#swans are also out because i was starting to get real in the weeds about swan social behavior and boy

[bacon-neko]

Nano 2023 Day 17

hey wait a minute! how did you get here? (and where is that large automobile...)

“And I suppose you have special insight into his fate?” said Hermes. “Like where he is now? How to find him?”

“Bold to assume my visions would be helpful,” replied Apollo.

Hermes doubled down. “You found your way here, didn’t you?”

“Several hours late.”

“Sure, but you came.” Hermes pulled to the front, forcing his brother to a stop. “You’d never leave Hyperborea without a reason, come on. You had to have seen something big.”

Apollo stared Hermes down a moment before releasing a puff of white breath and scrubbing his hands through his curls. “I didn’t see much,” he said, eventually, leveling carefully against his brother’s gaze. “Just a crumbling Olympus, a boy with dark hair and grey eyes, and halo of storm clouds above him. I felt motion in the weave, so I let the strings pull me here.”

Hermes frowned. “You’re lying. There’s something else.”

Apollo smiled and shifted past him to continue walking. “Good luck proving that in court.”

“Pretty sure the god of liars can smell a rat,” Hermes called after him.

“And I invented lawyers!” said Apollo. “I like my chances. Now, if you don’t mind, we have bigger fish to fry.”

Hermes huffed and bit back a groan. Despite himself, he asked, “What kind of fish?”

“The kind that keeps father from clocking us as traitors the minute we get home,” replied Apollo cheerily. “Let’s hop to it.”

[gallopinggallifreyans]

I saw your tags on the arrow post and I would very much like to learn about the eye surgery thing but from your words bc I feel like I’ll learn in a more fun way than from googling it would u mind sharing?

Absolutely I will share thank you for asking this is one of the funniest things I've ever experienced in this particular class actually, which is really saying something because this was a class on archaic and classical Greece taught by a millennial, so you already know it’s wild as hell.

For a little bit of context, Phil loses his eye between 355 and 354. Up until that point, it’s been about 150 years of near constant tension, save for the 20 odd years between the end of the Persian War and the start of the Peloponnesian War (which is really just two wars strung together by a joke of a detente—I can tell you more about it another time). Athens lost the Pelop war, Sparta won, Sparta starts a hegemony, Lysander of Sparta installs oligarchies, Sparta Does Not Like That, Thebes comes in and starts their own hegemony, Macedon Does Not Like That, and Phil goes on a campaign to conquer Greece, and he’s got a preeeetty strong claim.

So there’s a whole lot of fighting. As you might figure, war comes with injuries, and if warriors wanted to live they had to figure out how to fix themselves before the infections got them. At this point in time, they're using missile weapons. Not like, actual modern style rocket missiles—I'm talking stones and arrows. One of these arrows found its way into Phil's eye, and this happened around 355–354, so like, ten years before Macedon's rise to real power in the Greek world, during Phil’s campaign around Greece.

There was this guy called Diocles who was a surgeon in Phil’s army, and surgeons didn’t actually do the surgeries themselves (sometimes they did but I can’t point out specific statistics, it’s not my field and I never went looking) but most of the time they would just hold the patient’s head and shoulders and direct assistants in the surgery. I can’t remember the actual reason for this and I could also have some facts mixed up, so don’t quote me on that specific bit.

Anyways, Phil had an arrow in his eye. Diocles had a spoon (pictured below). Phil was probably drugged up with unmixed wine and some other fancy plants used to get high because their version of anesthetics was alcomahol and weed (or alcohol and weed adjacent). Fast acting pain relief and all, except it doesn’t relieve pain it just inhibits like, all your pain receptors so you don’t feel anything until a day later and then you’re cussing out your surgeon.

^that’s the spoon, it was meant for removing arrows. The hole in the middle is where you’d stick the shaft of the arrow through, so you’d press the back of the spoon against the wound, and then lever the arrow out. It sounds a little impractical and there’s not a whole lot of information but from what it looks like you can infer pretty well how it’s supposed to work.

Diocles removed the arrow from Phil’s eye with that spoon, and along with the arrow, he removed Phil’s eye. There’s some mention about an eyestalk in some text somewhere, I’d have to double check in my copy of Arrian, but I won’t go into that because it’s irrelevant and kinda gory.

So now, there’s about fifteen of us in this class, and, keep in mind that we’re all or mostly in our early twenties, which means we have verbal filters made of single ply toilet paper, and our professor is this millennial guy who regularly dresses like Charlie Swan from Twilight. Flannel and all. Truly one of my favourite professors.

We’re all so morbidly curious about ancient surgery, so we derail the class into a nice long discussion about known surgical methods and hypothetical surgical methods. Someone picks up on the fact that quite a few tools looked like modified cutlery (see: the spoon of Diocles). Someone else suggests unconventional methods of surgery, like a pneumatic contraption for bloodletting. A third person suggests combining the two into a straw, and then proceeds to detail how Diocles might have used a straw to yank Phil’s eyeball out.

My professor hears this, acknowledges this, and in true millennial new dad fashion goes, “Oh, like a boba!”

And I lost it. I told my entire family that story and received varying degrees of approval.

And that’s it! @androgynyispunkashell I’m sorry for taking so long to answer but I hope this was funny and (at least somewhat) informative!

[hatterstan-shameblog]

For the headcanon thing

I think Hatter likes to watch bad movies. Like the really bad ones. The ones that make you roll your eyes/laugh/cry at every single thing about it, doesn't matter if it's plot or acting. But you know what he loves more than watching those awful movies alone?

Watching them with someone else.

"hey, Mori, wanna watch a movie?"

"...no."

"c'mon, you'll like this one."

"no, I won't."

"...no, you won't. But I will enjoy your presence. C'mon bro, do it for the sake of bonding time."

"*sigh* fine..."

(inspired by real life events)

💕 Sleepover 💕

Rating: PG13 for language and alcohol consumption

Relationship: Takeru (Hatter)/Aguni

Tags: banter, friendly insults, Just Guys Being Dudes, drinking, swearing, love confessions (sort of), They Talk A Big Game But The Love Is There

Bangbangbangbangbang!

“Mori!”

Bangbangbangbangbang!

“Moooooori, let me iiiiiiiiiin!”

Clunk!

Click!

Creeeeeeaaaaaak!

Aguni opens his apartment door, wincing at the slap of summer heat that greets him as he does.

“C’mon man,” an overheated and impatient Takeru implores, “it’s miserable out here!”

“You bring me samosas,” Aguni asks, crossing his arms across his chest, “Because I’m not letting you in without my samosas.”

Takeru’s face twists into a look of shocked indignation.

“Would you really leave me—your best friend on this beautiful green Earth—to swelter and die on your doorstep in this blazing summer heat…all because I forgot the samosas?”

Aguni considers.

“No. I’d ask you to swelter and die in the parking lot. Neighbors’ll kick up a fuss if you block the stairwell.”

“Well it’s a good thing I got two orders this time,” Takeru shakes the bag enticingly, “so we don’t even have to share.”

“Someone’s splashing out,” Aguni murmurs, taking the bag from Takeru’s outstretched hand and standing aside so the man can enter his home, “Don’t suppose there’s a reason for all this…”

“Maybe I just wanted to be nice,” Takeru says flippantly, toeing off his shoes, “a little ‘thank you’ for welcoming me into your home.”

Aguni carries the bag of food over to his coffee table and sets it down, being careful not to disturb the place settings he had so thoughtfully arranged. Two plates, two spoons, two glasses of water—all neatly placed in the center of his new, sage-green placemats.

Hopefully nobody spills curry on them.

“You brought one of your weird movies again, didn’t you?”

Takeru rolls his eyes. Shoving his arm into his messenger bag, he rummages around its contents for a moment before yanking a dark, thin rectangle and holding it up for Aguni to examine.

“The 1977 horror classic, House,” he explains with an edge of exasperation, “is a critically-acclaimed work of art that has been inspiring both film fanatics and the average man for nearly half a century.”

“Straight from the back of the box,” Aguni mumbles, opening the stapled-shut paper bag and peeking at the containers inside, “Anyways, I thought you didn’t like scary movies.”

Takeru scoffs.

“Not sure what gave you that idea,” Takeru says, shoving his feet into his slippers—yes, his slippers, black velvet with red-and-gold dragons embroidered on the front because ‘I’m here enough to warrant my own damn slippers’ and ‘these are fucking awesome,’ “We saw Hereditary in the theater!”

“And you were scared the whole time,” Aguni points out, gingerly lifting their food out of the bag and arranging the containers on their respective plates, “You had to sleep with the lights on for a week. Screwed up your cat’s sleep schedule and everything.”

Takeru swans his way over to Aguni’s refrigerator and opens it, more or less sticking his whole head inside to examine its (admittedly meager) offerings.

“It’s not my fault that Ziggy is such a smart, beautiful boy who knows what ‘lights out’ means. And besides,” Takeru says while examining the bottle of white wine Aguni had put in to chill, “I’ll be staying here tonight, so it won’t be an issue.”

“So the cat gets to sleep, but I don’t?”

“You, my dear, get a evening of my company, complete with scintillating conversation, cultural enrichment, and—as we have already established—your very own order of samosas,” Takeru calls out from the kitchen, rummaging for a suitable pair of wine glasses, “And besides, I plan on sleeping deeply and comfortably knowing that any and all monsters would no doubt eat you first, giving me ample opportunity to flee the scene…”

Aguni lifts the lid off his curry, admiring the rich yellow hue and inhaling its bold spices. There are even a few extra chilis lying on top, which is a lovely surprise.

Takeru arrives at the table, glasses in one hand and wine in the other. He gives the spread a discerning once-over and then a nod of apparent approval.

“Anyways,” Takeru says, twisting off the top of the wine bottle (not without giving Aguni a look of distaste as he does it), “I’m a bit disappointed in you, Mori-chan. I thought you’d fight me more on this one…”

“It’s a losing battle,” Aguni concedes, sitting himself down in his usual spot and turning on the television, “I have too many brain cells and not enough patience to go through the usual theatrics.”

Takeru hands him a generously-full wine glass—not as full as his own, of course, but still more than what the average person might pour.

“This’ll help the brain cell problem,” he says with an over-enthusiastic smile, “probably the patience, too. Wine makes you sentimental.”

“Hmph.”

“See? It’s already working.”

“Yeah, well,” Aguni grumbles, taking a small sip of his beverage, “better get the movie started before I change my mind.”

Takeru begins his usual indignant grumbling as he fumbles with the DVD player. Aguni could help him, but, frankly, it’s entertaining to watch his friend struggle with the simple electronic setup.

When Takeru manages to get the tray open, he gives a small cheer of victory. Aguni stifles a smirk.

Hopefully the movie is this much fun.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

“Mori. Hey, Mori-chan.”

Aguni rolls his eyes, and then himself onto his side to face Takeru.

“What,” he grumbles, squinting in the dark as he tries to make out the other mans’ shape, “piano thing still got you upset?”

“It ate her fingers, Mori,” Takeru whisper-shouts, “and then it got the rest of her too! That’s enough to upset anyone!”

“It wasn’t even that scary,” Aguni mentions, shimmying his shoulders in order to find a more comfortable spot on his futon, “besides, you don’t even play piano, so you don’t have to worry.”

Takeru is silent for a moment—a blessed, beautiful moment.

“I guess you’re right,” he says after his brief contemplation, “but that’s not the only thing on my mind.”

“I’m guessing ‘sleep’ isn’t one of ‘em?”

Takeru scoffs. There’s a shuffling and fluttering sound from his neighboring futon as he turns to face his disgruntled companion.

“In due time,” Takeru says, “what plagues me now is more of a philosophical question.”

Aguni sighs.

“Remember the part where that guy got turned into a pile of bananas?”

“Yeah,” Aguni responds, “that was weird.”

“What if that happened to me,” Takeru asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “would I turn into a pile of bananas, or would I be a different kind of fruit?”

Oh, you’re different alright, Aguni thinks to himself, but he knows better than to say that out loud. Takeru’s using his ‘this is going to keep me up all night unless you give me a good answer’ voice, so Aguni starts thinking about how best to answer.

“I think you’d be melons,” Takeru concludes, “yeah…definitely melons.”

“Because of my round head and lack of hair?”

“No,” Takeru snaps, “well, that wasn’t my original thinking.”

Aguni subtly checks his phone—half-past one o’clock in the morning, too late to send Takeru home on a train to ask his cat these burning questions instead of him.

“Why,” Aguni asks, “do you think I’d be melons?”

“Well, like you, melons are strong and tough on the outside. Make a nice thud sound when you smack ‘em.”

“So do I,” Aguni mentions, “if you get the right spot. But I also hit back, so that’s not very melon-y, is it?”

“Hm. I suppose not. But,” Takeru says, “where you really start to resemble the melon is on the inside.”

“Inside, huh?”

“Yeah,” Takeru considers for a moment, “underneath all that tough rind, melons are soft. Sweet, too. Nothing fancy, they’re not trying to prove anything, they’re just…good. Like you.”

Aguni hadn’t been expecting something so…sentimental. It’s a touching departure from their usual quips and playful jabs, and it makes something warm and kind of familiar bubble up in Aguni’s heart.

“And also,” Takeru tacks on, “they’re green. And green is your favorite color! So it’s perfect.”

“I think you’d be a strawberry,” Aguni says after a beat.

“A strawberry? You mean only one?”

“Only one,” Aguni confirms, “but one of those fancy designer ones, the kind they grow in those hydroponic farms and sell in department stores for thousands of yen.”

“I heard about a guy who got murdered at one of those places,” Takeru says, “some yakuza guy who was selling weed on the side, someone put a hit out on him and used the body for fertilizer.”

“That’s…disturbing,” Aguni replies, “but that’s beside the point. Don’t you want to know why I think you’d be a single strawberry?”

“Is it because they’re red?”

“Sort of,” Aguni says, “Got a lot of seeds, too. Get stuck in your teeth pretty easily, if you’re not careful.”

“I am rather tenacious.”

“You are.”

Aguni considers his next words carefully. His relationship with Takeru is…complicated, and uncertain, and if anyone ever asked him what they ‘are’ he wouldn’t know how to answer.

“Strawberries are sweet. They’re sour, too. You’d know the flavor anywhere. And you…”

He pauses. Takeru, for once, doesn’t try to fill the silence with his own voice.

“…Well, those designer strawberries are all one-of-a-kind, just like you. So that’s why there’s one one,” he says slowly, “and I like strawberries. Might even, uh…love ‘em.”

“Oh, Mori…”

Something flops onto Aguni’s blanket—once, twice, and ah, it’s Takeru’s hand, and he’s looking for something. Aguni slips his arm from under the covers and covers Takeru’s hand with his own. This is apparently what Takeru had been searching for, because he pulls Aguni’s hand closer to himself.

“You know,” Takeru says, “now that you mention it, I think I might love melon, too.”

Aguni feels lips against the back of his hand—a soft kiss, gentle, a reassurance as much as an act of affection—and he’s glad for the dark of night that hides the blush of his cheeks.

“I feel better now,” Takeru announces, giving Aguni’s hand a light squeeze, “In fact, I think I’m falling asleep as we speak…”

“Hmm,” Aguni hums in agreement.

He’s still holding Takeru’s hand, and Takeru, his—neither seem too keen on letting go, at least, not for now.

