#like I don’t know what to do I need my current pay I am drowning in debt but I also have no degree so ultimately somewhere where o feel

[gwyoi]

Anyways I was listening to that video while I was working on a couple projects and I had to finish them to get to the post office and my teeth were chattering LOL like it’s bad out here I put some stuff on my review sheet that might help but ultimately it’s the nature of my job and working in general that is causing me issues . My ideal working conditions would be if I only had to come in 3 days a week and the other 2 days I can work remotely and do stuff for the website and internal marketing and work on advertisements at home . I think this is also why I’m working myself so hard is because I think I could get that with my current employer because everyone there is so nice BUT I know they would not give that to me now. I think I would have to put 3 more years into it before I could even ask for that drastic of a role shift especially when it feels like everyone really relies on me for their emergency bs 😭

[lovelycreativecrafts]

One Bed | Hobie x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,615

Synopsis: They get stuck in a different dimension.

Warnings: None

Author Notes: While writing this I didn't write any slang or accents and Hobie Brown maybe a little out of character since it was kind of hard writing him. If you liked the short fanfic, please Like, Reblog, and Comment your thoughts. Also, my Requests are currently OPEN.

Water dripped from my glove as I pressed against my watch. Come on, work. I tried opening a portal back to the Spider HQ but the watch kept malfunctioning. I sighed and pulled off my drenched mask. 

“I don’t think it’s working, Love.” 

I lifted my head and glared at Hobie, “Well, maybe it would work if you didn’t drag both of us into the ocean.” 

Hobie raised his eyebrow, “The vampire should have made them waterproof.” Hobie tucked his mask inside of his pocket. 

“I can’t swim you know. I could have drowned.” 

“Why do you think I held onto you the whole time, Love.” 

I squeezed the water out of my mask, “Stop calling me that.” 

“I’ll do whatever I want, Love,” Hobie smirked down at me. 

I ignored him as a gust of wind flew past me. A shiver went up my spine and I crossed my arms. It’s getting cold. 

Hobie walked past me and began making his way toward a sidewalk. 

“Where are you going?” 

“We can’t stay out here, now can we?” 

I stayed quiet and tightened my arms around myself as I began to shiver. I followed Hobie as he went on the sidewalk. I don’t understand why Miguel had me team up with him. 

I caught up to Hobie and looked down at my watch. I began pressing onto it again. 

“What are you trying to do? The thing is busted.” 

“I’m trying to get in contact with Miguel.” As I tried contacting Miguel the watch soon turned off. 

“Come on,” I complained. 

“You really are a goody two shoes, huh?” 

I looked toward Hobie, “I am not.” 

Hobie turned in front of me and began to walk backward, “Then why are you trying to get back to the Vampire so much? You have a crush on him or something?” 

My eyes widened, “What? No. I just want to get back home. Why would you think that?” 

A smirk grew on Hobie’s face, “Because you always do everything he says.” 

“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to start any unnecessary drama.” 

“So you like playing it safe. That’s only going to get you so far, Love.” 

“And you never play it safe. I almost could have drowned because of you.” 

“But because of me, you didn’t drown.” 

“And I’m wet and cold.” 

“Which is why I brought us here.” Hobie stopped and looked to his right. 

I stopped in front of him and followed the direction of his eyesight. A hotel building stood beside us. I looked back at Hobie. 

“And how do you expect us to pay for that?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“Just watch, Love.” Hobie turned toward the building and walked toward it. 

I followed behind him and wrapped my arms around myself. We walked into the building and goosebumps crawled up my arms. It’s even colder in here. Hobie walked up to the front desk and I waited behind him. 

Hobie began talking to the man at the desk and he pulled some money out of his pocket. The man gave Hobie a key and looked at me. 

“I hope you two have a good night,” the man smiled. 

I frowned as Hobie made his way to me, “Why did he say that to me?” 

“Probably just being nice.” Hobie walked past me and made his way to the room. 

I continued to follow behind him, “Where did you get the money from?” 

“From someone who won’t be needing it.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him, “You stole didn’t you.” 

Hobie glanced behind his shoulder, “You know me so well, huh Love,” He smirked. 

“Stealing is bad. You’re supposed to be a hero.” 

“I don’t do labels remember. And besides, the man is rich he probably won’t notice that it’s gone.” Hobie looked back in front of him. 

He stopped at the room and unlocked the door. We both stepped inside. The room was a typical hotel room decorated with white and cream colors. 

“I’ll be back. You should head in the shower.” 

I looked toward Hobie, “Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere far. I will be back.” 

I opened my mouth but Hobie quickly left the room before I could say anything. I sighed and walked further into the room. There was a small dining room with a table and two chairs. Next to it was the bathroom. I turned the corner and there was a large bed with cream-colored sheets. I reexamined the area again. 

Why is there only one bed? We both can’t sleep in the bed, right?

***

Hobie POV

I walked back into the hotel with two bags in my hand. I locked the door behind me as the running of the shower filled the air. I walked further into the room. I hope I got the right size for her. I placed her bag of clothes on the bathroom door handle. 

Will she think it’s weird that I bought her clothes? Her whole body was drenched and she started shivering. Maybe I shouldn’t have dragged her into the water. 

The shower was turned off and I walked up to the bathroom door. I took the bag off the door and knocked on it. 

“Yes?” 

“I have some clothes for you.” 

She cracked the door open and popped her head through the crack. I shifted my eyes away from her figure as the towel covering her body came slightly into view. 

“Did you steal them?” She asked. 

A smirk made its way onto my face. There she goes being a goody two shoes. 

“Perhaps but would you rather wear the stolen ones or your wet clothes?” 

She didn’t respond but I felt her hand brush against mine as she took the bag from my hand. She quickly shut the door and I chuckled. I thought so. 

I usually don’t care for how anyone is dressed in front of me. Gwen has walked in front of me with just a towel plenty of times but I never really cared. But for her to do it makes me nervous. If I don’t control myself she may find out that I like her. 

She soon left out of the bathroom and my eyes traced down her figure. The tank top hung loosely around her shoulders and her shorts hugged her hips. Heat crawled up my neck as I met her eyes. 

“How do the clothes fit?” I asked as my hands grew sweaty. 

She slid the strap of her shirt further up her shoulder, “They fit fine.” 

She glanced away from me and crossed her arms, “And thank you . . . for the clothes.” 

A smile formed on my lips, “No problem, Love.”

“Where are we going to sleep?” She pointed toward the bed. 

“What do you mean?” 

“There’s only one bed.” She stated. 

“And what about it.” 

“It’s just  . . . ,” 

My heart dropped, “I can sleep on the floor. If you’re not comfortable.” 

“No it’s not that and besides it’s cold on the floor. I’m just used to sleeping by myself is all.” She looked up at me.

“So am I.” 

“What about-,” She cut herself off. 

“What?” I questioned. 

“Gwen usually stays at your place often so I just thought, you know.” 

I raised an eyebrow at her, “Me and Gwen are just friends. She sleeps over sometimes when she needs to but she’s not sleeping with me.”

“Sorry. I just assumed.” 

“We can talk about this once I take a shower.” 

She nodded at me and I walked into the bathroom. 

***

I walked out of the bathroom and hung my Spiderman outfit on the dining chair. I looked toward the bed and saw her underneath the covers. She was worried over nothing. Her figure shifted from underneath the covers and she let out a groan. I walked toward the bed. What could she be dreaming about?

She let out another groan, “No . . . please.” 

I stopped in front of the bed as her arms stretched out from underneath the covers. “No please don’t hurt him,” her voice wavered. 

I frowned and made my way to her side of the bed. I sat on the edge and lightly shook her shoulder, “Hey, it’s just a dream.” 

Her bottom lip began to quiver as tears fell out of her closed eyes. I continued to shake her as I called her name and her eyes opened. 

“Are you okay, Love?” 

She raised her hands from the bed sheet and onto the sides of my face. What is she-

“Peter? Is that you?” 

I froze as I noticed how her eyes didn’t exactly look at me but through me. She’s still dreaming. 

Her eyebrows began to knit together and her lips curved down, “Peter?” 

What do I do? I stared into her eyes as tears fell from them, “I’m . . . here.” 

“I’m so glad that you’re safe. I thought crocodile killed you. I shouldn’t have disobeyed you. I will listen to you from now on. So, please don’t leave me. I don’t know what I would do without you. So, please.” 

I searched my mind to find the words for her, “I’m not going anywhere . . . I’ll always be right here with you.”

“Peter?” 

“Yes?” 

“I love you.” 

My heart skipped at her words, “I-I love you too.” 

A smile grew on her face and heat crawled up my cheeks. “You should go to sleep now.” 

She nodded her head and her eyelids slowly closed. I took her hands from my cheeks and layed them back on the bed. 

She had a Peter. How much did his death affect her? It seems Peter was more than just her family or friend. How could I ever make up for her loss? 

[theworldoffostering]

You guys, I feel like I’m drowning. These past three weeks have felt unmanageable to me. Like, I don’t know how to keep going.

I’m walking alongside (trying the best I know how) the older girls as one navigates this break up and the other tries to transition to college. We got DD a car, but it still needs a few repairs. She was here all afternoon today working on it with DH.

I am waiting for the updated version of Ms. 6’s IEP to hit my inbox to send it off to the school. I am also working on her housing contract. Then I think I can step back for a few weeks. Still trying to figure out what’s going on with graduation. Her mom is back to letting her go to it and maybe allow her to stay for dinner, but it’s Memorial Day weekend and I don’t want to put a deposit down for a dinner somewhere only to have her not be allowed to attend at the last minute. I also don’t want to disappoint her. I’m unsure of how to proceed, so I’m just sort of frozen.

DS takes his civics test next week. You have to pass in order to graduate high school. He has prepared and seems like he will do well. He’s also pole vaulting and doing well at that for being a novice and having very little practice time due to the crummy weather we’ve been having.

Work is a lot right now. It’s to be expected due to the time of year. I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s a lot to slog through.

