#the cost of it (my dad's life) is nowhere near worth it.

[orcelito]

Me currently out of work and not looking for a job rn bc grief shit But knowing my tax return should hit in the next week (which will let me last like 3 months comfortably) and I'll have half of two life insurance payouts bc of my dad dying Probably within the next month or two (Maybe more, depending) so like I got money on the way, I Do, but I didn't work as much as I was expecting for my last paycheck so I'll be cutting it a little close for rent and such until the payouts hit so I'm like. :] cutting it close here man :] give me my money please :]

[girlsbtrs]

How Being a Woman in Hardcore Helped Me Learn to Love Myself

Written by Jen Moglia. Graphic by Laura Cross. 

Since this is my first piece written for Girls Behind the Rock Show, I figured that I should introduce myself; hi, my name is Jennifer, but most people call me Jen. I live on Long Island in New York, and my favorite things include my cats, the color pink, giving gifts to my Animal Crossing villagers, and watching sports. Above all else, however, I love music.

I frequently refer to music as the love of my life. It somehow plays a role in everything that I do. I got my first iPod when I was five years old, stacked with everything from Miranda Cosgrove and Avril Lavigne to Tool and Deftones. Some of my favorite memories growing up are sitting in my pink and purple bedroom singing and dancing along to Paramore’s crushcrushcrush and Fall Out Boy’s Thnks Fr Th Mmrs on the local alternative radio station. I danced for 12 years, played cello for seven, and am currently a wannabe ukulele rockstar after buying one on impulse and starting to teach myself how to play four years ago. Even on the simplest, barely noticeable levels, music has been everywhere in my life for as long as I can remember; even now, I can’t complete a basic task without a song playing in my headphones.

Music became an even bigger part of my life when I started attending live shows. I went to my first concerts at age 10, seeing my two favorite artists - Nickelodeon boy band Big Time Rush and classic progressive rock band Rush - within one month of each other. By the time I was 15, I had been to my fair share of arena/seated shows with one or both of my parents, from Fifth Harmony to Fitz and the Tantrums to Alice in Chains. My first general admission show was seeing the Foo Fighters at Citi Field with both my mom and dad when I was 12, but my first pop-punk general admission show (yes, they’re different) came a few years later. I had the typical list of favorite bands that you would expect from a young teenager getting into alternative music: Neck Deep, Knuckle Puck, Real Friends, and State Champs. 

In late 2018, I was able to see all four of these bands for the first time, and I am a firm believer that it changed the course of my life. I met, cried-during, and eventually got the setlist for Neck Deep at Stereo Garden on Long Island in September. I sang all of “Untitled” at the barricade for Knuckle Puck at SI Hall at the Fairgrounds in Syracuse in October. I had my first minor concussion scare (yay!) before Real Friends’ set at Irving Plaza in New York City in November. Finally, I crowd surfed for the first time during State Champs’ anniversary show for The Finer Things at House of Independents in Asbury Park in December. After just a few shows, I had fallen in love with this new brand of live music that I had just been introduced too. There was something so magical to me about skin covered in sweat and Sharpie marks, feet hurting from dancing in the pit all night, and meeting strangers on line outside the venue who would become your best friends and know your deepest secrets by the end of the night.

After making some friends at all of the pop-punk shows I was going to, they started to tell me that I should get into hardcore music. I was hesitant at first - the heaviest thing I had listened to at that point was nowhere near the snippets of hardcore that my friends had played for me - but, eventually, I decided to give it a chance. I was bored and home alone with nothing to do one night over the summer of 2019 when I listened to my first hardcore album, Laugh Tracks by Knocked Loose. Immediately, I got that gut feeling that you have when you know you’ve heard one of your favorite bands for the first time. I knew that this was something special that I was meant to find at this point in my life. For the rest of the summer, I worked my way through the rest of my friends’ hardcore and hardcore-adjacent recommendations, with Cost of Living by Incendiary, Stage Four by Touche Amore, You’re Not You Anymore by Counterparts, Time & Space by Turnstile, Springtime and Blind by Fiddlehead, Smile! Aren’t You Happy by Absence of Mine, Bad to my World by Backtrack, and Reality Approaches by Harms Way being some of my favorites. By the time the next school year started, I was hooked, and I already had tickets to my first few hardcore shows in the fall.

My first hardcore show was in November 2019, seeing Knocked Loose at Webster Hall in New York City - fitting, right? They were on tour supporting their new record A Different Shade of Blue, which I had become obsessed with the minute I heard it for the first time. Although I was ridiculously scared of getting stepped on and breaking all my bones (yes, that was an actual fear of mine), I had the time of my life at that show. There was something about this newer kind of live music that prompted a cathartic release, one that I hadn’t found anywhere else before. As soon as the show was over, I was counting the days until my next one.

My love for live hardcore music (and live music and hardcore music in general) has only grown since then, and that story sort of ends there. However, I want to go back to that first hardcore band that I listened to, Knocked Loose, and the album they put out that first summer that stole my heart. I was taken by storm as soon as the first notes of A Different Shade of Blue rang through my headphones, but something was different about the third track, A Serpent’s Touch, particularly the ending; I heard a voice that sounded a little bit more like my own.

This song features Emma Boster, who does vocals for one of my favorite hardcore bands right now, Dying Wish. When I heard A Serpent’s Touch for the first time, though, I had no idea who she was. I was used to the aggressive vocal delivery of frontmen in hardcore, particularly that of Knocked Loose’s Bryan Garris, but hearing it come from her changed my perspective on a lot of things. It’s not like the song was super angry and changed its tune to be lighter once the token girl came along; in her verse, Boster sings, “I watched the venom / Overcome your spirit / Jealousy holds you now / Distorting your appearance / Bleed out.” These were lyrics that held the same intensity that the lines screamed by the men held, and they sounded just as cool coming out of her mouth. As cheesy as it sounds, it had never even occurred to me that women had a place in this new world that I had discovered. The audiences in the live videos I watched (and eventually at the shows I attended) were made up of mostly men who looked bigger and older than me. When I did start going to shows, most of the non-man population consisted of my friends and I. Emma Boster, along with so many others, began to open my eyes to the fact that a place for people like me existed in this community. It didn’t matter that I had bright red hair or liked butterflies or wore pink - I was just as much a part of this magic as the men multiple feet taller than me with tattoo-covered arms, and I belonged there just as much as they did.

As time went on and I got more involved in the genre’s music and community, I discovered more bands with women in them, and it only fueled this fire of empowerment inside of me. When I felt insecure, I’d watch live sets from Krimewatch, a hardcore band from New York City, just half an hour away from my hometown. They have multiple women as members, including their energetic badass of a vocalist, Rhylli Ogiura. Year of the Knife became one of my all-time favorites, and their bassist Madison Watkins became a serious inspiration to me; the way that she can balance killing it on stage and running the cutest, most pink apparel brand I’ve ever seen (aptly titled Candy Corpse) amazes me. Even some of the bands I’ve found more recently have had an impact on me. I started listening to Initiate last year when their EP Lavender came out, and their beautifully colorful cover art caught my eye before I had heard any of their songs. Their vocalist, Crystal Pak, is also a woman, and she’s insanely talented. Discovering this kind of representation in this new universe that I had come to feel so at home in introduced me to a world of confidence and determination that I had never known before.

When people ask me why I love hardcore so much, I often give the easy answer; “the music sounds good.” If the person allows me to ramble on for a little longer, the answer becomes much more emotional and cheesy. Hardcore taught me that speaking up for what I believe in is important, and if there’s something I’m passionate about, it’s worth shouting about. I became familiar with this when listening to one of my favorite bands ever, Incendiary (the second hardcore band I ever checked out), before quickly realizing that politics are a pretty common topic within the genre - it’s what this music was practically built on. The first time I heard their vocalist Brendan Garrone singing about police brutality and injustice on songs like Force of Neglect and Sell Your Cause, I realized that there is so much more to music than just sounding good.

However, at its core, the thing I love so much about hardcore is what it taught me about being a woman. Growing up, I was the loud girl with the personality bigger than the room who always had something to say and had a never ending supply of excitement about just about everything. As I got older, I was taught that this was not okay. People didn’t like how enthusiastic I was about everything, or that I constantly had new ideas and new discoveries I wanted to talk about. As cliche as it sounds, I felt like everyone around me was trying to dull my sparkle, especially some of the men that I was encountering on a day-to-day basis. Even when I started to come to terms with my big and bright personality, in turn also coming to terms with my own femininity, I was told that this wasn’t how girls acted. I had to pick one - I could watch Disney princess movies and wear Hello Kitty hair clips, or I could be outspoken about my beliefs; but never both. The women that I mentioned earlier, along with so, so many more, helped me unlearn these toxic mindsets. Seeing someone like Emma Boster take the stage and scream ferociously for a full set helped me see that I could be a girl and still be a powerhouse. Following Madi Watkins around on social media showed me that I could love bands like Year of the Knife and also love heart-shaped purses and wear pink from head to toe. My aggression and passion didn’t make me any less of a woman, and my femininity didn’t make me any less of a force to be reckoned with. 

So, at the end of this love letter to hardcore and the women who run it, I say this; thank you for teaching me that I don’t have to shrink myself anymore. It has made a world of a difference.

[dothwrites]

161 please??

---

google doth always taking prompts

161--Where did that cat come from?

---

The rainstorm starts when Dean pulls into the space outside the bunker’s door. It’ll be a pain in the ass to reverse and pull into the garage, plus he and Sam have a trunk full of groceries, so Dean just curses and puts the Impala into park before he gets out of the car. Water droplets start to pelt against the top of his head and the back of his neck as he loads as many bags on his wrists and arms as humanly possible. 

From there, it’s a quick trip down the bunker stairs. Sam follows behind, with a more modest amount of bags swinging from his hands. Dean walks quickly, cognizant of his struggling circulation, not to mention the unpleasant wind of a single bead of water down his spine. Their steps echo down the bunker stairs, which would alert Cas to their presence, even if the “Cas, we’re home!” didn’t. 

“Shut up,” Dean automatically says when he hears Sam’s poorly repressed snigger. 

“Needy much?” Sam does a faulty reproduction of Dean’s voice, making sure to give him a falsetto. “Cas, we’re home!” He continues to snicker as they make their way to the kitchen. “You’re about one step away from Lucy.” 

“Ok, first of all, it was Ricky Ricardo who said those lines and secondly--shut up.” Ok, so not the best comeback. Blame the rain and his screaming wrists and arms. Dean flushes and turns away from Sam as he lifts the groceries onto the counter with a quiet grunt. 

“Nice job, He-Man. Maybe next time you could try multiple trips?” 

“Go out? More than once? For groceries? Sam, it’s like you don’t even know me.” Dean starts unpacking the bags, pausing when he reaches a certain jar. “Cas! We’re in the kitchen!” 

On the opposite side of the kitchen, Sam starts to hum something that sounds like needy baby needy baby. Dean debates throwing a can of green beans at the back of his shaggy moose head. He settles for lobbing a poisonous glare at Sam’s head and not letting up until his brother turns around. 

“Hey, he dipped out on grocery shopping. The least he could do is come and help put the stuff away.” Plus Dean bought a jar of the good stuff for Cas, organic, comb in honey. It cost him an arm and a leg, but it’ll be worth it once he sees the pleased, shy smile spread across Cas’ face, which he can’t see until his boyfriend makes his way to the kitchen. 

Sam must catch sight of the honey because he lets out a very unflattering snort. Dean defensively scoops the honey out of sight. “It’s good for the environment,” he defends, despite the fact that he’s never recycled a day in his life. 

“Sure.” Sam really shouldn’t sound so smug, Mr. I Drink Kale Smoothies and Poop Compost. “Look, all I’m saying is that if my boyfriend had me that whipped, then I would at least own it.” 

“Your boyfriend would run away from your ugly face,” Dean snidely digs. Far from dissolving into a snotty mess, Sam just makes a very rude gesture involving use of a singular finger, and turns around to continue stocking the freezer with pizza rolls. 

The first sign of trouble is a singular sneeze. Dean shakes it off--it was raining outside, pollen is in the air, and the bunker that they live in was made by a bunch of old, dead guys, so there’s bound to be some dust. 

The second, third, and fourth sneezes come as more of a puzzle. 

Sam, ever the solicitous brother, raises an eyebrow. “You dying or what?” he asks. 

“Or what,” Dean wheezes, though his eyes are watery and itchy. A rattle starts in his throat as another sneeze rocks through his body. This is not normal. In fact, he only gets like this when...

Cas walks into the kitchen, wearing jeans and one of Dean’s hoodies that’s just a bit too big for him in the arms (though it stretches delightfully across his chest and shoulders). As soon as he crosses the threshold of the kitchen, as if on command, Dean sneezes. 

Through watery eyes, Dean squints at the suspicious bulge in the front of the hoodie pocket. Castiel casually shifts to the side to hide it, but it’s too late. Dean just saw something move. Cas might be happy to see him, but he’s nowhere near that happy. 

“Whatcha got there Cas?” He tries to make it clear from his tone that his question is not a polite request. 

It’s not every day that Dean gets to see a former angel of the Lord acting shifty, but that’s exactly what he gets to see as Cas tries to sidle his way out of the kitchen. “Cas,” Dean barks. Cas shuffles his feet as he plasters a very unconvincing look of innocence on his face. “What’s in your pocket?”

His facade of hardass suffers from the sneeze that rockets through his body, but it’s enough. Cas walks into the kitchen. Sam, intrigued by the drama, draws closer, but Dean’s eyes are focused on Cas’ hand as it dips into the hoodie pocket. 

Castiel withdraws his hand, holding his burden out for inspection. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Sam’s mouth drop open in a paroxysm of delight (fucking softie). For his part, Dean greets the reveal with three consecutive sneezes, each one more violent than the last. 

“Cas,” Dean finally says, sniffling around his words, “where did that cat come from?” 

The cat in question can’t be much more than a kitten. It sits easily in Cas’ large hand. Luminous green eyes blink up slowly at him through a haze of black fur. As Dean watches, the kitten opens its mouth, revealing tiny sharp teeth and a pink tongue. A soft mew fills the space. 

Dean answers it with a sniffle. 

“I was out in the garden earlier today,” Cas begins. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look guilty as he pulls the kitten in close to his chest. Dean winces (that’s a hell of a lot of dander and fur that’s winding up on an article of clothing that still technically belongs to him) before he outright flinches as the kitten digs its claws into the fabric. Say goodbye to that particular hoodie. 

“It was just starting to rain and I found her.” Cas looks at him, all huge blue eyes and plaintive voice. “She was cold and shivering. I don’t think that she’d eaten for several days.” 

Great. Just great. Dean can already see where this is going and exactly what parts they’re all going to fall into. Cas, the crusader for justice and kindness, Sam, the well-intentioned supporter, and Dean, the cruel hand of logic. 

“Well, feed her, and then after the rain finishes we can take her to the shelter.” 

Next to him, Sam gasps. Cas’ mouth turns down in a stubborn frown. 

“Dean, the shelter is a kill shelter.” Sam’s voice sounds as scandalized as though Dean had suggested that they carpet bomb the whole town. 

“It’s a kitten. It’s cute. It’ll get adopted in like three seconds. I mean, it’s already got the two of you wrapped around its little dagger claws.” 

There’s something embarrassing about the soppy eyes that both Sam and Cas shoot towards the kitten. No angel should look that sickly sweet. 

“Dean, cats are fairly low maintenance,” Cas begins, which is exactly where Dean thought this talk was headed. 

“I have allergies!” Dean protests, to be met with unsympathetic looks from both his brother and his boyfriend. Traitors. “Plus, who’s going to take care of it when we go on hunts? We going to pay the neighbors to come over into our super secret bunker filled with satanic stuff?” 

Cas’ mouth flattens. “There are several establishments in town which cater to the boarding of pets.” Great. He’s already done research. “Also, many stores offer over the counter products designed to alleviate the symptoms of allergies.” 

Between Sam’s puppy eyes and Cas’ jutting lower lip, Dean feels his defenses wavering. “You’d better keep it away from my room. And if it starts pissing on the floors or tearing up the furniture, it’s out of here. And you’re,” he points to both Sam and Cas, “going to pay for my allergy meds. And you’re going to feed it and pay for all its stuff.” He’s never felt more like a dad than in that moment, lecturing his brother and boyfriend on the proper care of the cat. “This is your pet; I’m not going to take care of it!” 

Cas nods earnestly before he walks across the kitchen and kisses the bolt of his jaw, right in the sweet spot that always turns Dean weak in the knees. Bastard knows exactly how to play him. Dean turns his head to kiss Cas properly, ignoring Sam’s gagging noises in the background. Cas hums into the kiss, his teeth ghosting over Dean’s lower lip in a hint of a tease. 

Dean’s just ready to make it a proper kiss, Sam be damned, when he’s stabbed. Yelping in pain, he jumps backward, glaring at the tiny, cockblocking, ball of fluff still held in Cas’ hands. The kitten retracts the minuscule knives attached to its paws as it blinks innocently up at him.

“Oh, I think you must have squashed her,” Cas says, rubbing a finger underneath the kitten’s chin.

For its part, the kitten yawns at Dean before falling asleep. 

“Yeah,” Dean mutters, massaging at his wound (seriously, he’s bleeding and Sam is just laughing at him like an asshole). “Yeah, this is going to turn out swell.

(It comes to no one’s surprise, least of all Dean’s, when he goes to bed and finds not only Castiel, but the kitten curled up on his mattress. I said she’s not allowed on the bed, Dean tries, but the protest is weak at best, especially when Cas has decided to play dirty and is lying bare-chested with the sheet artfully draped over his waist. 

Well, I could take her back to my room, Cas murmurs, scooping up the kitten, and Dean’s going hellishly soft in his old age because he just says Over my dead body, before crawling over the mattress to where Cas waits. The kitten finds her way to the floor. 

In the morning, Dean wakes up with his nose running and his eyes gummy, due to the fucking cat who has decided to sleep less than a foot away from his face. The heated kiss that Cas gives him when he wakes up only partially helps to stop his bitching.)

