#this is also worded vaguely to apply to other past friendships of mine. they were not the first friend ive had that acted like this.

[motherboardmania]

theres something deeply tragic about impulsively looking up someone you had a falling out with, just to see they likely havent changed at all. it wasnt my fault that patience and attempts to facilitate earnest communication were not met with the same tenderness or consideration, that i could not help them if they avoided making the effort to improve.

but i still hoped they would have learned something from it all. i still hoped they would realize that time cannot heal wounds on its own. i still hoped that the regret they feel for causing such pain to me and others would push them to better themself, and i still hoped they would get better.

but they didnt. they havent learned much at all. they just continued on with the idea that our falling out was caused by chance, and not from their decisions. that their actions were just something that happened. my unheard wishes for them when we parted was that they would use it as a learning experience, and in the past year that ive healed, theyve remained stagnant. they didnt want to get better, or at least were not willing to put in the long-term effort to try. so they didnt. its the same self-fulfilling prophecy they used to vent to me about before our estrangement, and before our disconnection.

you can lead a horse to water, but you cant make them drink, and no amount of patience or kindness can change that.

[sou-ver-2-0]

What “things” did Shin learn at Sou’s house?

There are scenes in YTTD that are explicitly gruesome and violent, but the scene in Chapter 3 where Shin AI describes his abusive relationship with Original Sou is disturbing in its subtlety. Shin AI seems aware that their relationship has problems, but he still calls Sou a friend, much to the distress of either Kanna or the living Shin. One of the lines that has haunted me since I first heard it was Shin AI’s enigmatic statement, “Who he really is… I really, truly know nothing… Though I learned a lot of things at his house.”

I wanted to write a piece analyzing Shin and Sou’s relationship based on this line. In this post, I’ll make references to different types of abusive relationships, but I won’t claim anything specific for them since the nature of their friendship is deliberately open-ended. I think this line is vague enough to both mean everything and nothing. Perhaps we aren’t meant to read too deeply into it, but…It was a line that affected me deeply, so I wanted to share my own views.

Keiji makes a neutral observation after hearing this statement: “You had a long acquaintance, huh?” He deduces that if Shin frequently visited Sou’s house, they must have known each other for a long time. That’s the only concrete information we can gather from this line. However, Shin AI’s emphasis on “learning things” is intriguing; it implies that Shin gained some knowledge or wisdom from visiting Sou. It implies that this relationship changed Shin somehow. But Shin AI won’t elaborate on what he learned; he probably presumes that his lessons are irrelevant to the Death Game.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized you could interpret this statement innocuously. For example, perhaps Sou had special Asu-Naro technology at his house, which could have inspired Shin’s interest in computers. That would be a positive takeaway for Shin from his relationship with Sou. I think that’s an entirely reasonable theory, and I’m sorry for not realizing that sooner, because it led to me misunderstanding a well-meaning Anon.

For me… This line has always felt sinister. It’s situated in the middle of a disturbing scene. We’re finally learning about the pivotal abusive relationship of Shin’s past, even if only sketched in the vaguest details. I assumed that the “things” Shin learned were specifically related to Sou’s abuse of him.

When I discussed this line with my sister, she said that the line reminded her of Little Red Riding Hood’s song, “I Know Things Now,” from the musical Into the Woods. I thought that was an excellent reference, and it dovetails with my thought process about the line, so I’ll share the most relevant lyrics:

“And he showed me things

Many beautiful things,

That I hadn't thought to explore.

They were off my path,

So I never had dared.

I had been so careful,

I never had cared.

And he made me feel excited-

Well, excited and scared.”

[Image description: Shin AI says, “He’s…a scary friend of mine…”]

“When he said, "Come in!"

With that sickening grin,

How could I know what was in store?

Once his teeth were bared,

Though, I really got scared-

Well, excited and scared-”

[Image description: The Living Shin says, “Dammit, how sickening… Seriously…” when he sees the Shin AI in Midori’s office.]

“And I know things now,

Many valuable things,

That I hadn't known before:

Do not put your faith

In a cape and a hood,

They will not protect you

The way that they should.”

[Image description: Shin still clings to his brightly colored scarf, as if it can protect him.]

“And take extra care with strangers,

Even flowers have their dangers.

And though scary is exciting,

Nice is different than good.”

[Image Description: Shin in the First Main Game asks the group, “Don’t you doubt when others are kind?”]

Little Red Riding Hood’s song parallels Shin’s dialogue in revealing ways. The lyrics’ repetition of the vague word “things” hammers it in how difficult it is for a victim to describe their abuse. “Things” can cover all manner of sins, can’t it? The song itself has a subtext of sexual abuse, while the fairytale literally tells a story about a wolf who manipulates and eats a little girl. Meanwhile, we still don’t know exactly how Sou harmed Shin, beyond that Sou enjoyed provoking fearful reactions in him. I think the vagueness of their relationship makes it easy for the player to project their own fearful nightmares onto Sou. In a similar way, the player can relate to Sara’s love for Joe by projecting their feelings for their own loved ones onto him. This is especially true after Joe’s death, since his presence becomes fuzzier. Even though I’m interested in learning more details about Sou and Shin’s relationship, I appreciate how the word “things” is horrifying by leaving the worst to your imagination.

Little Red Riding Hood’s description of the Wolf as “scary and exciting” also parallels Shin’s description of Sou as “a scary friend of mine.” If Shin believed that Sou was “exciting,” that would help explain why Shin was still drawn to this person who wanted to hurt him.

The phrase “sickening grin” also stood out to me. Not only does Living Shin use the word “sickening” to describe Midori’s behavior, but “sickening grin” is an appropriate descriptor of Midori’s constant smiles. He is someone who puts on a friendly face to hide malicious intent.

I also liked the song’s reference to “putting your faith in a cape and hood” as if those clothes could “protect” you. Little Red Riding Hood learned that that her brightly colored clothes could not protect her when it really mattered. It reminded me of how Shin in the game is always clinging to his brightly colored scarf, as if it can protect him from the Death Game. Shin ought to know better as the song lyrics say, but he clings to the scarf anyway like a security blanket.

Finally, I wanted to discuss the song’s parting lesson, “Nice is different than good.” This moral reminded me of the lessons Shin continually imparts to the group throughout the story. Shin warns you not to trust people just because they’re nice. “Nice” people have the potential to be the most dangerous once they’ve gained your trust. Shin gives two dramatic speeches on this topic; the first quote comes from the First Main Game, and the second quote comes from the Massacre Ending.

“Ahahahaha! Amazing, miss Sara. You're a prodigy at seizing people's hearts! Shameful, the rest of you. The riffraff. Don't you value your lives? Don't you doubt when others are kind? Do you not even have brains to think for yourself? Death is just a matter of time for you! That's the way weaklings live! Hahahaha!”

“This is... reality, Keiji. The strong will tell you... "I'm your ally"... "Don't be afraid, trust me"... And in the end, they'll betray you!! At the convenience and whims of the strong...! The weak will die!! Well? Learned a little something about how uneasy a weakling always feels...?”

It’s easy to apply these quotes to Shin’s own experiences as a “weakling” who was betrayed by a “strong” friend.

When the Shin AI said that he “learned a lot of things” from Sou, I assumed that the “things” were these painful lessons Shin references throughout the story. Even without knowing the full details about Shin’s experiences, we understand the wounds Sou’s abuse left on his heart. We already know what the relationship taught him. It taught him to not trust others. It taught him that strong people will act “kind” until protecting weaklings becomes “inconvenient,” and there is nothing that weaklings can do about that. That’s “reality.”

As I’ve said, I’m not sure how deeply we’re meant to read into this line. And perhaps Shin learned plot-relevant things at Sou’s house too. (Personally, I’m betting that he at least got his key necklace there, but that’s just a theory.) But it was still a line that moved my heart for how these vague “things” could refer to the very lessons Shin has been trying to impart from the beginning.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Twenty ~ Haldir

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1650

Warnings: None

A/n Hi! Sorry, I know I’m a day late -- I have family in town so I’m soaking up all the time with them that I can. This one is short (and a lil fluffy/angsty), and this chapter and the next are kind of a rest before we hit the next act of this story! Sooo gear up! I’m excited!!! 

I shut the door behind Orophin and Lavandil.

Cosima flops onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. “That was awful.”

I make a noise of general agreement. I hadn’t expected my brothers to take the news happily, but I didn’t think Rumil would completely shut me out. I have no doubts that he will eventually come around, but his reaction is still distressing.

Cosima raises up on her forearms, looking at me in concern. “Are you okay?”

I nod, making my way towards her bed. “It may take some time, but I know my brothers. All will be well.”

She scoots from the middle to the far side of her bed and pats the space next to her. I accept the invitation, lying on my back at her side. Vaguely, I notice that her bed is much larger and comfier than mine. I turn to tease her about it, try and cheer us both up, but she’s fiddling with her fingers. I guess neither of us is feeling particularly lighthearted at the moment.

“What is it?”

She sighs, staring up at the ceiling rather than at me. I nudge her arm gently, trying to prompt an answer.

