#on the bus stop or at my job or when i volunteered at the local comic expo last night and tore the event down with a bunch of queer nerds

[jojotier]

man they gotta make a feeling of drifting apart from old friends that doesn't feel like an open wound with edges pre-cauterized

[drdemonprince]

do you have tips for distracting yourself from thoughts you don't want to have?

As we all know intellectual repression does not work, so I try thinking of a problem that I actually do want to solve rather than worrying about a hypothetical problem that doesn't exist yet or one that cannot be solved.

Like so: "okay, let's stop worrying about this writing project that I am not able to work on right now because I'm not even near a fucking computer, and instead let's worry about making a shopping list and a meal plan for this whole week of groceries."

Or: "Okay, I'm not gonna be able to fix the guilt over my role my dad's death at the moment, so let's think about when I am going to hang out with XYZ person I've been meaning to see for a while, and what I could invite that person to go do."

I also try throwing my brain a challenging problem or intellectual exercise related to a topic that I am interested in, or reading about. Like so:

"Okay, I'm worrying a lot about the future of my job, but that isn't helpful right now, because I don't even know who my new boss is gonna be yet and I won't for another year. But here's something I do want to think deeply about: I am reading this very interesting book by Freddy deBoer right now about how the left fails to build large enough coalitions to achieve real political power, and he makes some fair points, but doesn't that concern of his seem to contradict his earlier point about how the neurodiversity movement is too large of a movement and too big of a tent, with not enough focus on those with really high support needs who hate their mental illness? I wonder what Freddy would say to that question?"

And then I'll spend a good long while pondering that question.

Another way that I cope with intrusive negative thoughts is to ask myself if a line of obsessive thinking or worry is going to bring me closer to the kind of person I want to be. And if it won't, what is something that I could be thinking about that might help me better embody that person.

So if I'm reenacting a fight with my mom over and over again in my head, I might notice this, and tell myself: hey. This thing we are thinking about is only making us a more angry and resentful person, which we don't need any more practice on. We are already good at being angry and resentful. Where do we actually need to grow? Oh! I remember, I wanted to start doing more volunteer work. I'll spend the duration of this bus ride looking up some local mutual aid groups and putting their events in my calendar. And so on.

I really think of using my brain as a form of exercise, if you'll excuse me for sounding a bit sigma male -- everything we think about, we get better at thinking about. Every thought process we engage in with our brains, we make more reflexive and natural-seeming for us. So if I want to be a more compassionate person, I can just sit and think about people in a compassionate light to slowly expand that skill. I'm bored of my own misanthropy, anxious worrying, fault-finding, and work-related stress at this point. Rather than telling myself to stop thinking about those things, I try offering my brain something else to exercise with.

Another thing I'll do is just turn on a podcast that will keep my mind engaged. True Anon, Trillbilly Worker's Party, Anime Sickos are all favorites. Sometimes that's enough to quiet down the noise, especially if paired with a vigorous activity like cleaning or a long walk.

[ke0mara]

BLOOD LIKE POISON (III)- LEGACIES

Summary: Faith Mikaelson has always felt different from her sister. She felt as if there was ominous inside of her that she was sure Hope didn't feel. After losing their parents the two siblings became a lot closer. Whether it was the fact that they didn't want to risk losing each other as well or because they realized that they only had each other left, they did everything they could to protect each other. But things get a lot more difficult when a creature named Malivore starts sending monsters to the Salvator boarding school which forces the students to fight the monsters in order to protect themselves. During this inevitable battle, Faith finds someone who she ends up making an unexpected connection with and she finds out that she may not be as alone as she originally thinks.

wc: 4.4k

"ALRIGHT GATHER TOGETHER," Dorian said during one of their classes. Everyone then joined hands. Faith was to Josie's left, while Lizzie was to her right. Hope was two seats down from her sister's left. "Chain spells are about the fluid movement of energy from one witch to witch. Where's Penelope Park?" Dorian asked stopping in between Lizzie and Josie.

"Um, lady cramps, Mr. Williams," Lizzie told him making Faith smirk in amusement.

"Sorry, I asked." He said before continuing his teaching. "A disharmonious group makes for an uneven flow." Some people tried to stifle their laughter at the unintended joke, but failed; including Faith, Lizzie, and Josie. Hope just rolled her eyes at their childish behavior. "Okay..." Then a letter flew in and Dorian grabbed it.

"Uh-oh, who's in trouble with the headmaster?" Josie asked.

"Probably the people who started a rumble with the local high school," Hope said giving Lizzie a look.

"Well, we did do something bad too, Hope," Faith whispered leaning closer to her sister to not be heard by Lizzie and Josie. Hope rolled her eyes muttering something under her breath.

"Lizzie Saltzman, Josie Saltzman. And babies make four." Dorian told them reading the letter. "Off you go." The girls give each other a confused look.

—

"THIS MAKES NO SENSE DAD. Why are we being punished?" Lizzie asked irritated as they followed Alaric through the library.

"Because you started a brawl at a charity football game that risked exposing what we really do here," Alaric explained.

"Well, you weren't mad last night," Lizzie argued.

"I was mad last night. My undying love for my daughters just happened to trump my rage. I volunteered everyone in the game, so stop complaining." Alaric said as they stopped walking. "You're lucky that it's just community service and not actual jail time."

"Can I at least offer my rebuttal in my defense, if it pleases the court?" Lizzie asked dramatically. Alaric crosses his arms but listens. "First of all, I was provoked. My response was totally proportional considering the levels of abuse I was forced to endure." Hope chuckled in amusement at what she was saying. "And secondly... if anyone should take the blame, it's Josie." She finished making Josie give her an incredulous look as did Faith.

"What?" Josie questioned, betrayal written on her face.

"I'm sorry. I totally cracked under the cross, but if you had just let Kaleb catch the ball—"

"You'd still be in trouble," Alaric said breaking up their bickering.

"But nice job throwing your sister under the bus," Hope said.

"Yeah, Lizzie not cool." Faith agreed.

"Thank you, Hope and Faith," Josie said thanking the girls for defending her. Though that thanks was mostly directed at Hope considering she never defends Josie. But Faith would always defend Josie no matter what and she knew this. Faith would always defend Lizzie too, but in this case, she was the one in the wrong. Lizzie gave a shocked look to Josie at her thanking Hope.

"Speaking of, the bus leaves in ten minutes, and I expect all four of you to be on it working together today, harmoniously and without drama," Alaric told them sternly. "End of debate."

"We weren't even at the game. Why are we being punished?" Hope asked. Faith already knew what they were in trouble for.

"You two know what you did," Alaric said giving the girls a look. "Alright, now, go, all of you. Come on. Faith you wait here I have something to give you." Alaric said pointing to Faith. Josie and Lizzie left but not before giving Faith a questioning gaze. She just shrugged in response not knowing what Alaric needed from her either.

"Seriously?" Hope questioned Alaric.

"What part of what I said needs translating?"

"I want to help you with research."

"Dorian has a master's degree in library science," Alaric said, while Faith just waited patiently. "I think the adults have it covered."

"That's not fair," Hope said walking closer to Alaric. "You only play by the grown-up rules when you don't need something from me."

"Hope, seriously, it's the least we can do after what we did with Landon," Faith said looking at her sister.

"I am spinning right now, Hope. And I can't drag you or anyone else any further into this until I figure out what's going on, okay?" Alaric said. "So right now, I need you to be a kid keeping a dragon-sized secret today until I get some answers." Hope gave him an incredulous look. "Understood?"

"Yeah. Fine." Hope said reluctantly. Alaric then turned to Faith and walked over to her. He placed something in her hands. Faith looked down and saw a small bag with something inside it. She opened it to see the calming herbs she used to take to help keep her anger and sadness in control.

"I don't... need these anymore," Faith said looking up at him.

"Faith, just in case, take them. Okay?" Alaric asked. Faith thought about it and nodded muttering an 'okay' before taking off to leave with her sister. She put the bag with the herbs in her pocket, making a mental note to store them in her room later for safekeeping.

"Make sure you take those," Hope told her sister continuing to look straight ahead while they were walking to the bus.

"I know, I will," Faith said reassuring her sister.

—

"SO WHAT DID YOU GUYS DO?" Lizzie asked as they were getting out of the bus. "My dad never gets mad at you guys. You're the prodigal daughters." Lizzie said bitterly making Faith slightly roll her eyes. "Must have been juicy." The girls got off the bus.

"Sorry, no time for girl talk. Public service awaits." Hope replied bluntly.

"Alright, listen up." Dorian starts. "It's a beautiful day. You have options: litter, weeds, graffiti. Your choice." He finished, handing Kaleb a trash grabber. He snatched it from Dorian reluctantly.

"It's bad enough we get punished while the humans get a pass, but there ain't no way in hell I'm picking up their garbage," Kaleb said trying to hand Lizzie the trash grabber she put her hands up.

"Uh, I don't do trash either," Lizzie said.

"I love trash, as of this moment," Hope said grabbing the trash grabber she then turned to her sister. "Faith, join me?" Faith nodded grabbing the same device Hope had from Dorian, and they both started to walk away.

"Perf. It suits you, Hope." Lizzie said making Faith and Hope turn around and glare at her. "Looks like we're scrubbing paint today," Lizzie told her sister.

"Dad told us to work together, okay, harmoniously," Josie argued.

"Yeah, and he also said without drama, and I am feeling a rage attack coming on, so I will be remaining drama-free over by that wall of graffiti," Lizzie said. "Are you coming or not?"

"I don't know, Lizzie, is there another bus you want to throw me under?" Josie asked rhetorically walking away and to the opposite side of Lizzie, while Hope and Faith watched their interaction.

"Fine, Daddy's girls," Lizzie said bitterly making Hope smirk a little. "Anyone else?" They then started to walk in the opposite direction towards the graffiti wall. "Get the lead out MG." MG walked off turning and giving Josie, Faith, and Hope an apologetic look before leaving again with everyone else but the three girls. Josie and Faith sighed.

—

AFTER A WHILE OF PICKING UP TRASH Hope spoke up,

"You have a future in waste management." She said with a small smile.

"Cleaning up messes is kind of my thing," Josie replied. Faith understood what she meant. Lizzie makes big messes when she's feeling very strong emotions and needs a release. Faith and Josie occasionally help her get through it and clean up the mess together.

"Well, your sister is kind of a dumpster fire," Hope said.

"Seriously, Hope?" Faith questioned. "At least make an attempt to be polite."

"Why do you always pick fights?" Josie asked her. "We've known each other a decade and any time you have the chance, you poke. Faith doesn't, so why do you?"

"You guys do your fair share of poking," Hope said annoyed.

"Yeah, in retaliation to your pokes," Josie explained. "And with you spending so much time with my dad and keeping secrets..."

"We're not keeping secrets." Hope and Faith said at the same time.

"Oh, yeah? What happened when you went to go find Landon Kirby? And Faith what did my dad give you when we left? It must've been important if he didn't want to give it to you in front of the rest of us." Hope and Faith started walking faster in a different direction hoping to evade the girl's questions.

"Nothing happened," Hope replied.

"Nothing important." Faith retorted at the same time as her sister.

"Something clearly did happen. Rafael never showed up at school, Faith, you haven't talked to us since you've been back, and my dad was rattled, so why won't you just tell me?"

"Because there's nothing to tell. Aah!" Faith looked at her sister to see she stabbed herself in the foot with the trash grabber she then grimaced and walked over to her.

"Oh, my god," Josie exclaimed seeing what happened.

"Aah! Ow," Hope said with a look of pain.

"Are you okay? I mean, what should I do?" Josie asked crouching down beside Hope's foot.

"Let's just help her pull it out," Faith told Josie.

"What?" Josie questioned in disbelief.

"I can heal myself. Pull it out." Hope ordered. Josie then started to pull it out with both hands grunting in struggle; Hope wincing in pain, but she still couldn't seem to pull it all the way.

"Move over," Faith ordered Josie. She moved out of the way and Faith stood in front of her sister pulling the object out easily with one hand.

"Ow!"

"You poked yourself," Josie told Hope with a large smile. Then all three girls burst into laughter.

"Shut up," Hope said still chuckling.

—

AFTER A WHILE WHEN THE GIRLS FILLED THEIR garbage bags they started stacking them on top of each other. All of a sudden Josie clutched her stomach and doubled over in pain groaning.

"You ok, Jo?" Faith asked worriedly.

"Yeah, everything ok?" Hope asked sounding concerned as well.

"Yeah, I just think that that's making me a little nauseous," Josie answered looking behind Faith and Hope making them turn their heads to see M.G. making out with Dana.

"Huh," Hope muttered. "Didn't see that coming."

"Gross." Faith mumbled scrunching up her nose.

"It's simple math. M.G. has the hormones of a teenager and the impulse control of a preschooler." Josie explained making Hope chuckle. "He also always goes for the wrong kinds of girls."

"Given my last crush, I can't judge," Hope said as they began walking.

"Well, my last crush was actually Satan incarnate," Josie said and Faith vigorously nodded making Hope chuckle. "That is, I guess unless you count..." Josie trailed off.

"Who?" Hope inquired. Faith knew she meant Rafael. Josie looked to Faith who just shrugged as if to say 'you decide if you want to tell her'.

"Never mind. It really doesn't matter anymore." Josie dismissed. "Lizzie has dibs."

"Dibs?" Hope questioned. "On Rafael? She always calls dibs. When's it gonna be your turn?"

"It just is what it is," Josie muttered. Faith stayed quiet agreeing with what Hope was saying. Lizzie did always call dibs on boys and that wasn't really fair on Josie considering she never got a chance to see if she liked anyone.

"Right, well, that doesn't really make it right." Hope stated causing Josie to stop walking and give her a look. Hope and Faith stopped walking too. "Your dad knows we used black magic. That's why we're in trouble." Hope half-lied purposefully leaving out the part about Landon and the death spell. "Don't worry we didn't tell him that you helped us with the spell." Hope quickly added.

"Thank you," Josie said looking at both Hope and Faith.

"No need for thanks, Josie." Faith said with a small smile.