[aion-rsa]

X-Men: The Animated Series – The Worst of Charles Xavier

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Decades ago, in Uncanny X-Men #168, Kitty Pryde dared to say something bold yet true, “Charles Xavier is a jerk!” She was right, and the world has been better for it.  

Professor Charles Xavier’s jerkdom transcends all media he has made an appearance in; it’s that powerful. He is an omega level clown, which is probably why he treats his X-Men like circus acts. You have to wow those humans in hopes of getting them to treat you like your mutant life matters, at least according to Xavier’s teachings. Now that X-Men: The Animated Series is available to stream on Disney+, here is a list of episodes filled with all of the Professor’s best-worst moments and how he is more of a danger to the X-Men than anyone else. 

Enter Magneto and Deadly Reunions 

The first season of X-Men is overflowing with moments that make you want to pop Charles upside his bald held. I consider “Enter Magneto” and “Deadly Reunions” as a two-part story since Magneto plays the second most significant part in both of them. He comes second only to Charles’s choice to not say a word about Magneto to any of the X-Men in all the years they’ve been on this team he put together. He didn’t utter a single word to his young team about an old frenemy who could cause them big trouble if he ever came back into the picture. 

Spoiler alert: things go wrong when Magneto shows up. 

Well, that’s not wholly true. The first time he appears, he successfully breaks into the Mutant Holding Facility to break out Hank Mccoy, who is in jail thanks to Charles. However, Magneto is unsuccessful because Beast wants to wait for his day in court. I know he says it himself, but I’m blaming Charles for this as well. 

The rest of the episode is all about the severe danger Charles carelessly inflicts on his precious X-Men. Why wouldn’t you at least tell the guy on your team with an adamantium skeleton that you used to know a guy who has powers of magnetism? The X-Men are so ill-prepared to take on an extremely angry Magneto when he comes back ready to bring the pain to the human race. Things escalate quickly, nuclear warheads get involved, all because Xavier didn’t finish the job the first time around with Magneto. If it weren’t for Storm, a few cities would no longer exist. 

Charles’s hypocrisy is also on full display in the subplot of these two episodes, which involves Sabertooth and Wolverine. Charles puts Sabertooth under his care for mind probing despite Wolverine wanting him nothing short of dead. Xavier goes as far as to pull rank on Wolverine, demanding Sabertooth stay untouched, but then orders Wolverine, Storm, and Cyclops to take care of Magneto at any cost. As Logan says to his face, “So we have to go easy on my enemy, but it’s okay to go trash yours.” 

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In true Charles fashion, he doesn’t realize the error of his ways until after everyone has had their lives threatened by both Magneto and Sabertooth. I forgot to mention this earlier, but at one point in “Deadly Reunions,” he leaves newbie X-Men, Jubilee, in charge of Sabertooth. 

Honestly, it’s genuinely no wonder Morph didn’t make it past the pilot episode. 

The Unstoppable Juggernaut

The Professor isn’t in this episode, but he doesn’t need to be in order to succeed in making sure yet another enemy of his past blindsides the X-Men. Only six episodes after “Deadly Reunions,” Xavier’s vengeful step brother shows up, and once again, he is another person they knew nothing about. 

The mansion is in shambles, and Xavier is nowhere around. He didn’t even have the decency to leave the insurance policy number around so one of them could file a claim. So, not only do the X-Men have to deal with Juggernaut, but they also have to become construction workers. 

When the X-Men finally encounter the Juggernaut, it takes all of them plus Colossus to subdue him. Jean, Storm, and Rogue all managed to pass out at some point in the process. Again, I’m blaming Charles because it’s clear they were tired from all of the construction work they had to do earlier in the day. All that devotion and free labor in exchange for near-death experiences, a room, and costumes they probably sewed together themselves. 

Cold Comfort

In “Cold Comfort,” an old member of the X-Men who had enough sense to leave returns. It turns into an episode of Dr. Phil because Xavier treats his mentees/employees like his children sometimes. 

To make matters worse, Xavier isn’t exactly a great “dad.” He plays favorites. 

So when Bobby “Iceman” Drake comes back into the fold briefly and reluctantly, it triggers some feelings Cyclops hasn’t let go of yet. The entire episode is full of Xavier undermining and gaslighting Scott about how differently he treated Bobby compared to him. Scott isn’t wrong this time. 

In this episode, we also see how important Charles considers his self-appointed role of the go-to mutant to solely work with the government because he is incredulous when he discovers the government has been working with Forge and his X-Factor team. There’s no doubt he probably made a call to the White House to complain about this the moment he returned to the mansion.

One Man’s Worth Part 1 & 2

Finding love can already be quite complicated at the best of times. Now imagine finding love in a post-apocalyptic world and having to give that love up because one man’s life was supposedly worth more than your happiness. It’s a raw deal, and that’s what you get when Charles Xavier is in your universe. In the two-part story, “One Man’s Worth,” Bishop and Shard travel to a future to recruit Wolverine and Storm to prevent Master Mold from assassinating a young Charles Xavier. They even have to find a way to convince him that his dream of humans and mutants, living amongst one another in peace, is his destiny.  

Honestly, the post-apocalyptic world was way less of a challenge and headache. If you can believe  it, older Charles is terrible, younger Charles is even worse, and ten times more infuriating. He doesn’t want to listen. He’s so stubborn he manages to get himself killed, forcing everyone to try again. 

Ultimately Bishop, Shard, Storm, and Wolverine get the job done, but it also means Wolverine and Storm’s relationships are no more. They don’t even get a full day to spend together before those versions of themselves cease to exist. All for Charles Xavier, who does nothing but keep secrets away from them and interrupts their days off with stories no one asked him to tell. 

Proteus Part 1 & 2

Last but not certainly not least on this list is the “Proteus” two-part story from season four. I saved the best for last. Part one contains one of the best Charles Xavier origin stories. It’s tragic but full of delicious drama. The montage of heartache shows Charles certainly has a thing for redheads. 

Kevin, also known as Proteus, is the son of Moira MacTaggert and ex-husband, Joseph MacTaggert. His powers are out of control, and he is on a quest to meet a father that has wanted nothing to do with him. Charles swoops in to “help” Moira and her son, but it’s quite obvious it’s because he wishes Moira had married and had a family with him. 

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Charles (of course) ropes some of the X-Men into his quest. He is hellbent on showing Moira that he was always the best man for her and her son. And because he is sometimes the Caillou of the Marvel universe, he takes his frustrations out on Wolverine, Beast, and Rogue throughout both episodes. And even after Charles does everything to “help,” Kevin and his dad end up reconciling, leaving Charles as the odd man out in Moria’s life yet again. You kind of want to sympathize with Charles until you realize how disappointed he is about Kevin and his dad working things out. 

The post X-Men: The Animated Series – The Worst of Charles Xavier appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[rijurambles]

Interview Qs! What cheers you up when you’re feeling down? Is it someone else? Is it an activity, a memory? | How would you describe your physical appearance? If someone were to pick you out from a crowd, what would they look for first? | What are the favourites of your hobbies? Are you any good at them?

HOO BOY HERE WE GO. LONG POST. AND I. MEAN LONG. H.

tysm for this ask @quilloftheclouds !

Twilight Winchester :

When I'm feeling sad? Well, it depends, really. I tend to get lonely very often - even though I'm surrounded by people. It's quite the oxymoron. I find myself lost in the past as well. Letting go of things isn't really my strong suit. But for now, let's put the past behind us, shall we?

It's especially hard for me to get out of a rut when I'm already in one. There is no real cure for it - I suppose it's my mindset that makes me cling to these feelings - but there are distractions. Writing about my thoughts helps me get them out, even if I'm too much of a coward to put them all down for fear of someone reading them. I keep my journal almost religiously. It's not supposed to be sappy, it's supposed to be a record of things so I don't forget, but that never really ended up happening. Nevertheless, it's certainly improved my handwriting.

Swordplay also helps to put me at ease. It really shouldn't, knowing that I hold such a deadly tool in my hands, but it helps me feel safe, I guess. Exercises like training drills and herding the goats help with familiarity. I'm usually lost without a routine. I don't have much time to do anything else, since I'm booked up looking after Colin, Liza, Talo, Malo, and Beth all the time, but I also enjoy knitting. Mi- my companion taught me how. I can usually go through a skein in a few days. It's nothing much, really - and Rusl argues that I'll cut up my hands if I use smaller needles, but it does mean that I always have warm clothes in the winter.

...

I don't think I'm much worth describing. People have told me that I need to take better care of my appearance, but with how much exercise I get, and, in contrast, how little sleep I get, I don't think I could really manage anything. Uli always told me that I look like a tree. I'm sure she didn't mean it that way, but I always thought that meant I was really thin. Not to say that I'm not. And, of course, I get the height speech from everyone. I don't know why everyone else seems to be shorter than me. Perhaps I'll hit another growth spurt and my door will be too small for me.

Some people seem to be perceptive on the whole face-markings thing. It's none of their concern. They're tattoos.

...

I think I enjoy horseback riding the most. Riding across Hyrule emerses me with a special feeling. I suppose it's confidence. I just hope I've never pushed Epona too hard - she does so much for me, and I can't ever really repay her. That reminds me; go get apples from Faron Woods. I'm almost out.

Carly Callisto :

Oh! I'm suprised someone asked about me! Usually I ramble so much about myself that no one really wants to hear more, haha. I don't usually get sad, though! Ever since I started my study of the mind, I've had much better control over my emotions. That's not to say I've never gotten sad, though. Due to my mental disabilities, I tend to feel emotions much stronger than others. It's hard to get out of that mindset, so I try to avoid it at all costs. But of course, a little music can fix anything! Lurelin's historical shanties are very interesting. Unfortunately, Danté's the only one who knows them, and - no offense here, gramps - but his voice is a bit old for the range. Nevermind that, though! It's better to focus on the positive things in life!

...

I'm very proud of how I look! I've been wanting to decide on something that was really me for a long time now. The color scheme is complimentary, of course. Blue and yellow make for a bright and fun time. And then there's my prized hibiscus. It tops everything off - quite literally- on my head. Lu calls me Fräulein Flower cause of how I look. It's a cute nickname!

...

It may be obvious already, but I'm a triple threat! Singing is my passion, but I'm alright at dancing, and I've even helped Dahira on a lot of her performances! Language is confusing, but it's a fascinating study. As of right now, I can speak Hylian, some Sheikah, Gerudo, and of course, I can understand Roxy! Swimming is very freeing for me, since I can't breathe very well. I'm always happy when I get to wade around near Lurelin.

Luto Albelnour :

I don't see why it's your business to be concerned about when I'm sad, but, go off, I guess. Man, you're just like Flower. You probably think you can fix everything, huh? Nevermind. I get sad more than I'd like to. My mind is stubborn and tends to dwell on things that I've already settled. I usually just push through it. I'll get nowhere if I stop to rest. Practicing my magic helps me calm down, though. Dimas says that anger doesn't fuel fire, but I think he might be a little off on that one. Whenever I get especially sad, it's always Flower that tries to help me. I appreciate the concern, but, well, I can handle it on my own. I already have a favorite memory. Of course, it doesn't really work the wonders it used to back when I was learning from Dad. Now it just makes me more lonely.

...

It's optimal for me to keep warm for the best magic ability. Heat is paramount to be able to make a constant fire. Fräulein Flower always says I dress like it's winter in summer, but obviously, she has never actually been a fire mage. Nothing is too hot. I've tossed out the mask now, but if I still wore it, then it'd probably be bad news. People don't usually believe me when I say I'm a Sheikah because of my hair. It....kind of makes me feel bad for dying it. But I don't want to look like him anymore.

...

I don't have time for hobbies. I have work to do - fire training, preserving my culture, meditating, blade practice - et cetera. I hope those garden snakes don't run away.... Eh? Did I say something? No. No I didn't. Clean out your ears.

[krisroley]

February 9th, 2021

One Small Moment

Today I want to talk to some specific friends who I won't name, but I'm fairly sure that this will apply to way more of just them.

First things first, I'm not going to insult your intelligence by giving you a bunch of platitudes. In my experience, they're nothing but empty calories. Filler and no substance, they're designed to make the person giving them feel better, not the person who needs help. In some cases, people who need help end up feeling worse. I'm one of those people, so I absolutely understand the feeling. So, no bullshit from me. Cool? Moving on.

Let me describe my lack of bona fides right upfront. I'm a guy with a high school education and one year of college because I let my dick do the thinking up to the point that I ended up homeless and friendless. I tried to follow in my Dad's footsteps and join the military and washed right out after six months because I have a mouth bigger than my brain. I come from a family that describing as dysfunctional is exceedingly generous. My dad had anger issues, my mother was a narcissist manipulator, as is my brother. He's got a criminal record and is probably on his way back to prison for at least 12 years as I write this. I'm the voice of reason in my family, and as I have said repeatedly, this should scare the fuck out of you. I got married at 24, and I had three kids by the age of 30. I've been dirt poor most of that time. At this stage of my life, I believe that I am an undiagnosed case of autism from the 1970s because my kids--all of them--are on the spectrum. I didn't have a bad childhood if you looked at it from one angle, but I had a horrible one if you looked at it from the inside out. I inherited my Dad's anger issues and my mother's narcissism. I was a horrible husband for years until my wife walked out on me in 2005. It made me face myself in a way I had not seen before, and I couldn't take it. I had a nervous breakdown. My wife thought I was worth saving, and I am forever grateful for it. I promised I would work on my issues, and I have. Three times in my life, I thought I was at the end of my rope. Not from a thought of suicide ideation, just that there was nowhere else to turn. No one else to ask for help. No one else I could lean on. Just Roley.

That moment right there is the point. The entire lesson. One small moment when your brain says, "Well, you're really fucked now, aren't you?" There is only one answer to that question, and that answer is yes because if you answer no, you ain't there yet. Trust me on this. You have to answer yes. This is the moment where you're accountable to no one but you, and you cannot lie to yourself. You can TRY. It ain't gonna work. Not for long.

Let's not bullshit ourselves. There is a lot of work in repairing a life that you fucked up on your own. You climb up out of a hole for years before you ever see daylight. I was a shut-in for two years because I thought it better that the world forgets about me. I tried to make a living from home in 2006-2007, but this world we live in hadn't come to pass yet, and I was living a fantasy. It made me feel worse that I couldn't provide for my family, but I could barely function as a human at that point. So I decided to do the only work I was capable of: Working on myself. I read every self-help book and mental health book I could lay my hands on. I dug deep into myself to try to figure out why I was the person I was, how I became that way, and the answer was straightforward. First, I thought I was absolutely normal. My behavior, though abhorrent, was how I was raised. My parents treated each other and us kids horribly, but it wasn't physically abusive save for a couple of times I'll keep to myself. I grew up in the same environment I perpetuated. I was continuing a cycle. Secondly, to accept that fact and to change meant work I wasn't ready to take on. But human psychology is a lot like a car in that regard; you can do the work now, or you can do it later, but it's going to cost you a lot more. In my case, it almost cost me everything. It was the third of those three times that I faced myself in the mirror and heard that voice, and this was the time I said yes.

For two-thirds of my life, my story is a story of failure, of self-hatred, of being a bad example. But from the age of 35 to 50, it's a story of repair and redemption. I'll put my humble path to today up against anyone's and dare them to do the work I've done to heal myself and come out who I am today. I'm still married to the same woman for over 25 years now. I've got three amazing kids who I adore. Up until May of this year, I had what I consider to be a dream job until COVID ate it, but I'm still with the same company, and I'm going to bust whatever amount of ass it takes to get my job back or demonstrate the skills I learned there to someone else who's willing to take me. I have a sense of self-worth and purpose that I've never had before, and I'm not taking being a call center tech support agent for the rest of my life. It is a means to an end, and it is not my life's work. I know what that is. It's helping you in the best way I know how: By being not the example of how to fix it, but from showing you by my example, it CAN BE FIXED that you can go from being a person full of anger and self-loathing and cruel behavior to being a person of kindness and compassion and love for people. That you can go from being a person who has no prospects to a person who can go to a job every day that fulfills them personally and professionally. That you can go from being a person who hasn't got their shit together at all to a person that can get morning to night without falling apart at the seams. This is my road, and my lane, but it's big enough for you, and I want you on this road with me. Some of you are gifted and talented beyond description, but the world doesn't know it yet because you have these problems. I know. I get it. I also see who you are, and the world deserves to see you as well. I had no one else to turn to at that last moment, so I did what I had to do. Myself. I'm asking you to take a walk with me because I don't want you to have to do it on your own. I may not know your way home, but I can get you as far as Anchorhead. You can get transport there to Mos Eisley or wherever you're going.

I had to get one joke in there somehow.

Did Joe Know About This?

On the heels of the news of Joe Budden maybe-kinda-sorta-moving his show to Patreon (which is weird since it looks like it’s being hosted on Libsyn now), Spotify has announced plans for multiple business models for podcasts, possibly to include ad-supported subscriptions and a la carte options. These may be discussed at a live stream event later in February.

Asked if Spotify thought customers would be willing to pay for podcasts, Ek on the earnings call responded that he believed there were several new models that could be explored.

“I think we’re in the early days of seeing the long-term evolvement of how we can monetize audio on the internet. I’ve said this before, but I don’t believe that it’s a one-size-fits-all,” he said. “I believe, in fact, that we will have all business models, and that’s the future for all media companies — that you will have ad-supported subscriptions and à la carte sort of in the same space, of all media companies in the future.”

“And you should definitely expect Spotify to follow that strategy and that pattern,” Ek added, more definitively.

The answer seemed to indicate that Spotify is considering some of the ideas in that recent survey — of getting consumers to pay for some podcasts, instead of accessing them all for free or having them bundled into their music subscription.

I wonder if Budden was aware of this and balked. Would there be a revenue split between Spotify and the creators, and what’s the ratio? Now that I think of it, isn’t that what they’ve been crying about re: Apple?

For more than a year, Spotify has been making noise about Apple’s unchecked power over the App Store, and in March 2019, it filed a complaint against Apple with the European Commission. Spotify claims Apple’s practice of taking 30 percent of an app’s revenue is unjustified, and says the company operates as a monopoly on iOS.

Suddenly, I find this Budden/Spotify deal more intriguing.

Wait, You Can Make Money Doing That?