DH was verbally offered a job this week as a special education teacher. He is supposed to return to school to get his teaching certification in about a week, and is waiting for a letter of intent via email from the potential employer. It’s a lot. We are trying to manage the financial aid piece and we are up against a super tight deadline right now. His interview for the job was virtual, so he’s heading to the school next week to actually tour it and meet his potential coworkers. In the spirit of living in a small town, one of the women he used to live who was in live with him (for real)—the housing situation was work related—works at the school. She has legit not spoken to myself or DH since he and I got engaged so that seems like it will be super awkward (although she is also married now and has kids).

DH is finally seeing a decent therapist and between the therapist and neuropsych eval he had done during fall, it is apparent he is super depressed. Depressed is apparently his baseline and super depressed happens quite a bit. It is helpful to have it identified, but wow, it is a lot to live with. I am really struggling as his wife because he cannot do much and is not really emotionally available 90% of the time. He’s so inwardly focused, that he cannot focus on me, the kids, relationships, stuff that needs to be done, etc. I’m drowning and he cannot take on any of the workload. It sucks.

My endocrin had me take b12 supplements the last three months and my level actually decreased. I’m starting up with b12 injections next week. My TSH is also super, super low which means I’m hyperhyroid and should be losing weight, but I’m gaining which also sucks.

My endocrin is out of network for me which means my injections will be out of network. I have ZERO out of network benefits. The whole healthcare system is atrocious. I refuse to go back to the three endocrins I saw before I connected with my current one. They were all terrible, but in network. I need a super expensive full body scan but I for sure cannot pay for that out of pocket, so I’m waiting to see if my GP will prescribe it when I see him in June.

My crown also broke this week and when the dentist looked at it, I had worn a hole clear through the middle. He said it was due to grinding/stress. I wear a mouth guard religiously at night, so it’s happening during the day. :-/ Cue more medical bills. They glued my current one back on and can’t get me in to work on repair until June. I almost cried when trying to schedule with them because I just cannot even do all of this any more. (It also hurt wicked bad last time they fixed it so I’m somewhat terrified to return.)

That’s my list of complaints/brain dump. There’s more, but I need to wrap up some grading and get dinner going. I miss a life that was easier and less complicated.

[joyfull24]

Perils of Napping

I get triggered by the term contact napping. It’s used by people who are generally against parents holding their kids while they sleep. Since I’m not one of these people, I can’t tell you what bothers them exactly. But something does because they call it contact napping instead of napping.

There are a lot of warnings out there. Apparently, once you start contact napping you won’t be able to quit it. Naps are more addictive than hard drugs. How will you get anything done if you hold a sleeping child? You’ll perish of exhaustion and then who will want to take care of your needy baby?

My baby, like all babies, likes to be held to sleep. He is currently 10 weeks old. And sometimes, don’t tell anyone with pediatrician in their job title, I hold him while he sleeps. You might think this is incredibly dangerous, as parenting books today make it seem like the leading cause of childhood death, behind accidentally drowning, is getting dropped off the sofa by your sleeping parents. I have not fallen asleep while holding my child on the sofa, yet, but I still feel guilty when I do it.

Because this is contact napping and apparently for my little human’s development, I should be laying him down always to sleep in a cold, dark, empty crib until he has a flat spot on the back of his head and he needs an expensive helmet to correct his neck tendons. I’m giving pediatrician’s flack, but my son actually has a great doctor who is very relaxed. He recommended a parenting guidebook and specified that we should use it to troubleshoot instead of looking things up on Doctor Google, which I think is generally good advice. Only problem is, its his job is to know my son, not me. No one has ever handed me a book I didn’t read cover to cover.

So reading this damn thing is where some of my bitterness comes from. The authors’ would have me believe that they put their kid down for every nap every day of their lives. My own experience as a child tells me this cannot possibly be true. Maybe it is. But I kinda want a kid like me. I want a kid who can sleep in the car on a forty hour road trip to Disney because their parents saved up for months, but didn’t want to pay to stay in a hotel to split up the drive, since that would be wasting money. I want a kid who can sleep at a summer concert, in the middle of July, and maybe crack an eye when the fireworks go off. I want a kid who can sleep at Buffalo Wild Wings on the table in between trivia questions with that weird little tablet gripped in their sticky little fingers (pretty sure they don’t use the plastic punch pad tablets anymore, I’d guess trivia’s on your cell phone now – feel free to correct me, I haven’t been to a BDubs in years).

I think napping on the go is an important trait. I don’t worry about this with my kid so much. I am confident he will inherit my super power…to sleep on trains, planes, and automobiles. His mom has woken up mid-trip to jump off a train two stations early in the middle of Rome (she doesn’t speak Italian). She’s also ridden all the way to Kenosha and had to turn around when she missed her stop having a good nap after work. These are important life experiences I wouldn’t want him to miss out on!

...

Read the rest for free over on Word Press: https://joy-fulls.com/

[fitrahgolden]

There's A World You Need To Know: 4 - It's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you

[PLEASE READ: So, I start to get into Kate’s ethical crisis here. Please note that this is a work of poorly researched fiction. Maybe in real life, there would be no socially acceptable way Kate and Anthony could ever be in a relationship after she’d been his siblings’ therapist. While I am trying to not totally disregard the ethical problem here, this isn’t real life. It’s an HEA.]

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Hi, Kate.  I hope your flight goes OK. Please let us know when you’ve landed safely.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): This is Anthony Bridgerton, by the way.

Brother. Brother. Kate was surprised to see a text from Anthony as she was packing for Ireland. And though she tried not to let herself admit it, it made her smile. But he’s their brother. No relationships with the family members of current clients. No exceptions.

Current clients. The thoughts that distinction led to felt so selfish. It could still have consequences for her career. Would her colleagues take her seriously? Would her other clients? Her publisher? How would Gregory and Hyacinth feel after she abandoned them and then showed back up on Anthony’s arm? They would hate it. They would hate her. If she was having these thoughts, is it right to continue to be their therapist anyway?

After staring at the messages for far too long, she put her phone face down and resumed packing. She turned on music to try to drown the thoughts out. It didn’t work.

—

“Hey, hey! KC, looking gorgeous, as always.” Tom approached Kate as she sat in Heathrow, checked in and ready to board. She smiled when she heard Tom’s greeting. She got up and gave him a tight hug before he settled next to her.

“Thought I was gonna have to go without you. No photos for my next book.”

“I would never.” Tom clutched his chest in mock offense.

“Are you gonna see family while we’re there? We’ll be so close.”

Tom ran his hand through his hair. “Eh, yeah. I reckon I should. I’d never hear the end of it from Mum if I was an hour away from Aunty for three weeks and didn’t pop by.”

“Yeah. You know I won’t need photos every day. You could have a little holiday during the trip.”

“What about you? Fancy a trip to the seaside? Aunty would love to meet you. She’s a big fan.”

“Thanks, but I’m gonna try to work efficiently. I want to get back home as soon as I can.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t like being away from Mum and Edwina for so long. Or abandoning my clients.” Or anyone else. No, no. There is no one else.

“Abandon? That’s being a bit hard on yourself, KC. Though I guess that is your way.” Tom pulled her into a side hug and she rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re wonderful to your clients. Too wonderful, even. You only take a break from that work to do other work. When’s the last time you took a proper holiday?”

“Well, all this work pays off. Ed's school is taken care of. Mum's house is paid off. They were actually just away themselves. Anyway, I travel,” Kate said defensively.

“Like I said, for work. Hey, why don’t you and I plan for a trip later this year? Once the book is in review, eh? Me, you, Edwina, Mary. No work allowed?”

Kate side eyed him. “I don’t know, Tom…”

Tom nodded knowingly, “Look, again, I’m sorry I misread things when we first started working together. I was a dickhead. But we are friends now, right?”

“Yeah, of course, Tom.”

“Good.” Tom sighed, relieved. “No vacation with your family, though. Got it.”

Kate scrunched up her nose. “No, not mad about that idea.”

—

Checked into their hotel in downtown Cork, Tom walked Kate to her room.

“Bright and early in the morning?”

Kate opened her door and turned back to Tom. “Yep, the building is thankfully a short taxi ride away. Should be able to get down to work pretty quickly.”

“Excellent.” Tom spared a glance into Kate’s room and looked down at her luggage. “You good with your bags?”

“Yep. Don’t worry about me, Tom. Get some sleep. We both need it.”

“Alright. You know I’m just down the hall if you need anything.”

“Mmhmm. Good night.”

“Good night.” Tom took a couple of steps backward before turning and heading to his room.

Once inside, Kate promptly video called Edwina and Mary. As usual, they insisted they were fine without her and, yes, Simon had said he would come by to check on them. Kate wanted to go over the checklist, but was out voted. After good nights and air kisses, Kate hung up, plugged in her phone, unpacked, prepped for tomorrow morning, and finally got ready for bed.

As soon as she lied down, she knew sleep wouldn't be coming anytime soon.

Don't do it. Text Ed. Text Simon. Next Tom. No, not Tom. But anyone else. Don't text him. 

Anthony Bridgerton, was it? Thank you for checking in. Really, it's quite thoughtful. We did land safely and are in for the night so we can get an early start tomorrow.

Kate hit send before she could think too much about the fact that she said "we" and would that make Anthony think she and Tom were sharing a room or something? Doesn't matter. Does not–

Her phone chimed.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Glad to hear it. I've never been to Cork.

First time here. Would you like me to return with a report?

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): A thorough one, yes. Double spaced, if you don't mind.

Of course.

Would it be annoying if I asked about Gregory and Hyacinth?

I know it's not my place.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): No, no. It's fine. It's nice that you care so much about them. They are both in a proper mourning period.

Aw, don't tell me that.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Fine. They won't stop singing Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead.

Ha ha.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): They miss you. Hyacinth wants a guitar. They plan to give us all music and paint lessons so we will "learn to communicate our feelings while avoiding becoming overwhelmed by them." What have you done to these kids? 