[themostexpensiveboningknife]

2020

Failed party, money in drawer, communicate, move house, move boxes, drive in van, walk to shops, buy noodles, think it’s the end, see whole bus of soldiers in Beijing, new area, walk in darkness, think about leaving, leave, think its temporary, in taxi, post stupid photos, check and check again phone, think people with goggles on my plane are over reacting, take off my mask to eat, keep taking off to loosen, arrive back in London. Tube. Cold. Pub. Party at WeWork. Exhibition at Dulwich Gallery. Farringdon. Drugs and drinks. Brockley, South east London. DJ. Ethiopian food. Morley’s Peckham. Walking on the River. Photographer friend’s house. Canal cycle. National Gallery. Car crash, Dalston. Omar Souleyman. Corsica Studios. Meet girl, back to my friends, back to hers, sex. Morning up to mum’s best friends birthday, Covent Garden restaurant. In a van, Sunday roast. Chisenhale Gallery. arebyte Gallery. Getting worse in China, seems nice and easy and calm in England. Camberwell beers and more. Second-hand book shops, Charing Cross Road. Courtauld. Leafed through a book about a man who lived his entire 86.5 years in East London. Still talking to the same girl back in China. Both believe I’ll be back soon. Chicken wings. West London, meal. South London pub. DJing somewhere inside. Kent, see grandma. Rave, Bermondsey. Friends from Israel and Germany arrive. More drinks, more drugs. Mixing friends. Gay bar in Bethnal Green for old friend’s birthday. Acid, confused and hilarious. Tate Britain. Serpentine. Cranes on the bridge. Liverpool Street film screening. Feels shallow, but good. Begin regular E Pellici sojourns. Primrose Hill with Dad. Beer festival with Keaton and co. Peckham, school friend’s house, bad vibe. More drinks, more drugs. Working on first music compilation with Slowcook and Fafa. Begin watching all of the Studio Ghibli movies. Watching Breaking Bad. At some point have huge argument with my brother, it went like this: He came home from work and I was sitting watching Breaking Bad, he asks, “Have you been like that all day?” I either took it in the wrong way or picked up on a sly dig. It was probably me, but at this point I was pretty self-conscious and worried about going back to China and whether or not I would have a job back there. Was getting surprisingly pissed off with my brother mentioning his work, felt like an affront to me. Weird. He goes crazy (he has a short fuse), punching a wall, ready to fight me. My mum is pretty upset. A few days later I go into his room and try to patch things up. Turns into a deeper chat. He feels like I haven’t been a good brother to him, he gives the example of not looking out for him on his first days of school. I say I’m sorry, it’s because I’m a bit scared and insecure. In retrospect I regret a little laying so much weakness on the table, seems his interactions/ways of acting around me have changed a bit. Still not sure how I feel about it all. Considered getting a gold tooth with Matthew. Play with cats, enjoying them more and more. Rave in Dalston, good music from Asia and beyond. Looking at magazines. Not doing much work at all. Being out and about instead. Go to Norfolk. It’s beautiful, but get way too drunk on first night, sick everywhere, wake up naked in sick. Massive fucking shitshow. Majority of people there have no choice but to act weirdly around me now, which is understandable. Still some nice aspects. One girl there surely hates me a lot. Tate Modern. Art stuff by self is good. Corsica Studios, semi-art, semi-music event. Mr. Bao for first time of many. Radio in Tottenham. Take drugs. Pubs. Drive to Asda with brother to stock up on food. It’s March and the reality of the pandemic is hitting. More canal cycling. First and only group chat on Zoom. BH Funk. Probably have taken cocaine and messaged one of three or four girls numerous times by now. If there’s one, in the cold light of day, horrible and disgusting thing I’ve done too much this year it’s this. Incessant messaging of poor girls that I know will react (although increasingly they don’t, I manage to alienate even close friends in this way). Southbank and The Mall with Nick. Reading about Wuhan. List of good texts. Continuing to do some writing. Making WeChat posts for guī WeChat, including mix series and miniessays. Greenwich park with Matthew. Grime quiz online. Delivering food regularly for my mum’s school. Hackney Marshes with Luan. Epping Forest with Mum and Dad. By this point probably have woken up feeling sorry for myself in Ludo’s flat, after untold amounts of alcohol and cocaine. Online rave. Beijing artists only mix. Go to Switzerland, pass through Italy on the way. Its breath taking, the mountains, the expanse of scenery, not used to it. Climbing up mountains with no one around. Rolo and Patrick and Rita smoke too much weed. I really, really, really still hate smoking it. Feel a bit annoyed how long we spend sitting around while they smoke, but this is way outbalanced by the uniqueness of where we are and the beauty all around. Producing more and more, actually getting somewhere. Cooking more and more food. Reading more and more, like: Black and British, The Corrections, Real Fast Food, Bass, Mids, Tops, Zadie Smith, Olivia Lang, Graham Greene, JG Ballard, Monica Ali, Mo Yan, Jenny Zhang, John le Carre, Naked Lunch, Nabokov, Bukowski, Zora Neale Hurston, Wiley, Bitcoin, Murakami, Judith E. Butler, The Painter of Modern Life, Maupassant, Chekov, Video Art, Gravity’s Rainbow (couldn’t finish), Anaïs Nin, The Net Delusion (couldn’t finish), The Establishment and how they got away with it (couldn’t finish), Roddy Doyle, The Secret of Scent, General Intellects, Women In Love, The Intelligent Investor, Lyndon Johnson. Victoria Park more often than I can remember. To Chrissy’s house. Mile End Park. Very regularly sitting on the river in Wapping. Bring the chessboard and play Ludo sometimes, people smile and look at you differently when you’re playing chess and drinking beers versus just sitting and drinking beer. I May Destroy You. Industry. The beautiful wide expanse of Hackney Marshes. My incessant quest to reach 1000 followers in Instagram. More cycling, and I hate to say it but it really was: Here there and everywhere. Margate with my Dad to see my grandma in hospital and saw the Turner Prize exhibition. Light blue like scrubs, the sky and sun felt eternal. Swimming in dirty water. Make a DJ mix of old 2000s Road Rap. Eat cheese in Peckham. Cycle along the canal north, keep going and going through Tottenham, past Enfield keep going, it’s mad how quickly it becomes quiet fields on all sides, arrive to some kind of lake, swim and then back to the centre of town. Outside a Hawksmoor church in Shadwell ate chicken with Karim and Ludo. DJing. From my bedroom window saw a big crane in the middle of the night sitting on the canal. Begin developing the second DCCY compilation this time with BULLY magazine. Go to a house in an old school in Camberwell. Discover new secret riverside spots in East London. Finally give up my apartment in Beijing. Mile End park. Cycle further and further East to a pedestrian bridge I didn’t know existed. Get onto the beach and into the Thames water. Interview Akito. Begin writing more, after few months of wiling away the summertime. My friend Emmy gets married in Rwanda, I give him some money as a wedding gift which he tells me he used to buy his wife’s dress. Protests in HK always on TV. Get more into finances, crypto and trading, and just saving in general. Had sex with an old friend. Now meeting a girl I first knew years ago in Beijing. More secret river spots. Keaton has his baby, Noah. More times on Hackney Marshes. Barbican conservatory. Watching more films, try to watch all the films of some directors including: Jia Zhangke, Bong Joon-ho, Edward Yang, Wong Kar-wai, Apichatpong Weerasethakul. Decide to watch all of the infamous lauded series, go through Breaking Bad, The Wire and The Sopranos. Go to the seaside for a few days, camping also. Henry Wu album launch in a car park in Bermondsey. Go to visit Keaton’s baby for the first time. Good photography exhibition at Photographer’s Gallery. Go to Wallace Collection again. August. Go to Berlin. Swimming in Berlin lakes until I get an ear infection. It makes me drowsy and lethargic, but still seems to spend all my time cycling around the city. On one night cycle for hours to a rave on the outskirts of the city. Like a lot the abandoned airport in Berlin. Oh yeah, vaping. Found a dead bumble bee. Speak with Nevin about projects. Write a piece about the future of the art world for a magazine being started by Nevin’s friend in Canada. Go to Lithuania. Walk around Vilnius, get too drunk by myself. Get to the Curonian Spit and Nida, beaches and new friends. For the Nightlife Residency project. For a short while life is like on a desert island of new food, new people, new locations, quiet and new meaning. Go to the Russian border on the beach. Cycle to the road boarder and get stopped by the police. Go nude on the beach for the first time. Sauna, sand dunes and forests. DJ out for the first time in ages, this time with Nono. To Kaunus and try nice and stodgy Georgian food for the first time. Hackney Wick back for party. Meet a ginger girl online and go on a date. Wallace Collection again. Free beer and pizza. White Cube. National Gallery, Titian. On BBC Radio London with my Dad. Riverside beers. Saw a lost swan near my front door. Meet Keaton near his work, one of many times. Making more and more music, getting better. Decide I need more organisation and clarity, put everything I’ve done on a blog. More or less long since given up on my job at M Woods. But don’t really begin looking for anything new because it’s still sunny. At some point I start getting benefits money. Go to see La Haine in the cinema. Someone blocks me on WeChat because of me. Some pub somewhere. Sunday walks and breakfast with my parents. Go to an exhibition in Woolworth Road with Muzi. Realise how nice it is to run to Victoria Park along the canal. Vicky Park in general. Dinners at friends’ houses. Museum of London. Walking with Michael in some countryside near London, surprising how quickly things turn green. Break onto a pier in Wapping with Jack. Battersea Park. Tate, Bruce Nauman. Old Street Weatherspoon’s with Keaton, drugs. Central London cemetery. Chinese in Camberwell. Chinese in Aldgate. Italian in Camberwell. More and more exercise, running, weights and yoga with my brother. Sadie Coles. Nick, Central London. Gucci Mane. Hampstead Heath more because Ludo and his flatmates are nearby. Ludo’s now house more for days and nights of you guessed it. Borough Market more, with Emma. Alexandra Palace walk and famous sandwiches after. Tate Britian new lights. More time at Muzi’s. Signing up for cycle courier. LYL Radio show. Shave head. Take acid and it hurts my stomach. Camden Arts Centre with Muzi. Christmas party with friends. Birthday. Cake with Muzi, presents and Indian takeaway from family, walk in Vicky Park with Ludo and Karim plus battered sausage and chips. Christmas at home nice and warming meal. Evening to Ludo’s place with more friends. Boxing day with Matthew, pints and then more at his house in Peckham all night long. Next day is tough! Giant turkey sandwiches, turkey soup, turkey curry. Buy first NFTs. New Year’s Eve stay in at Muzi’s, one drink and a cake.

[shippingtheswann]

FOOLS RUSH IN:

Summary: Emma Swan has been married since she was five years old. Under the old oak tree, she wed Killian Jones, her neighbor. Then, he moved away, but made one final promise, that one day he would marry her for real. See what happens when he returns to make good on his promise.

Fools Rush In Chapter Thirteen

Rating: M/E

Triggers: None Really

A/N: Thanks to @captainswanbigbang for once again organizing an amazing event. I’ve been missing Captain Swan for the past year, and having this has helped so much! Thanks to Lana @high-seas-swan and Kaitlyn @spartanguard for their beta help. Go check out Lana’s story when you get a moment as well – it’s amazing! Thanks to Rachel @ladyciaramiggles for the art she has provided. Also, thanks to Kris @sambethe for the cover art for the story and for beta help. All of you have made this story what it is! We are still in the weeds here! But only one chapter left after this one!

What do you do when you fuck things up so bad? That was the question Emma had been pondering over the last week ever since Killian walked out of their home, speeding off in his Jeep, leaving her crying against the doorframe thanks to her stupid mouth and thoughts.

She can’t believe how shitty she had been for even thinking she could use her friend to adopt Henry. She was even more stupid for not telling him the truth from the beginning.

If only she had just told him - hey, so I still have feelings for you, and while I am attracted to you and I am excited to see where this goes, I also like the idea because it would help me adopt Henry. She knew if she had told him that, he would have helped her out.

It was he who had come up with their stupid promise all those years ago. He was the one who promised her they would marry. If he hadn’t brought it up, all the fucked up shit wouldn’t have happened.

She tried blaming him, but she knew it was all her fault. She caused this.

The rest of the weekend after he left found Emma being picked up by David, who Mary Margaret called after Killian left, and set in her bed. The lights were turned off, drapes drawn. Mary Margaret and Ruby took care of Henry, who still hadn’t spoken to her, heartbroken over the shake up, too.

He was so upset with her that he too left, asking David if he could stay the night. She let him go, with more tears streaming from her face.

She hated that she not only upset the man she loved, but upset her son, the person she would do anything to protect. She promised him that things wouldn’t change between them when Killian entered the picture, yet she let them change. She still loved Henry, but she disappointed him - something she’s never done before. That’s what changed.

Her bed became her home on Sunday. She didn’t want to eat, drink, or do anything. She didn’t want to continue. She couldn’t go on thinking and pretending like Killian leaving didn’t mean anything. The crying had ceased for most of the day though, thanks to the cocoon she made using her comforter that still held the smell of him. She imagined that he didn’t leave her; imagined him holding her in his arms, telling her that he understood. But it was all a dream.

Henry came home on Sunday night, but didn’t say anything to her. He walked straight past her as she stood in the hallway, hoping to explain herself. At least she didn’t get a slamming door. That was a start.

Tears came again that night, as she stared at the bed. The night before was hard, but the sobs that racked her body lulled her to sleep - not worried about the missing person beside her. This night was different. She felt the missing presence. The room was too big without him; too quiet. The laughter they had shared still echoed in her mind, but not being able to really hear it, to visualize it, shocked her system. It disoriented her.

Sleep didn’t come.

Her hand spent the night rubbing the spot on the bed that was normally occupied. Her eyes glossed over from the staring. The tears stopped around midnight, but the shaking didn’t. It was like she was perpetually cold, and nothing but Killian would be able to warm her up.

She didn’t just miss him - she was a ghost without him.

Henry found her the next morning, silent tears dropping into her coffee mug. The absence of his note made the emotions reappear.

At first, she wasn’t sure he was going to talk to her; and just like with Killian, she didn’t want to be the first one to talk. She had fucked this up; because of that, she was the one who needed to suffer, to give them time and space to deal with everything.

“Have you even tried to call him?” A snarky voice pulled him from her mug.

The scowl her son wore on his face was devastating. If she didn’t know him any better, she would say there was actual hatred in his eyes; but she knew Henry didn’t have it in himself to hate anyone, no matter what they did.

“What?” she asked, with a bit of sass, like any other mother would do if their son copped an attitude like the one her son was giving her.

Henry shrank back, realizing what he had said.

“I’m sorry,” he started, keeping his eyes cast down. Emma suddenly felt bad.

Henry’s relationship with Killian meant a lot to him. Emma was pretty sure that Henry missed him almost as much as she did.

“Have you talked to him?” he asked a bit more softly, his eyes staying glued to the floor.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Have you tried?” The attitude of his feelings peaked out a bit.

“Yes,” she replied.

That made him look up.

“Sit down, Henry,” she motioned to the chair at the table.

He sat down, taking a pop tart out of the box that he had moved to the table earlier. His glass of milk, half full, sat nearby.

“First, I’m sorry,” she started but she couldn’t get out the rest before Henry began a rapid fire questioning.

“Why would you even think that? How could you treat Killian that way? Did you even think about how he would feel? Did you even like him?”

She reached across the table, grasping his hand, prompting him to silence the questions and look at her.

“Henry,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. But what you have to know if the full story. What you and Killian walked in on wasn’t exactly what it seemed.”

“Then what was it?” He questioned, his hand staying beneath hers, but closed off and cold.

“When Killian and I were younger, we made a promise - or well, he did. We had gotten married when we were five; a silly thing kids do, ya know? But when Killian moved away, he promised that one day he would come back and marry me. We didn’t talk again until a few weeks ago. He brought it up, in what I’m sure was just a teasing manner, but he still mentioned it. It was right after we had heard about the application being denied again. Ms. Mills told me that if I wanted any chance of adopting you before high school, the only way it would happen was if I got married. Now, of course I wasn’t going to marry just anyone in order to adopt you. But Killian, I knew him. He was my best friend; still is. So, for a fleeting moment, one that I hate myself for even thinking, I thought that he was the answer.”

She could see the anger still in his eyes. She could see the disappointment. But, she persisted, because he needed to know how she really felt. It was time for Emma Swan to stop keeping it all inside, and just feel.

“The next day, I did ask Killian to marry me. Part of it, yes, was because I knew it would help our situation. I would get you, permanently, and you would get a family. But, it was a bonus. Like finding out they are serving cake at school, then to find out it’s Funfetti, your favorite. I had been thinking a lot about Killian before he messaged me. Plus, the connection we had the night we reunited was something I couldn’t ignore. So why should I give up something, just because there was an added bonus?” She asked him.

“But Mom, it’s not the same. No one gets hurt if the cake is Funfetti! This, thinking that, hurt us,” he countered.

And although Emma’s heart was breaking over what happened, she couldn’t help but smile. Henry had an amazing moral compass, and she was proud of the young man he was becoming.

“I know kid, which is why I didn’t tell anyone. I know it was wrong to even think that I could use Killian like that. But, over time, I just kept seeing it as something good. An added bonus. I always knew though it was bad,” she confessed.

“Then why didn’t you just tell him? Or me?” he responded.

“Because, something happened that has never happened for me before,” she smiled at him, he raised his eyebrows in return, “I fell in love. Sure, I love grandma and pop, Mary Margaret and David, you; but I’ve never been in love. Until Killian. By the time I knew what I was feeling, by the time I wasn’t scared to tell him what I was feeling, it was all over. That’s what you two walked in on; I was trying to find out a way to tell Killian everything,” the tears started again.

“So, you wouldn’t marry him, just because it would help you adopt me?” He asked.

“No!” She was resolute. Her expression firm, but full of love as she stared at him.

“Good,” he smiled.

Henry stood up from his chair and came over to hug her. She sat in her chair and let her son wrap his arms around her frame, his head resting on hers.

“I’m sorry kid, I know you love him too,” she whispered.

“He’s ok,” he chuckled.

“To get back to your questions though, I have always thought about his feelings, which was one reason I never told either of you. I didn’t want him to think poorly of me, or think that that devious thought was the only reason why I did any of this. I can’t lie anymore and say that I didn’t think those thoughts, but my feelings for Killian are much stronger and louder than that thought,” she answered.

She started pouring out everything she felt about the situation to her son. While she was pretty sure it wasn’t a conversation one normally had with their teenage son, Emma knew there was no one else she would rather talk to. Besides, Henry was a smart kid and gave better advice than Ruby most days.

“But, it doesn’t matter now; Killian left and we just have to pick up the pieces,” she sighed.

“No, call him, tell him what you just told me,” Henry said, running into her bedroom to get the phone she had left on the charger.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me Henry,” she sighed, looking down at the phone that haunted her the night before.

“Try,” the pleading in his voice was hard to say no to.

So, she lifted the phone and made the call she had made a dozen times in the past twenty four hours. The first few times she called him, she held her breath as the phone rang and rang, eventually being cut off by his simple voicemail You’ve reached Jones, leave a message. The first time she heard his voice she sobbed. She never got the chance to get any words out. The second time, she begged him to call her back. Her voice mails got more desperate as each passing call hit his outgoing message. She cried, telling him that she needed to talk to him. She never told him the full truth, though. That deserved a face-to-face conversation.

However, after the tenth call, his phone stopped ringing. His voice echoed through the phone right away as his number was dialed.

She pressed the button, sending the call through. Again, she held her breath like he first phone call she had made.

She thought she heard a click, signaling that the phone call had been ignored; his voice soon creating the same speech she had heard time and time again.

“Hey, it’s me. I talked to Henry and explained everything. Please call me back, so I can explain everything to you. Please Killian,” she hung up. Defeated.

“See, he doesn’t want to talk to me,” she said, looking at her son.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he said, returning to the position he held earlier, hugging her.

“It’s ok; let’s go to school,” she suggested, noting the time.