"And Landon and Rafael took off together," Hope said. " Landon told me he didn't know why he stole the knife. But then he lied about having it, so I don't know what to believe. Then he wrote me and Faith these letters and mine was... I don't know, sweet."

"Lizzie's... sensitive." Josie started wanting to open up to Hope as she did with her. "Our mom is going on these really long recruitment missions recently. That's why she's extra testy. She just really misses her."

"We know the feeling," Hope spoke softly with a small smile glancing at Faith.

"Yeah." Faith spoke just as softly giving her sister a sad smile. Hope started walking again and Faith and Josie followed.

"I remember how your mom used to come by the school. We all used to say how beautiful she was." Josie said.

"She was," Faith said.

"Yeah." Hope agreed.

"We really should have sent you flowers or something, Hope," Josie said guiltily.

"Huh?" Faith questioned in confusion. "But I thought that you gave her a gift too," Faith said remembering how kind and comforting Lizzie and Josie were to her, and the flowers they gave her which were her favorite; Cherry Blossoms, and a gift basket. Then she remembered her sister getting flowers from them too. Josie looked at her with the same guilty expression as before shifting her gaze to the ground.

"They did," Hope told her sister referring to Josie and Lizzie. "Your dad signed your names. It was obvious." Faith understood that they gave her something but not Hope and she couldn't help but wonder if that was Lizzie's idea.

"Okay. We definitely deserve a little bit of poking." Josie said making Hope laugh. "I wonder where the boys are right now."

"There's this spell that our Aunt Freya taught us," Hope said looking at Faith. "It's kind of like a full-immersion video chat."

"Oh. That spell." Faith said in realization.

"Okay, but don't we need something of Landon's to..." Josie trailed off as Hope pulled out Landon's letter. "Is that the letter?" Josie asked.

"You can't tell your dad," Hope said.

"Yeah..." Faith told her. "They don't teach this in school."

Josie nodded and smiled. "This is the kind of secret that I can get behind." Hope smiled while Faith smirked. The three started performing the spell joining hands. Josie siphoned from Hope and Faith. Hope and Faith were able to see Landon and Rafael in the woods and Landon spotted them with a look of confusion on his face.

"Hope? Faith?" He questioned. They gave him a small smile before the scene in front of them disappeared and they were back with Josie who bent over and held her stomach in pain again. Faith looked at her worried and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Jo," Faith began. "What's wrong?" 

"This is twin pain. Somethings wrong. I think Lizzie's in trouble." Josie grunted out. Faith looked at Hope with a worried expression.

"Let's go tell Dorian." Faith suggested earning nods from the girls. They went to find Dorian who was sitting at a table. "We need to leave."

"I'm sorry, I can't let you leave," Dorian said.

"No, I need to go home to see my sister," Josie said firmly.

"Your dad's with your sister. And I'm under strict orders to keep you here." Dorian told them.

"What? Why?" Josie asked.

"Yeah, what are you keeping us here for?" Faith added.

"And why are you researching that?" Hope questioned looking at Dorian's book that was open to a page about gargoyles. Dorian quickly closed his book with a sigh and told us what happened with Lizzie.

—

THEY LEFT AND WENT BACK to the Salvatore Boarding school when they entered Josie called, "Lizzie?"

"I'll check the library," Hope said.

"Yeah, I'll go too," Faith offered. Hope nodded at her and they left to check the library. They were in complete silence until a voice spoke from behind scaring them.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"Ah!"

"Oh, my god." The two girls yelped in fear.

"You scared us." Faith said breathing out a breath of relief when she saw Alaric there.

"Dorian was supposed to keep you away," Alaric said.

"He tried. He lost," Faith told him. "But here. Killing gargoyles 101. He thought you could translate it." She said giving the book to Alaric.

"Gaulish. Son of a..." Alaric trailed off. Hope and Faith gave him questioning looks before he looked back down to the book.

"So are we on our own, or did the Gauls provide clear instructions?" Hope asked impatiently.

"In a nutshell, it says hit hard, repeat as needed," Alaric replied before they heard the Gargoyle let out a roar.

"Is that...?" Faith inquired referring to the Gargoyle.

"Yeah," Alaric said. "Listen, it poisoned Lizzie. I'm guessing to get my attention. Then it attacked me and took the knife."

"The knife? The dragon knife?" Hope asked incredulously.

"And you're still breathing?" Faith added.

"Oh, I have a theory about that," Alaric mumbled.

"Well, save it," Hope started. "Because we had to take down that containment spell to get inside the school, meaning our monster can get out."

"A containment spell?" Alaric asked. Faith nodded. "Lizzie wanted to make sure whatever attacked her didn't escape into the world. Good girl." Alaric walked over to a table and put the book down. "Alright, well, guess we better find it," He said picking up an axe. "Before it makes the evening news. So how'd you guys take the containment spell down?" 

Before Hope or Faith had the chance to speak a voice did, "They didn't," Josie spoke up walking towards them. "I did. And I have questions." She grabbed the axe from Alaric.

—

ALARIC, HOPE, FAITH, AND JOSIE walked into a room in search of Emma

"Emma?" Alaric called. "Emma." Emma opened the door in front of them and put a finger to her lips in a 'be quiet' motion. They all heard heavy footsteps and growling so they turned their heads to see the Gargoyle at the top of the steps. It opened its wings and let out a growl before flying down the steps and lunging at Hope making her fall down. It was going to stab her with the knife. Faith quickly leaps forward about to help her sister but Alaric is closer and quicker and jumps in front of Hope.

"Dad!" Josie shouted.

"No!" The Gargoyle stopped its movements; the knife being inches away from Alaric's chest.

Faith held her hand out to Hope who quickly took it pulling herself up while they all stared in shock at what was happening before their eyes. Josie moves as quietly as possible behind the Gargoyle before striking it with the sword making it let out a shriek. It angrily turns toward Josie about to attack her but Alaric hits it with his axe.

"Fluctus inpulsa." Hope chants causing the Gargoyle to drop the knife. "Faith, Josie, help me." She orders. Faith and Josie quickly walk over to her and they join hands; Josie in between Faith and Hope.

"How?" Josie asked.

"Just repeat after me," Hope said.

"Got it," Faith replied.

"Fluctus impulsa." Hope started. Faith and Josie quickly repeated after. "Fluctus inpulss. Flucus inpulsa. Flucus inpulsa. Flucus inpulsa. Flucus inpulsa. Flucus inpulsa." They finished which made the Gargoyle burst into small rocks. They let go of their hands.

"Nice job." Hope threw over her shoulder to all of them.

"How could you jump in front of her like that?" Josie demanded with tears in her eyes. "You could have died, Dad."

"Honey, I knew it wouldn't kill me, because my research said so," Alaric said. Josie stormed away.

—

"HOW'S LIZZIE?" FAITH ASKED WORRIEDLY.

"Recovering quickly, thanks to her sister."

"So, how did you know the Gargoyle wouldn't kill you?" Hope asked.

"Gargoyles are protectors," Alaric answered. "And folklore tells a tale of a Gargoyle who once protected a small settlement in France whose villagers revered a powerful relic. A knife."

"Our knife?" Faith questioned.

"As the story goes, the Gargoyle loved the humans he protected so much, he vowed never to harm humanity." He explained. "Instead, he chose to fight evil on their behalf."

"Us being the evil ones in this scenario," Hope asked referring to her and her sister. "Josie, Lizzie." She continued.

"In its mind, yes," Alaric said. "I realized when it didn't hurt me before... it saw me as the one who needed protection."

"I'm not sure that knowing that will make them feel any better." Faith spoke up.

"I should get back to the girls," Alaric muttered walking towards the door.

"Wait." Hope stopped him. "One more thing. You're always telling us that we need to work together. To put our own feelings aside for the school, and for the community. I know I haven't always listened to you with that kind of stuff, but I'm starting to think that it's actually pretty good advice, so... maybe you should take it. Because if you want me and the twins to get along, for them to be happy, for the school to be safe... These secrets are gonna tear us all apart."

"She's right." Faith agreed. "Everyone deserves to know what's happening so they can protect themselves. Be prepared for whatever's coming through those doors next." Alaric looked to be deep in thought about what they were telling him.

—

"IF YOU'D ASKED ME A WEEK AGO..." Alaric started at the assembly they were having. "I would have told you I knew the difference between myth and fact. I would have said that supernaturals were limited to the species under this roof. I would have said that folklore and fairytales were just stories. But I can no longer say that any of that's true. 'Cause just a few days ago, we were confronted by the existence of a dragon." Murmurs spread throughout the room. "And then, today, our campus was terrorized by a Gargoyle come to life. Some of us... were forced to fight. We won. This time. They were drawn here by a knife that went missing earlier this week. And for whatever reason, these creatures consider us to be the enemy. In their minds were the villains because we wouldn't give them what they wanted. We don't even know why they want it. But we're gonna find out. I can't say for sure what their true intentions are. I can't say there won't be more attacks. That's why I'm telling you this. To warn you. To ask you to look out for each other. To do what's best for one another. Because we're more than just a school. We're family. And we will stand together, we will fight together, and we will win or lose this battle together, no matter what comes next."

—

FAITH KNOCKED ON THE DOOR TO JOSIE and Lizzie's room. Lizzie opened it and smiled when she Faith.

"I need to talk to you guys about something." Faith stated walking into the dorm.

"What is it," Josie asked sitting up on her bed and patting the space beside her inviting Faith to sit down. Lizzie sat on the other side of Josie,

"Well, it's about why I've kinda been avoiding you," Faith started when she saw their full attention on her she continued. "Well... It happened again. I—I lost control and it happened." Josie and Lizzie gave each other a look knowing what she was talking about.

"Oh, Faith," Lizzie muttered softly.

"Why do you think it happened? After all this time?" Josie asked.

Faith shrugged, "I don't know. But your dad gave me those herbs that might help it again."

"Why didn't you tell us?' Lizzie asked.

"Well, I guess I was just sort of embarrassed about it," Faith said sheepishly. "I mean I thought it was getting better and for it to just come out of nowhere like this. No one else has this problem, so I felt weak in a way. Like I was too weak to be able to handle my emotions properly that they just ended up spiraling out of control and consuming me." Faith sighed.

"Listen, Faith, you don't have to be embarrassed about it, and you're not weak. You're the strongest person I know. Even after everything you've been through you still keep that same bright smile on your face and I envy you for that. Being able to overcome the pain just to make others and yourself smile." Josie told her. "Believe it or not but you're pretty awesome to be able to do that."

"She's right, Faith, and you're like a sister to us— you are a sister to us. So you should never feel the need to hide these types of things from us. Because we will always be by your side there to listen." Lizzie added with a smile. Faith smiled softly as well very appreciative of Josie and Lizzie. Her heart warming in her chest. They truly were great, and she didn't know what she would do without them.

"Now how about we talk about—" Lizzie spoke suddenly.

Faith groaned and quickly stood up walking towards the door. "No!"

"Oh, Faith come back!" Lizzie pleaded. "You don't even know what I was gonna say!"

"Yes, I do. I know you well enough to know that you were gonna say 'let's talk about boys'. You know what Lizzie? I'm actually really tired." Faith said stopping by the door. She looked to Josie who had a slight smile on her face. She knew that if she left the conversation like this Lizzie would want to talk about boys with Josie which would be awkward since she has a crush on Rafael. "Aren't you tired, Josie?" Josie looked confused for a moment but eventually caught on.

"Yeah—yeah, I am," She mumbled quickly.

"But—" Lizzie started.

"Big spell today," Faith cut Lizzie off. "Takes a lot outta ya'."

"Yeah, it really does." Josie faked a yawn.

"Oh, come on I'm the one who almost died!" Lizzie exclaimed exasperatedly.

"Then you must be super fatigued too. Goodnight, Liz," Faith said ignoring Lizzie's protest. "Night, Jo. Don't keep Josie up Lizzie! Remember she did help save your life so she needs all the sleep she can get to replenish herself." She then walked out of the door and to her and Hope's dorm for some shut-eye.

Link for story on Wattpad:

[mariacallous]

there's a post going around about Standing Rock and like, the 2016 war flashbacks....

late 2016 Standing Rock just TOOK over the conversation on the left, I'm trying to run a Democratic campaign office but it basically became a real problem. We had a number of our volunteers up and disappear to go to Standing Rock, including one of our local candidates so that was great. We'd have people come in and tell us about how they'd just been and the energy and how important and the most important and we should go, and it'd be like "great can we sign you up for a shift?" "no" And like we had a last minute, last like 10-15 days? stop by Chelsea Clinton a pretty big get for the end of a campaign and I remember someone started yelling at her about it. And like Chelsea is a professional she handled herself but jeez. And like it was just "this is the most important thing!" and it was (kinda) the sitting Democratic President doing it Hillary couldn't really come up with a good answer on the fly that wasn't pissing on Obama or throwing the Native Americans under the bus for big oil.

I was running an office in a swing state, with a swing Senate race, a swing governor race, and a swing-ish Congressional district, idk that election came down to many things, but when its that few votes who knows what was the tip, was a few thousand left wingers fired up about the protests not voting or writing in Bernie what did it? was it the doors not knocked by people who ditched their shifts in October to go to North Dakota what ddid it? idk but it was a huge pain in my ass.

I was living and working in North Dakota when Standing Rock went down, with my job involving homeless outreach and support (and a large portion of the homeless population in North Dakota, and especially where I was at, is Native American) and also working with Native American coworkers and organizations, and there was a definite sense that things were being sort of co-opted or distracted because of all of the attention and attendees.

And North Dakota already does not exactly have the best track record with how the state government listens to and works with tribal governments and how it handles tribal matters (to make an understatement).

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

I miss writing, but I'm working on final projects rn. When that's over, I'll have to work on my cosplay for the local comic con and do volunteer work there. Then I'm applying for seasonal jobs and I want to work at the theater even though they don't pay that much, but tickets are costly more than ever and I can go in for FREE. I just finished moving AGAIN but I now live near a bus stop so I have more job options and get out of the house more

[whump-town]

As Fate Befell

lots of Emily here, still a shorty of 3k

I expect things should end after the next chapter.

