#my unemployed friend who is always travelling somehow

[troynovant]

me using this site as a weird semi-public diary

I'm trying to take stock of my life and it's an odd inventory. I'm 32, I have an Ivy League degree and and Ivy League Ph.D. Both, unfortunately, are in English literature. I have a job that affords me a good deal of respect in the sense of cultural capital but very little renumeration in the sense of actual capital. I am also completely at the mercy of an academic department that can, at any moment, simply not rehire me; for all I know it won't rehire me in the fall. I have enough savings to last about a year if I find myself unemployed. My employment prospects are altogether somewhere between mixed and grim. I am highly qualified for a profession that no longer exists and over-qualified for most others. I have repeatedly failed to gain any form of long-term work in my field, live with two housemates, and have to replace those housemates whenever they move out. I am materially comfortable in most other regards.

Socially, I'm really very lucky: I have lots of friends, far more than most people in their early thirties, though it's unclear if those friends, some of whom are relatively wealthy, could help me find work if things went south in my current department. Romantically, things could quite literally not be worse. It turns out, and I should have known this, that extended multi-year flirtations with men who are mostly straight and ultimately fall back upon that do not make for a satisfactory emotional life. I have almost no experience socializing with other gay men; this would have been a real surprise to me as a teenager, but my friends are, other than a few girls, primarily straight men. I take a revolting sort of pride in that even though it is at this point clearly not setting me on the path towards any sort of long-term happiness.

Physically, I think I have a nice face but am clearly out of shape. I'm proud of my hair, which is pretty healthy for a man my age even if it's thinner than it once was. You'd think, given all my hangups, that I had a weird dick or some sort of obvious physical problem but that's not the case, almost surprisingly. I have an absolute standard dick; I also have a completely crippling pornography addiction. My biggest strength, I think, is that I am smart. That sounds arrogant but I've never had much reason to doubt it. I can say the right things about books and movies and art and architecture and history and travel and even science -- I guess engineering would be my blind-spot but even then I can usually follow along. I'm good at conversation, I have character and personality, I'm not boring. People like to talk to me and I'm good with people, but this is all in the arena of socializing. I'm always a hit at parties and then spend Valentines day alone.

I know, objectively, that I could date if I wanted too -- I'm really not bad looking, and I can usually win people over in conversation -- but I'm just scared of putting myself out there. I'm scared that someone will look at me and think that I don't live up to my photos (I photograph well, basically the opposite of the more common phenomenon of a good-looking person who looks bad on camera) but my fear of rejection is equal to my fear of rejecting someone. I know, on some level, that I could never go on a date and then not go home with the other person if they were pushing for it, because whenever I'm one-on-one with someone all I can do is try to please them.

I feel like if I were to actively date I'd have to do it like this: send only the most unflattering photos so there's little chance that they'll be disappointed, get too drunk to be nervous, and just commit, in advance, to the idea that I'll pretty much do whatever they want regardless of whether or not I'm actually all that attracted to them. I think I would also have to make it a rule not to go on a date with anyone who is even a few degrees removed from me socially because I'd hate it for gossip to get back to my friends somehow -- "hey, apparently my friend went on a date with your friend C**** and he was drunk and weird and then kind of bad at sex" lmao truly a nightmare. But then, this is all hypothetical -- I'm so stuck in my ways, so unlikely to actually try. I think people around me have started to notice something -- I'm very spontaneous and open to new experiences, but only in ways that are somewhat superficial. I'll travel to new places, eat anything however exotic, wear whatever, try any drug given to me, try most things at least once, really, and yet in bigger ways my life never really changes. At the end of the day, I'll come back home on my own and maintain my little instagram account and nothing will change even if it looks like things have. At this point, I think my fear that my friends, family, colleagues etc. will think that I'm a loveless, sexless freak is exerting a stronger pressure on me than any actual desire for companionship, which is so characteristic of course -- again my priorities are just social. I've put all my eggs in the same basket, my social life, but I know on some level that my friends are all going to get married, have kids, move away, and basically grow up in the way that I seem to be incapable of.

[scoriol]

i didn’t do this on my birthday and i usually hate reflecting on new years but i want this year to be different so here’s 23 things i learned at 23.

1. i’m a lot stronger than i give myself credit for

2. i like going to the gym a lot: pull is my fav and i hate push days

3. shearvles will always be my fav person

4. i always think of exit plans when i’m in a relationship because i feel like people always leave anyway

5. i’m still passive aggressive and my words still shoot to kill when i’m mad

6. it’s okay to be unemployed and unsure of what i want to do

7. that being said, it’s not okay to sit around and feed into my depression— i have to get up and put up a fight

8. i always resented my parents bc i was forced to grow up too soon. that being said my relationship with them has only gotten better since i’ve gotten older and further away from them

9. it’s okay to think about exes and what-could-have-beens even though i’m in a very happy relationship

10. it’s true that a relationship only works if the guy’s slightly more in love than the girl is

11. a guy who will do anything to try and understand me is better than a guy who somehow just understands me

12. when you get sexually assaulted, the first people to turn on you are females themselves

13. i always said my mum was an awful cook when i was younger. i’ve now realised i’m wrong and my mum makes the best food

14. i still love taylor swift very much

15. i have a big heart which means i forgive too easily and i trust too easily (and it’s always backfired on me this year)

16. i have expensive taste. oops.

17. a friend to all is a friend to none

18. i’ll always have a weird soft spot for b**n*a* (the OG one, not the awful second one yuck)

19. i’ve not failed in life— i can’t fail at life when my life hasn’t even begun

20. you’re never too old to call dad for help

21. sometimes people will only see you for the person you used to be and not the person you’ve become— and that’s okay

22. it’s okay to feel like leaving singapore was a big mistake. it’s also okay to decide to come home at some point.

23. i’m only 23– i need to live life, travel, go out, spend time with my girls, get drunk, eat good food and have crazy adventures. life is short.

[teapixie]

Uggghhhhhhhh. You guys. I’m so sorry to be doing this again. I’m not even sure who follows this account, but I’m pretty certain nobody reads what I post. These thoughts and observations are making me nauseous so I just have to get them out of my body.

Nobody ever tells you how fast the lives of others move around you when you’re trapped in a perpetual fugue state of depression. Those who had been in my local orbit throughout my school years, whose lives were more or less concurrent with mine regardless of popularity or interest simply due to the ever-turning wheel of education, moving from grade to grade — are now traveling at warp speed, heading towards futures they have dreamed of and worked towards while I’m just standing still. For example; the girl who sat behind me in my sophomore year chemistry class got engaged last month. The girl I sat across from in the Portsmouth High School art room was married this past winter. The girl who I ate Chinese with at 7th grade sleepovers, who was one of the quartet of tweens I attended my first middle school dance with, has a fiancée. She will be a wife. The girl who rode at the barn where I went to horse camp that one summer just said yes too.

The girl who became an unexpected friend, the one perk of driver’s ed beyond procuring a license, is a registered nurse at a top tier hospital. She’s been with her fiancée for nearly a decade. The girl who would come to play practice in the Tiverton High auditorium to watch her heartthrob boyfriend, whom I so ardently pined for, works for Entertainment Tonight. She just attended her first red carpet. The girl whose collegiate career was so concurrent with mine that we shared every single English class together is getting her Masters Degree from Columbia and is already working as a printed journalist for a legitimate publication. The girl who I was brave enough to call my best friend before leaving the East and essentially losing touch lives in Brooklyn in a beautiful apartment while she simultaneously gets her Masters and teaches in an actual school. I could go on. And on. And probably on some more. And who am I? An unemployed burnout. A talentless waste of space and air. An awkward shell of a former person who disappeared so long ago that I don’t even know who she is anymore. I don’t really know what happened to me. I’ve always been riddled with anxiety and a lack of self esteem, but at least I had friends, even if all of those friendships imploded. I had an identity. I could make my friends laugh. I could easily connect with strangers and create exciting experiences that I could share with gals I dearly loved, trusted, and felt so seen by. And now? Somehow time blew past me, through me, and suddenly I find myself alone, uncomfortable, afraid, unmotivated — a loser. Alright, I guess I’m done now.

[ashwilde]

#inlimatask04 - letter to my 16-year-old self.

Dear Ashley,

Hey, you! It’s me, or well, it’s you, from the fuuuuture. I know, it’s totally awesome and you’re probably mindblown, but hear me out.

I’m currently talking to you at 32 years old. Crazy, right? I bet it seems really old right now, considering how young you still are and how much of the world you still need to see. Trust me, you don’t ever stop seeing things.

Everyone around you loves you. You’re their shining star, your parents’ confirmation that they’re raising you okay. Don’t let that discourage you, and don’t let the pressure get to you. They want what’s best for you, always. 

Sometime after you turn 18, which isn’t far away now, you start a freelance writing job and you start performing at theatres. Things are really good for a while, they really are. You’ve found your true passion, have a steady income, and you’re successful. Your blog posts and articles about the local theatre talent are a hit. You have a lot of fans, you travel the world. You see things that you’ve always wanted to see.

But after a while, you’re going to stagnate. You stop feeling that motivation, that drive. It all comes so fast, even though it’s been building up in your chest for a while. The pressure is too much. It breaks you so easily. You’re afraid. You’re ashamed. The idea that you’re disappointing everyone who believed in you is so hard to swallow. It’s not your fault. It never was your fault.

You show up back in your hometown, and for about eight or nine months, you’re unemployed. Making a few bucks here and there, but you haven’t written any articles or been in any performances for a long time. You feel trapped, isolated. Depression is staggering and hollow. You don’t talk to anyone, and they don’t talk to you.

Until a very high-end seeming bar with a lit-up marquee comes into view, and somehow it draws you in. It’s a strip club, and you can’t help but feel curious, maybe one of the only times you’ve felt curious in months. A woman comes to greet you, she’s tall and gorgeous and important-looking, and she has an air of meaning business. You tell her you want to apply. You interview. You get the job.

Eventually, things get better. You start to heal. You become yourself, how you are right now. A bright, creative, sunny young woman who only wants to get the best out of the world. For a while, it’s scary. Sometimes it still is, especially since you’re with Fran more often than not, and you still haven’t crossed the threshold of trying to decide what you are, even though it seems like every passing day with her feels like a normalized, comfortable routine.

It’s going to be hard, but you’re going to be okay, okay? Trust your mom and dad, trust your siblings, and trust your friends. Trust Fran. You’re not a failure, and you’re not shamed for not living up to your wildly overblown expectations of yourself.

And above all else, you’re not alone.

Love,

Your 32-year-old self

[mcudarklibrary]

Dark! Multi-chapter Stories In Progress

Welcome library dwellers. Browse the catalogue for delicious dark treats that are currently still brewing about our favourite Marvel characters. Want your story added to the list or have you found something hiding in the dark corner? Send us a message and we will add it to the catalogue. 

Remember, AUs are more than welcome in the dark part of the library!

Happy reading, darkies! 

Steve Rogers/Captain America

A Gentle Frost by @jtargaryen18​

You were a newer member of the Avengers when the Sokovia Accords tore the team apart. A meeting is arranged between Vision and Wanda. Steve knows Vision will come to his side for Wanda. And that leaves you… Steve plans to take you for his own. 

All I Want by @kellyn1604​

Professor! Steve Rogers sees a lot of potential in a new student. One that he would like to explore, but professional and societal expectations have ways of keeping us from what we want.

Captive by @mdemontespan1667​

Hydra brings Steve and Reader together

Die Besessenheit by @imanuglywombat​ & @sophiria​

You have slowly worked your way through the writer’s ranks at the New York Times, finally securing your dream spot in the business section as an investigative journalist. However, turning down your boss’ advances lands you writing the article from hell: a PR-fix for the Avengers.

Since the destruction of Thanos, the world has idolised the Avengers. They can do no wrong. You see through the facade and their ego. Forced to stay at the new facilities, you must live the Avenger’s lifestyle and document the life of an international superhero.

You catch the eye of Steve Rogers, Captain America.

Fixation by @smutsonian​

You were just walking home from a friend’s house when all of a sudden, a certain super soldier ambushes you.

Heartbeat by @tansypoisoning​

In which Steve comes back from the past to be with you, but he’s not the same person he was when he left

His Muse by @golden-ariess​

You are his muse. The way you walk, the way you move is living art to him. He falls deeper every time... But you don't know him.

I Find That Which Is Lost by @caffiend-queen​

In which Traveller, who ekes out a living by traveling through time to bring back that which is lost, discovers that a reckless and desperate Captain America is sending out ripples that are shredding the fabric of Time through his use of the Infinity Stones. Steve Rogers may not understand what he’s doing, but the Traveller does, as well as Loki, the God of Mischief and Lies. The question is, why is the former Avenger doing this, and who can stop him before he tears Time and Space apart?

Say Thank You by @honeyhan-123​

Nearly five years have passed since Steve Rogers saves your life without so much as a thank you. When he sees you again by chance, he makes sure that he’ll never let you go and maybe teach you some manners in the process.

Sibling Rivalry by @imdarkinme​

This a story set in GoT type scenario, where the reader and Steve are half-siblings, and children of the Warden of Brooklyn. You both hate each other and try to compete with each other until one of you rises above the other.

