Q does find Felicity’s company welcoming and is the first to notice if she hasn’t stopped by his lab. 

What is your OC’s level of education?

Felicity was almost done with her undergraduate studies when she drops out. 

What is your OC’s opinion of school?  What kind of student was s/he?

Felicity is smart when she applies herself, but she hated college because it reminded her of the life she was expected to live after graduating. It felt as if everything was deciding for her without her consent and she hated it. Her mom was notorious for emphasizing what she expected of Felicity and it did strain their relationship, even more so when Felicity dropped out. 

What subjects interested your OC?

In all honesty, Felicity didn’t care much for subjects. She never had a favorite since none really stuck out. She does read on the side (if ever she gets the chance) and learns things from work that she would thought of learning from college. 

How is your OC working towards his/her dream job and/or achieved his/her current profession?

Felicity doesn’t know what she wants yet. She was tired of her mundane life in college and hated how things were decided for her (that and the role that her mom expected her to follow immediately following college). She is enjoying her life as a field agent because it gives her a chance to do more. 

What is your OC’s biggest dream?

To finally be at peace with what she wants out of life. She doesn’t know what she wants yet, but it’s not stopping her from searching. 

How does your OC handle anger?

She likes to get a little even. If she came across something that insulted her or legitimately pissed her off, she won’t hesitate to fire or fight back, depending on the situation of course. She always finds a way to make sure karma does hit them back hard. 

What is your OC’s greatest fear?

Falling short under expectations. This was one reason why she left college. 

What kind of sense of humor does your OC have?

Despite her playful nature, Felicity does have a dry sense of humor, coupled with her typical deadpan expression. She does have her potty humor but not as much. 

What are some things that annoy your OC?

Waiting or when things are too slow. Felicity is more of NOW NOW NOW. You should see her behind the wheel hahaha. Another is when someone doesn’t take her seriously because she is a pretty woman and makes some misogynistic comments about it. 

How easily does your OC forgive?

It depends on the matter. If it’s serious, it will take a while. If it’s a small mishap, she shrugs it off. 

If your OC experienced trauma, what was it?

She did have two near death experiences. One was when she drank too much after dropping out of college and another was on the field when she was shot in the hip, luckily missing vital organs. 

What are some of your OC’s morals?

Anything that involves women and children, Felicity tends to lean in favor of them, sometimes affecting the mission on hand.  She will absolutely NOT harm any of them and sometimes butt head with the senior agent when it comes to that. 

What is the health of your OC?

She is in peak condition due to her being medically and psychologically cleared (barely on the latter).  Before she joined, she had a drinking problem. Although she drinks a lot, it’s more controlled this time around. 

What are your OC’s thoughts on death?

Given her line of work, Felicity is on the fence about it. On one hand, it’s her job to protect her country and the Crown, but on the other hand, she wants more out of life. She is sometimes stuck in the “what is my purpose” mindset. 

What are some of your OC’s weaknesses?

Felicity can be a little impulsive. She is also a bit impatient but if she has a partner on the job with her, she can count on them to rein her in. She wishes she can take charge and make decisions herself on the field, but she usually leaves it to the senior agent in charge. She always questions herself before committing to something and has a problem working under severe pressure. 

What does your OC think of him/herself?

Felicity wishes she can slow down and hold back her playful nature. When she is around the person she likes, she tends to go overboard with her flirts and leaves the other person baffled or a tidbit uncomfortable. She is left mentally berating herself for it and wishes she replay that scene over again. God knows how many wrong first impressions she has given. 

What is the general impression your OC gives other people?

Very playful and flirtatious. Her looks made it more advantageous to her, but she likes to play a game. Some people have a hard time believing her as a result. When she isn’t doing this, she is normally quiet unless she is around people she is comfortable with. 

How does your OC display love?

Felicity is flirtatious and it’s easy to mistaken it as a game to her. She does portray it like that, given her playful nature, but when it comes to someone she is interested in, she is upfront about how she feels. She doesn’t like to beat around the bush. She is known to brush her hand against the other person or leave her hand for a longer period of time. She is affectionate through the little things. 

What is your OC’s favorite drink?

It honestly depends on her mood hahahaha. Outside of work, she can be found with a glass in her hand. 

What is your OC’s favorite sweet?

Felicity can’t resist Haribo gummy bears

What is your OC’s favorite kind of weather?

Anything that doesn’t involve the sun. She hates hot weather and prefers the chill. 

What is your OC’s favorite movie and/or TV show?

Anything she finds entertaining. See right below

What is your OC’s favorite form of entertainment?

When she gets the chance, she loves watching movies or anything interesting on the tv. She does love her romance and action movies are hilarious to her because ironically, they aren’t as intense as the ones she experiences. 

What is your OC’s favorite scent?

Anything tropical, fresh laundry, and coffee brewing

What is your OC’s favorite sound?

Water running/rain

What is your OC’s favorite kind of ice cream?

Cookies n’ Cream

Ask your own question: Will Felicity and Q ever jump ship and give a relationship a try? 

MAYBE! hahaha

[meditationsfromthethirdrail]

Credentials and Credibility

I’ve written about polarization and about empathy, rights and responsibilities in the last couple of blog posts.  I have a long list of interrelated topics to cover before the November elections and I plan to keep plowing through them.  But I’m well aware that my voice is a candle in the wind, to borrow the phrase used by T.H. White in the title of his tale about King Arthur’s dream of a more egalitarian and peaceful society.  The number of readers of my blog thus far may barely run into double digits and that may never change.  We are all drowning in information (and misinformation) unless we are either so socioeconomically disadvantaged as to be denied access or are actively disengaged from media.  People in either category aren’t reading this.

With all the competition for the attention of readers and listeners, if someone wants to be heard above the din, he or she either has to have a forceful personality and a good platform, or actually have something important to say.  I may not have either of those.  Readers will judge for themselves.  But it occurred to me that I ought to at least provide a little background about myself, which may or may not compel you to hear me.  So here it is.

My story is not one of hard knocks and resentment - it’s a success story.  There are a lot of ways to define success but I feel like I’ve grabbed a nice assortment of brass rings during my almost-seven decades on the planet.  I’ve had a long and happy marriage to an incredible woman; I’ve traveled extensively (six continents and all fifty states) and lived for substantial periods in many states; I have three degrees from a major college; I attained a modestly high position in a large, global professional services firm and was financially well rewarded for my efforts; and I have many hobbies and interests that make it easy for me to stay fully occupied in retirement.  Most importantly, I’m happy and at peace with myself and others.  One could argue that these successes may have caused me to be out of touch with those who’ve enjoyed fewer of them, but I don’t think that’s entirely true, and I’ll try to suggest why.

My parents were the son and daughter of a sharecropper and a truck farmer/itinerant salesman, respectively, in rural Mississippi.  They grew up during the Great Depression. They were married and gave life to my older brother when they were still in their teens.  My dad dropped out of high school to sign up for the Army and served in the European theater in WWII.  After the war he got a G.E.D. and served as a tractor mechanic for a while.  Around the time I was born he was hired by a prominent agricultural implement manufacturing company, which led to him being transferred from Mississippi to Maryland to Ohio to Idaho to Oregon and to Iowa in order to earn promotions, and with family in tow.  Later he also transferred to Texas, Missouri and Georgia, after I was left behind to attend college in Iowa.  In those days it was possible to rise pretty high in the ranks of a business like my dad’s, without a glittery collegiate resume, if you worked hard and were willing to uproot yourself and your family whenever it was called for.  So my dad eventually did rise fairly high in the ranks, and in the meantime my mom scrambled her way to a B.A., then taught high school English for a short time.

All’s well that ends well, as Shakespeare once said.  My parents came a long way from the dusty fields where they picked cotton for 50 cents a day.  My own road to success was much easier than theirs.  During most of my childhood our family was financially situated about in the dead center of what was then considered middle class.  My parents were not rich, although they accumulated modest wealth later in life, and they were always frugal, so I grew up with very few toys and a mostly empty closet.  My parents were not the type to devote much time attending to my personal pursuits, other than to quietly demand that I get good grades in school.  So I wouldn’t say I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I understand that’s a relative thing.  I certainly wasn't lavished with material things as a child, but I never went hungry or worried about having a roof over my head.

Aside from a base level of financial and emotional support and protection, the best thing my parents gave me was a solid education in a robust public school system.  This was a pre Betty Devos era.  Fortunately I had just enough innate ambition (or willingness to succumb to my parents’ expectations) and intelligence to perform in the upper tier, academically.  I could have done better but I often didn’t “apply myself,” as they say.  In retrospect I realize I had ADHD but few people understood or cared about that back then.

My college record was spotty at first, but ultimately pretty good.  I had almost no grasp of what I wanted to do with my life.   As a result, I had an abnormally extended adolescence, to roughly age 27.  Maybe I was a trendsetter; I see a lot more of that happening with young people today.  In any case I considered, at various times and among other things, becoming a Baptist minister (I was licensed and briefly attended seminary), an English professor (I have an M.A. in English and instructed freshman writing courses for three years), a novelist and poet (insufficient talent and discipline derailed that plan), and a hotel manager (nah).   A happy accident of my wandering and indecision was that I acquired a lot of knowledge that later paid off in surprising ways I’ll come back to later.  I was financially very poor the entire time, which gave me considerable perspective on what it means to be concerned about affording basics such as food and transportation.

I vividly remember the catalysts for my decision to enter the social mainstream. One was the fallout from a poker game I got into with some friends.  One of my “friends” was a notoriously unethical character who, one late evening when I was especially unlucky and perhaps too full of beer, lured me into some bad bets that resulted in a $700 debt to him.  At that time, when I was working several crummy part-time jobs to afford food and my $50 share of the rent on a slum-quality house we shared with two other guys, $700 dollars seemed like a million dollars.  I didn't realize and no one told me that on the very next evening the same group of friends gathered for another poker game as I was licking my wounds and trying to form a plan.  I was not present to witness the scene in which the guy whom I was newly indebted to suffered an equally humiliating loss - a loss that was forgiven by the victor on the condition that the loser would also forgive my loss.  My friends assumed that Bart (not his real name, or is it?) would inform me that I was off the hook.  He did not.

For the first time in my life, I devised a budget in order to determine how I could repay Bart the debt that didn’t actually exist, because that’s the kind of guy I am.  I believed, and I still do, that a person is morally and ethically responsible for meeting whatever commitments he or she enters into.  So  I scrambled for more hours working as a church janitor, a tutor and a library assistant; I ate Kraft macaroni and cheese almost every day (30 cents a box, if I recall); I stayed in my room as if I had contracted the then-undreamt-of coronavirus; and I turned over every penny that didn’t go for rent and minimal food to Bart in three monthly installments until I was finally clear.  I was six feet tall but my weight fell to about 140 pounds.  On the day I forked over the last $200, Bart skipped town, just as the news finally arrived that I wasn’t supposed to have owed that debt.

That sordid chapter concluded with me taking a job, out of sheer desperation, in a factory where I was paid a below-minimum wage to operate a machine which applied mailing labels to printed advertisements.  It was mind-numbing.  There were perhaps another 100 workers in that factory doing the same thing I was doing.  The output of each worker was measured daily by the factory management.  By the end of the first week I was the most productive mailing label attacher in the factory.  To keep myself from going insane, I approached my task as if it were a game and challenged myself each shift to beat my previous day’s output, which I always did.  During my brief lunch breaks I used to surreptitiously glance around at the other workers and I understood exactly what Thoreau meant when he opined that the mass of men live lives of quiet desperation.  I don’t know if he was right about “the mass of men,” but he certainly could have been describing that crew at the factory.

In my second week at the factory I met another newly-hired college guy whose wife and he were trying to save enough money to move to Los Angeles so he could take a shot at professional acting - this was his second job.  Chatting with him during lunch breaks, i was inspired by his desire to fulfill a dream and the difficult steps he was taking to do it.  I listened to him, I looked around at the hollow-eyed, middle-aged folks who had worked for years operating labeling machines, and I squirmed as I considered what a sap I was for racking up a poker debt and falling victim to a con man.  i abruptly abandoned the factory but I felt so discombobulated that I enlisted my good buddy John to drive out to Idaho with me so I could visit my brother and try to get my shit together.  By the end of that brief sojourn out west, the best job offer I could manage was from Roto-Rooter . . . to work in the field, as it were.  Wake up call!