Chapter Five

Sean leaves early the next morning. Up before the sun and, more purposefully, up before Aaron. He goes to the farmer’s market. He doesn’t bring any produce, just packed lunches for them both and comes with the offer to help Joe with his stand as much as he can. Sean wants to get away from the farm but it follows dutifully when Joe asks about the great commotion that occurred a few days ago. By then it had been nearly a whole week, six days, since Aaron’s heart attack. Joe could hardly sit still trying to wait for Sean to settle down and get comfortable with his coffee before he asked about Aaron. 

The whole town had heard the commotion coming from atop the normally silent Hotchner Hill. Joe watched the ambulance tear up that hill, a vigor he’d never seen out of the local rescue squid. Joe wasn’t the only one worried about what was happening. His wife was friends with one of the paramedics’ husbands, Mike. Joe didn’t intend to tell the kids, he didn’t think it’d be on their radar, but their school bus had pulled to the side of the road for the ambulance that morning. They’d seen where it was headed. 

Worried all day at school, Joe’s wife caved to their kid’s persistent begging, and she called Mike. Mike didn’t know much. His husband had just gotten off duty and had only mumbled a few things before he fell asleep mid-sentence. But he knew Mr. Hotchner was alive the last he was seen by the Madison County’s volunteer rescue squad. Aaron was the talk of the elementary school. He was the talk of the town. Everyone worried and fretted for the man they hardly knew but assumed enough about. At any rate, he was one of them and they took care of their own. 

“So you get the pie Sam ran over?” Joe asks but on the second day of Sean’s so far successful plan in avoiding Jessica and Aaron. Sam had been excited to do it. She knew better than to voice exactly why it was she was so quick to offer to take it over herself but Joe knew. He also knew he couldn’t stop her. If it wasn’t pie then she’d want to make them cookies or run them some dinner up. It would never end so he let her go. 

Sam saw Aaron. He was out in the field, sitting up in his truck and watching her as she talked to the cows following her up the yard. She didn’t see him at first and he cleared his throat and stopped dead in her tracks. “M-Mr. Hotchner?”

Aaron nodded.

“I brought you a pie.”

“Why’d you do that?”

Sam looked down at the pie, the plastic container noisily warping in her hold. “Ugh… My mamma said you had a heart attack?”

Aaron grunts. 

“It’s cherry.” 

Aaron waves her over and Sam walks hesitantly over to the truck. She hands him the pie and he inspects it a moment before nodding. He sits it down on the seat beside him and picks his keys up. He works the pocket knife off the chain and hands it to her. “Fair trade?”

Sam takes the knife excitedly. She turns it over in her palm, running her finger over the polished wood. “Really?”

Aaron nods. 

“I don’t think my mom will let me have it,” Sam admits.

“Our secret.” 

Sam told Joe the second she got inside, already having prepared a very compelling argument as to why she should get to keep the pocket knife. Sean did not know about the gift exchange but it sounded enough like Aaron to be believable. 

More surprisingly, Sean is confused by Joe’s curiosity, by the fact that people cared. The pie showed up, and he noticed the surplus of casserole and nice dishes in the fridge, but he didn’t think any of it. Sean had made a few friends in town. He drank with some locals on the weekend at the bar. He knew about their kids, their spouses, and the state of their jobs. Farmers curse the lack of rain while construction workers wrapped calloused hands around their beers and shook their heads at foremen they didn’t like. 

Everyone knew that Sean and the illusive Mr. Hotchner were related but they didn’t pry until they had some alcohol in them. People were starting to pick up the Agent half of the Hotchner, recognizing him from too much time spent on the internet. Searching for reasons why city boys are hiding with them. But Sean and Aaron earned their place. 

Jessica had a good reputation with the town, effortless in a way Sean and Aaron could not replicate. She went to the farmer’s market frequently, buying flowers. She always bought school fundraiser goods every time a kid was brave enough to come up the hill and ask. She would give the frozen foods she bought, even a few packs of the strawberries she bought from the FFA each spring, and give them to the families she knew needed them most. 

The three of them have a reputation as quiet but kind. 

Aaron could be standoff-ish. He was more illusive, less seen, but people liked him too. When he came into town for gas, he’d buy the kids riding their bikes out front slushies in the summer. They began to greet him halfway down the hill, racing their bikes up to catch a ride in the bed of his truck. Sometimes they’d follow him up, paying their treats back by coming up to pet Daisy or feed the goats. 

Grandparents warned their grandchildren to give the three of them space. That’s why they’d come, clear heads and freedom. They didn’t want children up there all the time shuffling about and worrying them to death. Their parents warned them of the same thing. 

“He doing all right then?” Joe asks.

Sean shrugs, “I guess we’ll see.”

––––––

Emily knew Garcia went to see Hotch. She could appreciate her friend’s honesty, and her humility when she showed up the next morning to tell Emily what she had done. Garcia could care less about her job, in fact, she’d just completely forgotten the threat Emily had issued just days before. Hotch was more pressing. Garcia needed Emily to know that Hotch was still out there. She saw him with her own eyes and she couldn’t believe it. But she also needed to touch base, Garcia needed Emily. 

Hotch is alive but he’s not well.

Emily considers taking her own advice about this whole thing. She should stick to what she knows, and mind her own business. It’s a good plan. If Hotch wanted to be bombarded with the team, he’d come back. Maybe he wouldn’t reach out like a normal person but he’d find a way. He’d reinvolve himself. Besides, Derek’s car had come back covered in dirt and Emily just had her car washed. How could she undo all the hard work of her neighbor’s kid? And… well she paid that kid twenty bucks. Does she really want to spend twenty more getting that kid to wash it again?

And then Reid goes and ruins it all. He’s talking to Derek, hushed without the strength to fully say what it is he’s been thinking about. “He just looked…” Reid stops and shakes his head. “Do you remember how he was after Foyet? The way his eyes…” he wants to say that before Hotch was angry. He was surviving off of stubbornness, a mission he had to finish. Duty kept him alive. But now… lifeless, that’s the word that Reid wants to use but the courage leaves him quickly. 

But he’s already spoken Foyet’s name and the damage is done. 

Emily didn’t make friends easily but Aaron was one of a few. She didn’t realize it until Foyet. Playing the back-and-forth game in the hospital made her realize exactly what was at stake. Hotch was sick, his body unable to fight the sepsis raging through him. His kidneys were shutting down and after he’d coded, he’d been intubated. It was touch and go now, a battle of wills. 

He was barely conscious, hardly able to stir when the doctors did their rounds. Sometimes they’d get no response, just pupil dilation when they pulled his eyes open and delayed reflexes. She stayed but didn’t expect anything out of him. She sat there every day, usually scribbling away at files, but that particular day was a Saturday. She had somehow pulled off getting all of her work done and instead sat reading the newspaper. She wasn’t interested in its contents but maybe Hotch was so she read it to him. 

He was a worldly man, very aware of global strife and politics. But all she got from the paper was the local obituaries and minor league baseball reports. She fell asleep after lunch, her head half on her arm and half on his thigh. He was so in and out she doubted he’d notice or mind his temporary use as a pillow. He hadn’t minded in the past when the red wine had gotten the better of her and she needed him to stand. He’d held her hand after he had a few too many beers and needed to be guided back to his room. So she kept her hand close, her index finger over-top the pulse-ox on his finger. 

She woke up holding his hand. No idea if it was him or her but she didn’t let go. 

His temperature was down two degrees. 

He made it. But she didn’t expect anything from him after the second time. She was there through the first but after watching EMTs covered in blood deliver CPR to his nearly lifeless body the second time, she knew it wouldn’t matter. Emily respected his wishes to disappear. She wanted to disappear too.

She went to the gym the day he got released from the hospital the first time. She ran until she physically wasn’t sure she’d be able to actually get herself to his building. Her legs were still shaking when she got to his apartment but she wasn’t breathless and looked as disheveled and gross as she’d hoped to. She told him the pipes in her building were messed up because some kid on her floor flushed a quarter ball. The excuse worked like she knew it would because he was standing there listening to her talk with dead eyes. He was hardly able to stand and was just waiting for her to shut up so he could let her in. 

When had she ever respected his wishes? Why start now?

––––––

Driving down the highway allows Emily to stew on old memories, to talk herself up. He’s someone else in her thoughts when she thinks diagnostically about him. His way of talking and how she interacts with him. And it’s not until she sees the town sign that she realizes she’s not going to see Hotch. 

She’s going to see Aaron. 

It scares her for a moment, to consider him unfamiliar. To feel her heart pound in fear at the sight of him. But he’s just him. It’s just Hotch. She’s filled with boldness, consumed by the thrill that it’s him. Her friend, Hotch just as she’d remembered. As if more than only a few busy days have separated them. She steps out of the car quickly, taking in the beard, the farm, and the flannel. Tensing her jaw she reaches up and pulls her sunglasses off, “Pen said you waved a fun at her.” She points the sunglasses wire ear at him, “do you know how insulting it is to me? For you to point a gun at her but not me?”

Creeping up the hill she’d watched him poke his head out to inspect the sound of an oncoming car. He came out, a big grey dog following after, but came no further than the porch. Once she stopped the car he took a seat on the steps leading up. 

Emily tucks her sunglasses into her shirt when he gives no more than a shrug at her. She scoffs at him, shaking her head as she shuts the car door and comes in through the fence. 

His head is pounding, chest cramping up. He squints up at her. She’s stepped right into the sun, right in front of him. Its light hits her black hair and cast her completely within her own shadow. She looks menacing. “You don’t think I’m threatening?” she asks. 

Hotch shrugs, “just a different kind.”

She grunts and tosses her keys down onto the steps. “So, what’re you doing?” Emily sits down beside him, close rather than on the other side of the step. 

It confuses him momentarily but he turns his attention away. Hotch looks up, out over the field, and sighs, “waiting.”

Emily frowns at him, “what’s that mean?” He doesn’t reply, just keeps looking out in the field. Emily sticks her hand out, “I realize we’re getting quite old so I’m just going to remind you that my name is Emily Prentiss. We used to work together a really long time ago at this place called the FBI. That stands for–” He bumps her, his shoulder into her’s hard enough to make her stop. She can’t hold it in anymore and laughs, smirking. “I was just checking,” she says, shoving him back. But she keeps her hand on his shoulder, swallowing thickly as her mood shifts. “We’re still friends. You can always tell me anything.” 

He looks over at her, hard. It makes her scared that she can see how cold his eyes are. The steady calm, how hard he’s thinking. But she can’t read a single one of those thoughts. She used to. It freaked Reid out, he hated when they held glancing conversations. Nothing more than eye contact. He could tell, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. He’d clamp his hands over his ears and wince, stop, stop! It was creepy but it was easy, and now she doesn’t have it. 

Hotch sighs when he looks away, pulling his hands together to pick at the dirt underneath his nail rather than at her. He hadn’t been expecting a guest. When he woke up this morning he took his blood pressure, like he does every morning. The numbers were low but not unusual for mornings for him, some breakfast and his meds, and he’d be fine. Except he couldn’t do breakfast, he got the pills down but on an empty stomach, he was nauseous. His blood pressure wouldn’t budge and by then he’d started getting dizzy on top of it. Hotch isn’t stupid, he did everything he’d been instructed to do to fix the problem on his own and none of that worked. So he called an ambulance. He’d just gotten off the phone with the operator when he heard Emily’s car pulling in. 

He was hoping for ease. He knew Mike’s husband now, Percy, and Hotch was honestly looking forward to small talk with the man. He’d been rather calm from what little Hotch could remember from the first ambulance drive. That was a nice comparison to Sean and Jessica’s panic. He loves them dearly but the amount of things they feel is too much for him. They overwhelm him. 

But Emily doesn’t. He remembers that. She’s calm. She shows up without warning and lets herself in. He’s always liked that about her, they just knew one another. Never had to ask. Never had to say. “I’m waiting on an ambulance,” Hotch says, after a long silence. “My heart is…” he touches his chest absently but it doesn’t call into place the words he needs. 

“Are you having a heart attack?” she sounds doubtful, his immediate smile keeps her from standing. From rushing into some form of action, touching him, or at least pacing anxiously. 

“No,” he says, chuckling, “no, not this time.”

Emily blinks, shaking her head. “This time?” She sighs, “you’ve been busy.”

Hotch smirks at her, humorlessly, “I’m dying.”

Well.

Emily nods and opens her mouth but no words come. She can’t think of a thing. Her brain just can’t process this news. The gravity of what he’s saying, what it means. After a moment, she nods her head again. But then her eyebrows shoot up,  “Oh, are you, are you like saying, like right now?”

He looks surprised. “You’re taking this well,” he smirks, can’t help it. After dealing with Sean and Jessica’s reactions, Emily is refreshing, it’s comforting. It’s perfectly Emily. But then her question sets in and his smile falls quickly, his eyes moving away. “I don’t know,” he says, “my heart is… is…” He touches his chest absently but it doesn’t call into place the words he needs. 

“A ticking time bomb?” Emily offers, she smiles but her eyes are filled to the brim with tears threatening to tip over. 

“Yes,” he agrees. “A ticking time bomb.” He chuckles, shaking his head. 

Emily nods, swallowing the lump in her throat but knocking a few tears loose. “How are you so calm?” she asks, wiping at her face. 

Hotch shakes his head, “I guess… I haven’t really thought about it?”

“You haven’t thought about it?”

He hasn’t. He’s been too busy. Sean’s avoiding him and Jessica is too when she’s not yelling at him. 

“Aaron…”

He touches his cheek, aware suddenly of the tear that fell from his eyes. Hotch hadn’t felt them gather. Emily’s arm comes around his back and he shudders, chest hitching as he begins to cry. It’s just sudden. 

Aaron doesn’t want to die. It’s just… inevitable. Jess needs it to be something it’s not, a choice. He could get the surgery, he could. And he would die. He won’t make it off the table, he knows that. Too many times his heart has been tested, too many times it’s been broken. The doctor had given him weeks. Two, if that, to get his affairs in order. The damage to his heart is severe and he thinks next week is hopeless at best. 

“Is there something we can do?” The sharp point of her chin on his shoulder brings him back. He hadn’t felt himself lean into her, hadn’t been aware of their shifting around, or the awkward twist of his back. Emily’s hand holds the back of his head to her but she releases slowly, letting her hand drop down to his shoulder as he sits back up. 