She bites her lip. “You’ve said that you can make your own choices, and I get that, but I’ve got to ask—are you sure? You don’t have to stay with me just because you said you wanted to. I know what you’re sacrificing, and you don’t have to—”

I cut her off, kissing her forcefully. She sucks in a breath and I use that to my advantage, drawing her deeper into the kiss. She recovers from her shock quickly though, and slides a hand up my chest in that way I adore and is slowly becoming familiar. I pull away but keep a firm hold on the side of her face. “Please push these thoughts from your mind. Whatever the future holds, I am in it with you. And a future without you? I don’t want it. It would be different, had I never met you, but the Valar blessed me. They brought an impossible woman into my life. And I have no intention of letting her go.”

The sadness in her eyes breaks, replaced with a look of tenderness that I work hard to memorize. I let the hand on the side of her face slide to rest on her hip.

She places a kiss on my jaw, taking her time to respond, aware that she has my complete attention. “If I had to wake up in a different world with no memories, I am immensely glad you were there. Being with you is worth all that I’ve left behind. Even if I did remember it, I would choose you.”

I exhale slowly, basking in her words. I’ve never been vulnerable with someone before — bearing my heart and hoping they don’t crush it — and every time I open my mouth to confess something to Cosima, there’s the fear that she will shut me down, that she won’t return my feelings. But her words just now, as well as her actions from the past few days, help allay my fears.

“It’s getting late,” she breathes, face mere inches from mine. “You could stay the night?”

My hand on her hip tenses. No, I remind myself. I should go back to my room. But the words that come out of my mouth are not what I told myself to say. “I would not be intruding?”

“No,” Cosima smiles, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I would very much like it if you stayed.”

We are both adults. If she wants me to stay and I want me to stay, then there’s no reason to leave. “Then stay, I shall,” I murmur, dropping my lips to press against hers.

She kisses me languidly for a while before her lips shift into a grin. I pull back with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re the one who has to get up and blow out the candles,” she declares, her tone full of mirth. “That’s really the only reason I asked you to stay.”

I snort, but push myself off the bed, headed for the first candle I see. “I knew it couldn’t be because you love me. That’s too easy.”

“And pull the curtains,” she adds, lifting the duvet so she can crawl underneath it. I watch her slide her eyes shut, smile still spread over her face as she tries not to laugh.

Cosima and I have slept in each other’s company before, and we will do so again for the three weeks of our journey to Lothlórien. But I can’t shake the feeling that this is completely different. It will be the two of us alone, in a bedroom, when we have acknowledged our feelings for each other.

But despite the nerves and the gravity of the situation, it feels completely natural to spend the night with Cosima. I long for her presence during the day, and the night is no different.

And with precious little time together, shouldn’t I seize on every moment?

I blow out the candle nearest to me. It darkens the shadows in the room. I extinguish the remaining candles, close the curtains, and then return to the bed. Cosima has thrown the covers back on what I suppose is my side, making it easy for me to climb in next to her. After the slightest moment of hesitation, I do so. I reach for her, wrap my arms around her and cross them over her stomach, then pull her against my chest. It reminds me of a variation on what I did our very first day of training, an action that caused me no small amount of distress. But now it seems there is no limit to the ways I can hold her, and I plan to explore them all.

Cosima chuckles, evidently pleased with this development. “You remembered the human way.”

“I am capable of adapting,” I respond, dropping my face into her neck.

Her laugh turns into a sigh when I begin a trail of kisses there. “I have a question.”

I hum, continuing my pattern. “Yes, my love?”

She pauses to beam at the phrase. When she speaks, the smile is still in her voice. “Rumil asked if we had bonded yet, and then when you said no, he said there’s still ‘time’. What did he mean by that?”

My lips freeze against her neck. I sigh, shifting to lie on my side and pressing on her shoulder so she’ll turn to face me. I figured we would need to have this conversation at some point, but I hadn’t counted on now. And it’s not the potential for awkwardness that makes me wish I could keep my mouth shut — no, we could get past that — it’s the fear that, once she knows there’s still technically a step we have to take in order for my soul to perish once hers leaves me, that she will end this.

But it is not right to withhold information from her so, with another deep breath, I explain. “He was talking about the bonding of the fæs — in the literal sense. But I love you, I am committed to you, and nothing can change that, so Rumil’s whole notion of ‘time’ doesn’t really apply here.”

Her eyes narrow as she zeroes in on exactly what I’m careening around. “Say there’s some wiggle room.”

“There’s not.”

“But if there were,” she presses, obviously not interested in letting this go.

I sigh. “Traditionally, elves have used sex as a way to facilitate the spiritual bonding of the fæs. That’s what constitutes an elven wedding — that’s what represents and solidifies the commitment. Since we have not had sex, Rumil thinks our fæs are not bonded, so there is time to break the commitment between us without it affecting me.”

She sits up, opening her mouth to comment.

I hurry to sit up as well and cut off her words before she can take this idea and run with it. “But our situation is different. The whole concept of the fæs bonding is not a blanket statement that covers every relationship — there is a lot of choice involved, we are not without agency. And I have chosen.”

She smiles somewhat sadly, letting her fingers drum over my knee. “I wish I was an easier choice.”

I catch her hand in mine. “I quite like where my choices have led me.”

She leans against me, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “I love you.” She shifts, lying down and tugging on my arm to pull me with her. “Let’s go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

I stretch out behind her, then twist the strands of her hair through my fingers. She’s silent, and I worry that, despite my efforts to reassure her, she’s still sad. I know she can’t help it, but I wish that we could leave all this struggle and moroseness behind. In my view, the future is set, my path is clear. Struggling over what that means will not halt the end, nor change it, so we shouldn’t waste time worrying over it. We should prepare how we can and then enjoy our lives together.

Cosima tucks her head into my neck and tangles one of her legs through mine. The action — so unexpected yet so natural — gives me hope that, soon, she and I can fall into a life together. Maybe Lothlórien is the key. Maybe once she can clearly see what our future looks like — a home, friendships, family, meals together at the end of a long day, exploring Lothlórien’s extensive forests and blue-green lakes, festivals, sunrises, all the wonderful things about my home, our home, she can allow herself to be happy.

And I will do everything I can to help her get there.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always so appreciated! Also, I think I made EVERYONE sad with that last chapter, I’m so sorry. But I LOVE that we all collectively love Rumil and want him to be happy forever, right? Soooo, c’mon, hit me with some happy Rumil headcannons <3

|next chapter|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande 

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist @that-cute-stranger

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff @sleepyamygdala @thranduilseyebrows

*Strikethrough means Tumblr won’t let me tag you :(*

[angst-fairygodmother]

Break My Heart Right: Worth the Wait (Luba x Reader)

A/N: I was going to do more friendship, but I’m a hopeless romantic, or something.  Word Count: 1853 Content Warning: Swearing, vague references to sex work,  Cross-posted to AO3 Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak (let me know if you want to be added)

Luba had asked for time, and you were willing to give it, though you weren’t actually sure what it was time for. You stopped going on dates, awful or otherwise, and were surprised to find that you didn’t miss them, much preferring the nights like tonight where you stopped for takeout to bring home to your and Luba’s apartment, quietly sharing a meal together after your workday was done and before his began.

“Y/N,” he said, greeting you warmly as the door swung shut behind you. “I am so glad you’re home.”

You narrowed your eyes in playful suspicion as he took the food from you and set it on the counter. 

“That sounds like you want something from me,” you accused, receiving an appalled gasp in response.

“I would never,” he pouted. “Although…”

You quirked an eyebrow in response to his pleading look, mossy eyes round and soft and threatening to melt you into a puddle right there on the living room floor.

“I know you just got home and you are probably exhausted buuut there’s a couple gentlemen coming in tonight who are the kind of important that got the whole place shut down exclusively for them.”

“The club or…?”

Luba shook his head. “And.”

You let out a low whistle. To have the kind of pull to get Rhonna to shut down both her businesses (“inherited” from Maksim) for a night took a lot of dough, or power. Your stomach twisted nervously, for Luba’s safety and everyone else involved’s.

“We’re supposed to pull out all the stops. So some of the girls and I were hoping...we could get a true artist to help us get ready?”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t say no to him (or to the very large stack of cash you’d get from Rhonna for your work). 

“I’ll go grab my kit. You do something about dinner,” you conceded before dramatically blowing a kiss to the takeout, leaning back to keep it in your view as you headed for your room. “Farewell, sweet ramen. You would have been delicious.”

~

Arriving at Foreign Dreams, one of the bouncers stopped you at the door, a massive meaty hand bumping your chest as he held it out.

“Sorry, private party, no entry tonight,” he said, tone and expression indicating he didn’t care enough to actually be sorry.

Luba shot him a surprisingly venomous sneer. “They’re with me,” he snapped, “here in a professional capacity.”

To emphasize his point, you gently shook the small of the bags in your hand, brushes rattling together. The guard continued to stare, unmoved. Luba scoffed, tossing his whole head as he rolled his eyes, reaching back to grab your wrist and pull you past, with or without permission. 

“Y/N!” Nyssa, one of Luba’s newer coworkers, cried, rushing over to greet you. “Oh I am so glad you came! A couple of us had a pool over whether Luba could actually convince you to. Everyone’s going to be so glad, except Tanya and Kanwal since they lost the bet. Now we can really go all out! What are you doing standing out there?”

Under the weight of Luba’s irritation and Nyssa’s incessant babbling, the bouncer relented, allowing you to pass. You muttered a sarcastic thank you as you passed him. 

“Do you think you’ll have time to help all of us? There’s so much left to do. Most of us are in such an unfinished state, and Luba’s not even started!” Nyssa chattered on. 