If you’ve read this far you must be wondering how any of this supports the notion that I’m qualified to write about sociopolitical matters.  It doesn’t, except to demonstrate that I have at least a small measure of “street cred.”  But the best is yet to come.  When I returned to Iowa I found a better job in a hotel.   Initially I was a night auditor, which is a position that involves being a desk clerk part of the time and an accountant the rest of the time.  Only a small step forward, financially, but it gave me a taste for something I had never previously thought about doing for even one minute.  Accounting, I quickly learned, was something I had a natural aptitude for, and in some quirky way I found it interesting.  Once again I viewed my duties as a sort of game, but this was a game that lit up my brain much more brightly than did operating a machine to perform an exceptionally repetitive task.  

My whole life is a series of lucky breaks at critical junctures.  In this instance the break was that I met a co-worker - a guy who shared the hotel night auditor position with me - who had previously worked for a large CPA firm.  He had taken the part-time hotel job because he was trying to become a full-time stock trader and that’s what he was doing during the day.  From him I learned what it is that CPAs in a big firm actually do.  Let me assure you I’m not going to get into that subject, in case you were already feeling the dread.  (Thank God for actuaries - the only people who make accountants seem slightly interesting.)  Suffice it to say that I figured out how I could minimize the additional schooling I would need to become qualified to be a CPA and I decided to take a stab at it.

I kept the hotel job but started carrying a heavy load of college classes - accounting, math, economics, law, etc.  It so happened that I met my future wife, who was just finishing her Interior Design degree at the same college, about the same time I took the first tentative steps down my new career path.  That was even more fortuitous - I give her lots of credit for helping me stay the course.  The two years in which I went to college in the day, worked at the hotel at night, and struggled to get our new romance off the ground, was “character-building,” to say the least.  I can barely remember anything about that period, it was such a blur.  To give you an idea of how much of a blur it was, the major highlight I remember was driving with my new spouse to Des Moines to dine at Spaghetti Works.  $5 for beer-and-cheese spaghetti, all-you-can-eat salad bar and a glass of swill.  Heaven!

When the two hellish years finally ended and I received my B.S. in Accounting, I had already lined up a job in Des Moines as an auditor with one of the Big 8 (at that time) accounting firms.  Not long afterward, I passed the CPA exam and my wife landed a spot with a local design firm, and we were on our way.

Ok, at last I’m where I possibly should have started. In the ensuring three decades I continued to work as a CPA, becoming a partner along the way (meaning that I became one of the owners), and developing a specialization working with clients in the financial services industry - investment management companies and banking and finance companies, primarily.  This is the good part, folks.  My career soon took me from Iowa to New York City, where my background in English earned me the privilege of being a key designer and the principal author of new practice guidance for our international firm, which was just merging with another large international firm.  That put me in the spotlight for a time and gave me a leg up for promotion.  After the merger we relocated to Los Angeles, where I worked with some of the most prominent investment management companies in the world, and numerous banks, mortgage banks and other financial institutions.  Finally we moved to southeast Pennsylvania and I split time engaged with clients there and in California, and with our national financial services practice in New York.

Late, late nights on Wall Street helping to prepare financial offerings with hundreds of millions of dollars on the line.  Late, late nights at client offices in L.A., San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, New York and Philadelphia, managing teams of young accountants to deal with complex accounting problems under tremendous pressure.  Board meetings, fee negotiations, staff meltdowns, discoveries of fraud and malfeasance, financial crises in which I was an inside observer.  A 60-hour work week felt almost like a vacation compared to many weeks with even longer hours.  It was enough to give me PTSD.  I don’t want to overstate it - it wasn’t like actual life or death combat PTSD - but I still have nightmares ten years and more after the fact.

That’s a very quick summary of the 30+ years in which I obtained hard-won knowledge about global finance and economics - a period in which I also had a lot of experiences with politics, charitable organizations and other components of society I didn’t have time to get into today.  I still spend a lot of time staying informed about subjects ranging from psychology and mythology to current events and hard science.  There’s a ton I still don’t know.  But as my all-time favorite singer Joni Mitchell famously said, I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now.

[wolfpawn]

Life is a Game of Risks, Chapter 42

Chapter Summary - Tom gets a call off Benedict Cumberbatch, asking him to come over to the house but he is minding Lily, leading to a conversation with Ben about his role in her life, since the older actor never really spoke with him regarding the situation.

TRIGGERS - Past domestic abuse, Past emotional abuse, Past sexual abuse.

Previous Chapter

Tags: @damalseer​​ @hiddlesbitch1​​ @winterisakiller​​ @theoneanna​​

Request if you wish to be tagged

Tom was conflicted for a moment. Rarely did Ben call on him like this, but he had specified asked him to come over but the issue was that Tom was caring for Lily while Alexianna dealt with something at work. He let Ben know he was coming and that he was not alone before he strapped Lily into her car seat.

‘Where are we going, Daddy?’

‘To my friend Ben’s house.’

‘You mean Dr Strange Ben?’

‘Exactly, Princess.’

‘Okay.’

Tom often wanted to get down on bended knees and thank whatever Gods he could think of, as well as Alexianna for the amazing daughter she had raised that was completely okay with the idea of going to an absolute stranger’s home and not having a tantrum about it. ‘He has two little boys, but they are younger than you.’

‘What are their names?’

‘Kit and Hal.’

‘Okay. Do they like Paw Patrol?’

‘I have no idea, I think they might never have heard of them.’

‘I hope they do.’

Tom got into the car and tied his belt. ‘And if they don’t?’

‘I’ll teach them.’

Tom hoped Benedict was prepared for such events.

*

When they arrived at the house, Ben looked at Tom questioningly as Lily smiled brightly beside him, but he made room for them to come in. ‘Dare I ask?’

‘Lexi is working late and you said to come immediately. I have Lily so if you want me here, you get us both.’ Tom shrugged unapologetically.

‘How long is this going on?’

‘What? I told you about me and Lexi several times?’

‘No, I knew about that, but how long are you being left alone with her daughter?’

Tom felt his jaw clench. ‘A couple of months.’

‘And you are okay with that?’

‘Yes, I offered.’ Tom’s tone became clipped.

‘Whoa, hey, I am just asking. I don’t want to see you being taken for a fool, nothing else. I swear.’ Ben stated, his hands up slightly as though surrendering. ‘Tea?’

‘Please.’ Tom walked into the kitchen where Lily had gone naturally and was standing still. ‘Princess, why don’t you take off your coat and watch the telly with the boys.’

‘Okay.’ Lily took off her coat as requested and gave it to Tom. ‘Hello again, Mr Ben.’

Tom chuckled as he looked at his friend, seeing his reaction. ‘Hello. You remember me?’

‘From the time I was bold and ran off from my Mummy and into the coffee shop and you were there and you told me not to do it again.’ She recited. ‘I remember everything.’

‘Except where you put your shoes.’ Tom chuckled again.

‘That’s the fairies fault.’

‘Oh sure. Blame them.’ Tom rolled his eyes. ‘Now, that’s...Kit is here, Hal...?’

‘Is currently having a nap. Kit, this is Lily.’

‘Go Jet-bers.’

‘Yeah, that is pretty much all you are going to get out of him.’ Ben dismissed. ‘My head is wrecked today and I know it’s bad to slot him in front of a tv but some days, you just have to.’

‘Lily is terrible for trying to steal her mum’s phone to watch some Youtube programme.’

‘That can be dangerous.’

‘Alexianna has her phone on safety settings and specifically blocked several sites, she knows how from work. Mine doesn’t have such features and is passcode protected, so Lil’s is not allowed near it.’

‘How much of an influence are you in her life now?’ Ben asked curiously.

Tom grinned back, which perturbed his friend for a moment. ‘Lily, come here for a moment, Princess.’

There was a small noise before not one, but two little set of footfalls came to them. ‘Yes, Daddy?’

On hearing the little girl call Tom such a name, Ben’s eyes widened as he looked at his friend in shock.

‘Kit is smaller than you so be careful of him and no messing around on the furniture, alright?’

Lily gave him an appalled look. ‘Why are you saying this, I never do that.’

‘I know you don’t Princess, but I wanted to let you know regardless.’

‘I am nearly five Daddy, I am going into Year One soon, I know how to behave.’ She sassed before turning and taking Kit’s hand and bringing him back into the other room. 'Come on, Kit.'

‘She’s…’

‘Sassy is what her uncle calls her.’

‘Oh, she is that.’ Ben agreed. ‘So, “Daddy”?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s that serious?’

‘Yes.’

‘What if���?’

‘We break up?’ Ben nodded. ‘I don’t know, Alexianna and I speak about it a slight bit, I don’t think she likes referencing it too often either, but the reality is, it could happen, and if it does, I will see a lot less of her, which would kill me. I love that little girl so much.’

‘But she is not yours?’

‘Why does everyone ask that?’

‘Because she looks like you. You do see that, don’t you?’

‘I never once slept with her mother before this relationship started, she is not mine, and no, I don’t see it.’

‘Well, you’re blind then. What does her father look like?’

‘Shorter than me, stockier built, blonde hair, like he could do with someone hitting him with something hard across the head.’ Tom growled.

‘Hey, that’s not like you.’

‘Well, seeing what he caused, seeing the damage he did to one of the nicest women I even had the honour of knowing, for what he did with that little girl, that in my PG version of the answer to that question.’

‘So he really did…?’

‘When Alexianna was fighting for her divorce, I met his brother. Ben, this man was the human epitome of a bottomfeeder, horrible, slimy, nasty, he...The way he referenced Lily. I mean you see her, she is...my family are insane about her, everyone loves her. She knows Kit for two minutes and he is following her around.’

‘Yes, usually his is desperate to get back into someone’s arms now.’ Ben acknowledged. Curiously, he walked over to the door and looked into the living area where the two kids were playing with some cars. ‘So her story checked out?’

‘It never changed, it has always been the same, some of what she said was specifically in the divorce papers. Sometimes she will remember something that she didn’t before, or something will remind her. She is going to counselling now, that is helping her a lot. I...Ben, I saw the one picture she found when she was moving with him in it; if you saw…’ Tom shuddered. ‘She was like a ghost, that was not the girl I knew growing up, I have seen pictures before that when you are looking at them, you can tell there is something wrong with it, but with hers...you can see her all but screaming internally to get away from it all.’

‘Fuck me.’ Ben gasped, looking around to see if the kids were close by. ‘I don’t know what to say, that’s a lot for you to take on, are you okay with all of it?’

‘I am a full grown man, I know what I am involved in.’ Tom stated.

‘You love her?’

‘I love them both. It’s not easy, there are things I have to remember. You cannot just say certain things to Lexi, she could perceive them differently and as a result, think she is being criticised personally, so it is important to remember that but overall, it’s fine.’

‘Criti...Tom, you are literally criticised online hourly, and probably her with you.’

‘Yes.’ Tom nodded. ‘She works in PR, she knows all about that, but for some reason, her brain is able to compute that those people do not know her, so their opinions are not relevant.’

‘Well, that’s something.’ Ben conceded. ‘So, the father has nothing to do with her?’

‘Nothing.’

‘That’s tough on the poor thing. She is a polite child, if not a little sassy and is well behaved. No child deserves that. Do you often have to look after her?’

‘Only when I am not busy. Lexi never expects anything from me, she is the first to remind me that she is not my obligation.’

‘That’s good. How is she about you contributing?’

‘To Lily?’ Ben nodded. ‘We nearly broke up because I bought Lily a toy and Lexi felt it was too much.’

‘How much?’

‘Twelve pounds.’

‘Jesus.’

‘Yes, so I get in trouble for paying too much on anything, though I stated, if I am being called “Daddy” and am doing the role of one, I am treated her like one too.’

‘How did that go down?’

‘We agreed to little treats, here and there.’

‘Where is she going to school?’

‘Hampstead Green.’

‘That’s a state school, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good?’

‘Better than a lot in the area.’

‘How does she feel about public schools?’

‘She went to Headington.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘Wow, so she is from…?’

‘Her father is big in Barclays, he divorced her mother but paid for her and her brother to go to public schools and for them to go to college.’

‘And now…’

‘She was living in a mouldy one-bed shoebox and working cleaning houses, but not now, and no, not because of me, well, getting my cousin’s apartment cheap was me, I will admit that, but her college course, her job they are all her.’

‘That was a change in lifestyle for her.’

‘She is amazing, she works so hard, she asks no one for anything. She is a good woman.’

‘I am glad you are happy, Tom. I really am.’ Ben smiled, but he noted something in Tom’s face. ‘What?’

‘Have you put Hal and Kit’s names down for a school?’

‘Of course.’

‘An independent school?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘I want to talk to Lexi about sending Lily to Hampstead Hill, but I am terrified to bring it up with her.’