Hopefully, something good. Seems like a lot when it's been two days. I only see them twice a week anyway.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): And I genuinely think it's the highlight of their week. Who knew having a safe outlet to express yourself could be so rewarding?

Me. I knew. You should try it. 

Shit, sorry. That was out of line. 

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): No, it's OK.

No, it's not. I try really hard to avoid giving unsolicited advice.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Good on you. Personally, I find it impossible not to tell everyone what they should be doing at all times.

Well, you should be telling me to go to sleep, then.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Go to sleep, Kate.

Good night, Anthony.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Good night. 

—

“Think we are at the halfway mark?” Tom asked as he set Kate’s drink down in front of her. They were finishing up supper at the pub directly across the street from their hotel.

“Yeah, I think I can confidently say that.” Kate sat back triumphantly.

“Only a week in. Efficient, indeed. And it’s looking amazing, but you already knew that. Client happy so far?”

“Yup.” Tom studied her for a moment. Kate, furrowed her brow. “What?”

“You are usually more of a stress ball during these big projects. Everything’s seeming to flow more easily this go round.” Kate shrugged. “Might it be you’ve finally learned to relax? That’s the right direction towards letting yourself take a real holiday, I suppose.”

“Speaking of, are you making your way towards the coast in the morning?”

“Yeah, playing dutiful nephew. Sure you don’t want to come?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a good rhythm set. Don’t want to lose momentum.”

Kate’s phone chimed. She tried to ignore it, but–

“That thing’s been going off like mad all evening.” Tom chuckled.

“It’s what I get for asking for updates from Ed and Mum as well as updates on their updates from Si.”

It was true. She was exchanging a lot of messages with her family. But she and Anthony had also not stopped texting since her first night in Cork. And it had Kate giddy. Giddy. After the first couple of days, she decided to compartmentalize away her guilty feelings. She could enjoy talking with him. They were just talking. As friends.

Her phone chimed again.

“You don’t have to ignore them on my account.”

“You don’t mind?” Kate was already reaching into her pocket.

“Go on. Want another?” Tom pointed at her glass.

“Yes, please,” Kate said, not looking up from her phone.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Was I right? I was, wasn’t I?

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): What’s my prize?

Remind me what this is referring to?

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): You know what.

I’m sure I don’t.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Right. You’re already halfway done, aren’t you? And all of Cork is falling at your feet, feeling utterly unworthy of their city being permanently graced by the artwork of one Kathani Cavery Sharma.

Kate could feel herself grinning like an idiot and she didn't care.

I don't know about the second thing.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Which means I'm right about the first thing. That’s all I need to be the victor, so I ask again, what are my spoils?

See, it would have been a legitimate bet if we had laid out specific terms, but alas, we made no such agreement.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Yeah, no, I'll let you know what my spoils are to be once I've decided, Ms. Sharma.

I can hear you maniacally rubbing your hands together from here.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): I'm being loud for your benefit.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Can I see any pictures of your work in progress or do I have to wait until it's done?

Kate's cheeks got hot. Calm down, dummy. He's asking for pictures of the mural, not you. 

So, you’ve been playing the long game. All this talking has just been a way to get early access to the latest attraction in Cork? How can I be sure nothing I share will be leaked to every major news site in the world by tomorrow morning?

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Easy. You have leverage. Those aforementioned spoils I want from you. Nay, I am owed! I wouldn't dare betray you before I've secured those.

Fingers snapped in front of Kate's face. She blinked up and saw Tom smiling at her curiously.

"Shit, sorry."

"No, it's fine. I guess it's all good news?"

"Ha, yeah."

Tom leaned back in his chair. Kate pushed some hair–that was already behind her ear–behind her ear. Why do you feel nervous? Nothing is going on and it's none of Tom's business if anything was.

"You OK?"

Kate sighed and rolled her eyes. "I really am, Tom."

"I know it's fucked up, but that's why I'm asking. You seem genuinely OK. It's off brand."

Kate sat up straight. "What does that mean?"

"Sorry, sorry. That came out wrong." Tom held his hands up in surrender. "I'm being a dick. Like I said, I've never seen you so relaxed. Whatever the reason, I'm happy for you."

"Um, thanks."

The conversation finally moved on and Kate called it a night before they could circle back around to why Kate was in such a good mood. She didn't want things to be awkward with Tom and she meant it when she said they were friends. Not the kind of friend she can confide in about Anthony, though. On top of Tom knowing Anthony, at least once upon a time, she didn't want to talk to anyone about Anthony, full stop.

—

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Hey, I promise I was just curious about what you're doing over there.

Just getting back into my room. Hope you are ready to have your mind blown. 

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Boo! I can't even see anything. Some random woman is taking up most of the frame. How am I supposed to sell this to The Daily Mail? Give me something I can use!

Kate's smile fell when the next message came through. 

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Did Tom take that?

For some reason Kate didn't want to acknowledge, she was struggling with how to respond. It doesn't matter. You're not doing anything wrong. Anthony doesn't care. Why would he care? He's asking because he knows Tom, that's all.

Yeah. I forgot you guys know each other, right? Si mentioned that at some point. You were all mates at Oxford?

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Yeah. Haven't talked to him in years. You guys work together often?

Um, yeah, I guess you could say that. He was recommended to me when I was working on my book.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): He's a good bloke from what I remember.

What is his aim? Am I supposed to agree?

I'll be on my own for a few days, though. He has family nearby so he's going to see them while we are here.

Who fucking cares? I don't want to talk about Tom.

Any ideas for what you want for winning our "bet?" (Which I maintain is illegitimate and would never hold up in court, but don't mind me.)

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): A tour of your favorite murals around here when you get back. El is always going on about how I'm not cultured enough.

Shit, shit, shit. A date? No, not a date. Get the fuck over yourself, Christ.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): It would also drive her mad if THE Kate Sharma gave me a personal public art tour.

You're mean. We should invite her.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): No, we shouldn't.

[rosenallies]

idk what to do I am so physically and emotionally exhausted from working with the school district I’m currently teaching in, they offer no support for specialized classes like mine and they don’t put the kids or their teachers first at all, I hardly make any fucking money and yet have an intense workload. I interviewed with a private school district that is only for the population of students I work with, high needs and high behavior, and they offered me a position for next year and then said they liked me so much at my interview they offered to buy out my contract with my current district so I could start with them next month instead of in the fall and I wouldn’t have to front the cost of $2k that my district makes you pay if you break contract. I don’t want to leave my kids, but I’m so fucking exhausted and this new school has so much support and everyone on campus knows how to work with the kids I work with so it won’t be like I’m lost and by myself bc no one else can help me. I just don’t know what to do, I don’t want to leave my kiddos high and dry bc it’s not their fault I feel like I’m drowning but I feel so burnt out right now that I don’t even know if I’m supporting them to the best of my ability in the first place.

[maxbradley]

[[Mature Content]]

Panic_Escape From The Brain (2012)

Slithering, slithering. I’m hissing out a tune. I can understand them. I can understand them all.

… I know too much. How am I able to hold onto reality this way?

This state. I need help. Trying to reach for Forbidden Fruit

“Oh no you don’t”—Someone slaps my hand away, “You never needed anyone. You know how your life has been all but filled with warmth… and other people that understand you as well as I do.”

The black void greets every step I take. He’s still there, watching, but I see nothing but pitch tar in front of me. Amidst all the chaos my depraved mind conceives, each and every day… Another dreamless night. But sometimes I can have dreams. And, sometimes…

The invisible ground pulls out under me and I plummet into the depths.

Help.

White bursts in front of my watery eyes, wind pressed against me. A blinding light in ribbons. At this point I can’t be too sure if they’re going to caress me or run right through me—they do. But I feel no pain; the purity now tainted with red, making my surroundings pastel, then rose, the color of my feverish cheeks.

Down, down, down.

An all too familiar smell binds me, awakens me. I remember the artist’s canvas, but I can never remember, falling into the viscosity of that fluid. Gasping for air as my head breaks the surface. The scent overpowering, making my heart race,

“Don’t let me drown!” reaching out a hand to an absolute nothing. But I can feel His grip, and I know He’s smiling as usual. I suddenly feel naked, or scantily clothed. I’m not sure. But now I’m pulled back to a solid foothold, dripping wet. Rough arms pull me in, holding on as tightly as possible. “Thank you.”

It feels like Love… I know differently. Everything is conditional. Nothing is for free. I feel myself under Him now. Nothing is for free.

Penetrated through and through. I don’t even want to speak anymore, because I know what I know—

Everything’s dissolved into a mist, a fog.

I’m back in my bed. The canopy is a welcome sight to me. Blue filtering from the light of a waning moon, cutting through heavy curtains at their center—

But I can’t get back up.

I don’t even want to look at His face in all the illumination. That same ticking of the clock fills the confines of my private lair.

“Don’t” my voice reverting, returning to a time, “don’t do this to me anymore”

I’m a kid again—Black and White!

I’m wallowing in defeat, (tick-tock, tick-tock) just waiting for a response. A chuckle from a guttural throat. No matter what I do: “This is why I like you. Obedient, just like your parents raised you.”

Ever since I tore myself open to the only one that would listen, this has been happening to me all over again. But why?—

“Why?!” Even as I lift my head up for a passionate exchange of mouth and lip I’m teeming with rage. I’m no longer flowing with the current, but now it’s gotten harder to breathe.

Dreams won’t let you speak without paying the toll. His hands malformed to a slimy mass of veins and fat swirling around me, choking me. I’m back in the pitch again—then I see flashes of red—so quick—White noise before a high pitched shriek. I feel something underneath pulling me down. My instincts finally take over and I’m fighting for my life as the grown man, bellowing—shouting obscenities, not wanting to be caged like an animal—

“Oh Brad. This can all change.” The tentacle gags me. “You shouldn’t have said anything to that wretched kid! He knows too much… Let’s go back to a happier time. The carefree nights, when everyone laid themselves on a silver platter, just for you. You were every man’s role model; every woman’s dream—They adored you, laden with gold.”

