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jubilantwriter · 4 years ago

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Of Blood and Static

Chapter 2: We're still stuck in the same rut as always.

(AO3) (First) (Previous) (Next)

Word Count: 2356

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The Lady is aware of the loops. She knows how the song and dance goes by now - Mono frees Six, Mono and Six venture together through the Pale City, encountering foes new yet familiar at the same time, Mono frees the Thin Man, Six gets taken and becomes a monster, and Mono must save her by destroying her beloved music box.

And then they run to the exit, only for Mono to trip and lag behind. The bridge crumbles before them. Six stops and waits to catch him. She catches him, holds on tight as he dangles over the darkness below. And then she lets him go.

Each loop has her releasing him for a different feeling. Anger. Fear. Apprehension. Regret. Apathy. Sadness. Odd how the same journey seems to result in different feelings near the end. The song and dance continues, only she does so by herself. More and more loops continue. More and more fragments of memories persist. The Lady finds herself gathering these fragments like collecting broken shards of different mirrors, each reflecting a different her. A different loop. A different emotion. But now, with so many fragments collected, she finds herself piecing together mismatched shards to form a haphazardly cobbled mirror that reflects back a single her.

The one yearning for survival and life.

With Mono?

Without Mono?

She looks down at her empty hand, flexing it in the open air.

She needs him still. Needs him to continue these loops. That's what the her in the mirror reminds her of. A monster reflected back, so willing to use another if it means she can live forever. With Mono? Without Mono?

(What if they could live together in peace? Is that too hopeful? Perhaps. Perhaps survival is all there is.)

Maybe she'll never find an answer for herself. Instead, she turns from her mirror and faces the television in her quarters. The last loop ended... differently than most. There’s a sweetness to it, almost bittersweet. A feeling that leaves her craving for more. It had been... nice. Is she allowed that? To have nice things?

(Selfishly, she thinks yes, she does. Because being selfish is the only comfort she can provide for herself. Because that's all she ever is. Selfish.)

She places her hand up against the screen, curious to see how this one will end. It flickers on, screen twisting and turning until it focuses on the silhouette of a familiar man in a familiar hat. He looks defeated from where he sits, and immediately she knows that she has her work cut out for her.

"Again?" There is none of the greeting she expects. Just a simple question that she must answer. She looks down at her own hand. Why did she let him go this time? What emotion reared its ugly head this time around? She thinks and thinks and thinks and... finds only the feeling of unwillingness. Unwilling to let him go? How long have they been doing this? Maybe she too is getting tired of the cycles. But they need the cycles to survive.

(...Right?)

"I had to," she simply says. Because she doesn't have any other particular reason for letting him go. It's a habit now. A given. An expectation. She catches him and lets him go. She remembers looking down at his young face, so full of trust and relief. She just needed to pull him up. But she didn't. Why?

"Of course you had to." He slumps forward in his seat, leaving her to wonder what inflection he intended for. "Again and again and again. Nothing changes. It always remains the same. Why do we allow this to continue?"

"Because we must. To survive."

"Survival? Is this really survival?" The television doesn't voice his laughter, but she can see how his shoulders shake. "We're just living a mockery of life. A terrible simulation where we make the same mistakes over and over again. This isn't survival, this is..." He waves his hand around in the air. "This is hell."

For a moment, she doesn't answer him. Survival is survival. Isn't that why she chose to play along with his actions? To ensure these loops continue? So that they could live forever in this way? She doesn’t want to die for good.

(She doesn’t want him to die for good.)

"It's only hell if we make it to be hell."

"Bold words coming from someone who has an entire ship at her command." Even without his voice coming through the speakers, she can still hear the bitterness in his words. Perhaps she should be more careful with her wording given his… circumstances.

"Don't be like that, my life isn't all laughter and happiness." But she must admit, the Thin Man has a point. Calling her life anything terrible would be hard to argue when the Thin Man is forced to resign himself to being locked away until the loop begins its new cycle, only allowed to reach through screens to do... whatever it is he's allowed to do. He never elaborates on what it is that's supposed to make him monstrous, but she supposes she's never told him much about the Maw as well.

Still, it bothers her to see him so put out. He was always the more optimistic half of them, the one who was all smiles and laughter and knew how to find the brightest spot to bask in when they lived in a dreary, dark world. The Lady, then and now, was never good at humor. But she could try, if it means pulling him back to his feet. She hums and the man, still slumping in his chair, gives a curious tilt of his head. "But even if it's hell, at least you still have me."

His shoulders shake again, a mockery of the laughter that used to brighten her days when they were children. "Sometimes I do. It still feels strange to hold a civil conversation with you nowadays. I wonder what changed to make you see me as a friend, and not some... unseemly reminder of your past."

Curious. Now it's her turn to tilt her head. "I always found you to be a bright spot in my past."

"So bright," the caption begins, "that you had to let me go?"

"Well, you were simply too blinding to look at." She smiles behind her mask, watching him jerk his head up. "I never did get to see you without your paper mask until that day, you know."

"What are you trying to say? That you let me go because of my blinding good looks?"

"Well, you do make a very close second. Between the two of us, dear friend, I'd say that I'm the one with the truly blinding good looks." She presses her hand up against the glass screen, the warmth filling a piece of her up as she imagines a hand just as warm, with a gentleness to it that she'd forgotten she missed. "Maybe if I could see your face again, I could make a better assessment of your looks."

"Oh, you wouldn't like what you see." A pause. "Or perhaps you will. I heard you have a reputation for keeping ugly things around you."

She ignores the implications shot at her person (though, it's not as if he's wrong) and instead focuses on the other. "Are you calling yourself ugly? After I said that I was blinded by your looks as a child?"

"Time changes a person, my Lady." He straightens in his seat, as if to make a point. "I'm not the same boy who used to hold your hand."

(And whose fault was that?)

"Perhaps not," she mumbles, fingers curling on the screen, "but I would wager a bet and say that you haven't aged poorly at all."

"Bold words coming from you."

"One of us has to be bold." They always did try their best to be what the other lacked. If only she could take his hand and reassure him that it would all be okay, just like when they were children. "Besides, I always found you to be the better half of us."

"That's quite the admission. I always thought that you were too proud and vain to ever say something like that."

"Maybe," she says with a slight hum, "but I think for today, I can put it aside just for now."

"And why's that?"

"Even I crave a little change every once in a while." She taps at the screen, wondering if he can hear it from his side. "And for once, I’d like to be a little more honest with myself."

"Oh, so this is honesty? Not some sweet words to keep me on your side?"

"What if this honesty can be sweet?"

"I've never taken you to be a sweet person." Still, she can see his shoulders shake a little. A slight tremble that looks genuinely pleased. A little happy. When they were children, his laughs tended to make his entire body quake as he tried to keep it contained. She wonders if he still tries to keep his laughter quiet even now. How she wishes she could hear him.

"I usually am not. But I can make an exception every once in a while, where I see fit."

The Thin Man stays silent, and she wonders if she said something wrong. It's so hard to see his face from within the screen. With his hat casting shadows over his face, she can never tell what expression he holds at any given moment. Though when she thinks about it, it's not so dissimilar to when they were children and he kept that paper bag over his face.

Still. At least she had his voice to go off of.

"My Lady," the words begin, appearing slowly, letter by letter, as if he's carefully choosing his words, "can you promise me something?"

"Depends on what it is." Despite her coy act, she knows that deep down, she'll agree to whatever the Thin Man says. "What is it?"

"If you could, in the next loop, would you please try once more to... make an exception?"

"An exception? To what?"

"An exception to be sweet. More often." Even without him speaking, she can see the hesitance in his words. It tugs at something within her, an old feeling that makes her want to reach in and take his hand. "I think things would be a little more... tolerable, if something nice were to happen."

"I... don't know." It's her turn to hesitate when the implications of his plea sink in. She could be sweet. She could be nicer and treat him as kindly as he treated her. But then... the loops. They still continue. He knows this. She can treat him like he deserves and she'll still have to let him go. The betrayal won't sting then. It'll tear him apart, crushing him entirely as she lets him go. Doesn't he realize that? That she only treats him more sweetly now because she has nothing else to look forward to but her own death? It'll hurt him more than it'll hurt her, and yet...

"Please." He slumps forward again, head resting in his hands as he resumes his defeated pose. "It'll just be for one loop."

"I can't... guarantee it, Thin Man." She doesn't want to guarantee it. "Won't it just hurt you more?"

"I'll remember." He raises his head up, and she imagines the most pained smile on a face she's only seen in nightmares. "I'll remember that I asked for this, when all is said and done."

"I don't want to hurt you more than I already have." Hasn't she already done enough to him? Why would he want more pain?

"I want to hope again, Six." She flinches when he uses her name. The name she abandoned so long ago when she became the Lady. "I want to know if it's... possible. For us to change. To be different."

"Why?"

"Consider it a personal bet." His shoulders shake again, but there's a tiredness to them that speaks volumes of the weight on his shoulders.

(It's for their survival. It's for their survival. It's for their survival. Even if it hurts. Even if it's too much. It's for their survival, so that no one but themselves can hurt each other.)

"I..."

"Please, Six." The hopelessness in his text makes her want to crumble. "Just for one loop."

"...Okay." There's no way she's going to remember this promise. Not until it's after the fact. Not until her younger self takes her place as the "new" Lady and she becomes whole again. It’s always like finishing a puzzle - once the final piece slots in, she sees the bigger picture for what it is. Until that final piece completes it, all she has are the corners and cobbled together sections that she managed to put together. But maybe… that’ll be enough. Maybe the sentiment will remain strong enough for an inkling of feeling to trickle through, enough so that her younger self can see the sections and corners and think, “Ah, maybe I should try this.” The Lady lets her shoulders sag with the weight of the Thin Man’s hope. "I'll... I'll try."

"Thank you." He straightens, looking oddly stiff before the screen turns to static. The Lady sighs, thinking that their little conversation has ended without a single goodbye. Just as she's about to turn away from the television, a pair of hands press up against the screen. She sucks a breath in, watching with wide eyes as two hands push out from the screen, arms hanging out limply. Nothing else seems to push out, much to her dismay.

Still. Chances presented must be taken. She gently takes his hands and sandwiches them between her own. Her thumb rubs circles into the back of his hand as she softly hums a haunting tune. They share their warmth together in the quiet of her quarters as she takes everything he offers her.

Eventually, the loop draws to a close with the broken whine of static and the shattering of glass.

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #ln lady #ln thin man #ln six #ln mono #i call these beginning scenes the bite-sized chapters #these first few are gonna be easy to consume word count wise #but i'd advise against counting the chapters as indicators to how far along the story is #this was originally going to be a one-shot!#that means the chapters are very arbitrary and serve only to let me use chapter titles #they're gimmicks #anyway enjoy this additional little morsel #we're gonna be getting in deep soon enough!

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yarti · 5 years ago

Photo

[ Galtis ] [ The Itch ]

Click Imgur link for full set and captions.

Story Below:

"BURN IT DOWN."

The growing crowd roared. It is as if it were just moments ago. I feel it, smell it. The rush, the panic. Our new Matron, sister Lette. You had done a bad thing. I was there for the reading of your decree and my body took one of the first arrows. I searched the markets, the bath and lastly your chambers, but you had long gone. Likely bound up river by ship, that much I had gathered from those that barred my paths.

Our house dissolved. How could you? You had no right. What of us? What of your family? You cared not. The city went mad. The work took up arms up against my guard. Did you even consider what the vermin would do? They worshiped you and you gave them explicit permission to destroy all that you should have held dear. Brothers and sisters fell before my eyes. If any of them escaped, they would certainly be of like-mind to my own. They would hold you responsible as do I. My arm. It twitched as I recalled the sword hewing it nearly in twain. The silken Dunmeri clothes of that day cooked into my melting chest. I have since came to know only exhaustion and this itch. I had little recollection of the events since the fire took me.

Over time, I became more aware of my situation. Those first truly alert days were quite the experience. My caretaker took great interest in changing my bandages and keeping me fed. I would wake to the sensation, a touch gentle or healing hand. Kind words, though I could rarely make out those words. At times she would lie with me and hold me, nude herself. I allowed her curiosity or lust as it were. It was a rare sight outside of a wealthy bedchamber, the bare body of a Serethi. One such as she would have never had the chance. I recall the amputation. The shock and defeat of it. She had to keep me sedated and I had not opened my eyes since first laying eyes upon it. It continued in that way, in and out of near-sleep for some time, even after the last of the bandages. Moving not a muscle but to scratch or shift my weight. There eventually came a day where I felt well enough to open my eyes again, and so I did. I glanced to my left, my remains of my arm. And to the right, a room dark. Then toward my feet. Immediately there came a shuffling and the creek of floorboards. The far side of the room, a dim stairwell and two peeping red eyes. Our eyes met, then a voice ushered her from her hiding spot.

"Master Serethi. I feared you'd never wake." Her tone was most odd. As she crossed the room I feebly rose and hobbled to the foot of the bed. Around my waist, a vibrant cloth or towel clung tightly to my nethers. "How long?" I croaked, clearing my throat mid-speech.

The Dunmer lass slowly approached my bedside, hand outstretched. Hesitation. Fear. With a moment of thought, she brought the back of her hand to my stinging forehead. "No more fever, ah." She whispered under her breath, seemingly frustrated or upset that I had finally awoken. Her eyes trailed from my own, down my bare chest and to what remained of my ruined arm. Hives or blisters spread from the site, along the shoulder and upon my breast. Infection. From the itching, I assumed it continued along my back as well but she offered not a looking glass. Seeing what my sister had certainly wrought, it put a seething firestorm in the very depths of my charred heart. Trembling, the lass took hold of my head and lifted it to inspect my neck before stepping away. "How long has it been?" I asked again. Stuttering, she responded. "Two weeks." Wringing her hands, she began again. "Do you remember what happ-" but I cut her off with a stern "Yes."

"Well", she sighed. "Stay in bed for now, wake or not. You're in no shape to be up and about, my lord. I'll go put supper on." She squeaked then darted back down the stairwell before I could respond. Stumbling, feeble legs held firm. I ran my hand along the newfound scars and grooves, flesh blackened and inflamed. My hand, my only hand. It came to rest upon my disheveled chin. Hair matted and burned. It seemed that my nurse had attempted to shave me at one point but given up. My legs were ever-so weak, tingling, but after a few steps, the numbness began to subside. Lette had taken my looks, my arm, my home. My mind soared and I began to mumble to myself. "Sister Lette, why have you done this? If you wanted not the seat, you knew there were others that had sought long for it. You are selfish. Despicable. No better than the beasts you protect." I growled, scraping the hives, overgrown nails drawing dark blood from wounds not yet healed. Hate became fuel, energy. "I should have put that sword to use when we spoke that morning. The pack, that look in your eye, the way you carried yourself. By the time we discovered that a stand-in would give your decree, I had already feared for the worst. I could have stopped you there in the foyer. I was generous, benevolent, I stayed my hand. But not again."

With ears well learned, sounds from below tore me from my thoughts. I heard the front door open and the lass step out. Moments became minutes before she returned with company. Not a voice of ash but a voice of man. A lowly Nord, a guard perhaps from what context I could gather. Hushed words, whispers. "Have him step outside for a breath of fresh air and we'll handle the rest. Once he's behind bars, you have my word that we'll not lay a finger on him. Not today at least. But after his trials, who can say? You might not be one of us, but you are no Serethi. Your lot in life was not far from ours. Things will be better now, we just have to try. Our lady has given us a new leaf. A harvest anew. We just need to finish clearing the chaff then sew new seeds. Chin up, you've done well." From the jingle of coin purses, they shook hands or perhaps embraced before parting. With the locking and shutting of the door, she went to the cookpot. In the meantime, I had let myself down the stairs on muffled foot and stood just behind her out of view.

"Will our guest not be staying for supper?

My words startled her, spoon silent. Frozen. Moments to minutes, her mind roared as she dug up a delectable lie.

"You should not have gotten out of bed. That was the chemist, he brought salve for your burns." The audacity.

"Ah, did he now? He sounded like a Nord. Surely you aren't treating me with salves from the slums, dear. That certainly explains a lot." My words fell flat. She scraped the bottom of the cookpot for further lies to feed me.

"Apologies my lord, but with the... " she paused too choose her words. "With the decree, the riots, we must make do with what we have. You were found outside my door and responsibility fell to me. I am no proper healer. My mother would have had you back in top shape by now." Around her shoulder, I found eyes staring at my missing piece before they flicked about the room then back to me. "As best she could anyway. That was my first amputation." Grimacing, she turned her attention back to the pot. "I am sorry but I tried my best. The soup will be ready soon, then maybe we'll get you some fresh air. It'll do us both some good."

As her form moved before the firepit, light found a tanto off to my right. Freshly but poorly cleaned, bits of ash yam still clung to the edge. I took it into my waistband then stood. "And what became of mother?"

"She ran off. The crazies I suppose. She had been having nightmares for the longest time. One day we had a fight and the next, she was gone. She took only the clothes on her back. Off to find the man from her dreams. What was that name again?" Tiny fingers prodded her chin as she pondered. "Asput, Abbut, Assut-" The tanto found the meat of her spine. "WE were not the chaff." I hissed.

As she slumped to the floor, my gaze met the linens about my waist. A cheap towel, unfitting for one of my standing. I threw it aside and was amazed and heartened to see that my loins had gone unscathed. Of course she had taken great care in preserving those. But what of my arm? Under better light, I found scars and burns that had actually healed, across my chest and even down the severed arm. The arrow wound was entirely gone. Perhaps the poor girl had truly tried after all. Good. "Thank you, lass." I called out to deaf ears and made way to her wardrobes, pilfering as I saw fit. "Your mother had quite the eye for fabrics. This coat is exquisite. Like one of my own." Because it was one of my own. Alongside it, silverware, belts and brooches. Curtains and gilded scales. It seems even the Dunmer had a hand in the raiding. This would not do. Need I kill them all and start over? I would already need to reforge our connections with the other Houses, rebuild, invest. There would be much to do.

Taking an apple in hand, and blade upon my hip, I felt a shred of my old self. Galtis Serethi, eldest son of the House, Patron-to-be. The blade would suffice I hoped. There is no way of knowing just what might await me when I finally step out for that fresh air.

Among the rifled papers and books, I found the journal of the healer, the mother. I examined it as I tended to supper, having finished packing away supplies and reclaiming my stolen belongings. The journal spiraled into madness as I flipped further. Entire pages were devoted to phrases and crude drawings. Red eyes in the dark, monsters and other Sixth House blasphemies. A loon indeed. I chucked the book into the fireplace and washed my hands of it. The phrase, "He will make me whole." stuck at out at me. It gnawed at me and urged me to retrieve the journal before it was too late. In clearer minds I would have never given second thought to such ravings. "A miracle maker." If he could give me back my arm, that would be a good start. What nonsense. There would be no miracles, only revenge. Lette would pay handsomely for her deeds. And what of my caretaker? Lest I forget her part in this. Certainly, it is a shame. Even now she sits quiet as bones on the floor as I pen these very words to a blank journal. I merely lost my temper. Who could blame me after my ordeals? Her death, does it pain me? Not quite, but perhaps once my new seeds are sewn, once the true chaff is cleared. I may have a statue cast in her likeness. A monument to her generosity in these trying times. She will have saved the life of our Patron after all. But for now, I have an itch that I must scratch.