Tapestry by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

The Nearness of You @cptnrogerss​

it’s the first christmas after the snap. grief brings steve back to where he first found bucky in romania. he finds a ghost that bucky left behind instead.

What You Need by @tansypoisoning​

Life as an unemployed, homeless wanderer was hard, until you met Captain America. Then it got worse.

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

A Gilded Cage by @imanuglywombat​

James Buchanan Barnes did not deserve love. After a lifetime of killing and torture, he was beyond the scope of being loved. That was until the night he met you. It was love at first sight for both of you. The panic sets in though when you begin to pull away, consumed by the demands of your career. Bucky has to keep you safe, keep you locked away from the dangers of the outside world. So he takes matters into his own hands.

Breach by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

The reader finds herself in the Winter Soldier’s cross hairs during a lock down.

I.O.U. by @champangebucky​

Bucky is tired of the youngest Avenger having all of Steve’s attention. 

Trapped by @jennmurawski13​ & @catnip987

After the five other winter soldiers that Hyrda has in cold storage are killed, The Asset is the only one that remains. In order to create more soldiers for their army, they come to the conclusion that they need a young, strong woman to carry his child, bringing forth the new generation of Hydra super soldier. 

Waves That Beat On Heaven’s Shore by @jtargaryen18​

She died in 2014. Bucky had killed her himself as the Winter Soldier. Inexplicably brought back from the snap, he knows it’s only a matter of time before HYDRA catches her. He’s not convinced she knows anything that would earn her protection from SHIELD. Bucky decides to take advantage of the opportunity presented to him and take matters into his own hands

Wicked Game by @salimahbicharara-comun​

Victorian AU. Three months after getting engaged to the elegant but cold Mr. Rogers, you find yourself trapped in the Rogers Manor. Surrounded by nothing but forests and lakes, you were more than enthusiastic when your  fiancé introduced you to his childhood friend; James Barnes. Lonely to no end and accompanied by only the darkness and your thoughts, your nights start to get filled of wicked dreams of a man of blue eyes and a devilish smirk.

Tony Stark

Darling by @ironlady1993​

This will be a dark!story with Non-con Smut in future Chapters. Reader is Tonys Stepdaughter so no Inzest here.

Stucky

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart by @spacesnail3000​

Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise.

Brooklyn Syndrome by @lordelannette​

Bucky's back was pressed against the cold floor and he stared through blurry eyes as Steve stood over him. He was trying to push himself as far away as he could, using his hands and bare feet to slide himself out from between Steve's legs but he couldn't find purchase against the wooden floor. Steve's legs were locked on both sides of his hips and Bucky couldn't move, couldn't get away, and the room was swimming before his eyes and he couldn't focus, couldn't think straight. All he could make out was the hazy figure of Steve towering over him and he lifted his arm to push uselessly at Steve's shin. "P-please," Bucky whispered. His voice was weak, like him, and his jaw trembled as Steve reached down. Steve slid down onto the floor and effortlessly gathered him into his strong arms, cradling Bucky to his chest as he leaned against the wall. "Bucky," Steve breathed. One of his large hands slid gently into Bucky's hair, the other curving against his spine and pulling him even closer. "You're mine now, remember?" Steve's grip tightened then it all went black.

Let’s Review by @viciousdenofsacrilege​

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks. 

My Right To Purge by @theliveshipparagon​

Purge Night starts at Stark Tower

The Game of Hearts by @you-are-my-sanctuary​

After being kidnapped and sold to an underground club, you quickly learn that the only way to survive in The Red Room was to gain the favor of its customers.Popularity among the men of the bar meant everything in this world.It meant you would have a stable income of food, better treatment from the Mistress, better rooms and of course, it meant you wouldn’t be some cheap fuck anyone and everyone could use.It meant the men seeing you would have to be important and wealthy. It meant that they had to be powerful.When it comes to power, no one was as powerful as Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.Brooklyn’s very own Kings.And everyone knows a king needs a queen.So when these two infamous Mob bosses set their smouldring eyes on you, you were sure of one thing:This was going to be the ultimate game of hearts.One you weren’t sure you were going to win.

It’s A Party (Multiple Partners)

Hunger by @searchforanotherway​

You’re camping with your friends. On a hike you are suddenly kidnapped by a man who takes you to a secluded cabin occupied by other men. They call themselves alphas, the only ones of their kind, and they are convinced that they can convert you (a normal human) to an omega in order to carry their young.They groom you and force themselves on you until you take their knot.

Little Pet by @ironlady1993​

non-con, threesome, blackmail, swearing, dark!professor steve , dark!Professor !tony

[jackalopefreckles]

I feel like Ive aged at least 6 years since covid started. Im angrier. Less adapted to being outside then I used to be- which is saying a lot. This time last year I was?? Actually healthier mentally then I had ever been and looking forward to having the house alone for a month which?? Was the most freedom I wouldve ever had.

A lots fucking changed. I drove halfway across the country- all 30 hours at once with my big brother AND two elderly dogs, plus my cat. All animals on too many drugs (the vet said they couldnt overdose, and then failed to give any further instruction) cami peed on herself twice, unable to move. I had to waterboard her in Phoenix, a truly terrifying hell city where all the roads are raised and overlapping and its a hot as shit cause its?? What june?? Time was so fake this year I mustve just been stoned the whole time till I ran out of weed, and since moving its been a relief to be able to turn off the spinning anxious thoughts for a few hours

my big brother joined us. He brought a new dog with him which?? Is always a lot, plus I have this pack of dogs now cause the puppy wouldnt leave the super cancer ridden dog alone, and Im able to get her cbd regularly here, so shes always comfortable now instead of just?? Sometimes which is a lot nicer. We didnt think shed make it to chrisrmas. I thought shed die with me home alone to take care of everything, like always. It was almost a relief, I wouldn't have to coach my brother through the grieving process at least, and I had already finished. Its hard now even, for me to realize she might even have another christmas (but I wont hold my breath)

I feel safer going outside here then I did in Austin. I only went out a handful of times in texas, for the last few months I was ordering almost all groceries, and only going to the store once mask mandates were mandatory (theyre not anymore. Im so worried for texas. I missed a huge freeze by mere months. I dont think my elderly dogs wouldnt survived it. If I was alone with them, Im not sure I woudlve.

My parents took my brother to mexico with them. I begged them not to go, told them how irresponsible it was to travel across boarders. To visit an island and take all the plane germs with. I told them that even if my mom and brother were staying at home all day with me, my dad was still going to work and he didnt know what his coworkers were doing. That they wouldn't know what the people on the plane were doing. That at any point they could become the stupid americans that killed half an islands population.

They left a week after today last year. The boarders were closed the next day. Their friend has been traveling back and forth ever since. I have no idea how, except for the fact shes white and rich and wont hesitate to destroy a child, so I can only imagine how shed treat costomer service.

I will no longer allow this angry aggressive woman to ever make me feel bad, and I will allow myself to finally fight back. Im an adult, maybe not all the time (cause lets be real I'll always be a bit too eccentric for most) but when I get angry and allow myself that anger, it's not a bad thing. Anger doesn't have to make me feel like Ive done something wrong. Im usually very just in my actions, and I wont allow my parents influence to tell me all anger is misdirected and hurtful for reasons I couldnt understand. Its okay for me to be angry.

I think being alone with animals for months is at least reassuring that my childhood was unreasonable if nothing else. Which of course is a silly polite society term for pretty fucked, if nothing else.

My aunt had to gall to say weve had a good 2020 cause our family wasnt hurt, and I had to walk away from the zoom call. I haven't attempted communication with any of them since, not that I normally do. Of course none of us died, all rich old white people, most of them retired and able to stay home all day (not that all of them did, I learned about my grandfathers routine and just.. Im honestly surprised no one got it yet. Of course I knew from the beginning if anyone was gonna get it and die, it probably wouldve been me. Hence the 8 months of solitude before the move.

Was the move in August?? Im so unsure about time. Even with 2020 vision.

I tried to date when I moved here. Strictly on tinder. What was the point? On and off testosterone due to the wonders of texas, hadnt changed my body nearly as much as they should've a year after being on them. I look much more handsome now. Im also allowing myself to toss gender aside completely. He/him doesn't mean man, and they/them dont mean nonbinary, so why not mix them since Im?? Not really either.

It wasnt even a thought process like that to start. Much more "this is nice" which I think more gender should be allowed to be. Dont gotta be deep just comfortable.

I wont ever allow my parents to forget what they did. I ended up with three dogs I didnt want (I was so looking forward to not having any dogs) and I ended up taking care of my brother. Again. Its easier without my parents at least. Everything always is. My dogs are even happier. Cami finally isnt anxious 24/7. Again, a sad reminder my childhood wasn't great. Daisy is healthier. Trauma can be stored emotionally or with health issues, often both. I think the cancer dog getting better and?? Surviving and thriving so much longer then the vet said (how good was my old vet?) Is another unfortunate nail in thay proverbial coffin.

Im not as soft and openly loving. Im even more touch starved somehow. Harsher. I still want to choose love and compassion, but Im not letting myself fall into the trap of being so nice people wont be nice to you. Fighting back is something I wont feel shameful about, because it never stopped me from doing it completely anyway.

I was already reaching this on my own though. This was just more coffins, more nails. This didnt need to happen. We know our government let this happen. Its still letting it happen. Im not sure when Im getting my vaccine. My big brothers sick of quarentine and keeps trying to get us to go out. Sometimes I yield, and we go to a park, or the top floor of the parking garage. I get a vegan hotdog from nearby. We talk and laugh and were genuinely just. Boys being boys.

I shouldn't have to deal with parent shit anymore. I do though, especially since two out of three are unemployed and we can really only afford to live here cause of them (they owe me if anything though. Especially with my brother and these animals) I hope I can get a job soon. Or maybe even go back to school. Im lucky I had so much saved up (for top surgery, which I guess wont happen before Im 25 like I really tried for. I wouldve done it before now, but texas waitlists and rules kept holding me up. I literally went to an appointment in dallas, a 4 hour drive, just to found out the surgeon canceled on me for the second time)

Its incredibly depressing, and I know Im lucky to have had that stash. So many people didnt have anything and lost so much. People lost people. Half a million at this point. I remember when it got to 300,000 and I just?? Felt so awful it was so close to how many people we lost to AIDS. Its over that by so many now. It doesn't really stop, does it??

Is that catholic guilt?? Or maybe just irish guilt in general. Is it something I inherited or earned through all the end of the worlds and once in a lifetime recessions Ive been through. Im not sure how many off the top of my head, theyve been coming since I was so small and its always more and more. Im not even catholic anymore. I cant stop being irish though, even though the brits tried (and succeeded. Weve lost a lot. The current royal cotastrophy is bullshit as well, the only person who deserves a royal title is from Meniappolos

My home is decorate all inside for st patrick's day. My big brother loves it so Im going all out, and its def making me feel much more irish then usual (which is a lot Im over half)

I think I just wanted to say Im not the same. I hope I can still be happy an obnoxious is public. I wonder if I remember how

[theradioghost]

could you elaborate on the long term plot of greater boston? i don't mind spoilers! i tried it but couldn't get past the first episode :( but i trust your taste and i've liked every other show you've rec'd so i wanna keep listening

EDIT: okay for some reason the formatting of this post is EXTREMELY befuckened and I can’t get it to behave, so it’s possible that this isn’t going to display with a spoiler cut and if so I am VERY sorry. the “keep reading” break is in the ask instead of the body of the post I have no idea what’s happening right now but if you don’t want spoilers please be aware this post spoils like everything about the show

Sure thing! I will .... do my best, but because of the nature of GB’s plot it’s a bit difficult to describe it without ending up either way too detailed or way too vague. But I will absolutely do my best because if there is any show out there that deserves it, this is that show. Cut for Obvious Spoiler Reasons!

So, there’s a LOT of plot that goes on, but what a plot summary could never convey is that the real heart and soul of this show is the characters. There are a metric fuckton of them, and every one of them is multidimensional and dynamic and wonderful, even if it’s not always obvious at first.

Leon Stamatis of course starts the show by abruptly dying of Existential Crisis/Panic Attack on a roller coaster, which sets everything else in motion. Of that big ensemble cast, at first the most important players are

Nica, Leon’s little sister who wants to be famous but doesn’t really have any concrete plans as to how

Dimitri, Leon’s little brother who is currently traveling in a submarine attempting to find Atlantis and keeps sending Leon letters, unaware that he’s dead

Louisa, Leon’s recent ex, a wedding photographer who later quits and becomes a crime scene photographer slash detective

Leon’s best friend/roommate Michael, who is unemployed and has just had a relapse after being sober for 12 years because he has no idea what to do without Leon

Gemma, a lesbian who absolutely hates her job as an editor at Third Sight, a company which publishes magazines relating to astrology/psychic stuff/divination/etc

Charlotte, Gemma’s pregnant wife, who has recently lost her job as an animation background artist and is feeling directionless

Professor Paul Montgomery Chelmsworth, aka the Mayor of the Red Line, a slightly eccentric college professor and casual friend of Leon’s who is inspired by his death to call for a referendum declaring that the Red Line of the Boston subway system will become an independent city.

