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904sad · 1 year ago

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My Facebook Page's Comments Section Wanted A QB Rankings Article. Now You'll Suffer, Too

For the record, I hate QB ranking articles. I hate listicles. I hate blogs that force writers to do listicles (and still don’t pay flat fees for them). Unfortunately, however, I have fostered a community of degenerates, and us degenerates love a chance to spew hot takes from the fires of Lake Minnetonka. We love to see who has the balls to go out on a limb and defend themselves in the comments section.

We’re barbarians. Heathens, even.

As we revel in the hilarity, however, we also practice a slight bit of intellectualism. Here at 904 SAD, you can have any opinion you want.

Well, as long as you can back it up.

This is why writing an article about the best returning quarterbacks in college football is difficult for me. Shedeur Sanders was the best QB in HBCU football last year, but North Carolina Central’s signal caller (and his Right Guard) put on a clinic in the Celebration Bowl last year. Also, NFL wise, we can’t tell who is worse between Zach Wilson and Trey Lance. Mainly because Trey Lance never plays. All that aside, Zach Wilson and Trey Lance were superstars at BYU (a Group of 5 Independent) and North Dakota State (a 1-AA powerhouse). They both went in the Top 3 of the NFL Draft and each of their franchises regret the picks to this day.

So, pro-level projections aren’t gonna be a thing in this article.

A numbered list won’t be present either.

Instead, we are going to use the written word to find out who the *best* returning starter in FBS or FCS college football is. Sorry D2, D3, NAIA, and NJCAA gunslingers. I’m not being an elitist. Unfortunately, us small school alums know all too well that you’re just gonna end up transferring to a D1 school the first chance you get either way (Why, Austin Reed? Why?).

THE LANDSCAPE

is shit.

Even if you take out the pro potential of the guys available for evaluation, Caleb Williams probably shouldn’t have won the Heisman last year. Come to think of it, Drake Maye wasn’t even a finalist for the damn thing. Unfortunately, that happens when you go 9-5 with a Power 5 schedule. Meaning ya lost 5 games. Meaning it’s hard to be the best player in college football when you can’t beat the best players in college football at least ten times (Lamar Jackson Somewhere: Hey!).

Also, picking Caleb Williams or Drake Maye is too easy. I mean, after all, the correct answer is either one of them. One is being coached by Lincoln Riley and the other one is what Arch Manning is supposed to be.

To make matters even worse, there are a lot of pedestrian fifth-year seniors and pandemmy-waiver dynamos who haven’t even broken 5,000 yards in their entire careers yet. There's also guys like Bo Nix who had one of the best offensive lines in the world, put up some phenomenal stats his first year in a new environment, and still couldn’t leverage his years of SEC experience to make a real run in the Pacific 12. 10-3 ain’t a bad record at all, but Oregon has been pumping out future Hall of Famers and All-Pros for years now. Eventually, somebody has to do what Marcus Mariota did that one time (That One Guy In The Distance: make a fuckin’ playoff, you dorks!).

So, winning obviously has to be a metric when determining who the best returning starter is. Before you guys start: Yes, I’m about to be extremely hypocritical. I wouldn’t be a proper sports journalist (*DEEP COUGH*) if I wasn’t.

MARK GRONOWSKI - South Dakota State

This MF has already led SDSU to the FCS Championship Game TWICE. Once in the spring (that one pandemmy season) and once in the fall last season. Did I mention that Gronowski is going into his Junior year? No? Well, did I tell you that he’s 22-3 as a starter? No? Damn, did I tell you that he’s been a team captain since 2022?

This man is a WINNER, son.

While Group of 5 guys are stat padding in the basement of the Bowl Subdivision, this man is sending an entire state to a promised land it never knew existed.

Throwing or running for a TD against Iowa would have been nice (would have won them the game in a blowout, actually), but at least he didn’t do what sooooo many FCS guys do against Power 5 teams early in the season: completely tank his squad’s chances of winning. Also, you know a QB has the juice when he is winning for programs that are never televised (ESPN+ matters!), rarely have guys taken in the draft (i’m including RD 7, too), and are in parts of the country that have less than 900,000 people in the entire state. Yes, you read that correctly. There are more bandwagon Patriots fans left over from 2018 than the entire state of South Dakota has residents. Gronowski is doing the Lord’s work.

SAM HARTMAN - Notre Dame

Wake Forest would like a word. Sam Hartman is so honored to play for the great cathedral that is Our Lady in Christ, but he made his initial set of bones playing for a…wait…huh? That can’t be right.

How can a Deacon be from Hell?

Anyway, Hartman is a 17th year senior who has 12,967 passing yards under his belt. Unless he has a season BETTER Joe Burrow’s in 2019, he won’t be catching Case Keenum’s all-time record for career passing yards (19,217). HOWEVER, Hartman only needs a measly 1,112 yards to pass Rakeem Cato for 10th all-time in the history of college football. That certainly makes him a name my list should respect, as Hartman also has the chance to play for a program with the resources, tools, and schedule to make a run for the College Football Playoff. This means the Irish signal caller could net that elusive First Team All-American nod he needs to be eligible for the College Football Hall of Fame.

Storylines, people. Storylines.

SHEDEUR SANDERS - Colorado

HEY, why are you booing me??? I’m right!

Sheduer Sanders led Jackson State to its most relevant era on the field in a minute. Yeah, he lost both Celebration Bowls, but the developing star led his team to a 23-3 record while he was under center. Sanders also won the Jerry Rice Award (Best FCS Freshman), the Deacon Jones Award (Best HBCU All-Around Player), and the SWAC Offensive Player of the Year Award in 2022.

Look, you asked me who the best returning starters in the country were. I answered the question (lul).

Entering into his first Power 5 season, Sanders will have a lot to prove in the Pac-12. Like Sam Hartman, Sanders’ prolific production at his previous school was not enough to earn him a First-Team All-American honor. That means the Head-Buffalo-in-Charge (the Chief Buffalo is his daddy) will probably need to make the College Football Playoff for the first time as a starter to make the media tides swing his way.

JORDAN TRAVIS - Florida State

Mike Norvell probably gets fired if Jordan Travis doesn’t turn the corner last year.

After years of development and struggle, Jordan Travis tossed the rock for over 3,000 yards, led his compadres to a 10-win season, thrashed the Florida Gators (who had a Top 5 NFL Draft pick under center [LUL]), and won a bowl against….

Wait, FLORIDA STATE BEAT OKLAHOMA?!

AUSTIN REED - Western Kentucky

Former National Champion? Check (2019 for West Florida)

Bonkers ass single-season as a passer? Check (9-5 record with 389 completions, 602 pass attempts, 4,744 yards, 40 TDs, and 11 picks in 2022)

CUSA Newcomer of the Year Award? Check (2022)

Bowl game win WITH the MVP to match? CheckCheck (2022 New Orleans Bowl)

The resume speaks for itself. Yes, the National Title for West Florida was won in Division 2, but Reed made the MEGA D2 to FBS jump last year and did the best thing Western Kentucky (or any CUSA team for that matter) could hope to do - Win. A. Bowl. Game. And guess what, he’s suiting up for a college football team in 2023.

Which means….(Isiah Thomas: I fit the criteria).

CAMERON RISING - Utah

Played against the Heisman Winner in the 2022 Pac-12 Championship Game and blew the Heisman Winners’ Malibu doors off the frame and the hinges.

Was efficient and accurate all year with a 64.7% completion percentage.

20-8 record as a starter with 2 Pac-12 Championships to his name.

Uh, yeah. Cue the Isiah Thomas ad-lib again. (Isiah Thomas: I fit the criteria).

AFTER THIS BATCH OF GUYS,

the list gets murky.

Spencer Rattler was supposed to be the #1 overall pick. Then he sucked. Then he transferred to South Carolina and got…hmm.

DJ Uiagalelei got Dabo Sweeney to do something he’s never done before: Give up on his guys. Before we knew it, DJU was benched for a Freshman and Coach Sweeney started looking for new coordinators to replace his new coordinators. Damn, son; that ain’t good.

Bo Nix has a chance to break out (like, REALLY break out), but what will it lead to? Will pretty numbers be enough to win? Or will it all just lead to some team taking a “flyer” on him in the 4th round? We’ll see.

Jalon Daniels? Ha.

Jayden Daniels? Ha. Ha.

Tyler Van Dyke? Ha. Ha. Ha.

Emory Jones? HA. HA. HAAAAAAAAA.

SO, YEAH

The past 2 NFL Drafts have taken a lot out the sport. Even if I scour the rest of the FCS and Group of 5, I’m not gonna find a guy who’s better than Caleb Williams or Drake Maye. That means I have to make a decision based on the guys I already named in this article. And with that, I choooooooseee…

FLORIDA STATE QB JORDAN TRAVIS: The Man Who Saved Multiple Families From A Cold Winter.

Well, not Odell Haggins’. That man ain’t ever gettin fired.

#college football #quarterback #ranking #listicle #football #sports #humor

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norvicensiandoran · 3 years ago

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Okay.

So.

Been down through this before. And I didn’t wanna post about it so soon because I have. But on gods it’s like Heathen trick or treat where that was the trick and this is the treat.

So when I moved out to where I am now, I started a tag talking about the relationship I was in at the time. And admittedly, there’s some very Loki -esque qualities to the person that are endearing in their own way. But I also got tricked into thinking they were someone they are not. We’re still close friends, but I think I also called them the SO just because, honestly, it was never a true partnership.

Last week (first week of October 2021) I watched a movie. A cheesy one, badly written and paced, but it made me think of a friendship and later a relationship I’d had nearly twenty years ago. We’d been in and out of touch since but… not often. Maybe two hours across ten years. I searched the internet for the first time in a long time. And here were my thoughts:

“…. Damn you 2020. He’d caved and gotten Facebook thanks to you. And… he’s… he’s an Odin worshipper? Gods. Please don’t be racist …. Please don’t be racist…. Oh. Oh shit. He’s not one of the racist jackasses. Well. I have got to get this story. How the hell did he… I mean what are the odds?! He worships Odin now?!”

So I friend him, and the next day, as I go to get groceries, I discover a message. “This cannot be who I think it is!”

That started an off Facebook conversation lasting fifteen hours straight, and at least five hours a day for an entire two week vacation he had *already taken* before I sent the first message.

Every step and change went parallel. Everything we thought was something to not like in ourselves that we felt we had to warn the other about was in fact an added bonus.

We’re trying to be cautious. We’ve both been hurt. There aren’t any I love you’s, it’s not officially a relationship yet. Not until we meet again in spring. But everything fits. I even managed to get a huge amount of time off at a job that never offers any. It’ll be a year before we even consider moving in and being serious. But the emotions are a whirlwind, like we’re on some kinda damn honeymoon already. I haven’t been treated this well or, words or not, very clearly loved this much in over a decade. It makes me want to cry. Of all the damn people the gods could have sent to get my attention when I wasn’t even sure if they existed, they sent a best friend and former love interest I’ve known for half my life, who stepped back in like it was yesterday that we were young with the whole world ahead of us.

Maybe it still is.

#Odin says get in the van #Loki take the wheel #stormcrow sagas #norvicensiandoran

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sunflowersanddaydreamsingreen · 2 years ago

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TW overdose, death

I guess I should tell the sunflower story. It comes with a couple poems I wrote for my friend Nick who ODed and died in June. They are at the end. I wrote the first poem before the acceptance kicked in and when it did, boy was it awful. I was so angry. I wasn’t angry that Nick relapsed, or that he was using, or that he ODed, or even that he died. I was mad that he was dead and mad at him for it.