At the sound of his name, the man in question pouted, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“Y/N is mine,” he said petulantly.

The words sent a shiver down your spine and you hoped neither of them noticed the way you flushed under the club’s icy blue lights.

“There’s plenty of me to go around,” you joked, trying to keep your voice light. “I’ll get you all dolled up in no time.”

“Oh I am so glad you said that!” Nyssa beamed, leading the way toward the back where everyone was getting ready. 

“‘So glad!’” Luba mocked softly in your ear, breath tickling you. 

You shook your head, silently laughing at him as you followed the girl in and looked for a good place to set up. 

Tanya greeted you with a hug. “Did you at least make him beg?” she joked. 

“Nah,” you replied, nudging her. “But only because I like all of you so much.”

You looked around the room, taking in everyone in varying degrees of undress and disarray.

“Alright, what have I got to work with?” you asked loudly, planting your hands on your hips as you called their attention.

~

You stood over Luba, carefully applying his signature silver-white eyelashes, one hair at a time. For all that the others liked to tease, his was actually the easiest look to perfect, and strangely soothing after rushing about for them all. 

“I meant what I said, you know,” he said, almost too casually. “Unless something’s changed?”

You swallowed heavily, thankful that endless practice let you keep your hands steady. 

“You know it hasn’t,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. “But…”

“You’ve always been here, and I can’t imagine life without you,” he admitted softly. “I guess I just never thought about what that meant.”

“Is this really the best time to be talking about this?”

Your heart pounded rapidly as if it were trying to burst out of your chest and escape. But as much as you wanted to hear what he was saying, what it meant for you both, you didn’t want to do it while surrounded by people and trying to manage seven makeups, three body paints, and somehow more hairstyles than there were people in the room. Just as you placed his last lash, you caught sight of something that made your blood boil.

“Markus, I swear to god,” you called across the room, “if you scratch at your face and make me have to reapply those rhinestones again, I will break your fuckin’ fingers!”

The man in question dropped his hand to his side, whining that it was too itchy to resist.

“It shouldn’t itch at all,” you mused. “You might be having a reaction of some sort, I’ll be right over.”

You glanced apologetically at Luba and he made a shooing gesture with his hands. “We’ll talk later.”

~

You were packing up, finally done, alone in the back room, when arms wrapped around your middle. Instinctively, you jammed an elbow backward, feeling it strike followed by a pained groan. Whipping around, you found Luba, doubled over and clutching his stomach. You babbled out an apology, guiding him to sit as he struggled to regain his breath. 

“Are you alright?” you asked sheepishly.

“Oh sure,” he wheezed. “Just a little damage to my pride.”

“Good. That ego needed a little paring down.”

He pouted at you. You answered the expression with a smirk before growing serious again.

“What the hell were you thinking, sneaking up on me like that? You’re lucky all my needles were already packed or you might have lost an eye!” you snapped.

“I didn’t think you’d freak out. You don’t usually complain when I hug you.” 

“I usually also know you’re there. Or at least can pretty well guess from the fact that we’re at home, not in public where it could be anyone.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said apologetically. “This isn’t going well.”

Watching him reach up to run his hands through his hair and then freeze, not knowing what to do instead so that he didn’t mess up his look, you could feel the frustration radiating off him. You took his hands in your own, lacing your fingers together. 

“I’m guessing ‘this’ is the conversation you were trying to have with me earlier?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked at your hands, then back up at you. No matter how many times you had seen it, there was something disconcerting about his fathomless green eyes framed by those long, ethereal lashes.

“Y/N,” he breathed. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since you said you…”

“Loved you?” you finished when he seemed unable to say it. 

The vulnerable, almost fearful look he gave you in response squeezed your heart. Gently, you removed one hand from his so that you could pull over a chair, sitting across from him with your knees bumping. 

“Luba,” you said, twisting your hands to stroke your thumb over his knuckles. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready for.”

“I...I want…” he growled, still so frustrated with himself, finally sighing. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“There isn’t a how, babe. Unfortunately. You just...say stuff, and hope it comes out right?” you grimaced. 

“I need you, Y/N,” he said after a long pause. “And I don’t know what that means, but it scares me. I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t promise that I’m never going to leave, or that things won’t ever change. But I’m here right now, and not planning to go anywhere. Is that...enough?”

He leaned forward, letting go of your hand to frame your face with his long, graceful fingers.

“Yes,” he murmured, moments before he pressed his lips to yours.

His mouth was soft, slightly sticky from the gloss he was wearing, and those long lashes tickled against your cheeks as his eyes fluttered shut. You weren’t sure which of you was melting more into the other’s touch as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until he perched in your lap. He nipped at your lip, tugging it gently between his teeth and you cracked your jaw with a soft moan, opening up and allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth to twine with yours. His actions had no technique to speak of, focused on emotion and connection rather than doing what was expected or “right”, even though you knew if he wanted to he could have made it a flawless one, and you thought you might explode. He slowly ran his fingers down your throat, across your collarbone, down your torso, exploring and raising a trail of fire where he passed.

All too soon for your liking, you were forced to separate as Rhonna called his name from the next room. He flushed prettily as he pulled back, staring down at you, the intensity in his eyes doing nothing to calm the heat at your core. You reached up, using the pad of your thumb to brush a smear of glitter and pinkish tint from the corner of his smirking mouth. 

“We’ll pick this up at home?” he asked in a tone that you would have called shy if you didn’t know him better.

“I can’t wait,” you answered, stealing another quick kiss before letting go so he could get to work, your heart soaring as he turned back to blow you another and wink before he disappeared through the beaded curtain that marked the boundary of the semi-private space.

[paradiselostbythedashboardlight]

Quarantine, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Wrote 430,943 Words of Prose in a Year

As we are coming up terrifyingly fast on a full year of quarantine with no end to the pandemic yet in sight for most people, I’ve been taking some time to reflect on the last year of my existence in a state that most people now refer to as quarantine. Since March of 2020, I, like most other sane people in my country, have stopped traveling, going to stores, seeing all but a limited group of other humans, and begun having recurring nightmares about being in crowds without a piece of cloth over my nose and mouth.

Suffice to say, it has been a bit stressful.

The other thing that I have done since COVID-19 began rapidly spreading across the globe last year is write over 430,943 words of fiction. 

The number seems insane to me still. That is (approximately) one Gone With The Wind, one entire Lord of the Rings series, or the first four Harry Potter books. That is still sadly not yet War and Peace (but who knows… the pandemic isn’t over yet).

So now that I am looking back, I find myself with one question: how did this happen? Why did I do this? What does this mean about my life this year?

Since apparently I answer best by writing a lot, let’s begin at the beginning. Let me tell you a story. I’ll keep it short, I swear.

Part 1: Blast From the Past

In March of 2020, I was still in the midst of an academic semester. There was a long academic document to write and a class to teach. However, as quarantine abruptly robbed me of most of my usual commitments, I was suddenly thrust into the position of having more time on my hands than I knew what to do with. Consequently, I decided to break out the Nintendo Switch I’d gotten for Christmas and revive a childhood interest in video games.

And boy did I. I played the games I owned for all they were worth. I played them during the evenings when I had no social engagements to attend. I played them during the Zoom meetings I was already struggling to pay attention to. By the end of March, I had finished one game, and it had set the wheels turning in my brain.

Here’s a fact about me: I don’t usually tend to write or read a lot of fanfiction about things that I consider really really good. Basically, fanfiction for me has always been an impulse born from incompletion or imperfection. I see no need to add to a perfect story (although I happily consume and create fanart). But for something enjoyable and yet slightly unsatisfying? That’s fanfic territory, bud.

So by April, I had developed a sort of epic fanfiction for this video game I was playing. It was one of those magnum opus kind of ideas, a grand retelling of the story with a huge sprawling plot and Themes (™). 

At first, it was merely a thought experiment that lived only in my head, a sort of entertainment to ponder in the hours before falling asleep. What changed? Well, a friend of mine decided to also write a fanfiction on the same video game and she kindly consented to let me read it.

Suddenly, I was ravenously hungry to read and to write and to share and to consume. I wrote a hundred thousand words of this fanfic in April and into early May, sending each chapter to my friend and being spurred onward by her kind comments. 

The fic became a gargantuan endeavor full of strange little challenges I set for myself. It was a canon-divergence, requiring plotting, worldbuilding, a darker and grimer tone. For some reason, I decided to write each chapter from a different character’s perspective, making the final product into a series of essentially short story character studies which together formed a plot.

By the end of May, the story was published for the world to see. It was well-received, although not particularly popular by fandom standards. And that was the end. I had gotten out my pandemic crazies, the semester was over and now I could move on. I had made my peace with the source material, plumbing all of the little details that I wanted to examine and creating a narrative that I found satisfying.

It was over.

Part 2: Summer Lovin?

Except that it wasn’t.

Confession: as I had been posting my giant fanfiction, I had also begun to explore the fan community itself, mostly curious to see some nice art and gather a bit of demographic info about what was popular within the community. As a result, I found a fanfic recommendations page. Among the recommendations was one author who kept popping up and i finally decided to give the fic a read.

Woah. It was good. Like, really good. Like, professional quality writing and themes that seemed designed to appeal to me. I devoured everything that the creator had posted in a week and then subscribed to eagerly wait for more.

