#something something create for yourself bs yeah I am creating myself

[llitchilitchi]

.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

[honeybunchcalum]

College Apps- JJ Maybank

Pairing: Reader x JJ and Reader x John B (Platonic) 

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: College applications...suck. Maybe you can make them suck less for JJ, if you knew the right thing to say. AKA comforting a stubborn JJ.

Warnings: mention of abuse (a brief, vague mention, less than is in the show) + language 

A/N: I know my John B fic didn’t get too many notes, but I enjoyed writing this one, so I’m posting it :) 

Also a HUGE thank you to @alltheannie​ for your kind words and your editing to make this fic the best it can be!! 

Stress, deadlines, wasting time, and the blind hope that everything will turn out ok. What could be a better way to describe college applications?

You only wished you could start your Common App essay with those lines, but you decided against it--this was not a teen movie. It was your dreaded application that would determine where you’d be spending the next four years. 

You wondered what you could possibly say about your life that wasn’t the same as the thousands of other essays that would pour into admissions offices. You laid on your back, seemingly enamored with the ceiling fan’s spins as your friends John B and JJ started airing their frustrations. 

“This is such a BS question-- ‘What challenge have you faced and what did you learn from it?’ my ass. What makes you think I wanna write it all out for some stuck-up admissions guy?” JJ thought out loud. 

John B added, “How the fuck am I supposed to write something about myself and make it sound good?” 

For you, it was the opposite. Living on the richer edge of the Cut, bordering Kook territory had not presented you with many challenges in your life. The problem came with reflecting on your life to find an appropriate hardship to write about. You decided that just agreeing with your best friends’ stance on the prompt would be the easiest solution, since your struggle with it made you feel a bit guilty.

You sighed, sitting up. “John B, I’ll edit yours, and JJ, I don’t know what to tell ya.” You were usually the mediator within the group, level-headed and realistic. 

John B moved closer to show you his screen with what he had written so far. 

“Thanks, Y/N,” JJ sarcastically grumbled. “UNC isn’t even gonna accept me anyway. All they’re gonna see is some poor kid from the island with a sob story about his dad.” He shut his laptop, showing defeat.  

You shot him a glare--you’d always hated when JJ talked about himself like that. He was undoubtedly more than that to you, the Pogues, and everyone who had ever met him. 

“JJ, don’t say that, you’re way more than that--and that will definitely show on paper, and even when you interview and show your Maybank charm,” you assured the blond. “Also, you’ll regret it if you don’t try, just saying.” You turned back to John B’s screen to read his essay as you leaned on his shoulder. 

“That’s also BS, and you know it. Why am I even trying? There’s thousands of other kids out there, and I’m done” JJ said, frustrated. 

“Because you worked so hard, JJ, and you can’t blow it now. Everything that has happened with your dad and stuff doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve a future, or that you shouldn’t try!” you snapped.

The stuffy bedroom fell silent. You knew as soon as it fell out of your mouth that it was too far. 

“Fuck you! Just because we kissed doesn’t mean you get to tell me shit, or psycho-analyze me, or whatever you’re trying to do to fix me, Y/N!” With that, JJ slammed the door to John B’s bedroom. There was a loud “I’m fuckin’ done,” before he rattled the screen door of the Chateau on his way out. 

“Shit! Why the hell did I say that?” You sighed, upset that you had not fully registered the weight of your words until you’d said them.

“Yeah, uh… why the hell did you say that?” John B replied from his bed. He patted the spot next to him with a reassuring “C’mere.” 

As soon as you were halfway onto the bed, he pulled you into him. He was warm and comforting, and smelled like ‘boy’ and salt water. It was probably the cedarwood from the cologne you’d gotten him for his birthday last year. It was a bit of a selfish move since it’s a smell you loved, but it comforted you in times like these (which were more often than you’d think).

You sighed and just focused on the rhythm of John B’s heart rather than yours. He rubbed circles on your back as you laid your head on his warm chest.

But soon everything just hit you. You were upset that JJ wouldn’t listen, frustrated with yourself since you’d said something without thinking, and now annoyed at the repetitive circles on your back. 

You pushed John B’s arm off your back, adjusting yourself so you were facing him. 

He started, “So you’re up to at least one kiss with JJ, three with me, and two with Pope and Kie. Very interesting information, Y/N…”

“That’s what you got from this, John B?! It’s actually more like, four, with JJ, but still! Not my point,” you groaned and flopped flat on the twin-sized bed. 

The Pogues were a rather touchy group, definitely unafraid of showing physical affection, which was sometimes in the form of less-than-sober smooches. But each with JJ was sober, and meaningful, to you at least. But John B didn’t have to know that. 

“Did you understand what I was trying to say? I know I said it wrong, but…” you trailed off, waiting for the brunette to reassure your thoughts.

“I did, but I don’t know why it bothers you so much--that’s just how JJ gets sometimes. He gets heated then leaves, he’ll get over it.” 

“I wasn’t talking about that part,” you paused, “never mind, I’m gonna go find him.”

On your way out of the room, John B’s voice made you turn around.

“I think you feel something else about JJ, but I don’t wanna get into that.” He sat in the silence that he created. 

The two of you were waiting for the other to say something. He wasn’t wrong, you did feel a little different each time you had kissed JJ. But it was nothing, just a product of you being around him all the time. Fuck, now that John B had noticed, that meant whatever you were feeling was obvious. “What gave him the idea of that? Had I slipped up somewhere?” 

“What the fuck? Are you serious?” you spoke after a few seconds, anger tinting your tone.

Your impulse got the best of you, determined to keep up your façade. In one swift movement, your lips were on John B’s. It was well-received, his lips beginning to mold to yours. You pulled away after a few seconds, out of breath of course. 

“And there’s your fourth one, you’re tied with JJ now, ok?” On your way out, you left a bewildered John B on his bed as the door slammed shut. 

Now there were two things you’d done today where you weren’t totally thinking. They just kind of happened, and you didn’t exactly understand why. 

------

You reached the Boneyard, and sure enough you knew the figure sitting and staring off into the water was JJ: the smoke cloud he blew confirmed it. When it wasn’t the venue for island-wide keggers, it was the place that you or any of your friends would go to when you needed to be alone, and that was understood. But you had to break that unsaid pact today, because you’d really fucked up, and only talking could fix it. 

You approached JJ and slowly sat down on the sand next to him, not saying anything for a few seconds. He let the silence settle because he knew it was killing you. Two could play at the ‘pushing-buttons’ game, so you started saying your piece. 

“I’m just tired of you rejecting every nice thing I say to you. You deserve everything, all the love that we all have for you, and every single fucking compliment I give you. And I’ll admit it--yes I was meddling and trying to analyze you and what I said was too far.”

You laid it all out, which was typical for you to do. As a writer yourself, you were a natural communicator-- straightforward and heartfelt. 

The blond turned away from you. “I’m tired of being messed with. Just stop trying to figure me out all the time. I can’t even figure some of my shit out! And don’t say anything to that, y/n,” 

“That’s really hard for me, you know?” you felt tears welling in your eyes as you let out a laugh. The love you had for this boy was overwhelming, and began to run down your face as you wiped the tears. 

“I really fucking care about you, JJ, you know?  I just appreciate you so much...It hurts that you always reject it because I know you deserve it.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t,” he said sharply. 

You leaned forward and grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to make sure your words really reached him. You looked him straight in his eyes. “You are a great person, JJ Maybank, even if you don’t believe it. And I’ll be damned if you don’t get into UNC. Your application essay is literally amazing so far.”

“Did you-”

“I read your screen over your shoulder earlier...I’m also kinda sorry about that too.”

JJ chuckled, but was still cold towards you, you could just sense it. His blue eyes had wandered as you had gripped his shoulders.

“You have so much to say, and I know you can say it right on the page, no matter how much you grumble about it. And you have charm that can win anyone over,” 

“Even you?” 

You groaned, “God, JJ! I knew you’d bring that up!” 

“How couldn’t I? I’m the only one of us you’ve kissed sober, which has to mean you feel something, right?” By this point, JJ was practically yelling. He sounded a little hurt by your hesitation, forcing you to choose your next words carefully.

“Ok, so maybe it does. Does that mean that you’ll listen to what I have to say about you, if I say that I possibly feel something like that about you?” You posed the question. “Also, did you really need to bring it up with John B in the room?”

“Look, I wasn’t thinking. And don’t get on me for that because you said some pretty messed up shit while you weren’t thinking.” JJ did have a point. “Also, yes, maybe I’d give in if you told me about said feelings,” the blond raised an eyebrow and knew he’d won. 

You sighed and looked out onto the water--practically anywhere but at JJ. 

“Fine. JJ you’re pretty cute, and also a good kisser,” you started as you felt your body heat up with a kind of nervous excitement.

“I really appreciate that, Y/N.”  He looked down with a smile. Soon the tension dissipated with JJ’s joking, “But how do you feel?” 

“Oh shut up, wasn’t that enough embarrassment from me for you to believe all the mushy stuff I say about you?” 

“Nah, I’m still feelin’ a little down, so more would definitely help,” JJ smugly said. 

You groaned. “Maybank, ya got me. I think that maybe… I like you as more than my dumb friend.”

“That’s enough for me,” his eyes lit up as his eyes flicked from yours to your lips. You could sense what he was going to do so you automatically leaned into him as your lips practically crashed into his. It felt electric, but more obviously--it felt natural. You just knew how to kiss him and he knew the same. He pulled away and you both looked down, unsure of how to react to something so pleasurable, but maybe not the most accepted considering the Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule in your friend group’s constitution. But that made it all the more enticing.

JJ broke the silence. “I actually do feel a lot better, and no, it’s not just because you’re also a  pretty good kisser. But,” he paused, “because of everything you said. God, you’re gonna love hearing this too much, but you’re right.”

You gave a smile in response. You were ecstatic that he took your words to heart (and maybe a little more since he admitted you were right). 

There was a chill in the air, so JJ instinctively gave you his hoodie and pulled you into him. He smelled like salt water and cologne. 

“So what am I up to now, 5 kisses, and John B’s at 3 drunk ones?” he teased, in line with his competitive nature. 

“Actually, John B’s at 4,” you laughed, “but he thinks he’s tied with you, so don’t tell him.” 

“Well, just to be sure that he doesn’t catch up…” he leaned down and smiled into a sweet kiss. Your smiles stuck as you and JJ spent the rest of the night at the Boneyard, half of the time figuring out how you’d keep this from the Pogues (for now) and the other half enjoying each other’s company.  

Tagging some obx mutuals and blogs: @darkrosekuwonu​ @alltheannie​ @alexandracheers​ @ptersparkers​ @singledadharrington​ @ificanthaveu​ @pogue-writings​ @poguelifesurfshop​

[bellamyblake]

hello dear iva!! i’ll ask this bc i actually watched the last ep lol so - how would you like each of the reunions/talks between bellamy and the 3 women to go in episode 12? (and just so you know your day sounded wonderfully productive i really hope the distractions have been working 💓)

Hey, Zahraa!!!

Well actually that for me is a very tough question cause I think it can go in so many different directions and it will, whenever he tries to explain his stance and why he believed this *faith* of sorts.

I think personally E/cho just won’t get it considering the fact that she did so many things in the name of his death, as revenge so I’m not sure how they can ever get on any page there (not that they ever were)

With O I can see a similar scenario to season 3 with Pike, especially judging from the promo. 

And I think...people will miss a point here because in her letter to Bellamy in 7x02 she says-there was a darkness in me, Diyoza helped me pass that darkness meaning she wasn’t alone-she created this small family and she overcame the pain and the darkness in her thanks to Diyoza who started helping her get out of that awful place she was in back last season (so technically a two season ark where O gets to this amazing redemption story line)

Whilst Bellamy never actually had that you know? I mean he had a sort of family on the Ring but I don’t think any of them understood the darkness inside him, the darkness Octavia talks about, in any way. In fact I think the only person who ever did was Clarke which is why they have that special relationship.

So was he stuck with anyone else and not Doucette, someone who had similar experiences to him like Diyoza did with O, I think he’d have the same come out of this place as his sister did.

But he didn’t. He ended up stuck with a religious fanatic who offered him the one thing he desires the most-

peace.

So I think with O it’d go like-you’re doing the wrong thing because they know the truth about this faith especially Gabriel whose talk with Cadogan in 7x10 was there for the sole purpose to show us that yes-this man is selfish and he needs to get to this place out of his own selfishness and greed but he can’t do it alone so he brainwashes people into having an army and he feels no regrets. 

But he promises them love for all and PEACE and honestly out of all the characters I could ever only see Bellamy fall for that.

Also-why is that the only logical turnout of the events you’d ask? 