Life had to move on, even if it didn’t seem like a life she wanted to live.

Emma rarely showed videos in her class. When she did, they were clips that helped her to actually teach what she was going to teach. But she just didn’t have it in her that day to do anything. Her students deserved a teacher who was there 100% and that wasn’t Emma. Not that day at least.

At least the video picked her up a bit.

Bill Nye the Science Guy May be old; but it held merit. Plus, she hadn’t been approved to show his new show yet. She had great worksheets to go along with the videos and young Bill Nye was pretty good looking.

By the time Henry’s class rolled around, Emma was starting to feel normal again - at least a little.

“Hey, Mom,” Henry said as he strutted into the classroom; their talk from earlier that morning had changed his entire mood.

“Hey, kid,” she responded, trying to sound light and happy.

“Can I go over to Avery’s after school? We have a project we need to work on, and we want to finish it early,” he asked, with a bit too much enthusiasm.

“A project?” She asked, knowing there was no way her kid was that excited about a school project, even if he did enjoy school.

“Alright, fine, the new DLC for Battlefield came out today and we want to play it; we do have a project though, that we were going to do afterwards,” he confessed, hope lacing his voice.

“I’m not so sure…” she began but Henry cut her off quickly.

“Avery’s mom’s gonna be home, and you know she isn’t going to let us play for too long. Please?” He begged drawing out the please in a way she hadn’t heard since he was younger.

“Alright, fine; but you’re home by seven, understood?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ok! Thanks Mom,” he said, turning to walk to his seat.

Great, another lonely night at home, she thought to herself. Just when she thought things were getting better.

Henry did make it home by seven, but he said goodnight and went straight to bed when he entered the house. Emma knew she wasn’t going to need to cook dinner since Avery’s mom always fed Henry before he came home. Still, she waited in the kitchen for his arrival, hoping for some human contact.

During the long hours between her arriving home and Henry, she realized just how lonely she had been before Killian.

Her nights before him were mostly solitary. Sure, she had Henry, but as he had been growing up, school, sports, band, friends, and everything else started getting in the way. She thought back on all the nights she spent alone in her sunroom reading a book, or laughing alone to a comedy on the TV.

Now that she had experienced what life could be like as an actual family, she craved it even more.

Maybe she should get a cat.

Maybe she was just losing her mind in the loneliness.

When Avery’s mom dropped Henry off, as she normally did, Emma could have sworn she heard the familiar sound of a specific Jeep rumbling in her drive. Her mind games even took her as far as standing up from her chair, inching her closer to the window. But, she stopped herself. It wouldn’t, couldn’t, be him.

She still wished it would be though.

She wished it would be him walking in behind Henry, coming back to let her apologize and correct her mistakes. Wished Killian would tell her everything was alright and their love was stronger than all the bullshit that had happened. She even believed he would tell her they both had fucked up in the past, and if she could forgive him for losing touch for so many years, then he could forgive her for thinking something anyone in her position would think.

But, when the door closed behind Henry and she didn’t hear anything else, she knew it wasn’t going to happen.

That night, she curled up in bed, tucking Killian’s pillow against her body and breathing in deep, a silent stream of tears coming down her face.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday were much of the same. Emma had a pretty silent breakfast with Henry. His questioning on Killian hadn’t resurfaced, which Emma was thankful for. She did try to call him each morning, even sent him texts. She stopped apologizing in every voicemail and text. They weren’t ever going to be enough. Instead, she told him about her day. Her phone calls in the morning consisted of her simply wishing him a good day, telling him to be safe. Her texts at night followed the same outline. She told him how she missed him, how her days were still shitty without him; but that she hoped he had a good day. She always ended them with a good night.

They were all left unanswered and unread.

She even tried to Facebook him, but her messages there met the same end.

Worry was starting to set in; maybe something had happened to him. She knew he needed space and time, but she didn’t think Killian was so mean as to simply ignore her.

She sent him a simple message on Thursday evening, when she got home and the silence became too much.

Facebook messenger sat open on her phone, the bar blinking, waiting for her to type. While her message was simple, it took almost two hours for her to complete the message.

Killian, I know you’re angry. I know you’re mad. But, I’m beginning to worry. Please, just let me know you’re OK and I’ll leave you alone. I promise. Just tell me you’re OK and I’ll stop calling and messaging. Emma.

She didn’t have the strength to wait and see if he had read it. She knew if she waited to see, she would be up all night, staring at the screen, praying the same way she had all week for him to respond, or even just read, the message.

I’ll know in the morning, she thought to herself. With that, she turned off the phone and took the bottle of wine that Mary Margaret had brought to school for her, into her bathroom. She drank the whole bottle while in the tub; wishing she had someone in there with her. Thankfully though, she was drunk enough when she got out, she was able to fall into a deep, restless, dreamless sleep.

The headache she had in the morning was worth it.

She turned on her phone. No notifications, minus her normal daily email subscriptions, pinged. Her heart fell as nothing appeared on her screen. Did he really care so little for her? Was he really that hurt?

She didn’t bother to check to see if he read her message. She was too angry.

After Killian left her all those years ago, after he just stopped writing to her, she still forgave him. After all he said he had done, been through, she never once truly held it against him. The second she saw him again, she forgave him. That’s what best friends, soul mates did. They forgave. No matter what, they forgave.

The day dragged on, with her phone silently calling out to her to take a peak. But she never did. She wanted to - she couldn’t lie - but she couldn’t force herself to look. She didn’t want the pain that she was sure she would face.

When school ended, Emma was faced with another evening by herself. Henry had asked to go over to Avery’s house again, and since Emma had tried to get as much of Henry’s attention over the past couple of days (in order to quell the feeling of loneliness), she allowed him. She didn’t turn on the radio on her drive home, deciding to get used to the silence before it engulfed her. She heard every creak of the car, heard the pelting of the rain that had started early that afternoon. The sound was soothing really; the constant drum of water hitting the metal.

She was tempted to drive around, not wanting to sit at home in the silence. She knew she could hear the rain just as well in her sunroom, and she could actually watch the drops chase each other down the window panes. But the comfort of the car would be lost. In the bug, she felt snug and protected. It was small, so her breathing filled the space; she could see everything. The loneliness didn’t feel as large. She knew once she stepped foot inside the house, where she wouldn’t be able to see everything and hear everything, the feeling would swallow her whole. In the car, she didn’t feel like anyone else was needed; it was her sanctuary. But her home didn’t feel like home anymore; not when a major part of it was missing.

After two hours of driving, she knew she needed to go home. Her bladder and rumbling stomach left her no choice. It was time to face reality, to get used to coming home to emptiness.

Her street even looked different. Most would see the fallen leaves and wet pavement as picturesque - the early evening casting a glow against the concrete and the street lights creating shadows on the ground. It was the perfect fall scene, but to Emma, it was cold and uninviting. To her, it was a reminder of the coldness she would feel when she entered in her home.

She didn’t get the chance to determine if her feelings were right though.

In the driveway, where a Jeep used to park, was a truck she wasn’t familiar with. It towered over her bug, making the area that she parked in look darker than normal.

Most people who would see a giant truck parked in their driveway would keep driving, call the cops, and find out what maniac was in their home. Emma though, pulled right in. While the truck looked menacing, it didn’t scare her. She rarely got a gut feeling, outside of knowing when people lied to her; but it was talking now. It told her she didn’t have to be scared of the truck that sat in her drive. That she wanted to find out who it belonged to.

As she drove into her spot, she noted no one in the front seat, but did note a figure on her porch. Her porch was small, just big enough for one person to stand on, covered.

Her eyes zoned in as she put her car in park and gathered her things.

She didn’t bother with an umbrella, wanting the rain to send chills up her spine.

As she got out of the car, the rain hitting her head and pooling on her jacket, she recognized the figure that loomed in her doorway.

Liam Jones.

He had been back in Storybrooke for years, yet Emma hadn’t seen him once. It was odd for Storybrooke. It was a small town and normally, you saw a person at least once a month. Everyone knew everyone else, gossip spread like wildfire, so the fact that Emma hadn’t seen Liam had been odd. She knew he was back of course, but she also knew through the town gossip that Killian hadn’t come with him. So she never reached out.

While she thought of Liam as a big brother, she hadn’t been as close to him as she was to Killian or his mom. She kept a look out too; hoping that if she saw a glimpse of him, feelings and memories of Killian would come flooding backs yet, she never saw him.

“Hey, Emma,” he said as she neared him. His tone was somber, and so was the look on his face.

“Liam,” she said, looking him square in the face.

He stepped out from her porch and into the rain, allowing her access to her door. She didn’t say anything to him though as she entered. She hoped he knew what her open door meant.

She didn’t give him any pleasantries. Walking into her home, she listened deeply, hoping to hear some form of noise signaling that someone was in there with her, but she heard nothing. A wave of relief washed over her. Maybe he wasn’t there for what she initially thought.

When she saw him standing there, she thought that either Killian was inside, gathering his stuff to make a silent exit from her life, or maybe Liam was there to get his stuff for him.

So to hear the silence inside was one of the best sounds she’d ever heard. But, she still knew there was another bad reason Liam could have been there.

She heard footsteps behind her, they were timid and a bit unsure.

“Emma,” Liam whispered, not venturing any further from her doorstep.

“Just give me a minute to get his stuff and I’ll bring it out to you. Make yourself comfortable,” she said, turning to finally look at him.

There were tears in her eyes, a normal look for her the past few days. The tears this time though were harder for her to let fall. She knew that the tears she was shedding were because what she had with Killian. what she still wanted with Killian, was over.

“Shit. Emma, that’s not why I’m here,” he said, finally moving into the house, closing the gap between them.

“You’re not?” The question barely escaped her lips before a sob caught in her throat.

“Christ,” he responded, pulling her into a hug.

Just like with Killian, a familiar feeling washed over her. And with the feelings, she broke down.

With Liam holding her, just like he had one summer when Killian had hurt himself and Emma was scared she had ruined their friendship, she let everything she had been feeling over the past week take full hold. Yes, she had cried over it, and she constantly felt like shit over it; she didn’t feel the full weight of what she had done until Liam held her.

“I fucked up so bad, Liam,” she confessed, looking up at him, silently begging him to fix everything that was wrong.

“He’s a mess, too,” he answered.

“He is?” She couldn’t believe it, not really; not when he had been ignoring her.

“Of course he is. Sit down, let’s talk,” he motioned for Emma to move into the living room.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she cried, the tears still coming.

“I may have an idea; but first, I need to tell you what’s been going on with Killian the last week,” he began, capturing Emma’s attention. “He was so upset on Sunday. I’ve never seen him so sad. I've seen him upset before - angry and hurt - but never have I seen him truly heartbroken. Even after Milah, he wasn’t truly heartbroken. But, when he heard you, his heart shattered. I told him he should give it sometime and talk to you, but you know him. He won’t do anything until he is ready. He’s been lost since then. In all the time he’s been in the Navy, not once has he taken off work, but he actually called out sick. It’s been a long week.”

During Liam's recollection of the week, Emma couldn’t stop the tears. She had been a wreck, and Killian had been suffering just as bad as she had. So, not only had she hurt him once, she hurt him twice.

“The only thing that seemed to make him happy was when your kid came to talk to him,” Liam added.

“Wait, what?” Emma asked, stunned at what Liam said.

“Yeah, Killian actually looked happy - the only time he looked happy this week. Henry showed up on Monday, banging down my door begging to talk to Killian. I’m not sure what they talked about, but your lad looked pretty smug when Killian drove him home,” Liam laughed at the reminder.

Emma couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t been losing her mind on Monday. She did hear his Jeep. Something stirred in her heart. If he drove Henry home, he must still something for her right? Especially if Henry looked smug.

Before she did anything else though, she made a mental note to scold Henry when she got a moment. Even though she was pretty sure Henry had only lied to her to help her, she still needed to make sure he knew it was wrong.

“The little meddler,” she said.

“Aye, that he is,” he said.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“You have to fix this, Emma,” he said again.

“I do, but he won’t answer my calls. I’ve messaged him, texted, called - done everything trying to get in touch with him. He doesn’t want to speak to me,” she threw her hands up in frustration.

“I know,” he confessed, causing Emma to look confused. She knew Killian and Liam were close; but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t tell Liam this - it wasn’t gentalemenly.

“Killian left early today for work, some meeting..So I took the opportunity to go in and clean up a bit - that’s when I saw your message. I can’t sit around anymore and watch him like this. You may have done something wrong, but everyone deserves a second chance. And unfortunately, my brother isn’t going to get off his ass to fix this, so you have to. You need to show him how you feel,” he said.

Emma knew he was right. But, knowing was easier than doing.

“How do I even do that?” she asked.

“I’m not gonna tell you exactly what to do, but I will tell you that everything you need to know can be found in here,” he handed Emma a large box, gave her a wink and left.

“Good luck!” he called from the doorway,

Emma sat in silence for a long time, not doing anything.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to open the box - she wanted nothing more than to look and see what was inside that held the key to fixing her relationship - but she had to take a moment.

She pulled off the top and looked inside.

At first, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at; but then she saw the old, yet familiar scribble of a young Killian. Envelopes filled the box. She filtered through the box, watching the scribble turn into pretty legible handwriting. On all of them, two words were written.

Emma Swan

The realization of what she was staring at finally came to her. Letters. Killian had been writing Emma letters all along. He never stopped. From the quick count she did of the box; he had written her at least twice a month since the month he stopped.

Something told her it was wrong to read the letters that were there. However. Liam gave them to her and she was already on Killian’s bad side.

Eventually, time won out. Henry came home, which meant that two hours had passed since Liam had met her on the doorstep.

She quickly hid the box, not wanting any questions as she tried to figure out what to do.

They ate a traditional “pre-Killian” dinner: grilled cheese and hot cocoa. They had normal “pre-Killian” discussions - Henry discussed school and video games while Emma nodded along like she really cared about the newest DLC.

Henry wanted to watch a TV show after dinner, so another hour passed before she was able to take a look at the box again and finally make a decision about what to do.

She held the box in her hands as she looked at the empty spot where Killian’s presence still lingered.

Looking at the spot, she knew she needed to read the letters.

She started with the first letter in the box.

It took four hours, but she read each and every one. She read about his mom dying and the guilt he felt about it. She read about the first fight he got into in school. He wrote about his feelings for another little girl. Emma cried as she read the letters detailing his sadness over his mom. She laughed at his antics from middle school. She was right when he talked about jealousy when he spoke of Milah.

Eventually she got the end and realized the perfect way to tell Killian everything she needed to.

[intoxicatedwisdom]

So if we watch movies and have netflix night, what are your top 8 movies of all the last 4 decades combined? Including all genres, types, ratings, feedback and reviews, what are the ones that defies everything for you in a historical sense? I like your opinions on the things I ask, you're real cool to talk with and know alot.

80’s

The Shining (Horror) 5. To me the shining is an experiment in trust. To me it’s explores how much can you really know about a person, and what that person really capable off. It’s a confusing film, that doesn’t really follow the plot of the book but got damn is it effective. Isolation, distrust, and the supernatural and the effect that has on the human psyche. From the drive in you know something is amiss it’s just a bloody good film and when I say bloody I mean that literally.

Raising Arizona (Comedy) 4. One of my faves. Before Nicholas Cage became a weirdo. The acting is great, the writing is simplistic and hilarious. It’s pretty much a modern western. The couple is childless, and they steal a baby and all hell breaks loose, it’s damn funny.

90’s

Fresh (Drama) 2. Starring the brilliant Sean Nelson (who also starred in the prequel to the wire, The Corner). It’s about a kid who is neck deep in shits creek and he uses his prowess in chess to formulate a plan of action to get himself out the drug game. The film is ridiculously underrated, and it features one of my favorite quotes. It’s a quote I live by till this day,“anything lost can be found again, except for time wasted”.

American Beauty (Drama) 7. A movie about life and death. In the movie the protagonist decides to live his life as he’s sees fit. He extorts his boss for high dollar severance, discovers his wife is having an affair, starts working out, smokes weed, and taking chances. And just as soon as he starts to awaken and starts doing the things he enjoys it’s gone.

00’s

The Cell (Sci-fi) 8. The film is set in the future where there is a technology that allows one to enter the mind of another person. The films protagonist enters the mind of a serial killer, and try’s to help the fbi find information about the location of the killers latest victim (who’s trapped in a tank that fills with water at 1 hours intervals). It’s a dark film with draw dropping cinematography.

Friday Night Lights (Sports Drama) 6. I am by no means a football fan. I don’t like football whatsoever but this is a movie that is so emotional that it can pull on the heart strings of any person football fan or not, and I think the film scoring has a lot to do with it. Also I’m from Texas and I know how much football and winning means to the boys down here in this state. The writer and director of the film manage to make this movie into more than a movie about football. It’s a movie about friendship, it’s a movie about the moments in your life that you’ll never get back, it’s about mistakes, and moving on.

10’s

Black Swan (Drama Thriller) 3. This was just a disturbing disturbing fucking film, no way around that, but the reason why it’s one of my favorites is because it really addresses the darkness that lies within the depths of us all that floats up to surface during trying times and takes over. I don’t think any man or woman is all good, even if you’re a good person there’s still something lurking beneath the facade of virtue. And the film kind of just explores that battle between good and evil, and what happens when you finally let that part of you, that you suppress, take over. When you succumb to your darkness and give up on all that’s good about you.

Interstellar (Sci-if) 1. A sprawling space epic. It’s a movie I watched in theaters 3 times. The science for the most part checks out. It’s a movie that’s as thrilling as it is contemplative. The movie scores are fantastic, some of the better ones I’ve heard. It’s a movie that made me think about the importance of my life and existence not only in this world but amongst the stars. And from the conversations I’ve had with other people who watched the most and understood it, it had the same effect. It was a very powerful film that I could watch over and over and over again and still be moved by it.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #170

this one’s a few days old and am just getting to posting it. don’t feel like rereading to change some old answers tho.