King of Diamonds. I saw myself on a screen high above my wild eyes, having the time of my mundane life. The cheers and pleasurable moans of my peers excited me. The one in the reeling frames. Now I only feel discontent towards my past actions. Biting down on the mouth’s muzzle. I saw myself get wasted, pinned down by a swarm of lovers, giving each and every one of them my full, undivided attention—Chewing the gag away.

I was a Roman god to them. But now I looked at that same man as the lowest prostitute that ever stepped foot on campus soil. This so-called King was disgusting in my surgically enhanced eyes—I’ve spit out the tar,

“I don’t want to go back to that. Not anymore.”

“Of course not. All you want, is that sniveling brat!”

The film reel interrupted the mood—Now what used to be foolishness on tape devolved to an obsession for flesh and ebony fur—that titillating physique. I wanting everything that “brat” had to offer. I never let him go. I kept him locked up, a secret to all that knew me… Maximilian Goof.

He was my artist’s canvas—And the paint, “His—”

I can’t believe those words seeped out of my mouth so smoothly. It almost tasted bittersweet. But that wasn’t my voice. Max was my pet… I remember treating him fairly—

“You lie to yourself. You enjoy watching people suffer. It fulfills your purpose… At least,” I feel my spine tingle at His voice, frigid, “whatever’s left of it.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Don’t lie, you son of a BITCH!”

A terrifying scream split my brain open—“FUCK!!”

Pain coursed every which way, every organ about to burst—

The sudden cries pleading for mercy filled the abyss along with the snapping of fingers and the jeers of the crowd around me—

No! No!! Please don’t! Please don’t! I beg of you!!

Shut the hell up!

The contact of skin upon skin snapped all around in sickening waves. A laugh burst from nowhere, and I can’t fathom its source. Now heavy grunts, repressing the kindled emotions of lust, of Wrath—

A passion I want to forget.

My feet have become heavier and heavier in the same muck, in the same familiar smell. Metal. Copper.

I couldn’t stop what happened to me that fateful day.

“Bradley! What are you—mmph!”

It wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t fight back! I was too young!

The LAST thing I wanted—

The fluid had reached my waist. Wading through the viscosity, the stench of—

A glint of a little friend painted her sorry face. After she had told everyone, I hunted her down…

Now, I’m nauseous. I want to throw up—“No more.”

I didn’t want to see the rest of them. All, but Him. The One.

Spying on myself in my regal robe—Air of complete arrogance—

The horns of Moloch! The Moonchild!

The Devil in me grabbed His sides in laughter, doubling over, arms and hands submerged into the river. I can’t stop the sensation—the kick I get out of—

Now I’m crying. Suffering! I’m dying. “I’m sorry!”

I never meant it. Stop the killing. Stop the killing.

“You have to get rid of him, Bradley. He’s made you soft. And weak.”

Something splashed in the liquid. And now I taste it. I’m bathing in a river of blood.

“You should have gotten rid of him that night! He’s seen too much!! Get rid of him!”

I try to run from my own demented words, barely advancing as the fluid solidifies, “I won’t! Not him!”

“Why NOT?!”

I love him.

Everything went silent as the grave. The crust begins to crumble, falling pieces… His next word was a snarl, “Liar.”

I’m teleported to a Hall of Mirrors. I don’t want to see myself. I know what I’m going to see. I know who’s there. I run blindly, trying to find its end—

“Stupid fuck.”

I love him.

“All you’ll ever want. Run away. Hide what you can never get rid of. But you don’t love him.”

The glass shatters and its shards fly through the air, ripping my bare skin. I cover my face to at least keep my vision, finding the end that can never be found.

I know I can’t.

“He’s good for one thing only, Brad. Let him help you with your… natural desires.”

I tripped over something heavy. A pile of…

“You knew this was coming.” My own self slammed a foot on the carcasses and smirked at my scarred body. I breathe heavily before he pounces on the lumpy mattress, “He’s just another.”

A natural born predator. He knows my fear, tongue against incisors—horribly amused. Another flash of red in steely orbs with a slit for a pupil, “What’s wrong, Bradley?”

Are you afraid? I’ve changed. Coward. I don’t need this anymore. You can’t change the past. You can’t erase your mistakes. No, but I can and have changed.

He chuckles a bit before leaning in. I know what He’s expecting of me and I inch away as far as possible, “You’re NOT having me. It’s not right.”

“You sound like a pathetic child. Now,” freezing hand touching my cheek, “Where’s that handsome devil that they all enjoy? You’re willing to give up pleasure for something that doesn’t exist??”

I flinch.

“How… masochistic of you. I expected far better—

“Shut it!” The point of the weapon is right at my throat. Small pinch as a warning, “No. You will listen to ME.”

. . . . .

I’m a coward.

Lips planted firmly on the spot where the dagger left a small incision,

“You’re coming with Me either way, Bradley.” A tiny gasp.

Now I’m choking up. … What? I gulp down another chunk of phlegm. It can’t be!

“There’s no Hope left; you’ve lost your chance a long, LONG time ago. All that’s left of your precious ‘Angel’ is a rotting corpse!”  Don’t say that. “You’ve brought him down! You are the one responsible for your own demise! You’re alone, Brad! It’s over!”

DON’T SAY THAT!

Morbid, mocking laughter rang in my ears hours after shooting out of the silk sheets.

I couldn’t stop the shaking! Back into fetal position—

Can’t stop, can’t stop…

“Over??”

OVER?!

[risenwraith]

# Hippie boy returns

Have managed not to have conversations with hippie boy for quite a while. I don’t wish to be unkind but I just can’t hack it when he comes up with conspiracies like ‘they cured cancer in the 1920s’ or ‘Paris was empty in the 18thC’ or ‘no one knows how they built the pyramids or gothic cathedrals’. When I disagree (if I stay long enough to do so) he always says ‘show me your evidence’ and I don’t really have the wherewithal to explain that no evidence I produce will ever be as compelling to him as whatever bullshit YouTube he watched at 2am obviously is.

The other night he was in the kitchen and kindly offered to make me a hot toddy. (We are currently House of Plague - everyone is ill.) I stayed to chat because I’m a Brit: if the crazy at the bar buys you a drink you have to repay with conversation if nothing else. Things seemed to be okay: he didn’t mention Jesus or bang on about the Oneness of All Consciousness which he does a lot. Somehow we skirted Current Events and it was nice to know he also found the genocide in Gaza horrific. He started to lecture about how it had actually started after WWII - I said I knew, but yeah it was surprising how many people didn’t know the history. Perfectly sane conversation.

Then he said but did I know the Rothschilds were controlling England and America and had been since 1812? And that (I cannot believe I have to type this I fucking cannot) the Holocaust wasn’t real.

I told him he was wrong on all counts, also just NO.

He started to lecture me about ZiclonB and how it was to remove lice and wasn’t at all The Final Solution.

(Bitch my parents grew up in the fucking Blitz - please don’t try to bullshit me on WWII. Living in America neither you nor your family grew up in war and bombs. Mine did. Europe fucking remembers and didn’t pay that price for you to be an arse.)

Again I disagreed with him and pointed out the film he was talking about was a Nazi propaganda piece. He said I thought that because that was how I’d been programmed. At that point I said ‘that’s your opinion and it’s wrong’ and noped out of the room and the conversation. Talking already made me cough a lot and trying to reply to that would result in my hacking up a lung on the floor.

Hilariously, the other night my husband and I had a conversation about whether he was allowed to punch a Nazi in the face. I said yes. If I tell my husband what hippie boy said, he will punch him. And hippie boy may die because despite my naming of him, he’s at least 74. I (selfishly) don’t want my husband to go to jail for punching a fucking idiot pensioner.

What do I do? Right now, not much. But when I stop puking a lung and I have my laptop back I will info-dump hippie boy until he’s drowned.

Heh. I don’t really think it will help. But I’ll try. Aaaand it’s better than not, I guess. I could hex him, although I don’t think I need to. He talked about going to Ghana to stay with a guy who tried to scam him once. (WTF? How is that sane or sensible?) I said make sure you have your own phone and internet and know what the currency is worth. He said you sound like you know what you’re talking about! I said no, that’s just sense. I feel I should dissuade him from going to live in Africa with a scam artist. But on the other hand, I would be so pleased he’s gone. Ergh. It’s like a weird morality test: how kind am I versus pissed off? How bigoted do I think he is versus how much of a colossal idiot? Arrgh. If he was actually malicious I could hex him til he glowed with a clear conscience. FFS. Lungs tired now going back to bed.

[sidwel]

I am a teacher. This is my 28th year. I love my job, but it’s hard… and getting harder. I spent 15 years working with special education behavioral disorders and the last 13 as a Teacher of the Visually Impaired. In my twenty-eight years I have seen and dealt with a lot. I have seen the abused and neglected. I have had to restrain out of control students. I once had to take a gun away from a student. I am a teacher but through the years I have also been placed in the role of mentor, nurse, counselor, consoler, and provider. I have spent thousands of my own money in meeting the needs of students.

I am a teacher and a firm believer of the public education system. There was a time when it was the gold standard. It is no longer, but that’s not the teacher’s fault. And even with its issues, it is still the best choice available. There was a time when parents were partners with the school system. They supported the school and understood that even If they do not agree with something, there are two sides to every situation and mediating to find the best solution is better than demanding what they feel is right.

As an itinerant vision teacher, I travel from school to school, from the primary to the high school level, and I am tired of seeing good teachers driven out by the unnecessary demands being placed on them. I understand that with current teacher shortages, there are new-hires with little to no experience, and there has to be some oversight, but this should not be an umbrella that covers all teachers. Veteran teachers are still around because they love and know what they are doing. Trust them. Don’t give them a script; let them teach. Don’t micromanage them out of the classroom. I also see good teachers, burnout when their classes are stacked with the more challenging students. Their skills can be better utilized by mentoring other teachers instead of moving students.