Julie Miller from Vanity Fair writes about Hollywood coming over to the Pod Side for ‘fun and profit’:

…entertainment types began orbiting the audio space about two years ago in earnest, as the number of Americans listening to podcasts every month headed toward the 100 million it is today. It was also around 2018 that agencies like CAA began incorporating audio deals into their development packages. One insider estimates that many celebrities could get a six-figure guarantee per year, with the biggest actors receiving between $1 million and $3 million to launch an unscripted podcast. Scripted projects offer less up-front money but can be adapted into TV shows, films, books, and so on.

For the record, I am Steve Jobs, “Podcasts are Amateur Hour" Years Old. For years, podcasting was seen as less-than, so when I see stories like this, the little imp of the perverse in the back of my head tosses a bone at every true media elitist who, strangely, has a podcast now..

How About Not Doing That?

Chris Curran over at PES has a question about your thin mouth:

When I’m doing my fine-tuned editing on a podcast episode I use TwistedWave or Sound Forge because they allow me to VERY QUICKLY zoom in, highlight very small things like single mouthclicks, and delete them. 

When I try to make the same kind of edit in a DAW (Reaper and others) it takes forever. 

What say you?

For the most part, my workflow tends to remove mouth clicks, or at the very least minimize them. If they still show up through my noise gate, I highlight and remove them. I can’t say this happens often because I like to make sure I keep some water near me while I’m recording. The single biggest thing you can do to prevent mouth clicks is to keep hydrated. Remember, you can’t fix it in Post if it never happens in the first place.

Shot Of The Day

[ericsonclan]

Free the Fish!

Summary: Mitch and Brody go on their second date to the aquarium when Mitch decides to do something big to make Brody smile.

Read on A03:

“I’m so glad we were able to make it work to meet up today,” Brody’s bright voice had Mitch’s stomach doing somersaults within him. He felt utterly captivated by the feeling of her tiny hand in his. He was trying his best to take in everything she was saying as they made their way through the aquarium, but his heart was thumping so hard in his ears at the realization that they were actually on their second date that he sometimes forgot what he’d just heard.

Brody gasped excitedly, pulling Mitch along as she ran toward a cylindrical tank full of seahorses. “Look at all of them! Oh, they’re too precious!” Her eyes practically sparkled as she watched them drift around.

“Were there lots of seahorses where you grew up? In your…” Mitch paused as he realized he had no idea what a group of selkies would be called.

“In my rookery?” Brody shook her head. “The waters were too cold for them in the waters we frequented. I always thought they sounded so pretty though. Sometimes I’d wish we could live near a coral reef so I could witness all the different tropical creatures up close and in person. Then again…” She tugged her seal pelt closer around her shoulders, “I don’t know if that could compare to the peacefulness of the open expanses we swam in. A reef might end up being too busy for me with all the different creatures running around and bumping into each other,”

“Do you still miss it?” Mitch realized it was a stupid question as soon as he asked it, but he couldn’t take it back.

Brody seemed to consider it seriously though. “I mean, part of me will always miss it. It’s where I grew up. But my mom was right that I should learn to live in both worlds: on land as well as in the sea. And now that I’ve made friends here, it’s really become a second home,” The smile on her face at those words made Mitch’s heart melt. He could feel his tail curling against his leg. He hoped it wouldn’t weird her out if it accidentally brushed against her.

“Wanna go see the otters next? We did have those where I grew up. They’re super sweet, though they’re sort of food hogs,”

“Wherever you want to go,”

Brody paused, looking momentarily concerned. “You are having a good time, right? I know the aquarium isn’t exactly the most exciting place to go,”

“Are you kidding? I love it here! Fish, sharks, I love all that shit. And I mean shit in like a positive sense,” Mitch quickly amended, growing flustered.

“I’m glad,” Brody’s hand in his was warm as they continued along the walkway, flanked by enormous aquarium walls on each side.

As they passed a small crowd standing in front of the octopus exhibit, Mitch noticed a mother reflexively pull her child closer to her. It sort of hurt, but at the same time he couldn’t blame her.

Growing up as a minotaur, he’d gotten used to being perceived as a threat. The looks that annoyed him more were the ones he’d seen peers his own age giving him and Brody throughout the day. Brody could almost pass as human if not for the seal pelt round her shoulders, but Mitch could never hope to blend in. His horns and tail were a dead giveaway. Everyone knew that human-monster relationships did exist, but they were extremely rare. Still, what he and Brody were to each other was their own damn business.

I wonder if Brody knows what we are, Mitch mused as he followed her. I mean, we both agreed that the thing at the coffee shop was a date, but what does that make us now? Two dates in is too early to put a label on things, right? In truth, he wouldn’t mind calling Brody his girlfriend, even if it was fast. He’d had a thing for her ever since he’d caught sight of her big blue eyes that day she helped him free his horns from the hallway wall. But he wanted to be considerate of Brody’s feelings too. Calling her his girlfriend too early might scare her off and that would fucking suck.

They’d reached the aquarium with the otters. Brody sat down on one of the provided benches excitedly, scooting over further so Mitch could sit with her. She looked happy as the show started, watching the otters perform all their tricks, diving into the water or high fiving their trainers for treats. As the show continued though, a more serious, pensive look came across her face.

“Is the show boring you?” Mitch asked. “We can leave if you want,” He was enjoying it, but if Brody was uncomfortable, he was more than happy to head out.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I guess I feel a sort of connection with these particular otters,”

“How’s that?”

“They ended up here at the aquarium for a variety of reasons, but none of them actually volunteered to live here. They were all placed here by humans who figured they knew what was best for them. Who knows if these otters have spouses or children they were forced to leave out there alone? Sometimes it feels like that’s how I ended up at Ericson High too. I didn’t want to leave the sea, but my dad wanted to start raising me more like a human and my mom agreed it would be a good learning experience. Not that I’m mad I’m here now, but still it would’ve been nice to have a say in the matter,”

Mitch wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d never exactly been the most eloquent with words and he didn’t want to say something that would end up hurting Brody rather than helping. Instead, he settled for patting her shoulder a few times before his hand came to rest there. He felt too self-conscious to draw it back and Brody seemed to be fine with it, so he let his hand rest there till the show came to an end.

Once it was over, Brody rose to her feet, looking around them. “I think there’s an outdoor section to the aquarium as well. Would you like to visit it?”

“Sounds cool,” Mitch walked alongside Brody, wondering if he should reach for her hand again. It had taken all of his guts to do it the first time. He didn’t know if doing it again would be too much. He was surprised when he felt something warm brush against his hand and realized Brody was reaching for it. He grasped hers eagerly, hoping he hadn’t surprised her too much with his eagerness. When he looked down at her she seemed happy though, almost peaceful. He was glad.

The first exhibit they came across was actually one with birds: a lorikeet forest. They walked through it hand in hand, joking and pointing out preening and flying birds to compare to their harpy friends Minnie and Sophie. There was a station in there which sold some sort of sugar water that the lorikeets liked to drink. It didn’t cost much so Mitch bought two cups. He ended up giving them both to Brody so he could get pictures of all the birds as they flocked to drink from the cups she held. A few birds landed on Mitch’s horns too, prompting Brody to set aside her cups temporarily so she could capture the moment on her phone. Mitch felt a little embarrassed by the whole thing, but it was worth it to see Brody’s smile.

Eventually they found themselves at the open tank exhibits. There were several pools of water raised only a few feet high so that children could look over into the water and observe horseshoe crabs and manta rays swim round. More adventurous youngsters could even run their fingers tentatively across the surface of the creatures’ backs. Brody and Mitch walked amongst the pools, looking into each one.

“These poor guys must be tired,” Brody noted with a sympathetic smile. “I know it would drive me crazy is every five minutes I had hands coming out of nowhere, poking at me while I’m minding my own business,”

Mitch nodded thoughtfully. It was a similar sentiment to the one Brody had shared back at the otter exhibit. Here were more creatures minding their own business when nosy humans had to come along, drag them away from their homes and use them for their own personal amusement. It wasn’t fair. In fact, it fucking sucked. Maybe it was time somebody did something about it.

Looking around, Mitch noticed they were near the sea lion exhibit. Ideally, he’d break them all out since he figured seeing them captive felt like seeing relatives behind bars to Brody. But he knew that would get shut down pretty fast. Security around them was intense. He did notice a few buckets though that had been left out by trainers after the last show. Normally they held snacks for the sea lions, but right now they were empty. Mitch could feel the gears turning in his head as they made their way over to them.

“Well, I think we’ve seen almost everything. Ready to call it a day?” Brody turned to him with an easy smile.

“In just a sec. First, there’s something I have to do,”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“This,” Without another word, Mitch grabbed one of the chum buckets, racing back to the open aquarium pools. He thrust the bucket into the water, scooping up as many horseshoe crabs as he could in one go. “Free the fish!” he yelled, laughing maniacally as he ran toward the exit. He would find these horseshoe crabs a new, better home as soon as he figured out where the fuck their natural habitat was. This was for Brody. He hoped she was watching.

----

“Well, that certainly was something,” Brody said softly as the two of them walked out the aquarium’s front doors.

“I didn’t even get 100 yards before they fucking tackled me,” Mitch groaned, rolling his neck and hearing a series of pops. “At least they caught the bucket before it fell on the pavement,”

“It was a very sweet gesture,” Brody smiled up at him brightly. “A bit crazy, but your heart was in the right place,” Mitch smiled down at her. “I just wanted to see you happy. I knew seeing all those sea creatures in captivity sort of bummed you out. At least I didn’t get you banned for life from the aquarium though,”

“We’ll find other aquariums to go to,” Brody replied, playfully nudging his arm. “You’re picking the location for our next date,”

A goofy grin spread across Mitch’s face. “There’s going to be another date?”

“Of course! What, did you think that getting beat up by aquarium security was going to scare me off?” Brody’s expression softened. “I know I’ve talked a lot today about missing home, but the truth is if my mom came here tomorrow and told me I was leaving, I’d be sad about that too. I’d miss Willy and Ruby and Clem an awful lot… but I think I’d miss you the most of all, Mitch. I could travel through all the world’s oceans and I don’t think I’d ever find anyone quite like you,”

Mitch felt his face heating up at her words. “I think you’re totally awesome, Brody. Like, the best,”

Brody seemed somewhat flustered by his words. “Thanks, Mitch. I-I think you’re the best too,”

As they made their way to the truck to drive back home, Mitch felt a happiness deep inside him that he’d never experienced before.

Brody was special. If he could, he wanted to keep her by his side for a long, long time.

[pocminiseries]

At Midnight|3

❤︎

The tension in the air was thick and uncomfortable.

Imani's eyes refused to meet her fiance's gaze that had been staring a hole into her back since she stepped out of the shower. He had scared her when she spotted him undoing his tie near the bed, barely even speaking a word to him.

What was there to say?

Instead of making an unnecessary attempt at conversation, she sat in front of her vanity and started her nightly routine. With her detangling brush in one hand, she started brushing her hair, feeling Jayden move about around their bedroom. She hated that he was here.

He had made it a routine of coming home late but now all of a sudden he was home right after he was done with work? It was bullshit but Imani had a feeling of what changed.

He no longer needed to hide.

"So we're not speaking now?" His gruff voice suddenly asked, causing her eyes to finally meet his as he stood behind her with his shirt now unbuttoned, exposing his muscled chest.

"I have nothing to say," Imani shrugged, putting down her brush and picking up her favorite scented lotion.

"You're going to be my wife soon Imani, communication is needed in every relationship," He informed her, almost causing Imani to roll her eyes. This muthafu-

"Work is fine. I'm fine. There, happy?" She answers, giving him an annoyed look before applying lotion along her legs.

His deep chuckle sent a chill down her spine because it was so sinister sounding. "Fix that attitude and address me correctly. You know better," He warns, placing one of his hands on her shoulder. "You know the role you're playing here don't you?"

Glancing his hand on her shoulder, then towards his dark eyes, Imani shrugged his hand off of her. "Yes, the one of your fiance. The one you proposed to. The one you're willing to say I do to under the watchful gaze of God but clearly, I'm not the only one you seek,"

The grin on his handsome face only seemed to grow at her words, not at all fazed by what she said. "As long as you know your place, Imani. Faithe is none of your concern. Do what is expected of you and everything will be fine. If not...you know I'm always willing to make another example out of you,"

The hate Imani had for Jayden only seemed to grow the more he talked, irking her brain even more. "You're right, it isn't my business but the next time you think about having your mistress in my bed, I'll put a bullet in her head and into her stomach as she carries your unborn child," She threatened, feeling an intense sting to her cheek as her head snapped back from his slap to her face a few seconds later.

With watery eyes, Imani held her left cheek as she stared up at him with hatred. "Watch yourself, Imani. That reckless mouth of yours will cost you problems, especially speaking on my seed. I'll warn you once, keep your fuckin mouth shut,"

"Or what?! You can't hurt me Jayden, yo daddy will kil-"

"No, bitch, I'll kill you," He cut in with that evil tone and look upon his face. "My dad doesn't run shit around here, I do and it's best you learn that," The grip he had on her arm tightened, causing her to wince.

"Please! If you had any say, you'd be marrying Faithe, not me," Imani retorted back, flinching when he raised his free hand again only to caress her heated skin.

"Don't get it twisted Imani, I want you...I mean look at you," He acknowledged, looking her over as he admired her beauty. "You know how many men out there that want you? But they can never have you because you belong to me and once I'm done with you...nobody will want you, I can promise you that,"

She was scared and Jayden could sense it. Her mouth was something lethal sometimes but he knew how to put her in her place. "I love you, Imani, I really do. I can make you happy. All you have to do is accept my lifestyle and everything you could ever want I'll give to you," He cooed, bending down to kiss her bruised cheek.

"Be obedient, that's all I ask," With that, he took a step back and headed straight for the bathroom, leaving Imani alone to pick herself up.

Her head shook as she fought to keep herself together. This couldn't be life.

How dare he?

Her fingers barely graced her cheek as she let out a hiss in pain, finally tasting the iron in her mouth. He damn near slapped her head off of her shoulders. Hearing the shower turn on after a few minutes, Imani sprung into action, knowing she couldn't just stay here tonight. Not after what he said or did to her face.

Pulling on a pair of sweats and a simple graphic t-shirt, she slipped her feet into a pair of sneakers and tossed her still slightly wet curls into a messy bun on top of her head. Quickly grabbing her purse and keys, she all but powerwalked out the door, carefully closing it behind her and hastily headed towards her car. She didn't even bother with a seatbelt, pulling out of her driveway as soon she started it up.

Only her soft sniffles could be heard as she drove to a random gas station a little ways into the city. Maybe she would come to regret this in the morning but she didn't care. 

Even when Jayden blew up her phone, she ignored his calls and texts, not bothering to read them.

Her options were limited and he knew that. Jayden, along with his father had eyes and ears everywhere so she knew she had little time to figure something out. She couldn't turn to her friends because they knew all of them, not as if she had many to begin with.

Going to her parents was out of the question, they would only hand her over because of fear.

She was at a complete loss.

Sitting back against her seat, Imani reached for her purse and pulled out her wallet, looking through the few bills that she had when she came across a familiar card. One that she had forgotten about since that night he had given it to her.

Imani hadn't seen him since her scare inside of the women's bathroom at the restaurant. Once she had blatantly told him what was happening to her, she had quickly realized what she had done and clumsily fled out of the bathroom stale with him calling after her. She felt embarrassed that she exposed herself to him like that.

No one knew about her disease or how much it was infecting her. It was just another part of bad karma embedding itself into her life, so Imani simply accepted it. What more could she do?

Still, as she looked down at Leo's card the words he said to her at the gala replayed so vividly in her mind..."When you need me, come find me".

Biting her lip, she read the number and grabbed her phone and nervously dialed, throwing all caution to the wind. As it started to ring, her eyes glanced at the clock that read exactly midnight when she heard his smooth voice on the other end.

"Hello,"

For a second she hesitated, almost hitting the end button, knowing deep down what she was about to do was a mistake but the words she said next seemed to leave her mouth with no warning. "You told me when I needed you to find you and...I-..." She faltered, too afraid to let the words leave her mouth but Leo had heard all he needed to hear, recognizing Imani's serene tone immediately.

"Did he hurt you?"

Imani swallowed, biting into her lip in an attempt to force back her sobs, failing miserably as her emotions began to get the best of her. "Yes..." She choked out, gripping the steering wheel with her free hand.

"Follow the address I sent you...I'll be waiting," He instructed, just as Imani felt her phone vibrate against her cheek. "Be careful," He adds before ending the call.

Reading the text that he sent with his address attached to it and typed it into her GPS. In seconds she had started up her engine and pulled off onto the freeway, following the directions carefully. The entire drive she wandered of what would or could happen when she arrived. She didn't know a thing about him but she truly didn't have anywhere else to go.

It was literally the only place that Imani knew that Jayden wouldn't be able to find her at. The consequences were worth the risk.

Forty minutes had past when she had found herself driving down a gravelly road that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere until a beautiful two-story home came into her view. She could make out two cars that sat in the driveway as she put her own in park and cut the engine. As soon as she removed her keys from the ignition, the light on the porch was flicked on and out steeped the silhouette of Leo.

Nervously, Imani exited her car and closed it behind her. Her eyes stayed glued to him the entire time she moved up his walkway and to the steps, losing her footing when she saw that he was shirtless. She barely noticed him reaching for her and helping her inside until the sound of his front door closing filled her ears.

Imani knew that she probably looked a mess with her red eyes from crying after she told herself not to. Her cheek probably an ugly color of red and purple which Leo noticed immediately under the light in his entryway.

Grabbing a hold of her hand, he silently led them upstairs and straight to his bathroom. With ease he lifted her up onto his counter and begin to fix up her face, starting with her rinsing out her bloody mouth.

"You're hiding from him," He states knowingly, holding up an ice pack to her cheek. "I'm aware of who your fiance is, Imani...you're safe with me,"

Imani couldn't pinpoint it, but there was just something about the way he said that that sent a wave of relief through her veins. "I can't stay long," She reveals to him, knowing that somehow, someway Jayden would find her.