Do you tell your best friend everything? What might you omit? If she asked about a subject, I'd tell her. I wouldn't just be like "hey here's a little factoid I don't like talking about." Have you ever experienced unrequited love? Yes. In your current or most recent romantic relationship, do/did you feel as though one of you settled? Not at all. What did your ex (or one of your exes) consider to be a dealbreaker in you? My depression. What seemingly small change have you made to improve your life this year? More drive to be an adult. Make the decision to try as hard as mentally possible to be more open about myself and not so scared of being found as "too weird." Does anyone in your family suffer from mental illness or substance abuse? Don't get me started on the first. I only know of my dad being a recovered alcoholic. What is the biggest gap in your employment history? How did/will you explain it to future employers? 0-19ish. Wasn't in the mental state to. Is there any part of your sexual/romantic history that you have not told your current significant other about or that you will not tell future partners about? She knows a lot. There's just one thing I'm not comfortable talking about yet. There's nothing I absolutely won't tell at any point - if you're in a serious relationship, they have the right to know. Has anyone ever tried to change your mind about something very personal, such as religion or wanting children? Children, yes. Colleen especially was convinced I was going to change my mind to an annoying degree. People have pushed me being a vet a whole lot, too. Do you ever hear about old school friends? Where are you high school friends now? Well, through FB. Most have stable jobs, some are extremely intelligent students headed towards amazing careers, some are parents. Most fell off the face of the earth. What is the most fun you can remember ever having under the influence? Cards Against Humanity. Has your Facebook relationship status ever been set to 'it’s complicated’? Why? Nooooo, and I seriously wish that option didn't even exist. Drama bait, whether intentional or not. What is the most beautiful/interesting name that you’ve ever personally known someone to have? Alon. Have you ever developed feelings for someone whose sexual orientation was incompatible with yours? Yes. How many relationships have you been in that actually got sexual? One. When making an entrance in to a party, do you make your presence known? Do you slip in and look for someone you know? Do you sneak in quietly and find a safe spot to roost? Me?????????????? At a party?????????????????????? What is your strongest sense? Maybe you don't count this because it's not a "real" sense, but I would say I have an incredibly strong "sixth sense" of just knowing when something is wrong, even with people I don't know well. I pick up bad emotions easily. But if you're just talking sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell, I suppose smell? Or taste. Could be why I'm so picky. What is the strangest thing you believed as a child? There is NO telling. I believed some wild shit. HAHAHA OH MY GOD WAIT NO I BELIEVED I HAD "ANIMAL POWERS" UNTIL THE END OF ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. Like, I could go into a "mode" where I had capabilities like those in certain animals, like with kangaroo powers, I could jump higher. God that was so embarrassing to write jfc what the fuck was I on. Who performs the most random acts of kindness out of everyone you know? Mom. She gives food, water, and sometimes money to homeless people she trusts as actually being without a home. There are two or three people she's actually "friends" with. Are you more likely to avoid conflict or engage it head-on? A V O I D What is something about yourself that you hope will change, but probably never will? I make situations awkward. Just social anxiety in general. What’s a strange occurrence you’ve experienced but have never (or rarely) shared with anyone? Okay, so I don't think I believe in angels, and I'm 99% sure this was a dream by now. But once as a little kid, I have a *very* strong memory of getting out of bed and going outside because I felt I needed to see something, and two swans came to the porch, turning into my grampa and favorite cat that had died. Then I went back inside, and that's all I remember. Still to this day that shit didn't feel like a dream, but. It probably was. What do you think about more than anything else? The future. What’s your all-time favorite town or city? Why? I dunno. If you could restore one broken relationship, which would it be? The friendship with Megan. Do you Skype? With Sara. Have you ever called anyone ‘bro’ other than your actual brother? I'll call p much anyone that. Have you ever blocked someone on MySpace before? Maybe? What is the best kind of pizza in your opinion? Pan meat lovers omfg. Stick with jalapeno tho with trying to at least lean towards vegetarianism. Is there something that someone has done to you that you cannot forgive? Eh... I think I've forgiven him. Do you scream at scary parts in a horror flick? No. What is your favorite restaurant? Olive Garden. Has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? No. Are any of your pets “overweight”? No. How do you feel about weed? I'm totally for it medicinally. Helps with too many things. Otherwise, for reasons I've said in many old surveys, I don't believe it should be smoked. We already complain enough about cigarettes and lung cancer. How many people have you kissed that you weren’t dating? None. Who was the last person that ditched you? How did you react? Mini, I guess. Was hurt as fuck for years until I recently confronted her, and we're cool now. Who is your best friend of the opposite sex? Girt is like... my only male friend besides Dad. What size are the pants you’re wearing? Large, probably? Were you a fan of Michael Jackson before he died? I went neither way. Liked some songs, didn't like some, no opinion on others. Can you spot constellations in the night sky? Only the Big or Little Dipper. I dunno the difference. What kind of shampoo did you last use? I dunno exactly. Mom just put some in a smaller, nameless bottle for while I'm at Sara's. It's probably Suave, though. If you had a hippie bus, what would it look like? Gimme all the peace signs and trippy patterns. Have you ever hitchhiked? No. Would you rather hike a mountain or explore a cave? EXPLORE A CAVE BITCH Would you rather wear a flower crown or veil? For my wedding, probably a veil. I can't see a flower crown going with a (probably) black dress lmao. Do you go barefoot often? I'm always barefoot in the house, but outside, I always have shoes. What is your favorite thing to get high off of? N/A What type of tattoo do you want? Most of the ones I want hold personal meaning. There's few I want to get for solely aesthetic purposes. What is your favorite insect? Butterflies. Favorite constellation? *shrug* Beach wedding, forest wedding, or English countryside wedding? Forest! Does pineapple belong on pizza? NO. Do you have any big plans for November? No. What upcoming event are you most looking forward to? Christmas. I doubt Halloween's gonna be anything I'd like it to be. What was the last song you heard? "Letter" by Mother Mother is on. Compared to someone else of your age and gender; do you feel that you have a lot to offer someone? HAHAHAHA NO. How many days a week do you work? N/A Is there ONE person you feel more connected to than others? Sara and Mom. Where did your eye color come from? Mom's dad had blue eyes, I think. Have you ever been in a recording studio? No. What is your worst relationship quality? I'm paranoid. I'm that "do you still like me?" person after marriage, I'm sure. What was your most recent serious injury? Does sun poisoning from Hell itself count? When was the last time you baked something for someone? Never lmao. Would you rather be kissed on the neck or on the lips? I mean it depends on the mood. What is one thing you’re not looking forward to in the next week? I'm going home Wednesday. Would you consider Christmas your favorite holiday? Second-fave. How many chances do you normally give someone before giving up on them? Way too fucking many. But it also depends on the offense and person. Did you parents know what gender you were before you were born? Yeah. Are you for or against inter-racial relationships? Totally for. Would you say you’re more of a pessimist or optimist? I'm definitely a realist, but if I had to pick, I lean more towards pessimism. Have you ever been addicted to something unhealthy? No. When the holidays come around, do you watch holiday movies? Not really. Would you say you’re a friendly person or not so much? I think I'm very friendly, just shy and awkward socially. When was the last time you ate something from Burger King? LEMME TELL YOU THIS SHIT. Months ago, I went for a veggie burger. THESE. IDIOTS. Put all the normal shit BUT NO PATTY IN A FUCKING BUN. WHEN THEY HAVE ACTUAL VEGGIE PATTIES. We waited forever, so Mom was already in a bad mood. She went in and the manager was livid; she gave us a free drink and fries. BUT, the burger fucking sucked, it was so overcooked. Sooo that was fun. When someone mentions a song, does it make you wanna listen to it? Rarely if it's a song I don't know, unless I like the artist. Song title may interest me, too. Who is the nosiest person you know? Do you like them anyways? BITCH ME. Are you one of those people who like The Nightmare Before Christmas? Okay so, I first watched it in school and I didn't like it at all. Then I started loving it??? I have like sooo much Jack stuff. What’s the best food to have at a sleepover? Pizza! Do you like the yellow Cheetos better or the orange ones? You mean normal or hot? Gimme them spicy boiz. Do you know anybody with different colored eyes? No. Are any of your relatives vets? Don't believe so. Who cleans the most in your house? Mom. I really need to do it more. Do you own any shirts that cost over 100$? Jfc no. What about any shoes? Do you think that’s a lot of money for clothes? No, and obviously. What’s the movie theater in your town called? Uhhh I think Cinemax? How many minutes do you consider late? Over five. What kinds of food do you dunk into milk? Some cookies. Do you have any current or past teachers on your Facebook friends? No. Are there any baby pictures of you up? On FB? No. Do you have any friends who have bleached blonde hair? Maybe Alon still does, idk. Are you wearing any jewelry that a boyfriend/girlfriend gave you? No. Have you ever seen the last person you kissed cry? Yeah. What’s the last thing you were excited to eat? A donut sobs. Who's the most romantic person you ever went out with? I dunno... none were/are like especially romantic. Is there anything hanging from the ceiling in your room? Some Pyramid Head gift tags, a stuffed fae dragon from WoW, and a cool lantern. Have you ever seen the last person you hugged dressed up fancy? Not in person, but in pictures. (If your parents married), Do you know where they got engaged? No. What was the last picture you printed of? The reference I made of my tattoo for the artist. What restaurant has the best fries? Bojangle's the Queen. What does your mailbox look like? Just a basic black one. Have you ever gotten something stuck on the roof? Probs as a kid. Does your computer make a lot of noise? Not really. Unless it's overheating. Who did you last drink or smoke up with? Mom and Sara. How many board games do you own? Idk, there's just a few in a cabinet in the living room. What does your BIGGEST mug look like? We don't have any really big ones. Newest musical discovery? I really love Powerwolf. Last thing you cleaned? Clothes. What exactly do you carry around all your stuff in? Purse. What do you carry around, typically? Phone, iPod, wallet, hand sanitizer, keys... Where is your newest scar? There's still a little scab on the bottom of my tat from heavy shading, but it's almost healed. If you mean like, "real" scar, cat scratch on my right hand. Where is your oldest scar? Ummm probably this random one on the top of my right wrist. No clue where it came from, been there for years. Last thing you disposed of? A bottle, I think? Are you good at recovering from injuries? I dunno. How many different public restrooms have you used this week? I think just one, at the reptile convention. Do you have more piercings or tattoos? Currently tied at six, but piercings the day I get home and get my tongue redone. What color and type is your vehicle? N/A Looking to upgrade or add any time soon? N/A What animal do you have the most possessions *of*, or featuring? Meerkats. What do you use to wash your dishes? Ugh, hands, gross. I refuse to have my own home that doesn't have a dishwasher. Last thing you measured? Ummm probably water when I was making ramen. Last thing you weighed? Myself. Do you talk to your parent(s) [almost] every day? Ma, yes. Last person to tell you that you smell good? Sara although I don't see how, I needed a shower. @_@ Last person you told that they smell good? Sara. How many iPhones have you had? One, I think? Last person you ran into unexpectedly? Good question. Last compliment you received on your appearance? Uhhh idk. On your character/personality? Sara's mom pointed out this morning that she liked how I watch out for Sara and reminded her to call the library (applied there) and it made me so happy alkdjowie. Her approval is important to me. Do you remain friends with anyone you met at your first job? No. Woulda liked to, but. How many chargers do you have for your current cell phone? One, though Mom's fits mine, too. Do you have a good work/life balance? N/A Have you ever ordered pizza online? Yeah. Do you own a treadmill? No, but I want one. Have you ever signed up for a gym membership? Yeah. What color was the last fish you had? I couldn't tell you. Is there a garbage can in your room? What color is it? No. Have you ever read in the bathtub? I may've as a kid? Does your animal sleep with you? Roman, pretty much always. Rarely Teddy, but hhe doesn't like getting off the bed; I put him on it if he wants, so getting down's the only thing. Have you ever had to wear a hairnet? I think I have, but I don't recall for what? How many favorites do you have on YouTube? Holy shit idk. I used to favorite almost anything I liked, though for like a year or so now I've been really picky with what I favorite because it's become a playlist I go to that I know will cheer me up or are just videos I find very important. What kind was the last chip you ate? Uhhhh Lays, p sure. What is your favorite song to play on Guitar Hero or Rockband? I physically cannot play "Hotel California" by the Eagles without moving in some sort of way or singing.  The fucking solo ahhhhhhhhhh goosebumps every time.

[clown-bait]

Some Monster Roommate AU Headcannons and Explanations

Just answering some things I know I have not addressed in the AU

How Vampires Work:

So in this AU there are three kinds of vampires so far: Nosferatus, regular vampires, and Twilight vegan sparkle vampires. The type you become is determined by your diet leading up to becoming undead. So if you refuse blood as much as possible you become a vegan vampire: incredibly beautiful but also the weakest with almost no powers other than the basics. If you only drink blood you become a Dracula like vampire: lots of cool powers, and multiple transformations. You wont be as strong as a nosferatu but you will also have control of yourself. (its basic Bram Stoker stuff.) Finally if you're like Leech and eat the flesh with the blood you become nosferatu, powers are very difficult to master and learn, horrible beast like transformation, and you look like you've been hit by the ugly stick. However a nosferatu in a frenzy is extremely powerful able to take on foes twice their size. They have no control over themselves and will act completely on animal instinct till their appetite is satisfied or they are given time to calm down.

The reason Leech became nosferatu despite Dracula’s teachings is completely Pennywise’s fault. She learned to hunt by watching him and just sorta picked up on the flesh eating bit. Basically she picked up on his gluttony and had no self control to begin with.

All vampire types are immortal, undead, have heightened senses, above average strength, can climb walls, are allergic to garlic, holy symbols and silver, and can only be killed via stake to the heart followed by beheading.

Why Leech left Adam:

Leech is basically and anti Bella Swan. She's what would happen if a young adult romance novel character said no I'm going to have a personality and I'm going to punch the pretty boy in the face. She grew up in Washington and was a bit of a hot headed friendless loser. Her single mother worked long hours as owner of a diner and Leech would often be left to her own devices. She started smoking pot at 14 and learned to make her first cocktail a few weeks later. She started dealing when she was 16.

Some rich kids invited her to a party to buy weed off her and that’s when she met Adam. He was way out of her league but for the first time in her life someone didn't see her as an annoyance. The real reason he hooked up with her was he was struggling to control his new vampiric urges and planned on killing her after but he saw an opportunity to take control of her instead since she was so easily attached. Basically she became his unintentional familiar.

Adam wanted to make her into something others would admire and covet, he wanted to change her into a pretty “Bella Swan” type who's personality was “girlfriend”. When leech figured out he was manipulating her and trying to change who she was she left him. He attempted to keep her around by turning her but you cant tame a wild animal. Leech basically said fuck you, dropped out of bartending school and hopped on a travel bus for a band to become a roadie for a few months. She got enough money saved up to find somewhere to hide and chose to go to Maine where the story and her transformations begin

Why did the Pennys open up Derry to other monsters:

Post 1989 beatdown Penny and Papa Penny both agreed that a repeat of what happened to Papawise cant happen again. They came up with a plan to open Derry to other monsters essentially making all the monsters in town an elaborate camouflage. With all the other killings going down no one would notice Penny woke up early to hunt, so by the time the 27th summer rolled around he'd only need to make a couple kills and go back to sleep. The losers would be old and frail when he woke back up and he and Papawise would kick everyone out and have Derry all to themselves again.

Now of course both being evil beings there has been some backstabbing. Papa’s whole plan originally when he came to this reality was to have Penny “die” in the final fight and take his place. But after years of hanging out together the old clown grew soft for the tall baby especially seeing him get beat up so bad. Hence the camouflage plan.

Penny like his counterpart, also caught the feelings too but his were romantic. Basically Penny’s boner ruined everything, he didn't hunt enough because he was too busy getting laid. Penny assumes with a mate by his side he'd be able to take on the losers easily. So he's being a rebellious brat and taking matters into his own hands. Papa is low key pissed off that Junior caught feelings and the poor idiot is going to get himself killed from getting too cocky. Like a good uncle though he's learning to accept their new family member and try to support his younger self, since now their whole plan is ruined anyway.

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Any other questions you guys have please feel free to ask I love talking about this shit!!!

[martianarctic]

The Factory Window

Agent:  Andrew Swan

Interview record: Pinetree-443 incident. Witness #2. January 3rd, 2021. Interview #1 of /. Location: Regional office, Lance Barrow Memorial Federal Building. Investigator Remarks: None.

It happened when I was really young, still a teenager, late teens, 18, 19. I have never told anybody about it before now. It is only known by one other person, he was with me, a friend of mine. I lost track of him after high school and searching his name on the internet yields nothing, even though he has an uncommon name. No one from school that I am still in touch with has spoken with him for decades.

I remember that day really clearly, even though it was almost [REDACTED] years ago at this point. It takes [REDACTED] hours to drive to the town. There were, and are still people there, gravitating to the kind of things that remain after a factory closes: Elementary schools, grocery stores, and hospitals. But everything and everybody is falling apart. Driving mostly old cars. The streets are stuck in [REDACTED] years ago. Everybody looks dead behind the eyes. Talks to you like you’re an invader into their daydream.

The factory is on the water. It closed in the [REDACTED], so when we went there it had been closed for about [REDACTED] years or so. It was a… real weird building. Designed by some famous midwestern architect, in the years they built up this town, they didn’t spare any expense. It’s built solid, so its still standing today, and will still be standing in 20 more years.