I am a teacher and over the past few years I have seen things change drastically. Covid has done a number on the world but no one is feeling it more than the schools. We are going on five grades of students whose lives were severely disrupted in a very crucial time of development, and they are dealing with some substantial issues like, inability to read social cues, poor communication skills, not knowing how to share, lack of empathy, and fear of just about everything. These are things all teachers and school personnel are having to deal with and people, (parents, administrators, higher-ups, the general public, government officials, basically everyone who is not on the front line), just don’t seem to get it. They seem to think that since the worst is behind us, it is time for everything to get back to normal. That’s not how it works… especially with young ones. We are drowning. At times, academics have to take a back seat when you have to deal with students who are afraid. And it’s not just Covid. I am an avid believer in the right to bear arms, but being afraid of getting shot at school is not something any of us should have to worry about. Something has to change.

So, what’s the answer? More student support in the way of counseling? It would definitely help. Counseling for teachers? Yes. Less oversight? Yes, for those who don’t need it. Higher teacher pay? It would absolutely help me. More stringent gun laws? I don’t know how or what, but yes. Other teacher compensation? Again, I don’t know how or what, but yes.

I don’t know the answers… but we are in crisis mode and just one tick away from crumbling.

I am a teacher… I love my job,

but I’m tired.

[delllamortes]

i really, really hate to do this, but i’m getting pretty desperate, so here goes nothing 🥴

i’m very literally drowning in credit card bills, and i’m extremely overwhelmed by it. a lot has happened in the past year and a half that has caused me to spend way more than i can pay back. i’m currently unemployed, receiving EI (which is $882 every two weeks for me). $200 from each pay goes to my dad (i pay $400 a month to live here), my phone bill is $160 every month, i have 4 cats to provide for, and i need to buy food for myself and often for my mother as well, since she’s in rougher shape financially than i am. that leaves not a whole lot to put towards my credit cards, and often, what i AM actually able to put on them just gets wiped out by interest anyway. i’m doing my best to become more responsible financially, but i currently feel like i’ve dug a hole that i can not climb out of and it’s impacting my mental health so, so badly. i’ve been trying to find a job, but it’s hard, since most pay less than what i’m currently making on EI (which already isn’t nearly enough). i am not really one to ask for help, but i’m getting desperate, especially because a couple of my cats need to go for checkups soon and i have no idea how i’m going to pay for it. and so i’m going to swallow my pride and ask for help. i have a kofi, or if you’re in canada, my e-transfer email address is sarahrach081@gmail . com. i can also make a paypal if that’s easier. i’m willing to provide proof in the form of screenshots of my balances if needed.

i know times are rough for a lot of us so please do not feel bad if you can’t help out. my own irresponsibility in the past is part of why i’m in this hole, and there are definitely people who deserve the help more. but if you’re willing and able, even if it’s just a few dollars, i appreciate you so much 🥺 if you send something and would like a little doodle or something as thanks, i’d be more than happy to do that (i’ve gotten very rusty so i can’t guarantee it would be like, good, but i’m willing to try anyway 😅)

thank you for reading. please reblog if you can, i need all the help i can get right now 🥴

[fingertipsmp3]

Gotta love when an existential crisis motivates you to apply for two jobs

[suzyblue0292]

@r7skt sorry it took so long to reply. Had to do the teaching before I could type about the teaching.

Two quick misconceptions about teaching:

1. We are not 12month employees. We are contracted employees for the months school is in session. Some if not most schools with hold part of each month’s paycheck so we can survive in the summer. A few schools expect you to do this yourself. Which is hard because if there’s an emergency then that money is very tempting.

Despite that most teachers work on their curriculum, classrooms, and professional development (all of which we often pay for out of our own pockets) during those non-contract months.

Many of us also work other jobs during that time - and the school year.

2. We don’t just work the hours school is in session. We have stated contract hours we are to be on campus- generally around 30 minutes before and after first and last bells. Most teachers are there hours before after or both at least a few days a week. And that’s just teachers - coaches, principals, counselors live at the school. Coaches have to run practices, there has to be a principal at every school event, counselors and principals are drowning in paperwork. And that just covers the work we do at school- most of us work at home as well. The reason any teacher protest/walkout begins with a contract hours only step is because schools don’t function when those are the only hours we work.

The kids are the worst part of teaching. The kids are the only reason I teach. There’s nothing better than seeing a kid “get it.” Or building relationships with them. They are sweet and helpful and funny. Loving them is so fucking easy.

There is nothing more exhausting than being insulted to your face by people you care about more than anything just for doing your job/the right/adult thing.

When I worked in tech one of my supervisors said that 10 percent of your clients cause 90 percent of your problems. Same thing in teaching. Most kids know when they’ve screwed up and will own it. But oh my god the ones that don’t. Whatever they did or didn’t do is your fault not theirs. And 9 times out of 10 their parents will come for you and maybe your job as well. And the thing is you love the kids anyway. Which is why it hurts so much.

Just Google Ed laws if you’re not already familiar with the BS going on in various states right now. Ryan Walters in particular will bring you a wealth of insanity.

Trying to create an ELA curriculum is beyond headache creating in our current political climate. Granted I teach in a rural school (although I have taught at large ones) in a Bible Belt state.

Do not believe anything you see on the inspirational teaching movies. It doesn’t work like that.

Teaching is a lot more than standing in front of a room talking or even marking papers. You plan the lessons for each week (I prep 20 a week - each 50 minutes long because I teach English I, II, III, IV). Once you know what you’re teaching you have to get together the materials for all the lessons printed/posted, etc. then you teach it, then you grade it, then you analyze the data from the grades work to see if the kids learned it or if you need to reteach it. Generally while fielding emails and verbal complaints about why you’re not grading faster, because someone has always turned something in late that they want graded immediately. You’re also dealing with discipline issues, tech issues, issues from whatever club you sponsor, setting up testing dates, taking webinars. I am also my school’s coordinator for our states career portfolio program that all kids have to complete before graduation. And if you teach English every branch of the military will come to your class to give recruitment speeches multiple times junior and senior year. In fact anyone the school allows to speak with the kids that isn’t an assembly will happen in English because it the only required 4 year course so they get to everyone. Same with paperwork- need to get it everyone- English dept.

How much time do you have in your day to complete all these non teaching tasks? 50 minutes. And your 20 minute lunch. I’m fortunate enough to work at a school where they allow you to work at your desk if the kids are working, but some schools require teachers to be on their feet walking the room if there are kids present.

If you have questions hit me up!!

I’ll continue if I can think of anything else, but I’ve got lesson plans to finish for Monday😭🤣😭🤣

I know a lot of people hc Jason as an English teacher. I like it, I do. But let me be real with you 9 days out of 10 this is the conversation he comes home to:

“How was work?”

“I fucking miss being a crime lord. That’s how.”

[alovher]

HI, BESTIES. LET’S TALK ABOUT THE POWER OF “I AM” AND WHAT IT MEANS TO LIVE IN THE END. ✨

***LOOONG POST***

So, I kind of had a breakthrough while listening to an excerpt of one of Neville’s lectures last night. I’ll link it below. I suddenly felt relaxed and comforted, I felt that I truly understood what it meant to live in the end and the power that “I Am” holds.

A method that Neville talks about is “I remember when…” and when I used it, it completely changed how I felt about my desires and helped me understand what it really feels like to live in the end. For example, let’s say you’re manifesting money. Here’s a direct excerpt from my script last night, “I remember when I used to struggle paying my bills on time, now everything is on autopay! Now, I don’t think twice about payments or spending money because I know I have more than enough for whatever I want. Now, I love spending money because I know that everything I spend comes back to me a hundredfold.”

I constantly say “I remember when...” now lol! Why did this change how I felt/thought about my desires? Because I realized that I largely thought about my desires as things that would happen in the future, not as something that had already happened. I realized that I was visualizing in future tense instead of past tense. And I think this is one of the many reasons a lot of you are so insecure, and why you so easily are upset by your current 3D. You look for evidence of your manifestation, you focus on what is happening outside of you instead of what’s happening inside of you. How can you search for evidence of something unfolding right now… if it has already unfolded in the past? And if this is true and you’re confident in who you are… why would you feel the need to search in the first place? This is where the importance of self concept comes in.

Your self concept dictates so much. How you think about yourself and your life reflects in your inner conversations, how you move, how you behave, how you interact with others, and so on. Once you have shifted your mind, your reality has no choice but to shift as well! Your 3D is a reflection of what is within you. You guys are aaaaalways worried about your current circumstances. I’ll tell you succinctly why they do not matter. Your current circumstances are a collection of past assumptions, right? The future has yet to happen and is a direct consequence of the things we assume now. Which begs the question, what do you believe now? And how will those beliefs shape your future? Do you understand that in your current physical reality, everything you assume to be, and everything you desire, is within you right now?

Thus the power of “I Am” comes into play. I know SATS is a very popular method amongst the community, I use it myself! But now that I really understand what I Am means, I can’t look at anything else the same. I encourage you to do your own research on it! You are one with God and God is one with you. If anything is possible for God, then, isn’t anything possible for you? Which is why you always see people say, “I am the god of my reality.” You are!

From Neville’s book, At Your Command: “Dwell upon just being and saying, “I AM”, “I AM”, “I AM”, to yourself. Continue to declare to yourself that you just are. Do not condition this declaration, just continue to FEEL yourself to be and without warning you will find yourself slipping the anchor that tied you to the shallow of your problems and moving out into the deep.”

Don’t try to apply logic to manifestation, it just doesn’t work that way. Whatever you desire, see it in your mind, and believe “I Am”. Speak it, have faith in it, drown in it. Now, that’s not me saying that you have to believe in every single thing you try to manifest. You’ll read success stories all the time of people saying that they didn’t 100% believe in something. And I think that’s okay. I don’t think you should try to force change nor should you manipulate yourself or the physical reality. What I really want to emphasize here is that… you are not separate from your desires, your future, the universe, God, or your fellow man. The more you know who and what you are (I Am), the more confident you feel in knowing that you and only you are the creator of your reality. If you believe this, then I think that’s the only belief that matters. What do you think?