Saturday a couple weekends ago I was having a particularly awful grief day. I was in my car listening to a fantastic femme and queer led Heathen podcast called Heathen Wyrdos. (Go check it out!) In this particular episode they were talking about UPG (unverified personal gnosis) and about receiving confirmation from deity and/or spirit. They said to ask for a sign and make it so oddly specific that you couldn’t logic your way out of it. Now, I’ve never been one for signs from the universe or signs from god or anything. Maybe some serendipity now and again, or a well placed coincidence, but not an actual direct sign. I though what the hell, though. I could constantly feel the emptiness in the world where Nick used to be and I was exhausted and in pain. I said, if you’re still with me, I want to see 5 sunflowers by the time I pull in at the lake.

Well I didn’t see any sunflowers that day and thought Ah, well it was worth a shot. But the next day? Sunflowers everywhere. I saw real sunflowers, a painting of a sunflower, sunflower emojis, a business card with a sunflower on it, just so many sunflowers. Then, I went to my first grief support group and the woman who started the organization and led the groups was wearing a sunflower shirt. Their symbol is the sunflower bc when sunflowers can’t find the sun, they turn in toward each other. Then, as I was leaving she said, “I hope you get to see our sunflowers bloom soon.”

Was that enough for me? Nope. Completely oblivious until that evening when I was sitting under my favorite tree scrolling Facebook. I thought, “boy there are a lot of sunflowers,” and then, “OH!” I lost count that day at 27 sunflowers when I tried to stop and remember them all. It really shook me. Before Nick died, I firmly believed that after death we just stop existing. That’s it. We become worm food and nutrients for trees and feed back into the life cycle of the planet. I felt a lot of comfort in this. After Nick died, I started hearing his voice, but I don’t believe in that sort of stuff, so I reasoned that it was memory of his voice and my brain comforting itself by thinking of what he might say if he were with me. I still don’t know about all that, but the sunflowers got to me. I couldn’t logic my way out of it.

Shortly after that, on my first day of work at a new store, an old friend of ours came in that I hadn’t seen in years. He gave me information that I desperately wanted, but was honestly a lot better without. It fucked me up. I mean bad. I was a wreck the rest of the night. Later that week I wrote another poem. I said, “if you’ve found your smile again, send me another sunflower.”

A couple days after I wrote the poem, I was texting a friend that I am working with on a cause directly related to Nick’s death. We were trying to coordinate a time to talk on the phone. They said, “I hope the meeting goes well,” and sent me two hearts and a sunflower. When I asked them about it, they said they didn’t know why they had sent it because they’re usually very intentional about that sort of thing. Then I told them the story.

Every day since then, I have seen at least one sunflower in some strange sort of way, sometimes a bunch of them. One time it was on a coffee mug that I had bought bc it had a gnome on it and didn’t realize there was a sunflower on it until the next day. Another was on a shirt I found at a store that I liked — last one and in my size. Another time there were sunflowers in the bathroom at a restaurant I went to, one time on my little niece’s new diaper bag, once in a new display at work that I didn’t see until I ran into it. They’re everywhere.

My next tattoo is going to be for Nick. It’s a quote from an Andrea Gibson poem that says, “What I want most in the world is to live the rest of my life desperately wanting to live it. I want to give that to you.” And of course, sunflowers. I don’t know that I’m a true believer in signs or life after death or anything, but I’m happy knowing that he’s ok and I’m happy knowing that, in some way, he’s with me.

July 16th, 2022

Sunflowers

The last time I didn’t answer my phone,

somebody died

but you didn’t even call first.

It’s hard to figure out who left who.

I hugged you extra long

the last night you sat in our circle

because some dark part of me already knew

I’d never see you again.

You left, but I quit first.

Or maybe I’m just projecting —

Projecting over the chasm of a 2 1/2 year long goodbye.

I want to reach back through all that time

and tell you that your eyes remind me

of the center of a sunflower.

If I dress it up in metaphor, I’ll never have to admit

that I was in love with you.

You smiled like your backbone bent

ever in the direction of the sun.

Did you burn out?

What was it like on the day your sun set for the last time?

Did you cry out from the ground for water?

Did the pills get stuck in your throat?

Did you fall asleep dreaming of shade?

Where you scared ?

Who did you wish would burst through the door

just before your eyes slid shut

to remind you that you were worth saving?

You are *still* worth saving.

Did you see it coming?

Did you want to?

They were wrong.

It’s not “every day clean is a miracle.”

It’s every day *alive* is a miracle,

But sometimes miracles drown every living creature on earth

except for the chosen righteous few.

Well they chose the wrong one!

You were more human than I could ever be,

more alive than I could ever dream of.

You weren’t just another flower, you were the sun.

They say that the sun will die one day too

and that the blast will kill us all if we survive that long.

This feels like the test run.

I don’t know how I’m still standing with my back straight

Without your light to remind me

how warm the center of a sunflower feels.

So many of my poems end with I should have these days

but the truth is just that I was in love with you

and gave it a million different names.

Now the only name I can remember

is grief.

July 26, 2022

Untitled

I wish your suicide hadn’t been so slow.

I want that for you

just as much as I wish you weren’t dead.

What kind of hell did you run through?

Did you laugh in the flames or did your heart break?

Were you having the time of your life or watching your life slip away?

I don’t even want to know anymore.

I got 3/4 of an answer last night at work and threw up in the parking lot.

I didn’t recognize your ghost anymore.

Do you see your reflection when you look at yourself over my shoulder

in my bathroom mirror?

I want to break it into twice as many pieces as my heart.

Instead I take a sharpie and write

“You are a goddess and you bow to no one”

across my forehead in the glass.

I can get it off later if I scrub hard enough,

if my brain convinces my heart of my mortality again.

I don’t know what I believe anymore.

That will happen when the dead sends you 27 sunflowers.

I don’t know how to live like this.

Everyone has a suggestion or a fix and none of them fit

the way the sunflowers in the tea pot on my altar do.

I took your picture down, moved it to the shrine of the dead

and lit a candle underneath .

I have heard that to blow out a flame is disrespectful,

but I did it anyway when I couldn’t bear to see your face in the light anymore.

What do you call it when you hit rock bottom and keep going?

I don’t want the answers but the questions linger on my tongue

like the orange market spice that I drink every day

just to feel you close to me again.

My stomach is the closest thing I have to a heart these days.

Maybe that’s why the moments that really hit me

make me feel like throwing up.

I want to purge the reality out of my body

but I don’t know how to write about anything other than death anymore.

I stand behind the cash register reciting your epithet to customers under my breath.

I sit next to the ice cooler where no one can see me and I cry.

I “fake it until I make it” through a 3 hour long panic attack.

I miss our old friends.

I want to hear your name from someone else’s mouth,

but when he walked up to buy his milk and bread

after three years of being forgotten,

it almost put me into the grave right next to you.

I raged for the rest of the night.

I cried in the candy isle where there are no cameras.

I screamed inside my lungs until there was no more air,

until I sat gasping on the floor next to a mug of dandelion tea

that I brewed to give me strength on my first day of my new job.

I wonder what the night would have been like if I just had water.

When we closed I scoured the internet for your records,

trying to learn why you were ordered back into the rooms.

Instead I found your middle name.

Did you see your reflection over my shoulder

as I wiped the mascara from my face in the men’s room.

I left my sharpie at home so the only thing I saw in the mirror was your shadow.

I don’t want to know anymore.

I don’t want to know where you went or who you went with.

I don’t want to know how many times you ODed before it killed you.

I don’t want to know what her name was or how long it took you to die.

I just want to know you’re ok now,

the Nick I held too long that last Thursday night.

If you’ve found your smile again,

send me another sunflower.

#overdose #death #OD #12 steps #addiction #addiction recovery #addiction awareness #addiction and recovery #overdose awareness #messages from the dead #messages from the universe #messages from spirit #sunflowers

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ashandboneca · 4 years ago

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Racism, abuse, and why I don’t consider myself a part of the ‘community’

I’d like to talk about the event that pushed me away from the idea of a pagan community, and forced me inwards to further develop my own practice - and about the events of the last few years in regards to continued abuses in the pagan community. About 6 years ago, I started to look into the Norse pantheon. I had worked with Thor in the past, and about 6 or 7 prior to that I did an experiment where I worked with the Aesir for a month. At that point in my life, I didn't connect with them. I don't know why I didn't, I partially blame the terrible book I had for guidance, and the fact that the person who initially agreed to guide me flaked out. However, this time around I endeavoured to learn as much as I could from a reputable source, because the last time I had no idea what I was doing. I approached my friend, who is a practicing forn sidr heathen, and they agreed to teach me what they knew. We spent a number of sessions discussing cosmology and theology. I felt confident going forward, armed with book recommendations and a passion to learn further. I wrote a bit about my experiences openly on my previous blog with Odinn. Interactions with him were not sought after, but something that merely happened. When gods or spirits or ancestors come calling, you answer in some way out of respect. I wrote more about my experiences, and different techniques I utilized to connect with him. None of them were specifically Heathen - but I don't soley identify as Heathen, so I figured if that was an issue, Odinn wouldn't have shown up in the first place.

Some time later, my friend had messaged me to let me know they had gotten some hate mail about me via Witchvox (which no longer exists, but used to be a connection board for finding pagans and witches in your area, as well as open groups, etc). I was initially gobsmacked. Why the hell is someone emailing her in regards to something I did? Wouldn't have been more productive to email or message me to resolve whatever issue? I found it who it was. This person was, at that time, a member of a well recognized organization locally who put on events and rituals - an organization whose first mandate is "We hold that each one of us has their own path to follow to truth and spirit." To be honest, I had never really interacted with this person beyond being paid to do so in my former job at a pagan bookshop. We attended a few of the same events, but never really interacted. There was no real beef. I wasn't particularly fond of said person, but I had no real issues with them - so this came sort of out of left field. I sat on it for a bit. I did not reply to the sender. Instead, I decided to post the initial email on my previous blog. Inevitably, someone is going to disagree with how you practice or what you do, even if you're not doing anything wrong. The point I think is important to underline is that you do not need to stand for other people trying to tear you down, assert some kind of moral superiority over you, or telling you how and when you should be practicing, unless your practice is appropriative - in which case you should be taking a long, hard look at yourself. As heathenry is an open tradition, I had no concerns. I also think transparency is very important, and when people behave badly they often do so to gain something from it. Whether it is attention, drama, or they feel they are in a safe space to do so due to anonymity. So, by posting the email (albeit in edited format - I removed all identifying information about said person, because I wanted to focus on the behaviour, not the person), I felt I was addressing something that more people should have been addressing. Afterwards, my friend received a few more emails about how I was 'pissing on their ancestors' and etc. My friend told them, in no uncertain terms, that the emails were unwelcome, the issue was none of their business, and to fuck off. I also got a few emails, a few messages on Witchvox, a few comments, and a lovely comment from a sockpuppet account here on tumblr, as well as finding out my writing was posted to be mocked because I wasn't 'heathen' enough - with screenshots! I did not respond to anything, just kept record of everything in case it was needed. I disagree with the idea of bringing in some third party who is uninvolved to do one's dirty work. If someone has an issue with how someone else is practicing, they need to question whether it's something to address. Bringing in someone uninvolved is both cowardly and childish. They did not ask to be involved, and I'm not sure what involving another person serves to carry a point. Fight your own battles, or say nothing.