As June rolled around, I realized that I had a problem on my hands. My great big gen masterpiece was finished, but this author had gotten me hooked on something else, something with a nefarious reputation online: shipping.

The term du jour for this seems to be “brain worms” so let’s just say that reading other fanworks had given me some brain worms. Inspired this time not just by the source material of the game, but now the fan community itself, my mind began to develop another idea.

I wrote the fic, about 11k, in a single afternoon of frantic writing. When I finished it, I knew it was one of my strongest pieces. It had just come together, a combination of all the thought that I’d been brewing up and a stylistic execution that just worked with the story I wanted to tell.

I posted it on a new account. Shipping seemed vaguely shameful to me still and my mom reads the other account.

To my surprise, the fic blew up. It got so much more attention than my long fic ever had. Even more significantly, a fan artist actually drew a gorgeous comic of the pivotal scene, completely out of the blue! I was essentially thunderstruck. Honestly, it was probably the first time in my life that I’d ever received so much positive reinforcement from a piece of writing.

While I’d written short stories for undergrad workshops, they’d never been particularly good and I’d never gotten particularly great feedback on them. I’d applied and been rejected by more MFAs and literary magazines than I could count. I’d pretty much resigned myself to writing for an audience of me and me alone (which I don’t mean to sound tragic about, writing for you is great and fun!)

But receiving so much support and praise and feeling like I’d made other people happy or sad or moved? There’s nothing better.

This makes my decision to write another fic for the ship sound vaguely cynical, the action of a person driven by an addiction to praise. I mean, no lie, aren’t we all a little addicted to approval?

But my next fic was another long one, an 80k passion project modern AU that I dreamed up while spending a slow summer alone with my books and only able to leave the house for long rambling walks in the woods. The premise was essentially about characters attending a five year college reunion, something that I myself had missed due to COVID in May of the same year. The fic quickly became a way for me to process thoughts on a lot of topics in my life ranging from relationships to politics to mental health to classical literature.

This fic was also received with far more attention than I was used to and, as a result, I finally joined the notorious Twitter dot com where I found people talking about my fic unprompted, eager to follow me and like my every random thought.

I can’t say that this process was not without its ups and downs. Fandom has changed, in many ways for the better, since my last engagement with it during the 2013 Supernatural days on Tumblr. While fan friendships are often idealized or demonized, they are pretty much like any other human friendship (okay, maybe a little bit more horny on main). There is potential for amazing connection as well as pettiness. But in a year where many people suddenly had no social spaces that were safe anymore, I’m glad that I found a new line of communication with the world.  

So I kept writing fics for the ship, producing a lot of work that I am genuinely proud of and making connections with other people who enjoyed it enough to leave a comment.

To conclude this section, I was in fandom again. While I had not seriously engaged with a fan community since around 2014, I was back with a vengeance. And I had discovered an important truth about what unlocked my ability to write more than I ever had before: community support.

Not simply the kudos and the views. It was the comments. The discourse. The discussion. To add and contribute my thoughts and ideas to a greater network of thoughts and ideas that fed off of one another.

Often I had seen people complain about there not being enough fanworks for particular media or characters. Now I knew the secret. The comments and the community created the works. If I commented on other people’s fics, the more likely they were to write more. I made a resolution I have tried to keep, to comment on any story that I legitimately enjoyed reading, even if I had no particularly intelligent thing to say about it.

Part 3: A Novel Idea

By late October, I had produced a considering oeuvre for my ship of choice and was enjoying slowing my pace as I planned a few future projects.

Remember, though, how I mentioned not having engaged with fandom for the past 5 years? Well, that didn’t mean I hadn’t been writing.

For the past 4 years, I have won NaNoWriMo and completed 4 novels of over 100k each in length. These projects have been massively fun and improved my confidence with executing stories at the scope that I desire.

And so in November 2020, I settled down to write another novel. November is always a sort of terrible time write a novel if you work in academia, but this year, I had more time than usual. I set out to write a comedy fantasy novel, something mostly lighthearted and full of hijinks in order to pretend away some of the quarantine blues (which by this point were well established in my psyche).

This year in particular, I was reminded that writing a novel is… harder than fanfic. That seems like a very obvious point, but I’d written novels before. Suddenly, though, I was realizing how much a novel requires you to set up the world and the characters, while fanfic can be pretty much all payoff all the time.

While the fanfic flowed in wild creative bursts of energy, the novel required diligence of another sort. I wrote 2,000 words every day for two months. It was a grind. Sometimes, it was a slog. 

And sometimes it just wasn't good. The thing about writing your own novels is that the first draft is way more likely to be not good. You’re balancing a lot and it’s easy to let a few balls that you have in the air drop for a chapter or two, with no recourse but to go back and edit later.

I finished the novel by writing a final speedrun of 6k on new years eve, ending my 2020 with another project under my belt. No one has read it. Not even I have reread it.

I’m still glad that I wrote it. I’ll write another one next year. No one will read that one either.

Sometimes, we write for ourselves and no external validation is necessary.

Part 4: Where are they now?

January of 2021 is somehow now behind me, which is terrifying. I’m still writing. Mostly fanfic, although occasionally I go doodle around with some original ideas that are more conceptual sketches for the next novel.

As for the fanfic, I think I still have a few more good ideas left in me, but  I will probably leave it behind before the year is out. That feels a little bittersweet, a sort of temporary burst of fun and friendship that I wonder if I’ll ever experience again.

Coming to the end of this reflection, I suppose I should make a summative statement about what it all means.

In the end, it might not mean a lot. There are some small takeaways. 

It turns out that encouragement makes you write more! Who knew? Also, more free time makes you write more! Wow!!!!

The point that I think this reflection exercise has shown me, the point that I think matters more than any other, is that writing is a way to process my thoughts. Even if it is through the lens of ridiculous video game fanfic or novels about sad wizards, my writing is my way to make sense of my own mind. 

And sharing that is special. If you share it with online strangers, with your family on Christmas Eve, with your close friend who has become even closer and dearer to you since she let you read her work, or just with your mom (the one personal legally required to read your damn novel if you want to share it). To share writing is to give someone a little peek at your beliefs about the world.

And right now? When we’re still isolated and bored and scared and in desperate need of distraction? Binge some TV, play Nintendo, read a book. Take in other people’s thoughts.

But put down your own somewhere as well. It’s a conversation.

And for once, it’s a conversation that doesn’t have to take place on fucking Zoom.

[likexporcelain]

A Crack in Everything (Chapter 2/8) - Jonerys

Summary: Six years after their high school romance ended in emotional ruin, Daenerys Targaryen runs into Jon Snow by chance on Valentine's Day, forcing old memories to the resurface. This sudden reunion could be cathartic, but it could also deepen the cracks already in their hearts. The question Daenerys grapples with is, will this all be worth it in the end?

Rating: Explicit (eventually)

First two chapters up on Ao3 - additional tags/warnings/notes there

The next day, Jon didn't come see me at Martell's, and I hadn't really expected him to, but I had hoped. After a full week of hoping, I had given up any attempt to make myself prettier in the morning, opting for an extra hour of sleep rather than a longer shower and enough time to straighten my hair and apply the right amount of makeup. When I got to work looking my usual, slightly disheveled self, the male employees working my shift made similar comments about how they preferred my hair straight and Daario risked me filing a complaint with the bosses by smirking at me and saying “Done trying to impress me, huh? You know you're my favorite, Dany.” I rolled my eyes and tried to avoid him the rest of the day, but I couldn't help but feel like a fool for ever doing anything to impress anyone, even Jon.

It would be another week, the first day of March, that I would see Jon again. I had just had a rather annoying conversation with Daario where he tried to convince me it was still February. His version of flirting no doubt, judging by the way he would wink his eye and lean toward me across the register counter. I had been moments from leaving to use the restroom, just to buy me a couple minutes alone, when the little box above the sliding front door dinged.

He looked the same as when I ran into him at his work, but this time in a white t-shirt exposing an arm covered in ink and his hair was down in dark curls I remembered well. When his eyes found mine, I dropped my gaze to the counter top, cowardly.

“Hi there, Sir. Let me know if you need any help,” Daario greeted him.

I had wanted to see Jon for days, but now I found myself hoping my manager's long back was enough to hide me from him. I heard footsteps move further into the store and when I looked up, Daario was sending me a look of displeasure. “I shouldn't have to do your job for you, Dany. That's why I'm the manager and you're the floor associate. Now go see if he needs any help.”

As I walked past the isles, I ran my fingers through my hair anxiously before just giving up and using the black hair tie around my wrist to pull it all into a pony tail. I found Jon in the last isle, hands in his pockets and staring at shelves stocked with grain-free dog food.

“Do you have a dog?” I asked, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice.

“No.”

When he turned to look at me, I forced myself to keep eye contact. “Do you have any pets?”

“No.”

Seemed like as sure a sign as any that he had come in to see me, but my mind still raced with alternate explanations. He needed to buy a gift for a friend's dog's birthday party perhaps?

“Neither do I.”

“Do you have a lunch break coming up or something?”

“No, I don't get lunch breaks because I only work five hours a day.”

“Oh. . . I have work at two.”

It was already one, according to my watch.

“I could take lunch at five, if you want me to,” Jon suggested.