Clarke wouldn’t go there, people say, she wouldn’t fall for this cult bs. 

True and I’ll tell you why she wouldn’t. 

Clarke, still to this day, after L’s death, has a certain sense of having to sacrifice herself for the greater good and not thinking twice about it.

She took on that whole-the leader dies-mentality and never let go of it and in fact it only intensified after L’s death, actually...it was NEVER there before that.

Clarke can let herself die, she’ll actually go into death willingly if it means saving the people she loves, saving who she cares about and in fact she carries this fate that she’s one day going to die just because of who and how she is, like a shroud herself (which again imo only happened after season 3 but that’s a whole other meta). 

Clarke we know can be driven to suicide like she was in 5x01 when she was alone in the desert. Clarke can sacrifice herself like she said ONCE AGAIN in the last episode when she wanted to let them go back to sanctum and stay behind. 

it’s a repeating theme for her-I die, I can die, I can sacrifice myself and die for you all.

But for Bellamy and the Blakes as a whole, this is different because both of them were raised not to give up, never to give up, against all odds, against all enemies-they survive. 

Aurora taught them that-there are no weak exists. You can’t kill yourself, you can’t and shouldn’t give up. 

You fight until all doors are closed and when they’re closed you make a hole in the floor and raise a kid there.

Also dysfunctional of course but those were the circumstances. 

And anyway my point is they’re not easy to give up and give into death, we saw O willing to die when she couldn’t stand who she was in season 5 much like Bellamy did in season 1 episode 8 but in fact I very much believe Bellamy as much as he thinks he deserves it, is afraid of dying (he even says I am afraid when he jumps in the Anomaly which was another proof for me that yes he’ll take it, he knows he deserves to die, but he’s afraid of it and that was first manifested in 1x10 when he was sick and he thinks he’ll die and he tells O-I’m scared, O.)

But whilst O found a way out of the darkness with the help of Diyoza, Bellamy found a way out of the darkness when he was mentally and physically exhausted and gave himself up to simply the arms of PEACE and REST. 

He wants to stop the war waging inside him. He wants to love everyone and not have to kill others to protect his people. 

That does not mean he does not LOVE his people still, in fact I think not many people saw how his eyes smiled a little when he entered that room even if he didn’t show anything with his face.

So yeah with O I think it’d go like that.

With Clarke I think or like I’d like for him to try and explain and I’d like for them to have an angsty convo ala 3x05 where he says something like-

Aren’t you tired of us always killing someone to save ourselves?

And her being like-Bellamy, this guy’s a fanatic! He doesn’t care about people! He only cares about himself!

And Bellamy saying like-I lied before-we didn’t do better last time in sanctum! Just think about it? We destroyed them! Those people were living peacefully! So what if they believed false gods? So what if they bowed to russel? They were happy! They were healthy!

They were living a lie and so are you right now! I can’t believe just weeks ago you were helping me tell those people the truth and now you’re one of them, choosing to believe a lie!

So yeah that’s what I can see.

Sorry this got so long and meta LMFAO 

[bellafarella]

You‘re in the twitter fandom as well right? How do you do it cause I always think I follow decent people and every time at some point they post something that makes me go ?? The cancel culture is rampant there. They think Noel should not be ‚stanned‘ cause he likes cops? They have a whole list of things Cam did that make him a horrible person?! Layla being in ep 8 is awesome but WHM’s daughter being in ep 12 is nepotism?! Why do people always hold celebs to such high standards?! I‘m really sorry to dump this on you but you‘re the only person I know who is on twitter and tumblr and I just got really mad at one account (that I also unfollowed) and I needed to vent. Maybe I just follow the wrong people? I dunno

omg yeah i am and honestly twitter is the worst. i only became active on twitter january 2020 so that i could live tweet for the final season of schitt’s creek but then i started following shameless accounts because s10 was also on and then they were gonna start filming for the final season so i’ve just been stuck there lmaooo 

i have met a lot of wonderful people on that app so i don’t regret it at all. the good outweighs the bad but there is quite a bit of bad. people are cruel but thats on any social media platform imo.

cancel culture is so extreme. i honestly dont get it. i get when it applies to people who deserve it like rapists, racists, abusers, homophobes, transphobes, etc, but like for someone who follows cops on instagram? idk if that warrants canceling someone. but twitter is very double standard when it comes to that because they’ll say cancel noel for following cops but won’t cancel emmy rossum for the same thing. they say cancel cam for all this bs that he’s apologized for already, but won’t cancel emma who has never once apologized for defending a racist, for being ignorant and so completely tone deaf. like it doesn’t make any fkn sense to me but i dont involve myself in it.

i stan cameron, noel, emmy. i don’t stan emma. but everyone should be able to stan who they want. you want to stan a known racist defender like emma? okay go for it. if i wanna stan noel and yall hate him because he follows a cop on instagram, go for it. 

omg yeah so it is very double standard too when it comes to layla and sophia macy being cast on the show. everyone is so hyped that layla is gonna be on but everyone hates that sophia is. i dont get why. if you’re gonna hate that sophia is cast because shes bill’s daughter than hate layla for being cast cause she’s noel’s wife. like we can’t hate one but not the other for the exact same thing.

i dont give a shit. it’s probably a lot safer that they are both cast seeing as we are still in a global pandemic. we know layla and noel live together so that makes it safer to hire her. sophia i think is young and could potentially still be living with bill or maybe moved back in, but either way, even if she didnt live with him, layla got cast, and so did sophia. we can’t give sophia hate but not layla. its completely hypocritical. i’m sure that they’ll both be great at the roles they were given.

and idk why everyone holds celebs to such high standards. i assume its cause they’re in the public eye and have these huge platforms to use to reach millions of people but they are still human beings. they’ll still make mistakes and fuck up and say the wrong thing. they aren’t gods. we cannot expect them to be perfect. just like with shameless, you expect it to be amazing, you’ll only be disappointed that it wasn’t up to your high standards when it airs. we can’t expect celebs to be perfect because we will be let down. 

honestly, just block/mute/unfollow whoever you don’t like. idk why thats a hard concept for a lot of people. instead they like to keep following and then send hate when they say smt they dont like or agree with. if i dont agree with someone or like the things they are saying then i just unfollow, mute, and/or block. there’s no need to start shit just cause i dont agree. 

idk who you’re following or not but just listen to yourself. if you see someone you’re following say something you dont like then it’s in your right to unfollow or block them. create the social media experience you want and that you’re comfortable with. it’s your account to do with what you want. 

sorry this was a long ass response but i hope it makes sense? <3 

Edit: I get why people are upset that Sophia is cast and not upset by Layla. Sophia was involved in the college admission scandal because Felicity (her mother) bribed her into college. And now she's cast in WHMs show. So I see why it doesn't sit well with people. It doesn't with me either but nepotism is a huge thing in Hollywood so I'm really not surprised by this one bit, and I don't think sophia is to blame since I doubt she knew her mother bribed her into school, but I could be wrong.

[i-can-be-king-again]

[created by: vyvyan86]

Which fictional character would be the most boring to meet? those “bad boys” in teen romance novels, they may seem hot on the outside but most of the time, they seem bland as hell lol

Which body part would you not mind losing? my chest, it’s flat anyway so it wouldn’t be a total loss lol

What common saying people use is absolute BS to you? “Love yourself before loving someone else.” It’s hard to completely achieve that goal and keep at it forever, so it seems like you won’t ever find love

What is the most interesting thing you’ve read or seen this week? An anime called wonder egg priority! The story is very unique but the concept gives off Madoka magica a little bit lol. I still recommend it though!

What’s the most useless talent you have? Finding good memes

What’s something everyone looks stupid doing? Those stupid wimpy dances on tiktok

Which kids’ movie scarred you for life? I don’t remember having one of those, but Snow White running through the scary forest comes to mind

In one sentence, how would you sum up Internet? Too much but fun sometimes

What would be the most ridiculous thing for the government to make illegal? using certain social media sites like how trump wanted to ban tiktok lol, so stupid

What’s the weirdest thing a guest has done in your home? Haven’t had one of those happen yet thank god lol

How many friends do you have on social media and how many of them do you know for real? around 30 on other ones and around 10 on here

If Mars was livable, would you accept a one-way ticket there? No, we need to fix the earth first before doing anything else on other planets. 

What fact amazes you every time you think of it? A regular cumulus cloud weighs 1.1 million pounds even though clouds can float in the sky!

What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done? being assertive to a person I was interested in yeah really sad I know lol

What skill or craft would you like to master? gardening maybe

What separates true friends from acquaintances? you feel comfortable around true friends and don’t have to worry about how they view you as a person

Where do you find meaning in your life? Not sure

What has taken up too much of your life? Being sad and afraid all the time lol

What is in your fridge right now? Food?

Where do you not mind waiting? My house

Is there an app you hate to use, but still use every day? instagram lol

Who is the funniest person you know? One of my friends

What three words describe you best? shy, perfectionist, sad

What makes you think you’re smart? I got a degree in one of the most hardest majors apparently

Who inspires you? David Attenborough

Do you aspire to be like somebody else? If so, who? It would be nice to be more like my friend Eryn who is beautiful and fun and seems to enjoy what she does

How did you meet your best friend? in high school

Which one of your accomplishments are you the most proud of? finally graduating

What’s something you’re dying to tell but no survey ever asks about? Not really

What’s the strangest thing you ever did as a child? I jumped on a kid’s arm once because I guess I either didn’t process or didn’t care that he was below the thing I was jumping off of

Is there anything you do to reduce stress? watch shows and videos, talk to my friends, play games

What makes you feel afraid? anything that involves thinking about my future, talking to new people, not being good enough for my friends, family, and s/o

What did your mother teach you? A lot of things

What did your father teach you? How to know when a person is a narcissist lol

What makes you feel powerful? Being good at something more than the people I know, which doesn’t happen often tbh

What are you ready to let go? my stupid fear of anything that involves “putting myself out there”

Are you eco-conscious? If so, how? I try to be as much as possible.  I don’t eat animal products, my family and I use glass containers to store food instead of using plastic containers or plastic wrap, we recycle, we own solar panels on the house, and I keep most electronic things I don’t use unplugged and always turn off lights when no one is in a certain room.

What’s your 90s jam? Men in Black by Will Smith

What is your most bizarre deal-breaker? Open mouth chewing

Would you rather be hated or forgotten? Forgotten

What’s the biggest personal change you’ve made? Not caring how people see me. For example, I don’t need to appear perfect for them so they don’t hate me.  I’m still working on it though

What are some of your short-term goals? Finding a stupid job

What’s your philosophy in life? Think before you act (in important situations)

What is the weirdest thing about you? I like to make weird voices for fun

How do you define beauty? Whether you find it attractive or aesthetically pleasing

Are you health conscious? If so, how? I think I am.  I’m vegan, I don’t drink soda and other sugary drinks and alcohol, I try to exercise as much as possible, and I try to get up to 8 hours of sleep every night

What’s your day-to-day mantra? I don’t have one

How do you wish to be remembered? I'm not sure

[fatbottombucky]

Life Begins [Steve Drabble]

Requested by anon  “ Can I request number 33 with a happy end from the prompt list #3? Steve rogers x male reader please :)”

Prompt(s): No. 33 “There’s the door. Feel free to get the fuck out” & No. 3 “Gotcha!”

Pairing: Steve x [M]Reader

Warnings: Endgame spoilers, angst & happy endings 

The doorbell rings. 

You drop the plate your currently washing into the sink, drying your hands on the dishtowel and throwing it over one shoulder you walk through the quiet Brooklyn apartment. 

Unlocking your door, you begin your little speech, “No, I am not interested in recruiting myself into the army-” 

“Well, that’s just too bad,” the voice stops you. 

It’s deeper, yet familiar and when you look it’s Steve Rogers, your boyfriend, but he’s taller and broader- thicker- everything he wasn’t before but his face is the same. Innocent, lovable and sincere, handsome and kind. Your heart skips a beat but you’re glued to the spot. 

Pent up emotions blossom within you. You’ve missed him and have been worried sick. You step aside quietly and he walks in, brushing past you and hanging his coat up, you’re still at a loss for words

You follow him into the living room and still remain silent. “I would’ve come sooner but they had me doing shows- then I had to save Buck, I wanted to see you sooner, I swear.” 

“What- I don’t understand, what’s going? What happened?” You stammer a little, still looking him up and down, taking it all in. 

Steve begins to explain everything to you, from becoming what he is to now, creating the Howling Commandos and going to take down Red Skull- whoever that is. 

“So, you’re leaving again?” You asked once he was done, he nods once, “Am I ever going to see you again?” 

He chuckles lightly, “Of course, when the war is over and won we’ll be together like we planned.” His smile is infectious only not this time it isn’t, he can sense that. 