Moving a piece of hair from her face, Leo took in the beauty in front of him, taking special notice of the fear in her eyes. "You can but you're just too afraid of what he'll do,"

The fact that he could read her so easily was terrifying. "He'll kill you if he finds me here,"

Leo smirks at that. "He can try but I can assure you, he won't succeed," He casually states, knowing very well what he was capable of. Imani was completely clueless of the deadly man she had standing between her legs.

Though he was attempting to live a normal life, his skills still remained intact. He wasn't one to be tested.

"Why are you so nice to me?" She questioned softly, closing her eyes. To trust someone so easily was foolish but she has felt so safe whenever she was around him.

"Because you seem to need someone and I don't believe coming across you at that moment was a coincidence," He told her half truthfully. In reality, when his eyes had first landed on her at the gala he was intrigued. "Tell me I'm wrong?"

"Are you my savior in all this?" She asks instead, opening her eyes to look over his face.

"If that's what you need me to be," He easily claims, not being the one to lie.

A low chuckle slips past Imani's lips at that. "My problems...my issues...they run deep you know? I'm literally dying with no way out,"

"That was before you met me, Imani. I can fix whatever you need me to," Solving conflicts or issues was a specialty of his. It just usually ended up with someone dying by the end of it.

"This type of brokenness can't be fixed, Leo," No matter how fine this man was or how willing he was to help her...she could never have him as she wanted.

"You doubt me but you ending up here with me was because this was where you wanted to be, no matter what excuse you try telling yourself,"

Maybe he was right. Maybe she did want to be here but that made her nervous. Imani knew that if she crossed that line with him, it wouldn't be some one-time thing. No. Whatever this was between them was something deep and once she gave in, there would be no turning back.

And that alone scared her.

[jgreenfeld]

meet the muse;

jessica abigail greenfeld | 22 | bisexual | irish-american | aeronautical engineering student/mechanic | potterhead | supernerd | oreo addict | bookworm | cheerleader

10 FICTIONAL CHARACTERS

1. Harry Potter

Your obsession with Harry freakin' Potter is a timeless affair. You read the first book tucked into a corner on the a tour bus, musicians fiddling with their instruments all around you, but you were lost to them. You were too busy learning spells, playing Quidditch and fancying yourself Mrs Jessica Potter. Sure, a lot of your friends have outgrown their Harry Potter phase, but you don't think that'll ever happen to you. He was never just a character to you, he was a comfort when you were recovering from your illness and figuring out what life was going to be like without being able to hear things from now on. You lost quite a number of things after the meningitis hit, but you never lost Harry. He taught you how to be brave and true and a little bit sassy, and you're always going to love him.

2. Atticus Finch

Your father is a mechanic, not a lawyer. He wears sports jerseys instead of tweed suits. But he's still the closest thing to Atticus Finch that this world is going to get - in your eyes anyway. Your dad was the first one to introduce you to To Kill A Mockingbird. He panicked and shoved his own copy into your hands after you finished the fifth Harry Potter book and spent three straight hours wailing over Sirius. Of course, TKAM wasn't going to be something that necessarily cheered you up, but you were hooked from the get-go. Atticus taught you how to be just and fair. He taught you to think about what it would be like to walk a mile in someone else's shoes. He taught you valuable life lessons that you still carry today, and even though it would be impossible to hope that everyone in the world could be more like him, you could at lease try to channel all that energy yourself. You like to think that he taught you how to be a better person.

3. Mark Watney

Mark Watney taught you that space is dangerous and terrifying and that it has the potential to be the very death of you. He taught you that it's vast and empty and nothing but a challenge. And it only made you love it even more. When your father picked up on your space obsession, right after your solar system model won first prize at the middle school science fair, he gave you a copy of The Martian. In all honesty, he had no clue what it was about but the name hinted that he was on the right path. You devoured it whole. Or rather... you spent the full night yelling at your book whenever something traumatic happened and Michelle fully attempted to smother you with a literal pillow just to get you to shut up. Mark Watney made you fall in love with space even more, and he kickstarted your desire to work for NASA one day. When you feel like you're never going to make it, you just need to look to him for a kick up the ass.

4. Gilbert Blythe

Gilbert Blythe is the very first love of your life. You understand that there's a high chance you’re not his type, because when he tugs on Anne's pigtails and calls her 'carrots', she hits him over the head with a slate and it's love at first sight for him because of that. If Gilbert Blythe ever tugged on your hair to get your attention, then you probably would have just decided to marry him right then and there. Still, what's not to love about him? He's kind and he's funny and he's smart and he cares about school. Perhaps you would be relationship goals based solely on the fact that you're a nerd and he's a nerd. But you'll never get to test that theory out, which is a shame. In the meantime, Gilbert is setting the standards for all other men and he's raised the bar to a whole other level.

5. Paddington Bear

Paddington Bear is the reason you demanded a duffle coat and red wellies at the age of six. He's the reason you wanted to travel to Darkest Peru whenever a family vacation was brought up. And he's the reason that you still unironically enjoy a marmalade sandwich, even to this day. Plus, he's cuddly and kind and the exact friend you think anyone should have. Honestly, you'd love to be someone's answer to Paddington Bear.

6. Matt Saracen

You're never going to be a football player and, to be quite honest, you never really want to be. You're tiny and any tackle would crush you in an instant. Soccer, on the other hand, is different. And then, of course, there's cheerleading. Matt Saracen was never a cheerleader, although you have total faith in him and believe that he could be anything he wanted to be. He was a football player though, and had always been desperate to be one, despite shortcomings like money and being one of the younger kids on the team. You relate to that. Friday Night Lights taught you all about teamwork. You love being part of a group like that, whether that be the girls soccer team or the cheerleading squad. It's what you miss most about high school, that sense of belonging. You love your family but Michelle likes to make your life a living hell, Brendan can only defend you so much and Gabby has her head in the clouds half the time. Matt taught you that sometimes it's okay to feel way more at home when you're part of a team.

7. Leslie Knope

She likes waffles, she likes fairness and she loves her friends. Leslie Knope is exactly the kind of woman that you want to grow up to be. Maybe you don't have a future in politics, but that's okay! You can still embody her in all the ways that are important. You're a feminist, you would happily arrange a wedding ceremony for two gay penguins and you would absolutely die for Michelle Obama. Leslie Knope is that caring and goofy friend that you want to be, and while you're not as savvy as her or as good with words, and you absolutely do not have her knack for public speaking, you wake up every morning and tell yourself that you're going to be a Pawnee Goddess that day.

8. Clint Barton

You watch the Avengers and you fall in love with superheroes. Your dad seems bolstered by this since he's been trying to get you to read comics for years now, and this eventually persuades you. You discover that you're a die-hard Captain America fan and there are several failed attempts to write a popular Steve/Bucky story when you foray into fanfiction, only to realise you're nowhere near as gifted a writer as you think you are. But you still love this world and these characters and it's like a blanket gets wrapped around you when you find out Clint Barton is actually deaf in the comics. Just like you. You devour Hawkguy, trawl the internet for all the meta discourse and fanfiction you can find and you even dress up as Kate Bishop one Halloween. Clint Barton teaches you that you can have a disability and still be a superhero.

9. Luke Skywalker

There was no way that you were making it through your childhood without discovering Luke. And Leia and Han and Chewie. But Luke was the one that stuck with you most and your dad was very proud of you for that. He's a hero, but not the typical rough-and-tough, 'needs a damsel in distress to save' sort of hero. He teaches you that you can save the galaxy and still be loyal and compassionate and have a good heart. You don't need to be jaded to be a hero, and it's okay to show emotion. And sometimes it's okay to be a little bit of a drama queen as well. You appreciate that last one.

10. Buttercup

The Princess Bride is one of the few movies that you and Michelle actually agree on. Or rather, you like all movies and she hates anything that you like. But even Michelle can't say no to The Princess Bride. Buttercup is a character who undergoes development, giving you hope that maybe one day Michelle will also go through that same growth and decides that she wants you to be her sister. Perhaps it's a pipe dream but you never give up hope. Buttercup also teaches you that you can fall hard and fast for someone who says 'as you wish' to your every command and like, you get that. You're pretty sure that you'd die on the spot should anyone say that to you.

9 TWEETS

@jupiterjess: i've ran out of oreos. is my life even worth living anymore?

@jupiterjess: the new cheerleading captain at jasper high messaged me for tips. LITTLE OLD ME. i'm blushing hardcore.

@jupiterjess: thank you so much to everyone who failed to tell me i've been walking around with a chocolate milk moustache all day!!!!! you're the best guys!!!!!! thanks!!!!!

@jupiterjess: do you ever just. stop and think. about exoplanets?? someone come hold my hand and talk to me about exoplanets.

@jupiterjess: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU'RE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!!!!

@jupiterjess: america, i have no idea what you're doing right now, but you need to be better than this. wake up and smell the racism.

@jupiterjess: 'it's a power that jedi have that lets them control people and... makes things float.' rEY asdfgh

@jupiterjess: as a bisexual, the trailer for 'last christmas' has been very difficult for me. thoughts and prayers for jess in this trying time.

@jupiterjess: @NASA i love u

8 FACTS ABOUT SPACE

1. Halleys Comet won’t orbit past earth again until 2061

JESS' INPUT: Okay, so here's another fun fact about Halleys Comet! At Disney's Magic Kingdom, Main Street USA is connected to Tomorrowland by one thing and one thing only. Main Street's design is based on the year 1910, and Tomorrowland's design is based on the year 1986. What do those two years have in common? That was when Halleys Comet orbited past Earth! ... That's more of a Disney World fact, but pretty cool all the same, huh?

2. A full NASA spacesuit costs $12,000,000.

JESS' INPUT: 12 million! That's so much money, holy smokes. Honestly, imagine going around wearing an outfit that cost 12 million dollars. Wouldn't be me! I'm getting anxiety just thinking about it.

3. There may be a planet made out of diamonds.

JESS' INPUT: Okay, so this planet is like, 40 lightyears away and it's eight times the size of earth. Researchers think it could be made of graphite and diamonds and everyone is like 'wow, that's cool!' And okay. yeah, I get it. Diamond planet. That's super cool. But you know what isn't cool? That episode of Doctor Who where they went to the diamond planet and that one woman got possessed. That was the opposite of cool.

4. The footprints on the moon will be there for 100 million years.

JESS' INPUT: There's no atmosphere on the moon so the footprints there can't be eroded by wind or anything like that. So those footprints are going to be there for practically forever. Imagine being Buzz and Neil and being able to flex like that. I went to the grocery store the other day, accidentally dropped a jar of Marmite and then stood in it - so my footprint was there because the cashier couldn't handle the Marmite-y smell for long enough to clean it up and apparently I wasn't allowed to help for 'health and safety'. So at least my footprint is going to be imprinted somewhere. Just nowhere that's as cool as the moon.

5. The moon was once a piece of the earth.

JESS' INPUT: People think that there was some sort of collision which made a part of earth break off. They say it was an early protoplanet of Mars called Theia. Anyway, Theia made the moon break away from Earth but it stayed around to orbit us because of the Earth's gravitational pull. Don't you love the moon? She's a lesbian queen! Hey, maybe Theia had a crush on her or something and just went about it like, the wrong way.

6. There is floating water in space.

JESS' INPUT: Uh huh! So there's this massive water vapour cloud that astronauts found and it holds - oh my gosh, get reads for this - it holds 140 trillion times the mass of Earth's oceans. My head is honestly spinning just thinking about it. 140 trillion! That's crazy!

7. There is a volcano on Mars three times the size of Everest.

JESS' INPUT: Yep, her name is Olympus Mons and I would personally like to know why she didn't have a starring role in The Martian. Maybe it's because she would have easily outshined Matt Damon. Sorry, Matt.

8. In 3.75 billion years, the Milky Way and Andromeda Galaxies will collide.

JESS' INPUT: I'll be honest, my brain doesn't even know where to begin processing this. I can't... compute. What is this... I can't... Sorry, I'm shutting down. Jess out!

7 OREO FLAVOURS

7. Hot & Spicy Cinnamon Oreos. - you can pretend you can handle spicy food by eating one of these. and doesn't that make you look cultured, huh? still... it's a weird mix of flavours. 5/10. 6. Peeps Oreos. - a solid 7/10 for taste... but you still feel guilty about eating a fluffy marshmallow chicken, hence the low ranking. 5. Oreo Mini. - all the 10/10 taste of a regular oreo but they're tiny so it's very easy to hide them when you want to sneakily eat them in class! a solid 12/10 for being so gosh darn convenient. 4. Golden Oreos. - look, you were brought up in ireland and that means that sometimes you just really, really want a custard cream, okay? this is america's answer to that and it comes in a delicious, compact oreo form. *chef's kiss* exquisite. 8.5/10 3. Mint Oreos. - honestly, it's so easy to feel halfway to sophisticated when you eat one of these. a solid 9/10. 2. Red Velvet Oreos. - CREAM CHEESE IS THE PEOPLE'S CHEESE!!! 10/10!!!!!! 1. Cinnamon Bun Oreos. - you nearly cried when you tasted these for the first time. the sun was shining. obama was president. your skin was clear, your crops were growing. the promise of tomorrow was as bright and warm as the feeling in your chest when that cinnamon-y biscuit-y goodness first met your tastebuds. you could write an essay on cinnamon bun oreos. 100000/10.

6 FAMILY MEMBERS

1. Jensen Greenfeld

Your dad is probably your favourite person in the world. You'd do anything for him - including deferring your college acceptance to keep an eye on him, because that's what family does. He's your rock, your best friend, and he's the most giving person you've ever met in your life. He and your mum met in university when he studied abroad for a year and they were instantly best friends, keeping in touch long after they'd graduated and your dad moved back home. He knew your mum always wanted a kid and so he gave her you. It's unconventional, you know that, and most people raised their eyebrows at him helping another woman conceive in such a short time after his wife passed away, but that's the kind of person your dad is. Generosity helped him through his grief. How could anyone criticise that? He taught you how to ride a bike, change a leaky exhaust and adopted Comet for you so you wouldn't feel so lonely when you moved to New York to be with him. When he ended up in hospital, you were beside yourself. But not because you had to stay with him now instead of going to college like you'd planned. You could never begrudge him that, not when so much of his own life has been dedicated to making sure you were happy.

2. Magda McTaggert

Your mum has never had the easiest life. Disowned by her parents after she came out to them, she had to make her own way in the world. That's something you've never been able to relate to, because she made sure that you always had people who loved you. When you were sick as a kid, she stayed up with you every night, barely getting any sleep herself. She was your champion when you began to learn sign language, and she held your hand when the doctors first began talking about your cochlear implants. You miss her when she's in Ireland and you're in America, but she's only ever a Skype call away.

3. Kinsey McTaggert

Technically, Kinsey is your step-mother. But you rarely refer to her as that. She's your ma. She's been in your life since you were three-years-old so keeping her at arms-length with a 'step' term doesn't feel right to you when she's just as much your family as your mum and dad are. Sure, you'll call her by your first name but that's because Kinsey is so terrifyingly, inexplicably, astronomically cool. She's been managing bands for her whole life, she has pink hair and she let you come on tour when you were younger and being homeschooled. Your fondest memories are the tour bus with your mum and Kinsey and whatever up and coming rockers had adopted you as their little sister. Kinsey is the reason you felt alright leaving your mum behind to start school in America. You know she's in safe hands with her wife.

4. Michelle Greenfeld

Michelle has pretty much hated you since the day you were born. Perhaps 'hate' is a strong word, but she highly dislikes you and never let you forget the fact that you're only her half-sister. In some ways, you get it. You came into the family shortly after her mum had died. Her dad had a kid with another woman and, even though there were absolutely no romantic feelings involved, it still must have felt like a kick in the teeth. You try your best to be accommodating of her feelings because you know she's not all bad. The ways she treats Brendan and especially Gabby is proof of that. She can be the perfect big sister - unfortunately, just not to you.

5. Brendan Greenfeld

Brendan likes you though, and you're so happy about that. Brendan is exactly what you want in a big brother. He's protective and funny and taught you all the cheats for his video games, so you're basically unstoppable when it comes to Mario Kart now. He was also the one that told Gabby to shut up when she saw you for the first time after you lost your hearing. He took learning sign language in his stride and always makes sure there's room for you to sit at movie night. Sometimes you worry that, if it ever came down to it, he'd still pick Michelle over you - full sibling loyalty and all. But maybe that's doing Brendan an injustice, because he's never been anything other than the perfect big brother to you.

6. Gabby Greenfeld

Gabby is a sweetheart. She might be a little flaky at times and come out with mildly offensive things, but you know that she means well. Michelle is her favourite but she loves you as well, even if she often turns her nose up at your love for scrunchies and denim jackets. She'd rather get you to wear something sparkly and show-y and while you'll never say no to glitter, you don't think that Gabby's closet is quite for you. In fact, you're pretty sure only she can pull it off. Gabby is wild and free and doesn't care what anyone thinks of her. She's loving and loud and you want to make sure that you get to keep her around forever.