He can hardly see her. “No.”

“Nothing?”

Hotch shrugs, wiping at his own face as he looks up and sees the ambulance bouncing and bobbing its way up to them. “You’re here.” 

Emily nods, “I am.” She reaches for his hand, surprised that he lets her. It’s his left hand, too damaged that he doesn’t feel it at first. His fingertips have never regained feeling but his palm – he can feel the pressure of her hand. How her grip tightens as the rescue squad comes out and men begin to poor out. 

“How are you doing this afternoon Mr. Hotchner?”

“Good, and yourself?”

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

sometimes I think of my cousins and how they've travelled overseas and done all these exciting and adventurous things and I feel like I've been wasting my life staying home and not going anywhere

but I eventually realised that I've already done a lot of exciting and interesting things without spending money or travelling abroad, even if they're just little things, they're still experiences, and I have so many of them

like the time I was playing my ukulele on an empty bus, and then a group of teenagers got on, recognised the song I was playing, and got all excited and started singing along to it

last year I spent a month in a mental health unit, I met a lot of interesting and wonderful people, including a guy who gave me a completely edited version of Judge Dredd that cut out a lot of the comic relief moments that he felt ruined the movie, to this day that is still the only version of that movie I've ever watched (he did a very good job)

I taught myself to cheep like a chick after volunteering to house our baby chickens in my bedroom overnight to make sure they stayed safe and warm, they would cheep at me and I'd cheep back, eventually my family couldn't tell which of us were cheeping

before I started working in aged care, I volunteered in a dementia unit just talking to and doing activities with the residents, I played dominos with a man who survived Auschwitz, he couldn't remember a lot of his life, but he would always show me the numbers on his arm and tell me exactly how many years he spent fighting in the war, how many years he spent in Auschwitz, and how after he was released, as soon as he was fit to fight again he rejoined the army

I travelled for most of a day to attend the wedding of friends I had met in person only once at a convention, I had very little money at the time and stayed in the cheapest pub hotel imaginable, it was disgusting, I slept on the very edge of the bed with my jacket over the pillow, it was worth it to see them again

when travelling home from a convention me and my friends ended up on the same train home as some other convention goers and we turned the section we were sitting in into a mess of memes and pop-culture references, we sand songs, made a ton of noise and had a lot of fun, I'm still friends with some of them and we always try to meet up at cons now

my mum and aunt appeared on tv advocating for lifts at our local train station that has absolutely no accessibility for the disabled, the video they took of a legless man dragging himself backwards up the stairs as his friend carried his wheelchair went viral, I did letterbox drops and helped out at BBQ fundraisers for the cause, the government has finally relented and are beginning the plans to have them installed

I joined an accapella group once and discovered I was a baritone, I learned how to mount a unicycle but I can't ride one, I learned sign language when I was having non-verbal episodes, and I forgot it all when they stopped and I no longer needed it, I marched in a float at mardi gras, literally everyone I know contacts me when they need a bird identified, I took burlesque classes, I made posters for a local band promotion

and now I have a volunteer job in a thrift store that funds a suicide callback service that I have actually used, I have failed at every job in my life so far but in this one I singlehandedly manage the entire dvd and video tape section, every single disc on our shelves was checked and cleaned by me and me alone, and the ones that were on the shelves from before I started working there were removed and rechecked, I reshelved everything and sorted it all by genre, by my manager's orders nobody else is even allowed to touch the dvd section, and when anyone does the other staff will rat them out to me because they know how much pride I take in my work and how important it is to me, and that I do a fucking good job, the first time ever I've had a job I'm good at and proud of

you don't have to have money and go to exotic places to have an interesting and fulfilled life, I wouldn't trade any of this for an expensive trip abroad

what interesting life experiences have you had? what weird skills have you learned? what kind of strange people have you talked to? give me your stories

[dredsina]

So one of the harvard essay prompts is to describe a time when you had to overcome a challenge and here's my rough draft it sounds kooky but it's my first go, please criticize:

I was forced to drop out of school because of my religious convictions. I was early on in my general studies at BYU, hoping to major in animation. But something unexpected happened that ruined my plans: I lost my faith. I stopped believing because, no matter what anyone might say, you can't be a gay Mormon. And it turns out you can't leave The Church and still attend BYU.

There was only one sensible option for me: drop out before they kick me out. I spent time in the local psych ward, broken from the stress of choosing to leave The Church. I was sure I would lose my family and everyone and everything I had ever known.

As it turned out, my parents still loved me, but they didn't trust the new me. I moved back to a tense home, anxious to escape. I was quickly accepted to another school, and I planned to pay with the partial tuition refund I had first earned cleaning houses and answering phones. These jobs had funded BYU. I quickly found out they wouldn't fund Western. And I didn’t qualify for financial assistance from the government, the bank, or my parents.

I gave up at first. There was no way I could afford my degree. I started a low-income job and moved into a low-income apartment. Determined to get through the rocky start to my new life, I learned how to live cheap. Eventually, I figured out how to get my degree for cheap, too.

I set my sights on a local school, Bellevue College. BC had previously been a school that offered only transfer degrees, but by then it had a degree I was interested in. I knew what I had to do to make it happen. I cashiered full-time, earning promotions that didn't show up in my pay. I rode the bus between 5 cities--from home, to work, to school, to my eventual internship, to, at one point, the hospital where my wife was staying. I whittled my food budget down to a dollar a day. I ate beans and potatoes and leaves off of trees. I sold drawings, worked two jobs, and never bought a car. And I did what everyone else in my class had to do: learn interior design.

I worked to be at the top of the class. My classmates asked me to tutor. I volunteered in our student association, designing all the logos, posters, and media.

I know that people have sacrificed more, accomplished greater, and worked even harder, but I am proud when I get to say I earned my bachelor’s degree, paid from my own pocket, Magna Cum Laude.

My instructors noticed my hard work. Teachers in other programs tried to poach me—my calculus professor insisted I should be a math major; my drawing professor begged me to switch to fine arts. My skills and determination stood out, and my design professors secured me an architecture job before I graduated.

[grenade-maid]

I think, like, whether your definition of democracy hews strictly to the established current state of affairs of voting for president every four years, representatives every midterm, and local comptroller and assistant port authority seemingly at random intervals, or if you are talking about workplace democracy with unions and cooperatives, or working towards a communist, anarchist, or other radical vision of democracy involving more avenues for direct involvement, one of the primary threats to democracy is a lack of time. Even if we improve the poor resources for understanding the powers of any given office, or open more avenues for community discussion, or even unionize every workplace, it will have a very very limited impact if people continue to lack time to actually engage with any of it. Which means primarily fighting against the 40 hour work week, of course, but even moreso fighting for better public transportation, denser, more affordable communities where people can actually get anywhere without an hour drive, and childcare so parents can get involved.

My union meets on Friday evenings. My shift ends at 1pm. It's an hour drive, so we're talking about an hour drive there in the morning, and either an hour drive back home for the afternoon, then an hour drive to the meeting, then another hour home, or I have to just stick around close to work for five hours. Either way we're talking an extra 2-5 hours taken out of my day even on top of work and however long the meeting goes. If you know much about my life, you know I don't really have that kind of time to piss away. I have lots of important shit to do! And I don't even have the worst of it. Commutes are even longer for people who take public transportation, and if there's a meeting that ends after the buses stop running they just defacto cannot go. When I had a second job, and many staff members where I work do because there are so few full time positions, usually I'd have a second Friday evening shift to get to. In grad school I had classes then. Before grad school and pandemic happened, I'd be wanting to attend shabbat service. So between all of these things, I basically just could not attend meetings. Even though I talked to our union reps a lot at work, it just wasn't feasible to juggle everything in my life and go to meetings, let alone do anything outside of just the meetings like volunteering, fundraising, outreach, planning, and so on. Moreover, with lean staffing being the norm at most workplaces, many work environments leave little time at work to get to know coworkers well enough to build bonds of trust and cooperation, let alone well enough to take a big chunk of their limited free time to get together and talk about work even more.

But even when it comes to basic voting. Between all of these demands on time, I haven't had time to research who everyone on the ballot is, let alone what any of these positions mean (does anyone actually know what a comptroller is without looking it up?), let alone the history of what they've been doing to know if things need to change or be maintained, let alone keep up with them regularly so I know how my city and state run and can be informed the next time the ballot rolls around or get involved more directly. After all, even if someone does their research, cares a lot, and wants to make change in their community, can't schedule a meeting with city hall if they close at 5 and the last bus runs at 3:30.

With the vast majority of people's time and mental resources dominated like this, democracy dies, no matter how it's structured. These would continue to be the case even if the electoral college were abolished and we enacted preferential voting, and we can see proof of that in countries where such measures are already established.

[solivar]

The Left Hand Path: Three Years Ago

aka the One In Which Genji and Zenyatta meet.

The Standing Stones of Santa Ana Pueblo

Location: Just above the Red Line off I-25 N/Old New Mexico Route 68 N, Sandoval County north of the Albuquerque Military Exclusion Area.

Before the Crisis, Santa Ana Pueblo was a thriving Tamayame reservation, part of the Greater Albuquerque Metropolitan area, and a major tourist draw in the region owing to its world-class golf courses and club, a well-regarded spa resort, a casino and Michelin-starred restaurant, and a multitude of easily accessible cultural sites and events spread throughout the year. All of that changed on the afternoon of August 13, 2046 when Omnic forces advancing on Albuquerque breached the containment cordon along Route 40 and the US military, massed there to stop them, unleashed experimental high energy weaponry designed for that task.

Once the dust settled, the city of Albuquerque and much of the surrounding area, including the Sandia and Santa Ana Pueblos, was almost completely leveled. In the aftermath, the military cordoned off the ruins of the city inside the Albuquerque Military Exclusion Area, which remains under heavily patrolled Federal military control to this day. Evacuees from the surrounding area were strongly encouraged not to return, with offers to purchase their land at pre-Crisis market value to sweeten the deal. Many accepted, a handful did not, and those that chose to do so returned to a pueblo whose buildings were reduced to rubble and scattered with wreckage -- and something weird that was neither.

The Standing Stones of Santa Ana Pueblo occupy a relatively compact chunk of land on the grounds of what was once Santa Ana Golf Club, shielded from casual view by a stand of cottonwood trees that somehow survived the explosions that leveled the clubhouse and most of the other course structures and did significant damage to the surrounding area. There are nine of them, standing in a geometrically perfect circle, varying in size from from well over six feet to a little over five, perfectly hexagonal in shape, crafted of a dark stone that at least superficially resembles basalt. The inner surface of each stone is densely carved with petroglyphs incised deeply into the rock. The outer surface of each stone is carved with one petroglyph unique to that stone and which cannot be found on any of the others, inside or out. Local experts on Native American petroglyphs continue to research this topic but, as of this writing, none of the petroglyphs that appear on the Standing Stones resemble any glyphs that appear on historical sites in the region.

Nor were the Standing Stones a feature of the area before the Omnic Crisis, as confirmed by surviving photos and video of the course and local residents of the area, including the former owners of the golf club. At some point after the evacuation of Santa Ana Pueblo, the Standing Stones appeared in their current location, unnoticed by anyone despite the heavy military presence and regular patrols of the area, and despite the amount of effort such a project would entail. The stones, though tall and relatively slender, are still estimated to weigh several hundred pounds each -- not something that could be loaded, unloaded, and placed by a single person working by hand alone.

The hundred or so families who make Santa Ana Pueblo their home give the Standing Stones a wide berth, citing weirdly colored lights that appear close to the ground around them and occasionally in the sky above, strange disembodied sounds, and a deep thrumming hum that periodically rises from the area. These phenomena have appeared on official reports from area law enforcement and also on official notices issued from the Albuquerque Exclusion Area’s patrol base. Perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not, most of these phenomena have been observed around the anniversary of the Battle of Albuquerque on August 13th.

If you want to try to catch the weirdness in action, make certain you’re prepared to handle high desert summer weather and get your permissions in order accordingly. The former grounds of Santa Ana Golf Course are private property posted against trespass and the area is periodically patrolled by both the US military and tribal coalition police.

“Tonight’s the night, everybody. August the thirteenth. The anniversary of the Battle of Albuquerque. It’s taken months to get my uncle to trust me enough to go out on perimeter patrol but this is our pay off.” Cody Peshlakai lowered his voice, dramatically, because there was no real danger of being heard, to hype up the audience watching his live HollaGram stream. “Tonight I will investigate the Standing Stones and tonight you will be with me.”

He flashed a grin and a V-for-victory sign into his camera then clipped it to the stabilizer harness strapped around his shoulders and across his chest, one more piece of survival equipment among the molle pouches carrying the rest of his gear, no different from anyone else’s. It sat there, neatly hidden next to his cellphone and the primitive walkie talkie his uncle insisted the security crews carry, through the team muster and meeting at the pueblo ranger station, broadcasting all the while. Nobody objected when he called dibs on one of the spiffy little hybrid hover/wheels ATVs, a good chunk of the all-volunteer patrol crew being old enough to value the superior shock absorption of the service’s Jeeps and trucks. The ATV yielded a much better POV for the viewers as he jetted out across the scrubby desert hardpack on the eastern bank of the Rio Grande toward his goal: the grounds of the former Santa Ana Pueblo Golf Club.

Which was, unfortunately, on the western side of the Rio Grande.

On the way, he passed clusters of habitation: the small, self-contained farmsteads of single families, an artist’s commune, the little solar farm that served the area and its caretaker’s hacienda. He paused at each and exchanged a few words with the residents, radioed a handful of coyote sightings back to base, and continued on, the excitement churning higher and higher in his gut the closer he came to his goal, as his numbers climbed on his viewership monitor.

“So, yeah, that’s my job, stream -- I help keep my community, my friends and neighbors, safe. Sometimes that’s chasing off coyotes that are getting a little too comfortable raiding the compost bins but sometimes...sometimes it’s a lot weirder.” The remains of the old Highway 550 bridge loomed out of the twilight, crumbling concrete pilings jutting out of the shallowest, siltiest part of the river and he pulled to a halt, executing a slow pan to give the stream the best view possible. “On the other side of the river and a few miles west is what’s left of the Santa Ana Pueblo Golf Club. It used to be a world-class course, fancy-ass hotel and casino inclusive, made a lot of jobs and money for the community. All that, of course, came to an end during the Omnic Crisis.”