It’s that last one that is the real ~main plot~ of the show: at first, more and more of the characters getting caught up in the campaign to create the city of Red Line, and then the chaos that results when they succeed and actually have to run it. But you also have characters like Louisa and Nica and Michael, dealing with a whole rainbow of grief and distress as they cope with Leon’s death. His eccentric personality is the other driving force of the show’s events -- Leon was caring and compassionate, but also obsessed with timetables, organization, and scheduling every action in his life down to the minute.

The other major force in the show is Third Sight, a magazine publisher with a focus on fortunetelling and the like; Michael ends up working there, along with Gemma and several other major characters. Third Sight also has an enigmatic boss no one has ever seen, who turns out to be a manipulative little bastard named Oliver West.

While Red Line successfully becomes a city, “Mayor” Chelmsworth turns out to have some major commitment issues and vanishes as soon as the vote passes, leaving Charlotte and Gemma to clean up the mess. Charlotte ends up interim mayor, but also begins to campaign for the upcoming mayoral election, in which she has two opponents: Isabelle Powell, a Black realtor and an incredible character whom I absolutely cannot do justice here, and Emily Bespin, Literally The Worst Person Who Has Ever Existed, Holy Fuck I Hate Her So Much.

The election is being manipulated behind the scenes by Oliver West, who also takes advantage of Nica’s isolation and a near mental breakdown to convince her to help him by orchestrating several escalating ~pranks~ in Red Line. Honestly he’s manipulating literally everyone, and also heavily backing Emily Bespin, in an attempt to profit off of influence in the new city. Eventually this ends up with Michael kidnapped and imprisoned, several other characters attacked and one badly hurt during a wedding in Red Line, and Isabelle Powell’s nephew framed for the attack. That results in Powell’s supporters beginning a set of protests which throw Red Line into even further chaos, even as Charlotte and Nica begin to have some real moral epiphanies about how they’ve been acting.

As events continue to escalate and the election draws closer and closer, the now-assembled cast have to figure out just who exactly is manipulating events and how -- not to mention how to prove Powell’s nephew’s innocence, what the hell has happened to Michael, and what the hell they’re going to do if Bespin wins the election and makes good on her promise to evict everyone involved in the protests.

Meanwhile, Dimitri is traumatized by finding a mass grave at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, gets rescued and then imprisoned in Alaska by infamous vanished plane hijacker DB Cooper, finally makes it home to Boston disillusioned and lonely only to inevitably find out his brother has been dead for two years, and then gets totally rejected by his sister, because he basically can’t catch a break.

Also meanwhile, the same conflicts playing out in Red Line play out on a more metaphysical level, in the structure of the show itself. While the first season only hints at the possibility that Leon might not be quite as gone as everyone thinks, as the show progresses Leon’s ghost makes his presence known by starting to argue with the omniscient narration. Increasingly taking over the show’s narration until a brilliant scene where said narrator quits and audibly gets up from the microphone and leaves, Leon, the man who spent his whole life trying to impose order on the chaos of the universe around him, finds himself battling the very structure of the story they’re in, in an attempt to help his friends as both he and they are caught up in the chaos of Red Line and Oliver West’s plans. Unfortunately, the structure of the story has other ideas, and plans of its own.

None of this, of course, even begins to touch on the cheese robots; or Michael’s ongoing struggle with self-actualization and alcoholism; or Mallory the foulmouthed teenager who somehow manages to first witness and then be involved in nearly every major plot event of the show; or the in-depth examination of structural racism as it relates to things like housing and city planning and Boston’s history and well-intentioned white liberals and the imprisonment of Black youth; or Star Trek obsessed chaotic neutral gay reporter Chuck Octagon and that one time he flirted with his own mirror universe self; or the complex but beautiful process of Charlotte and Gemma working on their relationship in the midst of all this chaos because while they have troubles throughout they truly love one another and are trying to be better people; or the fact that one of the other major characters is an insufferable Loud Vegan member of a polyamorous commune who -- on the advice of his ~spirit advisor~ the ghost of 19th century feminist writer Mary Wollstonecraft keeps changing his name throughout the show to things including Earthman, Panda Bear, Extinction Event, and Dipshit; or the unfortunately real Olive Garden food truck; or the laughter and the tears and the flamethrowers and the fact that one of the show’s most important and heartbreaking conversations takes place on an amusement park log flume ride audibly filled with liquid nacho cheese.

It’s a good show, is what I’m saying, basically.

[littlemisslovelovelove3]

If this comes across your dashboard, just ignore it. I’m stressing out but it’s 4am and everyone I could normally talk to is sleeping, so I’m basically using this as a digital venting session/journal entry because it’s easier than digging out all my actual journaling stuff.

I don’t know what’s going on with me tonight but I’m feeling very off. I’m feeling an intense urge to cry like I haven’t felt in years despite nothing of importance happening. And not like “aww I’m a little sad” but like “I want to sob like the love of my life just died” cry. The ugly, splotchy face, runny nose, can’t catch your breath kind of crying session that dominated my childhood. (I had a very good childhood- I was just hella dramatic and still am. I was never a weeper, I was an all out crier)

My sleep schedule has been fucked up for like the 300th time this year where I am wide awake all night and sleeping all day, or at least some variation of that. I’m so tired all the time but there have been more nights this year than any other year in recent memory that I’ve struggled this much with sleep. I used to be out almost as soon as my head hit the pillow and now it’s not uncommon for me to be wide awake at 8am having not gone to sleep at all. And I’m sure not seeing a decent amount of sunshine isn’t helping, but once I finally manage to pass out, I’m out. It’s not always restful, but it’s better than no sleep at all.

I’m struggling to focus on anything for a decent length of time- I’ve bought an ~obscene~ number of books, started half a dozen of them and none of them are holding my interest. I used to be able to fly through 800 page books in under 2 days and now I can’t even read a 472 page book in 3 weeks. I’ve read some fan fiction to see if that will help my reading slump but it’s been touch and go on those too.

I’ve tried watching tv and with the exception of the few shows I watch at night with my mother, I’ve been unable to get through any new or currently started shows. I restarted Rizzoli & Isles and haven’t been able to make it through the first season of a whopping 10 episodes. I’m beyond behind on Doctor Who, I lost interest in my favorite show of all time Buffy the Vampire Slayer, stopped Angel and haven’t been able to get through episode 2 of The Queen’s Gambit. Even picking a tv show has been hard. I was never good at making simple decisions before but now I’m hopeless.

The only movies I’ve watched lately are with my mom or the kids movies I watch with my friend’s son that I nanny for part time. He’s a great kid and I live him like he was my own, but I can’t watch The Addams Family one more time. It’s great but damn kid pick one of the other 50,000 available options.

I scroll through social media a lot but even that bores me. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, tumblr, tiktok, Snapchat- none hold my attention for very long. Except maybe tiktok because I’m pretty sure it’s digital crack but sometimes even it bores me.

I’ve been awful about going to the gym. I used to go 4-6 times a week and lately it’s been once a week and only because I pay for a group session with a trainer. It’s literally me and 1-3 other women depending on the day. And I can feel myself losing endurance, muscle and strength.

We aren’t going home for Christmas and while I absolutely understand why, I’m incredibly devastated that I won’t see my sisters, their families and my extended family this year. Sure I saw my one sister and her family in June but there’s something about going home for Christmas that is always extra special to me. We’re (my parents, brother and I) are going to miss out on my nephew’s second Christmas and the first one he’ll be able to really enjoy. He was 4 weeks at his first Christmas so he basically slept the whole time. We already missed his first birthday and while we’ve FaceTimed a bunch, it’s not the same.

And I was really hoping to see my grandpa, but he’s 91 and I could never forgive myself if I exposed him to covid. But I’m also scared about the very real possibility of never getting to see him again. His wife, my grandmother died 2 years ago and if I had known that the last time I saw her was the last time, I would’ve hugged her a little tighter and told her how much I love her. I miss her every day. I catch myself still calling the house “their home” or “grandma and grandpa’s”. Calling it “grandpa’s” still feels foreign to me. The idea that I’ll be missing Christmas with my dad’s family for the first time in my life is not sitting well with me.

My head gets it- there’s a fucking pandemic raging and traveling is ill advised but my heart doesn’t care, as melodramatic as it sounds. It’s like my body wants to go home to my hometown and back to where I grew up like it’s somehow going to be a source of comfort. Even though it’s not the same as it was when I lived there. I moved away 5 years ago and it kept on growing and changing despite my naïve belief it would stay the same.

So basically I’m feeling incredibly nostalgic and stressed. My anxiety is raging and I’m pretty sure the antidepressant my psychiatrist prescribed me isn’t doing much. I’m not having dark thoughts like I was in the spring when I first started seeing him, but I still don’t feel like myself. I’m also unemployed which is definitely not helping matters. I have savings and live with family but that’s not a long term solution. But my family is all high risk for covid and there aren’t many jobs around me right now that a) pay enough and b) can limit exposure.

If it weren’t wildly inappropriate I’d drive myself to my friend’s house right now and go snuggle his dog and/or cat right now, because honestly I feel like that would help. But I’ll wait until the morning when he’s at work so I don’t scare the shit out of him. Full disclosure if you’ve actually been reading this and made it this far- I’ve been given a key and explicit permission to go to his house and squeeze his pets. Tomorrow I might actually take him up on the offer. I may even bring the dog back to my place, which again, I’ve been given permission to do.

Adult friendships are weird y’all. My friends and I all have keys or security codes to each other’s homes and using them happens on a more frequent basis than I would’ve anticipated. My house has become the Friday night landing zone for after work (for them) drinks, relaxation and occasionally dinner. Which is so foreign to me because for the last couple years all my friends lived in other cities and/or states, so actually being even somewhat social again has been jarring. Between not having friends nearby and the damn pandemic it’s been really really fucking weird.

I’m sure the pandemic is a major reason I’m feeling so out of sorts, but it’s not going away any time soon and I feel like I need to figure out some of my shit or at least find some healthy ways of coping to survive. Not anything crazy- I’m not suicidal- I’m just super dramatic and also realize that I don’t want my anxiety and depression to keep controlling me like it feels like it has been. I’m big on needing to feel like I’m in control even the littlest bit, so this whole situation is making me feel very unbalanced and I’m not a fan.

And now that I’ve at least written this out I’m actually feeling somewhat better. The stress is still here but it doesn’t feel as overwhelming as it did earlier. It helped I cried while writing about my grandmother. One day I hope I won’t get overly emotional when thinking about or talking about her, but I’m ok with that being not today.

It’s kinda cliché but the whole “it’s ok to not be ok” mantra is really accurate for me right now. I’m sure I’m not the only person in the world feeling overwhelmed right now with everything going on and I certainly won’t be the last.

[juleshq]

*  𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐠𝐨𝐬  here  and  do  i  have  the  tea  for  you  .  𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 is  back  in  bridgehampton  for  the  summer  ,  living  off  the 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐎 family  𝟐.𝟑 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧  net  worth  .  must  be  nice  to  come  back  home  to  the  hamptons  ,  i  wonder  what  her  fellow  class  of  2017  grads  think  of  her  return  .  you  know  ,  she  was  known  around  town  as  the  𝐂𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 and  for  bhs  senior  superlatives  pronouns  was  crowned  as  𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐒 & 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 .  i  wonder  if  that  still  holds  true  today  ,  a  lot  can  change  when  you  go  off  to  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 and  study  𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘  .  either  way  ,  i  bet  she  is  still  very  𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 , 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 , 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄  . hopefully  this  time  next  year  the  plans  to  𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 come  true  .  in  the  meantime  ,  i  look  forward  to  seeing  her  blast  𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫 (𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄) 𝖇𝖞 𝐤𝐚𝐥𝐢 𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬  at  every  hamptons  function  .  it’s  going  to  be  a  wild  summer  home  ,  welcome  back  .

i  don’t  think  i’ve  EVER  been  this  excited  to  plot  and interact with a group of people ,  u  all  seem  like  such  beaut  ppl  &  i’m  in  love  already  but   i’m  a  little  . . .  intimidated  ADFJH .  anyways  ,  i’m  not  going  to  ramble  bc  i’m  ready  to  get  down  to  business  ,  i’m  sammie  &  i  go  by  she  /  her  pronouns  !  under  the  cut  is  a  long  bio  on  jules !  i  will  GLADLY  give  you  a  synopsis  on  this  chaotic  mess  pls  just  ask  ,  HERE  is  her  pinterest  board  please  ignore  the  sudden  amount  of  pins  of  just  her  , also  i’m  down  to  plot  here  or  on  discord  ,  my  discord  is  @ᵘ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃ ᵈᵒˡˡᵃʳ ?#3246  

* / BASICS

full name: juliana kaia dicaprio

nicknames: jules , julie / juli 

age & dob: twenty-one , august 14th , 1998

place of birth: long island , new york .

sexuality: heterosexual ( that she knows off )

bender: cisfemale

* /  MORE BASIC INFO

languages: english, french, some spanish.

religion: catholic

education: high school , majoring in biology at stanford

occupation: unemployed

drinks, smokes, & drugs: all of the above

* / PERSONALITY

zodiac sign: leo

likes: dark chocolate , tea in the morning , white roses , instigating bad situations , wine , black coffee , the smell of freshly brewed coffee , talking with strangers , long travels , adventures , being called “ angel ” , popcorn , quick tex responders , products made with silk , athletes , crime shows / films , crowded rooms , glitter .

dislikes: fake designer bags , people who don’t know how to lie , f , people who wear pearls regularly , long text messages , voicemails , men who are cheap , people who chew with their mouth open , humming ,  thrift shops , water-poof mascara , the smell of grass , extensive planning , and arrogance & stupidity combined .

bad habits: breaking promises to herself & others , not thinking before doing , fixating with her hair when nervous .

secret talent: juggling

fears: aging terribly , being widowed , drowning , being buried alive .

positive traits: alluring , convincing , affectionate , ambitious / devoted , systematic .

negative traits: manipulative , conniving , deceitful , dishonest , subjective .