5 MEMORIES

memory one

You blush when Tor lets out a low whistle. "Some talent you've got there, Little J," he says. That makes you blush even more. Tor is just so nice. And has a handsome face. Kinsey says you're far too young to like boys yet and that you're far too smart to like someone like Tor. She says he goes through girls like a revolving door and you're not sure what that means, but you like the attention from him anyway. "I was just messing around," you smile, your fingers trailing over the keys again. He tips back his head and laughs. "Well, mess around anymore and I might be out of a job. Are you trying to upstage me?" Tor teases. Grinning, you shake your head and Serge wanders over. Normally, he's so tall and silent and sort of intimidating but his smile is warm when he reaches over to ruffle your hair. "Say the word and I'll kick Tor to the curb in an instant, Jess," he promises solemnly. You know that they're just joking, but it's nice to feel that sort of validation. Especially when you're a little kid and they're rockstars. That's why music is so special, it brings everyone together, even Irish Harry Potter enthusiasts and charming keyboardists with pretty eyes.

memory two

The headache has cleared up but you still feel groggy and confused and so you fall back asleep again, promising yourself that you'll ask after your mum when you wake up again. Because maybe then you'll be able to hear her. There's no such luck when you come to again. Everything is silent and it's too weird to even begin describing. You're confused at first but your mum's tears, your dad's shell-shocked expression and the grim line set around Kinsey's mouth helps you to put the pieces together. There's a kind looking doctor who's writing something on a notepad for you, and you already know what it's going to say before he places it in your lap. You've worked it out. You're deaf. It's as if years fall away from you at that moment. It's hard to reconcile the news with everything you know about yourself. Your whole childhood has been music and now what? That's gone away and you're just meant to be okay with it? How is that fair? With shaking hands, you take the pen from the doctor and write a reply. As soon as your mum reads it, she starts crying again but your dad finds it in himself to smile and he reaches over to squeeze your knee through the hospital bedsheets. He still has that piece of paper which is stupidly sentimental of him and you love him for it. It read: Okay. What's next?

memory three

At first, you were excited. After years of homeschooling, you're finally going to a proper high school and you get to see your dad every day. What's not to love about all of that? However, now that you're in New York, the nerves have started to settle in. What if no one wants to be your friend? What if the kids at school are weird about the deaf thing? What if they try and touch your implant? What if they don't let you join the soccer team even though Kinsey bought you new cleats specifically for that? Most of all, what if Michelle tries to smother you in your sleep? Your dad laughs when you voice that one aloud. "Don't you think you're being a little bit dramatic?" he asks you, fondly smoothing down your hair. You laugh along with him but you aren't so sure. That night at dinner, Michelle spears a meatball with her fork in such an aggressive manner, glaring at you all the while, that you think you're about to faint. No, you don't think you're being dramatic at all.

memory four

"Jess? Jess, are you alright?" At first, you can't even reply. You're too speechless. With shaking hands, you present him with the letter - your CalTech acceptance letter. Your dad cheers at once and he scoops you up into a hug and you think that you could just die of happiness right then and there. You're going to be studying aeronautical engineering. All of the hard work, the late night physics reading, the dedication to science club, the hours spent in your dad's garage understanding engines, the grease and oil covering your hands and your hair and your face. It was all worth it. And now it's one step closer to NASA.

memory five

A heart attack. Your dad isn't even old, and as far as you know he's always had a clean bill of health so what's changed. You stay silent all the way to the hospital and Brendan lets you. When you arrive, Gabby hugs you and even Michelle manages a watery smile your way. Then all four of you are allowed into see him. He's lying in bed, tubes attached to him, but he's sitting upright and he smiles at you, his kids, even if he does look sleepy. Then he cracks some sort of joke and hell if you can remember what it is. But that's what makes you cry. The idea of college goes flying right out the window. He argues with you, naturally. So you lie and tell him you were never that sure about it anyway. He doesn't believe you at first because that career path has been the only thing you've ever been sure about since you were 11-years-old. Maybe you're a good actress because eventually he relents and lets you stay with him. Or maybe, deep down, he's scared to be on his own now too.

4 CRUSHES

1. Tor Eklund

keyboard player for The Corkscrews

has the nicest set of teeth in the world

went through girls like a revolving door according to Kinsey

called you 'little J'

total dreamboat

saw you as a little sister

2. Graham O'Connell

striker for the boys football team in Ireland

had never seen or read Harry Potter but he had floppy hair so you were willing to make allowances

always complimented your football boots

was your first kiss

asked if the two of you could keep in touch when you moved to Canada

messaged you one day to say he'd started watching Harry Potter

you were overjoyed

messaged you again to say he didn't really like Remus Lupin

you well and truly dodged that bullet, didn't you?

3. Amanda Forbes

literally the prettiest girl you've ever seen in your life

was visiting Jasper in the summer with her family

was also a cheerleader

your bisexual awakening

said she wanted to kiss you because she had never kissed a girl before

kissed you lots of times that summer

ghosted you when she left and has a boyfriend now

well, fine then, Amanda

4. Steve Rogers aka Captain America

I mean, you're only bloody human, aren't you?

3 JOBS

1. Neighbourhood Dog Walker

You were fourteen. You needed some money. You loved dogs. It made perfect sense. All the neighbours trusted you to look after their pooches and you made about twenty different canine friends.

2. Apprentice Mechanic

When you told your dad you wanted to be an aeronautical engineer, he said that you needed hands on experience. It helped that he owned an auto shop. Convenient, right? He thought a week working alongside him would help you get to grips with things and prepare you for college. You kept working there for three years. You loved it so much.

3 Aeronatucial Engineer

With your dad on the mend, it doesn’t seem like such a pipe dream anymore. Now you’re at NYU and you feel lucky that they want you to study with them. It’s not CalTech but it’s still one step closer to NASA, and this way you still get to be close to your dad.

2 DOGS

1. Comet

2. Sirius

1 JESS

Bubbly, optimistic, generous, strong-willed, determined, resilient, resourceful, courageous, cheery, nurturing, reckless, stubborn, lacks self-awareness, self-conscious, easily influenced, cares too much about what other people think of her, total Gryffindor, eats too many Oreos, space nerd, deaf, soccer player, cheerleader, dog mom, half-Irish, half-American.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: The Beginning of Wisdom - Chapter 25 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: Flash, Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Leonard Snart (Len) & Leonard Snart (Leo), Len Snart/Mick Rory, Leo Snart/Mick Rory, Len Snart/Mick Rory/Leo Snart, Leo Snart/Ray Terrill, Len Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: In which Leonard Snart is twins.

(the life and times and loves of Len and Leo Snart)

—————————————————————————————————–

"We need to get the door pried open just enough to get the drill in," Lewis said. "Get the other side of it."

Len obeyed instinctively, then remembered he was Leo, not Len, and added, "Getting too old for this, are you?"

It wasn't exactly the most pithy comeback.

Luckily, Lewis had his hands too full with his side of the door to deliver a blow. "Shut up, boy," he snarled. "Or I'll put you in your place, here and now."

Len shut up, though to his surprise he found that he wasn't as afraid as he’d been expecting.

Had his dad always been so – small? So petty? So unnecessarily violent over nothing?

"Glad you're finally getting with the program," Lewis said after another minute. "Putting your back into the work instead of dragging your feet. It'd be a shame, after all this, to have to pull that brother of yours into this."

Len tensed. Was that Lewis' way of saying that he knew?

"Not that he would be any better," Lewis continued. "He was always a disappointment, wasn't he? Never quite getting it – always worried about keeping collateral damage down and trying to disguise it by claiming that it was to keep the cops off his back. But for all his pretended goodness, he still kills, doesn't he? Hypocrite."

Len didn't kill anymore.

Mostly.

"You'd have been better at it," Lewis said. "I'll wager you won't think twice about executing someone who represents a risk – a risk to you, or to your precious little family."

"I don't kill," Len lied. It wouldn't have been a lie, if he were Leo.

Sometimes he wished he was – but not at the cost of Leo being him.

Being Len was Len's burden to bear.

Though, that's not quite true. Being Len came with its own unique joys, too – the thieving, yes, but the supervillainy, for instance, that was all his. Leo'd never bothered to learn the intricacies of the cold gun, or appreciated the adrenaline rush of fighting the Flash. It might be his face on the action figure, but the personality broadcast alongside it was all Len. That, too, was Len's and Len's alone.

He wouldn't give those up to be Leo.

"You mean you don't need to kill," Lewis corrected. "You wouldn't, what with your brother there do to the dirty work for you. No, my boy, you're like me: if it needed to be done, you'd do it, no matter who it was. Now that'd be something I could actually be proud of – something your brother could never quite manage."

Len pressed his lips together, focusing on prying open the hatch just enough for Lewis to get the crowbar he'd smuggled in to slip into the crack.

He very carefully tried not to feel hurt. Leo wouldn't have been hurt by it, after all, and he was Leo right now.

He didn't succeed.

"Good," Lewis said once they get the door open and the drill into place. "Now get back out there and make sure no one noticed. The next part's going to be a bit noisy, so head off anyone who comes near."

Len didn't respond, just headed back out to the party space. A quick scan of the crowd showed him that Leo was headed his way, so he waited, alert, until the next "blackout" came and he could duck away behind a large potted plant, stepping back out again when Leo ducked in beside him.

They didn't have time to talk – nothing more than Leo reaching for his hand and giving it a quick squeeze – but Len felt both better and worse striding away from that room with Barry right behind him.

Better, because he was getting further away from Lewis.

Worse, because he was leaving Leo with him.

Barry slipped under Len's arm, reminding him that they were supposed to be playing a part, so Len made himself smile and laugh and wink roguishly at Henning, who grinned back, clearly pleased as punch by being pulled into the mischief as a co-conspirator.

Len had zero idea of what Leo actually said to Henning, but whatever it was, it worked like a charm: they were allowed into the bedroom without any issue.

"You okay?" Barry asked the second they were alone in the bedroom, cheerful smile disappearing off his face, replaced with concern.

Len considered the question. He hadn't gotten close enough to Lewis to swap the detonators, so Leo was still in danger, and his belly still ached with the curdled remains of hopes that should have died long ago but hadn't.

"No," he said. "Let's get this done and I will be." He hoped. "We've got to make absolutely sure that we don't let Lewis succeed in this, not even a little, or he'll just try again."

And next time, maybe they wouldn't get lucky with the tip-off from Marie, or Ray's amazing admin skills, or Mick's ability to ground Len enough to come up with the world's shittiest impromptu plan.

"We'll beat him," Barry said confidently. "We're sending a thief to outwit a thief – and you're a much better thief."

Len appreciated the thought and Barry's faith in him, but at the moment, he needed more than faith. He needed to prove that he was better, since Lewis was going in with a drill and a time advantage, and the door from the bedroom to the safe room had a high-tech, advanced-mechanics bioprint lock on it.

Len had it open in under two minutes.

Nowhere near his best time, but he was under a lot of emotional pressure right now, so he would forgive himself for it.

He glanced out into the bare hallway that led to the big safe room at the end of the hall. "Scarlet, you got this?"

"I've got this," Barry confirmed. "Cisco's device isn't picking up any lead this far in – looks like the comms are blocked, this deep, but the device works fine."

But still, he hesitated.

"I'll be fine," Len said, perfectly aware of the reason for Barry's hesitation. "Go."

Barry went.

Len waited, making sure that the bedroom door was mostly shut so that no one would see him there.

It wasn't long before the door across the hallway began to open – Lewis taking for-fucking-ever with the drill, but still – but eventually it opened, and out came Lewis, shortly followed by Leo.

Leo had the cold gun, which he'd somehow smuggled in to the party, in his hand, presumably by Lewis' instruction.

He was holding it wrong.

Subtly wrong, but wrong.

Damnit, Len was going to have to try to pull another switch, only without the benefit of Ray's distractions or Leo's help. He'd been hoping to just sneak along behind them, but he couldn't risk Leo icing his own fingers off, so a switch it was.

At least this way he'd be able to get Leo out of this mess.

He waited until Lewis was striding down the hallway, his eyes fixed on his prize, to slip out, grab the cold gun from a surprised but willing Leo, and shove Leo into the door from the bedroom, pushing it fully shut behind him.

"What was that?" Lewis asked, turning back to look.

"There's another door here," Len said, pretending to examine it.

"It's the bedroom," Lewis said dismissively. "No one will be there in the middle of a party. Get a move on."

Len obeyed, coming up right to Lewis' side.

Close enough to make one last foray into Lewis’ pocket.

He couldn't help the way his shoulders relaxed when the switch was made – the real detonator in Len's pocket, the fake in Lewis' – but he tensed them back up again quickly.

Not quickly enough, though. Lewis noticed.

Luckily, he was too busy cracking the (mediocre) lock on the safe room door to comment, but Len knew that he'd seen.

Hopefully, Barry had had enough time to complete his work.

After all, while the ultimate goal of today's events was to rescue Leo and eliminate the threat of the detonator, Len had set a secondary goal: to convince Lewis that it wasn't worth doing jobs in Central City anymore.

For that, however, Lewis couldn't just be repelled or knocked off-course.

The job itself needed to be destroyed.

And that, Len thought to himself as they stepped into the bare white walls of the safe room, which appeared to be absolutely empty, was why he'd arranged to steal everything in the safe first.

"What the hell...?" Lewis said, slack-jawed, looking around at the nothing around them.

Of course, Len hadn't actually stolen everything – the room had previously contained everything from paintings to heavy sculptures to bizarre objets d'art, all of which would have been a gigantic pain to move.

No, he'd just sent the Fastest Man Alive (or, well, one of them) ahead to hide all of it.

Barry had succeeded beyond even Len's expectations: there must have been building materials in the safe room already, because there was now a flimsy but convincing drywall creating a totally "bare" room, behind which the real treasures undoubtedly resided.

But Lewis didn't know that.

"There's nothing here!" Lewis exclaimed, his fingers tightening around the crowbar he'd already pulled out in anticipation of prying open treasures. "Nothing at all!"

"Henning must've taken 'em elsewhere," Len said. "Or the intel was bad –"

Len was anticipating getting the crowbar slammed into his belly for that comment, making himself the target of Lewis' frustration, and that was a good thing, because that was exactly what he got. He staggered back, the breath knocked out of him, but hopeful that Lewis had gotten the point: that jobs in Central were cursed, and he should go away and leave them all alone.

Len wasn't expecting the second strike to come down on his shoulders, knocking him forward onto the ground. Nor was he expecting the third, or the fourth, that followed.

"Stop!" he cried out, curling up and casing his hands up in a desperate attempt to protect his head. Lewis had beaten him before, of course, and severely, too, but that usually waited until they were somewhere safe – and never with a crowbar. Len's ribs had already cracked under its weight, and he didn't much like the state of one of his shoulders. If Lewis continued – "You could kill me!"

Didn't Lewis care? Len was his son!

"You did this," Lewis said, his voice ugly even as he brought the crowbar down again, this time striking a glancing, but ringing, blow against the side of Len's face, cracking his jaw and making him bite his lips open, blood falling from his mouth. "I should've known you'd figure out the plan – because that's what you did, isn't it, Leonard?"

"What?" Len choked.

"Leonard," Lewis repeated. "Leonard, not Lionel – you little bastards switched on me, didn't you?"

How –?

"You were never as good at playing each other as you thought," Lewis sneered. "Or maybe it's just you that can't act: I saw you relax all of a sudden, right when we were about to get in. You took the detonator, didn't you? But Lionel couldn't have done that." He brought down the crowbar again. "You just couldn't resist it, though, could you, swapping yourself out one last fucking time to rob me of my rightful –"

"Leave him alone," Leo snarled, stepping into the room behind the two of them.

Leo knew that the script, insofar as Mick had passed it along to Leo, hadn't called for a reveal now – or ever, for that matter. Leo was supposed to be out of danger by now, achieving the main objective, and the purpose of the rest of the plan was to convince Lewis that the job was a bust and that someone was onto him, that he should leave Central City and go away to ply his trade, however badly, elsewhere.

Somewhere far away from them.

A typical Len plan for dealing with Lewis, really.

Leo was of a different opinion.

He'd thought that he had hated Lewis for a long time, hated him for what he'd done to Len more than anything else, hated him also for what he'd done to Lisa and to Leo himself, too, but now he knew: that wasn't hatred.

What he felt now, filling his heart and consuming his head: that was hatred.

He hated Lewis.

As a child, he'd just wanted him to go away forever; now, however, that wasn't good enough.

He was going to kill Lewis himself.

He'd even made sure that Barry grabbed just the right weapon for him to use to do it on his way out – Barry had wanted to stay to help, but the plan called for him to extract everyone else from Henning's house and bring the police to encourage Lewis to panic further, and with the comms blocked, he had to go himself.

Leo was supposed to just keep watch as Lewis left, but Lewis wasn't leaving. He was hurting Len.

No. He was killing Len.

Leo would never have been able to stand by and let him do that, even if he hadn't already planned to murder the man himself.

Barry hadn't known about that part of Leo's plan, of course. He'd brought that stupid jewel-encrusted – but still sharp – sword to Leo because Leo had told him it was Lewis' highest priority and that, if necessary, he'd trade the sword to Lewis for Len's life.

What Leo didn't tell Barry is that he had other plans for that sword.

Lewis turned to look at him, crowbar still in his hand; at his feet, bleeding and bruised, Len craned his head to look at him, too.

"Well, look at you," he said, baring his teeth. "Little Lionel, coming out of hiding at last."

"My name is Leonard," Leo said. "Not Lionel."

He took a step forward, then another.

Lewis went for his gun, but Len – reading Lewis' actions the way only a terrified child could – reacted first, scrabbling up to grab it out of his pocket and flinging it aside.

Lewis kicked him in the face.

"Leave him alone!" Leo shouted, and rushed forward.

Lewis still had the crowbar. He had a choice: he could try to fend off Leo, or he could strike Len again.

He chose the latter.

Len screamed as the crowbar came down on his leg with a sickening crunch.

Leo saw red.

Next thing he knew, Lewis was backed up against the wall, and Leo was hold the sword at his throat.

"Well, then. Look at you," Lewis said. "All grown up at last."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean," Leo said flatly.

"I always knew that one of my kids would turn out right," Lewis said, his lips curling up into a smirk. "Someone I could really count on. Not someone weak, like your brother, or constantly hiding behind other people, like your sister – but you're not weak, are you? You made a decision to kill and you plan to follow through on it. I can respect that."

"Stop talking," Leo said. "Don't you understand that I'm going to kill you?"

"You certainly mean to," Lewis agreed. "I can tell – the same way I could tell the way your brother flinched every time he pulled the trigger. But you? You're not flinching. You're not letting stupid sentimentality get in your way. You're finally stepping out of the shadows they've got you trapped in and into the limelight where you belong. You would do it, too – but only if you didn't get a better offer."

He smiled.

"You know," he said, "I could be proud of a son like you."

Leo ground his teeth together. He'd wanted to hear that for years – and Len for even longer, his childish dreams having not died quite as quickly as Leo's had. But this wasn't for Len.

"You should be proud of all of us," he spat out. Why was he still talking? He had the sword at Lewis' throat. He knew Lewis was just trying to manipulate him, trying to buy time, trying to trick him into letting him go. He knew that. He should just press the sword in, draw it across Lewis’ throat, do what he set out to do – finish it, and him, and free them of Lewis’ oppression forever. Instead, he was just talking. What was wrong with him? Just kill him already! "But you never were."