He revved the motivator, fired up the hoverpods to their highest yield, and skimmed across the surface of the river and up the opposite bank. A vista of devastation, stained in shades of sunset and shadow, spread out before them and the stream chat went absolutely wild. The residential neighborhoods south of 550 had been utterly flattened during the Battle of Albuquerque, hardly a brick left stacked or a wall left standing, blown all-but-flat by some incomprehensibly massive force. That, combined with the occasional blast crater and random scattering of unexploded ordnance, had discouraged resettlement so thoroughly nobody even wanted to risk putting up a solar farm. Wreckage still lay scattered as far as the eye could see and the eye could see quite a distance, even with twenty-plus years of desert scrub overgrowth blurring the harshest edges.

“Nobody really knows what happened here that day -- August thirteenth, the Battle of Albuquerque,” Cody narrated as he kicked the ATV back into motion, navigating carefully down the cracked and pitted remnants of 550 toward his goal. “Just about everybody was evacuated and the ones that stayed behind...well. Let’s just say that, when all was said and done, there wasn’t anyone left to tell the tale.”

The bombed-out, burned-out remnants of the old hotel-casino came into view, its parking lot still filled with the rusting hulks of abandoned vehicles. “The casino and golf course were used as a rallying and evacuation point for the nearby communities on the west bank of the Rio Grande in the days leading up to the battle. The US Army and local militia forces were massing along I-40 -- the Red Line -- and the Air Force and Air National Guard were flying refugees out by helo, the National Guard had commandeered every bus, van, and free personnel carrier they could get their hands on to get people out of harm’s way. This entire area was an absolute hive of activity, you can find video of it all over the internet.”

He paused long enough to link some of his favorites in the chat as he turned off the main road, easing the ATV along something that was once a paved maintenance access point, running roughly parallel with the river. He hit the first scraggly bits of “green,” grass genetically engineered to survive the heat and dry of a high desert summer, a few minutes later and he pulled up onto the flat, opened up his holomap, and pinged his location for the audience. “I’m here -- just south of the lower water trap which is, at this point, completely dry. Our objective is...here.” He touched the copse of cottonwood trees a mile and a half to the north. “The Standing Stones. No one knows how they got here -- they weren’t here before the battle and they weren’t here during the evacuation. But when the recovery teams swept through to see what, if anything, had survived...there they were.”

He gunned the motivator, turned the headlights up to maximum, and muted the call trying to come in from his uncle, likely demanding where the Hell he was. Oh, he was getting fired for this. So very, very fired. But very soon that wouldn’t matter, because after tonight his career was going elsewhere.

The stream picked up every jounce and bounce as he skimmed over ruts and bits of wreckage flung miles from their origins, swerved around scrub becoming less and less scrubby as he went and the wild descendants of decorative plants that had somehow survived despite it all. The cottonwood stand was still the tallest thing around and he slowed as it came into view. “My plan is to set up motion-activated cameras in a perimeter around the Standing Stones and several inside the circle of the Stones, as well, along with a super-sensitive microphone pickup and electromagnetic monitoring equipment. If something happens tonight, we’ll see and hear it.”

He stopped as the ATV’s headlights washed over the trees and struck glints from the Standing Stones themselves, dark stone reflecting darkly -- and more. Cody froze, still straddling his seat. “Oh, fuck -- there’s someone else in there --”

Cody killed the headlights and the motivator and rolled off the ATV into the relative cover of the underbrush in one smoothish and only mildly panicked motion. He even managed to avoid squeaking too much as he whispered, “Chat, did you see that? Did anyone else see that?!”

Yes!

Me, too!

I saw it -- it was TALL

Dozens of messages bubbled up in the chat as his audience scrolled back and scrutinized every frame for him. For his part, he dug his brand new Panopticon binoculars out of gear bag, clipped them into place on his tactical visor, and tried to get a better look of his own, zooming in on the Standing Stones so closely he could clearly see the petroglyphs incised into their surfaces, even with the last of the light bleeding out of the sky behind them. None of the grainy-green of old school low light optics with these babies, and he scanned the area and slow and careful, looking for some hint of what he saw, something, anything --

A flicker of motion caught his eye, something moving among the Stones, mostly obscured by their mass.

“Fuck.” This...was not a complication he had considered, much less prepared for. This whole area in general and the Standing Stones very much in specific were so far out of bounds that he never imagined encountering another person out here at all much less…

On the night of the anniversary of the battle of Albuquerque.

He had to physically resist the urge to facepalm. “Chat, I...think I know what this is.” He crawled back out of the brush and hunkered down next to the ATV, tried to get a better angle on the inside of the circle. “You know how every year there’s a remembrance ceremony at the big Crisis Memorial up in Santa Fe? Well...what if I told you that some people come down to the pueblo for their own private remembrances, too? It’s the anniversary, after all. Let me see if --”

A shriek of audio distortion drilled his ear with the enthusiasm of an icepick straight to the brain and it was all he could do not to howl as he clawed his audio pickup out. “Holy fuck, what was that?”

The chat, in the corner of the heads-up display on his visor, was losing its entire fucking mind -- whatever it was, they had heard it, too, and --

A second pulse of sound, deep and resonant, punched him in the chest hard enough to make both his heart and breathing stutter, and the chat went absolutely apeshit again as it fed through to them, as well.

“You know what, Chat,” Cody said, as soon as he got enough breath back to speak, “I think I’m going to take your advice and get the Hell --”

Golden light blossomed inside the circle of the Standing Stones -- for an instant, to his eyes, it looked as though the petroglyphs themselves were lighting up, searing their patterns into his retinas with a single unwary glance. He reeled back and looked away as he clawed both the tac visor and the binoculars off his face, blinking afterimages out of his vision, the light washing out of the stone circle, over him, over everything, and --

Calm flowed over him, over him and through him, a wave of perfect serenity that stole away all his fear between one breath and the next, left him wobbling on legs made of rubber, legs that folded up underneath him and left him sprawled on his back, eyes and camera both pointed at the swiftly darkening sky, hazed in golden light. He could hear the pinging of his stream’s chat freaking out a few physical inches and a couple thousand conceptual realities away, but couldn’t bring himself to care. That sweet golden light was all he knew and that majestic bone-deep music, and he allowed himself to drift away on it, blinking away like a pinched-out candle between one breath and the next.

It was some time later that the rescue team found him, sprawled out next to the ATV, boneless, blissed out and drooling. But not, as they feared, dead.

“I told you this little moron was up to something,” Julia Tso nudged him in the ribs with the tip of one hiking boot. “He’s been streaming crap on HollaGram for months, Joseph.”

“Yeah, I know.” Joseph Peshlakai sighed and signaled the medical evac team to come in from the road. “Keep an eye on him until they get here, yeah?”

Julia rolled her eyes but nodded and Joseph crossed the remaining distance to the Standing Stones, where a golden light still pulsed among them, within them, the petroglyphs alight. He stopped outside, cleared his throat, and said, “Thank you for not killing him, Wanderer. He’s an idiot but he’s my kid brother’s favorite child.”

Youth and folly are not offenses punishable by death, my old friend. The voice echoed in his mind, warm and amused, but not less awesome because of it. Thank you, as always, for watching over them in my absence.

“My honor, Wanderer. I’m honestly a little surprised to see you this soon. It’s only been, what, five years?” Five years to the day, Joseph thought but did not say.

Yes. I...think I will be staying for a time. Not here. But close. I feel...A frisson of unease passed between them, mind to mind, a chill crawling down his spine. I feel that I will be needed, sooner rather than later.

Joseph took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. “Things have been...a little stranger than usual, I will admit. It will be good to have you back, even if only for a time.”

It will be good to be home. Farewell for now, old friend.

The golden light blinked out, and Joseph knew he was alone. The Stones faded more slowly at his back, as he walked back down the shallow rise to his lieutenant and his idiot nephew and the knowledge growing in his mind that things were going to get worse before they got better.

[symphonicmetal101]

Wishlist For Someone Special

Ok, so I'm feeling really sappy and just a little lonely. All my friends are boring and my family members are too young for me to take to do some stuff.

This is kind of a wishlist of things I wish I had someone to do with or look forward to doing eventually...not necessarily romantic, but I wouldn't mind if it was. (broskis, I ain't never been on a date, not even, like, a platonic one, so bear with me if it seems ridiculous)

Stargazing- lying on a blanket in an open field or in the bed of a truck, just watching the stars, pointing out constellations, and making up stories

Watching the Northern Lights- bundling up in our warmest winter clothing, grabbing a couple campchairs and hot chocolate as we watch them dance and flicker.

Laser Tag- sneaking around, just trying to one up each other, or being on the same team and still- try to one up each other😂

Paintball- a little more painful than laser tag, but still fun. Checking up on each other afterwards to make sure there aren't any really bad bruises

Graffiti- I've always liked the way it looks. I would love for someone to teach me, or for us to learn together in one of those public graffiti houses

A Willow Tree- I would love to find a weeping willow tree and climb it's branches, only to sit and read there with my loved one enjoying their company.

Just Drive- just take a roadtrip with someone I love, blasting music, laughing, singing, and snacking as we blaze down the roads. It doesn't have to be long.

Visit an Animal Sanctuary/Reserve- I find animals fascinating, but also find that sanctuaries and reserves are more educational and often more humane than zoos.

Volunteer at the Food Bank or SPCA- just general acts of service. They make me happy.

Pillow Fortress- I didn't really get to make blanket forts when I was younger, so I want to try doing something even bigger! I want to convert the couch into a cuddle palace.

Spontaneous Dancing- idk man, it just makes me really happy. My dad used to twirl and dip me when I was little, so that's probably where it started.

Cooking/Baking Together- so what if we make a bit of a mess? So what if we screw up the recipe? It doesn't matter, it was time well spent.

Cleaning Together- Growing up as an only child for ten years and then becoming the oldest means I've done chores alone for a long time. I want someone's company, maybe we'll talk, maybe we'll work in comfortable silence, or maybe we'll blast music. I don't care. I would be happy just to know I wasn't alone.

Learning One of Their Hobbies- I want to learn something they know!! Please, let me understand a little better, I just need them to be patient with me.

Forest Walks- especially in Fall. I want to walk down an old trail, listen to leaves crunch under our feet as more fall from above I want the blustery weather to give us rosy cheeks and noses by the time our walk is over.

Horseback Riding- I've done it before, but I would love to bring someone with me. You have more experience? Great! I love to see that confidence in you. You've done it a couple times? Yay, we're in the same boat! Never done it at all? That's ok! I'll do what I can to help you!

Outdoor Movie Night- we don't have drive- in theaters anywhere nearby, but give me a sheet, campchairs, and a projector? I've got us.

Indoor Movie Night- let's bundle up and cuddle together while we watch a new movie. Or maybe it's a classic. Idc.

Try New Food- let's go somewhere for lunch and pick something completely foreign...(I am not eating guinea pig again though, thanks.)

The Wharf- if one of us happens to live by the ocean, we'll be frequent visitors. Not necessarily the beach, bit on wooden planks where the salty sea air still reaches you. We can watch the boats come and go. (Fisherman's Wharf in B.C Canada is fun. There's a really good Mexican food place😂 There's a blind seal named Sammy that lives there, and you can buy a bucket of fish to feed him. Be careful though, seagulls are vicious, being pecked by one sucks...yes, I needed a bandaid and my finger was sore for a long time. Idk if it's still like that, it's been a while. Sorry, just reminiscing a bit.)

Painting- let's buy a couple canvases and paint and see what we can do! It doesn't have to resemble anything, just do what feels like you.

Splatter Painting- dear god I've wanted to try this for so long. Just full on globs of paint and flicking it towards the canvas. (I was never allowed to do it because it was seen as a waste of paint. I couldn't even do it with an old toothbrush on a small canvas😑)

Video Games!- Please teach me how to play! Video games are banned in my family. I mean, I've done Just Dance, but that's about it. Mobile games have been kept a secret...basically just teach me to play and don't make me feel bad about playing, and I'll love you forever, mkay?

Ice Cream Date- again, idk. The idea just makes me really happy, whether we're sitting in a small shop, eating and talking. Or maybe we're walking, maybe holding hands, trying to point things out to each other, but our hands are full, but there's no way we're letting go. Or maybe we're sharing a cup of ice cream on a park bench, just people watching.

Thrift Store Outfits- I want to go to a thrift store and pick out the most ridiculous outfits for each other. We don't have to go anywhere, but just humour me when we're alone by wearing whatever I found for you, and vice versa.

Writing- writing a poem, a atory, a quote, or learning calligraphy and just writing their name- I want to write something to you

Books- let's go to the library and choose a book for each other, one that neither of us have read so we can talk and ask questions, come up with theories as we continue to read.

Books pt.2- if you write me a note and give me a book telling me why it's one of your favourites, I'll melt. I'll do the same for you, and soon we'll have a few more things to talk about and enjoy together

Music!- you bet your bottom dollar I'm going to send you music that reminds me of you, and I would be overjoyed to recieve the same.

Music! Pt.2- if you happen to play, sing, or dance, let's make something beautiful together! If not, I'll teach you!

Improv/rp- just making stuff up as we go, not caring if other people hear our conversations.

Trampoline Park/Something Similar- I just want to try it. Don't care if I break my leg, I want to try it. I'll care if you break your leg though.

Plant Shopping- again, idk. Just the idea of choosing a succulent or two to take care of together sounds nice.

Dance Classes- maybe you're already an amazing dancer, I'll let you take the lead. Maybe you just know the basics like me, we can learn together. (I know how to do the basics for, like, salsa, cumbia, bachata, swing, and waltz, that's it. Please teach me more🤩)

Sewing/Knitting/Crocheting/Fabric Work- useful skill! And maybe we can make something for each other. (Spoiler alert: you're getting a pillow case, mask, or a scarf, I can't do much yet😂)

Rage House- let's just let loose! Make a mess! Yell! Doesn't matter, all of it's legit. I just want to destroy stuff.