There were a few other instances. A series of screencaps of this person’s continued racist, sexist, and abusive behaviour was provided to a few of us. A known leader was accused of racism and verbal abuse by other members of the community with credible evidence. This leader had a pattern of setting up multiple Facebook accounts and when one was found they would set up a new one with a new name. They talked at length about their feelings on immigration, POC in the Heathen community, and interfaith. They advocated violence and celebrated terrorist acts. Some really troubling, disgusting stuff.

We did what we thought was right - we emailed the organization to tell them and offer proof via said screencaps. In the response, we were told, and I am not bullshitting, that this person was a valued member of the community, that they are 'proud' of their heritage (uh, so am I, but I don't run my mouth off about diversity being white genocide), and that we could essentially go pound sand. I quote "own personal outlook on (their) culture and (their) path. (They are) entitled to (their) own practice as much as anyone of us are, and (they) cares deeply for (their) culture. (They) makes a significant contribution to the Pagan community with (their) efforts through (group). (They are) a hard worker and has accomplished a great many things in (their) time on the board, a commitment that is not to be taken lightly. (They) fulfill (their) duties as a board member admirably."

Do I agree with their hot take on this? No. I think if someone comes to you with an accusation of that kind of wrongdoing, you have a duty to do some manner of preliminary investigation, because if you are in a position where you are teaching people and have authority, those students need to feel safe. You need to determine if the accusations have any truth, and if they are found to be false, feel free to stand behind and assert your belief in the accused. I truly believe the harasser/abuser showed their group the email, and they spun it in some way to discredit us.

Complicity via ignorance is still complicity - it's enough to tarnish an organization's good name. In the working world, business owners have been hung out to dry because of their racist, homophobic, or sexist employee's actions. The whole Kenny Klein situation happened for years because people excused his behaviour and allowed other people to be abused. We are all finger-wagging and clucking when people try to bring up this behaviour - don't be starting drama, oh that's just how (name) is, oh that's just rumours. Look, everyone - assholes, creeps, criminals, and predators exist in every faith, every organization. We are so quick to sweep it under the rug, so rushed to prevent judgement, that we always forget that one important fact. While I think it's important not to jump on every bad thing you hear about people, I do think it's important to have an open and frank discussion about proper behaviour while in a position of power. Especially if proof of misdeeds are being offered.

This group, and their lack of action, stood complicit in this person's bad behaviour. If they made the choice to stand behind a racist, bigoted person who spends their time trying to harass people online (I am not the only one, I have been told - there have been multiple people, including some of their own family members), that is their choice. They have made that choice, and they have chosen to accept any repercussions going along with it. They chose to stand behind an abuser.

Sarah Lawless, back in 2018, named a number of known abusers in the wider PNW community. The flack she received for being brave to stand up and call that shit out was disgusting.

Abusers are coddled and protected in pagan communities. They are viewed as elders, as productive members of the community, as local heroes. While I have been fortunate to encounter very little sexual harassment in the pagan community, I have suffered other abuses and harassment that has shown me that, just like the priests and cardinals in the Vatican, pagans protect and believe only those in their clique. And there are cliques in the community, have no doubt about that.

Sarah pointed out that the ideal community is a fantasy - I agree. Stories I have heard from others about their own experiences in the 'safe and welcoming' pagan community would break your heart. One person I spoke with said 'it's scary to even fathom trying to approach anyone, because it's hard to know who to trust, who might lure you in and take advantange of you'. That is a sad statement, and one I know too well. I have a tendency to keep abuse like this close to the chest because I have been burned by people in the past. There is no spiritual support for people who get abused - no chaplains, no pastoral care, no therapists.

These were people who were putting everything on the line to be heard, and the vitriol and hatred and lies I had seen made my blood boil. This is precisely why people do not come forward. They could put everything on the line - in Sarah's case, the safety of her partner at the time and children - and people will still find a way to claim the survivors are lying. Why? What do the survivors get out of lying about their abuse? What person would come forward, knowing they will be attacked, confronted, slandered, and encounter more abuse, if they weren't telling the truth? Why would any survivor put themselves through that unless there is truth? The most stalwart defenders claim 'they couldn't have done it, I've never seen them do anything to me!' Humans are complicated and complex beings, with many facets and many faces. The face you see may not be the same face others see. The John Doe you know and the John Doe I know may be the same person, but very different relationships.

It comes down to this: You can't 'believe survivors' if you're supporting abusers.

You can't support survivors if you're sheltering abusers.

You can't help survivors if you're siding with abusers.

You can't call it a safe community if you don't protect it's members.

Standing up for myself and others lost me “friends” who ditched me about the ‘drama’, and my community. Something needs to change. It is inevitable that change will befall the community, and those denizens had better wise up quickly. There are a lot of young, vulnerable people looking for guidance and safety, and the community better fucking step up and prove they are willing to protect their members, or they have become no better than the Christian groups who continue to enable their abuse. We need willing leaders to push forward to make the community better. We need dedicated, smart, and savvy people to navigate a new and better future for paganism, because it's got a death rattle going on and it needs the kiss of a new life.

Burn the whole of the modern pagan community down. Burn down the groups that perpetuate abuse, that enable abusers, and grow something better and safe from the ashes. Dismantle the sexist, enabling, racist, oversexed community with it's abusive elders, cleanse it with fire, and create a place where people can come together without having to fear predators.

The only I have learned from watching my and other’s experiences is that we shouldn't call out wrongdoing in the community, because I have gotten abuse hurled at me for it and I have seen others who have done the same get more and worse abuse. People get mad, they accuse those who come forward of 'causing drama' or 'rocking the boat'.

That is a terrible lesson. A witch is sovereign unto themselves.

Bitches, this boat is rocking. Grab on, or drown.

This is my own story. I have posted links for further review down below.

Further reading:

Dealing With Toxic People in the Pagan Community

Sarah Lawless’ post about her suffered abuse, via the Wayback Machine

Abuse, the Pagan Community, and Our Commitments

Abuse Within Paganism - a taboo topic?

A Crisis of Faith

Authenticity and Racism in Contempory Paganism

This is not a new issue - via livejournal, 2006

Cultural Appropriation in Neopaganism

#Ash and Bone #ashandbone.ca #witchcraft #traditional witchcraft #heathenry #The Crooked Path #tw abuse #tw racism #pagan #paganism #yes i wrote a whole damn paper

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joi-in-the-tardis · 3 years ago

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Random ask - you hadn't one in ages!!! So I declare me going totally rampant with questions totally your fault 😬😇 3, 5, 17, 23, 28, 30, 33, 35, 42, 43, 48. Feel free to not answer or just select your favourites or whatever 😊

I know I can count on you to bite when it comes to these! :D

3. Do you drink the milk out of the bowl after the cereal is gone?

I do. I tip up the bowl like the heathen I am.

5. Did you learn a skill or get a new hobby during lockdown?

I wouldn't say I learned something new, but I did discover that I can write quite a bit when I put my mind to it... And that people enjoy reading my stories!

17. Red pill or blue pill?

You know, I actually struggle with a form of this in reality. Because I do prefer to keep my peace and be comfortable, but I understand that I have to keep an eye on the world so I can try to help. I would be seriously tempted by the blue pill, but ultimately I think I would take the red pill and regret it.

23. Are you on other Social Media? If yes, which is your favourite

Tumblr is, by far, my favorite. I am on Facebook where I'm mostly a steady supply of memes. I post things to Instagram, but I rarely scroll my feed (though I do have some folks on notifs). I have a Twitter account I never use (I originally signed up to stalk Leonard Nimoy). I am on Discord but constantly in a state of denial that I'm on Discord for my own sanity.

28. What was the last thing you Googled?

Red or Blue pill, lol. I can never remember which is which!

30. Last song you listened to?

Gaddis is Happy from the Tales From The Loop Score. I've been listening to it every morning before work for over a year now.

33. Favourite fast food place?

Burger King, of all places...

35. Favourite dessert?

Anything lemon. Which is ironic because I'm kind of allergic to citrus fruits. Give me a lemon cake with lemon icing and lemon curd in the middle and I'm a happy camper with a kinda tingly tongue lol

42. Do you have a favourite swear word?

I say "for the love of fuck" a lot. I have no idea where I picked this up...

43. Is there a movie you detest for a very specific reason?

Eragon because they ruined it. Although, the dragon was good and Jeremy Irons tried.

48. What is your used most emoji?

💜🤷‍♂️😅😝😜 <- that's me in a nutshell

Send me some asks?? Or ask me anything (number 60)!

#thanks for the ask!#joi rambles #random ask game #ask game

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amillionsmiles · 5 years ago

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get myself together, spend you all of my money (Ellie/Aster)

Title: get myself together, spend you all of my money Summary: “You’d think going to college out of town would have knocked us both down a peg, but instead we ended up pretty pretentious.” / or: Ellie, Aster, and an apartment full of things. A/N: written while listening to Mitski’s cover of “Let’s Get Married” on loop.

[Read and review here] or continue under the cut.

Ellie finds Aster Flores again on a Sunday.

So far, the NYC Sublets & Apartments Facebook group has yielded more duds than leads, but she scrolls down and suddenly, there: a corner of Squahamish, waving at her from the screen.

LOOKING FOR: Room to rent, ideally available by August. Recently graduated from art school, so that gives you a sense of my budget, but I’m tidy, respectful, and play well with cats. Any PMs with leads appreciated!

The profile picture isn’t anything new; Ellie’s pretty sure she scrolled past it and liked it a few weeks ago during the influx of everyone’s graduation photo updates. Aster’s looking over her shoulder at the camera, the quiet joke that always seemed to hide in her eyes in high school now more pronounced. It’s a good picture, from a purely aesthetic standpoint, and that’s the only reason her heartrate picks up when she hovers over Aster’s name to click Message.

She takes a swig from her iced cappuccino and starts to type.

Hey! Long time, less conversation. Haven’t been to church in a minute, but I remember there being a Bible verse saying something about “two are better than one,” and I’m pretty sure that also applies to apartment-hunting. If that seems like something you’d be interested in, let me know.

Before she can think twice about it, she hits enter.

They move in together in July, when the summer heat turns the air liquid and the acrid smell of molten trash bags wafts from the street. For a second, Ellie misses the Pacific Northwest: the greenish tint of light filtered through leaves, the way she could disappear to a nearby watering hole for respite. Even the mudding that Trig and his friends did now seems appealing—on the stairwell, she fantasizes about the cool shock of it against her skin.

“Hey, Ellie?”

Ellie turns from where she’s been sitting on the top step to see that Aster’s finally gotten the door open. Rocking to her feet, she pushes the cardboard box across the floor, stepping inside to get a look at where they’ll be living for the next year.

The first room is spacious, combining a kitchen area with what can become a living room, once they buy a couch. Trailing her fingers along the wall, Ellie wanders into the other bedroom, then tests the lights in the bathroom. She comes back to find Aster eyeing the ceiling, a hammer pulled from her belongings.

“What are you doing?”

“Here.” Aster beckons her closer. “I’m thinking that this space is big enough that if we hang a curtain, part of it can be my room.”

“Oh.” Ellie hadn’t put much thought into it when they’d signed the lease, assuming they’d share the back room, like a college one-room double situation. It seems naïve, now; they’re adults, of course Aster would want her own space. “It doesn’t have to be yours, though. I mean—we can flip a coin or something, to make it fairer.”

Aster shrugs. “I don’t mind. Besides, the back room is more muffled—I’m less likely to hear you clacking your typewriter this way.” She smiles, the two of them both glancing to where Ellie’s Smith Corona peeks out from its bubble wrap packaging, the pale blue paint gleaming in the sunlight.