"Of course I wasn't," Lewis said, clicking his tongue as if this was a casual conversation, as if he were entitled to that sort of paternal disapproval. "It's hard to be proud of someone who disappoints you time and time again, you know. I tried my best, you know – I tried to protect you from the world I knew was out there, the people who would take advantage of any sentimentality, of any weakness. That's why I did what I did. That's why I tried to teach you all of those lessons. I should have known that leaving you to develop on your own would be the best way. But how was I to know that my best wasn't good enough? I’m just a man. No matter what I did, none of them would learn – none but you, my boy. Because you’re different than they are. You’re better than they are."

Leo stared at him.

"You're the only one who's worth it," Lewis said, meeting his gaze. "Any of it: pride, respect, the lot. You're the only one who will understand – and I'm the only one who will understand you. That's why you're going to step back: because we're blood, you and I. We're like each other."

Oh.

That was why he was hesitating.

Not because of Lewis' bullshit.

But because -

"No," Leo said. "We're really not."

He took a step back, keeping the sword in place. Lewis' piggish eyes narrowed, following him.

"You may have helped make me who I am, however inadvertently," Leo said. "But I made myself, me and Len, we're the ones responsible for the man I am today – not you. Never you. I don't give a flying fuck if you were doing your best, or if you made mistakes, or whatever your excuse of the day is, because even if that was your best, your best wasn't good enough. Your best was fucking horrific, and I will never forgive you for any of it." He paused. "But you're right about one thing."

"What?" Lewis asked.

"I'm not going to kill you," Leo said.

"You –" Lewis started.

"Oh, not because of anything you said," Leo said. "But because you're wrong. I'm not like you said I am at all - guess I still am too sentimental, underneath all of my logic. I'm not going to not kill you because I got a better offer: I'm going to not kill you because I'm not a killer, and I'm not going to become one for you, because fuck you. You've already had too much say over my life."

He stepped back again, and this time he lowered the sword. "Hear those sirens?" he asked sweetly. "They're waiting for you."

Lewis' face twisted in disgust. "I should have known," he sneered. "Every single one of you, a disgrace to the family name."

"The name's ours," Leo said. "We're the ones who'll make it famous. You'll just be a footnote in our history books, and you'll die knowing of your own irrelevance. Now get the hell out of here."

He stepped back again, and Lewis stepped forward. "Fine," he said, shaking his head and turning away to walk towards the exit. "Have it your way. There's clearly nothing here for me anyway – just another disappointme –"

He choked.

No, that wasn't quite accurate.

He choked, because there was now a blast of ice straight through where his heart had been a second ago.

Leo spun around.

Len had propped himself up against the wall, his face bloody, his body still curled in on itself in defense, his hands still clutching the cold gun –

His eyes vacant and hurt.

Leo went to him at once, pulling his brother into his arms, forcing Len's face into his neck. Len didn't need to see their father die, even if he'd caused it.

"Why did you do that?" Leo asked quietly, making sure there was no judgment in his voice. "The police were outside: we could have just scared him away, like you planned to. You didn't have to. You didn't – you love him."

"Yes," Len said, his eyes pressed tightly shut against Leo's neck. "Yes, I do. But he wouldn't have given up. He'd never have given up. He thought we were his, us and Lisa, he thought we belonged to him. He couldn't let us go. And next time it would have been worse – and it would never have been enough."

"Len –"

"You were right," Len continued, his voice tight and filled with tears he'd never shed. That he couldn't shed, anymore, thanks to Lewis. "You were always right, before, and you were right now, too. He should have respected us for who we were, as people in our own right rather than tools. He should have been proud of us – he should have loved us, us and Lisa. But he didn't, and he never will. No matter what we do, no matter how good we are, no matter how well we do what he tells us, no matter how well we learn his stupid lessons – it'll never be enough. It had to end. And you might not be a killer, but I am."

"You're really not," Leo said gently. "You took every chance you could to stop – you will stop, now. You don't need to do it anymore."

Len nodded mutely.

"And just so you know," Leo said, raising his voice so as to make sure that neither of them can hear whatever it was that Lewis was mumbling, to make absolutely sure that Lewis' last words were overlooked and forgotten and heard by no one. It seemed appropriate, that the man that imposed so much terror on their childhoods should die leaving no impact on them at all, or, at least, as little as possible. "Just so you know: you beat him at his own game. You were the better thief, using every skill he ever taught you and spitting it back in his face. If he was a real dad, he would have been proud of you."

"What, for killing him?"

"For surpassing him," Leo said firmly. "And as for killing him – you didn't kill him the way he wanted you to. You didn't kill him out of cold, unfeeling logic. You killed him out of love for me and Lisa."

"Still killing," Len mumbled.

"How about we give it to Barry to judge?" Leo asked, already planning on having a Talk with Barry to ensure his answer was the right one. "He's the one who made you promise not to kill, right? But even he agreed that there should be reasonable exceptions to that rule. He's a hero. If he says this was reasonable, will you at least consider forgiving yourself?"

"I'll consider it," Len allowed.

"Good. Now let's go home."

Len sighed and nodded, allowing Leo to guide him to his feet and to the doorway, his eyes opening only to focus intently on the exit ahead of him.

"Get Mick," Leo told Barry as soon as he appeared. Seeing the expression on their faces, Barry obeyed with particular alacrity.

[nickgerlich]

Inside The Box

I remember when I bought my first house. It was November 1989, and we had been in Canyon Texas for only a few months. With a new job unfolding in front of me, we had decided that apartment life was no longer something we wanted to do. So after a lot of searching, we decided on a nice place that set us back—I mean, put us in debt to the tune of—about $145,000.

Oh, to be able to buy a 3000-square foot house and land for that amount today.

Thanks to the ups and downs, and mostly ups in the last few years, house prices are now out of reach for many. The median price of all houses sold this year is $428,700, while the mean price is $507,800. Since you all know the difference between a median and a mean, I’ll gloss over that part and skip to the more sobering reality: What’s a young family or person to do these days?

Enter Boxabl, the company that makes modular fold-out tiny homes. Once delivered to your site-prepped location, they can be “installed” in about an hour, providing 375 square feet of livable space, including kitchen, home appliances, living room, bedroom, and bathroom.

Yeah, those rooms are all tiny, but at a starting price of $50,000 (plus the land and all site work), you too can have a house. They are completely scalable so that additional units can be joined or perched atop to create even larger living spaces.

Of course, if you already own your piece of the American Dream, and if zoning permits, these make great casitas. Elon Musk has discovered this, and has one at his Texas property. Guests, or more permanent residents like an aging parent, can make great use of these.

What’s uncertain is just how well these things hold up in stormy weather, is it air- and water-tight,  how hot or cold they are during weather extremes, and, more importantly, whether they retain any value at all. Manufactured housing tends to be on the low side of quality to begin with, even if it looks nice when new. Just like new cars depreciate, I suspect these will too. The land will be worth something, though.

But for a young adult wanting to buy their first house, and suddenly finding themselves unable to come even close on down payment, much less asking price, Boxabl may very well be a reasonable option. It doesn’t have to be permanent, and even if it has lost most of its value in 10 years, there’s the land, and the fact that you weren’t throwing your money down the rent hole.

Boxabls cost more and are larger than the typical tiny houses of which we have become accustomed in recent years. They don’t have wheels beneath them when delivered, and are designed to be more permanent (even though it is conceivable they could be moved). Furthermore, the price point is high enough to dissuade communities from using them as housing options for the indigent and extremely low income, so buyers would not have to worry about finding themselves in less desirable neighborhoods.

While some may argue we are sitting atop a housing bubble right now, waiting for a collapse similar to 2008, I will cast my doubts. The lending business is on much surer footing these days. Yes, prices may, and probably will, decline some, but nowhere near the kinds of bargains we all wish we had bought into back then. Given the latest round of appraisals where I live, I’d say the Tax Assessor is pretty confident in current prices too, because they sure never want to have to back down from a lofty amount.

While a Boxabl is not for me, even as a casita, I can see these being a nice alternative for those folks unable to drop half a million or even a fraction thereof on a house. Maybe one of my kids will find these useful when I reach really old age. They can just stick Dear Old Dad in the back yard.

Until then, hats off to the Boxabl people. They have been thinking outside—and inside—the box.

Dr “Home, Sweet Home“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[elizas-writing]

We’re about 3 months away until the long anticipated release of the one, the only, the extraordinary, Kingdom Hearts III! Almost 14 years of waiting with about a dozen side games and HD re-releases are finally building up to this grand moment for video game fans. And like most other fans out there, I needed a serious catch up to remember all the convoluted lore and relive all the good times and bad with our favorite Keyblade wielders and Disney team members.

Since I don’t have all of the games on hand, much less the time to play the ones I own, I went to the wonderful world of YouTube and over the course of two months binged through about 30 hours of content, right from the very beginning! It was so much fun to relive all the series highlights, finally watch the newer content in the HD re-releases, and pick up on the little details I missed the first time around. And I thought I’d share some of the wonderful thoughts going on in my head during my binge.

Without further ado, here are Eliza’s silly but honest taglines, asides, observations, and comments of the Kingdom Hearts series!

Kingdom Hearts

The OG most ambitious crossover

I’ve been in this world for three hours and CAN’T FIND THE NEXT CHECKPOINT.

I know we jab at Chain of Memories for its awful gameplay, but I legit-erally didn’t finish the Atlantica world cause I had no idea where the fuck to go next. Even for a 2002 game, the mechanics were a nightmare sometimes.

Sometimes having every other world set up like a labyrinth is too much work than it’s worth.

Seriously, you have to talk to Aerith a million times to get Curaga. How the fuck were you supposed to know that without the Internet or a strategy guide??

Came for the bizarre mix of Disney and Final Fantasy– stayed for the characters and mildly convoluted story.

Just gonna add this in with the other “the power of friendship” crap I love.

  Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories

Worst. Fucking. Fighting. System. EVER.

You ever wonder how the board meeting went for this game?

“So it’s, like, 50% the same game again, but shitty.”

I’m here to button mash, not strategize like Magic the fucking Gathering

This is the one where all the hot villains show up, right?

Just don’t let Axel’s bad boy facade fool you. He’s a finger guns bisexual with bad dad jokes.

10/10 will steal your girlfriend, boyfriend and nonbinary significant other

Every time someone says “memory,” take a shot.

Also, are we never gonna talk about where Pluto went with that letter? Are we supposed to accept he just comes and goes however he pleases?

  Kingdom Hearts II

The best one. You can’t change my mind.

One man’s convoluted revenge scheme at the cost of, like, 5 teenagers’ mental well-beings.

I’ve only known Roxas for 6 days, but if anything happens to him, I’ll kill everyone in this room and then myself.

So Ansem wasn’t really Ansem. You see, he was this scientist’s apprentice who– aaaaaand I’m lost.

If your fandom experience at this point didn’t include calling Xemnas “Mansex” or listening to Dr. Bombay’s “My Sitar” to cope with Demyx’s 2nd boss battle, you did it all wrong.

We all made fun of Demyx for needing a notecard for his mission, but my work desk is a cluster of reminders and sticky notes, so I can’t judge anymore.

The beginning of the longest, most painful wait for a sequel.

I’m sure Haley Joel Osment is a chill dude, but who the fuck allowed him to sing?

  Kingdom Hearts: 358/2 Days

Area Man Tries to Balance Life Between Work, Broken Marriage, and Two Adopted Kids in Existential Crises

Spoiler Alert: It ends horribly for everyone involved

When the realization set in that he became a father

Saix being a bitch

Family drama

Seriously, Saix, the last time I saw a man this pissy about his friend spending time with someone else was The Road to El Dorado. And Tulio and Miguel were supposed to be a gay couple.

Well, that was a depressing ass backstory on why Roxas has two Keyblades

“Who am I?!”

Anyone out there still calling Xion a Mary Sue better apologize to my daughter in the next five seconds.

The Organization’s HR complaint box probably looks like a tornado blew through it…

At least they seem to have good enough health insurance since their youngest members tend to fall into month long comas.

  Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep

Remember when Xehanort was a scientist’s apprentice who went AWOL? Think again, bitch!

The point where you realize this is all just a long, cruel, brutal DnD campaign

It’s best if you just don’t get emotionally invested in any of the characters. No one has a happy ending.

How one man’s total lack of self-awareness and critical thought dooms the universe

No, seriously, I’m sorry, Terra is a massive idiot. Master Xehanort doesn’t even have to try hard to manipulate Terra; he’s just that goddamn dense and does a lot of stupid shit on his own. These are facts.

I can’t even handle the secondhand embarrassment of his Neverland visit where he thinks Peter Pan is after the light when he was guarding a literal treasure chest, like, that’s just too dumb.

I still love him and wish him a wonderful redemption, and he definitely didn’t deserve losing his friends, family and his free will, but there were so many avoidable stupid disasters if he didn’t just blindly trust the wrong people.

Terra is the physical embodiment of “I am not a clever man.”

Forget the darkness in his heart– I’m more concerned about how many worms are eating his brain.

Terra, this bitch just asked you to cut out the heart of a 14-year-old girl, and you just went “chill.” Did you already forget your last oopsie with Aurora?

Loving mother left to clean up her husband and son’s messes…. all of them…

She’s about a couple steps away from becoming a wine mom to get through this shit.

As you can see, the main difference between Ventus and Roxas is that one is a literal ray of sunshine who did nothing wrong, and the other is a mass of anxiety who says “fuck” more often than he’s allowed to.

  Kingdom Hearts: Coded

The one everyone forgets existed.

Guys, I just wanted to know what Mickey’s letter said. I didn’t ask for another whirlwind adventure.

The most outrageous excuse for a midquel, but dammit that last bit in Castle Oblivion… I’m gonna need a moment to recollect myself.

Yeah, if this bit didn’t get you emotional, get out of my house.

What do you fucking mean Xehanort isn’t fucking dead??

  Kingdom Hearts: Dream Drop Distance

Wait a minute, all Terra and Aqua had to do for their Mark of Mastery was hit some balls and spar each other. Why do Sora and Riku need to go through coma nightmares and fever dreams??

Just… just give up questioning the lore…

So Ansem the Wise made a copy of his computer, and that’s a sleeping world where Jeff Bridges exists, I– I’m done.

And if this didn’t break your heart just a little bit, we can’t be friends.

Had the potential to just be Kingdom Hearts III if Nomura wasn’t too deep in perfecting those renders

We’re gathered here today in the bonds of just a couple of guys being dudes.

But seriously, there is zero heterosexual explanation behind Sora and Riku’s Sound Ideas coming together to make “Dearly Beloved.”

So is Ienzo really gonna gloss over the fact Lea stood by while a clone sucked out his life force? … Okay…

I’m still bothered by the fact Young Xehanort and Haida from Aggretsuko have the same English voice actor, because they’re total opposite energies.

  Kingdom Hearts X [chi] Back Cover

“Traitor!”– Ben Solo-Organa, Star Wars VII: The Force Awakens

I’m surprised no one took a step back and said “Guys, maybe the Master was fucking insane and trying to dupe us all with this Book of Prophecies shit.”

I’m sorry, I can’t trust anything the guy says or does. He put his FUCKING EYEBALL IN A KEYBLADE FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES.

Not to mention, he purposefully made them keep their roles a secret from each other which made misunderstandings pile on top of each other, like, dude!

I’m sticking to the theory that there was never a traitor, and he just pulled this out of his ass for the drama of it all.

Does no one in these games sit down and talk through their problems like normal people do? Again, worms in the brains…

Friendly reminder that cute Keyblade wielder avatar you made likely died in the Keyblade War.

I have nowhere near enough time to wade through like 900 quests worth of content in an ongoing game, and I don’t know how much I’ll need for Kingdom Hearts III…

Like, apparently Ven time traveled?? The fuck??

“What’s in the box?!”

  Kingdom Hearts 0.2 Birth by Sleep A Fragmentary Passage

If you thought that title was a mouthful, wait for the onslaught of feelings!

“The things I do for love.”– Courage, Courage the Cowardly Dog

The most beautiful and emotional game demo in the universe

I wanna eat all the rocks

I just want my wife to come home and be able to rest.

“Please, God, just let me have one good day?”

“Oh my God, you again?? Give it a rest buddy!”

Kingdom Hearts III is RIGHT there! I can see it, I can taste it, I can smell it, it’s so goddamn close that I can hear the angelic choir singing Kumbaya. I haven’t been teased this bad since BBC Sherlock series 3.

  Kingdom Hearts III (based on all current information from trailers and conventions)

You get Norted, and YOU get Norted! Everyone gets Norted!!

Impractical zippers and belts are so 2005. Now everything is about plaid and excess buttons.

“I want to see my little boy (Here he comes) I want to see my little boy!”

What is he doing? His best. Also, get a load of the detail work on his hands.

Xion and Naminé are on the box art, so they have to be in the game, BUT WHY AREN’T THEY IN THE TRAILERS YET? WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY DAUGHTERS?

“The ending is going to be difficult for fans to handle.” I’m sorry, Nomura, but I forgot how to read for a moment there and will be in a horrible state of denial for the next three months.

If you’re calling that Heartless doll your waifu, congratulations, you’d be the first to die in a horror movie.

For fuck’s sake, it’s emitting black smoke and has the penetrating eyes of death. It must be burned.

And there you have it, folks! Most every silly thought that went through my wonderful brain through my Kingdom Hearts binge! It was worth putting off many of my other shows to refresh my memory on the lore— as contrived as it is multiple times—, see all my favorite characters, relive the greatest moments, and get pumped for what’ll come next in Kingdom Hearts III. I can already tell it’s going to be a great one, and I can’t wait to start playing!

Funny Observations of the #KingdomHearts Series We're about 3 months away until the long anticipated release of the one, the only, the extraordinary, Kingdom Hearts III!

[ghostmartyr]

Fic: A Terrible Idea [9/?]

Fandom: Attack on Titan Title: A Terrible Idea Author: Immi Rating: PG-13 Summary: Ymir’s pursuit of the hot cheerleader was meant to stay strictly lustful. But it’s a high school AU with a ship tag, so you know, fuck that. Notes: This fic has a thing about three in the morning.