From Neville’s Your Faith is Your Fortune: "Before you have any visible proof that you are, you will, from the deep conviction which you have felt fixed within you, know that you are; and so, without waiting for the confirmation of your senses, you will cry, 'It is finished!'."

So, to sum it all up: What does it mean to live in the end? It means there is no lack! It means you do not worry, you do not need. You don’t think or manifest from a place of lack, you do it from your “I AM” state… which is God. Never forget that creation is finished. You are (I AM) whatever you assume you are. Living in the end means there is nothing more to do because it is already done and it has already happened. It really is that simple.

I hope this makes sense and I hope you enjoyed this read. If you have any questions that were not answered here, please ask. I obviously don’t know everything, these are my current opinions. 💓

***Link to the Neville lecture.

[harcove]

you uh. wouldn't mind an angst request would you haha because I have had this one scenario stuck in my head where leon (probably resi 6 leon) has been drinking a lot more and has been neglecting his s/o and they finally call him out on his shit

anyway ooga booga they fight and decide it's best they give leon his space and take a break and maybe he finds them at a bar he goes to to get wasted to already find them drunk off their ass

Angst is absolutely one of my most favourite things to write and to read like damn I do be out here making myself CRY. So I definitely don't mind angst like hell yeah!

I was gonna end this was a happier note- but uh, I really love angst so I left it semi-open ended but also pretty sad I think. Also not really dialogue-heavy, more like... I write too much detail-heavy :,) Also this isn't edited, I spent days on this cause I was overthinking it and felt it was just not good so oof I'm sorry!

Length: 2k

Request: in the ask

Warnings: angst, drinking, lowkey it's alcoholism on Leon's part, being drunk

Leon x Reader - "I know."

How long had it been since you had held your boyfriend's hand? Since the two of you had really sat together and done something together, fully, completely, involved, and focused on one another. You didn't even remember, which was agonizing to think about.

You had been through so much with Leon. And you knew where his deepest thought lay, but you could never truly know. And it didn't help that over the years the two of you had together, he had started to become more distant. And instead of finding his comfort in your arms, he found it in some glass bottle.

At first, you didn't really protest much, you didn't say much about it. A drink every once in a while couldn't hurt. Yet, it wasn't every once in a while. It was more often than you'd have liked. And he was using it to forget. To focus on anything else but his life and his memories. Your soft words trying to talk to him didn't do much to stop him or dissuade him. He brushed you off more often than not. It tore you up from the inside out that you couldn't help him, that at some point a bottle was his chosen form of comfort over you.

The guilt mixed with sadness, and then with anger. And in the end, those feelings came together and created an explosion between the two of you one night.

Your throat was hoarse as you swallowed as much air as you could. You couldn't exactly remember what the argument stemmed from but you knew it had to be related to him drinking.

"Will you just listen to me?!" You shouted, the words coming out uneven as your throat begged you to stop, "put that shit down Leon, and look at me!"

The man sitting at the aisle in your kitchen put the flask he had down in front of him, but still had his hands on it. He turned his head to look at you, barely even moving at all, and his eyes were looking at you like he was unimpressed or annoyed.

"I'm listening."

You wanted to pull on your hair and scream because he wasn't. He wasn't listening, and he hadn't been, at least not for a while.

"No you aren't, you are not listening to a word I say, you never do!"

He scoffed, turning back to his drink and taking another sip.

"Where am I going on Friday?"

"What?" He looked at you incredulously, completely lost as your voice went from yelling at him to speaking relatively peacefully, but there was no peace in your voice.

"I said, where am I going on Friday, Leon," you repeated with clenched fists, "if you listen to me if you even bother to pay attention to me, you would know the answer. So where am I going on Friday?"

The silence was your answer, as you expected it to be, you just hadn't expected it to be so painful.

"I'm going to visit my family in the town over," your voice was low and tired, and you wanted to cry but you couldn't even find it in you to do that, "I told you that a thousand times Leon I..."

Biting your lip hard, you felt yourself break skin, and the metallic taste of blood invaded your taste buds. You were so angry at him moments before, angry enough you had been yelling. But suddenly you weren't angry anymore. You were just so sad; sad for yourself and sad for him. He wasn't going to listen to you, not right now, that much was clear.

"I've been busy Y/N-" whatever he said was wasted on deaf ears as you drowned them out unintentionally, your eyes trained on the flask he nursed.

For once, you knew you had to let it be. You had to give him space, and give yourself space.

"I'm sleeping in the guest room," you offered lamely after the long silence between the two of you after he had finished whatever he had said. Leon looked up at you, with a look of surprise, and confusion, "we both need space. From each other. I just... Don't stay up drinking all night."

"Y/N-" his words once again fell upon deaf ears, and his fingers just missed your arm as you turned and went upstairs to the room usually used by people like Claire, or Chris, sometimes Sherry.

When morning came, you had gotten up later than usual, Leon was already gone as he usually was early in the morning with his job and everything. Your heart felt heavier as you walked into the empty kitchen and noted the vodka bottle you two had been given as a gift was half empty. Something in you asked if it was all worth it; did it really do so much that he drank more than he should've? Did it take away the feelings of hopelessness, like the one you were currently stuck in?

Those were the thoughts that followed you the entire day as you went about your routine. They followed you all the way to the spare bedroom of one of your old friend's homes as you decided you and Leon needed to take a break. If you didn't do that, you feared you would only lose him completely. Or lose yourself. It was exhausting.

But what was even more exhausting was not seeing him. You worried for him, and even if you sometimes felt like he didn't, he worried for you.

It would take about a week before something would crack, before the storm that had been brewing between you two, the one that laid dormant after you walked out to take from your relationship, would begin to thunder again, but in a much different way.

"We're here to have fun," your friend who had been letting you stay over said as she pushed a shot of... something into your hands, leaning against the bar from your side while you said on one of the barstools, "and loosen up. You specifically."

You rolled your eyes; this wasn't in your plan for the day, going to a bar. But it was more than you had done in the past week now. Your routine consisted of going to work and heading back to your friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

You wanted Leon. But you couldn't have him right now. You were still upset, and you didn't even know if he wanted you right now. Everything was a mess.

Things seemed to blur together over the course of the night in the bar, your friend insisting on you trying each new drink she got, some not new too. You had had one drink that you ordered of your own volition, and it had been a regular bottle of beer. But the shots your friend got for you two, and the sips of the drinks your friend ordered, culminated into more than you realized and you could say you were a bit more than just tipsy.

For some reason though, your friend seemed to be chugging along much better than you, you must've been a lightweight.

You hadn't even seen your friend in a while, but you also were so out of it that you couldn't exactly comprehend time properly at that current moment in time.

A hand on your arm and a familiar voice seemed to sober you a bit as your eyes met familiar blue, but they were clouded over with pain, with worry. Confusion too, and a bit of shock. Your fingers twitched, aching to touch his arm. His face. To smooth the furrow that seemed to be etching itself into his brow, threatening to become a new and permanent feature.

But the sober feeling you experienced also stopped you from doing any of the above. Rather, your body stiffened a bit and you pulled away from his touch, only barely missing the look of hurt that glided over his features as you did so.

"L-Leon?" the alcohol in your system made it sound more like you were questioning if he was real rather than saying his name, "What are you-"

The question you were going to ask didn't even need to be finished. It didn't even need an answer from him, because even if you were drunk, you knew Leon. And you knew why he was there.

"Oh," you couldn't help but scoff, "you want my drink? It'll start you off-"

Leon wasn't going to pretend that he hadn't come to the bar to drink away his sorrows; to forget all the pain he held onto and the nightmares he couldn't escape, and now the pain of not having you around. But when he walked in and saw you? Something in him stopped. Something in him twisted and he felt nauseous and for once it wasn't because of a hangover, but it was because of you.

You looked so miserable. Not that you realized you were wearing your heart on your sleeve at the bar, with the dejected look on your face and the limp hand holding onto a beverage you clearly didn't enjoy. Whilst at the same time, you looked empty.

Is that what you saw? Is that what he looked like to you when he was drinking? When he was at home or at a bar, focusing on anything but reality?

Leon didn't want a drink anymore, he wanted to get you out of a place that didn't suit you whatsoever. He wanted to take you home, he didn't want you to be him.

"You didn't come here alone, did you?" He cut off whatever you were trying to say as he looked into your eyes sternly.

"What? N-no I'm not stupid... I came here with a friend."

It didn't take long for Leon to figure out the friend because he spotted her coming near the bar, and recognized her.

"Hey, I'm taking Y/N home," Leon tried to not sound aggressive when he spoke, but it may have only made him sound more upset.

"Leon? Oh, ya, of course. Are you two...?"

"We'll be fine," Leon replied as he helped you stand up, "thanks for being with them."

He hadn't just meant in the bar but in the past week. It was left unsaid, but it was laid bare.

As much as you wanted to pull away from the man who gently wrapped one of his strong arms around your waist, and used the other to hold your arm behind his neck, you couldn't. You didn't have the strength to, and you missed him.

Leon was glad he had taken the car and not his motorcycle. There was no way in hell he would've been able to keep you on a motorcycle all the way back to your home that you shared, or well, you hadn't for the past week. But that wasn't the point.

"You're so mean Leon..." you mumbled as he helped you get into the passenger seat of the car. He all but carried you into it like a child and leaned across you to put your seat belt on. You leaned your face into his neck as he did so, breathing deeply.

"I just... Want you to be happy," you continued sloppily, "but you won't... Let me in..."

Leon's breathing stopped for a moment as he stilled, his hand still on the seatbelt he had just finished putting you in. He quickly pulled himself together and pulled back, adjusting the belt on your body so it wasn't digging into your lazy form, but it was still doing its job.

"I know."

There was so much more he could say, but he couldn't.  He wasn't sure if he ever could.

He settled himself into the driver's seat and got ready to start the car up.

"I still love you though..." your words were slurred as you rested your head on the car window, feeling your eyes grow heavier.