But, my point is, the building is big. It’s four interconnected corners, each like 10 stories high, and then a center that goes up 25 stories. Blocks. Windows are cut into the stone, but they are narrow- all around, about as wide and tall as a man. You can see out from them, but no way can you see in, except, at night, you can see if somebody is standing in one because the glow of the slit is different, warped kinda, just enough to know it doesn’t look like the others.

Sneaking in isn’t hard. Nobody’s patrolling it, I mean, I guess the cops drive by every day but there’s never anybody here so it’s the kind of thing very few of the cops would actually ever do. Despite this, you park your car in the trees that are overgrowing the parking lot, so nobody can see. The parking lot itself is cracked and weeds and bushes and even a few trees are growing up from under it.

There are entrances to the building all around it, but they are boarded up so the only way to get in is to go between two of the big blocks. These were meant to be the main entry ways, so back when the factory was open, you’d walk down one of these to get to work. There were probably a ton of people here all the time. Men, women, white, black, Mexicans, Asians- all Union members too.

I should mention two points here of interest. First, its very hard to find anybody who worked here. Nobody has done too deep of a dive on it, there’s a few youtubes and that’s it. Here’s what I know about that.

This section of the interview has been redacted.

And when you do, they’re… well, they’re all the same type of person, they all just kind of stare off into the distance. They are often very intelligent, quizzical kind of people. Not the first thing that jumps to mind when you think of factory workers. But its impossible to get them to answer anything directly. They acknowledge that you said something, but then they go off on a different tangent about something really esoteric and weird, but never the factory.

Which leads us to the next point of interest, which is that nobody actually knows what this factory made. Most people theorize that they are some kind of component to something very large and complicated so naturally one thinks that they were a defense contractor. However, defense stuff is usually air stuff and this stuff is way too heavy to fly in anything normal.

So, most people theorize that its some kind of hardware for power generation, nuclear or hydro power generation. Perhaps during the [REDACTED], in seeking energy independence, they anticipated some massive swell of interest in nuclear or hydro power generation and then the oil industry fired back. But that is also a stretch, because a factory this size producing that much hardware would have to have it go somewhere and honestly, again you tubers did the work and figured out that they made enough shit for 1000 nuclear plants when there only were ever 57 in the united states. Kinda the same story for hydro. Similar numbers.

Anyway, trees and bushes and tall weeds choke down each of these entrance paths. Here and there you see a drinking fountain, garbage can, bench- poking up through the foliage. It was around 1PM when we arrived so the sun was breaking through the clouds. We were in rain gear, we knew it could rain that day.

And boy it sure did- rain started up about when we got inside. After the entrance chambers, the first thing you go through is the offices. They were built into the 10 and 20 story walls that made up the structure. Furniture is still in them. Great stuff- but heavy as hell.

Anyway, the entrance chambers have these high 40-foot vaulted ceilings and stairs that take you to the first 4 floors. We crunched through the weeds that followed us in, and the crackles of dead foliage and the clatter of a kicked stone echoed. We heard the rain start falling outside. You can imagine how this place would have sounded any day of the week- just a bunch of people coming and going, starting and ending their days. We entered the first floor offices, which start just past the stairs.

So back to the offices, with the vintage furniture- they are rusted and warped a little bit, but I think with some effort they could be refurbished into what would be considered high-end pieces today. Millions of dollars worth by my reckoning. Remember, the place closed in the [REDACTED], and by that time, most companies as large as this one, if in fact it was even a business, had already gone computer based in some form or other. But there’s no computers, they never switched to any substantially digital document or process management infrastructure. There’s not a computer more complicated than a basic calculator in there.

Oh yeah, glad you asked. Another weird thing about this place- is that there’s no record of them ever having filed articles of incorporation or partnership in any state let alone ever issuing any kind of stocks or bonds. The size of the factory alone, estimated to have costed over a billion dollars in 2020 dollars, and they never borrowed any money or sold any equity stakes, at least not to anybody in the united states and not through legal channels. So we’re not even sure this was a business. At least, again, in the opinion of youtubers, since there’s no professional investigative interest on this place, until now.

So one of the things to do in this place is take a look through some of the paperwork in these offices. I feel like I don’t need to tell you that none of it makes any sense. At first, all of it looks completely normal. Memos, letters, ledgers, blotters, and they look pretty much like what you’d find in any corporate office this old. But at least somewhere in a normal business’ records, you find at least some mention of customers. Zero zip, in this factory. Products are mentioned, but they are always by cryptic item numbers that can be endlessly cross referenced but never defined.

That was not what we were here to investigate, however. And I think that’s why you called me in, maybe, but what we were there to investigate, I don’t know if you know this or not but I am about to become your star witness. #1.

If you go through the offices enough, keep moving perpendicular to the halls, through the doorways, you eventually get to the factory floor. On all sides, the walls are filled with offices that look out onto the factory floor. Above, a bunch of industrial track lighting underneath mostly broken glass skylights.

No walkways- those are all interior. This made the only possible avenue for suicide to be to jump through your office window out onto the factory, which would have been very tough, since the windows both didn’t open and also the glass was filled with chicken wire. I obviously have no idea if anybody ever did it since at least from the standpoint of personnel this would not have been discussed and if it was documented we haven’t ever found anything.

So, depending on which of the quads you are in, there’s significant differences between the factory segments. This one is mostly flat, but some of them go really vertical with these processing machines that go both up and down in addition to left and right. Here, this one, there’s conveyors that move across work stations, if you unwrapped these, they’d probably be over 20 miles long. Whatever they assembled here was small. The other quads definitely handled much larger products.

This segment probably had the most workers, also. We don’t know much about the unions that worked here but we do know that most of the shop stewards worked in this quad. Their workstations, you can see, have a lot of extra seating, space and document capacity. Here is something a little strange, nobody except youtubers and urban explorers visits here, and they are usually pretty good about not taking a ton of shit, but the union leader’s shop areas have been absolutely gutted of anything resembling a paper record or document. Somebody came for that shit.

As you can imagine, we have theories on this. We think that the shop steward’s records are probably the best place to get a list of names and addresses and any info by which we could track these people down and somebody already got it. The other quads had union leader’s workstations as well and also those are devoid of any actual recordkeeping paperwork. In one quad, several of them were burned.

We didn’t dally long in the quads, we went right for the center building, which is only accessible through the corner of the quads. Through a layer of offices, then just doors. The rain was falling outside of this one- we put up our hoods and made sure our camera bags were covered and went outside.

The courtyard is actually in the middle of the central building. 20 story high walls up around us, with the slit-like windows looking out. We’re looking out from a corner: the corners are where you enter from the outside, and then large entranceways on the edges of the square are the entrances to the central building. The water is falling down trees that have overgrown, tall, tall weeds. Broken up here and there by obstinate patches of concrete that form paths. We travel along one of these to roughly the middle of the whole complex. Look up see this is why were here. We look up.

One of the slits, up half way about from the north wall, it’s lit up. You could see a golden glow coming out of it because of how dark the rainclouded sky was. And it ain’t a normal window-slit. Its warped because something is in the window. We don’t think it’s anything moving, because it always stays the same.

So the last group to explore that we know of, they had pointed out that this light was there. Other explorers that went before them didn’t see it, so the earliest this light could have turned on was, if you believe them, [REDACTED]. [REDACTED] months.

Anyway, we counted what floor it was as best as we could and walked for that entrance and walked in, took off our hoods. The central building entrances are more conventional with elevator banks and security desks. We walked past the elevator banks for the stairs.

The stairs are eerie because of all places here, this is the one where, if you could time travel back to [REDACTED], it would look exactly the same. Light comes in through windows at each landing and there’s very little clutter. Actually people so infrequently come up these stairs that there’s very little dirt.

We got to the 18th floor- this was where we believed the light was on. It was also facing in towards the courtyard, so that meant the office was somewhere on the south side of the hallway. We checked our compasses and saw that was to the right if we turned right, and to the left if we turned left. We also figured it was to the right of the stairs. We went in.

The hallway was dark enough that if we could have seen straight down it, we would have been able to tell which office had a light on, except that most of the office doors were closed. As we walked down the hall, we looked in those offices that were open. Furniture still there in most of them, which made the offices that were completely empty really stand out. It would be weird if these offices seemed like no one had ever worked in them but what was weirder was that it seemed like all of the stuff had been removed from them. Shadows on the wall indicating where a chair might have scuffed against, parts of the carpet that seemed less worn than others.

We got to where we had to start opening the doors on the left. We did it quickly. One of us opened while the other covered with, yeah a firearm, you don’t go urban exploring in [REDACTED] without one. I was the puller when we got to it. The door handles were all were pretty much ice cold to the touch so when we got to it, I knew. This one was warm. I looked back to make sure he was still there, he gave me a nod. I pulled on the handle and the door came open.

This section of the interview has been redacted.

[iworeheelsforthis]

The New Rules

I just re-read the chapter topics of the book The Rules before writing this to see if there was crossover and dammit, there is.  I remember reading that book about 20 years ago thinking it sounded crazy.  How dare I make a man work so hard? How could I expect so much of someone? Welp, lesson learned.  I never expected much of any man and here we are.  I am tucking my tail between my legs and reverting back to the original rules as words to live by, but here are mine with a twist. 

#1: Be the Badass Chick Your Friends Know You Are

We all have our doubts and insecurities.  When approaching dating you MUST go into it thinking you are a swan.  THE swan. And you must present yourself that way in your online dating profile.  Put your best self forward.  It's like a cracked out version of your Facebook or Instagram profile but geared toward what men want.  And what they want is a girl who is approachable, attractive, has hobbies, travels, doesn't pose with duck face or Snapchat filters and isn't obsessed with selfies. Be the cool chick without trying too hard.  Challenging? Yes. Doable? Absolutely. 

I recently helped my friend and my mom with their online profiles and it was a full rehaul.  They were both approaching their profiles as what they'd want to see. In another woman! But they don't want to date other women so I had to reframe it for them as how to best present themselves to men. 

"No drinking, no smoking, no drugs, Liberal, I want to meet someone who is spiritual and self evolved and likes hiking and traveling to moonlit beaches hand in hand" - not the actual profile but basically how I would have read it as a man.  No, no, no.  This is uptight.  You need to come off as approachable.  So many No's make a man cringe and run.  Let him find out on his own when you meet him what your preferences are.  But don't also rule out amazing men who might be willing to compromise before learning what those things are.  

Post pictures where you're wearing makeup and look genuinely happy, and are in a cool country you loved exploring on your own, or on top of a mountain you just climbed, sweaty but sexy.  Show you but show your best you.  And if you don't have enough photos like that make your best friend climb a goddamn mountain with you and take those photos of you.  And then filter them tastefully so you look like a glowing, yet realistic goddess.

#2: Be Fun and Happy but Don't Give Too Much Yet

Men like to chase. That is their physiology and we must let them do it. Once I gave into this reality, holy shit, did I get chased. And I felt sexier than ever.  You want me? Come and get it. You don't want to try? You were way too weak for me and I'd learn that when it was too late.  

I have chased men my entire life.  I've tried to prove that I am worthy of their love and time and yes, this totally stems from my childhood which I am fully aware of and have gone for years of therapy/reiki/energy healing/crystal praying/meditation/you get the point. 

Once I gave in to the idea of "you don't want this? Ok, boy bye" that's when the men came out of their caves to seek me out. I know this sounds like the beginning of a damn romance novel but no good story started with "and then I chased him for years and finally he relented and now he resents me but we make it work". It never works.  Men want to hunt. 

So when you are interacting with men online or in real life, be cute and funny and endearing in those early interactions. Give just enough so they come back for more.  And then stop. Let them want to know more and let them ask you out.  It works every damn time and weeds out the weaklings instantly. 

#3: Never Pay on the First Three Dates

I never pay for the first 3 dates.  I play a little game in there as a test.  And yes, we must test men sometimes.  

If a man asks you out, he has asked you as his date to go out with him and that is his treat.  I used to offer to split the bill on first dates but never do now.  I don't even look when the bill comes and they don't flinch. They automatically pull out their card or often try to sneak paying for it without me noticing. Give it notice and everyone gets uncomfortable, including the waiter.

On the second date I will pretend to reach for my card.  Every time since I've done this almost every man has shooed me away, saying it is his treat.  BUT here's the trick.  IF he follows that up with saying you can get the next one, be wary.  For me, I am instantly on high alert.  At this point we have maybe kissed but most likely not.  If you haven't kissed me yet and want to continue to date me and can assume I am dating other men, you better step up and pay for dates until you realize you want to lock me down.  Sorry ladies, I know that sounds ballsy but BE THAT BADASS CHICK and KNOW YOUR WORTH.  Yes, you can afford you own damn meal but he asked you out again, you're beautiful and he should assume he is not the only one vying for your attention and if he wants to get anywhere near a 3rd date or your vagina, he’d better pick up that tab without flinching.

You can kiss him on that date if you're feeling it (and sometimes I do because I am a female with needs), but if he has put it in my mind that I am maybe picking up date 3, I have likely already put him in the friend zone (aka I'll never see him again).

If and when Date #3 comes around and so does the check you can in earnest pull out your card and offer to split.  Again, if he takes me up on it I'm honestly usually turned off.  I will, however, pay for our drinks if we go to a bar after. That is fair and shows that you aren't a princess, but that you also have standards and expectations. 

The other day my friend said "You want me to pay and you're putting your penis in my vagina? Gross. Get out of here." And it's true.  

I get that it must be CRAZY expensive if you're a guy dating constantly and having to pick up the tab.  But if you can't afford it, don't get out there. It's part of the process and maybe only go for coffee dates, dude. Get all hyped up on that caffeine but keep me out of it.

#4: Create Date #1, 2 and 3 Uniforms

This has saved me from hours of questioning what to wear.  Instead, I have a uniform for my first 3 dates, much like 6th through 8th grade when I was the non-Catholic Catholic school girl. 

Date #1 is a black criss-cross low cut tight, yet classy top, tight dark jeans (I finally got a semi-butt from going to Barre class 4 days/week, thank GOD), brown suede boots and a fuzzy short jacket that every guy says is adorable but in a sexy way.  I straighten my hair and keep my makeup fairly simple but a smokier eye with a neutral lip. It has gotten me date #2 every single time. Keep in mind it's winter, so this level of coverage is appropriate.  

I have that outfit ready and pressed every day so that I don't have to think twice about what to wear on a first date.  It also sort of mentally helps me track which date I was on with whom when I have to retrace my steps with each of them.

Date #2 is a lacy camisole, black leather jacket and tight black jeans with sexy but cute heels (aka no hooker heels). I add some waves to my hair and maybe a darker lip. I receive compliments every time.  

Date #3 is a dress. Let him see your legs. Guys like legs. And butts. And boobs. But let him see your legs.  It makes you look playful and flirty. Shave said legs. They'll be grabbing them all throughout the date.

#5: Let Him Text You

I used to text and thank guys after dates. No more. Let him thank you and tell you how much fun he had. Sometimes it happens later than night or the next day. And if he never reaches out again, NEXT.  You probably weren't that into him anyway and if you thought you were, revert back to Rule #2. Don't chase.

#6: Give Him a 4pm Cut Off Time

If a man has made a plan to take me out a few days in advance, I give him until 4pm the day of that date to send me the details of where we are meeting and when.  If you don't hear from him by 4pm the day of the date, move on.  Ideal timeframes are the day before up until 1pm the day of.  You are not expected to be at his beck and call and if you let him think that you are then it's setting a precedent for the rest of a potential relationship. You are not here to bend over backwards for him to get his shit together and prioritize you. You have things to do. And even if you don't, make him think that you do. Even if that's just bingeing what I call my bitch shows (Real Housewives, Bachelor, Vanderpump Rules, etc).  No shame in my bitch show watching game. 

I recently had a guy begging to take me out for a week. When I finally gave him my Monday slot, he fucked up.  On Monday at 5:30pm he texted asking if I was around.  I responded at 7pm saying he should have texted sooner and maybe we could reschedule.  He was profusely apologetic and acknowledged his complete lapse.  I was nice enough about it so he felt even worse.  Since my dance card is now full at least a week out, he has been scrambling to reschedule and I just don't have the time.  

They snooze, they lose.  And that drives a man completely bonkers.  

#7: Go With Your Gut

At the end of the day, go with your gut. How does he make you feel? Are you excited? Does he make you want to get to know him better? Does he make you feel needy (run!)? Does he make you feel special (you are!)? Does he open the door for you (he should!)? Does he knock on your door when he picks you up or does he wait in the car and text "Here!" (dealbreaker for me, personally)? Is he a good kisser (has to be)? Does he tell you you're beautiful (you're the prettiest in all the land!)? Does he tell you he wants to see you again?

LISTEN TO ALL OF THESE THINGS and what is going on in your heart. Sometimes when you're on a date and in the moment it's hard to know how you really feel and it's ok to go home and decipher those feelings first. You don't have to figure it all out then.

I often have to go home after a date and decompress and think how I feel about this person and if I want to see them again.  I get on overload between having to be "on" yet authentic yet a good listener and a good storyteller, flirty and sweet combined with confident and sexy. I'm basically living multiple personalities in a 2 hour span. It's just a lot all at once.

Sometimes it's more obvious and I can't want to see them again. But I also wait for them to say that first. Again, let them hunt.  

Patty Stanger from Millionaire Matchmaker once said something like "YOU are the prize. Never forget that. And if he doesn't get that, move on and find the one who does".  I couldn't agree more. 

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What are some of your favorite musicians/bands?

Nice, this is the first real anon question I’ve gotten that wasn’t some weird twitter wannabe in like a year and a half so I’m gonna be really extra in answering it.