#elder scrolls #skyrim #galtis #story #writing #storytime #serethi #dunmer #brother #uncle #lette #revenge #villain #bad guy #i dont know how to write a villain #screenshots #one arm #modding

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shirtlesssammy · 6 years ago

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4x13: After School Special

Then:

Sam and Dean were once kids, and they had a pretty crappy father.

Now:

High school, amirite?

A joyous time where friends call you “slut” so you turn around and call a nice helpful classmate a “fat, ugly pig”, only to have the nice helpful classmate turn around and swirly you to death the next day in the bathroom. Plus your parents set your curfew at 9 pm on weekdays.

April, the girl who murdered her classmate, is in an institution. No one believes her story, but Sam Winchester in white scrubs does. Sam asks about sulfur or black smoke, but April just thinks he’s crazy.

Back in the Impala, Sam tells Dean that he believes April’s story and thinks they’ve got a case of demonic possession. The only thing off about it is that she didn’t see any black smoke. Time to check out the school. Dean sarcastically agrees. “Truman High, home of the Bombers.” (Oof, I’m surprised there wasn’t a referendum in that town to change that mascot!)

(And because I paused the video and was granted this aesthetically pleasing shot, I will share with the class)

It seems that the brothers went to this school once upon a time. Dean wants to know their cover. “FBI? Homeland Security? Swedish Exchange students?” Sam’s got an idea.

Cue Foreigner’s “Long, Long Way From Home”, porn shots of Baby, and a flashback to Sam and Dean’s first day at Truman High. A) Baby Sam in his little Carhartt just is the cutest thing ever. B) For all the math nerds out there, the caption says “Truman High School, 1997”. Sam says that it’s November. So, do the math and Dean should have graduated in the spring of 1997. We all know he didn’t because he got his GED. So, the question remains, was Dean held back in school (a VERY real possibility considering his extreme intelligence and extreme dislike for book learning, and all the monster hunts and moving and being a full time parent, etc.) or is he going through the motions of school just to watch out for Sammy? I don’t know which is worse.

Sam and Dean are introduced to their respective classmates. As Sam plops his stuff down on his new desk, his butterfly knife falls out. Millhouse Barry, another student that will soon become friends of sorts with Sam, notices.

Dean, meanwhile is pressing hard on the condescending, misogynistic bravado that we all know isn’t him at all. I really love this tidbit of information that Jensen gave to Brock Kelly, who played the flashback Dean in this episode.

In Sam’s classroom, while the teacher discusses an essay assignment, Barry gets bullied by another classmate. Sam Fucking Winchester tells the bully to knock it off. Sam, who hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet, is called a midget and Sam, gifted with the self-confidence of a boy that has his tribe (albeit small) and an outsider’s assurance that fitting in won’t matter to his drifter lifestyle (and that butterfly knife in his pocket, no doubt), challenges the bully. The bully flinches.

Present day Sam wanders the halls of Truman High as a custodian. He just walks past his old English class when his old English teacher, Mr. Wyatt, comes out.

Present day Dean is A LOT. He’s dressed as the substitute gym teacher. And well, we all know how much Dean loves to dress up. When he leans into an act, he leans into an act.

He tasks his poor underlings to the art of the Dodge while reconvening with Sam. Sam shames Dean’s outfit, and Dean’s slight look of abashment is so sad. The dude loves to LARP. Sam has been all over the school but not one clue. Maybe there isn’t a case after all.

Meanwhile in Home Ec, Male cheerleader threatens his table partner with a fist to his throat if he doesn’t share his homework. So, the other dude does what any sane person would do and takes said fist and pushes it into a whirling food processor. Sam is there to see the cheerleader whisked away and the other kid fall to the floor, black goo oozing from his ear.

While the school has a non-violence assembly, Sam and Dean have free reign to search the school for EMF and ghosts.

They’re dealing with a seriously pissed off ghost. Dean already did a little searching in the principal's office and found out that there was one suicide back in 1998, Barry Cook.

Flashback to this gem of a school banner:

Mr. Wanek is the art teacher. ALL THE HEARTS.

We’re shown more bullying of Barry with Sam coming to help. Sam learns that Barry wants to be a veterinarian. “You like animals?” dog loving Sam inquires. “They’re a lot nicer than people.” We also learn that Sam is adorable in his little brown striped hoodie.

Dean, meanwhile, is making out with a fellow student in the broom closet. This whole scene is a gold mine for Dean analysis. Needless to say, the more Dean tells the girl about his life, the more her alarm bells are going off for him. You’re life isn’t normal or healthy, Dean bby.

Sam and Barry run into Barry’s bully, Dirk, in the hallway. Sam tells Barry to run while Dirk threatens Sam. Sam just stands him down, and starts to walk away before Dirk punches him. His English teacher breaks it up.

In the present day, Sam and Dean burn Barry’s bones and leave town.

Sam laments the fact that if he could have stayed at Truman High just a little longer, maybe he could have helped Barry. Dean tries to console him, and tells him that it was a good thing they got out of there so soon. Sam doesn’t think it was all bad.

Flashback to Dean raging about what Dirk did to Sam, but Sam doesn’t want Dean’s help. He wants to be normal. They’re stuck in this town for at least another week (MY GOD, JOHN WINCHESTER. This. Is. Child. Neglect.) (Sidenote: Dean tells Sam that Amanda wants him to meet her parents. He then says he doesn’t “do parents” and well, we know he met Cassie’s mom and he met Cas’s dad, so sometimes he’ll meet the parents. Just saying, and welcome to my world where I can make literally anything about Dean and Cas.)

Back in time, Mr. Wyatt pulls him aside to ask him about a “non-fiction” essay he turned in where he describes how he and his family killed a werewolf over the summer. Sam’s only somewhat abashed. He’s clearly taken on the mentality that whatever he does in class won’t matter since they’ll be moving on soon. But the teacher tells Sam that his work is good enough that he could be a writer someday. Sam shuts him down: he has to go into the “family business.” (Hey Sam, you can always write on the side, baby.) The teacher asks him if he wants to go into the family business. “No one’s ever asked me that before,” Sam says. SAMMY. While I weep over Sam’s childhood, the teacher encourages Sam to make his own choices in life.

For Pretty Patterns Science

In the present, Sam heads back to find the teacher who encouraged him when he was a child. Standing nervously outside the door, he’s interrupted by a girl who asks him for directions. “Thanks, Sam,” she tells him when he helps her and then she STABS HIM OH MY GOD. “You got tall.”

She starts beating him up, ectoplasm oozing. Sam shoves a handful of salt into her mouth and expels the ghost.

Back at the car, Dean mirrors the school scene from earlier. He feeds Sam alcohol while he rages about ripping out the ghost’s lungs. “Or, you know what I mean.” They realize that all three of the attacking kids rode the same school bus.

Cut to Dean stalking through the suspect school bus with his shotgun, as one does.

They’re looking for hair, for skin, for anything that might tie a ghost to the bus. Dean finds the bus driver’s recent certification; he started the route 2 weeks ago. He’s the dad of Dirk, Sam’s youthful tormentor.

In the past, Sam confronts Dirk for beating up Barry. When Dirk attacks him, Sam’s had enough. He pulls out his raised-from-birth fighting tactics and quickly beats Dirk to the ground. “You’re not tough. You’re just a jerk. Dirk the jerk.” The nickname spreads like wildfire.

Sam and Dean talk to Dirk’s dad. Dirk died when he was 18 of an overdose. Dirk Sr. tells them that Dirk was poor and bullied. When he was thirteen, his mom got cancer and Dirk took care of her while he dad worked three jobs. As a cloud of guilt descends on Sam, Dean asks for Dirk’s burial site. Unfortunately, Dirk Sr. had him cremated. “All of him?” Dean asks. Dean. Bean.

It gets the job done. Dirk Sr. keeps a lock of Dirk’s hair in the bible on his bus.

That evening, the bus ferries a load of (presumably) football players to a game. Ectoplasm oozes out of the bus driver’s nose. The bus rams over a set of road spikes. I’m asking the screen WHY there are road spikes when Sam Winchester approaches the bus driver. Yeah, motha fuckahs, it’s a Winchester trap. (Related: they keep ROAD SPIKES in Baby’s trunk? Ooookay.) Dean ties up the bus driver, aka Dirk, in salt-soaked rope and then heads into the bus to find Dirk’s remains. He gets recognized as the gym teacher but Dean deflects: He’s 21 Jump Street, man. This ain’t nothin’ but a drug bust.

Dean finds the bible, but there’s nothing in it. Dirk falls into his villain monologue. In his experience, Sam and the popular kids are the bullies - they’re evil. “I’m not evil,” Sam protests because he is CUT TO THE CORE by being called evil. (Me: remembers that this is Season 4 and nods knowingly.)

“We were scared and miserable and we took it out on each other...that’s high school. But you suffer through that and it gets better.” Sam’s words don’t convince Dirk, who bursts free of his bonds. He gets shot out of the bus driver’s body and possesses one of the students. While Sam’s getting the crap beaten out of him, Dean searches everywhere for the hair, eventually finding it in the bus driver’s shoe.

Dean fumbles with his lighter (MY GOD invest in better lighters, boys) and then lights the sheaf of hair on fire. Dirk bursts free from the student and dissolves into flame.

And...we’re in flashbacks again. Dean’s kissing a different girl in the supply closet. Amanda walks in and Dean very, very poorly tries to cover.

Amanda delivers a scathing analysis of Dean: “I thought maybe underneath your whole ‘I could give a crap,’ bad-boy thing, that there was something more going on. I mean, like the way you are with your brother. But I was wrong. And you spend so much time trying to convince people that you're cool...but it's just an act. We both know that you're just a sad, lonely little kid. And I feel sorry for you, Dean.” This devastates Dean, of course. We close the episode with Sam riding an absolute high, beloved by the school and Dean at his lowest. John Winchester shows up just in time, or way too soon, depending on your viewpoint. They climb into John’s car, Sam waves goodbye to Barry, and they leave town.

In the present, Sam finally heads in to talk to Mr. Wyatt. (Sam’s still bruised and cut from the fight so...awkward.) He thanks Mr. Wyatt for the advice he gave him years ago. Sam admits that he made his own choices for a little while but got pulled into the family business in the end. Oh, Sammy. <3 “You took an interest in me when no one else did,” Sam tells him. “That matters.”

“The only thing that really matters is that you’re happy,” Mr. Wyatt tells him. “Are you happy, Sam?”

And...fin.

Rollin’ with the Quotes:

You got your lunch? Books? Butterfly knife?

The whistle makes me their god.

I have to go into the family business.

There may be three or four big choices that shape someone's whole life, and you need to be the one that makes them, not anyone else.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn 4x13 #After School Special #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural season 4

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tessatechaitea · 6 years ago

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New Titans #104

Pantha is now the funny one.

To fully understand the previous caption, you have to understand that Changeling used to be the funny one before he became depressed by his friend's transformation into an appliance less useful than a toaster (I suppose toaster's aren't technically "useless." But they're so specific in their purpose that I don't understand them on a fundamental level. How can something (or somebody) be that confident in their place in this world?! Doesn't a toaster want to experience other things?! Doesn't it worry that maybe it made a wrong choice? Sure, I understand that a toaster never actually had a choice to be anything but a toaster! But that's why this digression would be considered a metaphor!). And when I describe somebody as the "funny one," I don't actually mean they're funny. I'm using the phrase to denote that Marv Wolfman thinks they're funny but every reader of this comic book who wasn't developmentally arrested did not think they were funny at all. Pantha makes a Tarzan reference five years before Tarzan would be released by Disney meaning she's, once again, making a reference an old man would make (and realize that when I'm calling the Marv Wolfman who wrote this in 1993 "an old man," I'm the same age now that he was then). But that's not too bad because Pantha is a mystery and we don't know how old she actually is. She might be a hybrid of a teen girl and a seventeen year old cat which means she's like 93 or something. But she's also including the name "Simba" which means she's keeping up with her current pop culture references too (that's where the teen girl half comes in!). In the age of the Internet, two pop culture references is roughly equal to one funny joke. But this wasn't written in the age of the Internet so Pantha had to add a little bit more for her routine. So by the time she says "loincloth sandwich," you should practically be in hysterics. Also, I probably shouldn't use the word "hysterics" seeing as how this is the age of the Internet. The premise of Pantha's joke is that Tarzan once met up with a lion (not really named Simba!) who said, "Rooooaaaar! Roooaaaar! Rooooaaaar roooooaaaar!" But knowing that readers remember how Tarzan could talk to the animals (and this being the Internet, I don't have to make a joke here. I can just say "Doctor Dolittle!" and everybody reading this in groups of two or more will excitedly high five each other), we realize Tarzan hears, "We're here to help you!" But that was a lie because the lion was (being a LIE-on! Ha ha!) really just hungry for a loincloth. Fuck. Now I wish there were somebody nearby to high five. I won't even mention the poorly edited stuff aside from this aside where I mention it. But Pantha trying to be funny and snarky isn't the worst part of this panel (it can't be! Because I totally identify with Pantha!). The worst part is the way the light-being chooses to appear to the New Titans. What the fuck is that shit?! It's like Lobo and Image Comics fucked, got pregnant, chose to abort the baby, looked at the fetal tissue leftover and said, "Whoa! That would make a great Image character!" You know, exactly how all of the early Image characters were created. I bet his name is Bloodorgasm. The Titans discover that the world of Technis is dying. The Technicians realized the only way they could be saved was to claim a soul. They learned this due to a story in Swamp Thing that I didn't read. I guess Swamp Thing fucked a Technician which caused her to gain a little bit of soul. I didn't realize that my soul could be expelled from my body through my semen. Also, whenever I use the word "soul," understand I only mean it metaphorically. Don't think I believe in anything so optimistic as life after death! I should be so lucky to be dumb enough that I could mistake my desires for actual truth. Changeling realizes that the little computer people need Cyborg's soul if their civilization is to survive. But Changeling doesn't want to give it to them even though the request is equivalent to asking somebody if they can dismantle your toaster to use the parts for their life support machine. Some of you might be wondering, "What's been going on with Baby Wildebeest? You don't discuss Baby Wildebeest enough!" And to you, I say, "Fuck off! Baby Wildebeest is the worst character Marv Wolfman ever came up with (and yes, I realize he came up with Pariah and Cat Grant). Baby Wildebeest spends every comic simply repeating famous lines from pop culture and expressing his love of video games. Occasionally he gets mad because somebody threatens "Momma" and then he Hulks out while Marvel lawyers get raging litigation boners. New Titans #104 Rating: The Titans haven't done any real superheroing for about eighty issues. I might be engaging in hyperbole with that number but even if I had said "Forty issues," it would still be too many for a group that espouses to be heroes but should really just be guests on an episode of Jerry Springer. Was that an old man reference?!

#New Titans #Teen Titans #DC Comics #DC #Comic Book Reviews

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florrickandassociates · 7 years ago

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TGF Thoughts: 2x07-- Day 450

Recap under the cut!

Big things, of the secret variety, are happening at LG. The conference room’s walls are covered; NDAs are laid out on the table. There is also one big, comfy looking chair in the conference room, looking out of place amid all the standard office chairs.

Lucca’s the first to ask what’s going on. Marissa isn’t sure—it’s top secret; all she knows is that the partners’ schedules have all been cleared.

“Have you seen this?” Marissa changes the subject. “Chicago lawyer playing cards.” “What?” Lucca asks. “Most wanted playing cards. They already have the four dead lawyers,” Marissa explains. The website peddling these cards? Is in Comic Sans. Thank you, whoever made that choice. I’m guessing you did it intentionally and I appreciate it. It’s an alt-right website, Marissa says. “What are you doing looking at an alt-right website?” Maia asks. “I look at everything,” Marissa states. I don’t think it’s that weird! Weren’t they just on a case about belonging to radical groups online?

Lucca wants to know if any of the RBL lawyers are in there. Marissa says she’s going to order a deck and find out. Maia’s appalled at the thought of giving this group money (tbh I am too).

Maia asks what’s going on in the conference room, and Marissa shrugs and says, “The ways of the partners are mysterious to us mere mortals.” Have I mentioned that I love it when we can see the power structures at work? Because I do.

Marissa tries to get information out of Diane—even how long the meeting will last—but Diane doesn’t say anything.

Luckily for us, we’re viewers and not employees, so we get to know what’s happening. It’s an audition for the DNC’s business, conducted by Ruth Eastman. I didn’t expect to see Ruth back on the show, ever, after how badly the writers botched her season seven arc (so much promise squandered!) But here she is. And she’s used much more effectively in this episode.

While I’m thinking of it, the promo for this episode was in Russian, but nothing in the COTW (aside from a few mentions of collusion) is about Russia. So… was the entire promo a shout-out to the TGW/F/The Americans fans? It wouldn’t be the first time. And I’ll take it.

“We’re in a very peculiar time,” Ruth says. Diane laughs, because a good 25% of Diane’s dialogue these days is just laughter. Ruth isn’t bothered: she says laughing is the “only sane reaction these days.” Diane agrees wholeheartedly. “We’re living in a time of farce, not tragedy,” the writers have Ruth explain. (I phrase it like that because, come on, that’s exactly the point of this season’s tone.)

Ruth is there with an interesting opportunity: the DNC wants a plan to impeach 45 ready to go if a blue wave happens in November, and so they’re auditioning law firms to decide which arguments (and which lawyers) will be the most effective. For now, this all has to stay hush hush, lest voters get the idea that a vote for a Democrat is a vote for impeachment and get scared off.

After some build up, Ruth turns to write on a white board. The marker doesn’t work. “New!” she says, pleasantly, discarding it. She starts the build up again: “This is the question we want you to ponder and answer…” But the next marker doesn’t work either. “WELL, SHIT!” she says angrily, throwing the marker to the floor. This is the best thing Ruth has done on this show.

Carine, a woman on Ruth’s team, volunteers to get more markers. Ruth keeps going with her spiel.

Carine grabs the nearest employee, who happens to be Maia, and asks where the black markers are. They flirt/banter on their way to the supply closet, and Carine thinks Maia looks familiar. Maia deflects the question and shows Carine the markers (they only have pink and purple, because it’s funnier that way).

“Seriously, I know you from somewhere. Where?” Carine insists. Maia thinks for a minute. “Okay, so you know how we just had a little exchange back there and I made you smile, you made me smile?” “Yes, I remember.” “Well, remember that when I tell you who I am,” Maia says. I wonder how many times she’s used (or will use) that line.

“Are you a serial killer?” Carine jokes. “Oh, close. Maia Rindell,” Maia introduces herself. Hee.

Carine recognizes that name. Maia walks away to avoid prolonging the awkwardness, but Carine isn’t as put off as Maia assumes…

Meanwhile, Lucca is working on a case about a film shoot when she notices Francesca walking down the stairs. She excuses herself from a meeting, and her client assumes it’s because she has to pee. His pregnant wife always has to pee, so he feels it is his place to inquire about Lucca’s bathroom habits. No matter how many times Lucca says she doesn’t have to go to the bathroom, the client won’t believe her.

Maia greets Francesca. Lawyer, professional greeter, same diff.