"I..." Leon's hand was turning white at the knuckles from how hard he was holding the steering wheel. He didn't deserve you. And you didn't deserve this.

"I know..."

[therealvinelle]

I've always wondered this, but what do you think the Cullen's political viewpoints would be, given their individual backgrounds? if vampires don't change after they turn, then surely they would all be extremely racist (especially Jasper). would this not come up at some point? they aren't like the Volturi because the Volturi are too old to care, but the Cullens are young enough that they have been brought up with opinions on stuff like sexism, racism, homophobia and the like.

Oh fuck.

You get an early answer because otherwise I'll just chicken out and delete this one, pretend I never saw it.

UMMM.

Since I'm guessing you meant American political viewpoints, we need a disclaimer. I am not American, and not too knowledgeable about your politics. Not just in the sense that I don't follow the day-to-day drama, but as I am not an American citizen there are several things I don't know, can't know because I've never lived in your country and therefore can't know what the effects of living in a country ruled by American policies is like. What I do know is based off of the news in the foreign section, social media (by which I mean tumblr posts), and Trevor Noah's Daily Show.

I am an outsider looking in.

Which is really rather appropriate, since the Cullens are too.

The Cullens go to high school and college, Carlisle works, they pay taxes, they own real estate, and submerge themselves in American culture. Esme, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Bella are young enough that this is in many ways their world, and apart from timeouts they've more or less spent their entire lives, human and vampire, integrated into American society.

Not fully integrated, mind you, they do what they need to to fit in and get to school or, in Carlisle’s case, to work. They go no further. No extra-curriculars for the kids, no book clubs for Esme, no game nights for Carlisle. They walk parallel to humans, not among us.

In addition to this they're obscenely rich, which puts them another thousand miles from the experiences of your average American. They won't deal with the health system, which means healthcare is a non-issue, they're not going to need welfare or other social programs, unemployment is another non-issue. Name your issue, and the Cullens don't have personal stake in it. Even the climate crisis won't be a problem for them the way it will for us.

What I'm trying to say is, American political issues are a concept to them, not a lived reality. Just like they are for me. So hey, you made a great choice of blog to ask.

I'll also add here that you say the Volturi are too old to care, and I agree- from an ancient's point of view, racism is a matter of "which ethnicity are we hating today?", and it all looks rather arbitrary after a while. Same with every other issue - after a while it all just blends together into "what are the humans fighting over today? Which Christian denomination is the correct one? Huh. Good for them, I guess."

I can't put it any better than this post did, really. The Volturi are real people, humans are nerds and tumblr having Loki discourse. Aro thinks it's delightful and knows entirely too much about Watergate (and let's be real, Loki discourse as well), but the point I wanted to get at is that politics really don't matter to vampires.

And I don't think they matter to the Cullens either.

So, moving on to the next point while regretting I didn't put headlines in this post, I'll just state that I don't think vampires' minds are frozen. Their brains are unable to develop further, and they can never forget anything, but... well, this isn't the post for that, but in order for this to be true of vampires they would barely be sentient. They would not be able to process new impressions, to learn new things, nor to have an independent thought process. Yes, we see vampires in-universe (namely, Edward, who romanticizes himself and vampires) believe they're frozen and can never change, but there is no indication that this is a widespread belief, or even true. Quite the contrary - Carlisle went from a preacher's son who wanted to burn all the demons to living in Demon Capital for decades and then becoming a doctor and making a whole family of demons. Clearly, the guy has had a change in attitude over the years. Jasper, in his years as a newborn army general, slowly grew disenchanted with his life and developed depression. James initially meant to kill Victoria and hunted her across the earth, then became fascinated and changed his mind about it.

Had these people been incapable of change, Carlisle would still be hating demons, Jasper would be in Maria's army, and James would still be hunting Victoria.

It goes to follow, then, that they are able to adapt to new things.

The question is, would they?

Here I finally answer your question.

So, we have these people who don't really have any kind of stake in politics, who keep up to date all the same (or are forcibly kept up to date because high school) and are generally opinionated people.

Where do they then fall, politically?

(And this is where you might want to stop reading, anon, because I'm about to eviscerate these people.)

Alice votes for whoever's gonna win. She also makes a fortune off of betting each election. Trump's 1 to 10 victory in 2016 was a great day to be Alice. MAGA!

The actual policies involved are completely irrelevant, she does this because it's fun. Election means she gets to throw parties. Color coded parties for the Republican and Democratic primaries, and US-themed parties for Election Night! (Foreigner moment right here: I at first wrote "Election wake" before realizing that's not what y'all murricans call it.)

Alice loves politics. Doesn't know the issues, but she sure loves politics.

Bella votes Democrat. She actually knows about the issues, and cares about them. This girl is a Democrat through and through.

Carlisle doesn't vote. I can't imagine it feels right. Outside of faked papers he's not a US citizen, this is meddling in human affairs that he knows don't concern him.

More, this guy has never lived in a democracy.

In life, Carlisle lived under an absolute monarchy that, upon civil war, became an absolute theocracy. From there he learned that vampires live under a total dictatorship.

For the first 150 years of his life, democracy was that funky thing the Athenians did in history books thousands of years ago, no more relevant to him than the Ancient Egyptian monarchy is to me. Then the Americans, and later other European countries started doing this.

Good for them.

There's this mistake often made by those who view history from a... for lack of a better term, a solipsistic standpoint. A belief that the present day is the culmination of all of history. “My society is the best society, the most reasonable society; all the others had it backwards. Thank god we’re living in this enlightened age!”

The faith in our current system of government is one such belief. We (pardon me if this doesn’t apply to everybody reading this post) have grown up in democracies, being told this is the ultimate form of rule, and perhaps that is true - but remember the kings who have told their subjects they had were divine and the best possible ruler based on that. Remember also that most modern democracies haven’t actually been democracies for very long at all, America is the longest standing at some 230 years (not long at all in the grand scope of things) and they have a fracturing two-party system to show for it.

Every society, ever, has been told they’re the greatest, and their system of government the most just. Democracy is only the latest hit.

This is relevant to Carlisle because he’s immortal and decidedly not modern. Democracy has not been installed in him the way it was the rest of the Cullens, Jasper included. To him- well, it’s just not his world. He has no stakes in our human politics, and as he is older than every current democracy and has seen quite a few of them fall, he’s not going to internalize the democratic form of rule the way a modern human has.

I think the concept of voting is foreign to him.

It requires a level of participation in human society that he’s simply not at. He does the bare minimum to appear human so he do the work he loves, but nothing more, and I find that telling.

As it is I think he'd be iffy about his family doing it. He won’t stop them, but in voting they’re... well it’s kind of cheating. They’re not really citizens, none of this will affect them, and by voting they’re drowning out the votes of real human voters. He does not approve.

Edward votes Democrat. He's... well he’s the kind of guy who will oil a girl’s bedroom window so he can more easily watch her sleep without being discovered, justifying it to himself as being okay because if she were to tell him to get lost he’d stop immediately. Same guy is so sure that he’d leave and never return again if she wanted him to, except this is the man who returned to Forks to hang around his singer, knowing there was a significant chance he might kill her. To say nothing of his Madonna/Whore complex, or of the fact that he tried to pimp out his wife twice, and was willing to forcibly abort her child.

This guy is very much in love with chivalry, with being an enlightened and feminist man who supports and respects women, while not understanding the entire point of feminism, which is female liberation.

He votes Democrat because he’s such an enlightened feminist who cares about women’s rights.

Emmett doesn’t care to vote, but if he has to he votes Republican. The guy is from the 1930′s, and has major would-be-the-uncle-who-cracks-racist-jokes-if-he-was-older vibes.

Esme doesn’t vote, that would require getting out of the house.

More, I just... can’t see it. I can’t see her being one to read up on politics and The Issues, period, but if she has to then I doubt she’d be able to decide.

Jasper doesn’t vote. Alice can have her fun, he does not care.

There’s also the whole can of worms regarding the last time he went to bat for American politics.

I imagine he stays out of this.

Renesmée doesn't vote. She has no stock in the human affairs. Who would she vote for, on what grounds? When Bella tries to pull her to the urns, she points out that she's three years old.

Rosalie, guys, I’m sorry, but that girl is definitely gonna vote Republican. Perhaps not right now as it’s become the Trump party of insanity, but the Mitt Romney type of Republicans? Oh yes.

And for the record, yes I imagine she does vote. To step back from politics would be another way she was relinquishing her humanity, and that’s not allowed to happen. So, yes, she goes to the urns, less for the sake of the politics involved and more because like this, she’s still a part of society in some way.

Now, onto why I think she’s Republican, I think it’s both fiscal and social.

This girl was the daughter of a banker who somehow profited off of the Depression, and who then became part of a family with no material needs that would soon become billionaires thanks to Alice. Poverty to Rosalie is a non-issue, as it is I imagine she views it as a much lesser issue than what she’s had to deal with. The humans can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, Rosalie’s infertility is forever.

Rosalie’s empathy is strongest when she’s able to project onto others, and she won’t be able to project onto the less fortunate at all.

Then there’s the fact that the Republican party is all about traditional family values, and pro-life.

Rosalie, a woman from the 1930′s who idolizes her human life and who‘d love nothing more than to get to live out this fantasy, is down for that. And as of Breaking Dawn she’s vocally pro-life, so there’s that.

This all being said I don’t think Rosalie cares to sit down and fully understand these politics she’s voting for, the possible impact they’ll have- that’s not important. What’s important is what voting does for her.

TL;DR: I bet anon regrets asking.

[fruitcoops]

Hey Eve how are you doing I hope you're having a good day. Could you possibly if you want to make a fic like after the disownment fic and there's an interview with Sirius, Remus or (or the lions) on how they felt and there reactions and stuff only if you want to ofc I hope you are having a good day

This isn't a social media fic, but it does include include this prompt and was combined with an ask for Sirius having a hard time in the wake of a breakdown because he was doing so well before. Please pay attention to the TWs and let me know if I missed any. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW child abuse (past), angst, past trauma, mentions of going to therapy, and feeling overwhelmed

The studio cameras hadn’t seemed scary in a long, long time. Sirius stared at the white floor, toying with his ring and trying not to run screaming from the building; this is for them, he reminded himself. For everyone like me who never had someone speak up for them. The metal folding chair was cold under him.