* / APPEARANCE

tattoos: dagger on right index finger , “ devil ” on left index finger .

piercings: three in each ear , cartilage .

* / FAMILY INFO.

parent names: claire boucher & david dicaprio .

parent relationship: divorced .

sibling names: annalise , ashton , keller , & wade .

sibling relationship: step siblings & half .

children: none .

pets: 2 family dogs on her moms side.

* / BIOGRAPHY

i’m sorry it got long

             𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐑’s entire childhood was spent in the spotlight -- her father was a huge rockstar in the 70's & 80's, and her mother a model . Claire spent her childhood between Florida , California , and New York , attending red carpets , premieres , etc. Claire attended Stanford to obtain a bachelor in science but was in and out of modeling in her teens and early twenties .

            𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐎  lived an affluent life more under the radar . His grandfather is CEO of JD banking , one of the four largest banks in the world . He attended Princeton as the rest of his family did . He got involved in the company business at a very young age as did his brothers , but went on to become the new CEO after his fathers unfortunate passing in 2002 .

            𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 was and will forever be her parents pride & joy . her parents were high school sweethearts & got married young -- at a twenty-two / twenty-three . they had been trying for two years to start their own family but jules’ mother struggled . thanksgiving in the hamptons , a dicaprio family tradition the day is engraved in her mothers memory , in 1997 , they announced to their family that after years of trying , they were pregnant .

            𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 grew up completely pampered ; bi-weekly trips to the nail salon with her mother and annual father-daughter trips . her mother was her best friend until she began morphing jules into what she thought was perfect . making sure she spoke at least one other language , was active in school , extracurriculars , how she presented herself . her mother cared about image due to her own childhood of growing up in the spotlight . besides the near brainwash to fit her mother’s image of perfect , everything was ideal &  ‘ normal ’ up until the summer before her freshman year of high school . her mother discovered the affair her father had been having for months with a woman he did business with . he claimed it was due to the fact that jules’ mother had returned to some normalcy and wanted to work again , modeling and doing some traveling , therefore he ‘ just missed her around ’ . jules was aware of everything going on  , heard the countless nights they spent arguing in the opposite wing of the house , she picked up on her father being late to family dinner because “ he had work to do ” . her parents tried their best to keep her in the dark for the sake of her sanity , innocence , and view on her father . jules went along with it all , the daddy’s girl in her was in denial for all of the months leading up to their divorce . at the end , her mother got full custody of her .

             𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄 came two “ yes ” parents . everything became a competition between the two , trying to one up the other ; who took jules on the better summer vacation , had the most over the top christmas morning , etc . it  was insanely manipulative & jules there wasn’t a time period where jules felt more alone ; not having a sibling to relate to , she was embarassed to tell her peers the real reason why her parents split , it was so cliché . both parents didn’t take too long to remarry , her father found another stay-at-home wife and her mother lucked out with a lawyer ten years older than she . her step-father had two daughtes & son with whom jules hated in the beginning – it  was a lot to take in and she was used to being the only child . her father went on to have a child with his new wife two years after their marriage . it was all an immense amount of change within seven years .

              𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 for jules had been constantly changing since the news of her father’s affair , she’d spend her summers & holiday’s going back & forth between each parents in the hamptons until her father moved to calabasas to be closer to his wife’s family as soon as the baby was born . jules had always been a wild , reckless child at heart and the divorce between her parents only allowed her to push her limits even more . the two-three years her parents spent processing their divorce were her golden years -- she could not get in trouble with her parents and they never got upset with her . she took advantage of it all and abused drinking , hanging out with boys , you name it . she loved the attention she received from any male figure -- it made up for the lack of attention she was getting from her father once he got the boot .

              𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄 was where jules found her safe space ; she could be her wild self , far away from home and only a five hour drive from her father that she still rarely sees . she joined a sorority , joined the exec board , was forced to join french club by her mother , all while maintaining a 4.08 gpa .

           *  ` 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄 jules has always been a wild child . she’s always had a desire for attention , all eyes & attention on her , though the B I R T H of her uncontrollable desire for attention from males stemmed after her parents divorce . the lack of attention from her father allowed her to realize her dad wasn’t the only one who could spoil her & every man was basically the same . she’s not super close with either of her dads at the moment and sees her father about three times a year , two of which are holidays & every now and then the spontaneous visit from him in cali .  

          𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 is a h u g e  cry baby in the sense that she hates not getting what she wants . its not on purpose most of the time , it’s the way she was raised and the nature of her parents . she’s never had to ask for anything twice & hates doing so . though she’s a huge cry baby , she will try her best to mask her actual tears . she does a good job of seeming innocent , she’s that one friend that is super sus & lies a lot & keeps secrets but somehow is so good at convincing people other wise ? she’s a huge flirt , even when she’s not doing it on purpose , it’s sort of a weird practice or habit she’s grown into ? she feels empowered in the weirdest way of owning men and being able to form their opinion of her for them , this stems from her newly founded daddy issues  it’s more so due to the fact that her relationship with her father began to diminish once he moved out . she is & has been on her “ fuck love ” rampage .

       𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 do whatever she wants and will hide her bad intentions . she lives for chaos , loves enjoys pushing limits & boundaries . she loves a game of cat & mouse / teasing just knowing she has someone in her grip is what helps her sleep at night . she is a bit crazy . . .  the type to watch someone’s snap score go up . def that type to block and unblock someone 238473 timES . she has an underlying need of approval from others and she almost needs to be liked by everyone she meets .

     𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 she wants to model & be a playboy bunny BUT her dad would literally disown her if she didn’t follow her family legacy and attend stanford or yale to use her brains for good . she’s in school to be a pediatrician because at the end of the day she loves children and always wanted to seek a job in the healthcare field . she has plans to attend yale’s medical school after her senior year is complete at stanford .

i really based her off of american beauty & angela in the movie ( if you’ve seen it omg ily ) g

[vierschanzentournee]

1 and 3 for the bookish questions? 🥰👀

hayley i have literally no idea when you sent me this sorry but THANK YOU SM!!

1. What is your favourite book and/or book series of all time? 

Okay I have two (2) favourites series and I could literally talk abt them all day so like. Sorry in advance.

They’re both by the same author, Sebastien de Castell (who’s releasing the first book in a new series... soon? July, I think!), who I clearly owe my entire life to!

The first is the Greatcoats series, which was his first, and has four books - essentially, the Greatcoats were once travelling magistrates who enforced the King’s Law in the nation of Tristia, until a bunch of assholes (the Dukes) rise up against the King, overthrow and execute him, and leave the Greatcoats a) unemployed and b) hated and reviled throughout the country. They’re narrated by Falcio val Mond, First Cantor of the Greatcoats, and also the world’s stupidest man, who somehow manages to be both incredibly endearing and supremely irritating, and for whom I would absolutely give my life if he wasn’t so keen to die all the time. Before his execution, the King (whom Falcio absolutely adored) gave each of the Greatcoats a special order (there were 144 of them, so I’m not sure how he had time, but whatever) - Falcio’s is to find one of the King’s charoites. Unfortunately, he has no idea what the fuck that is, he’s broke, his best friends Kest and Brasti aren’t even sure why they stick with him anymore (actually, that’s unfair to Kest, Kest is extremely loyal to Falcio above all else for the whole series), and THAT is where the first book, Traitor’s Blade, begins! (SPOILERS from here onwards!) Falcio finds his charoite about halfway through the first book in the form of a 13-year-old girl called Aline - the same name as Falcio’s wife, who was brutally raped and murdered by a local Duke when they were 20. At the end of the book Falcio realises Aline is in fact the King’s daughter (although, to be fair, Brasti realised it first) and the rest of the series is essentially Falcio trying to protect Aline (major spoiler: this does not work and she dies halfway through the last book and I cried SO HARD) and fighting back against various groups that threaten Tristia and the Laws he worked so hard to uphold back in the day. Along the way, he gets a girlfriend (who becomes Saint of Mercy in the third book and was, somehow, once possessed by the memory of his dead wife Aline), reunites with various former Greatcoats who hate his ass to varying degrees (but like, lovingly, for the most part), has extremely cute emotional bonding moments with Kest and Brasti (like the time Falcio was poisoned and was paralysed for longer and longer every time he woke up and Brasti decided to put a coffin over him one morning for funsies! I love him very much), and collects, by my count, at least 4 children (or at least people he cares for in a Very Paternal Manner).

The second series is called Spellslinger, and it has six books because life is good and SdC writes fast (side eyes @ Scott Lynch). The premise is this: Kellen comes from a people called the Jan’Tep, whose entire society essentially is built around the magic they wield. When Jan’Tep children turn 16, they must take their trials to become mages - if they fail, they are sent away from their family to become a part of the Sha’Tep, who are pretty much the Jan’Tep’s slaves. Kellen’s problem is this: he’s, like, two days away from turning 16, and he has pretty much no magic. All Jan’Tep have six “bands”, representing the different elements of magic: iron, silk, sand, breath, blood, and ember - there’s a seventh element too, shadow, but Jan’Tep children are not banded in shadow, as it’s considered evil. Sparking a band basically means you’re able to wield the element of that band - to pass your mage’s trials, you need to have sparked two. At the start of the first book, Kellen still hasn’t sparked any. His father is a powerful clan leader, his mother is a talented mage, and his younger sister Shalla is a prodigy with unheard-of talent, and yet Kellen, despite everything his parents have tried, has little to no magic, and seems destined for a life among the Sha’Tep. The book opens with Kellen’s first trial, his duel, which he’s just about managing to bluff his way through until Shalla (fucking Shalla) realises he’s cheating, and, in some wild attempt to make him find some power or something, literally stops his heart. He’s saved by a mysterious red-haired woman called Ferius Parfax, who speaks with the equivalent of a Southern drawl and is just kind of wildly competent at pretty much everything. I’m now at risk of literally just rewriting the entire first book here so: Kellen spends more time with Ferius, although it’s discouraged, continues to fail his mage’s trials, uncovers a Sha’Tep rebellion conspiracy fuelled by a rival Jan’Tep clan leader, and, crucially is counterbanded by his parents - that is, his parents fill his bands with molten metal and magic sigils which mean he’ll never be able to spark them. This is a horribly painful process, emotionally and physically, to which Kellen never agreed, and he’s literally strapped down to a table for days - he discovers that his grandmother banded him in shadow, a strictly forbidden practice, and that he has the shadowblack, considered a terrible affliction which probably hints at some terrible inner darkness, although throughout the first book the main effect for Kellen is just some dark markings around his left eye. With the help of a violent squirrel cat, with whom Kellen can somehow communicate and whom he freed from a Jan’Tep cage several days ago, he manages to escape before his parents counterband his breath band, and he sparks it - it turns out that he was actually as powerful as Shalla, but the things his parents made him take to “cure” his weakness were in fact suppressing his power. Long story short, the counterbanding and the shadowblack kind of... end his hopes of a normal life in Jan’Tep society, and so he runs away with Reichis (the squirrel cat) and Ferius (who, as it turns out, is Argosi - a traveller who kind of... not quite predicts things, but notes the likely course of events in the world around her) to become an outlaw - specifically, a spellslinger, an outlaw mage who has a little magic, a few tricks, and their hopefully sharp wits to live by.

Tragically, Kellen’s wits are not very sharp, and he spends the next five books being kind of terrible at being an outlaw, crying after every single fight he’s in (verbatim, “I always cry after a fight”), developing a very sweet mentor-student/parent-child relationship with Ferius, reuniting with his childhood crush Nephenia (who had to leave the Jan’Tep for... reasons), becoming best friends with the squirrel cat, getting separated from Ferius for two books, and tearfully reuniting with her in the final book, after which she prompty nearly dies.

So. Uh. I’m super sorry, I was UNAWARE of exactly how much happened in Spellslinger (like, the first book, which is also titled Spellslinger) in particular, and I just really love talking about them! I’m an absolute sucker for found family dynamics and characters learning to appreciate both themselves and the people around them, and both series are absolutely full of that!

3. What is the oldest book you have ever read? (Based on its written date) 

I’m currently reading the Odyssey for my school’s epic reading group (as in, a group for reading epic literature, not just... it’s really cool), so I suppose it’s that!