Francesca has brought Lucca a present, and Lucca asks Maia to go deal with her client (“and tell him I’m not going to the bathroom”). I have a question! If Lucca could spot Francesca from the room she and the client were sitting in, can’t the client see that Lucca is by the stairs and not, in fact, in the bathroom? ANYWAY. Maia’s job in this episode consists of knowing where markers are kept, greeting visitors, and informing Lucca’s clients she’s not in the bathroom. Is… there no work for Maia to do? Should I be concerned about RBK’s future? Are they overstaffed?! WHY DOESN’T MAIA DO WORK?

“Very nice meeting you. I think your dad stole some of my husband’s money,” Francesca tells Maia. Ok, People Recognizing Maia is my new favorite running gag. “Sorry,” Maia apologizes. “That’s a good thing. He’s an asshole,” Francesca says, emphasizing asshole. She’s so fun.

In Lucca’s office, Francesca tells her that she’s given up drinking, except wine. Well. That’s… something, I guess?

Francesca’s gift is a stuffed dog that sings “If You’re Happy and You Know It” and claps its hands and waves its ears. It is adorable and grating. “For my grandchild,” Francesca says, touching Lucca’s stomach. Why do people just go and touch pregnant women’s stomachs without asking if they can? I have never understood this.

Over the course of this whole scene, the dog’s flapping ears are visible, at least in part. It is wonderful and distracting and the only thing that could make it more Good is if they were in an elevator.

Even rewatching this scene, with captions on, I cannot see anything other than the dog and its ears. I think Francesca is saying she wants to be in the baby’s life and Lucca’s saying she doesn’t want Francesca involved. But I don’t know. Because ears.

After Francesca leaves, Lucca immediately moves to discard the dog. Francesca doubles back and almost catches Lucca in the act, but the second she turns around again, Lucca shoves the dog in a drawer.

“People understand emoluments,” Adrian is saying when we return to the conference room. They do? By that name? ‘Cause I just had to spell-check that word (even though I know what it means). I’m joking, because I think what Adrian means is that people understand the idea behind it. Still, a weird sentence.

Julius is opposed to the whole idea. He thinks the Dems are starting with the goal and working backwards. Some other partner wants to go after collusion. And Diane wants to go for obstruction, because of the precedents. (And the fact that there are so many paths that could make a good case is why I disagree with Julius. Maybe they’re starting with the goal, but how much does that matter if there are many valid reasons for having that goal? But then, I guess Julius would take issue with my use of “valid”…)

Adrian is against what Andre (the other partner) wants to pursue: collusion. He thinks it has too many Russian names for the public to understand it. Adrian’s whole strategy here is to find the argument that will be the easiest to sell.

Diane is so fired up about this, and I love it. (I also think she’s making the best case.)

“He’s not above the law!!” Diane exclaims. Nobody’s above the law! (Sing it with me!)

Julius won’t quit with these silly arguments. Now he’s comparing Republicans wanting to impeach Obama to what’s going on here. I don’t think it’s just my political bias speaking when I say that’s ABSURD.

Julius’s whole thing is that 45 was voted into office so he shouldn’t be impeached and then removed from office. So… Julius is anti-the concept of impeachment? I think his argument is a little more nuanced than that and he’s making the better case: that impeachment isn’t a tool for political parties that didn’t get their way. I’ll spare y’all my half-informed political rants and instead make this point: I appreciate that even Julius’s points have some validity to them. Too often, this show simplifies these arguments or handles them poorly, and this episode… does a pretty good job.

Ruth steps out for a minute, and reminds RBL of their mission: to choose a strategy, something that will stick the way emails stuck to HRC. (Don’t remind me!! Those goddamn emails.)

With Ruth out of the room, Adrian tries to get Julius to stop losing them a client. Julius says he’ll play devil’s advocate. Then Adrian tries to get Liz to speak up. She’s been watching and taking everything in.

Ruth takes a call about “Barnsdale. Illinois 1st.” She asks Lucca if she can use some random office, and commandeers it before Lucca can respond. She picked a bad office to have a private conversation in, though, because it’s one of the ones with the angled glass walls. These offices—which I’ve been wondering about for WEEKS because they don’t seem the slightest bit private—have gaps in the windows and it seems like (and turns out to be the case that) someone in the hallway would be able to hear every word said inside of the office.

And it just so happens that Lucca overhears the exact conversation she needs to overhear: a Congressman up for reelection is being asked—well, more like told—by the DNC that he can’t run again because he’s a groper. Lucca recognizes what this means: it’s the district Colin was thinking of running in.

So Lucca does what all Good characters would do: distracts Colin at work with her presence until he forgets what he’s talking about, then walks away.

Colin’s first thought is that something happened with the genetic screening. Lucca says it’s not that; it’s about his mother. “I didn’t want to run; my parents wanted me to run,” Colin says when Lucca asks him about the Illinois 1st. “Oh, so you’re not running?” Lucca counters. And Colin? Can’t answer that definitively.

Colin says he won’t run if he has to campaign, but if all he has to do is get the support of the DNC, he’ll run. Uh huh.

Lucca’s fear is that she’s being used for political gain. It’ll look better if she and Colin are together. Colin tries to keep Lucca out of it, even going so far as to say Lucca can tell his mother to “fuck off,” but… you don’t have to watch the rest of the episode to understand that’s never going to happen.

Then Colin asks about the genetic testing. Lucca says, “Oh, everything’s… good.” Colin mentions a family history. Does anyone else feel like she might be hiding something here? This is a weird scene. She’s already said the baby’s fine, yet they have her double back for this conversation AND they mention Colin’s family history? It would not shock me if Lucca was waiting on some test results and keeping it to herself. But also, like, I have seen this show and it would surprise me even less if we never heard about this again.

I may have to take back what I just said about Julius, sadly. Diane makes the more nuanced point I extrapolated from Julius’s words and Julius tries to rebut it. So. Whatever. It’s in early scene cross-talk (you know, the lines that aren’t meant to make a point but are rather meant to show you that there’s heated debate, so you can jump in mid-scene and it won’t feel awkward), and I’ve heard weirder things (like Alicia explaining why we don’t need female politicians in 220, a line I don’t think I was supposed to notice because I was supposed to be paying attention to her poise and the ease of her answers) in early scene cross-talk.

This audition doesn’t seem to be going well. That’s when Liz speaks up. She starts talking about some evidence that came across her desk at the DOJ. At first, I thought the writers were trying to introduce new facts into their hypothetical, and I was disappointed. But that’s not what they’re up to. Instead, they’re having Liz tell an increasingly elaborate, and possibly not baseless (would ANY of you be surprised if pieces of evidence similar to the ones Liz invents actually existed?) story to prove her point. Liz is demonstrating that the story keeps changing. “You’re all missing the point! It’s not about choosing one charge or another for impeachment. It’s about everything. It’s about who he is. It’s about what the presidency is. Charging him with obstruction, that’s going by the old rules. And the new rules are these. ‘I have a tape.’ ‘Where’s the tape?’ ’15-year-old was raped, and I’ve got the evidence.’ ‘Where’s the evidence?’ ‘Same place as the tape.’”

Diane laughs. “My God, this is insane!” Julius replies.

“No, no no no. This is shameless,” Liz clarifies. “And impeachment has to be shameless, or else it’s gonna fail.”

“So. You lie,” Julius accuses.

“No, no no no no no. You just don’t back down,” Liz says. “But there is no tape!!” Julius says. “Uh-uh. That’s what you said. I didn’t say that,” Liz argues. God, that’s what reading the news today feels like. Like logic and facts are no longer persuasive.

“Listen. This isn’t about truth anymore. And it’s not about lying. It’s about who’s backtracking, and who’s attacking,” Liz concludes. I don’t know what to think, and I love that. Liz’s approach is outlandish. It’s also convincing. And it’s maddening. These things should be based on facts. And yet!

I love that I can agree with Liz and think her point is absurd/laughable at the same time. I love that the show is able to capture the way that laughable and strategic can be the same today. It’s super effective.

When Ruth leaves for the day, Adrian immediately begins talking down to Liz in front of all of the partners. “Liz. Liz, Liz, Liz, what the fuck are you doing?!” I do not like this side of Adrian, especially when Liz is (obviously) being strategic and novel.

And also effective! Ruth tells her colleagues at the DNC that “we might have something here.”

Aaaand, credits. Another female writer this week! She wrote an ep last season too. And she’s great: I spent 17 minutes convinced the Kings had written this one because she captured the tone and the big moments so well. Also, I just googled her (her name’s Tegan Shohet) and she has a really fucking impressive resume. She did her undergrad at Harvard, has a law degree from Yale, and she has another degree from Oxford.

Maia and Amy (hello, Amy!) are kissing at a bar after the credits end. They’re out on a double date with Marissa and Drew, the guy from the ricin scare. Drew has this look in his eyes like he’s on something. I don’t like it one bit.

He and Marissa start making out mid-conversation. It’s almost aggressive, and not like Amy and Maia’s kiss just moments ago. Part of that is, I think, that we’re supposed to see Amy and Maia as a bit passionless right now, but it also seems… weird. Something is up with this dude. I don’t trust him.

But I would rather watch him and Marissa making out than hear Amy and Maia state “facts” that screw up the timeline!!!!!!!!!!! LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU WITH YOUR “WE’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR FOUR YEARS” BUSINESS WHEN I LITERALLY WATCHED YOU MEET AT MAIA’S 18TH BIRTHDAY PARTY; I’M BUSY WATCHING THIS AWFUL DUDE STICK HIS TOUNGE IN MARISSA’S MOUTH.

Drew also has no filter. Oh, and then he gets up at hits someone, claiming they took an upskirt of Marissa. But before that happens…

Amy and Maia are talking about getting married! And we didn’t get to see how they smoothed things over after 2x02? What a shock…

(Well, also, I feel like this ep pretty strongly suggests they didn’t really work through that.)

Seriously though, what the hell is Drew doing? What is his deal?

Marissa, who believes someone took an upskirt photo of her, reacts to Drew’s actions as though he’s a hero. She rewards him with a kiss. That makes Maia smile, because… I don’t really know. It makes Amy roll her eyes. Can we have Amy as a regular and not Maia?

“We need to toast your news!” Marissa says, making plans for the second consecutive weeknight. “Our news?” Amy wonders. OOOOOF. That relationship cannot be in a good place.

Maia seems kind of… turned on? By Drew and Marissa.

Amy doesn’t believe that the dude in the bar was actually trying to take an upskirt. Amy thinks Drew just wanted to hit someone. I agree with Amy here.

Amy then asks if they have to see them again. Maia says that Marissa’s a friend.

Amy tells Maia to talk to Marissa because people like Drew can be “dangerous in a relationship.” I had that same thought just from the way he was kissing her in public (it seemed quite possessive). And you know what I don’t need? For another investigator on this show to end up in an abusive relationship.

(That said, this is MILES better than any Kalinda/Nick bullshit.)

Now cameras are being installed in the conference room.

Marissa clearly stayed out for several more hours after Maia and Amy headed home. She’s wearing sunglasses at her desk and can barely answer questions. That’s also a big warning sign. Marissa’s hungover at work. It’s not a pattern yet, but I’d hate to see it become one.

Lucca meets with some partners about her client, Lock. She wants to give them a heads-up, but it seems he’s already left the firm because of Lucca’s pregnancy. Well, he said her “mood swings,” but lol.

Even Liz, who’s very understanding, is inclined to believe the client. Every time Lucca tries to defend herself, someone tries to comfort her or calm her or tells her not to get upset. I love Cush’s delivery of the line, “I’m not getting upset…” because she says it with just a hint of confusion. She doesn’t sound upset (at least not unreasonably so). She sounds like someone who’s slowly realizing that no one will take her words seriously as long as she’s pregnant.

Every time Lucca tries to take action, the partners shut her down and offer to help. It’s just weird. I can’t speak to whether or not it’s realistic because I’ve never been pregnant, nor do I work at a law firm managed mostly by non-parents (or any sort of law firm, for that matter), but it feels like it’s realistic. It’s subtle and the partners are encouraging, but they are making assumptions about Lucca’s work performance and capabilities based on the fact she’s having a baby.

Ruth appears! RBL is now one of four! Naturally Adrian believes this is because of what he and Diane were saying, and not because of anything Liz said. He believes this so strongly he calls Liz aside to give her an order. “No more shit Liz, okay?” He says like she’s a child (a child with a potty-mouth, I guess). She calls him on it. “Adrian, when did you get the impression that you could order me around?” He denies it, and Liz goes STRAIGHT to talking about their marriage. The teacher who married his student for her ties in the legal world CONDESCENDED TO HER? I’m just shocked. (Lol no, this is how I have been picturing their marriage for a few weeks now.)

Adrian asks Liz again to get behind the obstruction charge (Diane’s idea) so they can seem united. She says she’ll consider it.

I wonder if the reason Adrian can’t see that Liz has a plan, and that her plan is working, is that he’s so used to underestimating her.

Adrian and even Julius get behind Diane’s plan. It’s so transparent that they’re trying to show they’re united. “Now, we may disagree, but we find consensus,” Adrian explains. LULZ.

As soon as Adrian says “consensus” and Julius echoes it, Diane announces she’s changed her mind and now sides with Liz. This surprises even Liz! Ooh, will we get more on the Diane/Liz tension?

“I’m tired of ‘when they go low, we go high.’ Fuck that! When they go low, we go lower. Impeachment isn’t just about the law. It’s about persuading people. And if it’s one thing that we’ve seen this past year, it’s that lies… persuade. Truth only takes you that far… and then you need lies.” Guys, I’m seriously terrified by how much I understand this. Even the fact that my first reaction upon hearing this was, “she has a point” and not, “what??? That’s a lie!” scares me. When TGW was airing, I wouldn’t have believed that Diane would ever say this. And I wouldn’t have believed that would be my reaction. But, then, I also wouldn’t have believed this country would elect Donald Trump. What I’m saying is that regardless of whether this is a good strategy or not, or if it’s morally sound, or hypocritical, the way that it’s not easy to dismiss or laugh at is… the point.

Julius calls this “Trump Derangement Syndrome.” “You’re just as bad as you’re accusing him of being,” he explains. ACCUSING? Come on, Julius. If you think the word “alleged” would need to be in a sentence that calls him a liar…

Anyway. Another thing I love about Diane’s speech is that it’s coming both from a character place AND a political place. The next part of her rant makes this point well: “I’m just done with being the adult in the room. I am done with being the compliant and sensible one. Standing stoically by while the other side picks my pockets, while the other side gerrymanders Democrats out of existence. A three million person majority and we lost the presidency. A Congress that keeps a Supreme Court justice from being seated because he was chosen by a Democratic president.”

(I am gonna keep going on this but LOL Julius what planet do you live on where that’s not what happened? FACTUALLY THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED.)

Diane has always been the adult in the room. That’s a role she’s fantastic at playing, and she loves it. And now she’s tired of it?! That can’t just be because of Trump. That’s what someone who lost her best friend, lost her husband, lost her money, lost her clout, watched her candidate lose an election, and, finally, felt and still feels like there’s a target on her back would say. Why should she be the one to hold things together when everything else is falling apart? What’s the point of acting like the rules still apply?

Julius says some nonsense about how if Diane really believes that, she’s lost all faith in the law. To which Diane replies that she has a gun in her desk “and I’m this close to taking to the streets.” That, my friends, is someone who is all of the things I said above, and also on drugs, would say. And somehow, that person is… Diane Lockhart.

(And weirdly, while I can’t say it’s necessarily the direction I want to see the writers take Diane, I can’t honestly say it’s out of character. Terrifying, right?)

IT DID NOT CATCH MY ATTENTION THE FIRST TIME THROUGH BUT DO YOU KNOW WHAT MAIA IS DOING AT WORK? CHECKING TWITTER. (I mean, I check Twitter at work. I’m sure most people check their phones at work. You could catch the most productive employee on Twitter at work. But somehow we have endless amounts of time to show Maia not working and no time to show Maia working.)

Carine is back, to tell Maia about her own father. He was a disgraced senator, so she’s part of the “damaged offspring club” too. Hey, where are Zach and Grace? Is Zach still in Paris (lol) with his wife (hahahaha) writing his memoir (bwahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahaha)? How’s college treating Grace? ANYWAY. NOT THE POINT.

The point is that Carine and Maia are making a connection.

Also that in one scene, Maia manages to: Surf Twitter on her work laptop, flirt, and make plans to go drinking. Writers, come on. Throw me a bone. Give Maia work to do. (Two of these things are not her fault—Carine and Marissa come over to talk to her—but still!)

Marissa pops by to invite Maia to go out dancing at 10 pm on a work night. Maia turns it down initially, but then says maybe. What does she have to lose? She could show up hungover the next day and it wouldn’t matter. IT’S NOT LIKE SHE HAS ANY WORK TO DO!!!!!!

When Marissa leaves, she’s all “luv uuuuuu” (that is my approximation of the tone) and Maia quietly whispers back “love you.” Am I supposed to be getting the feeling that Maia’s crushing on Marissa? She also smiles a little after Marissa walks away.

“There’s a tweet I think you should see,” Maia informs Lucca. Lucca asks if it’s about work (of course it isn’t; that would require Maia to be working NO I WON’T STOP) and it’s about Colin’s campaign. Specifically, a horribly racist tweet about how he got a “black girl” pregnant (“hashtag Sally Hemmings”)

“So I’m a black girl. A black, pregnant, plantation girl,” Lucca responds. Maia is like “I don’t think it implies that” which, I mean, I buy Maia holding that opinion because it would mean she is super privileged, white, and didn’t pay attention in history class and you KNOW I would believe all of those things. But also, it’s a mean tweet that refers to Lucca as “a black girl.” Why would Maia even want to defend that?

Lucca’s TRENDING too. I wish Lucca would trend. Not for this. I mean publicity for the show.

Also trending is Earth Day. Wanna know something fun about Earth Day? It is in April. Specifically it’s April 22nd (which is a Sunday and the day of the next episode, but I will ignore that because it’s close enough and Earth Day could be trending in advance). Lucca is due in May. She is four months pregnant. WHAT MONTH IS IT, SHOW?

Maia accidentally kicks a drawer under Lucca’s desk and it begins to sing. “What is that?” she asks. “It’s a dog,” Lucca replies, as though that explains anything.

Lucca furiously begins to type—to Tweet! This is a bad idea. Has Twitter ever been a good idea on this show when it was controlled by anyone other than Eli or Marissa Gold? (No.)

Lucca (@lquinn) has fired off a reply tweet (“I’m the black woman having Colin Morello’s baby and my name is Lucca Quinn. Did Sally Hemmings have a law degree? #MoreLikeMichelle”) that is snarky and probably misguided, especially since it’s a trap laid by Colin’s campaign manager NotEli. (He isn’t getting a name.)

More bickering, verging on nervous breakdowns, are happening on the DNC live feed. The juiciest live feed since the NSA was listening to Alicia? Anyway.

“I’ve spend the last few months feeling fucking deranged! Like I’m living in some bad reality show! Going numb! All Trump, all the time! What’s real? What’s fake? Well, you know what? I just woke up,” Diane yells. And by yells, I mean yells. Damn.

Liz takes Ruth outside to try to get her to get Julius out of the audition. Liz always has some kind of plan.

Later, Adrian walks into Diane’s office, concerned. “I have never been more all right,” Diane says. U SURE? Did you just take a hit of something? Adrian asks how much of this is show and Diane is like, it’s a show!

Adrian wants to know about the gun in her desk. Yeah, I feel like that’s a valid concern, given that there is a GUN IN HIS WORKPLACE. Not only is that probably illegal but it’s also a hazard.