Music was a really important part of my growing up, I played the piano for many years, but I never really figured out how to talk about it in technical terms, only emotional ones. I can only say I like a song for how it feels to me and what kind of visuals I get in my head while listening to it, but really nothing about the use of particular musical elements. I’d say most of my favourite music is the stuff that I think of as pretty timeless and which has stuck with me for whatever reason. R&B and women in hip-hop were my first musical interests, so I made a lot of tapes of Eve, Missy Elliott, Aaliyah, Erykah Badu, Sade, when their songs came on the radio and I listen to all of it still (not on tapes obvi).

When I got a little older and I spent a lot of time watching MuchMusic (RIP) I started gravitating towards punk, metal, some emo stuff, and when we got the Internet a couple of years later I would spend all my time on forums trying to find new music. (Fun fact: the first song I ever downloaded on Limewire was Every Time I Die “I Been Gone a Long Time”.) The stuff like Crass, Crisis, Misfits/Danzig, Subhumans, it stayed with me for a while but I probably haven’t listened to most of it in at least 4-5 years. Some of it stayed, though, particularly I still get a lot out of listening to many Converge albums, even if I haven’t followed them much since All We Love We Leave Behind (2012? Jeez….), but I don’t think I’m alone there. Jane Doe is possibly one of my favourite albums forever, certain parts of Caring and Killing, Petitioning the Empty Sky, Unloved and Weeded Out. I care about those very much.

All of Björk’s music has been really important to me for a long time, because it’s always felt like a sort of mirror, like she’s able to word certain feelings in ways I wish I could. If I’m going through something, i can find a Björk song for it. Also her videos often evoke the same sort of imageries I have in my head (the best example being Jóga). The same goes for Sigur Rós.

This question is actually really hard to answer other than that, though, since I’ve noticed my attitude toward music changing significantly in the last 5 years or so, but especially in the last 3. Nothing I could ever write here would fully encompass my many relationships to music. I’ve become less of a genre purist. I’m no longer embarrassed to admit listening to certain kinds of music like when I was a teenager. I’ve mentioned it on here before, but in my metal forum days, I was really roped into the boys club and into believing that acts with women were not as good. I just didn’t listen to any music by women for a long time and I’m really sad about that internalised misogyny period of my life now. So, I’ve let a lot of that shit go. But I’m def not at the forefront of anything and I really never know what’s going on in music. I have a lot of 1-2+ hour mixes saved on SoundCloud that I like but I don’t even know what the tracks are (but source obscuring is a whole other issue altogether, so).

Right now I listen to a lot of Alva Noto, Cremation Lily, Andy Stott. I love what I’ve heard from Diane Valence a lot and I hope there’s more sometime. I go on Lana Del Rey kicks all the time. I have a collection of Chinese orchestras that I listen to a lot. I still enjoy the piano pieces I learned how to play when I was a kid. I live for Cirque de Soleil soundtracks. Portishead, The Knife, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Swans, Tschaikovsky, Mr. Oizo, Einstürzende Neubauten, The Cure, Mogwai, J Dilla, Biggie, Fever Ray, Glassjaw, GY!BE, Radiohead, and everything else I mentioned, are all long-standing staples of my music listening habits.

[lytahalifax]

XI Questions Tag

(I don’t know why I did that in Roman numerals, I’m obviously in a weird mood :)

I was tagged by @byjillianmaria​ for this. Rules: always post the rules, answer the questions given to you, write 11 questions of your own, tag 11 people. I don’t think I really know 11 people here, or can come up with 11 questions, so I promise NOTHING with regards to following rules. Because I am an iconoclast*, baby! (makes air guitar gestures and noises) *iconoclast (n) = a fancy way to say “lazy”.

Questions:

1.) What’s a line of dialogue that you’re most proud of? Holy cripes, that’s kind of a tough one to answer, having written a bunch, and forgotten even more, in the past four years. I would say it’s easier for me to talk about chapters of things I’m proud of, and in that, I’m particularly proud of a chapter I wrote in my Mass Effect series “Once More Unto The Breach” called “We Who Are About Die”. It’s essentially about the people who initially designed and floated the specs for The Catalyst, and how they came together as one race and expended all their efforts, not in self-preservation, but in giving the galaxy a fighting chance against the Reapers. They knew it might take millions and millions of years for their goal to be achieved, if ever, but they were committed, almost as one, to the notion, choosing to die not screaming and in fear, but as an almost indomitable force that would not be denied, no matter how long it too for their plan to bear fruit. However, there was a line my editor particularly adored that spun off from that whole thread, about “the weight of a billions years of justice, no longer denied”.  My Shepard also had some really nice comedic bits throughout that whole series. OMUTB, as my first real “child”, is the series I made absolutely the most mistakes with, but also am the proudest of to this day. “Near Wild Heaven” from “Black Swan” is another personal favorite, a chapter I was having so much fun writing, I had to force myself to stop. 

2.) Which of your characters would you most like to hang out with? Camilla Davies from Black Swan. I suspect she would understand me and my life experiences the best out of anyone on the planet, would be able to give me savagely effective life advice, and possibly transfer my brain into a cloned female body. In fact, I think I’d probably really enjoy hanging out with her, Reese and Alanna; I always felt they were kind of the Three Musketteers of SOAP. Bledoc Caitor, a one off OC I wrote for Once More Unto The Breach as a shoutout to a longtime reader, would be a distant second because he would probably make me the galaxy’s best bowl of ramen, and I really, really love ramen. 3.) Do you have any goals for the rest of 2017? Survive the oncoming storm of massive life and career changes coming up in the final quarter of 2017, and essentially prepare for some major life retooling I hope to achieve in 2018. Unfortunately, this probably means taking a sabbatical or otherwise semi-retiring from writing, at least for a while.

4.) What season inspires you the most? It’s a toss up between Spring and Autumn. Probably Spring; March/April is usually about the time I come out of my winter doldrums and do a lot of my writing again. 5.) If you could rewrite one part of an already-published work, what would it be? The first 20 chapters of Once More Unto the Breach. Well..maybe not ALL of them, but holy crap, there are some massive technical errors and embarrassing gaffs and continuity glitches I made there. I very nearly gave up on the entire endeavor were it not for the fact that I started working with a real top notch editor who essentially trained me how to be a better ,more effective writer, and it’s clear the final 20 chapters are SO much better as a result. I might also redo “To Bask In Your Starshine”. But maybe not. 6.) Do any of your characters have pets? What kind? Shepard kept coming back to the Normandy, even when she didn’t command it anymore, to collect Space Hamsters from the lower decks. Her oldest daughter has a pet kakliosaur. I imagine Camilla has a couple of cats, because they were the only animals she could really relate to: one of them is a tortie Maine Coon, which she adopted because she liked the coloration, not realizing how diva-esque torties are in their behavior. Reese probably has a fancy tropical fish tank setup he poured way too much time and money into. Nicole has a dog, like a golden retriever or a bulldog or something. A mutt for sure.

7.) What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re feeling uninspired? This is the answer - or at least part of it - that will make people gasp in shock and go, “Lyta! You can’t say things like that!” I have two techniques: one I would recommend, and one I would not. It should be obvious which is which. First, I smoke weed. Not often, not all the time, I’m actually on a bit of a six month break from it. I don’t smoke specifically going in to look for inspiration, I just do it to relax, but I would be lying if I said there weren’t times when inspiration didn’t come and come HARD when I was stoned. At least two of my stories, Old Soul and How Can I Sleep?, are the result of me breaking through serious blocks after toking up. Seriously, I could not figure out how to do Old Soul and almost gave up until I got baked and started watching old 1970s tv commercials, and then it came to me. I’m pretty damn sure that good chunks of the final three chapters of Black Swan came to me while I was toked up as well. Second, and much more often, I go for a lot of walks. Like a lot a lot of walks. I try to walk about 12,000 steps a day at a minimum now, which is probably why I’ve lost 20 pounds since April. But for years, I’ve done this when I can, because I find it can get me into a good “zen headspace”, almost like a walking meditation, where ideas flow easier from out of the great miasma of notions inside my brain. Large chunks of Black Swan chapters 5 through 12 were “flashes of inspiration” that came to me when I got “into the zone” during walking, and made sure to write quick emails to myself on my cell phone, so I wouldn’t forget. I’m pretty sure the same goes for Grande Dame, and definitely so for Bearing Witness to Time. If it weren’t for my walks, I wouldn’t have most of my writing ideas. Indeed, it’s gotten so that if I go down a path I haven’t traveled in a long time, my brain starts to play back memories of writing a particular story, as if the brainstorming somehow became encoded in the local metalayer of that location, and walking through it is like replaying a tape in my mind.

8.) Do you have a go-to writing snack/drink? Beef jerky. Usually of the spicy variety It’s high in protein, tasty, and a provides a viscerally satisfying experience in the eating of. Grrr! Chomp! Chew chew chew. 

There is an awesome jerky shop at Container Park in Las Vegas that I love to stock up at whenever I’m there...unfortunately my supply never lasts. I should probably find out if they do mail order.

9.) Do you have any self-indulgent stories/characters that you’d never publish (or even write down)? Hah! Oh boy.....yeeeeeah. There was this one crack fic I came up with called “The Yurizoku Formula, or GAYBIES!” It was a weird story, in the vein of “Chloe Price’s Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny (which I recently took down for personal reasons) or “Today’s Fish is Trout ala Creme” from OMUTB. If I remember correctly, the long and short of it is Warren accidentally infecting Brooke with a virus that makes her incredibly irresistible to all the women on campus, and she has to deal with their unwanted affections as she tries to get through her day, growing increasingly exasperated and flustered, sorta in the vein of Miyuki-chan in Wonderland. I remember it being much funnier and more clever back then than it obviously is. Sometimes I get ideas and my own personal kinks bleed through a little too much...as an example, the end of “The Domina Effect” in Black Swan was originally written to be a faiiiir bit more “sexy” between Rachel and Victoria, but NQW correctly convinced me to drop it. (As an example of my “kinks”, my first complete work ever written was a lesbian erotica sci-fi mind control story which I called Love is the Drug, which sadly I lost the files to before I could submit it to an appropriate archive. There are actually strong echos of this story in A Power Greater Than My Own...the bit where Victoria, as the domme, finds herself feeling helpless in the face of her so-called submissive at the end, because of how hard she’s fallen in love with her. I) I was also thinking about writing an AU fic in the ME universe called Domination: A Love Story, where the Asari are much more in the mold of Frank Herbert’s “Honored Matres” from the later Dune novels, and a 19 year old Shepard is helpless to watch as her colony ship is essentially taken over by an Asari “diplomatic expedition” who are slowly but inexorably brainwashing everyone over to their way of thinking. Not every Asari agrees with this method of behavior however, prompting a young(er) Liara T’Soni to try and help Shepard get through the horror of that particular situation; in the end, she’s forced to temporarily brainwash Shepard, in order to keep up appearances around the Asari Inquisitors, but eventually “releases” Shepard, so the two of them can run off and join a resistance cell.  Huh...I might actually come back to that one someday... Usually, when I get ideas that are terribly self-indulgent, they tend to not hang around, and then get swept out by whatever part of my brain reclaims needed storage space for better things. I’m sure there are whole stories that I’ve completely forgotten about. 10.) What works inspire you to be a better writer? Oh gleesh. Believe it or not, one of the reasons I tend to avoid reading other peoples work in general, with some exceptions, is that I find it very intimidating and daunting. Like “OMG! This person is so good, how could you even think that you are on the same level with them, you absolute hack? What could you possibly have to offer up to the great Singularity of Human Artistic Expression that someone hasn’t already done, and done WAY WAY better than you? For instance, I’ve specifically avoided watching TransParent on Amazon, because I still have an idea for a TV show about a “transhumanist transwoman” which I call “Swing Out Sister”. I probably will never do it, but I’m afraid that if I watch Jeffrey Tambor’s no doubt AMAZING work, I will give it up forever and ever. That said, the things I am watching right now that just blow me away with their style and panache are Rick and Morty and especially BoJack Horseman; I’m most of the way through BoJack season 4 and holy holy holy shit. Obviously, I am a fan of dark, almost cynical takes on the nature of suffering and the human condition. 11.) Say something nice about your writing! (Not a question, don’t care). What?! No! You can’t make me, you’re not my supervisor! Oh, okay. I will say this: people tell me that I am really good at writing dialogue, and this is the only thing I have ever agreed with. I write good dialogue. Sometimes, I even write great dialogue. Once, I wrote superb dialogue - I suspect. Dialogue and snappy patter is my forte, along with weird, high level ideas that I can never properly fill the details in. I’m good at A to C plotting, but figuring out “B” is where I still need a lot of work. Okay, well, I enjoyed this a lot but I am going to be a Naughty Lyta, and not pass it forward. At least, not for now, but I reserve the right to pick it back up and move it forward at a later date.

[networkingdefinition]

Jasmine Quotes

Official Website: Jasmine Quotes

  • A summer rain had left the night clean and sparkling with drops of water. I leaned against the end pillar of the gallery, my head touching the soft tendrils of a jasmine which grew there in a constant battle with a wisteria, and I thought of what lay before me throughout the world and throughout time, and resolved to go about it delicately and reverently, learning that from each thing which would take me best to another. – Anne Rice

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Jasmine', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_jasmine').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_jasmine img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Cultivate night-blooming jasmine near your bedroom window, and dream of men you’ve always longed for. – Gwen Davis • Do not sit long with a sad friend. When you go to a garden do you look at the weeds? Spend more time with the roses and jasmines. – Rumi • From plants that wake when others sleep, from timid jasmine buds that keep their odour to themselves all day, but when the sunlight dies away let the delicious secret out to every breeze that roams about. – Thomas Moore • I always have SK-II face masks in the fridge – they are excellent especially if you’ve been on a plane and your skin is puffy. I also love Rodin face oil with jasmine – it’s delicious and gives you a real glow. I always use Chanel eye cream. I go to have my eyebrows waxed and lashes tinted, and then I always curl my eyelashes. – Cat Deeley

[clickbank-storefront-bestselling] • I didn’t mean to interupt you if you were looking for your friends Miss–‘ ‘Callihan,’ but you can call my Jasmine. Or Jas.’ Or Snookums. Honeybunch. Hotsie Totsie Cowgirl. My Little– ‘It’s nice to meet you Jasmine, I’m Jack. – Michele Jaffe • I do not feel like writing verses; but as I light my perfume burner with myrrh and jasmine incense, they suddenly burgeon from my heart, like flowers in a garden. – Hafez • I don’t know what’s happened to me. I’ve got a bit more sophisticated in my old age. I like a bit of jasmine tea. I love it. – Danny Dyer • I kept my arms around Joi and my face buried deep in her hair while I waited for Peter Pan to slip through the window. I thought I needed him to tell me what I should do. But he never showed up. He left me alone with a girl who smelled of jasmine and cocoa butter. And before I fell asleep, I finally realized that was more than enough. – Kirsten Miller • I love perfumes. Every morning when my girlfriend and I come down to the courtyard in our block of flats we’re assailed by the most delicious scent – jasmine round a doorway. It almost makes me swoon. – Alan Rickman • If there were as great a scarcity of soil as of jewels or precious metals, there would not be a prince who would not spend a bushel of diamonds and rubies and a cartload of gold just to have enough earth to plant a jasmine in a little pot, or to sow an orange seed and watch it sprout, grow, and produce its handsome leaves, its fragrant flowers, and fine fruit. – Galileo Galilei • I’m just being practial. I knew someday I might have to bare my throat to you. Pete and I discussed that very possibility. As for the danger and risk taking, that’s what Pete pays me to do. And you and I both know he inteneds to get his money’s worth.” Jasmine, I cannot-” Why not!” Because you are not food!” I stared at him for a minute; the I started to grin. I couldn’t help it. Vayl”-I tried to keep my face straight- “I’m not asking you to eat me. – Jennifer Rardin • I’m thankful for a pair of shoes that feel really good on my feet; I like my shoes. I’m thankful for the birds; I feel like they’re singing just for me when I get up in the morning… Saying, ‘Good morning, John. You made it, John.’ I’m thankful for the sea breeze that feels so good right now, and the scent of jasmine when the sun starts going down. I’m thankful. – Johnny Cash • I’m thankful for the sea breeze that feels so good right now, and the scent of jasmine when the sun starts going down. – Johnny Cash • In the spring of 1988, I returned to New Orleans, and as soon as I smelled the air, I knew I was home. It was rich, almost sweet, like the scent of jasmine and roses around our old courtyard. I walked the streets, savoring that long lost perfume. – Anne Rice • Jasmine apologized and said she was sorry and said she loved me, she couldn’t believe it and said she thought it would be her. All of them were really, really sorry that it happened to me. – LaToya London • Jasmine is just the most delicate and beautiful scent. – Natalie Portman • Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves. – Thomas Hood • Jasmine smirke at the weapon in my hand. “That little toothpick won’t save you, Gypsy.” “Touthpick?” Vic muttered in an indignant voice. “Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now! – Jennifer Estep • Listen,” F. Jasmine said. “What I’ve been trying to say is this. Doesn’t it strike you as strange that I am I, and you are you? I am F. Jasmine Addams. And you are Berenice Sadie Brown. And we can look at each other, and touch each other, and stay together year in and year out in the same room. Yet always I am I, and you are you. And I can’t ever be anything else but me, and you can ever be anything else but you. Have you ever thought of that? And does it seem to you strange? – Carson McCullers • Long strands of drool stretched from between his fangs and dripped on the pavement, sending a heady scent of jasmine to swirl through the air. Perfumed monster spit. What was the world coming to? – Ilona Andrews