“Will the wars ever be over, Stevie?” You asked and he frowned, “It’s a war today but what about another one? What if someone else needs you? You’re... a super soldier now, they won’t let you rest. I just can’t see how we’re gonna be together now?” He goes to say something, “Now people know you, they’re looking at you. They’re gonna see us together, two men, and you’re gonna be scrutinized because of me.” 

Steve shakes his head, stepping forward, “I don’t care about them. You know that I’ve never cared, I never will care because I love you Y/N!”  

“I love you too,” for a moment Steve smiles, “and that’s why I... can’t... do this. Us. You’re exactly who you want to be and doing exactly what you’ve always been doing but now you’re noticed for it.” He tilts his head, hurt flashing across his face, “I can’t- I won’t stand in your way. You’ll find a nice dame, you’ll get married and have kids, that’s what you should do. Okay?”

“No,” Steve sternly says, “I don’t want that. I want you!” He exlains loudly and it makes you blow up.

“You don’t get to decide,” you snapped, “you left. I had no idea where you went then suddenly you’re performing in shows across America? Now you’re saving people?! Steve, I can’t watch you die because that’s how this’ll end. You standing against some fucked army, and one day you won’t be able to do this all day.”

It’s silent as you turn away from him, not wanting to show him your tears. You had to do this, right? This was for the best, for you both. He’s a symbol now. He can’t be seen in a gay relationship.

“So that’s it?”

“Yeah,” you sniffed, “that’s it.” You compose yourself and turn back, “there’s the door. Feel free to get the fuck out.”

You nonchalantly walk to the kitchen, occupying yourself with washing the dishes. You almost don’t hear it, the soft click of the front door closing, the footsteps becoming fainter of the man you loved.

You don’t miss the news of his or Bucky’s death. You never married, never had kids, but you moved to central NYC. Worked under Stark, helped Maria with her little boy, Anthony. The deep ache of losing Steve in more than one way was a burden you shared only with Howard.

~~

1954

“Y/N?” You stop dead in your tracks, looking up and seeing him.

He hadn’t changed, except the outfit he wore, looked a tad on the Stark side. Hadn’t aged a day, unlike you. You weren’t exactly old, not yet, at least, but the stress and just hardship was aging you.

“You look good,” he smiles that Steve signature smile.

“You’re meant to be dead,” you remark, “unless I’m finally going insane.”

Steve shakes his head and closes the distance, hugging you tightly and not letting go, he pulls bs m slightly and looks at you. This is real. The warmth of him, the smell of him and just the vibrancy of his eyes, this is him. Really him.

He explains everything, well tries to. You get lost a lot through his explanation but you get the general idea of how he��s here. And why he’s here.

“You’re not going back?” You asked with a frown.

Steve sighed, “I lived that life. I did everything I needed to, I think it’s time I actually lived. Besides I left that time in perfectly capable hands,” he shrugged.

“Gotcha,” you nod with a smile.

Steve dips his head down and kisses you. You’ve missed this, missed him. He’s the only one you’ve ever loved, sending him away only made you sad and lonely. This is app you’ve ever wanted-

Steve pulls back, “I mean, Bucky and Sam will be alright, right?” He asked suddenly, “they aren’t best of friends but I’m hoping Sam being Cap will inspire Bucky to fight alongside him too.”

You chuckled, “Every Cap needs a Bucky to pull em’ outta trouble, I think James will be just fine. It’s a new era, it’ll be this Sam pulling Buck outta trouble,” Steve only nodded in agreement, “...unless you’ve got one of those do-hickies, the future could be fun?”

Steve only grinned excitedly.

[suninacan]

My friend... what a bunch of convoluted nonsense just to jusify your ass.

I'm sure you're an ok person apart from this, and this in not meant as an attack or anything, but geez...

I think I need to specify something, since I think you made the assumption that I was somehow saying I wish animals didn't die period. As nice as that thought is I'm not 5, just as I know we'll die too. For me it's not a matter of dying in more or less pain, it's a matter of justice and the ability to shape one's own destiny. Putting it simple, what you claim is so merciful compared to a "natural" death doesn't give the animal a chance at life, to be able to use their resources to try and preserve themselves. Denying this God given gift will never be justifiable in my eyes.

If I were a carnivore not only my body would actually be built to kill and digest raw meat, but I probably wouldn't even care about any of these dilemmas. I would use the gifts nature has given me to hunt and either eat or die trying, and that would be ok. I don't particularly care about a lion tearing a gazelle apart, though of course if I was being hunted by a lion I would want to use my resources to defend myself.

"Pampered life"... yeah, tell yourself that buddy. You attack "citylites" but either you alao have never been on a farm, or you have and you're delusional. And, in a fantasy reality in which they do, refer back to point one.

For all your other points I can probably say: have YOU asked them?!

Claiming you know what's right or wrong in the eyes of someone who can't communicate in your language sounds like a god complex to me. You're just interpreting animals' wishes based on your own cognition (though I doubt you'd be so willing if you were the species being farmed for meat). Today is "just" animals, yesterday some of the greatest atrocities in history were committed due to this same principle being applied to categories of people considered to be sub-human. That kind of mentality is risky territory.

"Treating them as though they are our equals will only create more suffering for them."

I don't want to treat them as equal, I want to leave them the fuck alone. I am a species who can live a healthy life without exploiting them. In a life or death situation virtually every human would choose their kin over someone from a different species, but guess what, most of us are not and will never be in a life or death situation. I don't exactly go harassing the indigenous tribe in the middle of nowhere in the rainforest.

In conclusion, you may have had a "Gotcha!" moment since unfortunately veganism tends to be adopted by insufferable left wing individuals (which is ironically the reason why I'vegiven up hope of finding a vegan partner and vegan friends. I'm the first person being furious about this), but at a philosophical level your justifications don't hold and will never hold true, because this is a philosophical debate dating way before modern liberal bs. Just say you like meat and don't care about having to exploit others in order to eat it, and hey, there is not much I can do, we can tolerate each other and even be friends over other shared values.

listen. listen. the consumption of animal products is about mutually beneficial relationships Not domination and that's why prioritizing animal r*ghts over animal welfare is an absolutely brain fungus take to have

[brianjpatterson]

SPOTLIGHT: What’s Your Mission?

If you’re just joining Spotlight, then this is my personal journal of my personal journey as a performer. It’s a kind of way for me to look back on all of my experiences, and lessons I’ve learned, while simultaneously sharing what I’ve learned with you. Disclaimer: The word PERSONAL was utilized twice in the first sentence. Therefore, this is not the gospel or the truth, it’s just me sharing MY experiences in an effort to assist, if possible, in other people’s discovery (end disclaimer). Today, I’m going to rejoin my A+B=C method which focuses on “Brian’s B’s” (Being, Behavior, and Business), and talk about something that I feel like is a great follow up to a previous post called ‘Operate like a HACK’. This week, I’m going to share what the craft means to me and how it created my mission as a performer.

THEATRE’s HISTORY Aeschylus won the Great Dionysia back in 484BC. Sophocles gained his victory in 468BC, and Euripides first competed in 454BC. What is similar about these playwrights? Their content. They were constantly writing about the human condition, and usually the effects it had socially or politically. Aeschylus’ Oresteia takes on Athens’ replacement of chaos with law, Sophocles’ Theban Plays peer into the relationship of politics to individual, and Euripides’ Suppliant Women examines the place of women in society. During these inception and developmental stages of theatre, it was social and political commentary, conversation continuers, and community builders. It was once said that “Theatre is the currency of society”. This tradition has been passed down over the generations for centuries of theatrical performers. With so many current theatre companies, networks, and independent companies creating content which examines the human condition and the effects on our society in all forms…I don’t see it ever changing. Theatre will always truly be the currency of society, and express who we are for better (SELMA) or for worse (Keeping Up With The Kardashians). So how do we as performers fit in?    

THEATRE’s HISTORY WITH ME Theatre (Acting, dance, singing, and theatrical performance/entertainment in general) have always had a special place in my life. My high school years (specifically freshman) are when the relationship began, thanks to Theatre/Chior director Jim Charlton, and that love has been with me ever since. As a young, LGBTQ POC who didn’t really fit in anywhere and had some odd interests like comic books, martial arts, and dance, I never really felt as though I fit in with my peers. Why? Well, I just took a look at the current statistics for Pennsylvania. The state is 82.4% caucasian, 89% have a High School degree or some college, and 90% of Pennsylvanians fall under some Judeo-Christian religious faith. While this may be more current statistics, after looking at the year of my entry into high school, I can tell you that most of this has not fluctuated much at all. Therefore, I was constantly surrounded by and bombarded with messages that contradict who I am; Essentially telling me that I’m odd, weird, or don’t fit in with my peers. When I found the theatre department at my high school (thank you, Mister Weaver - school advisor), I finally found a place where I felt safe. I even resorted to the backstage area or the music rooms to feel safe. These areas were the backdrop for many of my most pivotal developmental moments of my life. Including my coming out, and quite frankly, I couldn’t have asked for a better one. I was cutting class in one of the music rooms with my high school bestie Jason Schneider, with whom I’m STILL friends and in contact. Matter of fact, we just spoke two days ago. Anyway, we were tinkering around on instruments and sharing things that we learned from Mr. Charlton’s chorus class. Both of us were in mid-harmonization when Jason abruptly stops playing (and/or singing), turns to look me straight in the eyes and says, “Dude...are you like...gay, or something?” There was a brief pause. Jason was my closest confidant in high school. I answered. “Yeah, I guess so.” He shrugged his shoulders and in a matter of fact way and said, “okay.” Then without skipping a beat, he continued playing and singing. I joined him immediately.

He was the very first person I’d ever come out to, and he made it (I’m guessing unknowingly) safe for me to be myself. This happened within the context of my newly found theatre family...I knew I had found my place in life, and I’ve been involved (in one way or another) with theatre and entertainment ever since. As I look back, now I see why I feel safest when I’m either on a set or at a theatre; It’s home for me. It always has been and I think it always will be. It has since been my mission to bring that same idea of safety, unity, and belonging to others. 

THEATRE’s HISTORY WITH OTHERS As I performed at theatre’s and worked on sets all around the country, I began to see how common this story was for most of us. I remember working on my seventh show at San Francisco Opera, and talking to one of the chorus members named Adam Flowers after a show. There were over a hundred choristers in many of the shows I had done, and rehearsals were structured so well that with so many people, time for getting to know each other was limited. However, I was finally beginning to really know people’s names and faces. As we walked with another singer and good friend named Alan Cochran, I remember Adam saying, “So were you a theatre kid too?” To which I replied enthusiastically, “Yup!” We went on to discuss when we ‘caught the bug’ and how being in theatre resonated for us. This was just one example, but very very common discussion I’d have with many with whom I worked. The through line of theatre as a ‘safe space’ was almost always present. It was in that safe space that many of us felt that we could be authentic and excel. When I look at the landscape of performers, no matter if they are local, regional, independent, on Broadway, or Hollywood, I see a community of people who are very much like me. people who have had similar experiences of not quite fitting in, and understanding what it’s like to not exactly fit the status quo…and I feel safe and at home. But what do we do now that we are here and working?

WHY I FEEL MISSION IS IMPORTANT As theatrical performers/actors, we are constantly looking for motivation and meaning in what we are doing. We continually analyze to express the truth of a character in the most eloquent way possible, and use the power of transformation as our catalyst (more on that in future posts) to express the statement of the piece on which we are working. We are the harbingers of message. Thankful to say that this idea hasn’t changed for centuries. What I’ve come to realize is that if we are keyed into our own message or mission, it will manifest and produce the fruits of that message, and often guide us to the people and places we are meant to be. But if we aren’t keyed into a mission or message, then we manifest the fruits of not having a message, which can often be just as sporadic and chaotic. It’s basically the biblical ideology of ‘you reap what you sow’ also known as the law of attraction. Therefore, the mission/vision part of my annual business plan has been incredibly specific. Mostly because i want to manifest effectively and abundantly not just for myself, but also for others. Theatrical performance has always been about the currency of society. A kind of service to the community which sparks conversations, elevates consciousness, and ensures that the ‘currency’ of society always holds it’s value. Therefore, I truly believe it to be very important to create a clear and concise mission which is always in service to the currency of society.

WHAT’S YOUR MISSION? So, with that said, do you have a mission? Is it clear and concise? What is it? This is one of the foundations of the ‘Being’ part of Brian’s Bs. It really gets to the heart of who you are and helps to create your own character which drives your career. This to me, is what sets a performer apart from ‘operating like a hack’ that I talked about in previous post, and puts power behind not just who you are but what you do. When you know who you’re ‘being’ and you do it with truth, then you have access to so much more personally and professionally. Best part, is that it’s not just for yourself, but it becomes for others as well. Your specific and concise mission can be the difference between raising consciousness or societal value through your strong connection with community…or not. Consider that.