“It was my mom’s,” Ellie explains, her own memory fond against her lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I always wanted to hear more about her, after that time at the spring.”

“She was fun.” The words take her back to Ping-Pong, Paul’s paddle thwacking the ball against the wall.

“As fun as you are?”

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Am I fun?”

Aster pushes a sweaty lock of hair behind her ear. Overhead, the air conditioning hums.

“Guess we have plenty of time to find out, heathen.”

“Saw is not the greatest horror movie of our generation.”

“It is!” protests Aster, sitting next to her on the couch. Waxy cartons from the Georgian restaurant Aster waitresses at litter the table, and Ellie licks her fingers clean of the buttery residue from the kubdari—mm, delicious—as she leans back, waiting for Aster to continue.

“Ignore the sequels. But on its own, it’s this brilliant little clockwork machine of the lengths people will go to when they think they’ve got no time left. And the reveal at the end? I heard you gasp.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but a lot of the rest of it feels like torture porn.”

Aster rolls her eyes. “No one watches a horror movie for the butterflies.”

“Except you, apparently,” Ellie points out, because this is a thing they do as roommates, now: watch movies and then discuss them over takeout. So far, they’ve tended toward foreign cinema, art-house, and horror. The last genre is the one Aster engages with most fervently. However, Ellie has started to suspect that Aster can turn nearly anything into a debate, perhaps a side effect of all the time she spent wrestling with God in her head during sermons.

“Whatever. I just don’t think you’re giving it the credit it deserves for how well it feeds on the psyches of all the characters.”

“Cupid and Psyche,” Ellie thinks aloud. “Now there’s a story we could talk about.”

Crinkling her nose, Aster says, “We get it, you read literature.”

“So do you,” says Ellie, nudging her foot. “You’re just as big a nerd as I am.”

At that, Aster laughs, tilting her head back. It makes the column of her throat into the soft marble of a Canova statue.

“You’d think going to college out of town would have knocked us both down a peg, but instead we ended up pretty pretentious.”

Looking around their apartment, Ellie has to agree. There are too many stacks of books lying around, various papers jutting out of them as placeholders so she can flip to the passages she needs when writing essays. Aster keeps bringing back abstract art prints from the showcases she attends. In the corner, there’s a ficus that Ellie took home from work out of guilt (she’d been the only one in the office watering it) which they’ve named Walter Benjamin.

“I kind of like it, though.”

Aster turns to her, cheek pressing against the fabric of the couch. Her gaze is a paperweight: glassy and clear and heavy with something Ellie can’t quite name. “I’m not complaining, either.”

Before college, Ellie had considered herself a morning person, simply because she had no reason to be otherwise. Waking up to signal the trains each morning became part of her biorhythm, as natural and unremarkable as her middle part or her thermal underwear. At Grinnell, though, she’d discovered the guilty joy of sleeping in. The downside has been that her body now relies on coffee to function before 10 AM on the weekends.

“Don’t drink that,” says Aster, whisking the tin away from Ellie’s grasp. “I’ve been using it to wash off my brushes.”

Groggily, Ellie leans against the counter, watching Aster bend over the canvas on the kitchen table. She must have been at it for a while—a good third of it is filled in, streaked with purples and browns. After dabbing at a corner, Aster blows a strand of hair out of her face and straightens, reaching to adjust her messy bun.

Ellie squints. “Have you always had that?”

Pausing, Aster feels along the shaved part of her hair, tracing the chevron indented in it. “The undercut? Yeah. A girlfriend did it for me senior year, before we went our separate ways.”

A spike akin to a dose of caffeine shoots through Ellie. She stands a bit taller. “A girlfriend like a girl…?” she trails off, clearing her throat. “Or. A friend.”

The corner of Aster’s mouth twitches. “The first one.”

“Oh. Um.” Ellie swallows. “That’s nice.”

Aster picks up another paintbrush, twirling it between her fingers before deciding against it and setting it back down. When she meets Ellie’s eyes again, the look behind them is bare, vulnerable.

“I haven’t told my parents, though.”

“Is that why you don’t go back to Squahamish?”

Aster’s lips part slightly. “You noticed?”

“The first summer, yeah,” Ellie admits. “After that, I wasn’t around much either. Internships and stuff, you know.”

“And relationships?”

“Some of those, too.”

“Did you seduce all of them wearing flannel?” Aster asks, nodding to the oversized checkered shirt Ellie favors as pajamas. For a second, Ellie just gapes, taken aback by being so thoroughly called out.

“You’re the one with an undercut. Don’t talk to me about queer signaling.”

Aster laughs. It suddenly becomes very important that Ellie turn around and start the coffee machine, right now.

“I like seeing you with your hair down, though,” comes Aster’s voice, drifting over the sound of water straining into a pot.

“—And then I thought, what if it’s a temperature thing?” finishes Paul, his face ruddy and proud through the screen. Sensing an opening, Ellie stops worrying the inside of her mouth.

“Did you know Aster likes girls? Like, officially?” Almost immediately, she cringes from how juvenile her delivery makes her sound.

Paul doesn’t so much as twitch. “Uh, yeah. It’s come up once or twice.”

“Wait, she’s talked about it with you?” Ellie sits up on her mattress. Since when were Paul and Aster confidantes?

“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t say anything, it’s just I read all this stuff about not outing people before they were ready, and I figured if it was important enough to her she’d let you know eventually. Uh, Ellie, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Blinking rapidly, Ellie fights the surge of affection threatening to overtake her. Stupid Paul, making her stupidly proud to have him as a best friend.

“Do you—er. Do you think you might like her?”

“Oh, god, no. And I mean it for real this time,” she says, meeting Paul’s skeptical look. Part of it is pride—it seems like character regression, to return to the source of her teenage fantasies when she’s learned so much about herself since then. “It’s just nice to have a friend who gets both parts of it, you know? The being queer and being from Squahamish.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Hey, do you guys want a batch of these sausages when I finish tinkering with the recipe? It takes two days to ship cross-country, I checked.”

Ellie laughs. “Yeah, Munsky, send them our way.”

Ellie wets the edges of the dough tucked in her palm, working from the outside in as she crimps the dumpling and places it on a plate. Across from her, Aster works with similar dexterity, a pink sliver of tongue poking out the side of her mouth in concentration.

“You’re good at this.”

Aster sets aside another dumpling, using two fingers to scoop a mound of dough from the bowl between them. “Yeah, I helped my mom a lot with her empanadas, growing up.”

“Say you had kids,” Ellie starts. “What’s one thing you’d teach them, before they turned thirteen?”

Aster considers. “Long division. Except I’d have to get someone else to teach them, because I’m terrible at math.”

“Really?”

“Really. Do you ever think about how smart people have been, to invent the concept of infinity and the concept of zero?”

“Mm. And where would you put the idea of God on that scale?”

“Like, a solid fifty,” says Aster, flicking water at her face.

In November, Ellie publishes a short story in the New Yorker, which Aster crows about for a solid week.

“Aster, oh my god, you’re being embarrassing,” she says upon walking into the kitchen and finding her story printed in full, each sheet pinned to the refrigerator door with a bright red magnet.

“You should be proud,” Aster insists.

Paul calls her to discuss it. “Me and your dad read it. I thought it was really good. Are you working on more stuff?”

“Slow your roll, Munsky.” Ellie laughs. “I’m not as prolific as you are, dreaming up new sausage combinations every day.”

Off-camera, the staticky sound of a TV and a faint Ellie? sounds.

“Here, Mr. Chu.” Paul passes the phone to her dad, who is wrapped in his usual robe. The lines by his eyes relax when he sees her face.

“How are you?” she asks in Mandarin. “Are you keeping warm?”

“You should be worried about yourself—it’s colder where you are,” her dad replies. “Paul’s good about keeping me company. He read your piece to me three times. The scene with the swing set, and the little girl…” He switches to English. “Best part. Your mom would be proud.”

“Thanks, Ba,” says Ellie, voice thick. She goes to bed that night and dreams of being sandwiched between her mom and dad, dancing in the living room.

She and Aster host a small get-together in December. They put a Santa hat on Walter Benjamin and get everyone drunk on mulled wine until the party devolves into a caroling session, Aster’s friend James competing with Ellie’s friend Larissa to see who can belt “O Holy Night” louder. Afterwards, she and Aster sprawl on Aster’s mattress, limbs loosened from a successful night. The string lights Aster wound through the curtains as decoration for the party flicker, casting the room a soft gold.

“Would you ever get a tattoo?” Ellie asks. It’s been on her mind ever since she noticed the olive branch inked above Larissa’s collarbone. She’s wary of the pain, though.

Beside her, Aster shifts, arm pressing against hers. “I have one, actually.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah.” She props herself up on an elbow, pulling her shirt up to reveal a cluster of flowers just below her rib.

Tracing the lines with her eyes, Ellie asks, “What kind of flowers are they?”

“Asters.”

“You’re joking.”

Aster looks straight back at her. “I’m 100% serious.”

“Isn’t that a bit too on the nose?” Ellie studies the tattoo again and then snorts, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it.” The wine must still be in her system, because the fuzziness of a laugh flushes through her body.

“What?” Aster seems miffed. “Ellie, what’s so funny?”

“Nothing, I’m just— You were so reserved before, and now you’ve got an undercut and a tattoo and. Do you remember— there was that day when Jenny Newman brought in that pink scarf and you all walked down the hallway like something out of a Clique movie, it was ridiculous. I can’t believe I had a crush on you. Oh my god.”

“Stop.” Aster shoves her shoulder, but she’s laughing, too. “Don’t remind me. God. God! What a terrible color, it didn’t match my outfit at all.”

“But it’s okay, because now you’re Aster Flores, hardcore.”

“Well, what about you, Ellie Chu?”

“What what about me?”

Aster sits up. “You’re walking into a tattoo parlor right now. What do you decide to get, and where?”

“Persimmons,” Ellie says, before even fully conceiving the thought. “On my… right shoulder.”

“All right.” Aster gets up and feels around her desk; the next thing Ellie knows, she’s kneeling before her on the mattress, a fine-tipped pen in hand. “I’ll draw it for you.”

“Okay.” Slowly, Ellie sits up, tugging the collar of her shirt down as far as it’ll go to expose the skin needed for Aster’s canvas. The first touch tickles; she tries to hold herself as still as possible while Aster draws, ink flowing in thin lines. She considers watching the process, but it makes her go cross-eyed and dizzy, so she closes her eyes instead and feels: the smoothness of a persimmon skin, the shine of their texture, the sweet crunch of a fruit just barely ripened.

“Done,” Aster whispers, and Ellie leans closer to catch it. It feels like they’re in a confessional booth. Aster caps the pen and bites her lip, but she doesn’t move away.

“Ellie—” Her breath smells of cinnamon and cloves. Like the sharpest part of the forest, like all things good and lovely and too fragile to want.

“I should go to bed,” Ellie says, and it takes every ounce of strength she has to extract herself, to stumble back to her room and sit against the closed door, shaking.

“Ellie? Ellie, pick up the phone. It’s about your dad. It’s not—super critical, or anything, but I still think—uh. Just… call me back as soon as you can.”

Her carry-on is by the door and she’s set to leave for the airport in an hour. When Aster finds her, she’s cutting and skinning apples in the kitchen—not even to eat, just to have something to do with her hands.

Silently, Aster pulls out some bread, cream cheese, and salmon. When she’s done with the sandwich, she slips it into a plastic bag and holds it out to Ellie.

“For the plane ride.”

“Thanks.” Ellie sets down the knife and goes to put the sandwich away in her backpack. She zips it up.