‘If she thought twelve pounds for a toy was worth an argument, I don’t see how you will get her to agree to a school that expensive, it's about a grand a month.’

‘But it’s Lily’s education.’

‘I mean, I know it’s snobbery, I do, but Hal and Kit’s educations, I want them to have the best.’ Ben commented. ‘It’s not really your place either though, I mean, you shouldn’t have to pay for this.’

‘As I said to Alexianna, if I am taking on the role of a father, I am doing it right.’

‘This role does not have a contract time, you do know that. If you choose to do this, you don’t get to just stop some day. I mean, you can legally. You’re not her biological father or anything, but if you really want to do this right, you cannot just leave now, even if it did not work out for you two.’

‘I know that.’ Tom looked his friend in the eye as he spoke.

‘What caused this want to send her there, anyway?’

‘Sarah said something to me at the beginning of the relationship, how I have to choose now how I treat her and take into account what it would mean if Lexi and I have a child together, would there be a marked difference in how I would treat them.’

‘Whoa, kids? You are talking about children? After less than a year?’

‘No, but it is something to consider in the future. I mean, Alexianna and I are not there yet, I think she would have heart failure if she was to get pregnant now. She has only a year left in her course and she is talking about a permanent job with the company, taking time to have another is not on her plans right now, and being honest, I think I am the same. I took a step back to do more stuff here for a reason, to take time for me and yes, her and Lily too, to throw in a baby and everything associated with that, that would be swapping one form of full-time job for another. And for the record, you and Sophie were together for less than a year with Kit on the way and before you say "We knew each other seventeen years", I know Alexianna since I was eleven, so that is twenty-something years.’

‘Well, firstly, children of any age are a full-time job and secondly, you really are terrible at maths.’

‘There is a difference between an infant and a little girl who is able to go to the bathroom, and yes, I know I am.’

‘True, yes.’

‘So, what was so important that you called me over?’ He smiled.

‘There’s this role you have to see.’

[apprenticebard]

How can I make more money like you?

An important question!!

So to start with, I am not a person who has Figured Things Out. I got lucky last year - my friend recommended me for a job in a very high-wage area (specifically, San Francisco’s tech industry) that I happened to be a really good fit for, and that happened to be willing to hire people on a trial basis if they were promising, even if they didn’t have college degrees (’cause I still don’t have one). And that was really good for a while, until some stuff happened and I kinda got eaten. Now I’m unemployed and looking for another job; I think I’ll find something comparatively good again, but I dunno how long it’ll be, and right now I’m looking at both moderately high-paying content-writing jobs and jobs that pay around minimum wage (which is a lot here; nothing pays less than $15 because the bay is lowkey insane), in case getting another really good job takes longer than I’d like it to.

But anyway! Obviously there isn’t a super easy way to make lots of money that’s going to apply to every anon who could possibly have shown up in my inbox, but here are some general pointers:

1) Even if things are going really well for you, you’re gonna tend to make less than most people while you’re early in your career. This is difficult but how it is. It doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong, and you might be on track for a great career in a few more years, once you gain more experience. If this is where you’re at, I think the best way to make more money is to work on leveling up at your current job, or looking for a different job of the same kind that either pays better now or will probably allow you to level up faster. It’s good to take on extra responsibilities when you have the time and energy to do so, especially if they use a lot of skills you do have, but also a few skills that you’ll need to figure out as you go along. 

Note that I do think that this advice is less actionable outside of the bay (which is full of startups that are growing rapidly and trying new things). I do think there’s still something to it. If you gain skills and responsibilities as well as you can, I think that even if your current job doesn’t recognize that and reward it, you’ll be building up skills that’ll make you more desirable the next time you change jobs.

2) Say you think you’re in a really good industry, and you know that other people in your industry make decent money, but for some reason, you’re not. Or, alternatively, say that you have a lot of skills and some work experience in a decent industry, but you can’t get anyone to call you back, and you’re beginning to wonder if maybe you’re secretly terrible and have zero Good Employee Qualities.

Getting a new job is hard, and leaving an old job is scary. I know; I just left my old job, and I spend lots of time being scared that nobody’s gonna hire me and I’m gonna have to go back to working at Kroger again, where I only made it through cashiering shifts by imagining that my characters were being tortured and that I could only save them by making it to the end of the next hour. 

But it really does pay to look at what else is out there. You can get some ideas by very casually looking at job sites like Glassdoor or Indeed; there might be nothing, or a bunch of job postings that you don’t understand, but I’ve found that it’s often good to get the lay of the land and figure out what recruiters are looking for in your industry. If you want better odds, and you have some successful friends, it can pay to ask them whether their companies are hiring for a position you can fill, and whether any of them might like to recommend you for it.

If you don’t have an easy way to get your foot in the door, you’re gonna be filling out a lot of applications. This sucks, but it doesn’t mean that you suck. If you really feel like you’re qualified for the sort of job you want, get someone to help you put together a good resume that shows off your skills, put together a portfolio or similar if you’re in the relevant industries, and resign yourself to applying to dozens or maybe hundreds of things. Recruiters are super arbitrary and will totally disqualify you based on things that have nothing to do with your ability to do the job. (This isn’t even because they’re bad people, it’s because they have a stack of resumes on their desk and have only the faintest idea how to tell which of the associated candidates are gonna be good at things.) It’s a numbers game. If you’re not doing something really ridiculous, like applying to every job with a resume that only lists completely unrelated kinds of work experience, then someone’ll probably talk to you eventually. It’ll just probably take way more applications than you’d think.

(Oh, also, all of the requirements in job postings tend to be pretty silly; as long as you think you’re genuinely capable of doing the work, I think you should apply to jobs where you meet maybe 75% of the stated requirements if the job sounds OK, and maybe 50% if it’s something you’d be really excited to get to do.)

3) If you’re not in a career sort of job at all - if you’re stuck behind the counter at Wendy’s right now, in which case my heart goes out to you, anon friend - or you’ve found yourself in a career that pays very badly or makes you unhappy, and you don’t think your skills will translate to anything you like doing, then you might want to look at changing careers entirely. Most people will tell you to go to college, if you haven’t already. I’m gonna tell you that college is a great thing for lots of people, but not always a good idea financially, and not always the best way forward, especially if you’re not very academically inclined. 

Think about what you’re good at, and think about what your dealbreakers are. You’re approaching this from thinking about money, not about passion, but you still don’t want to end up in a job that you’re a terrible fit for; you’ll get fired or be miserable all the time, and that’s no good for anyone. 

As a first line, if you feel that you’re reasonably flexible and talented, here are some very different jobs that make good money; you might want to consider whether you’re a good fit for any of these, and do more research as appropriate. (This is largely an exercise to get you thinking, not to say that these specific jobs are the ones you should definitely be looking at.)- Nursing. There’s a perpetual shortage of nurses, they have to exist everywhere in the country, and they make at least decent pay no matter where they live. For an RN, you’re looking at an average of about $55k per year in the cheapest states, and about $90k per year in the most expensive ones (although remember that this isn’t what you’ll make at the beginning of your career). I don’t recommend it if you really dislike people, long hours, college classes, heavy lifting, or bodily fluids, but I do think it’s a career that a lot more people should be willing to consider. If you think you can hack the education part, but not so much the heavy lifting, the bodily fluids, or the being around people who might be dying, dental hygienists make about the same amount, and their patients hardly ever need to be carried anywhere while possibly dying. I think.

- Software engineering. The pay rate here is kind of insane; if you have the interest and aptitude, then doing a coding bootcamp and getting a programming job in either NYC or San Francisco is a relatively attainable way of making a genuinely six-figure salary within a few years of starting, even if you don’t have a college degree. It’s not for everyone - I’ve tried to learn, a little, but I’ve bounced off pretty hard so far - but it’s a great opportunity for people who can hack it, so to speak. Like nursing, there’s a shortage here, mostly because software is a rapidly expanding industry that has only existed for, like, forty years tops.

- The skilled trades. We’re talking about electricians, mechanics, plumbers, carpenters, and other people in this space. It’s hard in different ways than an office job, but there are a lot of people who these are a good fit for. While they’re not as highly paid as nurses or engineers, people in the skilled trades do OK; reaching $50k per year is totally feasible, and people who are both skilled and lucky can break $80k. These jobs tend to go by apprenticeship systems, so if you don’t have a family member or friend to vouch for you, it’s a good idea to look at trade schools in your area to get you started, and then expect to spend several years in a junior position until you know what’s what.

- Flight Attendants. Not all flight attendants are particularly well-paid, but many are, and things like waitressing can be counted as relevant experience. The first flight attendant job I found on Indeed just now is $18 an hour and doesn’t require any experience or a degree, though the requirements do have a lot to say about your appearance, height (gotta be able to get luggage out of the overhead compartments, after all), and willingness to work really weird hours. The BLS reports that the median flight attendant ultimately makes about $56k per year. 

- Police officers. Obviously there are a ton of very legit reasons not to want to be a police officer, but I am of the opinion that someone’s gotta do it, and it’s better if the people involved wanna do it right, right? (I guess I don’t know if you want to do it right. Please don’t become a police officer purely for the money and then shoot someone, anon.) The median police officer makes about $60k, and it doesn’t require a college education, which is honestly a pretty good deal even if you’re not as passionate as Judy Hopps. I don’t recommend it as a job unless you’re not scared of people, even the creepy ones, ‘cause scared people make mistakes, and when police officers make mistakes, sometimes people end up dead.

If you read that list and were like, “Bard, there’s a reason I’m at Wendy’s, can you lower your expectations here a little,” you might want to look into stuff like warehousing, groundskeeping, janitorial work, sales, garbage collection, or construction work. Job sites are your friends; it’s useful to browse them and see what sorts of jobs pay the kinds of salaries you’re looking for. I also think you might be well-served by considering whether you can move in with friends or family in a part of the country where wages are higher. The big cost of living difference in other places is rent, so if you have a housing situation figured out or can split that cost with a friend, you can make a lot more money just by doing the same thing somewhere else. For example, before I got super lucky and became a Real Content Writer, my plan was to hang out on my friend’s couch for six months rent-free, work at some supermarket in SF, and then take my wages back home to Indiana to pay for the rest of my degree. And honestly, if I hadn’t fallen in love with this ridiculous place and hadn’t immediately gotten a much better job, I think it very well might have worked.

There’s a lot more that I could say here, but this is already pretty long. The main things are to think about where you’re headed, to look around at all of the different possible lucrative directions to head in if you don’t like where you are, and to figure out what steps you’d have to take to get there. You’re welcome to come to my inbox with more questions about this - my last job was all about helping people find jobs themselves, so I guess I should know something about it by now - but you might need to be a little more specific if I didn’t hit on the thing you’re stuck on in this post.

[you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus]

Cyrus’ Dictionary

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20

Summary: Cyrus has always been good with words; there’s a reason English is his favorite subject. But with TJ, he seems to be at a loss for words. When they get paired up for a summer assignment, Cyrus slowly starts to build a new dictionary. One that involves TJ and everything they do together. Along the way, maybe he’ll find the words to tell him how he feels.

Chapter 20 (Epilogue): Love

Word Count: 5280

Read on AO3

Candles were on the table, glowing brightly in the late afternoon. Utensils were set out at all the places at the table, and a banner hung from two poles that were in the ground.

Celebrating Ten Years!

TJ followed Cyrus into his backyard; it truly hadn’t changed over the years. It was hard to believe it had really been ten years since he’d graduated high school, but here he was, celebrating all the time that had passed. The big celebration was held at the school during homecoming week, but the Goodmans, ever involved in the school’s activities, decided to host a smaller party at their house. It was mostly for Cyrus and his close friends, but friends from each of their respective colleges decided to tag along for the ride.

“Wow, I haven’t been here in, like, forever,” TJ commented, letting Cyrus lead the way through the crowd.

“Hasn’t changed much has it?” he asked, offering a soft smile. That hadn’t changed either. Cyrus still had the same cute smile that he had all through high school and into college.

TJ smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. “Nope,”

“And she’s so cute, except ever since we got her, Piper’s been exceptionally unfriendly,” Andi chuckled, sitting down with Amber and Jonah.

“So how many cats do you have again?” Jonah asked.

“Three,” the girls answered in unison.

“Wow, you really are lesbians,” he noted, the group bursting out into laughter.

Amber and Andi had bought an apartment not too long ago. They didn’t plan on getting any pets, but when they found a box of kittens outside the complex, Andi begged Amber to let her keep them. Amber always says that she ‘hates the rotten little weasels’ but Andi knows that she would actually do anything to protect them.