Segment summary: Kenny imparts life advice.

I II III IV V VI VII VIII

Maybe an actual parent would have wanted more details about what kind of party his bereft, innocent teenager was absconding away to instead of bonding with her friends and siblings in a night of passably sober revelry.

With Kenny, the conversation went something like this:

“Can I ditch homecoming to feel up a hot babe?”

“As long as no one ends up back in the house while I’m making out with my boyfriend, I physically could not care less.”

He didn’t mention the boyfriend in words during the actual conversation. He didn’t have to. The man might as well have been whistling all week long, asking them how many hours they thought they’d stay out come dance night. He’d conned Levi into being their chauffeur and everything. He got a haircut. Sometimes there really was fucking whistling.

He gave Ymir the green light to go be surrounded by people whose neckties cost more than all of her organs on the black market without so much as a suspicious question. To the untrained eye, it was negligent bullshit that Ymir was happy to exploit.

Years of living under his roof said that he already knew every single person at the Reiss party and had personally threatened at least five of them with murder. Creepy, but if it meant he wasn’t badgering her about her life choices, swell.

Too bad a certain other person couldn’t follow the example.

There was one side effect of dealing with a parental unit on this that wasn’t so great. Cowboy Dad believed, so very dearly, in cleaning up good so the rest of everyone would fuck off. He liked to call this having manners. As someone who’d had to sign paperwork to take on a more active role in not caring what teenagers did, he also thought it was his solemn duty to impart some of these manners to the spawn he could happily disown at will.

Predicted side effects of that included small talk about not pissing off the people who had invited her into their home. Since Historia had been the only one at all interested in her presence there, that wasn’t the worst promise she could think about keeping, so fine, whatever, can I go now and so on.

Unfair fucking blindsides included the suggestion (suggestion, like every other thing Kenny suggested didn’t carry promises of life getting very unpleasant if the suggestion didn’t see some follow-through) to go out and fetch some flowers to present to Historia’s parents when she showed up at the party.

“She doesn’t like her parents,” Ymir had said. That was a large part of the point.

Kenny had looked at her, unimpressed in the face of logic. “Sunshine,” he’d said, “where in the hell do you get the thought in your head that manners are for people you like?”

An hour later Ymir was hanging out in a flower shop, stretching the boundaries of her artistic sensibilities to figure out just how ugly a bouquet they were capable of. Kenny had stopped just short of making her pay for the damn things, so she had room to work, but there was only so much she could do. The worst combinations she had so far said, “Your daughter has let someone with zero taste into your house, but the good news is they’re desperate for you to think they’re trying.”

When what she wanted was closer to, “Fuck you for thinking I care about your approval before fucking your daughter, also fuck you in general,” preferably in freshly-picked pastels.

Ymir had never been a flower connoisseur, and turning the notch on her style of aggression back to passive definitely wasn’t her speed, but she knew passive aggressive went best with pastels. From what she knew of the Reiss family, their entire mansion would be covered with the things. Kenny would approve of her commitment to speaking her hosts’ language, but she’d have to work extra hard to keep from complementing their color theme.

Her only entertainment for the day was watching Porco freak over how to handle being at a dance in Pieck’s proximity. She had time.

She was also an efficient multitasker.

Porco’s sneakers tapped loudly against the linoleum floor. “She liked the roses last year,” he said, nowhere near the rose section. He was looking at peonies.

“She’ll like whatever you get her, and they’ll be dead in a few days. Stop angsting and pick something,” Ymir said, even less interested in his problems than usual. Pieck had sent an innocuous text earlier to remind her that she liked tulips. Hint hint. Somehow they were all still pretending that it wouldn’t melt her overly devious, mushy heart to be getting flowers from Pock at all.

Except for Porco. He really was that clueless, so cue the hours of fretting over which collection of stems would brighten Pieck’s desk best before their inevitable deaths. Accompanied by Ymir for reasons beyond a good laugh and pity, all thanks to their weird non-parent’s sense of propriety. Bringing a girl’s parents flowers wasn’t good manners, it was something out of Victorian era courtship advice bulletins. Near the end, after the two weeks of knowing each other had passed and it was time to ask the patriarch for his daughter’s hand.

Ymir thought she had a good idea of how that proposal would go. Awed by her acute flower arranging skills and misled by her tailored garb, she’d receive the father’s blessing and it would be rendered immediately moot because Historia would never forgive her for involving him in their love life.

“It doesn’t bother you that she’s using you to piss off her parents?” Porco had asked oh, maybe seven times when Ymir broke the news about how she was spending her Saturday night.

“Not anywhere near as much as it seems to bother you,” was the only answer to that, and it still took three more tries before he gave up in disgust and stopped blocking the middle of the hallway so she could go to bed.

Porco had weird ideas about family. Namely, that they were supposed to like each other. His blood parents were dead, automatically promoting them and everyone remotely like them to sainthood. His brother was so fervently adored that any first year psych student would gleefully attach a complex to it. He seemed to find it personally offensive that Historia couldn’t stand the people who hired her a personal driver.

Ymir would have loved not to care. She’d spent most of the previous night happily not caring. She’d spent most of their friendly afternoon jaunt to the neighborhood flower shop not caring. Pock had responded by making it his life mission to do enough caring for both of them. If he didn’t have the stress of not asking Pieck to dance to look forward to, he’d still be ranting her ears off.

“You don’t even want to date her!”

Way to state the obvious. That hadn’t been worth any response at all.

Ymir looked around at the colorful displays surrounding them. All perfectly designed to suit Porco’s purposes of failing to ask a girl out, none of them meant to check off a politeness box that had been summoned out of thin air to make her life more difficult.

Garish wasn’t going to play. No matter how badly the bright colors clashed, all the flowers were too healthy and friendly to get away with being used as a fuck you collage. She needed something with contrast to bring out that deliberate eye-gouging quality. Some of the lighter carnations could work. Classy and decorative in a clump, but put them next to something with some flair…

“Ymir?”

Ymir tilted her head Porco’s way and walked over to a selection of painfully sunny sunflowers. “What now?”

The follow-up didn’t follow through. His shoes squeaked and his jacket rustled while Ymir carefully mapped out her success of floral offense. Signs pointed to a talk happening.

“I—never mind,” Porco muttered.

One of those talks, then. Ymir rolled her eyes and searched out the heliotropes. Past experience dictated no gathering of custom bouquets herself, because the cashier would cry, and that would hold them up, but the second she said she was done and they fetched Pieck her tulips, Porco would be back to questioning everyone else’s life choices instead of his own.

“It’s too late to be her real date,” Ymir said, stopping to smell the roses. “You should have said something earlier if that’s what you wanted.”

Porco crossed his arms and scowled at the hydrangeas. Somehow they failed to burst into flames. Maybe because he looked closer to bursting into tears.

Ymir took magnanimous pity on her baby brother. “Just do what you always do: Wait for her to ask you to dance, and instead of mumbling and letting her drag you away, tell her you don’t want it to be a friend dance. She smiles, your heart melts, you live happily ever after, and I owe Marcel ten bucks.”

“Marcel wouldn’t bet on this,” Porco said, showing off the kind of deep misunderstanding only idolatry could foster. “He likes me.”

“That’s why he bet on you growing a pair,” Ymir said. “Don’t go letting your big brother down, now.”

Porco sulked. He had a way of doing it audibly.

They were through the purchase of Ymir’s custom monstrosity and Pieck’s much lovelier tulips before he brought it up again. A true sign of growth; last year he’d started the conversation once and then sworn her to absolute secrecy.

“You think she’d want to? If I asked?”

A flash of Historia’s wide eyes under the snack shack lights came to mind. A glimmer of a smile that matched the glitter on her cheek, all of her face lit up by Ymir.

“Sure,” Ymir said distantly, “girls like it when you show some initiative.”

----

“You keep tugging at your sleeves and I’m gonna feel insulted.”

Ymir dropped her hand from her suit jacket. “Dressing up three times a year isn’t enough to get used to formalwear. Perfect fit or not.”

Kenny didn’t bother dignifying her with a look. He was driving, and whatever Parenting 101 class he had crashed oh so many years ago had drilled not taking his eyes off the road with children present into his head better than a construction crew. He simply took the next turn, and drawled, “Funny, and here I thought it had something to do with your nerves making a fuss over this girl.”

Did no one ever stop to consider that if she wanted their thoughts about this, she’d ask for it? “Could also be that your shortcut landed us in the middle of nowhere and there’s nothing else to do but pluck threads.”

“Ymir, if you’d caught a single thread out of place, you’d be crowing about it ‘till the end of next month.” He took another turn. Second-to-last one, if Ymir was counting. “Find a better excuse or rub two brain cells together and work out how to stop lying.”

Ymir rolled her eyes and continued looking out the window. The winding road they were heading down was pure black-and-white movie horror. All they needed was some lightning. If the Reisses hadn’t already splurged on it, they ought to invest in a drawbridge and a moat. Great for parties.

Cowboy Dad had volunteered to drive her, and keeping up with his creepy way of knowing too much about everything, had told her they were taking a shortcut he knew before she had a chance to hand over the address. She’d told him she needed to be dropped off at the guest house, which was a fucking thing, so maybe his idea of how to get there could use some help, and got a shrug.

With the look he’d given her bouquet when she presented it, she’d call it a punishment, but passive wasn’t his brand of aggression either. Punishments were delivered with a highlighted anvil.

She pulled at her tie. Kenny sighed loudly.

One last turn, and they came back to civilization. Or some over-glammed approximation of it. A large stretch of road away, a gate shrouded in floodgates heralded their destination, and if it had a giant R in the middle of it, Ymir would have a great start to her bingo card for the night’s festivities. Historia had written the security code for it down on her hand the night before.

The car slowed halfway down the street, going at the speed society could agree belonged to stalkers or people who didn’t know how  to read maps.

“You got everything?” Kenny asked for the third time that hour.

‘Everything’ in this case meant Ymir, the invited one, her phone, the toy she’d brought along for another tally in her win column with Historia, and the gate crashing flowers. “Yeah,” Ymir said.

Heading up the slight hill to the cliché gate, Kenny dotted in the code smoothly, and open the spiked monstrosity went. Step one of the night accomplished. Historia hadn’t explicitly said that she wanted Ymir to avoid talking to anyone on the property until they laid eyes or other parts on each other, but Ymir could read between the lines. Her invite said to show up an hour early and head over to where the staff wasn’t preparing for the party. Until the curtain rose, Ymir was invisible and waiting in the wings.

They drove by the house, also known as an affront to taste so brightly lit that Ymir had to blink several times to confirm that it hadn’t been decked in four stories of cheap Christmas lights, and hit the side road that would lead to the guest house.

Ymir had never had much money, but she had trouble imagining a world where she’d look at her grand mansion with its sixty bathrooms and forty bedrooms, and decide that what it really needed was a smaller house next to it. Just to remind the first house how much better it was than everything around it.

Kenny rolled the car to a stop in front of the whipping house, and in a move that said she wasn’t the only one feeling the horror vibes tonight, killed the engine. He turned to her with his parent face on.

“A few ground rules before you go in there,” he said.

“Was there some reason you couldn’t do this at home, or—”

“No drinking.”

Ymir unbuckled her seatbelt to slouch more effectively in her seat. “Kuchel was just giving Marcel and Pock this lecture,” she said. “If you wanted me to hear it, we could have left five minutes later.”

“Sunshine,” Kenny said, “you’ve never partied with rich people before. All you know about these folks is that a girl you like can’t stand them, and each one’ll have a lawyer on speed dial so they don’t catch consequences when they show off for their fancy friends. That’s not company you want to lose your wits around. No drinking.”

“Great. Next up?”

“No having sex with this girl until you see a clean lab report.”

Ymir was too fucking young and too removed from the blood pressure problems Porco had to worry about a heart attack at her age, but for a second her cardiovascular system, built up by all the recent running, submitted to blind horror and slammed her chest with a sledgehammer.

“What.”

Parent of the Year, showing his usual concern for his offspring, propped his elbow against the steering wheel. Not a sign of remorse or pity in his eyes, he said, “You want to go about devirgining yourself, you do it safely. No letting your hormones go so wild you need a medical consult.”

Ymir took a second to pave over her new mental scars. “Right, I’ll just send her off for one instead,” she said. That’s what all the appealing sexual partners did these days. ‘I really want to jump your bones, won’t you pee in this cup for me?’ With a dash of ‘my dad wants confirmation that you are as much of a touch-starved virgin as everything you do says you are.’ The absolute pinnacle of game.

Kenny was the sort of guy who had probably met sympathy once in a bar and shot it. “You want your bits to fall off, or you want a fun time?”

The bad answer to that was that Ymir just wanted Historia. In a lot of ways and positions, all perfectly lewd. Only when the thought popped up, all she could think of was the marker against her cheek.

“Asking her for clerical proof of how diseased she is sounds like a real riot,” Ymir said instead.

“You can’t work your way around that, you’re too young to be having sex,” Kenny said. “Falling head over heels down a flight of stairs is how you get concussions, and I have enough of that to worry about with your brother.”

This conversation was a better case for not skipping the homecoming dance than anything the school had ever come up with, and it was unfair to the nth degree that she’d still rather be sitting outside the reject house. Unquestionably, which meant, put together with Kenny’s magic sleuthing powers, Ymir was now promised one more fun conversation with Historia in her future, putting to graphic verbal life all the things she thought about doing to her and couldn’t, because they didn’t have the right paperwork. Historia would definitely be on board with that. Things to look fucking forward to in the middle of looking forward to fucking.

Cowboy Dad was committed to his parenting course. He could write his dissertation on this feat of manipulation and emotional trauma. Jackass.

“Fine, great, anything else you want to ruin?”

Kenny unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his side of the car. “Your tie needs sorting. Out you get.”

Ymir rolled her eyes and stepped out into the night under the shadow of the guest house. Since it wasn’t drowned in lights, it was actually capable of casting a shadow. Kenny rounded the car and began his deliberately pointed adjustment of her suit, undoing all of the casual muss Ymir had fidgeted her way into. He saved the tie for last, securing it much tighter than her style called for.

“Anything goes wrong, or you need pickup early, you call. Got that?” he asked.

“Are you trying to make up for not knowing me when I was five?”

His large hands held her head. “Got it, kid?”

Way, way too committed to the parenting thing. Ymir made a show of sighing, and saluted him with the ugly bouquet of flowers he’d coerced her into buying. “Got it, cowboy.”

He pecked the top of her head. “Then you’re all set. Have fun, keep the stupid to the minimum, and don’t be afraid to use a fake name if someone’s too interested.” He set her free and clapped her on the back. “Knock ‘em dead.”

Umbilical cord officially cut for the evening, Ymir sauntered off to the doorstep, respectfully resolving to fix her tie once she was inside.

With Historia.

So much better than homecoming.

Next

[kimberlykeebler34]

Looking back on the purchase of my 1963 International Loadstar, I realize now that it might not have been the greatest idea at the time. My almost-as-old 1966 Ford F600 had been broken for a few weeks and, in reality, I was still a month or two from really sorting things out on that front. Take into consideration that the IH was located about five hours away from me and not exactly in road-worthy condition, and you'll probably agree with me. Still, that wasn't enough to keep me from dragging home another hefty hunk o' metal. So, how much has it cost me?At first, I was concerned. While it drove dang-near perfect during my initial test drive, everything went downhill once I parked it on my property. Perhaps the troubled trip home with the Loadstar behind my dad's F-250 should've been a sign, too. In my first week of ownership, AD: launch scan tool. it almost left me stranded-had I not learned to limp my Ford dump truck home in the past with careful throttle application and diligent prayer, I probably would've needed a tow. The ignition system was toast, and thus I had my first experience with an old-school Holley distributor.Rather than swapping the burnt-up points and condenser for new ones, I read around the web and found that fellow Binder owners favored Pertronix electronic ignition units. That set me back $135.44 according to my e-receipt, and the accompanying Pertronix Flame-Thrower coil was an extra $50.72. Not cheap, but it was worth it to have my truck on the road. Too bad I wasn't finished.This being my first pass at installing said parts, and refusing to read the directions first for whatever proud reason, I wired it incorrectly. This led to one cranking attempt after another, eventually wearing down the farm-store-brand battery. I opted to buy a new Continental Supreme for $130 from my local parts store, where I've become quite familiar with Fuzzy, who works behind the counter. Everything, then, should've been in order.It wasn't. This wonderful behemoth, weighing somewhere around 10,000 pounds and costing me just $2,600 to start with, was quickly getting more expensive. After installing the battery, I went to fire it up once more, but no dice. It didn't even crank, leading me to check the battery connection and then the ignition switch. All of that was fine, though I finally pinned the starter as the main culprit. As a result, I carried the core and another $130 bucks into the NAPA location about 45 minutes from my house since nowhere else seemed to carry it.As you do during ownership of a project car or truck, I tossed around a few engine swap ideas. The SV-series 345 V8 that came equipped in my Loadstar was fine, but even after I got it in running order, it was extraordinarily sluggish. I thought, then, about a 6V53 Detroit Diesel, which was offered as a factory option for my truck in '63, as well as a slightly newer International-built DT466. I wouldn't gain much performance from the Detroit, and swapping in a DT466 requires a lot of cutting on the firewall as well as a doghouse that extends into the cab. Neither seemed ideal.What did seem ideal, though, was that same 345 V8 gasjob with eight good spark plugs. I pulled one out to check it and there was hardly anything left of the old AC Delco plug. I found two more that were totally toast and, after forking over $25, I was in great shape. The Loadstar can now cruise at 60 miles per hour without a problem, a feat that's near-impossible in my Ford. The speedometer is off a tad since the International has 11R22.5 tires all the way around, but 70 mph may not be out of the question. I'd rather not test that, though.It wasn't until September that my ultra-versatile work truck could actually, y'know, work. And I bought it in July. In the time since, though, I've used it for all kinds of tasks: Moving my mother-in-law's furniture, hauling great big loads of oak logs for firewood, and a whole house-worth of oak siding for my winter renovation project. In all, it's worked out great, and I've gone nearly four months now without a "forced upgrade," as I like to call it.Adding up these figures now, it doesn't seem so bad. Believe me, though, that my life was not a...