Always sending Love and Light, Brian J. Patterson

[aintshitbiz]

Jashi Bands Exclusive 1 on 1 w/ BreezySays | @jashitheyetti

Jashi Bands is just your friendly neighborhood Puerto Rican rapper from the Bronx. His music mostly touches on mental health including his own and those around him. He failed out of college senior year and moved back home to find what he wanted to do with his life.

Welcome to Mollie's World (The Breezy Says Hot Seat), Jashi Bands

BS: What’s your name and tell us a little bit about yourself. JB: My name is Joshua Toledo. Just your friendly neighborhood Puerto Rican from Bronx, NY born and raised. I’m a big big nerd when it comes to anime, comics and other cartoons. Raised by my mom, grandmother and step dad. I have two little sisters. BS: Where are you from? And what affect does that have on your music? JB: I’m from NYC which is a huge influence on my writing style, my motivation for the music, the type of sound my music has and the experiences I choose write about. BS: What was highest and lowest point in your career? JB: I don’t have either of those yet since I’m still building the foundation for everything. The journey feels like climbing a mountain at this point. Every new accomplishment, such as a music video, new merch product, and song everyone loves is another ledge for me to grab onto to climb. BS: How do you separate your personal life from your music life and how does how does the music industry affect your personal life? JB: Right now in my career the two go hand in hand. I’m a newer act so it’s my responsibility to create content to engage with fans and make them feel like they’re a part of the process. So they will want to see me in the studio, at the concert, and/or giving my opinion on something. Since I’m an independent and building my fanbase, the only thing I can say about the music industry is that it’s definitely weird for someone like me, whose a private person around strangers, to be sharing all this personal content that isn’t the music. I find trouble crossing the line between keeping things private and putting on IG live for all to see. These are weird times. BS: What project/track means the most to and which project/track are you proudest of? JB: I think it changes with every song I make. Some tracks I really love but I know the public won’t ever hear. So I may love it but it’s not something I can put out and say “Yeah I put my all into that track. I’m proud of the way it came out.” A lot of people like "Smile" off my first mixtape and I have some tracks in the truck for my upcoming album. BS: Let's talk about your latest record/visual " If You Disagree" BLM...what made you take a stand and show your support? JB: The answer is simple, I have empathy for my people. Anyone with any resemblance of empathy and a brain can see the racial tension and injustice built up over YEARS. I was in 2nd grade when Sean Bell was shot 51 one times. The newspaper was taped up to our closets and I remember thinking, “that’s a lot of bullets for someone on his way to his wedding.” I was six. A big problem with today is the numbness we as a collective in this country choose to take part when racial or socioeconomic injustice occurs. Most of us continue with our day with “thoughts and prayers”. We go to work, take care of our kids, hang out with friends etc. We talk about these incidents, debate even, but until recently, not much radical action was being taken and this isn't to put blame on anyone (except capitalism.) I decided to write “If You Disagree” because an anger would build inside of me when I would debate with an ignorant individual about the BLM matters. Because anger built inside of me from seeing the actions of policemen/women against my people. Tear gas, beating people senseless on camera and even the saboteurs who loot to give the protestors a bad name. It also inspired me to see BS: There is a general consensus that Latinos don't support the Black struggle, where do you think that comes from? JB: To be honest, I think it goes both ways. Both the Latino and Black communities seek support from each other because we all have Black blood in our veins and racists see us the same anyway. The disconnect happens when ignorant Latino’s, for lack of a better term, act up. Some Latino’s believe they aren’t black and then carry that ignorance with pride. In my opinion those ignorant Latino’s are few and far between. Every Hispanic friend or family member I know supports the movement and acknowledges the black struggle. However, there Latino’s that feel the Black community doesn’t reciprocate support we give them in times like these. There was no rioting or protestors for the Hispanic kids ICE detention. There’s no protests for the kids that went missing under ICE custody. I’ve had Latino friends and family members express that when something like a George Floyd or Trayvon Martin happens, the Latino community is right there to back them up; however when something tragic is happening/happens to us there's mass tweets about it, but there’s no protests etc. You also have to take into account that the Hispanics who aren’t born here or didn’t go to school in America aren’t taught about the Black plight in their schools, so they might be ignorant to it when they move over here.

LET'S PAUSE AND CHECKOUT "If You Disagree" [BLM]

BACK TO THE HOT SEAT

BS: What type of feedback have you been getting since the release of this project? JB: A lot of people loved it. They loved the message and the visuals from the protests. Several of my friends who went to the protests and dealt with being maced and tear gassed all loved the song. BS: How do you plan to keep supporting the movement? JB: Keep signing petitions and donating to bail out those who’ve been arrested at protests. I would go to the protests myself but if I catch covid and bring it home, my family might NOT be able to fight it and I can’t take that risk. BS: What is the hardest part of the music industry? JB: Getting into it. It’s definitely a grind as an unsigned talent who’s trying to make their own way in the game. You have to find your sound, build your fan base, learn new flows, pay for studio time, pay for videos, and pay for promotion etc. All while trying to live your normal life. As a creative in general it always feels like you’re balancing plates on sticks, like in the cartoons. BS: What are your thoughts on how the rap game has changed? JB: A lot of it has changed for the good because now there's more money in it, it’s easier to put music out, and a lot easier to build your fan base thanks to social media etc. Unfortunately, those same reasons changed the game for the worse. Since it’s so easy to start a music career, there is a plethora of artists who sound the same, and don’t really do it for the love of the process or the game. Since there is more money involved it brings anyone and everyone with a mic and auto tune. The Music Industry is just one of those situations where you have to take the good with the bad. BS: Who or what has the biggest impact on your career? JB: I would say my best friend who I grew up with since Kindergarten and my late grandmother. He’s my biggest supporter and critic. If my music doesn’t impress him then I have to go back to the lab. My grandmother was a such pillar of support, love and strength and when she passed my heart broke in 100 ways. All that pain is channeled into my lyrics. BS: What can we look forward to seeing in the future from you? JB: I am working on an album with no title as of right now. I’m also working on new merchandise ideas and clothing to put out. To stay tuned follow me on all my socials.

Connect with Jashi Bands

Youtube | Instagram | Twitter | Soundcloud | Facebook

[patronsaintofprincesses]

Hey can you answer all 64 questions for me? Thanks 😘

I’d like to thank @unluckymess for indulging me, and my need to lay myself bare on the internet and talk a bunch, you’re the real MVP, an excellent friend. 😚

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? Mm yes, in a way. I like to have my bases covered so, I believe that I’m not real, and I believe that I am real but in a simulation and I can believe that I’m not real and still in a simulation and I can believe that no one is real and I can believe that only the simulation is real and I can believe that everything is real and I can believe that simulations aren’t real etc. So, sorta.

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? 3. But I’m not afraid of the dark, I love the dark, it’s the people that misuse the dark that I pity and loathe. The dark is comforting, and natural– I love the dark.

3. The person you would never want to meet? Let’s be honest, Mr. Cheeto-Fingers #notmypresident guy is the most distateful man I’ve had the pleasure of never meeting. I’d like to keep it that way.

4. What is your favorite word? Settlement. Someone asked what my favorite word was in oh 8th grade? and my mind scrambled and said settlement and I stand by that brain scramble lol.

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? There’s a Celtic thing that says Hazel and there’s an astrology thing that says Pine mm however, I’d want to be a Peach tree v:

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? Can I brush my teeth later :“)

7. What shirt are you wearing? A pale pink tee that says “Nevermore” in antique lettering and has a Raven opening it’s beak to caw.

8. What do you label yourself as? THE Boring Princess. San THE Bore. I own my dullness, I enjoy my royal duties in the Boring kingdom.

9. Bright room or dark room? D a r k but with a pink antique garden quilt covered in flowers and blackout/ lace curtains and dark wood furniture and glass end tables and ceramic vases in olive and navy filled with dahlias and white silk flowers.

10. What were you doing at midnight last night? Reading. Messaging @barnsburntdownnow @silver9mm (I adore you ma'am)

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? 16 was a good age, graduating high school and being District Spelling Champion has been the highlight of my life so far ;)

12. Who told you they loved you last? @unluckymess and I love you as well 😇

13. Your worst enemy? Evita Perón said Time, but I don’t want to plagiarize. I have to say, energy then?

14. What is your current desktop picture? My pup, he’s turning seven on December 11th!

15. Do you like someone? Sure I like a lot of people :) but I’m not attracted? to anyone really, since I’m abstinent until marriage and real commitment-phobic so 😅

16. The last song you listened to? The Most Peculiar Day of Your Life by the Hoosiers. (my third favorite band)

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? myself, probably

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? Also myself le mao.

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? I’d choose Kim Jong Un and I’d have him sign over the dictatorship of North Korea over to me and get those people some gotdamn internet and H-E-Bs.

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional) my eyes are pretty expressive, I’ve been told.

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? I’d probably be really scruffy, with curly hair, tortoiseshell glasses, and be real sweet. I’d go to several bookstores, chew on my pen cap, mope about looking artsy, I’d cry a lot, and probably blog about toxic masculinity. I’d try out the whole masturbation as a guy thing and also the whole prostate thing, and then get drunk at a bar.

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? Nope. Everyone knows everything about me at this point le mao.

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? Getting exactly what I want? Is that unique? Mm dying and the headstone people misspelling my name so my gravesite/cremation urn says Sam Hernandez. Ugh.

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. !!! My go-to, is whole grain bread, egg white, spinach, mozzarella, parmesan, green bell pepper, tomato, cucumber, mushroom, and ground black pepper.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? I’m going to give it to my mum, so she can gas up her car ^^

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? Australia, to get bitten by the elusive taipan

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? PINA COLADAS. um rum? Uhhhhhhhhhhh premixed Pina coladas???

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? Always be humble and kind.  

29. What is your favorite expletive? Bless Your Heart

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? The smiley face zipper case I keep my photograph print outs in.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? Mmm I feel like saying my birth is a bit too gallows, so I’m going to say, agreeing to marry my ex-fiancé.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! Tibet?

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? I’m going to ask for a business card à la Fairy Godmother (Shrek 2), be proactive, because when my mother passes, I can bring her back. I told her that she has to outlive me and I meant that.

34. What was your last dream about? Falling

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]? My buddy, I’ve never been good at anything in my life. I’m an excellent speller, a reading prodigy, and average in every other aspect.

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? Yes, thrice during manic episodes. Twice for when a dog bit me.

37. Have you ever built a snowman? Nope. I have yet to see snow

38. What is the color of your socks? I’m not wearing socks but I only like grey socks and beige liners

39. What type of music do you like? Alternative/Country/UK Pop/Rock

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? Sunsets, please and thank you.

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? Coconut cream pie, from Sonic (after dark)

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer) TEXAS. T E X A S

43. Do you have any scars? Oh yeah, plenty ^^ on my face, my arms, my foot. I’m kind of clumsy and I don’t mind scars so I never applied the vitamin E.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate? A graduate lol all joking aside, a librarian? A kept girl? A strong, independent bookworm? Something alright.

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? I’d like to have been born in the 33rd century. (mm if not possible, then I would like to be indestructible) (if not feasible, then I guess I’d like to have perfect night vision)

46. Are you reliable? No

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? “What is the most profound thing we have said thus far?”

48. Do you hold grudges? Nope

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? A dragon (uh a scary bone eating bird with a nice, sweet snake)

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? The first time I discussed anything with my conscience? Mm really, any conversation I’ve had with myself has gotten pretty unusual.

51. Are you a good liar? HA maybe over text but irl I begin to giggle and avert my eyes and it’s awful no one let’s me get away with anything

52. How long could you go without talking? I went a whole day once for the GLSEN Day of Silence in April 2012. Maybe I could go longer? Mm I’d like to be mute. That would be interesting.

53. What has been you worst haircut/style? They’ve all been great, particularly the ones I cut by myself from 2008-2012 I don’t know what you are trying to imply c:

54. Have you ever baked your own cake? Is this a euphemism?

55. Can you do any accents other than your own? Sort of an English accent, and sort of an Australian accent. Oh but I have a natural accent when speaking Spanish and a Texas accent pops up with some words in English.

56. What do you like on your toast? Fr e sh avo cado (free Sha vacadoo) obviously (if unavailable, I’ll take honey, cinnamon, butter, sugar, beans, eggs, strawberry jam, peach preserves etc.)