Both girls ended up going to the same college, unbeknownst to themselves until they revealed their decisions in April.

“Okay, no matter what happens, things are going to be okay,” Andi had assured her, giving her hand a squeeze.

Amber had nodded, letting out a slow breath. “You first,”

“Okay,” she started, staring down at her feet. All of a sudden this seemed a lot harder than previously thought. “I’ve decided that I’m going to be going to Savannah College of Art and Design,”

Amber’s jaw dropped. “Shut up,” she squeaked, “shut up! Are you serious?”

Andi opened her mouth to say more but she was immediately cut off by Amber.

“That’s where I’m going!” she was nearly screaming at this point, other people in the park started to stare at her. And the next thing Andi knew, her feet were off the ground and Amber’s arms were around her.

Andi couldn’t say anything, she was in complete shock. At one point, she did try to say something along the lines of ‘this is so exciting!’ but ended up just bursting into tears.

They roomed together for the first few years, but then decided to get an apartment together in their junior year. And even after they both graduated, Andi with her degree in graphic design and Amber with her degree in architecture, they stayed in the same apartment. Cats and everything.

“I’m just saying that I don’t want to have to give in to your pouting if you see another stray cat,” Amber warned, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to say no to Andi if she tried.

“Oh please,” Andi gave her a nudge, “so, how are you and Walker?”

Jonah shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “We’re alright. Long distance, you know,”

Jonah and Walker were still together, but since Walker was offered the job to design some stage sets over in New York City, Jonah hasn’t seen him for a few months. Money wasn’t exactly something he could burn to see his boyfriend, but he did whatever he could. They video chatted almost every day, and Walker always sent Jonah some drawings of him every now and then.

“You miss him,” Andi noted, placing her hand on top of his, “but he misses you too. And he loves you a lot,”

Jonah nodded, downing the rest of his drink quickly. “Yeah, I know,”

Before any of them could start crying, Buffy and Marty entered, hand in hand, before she started running towards her friends.

“You guys,” she drawled, tapping her fingers on the table, “how are you?”

Andi pulled her into a hug; how she’d missed her. “It’s been too long!” she exclaimed, pulling back, “how are you, what’s new?”

Buffy smirked, a few laughs escaping her mouth. She glanced at Marty, who gave her a wink before continuing his conversation with TJ.

“Well,” she sighed dramatically, putting her hand over her chest, “since you asked. . .”

Andi’s jaw dropped, shaking Buffy by her shoulders. “Oh my god, you got engaged?”

Buffy nodded excitedly, which resulted in a lot more hugging and a few tears from Andi. “Oh my gosh, tell me everything! Did he take you to your favorite restaurant? Did he have a speech prepared for you? Did the whole restaurant clap for you guys?”

“Actually,” she hesitated a little, offering a small smile, “I was the one who proposed,”

If Andi was surprised before, she was nearly paralyzed with shock now. “You proposed?” she squeaked, “that’s. . .actually very like you. Forward. I’m really happy for you guys. Have you started thinking about the wedding?”

Buffy shrugged, glancing over at Marty. “I think we both want something in the fall, but other than that, we haven’t really talked about it,”

“Regardless,” Andi beamed, “I’m so incredibly happy for you both,”

“Hey, Buffy!” Marty called, waving her over to the basketball court that was set up in the driveway.

“Love calls,” she laughed, giving Andi a final hug before heading off with Marty. That left TJ alone, so he wandered over to the bar, getting himself a drink and wandering around the backyard.

“There you are,” Cyrus nudged his shoulder, “I haven’t seen you all night,”

TJ smiled, slinging an arm around Cyrus. “I’ve been catching up with Marty. You know he and Buffy are engaged?”

Cyrus nodded, smiling to himself. “Buffy actually had me help her plan it out, so I knew before even Marty did,” he chuckled, earning a quiet gasp from TJ.

“And you kept this information from me? I feel betrayed,” he swooned, placing a hand on his forehead.

“TJ, duuuude, stop being so cute with him,” someone called out, snickering and holding up a camera.

TJ rolled his eyes, offering a small smile to the camera. “Don’t you drunks have anything better to do than bother us?” he joked, giving the guy with the camera, Aaron, a gentle shove.

“I’m going to go and catch up with Jonah,” Cyrus mumbled, pressing a quick kiss to TJ’s cheek and heading off.

“You guys are the worst,” he said, but he was smiling. His friends from college, Aaron, Wyatt, and Rowan, tagged along to the celebration because they were working on their, as they so delicately put it, ‘gay-ass project’. Basically, they were documenting every moment that they could of Cyrus and TJ.

After senior year of high school. Cyrus ended up going to Stanford to study journalism with a minor in cinematography, while TJ stayed back and went to University of Utah, where he was offered a full time scholarship for playing basketball. They tried to make the distance work, they really did, but one day over video chat, they decided that they needed a break. Just until they were out of college.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Cyrus really didn’t like Stanford. From the insane amount of work, to not having TJ by his side, it was, in short, a bad experience. After his freshman year, he decided to transfer. And while he would never tell TJ that a part of the decision was because of him, it was. He realized that he didn’t need to go to a fancy college in order to get a good education. Plus, it was going to be nice to be closer to home.

Cyrus had texted TJ that there might be a familiar face on campus and, in short, TJ harassed all his friends in the middle of the night.

“Get the hell up, assholes,” he flicked on the lights, earning groans and curses from his roommates.

“TJ, I love you man, but I swear to god if you keep me awake for more than a minute, I will rip your fucking throat out,” Wyatt mumbled, pressing a pillow to his face.

“But Cyrus is coming here!” TJ crooned, and that seemed to perk at least Rowan up.

“Isn’t he that kid that you dated in high school? The one you’re always practically drooling over?” he mocked, making kissy faces.

“Fuck off,” TJ muttered, tossing a pillow at his face, “regardless, I don’t want you assholes messing with him, got it?”

“Oh, Cyrus, I missed you so much! I look at pictures of you before I go to sleep!” Aaron wailed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. TJ flushed red.

“That’s. . .that’s not-”

“Oh, Cyrus! You’re the only thing I talk or think about, which is why I’m failing my econ class,” Wyatt crooned, batting his eyes towards Rowan.

“Shut up, you know that class is-”

“Oh, Cyrus, I love you so much! I have never loved another!” Rowan exclaimed, and the boys doubled over in laughter.

“I hate you all,” TJ mumbled, flicking the lights off.

The day that Cyrus stepped foot on campus, Aaron, Wyatt, and Rowan made it their mission to find him before TJ did. Considering TJ talked about him all the time, and he had a wall of pictures that was mostly of him and Cyrus, it didn’t take long for them to find the boy.

“Hey!” Wyatt called, approaching a shorter brunet boy, “are you Cyrus?”

He eyed the group suspiciously, furrowing his brows. “I. . .yeah?”

“God, you really do look just like how TJ said,” Aaron mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

Cyrus perked up at the mention of TJ. “TJ? Is he here now? Can I see him? Does he talk about me?”

“Wow, the homo is strong with this one,” Rowan commented, “I mean, the homo is strong with all of us too, don’t worry,”

Cyrus chuckled; he already felt more at home here than Stanford. “Do you know where he is?”

Wyatt nodded. “He has econ right now,” he grinned, “but we can show you around, if you like. You should see our room,” he declared, and the other boys grabbed his hands and started dragging him towards their room.

TJ sighed, running a tired hand through his hair. Not the greatest way that test could have gone, but not the worst, by far. He reviewed all the questions on the way up the stairs to his room, unlocking it only to be greeted by a room of darkness.

“What the hell? Did Rowan burn the lights again?” TJ muttered, feeling around on the wall for the switch.

“No, asshole,” Rowan snapped.

When TJ did find the lights, it took him a moment to adjust, but when he did, he had never been happier. Cyrus was standing in the middle of the room, and he looked like he was about to burst with excitement.

“Underdog!” he exclaimed, rushing towards him and engulfing him in a hug, all the while Aaron was recording from his place on the bed. He didn’t really care if TJ knew.

“I missed you,” Cyrus whispered into his hair. He was so happy to see him, he felt like he could cry.

“Reunion of the gays,” Wyatt commented from the side. TJ chose to ignore that remark.

“How long are you here for?” TJ asked, finally setting him down. Wyatt was cracking up behind the camera, and TJ shot him a look.

“Oh, did I forget to tell you?” Cyrus teased, a hint of flirtiness in his tone, “I transferred here,”

Error 404: TJ has stopped working. “Wait, what? Why?”

He shrugged. “I just. . .Stanford was great don’t get me wrong, but I just. . .I missed being here. Closer to home. Plus, I didn’t like all the stress of an ‘ivy school’. I don’t need to go to a fancy school to get my degree,”

TJ grinned so wide he felt like his face was going to split. “Do you have everything you need? A room and bed and all that?”

Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Wow TJ, you’re right. We don’t have an extra bed in here. Guess he’ll have to share yours,”

TJ flushed a deep shade of red, shooting him a glare. “That’s not what I meant,” he said through gritted teeth, before turning to Cyrus with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m all set. But. . .maybe we can catch up?” Cyrus asked, a hopeful tone in his words.

TJ lit up immediately. “Yes! There’s actually a really nice coffee shop downtown, if you wanna go tonight?”

Cyrus nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. “It’s a date,” he said, before bouncing out of the room in order to go get settled in.

TJ watched him leave before turning to his roommates. “I fucking swear if you make any more jokes I’ll kill you guys,”

Rowan laughed, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Note taken. But dude, you got a date with him!”

“Maybe now we won’t have to keep listening to you talk about him all the time,” Wyatt mumbled, earning a high five from Aaron, who was trying to balance the camera.

“I don’t talk about him all the time,” TJ countered, crossing his arms.

All the boys looked at him. “Bet,” they said simultaneously.

TJ huffed, kicking his shoes off. “All I’m saying is that he’s not the only thing I talk about,”

Wyatt scoffed. “You literally woke us up in the middle of the night the other day in order to tell us that he was coming to campus,”

TJ bit his lip, trying not to give in to their antics. “Whatever. I need to study for econ,”

“I’m shocked,” Wyatt mumbled, “you were probably thinking about Cyrus,”

TJ turned around. “For your information I was focusing very hard. It was really hard,”

“That’s what she said,” Wyatt hollered, earning a high five from Rowan.

“Fuck you, all of you,” TJ grunted, pulling out papers from his folder.

“You wish,”

“I hate you guys,”

A week after their first date, TJ’s roommates were at least happy that they didn’t have to listen to the same stories about Cyrus in high school.

“So, TJ,” Aaron, started, bringing up the camera, “how does it feel to be dating the one and only Cyrus Goodman?”

TJ chuckled, nudging the camera a little. “Well since you asked, I’ll tell you,” he played along, “it’s great. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy since we dated in high school,”

Rowan joined in from his bed, looking up from his work. “Mr. Kippen, any juicy details you’d like to share with our viewers?”

TJ hesitated a little, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, black velvet box. Aaron nearly dropped the camera, and Wyatt was just saying ‘holy fucking shit’ over and over again.

TJ opened up the box, revealing a small ring inside and he showed it to the camera. “Got it a week after we started dating,” he said with a smile, putting it back in his pocket.

“This is some Jim Halpert level shit, Kippen,” Wyatt scoffed, shaking his head, “but maybe now you’ll finally lock him down and stop complaining to us every time he looks at another boy,”

“I am not that jealous,” TJ insisted, pushing the camera aside.

“Right, okay,” Wyatt mumbled, turning back to his work.

He never knew when he wanted to propose; all he knew was that he wanted to do it at some point. He’d know when the right time was.

“-and I was the one that proposed!” he head Buffy say for the thousandth time that night, but he smiled anyways. He really was happy for her and Marty; they completed each other like pieces of a puzzle.

“TJ, wave to the camera,” Aaron cooed, coming up beside him.

He instead decided to flip them off, smirking. “When are you asshats gonna leave me alone,” he wondered aloud.

“That depends, when are you going to get your head out of your ass and propose?” Wyatt countered, a tiny grin poking at his lips.

“Hey TJ!” Cyrus called his name, frantically waving him over from where he was by the tree.

“Duty calls,” TJ muttered, finishing off the rest of his soda and heading off to where Cyrus was. He was hunched over looking at something that looked like it was a hundred years old.

“Norman was digging holes for the poles to hang up the sign,” Leslie explained, “and he came across this,”

Cyrus was bouncing on his toes, he was so excited. “Don’t you remember? It’s the time capsule that we buried back in high school!”