Marissa brings more bad news: the Chicago lawyer playing card deck, and we get to hear a few of the names in it. David Lee (IS ANYONE SURPRISED?). Patti Nyholm (Ditto). Laura Hellinger. WAIT WHAT? LAURA HELLINGER IS THE SWEETEST. (Can you tell I just rewatched season 4?) What is there to hate about Laura Hellinger!? Why bring her name, of all the names, into this?!

The partners decide to ignore it for now—why give it more attention?—but Adrian, Liz, and Diane are all in the deck. Damn.

Upon seeing her own face on a card, Diane says, “To answer your question, Adrian, yes, I have a gun in my desk.”

It’s at that moment Ruth interrupts to ask Julius not to join the RBL team for the remainder of the audition. Julius, after hearing he’s out, flips off the other partners. Professional. Though I can’t really criticize him, because it’s not like anyone else is being professional.

Maia tries to convince Amy to go to the dance club with her. Amy has a trial starting the next day and she doesn’t want to go, so it’s an impossible sell. Maia makes a bogus excuse: she thinks she should go so as not to be impolite. To Marissa. She sees. Marissa. Every. Day. She and Marissa are friends. It is not impolite to say no to going to a dance club at 10 pm on a work night with someone you went out with the night before. This is an excuse. Maia wants to go out; Amy doesn’t. So Maia’s looking for any reason she can find to go out.

Maia also misses a crucial detail—that Amy’s trial starts tomorrow so there’s no reason to wish her good luck now. This seemed weird the first time through, but then I realized: Maia and Amy live together. And that’s the kind of comment you make to someone you’re not going to see for a little while.

Lock wants Lucca to be his lawyer again. Lucca suspects that Maia might have called him (no that would involve Maia taking initiative so it’s unlikely). But no. The answer is that he’s on Twitter. And that’s when Lucca realizes that she has power.

She shows up at Colin’s door. “I’m not gonna marry you. I’m not gonna pretend otherwise. I’m not gonna lie, I’m not gonna mislead, and I’m not gonna be the woman who stands by your side. I’m the mother of your child, a close friend of yours, and a registered voter in the 1st Congressional District of Illinois. You want my support, you’re gonna agree to my terms,” she demands.

She goes on: she will do one appearance a month, issue a statement, and do interviews. Damn. Colin didn’t even have to negotiate for that.

Francesca is also at Colin’s house. So is NotEli, whose first words to Lucca are “Wow, that’s pregnant.” Off to a great start!

NotEli’s name is Stephen Rankin-Hall. I will continue to call him NotEli.

Now we get some exposition about the campaign. We’re actually doing this. The writers wrote Alicia out and found a way to bring campaigns back.

More deliberations in the conference room. The DNC is watching in real time, and they’re missing the fire of the deliberations with Julius. Using all the coded language in the world, Ruth requests that RBL show their “more pugnacious attitude.”

As soon as she leaves, the partners prove they got the message loud and clear. “They want us to be street,” Liz says, with a trace of anger. No one’s thrilled about it, but they’re all willing to play along. “I will be the angry black woman,” Liz decides. “And you can be Black Lives Matter,” she says to Adrian. (He chuckles.) “What about me?” Diane wonders. “You keep us calmed. But we can’t be calmed. But you’re the white conscience,” Liz says. LOLLOLLOLLOLLOLLOLLOL.

And back to the conference room they go, playing their roles perfectly until they’re screaming at each other about how fantastic Ta-Nehisi Coates is. It’s hilarious. And it piggy-backs off of the point the show made last week: there are certain roles that even (especially) those who call themselves progressives expect people to play based on their race. Diane’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown and she gets to be the conscience because she’s a classy white lady. Liz and Adrian have been strategic throughout all of this and they’re understood when they play up their anger in a very specific, stereotypical way.

(I don’t know that this strategy actually works in the context of the show, since we know that Liz and only Liz is chosen, and I’m going to guess her initial idea helped her more than this show. Even still. The firm is flat out told by the DNC that they will do better when they fit into an easy, familiar (racist) narrative.)

Liz and Adrian sit together in his office after their performance. “I never know how far is too far,” Adrian says. “At least you’ve reached a point in your life where you can admit it,” Liz says. That’s pointed.

Just want to take a moment to say I’m very happy with the addition of Liz. She’s fascinating, Audra’s fantastic, and I can tell so much about Liz from even the tiniest moments. Also, usually characters who are as sneaky as she is towards the other regulars come off as villains. That’s not how Liz comes off, and she was literally introduced as Alicia’s biggest rival and reintroduced as someone who made a move against Diane.

Maia invites Lucca out dancing. She’s going to turn it down anyway, but then Colin, Francesca, and NotEli show up and she has a good excuse not to go.

NotEli and Francesca want Colin and Lucca to get their story straight. “Look, we’re not expecting you to be the good little wife or girlfriend. That’s the old playbook. It stopped working in 2016,” NotEli says. Oh for fuck’s sake. You can’t just add the word “little�� in there and distract me from the fact you are talking about Alicia.

But this line reminds me of two things that I’ve been thinking about lately. The first is that the Good Wife narrative really isn’t timely anymore. It certainly was in 2008. It even was in 2011 when I started watching. But now? Who cares? A dude abuses his office, and now, I think, the media is more likely to wonder about what woman is going to run for his seat than about whether or not his wife will stand by his side. Well, either that happens or absolutely nothing happens and millions of people think it’s perfectly okay to have a president who makes comments about “grabbing women by the pussy.” Either way: it’s not the narrative that fascinates people (or the media) today. And if you’re not caught in the middle of a scandal? It’s even less essential. “Family values” haven’t totally disappeared from politics by any means, but this isn’t 2008.

The other thing this line reminds me of is that, well, I fucking miss Alicia Florrick. It may be accurate to say that “the good little wife” is the old playbook. It’s been on the way out for a while now, so it’s only semi-accurate to say it stopped working in 2016. It is, however, accurate to say that The Good Wife ended in 2016. I like the idea of revisiting these themes, in a very different world, with a very different character. What I don’t like as much is that every time I see Lucca get pulled into situations that very, very few people would understand, I can’t help but want her to call up her close friend who’s lived through it. There are very few other moments when I long for Alicia to be on this show. And I still don’t, really, want her to make a guest appearance. But I want Lucca to have a friend. I want Lucca to have that friendship. And I can’t believe that Lucca and Alicia had a falling out, off screen, big enough that Lucca wouldn’t have reached out to Alicia for advice. If they’re not going to give me Alicia, can they at least stop teasing me?

(“Good little wife”? TEASE.)

Anyway I love how blunt Lucca is. For some reason, NotEli believes Lucca and Colin will be asked where their child was conceived, and he also believes this is a question they should answer. Colin starts to answer, saying things got intense when they were on opposite sides. Lucca jumps in and bluntly says, “So we worked through all that tension by fucking in the courthouse restroom.”

NotEli and Francesca stare at her and Francesca laughs, thinking (hoping) Lucca’s joking. But she’s not done. “It was a family restroom, so we locked the door,” she adds. NotEli says maybe they’ll have to massage this a little. Or you could, like, not talk about where you fucked?

And then the toy dog starts to sing, because of course. (It’s less effective this time.)

Now we’re at the club with Marissa and Maia. Maia’s theme song is playing. Seriously, just read these lyrics: “I clock out my 9:00 to 5:00. I’m ready for the weekend to bring me back to life. Don’t live to work, I work to live.” See?! It’s Maia’s song! Working normal hours (in a profession notorious for requiring long hours) and viewing a job as a chore and not something she’s passionate about!

MAIA IS SO AWKWARD, BUT SHE IS ALSO SO COMMITTED TO ACTUALLY TRYING TO DANCE.

(As you might expect, Marissa is not at all awkward.)

Carine appears at the bar when Maia goes to get a drink! They start talking about their fathers until Maia’s like, “Do you really want to talk about this?” and Carine says no. And then Maia says she wants to dance, so they start dancing. And they get pretty into it.

A little later in the evening, Maia and Marissa talk at a table. Marissa has her arm around Maia. “Am I boring?” Maia asks. You want me to answer that, Maia? You are, and it’s not because you have a stable relationship. I actually find that interesting. ANYWAY. In the world of the show, Maia is worried she’s boring because she’s in a long-term relationship.

Marissa calls Maia a “fucking ninja.”

“I feel like I’m cheating,” Maia worries. “You’re dancing. Or do you mean with me? Because I’m ready for anything,” Marissa responds. Is Marissa saying she’s bi? Or is she joking? Or just drunk? I feel like we may see more on this front. But maybe not.

Oh my God. I have accidentally paused the screen on the most awful drunk!Maia face and I’m not going to post it because I’m not cruel.

“What do you want?” Marissa asks. “I don’t know. Sometimes I want stability. Sometimes I don’t,” Maia answers. Hmmm. Much as I would love to see Maia in a committed relationship, what I would love even more is an arc where Maia, whose life had been very stable up until the scandal, realize that actually, maybe she doesn’t need to follow the easiest, most stable path. Maybe she’d rather be single, or with someone else, at this stage in her life. Wanting stability is a very Alicia thing. It doesn’t have to be a Maia thing, too.

(Nope, I will not turn this into a backdoor way to talk about Alicia and her priorities. I am tempted, but I will resist the temptation.)

Marissa just asks Maia wants right now and Maia says, “That’s the question.” Marissa tells her to go dance, but Maia decides to leave instead.

Maia also tells Marissa that Drew is “great.” I am on Amy’s side here…

Carine finds Maia outside and starts to say goodbye when… Maia kisses her. In the middle of the street. Carine kisses her back. And then they get in an Uber together and make out. Nice, Maia.

I don’t have strong feelings on Maia cheating, mostly because I am not sure I consider her a cheater for this. This behavior—and the behavior we’ll get to in a minute—is cheating. But… she’s cheating on someone she’s had doubts about, someone she barely wants to spend time with, someone who testified against her in court (??), and someone we’ve barely gotten to know. That’s not to say that cheating is justified if that’s the case. It’s not. My point is that I don’t know what Maia’s going to do next. If what she does next involves keeping this from Amy and acting like everything is normal, then yes, she is a cheater and ughhhhhh, Maia. But if this is really the final straw/a wake-up call that causes her to either work through her issues with Amy (including actually telling her she cheated) or break up with her, then it feels like less of a betrayal to me. I don’t know where I’m going with this. Moving on. I am sure I will have more thoughts, hopefully clearer and more fully formed ones, once the next episode (that addresses this plotline) airs.

Carine gets called into work, where she falls on the ground because she is drunk. They have to leave, but she wants to stay a few more days!

Ruth tells the name partners the DNC’s decision: they’re hiring a team of lawyers from various firms, and they just want Liz. “Like the Avengers,” Diane observes. Yes, you read that right. Diane made that observation. Diane Lockhart.

Adrian calls Liz “Wonder Woman” and Ruth corrects him that “That’s the Justice League.” Hee. Look at Diane and Ruth, knowing their superheroes better than I do! (Though I actually understood both of those references.)

Will Liz actually take the offer? I’m unsure. I don’t want anything that means less Liz, so I’m hoping either she doesn’t take it or she does but it doesn’t reduce her screentime.

Ruth tells her assistant to turn off the DNC cameras. But he can’t, because Maia and Carine are busy having sex, on camera, in the office. You’re such a good employee, Maia.

Carine would know about the cameras, but I don’t think this is a set-up (I think she’s just drunk, though wouldn’t be shocked if it was a set-up). Maia wouldn’t know about the cameras, but for fuck’s sake, Maia, do you think you’re supposed to be having sex at the office? Oh, you know what? It’s Maia. She probably thinks that’s what offices are for.

(I so badly want to end my recap there, but also, this Trump impeachment Schoolhouse Rock style song is A++++++ and I’m not sure why it exists but I’m glad it does. It’s also by the same guy (Jonathan Coulson) who did all the BrainDead recap songs (if you did not watch BrainDead, you should) so I’m a very happy fan.)

(Omg, and the slow instrumental “If You’re Happy and You Know It” over the credits is great.)

#The Good Fight #TGFThoughts

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accio-ambition · 7 years ago

Text

Under Christmas’s Influence

Merry Christmas Sandy ( @tehgreeneyes )! I was fortunate enough to be your CS Secret Santa this year! I know we didn’t really talk much, but I really enjoyed what we did talk about. 12 Monkeys is now definitely on my to-watch list, with all the Googling I did to cameo it in here (I might have fallen into a vortex for a couple hours of distraction, but whatever). You said that one of your favorite tropes was fake!dating/engaged/married, so I wrote you a (not so) little fake!engaged Christmas story. I hope you don’t absolutely hate Hallmark Christmas movies, because that is where I drew a bit (aka a lot) of inspiration for this story. Merry Christmas!

(This is a long one, so you can read it on AO3 too in case it hurts your eyes.)

The call from his brother isn’t necessarily unexpected. It is Christmastime - the one time of year one starts reflecting on the past year and thinking about all the important people in one’s life. But since getting married last winter, shortly after Valentine’s Day, Killian’s barely heard from his brother or new sister-in-law. A postcard from the honeymoon, the occasional tag in a Facebook post, but otherwise, nothing.

It’s been difficult, he will admit, watching his brother go from bachelor to husband, but only in that selfish way where now Liam has to ask if he can accompany Killian on bar crawls or can’t make it to every football game during the season.

So when Liam does call as he walks in to his apartment after work one afternoon, Killian gladly answers it. It had been a long, trying day at work - depositions for most of the morning, then a conference call that lasted five hours with little time to eat or even use the restroom in between. Killian cannot wait to get out of his stuffy suit and tie, throw on his sweats, and watch T.V.

ESPN, he tells himself. There’s that important college game on tonight.

It’s a losing battle, though: it’s Christmastime, which means corny, completely unnecessary, totally unoriginal Christmas movies. The perfect remedy to the problems practicing the law could bring up.

Killian flips the light in his room on before immediately turning on the T.V. and muting it before answering his phone. He greets his brother just as some woman silently giggles at a man holding a dog.

Haven’t seen this one before.

“Little brother, my god, you are alive!” Liam says instead of hello.

“In the sense that I’m still alive and breathing, yes,” Killian quips back, putting his phone on speaker and proceeding to change out of his clothes. “Other than that, I’d hardly say I’m alive.”

Liam groans and Killian can just imagine his older brother slapping himself on the forehead. It’s his own fault, the sarcastic streak Killian has, though it does both of them wonders during certain situations, particularly during hard court cases.

While Killian chuckles, Liam’s groan transforms into a sigh. The change in mood is as unexpected as Liam’s phone call, but instead of asking about it, Killian lets the quiet ensue. If there’s one thing Killian’s learned about his big brother in his time on earth, it’s that, if something’s bothering Liam, he’ll say it.

So when Liam says, “I apologize for being an arse,” his younger brother can’t imagine what he’s managed to do wrong if they haven’t truly spoken in months.

“About what exactly, may I inquire?” Killian asks, changed and taking a seat at the edge of his bed. His eyes sort of glaze over as he stares at the screen. Another man’s face is contorted into some slimy smirk or grimace or something akin to that, looking after the woman with the puppy.

This plot would be so much simpler if I could hear what they were saying.

Killian fiddles with the remote, trying to find the button for subtitles or captions, while Liam continues. “I know I’ve been sort of…” he pauses just as the captions begin scrolling along the bottom of the screen, “neglecting you since I married.”

Shrugging, Killian reasons, “Your priorities have changed. You’ve got Belle now. All that marriage stuff. Honeymoons and thank you cards and on and on.”

“Yes, but you’ll always be my little brother.” This time, Killian groans, but it’s in the same way that he bemoans cheesy pickup lines and corny Christmas movie plots. It’s a sentiment he doesn’t exactly always feel this time of year, but when he does, it makes his heart grow like the Grinch’s.

“I’m still learning how to balance brotherhood with marriage, alright?” Liam says, his voice a bit gruffer. “So I’m sorry if I made you feel poorly. I never meant to.”

“Worry not, Liam. I’ve gotten used to it.”

His older brother scoffs. “Now don’t say that,” he says. “You really make me feel like a horrendous person.”

Killian barks out a laugh. “You said it, not me.” Dramatically, he flops back on his mattress, letting his muscles relax into the comfort. It really has been a long day.

“So what’s going on in your life?” Liam asks in a friendly manner. “What have I missed?”

Killian opens his mouth to answer - it’s been months, there really is too much to cover in a single phone call - but it shuts quickly when he hears a key in the lock of his front door. There’s only one person in the world who’s got his spare key to his place.

While losing Liam as his automatic plus-one to all social events was a bummer, Killian’s managed to find solace in his neighbor, one Emma Swan, who barged into his life quite suddenly and hasn’t really allowed him a moment to recover since.

Liam just doesn’t know that.

Not quite yet.

And with all the time he’s had to theoretically prepare for this moment, Killian hasn’t the slightest idea how to tell his brother that the most important thing he’s missed in the past months isn’t an event, but a person.

0000

He’d briefly seen her move in, just a couple days after returning to his apartment from Liam and Belle’s wedding festivities. The door next to his propped open with a box overflowing with shoes and the grunts and groans of furniture-moving from within were dead giveaways. Still tired and a bit hungover, Killian resolved to introduce himself later. Maybe after he’d had a thorough shower.

Very thorough. I’m pretty sure someone vomited on me during the morning-after brunch, he thinks. I can still feel the grime on me.

And that’s all the thought he spares this new neighbor of his. Killian goes about showering and returning to the land of post-Liam’s-wedding. It isn’t until two or three Sundays later that the new neighbor crosses his mind again.

Settling down on the couch, Killian takes a deep breath. 12 Monkeys is set to premiere in mere minutes - perhaps not the best attempt at unwinding before what’s promised to be another tough work week, but he can’t even ponder the idea of dodging spoilers. Too much stress.

His eyes slide shut and the next thing he knows, the opening notes of the theme music float through his ears. Killian opens his eyes, hoping they clear in time for him to catch all the intricacies this episode might offer.

And then the pounding starts.

Someone incessantly bangs at his front door. Everyone who’s anybody important enough to him knows not to interrupt him during this time of the week. So he tries to ignore it, just let the complexities of Dr. Railly and James Cole’s adventures take him away.

But the knocking won’t stop.

“They’ve just got the wrong apartment,” he mumbles to himself.

“Open the door, 312! It’s an emergency!” a woman’s voice shouts through the door.

Apparently not.

An emergency could mean a slew of things: broken bones, burning buildings, a mouse in the shower. But if it’s either of the first two, he doesn’t want the woman’s injury on his conscience for the rest of his life. And Liam did raise him to be a gentleman. It wouldn’t be chivalrous to let the mouse run all over this woman’s apartment if she really didn’t want it to.

Eyes still glued to the TV, Killian walks and opens the front door. The only way he can tell that the blonde hurricane that rushes by him is a person is the brush of hair against his arm and the aforementioned tone of voice.

“Excuse me,” he says, watching as she takes his seat on his couch to, what seems like, watch his T.V. “Can I help you?”

“My cable isn’t working and I heard the theme song through the walls.” Her words are direct, offering no other option except for the fact that she’s in his apartment during his show. Eyes on the screen, the woman pats the cushion next to her. “Close the door and sit the fuck down.”

And despite the fact that she’s the one that barged into his apartment, Killian does as she requests: a bit stunned, he shuts the door and ambles over to the couch, barely able to focus in on the show unfolding before them.