[dcnnafms]

*  taps  the  mic  * testing , testing , 1 , 2 , 3 .... hello ? *  clears  throat  * hi guys & gals & non binary pals  !!  i’m  taylor  weighing  in  at  the  solid  age  of 20  years  old  aka  a  glorified  teenager  because  really  what  can  i  do  that  a  19  year  old  can’t  lmao ?  i’m  from  the  est  & couldn’t  be  more  excited  to  have  found�� this  beautiful  gem  of  a  roleplay  !  honestly i haven’t been this excited about a group in ... forever  !  so i cannot wait to start roleplaying with you all  !   but for now i’m going to leave you with this intro because i’m going to the pats game tonight  ?!  and need to run & get ready because my friends are on the way  !  without further ado though , i think it’s time for me to introduce you to my lil baby donna who i haven’t played in like 7 months so please bare with me here while i find my footing with her again !  if you’d like to plot just give this a like or shoot me an im & i promise i’ll get back to you when i get home later tonight !

note : here career is here in this post btw !

╰   stats .  ◞,

click here for the statistics page  .

╰   pinterest .  ◞,

click here for the pinterest page  .

╰   playlist .  ◞,

1. let you go by machine gun kelly , 2. bmo by ari lennox  ,  3. death by trippie redd ft. dababy  ,  4. agree to disagree by sleeping with siren  ,  5.  night shift by dave east ft. lil baby  , 6. violent crimes by kanye west  ,  7. runaway by aurora  ,  8. love song by lana del rey  ,  9. all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish  ,  10.  i think im okay by machine gun kelly ft. yungblood  ,  11. envy me by calboy  ,  12. cash s**t by megan thee stallion ft. dababy  ,  13. yellow hearts by ant sanders  ,  14. what to do? by jackboys ft. don toliver  ,  15. the git up by blanco brown  ,  16. erase your social by lil uzi vert  ,  17. everything i wanted by billie eilish  ,  18.  bandit by juice wrld ft youngboy never broke again  ,  19. bop by dababy  ,  20. candy by machine gun kelly ft. trippie redd  . 

╰   biography  .  ◞,

an only child born to a secretary for a mother & an often unemployed father in athens , ohio in late 1996 . life for young donna was nothing out of any film you would enjoy watching . a childhood full of neglect & growing up much too fast for your own good . her father , matthew , had fallen into heavy addiction just a year before donna’s birth & her mother , denise , had learned to bury her sorrows with a bottle of alcohol . well below the poverty index there were many nights she knew she wouldn’t come home to food on the table but instead a slew of addicts getting their high in the middle of the living room , keeping the young girl up at all times of the night with their rowdy antics . 

by the time she reached third grade she’d learned that her day at school would go over much more smoothly if she made sure she had her backpack, coat & on the one off chance that there was enough food in the house pack her lunch , because if she waited for one of her parents to do it for her she’d never make it to school on time . her mom often had to rush to work in a hungover state & her father didn’t wake up until after she was already due for school , so donna had relied on the bus to get to & from school each day . 

at twelve she’d realized that she was much happier the less time she spent at home & so she did all she could to stay out with her friends . she became one of those kids you passed wondering where their parents were at that time of night as them & their friends wreaked havoc in the streets of athens . picking up smoking weed at the ripe age of thirteen , she quickly learned nothing was a better fix for how much she’d hated her life than a quick blunt . she’d fallen into a dark place at a very young age & from her perspective there was really no way out of the downward spiral she had fallen into . she blamed her parents for messing her up so badly & often when she was home it turned into blows between herself & her parents the end result always landed her at one of her friends houses for the night. 

it wasn’t until she was fifteen that she befriended a new girl whose parents took a liking to donna & really took her in . it was something like a safe haven spot for her , somewhere she always knew she could go & they’d want to hear about her day or feed her . they’re the ones who learned of donna’s wanting to join the school theater club & urged her to do so . they attended her first performance & her second, third , fourth , etc . 

one of her performances at the school garnered the attention of a screenwriter who felt she was a perfect fit for a character they were in the process of creating . this was when her first hollywood deal came , initially turning it down as she had no means to so much as leave the city of athens forget travel to an entirely different state . the screenwriter offered to take care of her completely & before she knew it she was working on the first installment of the hunger games . 

when she got back to athens after spending a few months in los angeles she’d realized just how much potential there was out in the world . at this point she decided to take things within her life a bit more seriously . there was a life outside of athens , ohio & donna was craving for it now . making the conscious decision to focus on her schooling with the hopes that she’d be able to get into a decent university . college had never been so much as thought for donna before she’d left the city but after filming a movie , she realized almost anything was possible even for someone like her . 

during this same year , her parents split up & her father got back together with his highschool sweetheart , this prompted her father to admit to donna that she had a brother who was three years older than her , who was actually in college . the two got to know one another fairly well when he’d come back home from school during breaks & the two found themselves loving the idea of having a sibling . mutually upset that they’d spent so much of their time not knowing each other so much as existed . donna lived with her father & step-mother amanda in athens & the change in her father was more than visible .  she was more than happy that her father had gotten on the straight & narrow , no matter what had to take place for it to happen & who he needed in his life for it to take place . in this time her mother moved to cincinnati & the separation actually made the relationship between donna & her mother stronger . 

in 2014 , she graduated from highschool & had committed to attending ohio state university as a theater major . during her time in columbus , ohio she & her new found friends took a liking to the downtown area where they found a hidden gem bar that often held open mic nights . this is where donna was really able to cultivate her love for stand up , despite dabbling in it a few times back in high school & whenever she was out in los angeles . she took to college well & somehow managed to juggle her education , career & social life fairly well . if you ask her how she did it , she’ll always give all the credit to her brother brody & maybe some residual credit to weed . 

in her sophomore year she’d fallen in love for the very first time , with one of the quarterbacks at her university . they dated for two years before he’d decided to transfer to lousiana state university . she understood why he did it , he had a career in football he was chasing & she couldn’t be mad at him about that . despite the long distance & at times very hectic schedules between the two of them she worked on being the most supportive girlfriend she could to him & made it out to any & every game she possibly could of his . 

after graduating from ohio state she moved down to lousiana in hopes to be with him more but her career kind of kept going & so she was nearly in louisiana just as often as she had been before moving down there. they made it work for a good amount of time , but the distance just started to become a little too much . donna is someone who craves affection after a childhood of not much affection to be sparred . she caught herself at times during the relationship on the verge of cheating , but she is a staunch believer that if you truly love someone you could never do something of that magnitude to them . it was a mutual break up , that came in the early months of 2019 . 

she’s now been living in calabasas since she moved out of louisiana & is learning to get back onto her feet without someone there to uplift her  . 

╰   scandal  .  ◞,

on december 23rd of 2019 a sex tape with donna’s name plastered all over it had been released online . it was a sex tape of her & her ex who by this time has cemented himself as the likely first round pick in the nfl draft . the sex tape took off & it seemed as though every time her team managed to get it down , it popped up somewhere else . both donna & her ex knew neither one was to blame for the leaking of the sex tape & so they worked together to figure out who was behind it , today their getting closer & closer to finding the person who did it . despite this , the tape is still able to be viewed on the internet it you dig hard enough . although not many have to do that as it had gone vial upon it’s initial release back in december . 

[fanficnewbie]

“Fighting for Forever” - Chapter Two: Open Heart Fanfic

This is my first story/series. The first 5 chapters are adaptations from the first 4 parts of “A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey” series with permission from @alwaysmychoices and then I continue my own original work in chapters 6-14.

I start this adapted storyline during Chapter 15 of the original OH series. There is a bit of AU, where I play around with the storyline a bit and insert two days between MC leaving the country club and returning to her apartment to find Landry packing. Some situations have been changed to keep with the original vision of @alwaysmychoices and make the story work in the direction I wanted it to go. However, I find my way back to the original in Chapters 6-8 and then move on past the ending of Book One during chapters 9-14.

My MC is female, Francesca Houseman, who has only had eyes for Ethan Ramsey from day one.

FULL SERIES

Chapter Two: “The House by the River” (adapted from “A Day With Dr. Ramsey”) 

3283 words

This entry adds an imagined day of Ramsey and MC visiting Naveen at his home while he is unemployed and she is on suspension.

(M - Language)

The drive to Dr. Banjeri’s home was littered with occasional small talk and much to Ethan’s chagrin, frequent changes of the radio station. Though he knew the way, Ethan quickly recognized that Francesca needed something to do and he turned over all navigation to her. He found that, though a competent doctor, her navigational skills were sub-par and had he not been confident in his path he would have grown irritated. But instead, he found humor in her sudden gasps of “oh shit, turn right!” and “fuck, it says we should have turned there.”

Undoubtedly, Jenner enjoyed the drive the most. Somehow, he weaseled out of the backseat and settled comfortably in Francesca’s lap, and for a moment, Ethan couldn’t tell who was more smitten with Francesca – him or his dog.

“And we should be… here…” Francesca leaned forward in her seat, making Jenner shift, to look for a sign that they had arrived. Instead, she was greeted with an apparent wall of trees, “What the…?”

At this point, Ethan decided to relieve her of all navigation duties and drove towards a break in the trees. He found the small, hidden driveway and turned onto it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Francesca’s expression fill with amazement and curiosity. After a minute or so of traveling down the drive, Dr. Banjeri’s river house appeared, and Ethan could just make out his mentor pouring over an easel on the dock.

He looked so… frail, yet at ease. He’d embraced his death sentence with a friendly smile and resigned himself to spend his final moments only doing things that he enjoyed. Ethan offered to stay with him at the river, offering companionship and medical care, but Naveen refused. In his last days, he wanted Ethan to be family, not his doctor. He wanted memories to be fond, not burdened by the daily care of a patient.

Even now, the pain on Ethan’s face at this decision was apparent, and Francesca instinctively reached for him, placed her hand in his and gave him a gentle squeeze.

Ethan looked over to Francesca and her soft smile that left little need for talk. He didn’t have to say that he was sad, she already knew that. And she didn’t have to tell him that she understood, because she’d already shown him.

The silence lingered in the parked car. Francesca’s eyes never left Ethan, waiting for a sign that he was ready to get out and face his dying father figure. She didn’t rush him, instead, she simply left her hand on top of his. She was gentle, unsure if he would accept the sign of support, but to her surprise, he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed tightly.

“Are you okay?” her whisper was soft and tinged with concern.

Ethan considered her question for a moment before nodding his head, “Yeah… Thank you, Rookie.”

It was the first time he heard the level of affection he placed in her nickname. Had he always sounded so enamored?

He put his hand on the door handle, “Come on, Jenner wants to say ‘hello’.” 

Francesca placed a gentle kiss on Jenner’s head and leashed him before opening her door. He happily stuck by her side as they got out of the car and made their way to the dock.

Naveen saw Ethan first and waved enthusiastically, abandoning his painting and walking towards him. Even from a distance, he saw the continued marked change in his friend since the final diagnosis. Sleepless nights and scotch had aged him since leaving the hospital, and a sense of finality followed him. Failure was not a good look for Ethan, and it pained Naveen to think of leaving him behind when he was in such a poor state.

“There you are! I was beginning to worry. You’re always punctual,” Naveen called out. Ethan was usually there by 10am, but rather uncharacteristically, it was almost Noon. As he got closer, the answer to his friend’s tardiness revealed itself.

Dr. Francesca Houseman appeared from behind Ethan with Jenner in tow. Even as she smiled and waved, it was evident that she and Jenner had formed a silent attachment to protect their pained companion. Suddenly, Naveen wasn’t so worried about leaving Ethan alone in the world.

“Dr. Houseman!” He greeted her warmly, occasionally glancing at Ethan as if trying to confirm the obvious. Now that she was closer, he found clues that she’d spent the night at his apartment, and Naveen began to wonder how long Ethan had guarded such a secret.

“Please, call me Francesca,” she smiled, seemingly oblivious to Naveen’s assumption that they’d slept together, “I hope you don’t mind that I tagged along, Dr. Banerji.”

“Of course, I don’t mind! You were once one of my only associates in Edenbrook, and for that, I consider you a friend,” Naveen was sincere. Like Ethan, he saw something special in the young intern, and had his health permitted, he would have liked to form a lasting friendship with Dr. Houseman. He imagined that, by the way Ethan looked at her, she would have quickly become a significant element in both of their lives. “I am now a retired man. So please call me Naveen, Francesca.”

“Thank you, Dr-“ Francesca stopped herself, “Naveen.”

Naveen smiled and pulled her into an unexpected hug that Francesca happily reciprocated. And for a moment, Francesca reverted back to her med school daydreaming and almost pinched herself when she realized the famed Dr. Banerji was hugging her.

In his embrace, Francesca could see how Ethan adored Naveen so. If anyone could feel like an intern’s medical school grandpa, it was Dr. Banerji. In his retirement, he’d abandoned his white coat for a warm sweater vest that smelled of acrylic paint, aftershave, and peppermint candies. His roaring laughter warmed anyone who heard it, and his gentle, attentive smile demonstrated his genuine affection.

Francesca bit back an oncoming wave of sadness as she remembered that this wonderful, tender man was dying. When Naveen released her, he caught a flash of the pain in her expression, but she quickly returned to a polite smile as Naveen invited the two for lunch in the kitchen. Jenner, excited by a few ducks in his view, hurried and forced Francesca a few paces ahead of the other two.

With a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, Naveen looked at his friend with a telling smile.

“She’s wearing your shirt, Ethan,” he didn’t have to specify the obvious insinuation.

“She slept in my guest room,” Ethan grumbled, somewhat embarrassed by Naveen’s excitement.