Weird Cuddles- again, just the idea makes me happy. If you're lying down, I may as well just flop on you, right? Or maybe somehow we end up upside down. Cuddling while we read books or listen to music. Ok so maybe just cuddling but it feels weird because I'm touch-starved👌

Late Night Calls- I've never done this with anyone under happy circumstances. Could you help me change that? It would be nice to have the last thing before I go to sleep be reassurance and happiness.

Calendar/Planning- let's make a calendar together with pictures of the places we want to go one day. Let's talk to each other so we know what we both want and make sure we put it down.

Scuba Diving- this is something I've wanted to do since I was little- actually it was the first job I said I wanted. I don't want to do it as a career anymore, but I would love to try it with you.

Finding Random Things- little things that remind me of you. Maybe I was out and found a heart shaped rock. Or I heard a bird sing and managed to record it. Or maybe there was a cute keychain at the store that reminded me of you. And that would be enough to make me smile.

Ride a Double-Decker Bus- I've done it before, but the excitement that comes with the thought of riding one again makes me giddy. Just being able to see the city and people from a mobile throne😂

Bike Riding- let's explore nearby, just riding together. Maybe you have trails you want to show me. You can lead, I'll follow. Or vice versa. If we get lost at least we can laugh about it later.

Camping- lets share a tent and a campfire together, roasting smores as we laugh and tell each other stories. Maybe we'll try and sing a few songs too.

Punch Buggy- just playing the game properly will make me happy tbh. It's been 8 years of bending the rules😂

Board/Card Games- yes. I will get competitive. But that's half the fun. Also, I would like to play these properly as well lol

Museum Date- maybe somewhere local, or maybe we were driving by and decided to stop, or maybe we actually planned to go. Let's learn something new together, take some pictures.

Comfy- I didn't know what else to call it. Basically, take out, sweat pants, (messy buns), snacks, drinks, and a good show. Bonus if it's storming outside.

Rain- watching it rain, listening tonit rain, going outside and dancing or running in the rain, jumping in puddles- I want to do it all with you.

Little Gestures- little things we develop as we get to know each other, faces that we come to understand, hand movements we start to copy. Idk, I find it really cute.

Ok guys, sorry this isn't what, well, any of us were expecting. I guess this is my Valentine's Day post?? Idk. If you read it, I hope you liked it.

Feel free to put who you thought of in tags or comments, real or fiction. Or add to the list if you want. I would love to know😊 I know there's a lot of "I wants" but that's because for the first time, in a long time, I feel comfortable admitting that.

51. Mutual comfort characters

[kalyan-gullapalli]

Post # 147

The world's first river parliament...

There is a small river (45kms long) in Alwar district of Rajasthan called Arvari, which by 1985, had completely dried out and was deemed dead.

By 1996, due to the leadership of one man and the concerted efforts of his organization and the local villagers, River Arvari became a perennial river once again. A perennial river is one that has water flowing throughout the year, as against a seasonal river, that has water flowing in rainy season only. So, basically a few human beings brought a dead river back to life!

Therein lies a tale. But that's not all.

River bodies are government properties. That is, they come under the State government jurisdiction. So when the river, with its teeming fish, became vibrant once again, the government started issuing fishing licenses to outside contractors. This put the river back at risk. So the villagers along the river basin came together and created such a hue and cry that the government had to rescind its allotted contracts.

What's more, the villagers formed what happens to be the world's first river parliament - the Arvari River Parliament - comprising 162 members from 72 villages. Today, this river parliament, and not the state government, owns the river.

So, how did a dead river come back to life? Who is this one man under whose leadership this became possible? And what exactly does a river parliament do?

Therein lies a most interesting tale!

Meet Rajendra Singh and his organization Tarun Bharat Sangh, the architects of this miracle.

Rajendra Singh was born in a village called Daula, near Meerut, in Uttar Pradesh. He did his Bachelors degree in Ayurvedic Medicine (BAMS) and took up a government job in Jaipur. This was 1980 and he was 21 years old. His job was to oversee adult education schools in Dausa district in Rajasthan.

Parallelly, he joined Tarun Bharat Sangha (Young India Association) or TBS, an organization formed by officer and students of Jaipur University. In three years, he became General Secretary of TBS.

In 1984, frustrated with the apathy of his superiors towards developmental issues and his own inability to have a larger impact, he left his job, sold all his worldly possessions for Rs 23,000 and boarded a bus going into interior of Rajasthan, with a bus ticket for the last stop!!! Four of his equally crazy colleagues joined him. The last stop turned out to be Kishori village in Alwar district, and the date was 2nd October 1985.

He started an Ayurvedic medicine practice in nearby village Gopalpura, while his colleagues went out about promoting education in the villages. That's when he met Mangu Lal Meena, an elderly villager, who told him that water was a bigger priority than education for them.

Alwar district had a grain market at one time, but was now largely dry and barren, as years of deforestation, mining and alternate cycles of drought and floods, had led to a dwindling water table. Also, use of 'modern' borewells pushed underground water table further down each year.

Mangu Lal Meena encouraged Rajendra Singh to work on a Johad, an earthen check dam. Johads have traditionally been used to store rainwater and recharge groundwater.

Eventually, with the help of local youth, he started desilting the Gopalpura johad, lying neglected after years of disuse. When the monsoon arrived that year, the johad filled up and soon wells which had been dry for years had water.

Seeing this early success, Rajendra Singh formed the Tarun Ashram, the headquarters of TBS, and started first padayatras (walkathons) through all the villages of the area, educating villagers to rebuild old check dams.

Their biggest success was yet to come. In 1986, people of Bhanota-Kolyala village, through shramdaan (voluntary labour) and with the help of TBS volunteers, constructed a johad at the source of a dried Arvari River. Following this, some 375 johads were constructed in villages that lay in its catchment area, with largest being a 244-meter-long and 7-meter-high concrete dam in the Aravalli hills.

But still water levels didn't go up as expected. TBS found out that water got evaporated from mining pits left unfilled by the miners after their operations in the area. They filed a public interest petition in the Supreme Court, which in 1991, banned mining in the Aravallis. Soon, the Ministry of Environment and Forests closed 470 mines operating in that area. The efforts paid off. By 1995, Aravri became a perennial river!

This is the crux of the amazing story of how a group of people brought a river, dead for the past 60 years, back to life in just 10 years, by using technology already available with us for the past 2000 years!

When there was plenty of water in River Arvari, there was natural growth of fish. The government wanted to get hold of the fish and brought in a contractor. The people resisted. It is not that the local people wanted control over the fish. Far from it! They are mostly vegetarians and did not eat fish, but they realized that today it was fish, tomorrow it would be water.

So, they formed the Arvari Sansad (Arvari River Parliament). The Sansad represents 72 villages, each of which sends two representatives, who are nominated by their respective Gram Sabhas.

The primary objective of the Sansad was to safeguard the integrated water management efforts of the communities along the river basin. The Sansad had no legal authority. But the moral authority it had over its members was enough.

The Sansad convened its general meeting twice a year. Its agreed charter is as follows.

The river was awarded the `International River Prize' in 2000, and the-then President, K R Narayanan visited the area to present the "Down to Earth - Joseph. C. John Award" to the villagers.

Subsequently, rivers like Ruparel, Sarsa, Bhagani and Jahajwali were also revived after remaining dry for decades. Abandoned villages in the areas got populated and farming activities resumed once again in hundreds of drought-prone villages in districts of Jaipur, Dausa, Sawai Madhopur, Bharatpur and Karauli. In all, TBS touched 850 villages in 11 districts in Rajasthan. By 2001, TBS had spread over to Madhya Pradesh, Gujarat and Andhra Pradesh. Rajendra Singh is today affectionately called The Waterman of India.

While all this magic was happening on the ground, the world sat up and took notice. And applauded. Wikipedia lists down the following awards and accolades that the Waterman of India received.

Notice how lightly the Nobel Prize of Asia - Magsaysay Award, and the Nobel Prize of Water - The Stockholm Water Prize, sit on him. In its citation, The Stockholm Water Prize Committee says that “Today’s water problems cannot be solved by science or technology alone. They are instead human problems of governance, policy, leadership, and social resilience." Rajendra Singh and Tarun Bharat Sangh are true examples of how to solve such problems.

Last year, I played a small part in the Cauvery Calling movement, championed by Sadguru Jaggi Vasudev and his Isha volunteers, by contributing to planting 200 trees. Though small, I take pride in my gesture because I know that history is proof - civilizations are born around river systems, and civilizations are wiped out when river systems die.

[antiquechampagne]

Before the Fall - CH3 - Epilogue

The next month was a whirlwind of social obligations and paperwork. Luckily for Liz and Louis, her late husband had always insisted on a life insurance policy for everyone in the family, including himself. Several times a week, Liz would find a casserole dish on her doorstep along with a cliché spouting card from a kind neighbor. John volunteered to mow the yard, and even at her teary request, rip out every single stinking geranium bush. People would visit without the expectations of a formal visit, meaning Liz easily get away with her comfortable clothes, a cup of coffee and barely any makeup. She made sure to keep up appearances for the appropriate amount of time, dropping it slowly before she started to wear out the good intentions of her neighbors. Liz soaked it all in, knowing it wouldn’t last for long.

Louis, meanwhile, was slowly coming to terms with the massive change in his life. While Liz helped him as he struggled with his grief, part of him seemed lighter. He had stopped acting as if he was walking on eggshells all the time. He seemed freer. Liz knew it was hard on him, but she was glad to see her little boy slowly returning to himself. She was a bit disappointed when he had taken such joy picking out an old tie to remember his father when Liz was purging Blake’s closet, but she understood. Soon there would be very little around to remember him by. It was ‘too painful’, the convenient excuse she used whenever some well-meaning friend would inquire.

Liz traded Blake’s massive truck for something older but more sensible for the two of them. She dreamed of getting something fun someday, but put it off.

Asking around the neighborhood, she coaxed a few of the working ladies to get her a temp job in their office’s typing pool. It was mindless busy work, but with a few choice words and a favor or two, Liz was well on her way to the top of the pecking order, getting the premium jobs. Over the years living under her ex-husband’s thumb, she had learned to live make every dollar count. She made sure Louis wouldn’t miss out on anything if she could help it. They soon fell into a cozy routine, freeing themselves of the shadow of the monster who had lived in their home. A nest egg grew slowly but steadily and soon a rusty red convertible with a jittery engine appeared in the driveway.

One early morning after getting Louis on the school bus, Liz chatted with Agnes over the fence. Her warm cup of coffee in her hands keeping the slight chill of the early morning from her fingers.

“I can’t believe my eyes! Your roses have rebounded so well, dear!” Agnes nodded towards the back yard. “They were looking quite rough for a while.”

Liz nodded. Her beloved roses had rebounded beautifully after being crushed and subsequently ‘watered’ by a heavy corpse. “Maybe I will get some nice red ones to go with them, add some color to the yard.”

“Oh, that would be lovely! But really, Liz, you must tell me your gardening secrets!”

Liz grinned. “A master gardener can’t give all her secrets away!”

Something across the street caught Agnes’ attention. She craned her neck to get a better look. Curious, Liz turned to see Mrs. Callahan, the local realtor, pulling up in her Corvega Blitz with a green Chryslus close behind.

Liz took a steaming sip. “Isn’t that the fourth showing this week?” The realtor stepped onto the sidewalk and waited for a smartly dressed couple to join her. “I wonder when they will finally close a sale on that house. It seems a shame for such a nice place to sit vacant for so long.” The couple disappeared into the house after making a circuit around the house, as the realtor held the door. Liz noticed they had not stopped holding hands the whole time.

“It would be nice to have another family around.” Agnes mused wistfully.

“You just want more little kids to swoon over your whoopee pies at the block party!”

The friends continued to chat over the fence. Liz was wondering if the long showing was a good sign for Mrs. Callahan’s business ledger. Eventually, the realtor lead the smiling couple out to the porch. Heads nodded. Now everyone was smiling and shaking hands.

“Nice,” Liz smiled. “That looks promising.”

They walked to their respective vehicles. Liz noticed a small placard on the couple’s Chryslus.

“You see that, Agnes?” Liz nodded across the street. “Looks like John will have another drinking buddy down at the VA hall.”

She squinted. “Oh, that is a veteran plate, isn’t it?!”

The next day, the ‘for sale’ sign was removed and a few weeks later a moving van pulled up towing a green Chryslus. Liz made sure she was the first in the neighborhood to shake the couple’s hands.

“Welcome to the neighborhood!” she beamed, casserole dish in hand. “My name is Liz Rosa. Me and my boy, Louis, live right across the street. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Hi! Thank you.” the wife took the warm dish out of Liz’s hands. “I’m Nora Smith. That handsome man there holding the box is my husband, Nate.”

Nate craned his neck to see around the large cardboard box in his arms. “Nice to meet you!” he called before ducking into the house.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Liz asked. “I’m a lot tougher than I look, ya know.”

[arabellaflynn]

For anyone who didn't catch it on other social media, I have finally moved out of the "temporary" apartment I was stuck in for 7 months, thanks to a lot of emotional and logistical support from friends, and a generous amount of financial support from the folks who gave to my GoFundMe. I am endlessly grateful to all of you, and if I weren't so goddamn tired right now I'd be more eloquent in saying so.

I've spent the past few weeks of unpacking and working out the bus routes around my new place trying to figure out how to explain what was so terrible about the last one. Most attempts devolved into page upon page of rage, which is not really what I want to be doing here. On the other hand, I also don't want to downplay how bad it was. 

Spoiler: The temp apartment was Very Very Bad.

The tl;dr is that I was offered someone's spare room on the condition that I help out a little extra with household chores and caring for their rats, because the pet owning roommate had recently had back surgery and was still mobility-impaired. What actually happened is that as soon as they realized I had any basic life skills whatsofuckingever, I was cornered into becoming the 24/7 on-call House Adult. I would have gone on strike, but the other two people in the apartment were so terrible at coping with absolutely any aspect of being alive that if I had, one or both of them would probably be dead now.