“Who are you?” he inquires, easing himself on to the cushion she’d indicated.

“311,” she replies.

“Lovely to meet you, 311. Is that the name - “

She shushes him, her hand waving next to him, gaze still intent on Cassie as she’s deep in conversation with some character Killian hadn’t even known existed. “Wait until commercials. Then talk.”

Again, Killian surprises himself by following her instructions. Between commercials, he manages to get a little more information out of her through hesitantly asked questions. Emma Swan, she says, apartment 311, moved in a month or so ago after escaping from bailbonds and getting something a little more efficient (and probably safer) in law enforcement.

But that’s all he gets that first night, aside from the few physical descriptors he gets from her profile. Otherwise, she’s silent, intent on trying to figure out the twists and turns the show keeps throwing at them. And, man, even as distracted as he is, even he can tell that this season is bound to be a gamechanger.

When the episode is finished, she quietly thanks him, a much different tone from earlier, and leaves his apartment with a completely changed demeanor. But just before his front door shuts between them, Killian sticks his foot in the jamb.

“Next week?” he asks. She - Emma - turns gently, eyebrow raised and eyes squinting at him with confusion. She’s wary, for some reason or another. Swallowing nervously, Killian repeats himself. “Would you like to come over for next week’s episode?”

Taking a step back, Emma’s tongue peeks out between her lips. “My cable should be fixed by then,” she says.

“Oh.” That’s a bit of a letdown. Then again, as he’s constantly had to remind himself tonight, she hadn’t really given him much to go on about her personal life except that her cable was out.

He’s always been up for a challenge, especially one as beguiling as the show that unintentionally brought them together. For now.

“Regardless, you’re more than welcome to come, Swan,” he tells her. Gesturing toward the door, Killian also suggests, “Perhaps knock a bit gentler next time.”

He watches Emma struggle to hold back a grin, her fingers wringing around each other. “Maybe,” is all she deigns for an answer. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones and that’s not something Killian usually notices with anybody. With a silent nod, she takes the five or so steps back to her front door and goes back home.

Killian lingers in the doorway far longer than appropriate.

The next Sunday, he’s settling into the couch, ten minutes to showtime, when a much more hesitant knock sounds at his door. Killian can’t help the smile that crosses his face as he approaches the door.

When he opens it, Emma stands on the other side, both hands holding a plastic bag between then. When he glances down at it, she struggles to hold it up on display.

“Apology Chinese?” she says by way of greeting, her lower lip getting stuck between her teeth. Bringing the bag back toward the ground, she adds, “I’m sorry I forced myself into your apartment last weekend.”

Killian’s already shaking his head before she’s completed her thought. “Completely understandable,” he remarks. “The cable was down.”

Chuckling, Emma shuffles her feet. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees that as an emergency.”

It takes an exorbitant amount of time for Killian to stop nodding like the village idiot. But when he does, he takes a step back and waves her into his apartment. “Please, do come in,” he offers. “You made it just in the nick of time.”

And the rest, he likes to say, is history.

0000

“Killian!” The shout is followed by slam of the front door. “Killian, where are you? I need to complain to you about my day and then drink all your booze.”

He’s up quicker than he thought possible at this time in the evening. Killian slides down the hardwood floors into the living room, silently and frantically slicing his hand across his throat and mouthing shut up!

Emma just stares at him with befuddlement in her eyes. She briefly mimics his motions.

“Are you having a fucking stroke?” she asks, coming up to him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Bringing his phone down to his chest to cover the speaker, Killian whisper-shouts, “It’s my brother,” just as he can hear Liam on the other end of the line. His voice is muffled, of course, what with the shirt and all, but even from here, Killian can tell his brother’s tone is adamant and desirous of information.

Emma, on the other hand, is dumbstruck. Those green green eyes of hers are blown wide with surprise. She tiptoes away and sinks into the corner of the couch, pulling one of decorative pillows he threw on there when he first moved in a couple years ago into her lap and squishing it.

“Sorry,” she whispers, hiding the lower half of her face with the pillow, presumably trying to protect herself from the blush of embarrassment rising on her cheeks.

Killian sighs and shakes his head. He walks over behind the couch and rests his empty hand on the top of her head, running his fingers through the hair that catches there. When he finally puts his phone back to his ear, Killian just catches the tail end of Liam’s barrage of questions.

“Who was that, little brother?” Liam asks.

“No one,” Killian answers too swiftly. He feels pressure on his hand, Emma leaning into his hold, before she gets up and heads toward the kitchen.

Probably to start drinking that booze she mentioned, he thinks.

Liam catches his attention once more. “Killian, I can’t even see you and I know you’re lying through your teeth.”

Unconsciously, Killian’s hand raises and scratches at the skin behind his ear. “So?” he asks, his brother losing his focus as Emma finds whatever poison she was searching for and takes her seat back on the couch, cup in hand.

“So, I’m your older brother,” Liam explains. “You’ve got to tell me.”

“Have not.”

“Have so.” Liam doesn’t say anything for another moment before pleading, “C’mon, Killian.”

Sighing, Killian looks at Emma again. He’s not sure why he hasn’t told Liam about Emma yet, lack of communication in the past few months aside. It’s always been his little secret, almost - a secret friend who’s come to rely on him for alcohol and support and who knows what else.

Emma turns on the T.V. in the living room, already on the Hallmark channel from last night’s bad movie binge. She mutes it, but Killian doesn’t need the dialogue. It must be the end of the movie, the main characters standing at the end of a church aisle.

“It’s just…” he hesitates.

“Yes?”

He knows it’s going to be a mess before he even comprehends what he actually says. “My fiancée?” He winces, the ends of Emma’s hair making some sort of noise as they whip around on the back of the couch. Killian can feel her staring at him.

“Fiancée?” Liam repeats, sounding just as disbelieving as Killian is that he actually said it. Killian hums in agreement as Emma’s green eyes go impossibly wider. Liam, on the other hand, grumps. “Bring her...Him?” Killian rolls his eyes and replies her. “Her to Christmas Eve dinner. You guys can stay with Belle and I and we can have a real Christmas morning.”

Moaning, Killian walks around to the front of the couch and takes a seat beside Emma. His free hand comes to rest on her knee, a move she mimics in solidarity. “I don’t know, Liam,” he says. “I really wouldn’t want to intrude on Belle and yours first Christmas as husband and wife. You should have - “

“Nonsense!” his brother shouts. “Christmas is about family. We should spend it together.”

“I thought Thanksgiving was about family,” Killian scoffs.

“You and I both know we have no bloody clue about these American holidays. We like to - “

“Keep good form as we go.” Next to him, Emma chuckles. He’s been known to say the same phrase on occasion. “I know, brother.”

“I know you know. It’s my job to remind you sometimes.” On Liam’s end of the conversation, something arises in the background, a scuffling sort of noise. It’s probably Belle, Killian thinks, making dinner or coming in from work. Liam’s voice is muffled as he probably greets him.

“I’ve kept you too long, haven’t I?” Killian asks once the racket on the other side signals his brother’s back on the line.

“No, no, I called you, remember?” Liam says. “I’ll let you get back to your -” he pauses, making his voice more suggestive, “-.fiancée.”

“Thanks.” There’s something hard to swallow around in his throat. “I’ll see you for Christmas Eve dinner, I suppose.”

“Yes, both of you will,” Liam bids, his last phrase a subtle reminder, before hanging up and spending the evening with his wife.

Killian, on the other hand, groans and throw his phone on the coffee table. He rubs his hands against his face.

“Fiancée?” Emma says calmly. “Really?”

Killian shrugs, his face warming with embarrassment. “I’m really bad at thinking on my feet.”

“How is that possible? You lie for a living!” Emma flops back on to her spot on the couch, really too semantic for her own good.

“No I don’t.” It's a point of discussion since the inception of their friendship: in her experience, Emma's seen attorneys lie and lie and Killian tries really hard not to.

But sometimes…

“I just sometimes have to spin the truth in a different.” Emma glares at him. “Ugh, I don’t know.” He throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. “I was watching one of those bad Hallmark Christmas movies and I guess their subliminal messaging worked.”

Scoffing, Emma turns back to the T.V., where one of said movies comes to its joyful conclusion. As always, there's unnecessary confetti that's definitely going to kill the birds, but no one cares about that because it's a low budget T.V. film. “I’ll be sure to write a letter to the TV executives congratulating them,” she says drolly, finally unmuting the T.V. She sighs as the new movie starts, one he's already seen this season. “Well, what happens now?” She asks on another sigh.

Killian should've known. His Swan is nothing if not curious, if not nosy. But she was there, as she is nearly every night in any given week, and he knows he really should've asked her before blurring out the word fiancée as he did.

But where else is he going to find a fake fiancée in such a time crunch?

“What plans do you have for Christmas?” he inquires, hoping for a subtle reaction.

That's not the case, of course. Turning toward him slowly, Killian watches as Emma's eyes go wide as saucers, her brows raise high, and her jaw drops.

“Killian, you can’t be serious.”

“Swan, darling, what else are you going to do?” he reasons. “You’ve got an invitation to dinner on Christmas Eve and the guarantee that you’ll wake up to presents and stereotypical family warmth on Christmas morning.”

“I-I mean,” she stutters, jaw still dangling dangerously close to her breastbone. “Weren’t we going to get drunk Christmas Eve and sleep off the hangover Christmas day?”

Recoiling a bit, Killian raises a brow and asks, “We were?”

Emma shrugs, somehow digging herself further into the couch. She takes to holding the decorative pillow from earlier, a sure sign of her nerves. “We didn’t decide anything, but I figure it was the sort of thing we would do.” Looking furtively between him and the T.V., Emma shrugs again. “I was gonna suggest it after dinner tonight.”

“Well, we can do that at Liam’s,” he offers, playfully nudging her with his elbow. “We’ll have some drinks with dinner, have a nice time, then steal whatever from the liquor cabinet and down it all in the guest room in our pajamas.”

She rolls her eyes. “That can’t be good form.”

He doesn’t deign her an answer - not because it’s technically not good form, but for other reasons - and begins poking her on the knee. “Come with me,” he requests of her quietly. “You can meet Liam and Belle. It’ll be great.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her eyes on the male character as he ascends to a throne, before looking him dead in the eye.

“Promise?” she asks softly, her mouth partially hidden behind the pillow.

Killian nods solemnly. “Promise.”

0000

It’s been dark all day, clouds heavy with snow, but somehow, as Killian and Emma sit in her car in his brother’s driveway, Christmas Eve somehow seems to get darker.

“It’s kind of cold,” Emma mumbles, playing with the ring on her left hand. It’s fake, of course, but real enough to pass for an engagement ring. Or at least that’s what they’ve settled on. Killian dug it up from his pirate Halloween costume, and he spent a pretty penny on getting something real enough to fool adults more than children.

Works well for short notice, he thought.

“Yeah, it is.” They sit there for a moment longer, both lost in their respective thoughts, before Killian tsks. Reaching over the center console, he stills her nervous fiddling by taking her hand in his own. “You ready?”

Inhaling sharply and deeply, Emma nods slowly. “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she says accusatorily.

“I can’t believe you agreed to it,” he quips back with a smirk. Killian doesn’t need to see her to know that she’s rolling her eyes. He unlocks his door and squeeze her hand once, hopefully transferring some courage from his palm to hers. “It’s going to be great.”

Emma scoffs, unlocking her door as well. “You better hope they’ve got some top shelf stuff in their cabinet.”

Killian chuckles as he steps foot outside the car, letting go of Emma’s hand to grab the bottles of wine they brought as gifts. “I should hope the same. Alcohol’s the only way to warm up after this cold,” he says over the roof of the car.

The wind blows up a terribly bitter breeze just as they walk up Liam and Belle’s front steps, leaving Killian and Emma to huddle up to each other.

“It’s fucking freezing!” Emma shouts over the wind.

“Try the door!” he replies. “It should be open.”

The next gust of wind ushers them into the starkly warm house. Both shaking off the breeze and the snow, they hang up their coats and rid themselves of their boots. Killian can smell some sort of meat roasting from the over, the scents wafting down the hallway with the Christmas music gently playing on the stereo.

“Hello?” Killian calls, draping his scarf over his jacket. “Liam?”

Liam’s head pop out from around an archway that must lead to the kitchen, for he’s decked out in a festive Santa apron. His smile is goofily wide, though Killian’s sure that there’s a grin as equally as absurd on his face.

Bloody hell, I did miss him.

“Little brother!” Liam shouts, much to Killian’s chagrin. He comes around the corner and embraces Killian in one of the tightest and, in his opinion, most unnecessary hugs in the history of the universe. “My god, it’s been eons.”

Killian can’t help but belt out a laugh as he slaps his older brother on the back. “I saw you at your wedding,” he reminds Liam.

“Really?” Pulling back, the look on Liam’s face makes him seem a lot duller than Killian knows he is. But then he lights back up, in the present instead of the past now, as Belle comes into the room. “Then it has been too long, Killian.”

Moving around his brother, Killian takes his sister-in-law into his arms. “Belle,” he pauses to buss her on the cheek, “radiant as always.”

“Why, thank you,” she says, color rising on her cheeks. She blinks a few times before her eyes focus behind Killian, on to Emma. He’s nearly forgotten she’s there, she’s unusually quiet.

But Belle, ever the people person and general lovely lady that she is, immediately takes to her, stepping forward and offering her a friendly smile. “You must be Killian’s fiancée.”

“Yeah,” Emma chokes out, her voice decidedly soft and watery. “I’m Emma.” Awkwardly, Emma sticks her hand out. Instead, Belle goes in for the hug, Emma’s hand getting caught between their chests. Killian hears her quietly go, “Oof, a hug.”

“I’m sorry,” Belle says automatically, taking a step back subconsciously into Liam’s hold. “Do you not do hugs? I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry, I’m just excited that we’re going to be family.”

And that’s something that neither Killian nor, he’d bet to say, Emma had thought about. Sure, they can pretend that they’re going to get married, say that they incredibly happy and in love, but the idea of being family…

It’s not one of the angles they thought of, he can safely say that. And, from what he know of Emma’s past and the skeletons in her closet, he’s afraid the mere fathom of it might trigger her into quitting the whole charade.

But Belle, bless her, isn’t privy to Killian’s inner monologue, and moves on to the next thought. Addressing Emma, she says with a chuckle, “I don’t know if Killian’s the same way, but I know Liam is a handful more often than not.”

Liam pulls her closer into his chest. “Now, darling, I resent that sentiment,” he chides her lovingly.

Their little exchange, apparently, gives Emma enough time to reboot and get over whatever turmoil she might be experiencing internally. “Hugs are fine,” she tells Belle, her voice a little stronger than when introducing herself. “I was just surprised. It’s been…” She licks her lips, and glances up at Killian for a tick. “Well, it’s been a while since someone greeted me that way.”

“To be honest, Emma, I’m not surprised,” Liam replies. Looking to his wife, he adds, “Did I tell you, Belle, when I called Killian, the only way I knew about Emma’s existence was because the front door slammed and she yelled at him?”

Killian’s arm goes around Emma’s shoulders, mimicking his brother because that’s what engaged couples do, right? “Frankly I deserved it.”

“He did,” Emma agrees, finally cracking a smile. And then, surprisingly Killian, she places a hand on his chest, looking up at him with a weird glimmer in her eyes, one he’s never really seen in her before. “But he’s still the best part about coming home, and he knows that and accepts that I am a very loud person.”

“I do.” Something about that look of hers keeps him from sarcastically remarking that she can be incredibly loud without even trying. It shakes him because, for some reason or another, her glance reminds him of the way his brother looks at his wife.

Shaking the thought from his brain, Killian turns back to Liam. “So dinner?” he asks. To Emma, he says, “I don’t know about you, love, but I am starved.”

“Seconded,” Emma agrees.

Liam and Belle usher them into the kitchen where the final timer goes off. Liam pulls a ham from the oven and Belle mixes them their first drinks of the evening. That easily leads into dinner, where Killian finds himself glancing at Emma, his excuse being that he wants to make sure she’s having a good time. By the way she laughs hysterically at Liam’s tales of their childhood and keeps whispering to Belle next to her, Killian believes that she is.

A couple times during the meal, he finds his hand wandering over to her knee, exerting slight pressure, silently asking her if she really is doing okay. She always responds with a complementary squeeze, and when her hand lingers there more often than not, Killian tries to focus on literally anything else occurring at that specific moment in time.

By the time the dishes are drying and the leftovers are packed away for lunch tomorrow, Emma’s happily tipsy and Killian’s well on his way to joining her. Liam tells them they’ll have to share the guest bed, but neither of them take issue with it. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve fallen asleep together in close quarters.

Killian manages, though, to keep up his end of the bargain. After bidding Liam and Belle a goodnight and merry Christmas, he nabs two bottles of rum from the liquor cabinet and sneaks them into the guest room, where he finds Emma laying on the bed, flipping through the T.V. channels. She throws the remote to the end of the mattress when her search lands on the Hallmark Channel.

“For someone who enjoys complaining about the subject matter, you’re always quick to find them,” he says over the click of the door closing.

“I get it,” she states as he hands over a bottle. She pops the top and takes a healthy swig.

“Get what, love?” he inquires.

“The bad movie thing,” she says with a roll of her eyes, as if that’s been the topic of discussion for the past two hours and not the last two seconds. Pointing toward the screen, she explains. “Escape. Even though he sent her back home and banished her from Aldovia or wherever, you know he's going to go find and her and they're going to be happy.” On a sigh, Emma settles her head into the pillow. “It's nice.”

It’s so outside of Emma’s realm to be as serious as she is right now. Killian smiles softly at her, joining her on the bed. “I'm glad you finally see that.”

Just as it’s seemed she’s gotten comfortable, Emma swiftly stands, digs through her overnight bag, and goes off into the bathroom with her pajamas. Killian watches the movie as she changes, trying to pick up on the plot points he’s missed and occasionally taking a drink of rum.

When Emma comes back in the room, her daytime clothes balled up in her arms, she announces, “I don't have a family.”

It’s not necessarily out of left field, what with all the talk of Liam and Belle’s wedding and their fake impending nuptials over the dinner table, but Killian’s still a tad surprised by her statement. He doesn’t say anything, though: just allows her to continue at her own pace.

“I was bounced from foster home to group house until I aged out,” she explains, setting her clothes atop her bag. “There were so many kids that none of the adults particularly cared about the holidays.” Coming back to bed, Emma curls up beneath the covers, her voice growing quiet. “And when I grew up, I took to ordering Chinese food and watching these bad movies and the old stop motion ones all night.” She scoots closer to him, her eyes never leaving the T.V. screen. “This is the first Christmas I won't spend alone.”

Killian’s always known her life to be a little harsher than she deserved, but never quite that bad. There’s a hint of that emotion from earlier, the one that made him feel things, linger in her eyes, and he can’t help himself: gently, he brushes some stray strands of hair from her face, his hand staying on her cheek. “Then we're going to make this the best Christmas ever, Swan.”

“It already is,” she sighs happily, looking up at him. “I'm here with you.”

He leans down and kisses her forehead before crawling under the covers himself. Emma’s head ends up on his chest halfway through the movie, the rum forgotten on the nightstands, and they’re both asleep before the prince even proposes.