“Ah, but you brought her here with you,” he was not at all surprised that his young friend hadn’t yet accepted what was so obvious to him.

When Naveen received the news of his impending death, he mourned the life he lost. He mourned the patients he could no longer save, the world he could no longer serve, and the people he could no longer love. But more than any other, he mourned the years he would miss of Ethan’s life. He regretted that, in all of their time together, he had never seen Ethan fall in love. Instead, the young doctor’s life had been a series of carefully planned decisions, each furthering his illustrious career and cementing his success. For all of his deliberate choices, Ethan had never made the one to love someone. But Naveen had also never seen Ethan look at anyone like he looked at Francesca and he was filled with hope for the two. Letting them into his house, the warm hope was quickly followed by sadness that he wouldn’t get to see how their story ended.

Naveen’s home, much like his apartment in the city, was filled with books. Most were medical, and a few had been written by himself. There were classics and popular titles mixed in at random, most of which he had never read but purchased to read “someday.” And with his days now numbered, he’d pulled them off the shelves and stacked them on various end tables, occasionally picking one up and switching at random. There were fishing rods and unfinished paintings littering the living room, and Francesca spotted several unused golf clubs in the corner. Naveen dedicated his remaining time to his various passions in life – all but one. He had forced himself to let go of the final mystery of his diagnosis.

Francesca immediately noticed that the medical books were the only ones not pulled out, and she felt an unexpected wave of surprise. Until now, she had never truly believed that Dr. Banerji had really given up.

“Pasta?” Naveen offered, already preparing heaping bowls – he had started a ritual of cooking his favorite foods, each night something new. While the pasta carbonara he was serving them were leftovers, he always felt that the flavors were better the next day anyway.  As he prepared a third bowl for himself, he noticed that Francesca’s eyes had settled on his fishing rod.

“Do you fish, Francesca?”

Francesca nearly jumped, surprised her reverie had been noticed.

“When I was a kid,” Francesca admitted with a sheepish smile, “It was my grandfather’s favorite pastime. I have fond memories of being out on the lake with him.”

“Ah,” Naveen broke out in a wide grin, “Ethan won’t fish with me!”

“You won’t fish?” Francesca raised an eyebrow at Ethan, “I thought you’d do anything to avoid small talk.”

Naveen laughed, admiring her spunk.

“Even I have limits, Rookie.”

Naveen couldn’t contain his smile as he watched the two and proudly brandished it when Ethan looked back at him, much to Ethan’s embarrassment and Naveen’s continued amusement.

“As your grandmentor, I’d be honored if you joined me on the dock. Who knows? You might even be the missing ingredient to get Ethan to fish after all these years,” Naveen took a bite of his food, happy with himself for putting his mentee on the spot and daring him to say no to her.

Francesca smiled at the term, Naveen had come up with it when they were a threesome at the hospital. Deducing that if Ethan was her mentor, and he was Ethan’s mentor, he must be her grandmentor.

“To satisfy an old friend, I will consent to a boring pastime...after lunch” Ethan agreed, and he could see the words hiding behind Naveen’s smile: You’re doing it for her.

That day, the river echoed the laughter coming from Dr. Banerji’s dock.

The three doctors spent some time seriously baiting fish on the river, even catching a few that Banjeri insisted they would cook later that night, but the seriousness of the pursuit quickly evaporated. Banjeri and Houseman were first to find something silly to laugh about, though they both tried to stop in fear of “scaring the fish away.” However, a competition developed in which they all tried to remain serious as Banerji and Houseman told corny jokes. Ramsey, was the unsurprising victor, while Banerji and Houseman constantly dissolved into continuous fits of laughter. 

While putting away their gear, Francesca stumbled upon Banerji’s latest unfinished painting. It only took one compliment of his work for him to light up and hand her an easel, offering to teach her a few tricks. This time, Ethan resisted their requests for him to join, and instead, he and Jenner offered to judge when they were done. Francesca painted terribly, but Banerji wasn’t much better.

It wasn’t long before the two doctors were thick as thieves. She trusted and adored him instantly, and Naveen reciprocated. She was a lovely young woman, but even if she hadn’t been, her affection for Ethan was enough to make him appreciate her.

At some point, Ethan meandered back to the house where he cleaned up after lunch and then picked up a stray book from the growing collection of titles on Naveen’s coffee table. He watched the two paint through the expansive windows, a small smile on his lips.

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen him so enamored…” Naveen’s words were soft enough to almost be lost in the passing breeze, but they caught Francesca’s attention with a jolt of surprise.

Francesca looked at the man beside her, “He’s in a lot of pain.”

She didn’t waste time pretending that she didn’t know what he was talking about or acting surprised at the implication of his words. They both knew what this looked like, and Francesca was not skilled enough to hide the obvious way she felt about her mentor. To deny it was to waste the short time Naveen had left, and he was the only person in the world she felt she could talk about it with.

Naveen nodded thoughtfully, “Will you be there for him when I am not?”

“I don’t know if he’ll let me,” Francesca admitted with a sad ruefulness in her voice. A dying man was asking her to care for his loved one and she wasn’t sure that she could.

Naveen chuckled, “Ethan may hold you at arm’s length, but he’s never let you go, has he?”

Francesca thought back to his time away from Edenbrook, all of the texts she’d almost sent and all of the days she’d hoped he would reach out. He’d never felt so far away from her, and it pained her more than she expected. But one, well many, drunk texts later, and now she was here. She considered Naveen’s comment, growing silent as she returned to her painting. Had Ethan ever let her go? Naveen watched her out of the corner of his eye, trying to read her silence.

Ethan abandoned his book eventually and returned to the dock. By this point, both had grown tired of painting, and they left it in favor of a new activity.

This was how the day carried on, moving between new activities with a fleeting commitment to each pastime. Naveen’s new lease on life meant that he didn’t need to finish anything for the sake of completion, and this philosophy ruled their time together.

Ethan and Naveen played a game of chess while Francesca played with Jenner, and when they discussed another match, a casual suggestion was made to play cards which was enough to change course. Francesca joined them during the second round, and this continued until they found something new to do.

When the sun set on their day on the river, Dr. Banerji invited them to stay for dinner and declining never occurred to either of his guests. Banerji took the lead in cooking dinner, though he promptly found helpers.

Jenner parked himself in the kitchen, waiting for scraps, and Francesca sneaked him treats quite frequently. Ethan pretended not to notice and Naveen hid his smile by focusing on the fish. When they finished cooking, they carried their meal to the deck overlooking the river. Ethan lit the candles while Naveen and Francesca set the table. Once they were seated, a bottle of white wine was opened and as they enjoyed the sunset their conversations were littered with more laughter and smiles. 

Dr. Banjeri raised his glass, “To good friends and time well spent,” he toasted, and suddenly, an unwanted reminder presented itself… he’s still dying. A lump formed in Ethan’s throat as he raised his glass, and without missing a beat, Francesca’s hand silently rested on his beneath the table, offering solace.

Ethan’s smile was grateful and adoring as he looked down at Francesca, and Naveen felt a sense of relief wash over him. His boy was loved…

Dinner carried on in the same spirit of their day. The jokes carried on with particular attention to Ethan’s less than stellar cooking abilities, and they enjoyed teasing each other. Long after they finished their food, they continued their conversation with wine under the moonlight. Francesca had never seen Ethan so at ease.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to hospital gossip. Naveen, now out of hiding, remained in contact with several of his friends at Edenbrook but was eager to hear more. Remembering how much he loved gossip, Francesca happily obliged.

“From what I hear, Dr. Lahela has quickly amassed a group of followers,” Dr. Banerji’s smile was full of mischief, “You’re friends with him, no?”

“Bryce and I are friends, yes,” Francesca nodded her head, amused by Naveen’s apparent enthusiasm.

“Is he as scandalous as the rumors say?”

“Even more so.” She thought about his confident swagger and nursing staff fan club. “But for me, he’s just a big brother, which is nice since I’m so far away from my own.”

“Yes, it’s nice when we are able to choose family, and flattering when they let us!” Naveen looked to Ethan fondly. “Speaking of flattery, I hear congratulations are in order. Ethan tells me you performed exceptionally well after the subway derailment. You helped save Rafael Aveiro’s life,” Naveen held his glass up in a toast of respect, “He’s a fine man, a real hero.”

Francesca looked at Ethan a bit shocked, first that he knew about it and then that he had been speaking to Dr. Banjeri about her at all. She turned back to Naveen, “Yes, he’s a very close friend and seeing him like that was terrifying. However, the fact that I helped save his life via actual surgery with the Chief, well that was beyond incredible.”

Ethan had learned the story from Chief Emery, and he felt a swell of pride in his chest that his protege had held her own in the O.R. with such a prestigious surgeon. He raised his glass in a similar congratulations, but when his eyes met hers it was as if the continued mentions of Edenbrook had brought all of the issues surrounding each of their careers to the surface. The idyllic fantasy shattered; they were not two lovebirds enjoying a day with a mutual friend. It was always more complicated than that…

Naveen filled the silence with a story from his youth, and slowly, they both engaged again. They laughed and participated, and truly enjoyed themselves. Their conversations carried late into the evening, but every good day must end.

Containing their yawns, the group of three finally concluded their time together. Naveen was exhausted but still sad to see his friends go. He hugged each of them tightly and sincerely, giving Francesca a kiss on the cheek as she went. He bid farewell to Jenner with a playful scratch under his chin, and he waved them all off as their car disappeared down the drive almost eight hours after arriving.

Francesca’s day with Dr. Ramsey was coming to a close, and the early moonlight illuminated all of the illusions they shared. Today had been wonderful and magical and fun, and away from hospital politics, they were two people spending time with a dear friend. But as the city of Boston approached them, they were also two people, irrevocably connected but divided by personal fears and unspoken words.

The drive to Boston was quiet.

Jenner had fallen asleep in Francesca’s lap early into the drive, snoozing contently after a long day at the river his head rested comfortably on her chest. For the first time, Ethan was sincerely jealous of his dog. Francesca’s directions were no longer needed, and for that, she was grateful. Her mind already felt as if it were bursting at the seams with too many thoughts, and she stared into the passing scenery as if the appearance of nightfall could provide elusive clarity.

The problem with a magical day is that the sun always sets, and when it does, you’re left in the dark.

CHAPTER THREE

[jarrodwbrown]

Brokenness and A Plan for Mass Transformation.

A man, lying in the road, literally on fire.  A flame wicking off of his heal as bystanders looked on for the best shot with their phone cameras.  Then the attention shifted to something moving in the bushes, and as the camera changed its focus a person, perhaps a woman was moving, the look on her face was of desperation, burned from head to foot, skin coming off.  Noone to offer help.  No ambulance on the way.  No LifeFlight to the nearest burn unit.  This was on the road just a few miles from the school Mission Lazarus operates in North-East Haiti.  The man in the road was driving a motorcycle carrying the woman from the side of the road along with two five gallon jugs of gasoline when they wrecked.  The gasoline quickly combusted and engulfed the two in an inescapable inferno.  The driver hadn’t lasted long and the woman in the bushes would not last long either.  This did not have to happen but due to a massive fuel shortage in Haiti the people have been forced to take drastic measures to obtain fuel.  Fuel for their cars to get to work and fuel for their generators so that their businesses can operate (only 20% of Haiti has electricity).  So while it might seem obvious that carrying two jugs of gasoline on the back of a motorcycle would be extremely dangerous everything is relative in Haiti.  

I will probably make someone mad by writing this.  What I’m trying to say will most likely not be understood by more than one person.  I know that my life experiences are unique and that they have greatly shaped who I am, how I think, and how I view others, the world, and the Kingdom of God.  I cannot avoid using my lenses to see but I do recognize that not everyone has my lenses.  I hope that this will give you insights into how I see the transformational work that I believe that as followers of Jesus we are all called to.  

On thursday afternoon September 12 I was flying from Cap Haitien, Haiti back to the US after a week packed full of reviews and planning meetings.  My trip was a success and I was blessed to be with our team there.  But I was exhausted.  Not exhausted from working hard, something that I’m accustomed to, rather exhausted emotionally from the clear reality of life in Haiti.  I was exhausted and I was only there for five days.  

If you’re not aware, Haiti has been plagued this year by political turmoil.  From a massive government report detailing how  billions of Dollars, were skimmed off of the Haiti / Venezuela discounted fuel program “PetroCaribe”, to a fuel hike to reduce the level of government subsidy on the price of fuel, and to fuel shortages throughout the country due to a shortage of US Dollars to pay for fuel imports since the PetroCaribe scheme collapsed.  Those three primary issues coupled with a democratic political system that resembles more of a playground of bullies rather than the leaders of the nation, where the Survivor TV series tagline of “Outwit, Outlast, & Outplay” takes on a whole new meaning.  These realities can lead to many problems, one of the most common is massive protests and a crippling of the nation’s already fragile transportation infrastructure.  These protests are often times at the beckoning of whatever politician’s agenda is looking to stir something up this week and whether or not he has 1,000 Gourde bills to hand out (Haitien currency where roughly 100 Gourdes = $1).   Since 1,000 Gourdes is about US $10 or twice what a well paid Haitien garment factory work would normally make in a day it is easy to understand why unemployed men, young and old, will quickly take to the streets to block roads for the day for $10 each.  A rather cheap way to inflict possibly fatal political wounds on your political rivals.  And also a rather easy way to provide some food for your family for the day.  