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of? A lady, for @silver9mm@barnsburntdownnow for LETTER #6

58. What would be you dream car? An Aston Martin is what I liked in 2008—actually my dream car would be an indestructible flying bathosphere that could also teleport and drive itself. I’m waiting, 2020.

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. I do sing, mm well ahem, I don’t like showers I like baths. Sometimes I’ll turn off the lights and bathe in the dark, when I’m feeling overwhelmed or hopeless or I just don’t know who I’m fooling etc. Sometimes I’ll play music and place my phone facedown on the tub, let my head sink beneath the water, and the sound vibrates/echoes throughout and it is so settling. Ahem, sometimes bathing is my me time, where I’ll let my mind wander to something racy, and with the steam fogging up my mind I’ll get helplessly turned on, and just lounge in the hot water fluttering my inner muscles until I either orgasm or cry lol.

60. Do you believe in aliens? Yes. But do aliens believe in me? Lol.

61. Do you often read your horoscope? No but I do like those moodboards/aesthetics/text posts concerning my signs 😇

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? R in middle school, X in high school and now, probably S.

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons? Dinosaurs are neat but I’m a Dragon! kinda gal.

64. What do you think about babies? Cute and scary and gross and wonderful and delicate and perfect and miniature and I want none and ten

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of. Message me 👻 I’ll answer anything y'all.

If y'all would like to send me any other asks (anonymous or public) I tag them as Ask Thing and I’ll answer literally everything. Thanks y'all!

[djnimbin]

The Days Between

This is a letter Robert Hunter wrote to Jerry Garcia a year after his passing.

Dear JG,

it's been a year since you shuffled off the mortal coil and a lot has happened. It might surprise you to know you made every front page in the world. The press is still having fun, mostly over lawsuits challenging your somewhat ...umm... patchwork Last Will and Testament. Annabelle didn't get the EC horror comic collection, which I think would piss you off as much as anything. Nor could Dough Irwin accept the legacy of the guitars he built for you because the tax-assessment on them, icon-enriched as they are, is more than he can afford short of selling them off. The upside of the craziness is: your image is selling briskly enough that your estate should manage something to keep various wolves from various familial doors, even after the lawyers are paid. How it's to be divided will probably fall in the hands of the judge. An expert on celebrity wills said in the news that yours was a blueprint on how not to make a will.

The band decided to call it quits. I think it's a move that had to be made. You weren't exactly a sideman. But nothing's for certain. Some need at least the pretense of retirement after all these years. Can they sustain it? We'll see.

I'm writing this from England, by the way. Much clarity of perspective to be had from stepping out of the scene for a couple of months. What isn't so clear is my own role, but it's really no more problematic than it has been for the last decade. As long as I get words on paper and can lead myself to believe it's not bullshit, I'm roughly content. I'm not exactly Mr. Business.

I decided to get a personal archive together to stick on that stagnating computer site we had. Really started pouring the mustard on. I'm writing, for crying out loud, my diary on it! Besides running my ego full tilt (what's new?) I'm trying to give folks some skinny on what's going down. I don't mean I'm busting the usual suspects left and right, but am giving a somewhat less than cautious overview and soapboxing more than a little. They appointed me webmaster, and I hope they don't regret it.

There are those in the entourage who quietly believe we're washed up without you. Even should time and circumstance prove it to be so, we need to believe otherwise long enough to get some self sustaining operations going, or we'll never know for sure. It's matter of self respect. Maybe it's a long shot, but this whole fucking trip was a longshot from the start, so what else is new?

Your funeral service was one hell of a scene. Maureen and I took Barbara and Sara in and sat with them. MG waited over at our place. Manasha and Keelan were also absent. None by choice. Everybody from the band said some words and Steve, especially, did you proud, speaking with great love and candor. Annabelle got up and said you were a genius, a great guy, a wonderful friend, and a shitty father - which shocked part of the contingent and amused the rest. After awhile the minister said that that was enough talking, but I called out, from the back of the church, "Wait, I've got something!" and charged up the aisle and read this piece I wrote for you, my voice and hands shaking like a leaf. Man, it was weird looking over and seeing you dead!

A slew of books have come out about you and more to follow. Perspective is lacking. It's way too soon. You'd be amazed at the number of people with whom you've had a nodding acquaintance who are suddenly experts on your psychology and motivations. Your music still speaks louder than all the BS: who you were, not the messes you got yourself into. Only a very great star is afforded that much inspection and that much forgiveness.

There was so much confusion on who should be allowed to attend the scattering of your ashes that they sat around for four months. It was way too weird for this cowboy who was neither invited nor desirous of going. I said good-bye with my poem at the funeral service. It was cathartic and I didn't need an anti-climax.

A surreal sidelight: Weir went to India and scattered a handful of your ashes in the Ganges as a token of your worldwide stature. He took a lot of flak from the fans for it, which must have hurt. A bunch of them decided to scapegoat him, presumably needing someplace to misdirect their anger over the loss of you. In retrospect, I think Weir was hardest hit of the old crowd by your death. I take these things in my stride, though I admit to a rough patch here and there. But Bob took it right on the chin. Shock was written all over his face for a long time, for any with eyes to see.

Some of the guys have got bands together and are doing a tour. The fans complain it's not the same without you, and of course it isn't, but a reasonable number show up and have a pretty good time. The insane crush of the latter day GD shows is gone and that's all for the best. From the show I saw, and reports on the rest, the crowd is discovering that the sense of community is still present, matured through mutual grief over losing you. This will evolve in more joyous directions over time, but no one's looking to fill your shoes. No one has the presumption.

Been remembering some of the key talks we had in the old days, trying to suss what kind of a tiger we were riding, where it was going, and how to direct it, if possible. Driving to the city once, you admitted you didn't have a clue what to do beyond composing and playing the best you could. I agreed - put the weight on the music, stay out of politics, and everything else should follow. I trusted your musical sense and you were good enough to trust my words. Trust was the whole enchilada, looking back.

Walking down Madrone Canyon in Larkspur in 1969, you said some pretty mindblowing stuff, how we were creating a universe and I was responsible for the verbal half of it. I said maybe, but it was your way with music and a guitar that was pulling it off. You said "That's for now. This is your time in the shadow, but it won't always be that way. I'm not going to live a long time, it's not in the cards. Then it'll be your turn." I may be alive and kicking, but no pencil pusher is going to inherit the stratosphere that so gladly opened to you. Recalling your statement, though, often helped keep me oriented as my own star murked below the horizon while you streaked across the sky of our generation like a goddamned comet!

Though my will to achieve great things is moderated by seeing what comes of them, I've assigned myself the task of trying to honor the original vision. I'm not answerable to anybody but my conscience, which, if less than spotless, doesn't keep me awake at night. Maybe it's best, personally speaking, that the power to make contracts and deal the remains of what was built through the decades rests in other hands. I wave the flag and rock the boat from time to time, since I believe much depends on it, but will accept the outcome with equanimity.

Just thought it should be said that I no longer hold your years of self inflicted decline against you. I did for awhile, felt ripped off, but have come to understand that you were troubled and compromised by your position in the public eye far beyond anyone's powers to deal with. Star shit. Who can you really trust? Is it you or your image they love? No one can understand those dilemmas in depth except those who have no choice but to live them. You whistled up the whirlwind and it blew you away. Your substance of choice made you more malleable to forces you would have brushed off with a characteristic sneer in earlier days. Well, you know it to be so. Let those who pick your bones note that it was not always so.

So here I am, writing a letter to a dead man, because it's hard to find a context to say things like this other than to imagine I have your ear, which of course I don't. Only to say that what you were is more startlingly apparent in your absence than ever it was in the last decade. I remember sitting in the waiting room of the hospital through the days of your first coma. Not being related, I wasn't allowed into the intensive care unit to see you until you came to and requested to see me. And there you were - more open and vulnerable than I'd ever seen you. You grasped my hand and began telling me your visions, the crazy densely packed phantasmagoria way beyond any acid trip, the demons and mechanical monsters that taunted and derided, telling you endless bad jokes and making horrible puns of everything - and then you asked, point blank, "Have I gone insane?" I said "No, you've been very sick. You've been in a coma for days, right at death's door. They're only hallucinations, they'll go away. You survived." "Thanks," you said. "I needed to hear that."

Your biographers aren't pleased that I don't talk to them, but how am I to say stuff like this to an interviewer with an agenda? I sometimes report things that occur to me about you in my journal, as the moment releases it, in my own way, in my own time, and they can take what they want of that.

Obviously, faith in the underlying vision which spawned the Grateful Dead might be hard to muster for those who weren't part of the all night rap sessions circa 1960-61 ... sessions that picked up the next morning at Kepler's bookstore then headed over to the Stanford cellar or St. Mike's to continue over coffee and guitars. There were no hippies in those days and the beats had bellied up. There was only us vs. 50's consciousness. There no jobs to be had if we wanted them. Just folk music and tremendous dreams. Yeah, we dreamed our way here. I trust it. So did you. Not so long ago we wrote a song about all that, and you sang it like a prayer. The Days Between. Last song we ever wrote.

Context is lost, even now. The sixties were a long time ago and getting longer. A cartoon version of our times satisfies public perception. Our continuity is misunderstood as some sort of strange persistence of an outmoded style. Beads, bell bottoms and peace signs. But no amount of pop cynicism can erase the suspicion, in the minds of the present generation, that something was going on once that was better than what's going on now. And I sense that they're digging for "what it is" and only need the proper catalyst to find it for themselves. Your guitar is like a compass needle pointing the strange way there. I'm wandering far afield from the intention of this letter, a year's report, but this year wasn't made up only of events following your death in some roughly chronological manner. It reached down to the roots of everything, shook the earth off, and inspected them. The only constant is the fact that you remain silent. Various dances are done around that fact.

Don't misconstrue me, I don't waste much time in grief. Insofar as you were able, you were an exponent of a dream in the continual act of being defined into a reality. You had a massive personality and talent to present it to the world. That dream is the crux of the matter, and somehow concerns beauty, consciousness and community. We were, and are, worthy insofar as we serve it. When that dream is dead, there'll be time enough for true and endless grief.

John Kahn died in May, same day Leary did. Linda called 911 and they came over and searched the house, found a tiny bit of coke and carted her off to jail in shock. If the devil himself isn't active in this world, there's sure something every bit as mean: institutional righteousness without an iota of fellow feeling. But, as I figure, that's the very reason the dream is so important - it's whatever is the diametric opposite of that. Human kindness.

Trust me that I don't walk around saying "this was what Jerry would have wanted" to drive my points home. What you wanted is a secret known but to yourself. You said 'yes' to what sounded like a good idea at the time, 'no' to what sounded like a bad one. I see more of what leadership is about, in the absence of it. It's an instinct for good ideas. An aversion to bad ones. Compromise on indifferent ones. Power is another matter. Power is not leadership but coercion. People follow leaders because they want to.

I know you were often sick and tired of the conflicting demands made on you by contentious forces you invited into your life and couldn't as easily dismiss. You once said to me, in 1960, "just say yes to everybody and do what you damn well want." Maybe, but when every 'yes' becomes an IOU payable in full, who's coffer is big enough to pay up? "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke!" would be a characteristic reply. Unfortunately, you're not around to explain what was a joke and what wasn't. It all boils down to signed pieces of paper with no punch lines appended.

I know what I'm saying in this letter can be taken a hundred ways. As always, I just say what occurs to me to say and can't say what doesn't. Could I write a book about you? No. Didn't know you well enough. Let those who knew you even less write them. You were canny enough to keep your own self to yourself and let your fingers do the talking. Speaking of 'personal matters' was never your shtick.

Our friendship was testy. I challenged you rather more than you liked, having a caustic tongue. In later years you preferred the company of those capable of keeping it light and non-judgmental. I think it must always be that way with prominent and powerfully gifted persons. I don't say that, for the most part, your inner circle weren't good and true. They'd have laid down their lives for you. I'd have had to think about it. I mean, a star is a star is a star. There's no reality check. If the truth were known, you were too well loved for your own good, but that smacks of psychologizing and I drop the subject forthwith

All our songs are acquiring new meanings. I don't deny writing with an eye to the future at times, but our mutual folk, blues and country background gave us a mutual liking for songs that dealt with sorrow and the dark issues of life. Neither of us gave a fuck for candy coated shit, psychedelic or otherwise. I never even thought of us as a "pop band." You had to say to me one day, after I'd handed over the Eagle Mall suite, "Look, Hunter - we're a goddamn dance band, for Christ's sake! At least write something with a beat!" Okay. I handed over Truckin' next. How was I to know? I thought we were silver and gold; something new on this Earth. But the next time I tried to slip you the heavy stuff, you actually went for it. Seems like you'd had the vision of the music about the same time I had the vision of the words, independently. Terrapin. Shame about the record, but the concert piece, the first night it was played, took me about as close as I ever expect to get to feeling certain we were doing what we were put here to do. One of my few regrets is that you never wanted to finish it, though you approved of the final version I eked out many years later. You said, apologetically, "I love it, but I'll never get the time to do it justice." I realized that was true. Time was the one thing you never had in the last decade and a half. Supporting the Grateful Dead plus your own trip took all there was of that. The rest was crashing time. Besides, as you once said, "I'd rather toss cards in a hat than compose." But man, when you finally got down on it, you sure knew how.