Did I want him to take lunch at five? I got off work at five. He obviously wanted to talk to me, or he was just doing this because he thought I wanted to talk to him. This felt horribly awkward. Jon and I had never been this unsure with each other, not even when we sat next to each other in Chemistry all those years ago. Did I really want to keep doing this? Keep having painfully awkward conversations with a guy I wished meant nothing to me?

“Yes,” I answered. “Yeah, okay.”

He nodded and for a few moments we just stood there in silence. But then his feet moved and he left.

As soon as I got back to the register, Daario threw up his hands at me. “Maybe if you'd kept up the beauty treatments, you'd actually get someone to buy something every once in a while.”

* * * * *

At the end of the last lunch period before Christmas break, Jon put his number in my phone and told me to text or call whenever I wanted during the two week period we would be away from each other. I texted him as soon as we got into Chemistry, telling him to do the same. This would be the first stretch of time he would spend at his uncle Ned's house without the reprieve of school and – I thought, optimistically – me. He didn't say so, but I knew he was nervous about it.

“Are you in hell?” I had texted him Christmas morning just after waking up. The night before he had texted me almost nonstop about a horrendous Holiday party his aunt Cat had thrown, inviting a slew of neighbors, Ned's employees, and their families. Every other minute my phone had buzzed with a new message detailing another insufferable conversation he'd had to sit through, or another bizarre appetizer he was forced to try, or another tipsy middle aged woman hitting on him before pretending like she didn't know he was only seventeen.

He had told me Christmas would be “family day” which was not a good thing. It wasn't that he disliked his family. Although he resented his uncle on behalf of his mother, Jon cared for him like one cares for family and he genuinely enjoyed his cousins. Jon just wasn't good at being part of a family. A lone wolf trying to be part of the pack.

“I've been pretending to still be asleep for an hour. Eventually they'll send someone in for me,” Jon replied right away.

“I wish I could pretend to sleep. I've got work today. Pray for me and I'll pray for you.”

Christmas was a busy day at the outlet mall. I'd worked every day since our break began and would work almost every day until going back to school. On the bright side, I was going to stop by the Apple Store after my shift and get the 64GB Classic I finally had the money for. A Christmas gift for myself, since I wouldn't get any from anyone else. That was what I thought at least.

A half hour before my shift at Banana Republic was up, I felt a gust of warm breath tickle the back of my neck as I fixed the 50% Off rack. I giggled and twisted, swatting Jon on the shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice down.

He looked nice. Too nice. Clear face, goop in his hair, and wearing clothes that looked like what we sold at Banana Republic, but more expensive. Not at all the sort of wardrobe I had imagined Jon would wear during his free time. A teal sweater – cashmere? – and black chinos.

“I snuck out.”

“You snuck out?”

“You would sneak out too, Daenerys. They were about to have a family portrait taken. Look at what I'm wearing right now. I told them I was going to the bathroom and went right out the window.”

Jon always used my full first name. He had found out on his own what Dany was short for and refused to use the nickname ever since. If he had been anyone else it would have annoyed me – I was self conscious about my name because it just highlighted the fact that I was a Targaryen, daughter of the infamous Aerys Targaryen, who was convicted of fraud when he stole over a billion dollars from his clients as a financial adviser – but the syllables sounded so soft on his tongue, never accusatory or cold. “I love your name. Your whole name. I want to know where it comes from,” he'd said to me, and when I reveled to him that both parts of my name were essentially made up – Targaryen being adopted some two hundred years ago when my ancestors wanted to stand out – Jon told me about his name. “My mom was a Stark obviously, but I never knew who my father was. Only Mom's name is on my birth certificate. As far as I know, when the nurse asked her what she wanted to name me, she said Jon Snow on a whim. All I know is that she never wanted me to be a Stark. I guess both of our names are made up then.”

After begging to be let off work a bit early, I made Jon go with me to the Apple Store and then we took a walk around the Outlets, buying a couple of cinnamon pretzels and talking like we were still sitting behind the basketball gym at school. While he had much more to complain about regarding his time cooped up at the Stark place, there were good things he shared as well. He told me about the strange things twelve year old Arya did to make him laugh and showed me goofy pictures of six year old Rickon. Apparently, ten year old Bran could scale the entire facade of the Stark mansion in less than sixty seconds, but got grounded whenever his mom caught him. Sansa, who I already vaguely knew as a freshman at our school, was quite the seamstress, according to Jon, and was already designing her dream wedding gown, despite not having a boyfriend and being only fourteen.

Lastly, Robb, just a bit older than Jon, was home for the holidays from USC and managed to get into Jon's good graces enough for an odd-couple friendship to form. Robb had graduated from Westeros Prep the year before. We had shared a math class but hardly ever exchanged words. He was always polite, though, and I hoped he wasn't trying to change Jon's opinion of me. If he was, Jon didn't mention it.

Even though they were Starks, I liked that Jon was getting along with his family. It made me feel like I could one day have a big family too and do alright.

I had no delusions that this was a date. Jon may have paid for my pretzel, but not once did he hold my hand and I didn't try to hold his either. However, this time together outside of school made me wonder what a date with Jon would be like. I wanted to find out.

The sun was going down and I was finishing up a hot chocolate when Jon finally looked at his phone. He cursed under his breath at all the missed calls and texts from his aunt wondering where he was. “Apparently I've ruined Christmas,” Jon told me with a small chuckle. I blushed at the irony, because from my point of view, it was the best Christmas I'd ever had.

I walked with him to his car and he offered to drive me home. I made up some excuse so that he wouldn't insist. Despite knowing Jon wasn't actually a rich kid, I didn't know enough about where he came from to feel comfortable enough showing him where I lived, alone in a tiny studio apartment above a Seven-Eleven on the wrong side of town.

“Okay, but before I leave, I have to give you your present.” He popped the trunk of the Mazda sedan his uncle got him shortly after he moved in.

“You shouldn't have gotten me anything, Jon. I didn't get you anything.”

“I don't want anything,” he replied and lifted a brown Ralph's bag from the trunk and presented it to me.

“You got me groceries? How thoughtful.”

“Just look inside, smart ass.”

Smiling, I dipped my hand inside and felt something soft. It was a sweatshirt in crimson and when I unfolded it, I saw big-print white letters running across the chest. “HARVARD.”

“That's where you're going to go, right? Sorry, I'm not really good at gift giving.”

I shook my head and hugged the sweatshirt to my chest with one arm. “Well, that's my first choice, but I think my chances of getting in are slim. Thank you, though. You're sweet.”

“Well, don't tell anyone. It'll ruin my cred.” He closed the trunk and leaned back on it. “Are you sure you don't want a ride home?”

“My gift to you will be you not having to drive me home. It's in the complete wrong direction, and it sounds like you might become the victim of domestic violence if you don't get home soon.”

He didn't move right away. His finger tips drummed on the car and his face scrunched in the way it would when he was thinking about something. I wondered for a moment if he was going to ask me out, or maybe even kiss me, but when he finally pushed himself off the car, he took me into a quick one armed hug and said he'd see me at school. I should have been happy. Jon had never really touched me before save for an accidental shoulder bump here and there, and that day, he had made the conscious decision to wrap his arm around my shoulders and bring me gently to his chest. But I didn't think of it as a step forward at the time. I thought of it as a missed opportunity, and figured I was doomed to wade in the frigid pond of friendship until he found someone he liked better.

* * * * *

The time on my watch read five o'clock and I realized that Jon and I hadn't discussed where to meet. Was I supposed to go to Whole Foods or was he going to come back to Martell's? I said goodbye to Daario, grabbed my purse from the back room and walked out into the breezeway in front of the shop. Figuring that if I walked toward Whole Foods I'd eventually run into Jon, I started moving. The sun was starting to fall and the lights lining the walkway were turning on. I got to the first set of Whole Foods' sliding doors just as Jon was coming out of them. I watched him pull out a cigarette and light it with a green Bic lighter before announcing myself.

“You're smoking for real now, huh?” I pretended like I hadn't already deduced that, just to have something to say.

He turned to me and expelled some smoke that puffed upward with the wind. “I know it's unhealthy, but I figure it's at least a better alternative than some things I could be hooked on.”

If he had been anyone else, I would have silently judged that excuse, but I knew Jon and where he came from. If he needed to smoke to avoid other substances, I wasn't going to give it a second thought.

“Yeah, I'm pretty much addicted to caffeine at this point. Still don't like coffee, but it's just Diet Coke and Dr. Pepper all day long. I once drank four Monsters in one day. I'm strictly soda now, though. But, I guess I don't really know the difference health wise.”

“Do you want to walk? I have to find something to eat that isn't organic.”

I followed him out of the Marketplace, across the street to the In-n-Out, both of us completely silent until I told him I'd save an outdoor table while he ordered. Despite the coolness in the dusk air, I was acutely aware of how much I had been perspiring and sitting inside a stuffy fast food restaurant would be torture.

After a bit, Jon sat down across from me with a tray of burgers, and two cups. “I know you didn't eat, so I got you a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake. You still don't like thousand island, right?”

“Yeah. Thank you. How much was it?”

Jon waved away my question away with a sweep of his hand before grabbing a burger and taking a bite. In school, Jon never ate during lunch period. He didn't want to bother one of the Starks' many servants by having them fix something for him and he didn't want to venture into one of the busy food lines on campus. On the few occasions I'd get to watch him eat, I enjoyed it maybe more than was normal. The way his jaw moved and his lips pursed while he chewed. . .