However, when the protests get out of control and the crowds become mobs, when the road blockages become riots and the mob mentality takes over, all safety and security guarantees that should be afforded to private citizens of any democratic country are off of the table.  Such has been the case numerous times this year in Haiti resulting in the US state department declaring Haiti a Level 4 travel risk, the same level of travel risk shared by nations like North Korea, Afghanistan, and Iraq, for a few months this past summer.  But we’re talking about Haiti, our neighbor, just 900 miles from Miami, a 90 minute flight.  The result was economic devastation with hotels and restaurants throughout the impoverished island struggling to survive.  Travel booking sites like Expedia removed, at least for a while, all hotel and flight options to Haiti from their sites.   And not only has the tourism industry been affected but nearly all industry in Haiti.  When it is unsafe to go to work or when it’s unsafe to get home from work or when it’s unsafe to transport your goods to the port for export or when you cannot distribute your goods throughout the country then the entire nation is affected.  And then there are the  ministries or aid organizations operating in Haiti.  For better or for worse you cannot deny the incredible economic boost that foreign ministries and aid organizations provide to the Haitian economy.  Thousands of travelers come every year to Haiti to serve and when they don’t travel the loss of Dollars that are spent to house, host, transport and entertain missions and aid workers is devastating.  Tens of millions of Dollars are invested annually by these organizations as well, invested in everything from from water wells to new houses and schools.  All of which is put at risk when the country is practically shut down.  

The results of a year of political turmoil were seen everywhere on my recent trip.  In a country where brokenness is hardly able to be hidden.  Where the reality of living in a fallen world is ever apparent, not hidden by the excesses of materialism enjoyed by the West, the brokenness is palpable in a different way.  In North-East Haiti, where we focus our efforts, added to the political turmoil has been a prolonged drought which has made growing even the hardiest of crops, such as okra, nearly impossible, much less a crop of Haitian staples like rice, corn, and beans.  As I encountered friends from the rural villages we serve in, men and women alike, the result was obvious.  Malnutrition.  Plainly put everywhere you look the farming families we work with are skinny, bone skinny.  They never were exactly healthy but now these families were for sure suffering.  Another, more subtle result, is stress.  It was noticeable on the faces of our local leadership.  The constant concern over how will I get to this place or that, or if I get there will I get home or worse will I get home safely has taken its toll on our team.  While I was there last week I witnessed hundreds if not thousands of factory workers from the Caracol Industrial Park walking back to their homes in Cap Haitien, some 10 miles away, because their buses could not pass through the numerous road blocks along the way.   This level of stress is exhausting.  While generally a protest or road blockage rarely turns violent the possibility is that it always could.  And yet, day after day, our leaders make our operations happen.  They make it to work.  They make sure that our programs continue.  They make sure that our school can function.  They make sure that the teachers have the materials they need.  They make sure that the kitchen has food for breakfast and lunch everyday.  And they make sure that, even if just for six or seven hours a day,  the children of the Academie Lazare are able to be children, able to enjoy the most basic of things like a plate of food, a classroom to learn in, a playground to play on, and a safespace behind a wall that separates them from the painful reality of their village, their community, and their nation.  

So why bother?  It’s too broken to even fix.  I think that this same conversation could be had often or maybe has been had, between God and Jesus, or perhaps Gabriel and Michael, away from the earshot of God, have discussed this very topic, but in regards to the US, or perhaps even with regards to those “Christians” in the US, or maybe it’s with regards to humanity as a whole.  I don’t really think they are limited or defined by geo-political lines that man has drawn across the globe that seem to somehow indicate that this nation has or has not been deemed worthy.  In the US our strong economy, our good jobs, our nice houses, our facades tend to fool us to believe that we’re not broken when in reality the brokenness of Haiti is ever present in the US as well, we’ve just become skilled experts at covering up the stinch.  No it’s not evidenced by piles of burning trash on the side of the road covered in 300 pound hogs rooting for a meal, or poor roads making travel a nightmare or even by starving families, it’s evidenced by our own divisive politics that is hell bent on dividing our nation by political color or even skin color and by religion.  It’s evidenced by schools and churches, rather than being safe havens they are becoming targets for individuals who are obviously not well, who are broken and are hell bent on forcing their brokenness on others.  It’s evidenced by our economy, not the dire lack of economic activity but rather an obsession with spending and an overwhelming number of families drowning in debt.  It’s evidenced by corporate expansion that defies all logic, generating shareholder wealth at the expense of the most vulnerable in the foerign countries where they manufacture their wares.  So why bother?  It would appear that it’s too broken to even fix.  

We  learn from Jesus’ teachings that he came for all of mankind but his approach was to focus on the 1.  And that as a good pastor he’ll leave 99 behind to go after the 1.  The 1 woman by the well, the one blind man, the one tax collector, the 1 Jarrod, the 1 you, the 1 Haitian.  He’s always been about the individual, that 1!  He ministered 1 by 1, 1 at a time.  He healed 1 by 1, loved 1 by 1, and transformed 1 by 1.  He knew that the brokenness of man could not be cured in mass, rather that individual transformation requires individual attention and when massive numbers of individuals have been transformed then the masses are able to invest in massive numbers of 1.  Jesus knew that his saving ministry individual approach must be shared because serving the individual 1 by 1 was slow and unless there were others doing the same thing many, if not most, would be lost.  His investment in the disciples, 1 by 1, loving them, 1 by 1, correcting them 1 by 1, and encouraging them 1 by 1, put into motion a series of relationships and discipling opportunities that continues to this day, you and I are a direct result of that intentional effort, 1 by 1.  

Back to Haiti.  Would I like to see the city streets of Cap Haitien clean?  Sure.  Would I like to see the beauty of the Haitian countryside restored to what it once was?  Sure.  Would I like to see her coastline sparkling turquoise blue again? Sure.  I’d also like to see an end to brokenness in the US, failed marriages, addiction, abuse, debt, hate, and bigotry.  Sure I would.  But if I only focus on the masses and the enormity of the brokenness then I’ll never notice the impact that I’m having as a disciple of Jesus, one of his ambassadors, one of his representatives on this earth who is investing in the life of one other person.  I do not believe that the social political problems of Haiti, or any country for that matter, will be solved by schemes and strategies to solve social-political problems.  I do however believe, wholeheartedly, that when followers of Jesus invest their time, talent, and treasure in just 1 then there is a ripple effect, that grows exponentially.  Where 1 quickly becomes 10 and 10 quickly becomes 100 and 100 quickly becomes 1,000 and so on and so on.  I gave up on politicians solving the brokenness of our nation or any other nation a long time ago.  But I’ve not given up on believers, like you and I, doing what we can to guarantee that Jesus’s proclamation in John 10:10 not be a lie to billions of people living in brokenness in this world, some rich and some poor, but all broken.  

“I have come that they may have life, and have life in abundance.”  John 10:10

[ms31x129]

Little Boy Blue

Summary:            

“Son, you look like you’re going through some hard times. And every once in a while you gotta accept a little help.”

XFXFXFXFXFXFXFXFXFXFXFXF

It was almost time. He could feel it.

He walks to the end of the room and pulls back the ugly brown drape.

Yes, it would be soon.

He knows it, can almost physically sense it, the same way he can feel the cold that is creeping through the edges of the window pane. Frost clings thick to the glass like tiny snow drifts in the corners. Absently he uses his fingernail to carve a heart into the icy landscape.

He remembers once doing the same thing to the soft skin of her back. She’d giggled as he’d traced ‘I Love You’ with a feather-like touch.

His eyes darken when he remembers finding the trace of red the laser had missed.

And just like that he recalls the city he’s lost the most in. His nails dig in, scratching out the ice-etched heart.

He should have known better than to seek refuge in that wretched city of all places.

He left in May and now in December, when most people are celebrating the holidays with family and friends, he’s just getting through each day.

He’s traveled across the country hundreds of times; usually she was by his side. She wasn’t always happy about it, but she was there.

But he’s tired of moving, of running. Tired of being without contact.

When he left, he’d thought maybe he could teach. Access to whatever false ID and credentials he would need was easily remedied. He’d moved every 3 days from May to July. By then his funds had dwindled and needed to be replenished somehow.

* * * * *

A small town with a community college in Arizona needed a Mythology instructor; Professor Kent Searcher accepted. He gathered the text books he needed, read them cover to cover and had his class syllabus prepared in three days. He found it ironic that he was looking forward to using some of the knowledge he’d worked a lifetime to achieve in this capacity.

Surprisingly, he was content teaching the students–some of them so willing to believe–who didn’t need solid scientific evidence.

The students sensed it the moment their professor’s mood changed, his animated speech breaking off in mid-sentence.

He cleared his throat and bowed his head, asking them to please study quietly until the end of class. He removed his glasses and sat, thumbs digging into the corners of his eyes.

The motion hadn’t been casual enough that they’d missed his reddened eyes and several wayward tears.

He got word the last week in September. They were coming.

He’d left with 8 bags in May. By October, when Mark Hunter took a job coaching High School Basketball, there were only 4. Two of those remained in the trunk of the car.

Six weeks later he accepted a dinner invitation from the 8th grade English teacher. He was lonely and longed for some one on one adult conversation.

She was attractive, though her beauty paled in comparison to the one he still loved. The one he still dreamed about every night he closed his eyes.

He arrived at 7. She smiled and ushered him into the living room. He made himself comfortable on the couch while she excused herself for a moment. He was shocked when she returned and placed a baby into his arms, “Could you hold him while I check the oven?” He nodded dumbly.

How could he forget she’d told him about her 6 month old son?

She returned to find him openly weeping, even as her son slept on, oblivious. He stood, handed her the baby and left.

* * * * *

Finally a bright spot on the horizon. He was needed.

At home. He was going home.

Danger.

A mad dash.

He was chased between boxcars and engines.

A missed chance.

A petite figure stood on the platform, watching the train with him depart.

He ran to his car, eyes burning, tears clouding his vision. He was somewhere in Ohio when exhaustion overcame him and he drove the car into a ditch.

* * * * *

He was found unconscious and taken to the local clinic.

The mechanic who towed the car offered him a job in exchange for the repairs necessary to get his vehicle back on the road. Mr. Guthrie didn’t even mind that he didn’t have any automotive experience short of putting the key in the ignition. He just said, “Son, you look like you’re going through some hard times. And every once in a while you gotta accept a little help.”

He became a wiz at tire rotation, fixing flats and oil changes. He heard the explosion as he was walking to the garage one day. Guthrie’s Repair Shop was a ball of flames; black smoke clouds floated up from the building. He ran back to the bed and breakfast, threw as much as he could into one bag and left town in the truck Mr. Guthrie had loaned him.

He’d abandoned the truck 2 hours later.

He didn’t know if the man who’d taken a complete stranger under his wing was alive or dead as he boarded a bus headed east.

Just one more thing to weigh heavily on his mind.

As the bus ate the highway miles, he fell into a fitful sleep, realizing; each time They found him was sooner than the last.

* * * * *

Donovan Seeker left the grocery store where he worked as a stock boy… man, went to his dingy efficiency apartment and changed into his jogging gear.

Even the snow of mid-December didn’t slow his pace. His normal route took him within 5 blocks of the Liberty Bell, but this night he travelled a new path.

He ran until he spotted the shop. He turned 180 degrees, saw the bar across the street and made his way in.

Dirty, dark and smoky.

A place for adulterers, drug dealers, prostitutes… and whores. Low-life, scum.

The kind of place she shouldn’t have been in… but had.

Anger lashed through him. He turned, slammed the door open.

Run, run, run. Legs pumping. Heart pounding.

What should have been ancient history wasn’t. It just wasn’t.

He made it back to the apartment, unlocked and opened the door with a forceful bang against the wall. He stripped quickly, climbed into the shower.

Hot, hot water. Scrub, scrub. Harder. Faster. He tried to get rid of the images, the anger.

Finally he shut the water off. Dried off, calmer than before. A car door slammed, he made his way to the window.

They were coming.

He grabbed his jacket, his wallet. Reached into the pocket quickly and felt the softness of his one memento. He heard them coming down the hall. Out of time, he opened the window and crawled out onto the fire escape. The old window slammed, catching his jacket sleeve.

They kicked the door in, searched the room. A leather jacket was hanging from the window. They looked down and saw him disappearing around the corner.

They smiled, knowing they would succeed soon.

* * * * *

He’s left his frosty window.

Reclining on the bed he lets his insecurities and anger reign.

Why is he the one running? Why aren’t they together?

Instead he’s the one alone. He’s the one unemployed and surprised at being depressed over getting laid off from a janitor’s job.

At least she still has….

While he has nothing, nothing at all.

Maybe she’s moved on, has another man, another lover. Someone to help raise their son.

Their son. HIS son. A son he should be able to see dressed in a little Santa outfit tonight, Christmas Eve. And then after he’s asleep, the naughty elf could come out and play. He could urge mommy to get naked and on her hands and knees in front of the Christmas tree, while they play 'drive the sleigh’.