The pressure of making regular records was a creative spur for a long time, but poor sales put the economic weight on live concerts where new material wasn't really required, so my role in the group waned. A difficult time for me, being at my absolute peak and all. I had to go on the road myself to make a living. It was good for me. I developed a sense of self direction that didn't depend on the Dead at all. This served well for the songs we were still to write together. You sure weren't interested in flooding the market. You knew one decent song was worth a dozen cobbled together pieces of shit, saved only by arrangement. I guess we have a few of those too, but the percentage is respect ably low. Pop songs come and go, blossom and wither, but we scored a piece of Americana, my friend. Sooner or later, they'll notice what we did doesn't die the way we do. I've always believed that and so did you. Once in awhile we'd even call each other "Mister" and exchange congratulations. Other people are starting to record those songs now, and they stand on their own.

For some reason it seems worthwhile to maintain the Grateful Dead structures: Rex, the website, GDP, the deadhead office, the studio ... even with the band out of commission. I don't know if this is some sort of denial that the game is finished, or if the intuitive impulse is a sound one. I feel it's better to have it than not, just in case, because once it's gone there's no bringing it back. The forces will disperse and settle elsewhere. A business that can't support itself is, of course, no business at all, just a locus of dissension, so the reality factor will rule. Diminished as we are without you, there is still some of the quick, bright spirit around. I mean, you wouldn't have thrown in your lot with a bunch of belly floppers, would you?

Let me see - is there anything I've missed? Plenty, but this seems like a pretty fat report. You've been gone a year now and the boat is still afloat. Can we make it another year? What forms will it assume? It's all kind of exciting. They say a thousand years are only a twinkle in God's eye. Is that so?

Missing you in a longtime way RH

[bb8fan]

The Racist Treatment of Bonnie Bennett

I contemplated coming up with some cool title with a ring to it, or maybe something veiled that made you scratch your head and wonder, before reading further, BUT... why not just call a spade a spade? - “But, BB8fan, that’s such a BOLD statement to make!” I KNOW. But don’t worry, I have the facts to back it up! 

The definition of the adjective “racist” is showing or feeling discrimination or prejudice against people of other races, or believing that a particular race is superior to another. In this article, I will prove that Bonnie Bennett has been CONSTANTLY treated, made, and portrayed to feel as though the predominantly white characters of “The Vampire Diaries” were superior to her. #RacistTreatment

DISCLAIMER: LET THIS POST SPARK EMPATHY AND AWARENESS, NOT ANGER AND HATRED, LEST WE BECOME ADVOCATES OF THE VERY THING WE DESPISE... 

Firstly, when it comes to men: 

Bonnie Bennett has been treated, made, and portrayed to be the least desirable of the three female leads of TVD. While Elena was sought after by the hunky Salvatore brothers... and Caroline by the all powerful, Klaus, All-American, Matt, beefcake wolf, Tyler, Professor Alaric Saltzman, AND STEFAN to boot... BONNIE was sought after by Ben (who only wanted to use her), Luka (who only wanted to USE HER), Jeremy (who was grieving over the ex, he later CHEATED ON HER WITH), and Enzo, who had literally exhausted all other options! 

IT IS DISGRACEFUL! IT IS STOMACH CHURNING DISGUSTING, AND BLATANTLY IN YOUR FACE, WHEN YOU PAUSE TO ACTUALLY LOOK AT IT! THE RACIST TREATMENT... 

Elena was given the show leads, Caroline was given literally EVERY GUY ON THE SHOW, while Bonnie was whiny Jeremy’s third choice (after Vickie and Anna), and irrelevant Enzo’s third choice, for that matter! (Don’t forget CAROLINE and Lily! ;)

WHY have BOTH of her only relevant love interests end up with her BY DEFAULT?! And WHY IN THE WORLD couldn’t Ben or Luka start out using her, and then GROW TO CARE FOR HER?! Why did her stupid STEP BROTHER not even want her?! She had to literally THROW herself at him! WHY DID THE WRITERS TREAT THE BEAUTIFUL BONNIE BENNETT IN SUCH A DEMEANING MANNER??! In my opinion, she’s the most gorgeous of all the females, but NO. TVD made her undesirable. They put her white friends on a pedestal, and portrayed her as the inferior oddball NOBODY wanted and NOBODY CHOSE FIRST. #RacistTreatment  

But in case you need more evidence... 

Secondly, when it comes to empowerment:

Bonnie Bennett has been treated, made, and portrayed to be the most powerless out of the three female leads of TVD. ‘How so? Elena was a weak human for 3 seasons! And Bonnie’s the baddest witch in the land!’ I’m glad you asked... YES Bonnie’s a fierce witch, and yes, Elena was human for 3 seasons. BUT! 

1) Bonnie was possessed, beyond her control. (S1) 2) Bonnie was held back by Stefan, while Damon KILLED HER MOTHER. (S3) 3) Bonnie was CONSISTENTLY FORCED to do magic for Klaus! (S3) 4) Bonnie helplessly witnessed her grandmother being tortured by the spirits, to the point where she lost the ability to do her magic. (S4)  5) Bonnie had to lay there and watch Jeremy die right in front of her! (S4) 6) Bonnie’s dad was KILLED RIGHT BEFORE HER VERY EYES! (S5) 7) Bonnie lost her magic. (S5) 8) Bonnie became the anchor, and had to undergo enormous magnitudes of pain. (S5) 9) Bonnie was stabbed, chased, and tormented by Kai. (S6)  10) Bonnie had no magic. (S6) 11) Bonnie was hunted by the armory and had no magic. (S7) 12) Bonnie had NO MAGIC! (S8)

So yes, Bonnie’s an all powerful witch! But HALF THE SERIES she’s spent WITHOUT HER MAGIC! Elena was weak and human, and used for the cure! BUT Bonnie has been used as a magical tool EVERY OTHER EPISODE - and by literally EVERY character on the show! It’s not just Klaus and Katherine who’ve made her feel powerless! BUT Damon, Stefan, Katherine, Klaus, Silas, Enzo, and EVERYONE!!! 

Elena watched Jenna die. But Bonnie watched Jeremy AND her DAD die! She found her Grams dead, and was held back while her Mom was killed! 

This woman has been beaten down in ways that are just deplorable and unheard of! She has been FORCED, she has been ABUSED, she has been TRAUMATIZED in the appalling ways she’s been made to feel and be POWERLESS! More times and with more damaging magnitudes than with any other female lead! Fight me on this! It’s #RacistTreatment

But just in case you still REFUSE to see the light...

Lastly, when it comes to worth: 

This is the most serious and damaging of them all! Fine! Portray your only lead POC character as undesirable! Portray her as powerless! But worthless? This is just unacceptable... But TVD did it! My gosh they DID it with Bonnie Bennett!  

Caroline doesn’t put her life above Elena’s so why should Bonnie? TIME AFTER TIME AGAIN??! And then not only does she do it with Elena, she does it FOR JEREMY TOO!!! She literally GAVE HER LIFE for the two them! For Jeremy to be alive, and for Elena to be “happy,” she GAVE UP HER LIFE, because it is worth THAT little! Or so the show would have Bonnie believe, - AND the other characters, as no one has ever corrected her, - and we, the viewing audience! 

This is unhealthy, abusive, and DAMAGING, this belief system! But it has gone unchecked and uncorrected for YEARS! AND TO ADD INSULT TO INJURY,  the one time people claim their “superior” white faves did sacrifice for Bonnie is complete BS! Talk about #RacistTreatment

The ignorance of the show BLEEDS into the fans/viewers of it, and it is SCARY! To say that Elena or Damon sacrificed ANYTHING in season 6, when Kai linked her life to Bonnie’s, is not only absurd, it’s HORRIFYING! I don’t know if people are losing brain cells watching this terribly written show, but Elena was IN A MAGICAL COMA! That was done! It happened! -- NOW. The loophole is that she could wake up, IF BONNIE DIES! So when people say Elena sacrificed, and Damon sacrificed, they’re literally saying “Delena didn’t KILL Bonnie, they’re supposed best friend! What a sacrifice!” 

They’re literally patting them on the back, for not MURDERING their “friend!” Do you realize how messed up that is?!... But then again, a messed up ship breeds messed up fans! And a messed up show breeds messed up viewers! Bonnie’s life isn’t worth anything! That’s been the running theme of the show! So why wouldn’t viewers pat DE on the back for not killing her?! She isn’t worth crap! 

“Bonnie’s superiors are her white friends, and she needs to be ready and willing to lay down her life for them, at all times!” 

That’s the message of TVD. I am SICK. I am utterly disgusted and SICK! I cannot BELIEVE I wasted SO MANY years of my life on this show, thinking they cared about this beautiful person of color! CONVINCING myself they were saving Bonnie for DAMON, and that was the reason for her lack of love interest! Reasoning they were making Bonnie a stronger, more layered character, by putting her through so much crap! Believing they’d have the right man DECLARE Bonnie’s worth to her, and put a stop to her self harm!

NOOO! 

They’re not saving Bonnie for Damon. Why would they put the “inferior black girl” with one of the most desirable males of the series?! Even though Bamon is canon in the books, they will not even share a KISS! They will be the only important book!ship left COMPLETELY UNEXPLORED (they even did Meredith/Alaric!), when if this were Bonnie Mccullough they’d already be MARRIED! 

You know, back in season 3 of the show, I started to wish for Bonnie’s death. I thought, ‘if her character is going to be used and abused THIS much, she might as well be gone... Kat Graham deserves better, and I deserve better than to be stuck watching this show for her!’ But TVD kept her alive. They kept their token black person to keep their demographic viewers.

And yeah, a couple seasons later things seemed to be getting better... but then season 8 happened. :/ But I guess I should be thankful! My eyes are OPENED because of it. 

Bonnie Bennett is ENDLESSLY treated, made, and portrayed to feel undesirable, powerless, and worthless, next to her white friends. It’s #RacistTreatment and she deserves better. Kat Graham deserves better. And we as VIEWERS deserve better. 

I am SO DONE with this show, and I hope you will be to! Don’t put yourself through the heartache! Don’t put yourself through the twisted brainwash! I wish more than ever now that Bonnie Bennett would die. There’s just no winning. :/ She deserves better than emo Enzo AND self-centered Damon, who doesn’t give a crap about her! So just kill her! The writers have been emotionally stabbing her from the beginning anyways... 

I’m hurt. This hurts me... In a world full of constant injustice for people of color, I thought I was finally witnessing a powerful character... an attractive and beautiful black woman, who would be cared for and loved by others... It turns out she was nothing more than a plot line punching bag, created to make Elena, Caroline, the writers, and the viewers of this show feel better about themselves. :/ The abuse Bonnie Bennett has undergone has abused me worst than I think I’ve ever experienced in life. They have subliminally consistently told me I am less desirable, less powerful, and less worthy. I didn’t realize it before unfortunately, but I realize it now! And I’m DONE listening to the lies!

Well, I hope this article has enlightened you all! Don’t get so happy next time you see a diverse cast! Pay attention to the way the show/movie TREATS their people of color! Don’t be fooled, and left heartbroken and damaged, after believing and putting your faith and support into complete filth... 

Last, but not least, don’t let the ugly behavior of this world turn you into the very thing you despise. Fight hate with LOVE! And remember, we’re all brothers and sisters, whether we like it or not! 

Pray for the writers of TVD. Pray for the actors. Pray for it’s fans. Pray that they see the error of their ways, and learn to love and treat others the way they’d want to be treated... We all make mistakes. We’re all human. “We all have sinned.” Now it’s about moving FORWARD from that, and not repeating the same mistakes! :)

P.S. Go show Kat Graham’s twitter page some love! As hurt as I am by Bonnie’s treatment, she’s probably 10x more hurt! It’s probably why she decided to leave the show! She knew things weren’t going to get any better for her... :/ Anyhow, go show her some love! Thank her for gifting us with the lovely Bonnie Bennett! And compliment her on being the gorgeous and talented PROFESSIONAL she has always been! 

God bless!

[flutter-bane]

85 Questions?

I was tagged by this bean, @hetalia-happenings, you glorious bean (I thought we already were friends and yes I will love you forever-). I don’t exactly know what to do but hey we’ll try it.