“Would you come with me, if I asked?”

By the sink, Aster is quiet. Ellie thinks of that awful moment in the ping pong room, when she’d thought Paul had caught on to her.

“You know what, never mind.”

“If I go with you, I’m going to want to be with you.” Aster looks down at her hands as she says it; it’s the first time she’s seemed uncertain in a while. Ellie soaks in the confession, turning it over in her head. It’s brave. It’s honest.

It’s not enough.

“I just.” Aster shrugs, helpless. “I’m not ready for that conversation, yet. With them. For the fallout of what the worst could be.”

Pick me, her heart throbs, selfishly. Pick me pick me pickme. She is a train leaving the station, hoping for someone to catch her. But no time to wait; her dad needs her.

“Take care, Aster,” she says, shrugging her backpack over her shoulder. Aster’s face crumples like snow. Ellie tries not to look back.

The hospital discharges her dad after a week. Ellie stays for another two, making sure his cough is gone and all the mucus has loosened from his chest. When he regains enough energy to start fighting back against her fussing, she recruits Paul to make sure he drinks enough fluids every day.

“Pneumonia,” she scolds at the doorway, shaking her head. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

“Ch,” her dad says. “You want to talk about scared? How about that time when you were seven and fell off the monkey bars? Nearly cracked your head open.”

Paul looks between them, bewildered. “Okay, Mr. Chu, I’ve gotta get Ellie to the airport. There’s still ice on the roads so driving will be slower than usual.”

In the car, Ellie holds her hands to the heat, touching the pads of her fingertips to each other.

“Do you like it better out east?”

Ellie tilts her head. “City life is different, that’s for sure. It feels freer and lonelier. Not as many people paying attention to you, so you can be anything you want to be. But also: not as many people paying attention to you.”

“Hm, I get that. Like being at my house versus being at yours.”

“You’re saying that the Munskys are New York City and me and my dad are Squahamish?”

“Never mind. I guess my house has all the people New York has, but they’re all jumping down your throat instead of passing you by.”

Ellie laughs. “You love it, though.”

Across the dash, Paul smiles at her. “Yeah, I do.”

“You wouldn’t consider the Midwest? It’d be a happy medium.”

“I did like Iowa, when I visited you.”

“Chicago, then,” Ellie proposes. “In five years. People there buy lots of hot dogs—it’d be good business.”

“I’ll think about it,” Paul promises, pulling up to the curb. He gets out to help with her suitcase, wrapping her in a warm hug. Ellie buries her nose into the center of his chest and inhales. She wonders if it's possible to absorb his courage through her lungs.

“Paul?” she asks, when he starts to pull away. “Can I ask you something?”

His eyes are bright with concern. “Of course.”

“If you loved someone, and they loved you back in the same way, but they said you couldn’t be together, what would you do?”

“Well, I’d ask myself: when I picture being with that person, what does it really look like? Is it okay if the image doesn’t exactly match up? Because then I’d hold on.”

“Never Let Me Go.”

“What?”

“It’s another Kazuo Ishiguro book,” says Ellie, smiling. “You should read it if you get the time.”

“All right, boss,” says Paul, mock-saluting her. “Now go catch your flight.”

It’s past midnight when she gets back to the apartment, careful not to make too much noise as she slips past Aster’s room and into her bed. Her head is about to hit the pillow when her phone screen lights up, casting her as a glaring shadow against the bedroom wall.

Aster: Hey, heard you come in. Is your dad okay?

Yeah. I sentenced him to house arrest for the month, with Paul as guard dog.

Aster: All right, Foucault. Discipline & Punish. Aster: I’m glad he’s better, though.

Thanks. Did you miss me much?

Aster: Well, I realized that the cookies disappear at a much slower rate when you’re not around. :P

It’s strange to be talking like this when they’re separated by only a hallway, when for the past six months they’ve seen each other face-to-face every day. And yet, in some ways it’s easier: the crackle of electricity, the dots appearing, then fading, then appearing again.

Aster: Can you come into the hall? Aster: There’s something I want to say.

Ellie sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Gently, she cracks open the door to see Aster leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom. Her hair is tangled. She looks beautiful.

“Hey.”

Sliding down to the floor, Aster gestures to the spot opposite her. “Sit.”

Dutifully, Ellie obeys, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her chin atop them. The hallway is so narrow that her toes end up tucked under Aster’s legs, crisscrossed in front of her.

“I’ve been thinking about what I said to you right before you left,” says Aster. “And I did some more thinking while I was here alone. And the thing is, I don’t want to be all or nothing with you. I want us to be—something. And I’m wondering if you could be okay with that. If we could take it little by little, and just figure it out as it comes. If you’re willing to wait.”

“Yeah.” Ellie swallows. “We can do that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Nodding, Ellie starts to rise, but Aster gets a determined look in her eyes and suddenly she’s swooping forward, the scent of her hair—vanilla and violets—swinging around them, her hand cupping Ellie’s cheek and her mouth a bright star against Ellie’s, striking deep as a hymn into her bones. Ellie counts to five before opening her eyes, and when she speaks, her voice is hoarse.

“I thought you wanted me to wait.”

“Guess I’m bad at following my own rules,” Aster says, and grins.

#the half of it #ellie chu #aster flores #ellie x aster #my writing #fanfiction #ff: the half of it

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 4 years ago

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to tag on to that post that’s like “why am i nostalgic for my teen years??? bitch i didnt even have fun!!!!” that i’ve reblogged probably in the last few months (im too lazy to go back through my blog to find it if i have, leave me be) .... i think some of the reasons im nostalgic for my teens years are the following:

- no real responsibilities other than homework and assignments that i barely ever did from years 7-10

- i feel like time went so fucking fast (courtesy of some of my old fb memories posts in various months during 2012 and 2013) that i just wasnt prepared to be in my early teens & 20s- let alone to my mid 20s so fucking soon.

- there was a solid routine in the morning of each term- get up at 6:45am, wash my face and skin care stuff, then straighten my fringe (or sometimes all of my hair, halfheartedly), tie my hair up and have my breakfast etc etc etc. then leave for school

- despite all my jokes about being a Useless Failure Of A Human Being™️ when i left school or whatever, i did have a genuine hope underneath it all that i’d some day hopefully be successful (even if my facebook posts from year 10 to year 12 (ie 2011-2013) weren’t very good tbh).

- oh yeah NO PANDEMIC

- it was ~actually fun~ being an unabashed emo/scene kid lmao- no matter how much i cringe at 12-16yo me’s peak All Time Low Phase™️

- again time just zipped the fuck by and i was suddenly in business college and then uni and then fuck. i had a mental breakdown in postgrad bc it was too much work and pressure and fuck how do i cope. i kinda felt like i’d reached a point, like a stunted point in my emotional growth or whatever once i hit my 20s bc i went through so much stuff in the last 3 years of high school and then some other shit all before age 20 really hit.

- also like. instagram and snapchat weren’t huge so we took loads of corny unedited emo kid photos, but also did edit some of them with shitty 2008/09 nintendo dsi filters or photobucket filters for myspace. like we were actually allowed to be cringy asf and not be instagram/snapchat flawless for a bunch of followers on a constant basis. like yes my haircuts were awful and i do cringe at the stupid poses i did in some of my photos with my friends. but still. we got to have FUN.

- you could look like a fucking hot mess with your makeup. like yes there was a bit of pressure to learn proper makeup, obvs. but generally it was almost like.... like the more of a hot mess you looked, the better. because you were allowed to make mistakes with it. but thank god it wasn’t the level of the YT beauty gurus “baking their face” and whatever other irritating names they can come up with for new techniques.... and having to know exactly what the fuck that is and having to buy $75 setting spray so your face that’s full of $250 or more worth of makeup never falls off your face. i mean, come on! shine bright like a cheeto in your incredibly mismatched maybelline foundation which said it was matte, fuck damn it, but it’s making you look shiny!!!! you can use your strawberry lemonade lip smacker balm as blush to cover up the shiny bits??? but who cares??!! it’s 2000 and fucking 9 babey!!!

but now, if you don’t have an almost professional level of expertise/knowledge and lot of makeup stuff, then it’s a monstrosity. a mistake. what are you? how do you NOT know what baking is in regards to makeup? you fool! no! we don’t care if you’re 14! YOU HAVE TO KNOW CASSANDRA! YOU! HAVE! TO! KNOW! now spend 163863733 hours on youtube to revise your know how and skills, so then you do your makeup better than fredia, who doesn’t EVEN KNOW what blush is and how to apply it. i mean how embarrassing 🙄??? am i right?! YOU DONT KNOW WHAT A LIP KIT IS AND WHY YOU NEED IT??? SICKENING. DISGUSTING. YOU HEATHEN. also please spend $100 at sephora on a kylie jenner mega lip kit, boo!!! you do you!!! but if you make a mistake during applying anything in the lip kit or on the rest of your face, EVERYONE WILL KNOW!!! anyway, you get the picture.

like yeah high school did fucking suck for me like it did/does for basically everyone... but god it was much better having a sense of routine in the morning and having at least a minor glimmer of hope that i’d hopefully get somewhere eventually. but that’s all been upended completely by covid and self-isolation. my routine has been out of wack for the past month, with the pandemic rising again in victoria and also in new south wales, with restrictions resetting and stuff again in NSW and vic, like.... will i ever get a job (no matter what is is) in the fucked aussie economy?? just who the fuck knows??? uncertainty sucks.

and also i generally don’t know how to keep to schedule without some 3rd party entity like uni to help. like i miss the structure of on campus study bc i didn’t really have to set that myself, in a way, bc the uni scheduled the classes for the profs in the subjects i had. and i followed the same schedule of doing my face and hair etc every day that i went to uni. but now that’s gone as well.

#life #about me #shut up ilona

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rockrevoltmagazine · 4 years ago

Text

Deconstruct In Search of New Front-Man!

The story runs deep with Deconstruct. An aggressive, in your face, heavy rock/modern metal band comprised of the brutal, grungy groove oriented guitar riffs of Joe Fraulob (ex-Danzig), the powerful, deep, head-spinning bass lines of Bobby Real (ex-Dedvolt), the bone crushing drums of Tom Frost (ex-Luxt) and vocalist MC Droze’s intense growling and often melodic vocals. Yeah, this band has got it going on … A solid timeline of success, expanded musicianship and continually evolving into a “Post Apocalyptic” Metal genre!

Deconstruct is currently seeking a new front-man to fill the void after original singer Droze moved to another state. MC Droze will be missed and his latest contribution to the soon to be released LP Ashen Empire is nothing short of incredible. “We wish him the best with all his endeavors,” says Fraulob. The full-length album has been recorded, engineered and produced by Joe Fraulob, and mixed by top renowned industry pro, Juan Urteaga of Trident Studios (Testament, Machine Head). Management has been secured under Frankie James (Culture Rock). Professional videos have also been produced by Andy Pilkington of Very Metal Art (see video for “Machine” below) and award winning film-maker Josh Pierson and are ready to be released once the timing is right!