0000

Killian wakes up shortly after sunrise, head pounding with a headache. He stumbles to the bathroom for aspirin and water and brings back enough for both of them. Popping a few too many drugs, Killian takes a large swig of water to wash them down, and settles back in bed, hoping to get a few more hours. If there’s one Christmas present he’s not going to take for granted, it’s the chance to have a lie in.

Especially when an innocent Emma flips over and snuggles into him, sleep warm. And though her sigh airs on the side of dreamy, Killian can’t say the same for her morning breath. He’s casually choking on tainted air when she rouses.

“What time?” she asks, still half asleep.

“Too early,” Killian says, dragging his hand down her back to try and lull her back into unconsciousness. “Go back to sleep, Swan.”

“But Christmas,” she grumbles.

“It’ll still be Christmas when you wake up,” he assures her. But her breath’s already evening out, and she’s fast asleep less than a minute later.

0000

When they both wake to the sounds of pans clanging in the kitchen a few hours later, Killian feels a lot better. His head isn't killing him anymore, his mouth no longer tastes like cotton, and he's still got a Swan in his hold.

For now.

“You're so fucking hot, get off me,” she grumbles, pushing him wearily, her eyes still closed.

“It's so kind of you to say so,” Killian quips back, holding her even tighter. “I find you to be quite attractive as well.”

Emma groans and shoves his face away. She rolls over and scoots to the very edge of her side of the bed. “You know what I fucking mean.”

Killian sidles in behind her, careful when he threads his arm across her hip and waist. “I do,” he murmurs behind her ear, “but it's Christmas, so your words of malice mean nothing.”

She says something else that her pillow exclusively hears, but then she's sliding out of bed and toward the bathroom.

“If it's Christmas, then we better get started,” she says before closing the door. “The sooner it's over with, the sooner I can be mean to you again.”

Chuckling, Killian shouts through the door, “I like you even when you're yelling at me!”

Emma pokes her head and shoulders out the bathroom door.

“I'm not yelling,” she says matter of factly. “I'm simply expressing my opinion in an angry and slightly elevated tone.”

Once taken care of, Killian and Emma shuffle into the living room to find Belle curled up in a corner of the couch, sipping from a mug.

“Merry Christmas, You two,” she greets them quietly.

“Merry Christmas, Belle,” Emma says in return. “Where's your Jones?”

Belle giggles and tilts her behind back to the kitchen. “He wanted to put some cinnamon rolls in the oven to bake while we opens presents,” she explains.

“Always thinking ahead,” Killian remarks as his brother walks into the room.

“Ah, the lovebirds have awoken.”

“I could say the same for you.”

They exchange gifts - nothing to big or mind blowing. Liam gives Killian his annual pair of socks. Emma and Belle, it seems, thought along the same wavelength, exchanging candles and lotions meant for a relaxing home-spa day. Nobody changes out of their pajamas - too busy eating leftovers and watching classic Christmas movies - until Killian regretfully reminds Emma that they have to drive back home tonight.

“Some of us have to work early tomorrow morning,” he tells her jokingly.

“It’s not my fault your field likes to start their day at 8am,” she gests back.

By the time they say their final goodbyes and merry Christmases to Liam and Belle, it’s dark again, though thankfully not snowing. And when Killian drops Emma’s overnight bag at her doorstep, he can’t quite believe they made it through the holiday.

“Thanks for playing into my fantasy,” he says, surprising himself by how shy he sounds. They’ve spent the better part of the last 48 hours together pretending to be head over heels in love with one another, and now is the part where he begins to be scandalized by the matter? How curious indeed.

“Thanks for giving me the part.” Searching beneath her feet for the answers to life’s greatest questions - or at least that’s what he assumes she’s doing, she staring so intently - Emma scuffs at the floor. Unlike his apartment, she’s got a welcome mat, a little dinky, but still as welcoming as the word written across it. She kicks at it before she inhales deeply. “This might be a bit of a surprise, but that’s probably the best Christmas I’ve ever had in my life.”

“So you said,” Killian says with a chuckle, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. Then he admits quietly, “Me too.”

Her eyes light up, that same emotion bright behind her fluttering eyelashes. “Really?”

Killian shrugs. “The company was above average this year.”

“Aw shucks.” She kicks at the mat again. “Hey, um...” And then she stops herself from continuing.

“Yeah?”

Her right hand is cradling her left as Emma looks at the costume ring on her finger. His gaze falls to it as well. It’s just a silly fake pirate ring, and yet seeing it on her finger, knowing that it belonged to him only a day ago, does something that he suspects looks a lot like the little glimmer that keeps showing up in her eyes.

“I know I should probably give you this back,” she says, “but, um...”

“Keep it,” he says without hesitation. “It's part of your Christmas present.”

Emma shakes her head, already starting to pull the ring off her finger. “You've already given me so much and I just…”

“You've been perfect,” Killian interrupts her. He takes her hand in his and holds it tightly, effectively stopping her from removing the ring. And then, surprising himself, Killian adds, “Since the day you barged into my life and demanded to watch 12 Monkeys.” His tongue runs along his teeth, contemplating the idea formulating in his mind. “But...”

“But?” she repeats.

“If you feel so inclined to thank me...” His sentence drifts off, leading him to raise his finger and tap it to his lips.

Rolling her eyes so hard Killian fears they might get stuck that way, Emma says, “Oh my god, are you serious?”

Killian shrugs again, bringing his hand back into his pocket. “I said if you were inclined.”

“Please, you couldn't handle it,” she says quickly.

“Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it,” he quips back easily.

And before he knows it, Emma’s pressed against him, chest to chest, her hands pulling harshly on the lapels of his jacket. He’s jettisoned forward, his lips to hers, in what’s probably the least expected kiss in his life and possibly the lives of everyone else in their apartment building.

It’s also probably the single best thing to ever happen to him, romantically-inclined or otherwise.

Emma doesn’t step away once she’s done with him, merely comes down from her tiptoes with a heavy breath. “Only one way to find out, right?” Her voice sounds wrecked, her tongue coming out to lick what’s left of him on her lips. Then she lets him go and takes a step back. “Why don't you drop your stuff off and we can see how much we can actually handle together?” she suggests.

Raising a brow, Killian smirks. “Challenge accepted.” He grabs his bag from where it’s fallen to the floor and can’t help himself when he leans over and presses his lips to hers swiftly once more. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

He leaves her unlocking her front door to enter his own apartment, throwing his bag on the couch and beelining it toward his room. There’s dirty laundry to do and he should probably just go to bed because he does have to go to work in the morning, but the opportunity presented to him is just too good an offer to pass up and he can’t be sure that it’ll still be there come morning.

I hope it is, Killian thinks as he pulls on his sweatpants.

But then there’s banging on the other side of his bedroom wall, insistent and forceful and she’s never done that before. Something must be wrong. Throwing on another shirt and forgoing shoes altogether, Killian rushes over to her apartment, knocking equally as hard on her front door.

Emma’s smiling when she flings the door open.

“What's wrong?” he asks, confused by the conflicting information he’s receiving.

“Killian, the Hallmark movie with the dogs!” she shouts at him.

Shaking his head, Killian squints. “Yes, what about it?”

She points toward her living room. “It's on!” Taking his hand, Emma drags him into her apartment, her pleading eyes doing a number on his stomach. “Can we watch it and or have it on in the background?”

He sighs as the screen comes into view. It’s the beginning of the movie, so they can watch it in its entirety and laugh about it together. “I suppose we can wait,” he relents, allowing Emma to sit him down on the couch. He, in turn, wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her legs over his lap. “But I'm not taking my eyes or hands off you for a moment.”

“Good,” she says with a smirk of her own. “I'd despair if you did.”

She tucks her head in the space between his neck and shoulder and something settles, warm and happy, in Killian’s chest.

If Killian had to think of one word to encompass this Christmas, he'd have to settle on unexpected. From his brother’s phone call to his and Emma's fake engagement, the last thing he thought this holiday would end with was him and Emma cozied up on his couch, curled around each other while watching a cheesy Christmas movie.

(And if they don't make it to the triumphant end in order to create their own, then sue him. Sometimes Hallmark movies have to write themselves.)

#csss #captain swan secret santa #cs ff #cs au #fake!engaged #ALSO CHRISTMAS FLUFF #ouat #my words #storytime #this is easily the longest one shot ive written ever #its over 7k #i was worried it wasnt going to get done in time #BUT IT DID #MERRY CHRISTMAS SANDY #i feel like i neglected you as a secret santa #im sorry #i hope you enjoy this!

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ajuimaginary · 8 years ago

Text

Best Friend confesses Series: DK/ Seokmin

This is part nine of a series of Seventeen imagines. Feel free to message me and say who you want to see confessing next! Requests get done fast ;)

Seokmin has been pretty busy lately, but he never fails to text and snapchat and otherwise communicate with you no matter his schedule. Nothing cheers you up more than the little notifications accompanied by his name, which in your phone is set as “Sunshine”. But still, you miss him. You miss him even more because you can tell he’s getting very stressed lately and you feel helpless to make it better.

He doesn’t say anything to worry you, of course, but it’s noticeable in the little things: the small sad comments he makes, the slight edge to his smile on video calls, and how he barely uses capital letters in texts anymore despite usually using a lot.

This afternoon you receive a few snapchats within a minute of each other. The first is a picture of a sleeping Hoshi with a sad caption saying “your second in command is being totally boring, i wish you were here” and then, seconds later, a view out the window saying “and i can’t even invite you over because we’re having a brain storming session this afternoon. has it really been a whole week apart?” and then, finally, while you’re trying to decide how to respond, everything completely changes with another new snapchat coming in.

It’s a photo of his own beaming face. You screenshot it quickly, because you’re so distracted by his smile you almost forget to read it before it vanishes.

You stare at the smile a moment longer, and then finally read the caption he added: “SINCE HOSHI AND WOOZI BOTH FELL ASLEEP COUPS HAS GIVEN UP THE GO AHEAD FOR AN AFTERNOON OFF.”

You send back an excited response of your own, and then get a puppy-dog eyed reply: “Will you come over?”

You shoot off a quick “YES” and you’re out of the house within five minutes, barely pausing to get your things, glad you already have a nice outfit on. It won’t take long to reach the dorms after that, since you live nearby, but Seokmin sends two more texts while you’re making your way there.

“YAY! I’ll see you soon!!!!” and then “I was thinking we could just go for a walk and enjoy the sunshine? It’s SUCH A NICE DAY!!!”

You smile at the thought, and soon enough you reach the door. When you knock, it’s Mingaho who answers.

“Y/N! Hi!” he says happily. “So good to see you! It must have been at least a week since you were here!”

“Yeah, it has been.” you tell him. “Seokmin says you just got the day off?“

“Yeah, I’m about to go out with Vernon and Seungkwan,” Mingaho says, stepping aside so you can come in. “Are you guys doing anything or do you want to come with us to eat?”

“I’m not sure,” you say. For some reason, you kind of feel like you want to spend the day with just Seokmin. “I think we were just going for a walk.”

Minghao seems unbothered by the refusal. You know he wouldn’t be one to feel rejected, and he’s certainly not one to find your decision to hang out with only Seokmin suspicious, so you don’t know why you feel flustered suddenly.

Then Seungkwan and Vernon arrive to distract you. Vernon gives you his usual nod, and Seungkwan squeals and hugs you, like he always does when it’s been a while.

“Y/N, thank goodness! Seokmin can stop moping about missing you!” he says.

“We all missed her too,” Vernon laughs at him.

“You know it’s not the same,” Seungkwan says.

That comment makes you feel even more flustered, but the boys don’t seem to notice. Then start pulling their shoes. Suddenly, Seokmin appears around the corner, and before you know it, he’s swooping you into a hug of your own, smiling so hard his eyes are little crescent moons.

“Missed you,” he says happily, letting you go.

You feel very aware of the boys watching you, so you punch him in the arm and call him a cheesy dork to distract yourself from staring at his radiant face. After some time apart he always seems surprisingly beautiful the first time you meet again.

“Did you invite these dummies to come along with us?” Seungkwan asks Minghao.

At your side, you catch a glimpse of worry on Seokmin’s face.

“I think we’re just doing something just us today,” he says uncertainly, glancing at you in case you already accepted the invite.

Mingaho nods. “Yeah that’s what Y/N was saying.”

Seokmin looks relieved. Seungkwan regards you two with a smirk, and you notice Vernon elbow him.

“What you you two doing today?” Seungkwan asks despite his probably bruised side.

“Just a walk,” you say. “Getting out side. Spending some time in sunshine and all that.”

Seungkwan, for some reason, looks like he’s about to burst out laughing, Vernon presses his lips together, and even Minghao suddenly covers a smile.

“Is sunshine still your name for DK in your phone?” Seungkwan asks.

“Seungkwan-ah!” Seokmin snaps suddenly, a grumpy tone in his voice that you don’t hear very often. “Can you guys just go?”

Seungkwan and the rest leave, pretending to grumble about being treated so poorly in their own home. Seungkwan especially gets dramatic, whispering that he was betrayed by his own fellow vocal lead for the sake of love and romance until Vernon eventually distracts him as they walk away.

“Sorry,” Seokmin mumbles. “They’re being weird today.”

You’re entire face feels warm. It’s not the first time you’ve heard someone make a joke about you being in love or being romantic, but it never fails to make you flustered.

“Mm,” you say. “But they are pretty weird. You ready to go?”

He is, so you head off right away. Seokmin chooses the route as you walk. He updates you on all his latest goings on, and listens to yours, and you meander around in the beautiful warm sunlight and feel all your stress slip away. The boy beside you feels almost brighter than everything else.

One thing is a little different from usual though. You might be paranoid, but you feel like Seokmin is looking at you more. And he keeps stuttering oddly or averting his eyes when you glance at him, and it’s making you stutter just as much.

“Seokmin,” you say carefully when he trips over his own feet. “You’re being a little weird today too. Is something happening?”

“Um, no, just, um-”

He’s blushing, you realize. You think back to what set him off, and you think you know which comment it was. The one that made him snap earlier.

“Why did Seungkwan ask about my name in your phone?” you decide to ask.

Seokmin turns even redder. He stops walking altogether, and glances around like he’s checking you’re alone. He sees nothing but empty side walk and a few beautiful trees.

“Um, I think he was trying to make a s-sex joke. Like- like if my name is sunshine, you would be- um- in me?”

Now it’s your turn to feel embarrassed, quickly turning your face away.

“That doesn’t even technically make sense.” you mumble.

“He just wanted to make me nervous,” Seokmin says. “They’ve been teasing me almost a full week already.”

“Oh? Why?” you manage to ask past the fluttering in your chest.

Seokmin pauses for a very long time.

“I admitted to them that I like you!” he blurts out in a rush. You can’t help your mouth popping open in surprise as your heart starts absolutely pounding. “Last week. After the last time I saw you. So they’ve been telling me to confess and I’ve been preparing but I wasn’t expecting to even see you today and I just invited you over without thinking and then, I don’t know, I think they couldn’t resist a little teasing. And Seungkwan had a good opportunity today. Because he knows I’m so transparent I can barely keep a secret myself so it was only a matter of time before I told you anyway...”

He stops his rush of words suddenly, and looks at you carefully. Somewhere in the midst of his ramble, a huge smile has grown on your face.

“You don’t look freaked out?” he says.

“I like you too,” you whisper.

And then Seokmin’s whole face melts with absolute affection, lovely eyebrows pulling up in the middle, lips parting. And then he takes you by the waist and kisses you, fearless and fierce and knocking all your breath right out of you. His hands pull you tight and close, and when he tries to end the kiss early, as full of nervous energy as he is, you grab the front of his jacket with your own hands to make it last a little longer.

Eventually, his smile is what stops the kiss, too wide and unstoppable. You stand there an extra moment though, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air.

“Thanks, sunshine,” you whisper.

Seokmin seems more affected by the name that you expected, because he lets out a little moan and instantly pulls you in for another quick kiss.

When you finally break apart, all shy smiles and exhilarated chatter, you walk the rest of the way back to the dorm holding hands, and when you return, both of your faces hurt from smiling.

#lee seokmin #dk scenarios #dk imagines #seventeen scenarios #dk x reader #bf confess #admin may

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kamuwrites · 7 years ago

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In the Bag Ch 5/10 - a One Piece gen cat fic

Fic Summary:

All pirates have hordes of treasure. It just so happens in this life, cats are the treasure in Luffy’s.

Chapter Title: Toe Bean Things

warning note: NO CATS WERE STOLEN IN THE MAKING OF THIS CHAPTER

Words: 1043

read on ao3

DEAR CAT POLE 9,

Iz it stealin if d cat willingly wants 2 go w you? Asking 4 a friend c|:D

Bye!

...

To the sender of this grammatically error-ridden email,

If you have stolen a cat, we would like you to willingly turn yourself in for the greater good and for justice.

Also, we are not the "Cat Pole 9". It is Cipher Pol 9.

We have no idea how you managed to contact the personal email of one of our agents. Please refrain from doing so now on.

(PS, if that emoticon is meant to be intimidating, it is working poorly)

Rob Lucci

Chief of CIPHER POLICE 9

...

YO,

Its a hat, duh! N thnx for d ansor, Bobert

Sent from my [UNTRACEABLE]

It was a given requirement that as a barmaid, she honed her intuition about the going-ons in her bar.

At the moment, Paula had a hunch. She suspected the unsuspecting teenager in the straw hat had information. Her intuition didn’t let on what kind, which wasn’t all too sad. She always found out either way.

“You’re too young to be lurking the likes of here, boy,” Paula said, pushing a glass of milk in front of him.

His entire aura sparkled. “Oh, thanks!” He downed it in one go. Those eyes and the scar. They were expectant and she understood. She refilled his glass.

“What does a sprout like you want with this crowd?” Paula gestured to the dark paneled walls and the low chatter of grumbling folk intent on a drink and a handful of stress-free hours.

The boy looked her straight in the eye as he gulped down his milk and got a milk moustache in the process. The appearance oddly reminded her of someone, someone bad news for her and her “organization” especially, but there’s no way that could be, right?

“Piracy,” the boy said.

“Hm,” she replied neutrally. Her thoughts immediately went to the entire territory, the bar included, which was stolen from under the previous capo’s nose. As far as she knew, the man was still living as an amnesiac at the edge of town. Her boss made sure of that.

“Yup! I thought I would see the stolen stuff here, but I guess it’s only here after hours, huh?” The boy sighed. “Hey, miss, do ya serve meat here?”

Paula blinked. “It’s not common, but yes,” she said.

“Oh, good! Give me a dozen servings of whatever you usually have. Ditch the vegetables, just gimme the meat,” the boy asked, squirming excitedly in his chair.

…

It’s later when she’s currently known as Miss Doublefinger that she remembered where he had seen the boy.

“That’s him. He’s the one who did a dine and dash two days ago,” Miss Doublefinger spoke, pointing to the camera feed. “Very lithe, very fast. If I wasn’t suspicious of him, I wouldn’t have realized he was gone.”

Mr. 1 slowly looked from her to the screen. “You’ve met the suspect who stole Mr. Zero’s cat?” he asked.

“Not exactly. I didn’t know it at the time, but I had a hunch he was important.” She was sorely regretting not connecting the dots. The scar and the hat were memorable traits. Maybe Miss Doublefinger should have asked for his number, at least a name.