Maybe it’s Doggett. He’d sure managed to fill in nicely in the work place. Maybe he’s warming the sheets too.

He knows it isn’t him, and hasn’t been since before William. So few times really; when was William conceived? He hopes it was after they’d shared a beer and movie date together. A happy, comfortable moment in their lives. He hates thinking she was already pregnant and feeding liquor to the tiny person growing inside of her.

He remembers the day he left with such clarity.

* * * * *

William was unusually alert and fussy for a newborn. Could he sense he might never see his father again? Scully started crying and he’d taken the baby into the bedroom, stretching out on the bed with him. Still shirtless after his shower, he held his son against his skin. His large hands held his precious package with tenderness and awe.

He began to sing, softly, his voice full of emotion.

Scully came into the room just in time to hear him choke out, 'he learned to walk while I was away’. She stifled a sob and left them alone.

William quieted, listening intently to his father’s voice singing a heartfelt rendition of 'Cat’s in the Cradle’, he’d finally dropped off to sleep.

After placing William safe and sound in his cradle. Mulder finished dressing and went into the living room.  Scully sat on the couch, quiet, subdued. They avoided looking at each other. He picked up his bags and was almost out the door before Scully was in his arms. She wanted to make love, she didn’t care that she’d just given birth. Kissing her lips and brushing her tears away with his thumbs, he gently declined.

Two hours later, on the road to nowhere, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the only thing he had of William’s. He brought it to his nose and inhaled the sweet baby smell, felt the soft yarn tickling his skin. Swearing to himself to never, never lose it.

* * * * *

But he did.

In fucking Philadelphia.

He lost the only physical connection he had to his son. Such an insignificant thing really, just the warming cap he’d worn during his short hospital stay, but it’d meant everything to him to have something that had actually touched his son.

There hadn’t been time for pictures.

He goes to the window again, sees his reflection and the tears streaming down his face. He has nothing to remember his son by, while she has it all.

He wonders how long it takes for love to turn to hate. He wonders how much longer it will be for him….

And if he’ll run the next time They come for him.

The end…

                                 Notes:  

I wrote this years ago. Started it just after the S8 premiere and finished it just after Trust No 1 aired. It’s on Gossamer, but I’m going to update it a tad along with my other fic and migrate the updates here. So below you’ll find original notes.

1. I miss the X Files. 2. I miss Mulder’s passion and wonder. 3. This is dedicated to Jemirah, she makes my wild ramblings not so-well-rambling. *g* Thank you.

[farfromthstars]

annual writing self-evaluation

All answers should be about works published in 2018.

tagged by: @sarcathlon, thank you angela <3 <3

i. Optional if applicable: link to last year’s self evaluation:

N/A

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

fallingforyou [hendes]

was hoping i could get lost in your paradise [hendes]

at the end of the road, i see you with me [ziall]

i don’t wanna pretend (that you’re only my friend) [nick x niall]

things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear [ziall]

things you said when we were on top of the world [ziall]

things you said when you were drunk [hendes]

things you said when you were scared [nick x niall]

things you said that made me feel like shit [ziall]

things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear [nick x niall]

things you said after you kissed me & things you said with no space between us [nessie]

things you said that slipped out while you were busy with something else [ziall]

things you said after you kissed me [ziall]

things you said when you were crying [nick x niall]

things you said too quietly [nick x niall]

things you said at 1am [ziall]

the best is yet to come [nick x niall]

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

i don’t wanna pretend (that you’re only my friend), because it was my first nick/niall fic and also the first longer fic i worked on in a while, even though i ended up posting it later in the year. plus, i just really like some of the things i wrote for it.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

i wouldn’t say i’m not proud of at the end of the road because it’s the longest thing i’ve written in years and i’m happy with large parts of it, but i’m a little disappointed with myself for having to abandon the big plans i had for it. idk, i wanted to do so much more than what i ended up with? so yeah, the whole writing process could’ve gone better. 

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

from i don’t wanna pretend (that you’re only my friend):

“Now kiss!” Liv shouts eventually, and Nick and Niall both freeze.

“Yes,” Jane agrees with her daughter though, “take one of those typical couple shots! That’ll be funny in your costumes!”

Liv’s gone over to chanting “kiss, kiss, kiss!” at them, and she’s somehow got a full glass of wine again. Niall bursts out laughing looking at her and then says to Nick, “Let’s just do it.”

“What?” Nick asks incredulously, then lowers his voice even more. “I promised you no snogging.”

“It’s just a little kiss,” he says, “if anything it’ll make us even more believable.”

“What are you waiting for?” Jane asks, and she’s now got a glass again too. “I’m growing roots over here!”

She and Liv cackle and clink glasses and Niall tells them, “he’s just shy in front of you guys! We’re doing it, right, Nick?”

“If you’re sure it’s okay,” Nick whispers, and Niall sighs deeply, grabs Nick’s face between his hands and pulls him into position.

“Yes, I told you,” he says, and closes the distance between them.

He knows immediately why this was a terrible idea. Nick’s lips soften under his, kissing him back, and his arms go around Niall’s back, pulling him closer.

Niall follows blindly, lifting up on his tiptoes and sliding one hand from Nick’s jaw to the back of his head, knocking his hat askew.

This was a terrible idea because Niall’s not gonna be able to stop thinking about this, never in his life, he’s sure of it. It was a terrible idea because he’s gonna want to do it again. Kissing Nick is everything Niall would’ve imagined if he’d ever allowed himself to imagine.

They pull apart, and Nick blinks at him for a few seconds before taking a step back. Niall’s dropped the impressive paper moustache he’d been holding in front of his face for the first few pictures at some point, even though he can’t remember when it happened. He swallows, then turns to Liv and Jane with a grin. “Got any good ones?”

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

oh, i genuinely love every single one of them, my heart literally jumps every time i get an email notification about a comment on one of my fics :’) @sarcathlon and @queerlyalex are particularly good at picking out things they liked which i LOVE, ao3 user musiciansfriend (who are youuu) comments on like everything i write and is just wonderful, but honestly? every comment is my favourite

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

most of it? lol (no but there was this time when i was unemployed and travelling lots for 3 months and every time i sat down to write there was just. nothing.)

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

probably nick, actually. he’s made appearances in my fics before but never as a main character and it’s been so much fun figuring out how to write him

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

i hope i learn something new with everything i write but idk if i grew...maybe in my determination to write despite the writer’s block

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

finally move past the writer’s block that’s been hanging over my head for two years. improve my show-don’t-tell. write more unpredictably. 

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

well, @thinkimfromspace is the reason i finished my longest fic of the year, and @spaceziall is the best cheerleader i could ask for, @sarcathlon boosts my ego in the nicest way. every person who comments on fics or encourages me while i’m writing or when i’m gearing up to do so (includes headcanoning with @mustbeseeingblind @actualhumansunshine and @hiatusniall among others) has been a positive influence, and i wouldn’t be able to do it without you <3

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

my anxiety almost inevitably shows up in all my niall characterisations, and maybe the uncertainty about the future in at the end of the road?

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

i don’t think i’ve ever had any wisdom to share skhfjd

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

always, and very rarely planned. i have a hendes AU in the works that i really want to finish, and everything else is probably just gonna happen someway. my inspiration strikes very randomly lol

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

@spaceziall @hiatusniall and @theflicker, but also anyone else who writes and wants to do this

[jarmes]

Safari

A recently unemployed elevator inspector goes on a safari.

Two weeks ago, I got fired. Now, don’t go and feel sorry for me. It’s my own damn fault I lost my job. Besides, getting fired was the best thing that ever happened to me. I spent twenty goddamn years working the same crappy job. Now that I’m unemployed, I’m finally free to do some traveling.

I went home, to Louisiana, for the first time in ten years. My ma gave me this big hug when I walked through the door. She said she was happy to see me. Made me feel bad about being gone for so long.

We didn’t have much when I was growing up. We lived in this tiny shack in this tiny town on the bayou. As a kid, I wanted nothing more than to leave that place. So, when I was seventeen, I hitchhiked to New York and started looking for a job. See, I mistakenly thought that I could just move to the big city and suddenly become a millionaire. Life doesn’t work like that.

I lived in New York for twenty five years and only ever met one millionaire. He was this prick that owned a this big stock brokerage, Golden Clocktower Investing. The man had a penthouse office in this big skyscraper. Wanna know the funny thing? He only got this cushy corporate job in the first place because his dad was the CEO.

Shit like that pisses me off. My parents never gave me anything. Everything I’ve ever had I’ve had to work my ass off for. Hell, my mom actively worked against my success. She’s been begging me for years to move back home. Wanna know how long it took her to ask me to move home this time? Thirty minutes.

I left home not long after that. Decided to leave the country. You know, see the world. The job I had back in New York paid well, but it didn’t leave me with much time to go on vacations. I bought a ticket to some random city whose name I couldn’t pronounce and left the country in the middle of the night.

When I first left Louisiana, I spent five years dicking around trying to find a good job. Somehow, I got a job as an elevator inspector. Don’t ask me how, because I honestly have no idea. It’s not actually that bad, being an elevator inspector. Decent pay, decent job security, union benefits. Hell, I was actually pretty good at it, too. In twenty years, I only ever messed up one inspection. Of course, my boss didn’t care and kicked me to the curb for one mistake.

My flight landed in some city called Chitungwiza. As soon as I walked out of the airport, some asshole on an electric scooter almost ran me over. Guess it’s good to know that, wherever you are, there are people who don’t give a shit about anyone else. You know that prick I was telling you about earlier, the one with the penthouse office? Asshole had his own elevator that he forbade anyone else from using. Can you believe that?

You know, I actually used to own an electric scooter. Rode it to work every day for fifteen years. Piece of junk crapped out on me while I was driving to work one morning. Made me late for my inspection at Golden Clocktower.

Turns out, Chitungwiza is a city in Africa. I spent a few weeks wandering around the city, trying to figure out what to do to occupy my time. Eventually I ran into some American tourists who were there to go on some safari. They were friendly and invited me to go along with them.

See, that’s what normal people do. They saw someone lost in a foreign country and acted nice to them. I can’t imagine that prick with his own elevator doing something like that. Wanna know what he did, when I showed up to inspect the building’s elevators? He yelled it me because I wanted to look at his first. He said that making him use the same elevator as his coworkers was an insult.

The safari truck drove passed some run down shacks on the outskirts of Chitungwiza on its way to the game reserve. These shacks made my childhood home look like a mansion. How is it possible for us to live in a world where some people have so much and others have so little?

Elevator prick lived in this massive brownstone in Manhattan. The thing was a thousand times bigger than my crappy apartment. I know for a fact that, even if I saved every penny I ever earned working as an elevator inspector,  I could never afford a place half as nice as that brownstone.

Imagine my surprise when, a few weeks back, I was invited to that brownstone. I couldn’t believe it when I got the news. The wife of one of New York’s biggest stockbrokers, inviting some elevator inspector she’d never even met over for lunch? I honestly thought that someone was pulling a prank on me.

She was nice, the stockbroker's wife. She offered me this twenty year old bottle of scotch that I respectfully turned down. Then, she got down to business. She offered me a large sum of money to do a simple task for her. Enough to quit my job and travel the world. All I had to do was one little thing.

I saw a lot of great things, on the safari. Elephants, giraffes, even a few zebras. The type of things you could never see in New York or Louisiana. The tourists I was travelling with took a whole bunch of pictures of the animals. I’ve never understood why that’s a thing that people do. Instead of looking at the thing you’re supposed to be looking at, these people would rather spent their time trying to get the perfect shot so they can brag about it to their friends back home.

Guess that’s why they weren’t paying attention to their kid. This little girl, no older that four, ran out of the truck. She ran towards these hippos that were hiding in a nearby watering hole. I guess she saw her favourite animals and wanted to pet them.

The thing about hippos that always surprises people is how dangerous they are. Sure, they don’t have claws or sharp teeth. But they’re still massive wild animals. Maybe if they were covered in spikes, like a cactus, people would realize that they should stay away from them.

You know, whenever some maniac kills a bunch of of people, everyone always acts shocked about the culprits. It’s always the ones you least expect. I should know. Nobody, not even I, ever thought I would kill someone.

After elevator prick yelled at me, I could barely concentrate on my work. That asshole, a man who’d never had to worry about not being able to buy food, or not being able to keep the heat on in the winter, or having his scooter break down on the way to work, had the audacity to yell at me for inconveniencing him. I was so furious I could barely breathe. Then I remembered the deal his wife had offered me.

It was so much money. All I had to do was one little thing. I pulled out my pocket knife and started cutting the ropes of the elevator. Not all the way through, of course. I cut them thin enough that they would snap only after the elevator was a few stories in the air.

I saw a picture of elevator prick in a newspaper after I got laid off. He barely looked human, after being crushed by a falling elevator. The little girl looked the same way after the hippopotamus was done with her. The screams of her family still haunt me. I bet a lot of people screamed the same way when elevator prick died.

I hope he didn’t suffer, the man I killed. I made sure I was out of the building when the elevator fell. I didn’t want to watch it happen. I didn’t want to watch him die. You know, I didn’t just come to Chitungwiza to get away from the cops. I came here to try and get death off my mind. I guess that didn’t work out.

Don’t go and feel sorry for me. I don’t deserve any sympathy.