“Sirius?” There was no hint of teasing in Marlene’s voice. “Are you ready?”

He had already saved himself and Regulus. Now it was time for the rest of them. “Oui.”

“Rolling in three, two, one…”

“My name is Sirius Black,” he said, channeling all the strength and control he could manage into his voice as he straightened up. “I’m 27 years old, the center and captain for the Gryffindor Lions hockey team, and a Stanley Cup champion.” He took a breath. “And I grew up in an abusive home. Last week, my biological parents officially disowned me for refusing to go back into the closet and under their control. It wasn’t dramatic. There was no media present. There was a lot of paperwork.

“But I’m not here to talk about that.” He swallowed, and felt some of his confidence return. Behind the camera, Marlene gave him an encouraging look with a shine in her eyes. “I’m here to talk to everyone else in my situation and let you know that you’re not alone. You can get out of there, and you can be the freest version of yourself. For the next month, 1/12 of all proceeds from Lions tickets will go to charities supporting abuse survivors and those currently living in abusive situations. My story is not the only one. We can make a difference.”

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

Sirius laid on his back on the lobby couch, letting “Radio Gaga” thump in his ears and drown out the tremors in his body. He had never said it publicly before—as far as the rest of the hockey world knew, his family was only rumored to be strict. He had been hesitant to do the video at first despite the tsunami of questions flooding their social media, and it wasn’t until Marlene suggested the charity aspect that he agreed.

Sirius didn’t like press. He liked it even less when it was poking around in his past, and when he had to support it.

The song ended and he paused the music, listening to his own breathing and steady pulse. You’re okay. You’re done. You made it through. He didn’t feel okay.

“—proud of him,” someone was saying inside the studio. Remus. “It was a complicated and painful thing to work through, but he never wavered from what he wanted and what was best for him.”

Six of his other teammates would speak, supporting the charity with a quick mention of their own feelings in case any assholes on the internet got bright ideas about speaking for them and their feelings on Sirius’ disownment. It was insane what people thought they found by digging through interviews.

“Hey, baby.” Sirius opened his eyes; above him, Remus was leaning over the armrest of the couch with a tired smile. He kissed Sirius’ forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “Ready to go home?”

“Don’t we have to stay until the end?”

“Marlene said she had everything she needed from us.”

Sirius blew out a slow breath and stood, wrapping his arms around Remus on instinct. “This feels like it’s going to go badly.”

“I don’t think it will,” Remus said quietly, rubbing up and down his spine. “I think it’s going to help a lot of people, and I hope it means we stop getting nosy comments now that you’ve answered the big questions and made it clear that’s the end.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They walked to the car in relative silence, hand-in-hand; Remus took the keys without a word, and relief washed over Sirius in a cool breeze. He didn’t feel grounded enough to drive safely. At the moment, he wasn’t sure he ever would. The whole world was hazy outside the passenger window, blurring the city he loved so much into smudges of colors—Remus was a presence next to him, but what Sirius wanted more than anything was some hot chocolate and a long, long nap.

“I don’t feel good,” he said, hardly above a whisper.

Remus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he drove. “Do I need to pull over?”

“No, I just…” He sighed. “I thought I would feel better after getting this off my chest and helping people. I feel bad.”

“Can you eat?” He nodded. “I’ll make some soup when we get home if you want to lay down for a bit.”

Sirius’ eyes burned. “Sounds good.”

“Hey, baby, it’s okay,” Remus soothed, reaching one hand down to close around the one Sirius kept on his thigh as Sirius sniffled and shook with the effort of keeping in his tears. “It’s okay. You can call Marlene and ask her not to publish the video. That’s in your rights, you don’t have to—”

“No,” Sirius choked out, wiping his tears away with the back of his wrist. “It has to happen. People have to know that they can help. I—I just—I don’t know how to feel and so everything is happening at once.”

Nobody had taught Sirius how to handle Feelings-with-a-capital-f until Dumo; suddenly, he felt like all that hard work was being undone in one fell swoop. He kept ahold of Remus’ hand and let the tears slide down his cheeks as he breathed through it, keeping both feet firmly planted in some semblance of control. Remus parked the car and turned to him without unbuckling his seatbelt. “Do you want to go inside, or should we drive for a bit?”

“I really want to go to bed.”

“How can I help?” Remus laced their fingers together again and Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. “You really don’t seem alright, love.”

“I’m not, and I don’t know how to fix it.” The words were broken glass in his throat. “I was doing so good. I don’t know how to go back.”

“Oh, baby,” Remus murmured, taking his seatbelt off to kiss Sirius’ temple. “Let’s go inside, yeah? You’ll be more comfortable there.”

Sirius nodded mutely, still pressing his lips together to stifle any sounds that tried to come out. It always seemed like when he started to cry, he couldn’t stop—whether that was a function of never crying for the majority of his life, he didn’t know, but it always felt horrible. No mistakes, his mother had told him. The video felt like a mistake. Still, he knew he couldn’t ask them to take it down. There were people that needed help, and he couldn’t let his childhood hide in the shadows anymore.

Remus turned as if to hug him when the door closed behind them, but Sirius slipped past and headed straight for the stairs. Sweatpants, hoodie, soup, blanket, talk. Talk, talk, talk until you can’t stop. Then sleep. He heard Remus moving around in the kitchen as he stripped down and dug his softest sweatpants out of the drawer, followed by Remus’ most worn-down and oversized Wisconsin hoodie that he always wore when he didn’t feel well. Sirius buried his nose in the neckline and inhaled deeply; the familiar scent soothed the rush of blood in his ears.

He didn’t bother with socks and made a beeline for the couch, wrapping himself in the afghan blanket one of Hope’s friends had crocheted for their wedding. Hope had kept it in the Lupin house so she wouldn’t forget to bring it with her, and it smelled like them, too. It smelled like safety and a happy house and healthy childhoods.

Another tear slipped out when Remus set down some water and the soup—Campbell’s chicken noodle, can’t go wrong—and Sirius curled up against the armrest to make room. “I need to talk to you,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

The cushions dipped as Remus sat next to him and crossed his legs. “About what?���

“Everything.” His voice broke. “The way I grew up, everything about it. I—Re, I never lied to you, I promise. I just didn’t talk about it because I didn’t want to scare you, but I have to be honest with you.”

“…alright.”

Sirius took a shaky breath; his mouth was dry, and salty at the edges. “My parents—my parents hit me when I wasn’t good enough, and nothing was ever good enough unless I could do it again, and again, and again—”

“Sirius—”

“—and I thought everyone on my team didn’t get dinner if they didn’t get a goal and—”

“Stop—”

“—and Regulus and I, it was like we couldn’t breathe in that house with them scripting every move—”

“Sirius.” Remus’ hand covered his mouth and Sirius closed his eyes as a sob ripped free, but didn’t fight it. “Sirius, stop, please.”

“I have to tell you,” he said hoarsely, trembling from head to toe. “I have to be honest with you.”

“I love you, and I’m glad you can talk to me, but I’m not the person you have to tell.” Remus’ voice was thick with tears. “Being honest with me doesn’t mean telling me every detail, please, please don’t do that.”

“I couldn’t make mistakes,” he blubbered, leaning into Remus. “What kind of fucking freak tells a child they can’t make mistakes?”

Remus shushed him softly, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck as he went boneless into Remus’ chest. He could feel the hitching breaths under his face and regret reared up, but he felt so empty. There was so much more he could tell Remus and nothing he could say. “I love you,” Remus began, sniffling slightly. “I love you so much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I love you, I’m going to tell you that I am not the person you need to tell all this to right now. You should talk to someone who knows how to help, like Heather.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered.

“No, I understand.” A kiss pressed against the top of his head. “And I’m not upset at you. Both our emotions are running really high. I just—this isn’t blaming you or to make you feel bad, but it hurts to hear all the horrible things that happened to you. I already wish I could have stopped it before it happened, but hearing you say it is a lot worse than thinking about it and I wasn’t ready to hear everything.”

“That’s not everything.”

“I know.” Remus’ voice cracked. “I know, and that’s the worst part. This video was a bad idea, I should call—”

“No, no, don’t do that.” Sirius caught his wrist as he reached for the phone. “The video isn’t the problem. It will help people. It’s just hard for me to talk about it without getting overwhelmed.”

Remus hesitated, but left the phone alone and hugged Sirius close again. “I’m here.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not gonna leave.” His chest rose and fell. “But—but if you need to tell me things, not just today, please give me fair warning first.”

“I will,” Sirius promised. They sat quietly for a moment before he sat up and pulled the soup bowl into his lap, letting the steam roll over his face. “Mon dieu, I was doing so good before this. It’s been the best two years and now…”

“Now it’s going to be better,” Remus filled in when he trailed off. A slender hand tucked his hair behind his ear. “It’s going to be better, Sirius. For you, and for lots of other people that you’re helping. But this is the hard part.”

“This is the really, really hard part,” he agreed, taking a sip of broth. It was the perfect temperature. “Thank you.”

“It’s just soup.”

“No, for everything. Everything you’ve done for me.” he rested his head on Remus’ shoulder, then left a lingering kiss on his cheek. “I love you more than I can say.”

A wry smile tilted the side of Remus’ mouth up. “In English or French?”

“Both,” Sirius half-laughed. “Both, I promise. I’m going to finish this, and then can we take a nap?”

“That sounds perfect. Make sure to drink your water, too.”

It would not be an easy evening, or an easy night, or an easy anything when the video came out. But he would work through it, and he would remember what he had learned from his family and his friends to move past the roadblocks his childhood always created. He would call Regulus, they would cry together, and they would be okay. He would be okay.