The Boss’ right hand groaned and massaged his forehead. “Miss All-Sunday is a rare dying breed. Anyone looking for cash would consider kidnapping her and selling her online or in the black market,” he grumbled, staring at the screen as the boy in the black and white cam feed yelled and gesticulated at Miss All-Sunday the pedigree cat through the locked glass window of the bar.

“Ehem.”

“Yes, Miss Goldenweek?” Miss Doublefinger answered for Mr. 1.

“I think I found our guy,” Miss Goldenweek said, looking at her phone.

“Have you?” Mr. 1 glanced up.

“Yep.” She turned her phone screen to them. “Take a look.”

They watched on the Instagram feed of the boy, under the IG name of “mugiwaranoluff”, as he shouted at Miss All-Sunday in color with volume.

“I’m gonna getchu outta there! I promise you! I’ll do everything it takes to make sure you get out of there!” the boy yelled passionately.

“Luffy! It’s closed! It’s cold out, Vivi needs to get home!” the cameraman hissed as Miss All-Sunday worryingly put distance between her and the wildly gesturing young man.

“You don’t belong in there! I’m gonna make sure you get out of there, okay!?” Luffy continued screaming.

The post was captioned “chaotic good” with the simple tag “#kingofthecats”.

“Who is this boy?” Mr. 1 asked while the video looped again.

“A terror,” Miss Goldenweek whispered. “I’ve been scrolling through his feed. He does parkour as a side hobby and he owns about six cats. I think I’ve seen a few yakuza members in the background. Cops, too, maybe off the clock? Big shots. I think I saw—” She gulped. “Garp the Fist, Dragon the Revolutionary, and the White Hunter.”

“Don’t joke,” Miss Doublefinger scolded.

“I’m not!” Miss Goldenweek scrolled down and showed her the posts as proof.

It was only a split second but that was definitely Garp the Fist chasing down Luffy across rooftops and abandoned buildings in the run down part of town.

In the second video, there was a looming man in the background as Luffy pressed his face against one of their own members, Mr. 2/Bon Krei during what looked to be a party. It was blurry but that tattoo was unmistakable.

The third video appeared normally, as nothing interesting was happening, just talking. However, it was the people in it that had the three underground bounty hunters choking on their spit.

It had the White Hunter in casual clothes at a club, smoking two cigars with—was that Black Cage Hina drinking a Bloody Mary beside him?—Luffy pestering questions that the dog of the city precinct police force tossed aside with a fondly exasperated grumble.

“Seriously, who is this?” Mr. 1 asked again, this time with a note of rising incredulity.

“Hold on. Is that Fire Fist Ace?” Miss Doublefinger demanded.

They spent the rest of the night wondering in awe and horror at the exciting and hectic life of IG user “mugiwaranoluff”.

#one piece #baroque works #rob lucci #monkey d. luffy #one piece fanfiction #kamu fic #some epithets make some dubious cameos

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gethealthy18-blog · 5 years ago

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An Open Letter To Deepika Padukone: Women Sacrificing Their Dream For Husband Is Regressive And Doesn’t Need A Glorifying “Ode”

New Post has been published on https://healingawerness.com/getting-healthy/getting-healthy-women/an-open-letter-to-deepika-padukone-women-sacrificing-their-dream-for-husband-is-regressive-and-doesnt-need-a-glorifying-ode/

An Open Letter To Deepika Padukone: Women Sacrificing Their Dream For Husband Is Regressive And Doesn’t Need A Glorifying “Ode”

When it comes to dreams and ambitions, every woman knows the story of how her mother/aunts or even grandmothers had to sacrifice their dreams and take care of the family. Even if you did have a working mother, there would have been times she had to give up attending a work meeting to take care of you when you were sick. Or maybe your aunt wanted to pursue a career in engineering and was discouraged by her parents. Either way, sacrifice is something most women have had to go through. So when Deepika Padukone shared a picture on Twitter with a caption that essentially glorified the fact that many women have given up their dreams for their partners, it rubbed people the wrong way. Here’s why the post gives a problematic glimpse of Indian society:

A Dedication To Her Husband… Gone Wrong?

The actress took to popular social networking site, to share a still from her hubby’s upcoming film 83 in which she will be playing a small but significant role. In the movie that narrates India’s maiden Cricket World Cup Victory, Ranveer Singh plays Captain Kapil Dev and Deepika will be seen as Kapil’s wife Romi Bhatia. In the tweet Deepika said, “To play a small part in a film that captures one of the most iconic moments in sporting history has been an absolute honour! 83 for me is an ode to every woman who puts her husband’s dream before her own… #ThisIs83”

While we’re sure the actress didn’t mean it in a malicious light, the caption did not sit too well with Twitter users. Many said that the actress is glorifying the fact that women have to put their partner’s dreams before their own. The problem with this being that it sets the tone for people and many end up thinking that it’s the ‘right thing’ to do and sometimes even aspire towards (which is completely wrong in the first place). While we mean no disrespect towards women who have put their husband’s dreams before their own out of love, we shouldn’t be propagating the idea that it is a given thing to do. Rather than talking about the role she is essaying, Deepika seemed to make the entire story about her character’s sacrifice for her husband.

Why Deepika’s Post Matters

Shutterstock

Let’s face it. Most people look up to Bollywood when it comes to matters like this. They say only one thing in India has the same level of impact, if not more, than cricket. And that is Bollywood. Considering the controversies stirred up by directors like Sandeep Reddy Vanga, the man behind Arjun Reddy and Kabir Singh, it’s no wonder that people are keeping a close watch on what celebrities are doing. As a celebrity, it is important to know and acknowledge the power and influence you hold in the industry. Megastars like Deepika Padukone are watched by millions of people across not just India, but the globe, so they must be particularly wary of what they say in public to avoid scrutiny.

Popular Tropes In Bollywood Movies

rani_padmavati_ / Instagram

While the idea that a woman has to give up her dreams for her husband has been a popular trope in Bollywood, it is upsetting to see a megastar like Deepika Padukone taking that stance. There is absolutely nothing wrong with setting aside your dreams for the person you love. If you believe that this is the right decision going forward or you and your partner have decided on the matter ahead of time, that’s perfectly alright. But nobody should ever feel compelled to do so just for the sake of their marriage. The common notion is that women have to put their families before their careers and personal life and while that is the unfortunate reality most women undergo, it is up to us to change things for the better. If we go around propagating ideas that are relatively unjust towards the other gender, then it isn’t really progressing towards a positive change in society. People shouldn’t confuse the word, duty with sacrifice.

In fact, a lot of male achievers we admire in today’s society have had the support of a strong woman in their lives, be it their wives, sisters, mothers or aunts. And while many of these men are probably grateful and indebted to these women, in an ideal scenario, no person should have to give up their own dreams to further the dreams of another. As much as we love and appreciate Deepika Padukone for her charitable endeavors and making a larger impact in society, we can’t help but think her tweet was poorly worded. What are your thoughts on Deepika’s tweet? Let us know your reactions in the comments below.

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Niharika has a passion for all things art, music and travel. During her spare time she likes experimenting in the kitchen, painting pop culture icons and chasing after random street cats. Her dream is to one day own an amusement park so she can ride roller coasters for free.

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funface2 · 5 years ago

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A teacher has apologized for telling students to write captions for photos of freed slaves and to ‘make it funny’ – CNN

The teacher, who has been removed from teaching while the school district investigates, has since apologized for her “insensitive words and actions.”

The teacher at J.W. Dodd Middle School instructed three eighth-grade classes to write captions for the images of Reconstruction-era sharecroppers, telling students to “make it funny,” and “don’t bore me,” according to a statement from Freeport Public Schools Superintendent Kishore Kuncham.

Social media posts from relatives of the students including photos of the assignment, went viral sparking outrage on the internet.

The teacher, whose identity has not been released by the school district, called her own words and actions “insensitive ” in a statement released by Freeport Public Schools.

“As a teacher and fellow member of this school community, it is my responsibility to exercise the highest degree of care and thought in all of my student and staff interactions. I failed to do so last week, and I fully accept that I must work hard to rebuild trust from my students, colleagues and the community,” the statement says.

‘Poor judgment’

Freeport residents expressed mixed reactions, but many were outraged. “What would make you even say something like that in the first place its just unthinkable,” one told CNN affiliate WCBS in an interview.

A parent whose daughter is a student in the class, however, chalked it up to “poor judgment.”

“She’s a good teacher, she didn’t mean it that way. Some people took offense to it and I know how she meant it,” the student told WCBS.

The investigation started last Friday after several parents contacted the school with concerns. The school district is finalizing an agreement with the teacher and her union representatives, Kuncham said in the statement.

“Let me be perfectly clear: Our investigation has determined that this lesson was poorly conceived and executed,” Kuncham’s statement says. “Aside from the fact that this is a poor lesson, it is an insensitive trivialization of a deeply painful era for African Americans in this country, and it is unacceptable.”

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Bài viết A teacher has apologized for telling students to write captions for photos of freed slaves and to ‘make it funny’ – CNN đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Funface.

from Funface https://funface.net/funny-news/a-teacher-has-apologized-for-telling-students-to-write-captions-for-photos-of-freed-slaves-and-to-make-it-funny-cnn/

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thebeccagramchronicles · 7 years ago

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(Heads up. This is a long post.)

So——–

We’re talking about success and failure.

Maybe we need to define what success is, what failure is. It’s how we view failure that really matters in our quest for success.

Is it success when we take a little step forward toward our goals?

Is it failure when we take a little step back?

I can use myself as an example in a couple of areas in my life.

PAINTING

When I took my first drawing class I was scared to pick up the pencil.

When I took my first painting class, I was scared to pick up the paintbrush and even more frightened to put paint on the paper. I sat in front of that big piece of white paper terrified. I must have sat there a long time because finally the teacher came over and whispered in my ear, “Rebecca, it’s only a $3.00 piece of paper”.

I ran into that teacher a few months ago and we chatted for a few minutes. She asked me what I was up to and I started describing all the DIY projects I had taken on. She gave me the greatest compliment, “Rebecca, creativity just oozes out of you.” Coming from her that meant a lot.

Now, you should know, I really struggled in the beginning. But now I don’t even think twice and I think my paintings can be considered “art”.

But I had a lot of failures along the way. One of my goals for this year is to make some prints from my paintings and sell them at a local art store. Am I afraid they’ll just sit there and no one will buy even one?

Of course. But I will have succeeded because I will have tried.

BLOGGING

Talk about a lot of failures along the way. Whoa! If you have been with me a few years, you ‘ve read some poorly written posts. You’ve read some ramblings that didn’t go anywhere.

I worked harder at this than anything I’ve ever done. My learning curve was straight up and I almost quit a number of times. And the actual design of the blog was mindboggling hard for me. I broke down in tears a few times I was so frustrated.

Do I consider myself successful now?

Yes.

No.

Yes, because I believe I am communicating effectively.

No, because I haven’t found my rhythm yet. Maybe I never will. Maybe that IS my rhythm.

Our church is doing something kind of interesting in a few weeks. We are to dress in a way that shows what we “do” or want to “do”. Well, my occupation now is “Blogger”. I’m carrying my computer to church and handing out business cards with my name and my website’s name. When people ask me what I blog about I’m going to tell them.

That might not sound like much to you but it’s really big for me. You see I’m very comfortable writing in the safety of my home. I’m very comfortable “talking” to you like this. But to tell people in person that I blog, I find scary.

And, honestly, there are other areas in my life I couldn’t care less whether I succeed or fail. I don’t think we need to define every area in our lives as success or failure. I think there are some people that do but I’m not one of them. I’m perfectly content to be mediocre in some areas. I hope you have areas of your life like that. It gives us some breathing room.

(An aside: I prefer to think in terms of “Is this (whatever “this” is) the very best I can do”? I always use January to do some thinking and reflection about the past year. As you know my mother died May 11th so it seems particularly important this January. I had no idea where I was headed and then one day I was doing something and I immediately said to myself, “Is this really the best you can do?” I believe that was definitely from God and I have been asking that about everything, from my wardrobe to my makeup, to my cooking, to my decorating, to my praying, even to my grocery shopping. I will be posting more about this later.)

As long as we don’t equate success with money or fame, we can pursue our goals without a lot of pressure.

One of the things my mom used to say (Boy, it hurts to write “used” in reference to her), which really bothered me was that she “wasn’t good at anything”. It wasn’t true. She was good at lots of things and I tried to tell her that often. But she always equated success with money and fame. It broke my heart.

I won’t bore you with all the names of the highly successful writers whose manuscripts were rejected time and again, the Olympians who fell more than soared, or the number of experiments scientists conducted before succeeding. But the one thing they all had in common was how they looked at failure.

They saw failure as stepping stones to success.

I was searching blogs using the word “failure” and I found the following quote. ( That website is here.)

“failures are the stairs of success, The sooner you act and fail, the sooner you will succeed.”

This really resonated with me. When you think about it, it’s true, isn’t it? I mean we might as well get started. Tomorrow, next week, next month, next year is going to come anyway (at least we hope it does), so we might as well get our failures out of the way now.

I hope if you have dreams, you will start at least taking the first steps towards that dream. I won’t say that it’s the journey that ultimately matters but I will say that it’s the journey that defines our final outcome.

It was my first year of experimenting with paint, paper, and techniques that defined my style.

It was my first year of blogging that helped me define what I wanted to write about.

I really didn’t know in either case where I was headed. I just knew I had to stay on the journey until I figured it out.

Tenacity almost always get us where we want to go.

Don’t give up. I won’t say we can do anything we want to do because I don’t think that is always true, but I do believe we can get pretty darn close.

Is there anything you’ve been told you can’t do? What if it isn’t true?

Have you ever accomplished what you thought was impossible?

God bless and have a great day.

(“I found a new blog the other day with an interesting title. Check her out here.”)

How to define success or failure and why it’s important (Heads up. This is a long post.) So-------- We're talking about success and failure. Maybe we need to define what success is, what failure is.

#blogging #defining success #encouragement #failure #fame #goals #impossible #inspirational #life #long-form post #money #painting writing #persistence #stepping to stones to success #success #success and hard work #tenacity

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foxxrcom · 7 years ago

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Your Profits Are Under Attack! Rescue Them by Marketing on Google

This article was originally written at foxxr.com

No matter where you are located and whom you serve, Google can help you make money. It is the dominant search engine in the United States, claiming a market share of 85.82 percent in August 2017.

Indeed, Google is so huge that it’s almost criminal for any business owner to ignore the opportunity to capitalize on it. It may come to you as a surprise, but 46 percent of small U.S. businesses are guilty of this crime; they haven’t invested in a website. Check out our web design services if you are among them.

Huge congratulations to the remaining 54 percent. You have taken the first big step towards growth and more profit.

Spoiled Consumers

You are in 2017, an era when consumers are spoiled. They have simply too many choices. A website alone isn’t enough to keep them coming.

The web witnesses the birth of 822,240 websites during an average day. Unless you are constantly reminding your customers that you exist, your risk being forgotten into obscurity. Successful business owners know that.

Coca-Cola has been a household name in the U.S. for more than a century. That didn’t stop the company to spend $4 billion on advertising in 2016. Before it stopped making public its advertising expenditure, Apple was spending $1.8 billion on advertising.

Digital Marketing to Overtake Television Advertising

You can take a cue from those big boys, and set aside an online marketing budget. Ten years ago, online marketing and advertising were optional. That’s not the case any longer. Small Biz Trends reports that 70 percent of small to medium-sized businesses plan to put in more dollars into their digital marketing.

Within the next two years, marketing leaders will be spending more than $103 billion annually—overtaking television advertising—on search marketing, display advertising, social media marketing, and email marketing.

The writing is on the wall. Everyone is spending more on marketing their business online. You will have to ask yourself: Can I afford to stay aloof and pretend nothing has changed when my competitors are using the Internet to grow their business?

Unless you have accumulated enough wealth to live off the rent or interest, you cannot!

Word of the mouth is not sufficient these days. To ensure that new customers keep coming in, you will have to start to building relationships with your target market. Promoting your website through Google is one of the most profitable ways to do that.

Why Google?

Because it’s ginormous!

Internet users perform 1.2 trillion searches each year on Google, and when it comes to promoting your business that gargantuan number matters.

Let’s assume that you are an entrepreneur and want to start a business. You have the money to open an office in only one state. Where will you head to? California, Texas, New York, or a similarly populous state, or in the wilderness of Alaska? Unless you are selling skies, a populous state will make more business sense.

The same logic of business applies to online marketing.

You have Google, Bing, Yahoo, DuckDuckGo, and multiple other search engines. You can optimize your website for all of them and run ads on each platform if you have the marketing budget of a Fortune 500 firm. Short of that, Google is your best bet because:

Your customers use Google. Google has become synonymous with to search online.

In most verticals, Google gives you the highest return on investment if you are on a shoestring budget.

Google’s powerful ad performance analysis tools help you to optimize your ads for maximum profitability.

Through Google’s massive keyword data sets, you can study your target market, analyze how your customers behave during the buying cycle, and use this information to run highly-targeted ad campaigns.

Many of the features that Google provides are available with other search engines, but Google is at the top of the game and the best bet for small businesses on a tight budget.

Google Services You Can Use to Make More Money

Google’s range of products runs into more than one hundred, and nearly all of them can be used to build your brand and increase sales. Here we are going to focus on the top seven strategies that we think will be most relevant to small business owners, such as plumbers, doctors, and arborists.

Search Engine Optimization (SEO)

This is a catch-all term encompassing a set of methods that marketers use to convince Google to rank your website on the first page when your customers search. It’s crucial in a world where 86 percent of buyers rely on search to find local businesses.

The Forbes magazine encourages small businesses to invest in SEO because [by] performing methodic SEO strategies, you will be rewarded with higher positioning and organic traffic.”

Compared to other marketing strategies, SEO is low cost and immensely effective in the long run. You can effectively get it started for as little as $900 a month.

Schema Implementation

Ranking on the first page of Google is good. Getting the top rank for your desired keywords is better. This said, nothing compares to being featured in a Knowledge Panel. It’s even better than being the top dog; it means outranking all your competitors in search.

Knowledge Panels are a new Google feature that has become immensely popular in the past couple of years because it answers user queries right on the search page.

Currently, Knowledge Panels show up in approximately 38 percent of all Google searches. That means getting featured in a Knowledge panel is sure to increase your website’s organic visitor count.

A team of experts, such as Foxxr, can utilize the existing content on your website, set up Schema, and make it easier for Google to understand the raison d’etre of your website, which in turn facilitates its inclusion it in its Knowledge Panel.

Image Data Optimization

Web pages are not the only results you Google fetches when you enter a keyword. Its combined search page—including multimedia content—has been in place for more than 10 years

According to a Moz blog, image blocks show up in 3–11% of Google results. It’s not a minuscule number when you consider how many people use Google every day.

Internet users perform 1.2 trillion searches each year on Google. That means between 36 billion and 132 billion of them show image blocks.

Optimizing your image with a descriptive file name, caption, and Alt tag will help Google figure out the content of your image and rank it near the top for the keywords that matter to your business.

That means, even if your website is not among the top 10 results, you can still get organic visitors through images.

Pay-Per Click (PPC) Advertising

Searchers use Google to discover brands and professionals. PPC ads allow you to create brand awareness, thus increasing the chances of customers turning to you when they need the products or services you sell.

You can increase your consumers’ chances of buying from you two–four times by running paid ads. Not only that, the results are almost instantaneous.