We both ate silently until Jon was half way finished with his burger. He set it down on the tray, wiped his mouth with a napkin and asked “So what the hell are you doing working at that stupid place?”

Swallowing hard, I took a sip of milkshake to sooth my throat. “Need money.”

“So you're still in school?”

I took another few sips, buying myself some time. “No, I'm not.”

“I don't understand.”

“What the hell happened to your face?” I asked instead, my anxiety turning to frustration at the way he was trying to interview me.

His eyes moved to the table top as he twisted a fry in his fingers. “Got cut,” he replied.

“How long have you been in Long Beach?”

“About a year. Sam lives here and I was staying with him for a bit, but it didn't really work out so I've been on my own for a little while.”

“Sam? Shit, I haven't heard from Sam in forever. I haven't heard from anyone in forever. How is he?”

“Married.”

“Are you serious?”

Nodding, he resumed eating.

My shoulders relaxed, thinking about Sam now instead of how insecure I was about my life.

* * * * *

I had been jealous of Samwell Tarly once. I had grown so used to being the only person at Westeros Prep that Jon could tolerate that seeing him and Sam become chummy in Chemistry made my heart beat a little more irregular. Sam had been in most of my classes since Sophomore year, but I didn't know much about him, just that his family was wealthy like everyone else, he was a straight-A student like I was, and he had no other friends, also like me. For a whole week I had convinced myself that Jon was replacing me with Sam, that he had realized I had a crush on him and felt it was time to get a friend who didn't think about kissing him all the time.

When Jon wasn't behind the basketball gym at lunch that Friday, I was sure that he was with Sam, but I didn't know where that would be. He had left me, and I needed to accept that. One would think that I'd be used to losing people, what with how many people I'd already lost, my father and oldest brother having died before my birth, my mother dying on the day of my birth, my other brother, Viserys, promising to take care of me and then doing the opposite until deciding I wasn't worth the trouble. This felt different, though. This was abandonment without explanation, without closure.

When the bell rang, I walked to Chemistry by myself, checking my phone once again to see if Jon had texted me with an explanation for his absence. Nothing. But then a hand landed on my shoulder and I stopped in my tracks, looking up and expecting to see Jon, but the boy beside me was taller, thinner, and his curls were blond and not black.

“Hey, Dany,” Loras Tyrell greeted me with his blue eyes shining brightly, like I wasn't just his math tutor. “You hear about the party at Dick's tomorrow night?”

“Like, Dick's Sporting Goods?”

Loras laughed one of his melodic laughs and smiled sweetly down at me. “You're funny, Dany. I always thought you were a cool girl. Everyone else at this school has there heads up their asses. No, I'm talking about Dick Tarly.”

“Tarly? Like, related to Sam Tarly?”

“Yeah, I guess. Look, I was wondering if you were planning on going, because if you are, I think it would be awesome if we went together.”

“Um. . .” My mouth had gone dry and I forgot all about the bell and that I had to be anywhere. “Okay?”

“Alright, sweet. So, I won't be able to pick you up or anything because I'm grounded from using the car and I've gotta hitch a ride with my sister. But, when you get there, find me, alright?”

“Sure.”

And without another word, Loras was off and I was standing in an empty hallway, mind struggling to process what had just happened. Eventually I came to the conclusion that I had just agreed to go on a date with one of the richest and most attractive students at Westeros Prep. I was late to Chemistry that Friday and my punishment was not being able to take the pop quiz Mr. Baratheon handed out before I got to my seat.  

After the quiz, was a lab assignment. Sam had become Jon's lab partner after his last partner moved away during the break and I used that as a way to blame Mr. Baratheon for taking Jon away from me. If he hadn't banned us from associating in class, I could have been Jon's lab partner. Instead, I was Tyene Sand's, and not only did she outwardly despise me, she also had no problem letting me do all the work and then copying all of my answers. Watching how Jon seemed to get along so well with Sam at their lab table, I couldn't help but think about how many times I'd let Jon copy my homework. Had he just been using me for answers this whole time?

I would have my answer after the bell rang. I was usually one of the last out of the class because, unlike everyone else, I didn't start packing up until after class was over. Jon was waiting for me in the hall.

“Did you go to the basketball gym today?” he asked me. “My math teacher gave me detention. Forced me to scrape gum off desks during lunch. Why do people still put gum under their desks?”

“Oh.” My cheeks flushed. I felt like such a neurotic fool and then lied, saying “No, I actually had a tutoring session at lunch, so I guess it worked out perfectly.”

He chuckled and started walking with me in the direction of my next class, even though I was pretty sure his was in the opposite direction. “Well, at least we were both not having any fun.”

“You and Sam seem to be getting along.”

“Yeah. He's pretty cool. I mean, he's completely uncool, but I think that's kind of cool, you know?”

“Sam's really nice.” It was true. He was really nice. One of the only nice people at Westeros Prep, besides Jon.

“He told me about this party his brother is throwing. I guess their parents are out of town. Sam's pretty miffed about it all so I thought I'd go and keep him company. I asked if I could bring you along and he said that was fine. What do you say? Want to go have a miserable time with me at Sam's house tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

Jon turned to head to his own class, but I stopped him quickly with a confession. “Jon, wait. I actually told Loras Tyrell I would go to the party with him. Well, not really go with him, because we're going to meet there, but you know what I mean.”

“Loras Tyrell? Isn't he gay?”

“No.”

“I'm pretty sure he's gay, Daenerys.”

With a roll of my eyes, I replied “I've been tutoring him for months. I've known him for years. I think I would know if he was gay or not.”

“Maybe. But maybe you wouldn't, because he's definitely gay.”

“First you're pretty sure he's was gay and now he's definitely gay? Which is it, Jon? And why would he ask me on a date if he's gay?”

“I have no idea. But he's gay.”

“Whatever. Gay or not, I told him I'd go with him, so unfortunately, I'll be a little too busy hanging out with him to be miserable with you and your new friend.”

“Okay?” He looked positively perplexed. Hell, I was perplexed. I had no idea what was going on or how this argument happened. All I knew was that I liked Jon in a way that I had never liked anyone before and it was fucking with my mind. “If you would rather go to the party with Loras, then I think you should.”

I don't want to go to the party with Loras, is what I should have said, because it was the truth, but I suddenly didn't have the courage to speak truth. Instead, I replied “Good” and continued on to class, knowing I would be late to that one as well.

* * * * *

“I can't believe Sam is married,” I said, more to myself than to Jon. The weather and milkshake was finally cooling my body temperature and I was beginning to feel cold. I pulled my black cardigan from my purse and put it on. “I mean, I'm sure he's a great husband, but it's just so strange to think that there are people we went to school with who are now married.”

“They've got a kid too,” Jon added before plucking a pickle into his mouth. “Sam Jr. He's not Sam's biologically, but he met his wife while she was pregnant and the birth father is a real piece of shit that isn't around anymore. I don't know the whole story, though.”

“Wow.” I stared at my hands, clasped around the milkshake cup, thinking about babies and trying not to notice the sudden twist in my gut. “You said it didn't work out, living with him. Why not?”

He shrugged and if I remembered correctly, he wore an expression that would be best translated as I don't really want to talk about it. Eventually he replied “I do better on my own.”

“Yeah, I guess I do too. I have a roommate. She's really sweet, but I avoid her more often than I'd like to admit. She spends most of her time with her boyfriend anyway.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

I would have took the question in a more suggestive way, but when my eyes lifted to Jon, he was pulling another cigarette from his shirt pocket and sliding it into his mouth, his attention focused solely on lighting the thing. Once, six years ago, he had told me “No one wants to kiss someone who smokes. So I make the girls I'm not interested in think I smoke. It just saves everyone a lot of time.” Sitting there with him in front of the In-n-Out, however, I thought I wouldn't mind tasting the tobacco on his lips.

“No,” I answered. “Do you?”

“Nah. As for a girlfriend, though, I don't have one of those either.” He exhaled a plume of smoke and checked his phone. “I need to get back to work soon. You never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“What's going on with you?”

My hands had gone numb from the cold of the milkshake cup, but I hardly noticed. “Just living my life. Same as you, I guess.”

Drumming his fingers on the table top just as he had done so on the trunk of that Mazda that one Christmas evening, Jon stayed silent for quite some time. I made no attempt to break that silence, but at the same time, I didn't feel put off by it. It was Jon. When he eventually stood, he didn't put an arm around me and bid me goodnight, but he did ask if we could talk again soon. I wasn't sure what the point was, but I wasn't about to say no.

“I have weekends off,” he said. “I can pick you up from work on Saturday.”

“Alright.”

With a short nod, Jon sucked on his cigarette and turned back toward the Marketplace.