• Mexico admits you through an arched stone orifice into the tree-filled courtyard of its heart, where a dog pisses against a wall and a waiter hustles through a curtain of jasmine to bring a bowl of tortilla soup, steaming with cilantro and lime. Cats stalk lizards among the clay pots around the fountain, doves settle into the flowering vines and coo their prayers, thankful for the existence of lizards. The potted plants silently exhale, outgrowing their clay pots. Like Mexico’s children they stand pinched and patient in last year’s too-small shoes. – Barbara Kingsolver • Not bombs nor my broken heart can take away from me walking barefoot with you in jasmine June through the Field of Mars. – Paullina Simons • Now hoppin’-john was F. Jasmine’s very favorite food. She had always warned them to wave a plate of rice and peas before her nose when she was in her coffin, to make certain there was no mistake; for if a breath of life was left in her, she would sit up and eat, but if she smelled the hopping-john, and did not stir, then they could just nail down the coffin and be certain she was truly dead. – Carson McCullers • Out in the lonely woods the jasmine burns Its fragrant lamps, and turns Into a royal court with green festoons The banks of dark lagoons. – Henry Timrod • Roses by the head, jasmine at the feet so appear the longings that have passed without being satisfied, not one of them granted a night of sensual pleasure, or one of its radiant mornings. – C.P. Cavafy • Sandalwood, tagara, lotus, jasmine – the fragrance of virtue is unrivalled by such kinds of perfume. – Gautama Buddha • Somebody comes to your house. You know they’re coming, so it’s not a surprise. And they give you an envelope that has your scenes in it. And they sit in the car outside for a half an hour while you read your scenes, then they ring your doorbell and you give your scenes back. Then you shoot the movie a few weeks later or something. The next time you see your scenes is the night before you start shooting. I never read the script [Blue Jasmine], so I didn’t really know what it was about. – Alden Ehrenreich • The secret weapon is cucumber.’ Solange sat all the way up. ‘Jasmine, cover your ears.’ MaryAnn, Juliette and Jasmine burst out laughing. ‘Sheesh, Solange. Get your mind out of the gutter.’ ‘MY mind is just fine, thank you. It’s MaryAnn’s I’m concerned about.’ ‘You put them on your eyes,’ MaryAnn said, laughing even harder. – Christine Feehan • The sound of her laughter was sticky as sap, the smell of night-blooming jasmine soft as a milk bath. – Janet Fitch • The surrealist thinks he has outstripped the whole of literary history when he has written (here a word that there is no need to write) where others have written “jasmines, swans and fauns.” But what he has really done has been simply to bring to light another form of rhetoric which hitherto lay hidden in the latrines. – Jose Ortega y Gasset • The wind, one brilliant day, called to my soul with an odor of jasmine. “In return for the odor of my jasmine, I’d like all the odor of your roses.” “I have no roses; all the flowers in my garden are dead.” “Well then, I’ll take the withered petals and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain.” the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself: “What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you? – Antonio Machado • This dress makes me look fat,” I told Jasmine as we stood near the back of the crowd and watched the last minute preperations fall into place. She glanced over at me and my efforts to rearrange the folds of my long, gauzy dress. “Your pregnant,” she stated. “Everything’s supposed to make you look fat.” I Scowled. “I think the correct reponse was ‘No it doesn’t. – Richelle Mead • To really love Joan Didion—to have been blown over by things like the smell of jasmine and the packing list she kept by her suitcase—you have to be female. – Caitlin Flanagan • True love is night jasmine, a diamond in darkness, the heartbeat no cardiologist has ever heard. It is the most common of miracles, fashioned of fleecy clouds – a handful of stars tossed into the night sky. – Jim Bishop • We spent the first night of our honeymoon in a country hotel, with Tudor architecture oak beams, and floors which sloped, of the Queen-Elizabeth-Slept-Here variety. There were old tennis-courts – the Tudor kind where Henry VIII was said to have played; and gardens filled with winter heather, jasmine and yellow chrysanthemums. […] So that first night together was spent in the ancient bedroom with the tiny leaded paned windows, through which shafts of moonlight touched the room with a dreamlike radiance […] – Jean Plaidy • We went to the door and I let Asha in. I expected an uberawkward moment when he and Vayl met. But Asha took care of that problem right away. “So you belong to Jasmine,” he said in his melancholy voice. It somehow delivered Vayl his deepest condolences without bearing a trace of malice toward me. – Jennifer Rardin • We’ll meet again in Lvov, my love and I…” Tatiana hums, eating her ice cream, in our Leningrad, in jasmine June, near Fontanka, the Neva, the Summer Garden, where we are forever young. – Paullina Simons • Whether I’m making a recipe or a piece of jewelry or a white-rose-and-jasmine tea or the perfume, I like to think of myself as a happy little sorceress, and if I could just have a little general store with all that stuff and give people a sense of my taste, that would be lovely. – Padma Lakshmi

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

[equitiesstocks]

Jasmine Quotes

Official Website: Jasmine Quotes

  • A summer rain had left the night clean and sparkling with drops of water. I leaned against the end pillar of the gallery, my head touching the soft tendrils of a jasmine which grew there in a constant battle with a wisteria, and I thought of what lay before me throughout the world and throughout time, and resolved to go about it delicately and reverently, learning that from each thing which would take me best to another. – Anne Rice

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Jasmine', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_jasmine').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_jasmine img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Cultivate night-blooming jasmine near your bedroom window, and dream of men you’ve always longed for. – Gwen Davis • Do not sit long with a sad friend. When you go to a garden do you look at the weeds? Spend more time with the roses and jasmines. – Rumi • From plants that wake when others sleep, from timid jasmine buds that keep their odour to themselves all day, but when the sunlight dies away let the delicious secret out to every breeze that roams about. – Thomas Moore • I always have SK-II face masks in the fridge – they are excellent especially if you’ve been on a plane and your skin is puffy. I also love Rodin face oil with jasmine – it’s delicious and gives you a real glow. I always use Chanel eye cream. I go to have my eyebrows waxed and lashes tinted, and then I always curl my eyelashes. – Cat Deeley

[clickbank-storefront-bestselling] • I didn’t mean to interupt you if you were looking for your friends Miss–‘ ‘Callihan,’ but you can call my Jasmine. Or Jas.’ Or Snookums. Honeybunch. Hotsie Totsie Cowgirl. My Little– ‘It’s nice to meet you Jasmine, I’m Jack. – Michele Jaffe • I do not feel like writing verses; but as I light my perfume burner with myrrh and jasmine incense, they suddenly burgeon from my heart, like flowers in a garden. – Hafez • I don’t know what’s happened to me. I’ve got a bit more sophisticated in my old age. I like a bit of jasmine tea. I love it. – Danny Dyer • I kept my arms around Joi and my face buried deep in her hair while I waited for Peter Pan to slip through the window. I thought I needed him to tell me what I should do. But he never showed up. He left me alone with a girl who smelled of jasmine and cocoa butter. And before I fell asleep, I finally realized that was more than enough. – Kirsten Miller • I love perfumes. Every morning when my girlfriend and I come down to the courtyard in our block of flats we’re assailed by the most delicious scent – jasmine round a doorway. It almost makes me swoon. – Alan Rickman • If there were as great a scarcity of soil as of jewels or precious metals, there would not be a prince who would not spend a bushel of diamonds and rubies and a cartload of gold just to have enough earth to plant a jasmine in a little pot, or to sow an orange seed and watch it sprout, grow, and produce its handsome leaves, its fragrant flowers, and fine fruit. – Galileo Galilei • I’m just being practial. I knew someday I might have to bare my throat to you. Pete and I discussed that very possibility. As for the danger and risk taking, that’s what Pete pays me to do. And you and I both know he inteneds to get his money’s worth.” Jasmine, I cannot-” Why not!” Because you are not food!” I stared at him for a minute; the I started to grin. I couldn’t help it. Vayl”-I tried to keep my face straight- “I’m not asking you to eat me. – Jennifer Rardin • I’m thankful for a pair of shoes that feel really good on my feet; I like my shoes. I’m thankful for the birds; I feel like they’re singing just for me when I get up in the morning… Saying, ‘Good morning, John. You made it, John.’ I’m thankful for the sea breeze that feels so good right now, and the scent of jasmine when the sun starts going down. I’m thankful. – Johnny Cash • I’m thankful for the sea breeze that feels so good right now, and the scent of jasmine when the sun starts going down. – Johnny Cash • In the spring of 1988, I returned to New Orleans, and as soon as I smelled the air, I knew I was home. It was rich, almost sweet, like the scent of jasmine and roses around our old courtyard. I walked the streets, savoring that long lost perfume. – Anne Rice • Jasmine apologized and said she was sorry and said she loved me, she couldn’t believe it and said she thought it would be her. All of them were really, really sorry that it happened to me. – LaToya London • Jasmine is just the most delicate and beautiful scent. – Natalie Portman • Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves. – Thomas Hood • Jasmine smirke at the weapon in my hand. “That little toothpick won’t save you, Gypsy.” “Touthpick?” Vic muttered in an indignant voice. “Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now! – Jennifer Estep • Listen,” F. Jasmine said. “What I’ve been trying to say is this. Doesn’t it strike you as strange that I am I, and you are you? I am F. Jasmine Addams. And you are Berenice Sadie Brown. And we can look at each other, and touch each other, and stay together year in and year out in the same room. Yet always I am I, and you are you. And I can’t ever be anything else but me, and you can ever be anything else but you. Have you ever thought of that? And does it seem to you strange? – Carson McCullers • Long strands of drool stretched from between his fangs and dripped on the pavement, sending a heady scent of jasmine to swirl through the air. Perfumed monster spit. What was the world coming to? – Ilona Andrews

• Mexico admits you through an arched stone orifice into the tree-filled courtyard of its heart, where a dog pisses against a wall and a waiter hustles through a curtain of jasmine to bring a bowl of tortilla soup, steaming with cilantro and lime. Cats stalk lizards among the clay pots around the fountain, doves settle into the flowering vines and coo their prayers, thankful for the existence of lizards. The potted plants silently exhale, outgrowing their clay pots. Like Mexico’s children they stand pinched and patient in last year’s too-small shoes. – Barbara Kingsolver • Not bombs nor my broken heart can take away from me walking barefoot with you in jasmine June through the Field of Mars. – Paullina Simons • Now hoppin’-john was F. Jasmine’s very favorite food. She had always warned them to wave a plate of rice and peas before her nose when she was in her coffin, to make certain there was no mistake; for if a breath of life was left in her, she would sit up and eat, but if she smelled the hopping-john, and did not stir, then they could just nail down the coffin and be certain she was truly dead. – Carson McCullers • Out in the lonely woods the jasmine burns Its fragrant lamps, and turns Into a royal court with green festoons The banks of dark lagoons. – Henry Timrod • Roses by the head, jasmine at the feet so appear the longings that have passed without being satisfied, not one of them granted a night of sensual pleasure, or one of its radiant mornings. – C.P. Cavafy • Sandalwood, tagara, lotus, jasmine – the fragrance of virtue is unrivalled by such kinds of perfume. – Gautama Buddha • Somebody comes to your house. You know they’re coming, so it’s not a surprise. And they give you an envelope that has your scenes in it. And they sit in the car outside for a half an hour while you read your scenes, then they ring your doorbell and you give your scenes back. Then you shoot the movie a few weeks later or something. The next time you see your scenes is the night before you start shooting. I never read the script [Blue Jasmine], so I didn’t really know what it was about. – Alden Ehrenreich • The secret weapon is cucumber.’ Solange sat all the way up. ‘Jasmine, cover your ears.’ MaryAnn, Juliette and Jasmine burst out laughing. ‘Sheesh, Solange. Get your mind out of the gutter.’ ‘MY mind is just fine, thank you. It’s MaryAnn’s I’m concerned about.’ ‘You put them on your eyes,’ MaryAnn said, laughing even harder. – Christine Feehan • The sound of her laughter was sticky as sap, the smell of night-blooming jasmine soft as a milk bath. – Janet Fitch • The surrealist thinks he has outstripped the whole of literary history when he has written (here a word that there is no need to write) where others have written “jasmines, swans and fauns.” But what he has really done has been simply to bring to light another form of rhetoric which hitherto lay hidden in the latrines. – Jose Ortega y Gasset • The wind, one brilliant day, called to my soul with an odor of jasmine. “In return for the odor of my jasmine, I’d like all the odor of your roses.” “I have no roses; all the flowers in my garden are dead.” “Well then, I’ll take the withered petals and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain.” the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself: “What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you? – Antonio Machado • This dress makes me look fat,” I told Jasmine as we stood near the back of the crowd and watched the last minute preperations fall into place. She glanced over at me and my efforts to rearrange the folds of my long, gauzy dress. “Your pregnant,” she stated. “Everything’s supposed to make you look fat.” I Scowled. “I think the correct reponse was ‘No it doesn’t. – Richelle Mead • To really love Joan Didion—to have been blown over by things like the smell of jasmine and the packing list she kept by her suitcase—you have to be female. – Caitlin Flanagan • True love is night jasmine, a diamond in darkness, the heartbeat no cardiologist has ever heard. It is the most common of miracles, fashioned of fleecy clouds – a handful of stars tossed into the night sky. – Jim Bishop • We spent the first night of our honeymoon in a country hotel, with Tudor architecture oak beams, and floors which sloped, of the Queen-Elizabeth-Slept-Here variety. There were old tennis-courts – the Tudor kind where Henry VIII was said to have played; and gardens filled with winter heather, jasmine and yellow chrysanthemums. […] So that first night together was spent in the ancient bedroom with the tiny leaded paned windows, through which shafts of moonlight touched the room with a dreamlike radiance […] – Jean Plaidy • We went to the door and I let Asha in. I expected an uberawkward moment when he and Vayl met. But Asha took care of that problem right away. “So you belong to Jasmine,” he said in his melancholy voice. It somehow delivered Vayl his deepest condolences without bearing a trace of malice toward me. – Jennifer Rardin • We’ll meet again in Lvov, my love and I…” Tatiana hums, eating her ice cream, in our Leningrad, in jasmine June, near Fontanka, the Neva, the Summer Garden, where we are forever young. – Paullina Simons • Whether I’m making a recipe or a piece of jewelry or a white-rose-and-jasmine tea or the perfume, I like to think of myself as a happy little sorceress, and if I could just have a little general store with all that stuff and give people a sense of my taste, that would be lovely. – Padma Lakshmi

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 3rd March 2019

This is a surprisingly chill week for after the BRIT Awards (which I commented on in real time on Twitter @cactusinthebank if you want to check that out), but there is some movement related to the ceremony so let’s just get through this.

Top 10

We have a new #1 this week, that’s right, for its first week ever, some lame Lewis Capaldi song I heard once called “Someone You Loved” is up two spots to the top spot on the UK Top 40... you can tell the charts are pretty dry right now but honestly I can’t complain that much, it’s less work for me every week. This is obviously Capaldi’s first #1, as he’s a new artist.

“Giant” by Calvin Harris and Rag ‘n’ Bone Man is also up two spots to number-two, thanks to a BRITs performance with Sam Smith and Dua Lipa.

This means that Ariana Grande had a few fallers this week, “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored” being first, down a spot to number-three.

I’m surprised “7 rings”, also by Ariana Grande, is only down three spots to number-four.

“Don’t Call Me Up” by Mabel is still steady at number-five.

Sam Smith and Normani’s “Dancing with a Stranger” is also staying still at number-six.

“Options” by NSG featuring Tion Wayne is up two positions to number-seven. That’s cool, it’s a good song, I guess.

“Walk Me Home” by P!nk is our sole new arrival in the top 10, debuting at number-eight this week after its live premiere at the BRITs with Dan from Bastille (Because, sure, why not?) and becoming P!nk’s 43rd Top 40 hit and 21st Top 10 hit. Those numbers are crazy, and she definitely deserves to have won the Outstanding Contribution to British Music Award as well as a place on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, even if for personality alone. We’ll talk more about the song later.

Oh, and “bury a friend” by Billie Eilish down a space to number-nine.

Finally, thanks to the album and BRITs win, “Just You and I” by Tom Walker is up nine spaces to #10. Blech.

Climbers

Thanks to the massive hype behind Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper due to the Oscars performance, the current US #1 has also increased greatly, up 10 spaces to #11 this week and potentially gaining more next week and re-entering the Top 10. Otherwise, “Talk” by Khalid with Disclosure is up seven spaces to #13, “Thotiana” by Blueface rides the meme and remix wave up eight spots to #15 (His first top 20), “i’m so tired...” by LAUV and Troye Sivan has a five-space increase to #17, entering the top 20, becoming LAUV’s first and Troye Sivan’s second top 20 hit in the UK. Thanks to the video, as I predicted, “MIDDLE CHILD” by J. Cole rebounds seven spaces up to #21, with “Grace” by Lewis Capaldi also up six spots to #24.

Fallers

Thanks to streaming cuts (In the UK, after a certain amount of weeks in the top 20 or so its streaming becomes less important to its chart placement), well, it’s safe to assume it’s due to streaming cuts because these were massive, long-running songs, Post Malone’s “Wow.” is down seven to #14, “Play” by Jax Jones and Years & Years is down seven to #22, as is “Lost Without You” by Freya Ridings to #25. “Nothing Breaks Like a Heart” by Mark Ronson and Miley Cyrus also suffers from streaming cuts, down 10 to #27, taking that bloody “Baby Shark” song with it down nine to #34. Otherwise, we have “Please Me” by Cardi B and Bruno Mars down eight to #20 despite a video being released very recently, and “Hello My Love” by Westlife is down eight to #32, yet still not quickly enough.