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The Deconstruct foundation can be traced to guitarist Joe Fraulob’s 2001 courtship with Columbia Records, when his prior band, Side-Swipe, was targeted by the A&R team of John Weakland (Union Underground) and the legendary John Kalodner (Aerosmith). Once the label threw Side-Swipe into the mix of different producers and spent upwards of $30,000 on demos, the band knew they were on to something big. Ultimately, Columbia felt the demos that Fraulob produced at his own studio were the best, which gave Fraulob and the band the confidence to trust their instincts musically, and to fight for their own path. This gave way to the birth of Deconstruct with Fraulob writing for his new project to include an uncompromising vision for a new sound – dark and heavy yet melodic and dynamic – ready for the radio, but powerful enough to crush skulls in a live setting. Fraulob recorded the first Deconstruct demo at his own studio the Pus Cavern where Fraulob had spent the last decade developing his engineering chops recording Sacramento heavyweights such as The Deftones and began to send this demo out to industry pros. After hearing the demo, David Draiman and Dan Donegan of Disturbed personally chose Deconstruct as opener for their Music As A Weapon 2 tour where Deconstruct’s first show was opening for Disturbed, Chevelle, and Taproot in front of an audience of 5000. Immediately, the band’s prowess as a live act was recognized, and Bill Graham Presents placed the band on several amphitheater shows (Iron Maiden, Dio, and Motorhead at Sleep Train Amphitheater; and Def Leppard at Irvine Meadows). While building their reputation as one of the West Coast’s most hard hitting live acts, Deconstruct began making headway in the world of Rock Radio. The band’s debut EP “Sign Of Things To Come” received play nationwide, enabling Deconstruct to expand their touring base. The work paid off, resulting in more high profile shows with a diverse array of acts including Nickelback, Puddle of Mudd, Drowning Pool, Death Angel, Helmet, and Hed PE. The band’s second EP, a sampler of tracks from their forthcoming album, received radio play on over 100 stations. The single “Time Kills” was added to heavy rotation on commercial station WOBX (98X) in North Carolina. Deconstruct also became the only unsigned band to ever receive play on KRXQ in Sacramento’s “Smash or Trash” receiving a 100% listener “Smash” rating. Deconstruct was definitely on the rise and was then chosen by multi-platinum act Korn as main stage openers for the Korn, Chevelle, and Breaking Benjamin concert at Arco Arena in Sacramento, CA. After 2 successful U.S. tours promoting the first Deconstruct album The Human Condition, Fraulob joined the legendary multi-platinum act Danzig as touring lead guitarist for an incredible 2 year run after which Deconstruct took a hiatus. In 2017 Fraulob joined the legendary Bay Area Metal group Trauma and ended up producing and recording their 2019 album As The World Dies. Recording and touring with Trauma inspired Fraulob to reboot Deconstruct to record a new album then to follow up with more main-stage appearances. The crushing new album, Ashen Empire, features long-time Deconstruct members Fraulob, drummer Tom Frost, and vocalist MC Droze, with additional appearances by drummers Darren Minter (Heathen) and Kris Gustofson (Trauma), and bassist Greg Christian (Testament).

Which brings us to the present, 2021 sees Deconstruct with the strongest, hardest hitting, most talented line-up yet. With Fraulob at the helm with his brutal guitar mastery, the thundering super bassist Bobby Real and one of the best drummers in NorCal, Tom Frost, on board, Deconstruct is firing on all cylinders. All three bring their extensive experience to the table to create a sound that is current but unique, extremely heavy yet mesmerizingly melodic and memorable. There’s no doubt success will once again be risen out of the ashes!! A pro studio and practice room has been built, a new album recorded and mastered, extensive press ready to go out and Deconstruct is tour ready!

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However, with the loss of their singer MC Droze, this greatness can’t continue until that void is replaced, so Deconstruct is now placing a call to action to all professional “qualified & stage seasoned” vocalists to front this dynamically structured band. Qualified applicants respond at the email below to arrange an audition.

Serious inquiries only!! Click HERE to contact!

Deconstruct is: Joe Fraulob / Guitars Bobby Real / Bass Tom Frost / Drums Vocals / YOU? Management: [email protected]

Connect with DECONSTRUCT: Official Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Deconstruct In Search of New Front-Man! was originally published on RockRevolt Mag

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treaddelicately · 4 years ago

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29 for the unusual asks. *Evil cackle*

29. whats the worst thing you have ever done?

I see what you did there, you heathen.

If you want the honest answer, it’s probably ghosting my biological father. Without getting into the nitty gritty details, he abused and then ran off on my mom when I was four, and proceeded to check in and out of my life for the next 12 years whenever he felt like it. By the time I hit 16, he was ready to apologize and make amends and admit that he was wrong, but the damage was done.

The last time I spoke to him was over six years ago. He’s still friends with the Facebook page that I don’t use and he reaches out every six months or so, asking about my life, my husband, my kids, and I’ve never answered. Part of me feels guilty about that, but the other 75% says that he had his chance and I don’t owe him a damn thing.

#answered #stuffedpretzel #for real though I don't really feel that bad about it

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wutbju · 4 years ago

Link

This thread. You have to read it! It starts with this question:

Not being from this area, my coworkers commonly make references to our new manager and refer to her behavior as being based on her being from BJU. I asked, "Is this school anything like Brigham Young?" And my friend said, "worse."

So what's up with the stigma? What all has happened there/have they done? Never heard of it until I moved up here, unlike BYU.

And then Greenvillians explain BJU:

Bob Jones is known for being an extremely traditional (some say excessively literal) Christian University. It makes North Greenville University look like a bunch of heathens doing keg stands. I understand and respect trying to adhere to principles, but sometimes things are excessively wooden. You will find alum who are religious and conservative who think BJU goes too far.

BJU is a very religious christian school. Gay people can't attend, women have a particular uniform, and there's a prayer list. If you don't know, a prayer list isn't a list of people who need genuine love and support, but a list of the sinners in the school. So number one on the prayer list is the kid the school thinks is morally the worst. They have curfews, and so many traditional ideals you don't typically see at a college. I knew a guy who transferred from BJU to my college, and he was gay. That school traumatized him. Don't trust BJU.

Bob Jones students are usually extremely conservative fundamentalist Christians. The school is barely accredited and looks like something out of a horror cult film. I went through the student rule book once for kicks and some of the rules I found were:

No going to Movie Theaters

Lights out by 1AM

No music except for traditional hymns

Drinking is an expellable offense

Men and Women cannot be together unchaperoned

Mandatory Church Five Days a week (plus the requirement to attend a church off of an approved list)

And on and on and on...

If you want an example of how shitty BJU is, this past fall a female BJU student was allegedly raped by a Furman football player at a party on Furman’s campus. The girl was expelled from school despite the fact she was a victim of a horrendous crime

Here’s a link to the handbook if you’re interested in some of their crazy shit

Edit: I forgot to mention that the school didn’t allow interracial dating until 2000 (so much for God loving all the children no matter the color!)

I went there. There’s so much more going on there that while what’s been said so far is mostly all true, it gets way way worse. I’m talking administration logging into students Facebook profiles and reading private messages, looking for dirt. I’m talking them getting investigated for sexual abuse incidents, and the administration firing them right at the end.

I could tell you all so. Many. Stories. But truth be told I hate thinking about them and would rather you all just do what I now do - drive by and mutter, what a bizarre place.

One thing I will ask though is don’t judge the students and the graduates by the school. Many are there because their parents strong-armed them into it. Many are there because they just didn’t know better and now their credits don’t transfer. Most are all trying to make the best of a bad situation and when the society around them blacklists them because they went there, it’s just making their lives that much harder and suckier. Treat them with kindness respect and dignity - that is a welcome change from their lives at BJU.

I just graduated in may. last month my family disowned me for leaving the cult. It's straight up hell. Looking back I wish I would've picked working fast food or absolutely anything else instead of letting my parents pressure me into going to BJU. But what choice in coming did I or any of the rest of the student body have? When you're raised in a fundie cult and your parents have absolute control over your life you go where they say and you're blind enough to think it's a good idea. I'm lucky that I made non religious friends off campus they helped me to think for myself. I'm still a Christian but I'm out of the extremist cult I was raised in. So what's up with bju? Members of the music faculty sexually assault female students with regularity. No one cares. A guy and a girl hold hands and they can be expelled. The president and the other top tier people running the joint all make fat stacks of cash (enough to own mortgage free million dollar+ homes on Paris mountain) while most of the faculty and staff get minimum wage because "it's a ministry". There are truly Pharisetical levels of hypocrisy. Jim Berg, who pressured a young man to kill himself and covered up the infamous grace report assaults, was invited back last year to speak in chapel on mental health. Look, I could go on for hours on all the things they do over at that awful awful place. If you want to read the crazy handbook here's a link to download.

https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=http://www.bju.edu/life-faith/student-handbook.pdf&ved=2ahUKEwiDxpvR3K3qAhVBmeAKHT8-C0sQFjAAegQIBRAC&usg=AOvVaw1yHWo6HSPZLbOg5_mxOUGY

Beyond the rule book there's any number of expectations they can inflict on you. The punishment for dissent has recently been changed to $25 dollar fines with the very occasional expulsion (why expel cash cows right?) It's just a bad place and going there can cause serious trauma and psychological abuse.

One last thing, never ever trust a man from Bob Jones. They practically manufactuere abusers I know it's not true for all of them but better safe than raped or whatever else. The women are mostly just misguided and have been brainwashed to be judgy bitches. They won't actually hurt you tho.

And much, much more.

#Bob Jones University #Reddit #BJU #Testimony #YeahTHATGreenville

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notthecanadianaverage · 4 years ago

Note

All 65 ho! 😤

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

I mean I guess kind of sometimes? As someone with ADHD, object permanence is a big thing so if I don't see you, you aren't real xD

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

Um, it varies, actually. Generally speaking, I'm not afraid. But sometimes I have lots of nightmares and the darkness is awful and I will deadass sleep with the light on. Also while I'm not afraid, if I hear sounds, I am terrified xD

3. The person you would never want to meet?

Jason Mamoa. He seems like a fine person but something about his appearance triggers my fight or flight.

4. What is your favorite word?

Hippopomonstrosesquipedaliophobia

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

I think maybe either a birch or a weeping willow?

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

That's not yellow

7. What shirt are you wearing?

I'm wearing a green Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time shirt that my sister got for me a few years ago at Fan Expo.

8. What do you label yourself as?

Panromantic asexual. Gender identity wise, demigirl. I recently learned what omnisexual is and I'm curious, but I don't want to come out again so panromantic it is xD

9. Bright room or dark room?

Bright! Lots of sunlight for plants and reading!

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

I was being trained at work

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?

I think 18, just because mentally I'm still there.

12. Who told you they loved you last?

My boyfriend :3 I miss him.

13. Your worst enemy?

Dickface. He called me his step daughter once and I almost fucking lost it in that Tim Hortons. I had to fight so hard not to say anything. I was also fighting some pretty rough food poisoning that week so I was not in the mood to argue xD

14. What is your current desktop picture?

On my computer? I think it's a rat xD it's either me with Cortana on my shoulder or Willow peeking through some bars, I can't remember.

15. Do you like someone?

I like my boyfriend. A lot. I mean I hope I do since we have been dating for 6 years xD but I also have a celebrity squish. Patrick Dempsey. Motherfucker. Yes. That smile. Those EYES.

16. The last song you listened to?

https://youtu.be/0Eh4b0Ge-sM

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

That power hungry cheeto. But only if I wouldn't get caught.

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

Dickface. He is a child abuser and just a shitty person all around. I called him a stupid idiot on my birthday and lost my fucking mind because I didn't actually mean to and he looked PISSED.

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

I don't know who, but I would make them cuddle because I am touched starved and need a fucking hug xD

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

I'm doing this all in my phones notes so I can't add a picture, but I love my tattoos and piercings! I have both nostrils pierced, my septum and snakebites. Tattoo wise, I have the Triforce of Courage on my left hand, a small blue hard on my right thumb, a beautiful memorial rat tattoo on my left leg, Midna's Fused Shadow on my left arm and Expecto Patronum on my right wrist. I. Need. More.