I tag @capri-sunqueen, @aph-germany, @deogeno, @valisartbin, and my beautiful queen @scarfythewizard .

(So yes you must do this now!)

[The last..]

Drink: Water

Phone Call: To a “best friend” who obviously doesn’t care enough to even look in my direction anymore..

Text Message: To my REAL best friend who actually cares about me!!!

Song You Listened To: Chase Holfelder’s cover of “Animal”

Cried: Maybe the other night? I don’t remember.

Dated Someone Twice: At least 3 people twice, yeah.. I regret ever dating 2 of them.

Kissed Someone and Regretted It: No

Been Cheated On: Nope

Lost Someone Special: My grandmother and several dogs..

Been Depressed: Way too much, but I try to cheer myself up afterwards. Being sad is way too exhausting.

Gotten Drunk and Thrown Up: Dude I’m 15, I can’t drink.

Favorite Colors: Different shades of pink, red, and purple, I love blues and yellow is cool too. :3

[In the last year, have you…]

Made New Friends: Oh hell yeah

Fallen Out of Love: Nope

Laugh Until You Cried: Yep, I once laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe and broke into a coughing fit, I legitimately thought I was going to die

Found Out Someone Was Talking About You: Well yeah I mean when you’re as awesome as me- no just kidding, but yeah people have definitely talked about me.

Met Someone Who Changed You: no I don’t think so

Found Out Who Your Real Friends Were: Yep, there’s only about 6 of them, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Kissed Someone On Your Facebook List: I don’t have Facebook

[General]

How Many Facebook Friends Do You Know in Real Life: I don’t have fACEBOOK

Do You Have Any Pets: I always have pets, at one point I had 7

Do You Want to Change Your Name: I used to, but now I’m chill with it. I’ve only met one other person with my name (and then there’s that stupid celebrity everyone brings up whenever I introduce myself).

What Did You Do For Your Last Birthday: Celebrated a double birthday with my best friend because hers is a few days after mine, we had a sleep over. :)

What Time Did You Wake Up: 10:20 AM

What Were You Doing At Midnight Last Night: Watching Markiplier play some scary games!

Name Something You Can’t Wait For: Hetalia’s new season for the anime (and for Gerita to become canon already).

When Was The Last Time You Saw Your Mom: Last night before she left for work.

What Are You Listening to Right Now: Max and Alyson Stoner’s cover of Sweater Weather (better than the original song)

Have You Ever Talked to a Person Named Tom: yup

Something That is Getting on Your Nerves: Everyone’s crying over social issues. It gets stale after a while. Can't we all just chill out and like..play a board game and drink some milk?

Most Visited Website: YouTube and this hellsite tumblr

Hair Color: very dirty blonde

Long or Short: My hair almost reaches my tailbone, so long

Do You Have a Crush on Anyone: My boyfriend

What Do You Like About Yourself: My drawing and singing abilities

Piercings: My ears, but I think they’ve closed up

Blood Type: I don’t know

Nickname: I find it really sad that nobody has a nickname for me and I have to give myself one; I just kinda go by Nimby online… (It must be this damn song but I’m actually tearing up over this tHIS DAMN SONG)

Relationship Status: I’m in one :P

Zodiac: Libra

Pronouns: She/Her

Favorite TV Show: I can never really pick so I’m just gonna go with Hetalia, Attack on Titan, The Amazing World of Gumball, and The Simpsons

Tattoos: Nah

Right or Left Handed: Right

Surgery: No, but I did have to get stitches in my forehead when I was younger, I’ve got my own little Harry Potter scar :P (in the shape of a crescent moon)

Sport: I don’t play sports but I guess my favorite to watch would be football (American football)

Vacation: I don’t think I’ve ever had one

Pair of Tennis Shoes: I have a couple pairs but I don’t wear them

[More General…]

Eating: cookiessss

Drinking: Water

I’m About To: Watch some youtube, maybe finish writing some drabbles for my upcoming PruCan fanfic (It’ll be on AO3 and probably wattpad because people like me there for some reason)

Waiting For: My stupid book to come in the mail so I can start my belated summer reading project (it’s a bunch total BS)

Want: to go to my bestie’s house and finally relax for once

Get Married: Someday

Career: I would like to be an actress/voice actress, but I’m focussing on becoming a meteorologist (and I’ll be creating a web comic too)

Hugs or Kisses: Give me a hug dude I live for hugs

Lips or Eyes: I don’t know how to answer that so… Eyes??

Shorter or Taller: I don’t know what you mean by this? My boyfriend is already p tall, and I’m comfortable being small..??

Older or Younger: My boy is older by almost a year, and I’m comfortable with my age?? What do you want from me here????

Nice Arms or Nice Stomach: wtf nice arms?? I like muscley arms but with a nice soft tummy built for cuddlesss

Hookup or Relationship: Relationship duh

Troublemaker or Hesitant: I’m both!

Kissed a Stranger: Never.

Drank Hard Liquor: I’m 15. I’m a sophomore. I don’t want to drink. No thanks. I’m gonna pass.

Lost Glasses/Contacts: I’ve lost my glasses before, and I’ve left them at home once. By accident of course.

Turned Someone Down: Yes it was my childhood friend and it hurt me so bad I couldn’t look at him the next day because I felt so horrible but he was cool with what happened and I cried that whole day for nothing it sucked

Sex on the First Date: F I F T E E N S O N O

Broken Someone’s Heart: Yeah..

Had Your Heart Broken: Yeah, and not just by a break up?

Been Arrested: No I’m too much of a baby to do anything that could get me arrested.

Cried When Someone Died: Yes all the time in real life and in fiction I’m the biggest crybaby you’ll ever meet

Fallen For a Friend: Y E S

[Do you believe in…]

Yourself: Yeah, sometimes! :)

Miracles: Of course! Lord willing, anything wonderful like that can happen! :>

Love at First Sight: Yeah, I guess, but don’t make any hasty decisions right there on the spot. I think it happened to me in kindergarten XD

Santa Claus: Up until the 5th grade, yeah.. Not anymore though.

Kiss on the First Date: Maybe on the cheek, I don’t want to rush things.

Angels: Of course! As the smol Christian bean I am, of course I believe in angels!

[Other…]

Current Best Friends’ Name(s): Emily, Isaac, Zach, Keaton, Griffin, Francisco. (I get along better with boys, Emms is the only girl I could hang with forever and never get bored!)

Eye Color: Grey-blue, sometimes they’re more grey than blue depending on the lighting, but they are definitely blue.

Favorite Movie: I can’t ever decide but I think I would have to pick my favorite childhood movie A Series of Unfortunate Events. It’s my all-time favorite and I wish I had it on DVD and not a vhs tape.

This took me a few hours, so I hope your happy with it. :)

I've had to go back and edit this so many times how many errors can Nimby make in one post let's find out

[ghostwritermach]

Question 3

Well here I am again, trying to write something, to keep some mental clarity, and have some sort of insight about myself.  Last time I did two questions out of 3000. I also havent been too committed to this just yet, I’m a little scared as to what this may reveal about myself. So I haven’t had a really bad day since the last time I wrote which is awesome. I know some people going through tough times and it’s really hard to see and deal with sometimes. This is sounding like more of a journal entry than a blog post, so without any further delay lets get to the question:

What is the trait that you most deplore in yourself?

               Okay, so I’m not going to lie, why would I? I definitely had to google what “deplore” meant. And just as I figured, deplore is a negative term. Which trait to I dislike about myself the most, in plain English.

               What do I dislike the most? Oh man what a loaded question. Would I say I hate that im a little sluggish sometimes? Would I say I don’t have the most motivation? Is it the fact that im easily deterred sometimes? Or even that im short fused sometimes, and always regret it after? There are so many things to talk about my traits that I really dislike but the MOST deplorable trait that I have.. Here it goes:

                 The trait that I MOST deplore about myself, is the worst trait anyone could have. My mindset. When I boil any imperfections, or discrepancies in my life, it all comes down to my mindset. I’m a weak minded individual. I hate starting new diets, I never stick to them. I hate training, practicing etc, because I just want to be good at things. I always over think things. And the last thing im going to mention is that I always get sucked into the negative, the gossip, the bs, the things that people shouldn’t need to worry about.

                 When I do a workout -which I haven’t done in some amount of time, (lets open this can of worms) not only haven’t I been in the gym in along time but I also keep thinking to myself, that ill start getting back to my former glory, It’ll just take time etc etc. But the fact of the matter is, I don’t fucking want to, I hate the journey, I just want to be at the end- when I do a workout I think to myself, yeah, I can do 10 pushups *just an example* but ill only do 7 that’s good enough. If I decide I want to run around the block, ill find a path that’s closer to be able to get back to my place. Its so brutal, but I always think of the now, and how im scared to be uncomfortable, scared to push, scared to work, scared to be away from home, etc, etc.

               The man I’d be if I didn’t have a weak mindset, didn’t have such a “give up” attitude, would be wild. My dreams when I was a kid have absolutely changed since I was 18.

18 year old mitch: I was going to college, working 20/30 hours a week, working in retail, making the most money id ever made, which at the time was laughable (250-300/week) depending on how busy I was, what kind of sales I made. I was going to school for construction engineering, I had every advantage in the world. I had a brand new mac laptop, I had money in the bank, college and books were all paid for. My big dream was to come up with design for a city, and build it in a country that didn’t have a lot of sustainability. We would use a lot of water, and solar energy, and try to become cleaner and cleaner. Of course the biggest reason I wanted to do it was because I wanted to make money, a metric fuck load. I wanted to be bill gates rich, (nothing there has changed, expect life is more realistic now). I had a car, and money to spend on drinking and going to the bars.

                 Life took a turn, and by life I mean I unexpectedly let myself slip further and further away from the dreams and everything I thought I wanted. Now to be fair I did it all to myself, there’s not a single part of me that blames anyone or anything else. I was young, I was rebellious, I was more interested in booze and women, and it caught up to me. I had this rebellious attitude, this know it all attitude. It led me down this path that im currently on. Which im making changes in my life. I cant say that the decisions I made back when I was 18 are still impacting my life, that wouldn’t be fair. It sent me in this direction, but it didn’t create my future, I have done that. Good or bad my life is all the sum of my collective decisions. Having my time back there are a lot of changes I would have made when I was younger, there are a lot of things that I wouldn’t change. “everything happens for a reason” and fuck, the reason is to test us, for us to learn and grow, and change and be better people. And sometimes it’s a test to see if you’ll fail to see if youre not going to be a better person. Sometimes vices get the best of people, drinking, drugs, theft, all the bad things you can imagine.

                 30yr old me: I have this “realistic” bordering a lot into pessimistic mindset lately. And unfortunately it does get me down, and sometimes all I want to do is listen to sad music, and wallow in self pity. Which is a little bullshit because even though im older now, I know more than I did when I was 18, so you would thing I would know what to do, how to do it etc. but the horseshit thing is, the older I get, and the more I learn, the less I realize I actually know. I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter what you make, it doesn’t matter what you do, it doesn’t matter who  you know, or you’re associated with. My mindset is the thing that lead me down all these paths. Now don’t get me wrong, sometimes I do catch fire, and am unstoppable, but those moments are few and far between.

                 This blog is basically me being able to look at myself and see what my biggest flaw is, what I think my biggest problem is, now, like the question asked, what do I think my biggest deploreable flaw is. It didn’t ask about all my flaws, and believe me there are a few. But mindset is the one I pick, because I know that it’s the one that leads to everything else being flawed and down-fally.

                 My goals for 2020, are to not let my mind make all my decisions. That sounds a little silly, but let me explain. Obviously im going to think about the decisions I make, but instead of my mind telling me “its ok to quit, what’s the worst that can happen, im going to say to myself “im here, im already in discomfort, and the little extra push, and effort will mean all the difference. I’ve had a rough go mentally for a little bit now, and I think that its time to change it up, not worry what everyone else thinks, so that I can worry about what my mind is thinking, and what I need as a person to grow, and hopefully take off.

[theramblingonesie]

Through The Lens of a Juice-Bruiser

It’s incredible how quickly one’s life can change when they start saying yes.  Granted, I’m almost always saying yes, so shit’s almost always getting weird.

My yes’s have brought me back to Mexico, where I’ve been met with a lot of no’s, some radical gear-shifting, and a lot of time-outs. This seems to be the relationship Mexico and I have worked out with each other.  While in time-out, I’ve had a lot of time to think about who I am now, who I’m becoming, and what I want at this stage of life.  This kind of reflection isn’t particularly out of the norm for me, but with this current quietness in my environment, the lack of distractions have given volume to the truth in how unprepared I am.