[ainaindou]

1feb2018

gosh executive dysfunction is gonna kill everything i try to do whether out of love, passion, or necessity. even projects where i am invested 100% voluntarily slowly decay in my hands due to the lack of a drive, and it’s so disappointing.

spotify is probably the best thing ive ever subscribed to 10/10 would recommend

concerning pasts. i’m not sure if i’m healing at all or just just really good at slapping another bandage on. most days it’s all very numb and it feels as if i’m merely processing information as an observer from the outside, sifting through memories and “feelings” that are definitely mine, yet they don’t seem to really affect me anymore. rare moments come when i have more time and quiet and suddenly my mind spins into overdrive and suddenly i’m me again, which is great but also feels immensely awful bc those “feelings” turn from cold information back into actual active ongoing emotions- god knows how awfully i process those things. 

considering the amount of failed attempts at securing a traditional career path it’s probably time to explore other alternative options but i have no real idea where to start. i could idle where i am a bit with no real issue but boy my parents are fking annoying about their passively suggested disapprovals concerning many different aspects of my decisions despite all the support they claim to have.

concerning present. context is actually super important and there’s never really enough. a habit of mine, for comfort and ease of mind i love to set clear and concrete definitions as to what certain relationships between myself and other people, and lock it as such inside my head. but relationships are organic and they grow and change and even sometimes decay. so it happens a bit too often that suddenly something happens that’s completely out of my expectation and calculations one way or another and i have to redefine exactly what is my standing with another person. sometimes adaptation is very easy and of little consequence, but other times, the complete relationship becomes rotten due to this. part of it is on me, whether or not i want to invest further energy to try and salvage a disconnect. part of it is on the other side, whether they want to be patient with me or not. as a side, i’ve only met two people in my life so far that share my exact social dynamic, one in which we can comfortably hold our relationship in indefinite stasis for whatever length of silence just so happens to transpire between us, and then easily pick up momentum wherever we left off and develop things mutually at our convenience. that’s super precious to me, and very comforting to be fairly honest since i know i’m not the only one who functions in this way.

i’m not super sure what my next big purchase will be. i do want a full-powered workstation/gaming rig, and i also want a cintiq. but i’m functioning fine with the tools i have right now. i could finally invest in the doll collection i’ve been thinking of, but where the fuck to i even start lol. my living arrangements are very temporary anyways and to invest in a physical item collection right now might not be the best.

i’ve migrated partially from tea to coffee. not like a full migration, but more like i just guzzle both now 24/7. tea at work and coffee everywhere else.

concerning future. ambitions grows slightly dimmer every year bc reality becomes more concrete. there’s also a really weird thing where i “know” what is optimal to pursue, but the arbitrary scale of effort vs reward makes it so that i don’t bother to optimize. this is a statement that applies to so many aspects of my life, and the end result is my life is mediocre. not great, but not horrible. vaguely i thought about seeing if i wanna find a way to become a tattoo artist bc for one thing im super interested in meeting and working with (on) people that normally wouldn’t be in my field of sociability. in any other context ofc i wouldn’t even bother bc my social energy level is like below negative but anyways i should look into that. it’s something, at least.

about actual romantic relationships. it almost feels weird to me that i have any sort of experience at all. and it also feels super alien to me (for most part) that i even care about this aspect of my life still. predominantly, i can’t be bothered. i spend almost all of my available effort and energy just barely holding myself and my life together and afloat, how the fuck am i gonna even be able to spare some for another whole living breathing person? my emotional state is super stale too, and it’s not like i have a desire or desperate need for intimacy (quite the opposite sometimes). yet, i think my own situation is somewhat akin to having acquired the taste of a forbidden fruit. i know what i could have, and i crave it so. even full well knowing how poisonous it most likely could become. my past experiences all ended up kinda suck, and i always kinda hate the things i did/didn’t do that made it that way. (except the very first one. we were young and completely naive and stupid some of what she did was fucked up too lmfao so) i kinda crave a very simple sort of distant intimacy and i have n o fucking idea how to describe or define what i want or if anyone else in the world is compatible with what i’m looking for. language fails me for sure bc i’ve tried at least once with this definition with someone else and the end result was we both figured out we said and agreed on the same words but we had very different definitions. our original friendship has been strangled also as a result. which is one other thing that i am exasperated with myself for.. it’s pretty much impossible for me to consider an intimate relationship of any kind with someone unless there’s a pre-existing friendship as a foundation. yet in the pursuit of a deeper relationship it just puts the friendship at risk and i don’t know if this is ever worth it. should i just be happy with the friendship now and like not fuck up shit again? is this also parallel to my tendency to not pursue optimization in my life? but friendship isn’t a mediocre thing either. super confusing and will require further thoughts definitely

ashmute has godly music for whatever’s left of my soul i hope they make another album soon bc there’s not enough.

my nose bothers the fuuuck out of me. not appearance wise, but the fact that the cartilage inside just isn’t properly attached to my skull and so slips off-center all the fucking time but idk if i wanna get surgical procedure done either. same thing about lasik bc i’m actually tired of glasses but laser eye surgery is not perfect and my vision is invaluable to me and my livelihood. idk idk idk.

anyway.

[onehaleofanadventure]

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandoms: Red Hood and the Outlaws, Red Robin - Fandom, DC Comics Relationship: Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Summary: 

Bruce and Jason fight, and sometimes it's worse than others.

Number 2 of 3 for @sociallyawkwardfoxwriter (it is not your birthday, even if this is kind of a gift)

.In hindsight, they should have all seen it coming. Bruce, Dick and Alfred could not count, on all their combined limbs, the number of times they found Jason stockpiling food and clothes, or packing emergency bags. And on one particularly memorable occasions, Dick had stumbled—literally—into the teen in the dark, only to flip on the lights and see silent tears, a packed bag slung over his shoulder, and a clear path to the open window. And on one particularly memorable occasions, Dick had stumbled—literally—into the teen in the dark, only to flip on the lights and see silent tears, a packed bag slung over his shoulder, and a clear path to the open window. That was the first big fight Batman and the second Robin had ever had.

So really, after all the yelling Bruce had done, he and Alfred should not have been surprised to wake up and find the flighty teen missing without a trace. Honestly, who thought it was a good idea to teach the already stealthy—from years of living and hiding on the streets—kid how to hide from the best of the best.

-----------

Tim Drake was not a stalker. He liked to take pictures. He liked Batman and Robin, mostly Robin. Just because he had to follow Batman and Robin to take pictures of them did not mean he was a stalker.

That being said, it was probably was a little creepy that he followed them home, although he lives next door, so he had to go that direction anyway. Also, Ms. Mac said the shrine of Robin pictures and merchandise he had in they hall closet next to his darkroom was creepy.

But who could blame him. Robin was amazing, and Jason was only a year older than him. Ever since Jason became Robin and started attending Gotham Academy Tim has been working up the courage to talk to him, to be friends with him.

----------

Tim wasn’t sure if he should go out tonight. Last night had not ended well. Everything had been going as usual: Batman and Robin were interrogating some crook.

Tim glanced down to clean his camera lens and when he looked up Robin was halfway over the balcony railing desperately reaching for something—a man, the man that had just been running from Batman—just out of his reach. Right as he was pulling himself back into standing upright, Batman leapt down onto the balcony. From there, yelling had started and then Jason was being dragged next to Batman into the alley and the parked Batmobile.

Normally, when Bruce and Jason fight, Robin won’t be on patrol for a few days and then everything would go back to normal until the next fight.

However, Jason was not in class today—Tim does not stalk, everyone just gossips about the street rat or charity case that Mr. Wayne adopted this time—and Jason always comescomescomescome to school

unless he’s seriously injured. Jason loves school and learning, Tim thinks, as evidence by him catching up to his peers so quickly despite not having gone to school for years.

Tim also hears the ruckus that evening, Bruce’s thunderous rumble echoing through the expanse of trees and flowers that separate Wayne manor and Tim’s spot in the Drake gardens. From his spot—close to where their paths converge and meet the road leading into town—Tim also hears the screech of tires spinning too fast and wild across gravel, which signals the Batmobile leaving in a rush.

Tim doesn’t really know why, but he grabs his camera and heads off into the night. Avoiding an angry Bruce was never fun, especially without the promise of Jason—Robin.

------------

Tim started toward to end of Batman and Robin’s usual patrol to make up for Batman driving so fast.

Tim also hears the ruckus that evening, Bruce’s thunderous rumble echoing through the expanse of trees and flowers that separate Wayne manor and Tim’s spot in the Drake gardens. From his spot—close to where their driveways converge and meet the road leading into town—Tim also hears the screech of tires spinning too fast and wild across gravel, which signals the Batmobile leaving in a rush.

So maybe that is why he decides to go out. Batman in a rush means something important, so he probably needs Robin with him.

------------

He starts his search about halfway through what he thinks is their usual patrol route. He’s kind of in Crime Alley, but just the edge, so it should be okay, though he is wishing he’d brought the cheaper camera. And maybe some mace or something.

------------

He’s been out for hours, it’s chilly and damp and he’s miserable. As another set of sirens go wailing down a few streets away, Tim readies himself to leave, disappointed but not exactly surprised to have missed the Bat and his Bird.

Out of the corner of his eye he catches—a vaguely human shaped—blob bounce gracefully over the roof next to his. By the time he grabs his camera and looks up, the shape is gone and he is alone once again.

That is, until a throat is pointedly cleared behind him.

“Kid, it ain’t safe to be out here all ‘lone.”

The drawl sounds more street than Jason usually does, but it is undeniably his favorite bird. Tim turns, mind filtering through responses for one that is suitably cool but not disrespectful. He stops short, face-to-face with Jason Todd, no mask or cape or spandex tights is sight.

“Kid—“

“T-Tim. My name is Tim.” If this is the only way he is brave enough to talk to Jason, he’ll take it.

“Well, Timmy, you not be our here alone with something that expensive. That camera your clutchings gotta be a thousand easy.”