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

Not gonna lie, I'd probably jerk off xD

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

If I shared it, it wouldn't be a secret.

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

I... don't know

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

I would stick with my normal Subway order: lettuce, tomato, red onions, LOTS OF PICKLES, cheese, black forest ham, mayo and salt and pepper.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

Not gonna lie, I would probably get some Subway and maybe some candle making supplies.

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

California. I miss my boyfriend. Let's go.

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

Joke's on you, I don't really drink alcohol! I would instead request all the apple juice :')

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

Pet rats for everyone!!!!

29. What is your favorite expletive?

I enjoy cunt :3

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

My little stuffed lion. I would also grab my teddy bear seeing as they are always together.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? (Tw rape for this question)

I mean... all of these experiences have made me who I am. But if i can erase one experience without changing who I am, it would be nice to not have been raped.

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

I would say Indonesia because volcanoes! But I am also very gay and I don't believe that is a gay friendly country... so... maybe Japan? All of this assuming that the boyfriend is with me. If not, then California.

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

My grandpa. I really miss him... I want him to see how far I've come and I want to spend more time with him.

34. What was your last dream about?

I have been having a weird amount of sex dreams lately...

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]?

Rat mom? I like to think so! Shameless plug, but I have a blog here called @ratpotatoez where you can see my beautiful chonks. I'm also on Facebook and YouTube.

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

I mean yes? But not for like an overnight stay.

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

Yes

38. What is the color of your socks?

Fuck socks

39. What type of music do you like?

Depends on my mood. I love heavier, alternative rock but my heart will forever belong to Simple Plan.

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

I think they're both really lovely!

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?

Vanilla

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)

I don't like football. The only sport I watch is hockey.

43. Do you have any scars?

I am covered in self harm scars (I'm working on covering them up with tattoos). I don't really have any scars with cool stories. I had one that went down my arm but somehow it healed??? Someone in gym class accidentally took a chunk out of my arm with their finger nail and I had a hole in my arm for the longest time!!! I also have a scar on my knee from when I was really young, maybe 3 or 4. I was balancing on some bricks in someone's garden and I lost my balance, fell, and hit my knee on the brick. I remember there being blood running all down my leg as I screamed and cried. So that was fun.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

I don't know. I do know, though, that I want to go to culinary school. I also want to go to school for creative writing.

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

My weight. I gained 100+lbs when I went off my anti-depressants and I swelled up like a balloon. I've felt like shit about myself ever since.

46. Are you reliable?

I sure as shit hope so!

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

Was it worth it...?

48. Do you hold grudges?

I try not to, but I think I do ._.

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

PIGEON RAT

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

"I just really want to punch this horse in the face, okay?"

51. Are you a good liar?

I think so, yes. Trauma does that to you.

52. How long could you go without talking?

When I get super super drained, I go mute. I can stop talking for days at a time.

53. What has been you worst haircut/style?

I once left the hair dressers with essentially what was a fucking bowl cut. Yea, I wasn't thrilled. I refused to remove my hat.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

Yes. At 3AM. Because fuck a healthy sleep schedule.

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

I can do an okay British accent and an okay Indian accent.

56. What do you like on your toast?

Butter. Just butter.

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

Um... I don't remember the last time I drew. Actually, that's a lie. I tried drawing a "small town doctor" while playing Drawful. I drew a very tiny doctor with a city skyline behind him.

58. What would be you dream car?

Literally anything with the popup headlights.

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

I talk to myself in the shower. Granted, I do that everywhere xD it's the only way I can work through my thoughts. I also cry in the shower a lot.

60. Do you believe in aliens?

Yes. We can't be the only ones here.

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

I don't really have a favourite. But I do like D. Mostly because it's the first letter of my boyfriends name, but also it reminds me of a woman I helped while working in tech support. She needed help figuring out her gif keyboard so I helped and she was so excited when I told her how to search for gifs. She then started giggling like a little girl saying she wondered what might happen if she searched for DICK. She made my day xD I think about her a lot. I hope she's doing well.

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

Don't do this to me...

Dragons are obviously amazing but haVE YOU EVER SEEN A DINOSAUR?!?!? LIKE THOSE THINGS ARE REAL. THEY WERE ALIVE. THEY FUCKING RULED THE EARTH. HAVE YOU SEEN A STEGOSAURUS?!?!?!?!?

64. What do you think about babies?

I like babies a lot. Like so much. I have super colourful hair, too, so they seem fascinated with me :') but their little chubby cheeks omg

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.

Fun fact: I actually really like the smell of wet dog. It's kind of a really comforting smell.

#yaaaaaay #ho #thank you #tumblr sucks

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wolfpawn · 5 years ago

Text

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 68

Chapter Summary - Danielle has become somewhat reclusive, spending a lot of time on her study, and not enough with Tom, so he comes up with an idea to get her out of her books and repair some bridges of his own.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle looked at the page in front of her, her vision bleary from hours and hours of staring at her study. Rubbing her eyes, she groaned and looked at her phone, shocked to see that she had been studying for five hours straight. She felt herself fill with dread as she thought of cooking a meal. To say Tom had not come to her to speak or anything meant that he too was probably obsessing over his work, so she rose to her feet and decided that she would see what he felt like eating.

On opening the door, she moaned, the smell of cooking wafting towards her. Smiling she went to the kitchen and bit her lips together, seeing Tom dancing to that Justin Timberlake song he commented somewhat factually that everyone bar her seemed to like, the oven on and a pot on the hob, telling her he was making spaghetti bolognese, as he spun around on the spot as part of his dancing, he jumped slightly at seeing his girlfriend behind him. "Oh."

"Don't let my being here stop you, you had a groove going." She smiled as she walked over to the pot. "Where's the spaghetti?"

"I don't have any."

"Yes, there is, I bought some the other day."

"Well I cannot have any, I need to go on promoting Kong, so my suits have to fit."

"Right, fair enough, that's you out, but I am allowed carbs, so you better be getting some for me." She looked around. "And some cheese."

"Cheese?"

Danielle looked at him in horror, "You cannot have spag-bol without cheese, you absolute heathen, I mean having it without spaghetti is blasphemous, but without cheese…" She shook her head, "Not happening."

Tom chuckled. "You are so passionate about your food."

"I make no apologies, it's who I am."

He leant down and kissed her. "I am well aware, I love that about you."

"Even if I am officially the chunkiest girlfriend you ever had?"

"You are not chunky, Kitkats are chunky, you are a person."

"Sorry, what was the other word, 'wholesome'."

Tom growled. "Nacelle told me you had a little issue when you were shopping."

"It wasn't an issue, it was a bitch of a sales assistant that made a comment about me being chunky," Danielle explained. "She was somewhat appalled that one of my lack of height and rotund of hip diameter would be wearing dresses, that in her opinion, were meant for the likes of your former flame."

Tom merely growled. "I also heard you rounded on her."

"I just told her that her superiors would argue her opinion since my bank card would work as well as a thinner girl's, so either show me the changing rooms or stop wasting my time."

"That's my fiery Irish Lass." Tom grinned proudly before kissing her again. "And for the record, you are not chunky, and I very much love how you look or have you forgotten how I adore to ravish you at any and every opportunity."

"Behave you insatiable man, you might burn my food." She laughed, but the manner in which she held onto Tom and looked at him told him of her internal need for him to state such to her from time to time.

"In all seriousness though Elle, I love you as you are, if you gain or lose weight, so long as you are happy with it, I don't care."

"Yes you do, everyone does, besides, if I lost weight, my breasts would decrease in size somewhat." Tom froze for a moment before letting go of her and rushing around opening different presses. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the spaghetti."

"Why in such a panic, though?"

"I can't allow these divine assets of yours to shrink in any manner, that is a travesty of epic proportion." Danielle merely laughed and threw her eyes up as she went and stirred the pot on the hob.

"It was nice having dinner with Nacelle and her fiancé." Tom declared as he finished his food.

Danielle looked at him curiously, wondering why he brought up the pair since it had been almost a week since they had brought her shopping and then went back to theirs for takeaway, with Tom joining them. "I was not aware you knew Becky."

"Rebecca is one of the biggest names in the industry for contracts, anyone who is anyone gets her and her partners to write up their contract, Marvel deal through them over here."

"Yeah, I knew she was a bit of a deal, just didn't realise how big, Nacelle isn't a bragger."

"I noticed, those who are brilliant at what they do rarely are." Tom smiled. "So what was she saying to you about New Years?"

"I got asked, more than once, who did my makeup and I told people, now she has two weddings booked in for September and at a nice price, plus Becky is sorting her the Spring/Summer '18 contract for New York Fashion Week from it." Danielle smiled in delight. "Guess I was a walking business card."

Tom grinned. "You love to see others do well, don't you? Your friends, even Paul."

"Hey, so long as it does not affect you and me, I want Taylor to do well, just so long as it is nowhere near me or at either of our expenses." Danielle shrugged, "You get nowhere in life wishing ill on people. I am happy, so why want others not to be."

"I often forget you are so much younger than you act." Tom grinned as he pulled out the bottle of wine they had been drinking, "More?"

"Jesus no, I have to proofread a project in the morning. The last thing I need is fuzzy brain doing it."

"How is the study? We are in the same house but barely see each other."

Danielle noted the small hint of sadness in his voice. "I know, it is like before Christmas again, I just get so fixated on getting everything done, I'm sorry." She sighed. "I am getting way more work done than I thought I would, but perhaps I should slow down. This," She held up her hand. "Has another four to six weeks, you are gone to the US in what, two weeks?"

"Ten days."

"Shit." Danielle shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"I want you to get everything done, but…"

"You want me here too, not just in physical being, but actually sitting down talking to you?" She hampered a guess.

"Is it wrong to say yes?"

"No." She smiled knowingly. "I need you to do something for me, Tom." He looked at her expectantly. "I need you to tell me when I am overly obsessed with other stuff, I need you to say 'Elle, I want your attention too'."

"I don't want to force you or make you feel as though it's a chore."

"You're not a chore Tom, you are my boyfriend, who I really, really love spending time with, I just forget sometimes."

"I've an idea." It was Danielle's turn to look at him expectantly. "How about we go see my dad, he's been asking if I would come up, and of course, he is asking for you?"

"When would you be thinking?"

"As soon as we can?"

"How would we get there?"

"The fastest way is to fly."

Danielle's nose twitched as she thought, something Tom noticed she did when her mind was racing to figure out a perceived issue. "I have Mac's vaccination card with me, if we find him kennels, I would go."

"Would that be alright? I mean, I am sure we can find someone to mind him."

"We are not dumping him on Ben and Sophie, she would have to be talked down from a bell tower with a sniper rifle." Tom chuckled. "And I doubt Luke would offer."

"I would pay to see Luke's face." Tom laughed. "Nacelle?"

"They have Nero, I doubt he would be too happy." She explained. "It is too late now, but I will Google a few places and ring them in the morning to see if they'll take him."

"Are you okay?" Tom asked as they arrived at the airport in a cab to prevent arousing suspicion.

"Yeah, as we said, we go in separately and no one will put us together." She smiled, pulling out her phone. "We better head in, our check-in time is closing in fifteen, it wouldn't bode well to miss our flight since we only booked it a few hours ago."

"That was nice of that woman to Facebook you back last night."

"Business is cut-throat for so many these days, I am just glad we have a place for him, I think he will like it." Danielle smiled, recalling Mac's delight at his temporary accommodation as well as the other dogs.