All the memories flooded back, as Leslie excused herself to go tend to some of the other guests. He remembered the day they buried it, but came up a little short on what’s inside. “Well, open it!”

Cyrus hesitated over the hinges. “Right now?”

“When else are we going to get the chance?” TJ asked, giving him a knowing look, and that was all it took for Cyrus to unlock the hinges and open it up slowly. He pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it, nearly laughing when he showed it to TJ.

“Best muffin recipe ever,” TJ read, skimming over the ingredients, “chocolate chocolate chip muffin? Lies. The best is-”

“-blueberry macadamia,” Cyrus finished for him, folding up the paper again and setting it down. He pulled out a photo of the two of them, decked out in Christmas gear.

“Remember when Amber framed that?” TJ asked, bumping his shoulder.

Cyrus nodded. “How could I forget,” he chuckled, fishing out a bunch more pictures from the container. They looked like children, but then again, they were children. TJ’s hairstyle hadn’t changed, and neither had Cyrus’ smile. They were just a little bit older now, but things were mostly the same.

Cyrus then pulled out his journal and nearly laughed when he flipped through the entries. “Wow, my handwriting was so much worse in high school,” he chuckled, “then again, I guess I write a lot more now,”

TJ took his out of the box as well, rereading through the entries. Even in high school, he felt the same way about Cyrus as he did now. “Do you remember that list of words you wrote?”

Cyrus didn’t even nod, flipping to the back of his journal instead. And sure enough the list of words is there. He had a picture of it, but it got so cluttered in his camera roll, which was filled with pictures from vacations and assignments he’d sent to other classmates.

TJ read over a few of them, only being able to remember a handful, but that didn’t matter. He missed how close they were in high school, and after a while, they were finally back at that stage again. And he loved it.

Cyrus read over the words a few more times before he shut the journal, placing all the items back in the box. “Ah, memories,” he chuckled, pushing the box into TJ’s hand, “I’ll be back,” he said, getting up and heading into the house.

TJ smiled, shifting things around in the box in order to fit his journal in there. When he did so, a small polaroid corner poked out from underneath all the other photos. Digging it up from the bottom of the box, he thought he was going to cry when he saw it. It was the picture that they’d taken the day they’d made the time capsule. TJ remembered how surprised Cyrus had been when he kissed him, and even though the photo was a little blurry, it was by far his favorite. He flipped it over to the back, and saw both of their names on there, even with little hearts.

“Teeeeejaaay, my man,” Aaron slurred, wobbling over to the tree, “how goes it in the Cyrus department?”

TJ rolled his eyes, standing up and trying to steady the boy in front of him. “You’re drunk as hell, man,” he informed him, handing off the camera to Rowan, who at least looked less drunk.

“No I’m not,” he laughed, wiping tears from his eyes, “whatcha got there?” he asked, poking the picture in his hand.

“Oh, uh, Cyrus and I were looking through a time capsule we buried in high school,” he said lamely, giving the camera finger guns.

“Could you guys be any more romantic?” Rowan chuckled, shaking his head, “dude. . .it’s a sign,”

“For what?” TJ groaned, knowing the answer.

“For-”

“-what the hell is up, dicks,” Wyatt slurred, stumbling over to the boys with two beers in his hands.

“Okay, no, enough of that,” TJ said, swiftly taking the alcohol out of his hands and setting the bottles down, “everyone hates when you’re drunk because you’re insanely loud and rude, so ease up on that, okay?”

Wyatt pouted like a child, crossing his arms. “You’re not my mom,” he mumbled, tugging out a chair and taking a seat in it, “what are you talking about anyways?”

“We were saying that TJ needs to propose tonight,” Rowan supplied clearly, ever the sober one.

Wyatt lit up, clapping his hands together and laughing so hard he started coughing. “Yes, dude! Love is in the air, and there are. . .two Rowans,” he fumbled with his words, reaching his hands out.

“Alright, let’s get you some water,” Rowan muttered, shaking his head and shutting the camera off, “but seriously, think about it, TJ,” he said, before dragging Wyatt towards the cooler of water.

Aaron was leaning against the tree, looking almost deep in thought. “What do you think, Aaron?”

He shut his eyes, and said, very sagely, “Do you think it’s called sand between it’s in between the sea and the land?”

TJ blinks a few times, shaking his head. “No, dumbass, about the proposal,”

“Oh, uh, go for it?” he shrugs, “he obviously loves you a lot, like, full homo. So then you guys can be homo squared,”

TJ sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Gee, thanks, man, that really helped,” he mumbled, stuffing the photo in his pocket and leaning back against the tree. He saw Cyrus heading out of the house, and decided to go join up with him. Aaron was still hanging around him, trying to handle the camera without dropping it.

He took a seat down at the table, chatting with Jonah a little bit while he wanted for some of the noise to die down a little. At some point, he was ready to stand up and clink his fork against his glass, but Leslie beat him to it.

“Alright everyone!” her voice echoed through the microphone, “we’re going to be playing some music, so let’s all get up and dance!” she set the microphone down, and wandered over to the speaker, connecting her phone with it, and selecting a playlist of songs that were popular when the kids were in high school. First one up was Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon.

“Oh, I love this song!” Cyrus exclaimed, dragging TJ towards the open section of the yard where the rest of his friends were dancing. They screamed along to the lyrics, bumping and jostling one another in a vague attempt to dance. Wyatt, who had returned after downing a bottle of water, was finally able to not see double, but each time he moved he felt like he was going to be sick, so Aaron and Rowan put him on camera duty. He pulled up a chair and tried to balance the camera.

After a few other songs that were upbeat and lively, the song shifted to an Ed Sheeran song, earning a few groans from the crowd.

“Ed Sheeran this, Ed Sheeran that,” Jonah muttered, walking over to get a drink for himself.

Cyrus took TJ’s hand, tugging him a little closer. And in that moment, it was like TJ was back in high school at prom, placing his hands on the other boy’s waist and staying side to side. Cyrus smile was so endearing, but he couldn’t seem to focus on that warming feeling his smile always gave him. All that he could think about was the storm of butterflies in his stomach, and all the snickering of his friends who were giving him weird looks.

“TJ?” Cyrus broke him out of his daze, “you okay?”

“Hm?” he hummed, blinking a few times, “oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m just. . .thinking,” he mumbled. It wasn’t a complete lie, at least.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Cyrus offered, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

TJ didn’t say anything for a moment, glancing over at Wyatt, who gave him a thumbs up. “Ah, one sec,” he rushed out, heading towards the phone that controlled the music and selecting another song to play.

“Owl City, really TJ?” Amber groaned, shaking her head in disbelief, “you’re stuck at sixteen, I swear,”

TJ ignored her remarks, making his way back to Cyrus. “Do you remember when we went stargazing in high school? And. . .and they played this song?”

Cyrus nodded, albeit confused. “Yeah, you really liked that song,” he noted, taking TJ’s hand in his.

“I remember I could barely look up at the stars. You were lying down beside me and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Because none of the stars in the sky could even compare to you,” he admitted, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Aww, that’s cute!” Aaron shouted from the table, earning a glare from TJ.

Cyrus laughed shyly, ducking his head to hide his growing blush. “Aw, TJ, that’s really sweet,”

His nerves were too strong for him to smile at the moment, taking a step closer to Cyrus. A couple people had glanced over at them, some of them even halting dancing. “Ever since we started dating, you’ve been my stars, my moon, my everything, and even before then,”

A chorus of aws filled the air, as more people turned their gaze towards TJ and Cyrus.

“Oh my god, this idiot’s really going to do it,” Amber chuckled, excitement bubbling up inside of her.

Cyrus thought his cheeks were going to burst from smiling so hard. “I. . .that’s, like, really sweet,” he mumbled, glancing around the crowd.

“And I, uh,” he stammered, pausing. He could very well back out of this right now, things could stay the same. Things could stay comfortable and safe and under control, like they’d been for years. He tried to concentrate, absentmindedly placing his free hand in his pocket, and clutching the box. He could feel the smooth polaroid picture in there too, and he began to calm down, trying to refocus his thoughts.

“And I know I’m not the best with words, that’s your department,” he chuckled lightly, “but, I can try,”

Cyrus raised his brows slightly, the smile never leaving his face. “Wait what’s happening,” he chuckled, looking around for some sort of hint. TJ took a deep breath, and Wyatt started walking towards where everyone was, attempting to appear more sober than he actually was.

“I know I tell you all the time that I love you, but I truly don’t think I’ve ever felt like this about anybody, ever. I don’t even think I can put it into words, a testament to what I said earlier,” he chuckled, and a few people around him joined in with laughter, “…but, god, for lack of better words, you’re everything. Even when you think that what you’re doing isn’t enough, it is. It always is. Everything you’ve done for me and for so many other people is more than enough…it’s time for me to do something for you,”

Now Cyrus looked more confused than ever. He glanced around at his friends, who all looked like they know something he didn’t. “What are you doing?” he asked softly, a gentle smile still on his face.

There was no backing out now. Rowan came up from behind and gave him a quick pat on the back before scurrying away. TJ hesitantly pulled the box out of his pocket, fumbling with it a little as he tried to open it.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?” Cyrus squeaked, tears brimming in his eyes.

TJ chuckled weakly, kneeling down. “Doing something for you. . .for us,” he said, his voice threatening to break. The moment was filled with tension and affection, so much so that even Wyatt didn’t dare ruin it with some sort of noise. Cyrus was crying, and people around him were also wiping tears away.

“Cyrus Goodman,” TJ started, cracking open the box to reveal the ring, “will you do me the honor, and biggest favor of my life, of becoming my. . .husband?” he asked, offering a gentle smile. The kind that he reserved only for Cyrus.

Cyrus opened his mouth to say something, but nothing coherent came out; he was so speechless that for once, all the words that he could usually think of with ease, all left his mind. He nodded vigorously, taking a step towards TJ and letting him slide the ring on. It was simple, but beautiful; a simple silver band with a moon and a few stars engrained in it. People all around were cheering, Wyatt loudest of all, who was so excited that he grabbed Rowan and planted a kiss firmly on his cheek.

“You’re so drunk,” Rowan mumbled trying to shake the blush on his cheeks.

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re cute,” Wyatt mumbled, his words connected through slurs.

Cyrus threw his arms around TJ, never wanting to let go. TJ laughed lightly, carding his fingers through the other boy’s hair. “You okay?”

Cyrus nodded, peeking his head up to see him. “Yes, yes, oh my god, I love you,” he blurted out, the words spilling out quickly.

TJ grinned, pressing his forehead against Cyrus’. “I love you too,” he said softly, leaning forward and capturing his lips in a kiss. His first with his fiance. He couldn’t believe he got to use that word now.

And maybe later when Rowan, Aaron, and Wyatt all showed the couple their ‘documentary’ of their relationship, TJ was grateful that they had bugged him all those times about Cyrus. Because it ended up being one of the best things he’d seen. From the nights where he was so drunk all he could say was ‘Cyrus’ over and over again, to the time he’d first shown them the ring, it was beautiful. TJ made a mental note to thank his friends later, after they’d finished watching it. For now, he was perfectly content with sitting on the couch, Cyrus by his side, and a ring on his finger.

Wyatt and Rowan were howling with laughter when they got to rewatch the proposal, even though it had literally just happened.

“You guys are so drunk,” TJ noted, shaking his head. He stuck his hand in his pocket, and felt the picture in there, smiling to himself. He reached over and grabbed a pen off of the table and took the picture out of his pocket, scribbling something on the back and handing it to Cyrus.

love: being with you until the end of time

Tag List: @shortstackofpeaches || @seanna313 || @geekingbeautytx || @heavenlybyers || @ginnychrises|| @wlwandimack || @giocondasstuff || @lemonboytyrus || @adorejrizzle || @swingsetboys || @ifellintotyrushell || @idk-dude-17 || @rbf-lesbian || @marianara-sauce || @kaptainjinxz || @alex-poster-pizz || @quietmarvel || @blueberry-my-hero-macadamia || @broadwayitbitch || @tjsmuffin || @tjthekippen || @idpleasesir || @hi-hello-hey-there || @bingewatchingenthusiast|| @booklove-2 || @illbeyourreasonwhy || @birdiesandflowers || @whistlepunk || @phinallyjackie || @thedampjofangirl || @tyrus4eva || @tj-is-a-lemony-boy || @tj-goodman-bittersweet-boy || @dis-app-oin-tme-nt || @nessarinthegay || @breadisticks || @typewriter-riz || @gobletofash || @bluemuffinboy || @sofuuh || @cheesystars || @tjmuffin || @multifandom-bxitch || @allylovessadie || @hithatsmyname || @tyrusinarush || @tyrus-lookback || @gaycefulwords || @theobligatedklutz || @bambikippen ||

[rask-me-anything40]

wow it’s just a night for total conservative bullshit!

my mother decides to bring up during a movie commercial that she quote >> “find it funny that these people join the military to fight and often times die for our country... they learn to take orders without question and they never talk back. Only to come back and have the milenials and later generations ignore their beliefs and stand against them because they just want things handed to them... because they’re entitled.”