Tim grins sheepishly, “More like two, not counting the lens or the spare in the bag.”

“What the—“

“But it’s okay. I know self-defense. And besides I’m not alone, youre—“ mid sentence, Tim notices to overstuffed duffle slung over Jason’s shoulder “—here?” he finishes, though it wasn’t meant to be a question.

“You don’t even know me, kid.”

“Stop calling me that, you can’t be that much older than me. Plus, I introduced myself, so should you.”

Jason huffs, “Tim, it ain’t safe. It is tell ya my name, promise to go home before you get hurt?” Tim nods, smiling a little at the exaggerated eye roll he gets in return. “It’s Jason. No where are we walking?”

“We? And, ummm, Jason Wayne?” Tim splutters, he knows who Jason is, but he’s still thrown on the we part.

“It’s Todd, I didn’t take Bruce’s name. And yes, we. You’re tiny. Easy prey—“

“Hey!” Tim knows he’s small for his age, but he’s isn’t that small and he really does know self-defense, specially for his hobby.

Jason snorts. But Tim continues “I’m not going home yet. Don’t give me that look, I said I would and I will. Just not yet. What’s with the bag?”

“Smooth transition. And you’re awfully curious, ain’t cha? So what are ya doing out here with a fancy camera?” Jason cocks a brow and it makes Tim nervous, and he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind—

“Stargazing!” He regrets the word as soon as it leaves his mouth, blushing a deep red.

Jason laughs as expected, “There’s ain’t no stars here, ki-Tim.”

“There are, if you can look past the smog and clouds.” Tim takes a seat on dirty concrete. “Like this one—“

He turns to Jason, who just stares at him for a moment before sitting down next to him.

“—that really bright spot, it’s the primary star for the Zodiac Leo constellation. It’s peaking tonight, that’s why it’s so bright.”

“Leo, that’s the August one, right? That’s mine.” He sounds a little distant as he states at where Tim is pointing.

Tim smiles softly, trying to not obviously stare. “The little cluster next to it, they’re really dim tonight, but that’s the my Zodiac sign, Cancer.”

-----------

They spend a long time sitting on that roof. Going back and forth between talking about the stars, and Gotham, and whatever meaningless topic comes to them.

The sun is just starting to peak over the horizon when Jason manages to convince Tim to go home. The trip back is a lot faster.

“So Drake. Tim Drake. As in the neighbors.”

Tim blushes, “I thought it’d be weirder if I said that.”

Jason snorts. “Whatever, kid.” He turns, but Tim isn’t really ready to give up this weird friendship they’ve developed tonight. “I didn’t know the Drakes were back from wherever.”

“They aren’t. I didn’t want to go. Hey! You never told me, what’s with the bag.”

“Oh, I uhh, I’m going to Ethiopia. I found out my biological mom is alive, and there.” Jason shifts, a guilty tell, but Tim doesn’t notice.

“That’s really awesome. I hope you have a lot of fun.” Tim’s phone buzzes, his alarm for school going off. “I have to go. School, you know. Anyway. I guess I’ll see you when you get back?”

Tim bites his lip, a little nervous about Jason’s reaction. “Sure, kid. Someone’s got to stop you from being picked on at school.” Tim splutters as he walks inside, smiling fondly as Jason’s laugh echoes across the empty lawns.

[stardustjunkie]

FYI: This post is phone-typed, long, poetic, ancestral, for love, for healing, in gratitude, for me, for you!

This California trip, this newest installment of ancestral healing lessons (7/20-7/25 2017) has taught me that I have a keen perception that allows me to see the truth in matters of emotional, spiritual, psychological issues, but I can be too harsh and sharp in my approach. Sometimes that sort of stern delivery is necessary, but sometimes it's even more disruptive. I understand now how to soften into tender compassion, especially when it comes to issues belonging to family members (where looking at their pain makes me uncomfortable and want to yell at them to get their shit together), and how this approach that requires seeing the person and situation from the vantage point of Love is the work of True Healing. I am learning when to let the fires of truth burn and when to simply warm (to use Justin Tilley's perfect words).

I am here in California with my Grandmother and Uncle.

California, my birth state and place of my blood and my lifeline. Leaving Milwaukee with a head cold and a goal, heart-centered and anticipating deep diving in ancestral waters. Upon arrival I was teary-eyed. This continued through to the night; before bed, having hugged, napped, unpacked, picked up uncle, and eaten; before sleep when I lay down in the same bed Ive used here for the past 15 years. I wanted to cry, but felt the energy well up inside me and release in its own way, maybe a tear or two produced, and all in Gratitude.

I am so happy and grateful to be here, now, in this life time, in this mobile home, in California, at this age, with my grandmother and uncle, who, since her health has been changing, has come to visit monthly to help her (a Gayngel, hidden behind the glare of religious eyes, working through his own anger and inherited depression and voice suppression by throwing himself into the fire, by her side).

I feel I am at a place, now, where I can consciously receive the blessing of wisdom in every moment shared here. Whether it’s in watering my grandmothers roses, running errands, accompanying her to doctors appointments, showing her how to make a smoothie while she trades me an Armenian recipe, sitting, eating, napping, listening to her sing her prayers in the morning with a hoarse voice she said she lost in an accident but use to let flow in church as an alto, or recording her stories of her journey to America at 24 and escaping two husbands in her broken English weaved with Armenian or Arabic or French. All of it, every second, is healing, is strengthening, is informing me of my origins and my purpose.

So far, from our heavy exchanges over Grandmother’s morning coffee, she has told me:

“One thing you learn from me this life, Catrine. Don’t hold onto nutting. Some time you feel anger or sad or someting you need to say, don’t keep it! Else it make you sick till you death.”

“Each morning I play the song from church [on her keyboard] and I sing. This is pray. Sometime you pray but your mind go coo-coo! You cannot pray, it is no focus. Sing it is pray.”

“Religion don’t matter, is only Jesus. Jesus live for the peace, love, do good tings, help people, forgive. What is god even? Love. Power. The Light. Why god make the angels? Cos we need each one another.”

But also, an occasional old-country racist remark, or religious bigotry (she’s a Christian, born again), some anti-pagan devilry. Usually I let it slide but sometimes can ride it out with her till we find common ground and she gets to her core-belief, which is that it’s all just Love. For instance, “I hate your tattoos but I don’t see them because I love you.” Or something like that.

All three of us together, or just my uncle and I to the side have discussed our family damage and what needs to be done. Of course, there are barriers of understanding, language, generation, culture, etc, but ultimately it returns to Healing and Love and the idea that younger generations help to carry the fire of existence, the red pulsing drum blood of healing for those who came before us and those who will come after.

And I cry, with sorrow and joy! Maybe just for 15 seconds, maybe without tears and just pressure and heat, but I cry.

I sometimes get so full of Love and a future-projected nostalgia because I think about how when I am no longer an Earthling how much I will miss this particular moment, these memories, dreams, visions, songs, this unique expression of life, of Soul. The people I meet, I connect with, I Love. My friends, family, lovers, partners, collaborators! Or the Great Beautiful Poetic Mystery Healing of the schizophrenic genius stranger I met online as a young one and maintained a creative penpal friendship with for 7 years and who has been integral in helping me define and then re-find my voice! Then, getting to meet him and it being like two soul parts finding comfort in understanding and friendship, an electrical current vibrating from then to this second, the one we are all connected to, yes, me & you!

And he and I, this impossibly coincidental friendship, being affirmed by radio songs playing the words we’d just spoken, and searching for shells gifted from the ocean while yelling nonsense haikus at each other in the sun! He in his middle-aged, whimsical awkwardness, high functioning conversationalist to those who know what real treasure looks like, and me in my open hearted temple of understanding, receiving each pun and praise and serious statement, like waves, like I was surrounded by gems but without miserly lust for gain- no profit, just prophet.

Side thought: I’ve learned from him, and my other pen pals who work with what western medicine has called Schizophrenia, that it is a condition of being an oracle, a creative conduit; someone with their irons in many dimensional fires. Receiving transmissions from past and future but as their present reality! His letters and messages, and mine in reply, could be seemingly nonsensical, but if I let my mind apply itself and stand at the precipice of meaning, I could extract something! But even then, finding something only vaguely, if I bowed my head, my heart would feel it all, and know, without thought to seeking meaning.

Every failure, every injury, every song, every kiss, every lap dance, every slice of pie! Cactus, wet dress, cookie, traffic! Radio divination, guessing games, cheesy inspirational quote, devilish grin! I am just so, so grateful to be here for it all. I wish I could multiply myself and deeply connect with everyone. But, I can only Be In Love

Each night here, Ive welled with some kind of feeling and express my gratitude to Goddess, Ayahuasca, Creator, Great Mystery, Source, ALL EXPRESSED FORMS OF LOVE, my Earth teachers, for helping me be here, now, and for this life and this journey, for these lessons and this healing.

So, this is a prayer for you, the one I Love. I pray that your life, your path, your healing be blessed. May you find comfort in knowing there’s no beginning or end. May you find your voice and speak your truth whenever and exactly how you need to. May you recognize love when it’s calling your name. May you learn to help without giving yourself away. (okay dropping the initially unintentional rhyme scheme) May you walk through the fire and let all that is not needed disintegrate. May you fearlessly dive deeply into the places you thought were terrifying, only to find the treasure you’d been so soul-hungry and searching for.

Thank you for reading. I love you!