[promptlyisuppose]

September

* I have to learn the new shape of sorrow before I can speak on it.

* I’m not going to obsess about my body. I exercise because it helps me feel more sane and stable and grounded. I eat what sounds good when it sounds good, in reasonable amounts and I don’t obsess about it. Even when I was at peak physical shape, I was still around 160 lbs and I had thighs and ass and a pooch tummy. That’s just my body. A year ago I was at least 260. I’m not near that anymore but I’m also not going to weigh myself and obsess. I’m smaller. I’m stronger. That’s good enough for me. But I have to admit, I like the way starvation looks on me. I like the new contours of my grief.

* Once upon a time (a very very long time ago)

Once upon a dream (I don’t dream much anymore)

Swallowed whole by my shadow (like crow, can never leave well enough alone)

My darkness needs your light (please shine so I can find my way home)

* She asked how the recovery from my concussions was going and I told her the truth. Mostly good. Most days I feel like myself again.

Until I try to create. Nothing feels right in my hands anymore. My cooking is okay but not exactly what I want. My camera doesn’t capture what I see. My writing is dull.

If these are the costs of having my brain back do I really have my brain back?

* The hike today was rough. Every step felt like my body was fighting me - until I got to the spot where I fell last time. It was like my ability to successfully pass that freed tension I didn’t know I was carrying.

* She always finds me in the woods. Sometimes she’s small and scared and we hold hands and climb rocks and play Pooh sticks. She doesn’t want to talk. She just wants someone there in case monsters show up. Sometimes she comes in like a summer storm - blazing across the ocean gathering fury, her rage all consuming while I propel myself harder and faster until she breaks in an orgasm of sweaty skin and breathlessness. I can’t stay away from the woods. I can’t stay away from the ocean. I can’t stay away from her. Even as I slough her off like the cobwebs she clings. Always the ghost of silk itching beneath my skin.

She heaves and claws, jagged red lines left across my skin. She leaves me breathless. I never tell her no though. She calls and I go.

* Is that why my body gets itchy for the woods? She’s waiting out there and my legs carry me to her against my will. There are lessons to be learned and memories to be uncovered but sometimes she is blissfully silent. I think that’s why I managed the whole thing today. I tucked my head down and barreled through and in the end I remembered that even when hard things leave me breathe less and aching I can still do them. I can still fucking do them.

* My grandmother died and now they are both gone. It’s not the death part that I’m worried about. When you die, you’re dead. They’re fine. It’s the idea of my parents being orphaned. I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know how to hold that grief.

* Hold this ache close, tight to my chest, the weighted grief of the world in my hands alone

Cosmic karmic mourning The sorrow of entire galaxies It is too much and too heavy I thought I knew the contours of mourning I thought I knew the capacity I had for sorrow I thought I knew so much And yet I’m stretching again to accommodate what I never anticipated How could I have? How could anyone? Until you are forced to choose Bend or break Flex or shatter And learn the new shape of self Physically I am shrinking and I can almost see it But I am holding so much more It escapes sometimes as tears Bent over the steering wheel wailing until my core aches Deep breathe Deep breathe

* I keep handing her broken shards but we’re making a mosaic. Tesserae is beautiful for being broken on purpose. A focus. A point of light. 

* If I make my body hurt, maybe nothing else will be able to. Maybe by the time my body stops hurting the rest of me will have stopped hurting too. Moving my body as an act of worship. Or contrition. Or fear maybe. Or courage. Yes. Courage. Being brave enough to make it my own again.

* My dad said he wants to get tattoos for his brothers and parents. It feels like an ancient form of mourning - permanent marks as proof of life. 

* I read a comment about someone being over fed but under nourished and felt that deeply. Not just with actual food but with everything - taking in too much junk and not enough nourishment (of mind of body of self) But they also made the point that you can’t out exercise or supplement a bad diet. Smaller smaller smaller Katherine. Shrink like Alice.

* I can feel the sin eater stories itching to be written and it’s making me nervous. I’m not sure I’m ready to tell stories like that. Brave women using unusual talents. 

* When Ethel died I painted squares. When Dorothy died I found myself searching out hymns and crying quietly. Only one at a time though. One hymns worth of grief before I bottle it all back in.

* Look for the lights. It’s cliche for a reason. Find a point that looks less dark than the others and aim straight for it. Run towards it until more light appears. Remember the path is what you make of it. Remember you carry your own brilliance.

* But my hands are closed so tightly, fists against a world that seems too brutal for faith. * I feel the grief creeping up on me and I push it away. “Not yet” I whisper. “Please just wait.” I can’t have all these feelings here, not with witnesses. Not like this. It makes me restless and itchy. Angry. Tired. It takes and it takes and I am so ready to push it away but there’s nowhere else for it to go. I punish my body, hoping it will evaporate with the sweat, but it remains just under the skin. Just close enough to irritate.

* I keep circling around this idea of being open handed. I think of the open hands of my cousins, grandmothers, and aunts - handing me wisdom and humor and love - open palms to give and to receive. The open hands of the women literally around the world who worked, open hands to open hands, bringing these five souls from one to another to me. My hands were open and I was given the greatest of gifts but then, once I had them, I clenched my fists tight. I thought that was motherhood. Holding them so tightly to defend against a world that feels too brutal and terrifying. But then I think of my mother’s hands and how she held me, always safe but never tight. Her hands were open for me to fly but they stayed open for me to come home. Or I think of my babies open hands when they were small, how quick they were to accept anything offered to them. Joy filled and trusting. Or I think about my mother’s hands washing dishes - holding what’s important and letting the rest wash away because open hands means you don’t hold everything. My fists have been clenched so tightly because I’m so scared the universe made a mistake. I am not worthy of these gifts. Except - gifts aren’t given because of worthiness. They’re given because of love. I need open hands again. I need to be a safe place for my babies to fly and a safe place for them to land. They need to be open for giving and for receiving, and the things that are not for me can run through my fingers like water. Open palms open heart, safe but not tight.

* The room smells like her death now, Like the start of her dying. Not the moment she was born but the moment at the end, the rush of fluid and sorrow in her eyes.

* Driving through fog so dense it hid mountains Laughing until we ached so that we didn’t have muscles to cry I know how to hold my sorrow I can even hold the grief of others But in 15 years it is so rare to see his grief that I still don’t know how to help him hold it. 

* When I finally sleep, when I let the exhaustion pull me under, I am still clawing my way to the surface. I am restless, tossing and turning and searching for the light. Why does rest feel so dangerous? 

* I don’t cry anymore. I tuck the tears deep beneath my belly button and press forward, punishing my body to silence my soul.

[samthewrestlingfan]

DIVE Part 6

HEEEELLLLOOOOO LOVEBUGS!

Such a bittersweet update! This is the final chapter of DIVE.

I want to thank you all so much for the love and the support on this little fic.

I plan to write many more stories very soon, Babes!

In the meantime, enjoy the final chapter of DIVE! An epilogue will follow this chapter up.

I love you all so much. <3

Taglist: @wrestlingbabe @alexahood21 @caramara3 @isawthesights @naturalmeadows @camm-wow @blondekel77 @ravishingrandall @sxrxndipityy @panda-girl1999

"Babe, please let me help you." Seth chuckled as I struggled to get up off the floor.

I sighed, "NO. I've got it."

I most certainly did not have it. I was 3 days away from my due date and I am officially the size of the fucking moon. I'm crankier, more swollen, and more uncomfortable than I have been the entire pregnancy and I hate everything.

"Ella, just come here."Seth said, still chuckling at my stubbornness. He bent down and lifted me to my feet. "I could have done it, Seth." I grunted putting my hands on my hips.

He leaned forward and kissed my now sweaty forehead. "I know, I know; but I didn't want you to hurt yourself.

The last two months with Seth have been amazing! He truly seems like he's back to his old self and it feels like we didn't miss a beat in our relationship.

I wrapped my hair back into a bun and flopped on the bed. "Who's ready for another night of no sleeping?!" I said aloud sarcastically.

Seth crawled in next to me, and rubbed my stomach. "Els, is there anything I can do?"

I groaned as I tried to adjust, "No, just let me whine and I'll be okay." He placed a soft kiss on my lips as he held my face in his hands. Seth moved his hand down my side and suddenly grabbed my ass and gave it a squeeze.

My eyes widened, "Seth!" I exclaimed.

"Mmm, you're ass got even nicer baby..." He smiled against my lips. I moved to tangle my hands in his hair, and he slipped his tongue between my lips.

I made sure to grind my heat against the bulge in his boxers. He pulled himself back and placed his forehead against mine. He groaned, "...soooo how long after she's born can we have sex?"

I laughed, knowing I was teasing him. "When I feel up to it, Babe. I promise I'll make it worth the wait."

"Uuugh..." He threw himself back on the pillow, and I saw his cock strained against his pants. "Not fucking fair baby..."

I laughed to myself before placing a kiss on his lips, "Sorry, Love. I don't wanna do it while she's in there, it just seems...I don't know, wrong."

He sighed, "Yeah I guess you're right...good night baby." Seth kissed my cheek, and rolled over to his side.

---

I tossed and turned all night long, finally getting my eyes shut tight at around 2 am.

Suddenly I felt a pain that was like someone was driving a car over my stomach. I sat up quickly glancing at the clock.

4:38 AM

"Seth..." I called through the pain. "Seth!" I called louder, trying to recall my breathing exercises.

He flipped over, "Wha--what?! Baby what is it, are you okay?" His groggily voice asked.

"Baby, I think I'm having a contraction." I felt the pain rush in again, and groaned aloud. I felt a wetness between my legs and turned on my bedside lamp. "Fuck..." I muttered

"What is it?" Seth asked throwing a tshirt on.

"Pretty sure my water broke." I felt tears in my eyes. From a mixture of the pain and the overwhelming circumstances we're about to face.

I let out and inhaled sharp breaths. "Els, we gotta go to the hospital, Babe." Seth spoke, rubbing his eyes awake.

I nodded and tried to stand, the pain almost made me fall to my knees. "Let me help you, Ella." Seth said as he grabbed my arm. I nodded again, unable to speak, and glad I didn't protest the help. He helped me get my sweatshirt on, and slipped my flip flops on my feet.

I sat on the bench near the front door, still doing my breathing, when the pain began to subside slightly. "Babe..." I managed to call out.

Seth hurried down the hall, "You okay?" He asked. I nodded, "Don't forget the hospital bag, top shelf of the closet."

"Got it, Babe. I grabbed the insurance cards, and chargers. Anything were forgetting?" He asked as he put on his Black and Brave baseball cap.

I shook my head, "Nope." Seth walked up to me and kissed me softly. "Let's go meet our daughter, Els."

---

As soon as I got to the hospital I was given an epidural. Thank God we got a private room, too.

"Dr. Andrews will be in any second." I nodded at the nurse who finished hooking me up to the monitor.

Seth let out a sharp and long breath, "You feeling better?" I shrugged. "As good as I can. The contractions are getting closer though--right now they're only 4 minutes apart."

He held my hand as he stood next to me kissing my forehead. "You're so brave, Ella."

I smiled up at him, "If you weren't here, I don't think I would be." He kissed me again.

"Hello Mom and Dad!" Dr. Andrews sang as she entered. We both smiled at her, "Alright let check and see how dilated you are."

"Ya might wanna look away, Babe..." I laughed as I spoke to Seth. "What? Why?"

Right on cue, the doctor...measured me and Seth looked like he was going to barf.

"Guess what, Ella...We're at 10cm!"

I knew what that meant, we're about to start pushing.

---

3 hours, and so much pushing later, I was close to giving up. I sobbed, sweating, shaking, and out of breath. "I can't do this anymore..." I cried.

Seth was on his knees next to my bed, he wiped the sweat from my forehead and held my hand as he kissed it. "Yes you can Ella, you're so strong baby..."

I cried at the pain, it is the most indescribable ache I have ever felt. "Okay, Ella. We're gonna push again, she's almost there, just give me a big push."

I nodded at Dr. Andrews request, "Ready annnnd, push, push push!"

I squeezed Seth's hand, and grunted loudly. "Keep going Ella! Her head is out!"  I stopped pushing momentarily to catch my breath.

The thought of meeting my daughter is what kept me going, I took a sip of water, and looked at Seth. "I'm ready."

He nodded at me, and touched his forehead to mine, "You've got this, Baby."

Soon, I gave two final pushes with every ounce of energy I had left. My vision began to blur from tears and exhaustion. I felt a relief of pressure and heard a small, but powerful cry.

I broke down completely hearing my daughter's voice. "Is she okay?" I called through the tears.

"She's here, Els. She's here." Seth kissed the crown of my head. "She's perfect..." he breathed.

They called him over to cut her cord, and then whisked her away to wipe her down.

A few minutes later, they placed her on my chest, she had a pretty decent amount of thick brown hair, just like her Daddy and I.

I kissed her head and her small cries stopped. I looked up at Seth who was wiping tears from his eyes as he sobbed. "She's so beautiful." He touched her back lightly with one finger. "You did such a good job, Ella." Seth was speaking through his tears, which only made me want to cry even more.

I leaned up to kiss Seth, and a nurse came to clean her up and get her swaddled. "Be careful please..." I sobbed.

---

I was laying in bed, Seth in the chair next to me shirtless, our daughter sitting on his chest. I laughed at the contrast, she was so small in the arms of her strong Daddy.

"She is a miracle, Ella." Seth smiled as he placed small kissed on the top of her head.

I nodded, "She is. She looks just like you..." I smiled. Seth scoffed, "You crazy? Do you see this beautiful face? She's all you, Els."

I adjusted the bed so I was sitting up, "What are we going to name her, Love?" I asked Seth. Truly I don't think I had given this much thought. Oops.

"Good question," he said, "Any ideas?"

I shook my head, and he laughed. "Well, what does she look like, Babe?"

Again, I didn't know. "Here, Seth. Let me see her." Seth moved the slowest I had ever seen him. He placed her in my arms, and I held her so we could look at her little face.

I stared at her little face; her cheeks we so full, her nose was nose was so perfect, she had a dimple just like me on the same side of her face. I felt that love that everyone says you will feel. Something indescribable and so unconditional.

"Babe, look..." Seth motioned. "She's opening her eyes!"

She twisted and turned in my arms, and slowly fluttered her eyes open. "Oh my God,Ella..."

Her eyes were so big and bright! The prettiest shade of aqua you'd ever see. "Hello my beautiful girl." I smiled touching her forehead to mine. The smallest smiled flashed across her face, and her dimple was made even more noticeable.

I inhaled her scent and she inhaled mine, it was like she knew I was her Mom. Then it hit me.

"How about...Sophie?" I spoke, looking to Seth.

"Sophie?"

I nodded, he looked down at her, booping her nose causing her to smile. "She looks like a Sophie to me."

We looked back to our daughter, "We made her, Ella. We made this little miracle."

"We did, granted it wasn't the best way but--"

Seth interrupted me with a soft kiss on my lips. He placed his forehead on mine, "We made her out of love. Regardless of what happened after, she was made by two people who loved each other."

I smiled at him. In a matter of 24 hours, Seth had become a different person. I could see the fire in his eyes. The drive to protect Sophie at all costs.

Out of nowhere I spoke up, "I love you, Seth."

"What?" He sounded almost confused.

"I love you. I'm so happy you're back in my life, and I'm so happy you're in her life. I love you." I wiped my eyes, tears prickling them.

Seth smiled, kissing me softly. "That's the first time you said that since...ya know."

He was right, I hadn't told him I loved him since we 'got back together' if that's even what we were doing. I mean, I would call him 'Love' or 'Babe' but I figured that was just an old habit I was falling back into.

Turns out, I was falling for him in the process.

---

"Sign here..." The nurse smiled at us, Seth scribbled his signature on Sophie's birth certificate.

"Okay, you're all set. Let me just double check the spelling with you." She turned the paper to me. My eyes grazed over the ink, as I read my daughters name; Sophie Elizabeth Rollins.

We confirmed everything, and I was wheeled out in the wheelchair, Seth following close behind with Sophie in her car seat.

"She okay?" I asked turning my aching body around.

Seth laughed, "She's fine, Babe. Don't hurt yourself!"  

When we reached the car, Seth helped me into the back seat, and attempted to buckle her in.

"God dammit! What the fuck is with this buckle? Where the hell does it go?" He grunted frustrated. I laughed, "Seth relax, here look."

My hands slipped it though the car seat, and clicked it into place.

"Thank you." He sighed.

I leaned my head back, still sore and exhausted. "You ready for this?" I asked my eyes closed.

"Nope." Seth said casually.

I laughed, "Good. Neither am I."

After the longest car ride I have ever been in, we made it home. Seth took Sophie on a tour of the house, Lord knows why.

I laid in my bed, Seth next to me, Sophie resting comfortably between the two of us.

"Did you ever think we'd be here?" I looked up at him with what I'm sure were sleepy eyes.

He squeezed my hand before kissing the top of it. "I never thought I'd see you again, Beautiful."

He kissed Sophie's nose, fatherhood seemed to come so naturally to him. "3 days and you're already a pro..." I smiled.

"I just want to be good to her. She's so special, I never thought I was able to make something so good. I have you to thank for all of this Ella."

"You did help, Seth." I joked.

He shook his head, "No," he spoke, his voice strained. "Before her, you were the best thing I had. The best thing I ever knew in my life, and when I screwed that up, I gave up any hope I could have ever had in having children, a partner, or a happy life."

I wiped the tears pooling in his eyes, "Well, handsome...you have it now."

"God damn, she's so perfect." Seth spoke staring at her, before turning his tired gaze to me. "So are you, Beautiful."

I shook my head, "Not me, but she sure is. I know I keep saying it, Seth but I really do love you."

"I know you do, Els. I love you, too. So, so much." I closed my eyes as he kissed me.

He held my face in his hands, "Thank you for her. Thank you for everything good you've brought back into my life. I love you."

He held me for hours, occasionally kissing the crown of my head. We were just... together. Seth, myself and our beautiful baby girl. I watched them, my family. Both of them were so beautiful to me.

I sighed in contentment. I know life isn't going to be perfect, but right now, it's as close as it gets.

I'm not going to waste a second of it.