I’m like WHAAAAAAA?!?!

first... the military is like one of the most corrupt organization in the fucking world but go off, I guess.

second... we are just standing up for our rights and against those who try to take them away. We’re standing up against people who diminish our mental health and claim it as an excuse. We are just sick of racists, misogynists, and others who treat us like shit just because they fight for a country that murders innocents and takes what it didn’t earn from others who can’t fight back.

third... she brings into it that we’re super privalaged... which of course my dad agrees with. And the reason we talk back is so we can get the things we think we’re entitled to.

lady.... really lady?! lady?! Huh? y’all demolished this country. Inflation is a dirty cunt. Capitalism was the worst idea. And thats all your generations (and your parents’) fault ! School is insanely expensive. People from your generation run companies that won’t hire people without a degree. But now it takes twice as long to get one. And costs twice as much.

But please... lady! Tell me how hard you had it. Tell me how entitled I am because I’ve had to take four semesters off to afford college. Because y’all, my “loving” and totally not insane parents won’t co-sign my loans and they only give out a certain amount of money for me to attend... so I can only go for so long before the government tells me, a citizen, that I don’t have the right to learn unless I pay a portion of my fee... a fee... to learn... a fee

My dad : “get a better job and go during school”

But! ... some white dude who doesn’t know me, sits in an office with a third of my current education and decides that I need more of one do to a job that requires half of what I already have.

So I’m resigned to minimum wage, plus 60-80 hours of school a week for a research degree... y’all didn’t have it that hard but keep telling yourself that.

also like y’all are so proud of your country but only when it was like against poc’s and everyone was straight and nobody was trans and women were quiet and only white dudes could vote and like our biggest problem was “which world conflict that has nothing to do with us should we get involved with today” HOW DO I LIVE IN THIS INSANITY

[doomedandstoned]

Closer To The End (part III)

I contend that human beings are not suited for the world we've fashioned for ourselves. Cases of anxiety and depression are practically ubiquitous, and suicide in all age groups is once again on the rise. Some will suffer mental afflictions that last years -- perhaps even for a lifetime. This is the third and final part of my story.

~By Billy Goate~

Cover art by Ruso Tsig additional art by Karl Briullov

I'm so tired of hearing that I'm wrong Everyone laughs at me, why me? I'm so tired of being pushed around I feel like I've been betrayed

We take each other's love, forget to give back Isn't it a pity, how we break each other's hearts I know we're only human and not to blame But who the hell are you to cause so much pain Why...

MEDICATION

My parents have been anti-establishment for as long as I can remember. In the climate of the 1980s, the institutions of the day were being called seriously into question. One of them was the authoritarian nature of public education (there's a reason why Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall" resonated so strongly with people). It's no surprise that my family got caught up in the first wave of the homeschooling movement. Other areas of modern life began to be called into question, as well, taking the family down a dark, windy road that led into conspiracy culture, extreme libertarianism, and religious dogmatism.

This distrust of the "experts" put us at odds with the medical establishment, too. "Doctors only know how to do two things," mom would often proclaim loudly in one of her famous rants, "cut you open or prescribe you pills." Natural medicine held the keys to recovery from all ills, be it cancer or the common cold. "All those chemicals aren’t good for your body," she insisted. "God put everything we need for healing in the ground." I’m not here to knock naturopathy (I was an ardent follower of this way of life for years) nor my mother for her convictions, but there are some things that can’t be cured by Saint John's Wort and herbal tea -- major depression being one of them.

At one point, my anxiety, melancholy, and a generalized feeling of social isolation reached such a heightened state I turned to hypnotism, enamored by an obscure radio program hosted by Roy Masters and his Foundation for Human Understanding. I was too young to understand the significance of most of the bullshit he was spewing, but it was the comprehensive approach to life that appealed to me. I wanted answers -- all of them. About the only thing I got out of it, though, was learning how to make my own arm go numb through self-hypnosis.

Later, I'd get caught up in a movement of Biblical counseling that rejected psychiatry altogether. "Christ has given us all things we need for life and godliness," says the holy writ, ergo we need none other than Jesus to cure our mental ills. Furthermore, the thesis said, since "God has not given us a spirit of fear" it must mean that the root of depression and anxiety is ultimately sin against God. The answer? Confess your sins and walk by faith, not by sight. In short, pray the sadness away. All of this had limited effectiveness in coping with the claustrophobic cloud of melancholy that was constantly with me.

Cough & Windhand: Reflection of the Negative by Windhand

The stigma of psychiatry and modern medicine kept me from treating my depression for damn near a decade. Somewhere in my late twenties, after a prolonged and particularly dark depressive spell, I decided to talk to my medical doctor about antidepressants. He started me on the industry standard, the well-known and well-marketed Prozac, which became a household name in the '90s. I took the first dose at bedtime and when I woke up, I was seriously hating the daylight. Feeling extraordinarily fatigued, all I wanted to do was sleep. I called in a rare sick day from work. The next day I was feeling groggy, but well enough to return. Giving it the good ol' college try, I took Prozac for several weeks as directed, but the side-effects just weren't worth it for me. That’s when I was referred to my first psychiatrist.

It was a weird feeling sitting in the waiting room for my appointment. I felt like I’d joined the ranks of the fragile, broken, and confused, perhaps even the insane. It was hard for me to see myself sharing anything in common with the others that shared the tiny lobby. The psychiatrist who greeted me looked like a regular chucklehead -- you know, one of those sidekicks from a sitcom that's not coming to me now. (It just came to me: Glen from the Tom Green Show.) A paunchy man in his 30s with wavy dirty blonde hair parted to the side donning wire-rimmed glasses, the shrink pulled out a notebook and started asking me about my background, while he busily took notes. Turned out, the man was very methodical in his approach. Over the course of the year, we cycled through all kinds of drugs -- Paxil, Effexor, Wellbutrin, Lexapro, Zoloft, and a lot of other names I'm not remembering, before finally settling on Cymbalta.

Certainly, this was something I didn't want to share with my coworkers, much less mom and dad. The first time I told my brother I was taking antidepressants, he was outraged. “You don’t need that stuff in your body. You don’t need pills to feel good.” I don’t know what it is about antidepressant medication that offends people so badly, but some people feel it is their personal mission in life to get you off of them. Why all the evangelical fervor? Are they secretly afraid they are "nuts," too? It’s not like I’m trying to get everyone else to take my medication, but suddenly these people, well-meaning or not, are trying to get you off of your meds.

I’ve seen YouTube videos from a guy claiming that God has cured him of his bipolar disorder and he flushed all his pills down the toilet (bad idea, by the way). Then a month later, he comes back online crying uncontrollably, talking about how he feels like God is testing him and asking viewers to pray to stop Satan’s onslaught. Moral of the story: It's dangerous to let people's religious opinions and untested hunches drive the agenda for our mental health.

I'm very reluctant these days to talk to anyone about my depression, because of all the rush to judgement involved. Ironically, it's this breakdown of community that I believe is at the heart of much of our mental health issues as a society. Look at the comments on any confessional video addressing burnout, depression, or anxiety and you'll find everyone is suddenly an expert who knows so well the precise and perfect solution to your problems. Well-meaning or not, it's incredibly annoying and I'd rather not have trouble with it. Hell, it took me two years to finish this article.

Depressed people are often viewed with the same cynical dismissiveness ascribed to angsty hormonal teens. "It's just a phase, you'll get through it," you're told with the reassuring wave of a hand. Besides, they remind you, "Happiness is a choice!" Because they are feeling chipper today, they have little patience for you dampening their mood. Others call you edgy when you say the pressures of life are so great that you feel like just turning off the lights on all of it. Still others will view you as selfish for leaving the family reunion early (or not wanting to participate in holidays at all). When you spend the whole weekend in bed sleeping, they'll accuse you of being indulgent, not realizing sleep gives you a respite from the hurt, guilt, and regret of painful memories or the misery of an unstable home life. Or the well-meaning "It Gets Better!" It doesn't always get better as life moves on.

Then there are those who try to talk you off your meds, entirely (cue: the ridiculously overwrought Facebook posts). We've all been privy to those conversations that strike a conspiratorial tone about how it was really the pharmaceutical companies that led to Chris Cornell's death. "You should just get off the stuff," they argue -- be it from noble intentions or just pride from clinging to an opinion they've stubbornly invested in.

Then there are those who are convinced that since Jesus (or Buddha, Allah Oprah, Jordan Peterson or juicing) gave them an escape from their depression, certainly it is the universal cure for all that ails you. Understand that I was a committed Christian for decades. I know what it is like to feel spiritually serene and I value many of the things the church gave me as a young adult, namely the fellowship, tolerance, and love. I know the feeling of peace that comes from believing in someone who reigns over the chaos and cares about your every need -- an ultimate being who will make sense of the nonsense one day.

I don't wish to diminish anyone's faith or diminish your personal experiences. The fact is, however, that major depression is as much a physical illness as cancer is. Certainly, there are transitional feelings of unhappiness, emptiness, and despair that come from facing situations that seem out of one's control -- the nightmare roommate, being laid off from a job, losing a loved one. It's also true that in most cases, this sadness can be overcome by a new perspective, trying better strategies, or simply allowing the passage of time to do its healing work. Depression can be impacted by one's beliefs, but there is a kind of depression that exists independently of one's perspective on life.

SUICIDAL TENDENCIES

Apart from this series of articles (which took me a good two years to publish), I've stopped sharing my depression with other people. It's annoying, because most people don't know how to listen and empathize. They want to jump in with a solution that, if implemented by nightfall, just might make a difference by daybreak. It's just more hassle than it's worth. Over time, I've gone from being someone with an intense need to belong, to not caring what people think about me at all. I'll often go out of my way to avoid anything deeper than transactional relationships. Once a social butterfly, you'll find me quite the hermit these days. As a consequence, while I was once open to sharing my feelings of loneliness and despair, I rarely mention them any more on social media and practically never to my IRL friends. I would be the last person to call a suicide hotline, by the way. Judge me if you wish, but I'm just being honest. If you want to know what is going on in the head of a severely depressed person with suicidal ideation, here's a least one brain you can peer into.

There's a general consensus that suicide is a selfish decision, even a cowardly act. This was a casual opinion of my own for years, as well. Not until suicide touches someone in your life -- or when you enter its despondent realm yourself -- does the ridiculousness of that notion becomes apparent. Understand that for a person to commit suicide, they have to overcome the brain's own strong predilection for self-preservation. It's not so easy to take the step of ending your life. Something has gone terribly wrong with the brain's ability to convincingly cry, "STOP!" for that to happen.

In my worst bout of depression, following the demise of long-term relationship, I reached the point where every waking moment was sheer misery. Some call this anhedonia -- the inability to feel pleasure. Normally, when we are feeling blue, we seek out something to stimulate our pleasure receptors. That's why ice cream, chocolate, and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are popular go-tos for the bummed out. For me, it's always been music and movies. On this particular week, though, I had somehow lost the capacity to find any joy whatsoever in the usual pastimes. Anything that attempted to pacify my mood met with my contempt. The only thing I could do to escape the agony of just being alive and conscious was to sleep...and sleep I did. At first 8 hours a night, up from my usual 7. Then it advanced to 9, 10, 11, 12 hours. When dawn came, a wave of misery washed over my mind again.

Once, I woke up feeling so despondent that I knew with absolute clarity that I could end my life. Today, I could actually do it. Immediately upon this realization, I wept bitterly. I've not cried like that before or since. If anything, I've become more stoic about the idea of suicide. Don't get me wrong, my internal sense of self-preservation is still quite strong. The problem is that in moments of severe depression, that instinct is dampened. You'll do just about anything just to get rid of the feeling of misery making it unbearable to be awake.