"It's only for two days, we'll be home soon." Tom smiled, nervous about seeing his father after his father gave him a significant piece of his mind on his "Whoring" the previous summer. Paying the cab driver, he got out of the car and got his suitcase, which housed both of their belongings, neither taking anything significant with them since it was such a short trip, a few moments later, when Tom had entered the building, not attracting too much attention, Danielle got out of the cab, thanked the driver and closed the door. Inhaling, she walked into the airport, somewhat surprised that Tom was over at check-in machine typing in his details and scanning his passport. nonchalantly, she walked to one of the machines that were a bit away from his and did the same, collecting her ticket and walking to the W.H. Smith's nearby to get a packet of hard-boiled sweets. "It's a lot quieter than I thought it would be." She turned slightly at Tom's voice being so close to her.

"Well, you have no one ringing different photographers to get your sexy mug all over a website." She smiled. "Will we head to departures?"

"Okay, sorry it's only a small commercial and not something fancier."

"Because of course, I am used to different, aren't I?" Danielle laughed. "Seriously, I have never been on anything but a three each side Ryanair or Aer Lingus flight, and the furthest I have been to is the Netherlands."

"What, really? Your parents never brought you on holiday?"

"I have been on loads of holidays, I know my country back to front, inside out, dad always said, bar the weather, Ireland could match any country in the world for scenery, history and culture, in fact, it surpasses many on all of them." She stated.

"So why were you in the Netherlands? What brought you there?"

"Amsterdam." Tom looked at her with a suspicious look and a raised brow.

"Not for that side of it, I did Art for my Leaving Certificate, Rembrandt was the artist our school focused on for that year, so we went over as a class." She stated knowingly. "I told you already, I'm too boring for anything else."

"You are not boring Elle, you are sensible."

"Same difference."

"Can I ask something, it is something Luke said to me before, then Ben and Hugh mentioned it too?" Danielle looked at him. "How does someone so sensible end up taking the risks you do, coming to England, taking on being a paramedic, then taking on being a safety officer? They are such risks, sensible people don't take those sorts of risks."

"I also put a lot into this relationship." Tom frowned. "You are not exactly the safest bet Tom. An actor? And here I am allowing myself love you, putting faith in you I have never given to a man before."

Tom leant a bit closer to her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her hand. "I cannot thank you enough for doing that, I promise I will show you it is worth it."

"It better be, you're the first man I ever said 'I love you' to outside of my dad." She smiled walking off, leaving Tom staring at her as she did. She walked through to the scanning area, taking out all her electronics and keys so to go through the machine. To her relief, it did not buzz, so she collected her belongings again and waited for him.

When they were through, they made their way through the cafes and restaurants and shops towards the gate they were required, since a small British flight seldom required much waiting. "Really?"

"Really what?" She asked, not looking at him.

"I am the first?"

"I told you already Tom, there wasn't many before you, and I was young and not really understanding of what was needed in a relationship, looking back, no, I never knew anything about love before you, nor did I mention anything regarding it."

"So, there is just me?"

"Just you." She confirmed, looking at him.

"But I…" He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Tom, don't." He eyed her warily. "I know you have, you admitted it before, remember. That's fine, I don't care. Well, I care, since it means you have known heartache, but I don't need you to say I am 'the one and only person you have loved' I am not an idiot."

"Does it make me sound easy?"

"Does loving make you sound easy, you're an idiot." She laughed. "No, it doesn't, it makes you sound human. Now, enough, we are still in public, it is quiet, but there is still a few people around."

Since they had booked separately to avoid detection, they were forced to sit away from each other for the short flight. Tom got caught listening to some soccer fan reel abuse at his soccer team for the journey, no matter how high he put up his headphones, while Danielle was sitting next to a man who was, if he was telling the truth, two years younger than her and very interested in her cleavage. Politely, Danielle laughed him off for the majority of the journey, but she felt Tom's less than happy glance more than once.

"He was a bit much," Tom commented as he opened the door of the hire car for Danielle.

"Which one, we both had a bad travel partner." Danielle laughed, having seen Tom's less than pleased face at his own travel companion.

"True, but that guy was staring at you the whole way," Tom growled.

"I see."

"I'm not jealous, you were not leading him on and were trying to get him to leave you alone," Tom commented.

"Of course." Danielle nodded. "I think he said something about being away for a while and I being, and this is me guessing since the Scottish twang can get very strong that I reminded him of his first girlfriend, but with bigger breasts."

"How did you resist the urge to slap him?"

"I had to remember it would give Luke heart failure."

"He would be honoured at your thinking about him." Tom chuckled. "So, you remember my father."

"Stern, working-class Scot, hard to forget."

"After the summer, he…said things, things I did not want to hear, and you can tell from him, he is not one to sugar coat, he was vicious, if not brutally honest."

"So things are tense?"

"Yes, so much so…well, we agreed the best thing to do is for you and I to stay at a B&B."

"Were you planning to tell me this anytime before bedtime tonight Tom?"

"I did not know how to broach it."

"How do you feel? About not staying with him."

"Honestly, relieved. I disappointed him so much, I confirmed everything that he thought acting was, I fucked up incredibly with regards him."

"Well, that is part of why we are here, though I have to say, I don't think for one moment he will censor himself with me here, but at least he is honest like that."

"Thank you, Elle." Tom gently took her injured hand in his and kissed it. "You are always so understanding, so willing to help."

"I'm a glutton for punishment." She grinned as they made their way to the B&B not too far from the town Tom's father lived in.

"Dad," Tom smiled meekly as the Hiddleston patriarch opened his front door. James Hiddleston was a good three inches shorter than his son, and his old age meant he was stooped further, but to Danielle, that only made Tom's fear all the funnier more than anything.

"So she really is gone?" James commented. "Thank fuck, though she seems to have taken your dignity with her." He turned and made his way back into his home, heading to the living room where there was a warm fire scorching the small space. "Ms Hughes, it is good to see you again."

"As it is you, Dr Hiddleston." She smiled politely.

"You will not stop that, will you?"

"Can't say that I will." She smirked, causing the older man to chuckle before pointing to Danielle and looking at Tom. "She'll keep you on the straight and narrow, this one."

"I need it." Tom acknowledged. "How are you, dad?"

"Well, it's been raining for longer than I care to count, but overall, no point in complaining. Now, be a good lad and get the tea." Tom nodded, relieved his father seemed somewhat normal, or what was so for the man, and rose to his feet; Danielle followed suit. "No so fast lassie, you are to stay here, I have a few words I want to have with you." Danielle nodded and swallowed as Tom looked between his father and Danielle anxiously. "Now Thomas." Tom turned and left. "He may be thirty-five, but he is still not too old for a clip across the ear."

"No better man for it either."

"You seem to have your head screwed on some bit."

"That is debatable Dr Hiddleston, I thought it a good idea to go out with your son."

James chuckled at that, "Is what Sarah said true, you got rid of her in the end?" Danielle made a head gesture that signified she had some part in it. "Thank you. Sarah will tell you, I nearly had her cowering in a corner for what she allowed him do to my granddaughter, flaunting her in public like that, like some fucking prized dog, and after years of everyone keeping everything about our family private, he flaunted them around like that, Diana should have never allowed it, I never was as angered."

"I can only imagine." Danielle nodded, knowing that the best thing to do was allow him to rant for a few moments, feeling that he only wanted to make himself heard more than anything.

"Is it odd for you being here Lass?" Danielle cocked her head slightly at the question. "You are Diana's ally after all."

Danielle raised her hands. "Whoa, okay, it's been what twenty-five years, there are no ally's, you are two people who were once married, you have three children and a grandchild, if you hold onto something after all this time then beware, because that is cancerous. I am a good friend of Diana's. I love her, she is the mother I have needed since my mam died, but that in no way impacts on any relationship I would like to form with you as Tom's father."

James studied her for a moment, Danielle knowing that whatever opinion the scientist had of her as Emma's friend, being Tom's significant other held a different set of criteria she was required to fill to be deemed good enough. She had shown she was trustworthy, that she would not divulge family secrets when she was Emma's friend, that was in her favour. "Your mother is dead?"

"Both parents are, no siblings, hence coming over here, as well as getting to know Diana and Emma so well."

"Diana always had a heart for those who need it." James acknowledged.

"She saved me, I was so lost when they died, I rushed away from everything, to a small area of England, too scared to stay at home, and there was this lovely woman that just insisted I join her for tea, would not take no for an answer, then insisted I tell her who I was, in full, pushing and pushing, picking at a thread that was barely hanging on, she could see it, she seemed to know I needed to get it out, and when she pulled enough, it all came out, how lost I was, and she sat there, hugging me, telling me I was okay. She means the world to me, so I will not hear an unfair bad word against her, but you are Tom's father, you are the other half of the reason he and Emma, two of the most important people I have ever had in my life, exist, you aided to mould and shape them, so you matter also."

"Many would argue not, Diana raised them, I left."

"You were there for the formative years, they are your children too."

"What is your opinion of me?"

"Honestly?" James nodded. "Strict, straight-backed, brutally honest, feelings be damned, say it as it is, probably not as favoured as Diana because of it, for as strict as she no doubt was, you were the authoritative parent, but you care deeply about your children, nothing you have done has been without thinking about them, when Tom told you about his plans to be an actor, I don't think you did not want to do it out of anything but concern, you wanted him to achieve his potential, you did not think that standing around looking and talking at a camera was the way to do so, but when he showed you the fruits of his work, you seem to have respected that, and last summer," James huffed in disgust, "Your actions were that of a concerned father and grandfather, of a man who cared for his family and their privacy, I cannot respect that enough, you had the balls to say what Diana was too frightened to say."

"I thought you said you would not hear a word against her."

"I said I would not hear an unfair word against her, that is a fault, not wanting to cause an issue, allowing that farce go on."

"My son has done well with you, Lass, the only issue is, does he realise that that streak in you, that strong will you have, will not always go his way, and if there is one thing that Tom is not used to having these days, is people going against him in any way."

"I love Tom, but the day I notice myself change in a manner I do not think benefits me most of all as a person, I am leaving, nor would I expect him to stay for me if he feels the same."

"Good, no one should change for anyone else. Diana and I took longer than we should have to figure out that, a woman of her background and a man of mine had little reason to be married, but I would not take it back, no matter how much I want to clip that boy's ear."

"From what I gather, you and Diana see things better away from one another, I mean, you are not at risk of being best friends in the next twenty minutes, but you both clearly care for your children and grandchild and I dare say would be quite vehemently willing to fight their corners."

"You gathered right there." James nodded. "Speaking of my son, where is he with that tea?"

"Eavesdropping from the door," Danielle stated. Sure enough, a moment later, Tom came into view, causing James to nod in acknowledgement of her accurate assumption.

"Well?" James half demanded gruffly.

"Sorry, I did not wish to interrupt," Tom responded meekly as he placed the tray with everything needed on the table.

"I assume you were listening intently, though."

"Yes, dad."

"I swear to God boy, if you ever pull a stunt like that again, you had better not blacken my door, cause thirty-five or fifty-five, I will redden your arse for you."

"I swear."

"And no tagging on this poor lass, she is too good for that, good copped on head on her, though that has to be questioned, considering." he gave his son a look that only caused Danielle to laugh, James giving her a fond glance as he did so.

"Thank you, James."

"What is it with all three of my children and their love of foreign accents? Indian and two Irish." James noted.

"Sure says the Scot that married an English woman." Danielle pointed out, laughing slightly as she did.

"Fair point to you there." James acknowledged, reaching forward and getting some tea for himself.

#I Hate You I Love You #Chapter 68 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #wolfpawn

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