Dropouts

Since the album hype died down, “needy” by Ariana Grande is out from #11, “Swan Song” by Dua Lipa is out from #32 (Didn’t expect it to last that long anyway) and “Gun Lean” by Russ is out from #33 due to streaming cuts (Hip-hop thrives on streaming). Also, “Psych Out!” by AJ Tracey is out from #34, “Happier” by Marshmello and Bastille is out from #34, “365” by Zedd and Katy Perry is out from #37 (Oof), “Without Me” by Halsey is finally out from #37 and “a lot” by 21 Savage featuring uncredited vocals from J. Cole is out from #40 thanks to 21 Savage actually being freed, I guess?

Returning Entries

We have more than usual this week. Let’s start with the BRITs returns. First, due to a Calvin Harris mash-up performance featuring Dua Lipa and Rag ‘n’ Bone Man, “Promises” with Sam Smith is back at #37. I’d say “One Kiss” can’t enter because three Calvin songs are on the chart, but that’s untrue, so I guess that it just didn’t enter the top 40 – it is outside of it but I’m surprised it’s not up here, especially since it won an award. Also thanks to a performance featuring a guest verse from H.E.R., “Thursday” by Jess Glynne is back at #35. Otherwise, thanks to “needy” leaving, Ariana Grande’s “thank u, next” returns to its rightful place on the chart, at #30, where it should have been last week really, but dumb UK chart rules and all that. “High Hopes” by Panic! at the Disco is back at #39, because, I mean, sure, and “Nights Like This” by Kehlani and Ty Dolla $ign is back at #33. I wonder if he gets any of the royalties while he’s serving 15 years in prison for cocaine possession.

FEATURED SINGLE

“Faucet Failure” – Ski Mask the Slump God

Produced by ChaseTheMoney & Cubeatz - Currently charting at #100 on the Hot 100

Before we get to the new arrivals, let’s talk about a fun, goofy trap song from one of my favourite rappers currently in the game, Ski Mask the Slump God, energetic borderline comedy-rapper from Florida who brags with pop culture references constantly littered throughout. You probably know him since he’s gotten pretty big thanks to the release of his album STOKELEY, with this song in particular recently getting a music video directed by Cole Bennett of Lyrical Lemonade fame, hence it counts for this segment. Now, the trap beat is simple and bassy but the synth is almost hypnotising and I like how producer ChaseTheMoney adds what sounds like bongos and tribal percussion at random yet perfect intervals. Ski Mask often changes his flow, with a charismatic performance reflected by both his verses and ad-libs. In the first verse, he talks about how his girl wants to see his “Purple pickle up in the wind” – no comment, with some clever Thanos-related wordplay before that catchy and hilarious chorus, where he not only mentions Ash from the Pokémon anime but how he’s flyer than an ostrich, and he stands by that, I guess. The second verse is just about him buying fast food, but that fast food he’s ordering throughout builds up to a punchline where he asks where his weed his, because he was supposed to be buying “pies” (Drug lingo) instead of actual McDonalds pies. It’s pretty wacky, pretty cool, although it’s a bit short, check it out, and check out some of STOKELEY, especially “Foot Fungus”, “Nuketown” featuring Juice WRLD and “Reborn to Rebel”.

Remember days, me and X hittin’ licks!

God, I can’t seem to be able to escape this dude even in death, huh?

NEW ARRIVALS

#40 – “Black” – Dave

Produced by Fraser T. Smith

This barely charted but I’m so glad it did. This is the lead single from his upcoming album Psychodrama, and in stark contrast to “Funky Friday” with Fredo, this song focuses more on societal issues black people have had to face as the name implies. This is his seventh UK Top 40 hit, and probably his best yet. It starts with a crispy piano melody with even some nice static added to make the beat feel vintage and interesting (Yeah, it isn’t an overpolished trap beat this time). As Dave starts spitting, the drums kick in and slowly some violins creep in and make this beat really cinematic and beautiful. In the verses, Dave describes what being black is, which is being mistreated, and is having to go through struggles and going the extra mile for not the same results as white people would celebrate.

It’s workin’ twice as hard as the people you know you’re better than / ‘Cause you need to do double what they do so you can level them

Dave delves into some fantastic storytelling during the first verse, using walking a (Most likely white) elderly woman across the road without any thanks as an example of the belief in the lyric above, which also briefly references being told during his life, especially early life as a child due to the white-washed media and his living conditions in comparison to how he perceived the white children at the time in fancier, wealthier statuses, that he is more disposable than white people and cannot reach the same heights due to his race, to the point where he just accepts it, and that despite everything he’s forced to do to prove himself as a minority, he’s proud of its race and his ancestry. In the second verse, he speaks of accepting defeat and how he constantly feels the need to shout out all his friends unfairly imprisoned in jail in songs because he would feel guilty otherwise. He also discusses cultural appropriation and how he believes everyone wants to have the culture but not the colour as this means they would be considered cool, but not targeted with any of the discrimination. He ends the first verse with saying that being black is a sour flavour, but excellently switches it to sweet at the end of the second because he knows that white people will want the “flavour” but not the reality. The production furthers the intensity of his delivery and overall, this is way too good to be charting, but deserves all your love. Dave is one of the best in UK rap right now and this proves it, his album is coming out next week, check it out.

#31 – “Murder on My Mind” – YNW Melly

Produced by SMKEXCLSV - Currently charting at #14 on the Hot 100

Oh, speaking of people stuck in jail, introducing YNW Melly. Melly, or Melvin as I think his personality he decided to have on this song is, is a rapper who blew up thanks to a relatively okay collaboration with Kanye West, but since that song dropped out of the charts, people care more about this one mostly due to its confessional nature because of how he seemingly admitted on Instagram that he killed two of his very close friends (No reason provided), also from the YNW collective, and has turned himself in, although he just plead not guilty. It’s not about that, it’s about someone else he killed, I’m pretty sure, and honestly the descriptive, storytelling nature of the song is really cool, and it goes into some (Suspiciously) grim details that I appreciate because most rappers don’t care about that and just drift off topic while this is constantly focused, although his delivery could be less grating, and the beat is just really a cheap FL Studio piano melody under an overpowered bass, although the effort at making a pretty interesting bridge with the pitched-up female vocal samples are appreciated. You can tell it’s amateur, mostly because of how the final verse sounds like it just had some Audacity reverb effects added to it and the record label never changed it to make it sound more professional before having it on Spotify. For what it is, it’s okay, but I can’t really get into this. I think I like “Mixed Personalities” better, to be honest.

#8 – “Walk Me Home” – P!nk

Produced by Peter Thomas and Kyle Moorman - Currently charting at #54 on the Hot 100

Okay, now we have the big one, and I don’t care. Listen, Alecia Moore is a fantastic vocalist and one of the best singers in pop now, potentially pop history as I know it, and is one of the most successful women in the industry, with a clear personality and rebellious sense of humour that was unique. As she’s matured, she’s kept the singing and songwriting talent, but she’s just turned too bland for me to be interested anymore. This song is okay, but it doesn’t have any of the charm she used to have, and I know that’s bound to happen with age but that still doesn’t excuse this mediocre effort for me. It’s a guitar-lead track with pointless pitched-down vocal samples, way too percussion-heavy mixing and rhyming “good” with “good”. It’s a really upbeat, inspiring, motivational cheer-up track that will be a powerful “Wake up in the morning and get everything done” anthem for middle-aged mothers across the nation, but for me, I can only respect the underwhelming songwriting, in which she uses “Mm-hmms” as filler for an empty backing track, which is something I never thought P!nk would HAVE to do, just something she’d WANT to do, but she has no other option here, this instrumental is so wishy-washy and boring. It sure is listenable, guys. Let’s conclude.

Conclusion

I’d feel bad giving P!nk the Worst of the Week because it’s not a bad song, and I can see talent in YNW Melly as well, so screw it, it’s not going to the industry legend OR the nobody who became famous and immediately got charged for double murder afterwards. It’s not going to anyone. Best of the Week goes to Dave for “Black”, obviously, and see you next week.

[no-ns-en-si-ca-l]

Some Moments Leading up to This One • Christina Catherine Martinez

RATS

At some point the rats got out of control. Our parents purchased the rats from a guy who bred them in buckets of wood shavings in his garage. We surveyed the containers like they were windows full of puppies. The little pink and white things wriggling around in them were to be our pets. That they were bred to be food for larger pets belonging to families moving in more robust circles of economic activity did not occur us children. 

COPS

My father was mildly obsessed with cops, tried several times to become one—making circles on practice tests for the written exam, making circles on the dirt track of the Sherriff’s training academy behind our house—but there was always some clerical snafu or abstruse psychological red flag (one question they ask is whether or not you turn around to look at your waste before flushing the toilet. Apparently there is a wrong answer to this). On rainy days my brothers and I slurped ramen noodles and watched the police documentary series COPS on Fox 11. Matthew lived next door and was a couple years younger than me. His parents told him he was too young to watch the show, but he pleaded them into the odd compromise of watching the title sequence only, which succored him enough to stalk the neighborhood with a nerf gun singing the theme song, bad boys, bad boys, over and over under his breath. 

We were home schooled and Matthew was not. Every morning, around the time my mom began clearing up the breakfast dishes and herding us together to begin the day's work, I would see Matthew's little face inch past the living room window in his grandmother's big white Cadillac. I can’t remember if she lived with them or not, but she was always around, functioning as part chauffeur, part babysitter, and all around emotional punching bag for this supremely unhappy family (the entire second story of their house was added on as a private bedroom suite for mom). Every afternoon my brothers and I returned to the window just in time to see the white car pull up to their tight, golf-ready lawn and watch Matthew's backpack sail through the passenger-side window, followed shortly by Matthew himself. He yelled and spat and kicked papers and shit all over the lawn, without fail, every school day. It was such a treat. I credit this daily theater with planting the seed of skepticism in my attitude toward institutions, and I suppose by extension, to anyone in uniform.

Still, as committed members a religious suburban community, of some of my parents' closest friends were officers of the law. Not the slack-jawed, double-chinned avatars of male torpor, but sweet, boar-bristle ‘stached men with bright eyes and prematurely creased foreheads. The kind earned from continually raising brows at things children say. Especially children who don't go to regular school. Dad stopped trying to become a cop after noticing their off-duty penchant for K-Swiss sneakers and Hawaiian shirts. 

Eventually, between the hours of 12 and 6 am, between backseat blow jobs and furtive jam sessions, I would run into these men. A tense skein of trust evolved as they circled the perimeter of my adolescence; tapping the glass, raising their eyebrows, and waiving me home. I lived in cars, but I was no good at it. I wondered what separated me from the subjects on COPS, who also just wanted to hang out but invariably, somehow, ended up face down on the sidewalk. I asked Gonzo what his rules of thumb were for letting girls off with a warning. He was immune to crying and pleas of period emergencies, but once, upon pulling over a swerving vehicle and finding a woman covered in exploded burrito, he did let her go. Gonzo is a close family friend, and I was convinced that he was the greatest cop that ever lived. 

Years later I asked him why, at tender age of thirty five-ish, he left the po-po biz to become a teacher. He said he didn't like kind of person it was turning him into. 

PUBLIC SCHOOL

For a radical experiment in parenting, try this: take a feral child (who loves Jesus), strap it to a translucent purple backpack, and place it in a structured learning environment. Years later— 

APPLES

A lot of our games were about dying. The best, by far, was the night we tried to enact as many stock movie death scenes as possible without laughing. We were just hanging out. Someone was on the floor, and then Nadal starting noodling something sad on the piano, and then it kind of took off from there. We played a swan song for a gritty, browbeaten cop with a heart of gold (a peculiar trope, and, as I learned years later after experiencing the privilege of transatlantic flight, a particularly American one). We slipped through the hands of an action hero clinging helplessly to his buddy dangling off the edge of a cliff. Grenades crashed all around as Paul and I played out a lost cause on the battlefield. I cradled Paul's head in my arms, taking his shirt in a vice grip and screaming, “Don't you die on me soldier!" and then, for context, finessing a line about how he can't die, because he never taught me his secret gumbo recipe. Paul gasped for air, phantom blood filling his throat and mouth. It dribbled down his chin, sputtered off his lips and onto my shirt. Everyone clapped their hands over their mouths to keep from laughing. Just before his eyes rolled back in his head and his neck went limp, Paul pulled me close and whispered in a Cajun accent, "Don't forget the nutmeg,

mon ami....

" I brushed my fingertips over his eyes to close them. At this final touch, we could hold it no longer. Everyone burst laughing, crying, chugging beers, and yelling

ok, now me! me and you!

As the only girl, more than once I resorted to my privileged trope of peaceful cancer girlfriend. I'd stroke whoever's face very softly and whisper sweet platitudes about Finding New Love and how I Will Always Be With You. The beloveds raspberried in my face with laughter, and then we'd all drink some more. I died at least five times. We drank, the piano lolled on, we laughed until the laughter turned to honking chest rattles because we hadn't quit smoking yet. The roleplay kept going. In high school we'd made exclamations of love to one or more of one another. We filched wine and read e.e. cummings by candlelight, smoked weed and listened to records, made out in the McDonald’s PlayPlace, and screamed at one another in cars, breaking up and getting back together many times over. We heeded the tap on the glass and went home. We threatened to kill ourselves and harbored baroque fantasies about our funerals. Dying for fun at the crash house purged our maudlin adolescence and all its attendant delusions, suddenly petty in light of things like getting dressed for work and swinging a grocery basket in the crook of an arm and filling out apartment rental applications at Starbucks. An ironic bow at the threshold of adulthood, when all the quotidian necessities of independent living were briefly, intensely glamorous. We got oil changes and shopped for work clothes. We stopped buying Nat Sherman Fantasia's and got promoted to shift lead. We had people over for dinner and complained about our bosses. Then some of us got actual cancer, and some of us actually tried to kill ourselves, and once or twice we went blind, stabbing the roof of our mouth with the toothbrush, our girlfriends trying to pull rank on despair. 

We scatter. But we find each other. Years later, Landon and I are sitting in the Seinfeld restaurant in Harlem. I’m on my first work trip with the gallery. Landon entered Columbia University as a film major, and is about to leave with a degree in computer science. Upon learning the average post-graduation salaries for his respective choices, the change was swift. I show him my little stack of business cards with the word director printed under my name. He pays for the meal with an elegant slip of his own card. The last time we dined, it was at a Cheesecake Factory in Orange County. He wore sunglasses to mask the bandages over his eyes, and I wept into some kind of alcoholic milkshake called a Flying Gorilla. 

We pick at anonymous fried brown things and exchange tabs on where we all went. The food here is decent, except for the marinara sauce, which I suspect is with dishwater to make it last. We talked about all of the times we died and I ask, between bites of naked mozzarella stick, why he left the old crash house. 

“I just thought we could be grown-ups,” he said. 

I remembered the giant Patrick Nagel poster that crowned the faux-wood paneled living room, a crouching woman in pink thigh high boots, larger than life. 

“Mmmmm," I said. 

“And we just”—last time I visited the house she had grown a dick, a mustache, and a fist-sized hole near her shoulder—“like, we couldn’t do it,” he said. “We couldn’t have nice things or make a home.” 

“You should have taken out the wallpaper." 

“It was his mom’s." 

“I know," I said, "but that’s a lot of apples." 

MONEY

Money is an excellent balm, very near to forgiveness. I met John Wayne at a comedy show, and he quoted Austin Powers in bed, but the following week he was out of town on business, and it felt good to say “he’s out of town on business” in response to someone’s face screwing up about the yeah baby stuff. It generally worked, and I have no reason to believe John Wayne wasn’t his real name. 

MONEY

“Does the taco place take cards?”

“They charge seventy cents to use a card.”

“Alright then let’s swing by the Chase ATM on the way.”

“Are you for real?”

“Yes. What? Yes I’m for real.”

“You’re just going to spend the seventy cents you’ll save from using cash for the tacos on the extra gas it will take to swing by the ATM for the cash.”

“It’s on the way.”

“It’s so freaking hot right now.”

“It’s literally right on the way.”

“I can’t believe you can make these kinds of calculations after we’ve been sitting under a waterfall all day.”

“I’m stopping at the Chase ATM.”

“If you’re going to trap me in this hot car any longer in order to save seventy cents, then I’ve earned seventy cents worth of bitching for however long this ATM detour is delaying tacos.”

“I can’t believe you can make these kinds of calculations after we’ve been sitting under a waterfall all day.”

“We haven’t even moved in the last five minutes.”

“Fine. It’s worth seventy cents to not have to sit in this traffic or hear you bitch.”

“Do you think if we had universal basic income, Post-Internet art would still exist?”

….

“What?”

“I don’t know.” 

RATS

Oddly enough they fuck like rabbits. We brought home a brother and sister from the bucket guy, thinking they might respect their second chance at life by refraining from incest. Instead they multiplied, and we had to buy more cages to house all the pink little nubbies that kept popping out of the mama rat. Seizing upon this educational moment, our mother encouraged us to learn more about rats, and we observed the little nubbies at length, patiently waiting for them to grow into more comely beings. One day I noticed one of the nubbies lying still while the others inched around the cage with their little salamander limbs. I put him in my palm, and he was cold. I took him to my father, who was preparing his next sermon in the dining room. I had yet to attend public school, but I’d seen enough television to aesthetically forecast the kind of educational moment he might seize upon. 

“Dad,” I cooed, “this one died.” 

“Oh honey,” he said, taking the miniature creature in his hands, “He’s not dead… he’s just thirsty!” 

And with that, he dropped the dead baby rat into his glass of lemonade. 

I froze for a few seconds, then clapped my hands over my mouth to keep from laughing. 

That’s when I became a comedian.