DOOM AWAKENING

One of the most important developments in treating my depression, besides medication and therapy, was the discovery of doom. There's an old expression that misery loves company. I don't know about you, but when I listen to music it's not generally to cheer me up. No, I want my tunes to have a certain level of commiseration with what I'm feeling and going through at the time. When I discovered (quite by accident) Saint Vitus, I knew I'd found my soul food. I can't fully explain that eureka moment when Dave Chandler belted out that first downtuned note on the guitars on "Born Too Late" or when Wino joined with plaintive lyrics for "I Bleed Black." This resonated with me powerfully. It brought chills. This was medicine for my weary head, a kind of mental morphine to dull the pain. I'd come to the Roseland Theater for Down and left with Saint Vitus.

As a funny aside, my roommate (who accompanied me to the show) and I rehashed the bands of the night, giving our two cents on this or that. One thing he said still makes me smile a little inside. "What did you think of Saint Vitus?" I asked. "I don't think they're the kind of band that will withstand the test of time," he remarked. "Well," I rejoined, "they have been playing now for over 30 years and were the co-headliners on a national tour, so their sound must be resonating with a good number of people." Sure, it wasn't for everyone, but on that night my doom had come.

Every song on 'Born Too Late' (1986) so perfectly captures the malaise of the deeply wounded soul, not just in lyrics but in the whole vibe. There's a thick, smoky haze permeating the record and it reminds me a lot of what it feels like after you've poured out your heart until you've got no more tears left to cry. Come on, don't pretend you're so macho that normal human emotions elude you. It's hard to put doom into words, but I'll try: on the one hand you feel emotionally exhausted because you've emptied out all those pent up feelings of loss, fear, regret, and frustration, on the other hand there's a feeling of "reset" and it often makes things much clearer to sort through. For me, when I've exhausted all my emotional resources, I'm left with a feeling of blithe acceptance. A sense of being dealt a set of cards by the impartial hand of fate. That's the kind of vibe that Saint Vitus captures perfectly for me on this record.

I spent entire weekends on those long, wonderful rabbit trails of discovery. "Dying Inside" led me to Trouble's "The Tempter" with its oh-so-tragic central riff. Lyrically, the songs I was running across could not have been more apropos.

Pentagram, The Skull, and Candlemass were not lingering far behind. Then came the more recent monoliths of doom: Electric Wizard, Windhand, High on Fire, Burning Witch, Khanate, Pilgrim, Serpentine Path, Usnea, Demon Lung, Ancient VVisdom, Dopelord, and the NOLA sludge scene, along with lesser known but equally as powerful acts like Undersmile, Shepherd's Crook, Reptile Master, Purple Hill Witch, Witchthroat Serpent, March Funèbre, Beldam, Hooded Priest, Regress, and 71TONMAN (listen to the Spotify playlist).

Doom metal spoke to me with a sharp realism that I connected with immediately. When you have no strength left to get angry at the world, you switch your listening habits from Car Bomb to Cough. You can say, I suppose, that doom was my salvation. It kept me hanging on a little while longer. The salve of those slow, low riffs gave me a strange feeling of consolation. "We know life sucks, too. Welcome to reality." It's like being awakened to the Matrix, but feeling there's not a damned thing you can do to change any of it. Your fate is sealed. It's an honesty that is both refreshing and freeing, I suppose, though one does wish to reclaim the notion of hope.

Believe it or not, even after writing all of this, optimism is my default mode. When I'm feeling well, and even when my depression is at low levels, the needle always leans towards inspiration, creativity, even a mischievous sense of humor and an aw, shucks smile that people tend to notice. I don't want to be depressed. The problem is that severe depression can make you feel, illusion or not, like you're paralyzed from doing anything about it.

As I've experienced more and more cuts and scrapes of life, I've become increasingly numb to it all, like the massive build-up of scar tissue. Things that upset me easily in the past might still hurt, but I've come to expect them, so they have the impact of a dull table knife. Perhaps I'm becoming a nihilist, despite my optimistic tendencies. It's hard not to be. Don't worry about me, though. If anything, I want to stick around to see what's going to happen next. It's the inborn curiosity we all have inside of us -- the same thing that I imagine kept Stephen Hawking going for decades after being wrecked by a disease that cruelly mangled his body into its famously misshapen form, stealing away his most basic expressive freedoms -- save for the power of his eyes and the thoughts behind them.

I've also made a deliberate attempt to pursue treatment (both psychiatric and psychological care) for my depression, which I urge you to do if you are likewise laboring under its crushing weight. The perspective of time, coupled with a remedy for mind and body can have a significant impact on your perspective, if not your life circumstances.

THE WINDY ROAD AHEAD

Learn from your mistakes, don't dwell on them. Repeated affirmations like this one may seem trite, but they are ultimately true. You can be free from the chains of guilt and move forward, as one performer puts it, "from strength to strength."

Don't kill yourself (literally or metaphorically) for someone else or for someone else's decisions. It may bum you out that a roomie decided to take your money and run or that you were rebuffed by a long-time crush or made jobless through corporate-wide cuts. You don't own that, they do.

Walks

Get off the couch, move that bod. Something as simple as a walk down the block or a drive out of town can do wonders for your perspective. As a homeschool teen living under the strict rule of a radical fundamentalist household in rural East Texas, my one salvation were those long walks in the open field -- especially when my parents started having loud, intense fights related to my mom's own mental health. I sorted through so many of life's problems (most of which seemed much larger then than they do now) through those solitary, hour-long strolls.

I really miss that where I live now, in a more congested neighborhood, so I have to find other ways of getting away from it all (getting up and out a half-hour before the other walkers, for instance, helps). Even if I don't want to rustle myself awake and move around to do as simple a task as taking out the trash, sometimes the feeling...let me revise that...quite often the feeling follows after the decision has been made and the body is in motion.

Projects

Another piece of advice I have for coping with depression is to channel your frustrations in projects. When I'm depressed, I throw myself into my work. Hell, Doomed & Stoned started because I needed a project to pour myself into. My counselor asked me once, "If you woke up tomorrow without depression, what would be different about your world?"

She encouraged me to start with the things that were in my immediate vicinity. "Well, there wouldn't be mail strewn all over the floor. My dirty clothes would be in the hamper, my clean clothes folded and put away. I'd take the time to cook myself a meal, instead of running out the door eating a quick bite out of some package."

Good, let's make a list and start there. Do at least one of the things on your list between now and the time we meet again next week.

Talks

Despite my isolationist ways, I begrudgingly admit that talking often helps, too. Though I'm an introvert and am horrified at the idea of sharing my feelings with others, I've reached points in my depression where I was compelled to tell others about it. It's as natural to do that as to cry out when your body is experiencing jolting pain. I'm one of those verbal processors that tends to sort through my problems by talking to someone else. Often, pride or shame or lack of trust gets in the way of sharing with our family and friends, so at the very least the much talked about Suicide Prevention Hotline could actually help you gain perspective on your situation.

Journals

If you don't talk, at least journal. Again, I'm not a journaler and this is the first time in almost three decades that I've written about anything related to my depression. Role play with me. You're a scientist studying the human psyche. How would you describe those feelings you call depression? When I was first asked to describe it to a counselor, I found myself at a loss for words. She helped me with prompts:

Can you tell me what it feels like?

"I walk around feeling like a dark, thick raincloud is hovering all around me all the time."

Do you feel it in a part of your body?

"Well, yeah, I guess. The head. And the chest. It feels like there's pressure building from all around me, like my head is going to explode. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest."

What's happening around you when these feelings arise?

I'd then go on to detail some recent happenings. She'd press me further to describe the kinds of thoughts racing through my head in these situations. All of this was really helpful in getting me to define this nebulous, gray malaise that was following me everywhere I went.

I don't keep a journal, per se. Something about it feels needlessly egotistical, a vain attempt to reinforce the illusion in our YouTube fame crazy world that my life is worth discovering and remembering at some point in the distant future. And yet, writing down one's thoughts can be another effective way of untangling that anxious ball of feelings that keeps me from thinking rationally about the depression I'm feeling.

Today is my birthday, but I couldn't care less. It's not about getting old. I stopped caring about that 10 years ago. It's something about celebration, specifically when the attention is on me. I can't adequately describe how contemptuous I find it. My last birthday was spent alone in an empty house and a bottle of Scotch, catching up with past seasons of Game of Thrones. I was so glad it was over and the happy birthday wishes stopped. There's nothing special about this day for me.

At some point, my family stopped celebrating birthdays and holidays. I'm not sure when it happened or why. Certainly not for religious reasons, more probably for financial ones. I grew up in a family that barely scraped by, so birthdays seemed a luxury we couldn't afford. Now, it just feels indulgent. More than that, it feels sad. It reminds me of all the disappointments, hurts, and failures of the past year. It's not as though it's all bad, of course. If nothing else my birthday gives the illusion that a chapter has turned, with new possibilities for the future. I also have to come to terms with how many people out there actually seem to care about me, maybe even love me.

And later that day, I forced myself to go to a show I was quite enthused about, but didn't factor in depression being the party pooper.

I can't account for what it is that comes over me. There are people here that genuinely like me, who probably even want to get to know me better, but I push them away. Not so much directly, but indirectly, by excusing myself to use the restroom and then changing my mind midway and just leaving the venue -- without even the courtesy of a "goodbye" to friends or a "great show" to the bands. I feel awful about it afterwards, but in that moment it's like a flood of emotional pain washes over me and it feels like I'm carrying an anchor chained around my neck. I feel the great urge to find my way to unlit corners. To look busy and preoccupied. Would it hurt me to say hello? To smile? Perhaps not, but right now my psyche is tingling like some kind of Spidey Sense telling me, "Get out of here! Just get your shit and leave...NOW."

As dour and hopeless as that may feel, just the act of writing it down afforded me a release, which incidentally I did not feel until the writing was all said and done.

Hope, a new beginning Time, time to start living Just like just before we died

Hurt, falling through fingers Trust, trust in the feeling There's something left inside There's no going back to the place we started from.

ONE MORE THING

For those of you who are wondering what you can do for a friend, family member, coworker or just someone you know casually from shows you both frequent, I couldn't say it better than one of my longtime fellow travelers in doom, who offered up this advice:

"While it's all very well and fucking dandy that there are so many people telling those who are struggling to reach out to them, I don't think people are quite understanding just how mental illness works sometimes. People quite often don't reach out, because those that are suffering from mental illness, at times, feel like they are a burden by unloading their shit onto someone else, despite the invitation to do so. It's generally the same concept that leads on to suicide.

I obviously can't speak for everyone, but I can speak for myself when I say the last thing I want to do is reach out to anyone because I feel like I am a burden and everyone would be better off without me -- and that is ultimately why I don't reach out. The point that I'm trying to get at is if you see someone struggling YOU reach the fuck out. If you don't see someone who used to be around, YOU reach the fuck out. Think about it. It's not that hard."

Well said and completely on the mark. At the same time, if you're feeling alone and uncared for, you may look at people’s lack of inquiry as more confirmation that you are worthless trash. You may interpret a busy person's slight as utter rejection. Don't worry about what others may or may not think of you. You need to take care of you, for you. The future is fickle. Your fortunes can change on a dime, so why base your self-worth and your decision about whether to live or die by how you feel right now? Ride it out, seek out help, get a game plan in play.

I say this as someone who knows how hard it can be to get mental health. I was double insured -- through my employer and the Veterans Administration -- and I couldn't get a god damned psychiatric appointment to reevaluate and adjust my meds. I called all over town trying to get in with someone. "Sorry, we're not accepting new patients" was the universal refrain. The VA would just be too many month's wait, I told myself, based upon how long it has taken me in the past to get a conventional medical appointment. In desperation, I called up my primary care doctor who asked if I was suicidal. For the first time in my life, I knew with full certainty the answer was yes. The more miserable I felt, the more I contemplated dying. If I did it, it would be something quick and sudden, I would daydream in my most despondent moment. "You need to check yourself into the hospital now," she told me adamantly. I did exactly that. I walked into the ER and told them I was suicidal. They led me to a room, had me take off all my clothes, and put on a hospital gown. I stayed in a padded room waiting for a social worker to see me. It was a desperate move, but it did pay off in getting me fast-tracked to see a psychiatrist.

One thing I learned about medication from my new psychiatrist (because he was very caring, very careful, and hence very effective at his job) is that everyone’s brain chemistry is uniquely different. There can be other issues impacting mood, too, such as thyroid, environmental stressors, sleep problems, vitamin deficiencies, and so on. Again, it’s often hard to see whether the cart is leading the horse or the horse is leading the cart, in terms of the mind-body connection. Long story short, this doctor adjusted my meds to near perfection to get me through the rare summer-long depression I was experiencing.