That is not hyperbole. I sat back at one point and realized that I had talked to 911 dispatch five times in the preceding four months. None of those calls were for me. To be clear, I ain't mad about other people having medical problems. All five of those calls were appropriate and necessary uses of emergency services. I just resent the hell out of being the default option for handling all of it, even though none of the medical emergency problems were mine, and there were other people in the house. Literally, Short Roommate had a catastrophic asthma attack one night, and when she was wheezing too hard to talk she passed the phone to Tall Roommate -- who immediately ran to the other end of the apartment, banged on my door, and handed the phone to me. It got to the point where I just told the operator what was up, went downstairs to unlock the door for EMS, stood in the corner answering the occasional question until they hauled someone off to the hospital, and then went right back to bed, because none of this was my problem. And that's just the 911 calls, not even counting the number of times I had to talk her down out of a dissociative episode, or any of the other shit I was not warned about and did not volunteer to do. They wore me down until my only response to "a fellow human can't breathe" is "fuck's sake, why am I even involved here".

They both needed a lot more, and a lot more professional, help than they could possibly have gotten out of a random civilian roommate. They both fought tooth and nail against actually getting any of it. Every time Short Roommate was dragged to the hospital, her discharge papers included a big fat packet full of social services, resources, and business cards for actual physical people to phone. I know this because whenever I cleaned the apartment, I found them on the fucking floor, whereupon I placed them on her fucking keyboard, and told her point-blank to call these people. As far as I know, she never did.

I am neither qualified nor equipped to be a live-in caregiver for anybody. There is a fucking reason I have never wanted children. I keep critters because if you give them food, water, toys, and boxes to sleep in, you can leave them to entertain themselves for hours while you work or sleep, and no one will arrest you.

There was a bunch of other stuff. Tall Roommate rarely if ever cleaned anything, including herself, unless directly ordered to do so and given a detailed list of instructions of what you meant by "clean". I only ever got her to wash her own damn dishes once, and I did it by messaging her from the other room 'I just found a mouse in the sink eating snacks off your dirty plates GO DO YOUR DISHES'. She had a laundry list of problems, but the relevant one here is that she was high-support-needs autistic with no support and zero inclination to find any. 

[Did I mention the mice? We had mice. All over. The rats murdered two of them when they got into the cages, looking for the free-feed bowl.]

Short Roommate clearly loved her rats but didn't actually do any of the rat care beyond petting and playing. One of them was tremendously sick at one point and needed meds q6h. She was supposed to be helping with that and didn't, which meant that I went several weeks on a maximum of six hours of uninterrupted sleep a night. I tore the fuck into her for that one, pointing out in exactly so many words that some of these meds were painkillers and if the rat didn't get them on time HE SUFFERS. Not doing any of the grunt work, Short Roommate evidently thought rats were so easy she should just keep getting more of them! She rescued two, one of whom was preggo, kept several of the babies, and started talking about waiting for one of the girls to grow up so she could breed him with one of her younger boys. 

Gentle Reader, I promise you the only reason I did not strangle her in her sleep that very night was that I knew, deep in my heart, that I could not move the body down two flights of stairs by myself, and if I left it up to Tall Roommate, the corpse would still be in the apartment today.

If I were inclined to any sympathy, it would have died when Short Roommate moved out to shack up with New Boyfriend and New Boyfriend's Mother. She initially took all the rats with her, which made them officially not my problem anymore, but I woke up one morning to a message that said something like "[New Boyfriend's Mother] says that if I show up to our new place with the rats she's not going to let me in, [Tall Roommate] is coming back with all the rats and everything they own". I found out later that this was because their new place was in section 8 housing, where you are not allowed to have pets that aren't service or support animals. Which Short Roommate had known the entire time, and just... made no plans for. At all. Unless "ignore everything until bitchslapped by reality, then panic and make unreasonable demands of other people" counts, I guess.

Eight rats. She dumped eight rats on me. Eight. I wound up taking care of them all without help; Tall Roommate was incapable of keeping anything in her habitat clean, including herself, and I wasn't willing to let her neglect animals. I was actually down to one rat of my own, having lost my two venerable old men, and was looking for a new friend or two for Tseng. Which I had to stop doing, because nine fucking rats is a lot of rats, and I couldn't in good conscience bring Rats nos. 10 & 11 into this shitshow. Naturally, none of the rats got along; two pairs of boys had to be kept apart, and both of them tried to pick fights with poor Tseng, and four of them were girls that had to be kept away from all of the boys for obvious reasons. It was exhausting and a catastrophe.

Once I had the rats she apparently made no further effort to re-home them, although she did keep telling Tall Roommate to come knock on my door and take pictures of them. (I put a stop to this. Tall Roommate did it because Short Roommate had broken up with her to shack up with New Boyfriend, and Tall Roommate had literally no way to cope with this other than try desperately to get her back.) I bugged her to do something about this until, predictably, I had to contact the local rat rescue people to find fosters less than a week before my moving crew was scheduled. When I told her, she replied "oh, I was just about to submit that". Sure you were. And while you're here, I have this nice bridge to sell you.

[The four girls and two youngest boys went to Mainely Rat Rescue. It looks like the boys have already found a home, but the girls are up for adoption. I kept the two old men, who both have special care needs; Garion has breathing problems that involve his own asthma inhaler and a steady diet of NSAIDs, and Errand has attitude problems that involve picking fights with any rat who isn't Garion. They're both just shy of three(!) and unlikely to find homes through a foster program, plus I'm already their third caretaker, so I couldn't send them off with a stranger. They are currently sulking because I wouldn't supplement their dinner with all of my dinner -- which is to say, they're fine.]

The point is, my brain just about died off. The only time in that apartment that I didn't spend cleaning up after three grown adults, two of whom weren't even me, were the weeks after Short Roommate moved out to shack up with New Boyfriend, which she had broken up with Tall Roommate to do, and Tall Roommate took it so badly she ended up inpatient before she ate a bottle of Tylenol. (I called 911 when I overheard her plans. It was about 50% "a fellow human is in need of help" and 50% "argh jesus fuck THIS IS NOT MY JOB please go talk to someone who is actually paid to deal with this".) I am slowly clawing my way back to the surface, so if you'll just bear with me, I'll be back on Twitch this Sunday 3-7 Eastern, and type out more things that have been on hold while I tried to retain at least some of my marbles.

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[txemrn]

Catalyst

a Prequel to the Nanny Affair

Chapter 2: Covalence

Need to catch up? Chapter 1: Acquiesce

Rating: 18+ (Mature Audiences only)

Word count: 3255(+/-)

Warning: language; sexually suggestive language; mention of physical abuse, drug abuse, assault and adoption

"Alright, Pine Shadow family, here are your finalists!" Principal Larson's voice booms over the gym speakers. One would think he's announcing a night of rough and rumble with the WWE rather than announcing the award winners for a middle school science fair. Regardless, his enthusiasm is contagious much to the science departments delight. "Let's give them a big Wildcat round of applause for all of their hard work!"

As the audience abrupts into cheers, there she sits, melting into her chair as her knees bounce feverishly in fear. Her French-braided hair accompanies a denim headband, keeping the stray strands of brilliant wheat out of her gray eyes. Against her mother's disgust, she picks at the rubberbands attached to the hardware in her mouth. In her young 12-year-old mind, the audience seems to be doubling--no, tripling in size.

She worries if her hard work will payoff with a shiny blue ribbon--if any ribbon at all. Mrs. Ferguson and Coach Kincaid gave her nods of approval when she created elemental silver from the glucose mixture and Tollen's reagent-- who wouldn't be impressed with a 6th grader with an advanced passion for chemistry? But still, she worries.

"And," the principal continues, "our first place winner is--" The anticipation thickens the air as every movement seems to propel through space in slow motion. Like a dramatic montage of Rudy sacking the Georgia Tech quarterback to clutch the W for Notre Dame, or an injured Danny LaRusso crane-kicking Johnny Lawrence to become the All-Valley Karate Champion: this was her field; this was her stadium; this was her Hail Mary. All of the hours of research at the library; all of the frantic trips to the hobby store; the redundant presentation practices; the late evenings followed by the early mornings accompanied with the inevitable break downs. It all came down to this.

"Our first place winner is… Brynn Schuyler!" The applause is defeaning as time seems to stop. Did she hear the principal correctly? The name sounded very familiar--like her own name!

"Brynn Schuyler!" Did she really just win the coveted first place ribbon at the science fair? She froze, her tiny little body unable to process the abundance of emotion she was encountering all at once.

"Where is Brynn?" Outside of being gifted her hamster and her mom letting her wear clear lipgloss, this is the most incredible day of her life--

She feels a tap on her shoulder. "Ma'am?" The veiled-look from her eyes washes away; the clouds around her head vanish. Reality hits.  "Are you Brynn Schuyler?" She feels the warmth of rose flood over her fair complexion as the barista interrupts her morning ritual: reminiscing.

"Uh--yes," as she brushes her fingers over her brow, as if to create a shield to her embarrassment.

Smooth. Real smooth, Brynn.

She quickly brightens, extending her hands, "I'm sorry. That's--"

"Iced venti white mocha latte with a blueberry muffin… and two mini cinnamon maple scones?"

I don't know what would be nicer: reading out my order for everyone to hear or calling me a 'fatass'.

"--me. Yes, thank you," she whispers with gnashed teeth behind a courtesy grin. As she slithers back down into her seat at the local coffee house, Brynn hides the pastries in her backpack, keeping them well within her reach as she continues to work: scouring the wanted ads.

Next Tuesday makes four months of no job and no steady income. She has been on seven 'promising' interviews with no avail. She is able to keep her bill collector's away with her savings account, but even that was beginning to dwindle like her existence.

Brynn is a scientists, a chemist to be exact--or at least she was. Her love for science led her from the suburbs of 'the City of Brotherly Love' to the University of Massachusetts at Amherst where she studied education. Her dream was to impose the wonders of science on young minds as they experienced the physical world around them. But, after her personal observation of the devastation of Alzheimer's disease with her grandmother, she took an unexpected internship with the Massachusetts's Alzheimer's Disease Research Center. She realized she didn't want to just teach science; she wanted to do science. One Master's degree in Chemistry later, she was well on way to making a real difference in the world. Or so she thought.

'Benson's BBQ: Host needed'--maybe. 'Browning Steel: Welder with experience'--no. 'Bus Depot: driver wanted, great benefits'--no. 'Cutshall Clearance Store--stalker needed'-- surely they don't mean 'stalker', but they may need an ad editor.

She had scored the chance of a lifetime when she was hired on as one of the first female level I Chemists at the Lincoln Laboratory at MIT. She quickly graduated from fetching coffee, dry cleaning and business lunches for her superiors--also known as a research assistance--to finally being a project manager of her very own, very first multi-million dollar research study. But after twenty-months with no success, the funding was pulled on the project, the wind knocked out of her sails. The punches didn't stop there: her team of men threw her under the metaphorical bus and it was 'off with her head,' her moment of glory now over. She often feels foolish that she thought she could actually make a difference in the world; even worse, she felt agonizing guilt for being a woman that couldn't hang in a man's world, feeling as if she was responsible for a sudden shift backwards in equality.

'Danny's Barber Shop: receptionist'--maybe. 'Danny's Cake Decorating: baker'--no. 'Danny's XXX videos: call for details'-- uh, Mr. Danny has his dick in one too many pies.

Bzzt.

Saved by the text.

She giggles to herself in seeing she has a message from her roommate Jenny. Knowing that this is about to become a full-on text conversation, probably more suitable for an actual phone call, Brynn folds up her marked-up paper, and stretches her legs. She grabs her second scone, placing it into her mouth to hold as she piles her greasy hair into messy bun on top of her head, secured with a pen.

She swipes across her spider-cracked screen; the message: 'Turn around whore! ;-P'

"Brynny!" Brynn ducks as if she is about to be hit. "I thought that was your Corolla parked outside!"

"Jenny! You scared me!" She exhales loudly. "What are you doing awake? It's--" Brynn looks at her phone, "holy shit! Is it really almost noon?" She has no place to be; she just hates the feeling of time slipping by unnoticed, especially with her not being an active participant in life these days.

"I'm sorry, girl--"as she sits her coffee cup down at Brynn's commandeered table, "And you're right--I should probably still be asleep." She stifles a yawn, "I had a very busy night--"

"At the bar?" Brynn raises an eyebrow, "Or with Xavier?" her lips curling into a knowing grin.

Xavier is the first intact penis Jenny had ever been with--and she was loving it. It had been the topic of conversation during their 3AM chats this week, but when Jenny didn't come home from her shift at the bar last night, Brynn automatically knew Jenny must be exploring the new uncharted territory at his place.

"I didn't--I mean--" Jenny let's out a scoff. "Fine. Both."

A giddy Brynn scoots her chair closer. "Ooooo do tell."

"I--" Jenny pauses for dramatic effect, "happen to have a very--"

"Insatiable appetite? Ferocious needs?" Brynn giggles as she wraps her delicate fingers around her straw, gradually sliding them up and down its length.

Jenny clears her throat, straightening out her overall posture. "I was going to say, 'healthy sex life,' but since you have to be a thirsty bitch about it--" she leans in closely to Brynn, grabbing the remains of her scone. She flanges her lips around the breakfast pastry, fluttering her eyes closed, finally letting out a soft moan when she takes a nibble. "Oh honey, he was ferocious." She draws a sip from her hot coffee before lowering her voice. "And he satiated my appetite very… very… well."

Brynn jokingly sticks her fingers in her ears, pretending to be disgusted, yet squealing in excitement. Jenny playfully hits her arm as the two women uncontrollably giggle as they continue to enjoy each other's company.

Jenny Browder and Brynn Schuyler were a very unlikely pair. They met in undergrad in a entry-level sociology course during their first semester freshmen year. Of the two, Brynn was mature and focused, especially when it came to her education.  Often times, she had to be the voice of reason with a newly uncaged and untamed Jenny who was more concerned with socializing and drinking.

Jenny was brought up in a strict, Fundamentalist household, the kind that saw dancing and playing cards as evil. She somehow convinced her parents that God was calling her to attend UMass after a life-long career of being homeschooled. It was 'Goodbye, long dresses,' and, 'Hello, Bombshell Bra.'