Saying you want or are going to do something is not enough.  You need to be aligned with it down to your core.  In the next few years, I wanna do some big things.  But how am I going to be able to do big things when I think and feel so small?  With all of these dreams, plans and ambitions, why am I allowing so much space for self-sabotage? How can I be in service to the healing and betterment of others when I’m my own worst Babadook?

I’ve been binge-reading/watching/listening to all things birth-related while I go through my doula certification.  I’m geeking the eff out on this subject.  One of the amazing places the research has taken me is into the idea of conscious conception.  Real nifty stuff.  And where *that* took me was to a sharp detour right into healing my own social and sexual trauma.

Barf.

No, actually, it’s really good. I’m ready.  In a couple of days I’ll publicly post my other blog that I wrote while leading up to this point.

I found a woman named Layla Martin.  Look her up. She’s this happy, real-talk, badass sex educator who is doing good things in the world to help all folks of all preference and orientation heal themselves and live more present, ecstatic lives.  I’m not usually, if ever, one for guru-types.  I think 99.9% are shams and they usually make my skin want to turn into snakes that eat each other and then die.  But this woman keeps it so authentic, and maintains her own vulnerability in a way that I can super get with, and so I totally encourage everyone to check her out.

She offers a series of exercises on self-love and confidence, which I really, reallyreallyreallyREALLY need. With the peace, space and personal freedom I feel when I’m traveling, I thought now would be a great opportunity to try and develop some new habits, so I’ve been trying to do yoga every morning and then meditate while applying some of her techniques.

One of them, a very commonly known one that’s been used forever by every therapist known to this universe, is looking at yourself in the mirror and saying “I love you”.

EWWWWW NOOOOOOO WHYYYYYYY

I CAAAAANNN’TT

NOT THAT OOONNNEE PLEEAASSEE DON’T MAKE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Sigh.

I’ve been putting that one off. But this morning I knew I had a long day of being out in the world, and had no desire to battle my beastly anxiety in public, so I broke out the big guns and did all of the damn exercises.  I ate my chocolate and banana, drank water, did yoga, then sat down to meditate. After a few minutes, I opened my eyes, looked up into the mirror and said, “I love you.”

Omg, it felt awful.

“Who fucking does shit like this?  This is some rock bottom BS.  I’m like that neurotic middle-aged man who just got fired for being a drunk, and his wife left him, and he’s trying to put himself back together from his mom’s couch. I’m not that guy!”

“Oh yeah? Who is that guy?” the little voice in my head asked.

“Pathetic.  People who boast about loving themselves are weak and arrogant.”

“Wow. Wow…”

“Don’t judge me!”

“Okay, let’s play the mirror game. When you’re in a disempowered place, how do you view yourself?”

“Weak and arrogant.”

“Interesting.”

“NO IT’S NOT.”

“Sounds like your fears are trying to trick you out of feeling confident, because you might actually stop sabotaging yourself and have to live a healthy, fulfilling life. We can’t have that now….”

“Crap. Okay, I’ll do the exercise.”

I backtracked and tried a different exercise to lead up to that one.  It was a visualization of my younger self, and how I would tell her that I love her.  Unexpectedly, I started crying.  I was crying for how hurt I was, and for how relieved I was to hear kind, compassionate words from myself.  When I opened my eyes, I tried again.  

“I love you”, I said. And I could see in my eyes that I meant it. It wasn’t like those times in the past where I’ve gone through the motions of the exercise, like someone who is at the end of a relationship but doesn’t know how to get out.  This was genuine, and it shocked me.  I repeated it until it reached every piece of me, and I then I was ready to begin my day.

I floated off to the farmer’s market to get some fresh veggies. I felt light, I felt sweet, I felt calm and totally at ease in my body.  Food is magic to me, so going to the market is like praying.  I get stupid excited about kale and tomatoes every time like it’s my first time.  I was even a good little shopper and returned the glass bottles from the juice I bought the week before.

Or so I thought.

Everything was going so well.  I was just about to give the vendor my money for the new juice, and SMASH!!!! My purse had apparently hit a bottle on the table while my back was turned, and glass and blueberry juice went everywhere.  The people around fell quiet.

I wanted to die.

All of my work, all of that self-love, coaching on how to hold yourself in compassion when you feel shame or social awkwardness: DESTROYED.

I froze. I made weird nervous puppy sounds.  The vendor told me not to worry about it, so I ran away, and spent the next 20 minutes emotionally tearing my guts out and running them through a meat grinder while my brain manifested 1,000 school children pointing and laughing at me.  I kept kicking myself for being a stupid American, how people like me are the reason why the world especially hates white Americans.  How everyone thinks I’m an idiot because my language skills are poor, but now I’m also clumsy and careless on top of it. Dogs would walk by and my head would say “that dog won’t even look at you because it knows you’re Satan.”

Eventually I stood up. When I ran away, I ran to the furthest end of the market, so I had to go all the way back through to leave.   I reminded myself to chill out and to start over. I faked my body language until my attitude caught up with it: shoulders back, soft face, deep breath, gentle walking. By the time I got to the end, a table with sweet little potted plants caught my eye.  The vendor was incredibly kind, and he smiled brightly while he enthusiastically told me all about his gardening practice.

“Right,” I reminded myself. “You’re allowed to accept kindness.”

After I paid, he asked me if I like mandalas.  Curious, I said yes.  He picked up a beautiful little stone that he had hand-painted, and offered it to me as a gift.

On the most basic level, this was a very sweet gesture that I deeply appreciated, especially after the violent lashing I had just given myself over juice.

(Juice. C’mon.)

(Okay, it was never actually about juice, but still, c’mon.)

On a greater level, this moment of kindness felt like a tiny kiss from the universe, like when you’re a little kid who falls off her bike, and your mom picks you up, kisses the little scrape on your knee, and cheers you on when you hop back up and keep riding. It was a good moment to understand how deeply I emotionally abuse myself; how downright mean I am.  No wonder I attract assholes and shitty situations into my life.  My most important line of defense is flipping me the middle finger and pissing in my lemonade!

I went home and posted about my new pet plant.  It barely got any traction online.  My brain went back into turbo-hate mode.  “Nobody likes you; why do you try to take up space?”

Omg, self! Stop!

I grabbed a book, took my dress off, and laid out on the terrace in the sun.  I didn’t want to try any exercises.  I just wanted to recalibrate on my own as a normal human. I reminded myself of all the risks I’ve taken in the past couple years, how my life is abnormal, and how painful/confusing/disorienting it can be to separate yourself from your former life and the friends in it.  I reminded myself that I chose to change, even though this choice didn’t feel like much of a choice if I wanted to be true to myself. If I want this change to be worth it, if I’m serious about answering the call, then I have to figure out a way to stop being a bully to myself so I can start truly living.  I reminded myself that I don’t have to be the best, or the coolest, or the most impressive.  I don’t actually owe anyone anything.  Right now, I just have to feel confident that I will lead myself to safe, healthy choices, and that I’m worthy of inhabiting my body and the spaces it delivers me to. That’s enough.  Everything else will fall in line.

I got up and made my way to an alternative, underground art collective that was having an art sale event. Even though my inner little sad dude tried to say it was okay if I stayed home, I knew it was important to go. My going to this event was an exercise in self-love.  I was ready to meet other local artists.  I wanted to stand in front of something beautiful, something inspiring.  I wanted to meet and chat with other women, and other weirdos.  I was ready to move outside of the current trend of only hanging out men who are drunk and lie in hopes of fucking me; playing another round of “let’s trick the stupid gringa”.  I was ready to socialize because I’m excited to, not just because I’m lonely.

I went, and it was amazing. I was surrounded by art of all mediums, and the beautiful minds that created them.  People were incredibly friendly, and I got several cards and phone numbers.  I spoke mostly to other women, which was such a relief.  I told one vendor about “The Slutcracker” and “pussy galaxy” from back in Boston when I saw her stickers of people in various explicit positions of having sex with the night sky, and she squealed so loudly with joy that it made me feel like I could relax and be my authentic self in this space.  On my way out, one of the organizers told me that I should come hang out at the collective during the week and see if there’s any way I’d want to get involved.

Again, a kiss from the universe.  I took the time to be kind, follow my happiness, and I was rewarded with a beautiful, fulfilling afternoon that gave me a glimpse into the incredible life I could continue building here if I remain in my truth, and in love.

Because here’s a cool thing that sounds so basic and cliché, but is rather profound in action—

When you love yourself, you can love and accept others.  

Sometimes, however, like an SSRI for depression, we need a little outside love to get over the hump and get inspired.  Meaning, you don’t need high self-esteem to know love, but boy howdy does having it deepen the experience.  Self-worth is magical for transforming co-dependency to true love.

When I got home, I flopped down on my bed, exhausted and starving.  The amount of energy I had spent trying to pull my shit together and socialize had left me happy, but also totally depleted.  I pepped myself up enough to walk downstairs to check the broth I had made the night before.  I had already ordered takeout because the idea of cooking seemed impossible, but next thing I knew, I was cooking a new soup.  Every time I opened the fridge, I saw another ingredient that made me so excited. I greeted them like they were beloved friends.

“Eee!! Hi Rosemary! Yay, hello Beans!!! Oooo, Lime, lookin’ good, lookin’ good. TOMATOES, YOU ARE FABULOUS!”

I do this. I’m constantly thinking outloud and talking to inanimate objects. Sometimes I tell myself it’s because maybe I’m a Buddhist or something and believe there’s spirit flowing through all things.  But Buddhists probably don’t stop in the middle of a room and honk for no reason. It feels great. Try it.

5 minutes before my delivery arrived, I realized I had whipped up a glorious soup.  Oops…kinda.  I found myself back in the space I was before The Great October Juice Tragedy, where food was magical.  Each ingredient I purchased was done so with special care, with consciousness, and excitement for how it would taste.  I don’t have much money, so every bit was deliberate.  Making that soup became less about physical nourishment, because I already had food on the way.  It was about a joyous celebration of good choices; each choice, each ingredient being another gesture to love myself.  I didn’t feel guilty about the abundance because none of it was a waste.  Now I have yummy soup leftovers to look forward to without the effort of cooking this week.

Another exercise Layla suggests is to do something, every day, where the action becomes an exercise in self-love.  She compares it to going to the gym and working out.  Whether it’s lighting a candle, putting on your clothes for the day, or sipping your coffee—with each motion, say “I love you” to yourself.  I decided to do that with soup.

Slurp. I love you.

Sluuurp. Oh man, YUM. I freaking love you!

Sluuurp! Ahhh. Yeah. I love you.  Thank you for such a great meal.  That was really kind and thoughtful.

I ate my delivery sandwich, too, heh.  I think I needed the calories because today was exhausting. I learned a lot, observed a lot, and I look forward to continuing this work so that I can keep getting out of my own way, stop putting up with garbage, and have the energy to do what I gotta goddamn do.  I expect to still have some rough patches and tough days ahead, but that’s to be expected when you’re rewiring 20+ years of unhealthy thought.  While I’m practicing this in the emotional realm, this is truly an exercise in neuroplasticity.  That ish takes time.  Whether things are “good” or “bad” is less pressing for me right now than simply being clear: setting the intention, and digging in to do the work to follow through.  When I’m clear, I see results.  When I’m clear, my muck falls away to create a channel that love can course through. Love manifests itself as focus and care. Also when I’m a clear channel for love, I feel connected to my environment and the people therein.  Being kind, being compassionate, dedicating to learning, and being aware of my carbon footprint come naturally, because I can feel the web.  What happens out there tugs on me, too.  When I’m aware of this web, I can see my path, and that’s when dreams become reality.

That sounds oversimplified. Don’t approach this in an oversimplified way.  Make room for the journey to be one hell of a mother fucking for real for real journey. Find peace in being wrong. You’re totally gonna be wrong at some point/s, haha.

*hug*

If you suffer from negative self-talk like I do, I hope that my own stumbling through this helps you to know that you’re not alone.  If you want to go look in the mirror and cry and say “I love you” to yourself, I highly recommend it.  It’s gonna feel super weird.  But just know, there’s another little weirdo (me) out there somewhere who is really proud of you and not judging you for it.  Reading back over this, I’m noticing all the different times and ways I mention self-love. Maybe I’ll start journaling a daily self-love log to keep count, and try to fill that jar up like a piggy bank. Let me know if you do, too!

I think if we’d all love ourselves just a little bit more, genuinely and fully, there’d be a whole hell of a lot less douchebagery in the world.

But even with that,

There’s still a chance that you will crash into a table of juice.

Deal with it.

Special thanks to my goofy bf for always supporting me (even though I wish he’d make fun of me more), and for giving me this silly blog title.  If you want to learn more about Layla Martin, visit https://layla-martin.com