Just a few months later, he got hired away to work for the County and I was left back in the same boat once again. I got a great referral, but didn't realize until bills came in I couldn't pay that the doctor was out of my insurance network. Believe me, many people prefer to go without care entirely than to go into debt and I was one of them (truthfully, I still am). I went another year until I couldn't take it anymore and this time in my desperation reached back out to the VA. Surprisingly, they saw me within a week and prioritized my suicidal depression. I'm now in a good spot as a result, but it was a long, windy, uncertain road getting here. I know it's hard to find help. Sometimes you don't know what's available to you until you knock a little louder and get people's attention.

The older I get, it seems the more stubborn I am, particularly when it comes to reaching out and asking for help. Perhaps I've always been that way and am only now realizing it's become a liability. After taking off three weeks during the holidays to catch up with the many projects that were piling up around me, I realized that my depression was sometimes stronger than my will to power through and do my best work. I would find myself sitting at the computer for hours trying to get started with a story, trying to edit audio for a podcast, trying to prepare a team member's submission for publication, and every time I would find myself coming up against something painful, perhaps similar to the long recognized creative crimp known as writer's block. I describe it as an inhibitor chip in my brain that sends pain signals to my psyche whenever I contemplate moving forward.

Of course, rationally, I know it's all just a matter of the will, right? That's what those who aren't experiencing depression will tell you, at least. They don't want to go to the gym, but they make the choice to do it anyway, so why can't you just "man up" and do what needs to be done? Well, those aren't so much the messages other people give me, as they are my own conscience. The guilt itself from a day coming and going without results adds its own layer of complication to my mood. Thankfully, I have a wonderful counselor who understands and is helping me to tackle this with cognitive strategies. This, coupled with sensible medical treatment, has at least helped me to find "even flow" again.

Finally, you're going to have some bad days where you may even want to be productive, but your body feels like it's in revolt. As a creative person who loves to pour myself into as many projects as I can when I'm feeling good, it can be extraordinarily frustrating to not even feel the will to check email, open a letter, or listen to a stitch of music. Most days, I'm trying to work in concert with my body's natural rhythms. I'm more of a morning person and get my best work done between 8AM and 11AM. Anything after that is going to be hit or miss with diminishing returns. With that in mind, I have to hold back from starting new projects before the ones already on my plate are finished, because when I'm feeling good, I think I can take on the world.

This is all a part of me rediscovering what it's like to feel balanced, bright, and in love with life. It can be frustrating to have that feeling back, only to watch it wither away as the week progresses. Since I have very high expectations of myself, it's natural for me to heap guilt upon guilt for all the missed opportunities, but beating myself up only compounds the problem (it took me a long time to really get this about myself, too). Every day is a struggle, but I've decided I'm staying in the fight for the long haul.

In short: Be patient with yourself. Be fair with yourself. Be good to yourself. Remember, this too shall pass.

"Someday you're going to die, just like some day I'm going to die. But until then, you fight like hell to stay alive, you get that?!"

-- William Holden, The Earthling (1980)

[thisismyghost-blog]

1st time I told my fam/friends on fb about the sadistic monster who abused me and is facing agg kidnapping and 3agg rape charges

So idk how some of you will react to this but i have to risk people who will hate me or just turn away in order to gain reinforcements. I have been practically in hiding for almost a year after finally giving up on keeping a bold face at my job that I loved with a few people that I really loved due to the pain I didn’t know how to handle of being visibly and deeply scorned by a few people who I had done nothing to but be friendly and awkward to (just due to lack of social experience)I have been protected under the love of my amazing family, my best friend Sayruh, and the incredible loving man who I can’t describe rn who came into my life about five years ago and with who’s path, unfortunately, was diverged during what I’m about to tell you. This isn’t going to be college level essay ish, so bare with me. I’m bleeding and panting out of breathe in the battlefield of life at this moment but I haven’t dropped the sword and I never will. I don’t have to do this alone, as much as I’ve been alone and felt deeply affected by if people think I am worthless, stupid, ugly, a whore or make assumptions about me that hurt them or take me the wrong way.i have hidden myself to protect others and to protect myself but I see now that is utter BULLLSHHIIITTT y’all. I was in a “relationship”with what fits the pattern of a malignant narcissist, possible psychopath for 9 entire soul crushing, brain washing, body mutilating, being made to believe I was bad or crazy, turning against myself months. That’s the time it takes to grow a fully ripened human, and apparently it’s also the time to nearly break an intelligent, loving sister, mother, daughter, friend, woman almost entirely.     This creature who masquerades as an attractive, eloquent, humble, caring, selfless individual has likely been slandering me since the moment he walked into my place of work as he, behind the scenes, carefully put up walls between me and anyone who might later have compassion for the things he had in store for me. That wasn’t terribly hard due to the fact that I was already a very shy person.This Lucifer gaslighted, undermined and abused me while successfully convincing me that he was helping me become a better person and applying his version of “therapy” based on his claimed experience in mental health in another country and coming out of terrible traumas all by himself. This person took the self doubt i already had, filled it with poison, and offered it through a needle promising the antidote. This person used my compassion and love for others to convince me to let him do horrible things to me as a stress relief or way of dealing with their past trauma in order to help them, to help them not do self destructive things and be able to go out and help others in Grand ways that he constantly spoke of.I have been hiding because I have seen that human nature tends to immediately start looking for ways to blame or dehumanize people that are in horrible situations like this. I have been hiding because I could feel the seering looks of disgust, feel the betrayel from those I had admired and even looked up to that had already taken place and wished not to extend an opportunity for others. I realize now that I have been ashamed of being vulnerable to someone else’s lack of humanity and feeling as though that truly debased me or may as well if it succeeded in debasing me from human status in the eyes of most people onlooking, so why give them a chance to onlook?I have no choice now because today I was shown my choice by the assistant district attorney.  It was my hope to protect others from this monster. It was my hope because I have seen what these creatures who walk among us, looking like people, expressing emotion on their face like people, and I have seen this creature twist otherwise upstanding, moderately intelligent individuals into hating a person in order to discredit them and also back them further into a corner, convince them they are nothing, watch them suffer and feed on their tears like a twisted vampire. You think you can spot a monster? Maybe you would have better luck. I think we all think we do, how can you not believe what your mind is telling you when you look at what looks like a human being but is a monster no one warned you about, who literally takes pleasure in slowly driving you insane and takes bites out of your flesh like a wolf and yelling at you for bleeding. I am not perfect, no one is. I make mistakes, that’s human. I take the wrong path sometimes, also human. Do I need to say that in order for you not to start asking a million questions until you get to the part where your brain can let out a sigh of relief and go “ooohh I was worried this world was that horrific for a minute but clearly this bitch is an idiot or a sinner who deserved whatever she’s going on about.”?I want to stop and give credit where credit is due.I am tempted to name names but I haven’t. There are people who I worked next to everyday and only had affection for who completely turned their back on me when he was arrested. I didn’t call police, my doctor did. I hate attention, I have no vendettas.  I have to  get out of this corner letting him and his minions scare/shame me into silence and projecting their ill motives onto me. I know it makes no sense. I only know that I am sure I experienced what I imagine thousands of murdered women experienced in their final moments. I feel that he would enjoyed watching my final moments and holding them in his hands like a god. I only know that an amazing doctor who I trusted and went to for advice about how to not get murdered or even possibly salvage my life from without police help because I didn’t believe they would help me. I believed him when he told me his ex’s called police and he talked them away, I believed him when he told me that police came to my door at times when I was screaming and he talked to them while I was in the bathroom crying and convinced them everything was ok. I believed what he didn’t have to put into words but only insinuate, that everyone will call me a stupid lying whore for staying around and trying to get help would only result in being told so. I was wrong. My doctor called the police without my knowledge, everyone treated me with compassion and respect and told me I was safe now. I thought that meant other girls would be safe now. I was mistaken. I held onto the remaining shards of my life with all my strength, allowing people under his spell to treat me despicably as I fought the tears, told myself it’s my fault for not being a better person who speaks up and is more than just quiet and friendly but involved and let’s you know them and is there for you. I tried to hold my head high and ignore them or focus on the 3 friends I had left and remind myself that they could have no clue what the truth was and that they would never believe me over such a charming loveable individual. How do you tell someone that a person they admire is capable of worse things than they have ever imagined and expect them to believe you unless they are incredibly close and trusting of you?Trial is coming up. I thought I could seek back up through expert witnesses and professionals who could untangle the dark web of deadly lies, ignorance and misinformation. I thought maybe I could find others like the girl he claimed to have put in the hospital for three months.. I thought.. Maybe.. I could sleep at night one day without picturing dead girls all alone in a landfill disposed of by him and forgotten. That is only my imagination but your mind is your window to the world and it’s all you see. Instead I am told that due to the burden of proof, even after the stack of felony indictments an incredible female detective at Smyrna PD was able to procure on my behalf.. That he will most likely walk free or get less than a decade and be let loose upon the world again. If you ever get hurt, make sure it’s by a total stranger and that you see clearly what’s going on in order to be able to immediately, report it and get the hell away from them so the law can protect you.(sarcasm if u didn’t see it.)There has to be an alarm raised and debate changed. Not for me but for my niece, my cousins, our daughters and sons, every human being who is out there vulnerable to be spotted by a shark who probably dresses and speaks properly and seems like a “stand up citizen” maybe even have a position of authority, maybe even like he did, claim to be a representative of Jesus and some version of my personal Satan’s false story that he was a champion of all orphans and the disenfranchised. I have pictures of him surrounded by smiling children he claimed were in a orphanage he managed for a time in an impoverished part of the world and claimed to have been their main source of affection and mental health assistance in dealing with the loss of their parents.If you are totally mind f9(?#d after reading this, understand that I have been fighting epic battles through Hell daily via my mind and PTSD armed with love  from my son, family, Antwane. An inkling that maybe I can build some sort of bridge to the nameless victims who will never have a charge formally filed much less prosecuted, the forgotten girls buried in shallow graves because a monster feasted on their human heart and knew no one would be in their corner to save them and that society at Large would walk on their unmarked grave with no tears shed for a “whore”. Armed with the small bit of reason and understanding I’ve gained through education and love not letting me die no matter how much agony and confusion and darkness swallowed me whole I walk out of that dark corner of shame today. I still need healing, I still am learning not to be hard on myself, I still have no idea what I’m doing but I’m fighting y’all and I have gained the type of clarity I’m not sure many people ever have after a lifetime. There is no magic day to come where after you try hard enough you never incur anymore criticism and you feel good enough, but in the meantime those who are so sure of themselves are devouring the innocent, virtually wholly unchecked and every bully, every shaming comment meant to put you down and shut you up is a type of  weaponry used by those behaving inhumanely and projecting their diminished humanity onto you. Don’t let them do it. If you care how you affect other people you are top notch in my book and every shortcoming you have tell everyone to STFU about and keep going. Your inability to wow a crowd or rock a swimsuit for a magazine or even speak to a stranger or your emotional outburst and lack of attention to your house when you’re depressed.. any and everything that you feel ashamed about, you give it the middle finger for me. Your voice in your own head and how you see yourself is where it starts and YOU are who I need to join me in this fight with the odds insanely against me and the rest who fall into their snare. I need you to keep trying,I need you to fight to see for yourself what really matters and what is left because there are no superheroes or quick fixes and everytime you feel empathy for someone and want to take their pain or help, this is how. You become strong and you fight for reason, compassion, you fight the voices that degrade and throw away human beings but you start with your own.If you want to talk, text me. Might take some time but I’ll be there and I will not judge anything so if you just need to vent things you feel shame about I am a good sounding board I have discovered. I don’t have any answers for you but I am another human being who values you. Naj is doing great btw he’s facing his own bullies but he’s got an expert on his side and an amazing dad and uncle. I have an extremely bright gorgeous life ahead and I see it on the horizon. I almost said if I don’t reach it I will die trying but there are 3 amazing guys in the next room that love me, a gorgeous brilliant sister a few minutes away, my mom with her endless Love, compassion, years of memories and experience that I hope to be able to properly learn from and appreciate, this genius niece who is so much like me at her age but better and actually likes me. I could keep going. If you looked in the mirror today and thought anything besides “Damn fine bitch, world’s lucky to have me!” then go apologize please. Maybe you won’t mean it but you can get there. I may not be able to stop him. There may be Hell on Earth that I have yet to see, but the people who love us and are waiting for us to meet and love them, they are what matters now. You are what matters to me now. He used to tell me I would gain great wisdom from him and help him change the world. I did gain wisdom, I won’t give him credit for that, I dug it out of the ashes of what he left behind. If that’s possible then imagine what you can do