She never returned back home. Even when she failed out after Sophomore year, she packed up her guitar and headed for Nashville to become a star. The two friends had quickly turned back into strangers.

Brynn will never forget they day Jenny stumbled back into her life. In the midst of grad school, Brynn had volunteered at a free/low-cost community health clinic offered to lower-socioeconomic families. Jenny was waiting outside the facility, chain-smoking her last four cigarettes. Brynn was unloading testing equipment when she recognized a very familiar purple butterfly tattoo.

"Jenny?" Hearing her name, she instantly responded. She looked so different--older even, weathered. Her once-lustrous auburn hair looked as if it hadn't seen a brush--or soap, for that matter-- in weeks. Her eyes had lost their glow, surrounded by gray bags. Even though she kept her arms crossed in an attempt to hide it, her stretched-tight shirt boasted a growing bump. But, perhaps the most bothersome was the severely picked scabs, scratches, and bruises, littering her entire body.

They made cordial small talk until Greg, her alcoholic and abusive fiancé, honked his horn from his rusty Ford Ranger, notifying Jenny it was time to leave. Before she could run out on her again, Brynn quickly dug a pen and Post-It pad from her white coat, and wrote down her cell number. Truth be told, she never expected her to call.

Two o'clock in the morning about 3 months later, Jenny called. In his usual anger fueled by Wild Turkey, Greg had beaten her and forced himself on her until he passed out from the exhaustion of his stuper. But, something was different this night; something snapped in Jenny's brain. Enough. Her body was frail and bleeding; but her spirit was kindled, coming alive with courage, telling her she was not broken, telling her to fight.  Fueled with what could easily be described as courage--or insanity--she stole $12 from his wallet and packed an old duffle bag with a change of clothes and a water-stained Post-It note.

At a gas station outside of Boston, Brynn picked up a very pregnant Jenny. They sat in the darkness, the cabin filled with silence and stillness; but the conversation was loud and clear: Jenny was terrified. Terrified to talk, terrified to act, terrified of her past and terrified to even imagine a future. Brynn reached over and grabbed Jenny's hand as they both quietly sobbed. They weren't freshmen anymore.

All of a sudden in the quietness of the car amongst all of the chaos, a baby began to dance. Waves and ripples fluttered across Jenny's abdomen; flips and tumbles quickly ensued, becoming stronger and stronger. They took her breath away for a moment, but quickly returned in the form of tiny giggles.  Brynn's eyes sparkle with wonder as she gently places her hand on her friend's belly, gently rubbing circles with her thumb and fingers. Jenny places both her hands on Brynn's, guiding her around her bump, occasionally pressing deeply until finally they are greeted with a kick.

For the first time in a long time, Jenny wasn't terrified. Her head wasn't pounding from an incessant ache, a craving for just one more hit. Her body was breathing, healing in between the throws. For the first time in a long time, Jenny had clarity. And she was ready to talk.

Jenny got the necessary help she needed. She spent time at a battered women's shelter where she was safe and protected; she was able to receive prenatal care and some deeply therapeutic counseling. She even painfully detoxed from her methamphetamine addiction. But her biggest victory:  she was beginning to forgive herself, allowing herself to heal.

Six weeks later, a very round and overdue Jenny gave birth to a beautiful red-headed,  9 pound 8 ounce boy. Her heart swelled with love--a love she had never experienced before--as they placed him right on her bare chest. Overcome with joy and tears, the new mom kept him safe and sound, snuggled in a blue receiving blanket in her healing arms. She had already missed so much--she didn't want to miss another moment: she wanted to remember how his chunky cheeks felt against her lips as she kissed him. She wanted to remember the gentle smell he had after his first bath. She wanted to remember that tiny, fierce grip around her finger, a grip that would extend past her finger and right around her heart. A grip that would never let go, even well-after she laid him into his new mother's arms.

Jenny Browder is the strongest woman Brynn knows--and probably will every know. Even while she was still rummaging through the train-wreck that was her former life, Jenny had the selfless spirit of a saint and the bravery of the finest medieval warrior. She had nothing of value to her name except for her battered heart; but being the mother of all mother's, she gave her last possession away. She knew that in order to give her son the world, she had to place him in a new world.

Jenny celebrated five years of sobriety last month, and has empowered many women throughout the New England area with her story, speaking at meetings and volunteering part-time at a crisis center. She reconnected with her cousin Sean and his husband Charlie a few years back; feeling a pull to be near family, she moved to Newark, a few blocks away from the happy couple.  She now has a home--an apartment--of her own, a car, and a steady income, bartending at a local, lively bar called Annex. As an added benefit, she also gets to perform twice a month with the house band. Going back to school might even be in her future; but for now, she is happy to be living life again--even if that meant hosting a squatter on her couch in the form of her best friend.

"Any luck on the job front?"

Brynn blows a raspberry with pressed lips in her exacerbation.  "Well, today's options include wearing daisy duke's at a BBQ joint, or becoming a baker--possible porn star--with a man named Danny--"

Jenny laughs, "Ewww, gross. Do I even want to--"

Brynn waves her hand in front of her face, erasing the air of the horrid idea, even if it was a joke.

"Well, the perfect job is out there."

Yeah, yeah, yeah…

Brynn sighs, "Oh, Jen, you have to say that--"

Before she can hang her head down,  Jenny interrupts the pity party, grabbing the remains of massacred muffin from Brynn's hand. "No, I don't. And believe me--" She stares warmly into Brynn's stormy eyes, "You are a catch. You are one in a million--"

"Are we still talking about jobs, or--"

"The perfect job is out there for you--trust me! We are one day closer to it." Not missing a beat, "Speaking of which--" Jenny rocks back and forth in excitement as her heart-shaped lips spread into a smile.

Oh, God…

"What are you doing tonight?" The words almost slur together like a waterfall crashing out of her mouth.

Don't invite me out. Don't invite me out.

"I think I'm gonna--you know--stay in, order out. Look for more jobs--"

"And feel sorry for yourself?"

Damnit, she's good.

Brynn sighs deeply as she lays her head down on her crossed arms.

"Well, it's a good thing we're not going out. You are just--" she lies, "accompanying me to work--"

"Jenny!"

"Brynny," Jenny fires back as both women compete in a staring--moreso glaring contest. She gives in first to the silly gesture, her look warming with affection. "Look, I-I know things have been have sucked recently--"

That's an understatement.

"You need this. It's time to join the world again. You can't just stay cooped up in the apartment all the time--"

"Um," Brynn clears her throat. "I do believe I am in a coffee shop right now." She smirks while delicately fanning her arms out in the air, as if she was showcasing a brand new car on a game show.

"C'mon, girl," Jenny whines, "You know what I mean. Just come up to the bar. Sit and talk with me. Keep me company. Meet some of my regulars. You will feel so much better about yourself--"

"You know I have nothing to wear."

12 pounds, fucking 12 pounds, and my entire wardrobe seems to have shrunk overnight.

"We'll figure something out--I promise! C'mon!" Jenny quickly bounds to the door with a sluggish Brynn in tow. "Besides," Jenny whirls around to continue, "You have a lot of miles left in this thing--" spanking Brynn's butt. Reflexively, Brynn immediately shields her pained bottom, her mouth gaping open. Jenny continues. "I've gotch'ya with shots all night. At least come window shop--it's Thursday night, which means the corporate hotties are shopping for some young ass--"

"Oh, yes. Because a one-night-stand and a raging case of chlamydia will cure my problems--"

"Hey, a shot in the ass, and you're good as new," Jenny jokes, making her apprehensive bestie crack a smile. "That's why I said, 'window shop.' Plus they're rich and love flaunting that they are rich. So--" Jenny shrugs her shoulders, "More free drinks for you!"

Brynn folds her arms across her chest, averting her gaze into the bustling traffic. She starts chewing on the sides of her mouth while letting out a long-winded sigh, clearly uncomfortable with the whole idea. The fact is she was embarrassed of herself, of what had become of her life. There she was, merely existing, living on her best friend's couch with no prospects--job-wise and love-wise. And now that her former-slender body sprung unwelcomed curves, she feels more comfortable in hiding--from the world, and from herself.

Jenny steps back out of her black sedan. She pushes her sunglasses back into her short hair, the sunshine illuminating her scarlet layers. She places her hands on her hips as she silently challenges her friend to a battle of wills.

Brynn feels her piercing gaze, but she can't bring her self to match it. Jenny never pushes her to do anything--and now, all she wants to do is help pull her depressed house-guest out of her mucky misery. And Brynn knows that she will be grateful for the night, especially tomorrow morning. She just needed the little shove.

Brynn breaks their silence with a long, drawn out sigh. "Okay."

"Yes, yes, yes!" squeals Jenny. She slides back into the driver's seat, adjusts her sunglasses and bellows across the parking lot: "Get in loser! We're going shopping!"

Brynn could only hope it was for a new life.

@choicesficwriterscreations​ 

[fallingin-like]

fic rec bingo!! this was created by lightveils on twitter and it seemed like a lot of fun. recs are under the cut! i’d love to see fics that you guys think fill in these prompts! almost all of these are for aftg

a fic you love without knowing the source material (for a different fandom or original work)

the liar and the thief by @idnis​

amazing original work! i loved this so much, it’s a fun, entertaining, and insightful fantasy short story

a fic with a premise that shouldn’t work but does

sweet squid o’mine [series] by wishopenastar

this is a super cute series with andrew as the giant squid from hogwarts. it is so fun to read and i have fallen in love with squiddrew

a fic you’ve reread several times

tenuous by undertow

this is definitely one of my most reread fics, i can’t get enough of it. every sentence is a masterpiece

a fic you still remember many years later

a change in perspective by roozette

haha throwback to long time ago when i used fanfiction.net to read harry potter fanfiction

a comfort fic

paper skies by @allforthebee​

this is a fic that will make you feel like you’re wrapped up in the coziest blanket with a warm mug of hot chocolate while it’s raining outside.

a cathartic fic

under the kitchen lights (you still look like dynamite) by @nakasomethingkun​​

this fic is so soft and wonderful with a good amount of angst to satisfy me. i looove the google search parts

a fic you’d print and put on your bookshelf

yeah sorry i’m going to choose two fics: the wonders i’ve seen and no mourners no funerals which are both by @gluupor​

these fics are so astonishingly good that they need to be displayed. also they are some of the few long fics that i can read in one sitting!

a fic you associate with a song

you used to call me on my cell phone by @thepalmtoptiger

there was a period of time i heard this song on the radio a bunch and i always immediately thought of this fic

a fic that inspires you

rainy day daydream by @rooftop-kisses​​

this fic reminded me that i want to volunteer at a local animal shelter in the future! also i just really want to own a cat

a fic that brought you on board a new ship

thick skin, an elastic heart by @badacts​​

this was the first jerejean fics i read where i really got to learn more about their relationship! so good.

a fic you wish could be a movie

sorry this is the one i really couldn’t place. even though i love movies, i feel like the things i like the best in a fic gets lost when it’s converted into a movie

a fic that led to you making friends with the author

the bokeh effect by @fuzzballsheltiepants​

this fic was such a great mixture of humour and angst that i finally got over my fear of talking to people online and contacted one of the sweetest people ever

free space

pick up all the pieces (and what’s left of my pride) by @poikas​

this is an absolutely fantastic and amazing fic that deals with andrew’s relationship with robin!! also you have to check out this amazing art by the author

a fic you’ve gushed about irl

no place like home by @gluupor​​ and @annawrites​​

it’s a you’ve got mail! aftg fanfic by two of my favourite authors, how could i not gush abt it to someone irl?

a fic you associate with a place

the real folk blues by @annawrites​

if you consider the place being on a bus where i read this fic and couldn’t stop even though i know i get motion sickness.

a fic that made you gasp out loud

it suits you by @lolainslackss​​

if you have read this fic you know exactly what i’m talking about. just pure shock when you read the last line of the first chapter! i’m in love with this fic

a fic you found at the right time

nine weddings and no funerals by @gluupor​​

reread this fic to calm my nerves before a job interview and i couldn’t focus on anything else... i think it worked because i got the job! (technically i ‘found’ this fic before then though)

a fic that you would read fic of

curiosity killed the cat by @idnis​​

wrote a review of this fic and within it i even said something along the lines of ‘i’d love to read a fanfic of this where *this thing* happens instead of *this thing*

a fic that made you laugh out loud

i just had a growth spurt (took so long my tippy toes hurt) by @tallsinspace​​

okay but if you’ve read this fic then you know you can’t read it without laughing. it’s fun and cute and so good

a fic with a line (or two) that you’ve memorised by heart

kairos by @redketchup​​

i chose this one because i feel like i’ve memorised the whole fic? every sentence is familiar and yet i continue to reread it

a fic that gave you butterflies

raspberry friands by @jemejem​​

this was such an adorable fic, sweet and such a fun take on a harry potter au.

a fic that embodies everything you value in life

all for the jokes by @leahlisabeth​

this prompt is very deep, but this fic is so nice, it’s just the foxes trying to make neil happy and have fun! i want to spread laughter too

a favourite au - sorry, this one gets 3! can’t not mention all of these aus

time will tell by @unkingly​​

the way into my heart is a kidfic and this is one of the best i’ve read!!

faking it by @wilsherejack​​

if it’s not obvious from the title, the au is fake dating! no matter what’s going on this fic captures all of my attention and i can’t stop reading it 

also gluupor gets honourable mention because she has contributed countless fics to this au within the aftg fandom

atlas by @pipedream-truths​

i cannot resist any fic that contains shapeshifting and this one is no exception

a fic you stayed up too late to finish reading

this one was hard to choose, because somehow fanfics are the best when it’s 2am and you’re supposed to be sleeping

pause and restart my heart [series] by @sunshine-knox​​

there is nothing like an angsty injury fic (or two) that will pique my interest and force me to stay up and finish it all in one go

a fic that made you feel seen

one way or another (or maybe neither) by @nakasomethingkun​

the aftg fandom has taught me so much about the asexuality spectrum and where i fit in that which i am forever grateful for. this fic is the perfect example of that.