Depending on the type of service or product you sell, a well-managed PPC campaign can start producing results for you in a matter of a few days; even a few hours. Foxxr’s Google certified marketers can use AdWords to start sending traffic—and potential customers—to your website within a few minutes of starting your campaign.

YouTube Video Marketing

YouTube can be a goldmine of traffic. This Google-owned website gets a billion views a day and offers businesses like yours an ideal opportunity to contribute to the community and increase sales.

You can create professional-grade helpful videos without investing in expensive shooting equipment. Outsource video marketing to an agency, like Foxxr, to get videos that compare with big-budget feature films in quality. You can then share those videos on Facebook.

If you market your videos, your customers will watch them, will like them, will visit your website, and a small number of them will turn into paying customers.

Video marketing is not rocket science, but it’s not a walk in the park either. Team up with an agency that knows what they do to get the most out of your videos.

Mobile-Friendly Websites

Did you know that 48 percent of millennials view a website only from their mobile devices, and 57 percent of people will not recommend a business if its website was poorly designed for mobile phones? Those numbers alone should have prompted small businesses to get a mobile-friendly website. It hasn’t happened.

Only 30 percent of small U.S. businesses own a mobile-friendly website. Google hesitates to rank high desktop-only websites on mobiles. That means you can cut your competition by 60 percent just by getting a mobile-friendly website.

Don’t worry if you don’t know coding because when it comes to creating mobile-friendly websites, Foxxr has you covered.

Hyper-Local SEO Campaigns

That means getting your business registered on Google Maps. That also means getting backlinks from local business directories and doing plenty of other stuff that helps your website rank high when locals search for the products and services you sell.

Local SEO is different from run-of-the-mill SEO because the former’s goal is to get your website rank near the top in the regions where you serve.

Content Marketing

Apple, Google, and Facebook are earmarking billions of dollars on content marketing in 2018. So you can be all but sure the written word is going to play a big role in customer acquisition and satisfaction.

Last year, Pepsi announced the launch of an internal content studio because it has realized that the way to branding and sales is through content.

While most small businesses can’t match the content marketing budgets of these behemoths, they can hire a digital marketing agency to write and promote content for them.

Google loves fresh and informative content. So if you are publishing a useful blog on your website once a week or once a month, you can be sure to get some pretty good rank sooner than later.

Writing is difficult and can divert you from what you do best—running a business. But Foxxr has you covered here. The agency has been writing and promoting content for its clients for many years.

Takeaway

TV ads were for big companies. Online marketing has democratized the advertising landscape. Whatever your line of business and budget, you can benefit from heightened brand awareness and increased sales that a great marketing campaign on Google can offer, and compete with Fortune 500 companies.

There are multiple ways to market your business online but, for a business with a small marketing budget, none comes close to the effectiveness of Google. You can start small on Google, optimize, and scale when you see results.

It’s even better when Foxxr is marketing your business on Google because the company does not bind you to a long-term contract. You pay Foxxr to market your business online and pay for the next month only when you see results.

Don’t allow your competitors to dominate Google’s search results and grab your customers’ attention. Allow us to put up a tough fight for you. Get started with online marketing right away.

The post Your Profits Are Under Attack! Rescue Them by Marketing on Google appeared first on Foxxr.

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davedimartino · 7 years ago

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NEW THIS WEEK 10.13.08

We're veering toward the middle of the year's fourth quarter--a time when nearly every week brings us a handful of new releases that will instantly emerge at the top of the charts and make everybody but us fabulously wealthy!

And sure, some weeks will bring us inevitable No. 1's like rapper T.I. or Metallica, or hot new contenders like Jennifer Hudson or Robin Thicke. On the other hand, however--some weeks won't!

Perhaps signaling a temporary lull in the inevitable sales storm is this week--which aside from heartwarming country hat-wearer Kenny Chesney, offers little today's top record execs can write home to their moms about!

But you know what? It's OK! Look at the bright side: There are a lot of new TV shows debuting, a lot of great new DVDs also out this week, and now, lots of time to spend combing today's hottest social networks looking for old friends and new acquaintances! You could also read a book, but heck: they're expensive! Oh well!

Kenny Chesney: Lucky Old Sun (BNA) Country fave KC throws his ever-present hat in the ring this time out with a hot collection of tracks featuring guest stars such as Dave Matthews, Willie Nelson, the Wailers and Mac MacAnally, and it looks like he's got another surefire winner! Ironically selecting the same title track chosen by former Beach Boy Brian Wilson to highlight his new album--but I assure you that's the only less-than-original idea to be had here--Chesney seems to be looking leftward during these exciting political times, at least if the album cover picture is any indication! For a while my favorite track was "Everybody Wants To Go To Heaven (with The Wailers)" until I realized the words in parentheses weren't actually part of the lyrics, but who knows? It may well be yours! I'm just thrilled with the whole thing!

Keane: Perfect Symmetry (Interscope) Following up a huge debut album with one not quite so successful could be a stumbling block for bands of lesser talent, but England's Keane return here with a winningly melodic, choice third album that I'd call "keen" if, like you, I enjoyed bad puns! One thing's for sure: My notion of them as a sugar-sweet, almost sappy poppish band changed significantly, in light of the upbeat, energetic tracks found here in great number! Additionally, I think any English band with a member named Tim Rice-Oxley is supposed to be good according to some old rock critic rule or something! And I'm as gullible as the next guy! Between you and me, I should probably focus on my craft more!

Nikka Costa: Pebble To A Pearl (Stax/Go Funk Yourself) A welcome return from Miss Costa, a soulful, zesty singer who made big noise a few years ago and is now back awaiting your purchase, listening, and evaluation! Perhaps chastened by the public humiliation of choosing a title for her last album-- can'tneverdidnotthin'--that was both grammatically incorrect and poorly punctuated, Costa soars admirably throughout most of the tracks here, though luckily for all of us, she apparently held tightly to her microphone! Favorite tracks include "Keep Wanting More," "Keep Pushin'" and "Cry Baby," but that may be a factor of my susceptibility to suggestion! I'd suggest buying this and waiting for additional orders!

Johnny Cash: Johnny Cash At Folsom Prison: Legacy Edition (Columbia/Legacy) Sometimes record labels try to milk everything they've got in their archives by slapping a few additional tracks onto a classic album and selling it all over again, but this is absolutely not the case here! Cash's historic 1968 album is loaded to the gills with superb extras--including both shows the country legend gave that day at Folsom Prison, additional performances by Carl Perkins and the Statler Brothers, and a compelling two-hour film documentary included on an additional DVD. One of the year's best reissues by far; if you can't afford it, please don't steal it, as these kind of things don't happen in jails much these days!

Ray LaMontagne: Gossip In The Grain (RCA) Singer-songwriter Ray LaMontagne is still going strong, and this--his third album--is a step up for him in terms of album sound: There are more players, more textures, and lots more to listen to while admiring his well-crafted, highly emotive songs. Back again with producer Ethan Johns, LaMontagne need only drop the pretentious "La" from his last name--I mean, the Royal "we" is so old school--to become good ol' "Ray Montagne" and ascend to the throne of rightly-named singer-songwriter supremacy! And if the cover photograph depicts him telepathically ordering consumers to buy his album, so be it!

Copeland: You Are My Sunshine (Tooth & Nail) Some people contend that all the good songs in the world have already been written--just ask Kenny Chesney and Brian Wilson--but it must be pointed out that classic track "You Are My Sunshine" is not actually heard here, it's just--let's face it--a dandy album title! I actually like what I hear here, but be forewarned: The first time I heard this band, I thought their lead singer sounded like a male version of Christine McVie! This band shows lots of growth, and facial hair is only partially relevant!

Phoebe Snow: Live (Verve Forecast) When I was just out of college I worked at a magazine that specialized in humorous captions! It was great! One day a woman called up and asked me how come she'd been dropped off the complimentary mailing list, and--get this--it was Phoebe Snow herself! She liked the funny captions! So I put her back on the list! From that point forward, I've had nothing but the greatest admiration for Miss Snow--so I'd like to point out that her new live album, recorded in Woodstock, New York, is a fine assemblage of well-played, well-sung tunes, including her classic hit "Poetry Man," covers of "It's All In The Game" and "Piece Of My Heart," and much more. That said, if her album cover bore a really funny caption--like "The Microphone God was not fooled by Phoebe's false piety!"--it might sell a few more copies in New Jersey!

Ingrid Michaelson: Be OK (Cabin 24) An up-and-coming singer-songwriter who has admirably attached herself to the Stand Up To Cancer organization, Michaelson has assembled this collection of demos, live tracks and cover songs in part to benefit that cause. Word is she's about to launch a "Be OK" tour that will feature a "Be OK" necklace as part of her tour merchandise, the proceeds of which will go to that same fine cause. My advice: Buy the record, promote the cause, but don't give the necklace to anyone named Kay!

Bobbie Gentry: Ode to Billie Joe/Touch 'Em With Love (Raven Australian import) Though I try not to write about albums issue outside this country--it's, like, not patriotic--the fact that this album is available domestically via MP3 download has opened the floodgates! Containing the first and fifth albums by this marvelous and unique singer-songwriter--born in Chickasaw County, Mississippi, no less!--this package is a great collection featuring Billie Joe's title track, the very surreal "Bugs," other great originals, and an array of covers including "Son Of A Preacher Man," "Niki Hoeky," and "You've Made Me So Very Happy." Historic note to Beatle haters: Ode To Billie Joe knocked Sgt. Pepper's off the top of the album charts! She probably laughed evilly when it happened! What more could you ask for?

Connie Talbot: Over The Rainbow (AAO) An astounding vocalist with a big, big voice, Talbot seems destined for an enormously successful career! And hopefully budding singers will take note that getting an excessive number of facelifts often reaps unexpected results!

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drewsdailydose · 8 years ago

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10 Ways Social Media is Damaging Your Health and Fitness

Social media has the potential to be both your best friend and your worst enemy. Sure, it has some benefits: it’s a useful platform for content-sharing, advertising, marketing, entertainment, and sales, but on the flip side - it’s destroying your overall health and fitness in ways that you don’t even realise. In this article, I’m going to explain exactly how toxic social media really is.

1. The Emphasis is on How Fitness Looks - Not How Fitness Feels

Yes, looking good is important to most of us, I’m certainly not denying that, but feeling good is arguably much more important. I know what you’re thinking: “Drew, you’re such a hypocrite. You haven’t worn a shirt in your life”. Yes, that’s true, but that’s because I don’t actually own a shirt. Jokes aside, if you follow me on Instagram (@drews.daily.dose) you'll know that I very rarely wear clothes, but if you actually read my posts, you'll see that my messaging contains many more layers than I wear on my skin. Here’s why I love to exercise: to manage my diabetes, to prevent long-term health complications, to feel the endorphin rush, to clear my mind, to manage stress, to feel confident, strong and athletic. A byproduct of all of those things is that I ended up in the best shape of my life.

We all have an element of vanity, which is completely normal, but your appearance shouldn't dictate how you feel. If you rely on 6-pack-abs or toned muscular arms to feel good about yourself, you're setting yourself up for a miserable future. What happens when your looks disappear? What if you get injured, and can’t train? What if you get sick? My point is if you focus on feeling good - you’ll end up looking good without having to worry about it.

2. The Emphasis is on Aesthetics - Not Athletics

If you care about your longevity and quality of life as you age, looking fit and healthy simply isn't enough. Being athletic or functional is equally, if not more important than the way you look. We’re forgetting that functional movement will improve our quality of life and assist in activities of daily living. What's the use in being able to bench press 200 kg’s if you can't even bend down to touch your toes or jog 500 metres without becoming short of breath. Your functional capacity is paramount. Whether you’re an athlete trying to improve performance, or an average joe trying to live a long injury-free life - start prioritising functionality.

3. Posting Content for the Likes and Followers

Sure, a large following and an influx of likes allow you to get a good gauge on how your content is being received. It’s also good for the ego. But ask yourself this, does the external feedback even matter?. If you share content that you truly believe in, it shouldn't matter whether you get one hundred or one thousand likes. The quantity of ‘likes’ and followers is far less important than the quality of those ‘likers' and followers. I know what you're thinking, “A ‘like’ is a ‘like’”, right?. Wrong! Imagine if there was a ‘love’ button alongside the ‘like’ button. Would you prefer one thousand ‘loves’ or two thousand ‘likes’? Focus on sharing valuable high-quality content, regardless of the response it gets. Having a very small impact on many is far less rewarding than completely changing the lives of few.

4. It’s All About Creating Viral Content - Not Documenting Real Moments

Social media is no longer about training to improve fitness. It’s all about creating new content that will go viral. Squatting on a hover-board, or squatting with hot girls hanging off either side of the barbell is not fitness advice, and it’s certainly not going to improve the health of the people who view it. Ok, it’s impressive. I probably can’t do it, but at the end of the day - it’s bloody stupid and dangerous. It’s simply a ploy to gain exposure and get your name out there. I get it, the entertainment factor is great, but what happened to the message? Sure every now and then it’s fun to upload something that will get a reaction. If you’ve seen my videos, you’ll know that I’m guilty of it myself, but I do these things within moderation. There are so many ‘insta-famous' people who barely even workout anymore. They are showing up to the gym purely to film a viral video. The love for health and fitness that got them started in the first place has completely dissipated.

5. People Without Credibility Giving Dangerous Advice a.k.a ‘Bro-Scientists’

If you’ve never heard of the term ‘bro-scientists’ I’ll explain what it is by giving an example of a conversation that you’d commonly hear in the men’s locker room of a gym:

Meathead 1: “Hey bro, did you know that Arnold Schwarzenneger ate 24 eggs a day. It must be the best way to build muscle - it’s science bro”  Meathead 2: “Awesome. I’m buying two cartons on the way home. Can’t wait to tell my bro!” 

For the record, I made that up about Arnie eating 24 eggs a day for the sake of the example, who knows if he actually did. My point is, this kind of false information gets passed down from bro-scientist to bro-scientist. People do not understand a key principle of scientific evidence - the differentiation between correlation and causation. We have to stop trusting every word we hear from people who have no credibility whatsoever. They’re telling others how to get results just because it worked for them or someone they know. If it’s a ‘do-no-harm’ approach, then go ahead, preach as much as you like. But if it can do harm - then I'm against it.

Did you know warm summer weather is correlated with an increase in ice-cream sales? There are also more people murdered in warm summer weather. Does that mean eating ice-cream is causing people to be murdered? Of course not! It's a ridiculous statement with a complete lack of understanding of the fundamental difference between correlation and causation. Arnold Schwarzenneger ate 24 eggs a day, but he also took anabolic steroids. What do you think caused the 7-time Mr Olympia to be so jacked?

6. Unrealistic Goal Setting

There are countless fitness models and stage competitors posting photos of themselves at sub-six percent body fat, promoting how shredded they are. The truth is, they are probably only in that shape for about 2 weeks of the year around their competition. The other thing they aren’t telling you is how shitty they feel, how their hormones have crashed, how their energy has slumped, how their workouts feel terrible, how weak they feel in the gym, how restrictive and boring their diet is, how poorly they are sleeping, how their sex drive has disappeared, and how their relationships are breaking down because their social behaviour is ridiculous. The guy on the cover of the fitness magazine doesn't even look like the guy on the cover of the fitness magazine. For a few weeks yes, but not all year round. Don't set that as the benchmark. Set SMART goals (specific, measurable, attainable, realistic, timeline). Your goals should be created by you and tailored to you.

7. Cheat Meal Photos

We’ve all seen a photo of the guy with 6-pack-abs holding a large box of pizza. Firstly, did he even eat that thing, or is he just posing next to it with flexed abs? Secondly, even if he did eat it and somehow still looks the way he does, does that mean that you can get away with it too? The mere fact that people are promoting cheat meals with no consequences is straight up misleading, especially if you're not as genetically blessed, or even more so, have a predisposition to chronic conditions like diabetes and heart disease. Your cheat meal is not only calorically dense - it’s unhealthy! Cheat meals can turn into cheat days which turn into cheat weeks.  Here’s what I do to let my hair down. Start by replacing the word ‘cheat’ with ‘treat’. Cheating implies guilt. Treats, however, are earned and deserved. Earn your treats by sticking to a healthy lifestyle 80% of the time. Enjoy treats in moderation. Don't use it as an excuse to eat junk. I get it, people use it as a way to recharge physically and mentally, but unfortunately, balance goes out the window. There’s such thing as a healthy treat. It doesn't always have to be ice-cream and burgers.

8. The Daily Grind

Once again there are stage competitors who are in impressive physical shape promoting how they got there. Common Instagram captions like these: “The daily grind”, “Even when you're physically and mentally exhausted, just keep going”, “Never stop grinding”, and “Push through the pain barrier”, are exactly what’s causing an unhealthy relationship with fitness. If you want to step on stage for a competition then yes it’s going to require those things, but we’re not all fitness competitors. I've got news for you, that mindset will get you the body you desire for about a month -but if you want it for a lifetime you're going to have to completely change your mindset. If you believe that getting into shape requires self-inflicted pain, suffering, and sacrifice, then you’re doing it all wrong. Health and fitness is not about the grind. It’s not about how much pain we can put ourselves through. It’s about finding things that make you feel amazing, it’s about moving in ways that feel right for you, and most importantly it’s about consistently doing them over a lifetime with relative ease. Self-harm is not impressive and it’s certainly not something to promote or gloat about.

9. Fake Transformation Photos

Transformation photos can be incredibly impressive and motivational, especially when you can relate to the before photo, but they also raise some very important questions. Firstly, are they even real? You’d be surprised how many transformation photos have been edited using photoshop. Uploading fake transformations in an attempt to sell a supplement, program, or some other product is downright fake, deceptive, and ultimately - it’s false advertising. The other important question that these photos raise is: What did they do to get in that shape, and how long did it last? A crash diet and working out twice a day can help anybody lose weight, but if their ‘after’ appearance only lasts for a few weeks then what good is it? It’s like someone going from smoking 2 packs a day to quitting cold turkey for a week then going straight back to 2 packs a day. The method in which you lose the weight matters. A balanced healthy lifestyle will allow you to keep it off for a lifetime. There’s no such thing as a quick fix, which brings me to my last point…

10. It’s All About Selling a Quick Fix

There’s no doubt that social media is an excellent business tool, but unfortunately, people are abusing their fame by selling products to their loyal followers that they not only don’t believe in but haven't even tried themselves. I’ve seen countless captions such as: “Do you want to get ripped like me? Buy my protein powder” (which they don’t even use), or “Buy my workout program - ‘6 weeks to a 6-pack’” (which they’ve never even done themselves). I’m all for using social media as a platform to sell products if you actually stand by the product and use it yourself, and ultimately if it is going to improve the quality of life of the consumer forking out money to buy it. Selling a generic one-size-fits-all workout plan, or a supplement that claims to turn you into Arnold Schwarzenegger is simply a load of rubbish. Be wise about who and what you invest in. Take care in your consumer choices because your best interests are not always at heart.

The Take Home Message

Be mindful of the effect that social media is having on you. It has the potential to be a beneficial tool, but it can also be very damaging - if you let it. The point is, you have control over who you follow, who you listen to, and ultimately what you see on your home feed. You have the power to turn your social media feed into something that promotes health and happiness. Follow accounts that add value to your life. Cut off the negative accounts that are potentially damaging. The choice is yours.

#Mindfulness

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